It’s snowing and cold.
I know it’s only March 12th, and that living in Toronto I have no right to be offended about it being cold and snowing at this point, but I’m offended anyway. The weather has been warm (well…warmer than this) and there are snowdrops in the garden down the street. I’ve been waiting for it to get warm enough to run outside instead of having to do battle with the treadmill (my arch-enemy) and last night I went for a run outside. I ran from here to High Park (which is absolutely irrelevant to you, unless you care that my goal is to run *around* the park by the end of the year. I thought it was a pretty good goal until yesterday when I was practically crawling back to my house) and all I wore was a tee shirt and fleece. Then this morning…it’s all right back in the dumper. I cannot bear the thought that the little snowdrops are covered in this offending crap. (Now would not be the best time to tell me that this may be why they are called snowdrops, okay?) I may start the Snowdrop shawl (which I am yet to write the pattern for) in their honour. Remember the swatch?

In other news. I am knitting clogs. Probably until I die.
What book did I get? This one. Am I going to be sorry? What I really wanted was this one. Just kidding. I crack myself up.