Bye, DD

Early this evening I drove DD to the airport, hugged her like I'd never see her again, and drove back home.  It was great having her here for a few days.  We talked and talked, knitted, sewed, did a little rental-readying, laughed, and cried.  Man, I wish she lived closer.


This morning the sunrise did its best to cheer me up.  It was a good attempt but having to send my darling girl back to her husband, job, and life cast a pall on the day.




Yesterday I finally stole an hour and finished the gray linen Dress No. 1 I cut out a month ago.  I'm wearing it right now with my snakeskin printed leggings.  I think I look cool.





DD and I went to Walmart yesterday and look who I met up with.  It was the Easter Bunny wearing a Walmart vest.  Did you know he works at Walmart?  Me neither.  He wasn't handing out treats either, the piker.

Today DD and I went downstairs and whipped up a batch of lotion bars as an experiment.  We made them years ago and someone at knitting guild had one last week which reminded me that I can make my own.  I dug out a couple trays of soap molds and made some small ones, not ready to commit to a big batch of them.  I need to find some solid "butter" that is a little less melty than coconut oil so they hold together better when you touch them.  This is equal parts of coconut oil, beeswax, and cocoa butter and it's pretty quick to melt in your hand--further research is needed.



I looked on Ravelry for a quick, short, simple pattern to put in next month's knitting guild newsletter and ran across this one for Sweet Somethings which is a small, (sort of) heart shaped, cotton cloth or coaster so I whipped up a couple this afternoon.  (see where the variegated yarn ran out on the left one? grrr)  It's nice and squishy and would be a great hostess gift with a bar of special soap.  The sacrifices I make for my public...

March 26--Kazimir Severinovich Malevich, Flower Girl.  She held the small bouquet in a strangle grip.  Her knuckles were white and the petals of the flowers trembled.  Armand fumbled in his pocket for some of the confusing coins and bills he had gotten in exchange for his familiar money when he arrived.  Why couldn't everyone use the same money, his money, American money, and they should all speak the same language too.  He couldn't tell if the girl was selling flowers or herself.  She was so tense he was certain that more than flower-selling was going on.  If only he understood what she was saying.  He leaned toward her as if proximity would help him understand, that's when he felt the tiny pinprick in his arm and the whole scene began to sway and fade.

I missed talking to you the last couple days even though the conversation is mostly one-sided, I still look forward to talking to you every day.  House guests make you busy, even grownup kid house guests.  I'm tired.  Good night.
--Barbara