Seems like starting or finishing stuff is the only time that it's interesting to talk about it. So when you're just middling along on stuff there's nothing to write about so it seems like you're not really doing anything. But things are middling along nicely. I'm almost finished with the second skeleton glove. The fancy multicolor warp is slowly being woven (I'm pacing myself because I really enjoy it and want to prolong the process). The eye is healing. More branches are being cleaned up.
Somedays when we're dragging ourselves home we envy our friends in town who live 3 or 4 miles from their jobs instead of our 15. But then we look at our "back yard" and remember why. I was trying to catch the almost lavender colored sunset we had the other night.
Spring has sprung and there are strawberry stands along the road. After work Saturday I picked some up, and Bob and I sat in the swing and read our magazines and ate fresh strawberries dipped in crunchy turbanido sugar.
CRITTER DU JOUR
Greymalkin, aka "Malkie"
About 16 years ago Bob was walking through the flea market, past an old and lost-looking woman sitting on a bench, staring at the ground. She looked up as he went by, held up her hand with a tiny scrap of fur in it, and said "would you take care of my kitten?" It was very sick, and almost dead--he felt the tears come, and he took it, and said he would try.
She was a tough little thing, and to the surprise of both us and our vet, she made it. Stubborn despite her weakness, she would insist on sitting on my shoulder instead of in my lap (which made it difficult to try to be discrete about having a kitten at work)
She's still stubborn. We gave up trying to ban her from the kitchen counters (if we're lucky, she respects that we have our side and her side). When age and arthritis made it difficult for her, Bob built her a set of steps to the counter. Now her bed is up there--we know when we need to give up a battle. We got her a heated pad for it--when you have arthritis in your hips, happiness is a warm butt.