I Am a Black Eyed Pea

At least I was for Halloween yesterday.

I would have done my usual daily post before leaving for work, but I needed a spare pair of hands and eyes for the mug shot. Green shirt, green slacks, green Mystery Stole 3, green socks, and half a dozen shades of eyeshadow because chez Ravelled we do not have any of those black jobbies that put the marks under the eyes of football players.

I had a blast yesterday! I remember reading on a friend’s blog last year that she or one of her kids was a black eyed pea for Halloween. And I filed it away in my memory banks and lo! and behold! did not come up NSF when I went to make a withdrawal.

I just about scared the daylights out of my managing attorney, though. She went breezing by my desk, whirled, and asked, “Are you hurt?” [One of my co-workers tripped while taking a stroll a few months back and came to work the next day with an impressive shiner.]

I told, her, “No, I’m a black eyed pea,” gesturing downward at my clothing and pointing back at my eye. “My imaginary boyfriend did not beat me up. I’m fine. It’s a whole lot of eyeshadow.” It took her half a tick to get it, and then she guffawed.

I did use one of the baby wipes I keep in my desk drawer to remove every trace before leaving the office to go vote. We had another good month for our clients, so the boss gave us all an hour off. Since my primary backup had the day off, I opened switchboard yesterday morning and left an hour and a half early.

I voted at the fire station near the old apartment but saw no firemen, alas! Took me all of ten minutes, knitting in hand, and got me into Fort Worth just in time for what passes for rush hour traffic. I took an earlier exit and wound up downtown, where I saw an enormous man in a white fluffy bunny suit. Sadly, my camera was in my bag, and my bag was in the trunk.

I picked up a gallon of milk and a carton of fruit juice and came home long enough to stow them in the fridge and empty the trunk. Then I took my knitting and cell phone and planner and the pattern for Eleanora to the bookstore, to avoid any wee trick or treaters in my neighborhood. I read or knit until 9:00pm and then went home.

But I did have one small adventure, a happy one. I looked up from what I was doing, long enough to see a man who reminded me of my favorite friend among the FW poets. He turned to look at something, and I realized it was him. I started waving wildly, and he came over and we hugged. I hadn’t seen him in the better part of ten years. We used to go to Scarborough Faire together, and when I went to Brother Tightly Wound’s [a former friend; if you knew him, you would know how well the name fits] for Thanksgiving in 1999, he went with me.

He sat and chatted for fifteen or twenty minutes then got up to finish his shopping. We didn’t exchange numbers or addresses, just agreed that maybe we would see each other around and left it at that.

I can find no logical reason why seeing him last night made me smile and seeing the other poet last weekend gave me an urge to run screaming. They are both good, decent human beings. [And it cannot be as simple as the fact that he is male and she is female.]

Much progress on Eleanora yesterday and when I woke in the wee hours this morning. The first pattern band is finished, and I am now knitting the modified charts for the upper cuff.

I will be leaving shortly to pick up some fresh fruit and a roll of quarters for the laundry. The yellow split pea and rice jollop that I made a couple of weeks ago is by the door, ready to join the compost pile, and my camera is there so that I will remember to take a picture of the sculpture outside the fire station. I am debating adding the soup I made last weekend to the compost pile as well. I have not been able to make myself gag down the leftovers. At least if it goes into the compost pile it will not be utterly wasted.

Tonight we have the adult meeting for stake conference, and tomorrow morning I will attend the general meeting here in my new stake. I am looking forward to both. Next weekend we have a regional singles conference, and I feel as if I need to be fortified for that.

I used to love going to them; I rather enjoyed the one in Hurst last spring. They are offering some workshops on topics that interest me, the food will be good, and there will be two dances and a concluding fireside. I will see some dear friends there. And still I do not feel hopeful or enthusiastic about going.

But I will go, because I am a single, and the program is designed to be a blessing for me and my ilk, and I think it is part of sustaining my local leaders. Sometime during that weekend I will catch the spirit of the conference, and it will become a blessing in fact and not merely in theory, and I will be glad that I went.

Ah, I am tired. I drove in three days this week, and it has taken a toll on my knee and my attitude. Maybe next week I will take the train at least partway on Tuesday, and Middlest and I will be a little late for Knit Night but still get that time together and with our friends.

And now if you will all excuse me, I am going to stretch my legs in the produce aisles and maybe take some novels I haven’t read in awhile to Half Price Books. [That thud you just heard was Firstborn’s jaw hitting the floor. She knows how I am about my books!] Have a happy and productive Saturday.