They followed me home...
The empty nest is no longer empty. These little guys are why I generally stay out of Pier One. I also found but did not buy a red leather chair [next to last item on that page] that would look spiffy in my bedroom, a matching footstool [last item on that page] that might come home with me if it’s still there in seven weeks, and a hand-painted dresser which nearly made me swoon. Can’t find a picture of the dresser, but it’s elaborately painted, and there is glass over the drawer fronts and on top.
Girls, when I die just bury me under the closest Pier One, and I promise not to haunt you!
Today’s semi-random thought, because it wouldn’t be my blog without one. Does anybody besides me remember the old Norm Crosby routine, where he was giving his mangled version of the plot of La Bohème? I think he said it was really violent, like Romeo and Juliet, and everybody dies, particularly after Lab-O stabs Heem. And I want to go see an opera because???
Maybe I should have called that a Semiramide thought.
I made it to the 20% point on the Clapotis en Soie, while watching the entire first season of Pushing Daisies [borrowed from the library and due back in a week. I love it that Emerson is a knitter, albeit a closet knitter. And I am thankful that Olive is turning into a woman of character, instead of a punchline. (No, I hadn’t seen it before. I’m the one who writes and reads and knits instead of watching TV, the one who just got her DVD player connected properly to the TV after living in this duplex for nine months.)] It’s time to turn the second corner on the Clapotis and start dropping stitches.
This little guy seems to think that dropped stitches are no big deal.
- 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!