This is my sock

Well, ok. So it is not really my sock. It's my daughter's sock, but I made it. A while ago I got a wild hair to see if I can still make socks. I could years ago, and it really hasn't gotten all that much harder over time. They're using five needles rather than the four I used when I was first knitting socks, but that's sort of minor.

My daughter has been going through some fairly hard times recently and she's been really down. I thought maybe a pair of really wild, hand-knit socks would cheer her up if the only thing she ever did with them was to wear them to keep her feet warm in the winter. So I let her pick out the yarn.

I had forgotten how thin sock yarn really is and how much of a pita the first few rows are to get done as things tend to twist and be hard to keep straight. After that, however, it's a piece of cake. So yesterday the sock was finished. I took it in for the real acid test. To try it on her. I was a bit nervous as knitted stuff can be odd when it comes to sizing and I dreaded the idea it might prove to be too big and need to be redone. It fit perfectly, however, so sock #1 is finished and the second one has been started. Since it takes 9 rows to equal one inch the second sock will take me a few days to complete. The needles are about the size of very long matchsticks. Still, all in all it doesn't look bad.

End of an Era

Friday night I drove to my nearest Borders book store to pick up my copy of the last Harry Potter book. As I waited in line and watched the hundreds of people around me, I realized that Mr. Potter and his friends are more than just characters in a story. They have been a uniting factor for people of all ages across the world who have gladly immersed themselves in that world of witches and magic that coexisted with our own.

Now it's over. I finished reading the story yesterday evening. What was somewhat amusing is that most of the "spoilers" everyone was so upset about were not true to begin with and were probably more in the nature of an enormous publicity stunt. Some of what happened was happily predictable. Some of it left me laughing out loud because all the clues were there and I missed them. All but one of my favorite characters survived. Some I knew must die did. Others I thought probably should die, didn't. In the end, however, it came out as it should and the adventure is over.

Ms. Rowling has said she will not write any more about Harry and his friends, and I applaud her decision as much as I feel a touch of sadness that there will be no more of Harry and his friends. I've seen far too many wonderful ideas taken to such extremes as to become ridiculous. The Frank Herbert Dune books come to mind. Dune itself is a masterpiece. It should have remained a solitary book. It saddens me to see that the series continues long after the original author's death. There are a number of other such series that either should have ended long ago or which should never have become series in the first place. So stick by your guns, Jo. You're doing the right thing.

Bah. Humbug!

I really do hate the 4th of July. Fireworks, except for municipal displays, are forbidden in our area, especially firecrackers. Which means the noise starts about breakfast time and continues unabated until the wee hours of the morning. Right now it's nearly 9:30 at night and the din is nowhere near abating.

My daughter has a dog. He's getting older and he really stresses out with all the noise. The vet can't give him sedatives because of his age, so he gets anxious and jumpy. It was getting pretty bad earlier this evening, so I shut all the windows despite the heat, and brought him into my room. Then I put on a CD I just got of classical pieces selected specifically to be relaxing and soothing. The noise outside is loud and continuous yet he's asleep on the bed with the music playing in the background. I know it's silly to think that the music is helping him cope with the noise and stress of the 4th, but he's honestly sacked out.

My daughter took him into her room a bit ago and he got really agitated and was whining and running around, so she let him out. I put the music back on for him, and he's back asleep. I think he's dreaming about chasing a rabbit. His feet are twitching and he's barking in his sleep. Silly dog.

The Garden

I am not sure why I'm so attached to my little garden. There is just something about growing stuff, particularly flowers, that makes me happy. The picture is a container of nasturtiums that I planted earlier and which are just now coming into full bloom. I can actually smell them from my chair when I have the living room window open.

I want to work with my daughter later this summer and fall to put in two new flower beds and get new dirt into two more. I can't wait to see what all the new flowers will look like come spring.

Our vegetable garden is doing well too. We have lots of baby squashes, broccoli, and tomato plants (I'm still waiting for the first baby tomato) and other things. Susan saw some baby peppers today as well, so that's a good thing. Most of my pepper plants died without ever forming a new leaf, as did most of my cucumber plants. I do have two remaining cucumbers and three or four peppers which might do something.

I'm currently waiting on a big pot of sweet peas. It's finally decided to produce lots of baby flower buds, but is still a few days of good weather away from showing any color. I'm patient.

Gardening is sort of like therapy for me. I don't worry about things, and I love the results. I'm already making plans to prune the big evergreen shrubs and azaleas and rhododendrons so that next year they will produce many more flowers. Next spring the back deck will be ablaze with spring flowers. I've already ordered the bulbs to put in. At some point, if I get the side flower bed in, I'll put in iris.