I Shouldn't Think So Much

Inspired
Since I am so happy with my new rearrangement, I decided I should fix a UFO. I make burp rags for my standard baby gift. They are flannel with various edge finishes and an embroidered tribute to the bundle of joy. Well, on the blue, I put the wrong name. Obviously, I could not give it away. And I find it too cute to discard, so I salvaged it! I appliqued a heart over the offensive writing. It is the softest heart, ever, to boot. It is Minkee, some $20/yd fabric that I saw in one store only ever in LBC. I made the softest blanket, ever, for the Mister's godson (our nephew) and couldn't part with the softest scraps, ever. See why? Reuse. See, Mister, a method to the madness. And the next newborn gets to urp on it. Lucky kid.
JoAnn Fabrics has a bad knock off of this super (cannot overstate) soft fabric. It makes me sad, but I fondle it when I go in and wish I had a trust fund to go get me some more of the good stuff. Notice that I added a link to the name above... I googled and found the stuff... UH-oh.

And Then
I started another bag. I know, I know, another bag. But I have this gorgeous fabric with asian Lilies that I bought in Northern Michigan when I went to see my GodMother this summer. Really, I need another bag. It makes me happy. End Of Discussion.

So What Of This Olympic Sweater?


This is the official first attempt at intarsia. Obviously I need a bit more practice. I think it looks like Mickey's buttons. Mickey's belt buckle. He had a bit of a swagger, it could work. Either way, I will try to not have it so puckery when I do the Olympic sweater... Less than 48 hours until Cast On! EEK!







Beautiful Child Story

I need this kind of moment.

Standing in the kitchen, a sunny moment in the afternoon...
"Eldest, come here, I need a hug."
He comes willingly and I bend to embrace him. He lets go early. Dangling his head and arms back he groans, "Mom!"
"I'm not done yet, sometimes I need really big hugs." I look at him and don't let go.
He looks at me. The sun is streaming across his face as I am bent over him and he is arched back, wrapped in my arms. "I can see myself in your eyes."

I know what he was saying... he is 5 and quite literal. But doesn't that just grab your heart? It took all I had not to weep on the child.

I have a really blessed life. I b*tch and complain and whine and all, but I am a really fortunate and blessed woman. Even if we live here.

Speaking of Here

I did not take the boys to the Victory Parade... It was at 11am and there ended up being 250,000 people there. Eldest ended up watching the thing on TV in the school gym. Thank goodness we make an effort to give the child an education. The Mister sees no problem with this disruption in the academic schedule. It is the water. I just know it is. I am going nowhere near the tap again... Hey, if Michael Jackson can bathe in Evian, so can I.