Life Is Just a Chair of Bowlies

I can tell already. It's going to be one of those days, mostly making up for yesterday. I could have recovered fairly smoothly from the round trip to Urbana in a downpour (I do so love that Clare is again close enough to come up for occasions). I might even have been able to process John's 6 page essay. It was his belated recollection that the essay was supposed to be in 12 pt type and he had written his in 14 pt that did me in. You'd be surprised by just how much an essay can shrink under those circumstances. Well, maybe you wouldn't, but I was, not much given to considering the relative size of Times New Roman under the best of conditions.

With all that apologia, let me point out that at least I'm posting. Briefly and possibly frivilously, but posting nonetheless.

Without further ado, let me just state: I got the best Easter basket this year.

I do Easter baskets well as a general rule. Christmas stockings and St. Nicholas Day shoes and Epiphany, too. (Anyone with any sense wants to be a member of my household at holiday time.) This year, mine was the best.

It's a yarn bowl.

Note the clever little curlicue cut-out that Jennie the Potter devised so the ball of yarn doesn't leap out and race under the couch like spilled Cheerios every time I pull out some new yarn.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and a yarn bowl. And yarn. Life is good.