House of Blues

Mother Nature can be quite a tease. Just last week it was sunny and warm, and summer was just around the corner. Today it's rainy and cool, and the weatherman says we might even get some frost tonight. The treehouse is feeling a little like the House of Blues.

I started a new gardening angel, but was disappointed with how she was turning out, so I've been frogging, I mean disassembling. How's that for a 13-letter Jeopardy word?

Here's an angel I made a couple of years ago that I was very happy with. Note the hand-crocheted collar. My grandma Ferna would be pleased to know I've mastered the tiny little crochet hook.

Here are the hands and feet for the one I'm working on now. They're made from tea-dyed muslin, and the shoes have been painted with a base coat of gesso and will be painted a color to coordinate with the outfit. Probably not basic black.

In other news, I'm making progress on the red v-neck cardigan (aka the red pest--for the gauge aggravation it caused me).

Oh, and I did get out for that driving lesson with Mr. Gadget. I'm happy to report that I didn't drop the clutch, kill the engine, or crash into anything. In fact, in my humble opinion, I do believe I drove his fancy sports car better than he does. Did I mention the neck brace I've had to wear occasionally after a ride across town with him?

I do have experience driving a car with a manual transmission, but it was many years ago and it was a four-speed, not a six. Back when I was single, I drove one of these:

Mr. Gadget is quite fond of telling the story of how, when we were dating, we would occasionally end up side by side, waiting for a red light, at an intersection we both passed through on our drives home from work. Sometimes he would invite me to his apartment for dinner as we sat there in the road waiting for the light to change. He likes to remind me about how I would often ask him what he planned to serve before I accepted his invitation, which, of course, I don't remember.

Little did I know then how he would eventually find a way to get back at me. He asked me to marry him, and then for the next 27 years, every afternoon about 3 o'clock he has asked, "What's for dinner?"