boo-f#$%ing-hoo. Enough with the Annie Maudlin show... I've been feeling weepy writing about old knitted love objects. Must get back to my belly-dance ambassador of joy persona, shaking the ta-tas, embodying the music, smoky and slow or bright and exuberant. Mind you belly-dancing can be soulful and sorrowful too. arghghghgh. Picture today is me knitting (a sock, what else) under the Eiffel tower this spring, trying to avoid the rain, while waiting for the entourage come down from their ride to the top platform. Enough with the socks....