I’m done with the blue afghan, except for tucking in the ends, and I have in mind the perfect person to send it to, a person who is probably already having prophetic dreams, even as we speak. So, I started the next afghan, which is a jewel-toned log cabin pattern. I’m pretty sure I have already fucked it up. I have this problem that, when the pattern doesn’t make sense to me, rather than working it out, I just do what I think the right thing should be (ha, this is probably a larger metaphor, but let’s just ignore that). Anyway, holy shit is it beautiful! So, I’m calling it a happy fuck-up.
I’m also thinking about the third afghan already, because that afghan, dear readers, is for one of you.
There will be a contest! Of a kind I have not yet sorted out. And an afghan, of a kind I have not yet sorted out. But it will not be cheesy and ugly like the last afghan in the last contest we had here, which, as you may recall, was a contest I didn’t actually know the correct answer to. We will not be doing that again.
So, that will be an improvement on two fronts. Progress, my friends, progress.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
Tiny Cat Pants 
I love my afghan that I got in the last contest! Don’t you dare call it ugly! And despite his many cruel jests at its expense, I’ve noticed that when my boyfriend is on the couch he’s always stealing it from me, a true testament to its warm and worthy nature and the persuasive power of its eccentric charm.
Fair enough. It does have eccentric charm!
Who are these Afghanis you are taking and passing around? Don’t they have any say in how you are treating them?
Ok that was pretty lame, but when I saw the title I assumed the post was gonna be about the war in Afghanistan and I read the whole thing with that in mind.