You become indulgent
As the mystery approaches,
Profligate with noon light and long hours of dusk,
Flashes of scarlet in the trees,
With delicacies and caresses.
You become patient and watchful,
Stay a little longer,
But, still, go at your ease.
You weigh things in strange scales:
Better to go, as a wild thing, as a tame one,
Here among family or there as merely a creature?
Is it your pride? Your over-attachment?
Is there pain? Would lack of pain otuweigh living fear?
Or, in the end, is there merely grass,
Cool and damp in the growing dark,
With flashes of scarlet in the trees?
Cast on one:
1 knit 1, yo, knit 1 in same cast on stitch = 3 stitches
2 k 1, p1, slip 1
3 k to just before center stitch, yo, k center stitch, yo, k to end of row, always slipping final stitch
4 knit 1, purl 1, until end of row, always slipping final stitch knitward
Repeat 3 and 4 until desired size.
Someday, there will be a picture. >.> *misses camera*
... There's something a bit off about a person who decides to see just how far one hank of yarn will go with knitting, isn't there? In a completely unrelated matter, I expect to have a hideous Valentine-colored knitted baby blanket around here in a few days. *cough* I can sell on Etsy, yes?
Diet cat food must taste wonderful: all of my cats prefer it, though only one of them needs it. By 'needs it', I mean if she was a person, Melangel would be morbidly obese. Also, if she was a person, I'd say she was a comfort eater, who is very anxious about Percival (still. *sigh*), so I don't want to cut off the dry food supply entirely: goodness only knows what she'd chew on then. She's not happy about the situation herself: you can tell she's frustrated with not being able to jump like she used to. Hence the 'healthy eating' cat food that Done It, who I can lift easily with one hand, steals. At least Melangel likes it when she can get it before Done It.
I'd just like to take a moment to say that I really hate hornets. I flicked "something" heavy off the back of my leg at the pond, and the son of a bitch chased me all the way well into my yard (something like a fifth of a mile). I have a phobia of bees anyway, so this little escapade really didn't help. I wound up hiding under a blanket I pulled off the clothesline while having a great little panic attack. So much hate.
It can be winter time nao, yes?
There's a hummingbird feeder on my front porch, hanging a few feet from the window. Percival has taken to spending his days in the living room window, watching the road and the dog and especially these birds.
The hummingbirds have taken note of this.
Poor Percival was in the window, daydreaming about squab, when one of the hummingbirds went into full attack display mode at him. Percival was lucky there was a screen between them. He then turned to me and my father, looking utterly shocked, and retreated to the couch, where he could have me between him and any vicious eensy birds.
I'm starting to think Percival is one of those cats. You know, the ones that get called 'Lucky' and wander around with half an ear, one eye, three legs, and a missing tail. See, we have these kitchen chairs. We've had them for many years without a problem. There are slats in their backs, so cats especially enjoy playing through them. Many a game of getchee has been played in those chairs.
Percival got his head stuck between the slats last night. He wiggled loose, but it took him a few very stressful seconds to do it. In the many cats that have passed through this house none have ever gotten their head stuck in the slats. I suppose I should count myself lucky that he didn't escape into the old duct work when he was upstairs.