Not obsessed enough

To some, even to me, this truth about myself might be hard to believe. I can sit on my tuchus for hours in front of a computer screen, behind a pair of knitting needles or a book. Sleeping. (Sleeping takes dedication, ladies and gentlemen. I have to woo it with thunderstorms and sundry white noise recordings before it gives me the time of day. Early morning time of day, that is, when the sun is still high over Saudi Arabia and the edge of its light is barely farther away from Kansas than the width of South America.)

Another truth about me, however, makes my most recent failure plausible. I'm forgetful. I forgot, on some day early in March, to snap a photo for my Project 365 obsession. I forgot to do it the next day, too. Then, I think, I remembered. I forget what I took a picture of now, and I forgot to take another one the next day. I forgot again for, like, a week.

I was knitting this instead:



A drop-stitch scarf for a friend who now gets to use the "C" card, as she puts it, for when she wants to be ornery and a lady of leisure and not do something she can perfectly well get off her duff to do. (That's her plan, folks, so please don't write me letters.)

I've said all this to say I probably won't have any other blog posts dedicated to a week's worth of photos. Instead, they'll be solitary, random shots like this one of our Flowering Quince bush:



I had to use a tripod to get a steady shot of that sucker. And then I forgot I had on the super-saturation color mode. Or whatever that mode is called. I forget now.