Yesterday Wasn't So Bad

I was busy at work--filled tanks, sold some stuff, talked to people, answered the phone--you know, the usual work-y stuff.  It turned out to be an okay day.

I even had time to start another knitting project.  *gasp*  There were only two left in my bag, the ankle sock and the wrap, so I dug out some needles and yarn to try to replicate a mitered bib pattern I used a few years back and can't find anymore.  Oh, I suppose if I went downstairs for the rest of the day and sorted through each and every folder and binder I might find it but it's just as easy to figure it out myself.  This is not rocket surgery, it's bib.

I also worked some on the Oriole Wings Wrap.  I'm working on the tenth contrast color stripe of fourteen and have discovered that the remaining five (#10 included) are not going to be "a stripe in a day" knitting.  That's okay, it's 93 degrees out today with about 60% humidity so I'm guessing it'll be a while before I need a wrap.

I did it.  I picked the first ripe tomato from the garden (cherry tomatoes don't count).  It's not even an Early Girl, it's a WI 55 an old, old plant developed especially for growing in Wisconsin.  I get the feeling it likes it here.

You can tell that the summer's on its way out.  When I got up shortly after 6 AM this morning, this is what I saw.  Pink sky and that early dawn-type light.  High summer sure is fleeting.  Mid-winter seems never ending.  No explanations needed.  I get it.  I'm doing pretty good at not complaining about being hot since the Copps Pharmacy woman and I made a pact in the winter when it was sooooo cold that we wouldn't complain about being hot.  I'm complaining about the humidity, though, I figure that's fair game.

July 22--Roman, Portrait Head of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (called Caracalla).  Marco looked like a fighter with his lowered brows and off-center nose.  He had a scar through one eyebrow and his left ear looked a little ragged.  He had come up from one of the neighborhoods across the river and it was clear that he had literally fought his way out.  Julie came from the right side, the clean and mannered side of the river.  She had ever advantage, an easy way through life paved with all the privilege her grandfather's money could buy.  Marco was an optimist, sure that things would go his way.  Julie, for all her easy life, was sure it would all slip away in an instant of inattention.  They drove each other crazy in the best and worst ways.

Now that I have them set up I confess I haven't got a clue what to do with them.  There's a basket of laundry to fold with my name on it but first I think it's time for a PB&J.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara