The past week was terrible for so many reasons. Boston. West, Texas. One of Jeff’s favorite people in the world met death. A friend of our family lost their parent. Another friend heard some bad news at the doctor’s office. (Don’t get me started on the Senate.)
If cursing doesn’t offend you, go read this. Because: Yep.
On Monday evening, as the girls took their piano lessons, I finished the shawl I started in February. I took the final stitch off of the needles as I listened to the woman at the next table talking on the telephone and puking out lines like, “I’m just glad *I’M* not in Boston right now.” Honestly.
(The shawl is Annis from Knitty, and it will be auctioned off in May. I’ll keep you updated.)
Yesterday afternoon the girls and I planted lettuce and tomatoes and peppers and peas and sage and basil and dill and cilantro and strawberries. Shortly after the lettuce went into the ground, Scout took it OUT of the ground. Less than an hour later, Jeff took measures to ensure that would not happen again.
Sadly, we tend to discriminate a tiny bit when it comes to four-legged friends. This little guy, who is currently hanging out behind our main fence, can have all the lettuce he wants.
This morning I lost my head in a Fit of Cranky. As a result, my family went to church without me, and I sat on the couch and stared at the wall for an hour. Afterwards, I finished cleaning off my bookshelf.
It bothers me a bit, because it’s starting to not hold as many books as a bookshelf should. (How many books should a bookshelf shelve if a bookshelf could shelve books, etc.?) My top-shelfers are still there, mainly because most of them are signed. As far as the knitting and spinning books go, I kept only the ones that I pull out fairly regularly. The remainder? Journals, address books, books I’ve marked up, Gilmore Girls DVDs, New Yorker stuff, and a basket of yarn.
Speaking of which, this arrived in the mail on Wednesday.