One More Thing

I forgot to show you the gift the Founders got at the party on Saturday.  It's a mug.  A beer mug.  Imagine that.  I want to wear it around my neck like a medallion.  Actually what I really want to do is stand on Webster Ave. with a flag and megaphone to waylay passersby into the Zambaldi parking lot.  I'm so proud of all that DS and DIL1 have accomplished over the last three years in their battle to get the place built and up and running.  I'd have downed tools many times and run screaming into the night (and I'm sure there were times they wanted to do just that) but they persisted and there they are in that shiny new building with employees and tap lines and soon a functioning brewery.  Yowza!





I finished knitting January Preemie Hat #2 this evening.  Like I've said my knitting mojo feels stalled so this tiny hat is a good way to knit and have some semi-instant gratification.




In the non-instant gratification department, last night I cast on 146 stitches with three strands of worsted yarn on size US13 needles (aka telephone poles) to knit a big cardigan sweater.  I've had this Lion Brand Fisherman yarn in all the natural colors for years and have been looking for something to knit with it and I decided to start at the bottom of the sweater with three strands of the darkest brown, then I'll replace one strand with the medium brown for a bit, then gradually overlap and swap out until at the collar I'm knitting with all creamy white.  With any luck it'll look in reality like it does in my head.  I started this sweater once before but added one strand of the cream in right away and it just looked wrong, so I frogged it, waited a while, and started over.  I need to see how long the body of the sweater's supposed to be to figure out when to change yarns.  It'll mean math but I gotta do it.



When I came into the bedroom looking for a greeting card to send to a friend I saw that the sun was setting and the western sky was that gorgeous pinkish orange with dark purple blue that gets me every time so I hurried to grab the camera and poked my lens out the door to snap one picture.  A lucky shot.

20 January--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Marlene smiled, “Yes, we went all through school together.  She was on the cheerleading squads my mother coached, too.  I’ve seen her every once in a while, usually when she came in to order some books.  She was after me to teach classes in that floral boutique she owns, too.”  She shook her head.   “Too bad she’s dead, though.  No one should die like that.  What are you doing in so early?”

“Oh, I have to whip up some lip balm.  It’s easier to do it early in the morning.  I saw your light on and thought I’d run over for a few minutes.  Did you get that Steinbeck I asked you about?”

“Yes, it’s right here.  In Dubious Battle.  I got in a paperback and have it under the counter for you.  Anything else you’re looking for?”

Cecilia turned away from the counter and moved to the shelves of books lining the long narrow room.  “I need a book on aromatherapy.  I need some new fragrances for bath salts.  Seems like everything’s related to stress reduction these days.  You know, like those candles you see everywhere--Seduction, Stress Relief, things like that.”  Cecilia began checking the titles of the books nearest her.  She had a tough time seeing them with the dim lighting in the narrow aisles.

“I bought a bunch of books at an estate sale the other day.  Look at the end of that shelf just before the gardening books.”  Marlene gestured toward a haphazard stack of volumes and tucked a strand of her limp hair behind her ear.  “Yes, that’s right, the book with the teal green cover.  Isn’t that an aromatherapy book?”

“This one?”  Cecilia held up a large format book.  “Yes, this looks just right.  I’ll take it.  I’d better get out of here before I start to make too big a pile.  I need to quit buying so many books and concentrate on The Alchemists.  Can’t build a lotion business and not have money for raw materials.  How much do I owe you?” Cecilia said reaching into her pocket. 

“Let’s see, with tax the total comes to $16.78.”  Marlene looked up at Cecilia and sighed, “Don’t think I’m not sorry that Tiffy was murdered.  I’m just worried about the business.  With the growth of Internet book sites, I’m barely making ends meet.  Guess I’ve been preoccupied.”

Cecilia reached across and patted her hand, “Don’t worry.  I know you’ve been distracted.  What you need in your life is some happiness.  Maybe a boyfriend?” 

Marlene snorted.  “Who’d want a nobody like me?”

Resisting again her impulse to suggest she change her hairstyle, dress a bit more stylishly, and try wearing a little makeup, Cecilia took her package of books in its distinctive pink bag with Kitty’s Korner emblazoned across the front and moved toward the door.  “Who knows?  Maybe Prince Charming will come into the shop today.”  She smiled at Marlene, waved, and went back across the street to begin her day.

I was so proud of myself this evening.  I actually cooked fresh food for supper.  I browned a couple chicken breast slices, then simmered them in some WW marinara sauce, and cooked up some pasta to have it on.  Just like a grownup.  It was pretty good except I cooked the thin chicken a bit too long so it was a little tough.  I'm out of practice.  I'll get better the more I do it.  Really.
--Barbara