Ms. Hubbard is sitting in the corner with young master Horner. They are eating malted milk balls, having polished off the Christmas Pie, the leftover microwave veggies, the bowl of cereal that got poured just before we discovered that the milk went sour.
One of my friends at work was eating malted milk balls at her desk the past couple of days. I picked up a carton when I nipped into CVS to get some knee-highs to wear with my skirt at leadership training this morning. I have portioned them out into snack bags, to toss into my lunch over the next couple of weeks. (The malted milk balls, not the knee highs; I don’t think those would be very tasty.)
The cupboards are full. The fridge is full, and not just of malted milk balls. We had a medium turnout for the meeting, so those of us who were there got to play Ruth-and-Naomi and glean the table. I came home with two slices of zucchini bread (the only thing that humble vegetable is good for, and I’m only in the mood for it a couple of times a year) and about half of the leftover cantaloupe chunks, some water biscuits and cheese slices.
I also bought printer paper and have replaced my missing pen with a handful of cheap stick pens, gotten more paper towels and my favorite brand of facial tissues, stocked up on bread at the bread thrift store, brought home another gallon of distilled water for my CPAP.
When we walked out of the stake center, my friend noticed that the right rear tire was low. We pulled out my compressor. Didn’t work. Called Secondborn; 2BDH was just pulling in their driveway from helping a friend with computer issues. They live minutes away from the stake center, and he was there to help us in a jiffy. His compressor didn’t work, either, so we realized it was something with my car. We used his car and my compressor and aired up the tire. While that was going on, he pulled out the bad fuse for my cigarette lighter. If he does not have the right one at their place to fix it, I will stop in at AutoZone after work on Monday and bat my eyes at them.
2BDH then piloted us to the nearest Discount Tire Store, where they found a nail in the shoulder of my tire. Again, the tire was under warranty, so I was only out $10 to renew the warranty. My friend and I celebrated the fact that I did not have to buy a whole new tire, with ice cream cones at Braums.
While we were at the tire store, we made RS phone calls. Well, mostly she did. There was a gorgeous middle-aged man wearing a shirt with a massage therapy logo. Turns out he is an instructor at one of the local colleges. We talked about modalities, about the need to take care of oneself, etc. I was not flirting. He offered his business card, but I told him I have one friend who does Swedish when I just want to relax, and a Shiatsu practitioner for when I let it go too long and need to be broken apart and put back together.
In retrospect, what I should have done was give him a Book of Mormon pass-along card and just trade cards with him. For somebody who shows up at correlation meeting every week, I am not very missionary-minded.
My first counselor is a wonderful example. We were sitting there in the tire store, and she got the inspiration to call various sisters in the ward and leave loving messages on their voicemail. I had it in my own mind that I had been to my training meeting and was done with RS for the day. I was in full-on knitting mode. [Well, until I found something even more interesting than knitting to do.]
If you are local, the new Smashburger on South Cooper in Arlington has great burgers and even more amazing fries. The Smashfries have olive oil, rosemary and I think garlic. Best fries I have ever eaten, bar none. I had the Baja burger, with pepperjack cheese, guac, wafer-thin slices of red onion and tomato, deep green buttery lettuce, and fresh jalapeno slices, which I carefully picked off. This is a Denver chain; does not taste like chain food. There is one in Meridian, Idaho, if you’re near my old stomping grounds.
My friend Francis recommended it on his blog. I will definitely be going back for more. I like the burgers at Kincaid’s better, but I would put these between Kincaid’s and Fred’s (another FW institution) and well above Tommy’s, which is now a distant fourth in this woman’s book.
The doll beret turned out absolutely precious. I am nearly done with another out of my second ball of Noro Kureyon Sock in the teal/charcoal/green colorway. And then I think I will cast on one fora larger doll. I may have to buy another ball if I want to make a pair of socks from it. I have seen gloves knit from Kureyon Sock, where each finger is a different color but it all comes together harmoniously because of his color genius.
It’s been a good day. I’m going to read a little and then go to bed.
- Five 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!