Vincent Price is in my office ...

and is driving me nuts! It's a damn fly. A big fly. The kind that buzzes around your head and never ever lands. So far, I've hit the wall with my shoe, slammed it in the mini-blinds, and yelled at it -- none of which highly scientific tactics have worked.

So, instead, I am ...


winding yarn! Luscious cotton yarn for the cardigan I hope to finish this weekend. As you can see from the label, it's Egyptian cotton.

Not.











A careful examination of the left side of the label reveals .... Made in Croatia. sigh. Is nothing sacred?






And what would his royal highness think of that, I ask you? After all, he gave his life for tourism (thank you Steve Martin).









At least I've recovered from the hockey play-off blues. And finished the hockey play-off socks! These will be wending their way to little Joseph tomorrow. I got close to making them "twins", but somehow the yarn (from two separate and distinct -- don't ya love legalese -- balls), didn't

cooperate. I think I'll just give up trying to make a perfect match. As do most of my matrimonial clients. In my wackier moments, I try to think of good songs to use for hold music. So far, I've come up with:

1. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
2. My D-I-V-O-R-C-E is Final Today
3. Your Cheatin' Heart
4. Tainted Love
5. Anything by Saffire, the Uppity Blues Women.

My partner might not go for it, though I think the clients would like it.

Well, off to kill Vincent, and to a band concert at the High School. Jon, aka drummer boy, has his final concert of the year tonight. I'm bringing the cardigan.