That in our careful efforts to speak and to be understood on Wednesday, the children’s father and I communicated better, notwithstanding his recent series of strokes, than we have in over a decade. And that if we *had* been better able to focus this carefully on hearing and understanding one another, we might still be married.
OK, this is brilliant. He usually is.
Anastasia is puttering along, two socks side-by-side on two circs, with the instep on my Addi Lace 00’s and the sole on 000’s. Once I have completed the heels, I will finish the legs on 00’s. I hied meself to the LYS and picked up an Addi needle gauge, which should forestall any more socks being mismatched due to [ahem] having been knit up on different size needles. I picked up my two favorite scarves from the dry cleaners.
Did I mention that for the better part of a week I’ve been airing the smoky scarf purchased on eBay, by hanging it in front of the window unit in my studio? The Vera, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind. The Vera is blowin’ in the wind... And I’m thinking that in another week or so she will not smell as if she had been hanging out in the local pool parlor.
Kirsten, I bought those two books you recommended. Peace Like a River is devouring my knitting time. Just thought you should know.
In the Small World department, I found out recently that one of my blog readers is related to somebody in my ward. Take that, Kevin Bacon, with your six degrees of separation! [Ms. PrivateBlog, thank you for sending her over to say how-do.]
I have been eating my way through Fort Worth this weekend. Well, not today; we all know that I keep my taste buds at home on the Sabbath. Dinner at the pancake house on Friday. Leftovers for breakfast on Saturday. Frozen custard at a nearby shop after getting my nails done yesterday afternoon. A burger at another local institution last night. I had eaten at their outlet in Arlington just before moving, but not at one of the original locations.
I noticed last night that the moon is full, or near as needs no mention; that might explain the strange dips and turns my emotional terrain has taken over the past few days. Or it might just be backwash from all the family drama. Which now appears, mercifully, to be simmering down.
I wonder if that Silver Fox will be back in Sunday School class today?
- 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!