This past weekend, I was determined - and fully expected - to get all sorts of important and/or creative things done. I even had time roughed out in my busy, busy days during which I could have tackled either. Of course, I accomplished nothing, or close to that, because my brain insisted on shutting down on everything except the next game of computer Solitude. Why that happens is probably not a mystery on par with where we go when we die, or where the fuck hyenas come from (they don't come from Earth, I'm convinced about that) but it *is* a puzzlement.

On the other hand, I did actually take up my knitting needles again. I'd started learning the craft (ooo, listen to her...the "Craft"....) a few months ago, and generally got myself into a frazzle after three or six rows of basic knitting because I'd consistently drop a stitch, or double-stitch, or some other such tyro mistake. But last night, after having morosely measured my " done" list against my "to do" list, and found the outcome somewhat bleak, I espied my Readers' Digest "How to Knit" pack, sent to me by my wonderful Mother. Self, I said...Self, it's time to try knitting again. So Self did. And Self actually got past her first mistake. Instead of basically throwing the whole thing at the wall when my inevitable first dropped stitch occured, I very carefully figured out how to back track and do a proper do-over.

All of which I'm blathering on about, I suppose, to say (and remind myself) that it always pays to get back on the bicycle. No, not the horse. Horses are weird. Have you ever looked at their eyes? They have horizontal pupils.

*Horizontal*, people. Like octopi. I don't care about Black Beauty, of My Friend Flicka, or whatever the next My Little Pony name might be.

Horizontal pupils.

Not of this earth.