I'm weaving a rug. Not at the moment, but currently. I spent the entire freezing cold weekend in my pajamas and penguin slippers, in front of my fireplace, doing fabric prep for the current rug, which I am making for my dining room. Cooked and ate several pots of soup, several vats of hot tea, and um, a number of glasses of red vino.

Barely left the house, except on Saturday to go to the thrift store to buy more old flannel sheets to rip into strips for weaving into the rug. I LOVED this weekend.

Except BF was dealing with a rare bout of depression stuff and was kind of in a funk. Couldn't be in a funk alone...had to come into whatever room I was in to sigh and look sad so I could ask what was wrong. I didn't, and eventually he worked it out. image

The kids (my 3 and my nephew) hung out in the basement most of the weekend, playing x-box, playstation, and updating their Myspace pages with new photos from their "photo shoot" they had since both the girls got new digital mini-cameras for Christmas. The girls had made up their faces (not allowed to wear makeup out of the house yet, but have kits for practice/play/whatever) for the shoot. Hours later, once the makeup - not having been touched up - started to run, raccoon pouches under the eyes from smeared mascara, etc., BF asked me "Why do both of the girls look like vampires right now? Did I miss something?" image

DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This is a PERSONAL OPINION.