I assume the steeking takes care of that jog in the round, because right now, that's ugly:
I'm dying to talk about my secret project (of my own design, to boot), but it is a Christmas gift for my mother and she checks my blog. I'm suprised at how much this pains me, because I'm usually an expert secret keeper- I actually had a job that was titled 'Confidential Secretary' (a seriously weird title that made it sound like I had lunch with James Bond on a regular basis. Truth is, we only had lunch together once and all he did was moan about how Moneypenny won't talk to him anymore), that's how top notch I am in keeping secrets. But for some reason I am dying to blog about my secret knitting project. Just. Dying.
Ugh.

