I started over The Wedding Stole, v. 3.2, again last night. Again, after the second row, I had two too few stitches. That means that I must have missed a couple of yarn-overs, but frogging back to find them is much too difficult with so many s2kpssos in the stupid row. I end up with a tangled mess. I'm too lazy to run a lifeline after each row. I'm guessing that I'll go to a garter stitch shawl and just add beads wherever I want. So right now, Elaine is the frontrunner for the prize.
This getting up before the asscrack of dawn is wearing me out. Even if I'm tired, I can't go to sleep until 10 or after. I'm up at 6, but not voluntarily. I'm fortunate enough to have a wonderful husband who turns off the alarm clock and lets me sleep (desperately clinging to the bed) another few minutes. He then gently tells me it's time to get up (and even calls me sweetheart), fixed a travel mug of tea, gathers my lunch and snacks, and hands it to me with a kiss as I stumble out the door, telling me to drive carefully. That's so sweet of him.
I like getting out of work at 3. It makes the evening feel a little longer. Now that it's definitely getting dark earlier, I'm always asking Tom what time it is and I'm suprised that it's only 8.
We're watching a lot of HGTV and DIY home-improvement shows, trying to get ideas for selling this house and
We still love Hopewell, though, and have many fond memories of the times we spent there. I can remember going to Nana's house and getting a glass of water and watching the particulate matter swirl in the vaguely brownish water. Good times, people.