Is that the beginning of a crocheted ripple afghan made out of random acrylic worsted weight yarn I had lying about? I believe it is. It's addicting. It's also an afghan that has been made in many variations by my mother and her sisters over the year. This new afghan crocheting is a frightening development.
Also, the picture is crappier than usual as I seem to have misplaced my digital camera. I took it with my phone. I transferred it to my laptop using Bluetooth. Embracing technology in this way reassures me that I am, imperically, not my mother.
Freud would have some kind of field day with all of the feelings I have associated with one crappy cell phone picture.
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