Enough cats, socks, shirts, cows, and windows.

 Life continues to be rich and fall in Enoughsville.  It's been a "thingy" kind of a week, or maybe a "stuff-y" kind of a week, as the updates and adventures that roll through take on tangible, physical aspects.

Nelson, for example, has moved out of the convent into an AirBNB. He tells me he's in a room called the "Peace Room" that had a candle lit when he arrived, which he loved, and which inspired him to meditate for 20 minutes. The place where he's staying has two cats: Mochi and Charcoal. He's still working on lowering his blood sugar levels, which remain high. We're very grateful to Sizzling for all that she does to help him with all of these moves and machinations.

Inkling has begun round 3 of Sock Madness.  The irony of working in Ye Olde Yarnne Shoppe is that she has less time to keep up with the competition (any knitting she does at work is shoppe related).  She is contentedly pessimistic, therefore about being speedy enough to make it into round 4, and is enjoying knitting the lovely cabled socks (toe first, tight gauge) on her own time, and at her own pace.  

OfSnough -- that man that I love -- has started accumulating what I can only think of as a new genre of Pastime Bling.  (What is 'Pastime Bling', you ask?  It's been eight years since we did an IronMan Triathlon, and yet every couple of months or so I see him in a new IronMan shirt or hat or jacket, or carrying an IronMan bag, or somesuch).  Since his latest pastime is boxing up medical supplies for Ukraine, it's no surprise that lately he's been wearing this shirt.

(This shirt, in Ukrainian, directs a Russian Ship
to go perform deeds that are anatomically impossible,
 especially for boats.)

And also, now we own plastic stickers that will be useful if street names change around here, or that can do double duty as dust covers on our bookshelves.  

So, that's good. 

As for me, I got an email a week or so ago from a co-worker I hadn't yet met, asking this:

I heard through the grapevine that you have a cow costume. Would it at all be possible for me to borrow it next Tuesday? [Our office is] hosting a candy bar to celebrate our student workers for student worker appreciation week, and one of my students suggested that I dress up in something loud to grab students' attention. 

Do I have a cow costume?  Do I?  Indeed, I wrote back, I have two cow costumes; one that was gifted to me and one that I rescued from the curb before it made its untimely way to a landfill.  It is very nice for me to feel useful in the area of Cow Costumage, and so I was chagrined that she wrote back that the rescued costume had been damaged in a drier, and the plastic/rubber udders had gotten fused together.

Fortunately, I possess a sewing machine and had an old pink t-shirt in the rag stack, so a half-hour's worth of arts-and-crafts needlework put the costume back into full working order.  Phew!  I'm ready for the next cow-costume emergency.

And moving out into the field, so to speak, I have a new neighbor who keeps trying to break into the house around the corner.  See if you can spot him.

Any luck?  I've circled him: a robin that seems bound and determined, day after day, to make his way through the window back there.  

He sits on the fence, staring at the window, then launches himself toward the black space and flutters up against his reflection . . . and then heads back to the fence.  Over and over, day after day. I'm quite impressed by his determination; it's too bad he doesn't realize there's a "thing" in his way.  What a bird brain, I guess!

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be wealthy in our adventures.  May you and yours be similarly prosperous.