Nine months of knitting is not unraveled and re-wound into balls of yarn in an hour – let me assure you. The process goes even slower when my four year old granddaughter helps me – and she just loves to help. I go at it for a while and then I just have to do something else or go bonkers.
The process of buying a house is decidedly more complicated now than it was back in the day. There are many more safeguards (also known as complications) built into the system, such as radon notifications and vast contracts full of small print no one wants to read. This is one of those times that it would be handy to be a witch. If I could only wiggle my nose and have it done, the right paint colors on the walls and the furniture all moved. How nice would that be?
One of the things my mind is struggling with (besides the question of why I am torturing myself) is where are all of my paintings going to hang? Once I am in the house, that will become a fun quandary, but for now it is simply a form of mild torture. Furniture is much easier to mentally place here and there.
My granddaughter and I spent a half day at the local Discovery Museum. They have done a super job of mixing innovation, imagination, and the local area history of each subject area. The music lab is awesome but our joint favorite was the construction zone. I think my little helper should become an architect. It could just be me – but I saw a good blend of art and practicality in her project. Yeah – it’s probably just me – but then – that’s what grandmas are for.