My Lucky Day

I have had a great day.  The sunrise was pretty and peachy.   My idea to sew part of a headband onto my Bullet Journal to hold it shut and hold the pen in worked like I knew what I was doing.  I went to Office Depot and found some document pockets I think I can make work to hold things inside the back cover.


 

Yoga time was bird time this morning.  Just as I was finishing my practice all the birds came: a Cardinal, a bunch of Juncos (this is the only one that held still long enough), a House Finch and a pair of Goldfinches (see what I mean about the Goldfinches being drab in winter?), and then Mr. Downy Woodpecker showed up.  It was a bird jackpot.

 













Today was bread baking day.  I volunteered to bake bread for this weekend's get-together.  Isn't it pretty?  One day I might even be able to divide it in half evenly.



The luckiest part of today was when I was driving back from errands this afternoon and there was a Christmas tree at the curb just up the street, so I went inside, put on my boots, grabbed my leather gloves, and went and got it.  Hooray!  I'm always glad to find a tree within walking distance, I don't mind using Durwood's van and a tarp, but I'd rather just walk over and drag it home.


Last night's knitting finally produced a peek at the lace pattern.  If I could only reliably count to 8 I'd spend a whole lot less time tinking and more time making progress.  I keep forgetting to pass a slipped stitch over the next stitch which makes the whole pattern lean to the left.  Pretty soon the pattern will switch and then then stitches will lean to the right.  Ooh, exciting knitting.

January 2--Maximilian Kurzweil, Lady in Yellow.  Ethan stood leaning in the doorway, his gray eyes locked on her green eyes.  The French doors to the garden stood open and the hum of bees busy in the roses made the only sound.  Madeline sat on the Japanese settee, her arms spread open across the back, the skirt of her dress spread wide over the cushions, her feet held primly together.  Her head was cocked to one side and her eyes dared him to move to sit beside her.  He knew if he moved her skirt the tension would leave her and she would be his to command.

Yeah, you know, Ethan, I think you might be mistaken about that whole "command" thing.  I smell the chicken baking and Durwood's getting the broccoli washed and cut up for supper.  I completely forgot that I'd made another pot of cranberry sauce a couple weeks ago so we have to have some with our supper.  (Oh, what a pity.)  I hope your day was lucky.
--Barbara