About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Yesterday was brutal, and weird from caffeine. Today was lots better.

After The Forgotten Carols on Monday night, I got home late and couldn't settle down. My legs were restless, on the cusp of breaking into hives. I have no idea why. And my appetite kept spiking. I went to bed at 11:30 and woke twice before 2:00. So I managed to get something like three hours of sleep. I had to resort to spiking my orange juice with Coke in order to stay awake until lunchtime.

Thankfully, I made it home safely and was able to get Fourthborn home to her place and me back here again in safety. I was in bed at 10:30 and slept soundly through the night.

The music on the classical station was delightful today, what I heard of it. Shortly after I awoke there was an arrangement of "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" in the style of Bach or Handel. Not ruffly enough to be Vivaldi. And on the drive home tonight there was a version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" recorded by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir when Gerald Ottley was the director, with each verse in a different style, from Wagner to Tchaikovsky to Handel. It was hilarious. Here. Don't just take my word for it.

Wasn't that a great twelve minutes of your time?

Sunday, December 10, 2017


We had our doll Christmas party yesterday, and it was lovely and fun. Fourthborn made a diorama in American Girl scale from cardboard, paper, bamboo barbeque skewers, paint, hot glue, felt, and found materials. It is amazing.

I rose early and did the grocery shopping, primarily for what we would be taking to the ward party later in the day. A dozen cans of cranberry sauce (half of which are back on my shelf), six dozen dinner rolls, a Costco pumpkin pie, and another can of spray whipped cream. Getting those ingredients to the meetinghouse was a comedy of errors.

I hopped in the Tardis with the pie and the rolls, drove around the block, dropped that off, then remembered that I'd forgotten to grab the cream. Back home, back to the church, park in the no-parking zone by the kitchen door with my flashers on, drop off the cream, go home. Pull into the driveway, straighten the seat belt before closing the door, and discover the three bags of cranberry sauce in the rear footwell. Back to the church, parking in the fire lane again, without flashers this time. Come out to the Tardis. Won't start. Nothing. Not even clicking. Go back in the church, get a missionary and a high priest, who push the Tardis into a proper parking spot. Attempt to lock the truck. Nothing. Walk home.

Let the kids know that we will be walking to church and that I will attempt to get us a ride home. Call the mechanic. He says he doesn't know if the wrecker service is operating any more that day, but he will call. Call from Wrecker Dude. We agree that he will come pick up the Tardis this afternoon.

I've run out of time for a proper shower, so I rearrange my bun, wipe down any potentially stinky bits, and exchange my jeans for a skirt. We walk to church, taking a slight detour down the alley behind the house, where we discover that the number sign has fallen off the back fence and two of the numbers have fallen off of the sign. Middlest makes a note to deal with that in the next day or two. We make a course correction and arrive at church shortly after the opening prayer.

While there, I get into the library and make two sticky notes for the side windows of the Tardis so that nobody in the other ward will have a hissy fit to find my truck parked there overnight. I let my bishop know what's up. I arrange a ride home for us and a ride to church for me today. Also a ride tomorrow night to see The Forgotten Carols.

Still on my list: call a coworker who lives about a mile away to ask for a ride to work tomorrow. She normally rides the train in, but tomorrow she's guaranteed a parking spot (mine) if she drives in.

I'm hoping that the mechanical problem is a one-day fix and that it will cost less than the remaining wiggle room in my line of credit. If so, then this little speed bump is only an adventure. As my doctor remarked to me a couple of weeks ago, if something can be fixed with money, it's not really a problem. My tithes and offerings are current, so the Lord is free to bless me however and whenever He chooses.

I miss the days when I had two working vehicles. The Tardis is a 2003 and has been well maintained. Nevertheless, a second vehicle is now one or two notches higher on my honey-do list. I'm feeling peaceful about this situation and curious about how it will play out, but I can honestly say that I'm not worried. I'm just a little footsore and achy this morning.

Thursday, December 07, 2017

Another in a string of good days.

I got so much accomplished at work today, largely because SemperFi and TheKid were busy elsewhere. Here at home, the first load is almost ready to come out of the dryer. I think I will wait until tomorrow morning to wash the third load, because I'm almost ready to go to bed.

Dinner tonight was party tacos.

Middlest came out to warn me that a tsunami of a migraine is on the horizon. So if you would spare a prayer for my kid, I'd very much appreciate it.

Tomorrow we have mandatory fun at the office (the last couple of times have been actual fun as well) and then whatever work I can squeeze into the rest of the morning and afternoon, after which I will pick up Fourthborn for Saturday. And I need to do some grocery shopping for our party and the ward party and a food donation at the stake musical event on Sunday.

I'm sleepy, so this is all you're getting tonight. My goal is to stay awake long enough to savor my Book of Mormon reading and not just read for the sake of being obedient. So, no more words from Ms. Ravelled tonight.

Tuesday, December 05, 2017

And ... it's Tuesday?

On my way home last night, I stopped at the fabric store and picked up some sports-themed fleece to make a blanket as my "big" gift for the coworker whose Secret Santa I am. I looked all over the internet at the official websites and was less than thrilled with the variety and prices of items that were available. So I did what I (usually) do best: I made something. I hope she has as much fun with the finished item as I did while creating it.

I remembered on the drive home tonight that I hadn't done my usual end of month balance sheet entries, but that's done now. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do next, but I think the best thing would be to grab my Bible and read today's section of Luke, then bang out notes to the sisters I visit teach so I can get the envelopes in tomorrow's mail while the handouts would still be useful. We are having our ward Christmas party on Saturday.

I'm missing Knit Night tonight, but I'm not missing the traffic around the two malls we'd pass between Fourthborn's and the Panera where we meet. I'm also missing a nice balanced meal at Panera, and my kid, not necessarily in that order.

Knitting is semi-stalled at the moment. I'm strangely fine with that. Or maybe just finely strange.

Am waiting to hear back from an online vendor who shall currently remain nameless. I wore my new item of clothing to work yesterday, and the abrasion of my shoulder belt while driving to work roughed up the fabric slightly and rubbed off some of the print. I had faint little diagonal racing stripes from my left shoulder over my right boob heading down to my waist. I sent them two pictures. There were more little lines after the drive home. We are not amused.

I figure that I'll give them a week or so to get back to me, as busy as they're likely to be during the holidays, and if I don't hear back I'll post a query on their Facebook page.

I need to go do something useful, even if it's just folding laundry. Later, gators.

Saturday, December 02, 2017

Stuff got done. Sortof.

Woke up a few minutes before I needed to be at church to help clean the chapel. Threw on clothes, ate a few bites of cottage cheese, grabbed a quarter of a muffin, and went.

Came home, added the border strips to finish the quilt blocks, and created a new budget-ish spreadsheet, since my other one is locked up on the big computer.

I'm getting used to typing on this laptop. It helps that there is a full-size keyboard and not one of those bitty keyboard-esque nightmares. Middlest has rigged up a mouse and my backup drive, so I can access most of my documents if not all. The laptop has Open Office rather than Microsoft, and everything I'm copying from the backup drive is now a pseudo-document saved on my desktop until 2BDH and I can get the big computer talking to the monitors again. I need to remember to ask him for help, but I keep getting distracted.

We met the other kids at the quilt shop this afternoon, picked up our new blocks, hugged all around, and came home. I took a long nap, waking just before I should take my evening meds, which was an hour and a half ago. Have I taken them? Nope. But I've eaten a PBJ because I couldn't figure out where Middlest had put the skillet during the prednisone-fueled kitchen purge. And I've played too many computer games.

I'm going to read my scriptures and go back to bed. I didn't get much accomplished today, but at least I wasn't sick, so I'm going to be grateful for that and call it a day.

Friday, December 01, 2017

Lincolnshire Posy

What I heard was "Lincoln sherpozie" which of course made me wonder what a sherpozie is, and why Lincoln had one. And then I thought of "Shipoopi" from The Music Man. And, belatedly, shar peis. I don't think Lincoln would have had a shar pei, either. (I have more fun with misheard words and lyrics than anybody has a right to, and I'm fine with that.)

Today is Day One of #lighttheworld. I have been hash-tagging all over Facebook today, and Tan's post reminded me of a widow's-mite opportunity to consider.

If you want to see what others are doing, here's another link. I loved the picture of somebody giving blood, and I wish I could do that, but Hepatitis 1979 put paid to that.

I took my folk art tree to work and put it in TheKid's office. I have one huge tree and a smaller one, plus some miniatures that will (eventually) get redecorated. And I've reclaimed another square foot of floor space in my studio.

I also took a bag of stuff with which to festoon my cubicle. Three framed cross stitch pieces, the ceramic disk I gave Beloved that first Christmas which proclaims "I'll get my elves right on that", the N-O-E-L that I made three(?) years ago to go on the shelf above the queen chair in the living room.

Middlest has pulled a small tabletop tree out of a bin that came from Virginia which is the perfect size for MSDs and American Girl dolls.

I am full of random thoughts tonight. And water, lots of water. And a little mashed potatoes. I'm waiting for my phone to finish charging so that I may finish assembling the quilt squares for tomorrow.

It was a really good day at work. My desk is momentarily under control. That is such an amazing feeling, especially since I've been staying one step ahead of the-sky-is-falling since I had that respiratory ick last month.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

No, I didn't die. But I probably could have.

Thanksgiving morning I mixed up the usual batch of black beans, corn, chili, and Ro-Tel, because I was hungry and knew I needed to eat something wholesome and filling before we got to the kids' for Thanksgiving dinner.

Dinner was great. And nobody went home crying, always a plus.

About two hours after we were home, my gut started screaming. I woke out of a sound sleep with that uh-oh feeling, made it to the loo just in time, and as I sat there was hit with a cold wave down my spine, with just enough time to lift up my T-shirt to catch the debris. I would much rather clean up barf than diarrhea. It was an easy decision to make, although strictly speaking it was more instinct than decision.

For the next twelve hours or so I alternated between catnaps and the loo. I looked at my hands at one point, and to my astonishment they were not dehydrated. And both ankles were nearly slim. For years I've used the phrase "throwing up all the way up from my toes" but this was the first time it was literal as well as metaphorical. I remember wondering, where is this pee coming from, because I haven't done more than rinse my mouth out in hours?

Middlest wasn't sick. Fourthborn, trying to sleep out in the living room, wasn't sick. So it had to be my jollop. Sure enough, when I was well enough to step away from the loo for more than fifteen minutes, I wandered out to the kitchen and inspected the cans of Ro-Tel. Most of them appeared to be fine, but two or three of them had lids that were almost imperceptibly rounded.

It's a good thing that Ro-Tel is acidic, because it probably saved me from botulism.

I also killed the garbage disposal. Apparently it doesn't like Ro-Tel any more than my body did. I called the plumber on Saturday afternoon and made an appointment for Monday morning after Middlest's doctor appointment. Several hundred dollars later, we have a gloriously beautiful new disposal and a bit of updated plumbing.

When I got to work on Monday, I discovered that I'd forgotten to ask for the time off, and nobody knew where I was. And I had a trial notebook for TheKid which didn't get finished until an hour and a half after my normal quitting time. There will be a discussion with the office manager once she returns to the office; she's been out at least two days with a killer migraine.

Tuesday I was off (and everybody knew it) for my quarterly diabetes blood work. My doctor was pleased that I'd lost some weight since last time, and we both laughed because I probably lost it the hard way over Thanksgiving weekend.

I am typing this from Beloved's laptop, which I am learning to use because my big beautiful computer has a tummyache of its own. I need to get in touch with 2BDH and see if he can figure out what's wrong with it. The fan is starting to make a racket, and the CPU is no longer talking to the monitors. Middlest has rigged my backup memory and a mouse to the laptop, and I'm slowly learning to navigate. Thankfully this thing has a full-size keyboard.

OK, I'm done for now. I really need to get to bed before midnight, and I don't remember what I ate for dinner, but something, and I need to take my meds, and I want to play at least one game on the AARP website now that Microsoft has updated on this critter and Firefox isn't crashing every time I look longingly at Mahjonng.

Oh, and it's my Saturday to help clean the chapel, but this time I have a bright pink sticky note on my bathroom mirror to remind me.