Mostly I slept this weekend. And went to the movies. I realized (a bit belatedly) late last week that I've been treating myself like crap, and maybe the shingles would stay away if I took better care of myself. You know, like sleeping right and maybe relaxing once in a while. I took a couple vitamins. Diet and exercise are already being dealt with, in a desire to lose some weight. I'm on the dismal-but-sensible "quit eating junk food and grazing between meals" diet and taking walks in the evening. (I'm considering taking a sock along to knit on the walks. Our ancestors did it while herding sheep, why can't I?)
So... lots of sleeping, not much knitting. I feel better, though.
The brown and red jacket got a button band/collar/edging, and all the ends darned in. It's waiting to get the arm pits grafted together, then I'll wash it and block it, and then hem it, and it's done. At the moment it's thrown over the arm of the couch, languishing. I caught the cat kneading it, and the other day she was sleeping INSIDE it. She ran before I could get a photo, though.
The blue scarf has been bound off and sits on a shelf next to the blocking pins and spray bottle, waiting for me to be willing to spread out towels on the floor, crawl around pinning it, and then spray it with water. Just thinking about it makes my knees and hands hurt. Maybe tomorrow.
Me Knitting on Friday night (during the premire of Season Ten of Stargate, woohoo! Everyone was rescued in statistically unlikely ways) produced two inches of sleeve. About ten more to go. (That's... um... two months? Oy.)
I began the next freaking scarf. This one's a rather virulent purple, with a different lace pattern. The cat has discovered it is soft too, and I found cat hairs stuck in it this morning. Very suspicious.
That may look like a lot, but most of it was done this morning, so it hardly counts.
In other news, the baby has been confined to her pack and play after being caught playing with extension cords. She hams it up for the camera, but let me tell you, she's not amused.
And Sekhmet the cat lays on her bed of hand-knit Australian merino, sneering at the world from under her eyebrow whiskers. Somebody bring her some catnip.