On the way to Colorado, we always stop at the same restaurant for lunch. We know the halfway point between where we live and where we are going. (It's a desolate little community on the Navajo reservation.) The dogs run in the same place just south of the Colorado border and I photograph the feral horses just over the border.
But on the drive to where we're going, I knit. It's a meditative hobby, and I've actually made some useable items. (A year ago, when I began knitting, I mostly knit for a while, tore my project apart, and started over. Repeatedly.)
This time, I made Pinto a blanket. The pattern was a basic basket-weave and I chose an oatmeal colored fleck yarn that matched her fur.
Since the blanket came off the needles, I've caught Durango sleeping on it when Pinto's outside. I've now started a waffle pattern blanket for him.
I spoil these dogs terribly.
We've become such creatures of habit. My husband finds peace in driving us to our destination. I find peace in knitting something useful. And the dogs will always sleep on each others blankets.