Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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2 Comments:
When I read your "Day in a Knitter's Life" entry, I thought, "I wonder who reads Bess in Egypt? Oh, good Lord,that must be me." I first linked to your blog after seeing a picture of you with a circular knitting needle in your hair ( Oct.2004?) and watched transfixed as the wedding preparations progressed. Mainly, however, I've stayed for your writing. As someone who has been deprived of the joy of changing seasons, I treasure your evocative descriptions of Virginia throughout the year.
By Congrats on such a productive Friday/Saturday! And I'm jealous that your library is going wireless, thanks to all your hard work. Would that my local branch would go wireless. Since that will require an act of Rivah City Government, it is bound never to happen. Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Saturday, June 10, 2006 The purple socks are done. One bobbin is full of Romeldale singles. One corner of the stash heap in the den has been sifted and I found 4 circular needles, the natural blue mohair lace sample I began last September, my niece R’s 2004 graduation gift, and my original project book. I sorted through the JamBags. These are bags you jammed stuff into to clear off the living room chairs because company was coming - and then forgot about. I used to do this with paperwork and had to go through those JamBags right before tax time to find the old bank statements. I tossed 4 cardboard boxes I’d saved because they looked like they might be good boxes to put gifts in someday, if I ever had that size gift to wrap. There were 2 large shopping bags from Hunt Country Yarns that had torn over the years. They were tossed as well. In fact, any bag that looked crumpled got the heave. I found a place to put the sewing machines slightly more out of sight than right by the side door. This exposed the wonderful rocking chair Grandma left me, in all it’s broken legged suffering - but luckily, as I slept, the name of the furniture repair man I am always forgetting, resurfaced. I will call him today. This chair goes to the chair hospital this week. And throughout the day I watched syrupy movies - and discovered one of the fundamental moments in BD’s romantic development. He was in love with Tammy. You know, Tammy of Tammy and the Bachelor? Yep. His romantic patterning was cemented by a turned up nose and a pony tail in the moonlight. Imagine, the man who wishes he were James Joyce secretly yearning for the old hooty owl hooty hooting up above. Not exactly surprised, though. He is from that sentimentally liquid gene pool called TheEnglish. He could never be a true cynic. Curmudgeon, yes, cynic - never. That is reserved for his genetically ethnic Frainch Wife. And I am not really a cynic, just a healthy Virgo skeptic. All in all - a productive Friday that was my Saturday. Alas, I am off to work a Saturday that is a Friday today - my arts and crafts day, while smart techie sorts upgrade the library equipment in preparation for the switch to wireless. posted by Bess | 7:44 AM |
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