We live and die by the sticky-note.

Ticklish people should not keep their cell phones in their hip pockets. It makes for startled squawks and leaping about in one’s chair.

I have my planner, to make sure that I’m where I ought to be, when I ought to be there. But much of what I do in my church calling is tender and private and sensitive, not suitable for archiving for the next umpteen years. So you will frequently find little yellow and purple sticky-notes on the cover of my planner, because they can be shredded once I have followed through.

I had to laugh at myself yesterday. I took a number of calls on RS business, one of which concerns a funeral that may or may not happen in our ward. It is not a question [as in The Princess Bride] of the fine line between “dead” and “mostly dead”; you will not find your favorite RS president going through somebody’s pockets for loose change. This was an individual who was only tangentially connected with our ward, and thus presents a question of jurisdiction and the wishes of the extended family.

One of the calls was a response from our good bishop, who is on-call for work for the next little while, so if there is a funeral, one of his counselors will necessarily preside. My sticky-note, scribbled hastily with one hand, says “Call Br. M arrange fun svcs if here.”

I devoutly hope that when it’s my turn to go, there will be a fun service.

In knitting news, the second beginning of my sister’s birthday present is going far better than the first one on Sunday. A cable needle is truly essential. It’s a pattern with a fourteen-row repeat, and I am trying to figure out how to keep track without marking up my brand new copy of Vogue Knitting Holiday 2009. I would use a sticky-note, but I’d hate to get it confused with RS stuff and accidentally bury my knitting.