A bit woolly

I watch them head in for food, and look out for that brown girl, who is going to add yet more bruises to my legs with those pointy horns.
I love them to death. They are our family. And they have to go.

Every thing you do for yourself, is a minor victory. Everything you can make, for your own life. Is better than needing someone else to make it. So for this moment, though I still can't get from the sheep to the needle, here are my mittens.