I might have a finished object for you tomorrow.

The cowl is galloping along. I will be a little sad when it's done, because that yarn is soft and squishy without losing an iota of structural integrity.

I daydreamed on the drive home about taking a 20 year old skirt that still has plenty of life in it, but needs a bit of refurbishing, and the 25 year old filet crochet lace edging that I made for Firstborn (which she politely declined as being lovely but not really her taste) and seeing if they wanted to play together. After dinner I went to where the lace has been living for the past six years, and it's not there. I think I put it in a "safe place" when I grabbed the copper mug it had been coiled up into so that I could use it (the mug) for something else.

Middlest says the fastest way to find the missing lace is to purposefully launch a mission to find something else. Which won't be hard, because our house is a repository of projects-in-gestation, and if I just pick up enough things that are Not It, the lace will jump out and holler "BOO!" And when it does, I am going to tea-dye it. Maybe. Probably. I bought a box of the darkest, most sinister black tea when I picked up our bottled water on the way home tonight, and I've stowed it in a kitchen cupboard, but I think I will move it to my studio before bedtime after slapping a hot pink sticky note on it that says "for crafting, not for consumption, so no, I haven't gone apostate on you." [In case you're just tuning in, devout Latter-day Saints don't drink tea, unless it's herbal tea. It's part of our health code known as the Word of Wisdom.]

I think it's going to be a lovely, quiet weekend. Tomorrow is Middlest's 35th birthday and it would have been my 45th anniversary with FirstHubby. I'm incredibly tired from a week of slaving over a hot keyboard, and I need to make things in order to restore some degree of balance.

Later, gators. The yarn is calling.