The Eyes of the Cat Are Upon You

Norwegian Forest cats love high places and as you can see the Toupster is no exception.

In these photos, Toupie is atop the bookcase directly behind the computer table. Gives him the chance to look down on me as I read about spinning wheels. Notice in the first photo his shadow reflected on the ceiling.

I've been reading Clarke Parke's Book of Wool. I'm almost at the end of the sheep breed section. I was slightly amazed (until I thought about it), but sheep weren't always white. They were mottled (as some rustic breeds still are) as camouflage against predators. The factor that keeps me fascinated about the Foxen Sheep yarn is I can imagine the sheep and the fleece looking at the skein.

It's been a long and difficult week. I had to do some research at work involving colleagues who were killed in a work-related accident that has just left me upset. There is an immediacy and intimacy to emails that I've never felt reading letters. Maybe because I am product of the age in some way. People's letters never existed beyond them unless someone kept them. But now so much of our correspondence with others is electronic and will exist in infinity or until someone deletes the file or erases the tape. The same with voice mail. About a month ago, I figured out how to retrieve Graham's voicemail on Skype. It was so real hearing his voice again and it reminded me, again, how polite he was. It has been speculated that historians in the future will have a massive treasure drove of data from ordinary people, like me, to draw from. That will be a good thing. It will make history flatter instead of lots of voices from the top and a scant few from the majority.

Clara Parkes Book of Wool has been the one bright spot this week. It's like a course in "everything you wanted to know about wool but were afraid to ask". I am learning so much. Makes me want to hug a sheep for producing the fibers that give me such pleasure.