This week the weather has suddenly become winter. True, for some of my more northern readers my definition of the season may differ, but the fact remains that the high temperatures of the upcoming week are more closely related to the low temperatures of not that long ago. The sky is gun metal grey. The trees are dun brown. The wind has abandon all pretense of playfulness and pulled out its switchblade.
As such I have had a sudden and irresistible urge to crochet. Specifically, I am working my fingers into blisters in order to finish a hat because it’s cold. After the hat I intend to complete a pair of slippers, because apparently the temperature of the bed drops several degrees the second my feet touch the sheets. The mackerdoodle has requested her own slippers which I will complete after I learn the technique on my own pair and then I will still have several granny squares to finish.
There is something about crocheting that makes me feel warmer, even if I’m not actually wearing something made from yarn. Unfortunately, it is impossible to crochet and blog at the same time. So I realized tonight that is has been a week since I blogged. In that week I
- had a free haircut. A real one. Someone tipped back my chair and put my head in a sink that had a neck notch and I closed my eyes because that is what one does when someone else is washing one’s hair. I woke up when she told me I could sit up. It was glorious!
- cooked a 24 pound turkey. In case any of the neighbors are curious, that’s probably the biggest you want to go in our ovens. I was terrified there wouldn’t be enough meat or mashed potatoes. I came home with four pounds of leftover meat and three pounds of leftover mashed potatoes and 3/4 of a gallon of gravy.
- not coincidentally, cooked a lot of leftover turkey, including turkey and dumplings which we shared with David, Mary Beth and their girls.
- made cookies with the children
- come to the startling revelation that cooking now relaxes me
- went to the art museum with the children. The cheesedoodle was interesting to watch. I thought he would just want to run in the big empty rooms, but there was a piece in every gallery that caught his attention. The mackerdoodle stood and stared at “Little Dancer of 14 years” for ages. She seemed more drawn to sculpture than painting.
I’ll do a post about Thanksgiving, but thought I would take a break from crocheting to touch base with you, my faithful readers (and by that, I mean “Hello Aunty Lily and Mom and Dad Cowan.”)