Twenty-Nine Degrees

That's supposed to be today's high temperature.  High.  Tomorrow's is only supposed to be 21.  It's November 12th, people, that's way too cold for November 12th.  I'd like to speak to the person in charge.  When I went out to take this picture I scared up a black cat hiding behind some flower pots.  It's been hanging around our yard all year and I think it has taken care of the small rodent population in back.  I've noticed when I spill birdseed it stays where I spill it until the birds find it, before it was gone in the blink of an eye when the chipmunks and voles and mice were plentiful.  As long as it leaves the good birds alone it can stay.  (It can eat as many sparrows as it likes, they're bullies and take over the feeders and fling all the seed on the ground.)

Sorry I didn't post yesterday, it was one of those days where I could have slept all day.  I drove up to Sturgeon Bay to meet a friend for lunch and talk about planning a knitting retreat, I even stopped at Spin to adopt a couple skeins of 40% off yarn, then drove home, and took a nap.  I never take naps.  Durwood's the nap person around here but yesterday I needed a nap.  I think all the short nights and doing too much and having a cold caught up with me.  Today will be better.

Speaking of yarn, here's what I got; a skein of Ultra Alpaca in Dark Berry that'll make some warm and cozy mitts or mittens, and a skein of Indie Dyer sock yarn in Sweet Autumn, it looks a little pill-y so it'll definitely become a sock since pills are easy to hide in a shoe.

November 12--Etienne Bobillet, Mourners.  The uncles stood like statues at the front of the church.  The rest of the family slunk in.  Rita whined, "Do I have to go in?  Can't I just wave and then go for a drink?  We could meet at The Stick in half an hour.  Gram would understand."  I couldn't figure out why she didn't shrivel up and die from all the dirty looks she got.

Well, that was cheerful.  Guess you have to be awake to write, although some of the stuff I've read makes me think that not all writers have their brains engaged when they're writing.  Ah well, time to shower, dress, etc., all that necessary workday stuff.  Seeyabye.
--Barbara