[Just like your friendly local RS president] Brooklyntweed has been burning the candle at both ends. Yes, I will probably be buying his book. He has an amazing eye for beauty.
Speaking of an amazing eye for beauty, this blog is consistently delightful. And yes, I am the Lynn who commented on her post. I think Robi or Shiela might be the only ones who have seen that dress. Shiela, it’s the one I made for my first date with Doug, the midi in various shades of mysterious green, that I wore with my orange belt. Robi, I may still have had that dress after Secondborn arrived, but I blame your good cooking [though not you] for setting my feet on the path of zaftigness! I think I gave it to one of the skinny wenches in our ward when I was pregnant with Middlest. Or maybe it just went to Goodwill.
I found this on Unclutterer’s archives. It would be a good addition to one’s emergency preparedness stuff, and it’s red!
Yesterday was a little weird. I was drowsy after breakfast, so I went back to bed for “just a little nap” and woke up after 1:00 from a dream where I was discreetly but enthusiastically kissing someone I know. [No need to blush, Brother Sushi, it wasn’t you. ☺] I have no idea where that came from. I hope it wasn’t something I ate!
So, no romantic comedies for Ms. Ravelled whilst sewing the final seams of Autumn Asters. And no laundry in the cool of the day. I threw the laundry bag in the back of the car with the thought of doing a load of wash after the baptism. Um, no. Maybe Monday after work.
Natural peanut butter. I started eating it about a year and a half ago. I’ve known for decades that it was better for me. And I also knew that it wouldn’t fly with the girls. The PITA factor with a new jar is truly annoying. And since it has no preservatives [at my age, I need all the preservatives I can get!], you have to keep it in the fridge. But I keep a small jar in the fridge here at home, and another small jar in the fridge at work, and it makes for a satisfying snack or lunch, washed down with a mug or two of milk. Particularly since I can now get whole-grain saltines at Wally World prices.
I think I am finally starting to like the taste. I was that way about freshly-grated nutmeg, too. When you grow up on the stuff in the tiny can with the shaker top, fresh nutmeg can be Whoa, Nellie! [And Whole Foods has a little disclaimer that says pregnant women should not eat fresh nutmeg, in case you didn’t know. There’s your public service announcement for the day.]
Memo to self: in future, avoid most if not all sweaters which have collars. Seaming up sleeves and sides, where the right sides come together, is a piece of cake. Seaming the right side of the collar to the wrong side of the sweater body, and remembering to do that from the inside of the sweater so the seam will be covered by the collar when the sweater is worn, is a royal pain.
Memo to friends and family: do not ask how many tries it took to get this right; I was ever so slightly distracted by Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. Ordinarily I would prefer Orlando Bloom, as in the Pirates trilogy; in LOTR his integrity in the role of Legolas was all I could see. Not even a blip on the testosterone meter. Sorry, I guess ElvesRNotUs. At least not the male ones. I keep wanting to tell Elrond, “Honey, you need to be eating more than that elvish flatbread; you look like David Bowie in Labyrinth! Get some meat on those bones!”
Maybe I have lived in Texas too long. I like men who are dark [or silver, or nicely bald] and solidly built and not excessively tall. They don’t need to be any taller than, well, fold your arms as if you were a Latter-Day Saint in prayer. Now raise those elbows three to six inches above shoulder level, as if you were kissing somebody goodnight.
About that tall. That way nobody gets a neck-ache.
The baptism. The baptism was great. Very well attended; the Relief Society room was about three-quarters full. He had some non-LDS friends who showed up to support him. Afterward, we teased him that now we had to start dragging him to the singles’ dances, and that it didn’t matter whether he could dance; if he can’t, he has plenty of company. He raised one eyebrow and grinned, “Well, maybe I can dance.” I told him in that case we really needed him at the dances!
Mr. Rogers wants to know if you can say frog in a blender?
We have buttons. I took the mostly-stitched-up Autumn Asters along for the ride when I went to the baptism. And then I drove down to Jo-Ann’s, where I spent 20 minutes looking at buttons and pushing them through buttonholes. For once, there were a lot of definite-maybes that almost made the cut.
Next up? Embroidering the collar, and then all we need is the return of cold weather.
- Five 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!