Monday, February 2, 2009

A MOVEABLE FEAST, Ernest Hemingway

It feels as though the list of what I have is catching up with the list of what I want.
We've been staying in for the most part. Staying in, but hanging out. And time has been moving along in the most interesting manner.
It is what I read this morning. With the overcast, gray light. My bay window. My knitting needles. And page 32.

1 comment:

lulu said...

oh, sounds so romantic.
How can you knit and read?
I have been knitting more lately, I'm making Katie and Rose kitty hats. For real.
But not reading while I am doing it.
cindy