The worst question in the world

I'm crafty but lack skill and finesse and that's ok because I'd rather get a project knocked out and dumped into the Goodwill pile than to labor over it for months to the exclusion of all my other interests.
Case in point, a shrug pattern, knitted in the round, that was my first complex knitting project after I became secure with the washcloth pattern.
But the worst question in the world to hear is, "Did you knit/sew/make/draw that YOURSELF?"
I don't have time to tear down the psychology of that question; I just know I don't like to hear it.

I loved this pattern so much but every time I put it on, I ended up looking like an extra from a community theater production of The Scarlet Letter  (I held one of my hens in this self-portrait for old timey effect).

Every year I would spend an evening wearing this thing around the house until finally, in 2014, I accepted that the time has come to unravel it and re-use the beautiful wool for a better-fitting project.

Buh-bye!

Here's another thing, niggling at the back of my mind...

If I don't redo my mulch immediately, I'm going to have an unpleasant summer on my hands.

And what about this...

I looked out back this morning and found a hawk sitting, in plain view, studying my chickens.  I decided to leave them in the run until late afternoon.

But here's something cool...

A client gave me this awesome "wreath" from Japan.  No, I don't know what it signifies but I know it's beautiful and how can that cute creature at the bottom be bad?

My crusty old father loves to tell the story of a woman sporting a necklace with Chinese characters on it until someone pointed out that it said she was a licensed prostitute.

There is no way my adorable Japanese wreath says anything of that sort!

And finally, look at this amazing poinsettia!   I probably have driven past this shrub at least once a week without noticing it but now it's in full bloom.  Usually the poinsettia shrubs look a little leggy and sparse to me but not this one.  I would put one in my own yard if I could guarantee it would look like this once a year.