Aglets and other discoveries

The slippers are now taking on the shape of my wobbly old feet, also stretching a bit with use.  So I decided to run elastic round the edges to draw the knitted part in and avoid losing them off my feet.

I hadn't much elastic available but I found what turned out to be a stretchy shoelace, which, cut in two, was exactly the length to do this improvement. 

And since each end had a tip, for inserting into shoelace holes, I did it without any needles or threading.

The little bits of white you see, if anything, it's a dark rainy day,  are evidence of this  feat of engineering.  And in the course of this exercise I found that

So now we know. Aglet would be a good name for a tiny dog, too, or a kitten.

I think this musing might qualify as nixen or whatever that Dutch word is for not doing much that's productive. 

And while we're at it, here's another fun and pointless thing 

Just sayin. Do you have any categories to add? 

Happy day, everyone, sometimes an aimless day indoors in the rain is a good thing. 

Birthday celebration continues with Handsome Son coming to cook lunch tomorrow and finally put up my small collection of decorations because I will now permit Christmas to happen chez Boud, the natal day having passed.

As far as we know, that is. When I was born, difficult home birth, attended by a midwife, paperwork was a more casual affair, the mother and baby being more the center of the activity. 

There was nobody taking notes and checking the time of the exact minute of birth. The father usually moseyed down to the Town Hall to register the birth when he got around to it.

In my case, what with six other living siblings and Christmas and my mom not being too well, and the Town Hall shut for the holidays, it was late December when he got there. 

And, knowing him, I will bet dollars to donuts, or pounds to mince pies, that he took his best guess at the date, things having been a bit hectic there.  Anyway that's what got onto the paperwork, so it's what I've observed ever since. 

I fully expect St Peter, when I apply to the pearly gates for admission, to look over his ledger and say, hm, there's a discrepancy here, you'll have to get your earthly papers sorted before we can proceed.  My language will probably determine my ultimate warm, cosy destination.