Melting, Melting

There's grass under there, and it's kinda greenish too, at least it has green potential... or is that green memory?  It's been warmish and the sun has shone.  The March sun is a warm sun and even when the temps are in the 20s melt water is running in the gutters and trickling down the retaining wall timbers out back.  *whew*  I was kind of afraid there for a time that we'd be snowed and iced in for a month yet.  I had to salt the patio last night because the compressed snow I've been walking on all winter has turned into ice.  (that's the way glaciers are made, you know)

See this morning's cloudy sky?  That's the way my head feels today and my ears feel like there's cotton stuffed into them.  That LC, she packs a powerful punch.  I'm pounding down zinc and drinking lots of water, plus a nasal spray to keep my sinuses from exploding out the front of my face.  (you understand that I've actually got a standard head cold but I love to exaggerate so of course my blog-cold is the "Martian Death Cold," it really isn't, but I like to pretend I'm a drama queen, just pretend)


I took a good look at my cabled mitt yesterday only to discover that I have 3 mis-twists and need to go back to the beginning--AGAIN.  But at least I'm getting faster at this and I think if I don't have any distractions and can knit for a longer stretch (darned pesky customers) I can do this.  I can do it!


I finished March Men's Chemo Hat #3 at Friday Night Knitting last night.  I really like it and like the way it fits.  I think I've found another go-to beanie pattern.  Yay.

March 29--Eugene Durieu--Seated Female Nude.  The sunlight streaming in the studio window carressed Katy's back like a warm hand.  This was the first time she had posed in the nude and she thought she was probably going to throw up from nervousness.  The photographer treated her like a collection of light and shadow so she felt less naked when he looked at her.  The way he had her sitting with her back to the camera felt all right too. He draped the chair with an old dropcloth and looped it over her lap so only her back was exposed to the camera.  She heard the downstairs door open and a tendril of cold worked its way up to twine around her feet.  Slow footfalls on the steps meant someone was coming and she wanted to pull the cloth up to cover herself.  "Don't move," the photographer said, "you're tense, it shows."  She tried to relax back but the studio door opened a crack, the black barrel of a gun filled the space, and two shots rent the dusty quiet in the room.

It's a bright sunny day with a little gusty wind and I think it's supposed to get into the 40s later. The 40s!  I can't believe it but I'm sure going to be out there to greet it.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara