Clapotis is done, except for the weaving in of ends. Don't ask, there won't be any photos.
I expected something elegant, sophisticated, Parisian. The end result was something awkward, bulky, and lumpy. Granted, my body type is far from Parisian, (see SkinnyRabbit), but I didn't expect to feel like a frump-a-dump with a lap blanket over my shoulders. Maybe blocking will help. Or maybe I used the wrong yarn. Whatever the case, I truly enjoyed the knitting process, but am less than thrilled with the final product.
On another note, apparently a lot of us knitbloggers have discovered bloglines. I was a little late to the party, but better late than never. My Polish Babchi never could have imagined this brave new world of knitting when she gave me two needles and skein of Red Heart thirty years ago.
Have you met Crazy Aunt Purl? She is a hoot. Next time I'm in L.A., I want to buy her a beer, light a voodoo candle, and give her a hug. She makes the internets more fun.
And finally, so you build me a pink house, okay? Love that.