Return to the Land of the Living

Hello, Dear Readers.

It's been a while.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was in Billings, Montana for about a week on a work trip. It was so-very thrilling and did a lot to increase the already formidable size of my sleep deficit. Nevertheless, as I find is often the case, I did meet some truly awesome folks in my time away. I feel a pang of sadness when I think about the fact that I very likely won't see them in person anymore. Sure, we'll correspond through email and we'll probably speak on the phone, but barring a wholly unforeseen event, I won't ever be in their physical presence again.

It's a shame, too; Billings has some pretty rad people living in it.

In an exceedingly rare, almost unheard-of event, I got a hold of a car during my lunch break and was able to check out the local yarn store scene. I had the pleasure of visiting Wild Purls and I did some compulsory yarn shopping. Now, to be fair, I did need some yarn to finish another strip of my 64 Crayon Blanket. Of course I ran out some fifteen rows from the end! Apart from the necessary purchase, however, I did pick up some gorgeous Montana-made yarn. Just look at it-- it's gorgeous:

I was tickled pink by the lack of sales tax in Montana. You see, I have this habit of rounding up tax to absurd decimal places just to make sure I never underestimate the total cost of a purchase. In Montana, however, this is wholly unnecessary. You should have seen me at the Dollar Store-- I was going nuts because everything literally cost one dollar. No weird tax tacking on some seven- or eight-odd cents. Beautiful, round numbers instead.

So yeah, I may have compensated by buying more yarn than strictly necessary but it was a beautiful yarn store so I regret nothing. I am sad to report that I never made it out to another local store I was told was a must-see, Purl Yarn Boutique. By the look of their website, I missed another truly awesome shop.

All and all, there was very little time for knitting, however. Turns out, working seventeen hours a day really puts a damper on free-time activities (did I mention my outrageous sleep deficit?).

What time I did have to myself was spent in the pursuit of a decent meal (which was often a frozen yakisoba and a lackluster bowl of fruit) and then lying motionless on the bed, watching Marilyn Monroe movies.

I finally got around to watching Some Like It Hot which is arguably the funniest film I've seen in a good long while. The was followed up by episodically re-watching The Seven Year Itch-- another excellently amusing film.

By the time I made it home, harried from almost being late to the airport, I found myself laid up with a cold (I'm sorry, fellow airline passengers, I tried to keep my germs to myself). I had planned on taking a three-day weekend upon my return home but I hadn't expected the circumstances to be quite so feverish. Mostly, I ended up lying around unmoving, hopped up on Dayquil, snoozing and playing with some neat language-learning applications online (I'm looking at you, Memrise and Duolingo).

I have been working on my Hanging Leaves shawl (about which I am still somewhat ambivalent), but it's hard to see progress when one is working in laceweight. My boyfriend saw what I was working on and seemed almost started at it: "That's the smallest thing I've ever seen you work on." And, frankly, he's right. I usually make it a point not to work on laceweight for the very reason that I find it so discouraging. Work ten rows-- progress--what progress?

It's soft, at least.

I'm pleased to be back home. Home to bed and boyfriend and cat and familiar. At least this cold had the courtesy to kick in as I was on my way home, rather than afflicting me in a strange hotel room.

So here I am again, easing myself back into normal routines and dutifully reporting them to you, dear reader.

It's good to be back.