Yesterday I had a list of things I wanted to do like buy a car seat base so I can take LC for rides to Grandma's house (but they're not "sold in store," drat), then I had a big coupon, two big coupons for JoAnn's Fabrics so I went and got some yards of linen (and some board books for $1 each for LC to read at Grandma's house). I'm a big fan of linen, it isn't cheap but I can afford it when it's on sale or when I have a coupon. I found a tutorial by Coco Stitch to make a kind of fabric origami bag called the Azuma Bukuro Bag and I want to make one, some, a few, at least one today. After the fabric store I zoomed to Walmart for soup makings, to Copps for an Rx and some tomatoes on the vine, to Stein's to check out the birdbaths (nothing I had to have immediately but a candidate or two for next winter) and a small bunch of daffodils just because. When I got home, while Durwood whipped up chicken cacciatore for supper, I ordered a car seat base from Target online (thank god for Paypal, although I suspect that Target's super safe to buy from right now)
After supper Durwood turned on the Olympics, I made a cauldron of Chicken Soup with Spinach and Greens (for lunches and to share with DS & DIL1) while watching the snowboarders, ice dancing, and moguls skiing, and I knitted a few rows on the first of my Ravellenic Games WIPs Dancing projects, the Southwestern Cowl. (basically you knit a strip and then sew one short end to the edge of a long end to make a cowl-ish thing) I'll be delivering the soup later, along with a bag of veggies for the chickens, will probably have to take a few minutes to pet Porter and, oh yeah, hold LC for a minute or 30. (I wash my hands in between petting and holding.)
February 9--Georges Seurat, The Mower. In that golden field of chest high stalks of wheat lay a body. The insects and rodents were doing their very best to dispose of it. The aroma of the corpse spread on the wind, drawing in carrion eaters from miles around. Don't waste your time feeling sorry for the body's previous occupant, his violent end was richly deserved and quickly accomplished. Feel sorry for poor Frio whose field this is. He will answer questions upon questions, never quite sure the police believe that he never knew the man and endure sidelong looks from the neighbors who don't believe him either.
Now it's time to go make sewing and knitting, and soup delivery later.