I'm trying not to be one of those people who is worried about her age. Really, I am. I don't want to fritter my 30s away stressing about how I'll turn around one day and be in my 40s, or that even sooner, I'll be dating a 40-year old (dear god). I try to forgive my body for not being able to deal with more than 2 drinks at a party, or for hoarding fat cells like it's nobody's business, or for protesting when I try to be as graceful as I once was when I danced regularly. But, for the first time since graduating from college, I've received a donation request - not for my spare change, or an annual donation - but for the money I'll leave when I die. Is there some computer model somewhere that has shot out the statistic that schools better get this request out after X years of graduation because that's when many graduates start dropping dead?? What are they trying to tell me? And when is my first AARP magazine coming?? OK, going back to not thinking about ageing.
In more youthful news, I finished the little trio of stuffies to give to the new baby and his/her siblings. The last to be made was the snail. The original design calls for braiding strips of fabric, which I tried but ended up with something too bulky and with lots of frayed ends that didn't want to cooperate. So I yanked out my knitting machine and some lavender yarn that I picked up at a yard sale (the same one that gave me the loom!) and made a tube that I coiled into the shell. I love the process of making something...the problem-solving when it's not working out, the diving into a new way to accomplish the goal, the worry that all of the energy you are putting in won't yield an acceptable result, and then the satisfaction when it all comes together. Whew. I also made up some cutie-pie (thank you gocco) buddha belly onesies, two of which I think will go to etsy (as soon as I can get some better photos going) and the other to new baby.And one last thing - in chicken news, whenever I open up the netting on the top of their brooder, they automatically fly up to roost on the edge. They've even gotten good at flying from one edge to the next. It's clumsy, but they make it work. They are too, too funny.