[for they shall be known as Wheels.]
Perhaps the first and most important blessing was that LittleBit and I both slept like rocks, night before last. Heaven knows that when we woke yesterday morning, we both looked as if we had crawled out from under one. But after her shower and my bath, we each bore a remarkable resemblance to sentient life.
Do you ever have days when you know you are holding it together, but just barely, and that if you talk too much, or too many people are nice to you, you will start talking and crying all at once, and your voice will go up and up into coloratura soprano territory, and the only people who will be able to hear you, are dogs? I am pleased to report that I did not get my emotional passport stamped in Coloraturaland yesterday. But the border guards were eyeing me narrowly.
I focused on each call as it came in, concentrating on transferring the caller as quickly and politely as possible. There was one call where I utterly mangled the name of our company. And I just stopped and chuckled and said, “I’m sorry, apparently English is not my native language today. How may I help you, sir?” And he laughed, and I got him transferred, and life went on.
I did pick up an order of Strawberries Romanoff on the way into work, and I had that for part of my lunch. I figured it would excite less comment than if I tore into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s without so much as a howdy-do. [I am “eating my feelings” these days; it will pass, and next month I will be riding the train and walking from the park-and-ride, and life will be a little more balanced than it is at present.]
Yesterday was one of those days that steadily got better. I remember thinking, fleetingly, that it would be nice if one of my friends brought her wheel to Knit Night, because it sure would be comforting to sit and spin for awhile.
You know how I’ve said that Knit Night is a lot like being with my Relief Society sisters at church, only without the singing? One of them came up to me at the beginning of the evening and told me that she and her hubby were going out of town for a few days, and that she didn’t want her wheel to get lonely. Would I like to wheel-sit for her?
I would. I have no idea where I’m going to set it up and spin. At the moment it is taking up about half of my couch, but before I leave for work this morning I am going to clear a space and grab the kitchen timer and spin for a few minutes. She also sent home a ginormous bag of assorted fibers and told me to spin as much or as little of it as I pleased.
If you’ve ever wondered whether God hears and answers prayers [specifically, your prayers, or my prayers], wonder no more. He usually answers them by telling one of His children that it would be a good idea if s/he did X, though He doesn’t always tell us *why*. And when we follow through on the prompting and do X, somebody else gets blessed, and we get blessed for paying attention.
I didn’t spin at Knit Night last night; I spent much of the evening splicing together those bits of yarn I mentioned yesterday from the doomed Elann Crop Cardi. It was sufficiently meticulous work that I didn’t have room inside my head to fret, and mindless enough that I could enjoy the conversations going on around me and chime in every once in awhile.
I went home feeling cherished.
Today I will go into the office with my knitting and come home and spin until I cannot keep my eyes open One Moment Longer. Somewhere around here is a bag of vintage tussah and baby camel down, all neatly melded into roving. I wonder if I can find it before I take back her wheel next Tuesday night?
- 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!