SO Much Better

After supper last night I unlimbered the knitting needles in the car knitting bag, cast on, and knitted a couple repeats of Car Knitting Warshrag #9 in a much better, more appealing color blend than the ghastly Pepto Bismol pink of the previous iteration.  Ahh.  I meant to only get as far as I'd been with the first try (through one repeat) but the colors pleased me so much I kept going.  Also Rizzoli & Isles was on and I wasn't going to switch projects in mid-show.

Once I moved onto the couch (when Durwood changed to the boxing channel) I picked up the Dobby Hat(s) hat #1 brim and got it to the point where the short rows begin, so almost to where I was when I frogged the first attempt of that hat.  (Lots of frogging going on around here lately, isn't there?)

I gave the Rapid City Scarf a bath (the Mosaic Practice Hat was in the tub too but it's not dry yet), pressed out as much of the water as I could, and then patted it out to dry.  It went from a roll of knitting with beads on it to a fairly flat scarf with beads.  Blocking can sometimes make a meh project into an ooh! project.  PH said "always block" one night at Guild and I've tried to follow that, except for stuff like wash & dish cloths and preemie hats.


This morning there were two orioles on the oriole feeders.  These pale cousins of the Baltimore Orioles are Orchard Orioles... I think.  Anyway, it was fun to see two of them at once.  Usually there's just one of the brighter, Baltimore Orioles and it's hunched over drinking from the back hummingbird feeder.  I just did a little search on the Cornell Lab of Ornithology site and they're probably juvenile or female Baltimore Orioles.  Oh well, we love seeing them as they're pretty uncommon in our neighborhood.

July 29--Zack Burris, Dancer.  The dog moved like a ghost on the path that threaded its way along the bluff.  Dawn was an hour away and the waters of the broad bay to the west had just extinguished the last trail of moonlight on its surface.  The dog hadn't come this way before but his pace was even and sure.  His senses read the calling cards of others of his kind, wild and domesticated alike, and he resisted the lure of smaller creatures he might prey upon.  He had been on the trail for over a week, moving through towns, dodging cars, and loping across pastures and plowed fields.  He knew where he was going and who he would find at the end of this trail  His devotion to her had never wavered.

We've got an early appointment with our financial advisers this morning so I've got to get a move on.  This is supposed to be the last day of the high humidity, I can't wait for the weather guessers to be right.  Ugh, I hate the muggies.
--Barbara