Here I sit (in a chair that is entirely too tall, I might add) in Kelly's kitchen, with a computer open in front of me, and it is time for a new post. May I just say that Kelly's family has more cookbooks than anyone in the entire world?! You say I exaggerate? Surely I jest? I lie not. But all is well, I have recipes to take home, and there is bread in the oven. Cuban bread, if I recall correctly. I'm just hoping that the recipe doesn't call for a half cup of cigars or anything. Hmmm, I think that should that eventuality come to pass, I may have to run screaming for the hills.
But I digress. And my post is starting to sound like one of Kelly's with entirely too many references to food.
On a side note (still on the subject of Kelly's kitchen), it has been highly amusing watching the roofers (or, more accurately what they have thrown off the roof) as we chat. Entertaining, but scary, was their attempt to saw something for the roof using the hot top as a sawing surface.
And through it all Kelly's mutant gray squirrel has calmly been digging to China. Serenely ignoring the disturbing thumps and bumps coming from the roof.
Knitting-wise, I have finally thrown my name in the hat for ravelry. It will be another 10 years before I am accepted into that much lauded group. I have no idea how long the waiting list is now, but the number is sure to be astronomical. Everyone and sisters and mothers (and yarn inclined cats for that matter) seem to be signing up. But I was convinced at knitting that I should sign up.
Off to watch the bread cook.