On Being Ambivalent

In which we solve the problems of my life, one email at a time. This is the one that started it.

Mom,
I'm reluctant to play match maker, but you mentioned in your gratitudes about meeting a righteous companion, so this is worth a shot. I got an email about some stake business and the guy’s name was right above yours in my inbox. 2BDH saw it and said “it's a sign, I have been getting to know *said guy* and every time I see him I think that I should introduce him to your mom.” I don't know much about the guy, but 2BDH has gotten to know him a little and gets this impression every time they meet. It may not be fate, but if you are interested in hearing what 2BDH knows about him and maybe setting up something, let me know.
Love,
Secondborn

This is the child whom we called The Prophetess when she was little, the one who prayed at 18 months of age, “please send us anudder baby to yub”, and He did, and I yub Middlest and her younger sisters very much. And this is the son-in-law who, after his own conversion, prayed 1BDH into the church. [Not that Firstborn wasn’t, but I think it was that one noble male spirit calling out to another for a little reinforcement here in Estrogen Land, that did it.]

Now I am wary of anyone other than the bishop or my home teacher who claims to have inspiration for me. I understand a lot about priesthood lines of authority, and my own responsibilities. But this is the first son-in-law to join the church and hold the priesthood, so since the father of my children chooses to worship elsewhere, 2BDH is effectively the patriarch of our tribe, even though 1BDH is chronologically older. [I base this logic on how seniority is figured in the Quorum of the Twelve. I could be wrong. If there are any General Authorities who happen to read my blog, please feel free to correct me if I am.]

And as the patriarch of the tribe, he is entitled to some inspiration regarding the rest of the tribe. He can’t go into Firstborn’s house and tell her or 1BDH how to run things. 1BDH presides there. Nor can he come into my home and tell me. In the absence of a righteous spouse, I preside here. But he and 1BDH can counsel together, and he can counsel with me, and I’m perfectly comfortable with that. I love him dearly, and I trust his wisdom and his commonsense.

[End of doctrinal backstory.]

My response:
Sure. He might not turn out to be Brother Right, but he might turn out to be as good a friend as Brother Sushi or Brother Karitas or Brother Stilts. And that is still win/win.

I leave it to y’all to decide how this should be done, and when.

What an interesting message to wake up to in the middle of the night :)

Thanks!

Which led to a couple of other email discussions: one with Sooz, who is LDS and “gets” the doctrinal and cultural framework within which any potential Brother Ravelled will have to operate. And a longer exchange with the friend I will call Athena, because “Ms. Thou Shalt Not Shoot Thyself in the Foot Romantically” takes too long to type.

She said:
My thought for the week: maybe you should quit couching your requests for a male partner-for-life with the statement, ‘sometime, whenever you get around to it.’ Go ahead, be a brave girl, and say, ‘I'm ready RIGHT NOW!’ Maybe your ambivalence is showing through...

I said:
You make an excellent point. However, I don’t know that I *am* ready, or that Brother Right, whoever and wherever he is, is ready.

I cheerfully admit to feeling ambivalent. On the one hand, I believe that we’re meant to go through life two-by-two, like the ark. On the other hand, I’ve been badly married, twice, and have no wish for Bad Marriage #3. [In fairness to FirstHubby, most of the reasons the first marriage was doomed, resulted from my problems; he and I are friends now, praise be.] And on the other, other hand, there doesn’t appear to be anybody local who’s available, who interests me. Or who is interested in me, and non-crazy or not-a-cad.

I’m also cautious because I don’t want God to send me a guy just to shut me up [like the parable of the unjust judge]. The marital equivalent of the Children of Israel whining about manna three times a day for 40 years, and God saying, "You want meat? OK, I’ll send you so much quail that it will come out your noses."

Nope, don’t need a man *that* badly, LOL.

But on the other, other, other hand, there’s a rumor of a cold front coming through tonight, and it would be nice to have an incentive to clear the yarn and books off the fallow side of the bed, and make a little warmth against the night.

She countered:
Okay, it looks like you acknowledge your ambivalent request, so you shouldn’t be surprised that the answer is well, sometime... I’d say you’ll get a man when you can say that you’re ready to have one.

That’s like being married and saying, We’ll have a baby when we can afford one.

On to matters that are somewhat more comprehensible:



This is the better of two middling pictures; the first was sharper, but the color was bleached to pewter. This one is a little blurry, but the color is almost true. What we have here is the better part of 10 cakes or hanks of Berroco Denim Silk [sadly, discontinued] in Coal Mine 1418. I love those teeninetsy little cream flecks.

So, we have 1050 yards of yarn, and probably 1300 yards of me. Which is why I originally chose Elann’s crop cardie [pattern no longer available, but Jo knitted it up, and she *might* still have the pattern]. It had lace, raglan sleeves, and was almost infinitely expandable. I didn’t think the tweed yarn would overwhelm the lace, or vice versa.

But I just couldn’t get excited about the different lace pattern for the sleeves, so I got most of the way to the cuff on one sleeve, using the main lace pattern. And when I reached the point of knitting the sleeves on DP’s, and about every third row one of the DP’s went flying across the room, well I may have uttered a childbirth word or two, and into time out it went.

As you can see, I frogged it yesterday. And I have been thumbing through Knitty and MagKnits to find a new pattern, or at least some inspiration. I think this may be it.

It has lace, but not too much. It’s an interesting shape. Unfortunately, it’s not written for *my* size. So I think I will knit up a swatch or two, to play with gauge. And then I think I will modify it to something more kimono-esque and with shorter sleeves and we will just see how it goes.

This could easily be called Alzheimers Yarn, virtually no memory. I wound it straight from the sweater into cakes.

And since I have a follow-up appointment with my sleep specialist, there will be plenty of knitting opportunities this morning.

Much progress on Sabbath Scarf II at Knit Night last night, for the hour that I was there. Firstborn had called me at work and invited me to bring my laundry and my appetite. Dinner was set for 8:10, after everyone was home from work and practice. So I dashed home and picked up the laundry bag and supplies, and I put the first load in and headed to the bookstore. Knit for an hour and got to visit with my friends, and then enjoyed a nice big bowl of red with Firstborn’s family and LittleBit and her BF.

I think I’m going to have to wind up the second ball of Gloss before I go to the doctor’s office this morning. And yes, I’m taking a ball of the Denim Silk and some bigger needles for swatching.

Knitting is logical and somewhat predictable. Men? Not so much, though the entertainment value can certainly be higher. Not holding my breath on this new possibility, but am willing to just wait and see what – if anything – comes of 2BDH’s inspiration.