My friend Bookgrump is always up to something. She has our knitting group handing over leftover bits and bobs of yarn so that the art teacher in her school can give students a wide variety of supplies for their projects. Any strand too short to make miniature sweaters and socks for my Christmas tree, or for Middlest to make doll scarves and sweaters, but longer than my hand, goes into a Ziploc snack bag. When the bag is full, I give it to Bookgrump at Knit Night.
This is something new that she’s helped with. I’ve linked on Facebook. If you’re on LiveJournal or another appropriate forum, perhaps you would like to do the same.
Yesterday was all about doing unto others. It was my privilege to attend the stake RS leadership training meeting, which was pertinent, well-run, and mercifully short. And because it was a Relief Society meeting, there were refreshments that covered most of the major food groups.
Then I drove up to the Bishops’ Storehouse [never quite sure where to put that apostrophe; maybe one day I will just toss it into the middle of Storehouse for a little variety]; I picked up two food orders for families in our ward and ran a little further up I-35 to L&L Hawaiian Barbecue, where I bought a small tub of that macaroni salad and grabbed a plastic fork.
There was quite a bit of traffic on the drive home. I ate nearly half of the salad [and nothing else until after I woke up from my nap]. Back in Fort Worth, one of my friends asked how best to help a friend of hers who moved here recently and came back from a business trip to find her home burglarized; the thieves took all her stuff including the contents of her fridge and pantry. We put our heads together and figured something out. And when I did my drive-by fooding of the missionaries, I picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon for my friend to give her friend.
I suspect that the necessity of our sweet conspiracy was the real reason I had felt such urgency to drive to the B’i’s’h’o’p’s’ S’t’o’r’e’h’o’u’s’e. [That felt good. Weird, but good.] I suspect that, other than warbling “Happy Birthday to You” into the cell phone at Fourthborn, it was the most important thing I did all day, because I had been prepared, through service, to heed the whisperings of the Spirit.
I even got a nap after all that driving: an uncharacteristically short one, only two hours; when I woke up, I still had a few hours left in which to be crafty before [a sensible person’s] bedtime.
Behold [imagine picture here; no time to import it before leaving for correlation meeting] the finished tulle underskirt, much improved over its previously austere incarnation. The only problem is, now it’s too long for the overskirt, so I am tweaking that.
Hey, Brother Sushi, what about here for dinner next-month-my-nickel? My friend Francis says it’s good. He hasn’t steered me wrong yet. Here’s the menu.
OK, y’all, I’m out the door.
- 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!