- 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!
Friday, June 26, 2009
A Little More Progress, Chez Ravelled
I found my level. I found the box with the brads and other picture-hanging paraphernalia. I found a sharp pencil, to mark the wall. I even found the other pillowcase. And I may have found the right shade of brown for the living room walls. I want a warm brown, not too red and definitely not too yellow or green or grey. I won’t buy it until I have the hall painted, because it will need to tone with that.
When I had that great chat with Trainman on Monday, he said he would be taking part of the day off, yesterday, to get things ready for his son’s birthday. He also said he would be checking out the antique store where I’ve found these great values. I asked if he would mind picking up my glass doors while he was there, so I wouldn’t have to wait for my well-woman appointment toward the end of July. [The shop will be closed on the days I will be in town for my daughter’s surgery.]
I discovered a missed call on my phone last night, just before the train pulled into the station. Uncharacteristically, I called him back right then, instead of waiting until I was in my car.
“I’ve got your glass doors, and I’m holding them for ransom. Want to know what the ransom is?”
“Umm, sure.” There may have been a bemused chuckle or two, surely nothing as undignified as a giggle.
“Dinner with me at Fred’s on Friday night.”
“I think I can agree to that. Not sure if I’m driving or taking the train, but we can navigate by cell phone.”
“OK. See you then.”
He is thinking seriously about getting that ten-shelf bookcase I liked but do not have a place for, and putting it in his son’s room. It’s a good height for a little kid now, and it would be just as suitable when his son is grown.
It’s funny: Trainman and I rarely flirt when we see each other, but get us on the phone and often as not the whole tenor of the conversation changes. I know I had that tone of voice most women get when they’re talking to a guy and the moon is full, because I was grinning like a fool when I hung up.
I suspect I was blushing as well. Sometimes I forget what bliss flirting can be.
Must think about something else. I finished the purple tweed Christmas ornament. I put another few rows on Autumn Asters. I made a couple of calls for visiting teaching and visited one of the sisters on my route.
I get to have dinner with Trainman tonight. Uh-oh, I’m grinning again.