Warming Tiny Fingers

I am a failure as a Knitting Grandma.  I realized that there are 10 tiny fingers that don't have any knitted mittens.  I'm changing that.  I dug out some acrylic yarn (acrylic weathers frequent washing well) in a variegated color I like, found a pattern, and got to knitting.  The yarn color is Red Rocks and I bought it in Rapid City, SD a few years ago.  I'll get the mittens done today (provided the inventory is done at work) and hope there'll be enough yarn left to eke out a matching hat, but these are to go with a play coat (that's really too thick and too bulky to safely be worn in a car seat [man, you have to think of so much stuff with kids these days, no more rolling around in the back of a station wagon like when I was a kid]) so if the hat doesn't match, who's going to notice?  Squirrels?

Last Thursday I ordered a car seat from Walmart so that DS & DIL1 don't have to keep remembering to swap theirs out and into my car.  I thought that it would be delivered today or maybe tomorrow.  Instead it came on Saturday afternoon--when we were out of town for the weekend.  Since when does FedEx deliver on Saturday?  Our renter noticed it, called me, and took it in out of the rain yesterday.  (Thank you, J & K, you're good people.)  Now I just have to figure out how to secure it in my backseat.  I've asked DS to help.  He's big and strong and very smart.  (Thanks, I made him myself--with a little help from Durwood.)

On our way home yesterday we veered off the highway onto County X just outside of Dykesville to have lunch at Joe Rouer's in Duval.  Mmm, a cheeseburger with fried onions and onion petals on the side.  Durwood opted for a hamburger and cup of chili.  Oh my goodness, it was delicious, not quite as good as in my college days when Joe and Helen were still alive and running it, but worth the 2 mile detour.  We skipped supper.

March 30--John Warden, Orangutan.  It looked back through the bars and Lena felt a jolt at how human the ape's gaze was.  The luxuriant red hair and soulful black eyes of the orangutan made her want to unlatch the cage and take it home.  Not to her, Lena's human home, no.  Her apartment was almost too cramped for just herself.  Lena wanted to take the orangutan to its original home.  Lena dreamed of flying to Sumatra or Borneo dressed in khaki bush clothes, a little stained and rumpled but impeccably fitted, an enigmatic smile playing her her lips while the orange-haired ape rode in a crate in the cargo hold.  Maybe they'd write an article about her in National Geographic.  She'd have to learn to like animals first and probably insects and humidity.  Didn't orangutans live in the jungle?

I'm glad I'm not the only one with a rich fantasy life.  Time for showering, breakfasting and going off to work.  (Payday!)  I've already made the week's lunches and gotten my knitting together.  Important things first. Later.
--Barbara