Done?

I finished LC's hat this evening and sewed a tiny owl button onto it.  Then I sewed a tiny train engine button onto OJ's hat.  I'm still debating whether I'll make pom poms for the hats.  What do you think?  I'd hold the colored yarns with the white I used on the brims so that the pom poms would be more interesting than monochromatic.  I won't have the chance to deliver them until Tuesday so I've got some time to make up my mind.


The other night at the knitting guild board meeting I volunteered to sew up a bag for the yarn swift that the president's husband made for the guild.  We keep it on the library cart and right now it's sticking out of a box but needs a proper home.  Evidently someone volunteered to make the bag last summer and then never came back to the guild so I said I'd make one.  I was digging out some yarn and had to move fabric to get the yarn.  Among the fabric were scraps of outdoor fabric that I'd used to make the picnic cloth last summer so I sewed the strips together, hemmed the top, and sewed on a shoelace to tie it shut.  Quick and easy.

I had a lovely workout this morning.  T the trainer had me doing balance and muscle work and, may I say, my legs are aching something fierce right now.  Tylenol for a bedtime snack again.

While knitting earlier I was listening and semi-watching an episode of The Great British Baking Show.  One of the things they were asked to make was biscotti.  They must have said the word fifty times in ten minutes--biscotti, biscotti, biscotti.  Like a zombie I went out into the kitchen and actually found a recipe DD used to make it ages ago but they'd talked about cranberry orange biscotti and that's what I want so I went online and found a nice recipe.  I even have all of the ingredients.  Then I ran the recipe through WW's recipe create function.  One biscotti (biscotti, biscotti, biscotti) is six points.  That's a lot of points when you get 23 points per day but I may just whip some up, partly because I'm now programmed to make them (biscotti) and partly because I can make them in my new food processor (biscotti) and I want to (biscotti, biscotti).  Maybe tomorrow, maybe Saturday.
 
I'm still spending a few minutes a day on the latest read-through of The Seaview finding places to put
mention of the roofer.  This time it's going faster, thank heavens, but I'm still finding little line edits.  I suspect that I'll always find something to tweak.  Soon I'll stop futzing with it and put it away for a couple months to gain a little distance from it.  It can't come soon enough, I'm getting tired of the whole thing.



05 November--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

After midnight that night, Sonia awoke to find no George on the other side of the bed.  She padded barefoot to the top of the stairs and saw a dim light coming from the end of the dining area.  She knew that meant he was in the snug, she rightly assumed he was on his secure line communicating with his handler.

In the days that followed, George made sure that Harriet and Max were having the holiday they had expected.  He also stopped Sonia from asking every time he had been away from home how things were going.

“But I want this to be done,” she said.

“As do I,” he told her, “but you must let me do my job my way and not ask questions.  Secret agent, remember?”

“You sound like one of the boys,” she said with a laugh that threatened to turn into a sob.

“I am back to being one, my love, at least for a little while, but I am going to insist that this will be the last.”

“Can you?”

George frowned into space.  “I will try.  If I can get the information they are looking for, perhaps they will be more agreeable.”

“I hope you are right.  This is not the retirement I imagined.”

He stepped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her squeezing her tightly to his chest.  “You have been an excellent wife.  I will do my best to finish this job quickly and insist that they leave us alone to spend our declining years together.”

She pulled back to look him straight in the eye.  “I, for one, am not declining.”

He smiled down at her.  “Neither am I, but we don’t have to tell my handler that, now do we?”

They stood in their embrace for a few more minutes, reveling in the last quiet moment they would have for a long time.

It was gray and windy today.  Didn't see a single bird at the birdbath.  I'm thinking maybe I'll put a couple cobs of corn in the feeders back by the fence or maybe I should just leave everything alone.  I don't see a path through the snow so maybe the RAT succumbed to the last poison pellet puck or maybe it moved on or maybe it's lying in wait for my resolve to crack.  Gah!  What to do?  I'll think about it tomorrow.
--you can call me Scarlett