This was the sky on Saturday, and Sunday. All weekend it looked like it was going to rain any minute. A couple of times it managed just enough drops to wet the surface and keep the humidity at a steamy level. Never enough to give the plants a good drink.
Today, Monday, it is finally raining a decent amount, coming down slow and steady.
I have another 50 row pattern repeat done on the 248 stitches of the Peerie Brocade sweater. I won't bore you with a picture that looks just like the last one only twice as long. Instead, here is a picture of Kristen's lovely, newly finished Peerie Brocade.
She knit it a little shorter than the pattern and I think I'll do the same.
I enjoyed my first visit to Kristen's blog Audioknits to see her Peerie Brocade and I stayed a while to check out all her beautifully executed finished projects before adding her to my Bloglines list.
Pattern: Diamond Handwarmers from CIC knitter Ruth
Yarn: Elann Peruvian Highland Wool, worsted weight 100% wool in Autumn Peach.
Needles: #4 24" Addi Turbos
Gauge: 5.5 stitches/inch, 8 rows/inch
The CIC_Knit List one month mitt challenge ends on Thursday, so I used the rainy time over the weekend to finish up a fourth pair of mitts in Ruth's diamond pattern, for a total of five pair of mitts to send in to the distribution site.
The other mitts are pictured here and here.
Just because one can never have too many pictures of loved ones who live far away, here's a recent shot of Son John and Granddaughter Sydney Anne. They're loving each other just like I used to love John when he was a sweet baby.
Now I love him differently, but not any less. With the pride and respect I have for the man/father/husband he has become, I think I love him even more.
(Previous Mom posts here and here for anyone who needs to catch up on what happened.)
We're in the doldrums of broken arm limbo. Mom patiently ices her fingers, elevates her arm, takes painkillers, and occasionally has a bad night and complains.
I fetch food, do laundry, pay bills, chauffeur, and whatever else needs to be done to get through this time. Her apartment is a booby trap of containers with unsecured lids so she can get into them when I'm not there.
Eleven days until the cast comes off. We don't expect life to immediately return to normal, but we do expect a wonderful, long, hot shower for Mom and the beginning of the end of this experience.