Ouch.

Today, while getting my oil changed (in the car, sillies) and grocery shopping for work, I scampered by the yarn aisle at Wal-Mart (forgive me, Spin A Web, but thou hast not what I wanted this dayeth). I thought I'd be a smarty pants and grab some bedspread cotton and a steel hook, and then I'd be making beautiful lacy stuff in no time.
Wrong.
Dead wrong.
That dad-blamed teensy tiny hook is killing my hands. Using thread is killing my eyes. I think I may have found a worse enemy than them pointy sticks.
Still, I trudge onward. Mostly because my mother loves doilies and schnit, and I'm dying to make her one. (Even with her glasses on, she couldn't see well enough to make one out of this stuff.) I'll conquer it, or it'll kill me. We'll see.
I've also decided to buckle down and get to work on my piece for the Milkweed Project, even though I have no idea what I'm going to do, what yarn I'm going to use, or how I'm going to do it. I'll figure all of that out as we go along, I suppose.
Also, gotta finish a third square for bamcal this month. Started it tonight when I got annoyed to the point of no return with the thread. Just gotta finish it.
Gack.