Hat Jag

I am powerless to quit making these Too Early Birthday preemie hats once I start.  I thought of them last weekend when I picked up a package of diapers to donate to a fundraiser, so I dug out a few balls of the colorful yarn I like to use to make them (I'm not a fan of pastels on babies but I know some people are so I knit one for the pile) and cast one on Monday night.  Tuesday I was too busy to knit much but got 3/4 of the way finished.  I finished the first one yesterday morning and immediately cast on a second one.  That one was done except for closing the top by the end of my workday, and as soon as that one was all done, I cast on a third.  I feel like yelling "I've fallen and I can't get up."

Tonight I'm going to press Durwood into service to help me split this skein of yarn in two so I can string 350 beads onto it and then knit a Like Magic Beaded Scarf with this yarn and beads I bought in Rapid City, SD a few years ago to make a different beaded scarf.  (you see how quickly I get around to these things)  Maybe having a beaded scarf to knit will dilute the hat jag.

Yesterday I was suddenly tired of paying too much money every 2-3 weeks to get my nails done so I made an appointment and had them taken off on my way home from work.  Taking them off only cost a third of having them filled and painted did.  Now they hurt.  Well, think about it, they're cemented on so taking them off peels off layers of nail (and my nails are splitty anyway) so they're extra thin right now.  I'm thinking it'll take a couple months for them to grow out to their regular thickness but I'll keep a coat of clear polish on them, maybe a couple coats, to give them a little strength.  Maybe Sally Hansen has something I can use...  By Christmas I figure I'll be tired of my ratty nails and go back in for a new set... or not.  I'm getting a haircut on my way to work today and, no, I'm not having it all taken off, just getting it trimmed a bit.  (sheesh, way to jump to conclusions)

May 28--Larry Ulrich, Sequoias.  The tree was so big that Maddie felt like a bug.  She sat in the cleft where the bark had split and knew she was invisible.  It was quiet down on the ground.  All the wind noise came from far overhead.  She bet when it rained not many raindrops got to the ground, but they had to, didn't they.  She had a mental picture of a guy with a watering can making a thousand trips from the spigot to water just one tree and there were hundreds, maybe thousands of the things as far as she could see in every direction.  When Mrs. Williquette first started talking about the field trip to see the sequoias Maddie thought it was a dumb idea.  She could go out her own back door to look at trees every day, but these trees were something else.  They were giants.  One was so big you could drive a car through an opening cut in the trunk.  That was just crazy.  Didn't those people know they could kill a tree by cutting the bark and cutting off its sap?

Since my haircut's at 9 o'clock and it's almost in DePere (waaaay across the river to the next tiny town, must be at least 7 or 8 miles, maybe 9) I'd better get a move on.  Seeyabye.
--Barbara