I haven’t disappeared, but I am having a nutso week.  And I left my camera in Scott’s glove-box for way too long, and I feel like a slacker blogging sans images.  But my fine brother has cheerfully agreed to house-sit for us, so our pending vacation to Celtic summer camp is feeling closer and easier.  Three weeks till, well, yippeeeee!   and Woot and such-like with all our far-flung kin.

In short: I’m making lists and sewing like mad in my crazy sweat-shop, and toying with a possible new poetic translation of either this or this.  Or, if I give up sleeping, a-this.  I have already done the actual translations of Scela Mucce MacDatho and Tain Bo Fraech, so, you know, those are arguably easier to complete in time.  Decisions, decisions. 

I am almost finished with Skutai’s new del: it needs to have the buttons sewn on and the little button loops added.  It is quite fetching, and the edge detail I talked him into is the perfect compliment to his eyes.  I’ve also been working on some tunics and a ruana.  Well, two ruanai: the knitted one I’ve been working on for ages and a sewn one.   I think both are bound for someone else’s back. 

And a funny hat is in the works.   I’ve got one word: Ultuna.  If it doesn’t crack up the recipient over and over again for the length of our vacation, I will eat the hat.   If I end up having to eat the hat, um, please take me to the doctor, k?

Middleburg was lovely yesterday, which I should be able to prove with pictures but I failed the whole "put camera in purse" roll, so nada.  I was entirely overwhelmed in Hunt Country Yarns as usual, and thus managed to buy just one pattern and six buttons.  On the way there, my Mom commented on the socks I’m currently working on, which I’ve been lamenting over because, like everything I’m working on lately, they are clearly not meant for me.  So socks for darling mom.  I hope she hearts them.  Except that if she does, it may mean I get to keep fewer of the socks I make.  Which would be tragic, because I am apparently  capable of keeping only socks these days.

And it looks like a little something I wrote is now officially bound for publication in a real book, and that it will appear in a way that the editor and I both find pleasing.  I want to rattle the thing off to you, but my guess is that the editor would ask me not to.  So if you want to hear it, call me up and I’ll recite it for you.  I am feeling quite proud at the moment.  Entirely too puffed up.  Dangerous, really.  Must avoid deflation.

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