Shhhh.....

Don't tell the Knitting Police.

I have been told that there are no Knitting Police, but I was told that by the internet, so who knows?  I'm hedging my bets here, so shhhh.....


I finally, FINALLY, finished the Shelby Stole. But that's only because instead of knitting 18 repeats, I gave up after knitting 16. Again, shhhh....

It's beautiful, I must say, but I did not enjoy making it. Somehow I did not "get" the rhythm of the pattern until I was well into the project, so I kept making mistakes and starting over, and over, and over.  And then I was truly OVER it. So I stopped early.

Blocking

 Now I can move on to the next project:

One & Done:

After all, a knitter must knit.

Every Day

I get an e-mail from the Postal Service showing me images of the mail I will receive later that day (much, much later). It's the holidays, mail is slow, I get it.

What I don't get is why I get this e-mail at all. I've never signed up for it; none of my friends gets a similar e-mail.  

But this is the helpful e-mail that came today:

Excitement abounds!
What will be in the mail today???

Probably straight-to-recycling mail.

It Was a Rainy Night in Georgia; Now It's a Snowy Day in Georgia.

Or at least it is in my part of Georgia.  

I suspect it will be rainy again, or at least, water will fall from the melting snow in the trees.

And it's not FAIR!!!  I was just in LA and the weather was perfect every day.

The sky was blue; the humidity was non-existent, which, as it turns out, is a very bad thing.  The morning we left was the beginning of the horrible fires there. The Creek fire is within 10 miles of my daughter's apartment, too close for comfort. She is packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. We sure hope she doesn't have to go, and that the firefighters can get a handle on the various fires.



While we were in LA, I became an Angelina, according to my daughter.  I don't really think it works like this, but her statement came as a result of my having seen Angelyne.

She is hard to miss.

My husband and daughter were inside a store and I took the opportunity to sit outside on the steps of the store and soak up the skin-cancer rays vitamin D. This Pepto Bismol Corvette pulled up in front of the store, and the woman inside, with clouds of blonde hair, sat there for about 10 minutes, reading through some papers. And then she left.

I thought nothing of it since lots of people in LA look for ways to get attention, but when I told Sarah about the pink car, she said that I had seen a famous LA celebrity. She is now in her 60s, so she probably doesn't look exactly like her billboard, but she is still, apparently, a local personality. It was her goal to be famous, so years ago, she paid for billboards to advertise herself, and made herself a celebrity for being ... a celebrity? (According to the Googles, she sings and acts. Or used to.)

The conversation inside the store was one that might happen only in LA. My daughter was in line behind an actor, but she didn't notice him. The cashier pointed him out after he left the store, and then told Sarah that Angelina Jolie's kids had just left, but that other than them, they had only had "B-listers" in shopping, no "A-listers."  

I wonder who decides who is who. Who is whom?