Now, my Mom has fabulous organizational skills and fabulous taste and a good head on her shoulders. In reality, Mom
So I went to work with renewed purpose, called my friend Amy (check out her website, PS) and arranged to go dress hunting and caterer-tasting sometime in the near future (she's getting married soonish too).
After that adrenaline rush and subsequent burst of virtue, I settled in to stitch on my half of the couch/futon, which looks like... well, a stitcher stitches there:
It's cozy and next to a bright lamp and I can put my feet up and watch Ultimate Fighting Championship DVDs while I crochet. And knit. Did I tell you I started knitting? Well, I did. I am. And here is the beginning swatch/dealy/thingy:
And it quickly became this as well:
I won't show you the rest of the swatch because I tried all (all) the basic stitches (garter, seed, more stockinette, different ribs) and it ended up looking supremely bizzare. But it's mine and I'm proud of it. Even if I cursed like a damn drunken sailor on 'roids as I was knitting the darn thing. My gosh, knitting is so bloody difficult--how do people master this and create such beautiful things? Just when I think "Hey, I've finally gotten the hang of this knitting thing!" I immediately drop a loop, or lose a needle under the futon, or explode in a furious rage over my complete lack of ability. My yarn stash is learning new and colorful words, and I have probably shocked years off my houseplants. Thank god I don't have any children yet.