... mitten. First, since I forgot to rib the first few rows on the front side when I began the flip-top, I thought I'd try dropping down every other stitch to purl the first three and knit them back up so that the edge doesn't curl. Bad idea. I did one, badly and with much cussing, and decided I don't mind the curling all that much. Then I ran out of the black where the decreases for the top began. Instead of going with my first instinct and just finishing with the red I decided that tying on the gray (which looked thinner to me after I'd checked its vitals on Ravelry to discover that it's classified as worsted the same as the black is) and finishing with that. I wove in all the tails like a good little knitter, put it on, and thought, man, that is one ugly mitten. I showed it to Durwood and he defended it and I'm for sure not going to frog the wretched thing and start over so I'll finish the right mitten, striping its flip-top in inappropriate colors as well so it'll be a pair of sorts (the thumbs match). These aren't going anywhere near the sedate and attractive hat they were begun to go with. Nope, maybe not even in the same closet. I'll wear them though because who in their right mind would throw away wool mittens. Or one anyway.
This morning the sun came out again. It went into hiding sometime on Thursday and hadn't come out for long until today. The sunshine is blinding on the new snow and I love the icicles that form around the birdbath when I refill it, trying to keep the little patch of open water there for the birds.
I had a busy day yesterday (the reason I didn't blog) and we had leftover sesame chicken fried rice in the fridge but we also had three slices of thick-cut bacon that didn't fit into the muffin tin when Durwood tried his new method of freezing bacon. I knew we had to fry it up before it went bad so we decided to have breakfast for supper. I made Belgian waffles and he fried up the bacon. I for sure didn't need all that butter, salty bacon, and syrup--but it sure was tasty. We'll have the leftovers tonight and start again fresh tomorrow. I really want to make the slow cooker Chicken Tikka Masala recipe I found on the Weight Watchers website a couple weeks ago. Maybe I'll get the chicken thawing when I'm done here. So far we've liked the WW crockpot recipes we've tried, even the one that said it was pork with "barbecued" beans (note the quotes) that tasted good and flavorful and tomato-y but didn't come anywhere close to tasting like bbq. Funny how a word, even in quotes, convinces you how something will taste. It takes some mental gymnastics (and a squirt of Sweet Baby Ray's for a husband) to judge the recipe on its merits. I think I'll change the name for next time.
The sun came out a bit yesterday afternoon and I happened to notice that the branches of the maple tree were covered with ice that really sparkled when the wind made them move. I tried taking a picture. It's okay, not as pretty as in real life but I think it conveys the spirit of the moment.
February 26--Paul Cezanne, Nature Morte au Panier (Still Life with Fruit Basket) Jean loved the fall because that's when the pears ripened. The market was full of them in every size and color, and the fragrance was intoxicating. She knew which cheese went best with each variety and knew better than to even try to find a food that complimented the tiny seckel pears that were as sweet as candy. Her family complained that she made too many pear tarts and pear pies, that they got sick of poached pears and slices of pear in salads, but she knew that deep down they were as sorry as she was when pears disappeared from the stalls to be replaced by apples for the winter.
Look at the avocado grove. These are happy plants. This morning I realized why yoga pants are better than pajama pants. I can put on socks and shoes and go to Aldi in yoga pants (in a little while) and no one will look twice at me but if I'm wearing pajama pants everyone will know that I was too lazy to get dressed. Yoga pants rock. Yoga pants for president!--Barbara
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