And so it ends, seemingly in mid-conversation. I suppose we are, and there is territory yet to be covered. There always is.
1. Brando, stuttering along. I counted the rows, and came up one short. That means inevitable recount(s). I have to knit like the wind on the sekrit project, so Brando will be put aside. The sweater will have its inevitable revenge for this. I cannot wait to see what form it takes. (I am lying. I can wait.)
2. This is really funny, because it is not my yard, and it is not my pumpkins. The girls were fearless. We sat and watched for at least five minutes. Suburbanized animals - at least it wasn't the local bear.
I'll be back.