How Can I Lie to You?

I grew up Catholic. They have this concept called a "sin of omission." That means that if you don't do something you were morally obligated to do, you've fucked up. My mother has morphed this into her own special brand of guilt-trip called the "lie of omission." That means that if you don't tell something that you should have, well, you get the idea.

I've been keeping a secret.

I've been taking a project on the train. I've never told you about it. It's not a secret project--everyone's allowed to have those. I just didn't want to tell you because I am supposed to be finishing projects, not starting them.

It's a Krienik "Remember the Ladies" kit. I bought it when Pete was out of work. I was going to give it to him for a gift of some sort. "Enough is as a feast." It made me all teary to think of it when he wasn't working. I wanted to make sure he knew that what we had was enough for me. I'll try to get a picture of my progress soon--I haven't photographed it because I was keeping it secret from you, so I wouldn't be embarrassed by not focusing on finishing what I've already got on the go.