Moving is hell. I had moved once in my life before I was 18, and I don't remember much about that one. Since then, I moved to and from college each year, one year to and from Germany, then to Vermont, then to another apartment in Vermont, then to Brooklyn, and now to a new apartment in Brooklyn. Each time, I amass more stuff--I'm a packrat; it's in my genes. I've tried downsizing over the years, but sometimes I think it's more trouble than it's worth. I almost had a breakdown yesterday, though, with the giant piles of clothes to be sorted and put away. I told my husband I definitely have too many clothes (and shoes). I even got rid of a few. But not nearly enough. Someday, my the closet and I are going to have a reckoning, and it's not going to be pretty.

No knitting news. I'm still on the second sleeve of Samantha and should finish it this week. I'm hoping it's received better than the first cardigan I made for her. If it isn't, I am making a solemn vow not to knit more until the baby can appreciate them. No matter how much I love knitting for little girls! Really. Cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die.

In other news: I have my new Knitty Secret Pal! I am shopping this weekend, if I can escape the unpacking!