I'm glad to report that, due to sub-zero temperatures (fahrenheit), and an unheated laundry room, the washer was just frozen up. Thanks to you all for your commiseration on my handwashing. It was an interesting thing to teach my daughters, though, about how clothes used to be washed. They always tell me that they wish it was the olden days, back to log cabins and sewing by candlelight. I see their point, there is a definite attraction to simpler times. We like to sew here, and bake and craft, et cetera. But when it comes to laundry, I'll take a washer, thanks.
I've been doing some stealth knitting for a friend I promised to send a gift to. I got it done last night, the Fake Isle hat, with Noro Silver (I think) yarn, and alpaca - mmm, soft alpaca.... but it came out too small =/ So I'm casting on again today for a larger size. Here, however, is the grateful recipient of the too small hat:
Honestly, she would steal everything that came off of my needles. I'm glad she likes handmade things, though! If I could just get her to go sock yarn shopping, she'd have another pair of socks. I think it's very interesting how quickly kids get picky, when they know you can make them stuff. These potential socks can't be just any variegated color. She doesn't know what she wants, but it's nothing in my stash. On the other hand, this is my OCD child, and I can't exactly take her to the sock yarn room at my LYS. There is no way she would ever be able to choose a sock yarn. So, sadly, I'm left with the only other option I can think of: Buying a skein of sock yarn at a time and bringing it home for her inspection. Should she not like the one I've chosen, I'll have to put it in the stash and buy another, to try again. (Play appropriate sad music here)
In the meantime, we have a four-day weekend, no school! This is a good thing, because they get tired of the continual routine, and the roads are terrible. So we're going to get all domestic here again, make some cinnamon rolls, and - just to keep them honest about how drudgery works - washing walls. I swear no one has to wash walls as much as I do. How do they get foot prints so high up on walls????
Coming Home, to Amish Hell?... Sunday Stealing
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