Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

I had such a nice post written.  

It had self-revelation (I don't like surprises. I have control issues).

It had humor (I read the end of the mystery half-way through, and sometimes sooner. I work the mazes in the Sunday papers from the inside out). (That's humor in support of the aforesaid self-revelation)

It had personal growth (I signed up for a mystery knit-along anyway). 

It had rationalization (The knit-along let's you choose your clues, so not all the shawls will be the same; the designer is Ysolda Teague; one of the bloggers I read had already started one).

It had pictures (here's one).

Hmm. I don't remember it looking quite that harsh a red when I took the picture.  Too much Photoshop?

And then I typed the last two words of a really clever closing aphorism, which I can no longer remember but was probably tied to all the preceding clever prose, and Blogger ate it all except for the last word and a half.

Definitely not as easy as Abel Baker Charlie.