All 63 afghan squares for the Barbara Walker Learn To Knit Afghan Book afghan were completed by October of this year. Several weeks ago I started sewing them together. For the first row (nine squares) I used the Mattress Stitch. It looked really good. It took a LONG time to complete one strip. Shortly after starting the second strip (of seven) I realized I was unlikely to get the afghan put together before Christmas, which was my plan. In fact, this has been going to be a Christmas present for Dear One every year since I started it when we began work on the addition to the log cabin. The addition actually became the addition to the house when we tore down the log cabin and put a new house on the foundation to match the addition.
So - I started doing a whip stitch to connect the squares of the blanket. As of yesterday I still had two tall piles of squares ready to stitch. When I went to bed last night it looked like I was not going to complete the afghan again this year for Christmas as only two strips had been sewn together. Before falling off to sleep I mentioned to Heavenly Father that if I woke up in the night I would get up and work on the sewing project. At 1:37 AM I awoke. I got up for relief then went back to bed. Having been in bed fifteen minutes (and not falling instantly back to sleep) I looked at the clock: 2:00 AM. OK. When Heavenly Father answers a prayer it seemed like I ought to accept His goodness and comply so out I crawled, put on a shirt, and went upstairs.
At 6:30 AM I came downstairs after having completed listening to one of Janet Evanovich novels (The Heist), AND after completely sewing together the squares. ONE SMALL PROBLEM!!!! Four squares are missing. I KNOW I finished knitting them in October. Where are they?
Once again I went into search mode. I have emptied and reorganized five bags and two boxes of knitting projects and yarn. I have looked behind the couch upstairs. I have looked in the workroom where they were stored for quite a while. As I was writing, it crossed my mind that they may have fallen behind the tall bookcase that Betty and Peter gave me to help me with my organization plan last summer. I had made a lovely stack of squares and placed them out of the way on the stop shelf but then moved them to show them off to someone a few months ago. Just goes to show that bragging is a very bad idea.
Now I will go look behind the bookcase. Which will be a rather large problem but I really want to finish the afghan for THIS Christmas. I have so many other projects that are started that need to go into finish mode in the new year, and maybe even the end of this year....One project I just discovered again while in hunt mode this morning was the Plus-Sign Quilt I started when the Relief Society began working on it, probably five years ago. There is some possibility that I can whip that into shape within a week or two.
After checking behind the bookcase in the workroom I have to dash out to pick up the remaining ingredients I need for Christmas dinner; to return a Redbox movie(Mission Impossible version whatever...); and to visit our friends in the nursing home with some cute little stockings full of Hugs and Kisses.
No four squares. Well, some time they will turn up.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
A Kitchen Disaster
Some days are like this one. So busy. Too many things to do. So much on the mind. Running here. Running there. Trying to get everything done at this hectic time of year. Just goes to show!
A friend was going out of town for several weeks so I stopped in to say hello and goodbye and safe travels. So wonderful to see her and visit for a while. Off to several stores for some supplies and tools to use in making Christmas gifts. One thing I rarely do is stop for fast food. Today I did. I think it rotted my brain as well as swelled my waist.
When I returned home Christmas cards were ready to stamp then get to the post office before the cut-off time. A couple more stops at local stores then home again. I was so tired I did not make supper for Dear One. Instead I took a tiny nap in the rocking chair.
When I awoke I was alone in the living room so I made up some nice-ish fried potatoes for him to snack on then decided I really had to get the elderly apples into a pot for applesauce before there was nothing left but compost. After putting the apples on to cook I immediately took the peels and other debris (orange peels and pepperoncini stems along with a couple of egg shells that were waiting in a bowl) out to the compost pile, feeling very virtuous that the apple chankings, at least, were not staying around in the kitchen for any time at all.
Returning to the house I went to the computer to prepare the pamphlet for the memorial service for a friend then printed a copy to see if it looked ok. While I was upstairs I was drawn to the pile of afghan squares for the Barbara Walker Learn To Knit Afghan I have been working on for more than six years and which I had started sewing together a couple of weeks ago.
Sitting down on the couch beside Dear One who was watching one of his favorite Netflix programs I realized that I had sewn together several squares which were not the same size so I took them apart. I then rearranged the squares so all similar sizes were together. Now it was time to start sewing the seams. I was nearly through the second strip when I remembered the applesauce. It had been about an hour by that time. At my request Dear One rushed downstairs to see what disaster awaited since he could get there faster than I.
Just as he started down the stairs I finally smelled the applesauce. What a disaster! The apples were black as soot and burned an inch and a half up the side of the pan. There is almost no chance that we will be able to save the pot which we received for a wedding gift nearly forty-three years ago.
Often I can feel philosophical about things that happen. This time I guess I need that feeling again. Let me think: I guess I can say that it is bearable because it is one less pot to take care of. And no leftover applesauce to have to store...
And, no, I am not going to share a photograph of the pot. It is bad enough to share the story. Showing a picture would put me over the edge.
Just yesterday I was speaking with another dear friend about possible memory loss. Maybe I spoke too quick...
A friend was going out of town for several weeks so I stopped in to say hello and goodbye and safe travels. So wonderful to see her and visit for a while. Off to several stores for some supplies and tools to use in making Christmas gifts. One thing I rarely do is stop for fast food. Today I did. I think it rotted my brain as well as swelled my waist.
When I returned home Christmas cards were ready to stamp then get to the post office before the cut-off time. A couple more stops at local stores then home again. I was so tired I did not make supper for Dear One. Instead I took a tiny nap in the rocking chair.
When I awoke I was alone in the living room so I made up some nice-ish fried potatoes for him to snack on then decided I really had to get the elderly apples into a pot for applesauce before there was nothing left but compost. After putting the apples on to cook I immediately took the peels and other debris (orange peels and pepperoncini stems along with a couple of egg shells that were waiting in a bowl) out to the compost pile, feeling very virtuous that the apple chankings, at least, were not staying around in the kitchen for any time at all.
Returning to the house I went to the computer to prepare the pamphlet for the memorial service for a friend then printed a copy to see if it looked ok. While I was upstairs I was drawn to the pile of afghan squares for the Barbara Walker Learn To Knit Afghan I have been working on for more than six years and which I had started sewing together a couple of weeks ago.
Sitting down on the couch beside Dear One who was watching one of his favorite Netflix programs I realized that I had sewn together several squares which were not the same size so I took them apart. I then rearranged the squares so all similar sizes were together. Now it was time to start sewing the seams. I was nearly through the second strip when I remembered the applesauce. It had been about an hour by that time. At my request Dear One rushed downstairs to see what disaster awaited since he could get there faster than I.
Just as he started down the stairs I finally smelled the applesauce. What a disaster! The apples were black as soot and burned an inch and a half up the side of the pan. There is almost no chance that we will be able to save the pot which we received for a wedding gift nearly forty-three years ago.
Often I can feel philosophical about things that happen. This time I guess I need that feeling again. Let me think: I guess I can say that it is bearable because it is one less pot to take care of. And no leftover applesauce to have to store...
And, no, I am not going to share a photograph of the pot. It is bad enough to share the story. Showing a picture would put me over the edge.
Just yesterday I was speaking with another dear friend about possible memory loss. Maybe I spoke too quick...
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