I grabbed a box full of some of the Shetland-and-wool that I bought from Brother Stilts before he moved. And some of my spare needles, inherited from Secondborn when she realized that BittyBit was a bitty bit too [demanding is not quite the word I am looking for] for her to pick up a new hobby that is supposed to be relaxing, but often is not, at least for a new knitter.
I have a nice outfit assembled to wear to work and then to the singles activity this evening. The skirt that not-coincidentally goes with the Stripedy Stockings, so I can pull out the completed sock and show that it is possible to match your hand-knitted socks with your ensemble.
And I have hopes that at least one of the Brothers Nice will be there tonight. And maybe even Brother Sushi, to mock me ever so gently as I *[knit and flirt] repeat from * until done.
Maybe I should rethink taking another bowl of soup for lunch today. Maybe I should just have peanut butter and crackers, as giving fewer opportunities to trash my ensemble?
- 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!