I was hoping to have a finished sock to photograph, but even after sitting through another one of the spouse's movie picks, I'm still probably three inches away from finished. Perhaps tomorrow. Except I'll be pretty busy turning 38, so you might have to look at an incomplete 'pinto pony' sock, after all.
Things (which I again mis-keyed as "thongs") look a bit different in the shop. Rob brought in some frames and foam board and we stapled stuff to them. I got do all the tacking, and she didn't flinch too much. It's a much-needed dash of color atop the fabric cupboards... if I could just get people to look up. Obviously the subtle approach isn't working. A few (or eleven) more displays are required, to show off the variety of fabrics. I knew the effort was worth it when Deb said "ooh, is this new?" to several of the Amy Butler fabrics. (The new stuff doesn't come in till next month. That 'moving it around' thang works great!) Fabric as art. It looks brilliant, and I'm thankful that Miss Robin is so good at lighting a fire under my butt. Kind of tough to say no when she shows up with all the supplies and all I have to do is climb a ladder.
Okay, even though I am "Queen of all I Survey", the laundry still beckons and the kids are up waaay past their bedtime. They don't know it yet, but I'm dragging them out tomorrow for "breakfast with Mom", and then they get to come home and finish my birthday gift, entitled "clean your rooms if it kills you". I may call and order a cake for Wednesday... got a new lead on a baker in the area. It's cake. Is cake ever truly bad? How bad can it be? Don't answer that. It's not E&L cake... I'm scared. (insert plaintive Southern wail and knuckle-bite) Till tomorrow, poodles. C