I am a no talent hack. That is my husband’s favorite self-deprecating phrase when he is feeling the artist’s equivalent to writer’s block. And sometimes, he is suffering from writer’s block, ’cause he does that too. But I am a no talent hack because I CAN’T GET THESE MISERABLE EYES RIGHT! AAAAAAAAHHHHG!

Ahem. Yes, well, now that I have lost all composure and any imagined dignity, I am going to retreat into a hole and lick my wounds. The rebel backpack is now singing the Siren’s song and I am going to succumb. Poor Abigail gets a blind doll with no skirt, and I move steadily towards the light at the end of the tunnel, which right now is my mom’s sweater. How I long to knit that beautiful sweater. It has a pattern. Did you catch that? A PATTERN! It is simple ribbing and cables. Ah, the relaxation, the simple sweetness that is knitting from someone else’s sweat and frustration realized in a beautiful, tidy pattern. (Please don’t ruin my anticipation by reminding me that the yarn for said mom sweater is cotton. You know, the evil, unforgiving fiber that is mercerized cotton? We are not thinking about that right now. Looking forward to knitting that sweater is the only thing keeping us going. Wait a minute….. We? Us? Great, next I’ll be calling for my precious.)

I spent most of yesterday working on and organizing my house, laundry, etc. so I didn’t spend much time knitting. I finished Abigail’s doll’s sweater and tried to give her eyes. Neither went very well. The sweater is cute, but my seaming is atrocious, and I can’t get the eyes right.

Aargh!