Last week when I reached under the kitchen sink to grab a cleaning product, my unsuspecting hands sunk into a stinky, slimy lake. I have no idea how long there’s been a leak, but it’s a big one. Little by little I removed the dripping contents (amazing how much I’d crammed under there) and blasted the area with a fan for a few days.
I’ve asked the contractor who’s doing my upcoming quake retrofit to add the repair to his $13,000 tab. At this rate I’ll have to sell my house and move to a mobile home park in Indiana or something.
Forty years ago I knitted an elaborate sweater that was not only terribly complex but done on the teeniest knitting needles made. It took practically forever. I still can’t believe I had that kind of patience ever in my life. I also don’t know what possessed me to do such a goofy, fruity pattern.
When Marianna and I were chatting via email about it last week, I told her I’ve never worn it because it’s way too small, so it’s been tucked away in a cedar-filled bag for years. Ever full of inspiration, she suggested I might want to steek it. Uh, steek? That means cutting a line up the front between minuscule stitches (my old eyes can barely distinguish one from the next), the goal of which is to transform the pullover into a cardigan. A brilliant idea, but no. Just no. Such slicing would require precision, skill, faith and courage I don’t possess.
Half an hour later:
Then I had to figure out how to finish the raw edges. Off to the knitting store where I considered every conceivable shade of blue, grey, red, purple and green, but nothing looked right. I finally settled on this color and began picking up microscopic stitches next to where I’d slashed.
After the cut edges were sandwiched between layers of knitting, I realized the neckline needed some red-work too. And the final touch was to add a button so it would hang better. Alas, it looks like shite on me because it still doesn’t fit.
But I’m glad I did it because it was truly unwearable before. Now I need to present it to someone who is dear to me and who is freakishly skinny with a short waist, narrow shoulders, flat chest and abnormally long arms. This person:
Ember, meanwhile, finds her own outlets for her creativity as she listens (or not) to her teacher in the classroom.
Last weekend was our much-anticipated getaway to a Grass Valley farm-stay with Molly and her partner Josh. There were big and little sheep: the friendliest I’ve ever met.
We got to bottle-feed the babies and hang with the other outgoing beasts like the six Great Pyrenees who were exemplary sheep- and goat-herders.
Even the cows were tame and affectionate.
The emu, however—though a great buddy of the goats—would likely dice you up with its knifelike hooves if you got closer than this.
Sadly, on Saturday Josh departed so we were left to our own devices. Malakoff Diggins called. (We missed you, Syd.) It was about an hour of winding roads away, some of them dirt, past where we used to live in the woods outside of Nevada City. The vista of today was created during the Gold Rush by a huge hydraulic mining operation that blasted away the sides of the mountains, leaving chalky-looking cliffs in their wake. It’s tragic and depressing, yet also fascinating and strangely pretty.
Nearby are the remains of the old town of Humbug (now North Bloomfield).
Before going back to our AirBnB we took a 3.4-mile hike (Ember actually seemed to enjoy herself since her beloved Auntie Lulu was there) along Humbug Creek.
Our destination was a waterfall that we didn’t get a full view of on account of that last part of the trail was too narrow and steep, with only poison oak to grab onto if you slid. This is what we did see.
Some of us preferred to cross streams by way of rock-hopping, while others took the high road.
Toward the end of our trip Lulu and I were talking about a mutual acquaintance whom I was trying to describe as politely as I could, observing that the person “has a very unique sense of what [s/he] thinks might be interesting to other people.” “That was a really Delaware thing to say,” Molly noted with amusement. Yup, she nailed it. Non-Delawarians would probably just say, “So-and-So is desperately boring.”
It’s a drag how something we look forward to for so long can be over so quickly. But we have other trips ahead.
i love how the cardigan turned out. gorgeous. if you’re not going to wear it, perhaps a young one would eventually before being fully grown.
i see goats but no sheep. and the yarn we could spin perhaps.
nice hiking! next time, stop by, in the backyard entertaining only, but still….
Ember’s “art work” on her hand reminds me of drawings you can find in the scrapbooks, by her great- grandfather, during GCC Board Meetings over which he was presidin!. Mostly monsters.
I think the sweater looks fine, if you just add a short necklace. And you have the slim figure for it
Freakishly skinny. So funny. I love this blog—I didn’t know regular life could be so entertaining and intriguing. I’m glad you take the time to write!
I think the sweater looks cute on you. Drapey, but that’s how it’s SUPPOSED to be.
‘Twas a VERY fun trip all around! I very much look forward to our next one. Those were such lovely animules. (And I continue to live in hope that sometime EP can come along on a trip too, SOON!)
I think the sweater looks fabulous on you…it’s an amazing piece of art
I would like everyone to know about another recent instance of Delaware-bred commentary: I was complaining bitterly about a hypocritical, religious-zealot in-law of mine and challenged Mama Ginna to say something about this terrible, hateful person in the most Delarovian way she could manage. Her response:
“The validity and merit of his perspectives on how other people lead their lives are open to significant debate.”
Is that not BRILLIANT? You’re amazing, MG.