Well, I haven't gotten very far yet, but I can mention that I think the edging is working. Not taking a picture until it's a sure thing however! The annoying part is I can't knit and read the computer screen at the same time while working on this. Darn. I'm using the nifty knit-on lace edging technique that I learned while trying to help dear Sheila from Merrit fix her Meg Swansen Garter Shawl problem a few months ago. Unfortunately you have to turn the work back and forth constantly. It's a little bit harder to turn a whole poncho than just a bit of lace, but I'm saving myself the sewing-the-lace-on part. I guess I need to practice my "knitting-back-backwards" techniques, huh?
Pictures only when I've got something good to show!
I keep hearing a bird calling outside that sounds tantalizingly familiar but I can't place it. And I can't catch a glimpse of the darn thing. I hope it's still around when Thom gets home so I can get him to see if he can identify it. It's driving me nuts!
Another thing that's driving me nuts is the smell of the chestnut pollen from my tree. It's so strong that although I'm not allergic to it particularly, my eyes are feeling gritty and my throat is scratchy and I'm in the house (but I'm not going to close the windows — I'll suffocate). It's only about a week or so a year that this happens, but it's a long week. Funny thing though — our annoying neighbour Mike hasn't come by to complain about the "poisonous tree". Does this mean that he's not feeling very well? I haven't seen him recently and the last time I saw him he wasn't looking too spry. I thought he was too ornery to ever go away...er, I hope he's OK. But I'm not going over to check. He doesn't like me at all, looks right through me like I'm not even there, and never responds to anything I say. What a guy.
Off to my physiotherapist this afternoon. This may be the last visit for awhile since I'm getting much better. It's so expensive though Thom's extended medical pays for quite a few visits. I just feel so darned decadent lying there being massaged, with a warm blankie (OK, towel) and heating pads and the prickle-dance of the TENS machine on my back. Ahhh...pleasure. And then I have to get up, get dressed, and go buy groceries that I have to schlepp home on my back, thereby negating all the good stuff that Ivy just did to my neck and shoulders. I'd use the shopping cart like a little old lady, but it's so darned inconvenient and actually more awkward on my neck and arms. No wonder Thom's mom gave it to me. She doesn't like it either. Though she gets more embarrased by the "little old lady" thing even though she is one and I'm not. Yet. Just the fact that I'm a grandmother does not make me a little old lady. Uh-uh. That's a fallacy. It's my kids fault that I'm a grandmother — I didn't have anything to do with it. As a matter of fact, if it was up to me, I'd have more grandkids. Especially if they're all as cute as the first one. Or even if they aren't. I'd love them anyway.
HEY! I got a comment on my blog! My very first one. Thanks so much, Roberta! I feel like a real blogger now. Not like my idol Yarn Harlot though — she can get 600+ comments on one blog. Yikes! Not quite sure I want to be that popular. I think it frightens her too.