Well, I would love to be blogging about the INCREDIBLE WONDERFUL SUPERFANTASTIC quilt I'm working on now, but as it is a wedding present for Chris and Rhea, and things got changed a little, I have been ordered by DH to keep it a secret. Thus, no photos, no status reports, and no hints. Okay, maybe some hints . . . think wood tones, fall leaves, and a creek full of trout. Not sounding like a quilt, is it? I desperately want to share it with the blogworld, but cannot, on punishment of having my favorite yarns hidden away (evil threats, just evil), so no more teasing. However, after the official unveiling after the wedding, I will post pictures. I'm really proud of this one.
So, in the mean time, That Logan Chick will be a little knit-centric. Now that the washing machine has coughed its last breath, I am laundromat-ing it until the repair company comes to our tiny little town in the mountains - June 29th. A little back story about our local laundromat: it is mostly used by oil field workers, rig pigs, and logging types. Thus, it is filled with men that rarely shower, and they put the filthiest of clothes in any old washer, even though there are a number marked specifically for extra dirty work clothes. When I go in to do our laundry, they all kind of look at me funny (ummm, girl - I think most of them have been in the bush too long). So, I'm really not comfortable just walking away from my laundry, so now spend my afternoons sitting in the laundromat while I do my washing, knitting all the while. I can still take the loads home to dry, so I skedaddle as soon as my washing is done. Carrying loads of wet laundry - my back is so happy with me! Long story wound up - my next few posts will likely include adventures of Logan in laundromat land.
For those of you that have been following my adventures, I'd just like to finish with this: the poltergeist has been exercised from my car! WOOO HOOOOO! Fine, command start has been located and removed, and now rests in the glove box until the next full moon, at which point I will either bury it, or throw it off the highest cliff I can find. Yup, littering. Fine, I'll just toss it in the garbage - but not until I stomp on it several times - may even do a dance of "I-hate-you-but-you're-dead-now-so-hah!" on its little electrical gizmo box. Yippee!