Snippets

Not complaining, just noting that one of the things you have to get used to as you get older is that it takes much longer to recover from stupid things, like a cold, that you would have shaken off in a day or two, back when. So we need to plan accordingly and be patient with ourselves.
And take the Zicam.
Because as long as we hang out with our beloved little germ-pots, there will be infectiousness.

Finished Stocking #1 and sent it to Ann Arbor, for trying-on (probably accompanied by hysterical laughter) and feed-back before I tackle the next one. This one looked like the dog's dinner at the top, where I was working out the shaping decreases, but improved towards the bottom, where it was, essentially, a sock. I can do those.

When I was at the annual sale at the Woollie Ewe (because somebody is having a baby) I was discussing this hose project with the cashier and mentioned that my vintage pattern called for size 13 needles, which couldn't possibly be our 13's. She looked it up on the needle conversion chart and sure enough- they would now be 1's, which makes much more sense. This is a WWII-era pattern book, when, since they couldn't get nylons or silk stockings, the capable just knit their own.
Interesting.

V. has an idea: every month we will choose one room in the house and concentrate on whatever needs to be done there. It can be de-cluttering, repair, decorating, whatever. First up, since January is half over, will be the hall bath. It needs painting and some new decor, now that it is officially the guest bath again. Did you know that genius Wal-Mart now has cans of ready-mixed paint in basic colors for the non-obsessive DIY'er? Yep, we picked up two gallons of 'Fresh Lettuce' or whatever it's called and that was all there was to it. I repeat, genius.


Harry Reid was coming to Irving, but he cancelled. He may have indeed had serious business in Washington, but we doubt it. Heck, I wouldn't have wanted to face a plaza full of irate Texans, and I'm a native.


Once upon a time, we were this young couple- virtually possessionless, except for our clothes, our books, a couple of cartons of albums, a stereo, a guitar, a typewriter and our wedding presents. Then, three-plus decades pass. We produce four kids, who leave home, but store their stuff in the old office, the garage, the guest room closet and the storage unit. Relatives die and we acquire some of their wordly goods. We've been living in the same house for a quarter of a century and never experienced the clear-out that a move would provide.
And although we are not really collectors, except for books, that's still a lot of material that wanders in and never wanders out again.
So, I am going through my stuff, at least, and having a Free-for-All. Just putting it on a table in the front yard with some sacks and a sign "Free Stuff. Table not included."
Given our magpie human nature, I think it will disappear. All of it.

Now, having just said that... it's still nice when you have some papier-mache eggs and a chopstick and some florist's foam and some sphagnum moss and a flower pot and a bag of miscellaneous silk flower parts and hot glue and acrylic paint when your kid comes by the house, needing to construct a Venus flytrap, for her play.

TC is doing Doubt for this year's serious drama. Now, I'm not at all a fan of this play- so tired of the pedophile priest theme- and yet such is the spell of the theater that I'm loaning them my garden statue for the set. It's insidious.

Discovered that Continental-style knitting is NOT the way to teach little fingers the craft. No, the one hand, then the other hand rythm of English style is much easier to grasp. O did two rows completely by herself when we switched methods and was elated at her accomplishment.

This fine family
could use some prayers for their sweet daughter.

Love my kids, because

• they think that instead of buying these, which as you see are about half acryclic, Mom will be enchanted to knit you some in 100% merino and send them to you in Michigan. Just the thought that she believes I can figure this out and do it is very endearing.


• although my cooking is best described as " adequate, with some high points", my son-in-law remarked, when I sent over some Chicken Maryland for dinner at their sneezing, wheezing, runny-nosed house, "Pretty much everything your mom makes is awesome."


• somebody went to somebody's house and perfectly performed the tasks of a certain seasonal mythical character, including leaving a note for the eldest child that they would be the first person he'd call, if he ever needed an assistant. And even though it was in their trademark serial killer handwriting, it was so sweet it made us tear up, a little.


• they constantly work to improve their parental skills, and don't flinch at the hard decisions, if it's for the good of the family.


• they are on the lookout for ways to add to their job skills, like becoming certified in first aid- in case scenery falls on someone, or something. There isn't always a doctor in the house...

Love them lots, as my late mom would say.

A treat for the new year

A guilty conscience drove me into the side yard with a scoop of birdseed on my way to Mass this morning, but before I could fill the lantern feeder, one of these:

the kinglet who's been the star of the yard for a week, flew from branch to branch of the althea bush and lit on the suet feeder, not two feet from where I stood. As still as the Mary statue, I was able to watch him for almost a minute- a tiny mushroom bird come to life.

A good augury, I hope! But a delight in any case.