The Lumpy Bumpy Scarf is done.
I had to tink back a row in order to bind it off and have enough left to finish the fringe. So it’s a little wabi-sabi in terms of stripe width, but that’s probably good for me. Builds character.
My Sockdown prize yarn came in yesterday’s mail. 60% merino, 30% bamboo, 10% nylon; my fingers cannot feel the nylon in there, so I think this will be a pleasure to knit up. The dyer was right: I absolutely love the color(s)! He is Creek Yarn on Ravelry, and here’s a link to his Etsy shop.
There was a message waiting for me from the Raveler with the yarn I wanted. My check arrived yesterday, and she will be sending the box via UPS today. Which means I had better finish more projects so that I am not drowning in fibery goodness.
I was sensible at dinner last night and had the black bean burger (light salt, hold the onions and pickle, just in case I went to the dance afterward) and a virgin strawberry mango margarita. Dessert and beverage all in one. Enough food to convince my stomach that my throat had not been cut, but not so much that I fell asleep at the concert.
We got a little lost between the restaurant and the concert hall. Trainman, I am pleased to report, did not become ruffled or cranky; he consulted with us, and he stopped to ask for directions. We arrived a very few minutes late and slipped in between songs.
I like the venue. We ended up with front-row seats in the upper balcony, and I did not have to climb a bajillion stairs to get there; they have a capacious and supremely quiet elevator. The seats are comfortable, the sight line was good, and the hall was so small that I did not get vertigo when I stood for the ovation at the end of the concert.
[That upper balcony at the Bass Hall induces moderate anxiety, but not as much as the raking at the Omni Theater. I have to turn my back to the screen and crab-walk to my seat at the Omni, brailling along with my hand on the back of the seats in front of me. Brother Sushi finds this hilarious; but then he likes to jump out of perfectly good airplanes, so his perspective is a little skewed. (I’m not a total chicken; I practically get nosebleeds when I’m on horseback, but that doesn’t stop me from riding when I get the chance.)]
Sandra Kaye and Arlington Jones were the soloists. His parents were there, and his wife and child. At a little over an hour and a half, plus one encore, the concert length was just-right. The conductor was a hoot; he really knows how to work the audience. My only quibble is that sometimes the orchestra [band? not sure where one ends and the other begins] overpowered the soloists, but never for long. Une quibblette, if you will.
I love how friends expand my life. I am more a blues girl than a jazz girl, but last night I heard music I very much enjoyed and wouldn’t have thought I liked. What’s that sound? Oh nothing much, just a handful of expectations rattling around inside my brainpan.
We got back to the park-and-ride about 10:00 last night. I was relaxed and sleepy, and I needed to move my body. So I announced that I was heading up to the dance. Trainman said not him, he was headed home to bed. And of course LadyZen, who is married, was headed home as well. I had just made the irrevocable choice to get onto the freeway when I discovered that there was Trouble in River City. I spent 15 or 20 minutes on the on-ramp, waiting to reach the next exit and head for home because all northbound lanes were clogged and there were emergency vehicles snaking around them. Sometimes I really do know when I’m beaten.
I called Trainman, who was still on his way home, and told him what was up. We chatted for a couple of minutes, and then I wished him good night and a pleasant weekend. He commented that he had noticed that I listen to music the way he does: with my eyes closed. Well yes! There are times when sight is superfluous. [I don’t kiss with my eyes open, either, but blessed if I’m going to tell him that.]
Not sure what-all I will be doing today. I slept until nearly 5:00 this morning. I’ve put in a call to BestFriend; I want to show her the progress on her sock, have her try it on, and just have some chick time. I think my books are due at the library. I may see if I can finish the increases on the Clapotis en Soie; I feel like dealing with something fiddly. For a little while, anyway, if not all day. I think there will probably be some cooking. I am feeling nourished and restless and unaccountably domestic. Maybe I will finally get my bedroom painted? It’s certainly promising to be warm enough outside that I could paint successfully, inside.
He thinks the three of us should go see an opera. Heading over to the local websites to see if anybody is doing Carmen or Butterfly this year. [Do I really want to let this guy see me cry?]
- 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!