Ack! There Are Tiny White Things Falling...

...from the sky!  Not flakes exactly, more like dandruff but, still, it sure ain't rain.  It surprised me when I went out to put on the new Slinky to keep the squirrels out of the big feeder for the winter.  (good thing I was wearing pants)  I'll be the one in wool socks, a wool sweater, and probably a wool cowl, plus a couple pairs of gloves, in about an hour.

Well, all my dithering and panic over my presentation was for naught.  First I had a nice talk with DD (well, I dithered, she calmed) and once the blog was posted and the first load of laundry was in I fired up ol' Kumquat here and got it done.  I think the hurdle was feeling that I had to give lots of explanation in my handout but then DD reminded me that I'm the "expert" here (I use quotes because I'm far from that) so anything I teach them will be an advance, and I can verbally explain and they can take notes, plus I remembered that I hate when our computer guru gives long-winded explanations about the emotional temperature of the computer; I just want him to tell me, "first do this, then do that."  So that's what I did, I bounced back and forth from a new account on Ravelry (so I could do one step at a time without a lot of clutter) and my Word document.  It took a while, four loads of laundry's worth, but I'm happy with what I've got.  I feel like I'll be giving them the keys to that particular kingdom, they can explore the hidden passages themselves.  Thanks, DD, for being the voice of reason and calm.  You're my best baby.  Girl version.


Speaking of babies, by this time 35 years ago, I was deep in the throes of pushing my first best baby (Boy version) out into the world.  Last night Durwood asked me, "how old is DS going to be tomorrow?"  I told him, "thirty-five."  About 10 minutes later when I was doing dishes he said, "HOW old?"  "thirty-five. he was born in 1978, subtract for yourself but that's what I get every time I look at it."  He just shook his head.  I know how he feels.  And DS is going to be a daddy (and a great one, I suspect) in just a couple months.  Woohoo!  DS & DIL1 are coming for supper tonight to celebrate so Durwood unlocked the meatball sweatshop once again to make his delicious Italian Wedding Soup.  (about 400 teeny tiny meatballs!  DD, Dad said to tell you he was thinking about you all the while he was making them.  he really loves you, you know.)  I made a chocolate cake (slices will be sprinkled with powdered sugar, none of us needs frosting) and the birthday boy is making rolls.  (I didn't ask, he volunteered; I'm not about to refuse homemade bread in any form on any day.)  There's even a present.

November 11--Etruscan, Set of Jewelry.  The gold necklace lay cold and heavy around Rima's throat.  She had only been wearing it for a little while but already the weight of it threatened to buckle her knees.  It was some sort of family heirloom but she felt like it was a family curse.  She would never say it to Jeremy's face but she planned to lose it in one of those overlarge vases he was so proud of before the night was over.

That probably isn't a good idea but that's what came and that's as far as I got.  Happy Veteran's Day!  Or Armistice Day or, as Mom used to say, Old Soldiers' Day.  Does anyone other than the Post Office have the day off for it anymore?  Oh, the Army does.  Anyway, Happy Day.  Time for yogurt.  Toodle-oo.
--Barbara