I, on the other hand, have to be original, over and over again. I have no team of writers to give me pointers on what to write and no editors or PR people handling me and my moves. I only have a small brain, just the right size for my little head, and this brain has mostly stuff about knitting and spinning in it. I guess that will have to do. The witty part may not happen. Wit comes from looking at life without rose-colored glasses, while keeping away from pessimism.
You know, we all deal with virtually the same things, day in and day out. I'm learning in my new Bible study that jealousy stems from a broken heart. I'll bet that whoever you are, you've had your heart broken at least once or twice.
Disappointment is another common bond we all have. Everybody gets disappointed now and then. I'm disappointed every morning when I step on the scale.
I think only about once in the last year have I looked at the scale with anything near satisfaction. Why do I keep doing this? I don't know. You'd think I'd be prepared for the let down when I look at those numbers staring back at me. But no. I keep thinking the chocolate cake from the night before will not show up on the scale. Insane, I realize.
But I've digressed already. I'm supposed to be talking about knitting and spinning, so here goes.
I finished this little cable pillow for my daughter.
Its stuffed now and needs that little turn-inside-out gap sewn up. Maybe tomorrow afternoon.
I've started another bigger cable pillow. Its about 108 stitches with 4 stitches knitted, purled or cabled, over and over again. Easy knitting on large 10 1/2 needles. Yes!
I hemmed up a couple of pairs of jeans and cleaned out the closet a bit this morning.
Every so often, its nice to just straighten things out a bit; clean up and throw out the excess! Two bohemian skirts and a large striped t-shirt went into the charity bag. It takes all of my will power not to imagine ways to repurpose these skirts. I have a little grandbaby due any day now, and I keep imagining lots of little play dresses and shorts for her. Lord, help me not to be a hoarder. And I really mean it this time!
My son called me Sunday morning when I was getting ready for church to tell me that the baby might be on the way; he said they weren't sure if it was time yet, but the doctor said to come on in for a check, just in case. (False alarm.) But at that moment, all cohesive thought patterns flew out the window like a parakeet. I burnt the rice, messed up my nail polish, and could not decide what to wear to church. Mush for brains, I tell you!
Anyway, today he called his dad and the first thing he said was, "Dad, we're not on our way to the hospital."
Alright, I can deal with that.