That’s what I first saw in my inbox [from Pottery Barn] but no, it’s “Last Day! Free Monogramming”. I wouldn’t want to get ’em monogrammed, either. After five kids, they have been momogrammed; that’s bad enough.
I called Trainman just before leaving the office: if he wanted a ride, speak now or forever hold his peace. I also texted him. About an hour later, I got a call, “Where are you?”
“Just got home a few minutes ago. What’s up?”
“May I swing by and show you what I bought my nephew for Christmas?”
“It’s a wreck, more than the last time you were here, but come on over. I’ll turn on the porch light.”
So he came over, and he showed me what he’d bought, and I’d tell you, except that it might be the perfect gift for Brother Sushi, so no dice. And he stayed for maybe 15, 20 minutes, and I just babbled on and on until I could see his eyes glazing over. So I gave him a hug and told him to call me when he’d made it home safely. Which he did.
There are big changes coming in my life. I can feel indefinable shifts, and I know that it means change and growth. I felt this way before I met the children’s father, and before I moved here to Fort Worth, and I felt it exquisitely the day I was called to be the Relief Society president in my ward, between the time that the bishop’s executive secretary greeted me at the door with the words, “Bishop would like to meet with you at 2:30,”and the time I had my interview that afternoon.
I wish I could say that it were something as obvious as romance; I’m not entirely indifferent to the possibility, but I am quite guarded after that last go-round. Phasers set on stun as I go Star-Trekkin’ across the universe, boiling oil at the ready, and there is always simmering in the background, my prayer that I may continue to be invisible to men who would be bad for me, mingled with intermittent irritation that most men can’t see me. [A foolish consistency, and all that...]
Still, grateful for the guy-friends who can see me. And also thankful for the reclaimed friendship with NintendoMan, which we are chipping into a new shape. (Man, is it ever hard work at times!) Neither of us is the person we were when we were each part of a couple, nor are we necessarily the person the other thought we were during the years of crankiness and estrangement.
Work is good. I was nearly run off my feet yesterday, and I didn’t get a chance to check the scanned mail, so that will be my first priority this morning. And then I have six reports to transcribe for one of the other attorneys, but I will probably need to ask for help with those. I have taken to leaving myself voicemails on the way home, as I think of things that didn’t get done.
Not only am I talking to myself, I am doing it virtually as well as literally. And I have to say, it is weird and a little unnerving to take calls from other attorney offices, expecting me to know what I am doing. Or to have my attorney refer to me as his secretary in communications with our clients.
Theme song for today starts “Oh yes, I’m the great pretender”... (we-ah, we-ah, we-ah; I do love me some good doo-wop!)
Chocolate. Chocolate would help.
- 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!