And I’ve watched Fourthborn do it with one or the other of my dolls, but it was always “Here, please, you do it,” as far as I was concerned. The idea of deliberately removing a hand or a foot (knowing that I would have to replace it later) just gave me the heebiejeebies. But I wanted to knit something to go with the skirt I made Celeste several months ago, and I needed her hands to make sure it would fit. So I took them off.
Yeah, straight out of The Addams Family; only thing missing is the box.
Off to church they went, cushioned by all the squishy goodness in my project bag. And when I came home three hours later, I had a fingerless glove worked all the way up to the wrist. It’s not ready for its spotlight, Mr. DeMille. But soon, very soon, if I decide that I like the wrist shaping, and if the gauntlet shapes up in a pleasing way.
In other happy news, the children’s father has been quietly working to get his spiritual life in order, and he is once again worthy of a temple recommend. I couldn’t be prouder, or more pleased for him. He went to the temple to serve with his ward yesterday.
And in news which proves that Heaven has a delicious sense of humor, I have a new calling. They’ll sustain me next Sunday, and then I’ll let you know what it is.
The new guy and I have worked out a plan for getting to the theatre to see Rango.
And I just discovered what happened to the missing black sock from last night’s laundryfest. I knew that four socks went into the washer, and I remembered four coming out. But only three tumbled out of the dryer. I just now rested my left hand briefly on the facing of the jacket I am wearing, down by the hem. Guess what had crept in there when the other socks weren’t looking?
Heading over to the couch to listen to the new episode of Sticks and String, and then I’m off to take a nap.
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