I cannot count the stitches in my work, I cannot count the thoughts. All I can do is knit. Let the yarn and the needles slide. Let the tiny loops hide my feelings from the world, for I can carry them no more. The yarn it speaks to me, tells me what it wants to be. And in return it holds my secrets, it holds my dreams. Let the yarn and the needles slide. The needles whisper to me "What do you want? What do you need? Tell me everything!".

I had forgotten. . .

When planning to chat on the phone with someone in a different time zone it is imperative to be sure you know exactly how many hours difference there are.