I was going to put "like crack" up there in the post title but I thought I'd draw all kinds of less desirable readers to my blog. Then I thought I'd put "vicodin" but that's really no better, speaking as one who has so recently gotten that monkey off my back. So I stuck with the tame "very addictive" as an excuse for my behavior last night.
Last night I meant to knit on the cuff of that eternal Autumn Cumulus sock (no, it's not done yet. don't you think I'd have told you if it was?) at Friday Night Knitting but I took the shiny yarn I bought to make a Christmas stocking to show off and ended up making the first of 16 hexagons. (I knew I shouldn't have taken the hook along.) Since I need to make two stockings it isn't the worst action I could have taken. I figure if I make one hexagon a day I'll have stocking #1 done in a few weeks, what with the making up and all, and then I can tackle stocking #2 the same way and be done way before stocking-hanging-up time arrives.
But it was what I did when I got home that was really reprehensible. I got my ice pack and settled on the couch to ice my ankle and knit a bit more. First I finished weaving in the hexagon's tails, then I lost my mind and cast on an Indigo Doublethick Dishcloth. I should have cast on the next Preemie hat or knitted a few rounds on the July Seamen's cowl but, no, I had to give in to temptation and cast on a cloth. What'd I say yesterday? I'm a weak, weak woman. *sigh*
An oriole has been visiting the jelly off and on and I managed to get a couple pictures today. The first time I saw it, it fluttered up into the apple tree by the time I got my camera up and ready, so I zoomed in and got an okay picture of it. I hurried out to splash out the jelly water (rain makes jelly soup) from the dish on the feeder and replace it with some fresh jelly. The next time I saw it, it was balancing to dip its beak down into the jelly. I'm very happy to see it.
Durwood is happy to see it too. He's still convinced that we've "lost" the hummingbirds since he hasn't seen one lately. I told him that they're coming to the bee balm over in the garden out of his sight but when I went to the grocery this morning I stopped in at Walmart's Garden Center and spent ten bucks on some closeout red flowers that I planted in pots on the patio. Since the honeysuckle's not blooming much this year maybe a couple pots of red flowers will draw them in so he can see them. Now I am officially out of potting soil, but not out of pots. I don't think there's any more space for pots on the patio though. Not if I want to have room to walk around out there.
July 16--Brian Hill, Canoe C-2 Slalom. Rita could see the shore, saw the trees bend and sway in the wind that blew spray from the wave tops into her eyes and mouth. She had battled her way through the thunderstorm when the rain tried to fill her canoe but had lost the battle when the wind kicked the waves to a height that capsized her boat and floated her PFD away before she could snatch it up and put it on. Stupid, stupid not to have it on. She lost her paddle when a wave tumbled her to the bottom and rolled her along for a heart-stopping length of time. She wasn't a strong swimmer so she kicked her boots off, but refused to take off her jeans. She wasn't going to be staggering bare ass up the beach for help. Shoe-less was okay, pants-less was not. Now that she had those things decided all she had to do was make it to shore. She could see it, almost reach out and touch it, but the waves kept pulling it just out of her grasp.
And now I'm going to go marinate a pair of pork tenderloins we plan to cook on the grill for tomorrow's supper when we'll also make a zucchini and onion pie. Remember those "impossible" Bisquick pies that were all the rage in the 1980s? You assembled your ingredients in a pie dish and then made a batter that you poured over it and when it baked it made its own crust. Well, this is the same sort of thing but I found a recipe for homemade baking mix online and made it this morning so we're going to give that a whirl with our grilled pork. I suspect you're going to wish you were eating at our house tomorrow. Toodle-oo!