hand eye crafts

 Briton asked for cross-stitch supplies for Christmas, and while I was on  this site , I found something for myself. Yes, I've already marked the center. Last night, I started noticing that the furnace was running almost constantly, so I had to have a technician come out this afternoon.  Eighty-five dollars later, things seem to be back to normal. I've finished Olivier's book and am moving on to the Gregory Peck biography.  Sir Laurence started out wonderfully, then got a little boggy for me.  I'm glad to have read it, though. What's up where you are?

Hungry, Hungry Unicorns? If this had been available when my children were Hungry Hungry age, it would have been the edition we bought.  Hannah would have insisted. I don't know why Tiny Needle Tuesday always gets by me.  Maybe because I don't do enough stitching to make it routine?  Anyway, this is on it's way to becoming a Christmas tree.

How can November be over already?  And yet, Thanksgiving seems so long ago, doesn't it? Tap asks that I stop my whining.  He's trying to rest his snout, thankyouverymuch. Tomorrow is therapy, groceries, putting air in one of my tires, and doing whatever other errands come to mind.  Scintillating, huh?

And so much time to work on projects.  Despite the fact that Madeleine took it upon herself to "guard" my knitting, and zealously. I made a pair of socklets during a game on Saturday: I've talked before about how likely I am to buy yarn based on the colorway name as much as on the colorway itself.  This was certainly a case of that. Not a whole lot else.  Breezy and chilly for the last several days.  Just as I like it.

Your bringing in the boxes of Christmas Stuff leaves you wondering how that mess is going to lead to A) a clean room again and B) good seasonal moods. . .

My chief takeaway from today (known by some as Black Friday) is that there are far too many independent yarn dyers with sales posted on my Instagram feed.  My head is swimming. I'd like to buy something, but it's impossible to tell who has the best deal(s). My gum (Gum?  It's only the top.)  is tender, where the bone up to just under my right eye is still buzzing.  I have been able to eat a few more things today.  What's interesting is that I rest my tongue on the roof of my mouth just  at the most tender spot.  And I can't wear my bite plate at night  because it hits there, too. I do enjoy the warm salt water rinses, though.

Probably not the best idea to have dental implant surgery the day before Thanksgiving, but you have to go when the office schedules you.  The abutment is in, and it hurts.  Since placing it involved drilling into the maxilla*, I shouldn't be surprised.  The pain isn't just in my mouth, but radiates up into my skull.  As if I don't have enough headaches already. I'll see my children at Christmas, which means I get to wear a comfy sweatshirt today, parked in front of football on TV.  And mashed sweet potatoes aren't the worst thing to have when chewing is compromised. *Yes, I did have to look it up.

'Cause that's what I've got. I love this.  It truly, accurately reflects my attitude on many, many, many days.

What can I say?  I have, and save up, peculiar ideas sometimes.  So: Is the chase itself wild, or are you chasing a wild goose? Why is "jedi" an acceptable Scrabble word, but "jawa" isn't? Why on Earth would anyone ever  swing a dead cat?  And, even if the need arises, are cats the only swingable animals? Which brings me to skinning a cat.  Again, number one, why are you looking to skin a cat, and, number two, why would you need more than one way to do it? In England, a criminal line-up is called an "identity parade."  Which makes it sound kind of festive! Everyone has their whole life/ the rest of their life ahead of them.  How do you not?   Stop hooking that only on to young people. I mentioned the first rodeo thing a few posts ago.  Why a rodeo?  Why not  "It's not my first scuba dive," or "It's not my first time buying a pair of shoes"? One of my can not- deal-with-it things is people in tv or movies pretending to drink

I didn't get Tap's toy until I got this out of the box: His toy is a hot chocolate cup with two marshmallows. Or a teacup with two sugar cubes.  Sometimes context clues can be subjective.  

 It took much too long for me to realize what Tap's new Woof Pack toy is.

Knowledge is all around us.  So is bone-deep ignorance, but that's for another post. I have taken up a new phrase to live along "As one does" and "Hold my mule while I shout."  Thank you, Lord Olivier, for " Like a fish in a refrigerator."  True, this may have narrower usage options than the other two, but it's too glorious not to hold onto. Also, and I probably should have learned this during my son's acting career: "thespian" comes from the Greek poet Thespis.  (Which I may have to add to my list of favorite words.)  Thespis was the first to appear onstage not as himself, but as a character. In addition, "morphine" got its name from the Greek God of Dreams, Morpheus.  My middle school Greek and Roman Mythology teacher Ms. Nicholson would be disappointed in me for not knowing these two, I'm sure.  Man, she was cool.  A wee bit intimidating, but cool through and through.              

 I showed you the two "scrap" yarns that were going to be made into a cowl.  There was much less of each than I thought, but I discovered something putting the finished thing on the glass head. It can be worn as an earwarmer, too. Pom-pom making is going in fits and starts.  Couldn't make one yesterday to save my life. Fingering weight is working well for me.  Christmas colors are surprisingly scarce here, but the plan will go ahead.

 Each year, I buy a new Nativity Scene.  I went in a different direction, buying an art print: What do you think?

You get things like this in the mail: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

I finished Sam Neill's memoir, and do recommend it.  You don't have to be a big fan to enjoy it, but it helps.  There are lots of wonderful stories, my favorite being how he recalled "going weak in the knees" upon seeing and meeting Emmylou Harris.  Well, she is the Queen of All Things, you know. I am now reading Laurence Olivier's autobiography, and finding it very charming and wickedly funny.  (He describes a drama instructor as being ". . .dark-haired, with some assistance.  .  .")  I am at the point where he meets Vivien Leigh. There is an online clip of him being a guest on The Dick Cavett Show, and he agrees to recite a sonnet.  There's a practically breathless moment before he begins where you know the audience is thinking, "We're about to hear Olivier recite Shakespeare." It's my actors run because next up is a biography of Gregory Peck.  Stay tuned.

 Sitting here, at 11:25 PM, Tap snoring loudly at my feet, I've just realized that neither my tailbone nor my hips have hurt at all today.   Wow!

 So, craft-wise, I've mined  Ravelry . First up,  That Nice Stitch  in some bulky weight I had in one of my stash boxes. A deep, warm burgundy. Not yet cast on, but on the horizon, the  Whole Gang Gaiter  from a couple of leftover skeins. The shrug I've been working on is languishing.  I do have the front and back of my green sweater on the blocking board.  The sleeves should make it on there tomorrow. This isn't knitting, but it's most certainly knitting-adjacent: I have never been able to make a decent pom-pom.  Since I scarcely ever put them on hats, my best chances for practicing fall away.  Still, I found a pom-pom maker a while back (thrift store, maybe?) and broke it out today.  I'm satisfied.  The reason to even practice is my decision to use pom-poms on Christmas gifts this year instead of ribbons.  I'll need to start churning out some reds, greens and whites.

And Madeleine was happy to pose.

I know Second Sock Syndrome is a thing in the knitting world, but I have Stretching and Blocking Syndrome.  I do not enjoy that part of finishing a project.  The green sweater I've been working on is done, but just sort of hanging out in pieces.  There's not going to be anything to putting it together, but both sides and both sleeves curled badly.  S & B is unavoidable. My gait is much better, finally.  Any twinges of pain aren't bothering me any more than run of the mill stiffness.  Also on the medical page, I was supposed to be getting the crown implant put in on Friday, but am having to move the appointment to next week.  I'm not sure when yet, but it isn't day after tomorrow. 

This phrase entered my ears today, and my plan is to make frequent and liberal use of it.  Trying to get something going, you know? As one does. I hear these words in a church-y way.  Those of you who haven't spent much time in church, or more especially, Southern Church (and, yes, "church" must be capitalized here) may not hear them that way, which is fine. Bless your heart. When I was teaching, each day I would write a quote on the board.  One that I used often was "Words matter."  I believe that.  Whether casually said or written or more formally so, your choice of word can drastically alter what your audience hears or your readers read.  And the magic thing is, there are so many words!  You can shade, change, emphasize, explore. . .  Just never lose track of the fact that words matter. I'll take my mule back now.

At some point in time, it   is  someone's first rodeo.

Briton asked for directions to the cemetery, and I asked him to say hi to Mama and Daddy for me.  I just got this: "They say hi back."

I've had lots to do this week, ending with a doctor's appointment today.  Every day, I've had to be sure everything was together for what was coming up.  As of this afternoon, though, I am done.  For this week.  Nothing on tap (unless you want to count avoiding UGA Homecoming goings-on.)  It's such a freeing feeling.  Let's hope I can make good use of the lack of schedule for the next couple of days. For his annual birthday trip this year, Briton is leaving for Nashville tomorrow.  I am so very, very envious.  We've switched cars for the occasion, so I'm driving his little push-button Prius.  It's near enough to its next scheduled maintenance that he was a little uneasy about taking it, so it's mine for the next few days.  I've always been able to get comfortable in new cars quickly, so that aspect of it isn't a problem.  The size difference is major, of course, but not troubling.  The facts, though, that it is a push-button start, makes scar

I should hope so. In the song, whose name is B-I-N-G-O --- the farmer or the dog? Sadly, I'm still having a lot  of post-fall pain.  Yesterday was the worst day yet.  It's interesting: the pain is following the way I landed.  Left arm, left hip/tailbone, right hip/tailbone, right arm.  I don't know why the right side is so unbelievably uncomfortable unless it's because of overcompensating when my left side was worse.  Sadly, I'm dipping into my dental meds for relief. How is yarn bound by dye lots, but DMC flosses are always the same? All the candy stuff lately reminded me of Little Briton's version of the Kit-Kat jingle; Give me a break Give me a break Break me off a piece that's bigger than yours.