egg and nest

I do not knit. I don't.

There. I said it and it's out in the open.

Max can knit. But not me. And every now and again, I yearn to cast on and just knit like hell. It looks relaxing and who doesn't love wool, for Pete's sake. The truth is, I can't add another hobby to my repertoire. I am already overrun with supplies for too many projects. My mind is a sordid breeding ground for all sorts of strange and funky.

Why are those bike rims in the back of your car? Matt asks.

I'm not sure. I say. I'm going to make something.

Why do you want that enormous ball of rusted barb wire? he asks.

It's shaped like an egg, I say.

I want to put it in that satellite dish and it will look like an alien bird nest, I say.

He actually agrees with me. Good husband.

Which brings me, long way round, to the beautiful knitted nest that I won the other day from Rhythm of the Home  and Kendra at By Hand at Home. I'm so excited. It' so simple and sweet. It was meant for me.

Because I will be knitting no eggs. Nor nests.

But feel free to drop by and see the Terminator Condor Model.

Why are there two 18 ft. long carpet tubes strapped to the top of your car? he asks.

Wait and see. I say.