About Me

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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!

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Two brilliant posts, *just* out of reach

Yesterday I had another “need to look busy, typety-type, typety-type” day at work. In which I worked out the majority of two blog posts, which was the good part. And thought to myself, “OK, we’re all on Word 2007 here, no need to save it in 97-2003 compatibility mode.” I felt pretty smart until I got home after the dance last night and sat down to pre-blog.

My computer does not speak Windows 2007. So it sat there, blinking and muttering “Adobe? Excel? Paint?” And probably swearing under its breath in binary.

You will get those two brilliant posts sometime next week, assuming that I remember to (1) re-save the document in compatibility mode and (2) mail it home again.

I could have just as easily called this post “Fiber Therapy”. When I was in the lunchroom, stitching up the second sleeve cap on Autumn Asters, one of my attorneys read a blurb from the weekend section of the paper: fiber therapy at Whirled Fibers [the new yarn store in Duncanville, a few miles southwest of downtown Dallas] from 5:00 until I think 9:00. Open to all knitters, crocheters, spinners, and weavers. And I needed something useful and interesting to do until the dance started at 8:30.


So I went, early enough to snag one of the particularly good chairs. It was lovely to sit among people I knew [Victoria, who owns the shop and has a great new summer haircut, and Monica and her mom and her daughter] and get to know some new people, several of whom turned out to be doll folk as well.

I felt very welcome, if not entirely comfortable with some of the conversations going on around me. Blessedly, no F-bombs. It’s a diverse bunch, wonderfully creative, and I’m glad I went. I would love to get back there once a month or so.

Even though it was payday, I walked out with no new yarn. Not that I didn’t see lots of pretties, but I have some serious stash-busting to do once I finish this sweater. There is the little matter of all that Telemark I bought, thinking I could use it to make Autumn Asters.

I am planning a quiet, productive day. I need to leave for the laundromat in a little while. I am nearly done stitching up the second sleeve, which leaves the side seam and the collar, and then I can start embroidering. I worked blanket stitch around all five buttonholes yesterday, changing them from sloppy slots to neat little circles while connecting the facing firmly to the right side of the work. It just made no sense to me to leave the buttonholes in two distinct layers knitted at right angles to one another. Too great a chance of only halfway buttoning my sweater.

Not happening.

And there is a baptism tonight. I need to be there in my official capacity as RS president, and in my unofficial capacity as his friend. He got a grin when I told him that. Nice man; he used to work with the husband of one of my friends in the ward. I also need to plan what I’m taking to the break-the-fast tomorrow night.

The dance last night was good. A better turnout than we’ve had since the last singles’ conference [where we had the same DJ, not coincidentally], and great music. A friend and I line-danced lazily to all eight minutes of “Sweet Home Chicago”, followed immediately by “Boot-Scootin’ Boogie”. Needless to say, I was drenched from the top down by the end of the second song.

My feet are deliciously happy campers this morning.

The knitting and the laundry are both calling my name. I think I’ll set the timer and play with needle and thread for 20 minutes before taking on the day.

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