hand eye crafts

This is sort of a case of hiding in plain sight.  Also, a case of "How Have I Not Seen This?" Cleaning the bathroom today, this turned up.  Daddy knew how much I love snow, and he said with this ring, I could have a snowflake any time I wanted one.  It's a little grungy, but should clean up nice. It turns out I've made 28 bookmarks so far.  I've begun ModPodging them.  These are my favorites: Sorry about the poor photo --- wax paper and the overhead kitchen light conspired against me.

Tap and I are both cloggy today.  ("Claggy," if you're British, I guess.)  He's very stopped-up, there in his snout.  His snore is extra dampish, and he clearly doesn't feel well.  I'm wearing my  Pekka Rinne  sweatshirt, hood up*, because I feel chilly and my throat hurts and anything that can be congested in my head is.  Thank goodness for Greta Garbo films, good books, and YouTube videos of people reacting to Chris Stapleton's music.  Also, handknit blankets. Ice cream helps, too.  Even if it's pricey and  has to be shipped in from Portland. A new life motto, maybe? This is the actual book.  I'm finding it funny and helpful. *Not recommended if you put your glasses on and off your head frequently.

Grief, that is.  All the canned cat food and bags of treats that were left after Madeleine and Riley died were packed up and taken to Hannah on Sunday.  I picked up the bag of dry food to take it, too, and had to put it back down immediately.  Couldn't do it.  A wave of sadness washed over me.  Utterly unexpected. Then last night, I made myself a little bowl of pasta, reached into the refrigerator for Colby Jack cheese to sprinkle on it, and burst right into tears.  Colby Jack was Riley's favorite.  When she wouldn't eat it, I knew it was time. Wednesdays are therapy days, of course.  We're  doubling up, as the waters are super choppy and deep right now.  My therapist and her daughter are going to the  Stray Kids  concert in a couple of weeks, and they both have the fever BAD.  Hey, I get it.  Backstreet Boys, anyone? This is my latest bookmark: I'm going to spell out "READ" in fancy sticker letters on the back. This ...

 Tap expressed consternation that the photo of his curls wasn't posted yesterday.  For the sake of peace here at the Chez:

Mr. Tap just had a bath, and he is pressed against me on the couch, snoring and showing off his very-curly-when-wet coat.  He fights like the devil against being in the tub, but then conks all the way out when it's done. I've spent time today trying to find a knitting project, but there was either not enough yarn for what interested me, or I didn't have the right size needles.  How can someone have knitted this long and still be short a pair of needles?

I spent the day in Atlanta with Hannah.  We had some intense, overdue conversations, had  Schlotsky's  delivered, and watched "Jurassic Park."  It remains one of my Top Ten Favorite Movies. Today was the first time Tap had been left alone this long since Riley died.  He seems to have done fine.  He was on my mind all day. Today is the day my Daddy died.  Twenty-five years ago.  It's one of those times that seems SO long ago, and somehow also just like yesterday. Last July (the 12th specifically --- I can't get the code to transfer), I posted a picture of my Lincoln books in their new cabinet home.  After going through all the boxes in the garage, this is what the cabinet looks like now: Practically full.  And there are at least half a dozen I have but haven't read that will need space. No idea what the new knitting project will be.  Still.

For the longest time, when I've said to Tap, "Do you want to go outside?," if his response is not a move to the door, I've said, "Do you want to build a snowman?" He has yet to show any appreciation at all for either the reference or the humor.