There are other things on my mind today, despite the date.
Maybe I’m keeping my self busy on purpose, I dunno.
Link for Decrepit Old Fool I’ll let him speak for the both of us.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
There are other things on my mind today, despite the date.
Maybe I’m keeping my self busy on purpose, I dunno.
Link for Decrepit Old Fool I’ll let him speak for the both of us.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Today was a nice day in that I did not recognize any of the names either in the Obituaries or the week’s Divorce listings.
I’m getting to the age when those two places in the newspaper are on my Must Read schedule, especially since we only get the paper on Sundays.
I also gave away several items to folks at church.
There’s quite a story behind how I happened to have 3 pairs of little girl socks still in the wrapping, in a drawer next to a crochet pattern for lace, but I’m not going to go into it here. By the time an old broad makes it to age 50, there are tales galore, and not all are pertinent to the case in hand. I do know that these 3 pair of socks are in a finer place than where the first 3 found a home.

If you want to waste a half hour of your time, type some random word, say Gravestones into a search engine, then look at Images.
My original idea was to find an illustration for an idea I had about the date. I got so interested in the clicking back and forth that the original thought went flying away.
I saw everything from a grandmother’s picture embedded right into the stone, to some which are centuries old, cracked and unreadable. Of course, at least one patriotic/veterans cemetery, and then many markers in rows leading away from the stained glass window of a church.
Then there are the websites for monument stores. How odd to happen upon one of those when I’m not in the market for something that weighs 678 pounds!
Most unusual was this one, with the pink background.
Yes, these are models…
at the Langley Model Company in the UK, which seems to be able to set up the whole world of a village in a single room of a house.
Since my reason for coming over here went fleeing away with the turn of the laser pointer, I guess I should call it a night.
Here’s hoping for us all to have a good week ahead.
My social calendar has 6 meetings written in.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Here’s a picture.

Perhaps you would like to venture a guess as to what it is and how it was formed.
Have you made a mental note? Left your answer?
Well, I was going to delay gratification, but I might not have time to post later.
Look below the fold for the explanation.
When I was growing up, we always molded the old sliver of soap onto the new bar for use in the shower. I can’t remember why I quit doing this after I got married. It might have been because a certain someone who shares the bathroom didn’t like a bar of soap all misshapen.
We’ve come a long way since then. I’m just sayin’.
This meant there were several little bitty pieces of soap in a bowl in the cabinet. Waste Not, Want Not.
One evening, I decided to have a science experiment.
Knowing that a very important ingredient for soap is fat, I figured we could melt all the littles into one big, which I could use at the laundry room sink as a girly balance for the LAVA soap, which the VW mechanic insists is necessary.
There were several cans in the bin to go out for re-cycle. I put a few slivers of soap into each can (without regard to what kind of soap they were, such as deodorant or complexion) put the cans into a big old pot, poured water in until it was halfway up the outsides of the cans, a makeshift bain marie.
I set the pot on the stove and got the water to boiling.
It was quite interesting to watch the melting. Some of the soaps never did go full liquid, they sorta got warmer and changed shape, allowing the others to form in around it.
It took 3 days for them to harden. To get them out of the cans, I had to open the bottoms with a can opener, then push the bar up to the top.
The final count was 7 round new bars. This is the last one.
I’ve forgotten how many years ago we held the event. I think Lucas was still at home, so that’s a minimum of three. Yet I seem to remember Joe (our college chemistry major) being an assistant with the stirring, so that makes it 5 years already.
There is another small bowl full of soap pieces in the cabinet.
I should pull out the cans and pot of water again soon.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Correction Update next day:
After discussion, Mister says he did not protest the shape.
His objection was that I mixed the types of soap
Way back on Memorial Day, during the trip to Ohio, we had a family gathering at my mother’s house.
At some point in time, my sister Denise came hurrying to get me, saying “You HAVE to come look at the boys’ hands!!”
She had them (apparently for the umpteenth time) hold out their hands side by side.
I stared, while our youngest sister right beside me let out a huge exclamation, while our mom came round to ask what all the fuss was about. She stopped still in her tracks.
This is a picture of our young men’s hands.

On the left is my nephew Danny’s, and the one on the right (with the guitar behind it) belongs to my youngest son Chris.
Note the little bump at the base joint of the thumb, the length of the fingers, the width of the palm.
Dad’s hands have shown up in the grandsons.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Von Krankipantzen, the person who received the striped comfort shawl has been featured in an article
Today, I took a bag of yarn I won’t use to the Seniors Center.
One of the ladies said I should join the Needlework group, especially since most of what I crochet is to give away, same as their projects.
I told them that at age 50, I am not eligible for the Senior Center, whose programs are geared for them who are 60 years or older.
It turns out that yes, there are certain activities for which I would not be allowed to participate, but working with hook and yarn while chatting and helping to match colors would be very welcome.
The staff person, who was rummaging through the bag of yarn, oooing and ahhing, gave a little half smile and said
“We don’t Card anybody…”
~~love and Huggs, Diane

Autumn Splendor
~~Elise Natalie BradyThere’s a little twinge of sadness
When Summer disappears,
But Autumn brings new gladness
And joys this time of year.
These are three crocheted crosses done in the last couple days. There is a mistake within each one of them.
The first one is on the edging, when I forgot to close a loop, and didn’t see it until I had already fastened off.
On the next one, the beginning stitch for an arm is connected in the wrong row. I didn’t see it until I got to the tip, so I decided that ripping out was too much trouble. I covered it over by doing an extra stitch within the colored border.
The third one wasn’t discovered until I was pinning it flat while wet. A set of 5 stitches has only 4 in place.
I simply stretched it a little. You can’t tell it’s missed.

But I know. And I almost was going to toss them all away.
My husband consoled me by telling me again about the human imperfections for doing handmade crafts, and that the recipients will appreciate my effort.
I was in bed, in the dark, trying to figure out why I made mistakes in the crochet. Usually, I stop and look back every 5 or 10 stitches, so I catch it if the pattern isn’t true to form.
And more important, why did I consider it too much bother to try and fix any of them?
Maybe because in my mind, I thought I had been done with the tiny work. I had made 12 little bookmarkers for donations.
My next project, a granny square aphgan, will be made with 4-ply yarn and a size K hook.
Then I read obituaries, therefore the need for sympathy cards, and I like to put in a cross as a quiet gift.
Almost resentfully, I set aside the heavy jeweltone yarn and again brought out the size 20 cotton and size 9 steel hook. These folks don’t know if I remember them or not. I haven’t seen her in almost 26 years. What does it matter after so long?
Then I got a long and sweet e-mail from someone who doesn’t usually have time to write more than 2 sentences.
Part of me thinks it doesn’t matter—he’s done with his body, but most of me thinks it sucks that people, men, friends of mine can leave this world with such little regard.
There were some angels out there doing some nudging.
Yeah, my crazy sentimental efforts do have meaning.
And the little crocheted crosses will soon be on their way.
I’m not going to point out any errors, my intentions are good.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
The book sorting moves along.
Here’s what went away as donations to the ISU Milner Library.
Their book sale will be coming in a month or so.

I backed the car as close into the back porch as the downspouts and drain tube allowed, then paced myself for several trips getting them into the car.
When I rang the bell at the Receiving ramp of the library, I told the woman who answered that we would need a cart.
She was gone a couple minutes, then came back with something flat and sturdy on wheels, and a muscular young man as helper.
Their spoken thank yous were many and sincere.
There’s still much to be done in this room.
I’m having a difficult time parting with stuffed animals.
There. are. too. many. Most are mine, not for sons!
However, I rewarded my morning’s efforts with a Mocha Bianca Chiller from Latte Time, along with a lunch of leftover chicken chili, and strawberries.
Eating commenced while reading articles in The Economist magazine.
I may never again think of baby food in the same way.
Mr Bennink took his lead from France, where his old firm, Danone, and its main rival, Nestlé, had found novel ways to grow. They put more effort into advertising the health benefits of baby foods. They innovated, introducing more consumer-friendly packaging and bottles and developing the “toddler milks†market for children aged one to three. And they convinced retailers that, properly marketed, baby food could draw high-spending younger adults into their stores. As a result, the French market has been growing by more than 8% a year for the best part of a decade, and French babies now consume twice as much baby food per head as their peers in Britain—and 40% more than Americans.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
I thought I’d do a little trip to take the full re-cycling containers to empty at the town bins, and then quickly into the grocery store for a gallon of milk, maybe something for supper.
But it was a Tuesday, with many clerks and few customers, so I ended up taking my time and finding a couple um, Sale items. Well, is it really a bargain if I’ve never tasted it before and might not like it?
I did end up with some extras. I’m sure we’ll use them soon.
As I was getting into the check-out line, I heard a familiar voice say my name. I looked, squinted, then stared a bit longer.
The woman was my former boss, from what seems a lifetime ago at the daycare center.

Her hair is dyed a different color, and she has lost weight.
The skin of her neck has that loose look which tells everybody about the before and after diet program.
I said I would not have recognized her at all with that hair color, and she got a bit sheepish, saying she just needed a change.
I asked how is it that she is out and about in the middle of the day, and the answer was her lunch break.
Apparently, she doesn’t hang out in the Break Room any longer.
I would usually eat my lunch, then read a novel or crochet. On nice days, I’d walk down the block, but it never seemed worthwhile to get in the car, then drive anywhere while fighting traffic, waiting at train crossings, and watching the clock.
She asked what I’m doing these days. I figured the safest route is the truth, so I sighed, said I’m loafing, being a kept woman.
For the last month I’ve been crocheting and getting over the side effects of my new thyroid medicine.
When I have the energy, I empty a shelf and carry out boxes of books for donation.
I told her where the sons are going to college and what they are studying. That I earned an AA degree last Spring, but won’t start looking in earnest for a job until after my Women’s Retreat.
She gave a little half smile and said it’s nice that I still go out to the camp every Fall.
A very big and deep yearning in me wanted to ask if she was somewhat jealous. I didn’t speak up. I didn’t tell her that I had seen her name in the Divorce listing in the newspaper.
I know how hard it is to keep a relationship content yet fresh.
It came time for her to put her items on the belt and to find her little saver’s card.
I busied myself looking at a magazine with a picture of some starlet on the cover.
As she was gathering her bags, I told her to say “Hi” to everybody at the Center.
She just nodded, already moving on with her busy day.
Recently, I wrote to a buddy that someone at a job does not necessarily become a friend. When a deeper connection happens, and when the job is over yet the friendship continues, that is a true blessing.
I would have liked to have her for a friend.
The last two years have not been able to erase what happened, the way the words were spoken on that one Monday morning.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
the picture card above is from The Pondering Pool