New follower, good morning!
We have a friend staying – I forgot to warn you that posts would be scanty or late or non-existent. Next week my sister and her husband are coming and the situation will continue. I doubt if I'll be here tomorrow.
Knitlass, Alexander and his family are coming over for the match tomorrow – it will be his 51st birthday. One never imagines, when starting out in life, that one will one day have a son of 51. Rachel has already passed that milestone, but somehow it seems more definitive this time.
They hope to call in here. I have got them some of Mr Crombie’s Six Nations sausages, which he sells every year around this time: pork from Scotland, leeks from Wales, Guinness from Ireland, herbs from England, onions from France, tomatoes from Italy. They’re not the best of his sausages. It’s the thought that counts.
Gretchen, yes, it was Barbara Venishnick’s name I was groping for. Bless you. I tried Googling again, knowing her name, and couldn’t find an item with “knitting designer sudden death” in it, so no wonder Google couldn’t help when I didn’t know the name.
A propos the question of attitudes shifting slowly with the decades (yesterday’s post, with comments): we watched “Some Like It Hot” the other evening, funny as ever. But I was struck with the fact that part of the running joke which inspires the final scene rests on the unquestioned assumption that marriage can only be contracted between a man and a woman. Whatever one’s point of view on the issue, that can’t be taken for granted any more.
I was very interested in your absolutely self-authenticating memory, Anonymous, of white and “colored” drinking fountains in Detroit. I don’t remember overt segregation like that there, just in Dallas. You’re right about the word, too: “colored”, of course. I remembered that “black” didn’t come in until later, but “Negro” didn’t sound quite right when I wrote it yesterday. There was a whole separate “colored” waiting room in the Dallas railway station.
I got on fine with RtB last night. Garter stitch is not only ideal for exhaustion, it’s also pretty good for knitting while catching up with an old friend