(Sorry for the delay, me dearies. I was having technical difficulties with posting yesterday.)
So, sweaters. Right about here I should have something quirky, funny or interesting to say. Not sure that's gonna happen.
The deal is this: sweaters make me happy. They're warm and snuggly (even the itchy ones), they can hide significant figure flaws, and they're the staple of every cold weather wardrobe. As you know, I'm a Maine girl, born and bred, several generations. AAAaannd...SUPERturbo Scottish, who come from a land where even the animals wear sweaters. (Remind me sometime to tell you about why, at one point in history, the Brits valued sweaters above humans...it's a tragic tale) Winter, snow and cold are in my blood (hey, that sounded kindasorta bad) and sweaters have always represented one of the loveliest comforts I can imagine. When I need to go to a happy place, one of my fave daydreams entails me curling up with a good book, a fat sweater, a cozy lap blanket and my doggy in front of a snappy fire in my livingroom.
Yup...sweaters. They're awesome.
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