Stream of consciousness: read at your own risk.

This is such a disjointed post that I'm warning you ahead of time. This is stream-of-consciousness. So close the window now if jumping from subject to subject distresses you.

I'm really good at setting goals and achieving them. Really. I am the worst designer, though. My designs are fine; I'm just reluctant to write them down. Mostly because I don't have time, and when I do have time, I would rather knit something else than type up what's in my head.

If only there were a sync cable so that I could plug myself into my laptop and just transfer my ideas, so that I could happily knit along, watching my Tivo, while I put the designs down for general use. But I have to write down the two patterns I promised Melinda for Maryland Sheep and Wool, which I will be attending this year. (Wooo!) That's going to get done this week, really.

Andrew is visiting his brother in Florida, who is opening a brewery... today. Or yesterday, EST. So it's me, Mom, and the schmoopies for the weekend. I have to take the dogs out for a walk; we couldn't take them to the park to run out their energy and they're starting to go stir crazy from the rain.

I want to go to Vegas again; this time, I'm going to NOT pull my groin walking. Girls can pull their groin muscles, right? I want to see Blue Man Group. And Avenue Q again. I will go prepared to the Star Trek Experience and not be mocked by a Ferengi again.

Work is great; I'm having a lot of fun there, but I am so tired today. Good thing it's Friday. They set me up with a second screen to work on side-by-side, and I must say that it is oh-so luxurious.

We need to do some work on the house; I want to paint, but we have this fugly wood paneling on one wall in the living room, and one side of the staircase. My aunt is giving me all of my mother's counted cross stitch (which she has been hoarding for close to 15 years), so I'm trying to figure out how and where to hang it.

I love croissants. Buttery goodness.

Ok, going to bed now.

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