From an email I sent out to the office yesterday:
I put a bottle of milk (in a juice bottle with a black lid) into the fridge, after having my bowl of cereal this morning. When I went to grab the bottle on my break, I found it empty and in the trash, and a puddle of milk and some damp kim-wipes around the bottom of the fridge.
I wiped up the milk. (Old habits die hard.) But I am curious. Did my bottle of milk yell “yeehaw” and then execute a perfect swan dive out onto the floor? Was it looking a little depressed? Was a large cat with opposable thumbs spotted in the kitchen?
I do love a good mystery, but not when it involves something I was hoping to eat or drink.
Ms. Ravelled (a/k/a Dairy-less in Dallas)
Nobody fessed up, although one of my friends offered to share her milk with me.
In other news, Knit Night was everything I could have wished. Good visits with Middlest on both the “to” and “fro” portions, excellent sandwiches for dinner, visible progress on the Sunrise Circle Jacket, and I managed to stay alert until nearly 9:00!
One of our friends is in the same ward as Middlest and Firstborn and is a former RS president. She gave me excellent ideas on how to organize the information and how to keep track of the needs of all the sisters. I’ve asked her to shoot me an email as a refresher. [Just realized that I’ve deleted an email she sent me months ago; I wonder if I have her addy in my planner?]
I managed to skim through a relevant portion of the handbook for auxiliary leaders, once I got home.
I know where my best skirt is. I know where my clean knee-high hose are. I am going to spit-splice another ball onto the Sunrise Circle Jacket, and then while the tub fills, I am going to grab all my RS stuff and see if the former RS president’s method of organizing is congruent with how my brain works. The bishop suggested that I organize according to the threefold mission of the Church: (1) proclaim the gospel; (2) perfect the Saints; and (3) redeem the dead. He said that that would help me delegate to my counselors and other assistants.
Work yesterday went really well. I got a lot of little piddly things checked off the list and went home feeling as if I had been productive.
I rode the early train home last night. Trainman had sequestered himself in the back of the car with his headphones, the last two times. He is certainly not the only reason I take the later train home, but LadyZen has been working horrific hours, and I decided that I would rather take an earlier train that is easier to board and would give me an extra half hour to get to Middlest’s and get us fed before Knit Night. For the past two weeks, the going-home train has been one of the old silver bullets, and the steps are steep and difficult to climb. I really, really dislike that train, although I am glad that the seats are easier on LadyZen’s back.
Thankfully, I was not surrounded by 20-something pottymouths. That has been a problem [for me, at least] on that train in the past.
OK, time to start stowing things in bags and getting ready for work and the memorial service this afternoon and possibly a visit with one of the sisters in the ward between then and the presidency meeting tonight.
The good sister at Knit Night last night said that RS president was her favorite calling. I can see that. I love the feel of cobwebs blowing out of my brain!
- 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!