All I've Got...

 


... is knitting.  I spent the morning taking care of small chores, then sat down on the couch to knit my way slowly through the butterfly instructions.  Once I got knitting, it suddenly made sense. Whew.  As is my habit (or failing?), I went my own way, knitting three rows instead of the one the pattern requires.  Every time I looked at the picture in the book I thought that the color on the butterfly wings was too narrow so I kept knitting.  Anyway, I finished it, sewed it onto the leaf side of the chrysalis, and wove in all of the tails.  The second picture is how it looks with the leaf and butterfly inside.  I think I need to knit more of the patterns in this book.

At knitting tonight I started and finished the second chrysalis.  Tomorrow is World Wide Knit in Public Day.  Members of the knitting guild are meeting downtown on the City Deck along the river so that's where I'll knit the leaf side of the chrysalis, and maybe even get the butterfly knitted.  It goes fast.  

Note to self:  remember a sun hat, put on sunscreen before you leave home, and tuck it into your knitting bag so you can reapply.





7 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.

             I spent a couple of hours planting bulbs I’d picked up on sale at Wal-Mart.  After lunch I walked over to Clara’s to catch up on things.  We sat chatting over coffee in Clara’s sunny yellow kitchen.

“So, how did your new look go over at class?” Clara asked.

           “Oh, I was a big hit.  Samara took full credit for the change.  And, you remember, I told you about that little gnome-man, Floyd Marley, who sits next to me?  Well, he got up and held my chair when I got to class, and when we went out for coffee later, he glared at poor Mr. Benning as if they’d been fighting over me.  It was embarrassing.  I’m sure everyone noticed.”

“A pair of men fighting over you?  Why, Gail, it’s just like high school.”  We giggled like girls.

“Clara, what am I going to do if Floyd calls me?  You should have seen him last night.  All puffed up like a rooster and leaning over, breathing his old man breath all over me.”   The memory of it made me shudder. “Ugh.”

Clara was nodding.  “Yep, there’s nothing quite as scary as an old coot in rut.  Maybe you should get an unlisted number.”

“What a thought!  Clara, you take it back this instant.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  If he’s as old as you say he is, he probably doesn’t remember what it’s for.”  It took a few minutes for our laughter to die down so she could talk again.  “So, how’s the painting coming?  You didn’t throw my bouquet picture away, did you?”

I reached across the table and laid my hand on her hand. “No, I haven’t thrown it away.  Yet.  I told you I’d make you a better one and I will.  June said this week she thinks I have real talent.  And I must admit, my work’s coming along a lot faster than some of the others in class.  Maybe I’ll be a painter after all.”

“I’m sure you will.” 

Her words might have sounded supportive but her tone of voice told me she wasn’t interested in listening to me talk about my newfound talent.  I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her attitude right then so I asked her what her kids were up to and after hearing all those stories, and gossiping about most of the people in town, I thought we were back to normal.

Sorry I'm so boring tonight.  What can I say?  I just gave myself the day off from the "shoulds" and "ought tos" that usually rule my days.
--Barbara