About Me

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Five 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!

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Three Mondays

This is a post that I began drafting two weeks ago Monday and left in the computer at work at the end of the day.

And then I was sick for the rest of that work week. Last Monday I was busy all day, opening approximately three tons of mail and pulling a bushel of staples from it, and subsequently entering minor settlements and lawsuits. Tuesday I caught up the scanning and therefore had a little time to write. Not much, but a little.

They were putting up the Christmas decorations in our building week before last. I am of at least two minds about this. On the one hand, I love to see our office building all tarted up for the holidays. On the other hand, it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet!

Traditionally, what has happened is that when we return to work on the Monday after Thanksgiving, the Decoration Fairies have worked their magic. Quitting time on Wednesday night? No decorations. Sickeningly early on Monday morning? Garlands and ribbon cockades on the railings for each floor, and enormous glass globes on the tree, which occupies the center of the atrium on the parking level and peeks about 6 feet above the top of the first floor railing. This is one serious tree we are talking about! And over the next week or so after that, pots of poinsettias appear magically at the doorways to each office suite and between the elevators.

Sitting here at my desk watching the Decoration Fairies emulate worker bees was just a little bubble-bursting. They are supposed to be like Santa’s helpers or the shoemaker’s elves, working their magic while we are sleeping or otherwise absent. [Although it may be argued that on that particular Monday, I was physically present but effectively absent.]

My critic’s eye suggests that whoever did the decorating this year skimped just a skosh on the garland. It doesn’t swoop down as much as I remember in past years. I’m thinking that they pulled one or more sections out of the big loop that circumnavigates the railing.

This dude is new this year. Maybe they bought him with what they saved by ratcheting up the garland around the railings? [Nitpicky? Perhaps. OCD with a side order of BahHumbug? Most definitely! My brain is registering “shallow loops, must fix”, and of course I have absolutely no authority to do so.]

Impertinent question of the week: if “hope is the thing with feathers”, does that mean that if one accumulates sufficient hope one may pluck it and get a boa worthy of Mae West? Does it also imply that hope’s given name is Alouette?

[Je te plumerai…]

OK, that was a couple of weeks ago, and last Monday. This was my day yesterday:

Not much mail; it’s my week to make the early mail run. Traffic was light, and the weather was decent. Out in front of the PO, where they were remodeling a couple of months ago, there are still no parking meters, but the dozen or so steps are now accessible. In the rear, where I prefer to park because there are only three or four steps to navigate, they’re tearing up the sidewalk and the city has hooded the parking meters.

LittleBit commented as we were driving on Sunday, that it’s a bit of a culture shock for her to realize how many of the guys she goes to school with, don’t have a suit and tie. One of her friends was complaining that he had to go out and buy a dress shirt and a tie for some activity. And she was amazed that he didn’t already have them. She has grown up with churchboys who, from the time they are twelve, wear a suit when they bless or pass the Sacrament on Sundays. Even the boys from families who can’t afford a suit, have a pair of dark pants, and a white shirt, and a tie.

Funny, isn’t it, the things that we *don’t* notice because they’re so much a part of our lives and our culture.

Jerry fixed that post I mentioned. Go-go-go! I’ll wait. While you are at it, read a little farther down to where he got tagged by these guys. Last Friday he was #99; this week he is #34. And we can all say that we knew him when. [No applause please, just throw sock yarn!]

I was pleased to see that Blue Garter made the list, as well.

If you’re maybe wondering how to decorate your home for Christmas, check out this bow at Daisy Cottage. I love her soundtrack. It’s the sort of music that I grew up listening to. [Dangling participles and all.]

And now it is Tuesday.

I am really looking forward to this day! Lunch with Lark and LibraryGrandma and Firstborn, and LittleBit’s learner’s permit, and another quick errand. [And on to Clue 4 on the November Mystery Socks. I am turning the first heel, in between paragraphs.]

LittleBit and Fourthborn had fun with her hair last night:

Bright red stripedy stuff! Like she says, “It’s like I caught my hair on fire.”

Almost makes me wish I were 17 again, although Mom, terrific as she was, would never have gone for musical hair colors like the girls and I do or have done. I think there should be an hair color option on the driver’s license for “subject to change without notice”. Same thing on the Churchboy Dating Service. Do these bureaucrats have no imagination?


Tola said...

my DD's hair grows so dang fast, i pretty much let her do whatever she wants with it (except *really* weird stuff). apparently at Thanksgiving she had it henna'd and left the paste on for six hours! i havent seen her yet, because she has been staying with Grandma.

Daisy Cottage said...

"dangling participles"..
hmm - I'll try to watch that! ;-)
Thank you for visiting my blog! I'm so glad you are enjoying the music too.