The Trinity River had dropped noticeably when I drove in to work yesterday. The trees that on Thursday resembled broccoli flowerets bobbing on the water now look like trees once more. Here, at least, the river stayed within the levees designed to contain it. People living downstream, or along the Brazos, were not so lucky. I have a soft spot for Marble Falls, and it was hit pretty badly. This link is about the flooding in Weatherford, about an hour west of where I live, and about half an hour east of where I took Sooz for her daughter-in-law’s bridal shower last month.
The “stills” dangling down from the ceiling panels were in place when I left the office last night. More storms are predicted over the next five days. And the remodeling in the suite above us continues. It’s easy to recognize the whine of a drill or the drone of an industrial vacuum, but what I am curious about is the machine that sounds like the mating call of a lovesick tuba.
The weekend officially began mid-afternoon yesterday, when one of my attorneys brought me four issues of This Old House. He and his wife frequently share their magazines with me; that’s how I fell in love with Cottage Living.
I’m getting a little more comfortable manipulating the html text for my blog posts, and I think I found what was causing the funky spacing issues. I’m not quite OCD enough to go back and tweak 140+ posts, but I think I can properly edit future ones. Maybe this summer I’ll play with the customizing features of the “new improved” Blogger, though pretty much I like the status quo. It’s a warm-looking colorway that reminds me of Thimbleberries quilt fabrics.
Some of you may have a child or sibling with Down syndrome, or know parents who do. I read this excerpt this morning. Grab a box of tissues first.
In other breaking news, I picked up the siphon tubes, bung wrenches, and adaptors for our water storage barrels this afternoon. Too boring to photograph; I know that cuts you to the quick.
I also stopped at the pizza store on the way home and picked up a $5 pizza because I am Not In The Mood to cook. And at the library, where I picked up three audiobooks: Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, Lilian Jackson Braun’s The Cat Who Knew Shakespeare, and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Can you believe I'm 55 years old and have never read Frankenstein?
And while I've never been comfortable anywhere near a pedestal, this objet d'art certainly deserves one. And a tiara. And a chauffeured limousine.
I asked one of the clerks at a LYS why the 000's were $4.50 more than the 0's. She gave me a wry grin and said, “Because they’re very proud of those needles.” The yellow scarf is nearing completion, and I need something smaller than a 0 to redo the not-blue sock of a few weeks back.
$16.98. No jive, Clive!
- Four 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!