Stuff on my cat

Brutus doesn't care much what's on him. We also call him Mr. Filthy, he has so much "stuff" on him. This time of year he needs shearing in the worst possible way. (And no, I don't want to spin his fur this time of year: too nasty). His belly is a snarl of burrs, twigs, dirt, drek and mats. It takes the two of us weeks to charm and distract him while the other wields baby scissors to gingerly snip away the worst knots before he loses patience and we lose an appendage.
These are finished RPM socks from knitty. On the needles, i'm trying to finish the boring first socks for Sean which I started weeks ago before I got distracted with fun Jaywalkers and RPMs (I'm hoping to convert him to hand knit socks).
I'm also reading Wind in the Willows. Yes, I know, I should have read it 50 years ago, but somehow never did. I'm glad, because right now it is a delight. I want to live in Badger's house. There is something so appealing about a snug underground empire, replete with comfy beds with lavender scented sheets, a roaring fire in the fireplace, onions stored in net bags, jars of honey and plenty of tea. And a blanket of snow in the Wild Woods outside. And occasional friends that drop in.