The other day, the Goober wanted to help with my spinning. So I put her up on my lap and let her hang on to the wool as I drafted and treadled.
We didn't screw it up too badly, and I left it on the bobbin after she got down and ran off. This way, when I encounter lumps in my yarn, I'll think it was from her and smile (even though it's far more likely it's a random screwup, and all mine).
Last night, the Goober helped her father torque down something or other on the engine he's building. (Headers? I think the headers. Won't stake my life on it, though.) Then she came inside and told me all about it.
After that she flopped out in my office to figure out how my office chair works. I shot this so you could see both the dirty feet from the garage (shouldn't she be wearing steel-toed boots?) and also the boofed out hair from yesterday's blow-drying session.
And, lastly, I'm not sure I blogged about this before, so here you go. When the in-laws stopped through on their way north from Florida, they of course had their cat with them, and the Goober decided the cage was a play house.
We did not shut the door on her. I for one was very, very tempted.
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To add some news of the husbeast, here we go, from the "One man's fun is another man's nightmare" category.
For several days, maybe a week, he's been trying to remove a screw-in plug from the engine block. He's been working on cars a long time, and tried everything he could think of, working from one solution to the next. He bitched, but I know he was having a good time. (Sort of like me knitting lace.)
The other day, he finally won the battle, and the old plug was removed.
It had been in there decades, and put up a good fight, but nothing's safe in the face of the husbeast's determination. Except maybe the Goob.
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Since everyone seems to be enjoying the history and archeology posts, I think from now on I'm going to start blogging on whatever I'm reading, if I've got nothing else. Right now, in addition to "30,000 Years of Art", I'm reading "Ancient Inventions" before bed, so there's some interesting overlap between the two and a whole lot of information to spew.
I may also pick out some favorite bits of art and explain why I like them.
You've been warned.
Now I'm off like a prom dress, to do some spinning while the Goober's pretending to nap. Later, I'm starting the Roulette sock. Whee!
8 comments:
My mom left in the stitches the 4 yr. old me did in the border of a quilt for my twin brothers. I remember looking at them for years as the quilt aged and feeling proud. Tell the Goob when you knit "her" yarn, she'll love it. You go, Husbeast, no stinking bolt will get in your way. Nice torqueing.
Aw, thanks for the sweet glimpse of your family life!
By the bye, Goober has a formal name, I assume? I've been wondering. (Granddaughter #1 over here is "sweet potato" to me, but "Sophia" in real life.)
I'll try not to go "Look, anti-gravity!" with everything. Sometimes my typing fingers run away with me. (mental image of scampering fingers)
Oh God, the Goober in the cat carrier! Is that a Christmas card or what?
i think we laugh louder at some of the goober posts than the Sekhmet you Fucker posts lately!
Just seeing her in that small space gives me the willies (claustrophobic? me? you betcha). I loved when the girls were little and wanted to help. I let them do whatever their little hands could handle and it made them so happy. Now, they are showing me how to do things when they've figured out something I am puzzling over.
Lovely--both the spinning and the dirty, happy feet!
My husband's hobby is restoring British sports cars and he has now expanded it to restoring Land Rovers (Rover Group bought Triumph, you see.) and after all those pre-marriage dates of "push down on the brake, now pump it" while he was under the car and I was in it, I see knitting as a perfectly normal, simple kind of hobby. Very little penetrating oil or impact wrenches involved at all.
Bummer about the stash.
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