For some reason there's been less time between the time my alarm clock boots me out of the sack and the time I need to leave. It could be that I've gotten into the habit of lolling in bed for 10 minutes or so to "let the room warm up" since I've shut the heat off in here and open the door when my far away alarm clock buzzes. It could also be that I've taken to reading the newspaper from cover to cover instead of just the comics and the advice columns. Whatever the reason I did manage to haul my arse out of bed in time to snap a picture of this morning's sunrise. I never tire of seeing the colors on the clouds. Can you tell?
Not much knitting happened yesterday, none in fact, and on Monday all I did was work on my Double Knitting practice swatch so that's a few rows longer but looks pretty much the same. Good thing you can't see all the swear words and imprecations I heap on it. Like I said before, I'm not used to being so awkward with my knitting anymore and my vocabulary has suffered. I have, however, rediscovered the efficacy of holding your mouth just right (lips twisted, tongue sticking out ever so slightly) in learning a new skill. I have a feeling that the $19.99 I spent signing up for Lucy Neatby's Fundamentals of Double Knitting class on Craftsy will turn out to be a very good investment.
Last night after supper Durwood and I broke out the set of tiny dominoes Santa put in my stocking last Christmas and played a few games until I took myself, yawning, off to bed. One thing I want to do today is look up a set of rules a little more extensive than the single scrap of basic "how to play" that came with the set. We want to know if you can play off all four sides of a double or if it depends on the way you lay it down--parallel or perpendicular. Anybody know? I'll google it.
March 22--Vincent van Gogh, Street in Auvers. It was an old street. Narrow stone houses with red tile roofs leaned toward each other as if sharing secrets. The stone were gray and tan with moss growing here and there. Pots of red geraniums sat on steps and windowsills. The largest house turned a blank wall to the street. It had a small wooden door painted dark brown in one corner looking for all the world like an entrance for fairies. One house had green shutters, the other houses' shutters were black. Every town had to have that one resident who didn't conform. That was the person I wanted to meet. That was the person I wanted to be.
Oh, one more thing. A robin has figured out how to cram itself onto one of the end perches of the suet feeder and then crane around the end to peck some yummy fat and seed. It has to flap something fierce to keep its balance. Pretty funny but also impressively creative.
Off to the back-cracker and then work. Toodle-oo!