Softie

Having to spend a few hours shopping for the start of the Summer Reading Program yesterday, I woke up this morning barely able to walk. Popped two Aleve, with no appreciable difference. I jumped [staggered] into the Sweet Spot of the couch - the cozy side next to the knitting basket with the windowsill at the ready to hold tea cups - and tried working on the pullover I'm making for Leif. Yes, I know it's summer and yes, I know I live on Maui, but in the winter I am too busy eating liquor candies and making stockings for the cats to knit anything practical, so there you have it. Unfortunately, my mom's cat has decided she likes me, and laid on my lap gnawing through my yarn. Then my fingers swelled into bratwursts because of whatever is wrong with my joints, so I put it aside. Leif crawled on me and yelled MAMAMAMMAMA into my face, so I picked up the Strain, by Guillermo Del Toro, and read him a few chapters to soothe him. For some reason this didn't work. Finally his dad carried him off for a nap, and I picked up some paper, designed a little pattern, and made a stuffed animal with the new tattoo fabric I bought at the overpriced boutique yesterday (which is turning me into a magpie, half a yard at a time). Tattoos have been a bit of a theme lately; my mother wants to get one for her birthday, and I half-volunteered to get one with her, but then I ran over my finger with the sewing machine and have reconsidered. Possibly getting a tattoo is not the same as getting your hand mangled by a Singer, but I am not so sure.

Rattatattoo:


















Next time I'd make the top of the head more narrow, and slip-stitch the arms properly. Even so, I think I love this very bad little rat.