Today my beloved Durwood is 78 years old. I can't believe it. We haven't been married that long, have we? Oh, well, maybe... we'll hit 41 years in December, perhaps DS is nearly 39, DD might be 36, and I'm pretty sure I'm creeping up on 66--at a gallop. Durwood doesn't look quite like this today but his smile is just the same and his heart hasn't changed. I love you, Durwood. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.
We met friends for brunch today where he got a wonderful gift of homemade goodies (he opened the pickles as soon as we got home, they're delicious) then we tootled on down Hwy. 41 to Penzeys spices in Appleton. We had a list. Plus we spent enough to earn a couple jars of free herbs. Score!
This morning I looked out just in time to see a male Oriole investigating the orange and grape jelly. I managed to snap this before a #@$%& squirrel scared it away.
Last night at Friday Night Knitting I had every intention of crocheting the first Sudoku Long Strip to the left panel. It was only after I had them pinned together that I realized I hadn't brought another skein of the black yarn. See, I didn't want to cut the black I used for the strip before I was sure the length was right. Luckily I had assembled the denim cotton yarns, needles, and pattern to make another Denim Vintage Washcloth in another arrangement of the same colors. Whew. (although I was only 5 blocks from home so I could have hopped back on my horse, galloped home, scared the bejeebers out of Durwood, grabbed the yarn, and gotten back before anyone missed me) I cast on the cloth instead. This is as far as I got.
An old knitting pal who moved to Minneapolis after her divorce stopped in with a forgotten bin of yarn that she dumped onto the table and put up for grabs. I came home with this pile of yarn--and the bin. I don't know what I'll make with it but there's a good quantity of some of it so I'm sure I'll think of something. Thanks, DD!
August 5--James Abbott McNeill Whistler, Three Figures: Pink and Grey. They were naked. Well, not exactly naked but as good as because everything they wore was diaphanous and pale pink so you could see right through it. You could see every line and curve with just enough blur from the fabric to make it sexy. It had to be purposeful, three young women didn't independently decide to put on barely-there clothing on the same day. They were all looking at a young cherry tree in bloom in a pot and, let me tell you, those were not gardening clothes. The oddest thing was that they had each tied a bandana around their hair. Not a lace scarf, not a frilly cap, a plain old farm store red banana. Too strange for words.
I wore my tunic/dress--again. The leggings too. I tell you, I have to make more clothes like this. Wearing them makes me feel better about myself than I have in years. Amazing what a few hours work and a few yards of fabric will do for a girl's morale.