About Me

My photo
Five 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, December 30, 2017

Found objects.

First of all, I found that missing 4" DP. I don't remember if I mentioned it before, and I'm not inclined to go check. It was hanging out inside the ball of yarn that I'd checked three or four times. Best guess is that Beloved or one of the Three Nephites was having a bit of fun at my expense.

I also brought the bag of knitting inside after our Costco run yesterday, and I finished another tentacle (for lack of a better word) on the current project. I got maybe a quarter of the way along the sixth, penultimate one before falling into a book and coming out only to throw dinner together.

The January "Ensign" came yesterday, and I devoured it. I've been looking for the December issue, off and on, since I've been home with cellulitis, and I'd figured out all of the places it wasn't. This morning I found it in a stack by my computer desk. Where I've not been sitting since before Thanksgiving because my CPU was not speaking to its monitors. So I've spent some time reading that today but have not finished.

Right now I'm typing on the laptop at the dining room table while Middlest eats dinner. My toes are freezing. The rest of me is not far behind. I should probably put on a sweater or grab Beloved's sweatshirt and maybe think about putting on socks. It's supposed to be cold all weekend, which suits me fine. Far easier to put on layers than to peel through epidermis and let the wind whistle through my ribs in August.

Ankles are continuing to heal. The color is almost normal, and there's only a hint of swelling in the left one.

Time to stow the leftovers from dinner and set the taps to dripping. I would love to dive into a giant vat of hot chocolate and poach away this chill. Later, gators.

No comments: