My sister S and I were always called “The Girls.” We do have a big sister, E; she’s one of us, too, but because S and I were born just thirteen months apart, we were just “The Girls.” We were dressed, while not exactly alike, in matching outfits, usually beautifully made by our mother. In this picture S is wearing the famous Brick Pajamas (not hand made, but worn by at least four of us five kids, until they fell apart). We are giggling here, but we could have just as easily been captured in mid-bicker. We shared a room, played and fought, loved and hated, all the way until we went to college. We grew into an easy comfort with one another, and we still giggle, and never fight. S is the one person I wanted to travel to Italy with.
G is also for grandparents. See that mischievous look on my grandfather’s face? That is how I remember him. And my grandmother’s sweet smile? She loved us so. They were the only grandparents we knew, and they lived in our house always. Lucky, lucky children, yes indeed we were.
I’ve been knitting away on socks and little clapotis-es (?), but with nothing exciting to show. I’m still having a good time practicing Casual Knitting.
My fingers are beginning to twitch a bit, and my eyes are big, because I just got my copy of Morehouse Farm Merino Knits. The pages are filled with wonderful stories and beautiful photographs, and there are enough inspiring patterns to keep me busy for the rest of the year. I love Morehouse yarn, and I love their philosophy, and I love this book. That’s not to say that I’ve abandoned my other latest book love, Mason-Dixon Knitting. I’m just dividing my attention more or less equally!
There really can be too many books, you know. Sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes not — depends on whether or not you have to haul them around the bookstore, I guess.
Not Plain Jane 