About Me

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Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

This is not a blue sock!

This is a turquoise and teal sock with brief digressions. It goes with my dark teal shirt, with my dark jade shirt, with my redneck-mama squash blossom earrings. There are hints of plum and chestnut and deep watery green. This is LotusBlossom's Harbor, and I am knitting the *small* size, as I could have slipped a foot and a half into the *large* toe swatch [thanks, Jeri!] that I frogged yesterday.

Anne at Knitspot always has neat stuff going on. This is a quiz I took yesterday.

You Are a Ring Finger

You are romantic, expressive, and hopeful. You see the best in everything.
You are very artistic, and you see the world as your canvas. You are also drawn to the written word.
Inventive and unique, you are often away in your own inner world.

You get along well with: The Pinky

Stay away from: The Index Finger

*So* relieved that I'm not a middle finger; it would be hard to explain that one to my bishop.

I have been enjoying the first two Knitpicks podcasts Episode 1 Episode 2 this evening. Kelley Petkun has a lovely voice: clear diction, good modulation, all the things they tried to teach me in speech class. I figure that I've got about one more episode in me before crashing for the night.
I have tried to listen to Lime & Violet, and the best that I've managed thus far is about five minutes at a go. They're certainly entertaining, but it's painfully reminiscent of road trips with my five girls after they'd had too much sugar. I keep expecting to hear “Moooommmmm, she's breathing my air!”

1 comment:

Jeri said...

There were five kids in my family growing up, and lots of whining about this and that in the car, but I don't remember any "she's breathing my air". Woe be to my sibling who might have "crossed my line" on the car seat. They put such convenient lines on the seats, as I recall. Fortunately or unfortunately, I had occasional bouts of carsickness so I many times just HAD to sit in the front between daddy and mom. And not share the back seat, or the way-back with the little ones.