My life, already scheduled to the hilt, has been sent careening by the introduction of a New Complication. Not an unwelcome one, but one that causes me to feel as if I were at day one of plate-spinning school [old greeting card that I bought for somebody but never sent, and found recently while puttering]. There are phone calls and emails and chats, oh my!
This is playing hob with my knitting and blogging; last night was the first time in a week that I got to bed before midnight. I dropped off the cookies for the ward party at my home teacher’s house, skipped the party entirely, and hit the hay at 7:47 , waking a little after 2:00. I am now heading into my studio to steal some sewing time. There are two precious little boys who need Christmas stockings, and the Internet is blessedly quiet; I’m going to make the most of it.
The silence in certain quarters re: yesterday’s post, is deafening. Perhaps they are staging an intervention? Just remember, ladies, whose idea it was for me to go on Facebook...
[Actually, apparently, Whose idea. I can hear the chortling in Heaven as we speak. I think it’s time for a little chat.]
- 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!