And the next time I blink, she will be 16 and dating boys. I have her scarf here in my lap and add a row every few web pages I read.
I went to bed early last night, in large part because I was “peopled out”. There was a flurry of text messages between a dear young friend and me; it is a good thing that I followed that impression to bump my account up to unlimited texts. I have gotten to where I would rather text than talk, in most cases. This is largely due to all the years I spent on switchboard. I would rather save the nice long chats for when I am face-to-face with my friends.
Yesterday was a perfect example: Sherry came downtown on a matter of business, and we went to lunch at Cindi’s, where we inhaled chicken fried steaks and mashed potatoes and gravy and only diverged on what the second vegetable should be. And we talked. And it was good. [No, it was great! I have never come away from time with her, feeling bored and twitchy and wishing I were elsewhere. It doesn’t matter if one of us is having a bad day, or both of us are having bad days, or everything is coming up roses all around.]
Last night I had envisioned a bit of sewing for Celeste, possibly involving the ritual sacrifice of a white sock to make a cami to go under her blouse. Instead, I spent the evening losing badly at Mahjongg Toy Chest because I kept forgetting to pause it when a text came in. Am I glad that I spent the time on my friend? Absolutely! She needed to visit, and I was happy to listen. But by the time we were done, I was no longer in the mood to stay up and wait for NintendoMan to come online so we could chat or maybe talk on the phone.
Memo to the angels-above-us-who-are-silent-notes-taking: Please be advised that I really, truly tried to choose-the-right last night. And it was probably a good thing for me to be in bed at 8:45, all used up in a good cause. But was it really necessary for me to dream about octopi coming to the rescue, and spy wars in drafty barns, or to wake at 2:00 this morning?
I have duly noted BittyBit’s birthday party for Saturday morning, merci beaucoups. January is filling up fast [oh the life of a social butterfly! -- I have at least one something every Saturday, sometimes two]. And I just finished the first half of the yarn on her scarf; it’s roughly two feet long at this point. Secondborn, would you mind measuring her height so I have some sense of how long to make it? Also from shoulder to floor. Thanks!
So glad that I caught the laundry up last Saturday. One less thing to worry about this week.
And now if you will all excuse me, I think I will go cannibalize a sock. And rustle up some breakfast. And maybe catch a nap before the alarm goes off in an hour. Or not.
- 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!