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I’ve been slogging through Feather & Fan with my practice yarn, Grignasco Merinosilk in Coral Pink (#335), which upon inspection is actually thinner than the J&S Shetland Laceweight the pattern calls for. Slogging is not quite the right word, since I am enjoying the construction of the lace. It would be ever so much more fun if I could count past four without being distracted. Funny, I could do it when I was three-years-old.

It looks like something that died on the beach.

It will look better when I block it. I’m not sure I want to show you my mistakes. I’m stopping this after I finish chart 1, and moving on to the real thing, which will not be as horrifying as I as I thought, except for the k1-p1-k1-p1-k1-p1-k1’s into the triple yo’s, which, in fact, are as terrifying as they sound. There are only eight of them, and I can survive, provided I am sober.

I did bike today. The return trip took me directly into the northwest wind, 21 mph, gusting up to 32 mph—according to the Weather Channel. The last forty-five minutes were brutal. Second gear—just to keep from going in reverse. Legs dead.

Can’t believe I’ve never seen it.

Can’t believe it hasn’t been remade. Meryl Streep. Ron Livingston. Reese Witherspoon (the reader). Sean Hayes or Ryan Philippe (the gay boyfriend, Artie), Victor Garbor as Max.