Bisy. Backson.

Anyone familiar with the writings of one A. A. Milne regarding the doings of a small boy and his stuffed bear will recognize the quote. Yesterday was a “bisy” day. I had a luncheon date with a dear friend and fellow knitter, KC, at 11:30, at the nearby Rosa’s Cafe and Tortilla Factory. It was Taco Tuesday at that establishment, and I indulged. Nums.

In an (vain) attempt to declutter and reduce my stuff burden, I had gone through my (still) extensive yarn stash and whittled it down from four bins to three.

Ended up with six big brown paper grocery sacks of yarn to donate to the knitting group. KC and I transferred this bonanza from my trunk to hers in the Rosa’s parking lot . . . Thank goodness I have my handy little collapsible cart. This is everything I schlepped out to my car yesterday morning. (The cart accordions front to back so it fits easily in the trunk of my car and comes in right handy for getting multiple sacks of groceries from the car up to my digs.)

I had a whole list of errands to run after lunch, namely all the ones I was going to do last week and blew off, plus a couple more. I had a couple of returns to Amazon — I’ve been trying to find a replacement for my trusty old Ocean internet radio, which has developed Alzheimer’s and can’t remember the WiFi password, but that works just fine on the hot spot on my phone — One of the ones I ordered didn’t have a sleep timer, and the other one wouldn’t turn off the screen display and was very circuitous to operate. While I was on the east side of town, I rumbled down Broadway, which still has its original (and historical!) brick paving, to finish paying off my lawyer for all the “instruments” I had her draw up (will, powers of attorney, etc.).

On my way back to the main drag that would hit my next destination, I stopped off at my friendly neighborhood nail salon and had my fingernails and toenails seen to. (Those grooves on my fingernails are Beau’s lines and are probably from chemotherapy. I do not have them on my toenails, according to the nail salon lady who was giving me a pedicure . . . . )

Then I went way out to the south side of town to return a pair of jeans to Walmart. They were a Miss size, which I am not. While I was on that side of town, I mailed a care package to my BFF at a nearby Post Office. On my way back home, I stopped off at Market Street and finished getting groceries. It was oppressively hot yesterday, and I had grocery shopping at the bottom of the list so I could make it home with ice cream before it became milk soup.

As I was about to get out of the car, a bird fluttered down and around. It was clinging with its little claws to the rubber strip at the bottom of the passenger-side rear window. A fledgling, and a fairly hot one, on such a hot day. Poor little guy.

I’ve been keeping a concerned eye on the wildfires in New Mexico. The people in Ruidoso are being evacuated to Capitan, which is where my cousin and his wife live. Those fires are 0% contained and are very fast moving. People are being told to forget their possessions and evacuate immediately. 20,000 acres have already burned. Again.

Over the weekend, I pulled out several skeins of yarn for a contemplated project. What you don’t see in this picture is my guiding hand on the strand of yarn en route from the swift to the ball winder. Let me just say that when the humidity is 22%, winding 100% wool yarn while standing next to a metal filing cabinet can be a rather shocking experience. Yes, this is snob yarn. Like I need one more WIP. I have seven (!) hats in WIP which I am going to finish if it harelips the governor . . .

The arrowhead plant cutting I rooted and potted is going great guns. Its repotted “parent” is unwadding leaves fit to kill in its ongoing plan for world domination . . .

Alas, #3 Orchid is beginning to wind down its blooming, but #5 Orchid and Mr. Ball (white) are still going strong. The jade plant has grown noticeably and the repotted Christmas cactus has aspirations of turning into a bush. At the rate they’re growing, I may have to thrash through the underbrush to get to my computer . . .

I’m planning to attend the ice cream social that Carillon and my bank are throwing for the residents for Litha tomorrow afternoon. I’ve never been one to turn down ice cream, especially when somebody else is springing for it . . .