About Me

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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!

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Black hole, and Cat Bordhi

This is a link to Cat Bordhi’s video on the Moebius technique. I have wanted to try my hand at a Moebius scarf for several years and generally not had the yen for her books (now out of print?) when I had a yen for the experience. Thankfully, she has made a YouTube video of her technique, which I watched this morning.

I think I may have figured out how to embed a pop-out link in this new allegedly improved format.

Sleep was interesting last night. Beloved awoke at dark-thirty with pain in one of his feet. I got up and took a squint at it, as it was burning-hot, and there was roughness on the sole, and I couldn’t tell if it was bleeding. It was not. But it was incredibly dry, so I gently rubbed some Aveeno into it, which hurt him a little but then felt better. And I brought him a tall glass of ionized water, which he downed. And then we both went back to sleep.

His brother the trucker is in town this weekend. They emptied about half of Brother’s stuff out of the garage, where it has been since that guy plowed into his truck at the truck stop in Oklahoma City a few weeks ago. He is now offloading it into his new rig and will come back for the second load. Beloved is out in the garden (with SPF 45 and a brimmed hat and long sleeved shirt). Brother will mow the front and back yards for us when he’s done loading up his truck. Then the guys will bag up the twin mattress in the middle bedroom and stow it in the garage and dismantle the bed frame. That should give us enough space to move the last of the boxes out of the dining room.

Beloved got the shelving unit put together yesterday, and when I came home from work both of our Kitchenaid mixers were displayed in all their glory, and a whole lot of stuff was tidily arranged on other shelves. I am about to head for the living room and start emptying boxes of kitchen stuff into the dishwasher, preparatory to their finding a new home on the new shelves.

I’ve done the grocery shopping this morning, and I hit a garage sale on the way home, bringing back two small baskets, one of which is on the lower shelf above the commode in the guest bathroom, where it holds my blow dryer and curling iron. I have yet to find the right container to attractively corral all my haircare products. I’ve moved the two shells off the top shelf. One of them belongs to Smooshy, and Beloved is not sure where the other one came from. Beloved demonstrated his conch-blowing prowess before I took the shell away and put it on top of the hutch in the living room.

Mel and Smooshy came over last night to open the box of doll stuff which arrived on Thursday. We pulled Blessing’s new velvet hat out of the box, and two pairs of bloomers for Faith. One of which has simply vanished. I left it on the table in the dining room. We have checked the box with the vacuum-pack machine and the bags with leftover fish bits to make sure it didn’t get scooped up when Beloved brought the machine over to the kitchen table from the dining room. I called Mel last night to see if it had leaped back into her box before they left, and it had not. I was so tired by the time we went to bed that I was on the verge of tears over a $5 pair of doll panties. After a reasonably decent night’s sleep, I am reasonably sure that we will find them in the course of emptying and moving boxes today. But I am just old enough that episodes of forgetfulness are becoming more common than I would like, and with my mother-in-love’s own memory issues, I am oversensitive on the matter. The cat was not in the house, so unless he has spoon-bending powers, it is safe to say that he has not made off with them because they have my fingerprints all over them.

I am wondering if the same black hole that eats my cell phone reception in this house has also eaten Faith’s white bloomers. Beloved got down on his hands and knees under the dining room table before bedtime to see if they had fallen under a table leg, just out of sight. They had not. (But I am now even more impressed and touched by how much my husband loves me.)

I am hearing a goshawful racket from the vicinity of the garden. I think Beloved must be flame-throwing the weeds again.

One last thing: I spent most of the gift certificate he gave me for my birthday at Shabby Sheep after work last night: a skein of Colinette Giotto, a ribbon yarn composed chiefly of rayon and cotton, from which I propose to knit the Moebius scarf referred to above. I am faithful when it comes to my spousal unit, but I made no such covenants in terms of my knitting. ♥

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