We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts we
make the world.
~ Buddha
I really loved the Spring
desktops that I've had since
March, but decided I should probably change mine, at least for awhile. I may end up
going back to the flowers, they're
so colorful and happy that they make
me
happy. But I thought I'd try something different, so I browsed through my folder of
desktop images and icons, and changed to an old-fashioned Disney theme.
I was watching the Kodak Bird
Cam this morning, and saw this little guy:
All the other babies are asleep, mom and dad are out hunting (presumably), and he's
awake, stalking around the nest box, saying, "Man, I'm hungry. I'm ready to go out and get my
own breakfast. I might have to eat one of these little birdies if they
don't get back here pretty quick!"
The yarn I ordered for the felted bag came today, so I spent the evening knitting and
watching a movie (Saving
Grace--okay, not terrific, but okay: recent widow discovers her husband left her
penniless, so with the help of her gardener, goes into the marijuana cultivation
business; hilarity ensues).
Knitting the bag is kind of weird. Size 11 needles as opposed to the Size 1's I'm used
to lately for knitting socks. The hand/arm movement seems quite different, but I think
that's supposed to be good, I've read lately that knitting several different projects at
once (well, not at once, but switching off between them) with different needle
sizes is better for you than always working with the same size. The muscles get worked
in a different way. I can tell that that's true--my neck feels the workout from
these needles.
So I didn't do a lot, just about 16 rows, I think. I'm trying not to hurry, which is
a failing of mine when using large needles. There's something about it that makes me
feel like I need to rush, to get it finished faster. Whereas with the tiny needles and
fine yarn of a pair of socks, I don't have any trouble going slower. It doesn't feel
like quite as much of a race, for some reason.