171 pounds. I cheat abominably on weekends, and I haven't been walking enough. I got some new exercise pants this weekend, and some looser lightweight T-shirts. My walking pants wouldn't stay up because I bought them in Large so they wouldn't be like sausage skins on my thighs and backside, but then the waist was much too big. I got another pair that have a drawstring.
Ironically, Mom saw me in a tank top and the old exercise pants and immediately asked if I'd lost weight. I said, "no" since three pounds isn't going to show, anyway. She said it must be that she wasn't used to seeing me in anything but my old bulky black skirt, and that I looked nice. Ha ha. I was wearing my sweaty dog-walking clothes.
I'm still working on American Weekly 3740. The neckline gave me Hell but now that I've cooled off and looked at it again, it's not that bad. I'm skeptical about how well the left-side facing is going to work. It's a straight piece, which is supposed to line up with the curved right facing. I'm not seeing the logic in that yet but maybe it will work all right once the thing is on an actual three-dimensional body.
The sleeves, it turns out, are a little complex in that they have actual darts in the caps, which means that the darts have to be sewn just right or the sleeves won't fit into the armscyes, and there can't be any improvised gathering to make them work. I foresee much hand-basting and refitting in my future. So . . . wish me luck.
Mom and I spent Saturday running errands like fiends, and then spent Sunday dozing, knitting a little, and finally going out for Thai chicken curry (the #15 chicken curry at Nit Noi is addictive. I'm not kidding). I made harira from that 1 Stock, 100 Soups, which I got on sale at Half-Price books a week or so ago. It's good, but if I make it again, I might leave out the rice and add more chickpeas. I might leave out the lamb, too, which ended up overcooked. I'll probably season it more, too; I think of North African food as spicier than that. I should cross-check with some other harira recipes.
That, and we watched a lot of "Foyle's War". I love "Foyle's War." Mom bought the DVD's a couple of weeks ago and we've been watching them in order. We love Foyle and Sam, and I'm getting to like Milner even though I think he's odd-looking. Whoever writes it clearly doesn't care much for Americans, although it's amusing to hear British actors do bad American accents and occasionally use British phrases by mistake; I don't know why they don't just borrow a couple of American actors.
It's also what Amber Jean called "vintage-everything porn": British cars (Sam drives a 1930's Wolseley); World War II aircraft; dresses; music; hair.
Ironically, Mom saw me in a tank top and the old exercise pants and immediately asked if I'd lost weight. I said, "no" since three pounds isn't going to show, anyway. She said it must be that she wasn't used to seeing me in anything but my old bulky black skirt, and that I looked nice. Ha ha. I was wearing my sweaty dog-walking clothes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm still working on American Weekly 3740. The neckline gave me Hell but now that I've cooled off and looked at it again, it's not that bad. I'm skeptical about how well the left-side facing is going to work. It's a straight piece, which is supposed to line up with the curved right facing. I'm not seeing the logic in that yet but maybe it will work all right once the thing is on an actual three-dimensional body.
The sleeves, it turns out, are a little complex in that they have actual darts in the caps, which means that the darts have to be sewn just right or the sleeves won't fit into the armscyes, and there can't be any improvised gathering to make them work. I foresee much hand-basting and refitting in my future. So . . . wish me luck.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Mom and I spent Saturday running errands like fiends, and then spent Sunday dozing, knitting a little, and finally going out for Thai chicken curry (the #15 chicken curry at Nit Noi is addictive. I'm not kidding). I made harira from that 1 Stock, 100 Soups, which I got on sale at Half-Price books a week or so ago. It's good, but if I make it again, I might leave out the rice and add more chickpeas. I might leave out the lamb, too, which ended up overcooked. I'll probably season it more, too; I think of North African food as spicier than that. I should cross-check with some other harira recipes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
That, and we watched a lot of "Foyle's War". I love "Foyle's War." Mom bought the DVD's a couple of weeks ago and we've been watching them in order. We love Foyle and Sam, and I'm getting to like Milner even though I think he's odd-looking. Whoever writes it clearly doesn't care much for Americans, although it's amusing to hear British actors do bad American accents and occasionally use British phrases by mistake; I don't know why they don't just borrow a couple of American actors.
It's also what Amber Jean called "vintage-everything porn": British cars (Sam drives a 1930's Wolseley); World War II aircraft; dresses; music; hair.
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