The flock was out terrifying the garden (as they are wont to do) and completely freaked out at the Large White Shawl. One actually flew into the side of the aboveground pool (Knucklehead. At least she's OK). Hence only one photo.
The Large Green Shawl yesterday, however, was apparently okay and didn't faze them.
I wanted to do something really artsy and pretty instead of being sucked into a photographic rut of flat ShawlOnFence photos, but the hyper beasties currently staring at me through the sliding door beging for treats won't let me with all their melodrama. It's like a soap opera in the backyard with the introduction of Trilby- everyone's shuffling around in the pecking order. Nobody's sure who's the boss now, which makes reactions to things overexaggerated.
Oh! She flapped her wings funny! BLAAAAH!
Oh! A squirrel, the same one I've seen every day of my life! BLAAAAH!
Oh! A leaf! BLAAAAH!
LARGE WHITE THING- TOTAL MELTDOWN! That freakout was like a nuclear explosion compared to the other freakouts of this morning.
Anywho, back to the shawl.
I've never kept track of how many hours it's taken me to knit something, start to finish.
These are all the movies watched during the making of Citron with an extra repeat and a one-row-shortened ruffle.
Against All Flags Robin Hood
Buccaneer's Girl Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid Star Wars: The Clone Wars
Cleopatra The Public Enemy
Double Crossbones Tron: Legacy
Key Largo Yankee Buccaneers
Plus a half-hour episode of Robin Hood. Plus a three-hour car ride. This is nearly 28 hours of knitting. *headdesk* And it isn't even for me. It's a Christmas present for an extremely knitworthy aunt.
There's also....mmm...half-a-mile of yarn in there. 3 3/4 skeins of Bernat baby sport, the white and gray, and a few dozen yards of the mulberryish yarn, an unidentified fiber from the bottom of the Stash Trunk.
The ruffle's still not lying properly. I'm going to have to try killing or steam blocking it.
I'm mildly terrified. That's 28 hours of knitting right up there, folks. What if I do it wrong? Anyone want to hold my hand?