Well, the pattern is modified and the slippers are knitted and on my little tootsies. The math involved makes my brain hurt, even when I’ve got a calculator. My three remaining working brain cells are knackered, and I’m ready for a little mindless TV knitting.
They worked up nicely, but you have to sew up the sole and the back of the heel portion . . . grumble . . . grumble. I strenuously avoid knitting patterns you make in pieces and then have to sew together. If I wanted to sew, I’d get out my sewing machine.
Yesterday was Veterans’ day, and I just couldn’t. The picture of my dad in his dress Marine uniform at the start of WWII, the exact one (which is still in the exact frame) that his father had at his bedside while he was dying of cancer and hoping his 3rd son would make it home from China in time to say one last goodbye is just too fraught with memories.
My mom is an anniversary marker — she knows the birthdays and the date of death of each of her 12 siblings, her mother, my dad, and my brother’s late first wife, and she never fails to remark on each event and how many years it has been since. And she put that picture of my dad up on her Facebook page for Veterans’ Day. That’s all well and good, but, we shouldn’t just remember veterans on Veterans’ Day; we should remember them every day. They don’t just protect and defend us on Veterans’ Day. They risked and continue to risk life and limb in our service every minute of every day.
And besides, my dad’s not the only veteran in the family. Both he and my mother had brothers in the armed services during WWII, and they had a child who proudly served as well.