Words are too small

Sometimes I feel as if I have too much to say to say anything at all. So I should just shut up.

I went here:













and saw this


(yes, it's tortoise porn! Super Diego, at the Darwin Research Center, being Super with a capital S.)
And I broke a toe photographing this:



or maybe it was this one:


...I don't know, I don't care. (It's my third or fourth time breaking a toe, there's nothing you can do, it's no big deal.) I went to the Galapagos for 8 days, first week of July. I'm not quite back yet. There was knitting -- a toe-up sock, a lá IK summer 07 (I guess? It's the most recent IK mag I purchased, and it was warm when I did so), in Trekking, Oilslick colorway (lost ballband, but it was mostly blue with iridiscent stuff. Teal duck colors?).

A trip memory: trying to do that damn something-or-other cast-on, and making more than a dozen attempts, at least six on the plane from Miami to Quito, during which I discovered a horrific miscount, then the other half-doz in the Quito airport the next morning, waiting for the flight to Galapagos; apparently, I endlessly entertained one of my future boatmates with all my bad, bad faces.

You know, I'm not sure where that sock is, now.

The thing is, I had great fun telling people, before I left, that I was going to the Galapagos. And then I came back, and I still don't really much want to talk about it.

Eight days in wonder.