As the Eagles sang, Thought by now, we’d realize, there ain’t no way to Hyde yer Ryan, aye.
Ie, the kid can’t get off work and he’s not going to his cousin’s wedding with us.
Tomatoes. Water. Yes. He can manage that for me. (Gee, Alison, ya think?)
Yarn, yarn, decisions, decisions. Patterns? Needles?
(Ed. to add, I typed that, looked around, dithered, did my treadmill time, and finally said a prayer: who? With what? And suddenly I knew, absolutely, I knew. It’s all packed now and ready for me to get to it.)