I am knitting a blanket, with the help of an internal Telepath, of all figments. It is because of Tita, from Like Water For Chocolate. Right now, it is about two feet of blue and turquoise stripiness. I have been working on it for two or three months, off and on.

I mention this because knitting is, je pense, niether the ultimate feminine bondage, nor the groaning boredom of domesticity. Ask Arachne. Yes she was a weaver, but I bet she liked to knit.

I can't find my Book of Dungeons, and I am supposed to be running a campaign soon. Grr.

Had an accident with the glittery slut lotion last night at work. Spent the evening sparkling like mad and positively emanating the scent of patchouli.

This delighted me, probably to unreasonable lengths.

<<agé chose>>

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