[Sorry, I couldn’t resist.] I know how I am. I remember how I was when I got the first computer and internet at home. I remember when I was a board leader on ParentSoup. I remember when I had hope of finding Brother Right through first one, and then another Churchboy Dating Service [the second one ate the first one in a merger]. I remember my first few days on Ravelry, poking around and signing up for groups.
At this time, with my responsibilities, I don’t think I have time for Facebook. And I’m already in contact with the one person from high school that I have any interest at all in staying in touch with. [My 9th grade English teacher is probably rolling over in her grave at the construction of that last sentence. “Up with which I will not put,” as Winston Churchill reputedly said.]
Maybe after I’m released from this calling? Which is not likely to be anytime soon. I picked up three notebooks on closeout at the office supply store on my way to Knit Night, and four pencil bags: one for my current notebook and one for each of the others, which will go to the visiting teaching route supervisors.
Tonight I’m meeting with the stake RS president for training. Tomorrow night my companion and I see two of the sisters whom we visit teach. We’ll/I’ll catch the last one on Sunday.
The twice-frogged right sleeve on the Sunrise Circle Jacket appears to be behaving itself; I am nearly ready for the third pair of increases. Knit Night last night was even better than usual. Middlest and I grabbed dinner at Sonic [I love half-price hamburger night!] and dessert at *bucks, where the group meets on alternate Tuesdays. She played USO Lady and entertained the troops with snatches of song and plenty of snappy patter. We howled! I knitted away and fondled the yarn and roving that she and others dyed at our friend’s house last weekend.
I am out of milk. Time to throw on my jeans and dash over to WallyWorld for that and some cream cheese and a small bunch of bananas. And I think another box of those 100-calorie snack packs, and more carrot sticks.
[It followed me home. Can I keep it?]
- 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!