My mother, who is wonderful, just left after spending a weekend here helping me paint, redecorate and generally spruce things up. I could write a novel about what makes my mother so great, but I'll keep it simple. We have fun just drinking coffee and watching the Today Show and can make a day out of a trip to Target. She's supportive of my decisions, even if they are slightly hair-brained, because she has faith that things will work out for the best. (Like when I up and quit my job in Connecticut and moved into a hovel in Manhattan with a woman who owned ferrets, just so I could go to grad school, without any clear career path. She simply smiled and said, "Ok, sounds great!")
Well, enough of that mushiness. The main reason that mom's great is that she forgave me for finishing her French Bistro Top from Interweave Crochet nearly two months late. She's shy, so here's a neck down shot. (Please click for a better view -- I'm having serious photo issues today.)
I used seven balls of Coats Opera 5 in ecru and a size D crochet hook, which is teeny teeny tiny. So that's why this took so darn long. It wasn't a complicated pattern once you memorized the stitches, and seaming was actually a breeze.
The only modifications I made were crocheting the sleeves in the round (why wouldn't you?) and only putting the picot edging around the neck. It seemed too precious to put it on the sleeves and bottom hem.
And here was our other big project -- we painted my downstairs half bathroom. (Yeah, I just like pointing out that I have a downstairs half bathroom.) When we looked at this place, the bathroom was painted a baby blue to match the tile, but when we moved in, it was all painted white -- including the tile! It was madness and looked so nasty and barren. So we stripped the white off of the tile using something called "CitruStrip" stripping gel, which is allegedly less toxic than turpentine. Then we painted the walls a color called "old pickup blue." We were up until 12:30 a.m. Sunday, but isn't it cozy?
Yes, another shot of my bathroom is probably excessive. But here it is anyway.
But in typical Carrie fashion, something did go wrong this weekend -- some lunatic broke into my car and stole my radio. Not something I wanted my mom to see, you know? But, mercifully, the jerk somehow jimmied the lock and didn't break a window, and he didn't think to steal all of my insurance and registration documents. I plan to address this more in a later post, but I had an identity theft issue in July, so my main concern was someone else getting my personal information. I just don't understand what would possess someone to break into this
crappy car. Honestly, it's a bucket of bolts. I had been snitty with my insurance agent when she pleaded with me not to move to Brooklyn, the car theft capital of the globe, but looks like I owe Esther an apology!