More Fog

It was warm again today.  Well, that's what they tell me anyway.  I made the executive decision to stay in my yoga pants and hoodie, do laundry, and knit all day so I didn't go to the Y, didn't go to the store, didn't go outside except to nab the newspaper off the front porch.  I needed a stay at home day.  The fog was around all day but it really got thick just after sundown.




I enjoyed watching this squirrel get itself up the crook to the peanuts.  It tried to climb the Slinky a few times, each time looking at the coils gathering below its paws but not getting it any closer to the tempting peanuts over its head.  About the fifth time it realized that it had to reach through the coils to the crook and climb that to be able to stretch across to the nuts.





In between loads of laundry (5 of them???) I knitted on the Zauber Orange sock leg.  I figure I need about another inch before putting in waste yarn where I'll add the heel later.

It occurred to me that it's February so I spent some time this morning getting the February pages of my Bullet Journal laid out then I dug out the project bag that holds my charity knitting supplies, cast on a preemie hat, and got it done just as the clock struck 10 PM.




My other accomplishment today was collapsing the Pack & Play that has stood in the corner of the bedroom for nearly 5 years because all the people who slept there are too tall now and OJ is in day care so nobody comes to Meemaw's house one day a week.  Even more amazing is the fact that I managed to get it folded up and fitted back into the carry case.  It went downstairs on a shelf for when DD and her family come visit because there's someone who'd fit in there just fine.

3 February--Tropical Obsession. 

Looking like a handful of zebra seeds, the Zebra Nerite shells cluster in the shallows at Pink Beach. Each one is different from the others, like fingerprints or snowflakes, they appear to be small modern sculptures arranged in a gallery of black rock, turquoise water and a dome of sky so blue it should be classified as a separate color. Feeling like the whore at a church picnic, Nola carried her woven beach mat and tote bag holding her bottle of water and paperback novel as far down the beach as she could go from the happy families and napping tourists. She was overdressed. She had packed for one for the more cosmopolitan islands where her six-hundred dollar swimsuit and cover up worn with gold leather thong sandals and two-hundred dollar sunglasses would put her squarely in the middle of the female pack. Instead she found herself alone on an island where the best dressed wore khaki cargo shorts, Polo shirts, and Teva sandals. She couldn't have stuck out more if she'd worn a sign. She would go home except Detective Inspector Rooibos had asked her not to leave the island until he finished his investigation. That, and the unpleasant realization that she had no home. She had spent the last seven years with Jack in a series of apartments and hotels. All she had was the contents of her three suitcases--and a little emergency money stashed in a safe deposit box in Chicago. She was stuck.

Today's toss went right onto the "thinking about it" shelf.  It's a tote full of Durwood's and DS's Boy Scout manuals, neckerchiefs, and badge sashes.  I need to consult DS to see if he wants any of it.  I'm guessing that there are collectors of old BSA manuals and gear so if he doesn't want it I'll put it on eBay.  Maybe.

Here I am up past 11 o'clock again.  *sigh*
--Barbara