Snow on Monday

We had weather today.  The morning was fairly quiet but in the afternoon we had freezing drizzle which made driving home from my lunch and knitting date a little dicey.  As I pulled into the garage the rain was changing to snow.  I got home just in time.  Here's the birdie tree in its new white dress.  Pretty, no?

Once it stopped snowing and got dark I saw a huge plume of snow being blown off the office building in back of the house.  Do you think I could make the camera take its picture?  Of course not, but it looked pretty cool.  Pretty cold, actually.  And I get to go out in the snow and wind tomorrow to shovel the driveway.  Yippee.

While knitting this afternoon and talking a blue streak with two other women with my same name and one Kathy, I got to the toe decreases on the Choco Rainbow sock.  (those little markers tell me when I have to do something other than plain knitting) Thank. God.  For a while there I was convinced that I'd never get to the toe.  I'm using a different toe than the one called for in the pattern because the foot looks a little short but I can stretch it out with this toe so I don't have to tuck my toes under to wear the sock.  I suppose I could try this sock on if I'm careful, to make sure I'm not starting the toe in the middle of the foot... maybe I'll do that in the morning.



Not only did we have a lovely salad luncheon with homemade cheddar herb bread AND cherry muffins but the husband of that Barbara bottled up real maple syrup for us to take home.  He commented that he didn't like pancakes but the maple syrup is very good on vanilla ice cream.  Hm... nope, not buying vanilla ice cream to test that out.  That way lies madness.  Also wider hips.



09 December--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

Dimitri slammed the door when he got home.

“Dimi?”  Irina looked up from her seat on the patio at the back of the house.

He stormed through the house, dropping his hat and binoculars on the table as he went.  “I can not do it.”

“Do what?”

He sat in the chair across from her.  “I can not treat George as if he were a target.  He is a nice man.”

Irina stuck her pen into the notebook on her lap and closed the cover on the blank pages.  “I am sure he is a nice man, now.  But you need to find out if he was the one who led that woman into stealing the plans for the communications system like they asked.”

“But…”

“No.  No buts.  You must do it.  Think, Dimitri, think.  We can not afford for you to displease them, the ones who sent the letter.  They have long arms.  They can still hurt us.  If they are angry, maybe your pension will stop coming, and then where would we be, huh?”

Dimitri leaned his forearms on his thighs and stared at the cracked tiles between his feet.  “I know, I know.  It makes me feel dishonest now.”

“Dishonest?”  She leaned toward him.  “Your whole working life was a lie.  How can asking a few questions now make a difference?”

“It feels wrong, that is all.”  He composed his face before looking up at her.  “I do not think I can do it, Irina.  I will write a letter to Comrade, I mean, Mr. Novitzskii telling him to find someone else, that I can not do as he asks.”  He stood and walked into the house.

Irina watched him as he moved, stoop-shouldered and defeated, away from her.  He looked like he had aged ten years in the last ten minutes.  “Dimi, wait.”  She stood up and followed him, her leather-soled sandals making a skating sound on the tiles.  “Dimitri.”  He turned to face her looking tired and broken.  “Wait,” she said again, “do not write just yet.”  She touched his shoulder.  “What if we both worked on this?”

“How could we?”

She was silent for a minute.  He could see her eyes dart from side to side and almost hear her thoughts churning.  “We can, yes, we can make friends with them.  Yes, I will do this for you, for us.  I will begin to be more civil to Sonia.  I will even praise her ghastly photo art and if she reads any of her doggerel at the Roundtable I will not destroy it, even if that is what it deserves.”  She looked at her beloved husband and saw a spark of hope begin to grow in his eyes.

It's supposed to be extra cold and windy the next couple days.  Oh goodie.  What happened to the gradual progression of the weather that I remember as a child?  Or could my memory be faulty?  Yeah, that's probably it.  A lot about me is faulty these days.
--Barbara