Tuesday, August 26, 2008


That's the way
pneumonia started last time. Still, I'm not sure
that's what's going on now. I think it's just
my lung disease on a smoggy day. I sit here in a
wicker chair and think about making chairs by hand. Doesn't it
hurt your hands? I suppose you must
get calluses where the wear takes place. I have made
wicker baskets although I do not
remember any more how it felt, nor do I know
what happened to the baskets. When is a
skill not a skill? When you lose it. I no longer
want the skill of making wicker baskets but I would like to have
some yarn and a pair of
knitting needles; I would knit squares for a coverlet for
Babykins, the granddaughter soon to appear on the scene. Maybe
by the time she is two or three I could
knit her a sweater. Not a snow suit as my mom did for
my oldest two; that was when we lived in the
snow but we
don't now, nor
will we, and wool
is so scratchy too, but a
patchwork blanket. I would like that. I don't know if
Babykins would or not but maybe I could edge it with wide
satin ribbon. The sad thing though is that
the more I think about knitting the more my
arthritic fingers hurt. If just thinking about it hurts them,
it would take a lot of Tylenol to get a blanket knit.

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