As I write this, I am experiencing my day. These sentences, born in a black Moleskine, have been toted around Sudbury and recorded as I feel the whim. Soon they will leave the structure of these lined pages and swirl into the abyss of the internet, for you all to read.
In this cafe, I wait for my partner in crime. I watch as this local business begins to fill up--not as full as one would expect for a friday lunchtime--and the breakfast sandwich I am eating is warm and delicious. Here I revel in the fact that a simple idea can turn into a place that can make or break someones day.
And along comes the friend. We chat as he wipes the fog from his over-sized glasses (purely cosmetic, of course) and our conversation is scored by the howling blizzard outside. My high hopes for march break were dashed as I read about the foot and a half of snow expected in this crater of a town. With no handknit to keep me warm, outside I wandered, loudly voicing my complaints to my compadre and anyone else who would listen. Our destination is finally reached, after multiple stops, and I head off to work.
And those, my dears, are simple pleasures.
Your favourite aunt would love a sample or two of your handiwork. She is one of the many suppliers' of your tools and obvious wool supplies from your early days. She often remembers finding (or rather not finding) her needles missing. As a novice knitter herself she has enjoyed the time spent watching you and your sister pull out the needles (or rocket launchers to the family members who are neophytes in the knitting kingdom) and work on your projects. Keep up the good work. BTW your mother's Christmas present remains unfinished ... get going. Much love and admiration as always.
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