Wednesday, January 24, 2007

A Lighter Note

Boo-Boo (Owen) is adjusting to his loss. The rest of us can squelch the canine absence in a flurry of denial and avoidance. Boo does not always allow us this. At mealtimes he still looks - traditionally he is fed first, and then she. He goes to the door when his bowl is filled as if asking where her food is, and why are we not rushing in to feed her? The first day was the worst. Each day he forgets a little. I wish I were a dog. We bought him a distraction, a "hey, sorry we killed off your sister, have a bed!" gift. He looooves it - I have to get him another one for my office, so he can lay by my desk and be supportive. Girl put it on the floor and before she could get the tags off he rushed into the middle of it, turned three times, and plopped down. He handled the editor visit reasonably well too; a little nervous and skittery (well, who wouldn't be?? He was probably wondering if he was going to be disappearing as well!) but once ignored he emerged to be noticed. It's much quieter here. Kioshi was the alarmist. Owen has missed the UPS guy, Mr. Wonderful's homecoming, and Girl's newspaper gathering trips with not even a woof. I always knew he was naturally quieter. When we first got him he did not bark for weeks and weeks, and then one day all of a sudden he let out a huge "WOOF" when Kioshi was barking at something. He shocked all of us, and himself, with a voice ten times bigger than his body. Even Kioshi was momentarily silenced.

The editor came. And she took away three babies with her. Socks, I mean; three pair of socks, the prettiest and most colorful. And one pair of baby socks, cast-on and worked to the foot, past the heel turn, for demonstration purposes at a Workman launch meeting. It nearly broke my heart. They are so young, too young to be so far from hearth and home and mother-love. I am left with this pile of unfinished sock-i-ness, one pair needing re-knitting because I do not think the yarn shows the pattern to best advantage. I am considering a jump to a Great Adirondack yarn. I wanted one in the book; now may be the moment to get one in. We also discussed things like getting my hands in...literally...photographing my hands for the technique section of the book. Now, I don't mind so much having my hands photographed. IF I can have a manicure first. My nails, as a rule, look like heck.
I still have a tiny bit of design to do. This is what we're down to: a bunch of yarns for Fair Isle, and one beautifully cabled sock in progress. It's going to be perfect. Next week. The book-yarn used to comprise two bins stuffed to the rafters with yarns. Now the dwindling remaining yarns sit at the bottom of this one lone bin. But progress was made this week on the writing end. A lot of writing happened. I was worried that I could not get 7,500 words out of this. I need not have worried. I hit 5,000 in a matter of a few hours detailing the step-by-step two socks on one circular technique. Wild. I always knew I loved to talk. Who knew I liked to talk on paper too?!

Because I spent the morning with Gwen, and because of the Monday Sadness, I took the rest of yesterday as a holiday, and started this, the Elizabeth Zimmerman Surprise Jacket. I am hoping it will be done and will FIT a certain young lady for her birthday. I also want to get her little Carhart overalls, just like daddy's and mommy's, and a rose colored shirt to go under them. I think, together, they will make an adorable outfit, especially if combined with her RoBeez shoes...It's a good thing we never had any more girl children.
Time to go spoil Owen some more, and do the treadmill thing and get back to the grind. And then spoil Owen more. And pet Owen, and rub his head, and sooth his poor nerves. And maybe write some too....
I find this frightening. Not in and of itself, but my ability to actually recognize, without much thought, the products represented...well, that's just sort of creepy. Check it out. I love the poster.

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