Sunny, Summer & Friday

What could be better?  It's the end of the week, it's a gorgeous sunny day, I'm not at work, and I got a haircut today after which I came home and took a shower so I don't feel like I'm wearing a hair shirt for the rest of the day.  In between the haircut and the shower I spent some time sweltering in the basement of the downtown Lutheran church where the knitting guild meets to add some books I'd cleared out of my personal library to it and to see if I could bring a little, good old Teutonic organization to the cart.  (You, books, will line up there. *points emphatically*  Tallest to shortest.  *flings hands in the air*  I'm the soul of patience--as long as things go my way.)  I found a couple interesting things to borrow for a closer look, one is a magazine with a sock on the cover that I will never in a million years make because it is a riot of color but I want to look at it and pretend I might.


 
When I went out for the paper I saw that the orange Asiatic lily's first bud had opened.  I don't really understand why the orange one waits until the yellow one's just about done but I guess I should be happy because that way I have pretty flowers longer. 






Yesterday I knitted June Preemie Hat #4 and decided to make the smallest of the four sizes this pattern offers.  It's called "Moe" as in Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Moe.  Remember I couldn't imagine a baby small enough to wear the Minie I made last week?  This one stretches credibility even further.  The pattern says it's for micro preemies and I know there are babies that need hats that tiny.  *sigh*  Every time I look at those teeny little hats I say a prayer.  Here's photographic proof that I've got the four June Preemie hats all done.






The celery's going great guns.  Overnight the leaves are taller and the whole thing is greener.  Amazing.




June 24--David Brooks, Runner.  She ran because she had to.  Her whole life she had felt the hot breath of fate breathing down her neck.  She had started running on the cross-country team in middle school and hadn't stopped yet.  Now that she was an adult, and had been through years of analysis, she ran for pleasure.  She no longer felt the malevolent presence on her heels that had gotten her moving when she entered her teens.  That was why the hand that pulled her off the trail surprised her so much that she didn't cry out.

I think I'm going to go sit on the couch and page through a knitting magazine, the one with the cool sock on the cover.  Adieu, cheries.
--Barbara