Don'tcha?

I had another little falling-down, after baking oatmeal cranberry pecan cookies and whipping up horseradish mashed potatoes from scratch. Must have been the fumes from the horseradish. Two huge Yukon Gold potatoes, a bit of dried rosemary thrown in for interest, and some sea salt. Mashed up with half a stick of butter and nearly two cups of milk and almost a quarter-cup of creamed horseradish and do you think I could taste anything?

No-o-o-o-o. The cookies tasted like cardboard, and the mashed potatoes tasted bland. Almost enough to make me drive back to the office and fetch the Samoas. [But not quite.] So after listening to #39 of the KnitPicks podcast and the opening moments of #55 of Sticks and String, I sidled over to Knitty and clicked on their CafePress shop and checked out their sizes. I would rather have my shirt be too large than too tight. When I get too small to wear it in public [Heaven and water aerobics willing] I can always use it as a sleep shirt. I tried to make myself buy a $64!!! pair of pajamas that were marked down 30% on the way home from work Friday night, but I kept thinking how much yarn that would buy.

In the meantime I plan on wearing the new T-shirt to the next Dallas dance. Because it says “Don’t you wish your girlfriend could knit like me?” And if not to the dance, then certainly to one of the dinner group outings. They are getting used to me, to the knitting which leaps out of my bag when I stand up and which threatens to trip or hogtie one or another of them. We did a lot of sock-chasing, the day we traipsed all over the Bishop Arts District.

I stole “borrowed” this picture from Secondborn’s blog. She says that BittyBit likes to pin him down, but that they *both* seem happier cuddling this way.



Secondborn also says that he is standing alongside the couch and that his face lights up every time his big sister enters the room. Moments like this are what I loved most about having my own little blessings.

I am on the home stretch of Middlest’s first sock. Three pattern repeats until I get to the toes, although I may need to omit one or two of them, depending upon how deep the toes are supposed to be. Her feet are exactly an inch shorter than mine. Might be a good idea to read that part of the pattern about now.

For all my fine talk of dashing about and buying hangers yesterday, I never once left the house. So, no laundry done, and it’s reaching the point where I had better dedicate some time to it. I did putter, but it was all done in my kitchen: running the dishwasher, hand-washing things that wouldn’t fit or shouldn’t go in there, and cooking off and on all day. I watched my third DVD, Amazing Grace, and it’s a keeper. This is one of those movies where I started crying in the opening credits and sniffled all the way through. So by all means rent it if you haven’t seen it. And make sure that you have plenty of tissues close by.

I am undecided about whether to attend church later this morning. I feel so much better than I have for days, though I am still a little congested, and my lips and nose are still severely chapped. Yesterday morning I thought to put a little lip balm on the affected parts, and more before I went to bed last night, and lotion all over my crocodile hands, and I still look like death warmed over. It was so good not to have to talk much yesterday, though I had a nice chat with Secondborn [who wondered if Ratatouille might be too old for BittyBit, especially with the hair-pulling, and I confirmed that; better to wait until she is less of a mimic] and a very brief one with Middlest, during which I had her measure her feet, since they are still several states away.

I think it might be best to stay home again today, pamper myself with a long hot bath, and avoid talking if at all possible. There is no earthly way that I will be any good at choir practice today. I doubt if I could sing well enough to fall into the “joyful noise” category.

Making a mental note to leave the house early enough tomorrow morning that I can swing by the store and get more hangers on the drive to work. The urge to spiff and tidy is still upon me. Must be due to the thought of spring, and the sap rising, and all that.

My baby girl graduates in three months. How can this be?