Hi, honeys, I’m home!
A Myth Is as Good as a Mile...
So, Leda and the swan is definitely not the image I wanted to convey. [Especially not after googling it and seeing some of the Renaissance art that arose from it, or reading Yeats’ sonnet!] Ewwww!
What I meant to convey was the surprise of finding a friendship that suddenly appears to be on the cusp of becoming more. [It has obviously been way too long since I had my nose in a copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology.]
Yes, it had also been obviously way too long since I had been properly kissed, but that is another subject entirely. And it has been dealt with, in a most satisfactory manner. [My children are gagging, as we speak.]
Knit happened, last Saturday. After two false starts, maybe three, and the strong temptation to haul out my childbirth words, I got 40 stitches onto a minuscule needle and began the cuff to the second sock. As of this writing, the cuff is nearly 3/4 done.
Sundown Fever and the Good Samaritan
I’ve thought about this recently.
Last week I took the belated birthday presents over to Secondborn and 2BDH. They very kindly and generously sent home two meals’ worth of deliciously seasoned pasta because they love me, and they know that my life is crazy-busy, and I don’t always have time to cook. That, my friends, is love in action, and it is the basis for a happy life.
When I got there, I was very much in checking-things-off-the-list mode. Birthdays? Check! Presents? Check! Hugs for the kids and the grandkids? Check! Off to the next task? Check! And I felt bad [i.e., cranky with myself and more than a little guilty], because part of me very much wanted to stay and visit, and part of me was afraid that if I sat, I would fall asleep [and maybe drop my grandson] and not get everything checked off my list. And let’s be completely honest here, there was also the distinct possibility of some sweet conversation with Brother Complication, but I wasn’t ready to divulge that at the time.
“Sundown Fever” is what my dad called the behavior I manifested, the summer I was 20. I would come home from lunch, be too tired for dinner, go straight to bed. But let a man call, and I was suddenly awake and ready to go in 15 minutes or less. I have been leaving Knit Night early, in part because I truly was tired, but also because of Brother Complication, a/k/a NintendoMan, whose schedule is several hours out of sync with my own. Hence the talking till 11:30, chatting till midnight, etc., leaving me wide awake at 1:00am and sleeping in until 6:00. I’ve told him that he is seriously cutting into my knitting time. [And my REM time, and my reading time, and my blogging time.] Remember in the first Rocky movie, when Burgess Meredith told him, “Women weaken legs.”??? Men weaken schedules. Do I want to go back to my emotionally tidy, quiet life of a few weeks ago? Not on your daguerrotype! I just want enough time every day to do all the things I want to do. Oh yeah, also the ones I need to do.
Narrowly Evading the Spiked Punchbowl
Building management hosted their annual Christmas party for the tenants. I look forward to this every year, for the potstickers filled with cream cheese and crabmeat. This year they were filled with chicken or something else that was bland, innocuous, and presumably cheaper. None of the sweet/tart, velvety lushness which is cream cheese. The orange chicken was better-than-OK [sorry, not as good as Panda Express] and cut into chunks that were too big for a ladylike bite. One chunk assassinated my plastic fork. It was really sad, especially since my thumb ricocheted and got baptized in orange sauce.
No, you can’t take me anywhere.
My attorney was in trial, so I caught up my desk. I brought Honor/Jessica to work and looked over at her from time to time. She’s lovely, every bit as beautiful as she was on the website. And I am just not feeling the love. [It’s not her; it’s me.] Blessing touches my heart every time I see her. Honor/Jessica just looks like every other pretty resin girl her size; she no longer reminds me of Firstborn and LittleBit. I may very well end up selling her at the end of January, when I can transact business in DoA’s Marketplace.
OK, that’s it for now. I have some good pictures of last night’s Santafest at Secondborn’s house, but first I need to recharge the batteries in my phone before I can share them.
- 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!