Firstly, I want to share SuperBaby's first handknit sweater, the Offset Wraplan, designed by Fyberduck. It turned out so well, I almost wanted to keep it just so I could admire it. The sweater is a bit on the big side for SuperBaby right now, as you can see.
A touch big for him ...
It was knit in red Rowan Felted Tweed (wool and alpaca), and has little blue fish buttons that I found at Jo-Ann's. I hope he has some time to wear it before it gets to be too small for him, not to mention unbearably hot for Iowa. (We have strange weather here. I swear I heard the weather man say the temperature will climb to 80 by the end of the week!)
Let's see ... what else is new? I've really been enjoying Dollhouse and Castle, and I read the other day that Project Runway will be back on the air this summer; season 6 will finally be aired (on Lifetime, which I'm still not sure about), and they're putting out casting calls for season 7. So glad to hear the show didn't get flushed entirely. I was really beginning to be concerned about my Tim Gunn deficiency.
Also, I discussed starting up a community musical theatre group with a few former classmates. That would be kind of fun, I think.
As for what else I've been up to, let's let some crappy camera phone pics do the talking.
Watching your parents playing tic-tac-toe with straws and fake sugar at Perkins on a Friday night is always a great way to beat boredom while waiting for your nosh. (Note: this is before I got pulled over for speeding. With the parents in the car. At midnight. Talk about awkward. Good thing I only got a warning, or as my mom said, "That was almost a really expensive dinner." But we got pie, and ate it last night and it was delicious.)
I discovered this gem, a store version of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!, when I was making grilled cheese for lunch yesterday. It was sitting innocuously in my parents' fridge, and cracked me up. When I commented on it later, my mom got very defensive and there was a five-minute discussion on how often my parents got real butter during their childhoods. I think I might draw a question mark on the packaging, because the phrase is really screaming for one.
And finally, the forsythia is starting to bloom. Spring is really here. (Of course I could have told you spring was really here yesterday; I was woken up by a chorus of every chirping bird in town telling me that the sun was going to come up soon. Ah, the woes of being able to sleep with the windows open at last.)