Hippo Doggie needs a friend

and she's getting one, before too much longer. For moral support through her surgery. As soon as I survive the next 10 days.

I've actually been working on it (him? her? her.) for the last couple weeks, in front of evening TV or here and there at the many swim practices that now fill my life outside of work. "What are you making?" people ask, eying this long, dark blue highly irregular scarf-looking thing. "Ummm ... yeah." A creature? A little guy. Girl, I mean. Guy. I don't know. Yep, color me a process knitter. I love this old saying from grad school, on teaching composition, where a little girl says, "How can I know what I mean until I see what I say?" Always loved that. So true. How can I know what I knit until I see what I ... knit? Doesn't have the same ring, somehow, but hey.

We just had our first swim meet of the summer, and my little one swam his first two races. In backstroke, his bangs remained dry until 3 or 4 feet before the finish. He was the second-fastest 5-year-old, and that's without even having used his arms. I couldn't be prouder! Or more exhausted. G'night.

Checking In

I don't really have anything to say. But I'm grateful to have a place to not say it in.

I have an acquaintance who's really, really hurt, and far from home. In my niece's high school, where my husband teaches English, two families have lost children -- one of those children apparently responsible for the loss of the other.

I am about to drown in my work, and I've got a mysterious health thing that's probably fine but still worrisome.

But all of this shall pass. Plenty of nourishment out there. Thanks to all from whom I draw.