Pride goeth before a frog

Two or three seemingly disparate issues which I hope to connect, convincingly, sometime before I hit "publish".

My father told me on more than one occasion, "If at first you don't succeed, go back and read the manual." He was perhaps the most naturally competent person I know, or perhaps it was just that I was such a caboose on his timeline that he had figured it all out, or knew where to find the answers, by the time that I needed to ask the questions.

This day, which my computer and my VCR and my wristwatch all say is not even to the midpoint, would have begun far better if I'd stopped to read the manual(s). On a workday, the alarm goes off at 4:00, I start the tub, I write my "take 5" for the preceding day into my planner, I have my devotional while the water cools slightly, I write a few more notes into my planner, I get slicked up and take LittleBit to seminary and either stay there and read or knit, or else come home to finish my preparations. Seminary's over, I drop her and my best friend's daughter at school, and I head to BigD to take on the day.

Today, Sunday, the blessed and occasionally glorious Sabbath, has gone a little differently. I start the tub. I grab my knitting and finish one row and part of another while it fills (we're talking sleeves, the next-to-smallest size, and not much cabling on this row). I get clean, fix my hair, get half-dressed, and sit down to finish the row while LittleBit gets ready for church.

That's when I realize that the simple cabled row is the one where I'm supposed to insert four new stitches on either side of the main cables. Think of it as a sidecar for your Harley. And because I had glanced at the center portion instead of the big picture, no sidecars. OK, it will take less than half an hour to tink back and reknit. I'll just fix it later; on to church.

We arrive, about three minutes late. LittleBit scurries inside. I stroll at a pace more suitable for someone with a recently-healed broken leg [look, Ma, no cane!] and one of my friends greets me with, "Oh, you forgot, too?" I give her the blank look which I have patented through raising 4.9 teenagers. "Daylight Savings Time," she grins.

Oye. I have totally missed the Relief Society lesson, but I'm right on time for Gospel Doctrine. One of my girlfriends beams to see me, "Oh good, you're here. I was afraid that you were still sick." Thankfully, I do not get picked to give the opening prayer, one of the hazards of being late to class, and a particular hazard for me because the Gospel Doctrine teacher is a knitting buddy.

Now, if I had skipped the knitting-while-the-tub-fills and gone straight to my devotional, I would have seen "SPRING FORWARD" printed neatly at the top of today's planner page. And I would have realized that I did not have nearly two hours to prepare for church, but less than an hour. And I wouldn't have had time to mess up a row and a half on LittleBit's hoodie, and my "good morning, Sunshine" when I woke her would have had a bit of White Rabbit to the tone "we're late, we're late, for a very important date, no time to shave or foof our hair, we're late we're late we're late".

I don't understand how I could have forgotten to "spring forward", especially after reading Ms. Knitingale's brilliant rant yesterday: http://floknit.blogspot.com/2007/03/time-in-bloggle.html
I even responded to it, LOL. In 30-some years of churchgoing, I don't believe that this has happened before, though there were a couple of times when I forgot to "fall back". I blame those on the sleep-deprivation that occurs when one produces five children in eleven years. [Hey, everything was my fault when they were younger; time to turn the tables.]

Color me humbled.