« Assembling the Carpet Shop, Step 4: Painting | Main | Time for Some Knitting »

January 27, 2019

Comments

Paula Fletcher

I think it's great. You KNOW she loves your knitted things. I knit for family and never hear from them again. Now I only knit for my Mom and my sister because they appreciate what I make.

Toffeeapple

Oops, you really fell into that one didn't you?

I am so far behind in reading blogs because a new laptop happened here but it won't transfer my email provider and all its emails...

Will try to catch up with your earlier posts but hope for forgiveness if I don't.

Berva Smith

Not quite as I remember it! The alpaca was leftover from a jacket/sweater I did make . . . and I really thought you could use it for something of yours, but once you asked if I'd like for you to make the stole, well . . .

Guess I'm showing my age as a few years ago I would have been determined to take on the challenge of that really, really complicated pattern. I love you for offering to make it.

juliet brown

Ohhh dear, you were got - pure and simple. The daughter was angling for a jersey over Christmas, she was wanting a black one "like one she had seen in the shop" it would have cost at least twice the price to knit something to then lie on her floor until it was boiled alive in a nuclear-heat wash and never seen again. I am officially "looking for the right yarn, sweetie" meaning basically "nope, not knitting that" anytime soon, however she has a way of getting what she wants does our little monster child

Mary Lou Egan

Ha ha - Mom got you! Life has been a bit time consuming here, hope to keep up with blog reading now. Maybe even writing...

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Quote


  • "'Then I am the first,' cried Pullings with infinite satisfaction. 'Let me wish you and Mrs. Aubrey all the joy in the world.' He grasped Jack's limp, wondering hand, wrung it numb, and showed the printed page, reading aloud, '"At Ashgrove Cottage, Chilton Admiral, in Hants, the lady of Captain Aubrey, of the Boadicea, of a son and heir,"' following the words with his finger.

    'Give it here,' said Jack. He grasped the magazine, sloped the page to the light and pored over it intently.

    '"At Ashgrove Cottage, Chilton Admiral, in Hants, the lady of Captain Aubrey, of the Boadicea, of a son."

    'Well, I'll be damned. God bless me. Lord, Lord … upon my word and honour … I'll be damned to Hell and back again … strike me down. Killick, Killick, rouse out a bottle of champagne -- pass the word for the Doctor -- here, Killick, there's for you -- God love us all -- ha, ha, ha.'

    Killick took the handful of money, put it slowly into his pocket with a look of extreme suspicion and walked out of the cabin, his lips pursed in disapproval. Jack leapt from his seat, took several turns fore and aft, chuckling from time to time, his mind filled with mingled love, happiness, fulfilment, and a most piercing nostalgia."

    -- from The Mauritius Command by Patrick O'Brian

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