These things. Regular, old-fashioned clothespins. Not the pinchy, spring-loaded kind, the plain old round knob top, two legs to hold the clothes to the line clothespins. Walmart didn't have them. No grocery had them. I finally got smart, thought "craft store," went to Michael's and there they were. They're kind of fancied up, not as utilitarian as the old ones we used to use, but they'll do. See we've got an empty plastic gallon jug so I thought LC might enjoy dropping clothespins in the opening, like a game for hand-eye coordination, so I checked in my clothespin bag and only had one lonely round clothespin. That's when I began my search. Found them today. Fleet Farm probably has them but I wasn't over there so I went with the "fancy" ones at Michael's.
Most of yesterday was spent dealing with the mountain of snow we got but I did manage to do a little sewing. It might not look like much but I did a lot of thinking about how to make the pockets like I want them so getting the skirt pieces sewed to the seat and the whole thing pinned together so I can figure out the pockets was good progress, I think. (I'm making this up as I go along.) Her birthday's on Sunday so I've got a couple days to get it finished.
Just before bed I broke down and cast on a hat. The only knitting I had on the go was the Sudoku squares and I needed something less endless in my basket too. This hat will do the trick nicely. It's on US8 needles and in Aran weight yarn (a little thicker than worsted) so it should be a fast knit. It has an interesting stitch too so I'm looking forward to learning how to knit it without screwing it up (too much) as I knit.
This morning I put on a clean pair of yoga pants when I got up and look what came out of one leg. It's a remora sock. That's what I think I'm going to start calling those socks that stubbornly hide in shirts or pants to flop out when they're least expected. At least it helped me start my day with a smile.
December 30--Spiker Stock, Bike Rider. All Dan could hear was the crunch of his bike tires on the gravel and his breathing. The sun had slid behind a strip of clouds at the horizon. The breeze had dropped and it seemed like the whole world held its breath. He had ridden over sixty miles that day and for most of it his helmet felt like a convection oven strapped to his head. It had taken all his determination to keep going, not to concede defeat and ride in the van to their next campsite. He drank enough water and Gatorade to fill a wading pool and his mouth still felt like the desert floor in July. As he rode he thought about why this ride was different. This time he rode for himself, not to impress people or because he shot off his mouth in front of his co-workers. He rode this time because it made him feel good, inside and out. That didn't really make much sense given how miserable he had been all day but he knew that riding into camp for a bowl of hot food and a good night's rest would make it all worthwhile.
A-a-a-and it's snowing again. Tiny flakes drifting down, nothing serious, melting on contact, but still it's snowing. I have a feeling that Monday's wind and snow craziness was like Winter's dam bursting, letting it all out. I'm going to go sew on a pocket and see if what I'm thinking should work will actually work. After I make and eat a sandwich, of course, it's lunchtime.