Yesterday I picked up the Cluaranach Lace Stole again. I totally love knitting it!
I’m working on the second half and if I keep up the pace, I’ll finish it in the next couple of months. Blocking will be tricky, since I don’t really have a large space, but I’ll deal with that when I need to.
Neither picture really represents the color accurately. It’s a dark purple, very gothic. I hope to wear it this Spring and perhaps bring it to Italy, but I need to figure out what color shirt (besides black) I would wear under it. Any ideas? I don’t know if I’m really the type of person who can pull off a wearing a stole, but I can see myself wrapping this around me on a cool summer evening.
I found this in the bathroom garbage this morning:
That’s about four inches of bang that LouLa was growing out. Grrr!!! I know it’s totally normal for kids to cut their hair. The part that bugs me is that this is one of many recent incidences where she has done something and then hidden it or not told me. She spilled a bottle of my perfume down the sink this week, lies about wiping her bottom, and has done other assorted smaller things. Lying and being sneaky are things I want to nip in the bud.
The good thing is that it’s not noticeable when she has a barrette in, and I could just cut her bangs short again and it wouldn’t look like anything happened. She’s getting her picture taken in a couple of weeks, so I had a small moment of panic.
I did laugh a little to myself when I found it.
ETA: Apparently it’s a “three naughty day”. There was the hair cutting, then a bunch of toilet paper put in the toilet, then a “spill” with nailpolish. It took three tries until LouLa was able to tell me the truth about the nailpolish. First, it just spilled by itself. Then, she just touched the top and it spun around and got loose. Finally, she was able to admit that she twisted the top. Ugh. I’m pretty sure that it didn’t spill on a coin purse of mine as she claimed, but that she experimented with the brush and realized that it wouldn’t wipe off. I decided that I’d pushed enough and I’d be happy with part of the truth. She did come and tell me about it right away (lies included), which is progress.
