me, Mavis

I knit. I garden. I co-manage an eclectic shop. I sometimes work in real estate. I sometimes swing a hammer. I always volunteer in my community. I live in an old house with my nice family of one husband and three beastly cats. I have great friends. These are the things that matter to me, Mavis.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Having a Pink Christmas

Christmas Decorating started yesterday here at Chez Schavis, as least for one of the humans. While I played Dutiful Daughter and took my Mom to a doctor's appointment, DH set up our Very Tall Tree and it was ablaze and beautiful when I returned. We hope to dig out all the rest of the paraphenalia today.

We learned over the weekend that my sweet Texas brother, Joe, will be joining us for Christmas! He is arriving late in the evening, Dec. 23, and will stay until New Year's Eve. Joe's 3 boys will all be travelling to Florida to visit their Grandmother, who is in quite poor health, so we get to enjoy our Joe - YEA!

My "Boys" seem to feel the excitement of the season too as they join forces to attack the wacky newspaper tie thingy (being operated here by DH):

We have paper delivery only on Sunday, and nearly every Sunday, our carrier, Mr. Green* includes in our bag the bundle tie. I don't know whether he stuffs it in on purpose, or because it's a way to get rid of it, but nevertheless, we usually put it to good Feline use.

(*Mr. Green is a homegrown native and probably not much older than me. Nevertheless, he introduced himself as "Mr." and signs his annual subscriber notes as "Mr" so who am I to disagree with that? I'm considering a new program to introduce myself as "Countess", seeing as I spend most of my time in The Palace.)

In knitting news, I finished the twisted rib edging of the Aran, but then turned to the New Secret Aussie Project. Here's what I did:


Ahhh, .... pink ..... Later I'll tell you what it's all about.

'Bella has been in and out, yakking away, while I write this post. Here's what I see when I look down from my desk.

(The Pringles toy soldier tin holds my knitting needles).

Doesn't my girl have some serious whiskers? She walks back and forth, from one side of the chair to the other, "merow, merow," pausing occasionally to reach up a delicate paw and insert one needle-like claw into my thigh, which immediately pulls my hand from the keyboard for a head-scratch.

(Note to self: CLAW TRIMMING IS OVERDUE!)

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