I’m not buying it...

Or them, actually. Four salad plates and a serving platter, all of them 50% off. My office manager is winnowing her stock at her booth at Canton.



The colors and theme would do so nicely here in my duplex [which is spittin’ distance from the National Cowgirl Museum (no, they do not have any stuffed cowgirls, any more than Girl Scout Cookies are made with real Girl Scouts)]. But there is no room at the inn stable, Joe Bob.

Yesterday was a truly terrific day. I spent a good chunk of it getting to the Storehouse, serving at the Storehouse, and coming home from the Storehouse. They fed us lunch while we were there. All my “fronting” skills, learned while I worked as a stocker at the Container Store one Christmas season, came in handy. We worked with the welfare service missionaries who are assigned to the Storehouse, and the time just flew. I thought my feet and legs would be protesting mightily, but they are whistling “Dixie” this morning.

I did come home tired. I managed to keep myself awake by moving from one small task to the next, and I ran to the grocery store around sundown. I resisted a nap, because the sweater was pinned out on the bed. I didn’t get the facings knitted onto the fronts, so when it was time for bed, I just unpinned everything and told myself I would try again today, or tomorrow morning.

My new debit card came. Did I mention that I got a letter last weekend from my bank, saying that some of their customers’ debit cards had had suspicious activities, and they were issuing new cards to one and all as a precaution. Not a case of some twit(s) overseas hacking into the bank, which happened last year, but elsewhere in the pipeline. So I have had all kinds of money [relatively speaking] sitting in my account, and no convenient way to play with it. The silver lining is that it has kept me well within my budget and out of the drive-through at Taco Bueno. I’m sure my arteries are grateful.

Tomorrow I will notify the companies where my accounts are linked to my debit card. And then I will sit back and wait until the bank mails me my new PIN number.

It suddenly occurs to me to wonder [changing directions suddenly, hang onto something] that I have no idea how I am going to store/display doll clothes when they are not on the doll. Do they make hangers in that size? I had one of those big black trunks that held an [original] Barbie and a laughingly small portion of the clothing I made for mine. I might need to do something macramé-ish involving dowels and pretty cord, because I always did have a fondness for formals. [I will have to see if I can dig up pictures of me with various dates, my senior year. I made three formals and a semi-formal. Hog heaven.]

OK, time for me to do my impression of a grownup and start getting ready for church.

Happy birthday, BittyBubba! I saw them yesterday at the Storehouse; 2BDH was there to pick up a food order for somebody in their ward. How delightful to see them all walking up the sidewalk, and to give them hugs and kisses. BittyBubba read out every letter on my name tag: L-Y-N-N, and grinned at me.

BittyBit seemed a little confused to see me up at the Storehouse, rather than in her living room. Maybe this will prepare her for running into a teacher at the home center or post office. [I remember one summer after third grade, when my teacher brought her small son with her to Dad’s laundromat. I was old enough to understand that teachers did not stay at their desks 24/7, and young enough to still be thoroughly disoriented and shy.]