- 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!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
From Romi, via Punkin. And now, from me to you. It’s been a productive morning. Paid some bills, worked on the entrelac sock, thought about what I could wear to work for St. Patrick’s Day. I really should have done laundry last night, but I put in one of the new DVD’s instead, ate a nice plate of leftovers, and knitted.
Tonight is Knit Night. I’m looking forward to a productive day at work, lots of happy knitting on the train, and time with Middlest and friends tonight.
No sense wearing my “kiss me, I’m Irish” pin today, as Trainman is enjoying spring break with his son. [Not to mention the fact that I’m not sure I’d want him to kiss me, even if he were available. There’s a lot to be said for platonic friendship; it’s certainly easier on the nerves than the non-platonic kind.]
Speaking of the non-platonic kind, Secondborn gave me a heads-up the other night. It appears that Brother Abacus is building a new house. In my ward boundaries. Oh fine, just what I wanted: another “growth experience”, wherein I get to exercise grace under pressure. There are a lot of people in my ward who think the man walks on water in his spare time [there might be a few who don’t know me all that well, who think the same about me, LOL]; they have obviously never dated him. He is impeccably honest in his business dealings, and I admire him for that. He does a lot of quiet good in the community, and I admire him for that.
I just would prefer to admire his good qualities from halfway across the stake, not across the aisle in sacrament meeting every week. I am already praying over this, mostly that I behave like a lady and learn whatever it is I am supposed to learn from it. The phrases that pop into my head are along the lines of “don’t borrow trouble” and “if ye are not one, ye are not mine”. Why is it that I am rarely invited to be at peace with people who are easy to get along with? Or who have never broken my heart, accidentally or otherwise?
Oh yeah, it’s that whole building character thing. Maybe what will come from this, is that Brother Abacus and I truly become friends, that I take him off my Not Even If He Was On Fire list, and that each of us becomes a little more Christlike. It could happen; the age of miracles is not past. In the meantime, that muffled shrieking you hear, is probably me.
Wool. I need wool. And maybe a little dark chocolate.