Rawhide Fight Redux
That darling Rachael, darlingest girl in Oakland, sent me some olallieberry jam, for no reason at all except darlingness. I'm happy. Jam is good. Also, for those of you who missed it, Rachael's started a pool, concerning when I'm going to get the "Elephants" vest done (deadline: January 26th, my grandchild's 3rd birthday) -- I'm 10 rows away from the V-neck decreases and the armhole steeks. She's betting on January 24, 9:32 PM -- I gather that's my time, not her time; I'm for sure not going to be knitting at 12:32 MY time. If you'd like to be in on the pool, remember that I knit for about two hours a night, except on Wednesdays (night class) and Thursdays (choir), and whenever we go out to dinner (and we've got several candidates coming to campus to visit -- though when they come to visit I do get some extra knitting done during the presentations). I don't think there's a prize -- sorry, you can't have my jam -- but I'll blog you.
Lisa wrote in my comments that her version of the "Elephants" vest turned out too big for the child she knit it for, and I have to tell you mine will, too. I'm spot on gauge, but this thing is not going to fit any three year old I know. My grandchild'll get it anyway -- he'll grow into it. My own child has several sweaters that have lasted him YEARS -- I figure if you're going to knit for kids, you might as well get some mileage out of the artifacts. So I'm not bothered by having it be too big. What his Mama's going to say, I do not know, however.
On the work front, here's proof of what I've been doing last Friday and yesterday:
That's my office in chaos -- which it has been for months; not a chance to do anything to it. (The picture's fuzzy cause I took it, since my photographer was at home, being retired and reading Trollope.)
Here's what it looks like now:
Look! You can see the floor! You can find the books! You can find the pens! And! They have ink in them! (They didn't, for a while. Things were so bad I reduced to using ballpoint pens.)
And, finally, now that the Brannen Story-Telling hoopla has died down a bit -- for a moment -- I'll refer you to the comments from my last entry, wherein you may read the definitive edition of the Rawhide Fight story, which I mentioned in passing and apparently Got Wrong. Thanks, Dad! Apparently, there were NO GUNS! No! There were knives and clubs! Much better. I like the detail about some OTHER East Texas family treasuring a club used in the fight. (Used in the fight by that East Texas Family? So, did they have to leave Louisiana, too? Hmm...) Yes! Clubs! BUT! The Dials didn't fight! No! In fact, they rode up (they WERE on horses, right, Dad?) and Started The Fight By Trying To Stop It. (There was a snake involved, right? No, let's see, that's Morte d'Arthur...) I think they had tea and little cakes, as well. And that's why they had to run to Texas and change their name to Jenkins. It was for being peacemakers. But before they ran, they grabbed one of the clubs, and then gave it to some other East Texas family. Perhaps the Hardins, with whom the Dials were Best Friends.
Later on, if y'all are really good, we'll tell you the several versions of What Ephraim Dial did in the Civil War, and How he Later Dribbled Food Out of The Hole in His Neck he Got at Gettysburg. (No, he didn't! Yes, he did! No, he didn't! I WAS THERE!)
Lisa wrote in my comments that her version of the "Elephants" vest turned out too big for the child she knit it for, and I have to tell you mine will, too. I'm spot on gauge, but this thing is not going to fit any three year old I know. My grandchild'll get it anyway -- he'll grow into it. My own child has several sweaters that have lasted him YEARS -- I figure if you're going to knit for kids, you might as well get some mileage out of the artifacts. So I'm not bothered by having it be too big. What his Mama's going to say, I do not know, however.
On the work front, here's proof of what I've been doing last Friday and yesterday:
That's my office in chaos -- which it has been for months; not a chance to do anything to it. (The picture's fuzzy cause I took it, since my photographer was at home, being retired and reading Trollope.)
Here's what it looks like now:
Look! You can see the floor! You can find the books! You can find the pens! And! They have ink in them! (They didn't, for a while. Things were so bad I reduced to using ballpoint pens.)
And, finally, now that the Brannen Story-Telling hoopla has died down a bit -- for a moment -- I'll refer you to the comments from my last entry, wherein you may read the definitive edition of the Rawhide Fight story, which I mentioned in passing and apparently Got Wrong. Thanks, Dad! Apparently, there were NO GUNS! No! There were knives and clubs! Much better. I like the detail about some OTHER East Texas family treasuring a club used in the fight. (Used in the fight by that East Texas Family? So, did they have to leave Louisiana, too? Hmm...) Yes! Clubs! BUT! The Dials didn't fight! No! In fact, they rode up (they WERE on horses, right, Dad?) and Started The Fight By Trying To Stop It. (There was a snake involved, right? No, let's see, that's Morte d'Arthur...) I think they had tea and little cakes, as well. And that's why they had to run to Texas and change their name to Jenkins. It was for being peacemakers. But before they ran, they grabbed one of the clubs, and then gave it to some other East Texas family. Perhaps the Hardins, with whom the Dials were Best Friends.
Later on, if y'all are really good, we'll tell you the several versions of What Ephraim Dial did in the Civil War, and How he Later Dribbled Food Out of The Hole in His Neck he Got at Gettysburg. (No, he didn't! Yes, he did! No, he didn't! I WAS THERE!)
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