I am still trying to figure this whole blogging thing out. and depression doesn’t help me study…. it’s a selfish bastard, who knew?
I love my son. His laughter makes me smile and helps make the sadness go away until I worry that I am not being a good enough mother. At which point the depression bastard sneaks back into my head and starts using evil tactics.
I’m off to crochet. It helps sometimes. I’m making a clutch/pocketbook out of neon yellow and grass green and a kind of light olive color — like if you soaked a green olive in a ton of vodka. maybe it will be cool.. either way I’ve got to finish it so I can work on another hat for the donation totes this winter.
Be nice to each other, because jail isn’t as fun as OITNB makes it seem. no really. it’s not.
I crocheted the octopus hanging on the wall behind me (which has since been removed and replaced with nothing. Welcome to my crazy eyebrows and collection of gray strands. I’m hoping they overtake the brown soon, but I’m only 44 so I may have to wait a while.