So you know the real reason to write a book?  It’s the mail.  Seriously.  Writing this thing has been almost as much work for the postman as for me.

First, all the yarn comes in the mail.  And really, yarn is pretty high up there on the list of fun things to find in the mailbox.  Then, well, then comes a sad part.  Then I have to send the yarn off to my cadre of astonishingly attractive and marvelously talented sample knitters.  Sending yarn away is much less fun than getting yarn, but it’s a necessary part of the process.

But, a little while after it’s been sent off, a magical thing happens.  Finished objects start coming back.  If there’s anything better than getting yarn in the mail, it’s getting actual knitting in the mail.  Each and every piece is met with a dance of glee.  The Boy can attest to this, he finds it a bit perplexing.

And of course at some point, many months from now, I’ll get the actual book in the mail too.  But that…that’s going to be a little while yet.