I love Saturdays. I seldom have to work and, well, it's just a free day for me. I've got Friday to run errands and do chores. Saturday is reserved for doing just what I want when I want. If Durwood doesn't have other plans, that is, but I try to ignore him. Sometimes I'm even successful.
Today we have some knitting to show.
After reading Bells' post about "plain" knitting yesterday, I dug out my Khaki Cardi and its acre of stockinette; after Friday Night Knitting Club last night I've got about 4 more rows til I split off the sleeves. I can see that I need more practice, my stitches aren't as even as I'd like them to be, but I love the yarn and will love the sweater, I can already tell it's going to be great.
Last week I cast on Stealth Knitting Project #2. Now that the weather's turning I need to get cracking if I want to have these things ready for Santa to put in his sleigh. This is all the hi
nt you get.
But I'm not feeling gloomy. No, I'm not. I have my full-spectrum light shining on me and I feel great. Right after I post this I intend to do some actual writing. Yes, that's right, real writing, first draft-y, messy, pounding ideas into paper writing. I love it.
October 3--Francois Boucher, Rinaldo and Armida. Amy had planned this evening down to the last moment and it was going exactly according to plan. Ray showed up right on time; he was even dressed the way she had hoped, looking so buff in his uniform. Ray was a soldier so he could look stern and tough when he was on duty but Amy loved the way he looked like a kid playing dress up when she stood close to him. She was sitting in her garden by the fountain fixing her hair in an old gilt-framed mirror she had dug out of the attic and propped there just for this occasion. She could see him in the corner of the glass, his eyes riveted on her bare shoulder. Now she reached to set down her comb making sure that her strap slid down her arm and her breast was revealed. She heard him gasp and felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. She waited a beat and turned quickly as if startled, being careful not to grab her gown as her hands rose to her throat. She savored the glitter of his gaze as he drank in her pale perfection.
That little minx! She's trouble, that Amy. I don't envy her parents.
--Barbara
Yep, it's fall. We've probably had more rain in the last 24 hours than we had in all of September. It feels odd to have water falling from the sky. And of course it's coming too late to do anything for our poor vegetables and flowers. Ah, well, there's always next year.
October 1--Vincent van Gogh, Portrait of the Postman Joseph Roulin. Everyone in town knew Joseph the postman whose route spanned the artists' quarter in Amsterdam. You might say Joseph was a kind of chameleon; he could fit in with any sort of people. He was proper and polite with the penurious old women who lived in the garden apartments and lurked in their doorways with plates of stale cookies and cups of weak tea for him, in hopes of inducing him to stop for a visit. Joseph was coarse and profane with the young workingmen who lounged at the entrance to their shops wearing the grease and dirt of their professions like badges. He was solicitous of the elderly, charming to mothers with small children, and respectful to all, a true chameleon who blended in but never really fit in.
It's kind of what I had in mind when I began but not really. I should take another run at this one some day.
October 2--Egyptian 18th Dynasty, Scarab pectoral, from the Tomb of Tutankhamun. It was heavy to wear on his thin boy's chest. The weight of it made the thing dig into his neck and shoulders. He plucked at it, tugged it this way and that, hoping to find a spot where it felt easy on him. He looked down at it there, the heavy gold of the setting, the vivid colors of the stones carefully carved by artists to fit into the section shaped like feather around the central figure of the humble scarab. No one who lived in Egypt doubted that there was a scarab beetle in the sky who rolled the ball of the sun from horizon to horizon. They saw the industrious insects in the stableyards and city streets rolling dung balls away. They were efficient and undeterred by obstacles, the perfect model for the eternal motion of Khepri renewing the sun every day. The Boy King felt the weight that Khepri must feel when he wore the pectoral. He would lean back and feel the pressure on his lungs, think about how it would be to lie for all eternity with that lapis lazuli beetle nestled on his body, holding him in place in his tomb.
Such a beautiful piece of jewelry. I often wear a scarab, especially to work, just in case the Egyptians were correct and a god shaped like one is in charge of rolling the sun across the sky.
--Barbara
You remember last night when you two were teasing me about Blogtoberfest, and asked was I going to blog every day in October on all my blogs? Remember I said no, I wasn't?
Well, I just had a moment of insanity and I signed up this blog in addition to my knitting blog. So... I promise to shoulder the major portion of the posting weight this month, but I'd really like to challenge you to each post twice a week. You know it doesn't have to be a long, drawn out story, you can just post a little peek at something you're thinking about writing about. NaNoWriMo is coming in a month. It'd be good practice and limber up your fingers.
(I know, I'm nuts about blogging. I admit it. Humor me. Please.)
I love Thursday nights and here's why. First I drive from work to Patti's Yarn Shop to sit in her kitchen for an hour and a half with Denise, Mary, Julie (sometimes), and Karen to knit and gab.
Then I pack up my sticks and string and go a mile or so up the street to The Attic for my writing group meeting. Last night after Jennifer helped me set up Mom's Etsy shop, Jenny and Jennifer critiqued the scattered beginnings of a story of mine, we played Bananagrams and then wrote something trying to use the words we had made. Sometimes that works, sometimes not so well, but it's always good for stretching our writing muscles.
g plants (dark red and copper on the right) I got on clearance in front; this year I got 4 more teeny-tiny mum plants (yellow, coral, lilac, and white below) for $1 each. They're doing their best to grow big and make beautiful flowers like their much larger siblings. I think they're all gorgeous.
