LC has been into "cooking" with the old pot and plastic spoons from the camping box and she drinks her pretend "hot coffee, Baba" from the metal measuring cup as her coffee cup but last time she was here she kept talking about a teapot. Durwood and I looked at the inexpensive tea set in Walmart but it says it's for 3+ and it looks as cheap as it costs. A week or so ago I searched "tea set" on Ravelry and, lo and behold, found a crocheted one. I favorite-ed it and forgot it. Until yesterday. Suddenly I am gripped with start-itis and the teapot reared up and bit me. Hard. The teapot begged to be first so I printed out the pattern, then I searched my stash on Ravelry yesterday at work and thought I knew what yarn I'd use but then when I was pawing through the bin where that yarn lives I found a different, more colorful yarn that I deemed perfect, and last night I made the body of the teapot after supper. Next comes the spout, handle, and lid. I love making crazy things like this.
I've also been lured to consider a knit-along with Fringe Association. She's chosen a Cowichan-style vest knitted on big needles holding 3 or 4 strands of yarn together. I don't like to do colorwork so I'd knit it plain but I've got five different versions of 100% wool in natural colors from Lion Brand that I think would make an excellent experimental vest. (I hope they still make all the colors, otherwise it's back to begging people on Ravelry to sell me theirs.) Now I need to swatch and then do a bit of math to make sure I've got enough vest to cover my acreage. I measured myself at work yesterday and was amazed and slightly dismayed to realize that I've essentially become rectangular. My bust and hips are the same and my waist is only a few inches narrower--rectangular. *sigh* Oh well, rectangular is a shape, just like round or square or hourglass. My hourglass days are long gone. If they were ever here. Maybe I'm tubular; that's a shape too, isn't it?
I knitted some on Sudoku Stone #8 yesterday but you know what that looks like so I'm sparing you having to see another partial gray square.
Finally I was up and about to see the sunrise tint the shreds of clouds this morning and just as I walked back into the house I heard the honking of Canadian geese and managed to get back out and set up in time to take their picture. No V but a small skein of geese flying south. It's a start. Darn it. But I like that it's cooler at night and not so hot and humid. It can stay this way until, oh, Christmas Eve, then snow for the holiday, melt by Epiphany, and then start warming back up gradually until Easter. I like it when it's in the 60s during the day and high 40s at night for good sleeping. That is my wish. I wish I could make it a command. I've been trying for nearly 40 years and it hasn't worked so far. I'm not ready to give up yet.
September 24--Michael J. Pettypool, Caribbean Sunshine. She looked like a photo model sitting there, Martha thought, as she watched the woman on the beach chair in front of hers. Look how aware she is that people watch her, how she poses her legs like Betty Whats-her-name, and pushes her boobs out like every two-bit starlet that ever had her picture in the National Enquirer. Martha squirmed in her chair tugging her swimsuit down over her butt better and tucking her left breast more securely into its cup. She drained the dregs of her Planter's Punch and looked around for the cabana boy. That was one of the things she liked about an all-inclusive resort vacation, all the meals and drinks were included, and the staff was extra nice to single ladies like herself. Mario, her favorite waiter, came over with a tray of drinks, set a fresh one on the little table next to her chair. He laid a red hibiscus blossom next to it. It was a signal. He would be at her room after his shift. Mario knew how to earn his tips. She dismissed Miss Model Poseur in the chair in front, certain everyone knew her for the shallow phony Martha was sure she was.
Well, all I can say about that is YIKES. I get to have a haircut this morning so I've got to get a move on. Francis takes his time and I don't want to be late. Kiss-kiss. *ack* (Sorry, I couldn't resist. Martha made me do it.)