I think I mentioned discovering my Sock Wars assassin, Crumpet, over on Wardrobe Refashioning. I subscribed to her blog via Bloglines and recently spent half an hour reading old posts. This is hilarious! Go play the video.
Work yesterday was amazing. In a good way. Actually, the whole day just kept getting better and better. I was sitting at my desk right after lunch, when a well-dressed gentleman walked into the office. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t think from where, so I just went into Jennifer-from-WKRP mode, “Good afternoon [big smile], how may I help you?”
He smiled back and said, “Hi, I’m [Brother Nice #1] from [the dinner group]. Happy Valentine’s Day!” and handed me a gift bag.
Awwww! And then he asked me to open it. Chocolate, of course, and a card, and oh, this is where the picture is worth a thousand words, right?
Now obviously, he doesn’t know me, because I am the queen of delayed gratification. It was with much grumbling that I agreed, when the girls were little, to let them open *one* package on Christmas Eve. I like to wait until whatever Big Day we are celebrating. That’s the way I was raised, which of course means that it’s Right. Right?
[OK, yes, I ate a chocolate.] So, Valentine’s Day started three days early this year.
I called Brother Sushi on my drive over to the Natatorium after work. I told him that I need to do something about what we laughingly call my testosterone maintenance program, because obviously the monthly dinner and chaste hug are insufficient immunization against half an hour of blushing after a five-minute visit with a man whom I think I would enjoy as another JustFriend, and whose eye I would not spit in if he should ask me on a real date, sometime between now and the Second Coming. I need more JustFriends who are local, and more chaste hugs.
I grinned all afternoon.
This is the finished book cover for my giftee. [Thank you, Secondborn, for the beads and the lovely, if brief, conversation last night, and for that bit of good news.] I will drop the package off at the 24/7 Post Office on my way into work this morning.
And this is LittleBit’s second sock. I made myself stay awake until I worked one round in the larger needles.
The good news that I just referred to, is something that Secondborn has been meaning to tell me for about a month. She just got distracted by little things like teething children, and the flu, and ear infections, and Humidifier Wars with her beloved.
You will recall that the first Sunday on which LittleBit was able to drive herself to work after church, I high-tailed it over to Secondborn’s ward to meet the guy that 2BDH kept having the impression that I should meet. So, we met, and it was pleasant, and I heard nothing, and I figured that was the end of it.
Apparently not. He made a point of finding Secondborn at church a couple of weeks later, thanking her for introducing us, and telling her that he very much wanted to know me better but that he had work commitments and didn’t want to start something that he couldn’t continue. She told him I was a little busy myself [which is like saying that Ben and Jerry make OK ice cream] with the last child about to graduate high school, and she was sure I would understand.
Secondborn, now to be known as the Formerly Perfect Child. Her memory of all this was jogged when she sat next to Leslye at the play on Saturday night, and Leslye asked her, “Whatever happened with that guy in your ward?” and she thought, “Brother Abacus? I don’t think so!”
So, maybe I *wasn’t* hallucinating when I thought I sensed a bit of mutual spark.
- 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!