White carnations

Plaidman will wear a white flower in his lapel next Mother's Day.  His mom, our own dear Betty, passed away the Sunday before last.  Plaidman & I embarked on a brutal 9.5 hour drive up to her home -- we had to drive straight thru, instead of our usual stop halfway, as we didn't have the means to let a motel room.  We packed a cooler, and ate from it for the day.  There was major construction almost every 20 miles all along the way.  The next day was the funeral & interment.  We visited with relatives we hadn't seen since Plaidman's dad passed, 10 years ago.  There was a pretty good turnout, more than his baby sister had thought would show up.  Of course, neither of us remembered to bring the camera.  I've got cell phone pictures, which are surprisingly decent photos.  A lot of the family went to the Golden Corral(!My first time in one!) for a luncheon after, and we had to spend a little of our puny bank balance -- but how often do we get to spend time with these folks?  Then it was back to Mom's the sisters' house for a while, then we went over to the Brother of Plaid's home & spent the night, before leaving for another 9.5 hour drive home (with the repacked cooler, no overnight stop).  Whew!  I was about wiped out Friday.  But I did a good bit of work on the EWW during the drive, finishing the last repeat of the cable pattern.  Slowly but surely I will make this wrap!  Only now I'm distracted by, of all things, cotton washcloths.  And I'm about to start Wendy's Summer Solstice KAL -- I have the Cascade Heritage Sock yarn in my stash, and spent $2 for the pattern.  Not sure if I'll like the finished shawl, but hey -- it could be a gift-knit.

I've commented on Fleegle's blog re: the student spindle.  Maybe she'll come into town again on 6/18/12 for Ann Shayne's book launch party!  Oh, it's not a knitting book -- Ann's written a novel!  Go on Amazon & you can take a peek.  I would like to go -- I wonder if I can get there from work, without too much hassle?  Nashville traffic being what it is, which is generally insane: half the folks on the road appear to have found their licenses in Cracker Jack boxes.