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:It's so cool here this morning that I am wearing a sweater. I predict that at the end of the day we will still have smiles on our faces! A perfect description of today's welcome weather. :-) Glad your trip to Rivah City was fruitful. Tidying up family business AND getting good needles and good sock yarn -- success all around. :-) Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Sunday, July 01, 2007 Ahh, my peacock blue loving friends. I didn’t make myself clear. That vase is already mine. Yes yes yes. It stands in the place of honor - where my framed StashBusting vow once stood - on top of the bookshelves in my office at work. It would clash horribly with my brick and green ... Colonial Williamsburg brick and green and cream house. It is for the studio, which is going to be different in both color and ambiance - an oasis, a journey into another space. And feminine! For now, though, Monday through Friday I can look up from my desk and be reassured by my Nouveau Art Nouveau swoop of porcelain, that the studio is on its way. My dear friend M owns the shop where I bought it and she let me pay for it over time. She also has something else I want to add to the decor of my place of whimsy and creativity, and it’s another slightly pricey bit of frivolity which I will probably pay for over the summer. It will make a perfect birthday gift to myself. I did some more day-dreaming about the studio yesterday and have made a vow that I will spend 4 hours a week working on it. I have the basic lay-out in my head, but I’m designing the cabinetry right now. That means really inventorying the things I do and the tools and supplies needed to do them. And of course, planning for additions and changes for when I discover new passions. I rather like making inventories and lists so this is no chore, but since it’s all daydream stuff, I sometimes find myself drifting away into a nap or obsessively following one dreamy thread down a rabbit hole, either of which results in losing sight of the Big Picture. Hence the StrictScheduleSitRightDown&MakeYourLists. Which is fun too. I have always lived both a real life and a fantasy life and they wrap around each other like climbing rose vines, giving the appearance of a whole plant, with two different blossoms - or like those weird apple trees with two or three different species grafted onto one trunk. And speaking of beautiful things - for you crocheters - howsabout this pretty baby?  Mr.Horoscope wasn’t too interesting today and MsHoroscope doesn’t have her July predictions up, but everyone has to know that Mercury is about to stop going retrograde on July 9 - and a few days after that I will be ordering all new flat screen monitors for the library. Yippee! And AnotherMsHoroscope tells me that I shall be both travel and meet lots of new people and be very popular throughout July. Well. I expect I’ll be traveling to Richmond nigh on to every weekend in July, to meet a lot of real-estate people and all the peripherals who support house selling. Friday’s meeting with sister, father and realtors was as productive as one could expect under the circumstances. My father has only one desire, at the moment, and that’s to drive to Alaska with his grandson. If he doesn’t have his license revoked and if grandson can go with him. I have my doubts about both and am pinning my fragile and sickly hopes on the DMV to prevent this - NOT because I don’t want dad to have fun, or travel, but because he Should Not Be Driving. You who have such parents - ones you have neither the charisma nor the legal right to get them off the road and so really need a Big Bad Bureaucracy to lend a hand - know of what I speak. You, my situational soul siblings, tremble as I do, and wait for disaster. But since Dad can’t see tomorrow, for the sadness of an aging today, he can’t really do what he has to do today to have much of a tomorrow. Looking at it from the outside I can really see his dilemma. Like a mule on a treadmill he can only see the same circuit he’s always seen and knows he can't keep it up. I think the death of imagination, that loss of future possibilities, must be the worst death of all. Eh. But. There it is. I wouldn’t have an inflexible mind for all the tea in China. I may not get everything done, but I always have a door to open, a hatch to escape down, even if it is just my daydreamy imagination. Long live ENFPedness! While in Richmond on Friday I had this tiny opportunity to stop in at the Yarn Lounge and I bought some Addi Natura circulars. I have this lust to knit lots and lots of socks and to have them all going at once. There can never be enough pairs of good circular needles and I wanted to give these wooden ones a try. They’re actually a little too grabby for wool knitting, but I am thinking of a pair of long lace stockings knit in silk so ... they will come in handy I know. I also decided to treat myself to some sock yarn - and boy did I have a hard time choosing. There are so many interesting ones, so many pretty ones, so many so many so many. I surprised myself, though, by buying 3 skeins of Brown Sheep’s Wildfoote Handpaint. It was just so Bessish in color - so .. so .. majestic! All warm red and gold and rich green and Royal Purple: strong and vivid and bold, but not the least bit shrieking or harsh. I knew in a flash what I wanted to do with the yarn. I know it tends to split, but truly, no more than some of the other fancy schmancy expensive sock yarns. And these will be for me, so they’ll get photographed and shared - when they’re done. We had a little drizzly rain on Friday night that lasted into Saturday. Now a front has come through and the humidity has dried up, leaving us with the sort of summer days you long for. Clear, clean feeling, sparkly and fresh. The sort of days when you can do nothing at all, but if you found you had to move about, it would be pure pleasure, with your skin feeling welcome in the air that cloaks it and your muscles stretching out in pleasurable anticipation of the next move. A perfect summer day. On the weekend no less. May your own Sunday be so perfect. |
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