Ever since my father-in-law told us how much he loved ginger cookies that were made in the shape of pigs, we've made ginger pigs rather than ginger men (or any other of the shapes in our farm cookie cutter set).
These are the best cornmeal scones ever--forget the ones I already posted about. These surpass those in every way.
To finish, or not to finish–-that is the question.
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of gorgeous designs
Or to lift hands against a sea of projects
And by opposing, frog them. To finish– to stitch
No more; and by finish, to say we end
The heartache, and the thousands of stitches
That WIPs demand. ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To finish, to bind-off,
To bind-off, perchance to block; ay, there’s the rub!
For in that project’s blocking what fit may come
When we have bound off this garment’s stitches
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of such long stitching.
For who would bear the WIPs and scorns of time,
Th’ project’s photos, the proud fiber’s spinning,
The pangs of despis’d gauge, the needle’s breaking,
The insolence of charts, and the abbreviations
That patient merit of th’ beginner’s deciphering,
When he himself might his design make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these project bags bear,
To grunt and sweat under a bulky wool,
But that the dread of something after WIPs–
The undiscover’d project, from whose casting-on
No Raveler resists–puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those WIPs we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
