- Found the batting for the Christmas stockings, and the backing for one.
- Emptied seven boxes of their contents, looking for the rest of that batch of Christmas fabric.
- Broke down said boxes and took them out to the recycling bin, because having them between me and the door was just the tiniest bit claustrophobia-inducing.
- Climbed up and down the step-ladder enough times that it nearly qualified as aerobic activity.
- Finished reading New Moon.
- Found the fabric I was looking for in box #8, along with my redwork embroidery patterns.
Tackled Mount Washmore.
- Instead of doing the laundry, made a mad dash into Dallas to see if I could find out why delivery failed on my Jessica.
- Came home only a little wiser, without my doll.
- Ate my feelings. Thank you, Ben. Thank you, Jerry.
- 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!