Yarn-y Day

Well, it wasn't such a yarn day but you couldn't prove it by the pictures I have to show you tonight.  

But first the morning sky was lovely pale blue with little puffy clouds in the sunshine.  The sun played peek-a-boo most of the day.  I'm grateful for every moment that it shines.


This afternoon I finally baked the chicken skewers to take to the knitting guild meeting and holiday party.  They were a big hit.  I'd have liked them better if I could have kept them warmer but they were tasty all the same.  The leftovers will make a good lunch... or snack.



Tonight was the Secret Santa exchange.  In October those who wanted to play brought a skein of yarn and a pattern in a brown paper bag.  We chose someone else's bag to take home and knit.  Tonight was the reveal.  Here's my drop-stitch scarf that DM made for me.  I made a cowl for MG.  We talked about whether to do it again next year with a longer lead time.  I suggested that we each knit an ornament for exchange.  Turns out that we'll do both, those that want to do the project can do that and others just make an ornament, some will do both.  I haven't decided where I'll land.



Last month we had a sale/swap/give-away yarn thing and I took two bins of yarn to give away.  One person who took some of the yarn knitted a pair of hats, one little and one big, from some of it and gave it back to me.  Wasn't that nice?  I nearly cried.


Oh, and LB who's in charge of charity knitting put the names of all those who've knit for charity this year in a canister, drew two names, and played let's make a deal.  My name was drawn and I chose the envelope in her left hand.  It was the zonk.  The other one had a $5 off on your membership certificate, mine had this "early attempt at a circular needle."  Very funny.  If I bend it a bit more it'll work as a bracelet.

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

Irina had not noticed how many of the women on the island had chosen sides in her mostly silent war with Sonia until the luncheon at Billie’s.  She had always held herself aloof from the petty bickering of the rest of the island-bound women.  Her Russian-ness and her deep intellect had separated her just as much as her natural inclination to be private had.  But that afternoon on Billie’s pool deck had shown her how the women had divided themselves into two camps. 

She was certain that Sonia had not curried support from other women; she didn’t impress Irina as the type.  Irina saw Sonia as one who kept her own counsel, only rarely confiding in George or perhaps one other carefully selected woman.  It was a shock to her that she thought of the other woman as being very similar in personality to herself.  Irina had always felt very strongly about keeping herself to herself.

The necessity of living most of one’s life underground, contrasting an understated and unremarkable public persona with a vibrant but secretive inner life was common to Soviets of her age.  Their formative years and the cultural climate they grew up in made them stoic, and when Irina married a man she thought was a university professor but turned out to be involved in espionage, that only served to thicken her protective façade.

           Sitting there with Billie Holland-Smythe on her right and the yawning expanse of three empty seats to her left had given a graphic picture of the situation.  She could see that Sonia was just as uncomfortable, just as reluctant to be drawn into Billie’s web of foolish fighting as she was.  She could see how hard Sonia was trying to keep control of her temper in front of her friend from home.  Irina kept her mouth shut and had only one drink, determined to keep her promise to Dimitri.

I had a good session with T the trainer this morning and he said he's looking forward to eating the fruitcake I gave him.  In the afternoon I did laundry and replaced the thumb of my other mitten.  As soon as the right one wore through and got replaced, the left one began to develop a hole.  It's a good thing I have a bunch of that turquoise yarn left.  Now it's time to hit the hay.  I'm tired.
--Barbara