Waking up at the ass crack of dawn is inconvenient when you have to wait for the light to start your day.
We are safely ensconced in my old home town and faced with the dawning realization that there isn't a lot to do in my old home town. Hmmmmm. Some things never change.
That is why we need to get creative.
Of course I forgot to bring my camera cord so I will have to wait to download photos until I get back but we did go to the wool mill where I sent some fleece to have it processed a few years ago.
Yes, I am a wool mill groupie.
The selection was really poor but I did get some souvenir yarn.
What's even more mysterious is that I find myself drawn to pink yarn lately. There is pink in the sweater that I'm knitting (now placed on hold due to heat), I am knitting pink socks, and now I have purchased more pink yarn and pink Wenslydale locks for thrummed mittens.
I find it highly suspicious. It's like I'm acting like a girl or something.
It wasn't until I had a hysterectomy that I started liking the color orange. I have determined that orange is the color of hot flashes.
So what does this new found fascination with pink mean?
I think it means that my brain has finally malfunctioned and will be oozing like oatmeal out of my ears at any second.
Mmmmm. Oatmeal....time for breakfast!