Last night, going out the back door to the porch, intending to sit on the porch swing and watch the Goober play in her sandbox, I crashed and burned. Splat. Onto concrete. Broke the cup I was carrying, threw the camera OFF the porch (it came to rest under a tree in the back yard - and survived, amazingly), and flung ice cubes and soda all the hell over the place. The worst part was, the Goober saw the whole thing. While I was laying on the ground, waiting for the pain to abate, she kept asking "Mumma? You okay?" and I would say "Yes, baby, I'm fine." and she would wait a moment, then ask again. Ugh.
She did kiss me to make it better, after I got up off the ground. And picked up the ice cubes for me.
Anyway, since fixing dinner and walking around the house have become contact sports, what the fuck, I might as well do what I want:
I'm almost on the second bobbin. To hell with this 'take a break' crap.
And after that? I'm going to try spinning a version of Purple Trainwreck. That should be interesting.