Friday, January 8, 2016

January Thaw

Melting (can you hear the Wicked Witch of the West at the end of the Wizard of Oz? do you realize that her aversion to water meant she never took a shower?  ew, no wonder she was green.), it's melting.  I tried to take a picture of the drops falling from the eaves but all I got were short, white streaks.  The droplets clinging to the maple twigs are much prettier.

I got presents yesterday.  Presents from friends who went to Bonaire for two weeks over Christmas.  T & B gave me a cute bib for LC and K & D gave me a Bonaire planner calendar.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  It was a lovely surprise that went far toward assuaging my envy that they got to go and we didn't.  (I need to remember to write and mail thank you notes--soon.)

This hat looks about the same as it did a few days ago, doesn't it?  Well, by yesterday afternoon it was about an inch taller and the first crown decrease row had been knitted, then SOMEBODY reread the directions to discover that she was supposed to have stopped after round 2 on the last repeat before starting the decreases so she had to painstakingly tink (knit backwards) the last 3 rounds to get to where she was supposed to be about 2 hours earlier.  *sigh*  On the plus side, I only dropped one stitch (that I noticed so far) so I call that a win.

I told a friend that I'd make her some unscented lotion.  I need to take it with me this weekend.  I thought of it just as I turned out my light last night at 11 pm.  I wasn't going to get up and go downstairs to do it then, I just got up a bit earlier and made it this morning.  *sigh again* I miss my memory.  (What?  You miss what?  I forget.)  As an added bonus, what you see there is so hot that it melted the first bottle I poured it into, not melted through but it deformed it so I had to shift totes and dig out another one.  (I am such a trial to myself that some days I just can't stand it.)

January 8--James Visser, Baby on Beach.  

Someone must be watching
there's a baby on the beach.
On the shower pad
a naked toddler
plays pat-a-cake
in the puddles.
Are a mother's eyes
keeping track
of sunscreen and hydration?
Of over-friendly strangers
and too-deep water
at the shore?

Someone must be watching
there's a baby on the beach.

So, now I have to finish packing.  Can't forget my alarm clock and the chargers.  I might pack an extra pair of jeans (don't ask me why that's suddenly important) and count my underpants one more time.  There won't be a post tomorrow for sure and maybe not Sunday either but I'll be back on Monday with lots of pictures (I don't post them all at once, I promise) and tales of writing derring-do.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

Thinking of you today at your fun writing workshop. Love the picture of the melting snowdrops on the maple tree.