Yes, the little guy is in full pull-books-off-the-shelves mode, and I’m at a loss as to what to do! I’d cleared the bottom shelf, but now he can reach the next one (and not just on this bookcase). This seems like an unsustainable precedent.
Side note: I haven’t reviewed any of those books, although I’ve read them, so if you’ve been pining to hear me talk about something in particular? Ask, and I’ll see what I can do. 🙂
Yay, I finally tried the sweater on the babe and even got photos, all in the same day! Let’s pretend it isn’t nearly a month after the last end was woven in …
The pattern is Gavyn.
While I didn’t love everything about the pattern, or the knitting, I do think I quite like the finished sweater.
This was my first bottom-up sweater, my first non-raglan sweater. I made the 12-month size and added an inch to the length of the body of the sweater and about 3/4-inch to the sleeve length, because my boy is tall and long-torso-ed.
It doesn’t look as big on him (at 7 months) as I thought it was, as I was aiming for, but it will still hopefully fit him all this winter.
I used recycled sweater yarn, in 100 percent cotton; tripling the yarn gave me gauge on the recommended needle size.
I’m linking up with FO Friday and Fiber Arts Friday; visit these places if you want to see more projects! 🙂
Hope you had a great, meaningful, Thanksgiving 2012! (And happy long weekend.)
from my family to yours!
(circa 2001 or 2002)
For all its greatness (trust me — I am the last man on earth to sell it short), the created order cries out for futher greatness still. The most splendid dinner, the most exquisite food, the most gratifying company, arouse more appetites than they satisfy. They do not slake man’s thirst for being; they whet it beyond all bounds. Dogs eat to give their bodies rest; man dines and sets his heart in motion. All tastes fade, of course, but not the taste for greatness they inspire; each love escapes us, but not the longing it provokes for a better convivium, a higher session. We embrace the world in all its glorious solidity, yet it struggles in our very arms, declares itself a pilgrim world, and, through the lattices and windows of its nature, discloses cities more desirable still.
You indict me, no doubt, as an incurable romantic. I plead guilty without contest. I see no other explanation of what we are about. Why do we marry, why take friends and lovers, why give ourselves to music, painting, chemistry, or cooking? Out of simple delight in the resident goodness of creation, of course; but out of more than that, too. Half of earth’s gorgeousness lies hidden in the glimpsed city it longs to become. For all its rooted loveliness, the world has no continuing city here; it is an outlandish place, a foreign home, a session in via to a better version of itself — and it is our glory to see it so and thirst until Jerusalem comes home at last. We were given appetites, not to consume the world and forget it, but to taste its goodness and hunger to make it great.
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Yesterday was Maisie’s 3rd birthday. We’ve had her more than two and a half years now, and we still love her to bits (well, not literally …).
She’s grown up quite a lot in the past year, but especially in the last six months. Everything we’ve read says Old English are puppies until about age 3. There’s still definitely puppy in there, and I’m glad. But having a baby in the house has been a huge adjustment for her. She’s very gentle and caring toward little ones, but she’s likely to flinch and/or walk away when he touches her. All that hair is such a temptation! (We’re working on it.)
Thank you, Maisie, for understanding when you have to wait a bit longer sometimes because the little one needs me. I soooo look forward to the days when you and he can run and play together.
Happy birthday, Maisie! Hope you had a good day, and many more.
Asa is getting some good use out of a wool soaker that was first worn by his great-grandfather. Grandma had two of them in storage, and since she knew we were going to cloth diaper and also because I love wool, she got them out while we awaited the little guy’s arrival. First we washed and aired them out. Grandma mended the holes. The drawstrings had disintegrated, so we picked yarn and I knit new I-cords. In both cases (I only have a photo of one of them for you today, but there are two soakers) the seam is machine sewn.
Dusk light and pillows, in his great-grandfather’s wool soaker. You can click the photo to view it larger.
I love pieces — and crafts — that span generations!