You Say It's Your Birthday

There's the birthday boy. 17 years today. I was going to relate all kinds of sweet memories of him as a baby and go on about how important he is to me, how smart and good looking; but not now. He did NOT like the gift I got him. The ungrateful brat. And as if that weren't bad enough, he couldn't even fake it for me so I now have to listen to his father gloat about the fact that he told me so. It's the Tele Tubby incident all over again. Hmmphh. I should have just stuck with the yarn that I initially said I was going to get him. I don't think he even ate any of the birthday brownies I made a special trip to the grocery store to buy him. In retaliation I have cancelled one of his birthday parties. (Not really, the planning for it just fell through. And lest you worry too much, his father went out and bought him something from his list so he did get a gift he wants. I was not privy to the list.)

The knitting and the spinning continue, though. I spun up more singles, and grafted one of the underarms on the Red Head sweater while watching Love Story. I was in the mood for a good cry anyways.