Lovelihood

Progress on fingerless gloves I had started for an unspecified recipient, which I will likely just claim for myself. Because I'm totally diggin' 'em.

There are still a handful of boxes in the basement laying dormant, sealed up from the move sixteen months ago. Tonight, as we scoured our subterranean depths for a long-unused mah jong set, we unearthed my chess set, a relic from my nine-year-old self carved in miniature from stone. I pointed out to The Boy the spot on the cedar box (a secret box, according to him) where I'd stenciled out my name in pearlescent glitter. And he marveled, as we played a re-inaugural game, at the heft and coolness of the pieces while he held them against his face and rubbed them between his fingers.

Spent the morning finishing up a six-year-old's birthday gift and making a mental note to order up some more Christmas packaging supplies, which come in mightily handy when I'm looking around for a small container in which to display some lego-tastic crayons.

Shaped a mini squadron of crayon minifigs today for a Lego themed birthday present for a party tomorrow.

The Lunch Bear and I shared was less a transcendant culinary experience than a purging of items from our freezer. Udon noodles and gyoza and pork buns, on the surface of things, might seem close enough in continental heritage to pass for cohesion. And then I added the blueberries. Say what you will about our haphazard meal. Bear and I were fighting each other over each element of it.

I've started what I'm sure will be the years long project of digitizing all my recipes which had previously been accessed on index cards and magazines and books and sheets printed out and annotations to scrawls on the backs of envelopes. Will I miss the wine and marination stains? Of course. Will it be nice to condense the original texts into one cloud-accessing device? Absolutely.

LED tealights in a watering can on our front porch, where they were tossed after retreival from the trio of pumpkins that were put out with the compost.