I got busy with my crochet hook yesterday at work and -- ta da! -- the first Baby Flip Flop is done. I can't stand how cute it is. I spent a good half an hour styling it for its picture and playing with it like it was a real thing. I did not display it (look! look! look!) to any of the (all male) customers who stopped into the store. (see? restraint. I told you I had some.)
Last night I finished the cuff and started the heel of Make It Even ankle sock. Like I said, I'm using the same yarn I used to make LC's Widdle Sockies before she hatched but it's not striping in my size like it did in her size. ????? I'm mystified. Could it be that the cuff of my sock is almost bigger than her entire sock? Ya think? I love knitting ankle socks, 15 rounds of cuff ribbing and you're right into the heel--zip--then 27 rows of heel flap, a little short row heel turn and then--zoom--you're into the foot. Now I have big, size 10 feet so the foot of the sock doesn't zoom along but it's waaaay zoomier than knitting a regular sock. Way.
I got a couple chores on my list x-ed out last night too. I watered the front flowers and pots and while I was doing that I trimmed back the mums halfway so they bush out and bloom when they're supposed to, not in the middle of the summer when no one notices them because of all the flashy annuals and lilies and roses and such. Silly chrysanthemums.
This morning I looked very closely at the coleus and milkweed flowers, and found a few interesting beetles, one pair engaged in intense, um, friendliness (of course I took their picture, hey, they were out there doing it in public, I'm not a peeper) and saw the first Japanese beetle on a daisy. Arrrgh. I thought maybe we'd avoid those this year. Now all the roses will be chomped up and lacy looking if I don't find some Japanese beetle killer but I hate spraying poison because it doesn't know to only kill the ones I want it to, it kills 'em all. I'll look up better ways to send them on their way.
Hey, Lala, don't you think this echinacea pic looks like that painter guy, Jon, we met at The Clearing's work? Before the painting, but you know what I mean.
July 18--Pompeo Batoni, Diana and Cupid. Edward should never have gotten Spencer that bow and arrow, Beatrice thought as she looked down at the arrowhead sticking out of her midriff. Her fingers splayed and her hands shook with the shock. She knew she shouldn't pull it out but she wanted it out. She wanted it out right now. She should call for help, should dial 9-1-1 but the phone wasn't in its cradle. Her knees weakened and she made to sit down but the arrow bumped the chair back and pain shot through her like a lightning bolt. Beatrice braced her hands on the kitchen table and tried to take steady breaths. Surely Edward or Spencer would come soon, if only to find the errant arrow. Wouldn't they laugh to see the silly place it had landed? She tried to laugh but it turned into a sob. Maybe she could go find them. It wasn't far to the orchard where they had gone to practice. Oh dear god, she couldn't move. It was as if the arrow had pinned her in place like a butterfly in a shadow box. It was getting cold in the room, cold and dark. They would come soon. Soon.
I don't think Beatrice's day is going to get any better, poor thing. I think this is what they call flash fiction. Maybe. Do they still write flash? Does anyone publish it? Man, I am out of the loop. One of these days I'll get re-looped. Really. I'm going to go toast some jalapeno cheddar bread and then go out and chop down weed trees and trim a bush or two. Timber!