We had two options: they would send the new one to Fixit Dude at the local Operations Center, and he could come back out in a week or so to install it. Or they could send it here, and our in-house IT diva and I could put it in and fire it up.
It should be here on Tuesday.
I promise that I wasn’t feeding it paper clips or Twix crumbs. I think it might have been the luxe letterhead [we admire alliteration and assonance, chez Ravelled] that some plaintiff attorneys use in their correspondence. I think it was a case of virtual gout; just too rich a feed. Or something.
We had early dismissal from work. I left at 4:00 and headed straight for the bookstore, after leaving the Good Brother a voicemail telling him that, no offense, I was only coming for the boxes because I was just barely awake. He had been up for about a day and a half, himself, and was unoffended.
Made a nice stack of books and magazines, ordered a four-cheese panini and a fork, and settled down for some serious browsing.
They had a European knitting magazine that was new to me. I do not remember the name. Nice production values, and nothing that screamed “knit me”. Came home with the new Knit.1, in part because of Nicky Epstein’s sweater on the cover, which I would make with a few minor modifications, and in part because I tore a page while turning it.
Also the Summer IK, which has several projects that made me say “Hmm, maybe,” and one that makes me want to turn cartwheels. That Manos de Uruguay crop cardi with the embroidered collar. Deliriously over-the-top, something like unto the love child of Alice Starmore and Kaffe Fassett. In pretty much the same colors as pictured, although I reserve the right to tweak them.
Here’s what I scored at game night, last night. Poor Lorelai! The indignity of a Grapes-of-Wrath drive home...
To the rescue: My handy luggage cart. First fell swoop.
Second fell swoop.
And six more boxes, from another friend in the dinner group.
These are the boxes I brought home from the dance last weekend. They had spent the week neatly stacked on a table in the living room.
And Thursday night while I was winding down from the choir concert, they all gave a despairing sigh and leaped, lemming-like, onto the couch and down to the floor.
While I was at the bookstore last night, I discovered a small error [mine, not the designer’s] in the Flared Lace Smoke Ring and carefully tinked back two rounds to fix it. So that’s done. And the yarn, delicate though it is, is none the worse for it. I thought this project would be a quick knit, maybe a week’s worth of knitting. While I am getting the hang of the pattern, I think it will end up taking me two or three weeks, so I may finish just in time to pack it up for the move. I’ll try to snap a picture tomorrow or Monday, when I have a little more progress to show.
I have no idea what to take for mindless knitting to the music venue today, or to the BBQ tonight.
I also want to pick up a cute shirt to wear tonight, in a color that I know looks good on me. Just in case there is a window of flirting opportunity.
- 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!