The view from my desk has changed somewhat:
The beautiful and mysterious Puget Sound, as seen from the living room of my sister's house, where my Mom lives, and where the international HQ of Mary Scott Huff Hand Knitter is located today.
The accommodations are luxurious, here on the floor of the spare room:
That's the trusty pink laptop, stationed on a commandeered occasional table, which is only about 18" high. That means that I'm working sitting on the floor. Deluxe Ergonomics notwithstanding, I'm lucky to be able to pack up the whole works and take my show on the road.
My mom has had a bout with some sort of mystery infection which landed her in the hospital (Thank you, God for the availability of health care). Now that she's back at home, the siblings and I thought we could all rest better if somebody were with her during the day, while she recuperates. Being the only one whose job is portable, I volunteered to hang with the Mom. Nice work, if you can get it. Scenery is kinda nice, even if the weather isn't. And of course, the company's hard to beat.
The funny thing about packing up the yarn studio and office gear is the certain knowledge that whatever I did bring, I won't need, and the mathematical certainty that the most important thing I could possibly require has been left behind:
Umbrella Swift and Heavy-Duty Ball-Winder? Brought 'em. Archived digital charts from the sweater I designed for Lindsay's fourth birthday that I'm retooling to submit for publication this week? Whereabouts Unknown. Probably on some unlabeled USB drive in the bottom of a desk drawer at home. Bother. But of course, that's exactly how it had to happen.
I'm telling myself it's a fun adventure: What will we do today? Propped Mom up in front of the laptop with me so she could watch the remote diagnosis while a technician in parts unknown removed a virus. She was mesmerized while I explained that another person three-quarters of the way around the world was moving my mouse. Lucky for me, Mom's a good sport, not to mention a cheap date. Later we have plans for her to watch me knit a mitten. Somebody stop us before the excitement launches into overdrive.
I thought you'd like to know that the knitting is under control, and the universe remains unchanged, even though the office has relocated. If you need an update, search the skies for my Bat Signal. It's a big ball of yarn, silhouetted against the night sky. Then just check in with me, here at Headquarters.