In keeping with my so-far-observed pattern of aging compared to that of my friends (it being that since highschool ended, every half-year that goes by equates to 7 years for me, resulting in super-acceleration to old-maididity), I've quite recently had itchings to sit by a Fire with a cat on my lap and knit soft, warm things. For my grandchildren. While wearing a large, cozy shawl. That I knitted.

There are some logistical problems to this, well, dream of mine. Firstly, I don't have a fire. Secondly, the cat's still afraid of me. Thirdly, I don't know how to knit.

What's absolutely not helping are all the crazy-fantastic craft sites out there, making intricate quilting look like an afternoon's activity, for when you're feeling a little hungover.

The future for me, looks grim. What I can only do is enlist the help of my mother and Joe's mother to help me. Already I have a date with mine to go into Sham Shui Po to ge fabric hunting. She's picking up some crochet needles for me (that's the one thing I can do), and I'll bring along some patterns so she can give me pointers.

I am determined to be a master at all things crafty.