Z-z-z-z-z

We went to bed earlier last night and this morning the alarm ringing wasn't quite as awful as it was yesterday.  It wasn't great, you understand, but it wasn't as horrible as it was yesterday.  I think I'll try that whole "to bed at 10 o'clock" thing again.  Although I still kind of feel like I could take a nap.

There I was at work yesterday all set to finish knitting the last coaster I wanted to make for the Guild meeting on Thursday night, then work on finishing the Oriole Wing wrap that I'd put in hibernation when I just couldn't face knitting the last 1 1/4" of dark brown but work had other ideas.  There were serviced regs to be put into the computer and the customers called.  The UPS guy brought 3 big cartons of masks and fins to be unpacked, entered into the computer, priced, and put away.  And then there were random customers and phone calls that took up time, so it was after 3 o'clock by the time the desk was clear and I could get out my knitting needles.  Finally.

I finished the last of the coasters, I even learned how to do a sewn bind-off.  (Thanks, Elizabeth Zimmerman.)  The pattern for this one showed what I thought were the front and back side of the same coaster but it wasn't, it was just two made with the colors swapped.  I might make another one opposite of the one I made once I get that wrap done.

 
This morning I decided to bake a loaf of my whole wheat bread in the bread baking bowl I bought at Artigras.  I should have greased the bowl better because the bread stuck to it a little and should have baked it a little longer but it's good.  Not as good as the Italian Semolina bread but I'm not throwing it away.

March 10--Christopher Talbot Frank, Winter Reflection.  Leigh tugged the straps of her backpack tighter so that the weight of it rode higher on her shoulders.  Her coat was so thick that the pack's straps tended to slip off if they weren't cinched tight.  Her snowshoes crunched through the crust on the snow's surface.  Even at this altitude the March sun was warm enough to melt it enough to make a hard shell on the south-facing slopes.  She wore her camera on a lanyard around her neck and kept it close to her chest so it didn't swing and bounce with each step.  She paused in the sun to catch her breath and watched the Bridger wolf pack lope single file on the ridge across the valley.  The shutter clicks of her camera echoed in the stillness and behind her snow slid off pine boughs to thump to the ground.  It sounded like footsteps.

It's gorgeous and sunny and I think I'm going to open a window and let in real air.
--Barbara