I think yesterday’s Sunday School lesson went well; you would have to ask somebody else. I had one of those semi-out-of-body experiences where I was there, but I don’t remember half of what came out of my mouth. Usually that means that I was spiritually in tune. I do know that when class was over, I felt peaceful and utterly drained. I sat quietly through Relief Society and knitted myself back into presence.
What I remember most about the lesson is that there seemed to be a conduit of light between the spirit of the Silver Fox and my own, like a silver thread spinning across the room. Not the spark of chemistry; something more refined. A knowing, but not in the [ahem] Biblical sense.
In the world of knitting, which is why you came here, right? I am almost halfway up the cuff on the Wollmeise sock and have come down with a bad case of Finish-itis. I would love to stay home and knit all day, but this is Monday, and it is our busiest mail day, and I am needed at work.
Plus [let’s not kid ourselves] there is the matter of the train ride home, and the last slice of the Christmas tart which I might have saved for Trainman.
- 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!