On the Crafting front:
I'm plotting several knitting projects, all of which are gorgeous and perfect and charming and completely doable... because they are currently in the 'theoretical' stage that comes well before the actual 'planning' stage, and eons before the fun 'going insane in the Local Yarn Store' stage, and (blessedly) light years before the 'flinging self prostrate on the floor and pitching a fit because there is NO WAY that this #@&# thing is ever going to get finished before the end of the century' stage.
This fog of happy delusion is not the least bit dissipated by the fact that I already have two projects on the needles that are currently at the fit-pitching stage.
One is a scarf intended for my sister, made of a handspun yarn that is getting a bit ragged, having been completely knit up and then completely frogged TWICE. I do not seem able to admit to the obvious fact that there is not enough yarn there for a scarf, and I will either have to add some complimentary commercial yarn to the project or scrap the entire thing and instead knit up little tiny scarves for my sister's birds. The purchase of commercial yarn and a thorough re-design is of course the logical choice.
I'm trying to figure out whether there is enough yarn in my handspun skein to make some teensy matching beak-warmers.
My other project is an afghan intended for my aunt and uncle. I am at the stage where I am supposed to pick up 121 stitches for the edging at the top of the blanket. I have picked up 148, ripped back, picked up 89, ripped back, picked up 113, ripped back, picked up 134, ripped back.
Now, of course any sane person would have admitted defeat and divided up the edge into marked sections by at least that 89 stitch fiasco. But not me. I am made of
Maybe there's a reason I'm not rich and famous by now. It's just possible that I'm not always as practical as I could be.