That ticker is actually a bit low.  I have a bunch more stitching to measure, but it sure got late last night. 

My finger is almost entirely healed.  The nail is still a bit too short to be comfortable, so I’m keeping it covered, but I’m really happy to be heading out to the wilderness without that particular injury to deal with.

I finished machine sewing early Wednesday night.  Can I get an amen?  I said can I get an amen?!

Scott has a new linen del, which he’ll wear on the field.  It’s looking pretty snazzy.  It needs just a tiny bit more hand-sewing along the hem and then some closures.  I’ll probably make some luceted cord for the inner closure, bitching the whole time, and then use a good button and a luceted loop for the outer closure.  Mongols didn’t cut button holes.  That’s some respect for weavers, right there. 

I decided not to bother to make anything for myself after packing up my clothes for the trip.  I have an embarrassment of riches already.  Instead of stressing myself out with last-minute cutting, I’ll make myself a gorgeous present or two in time for my birthday.

Still lots of weaving to do on the inkle.  It’ll hold. 

We’ve gotten a lot of packing done, and Scott is home today picking up the trailer.  "How insane are these people, renting a trailer to carry camping gear?" you ask.  You’ll see how insane.  This year, we’ll live in the trees.   In the trees, I say!  We haven’t done it in years, but it’s time to raise the floor.

I know, you want pictures.  You’ll get pictures when I come back.   Anything else you really want to see?  Lemme know.  I can’t promise to try, but I’ll try to try.

My younger brother is moving into the Mean-Skuta Manse in our absence, so if you were planning to break in and steal the yarn or the fabric, well, you’ll have to get past a sarcastic red-headed hair farmer.  Who may be susceptible to bribes.  So, you will face essentially the same challenge you would if I were home, except I’m a brunette hair farmer, and I’m crap at soccer. 

If you do break into the manse to steal my stuff, just watch out for the Pint Lion.  In addition to stalking and eating toes, he has a new hobby.  He has fallen desperately in love with stick pins.  I really, really don’t want my kitten eating pins, so while you’re rifling through my studio, please keep him out of the room and away from the pin-cushion, and securely close up the studio as you escape with the loot.   I can deal with having less stuff, but I can’t deal with a wounded kitten.

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