Here’s a closeup. A little blurry, rather like me this morning.
And this. I couldn’t resist. Just a few rounds before leaving for work yesterday. I couldn’t stay mad at Anastasia very long.
After work, I drove like a bat out of Houston to get to the high school in time for LittleBit’s concert. The junior varsity choirs have improved a lot since last fall. The varsity choirs? Goodness, gracious, great balls of high notes! They sang a couple of Russian songs and a Spanish love song, and a song about Mary holding the infant Christ and then holding her Son’s lifeless body one last time. It was was lovely and reverent and remarkably non-depressing. LittleBit had a solo consisting of eight widely-spaced, staccato accent notes in one of the Russian pieces. And they kept the house lights up during the entire concert, so I got plenty of knitting done on my whisper-quiet bamboo needles.
You know how some people go all berserkoid if there is any reverent mention of God in the schools? The choir directors, at least in Texas, seem to have done an end-run around that, with loads of songs in Latin that praise God quite boldly and melodically, and ask for His blessings.
[Abrupt change of topic; didn’t want you to get dizzy.]
One of my dinner group friends told me that President Monson wiggled his ears in the priesthood session of Conference last Saturday night. I told him, “You guys get to have all the fun! I wonder if there will be a little parenthetical comment when the talks are printed in The Ensign? [prophet wiggles ears; much startled laughter]”
I read excerpts from some of the Saturday talks in yesterday’s Meridian Magazine [click on link at left], and I applaud Elder Wirthlin’s gentle teaching that God loves variety in His people and created us to be individuals. I’m glad that our prophet is lively and warm and tenderhearted. And also, apparently, capable of wiggling his ears, though I am not.
When I joined the church in 1975, the girls who could afford it wore Jessica McClintock’s “Gunne Sax” dresses. I had a couple, myself, because I had to completely redo my wardrobe after joining the church. [Necklines came up an average of four inches; hemlines came down about a foot and a half; 1975 was the last gasp of the micro-mini, except for music videos and street corners.]
In the 80’s, the uniform-of-choice for good LDS sisters was the omnipresent floral dress with white lace collar. [I managed to avoid that look, chiefly because I spent most of the 80’s in maternity clothes.]
And now I wear what I want, consistent with comfort and modesty, which drives one of my daughters absolutely nuts. She worked as an assistant manager at Casual Corner a little *too* long, in my never-to-be-humble opinion.
I just smile when she asks why I am wearing top A with skirt B and remind her that there is fashion, and then there is personal style. And that fashion is pretty much the “foolish traditions of the mothers”, designed to create artificial distinctions and insecurities, to which I respectfully say THBPPPP!
I’m off to channel my inner Stevie Nicks. Happy Tuesday! Knit Night tonight, woohoo!
- 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!