I grilled our supper, well, two-thirds of it anyway, and it was heavenly. It probably doesn't look like much to write home about but that little drumstick (plus three of its kin) and the baked potato spent 45 minutes of quality time in the Weber on the patio and the asparagus got steamed in the microwave so last night's supper tasted like spring. Yum.
I did a little basking on the front stoop while knitting on the Bumblebee Mittens. It was lovely to sit out there on a blanket and let the sunshine warm my face. When I sat down to knit more after supper I realized that knitting two at a time on a long circular needle was slowing me down so I dug out the DPNs, put each mitten on its own set of US 7s, and made it to the top ribbing lickety-split. Next I'll knit the thumbs--in turquoise tweed--then it'll be on to the flip tops where I expect all hell to break loose, color-wise. We shall see.
This morning's sunrise was pretty much a yawn. Not much color and a big bank of blue-gray clouds crowding the southeastern half of the sky but every day the sun comes up and I'm out there to witness it is a good day.
February 20--John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th President of the United States. Ted hated walking with Jack. People called, "Jack! Jack!" and elbowed Ted out of the way to get to Jack. When Ted complained, Jack told him that eventually people would get over it, would get tired of him. It never happened because Jack had to go and get himself shot which elevated him to godhood. There was no way Ted could compete with that. Ted couldn't even manage to keep his extramarital affairs under wraps. Jack always had and Ted always got caught. It wasn't fair. Ted was better looking, everyone said so, how come Jack was the shining star?
Don't forget, it's President's Day so there's no mail and the banks are closed. So if you're planning to rob the mail train or stick up a teller or two or even cash a check, stay home. Nobody's there. Hi-oh, Silver, away!