On the crocheting front, I visited my parents a couple weekends ago and sewed up my second Christmas angel, here modelled by my willing
Careful examination will reveal subtle (or perhaps not so subtle) differences between it and the original, which had the kinds of mistakes you get crocheting at three in the morning on half-remembered directions. I used perhaps a little too much glue stiffening it, but otherwise I'm satisfied with the results.
I've been working away at the stamped cross-stitch pattern kit I bought two Decembers ago for the nursery. It was a great source of comfort and distraction while I was in the hospital, and now I find it again to be wonderfully engrossing at a time when I'm prone to worry too much about this pregnancy, my dad's cerebellar ataxia, and how to balance my mother between the two.
Jiji, on the other hand, thinks I'm spending too much time not petting her.
Theo shares the opinion, but he's too big now to fit his whole body all at once on to this particular embroidery hoop. He still squeezes himself into odd little spots, though.
I picked up a copy of "Our Mutual Friend" by Charles Dickens at Half-Price Books. I've seen the BBC movie/miniseries, so the end is already spoiled for me, but I am nonetheless adoring the book. For some reason I've had a hard time getting into some of Dickens' other work (A Tale of Two Cities, A Christmas Carol), but this one has me hooked. The characters are delightful and a bit absurd, and the language is mellifluous and a welcome change from the clunky and insipid prose that so much modern writing is plagued with.
She said, ending her sentence with a preposition.
