Pipes of doom

Mr. Chez B. was washing dishes in our bathroom sink last night. We must do this because we have no kitchen at the moment, it being gutted and lonely for it's new outfit of cabinets, counters and flooring. Minor stuff, of course.

I was in another room attending to the bills. Mr. B. knows that this is a time to avoid disturbing me, because kissing all of our money good-bye is disturbing enough.
All was placid until I heard the commode flush and him say, "Uh-oh!"

Uh-oh? After a toilet flush? Not good.
Me: "What happened?"
Mr. B, sotto-voce:"Nothing..."
Me: "No, really. What happened?"
Mr. B:"Don't come in here..."

I went in.
He had discarded the dish water down the commode, because the f***ing bath tub is almost a whole extra step away, and flushed a hand-knitted hemp dishcloth down the loo.

Very nice.

Morning Comfort

Mad Love

Slow but satisfying progress. Knitting primarily on the train during my commute. I'm listening to Ghost Light by Joseph O'Connor.

Venture Out

Thank goodness these are bloody well done.



I was seeing Cammo in my sleep.

No glamor shots for Mr. Chez B. He just wants to get on with things. I think that the cuffs fit him better than they appear to in the photos. Things tend to slide at the end of a long day, don't they?



Yarn: Miss Babs Yummy Sock in Rock Wall, Sandnes Sisu in Pine for CC
Pattern: Alternate 1 K2, P2 row with 1 K row, repeat. It's Mr. Chez B's favorite pattern thus far. It's lovely to be able to send these woolly friends out into the world.

I've really no inerest

in the American Civil War. I don't really care for the statistics, battle sites and monuments. I grew tired of being called a Yankee when I lived in the South.

It was that damned Joseph O'Connor. I read Star of the Sea and Redemption Falls last spring. They were shape-changing spirits - haunting, dark and beautiful. They are, for me, the finest stories ever written.*

It's because of the lingering curiosities that these two books etched into me that I got so engrossed when I heard Adam Goodheart discuss the premise of 1861: The Civil War Awakening on NPR that I was captivated.

O'Connor paints delicately nuanced vignettes of the society of war-time America. Goodheart's book, I think, will fill in the cracks in the joints. I'm really looking forward to this as a study of social history.

*I'm no expert, but I am a literary snob. I slogged 4 years in a Literary Theory minor degree (so very useful and lucrative) during my undergraduate studies, (whilst learning to write lots of compound, annotated, passive-voice and run-on sentences) so I read book after book, and these are simply my favorites. Yes, I think you should read them. Read his entire catalog, in fact. He's poetic and quite funny.

"It's a Major Award!"

While at the dog park yesterday, Mr. Chez B. and the dogs were invited to an Easter Egg Hunt for Hounds which was sponsored by our local doggie washateria. Both doggies got prizes.



Our beloved Bodhi was cited as biggest curmudgeon "Most Senior", and Ivan received the award for finding the most treats. Go figure - He's got my talent for finding food.



Ivan at home after lots of hard work sleuthing plastic Easter Eggs

Hey, pal. That's my side of the bed.

Fathom

Yarn: Madeline Tosh Sock, in colorway "Fathom".
A completely intoxicating color.

Project: Listen to your Wanderlust by Stephanie van der Linden

Needle: US 1 = 2.25 mm

Additional Yarns: The Loopy Ewe Solid Series, Saffron
Cascade Heritage, White

And the aul' ones eat, celebrate and finish strong

The Mister and I had a lovely late supper to celebrate his something-ith birthday the other night. May I suggest, if you are ever looking for something just a little high-end and find yourself in the cultural mecca that is South Pittsburgh, a visit to Bado's Cucina. Everything is served in small portions, and is really beautifully prepared. BYOB, and leave a little room for dessert.

Do make sure that if you are running a brutally hilly 10K first thing the following morning, you don't let your waitress control your wine portions.

You might feel like dying reluctant to tackle the hills and get to the finish line.