The Papoose and fam got back from the beach Sunday, where they had a nearly front row seat to hurricane Isaac. Luckily, he took a more westward course and they only had one day of rain and wind. Glad to have them back in their nest, now awaiting the new baby on September 26. Can’t wait, we don’t know the gender, Bigmama and Bigdaddy prefer to find out the old fashioned way, at birth. I admit, though, while I really don’t have a preference, I do have a baby boy outfit stashed in my closet, just in case. : ) Here’s Bigmama gestating away –
ON THE NEEDLES
It’s WIP Wednesday and here’s the beginning of the Bauble shawl I’ve been going on about, with only one false start. Oh gosh, hope I didn’t jinx it. It’s going to be lovely, I can tell already.
The yarn (if I hadn’t already mentioned it) is Cascade Yarns Heritage Silk Paint, 85% Merino Superwash Wool and 15% Mulberry Silk, color number 9801. Since it has only a number, not a color name, I think I’ll call it Bonfire. That’s what the colors make me think of. I think everything should have an actual name and Bonfire fits.
BY THE BOOK
My treadmill book is The Last Romanov by Dora LevyMossanen, which is awesome even if you’re not obsessed with the whole Romanov/is Anastasia still alive mystery. This book grabbed me and pulled me into it, to the point that I’m actually walking longer than usual, just because I have to know what happens next. Love it.
IN THE OVEN
Last weekend we had a couple of days of cooler (relatively speaking) weather and so I satisfied my need to bake with a carrot cake for Mr. Iknead, which technically was an anniversary gift since last Friday, 09/01/12, marked our 33rd wedding anniversary. Long time and we still like each other. A funny about the cake – now, Mr. Iknead doesn’t have a real discerning palate when it comes to certain things; so, I’m grating carrots, mixing and sifting for the cake and he says to me, “Could you put the good kind of cream cheese icing on it, you know, the kind that comes in a can?” Cracked me up. We call that keepin’ it real.
To be positive: To be mistaken at the top of one’s voice. Ambrose Bierce