But Stop I Did

No cooking today.  Barely any heating up.  Whew.


I happened to be outside when the sun peeked up between the trees.  It was so warm today--nearly 50--that I had windows open to clear some of the stale winter air from the house's corners.  Ahh, it was lovely to have "real" air coming in for a change instead of the recycled, dry, and heated air from the furnace.



This mourning dove posed very nicely on the top of the crook for me this morning.  It came all by itself, usually they come in groups of four or five, but this was a lone dove.  It peered in at me when I took its picture as if to say, "it's too early for that foolishness."  I ignored it as you can see.




Today was newsletter finishing day.  I spent most of the morning converting the Print Shop pages to jpgs, turning them into a Word document that I then saved as a pdf so the members can open it.  *pant, pant*  That sounds like a lot of fuss but it isn't too bad, now that I visited with Blake at Cyberworks and made notes on the quick and easy way to do all of that.  Plus it's way cheaper than buying another program.  Now it's all ready to be sent out on Thursday.  Unless, of course, I reread it tomorrow and find a boo-boo...



This evening I finished the Crazy Z Reds Campfire sock.  Ta-da!  I've probably got enough yarn left to knit another one but I think the world might stop turning if I knitted a PAIR of socks.  *gasp*

And I cast on another preemie hat.  I'm using all the tiny, walnut-sized, end of the skein balls I've been collecting for a while, just tying them together and knitting around.  It'll look just fine on some baby.

February 27--Jaipur, India, Bracelet.  The street was dirt, mud when it rained, and it rained nearly every day.  Few motor vehicles came down the street, few people in the village had cars.  Most people walked, a lucky few had bicycles, and the shopkeeper, Arlen, had a motor scooter.  Arlen's scooter was the mint green color of a 1950s stove and fridge pair.  The rain bogged down bicycles and Arlen's scooter, and mixed in droppings from all the dogs and cattle and oxen that roamed the neighborhood.  All of the feet, paws, and hooves churned the mud making a reeking clay that stuck to anything it touched.

If I'd been able to stay awake longer last night that bracelet would have surfaced but time ran out, my eyelids slammed shut one last time, and I was a goner.  There is nothing, not one thing, on my calendar for tomorrow.  I'm so glad.
--Barbara