Ta-da! I finished my Neon Sock this evening. I am so not casting on another sock right away. I get too caught up in it and I abandon everything else. Time for a little sock haitus.
Last night at FNKC there was a lot of talk about going to Stitches Midwest in August. We have rooms, now all we need is the $$ to pay for it with a little left to buy yarn. Plenty of time to save. Plenty.
This feels wrong. I never work on Saturdays, and I have to work two in a row. (I think I'll go lie down.) I keep thinking of how big and juicy my paycheck will be a week from Monday and I can go on.I'm amazed how much Mom being sick affects my ability to concentrate on my writing. I've barely managed to write to a prompt a few days since last Saturday. There was absolutely no way I could knuckle down and work on my NaNo novel's opening scene this week as we were assigned to do, but I attended class and took the notes. I'm not giving up.January 30--Jungman Beach, Cheju, South Korea. The long sandy beach stretched out at the foot of the bay. The hills that embraced the water funneled the wind so that it sent grains of sand tumbling along. No one except tourists came to the beach to swim in the chilly Pacific waters. The natives were too used to the sandblasting that any exposed flesh got to come to relax. They came to Jungman to fly. Tucked in sleek black wetsuits and riding brightly colored boards, young men and women rode the wind and waves. They flung themselves up into the air, pulling tricks of heart stopping daring, flying recklessly over the ocean. As daring as they were on the weekend, the young Koreans spent their weekdays in suit and tie locked in a cubicle marking time until the weekend rolled around again and freedom beckoned.Eh. It's barely better than no writing, but I'll take it.--Barbara
It's been a long week. Mom was in the hospital with pneumonia and came home yesterday with a diagnosis of COPD, 2 new pills, 2 inhalers, and oxygen tanks and an accumulator, so I spent a lot of the last 5 days running to see her and worrying. I had today off and Mom sounded a lot more like herself this morning, so I drove off into the sunshine and +2 temps on a little "yarn crawl." I needed more colors to make single worsted socks with. I did. Really. And Shana was just putting sale stickers on the Pastaza Paints, which was entirely too pretty to pass up. I also got more DPNs in 2 sizes I only had one set of, and they're not yarn and needles don't count as buying yarn. They don't. Really.
So my 2010 yarn starvation diet was compromised. I don't feel too bad about it though. I needed a little retail therapy, and I spent less than $60 and will get hours of pleasure--and toasty toes--from my purchases. And I plan to climb right back on the no-buying-yarn wagon.
Durwood gave me a Michaels gift card for Christmas that I hadn't spent so I cruised the aisles there and got this book. Exactly what I was looking for. Thanks again, sweetheart. You're the best!
Someone told me about a website that lets you opt out of receiving catalogs in the mail. It's www.catalogchoice.org and it has certainly done wonders for my mailbox. Give it a try.
The reason I'm thinking of it is I got Mom home from the hospital yesterday, finally, and she had a bale of catalogs in her mail. Do all older people get so many? I don't know, but I'm online this morning signing her up and getting at least some of them stopped. She's flipping out that she has to use oxygen and drag it along to her bridge games, etc. Right now she's thinking she'll never go anywhere ever again. Drama, much? I know she doesn't feel good and she's intimidated by all the rigmarole, but geez, Mom, never? I know it sounds like I'm not sympathetic, but I really am. I do understand that she's overwhelmed and afraid of breaking it or hurting herself, but I'm worn out and sympathy's a bit thin on the ground today. I'm hoping my brothers will step up and take their turns helping her this weekend. Maybe I'll call them and suggest that.
January 28--Maldives. Like a carpet of limitless blue the water in the infinity pool stretched out across the surface of the ocean and into the sky. The quiet space between one puff of wind and the next, like the earth holding its breath, stretched out. The waves lay down and the satin surface of the water, both fresh and salt, spread out to the limit of imagination. Maren lay in the shade of a white canvas umbrella, stretched out on a teak chaise longue like a vestal sacrifice. A trickle of sweat traced its way down her arm, sending a shiver to her very center. The cessation of the clatter of the palm fronds overhead made the broken glass sound of the ice cubes in her glass seem very loud and the faint music of the bamboo and brass wind chimes on her deck of her cabana soothed her more than the canned music that drifted over the resort beach on cruise ship days. This was better, more relaxing. Trevor was right, rich was better than poor.
It's sunny today although still frigid. Only in my dreams am I lolling on the chaise next to Maren.
--Barbara
It's Wednesday. Isn't that nice? Happy Birthday, Roi!The best thing about today? The sun is shining. It might be in the single digits and windy, but the old ball of burning gases is out in that cold blue sky just shining like the dickens. Thank god, I think I might live until spring now.January 26--Princes' Island. The view from Sheila's window was magnificent, ancient pines growing on steep headlands plunging into the sea, but she felt trapped. Trapped by the geography of the place and trapped by her agreement with Greg. He had promised her a life of comfort in return for being his hostess and housekeeper. That had been fine in Chicago where an elevator and taxi were all she needed to escape for an afternoon, but once they arrived here on Princes' Island all that changed. There was no place for her to go, no nearby town, no sops, no neighbors. She felt like a captive and Greg just laughed, patted her hand and said, "You'll get used to it here soon enough." And he went out shooting with his man, Solomon. She hated the hooded-eyed man who was so close to Greg, hated his dark looks and sardonic smirks as he touched the brim of his hat and followed her husband from the room.Ooh, spooky. Did I mention that the sun''s shining?--Barbara
I walked out of the bank yesterday afternoon, the wind was blowing from the west, and it carried the sublime scent of grilled hamburgers from the Burger King on the corner. I had a sudden vision of the little chuck steaks that Durwood had gotten out of the freezer. We can grill out, I thought. And so we did. It was 17 degrees out there and really blowing, 1 degre
e with wind chill, and it had gotten dark.
But served with rice and steamed cauliflower, it was worth standing out there in the cold and wind. So delicious!
