I'm on vacation for the week. This is where I've been hanging out since yesterday. My aunt and uncle's house in northern Wisconsin is my favorite retreat. Every inch of this house has been modified to suit their needs and aesthetic - from the hand-made shelving to the multiple additions - and the walls are covered with my aunt's artwork. I walk inside and am immediately struck with an urge to create something.
Unfortunately, this time that urge didn't extend to writing. I have a short story on my harddrive waiting for an ending, but instead of working on it, I've been sitting in a patch of sunlight, knitting my Snow White sweater and chatting with my aunt. It's currently sort of a Snow White tube top.
But that fit? Perfect. It's at the point where I need to set down the body and knit the sleeves, and I've promised that short story I won't cast-on the sleeves until I've written a proper ending.
Projects I've got to work on while I'm here:
- "No and the Walking House"
- Novel #3 (currently stuck in the midst of chapter seven)
- Snow White sweater
But for now, I hear my name being called for dinner.