Last night Che thought it would be more fun to repot a houseplant than to help wrap presents. So he knocked if off the counter, where the pot broke and dirt went everywhere. Trusty helped by picking up a piece of the broken crockery, potting soil still in it, and taking it over by the fireplace.
It was a tricky repotting job, since the trees had to be put back in the same spot and the pot had to be far enough back that Che can't knock it off again.
To give Che credit, the trees were very rootbound, and did need desperately to be repotted. The new pot is narrower, but twice as tall. I think they'll be happy there.
. . . we drove to Pocatello after church and picked up my mom. My sister Robin had brought her that far, shaving a good four hours off our round-trip drive.
Mom has an MRI tomorrow, and then her follow-up appointment with the memory loss clinic on Tuesday. She seemed fine today, except when everyone was going out to get in the car and she said, "Oh, am I going home with you?" Well, it was the whole point of the operation.
. . . I worked on my red Christmas socks in the car.
Sometimes I think they may be for me, because they match my best red shirt. Sometimes I think they might be a present for someone because they would be the best present in the world. But most of the time I just think that Somoko feels so good to knit that I don't care who gets the socks or how well a merino/silk/baby mohair sock will wear (it does have nylon, too). I just hope I have some more of that in my stash.
Every now and again I try using heel stitch on the foot of a sock. Then I remember why not to do it.
It's hard to tell in the picture, but the bottom of the sock is half an inch shorter than the top. This probably doesn't matter if the socks are for me. It might bug some people, so now I will have to decide their fate. Frog and give? Or continue and keep?
Update: Photo from yesterday's concert. I am third from the left with the pointy harp.