I Love It When That Happens

But first, let me confess (if youhaven't already guessed): I'm an NPR geek. Nerd. Junkie. Whatever.

And when I heard that Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me was going to be taping in this city, there was no way I'd miss it.

It was great fun, and I even got a party favour, a reusable grocery bag because dontcha know, all NPR listeners are tree-hugging save-the-planet reuse-recycle fools.

Now.

The weekend.

The sense of satisfaction is palpable when a weekend contains a whole bunch of things I like, and nothing (or very little, or there must be some bennies) I don't like.

I ate good food.

I finished a cardigan: two and a half weeks, start to finish - can you imagine just how smug I'm feeling? Yes, no photo as usual. It doesn't fit in my TV table that is my photography studio; at least not in any meaningful way. Love big needles after a big project on smallish ones.

I spent most of Saturday spinning with friends.

I plied.

I finished the instructions for Tuesday's class, even though I'd actually done them before. What necessitated the do-over was the beads that I'd used to illustrate each step: Clear. Whatever background they are photographed against swallows them up, leading to illustrations which really don't deserve the name as they don't. Illustrate.

So this time I used red.

Very visible.

I also made (and photographed each step) not one but two projects for the upcoming class roster. My self-imposed teaching schedule (every other Tuesday night) dictates that I need eight class proposals by May 10th.

I'm now at five new ones (which you've seen here if you were paying attention), and one or two recycled ones.

In general, if I get a request to teach a project I've offered before, I generally oblige, but hostory has shown that these are the classes for which no one (or one person; I have a two-person minimum) signs up, which ticks me off a bit^H^H^H^H I find odd.

At the Bead Society holiday party last December, my gift was a cross-woven star-shaped pendant which they oohed and aahed over, and clamoured for me to teach. Begged. Pleaded. Of course I acquiesced. Flattery will do it every time; I'm susceptible that way.

One person actually signed up. Another person would have (I think), but she had to go out of town for work.

What has me especially self-satisfied about the number two (as in two new projects) is the amount of time I spent on those things which are too ugly to live, and the amount of time I spent verifying that yes in fact, the only thing they were good for was being cut up.