When I cleaned out my knitting basket the other day I came across a knitted dishcloth pattern I'd printed out some time ago. There was a small amount of dishcloth cotton in there too so I dug up some needles and cast on. Of course there wasn't enough of the first yarn to finish the cloth. In fact, there was enough to make almost exactly half so I got out the remaining Fiesta yarn, joined it, and now I have this schizophrenic dishcloth. I like the pattern so I'll make more but probably make them out of one color at a time.
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I stopped over to visit the Grand-chickens the other day while I was out and about and thought it was pretty interesting to see them lined up in the pecking order for the peels, leaves, and grapes.
A chipmunk discovered that the sparrows throw seed out of the feeder and it spent quite a bit of the afternoon yesterday stuffing its cheek pouches. I wonder where it stores the stuff? Under the shed? In the hose caddy? I watched it, fascinated, afraid that it was going to burst.
November 2--Carl Schneider, BT-001. Gage sat on the bow of the Kathy Leigh tied up at the Jacksonport pier. His hands were busy tying a complicated knot but his eyes looked out at the lake. The other boaters had stopped calling him over for a beer, didn't tease him about staying tied up on fine fishing days. Ever since Jacob had disappeared in the last storm of the previous winter Gage hadn't been the same. Jacob's body had never been recovered and Gage spent hours and days slowly tracing widening circles from where he thought the boy had fallen overboard.
Well, that's cheerful. I set out to write a sailing adventure but look what came out. Pencils just aren't reliable. I'm going to go ice my ankle for the third time today. The osteopath told me on Monday that I have to ice it three times a day for 15 minutes a time. He said that's the most effective method. I have to say it makes me feel like I've backslid but I'm so damned tired of this ankle I'm willing to do just about anything to make it feel normal again. Don't break your ankle. Just don't.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Love those Little Golden Books. I have a stack of them waiting to be read to one of the great grandkids if we EVER move to FL.
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