One of my children texted me to suggest that yesterday’s post was so discreet as to be positively cryptic. Sorry; that can happen when five hours of sleep collide with a brain that has been marinating in Cherry Coke for two days.
Let he who is without synapses among you cast the first stone.
Oh, wait, that would be me.
Monday I got that call from Firstborn, needing some information. NintendoMan was whom I called to get that information. He sounded delighted to hear from me. I was on the train, the one we call the Silver Bullet. It is old and noisy (not unlike NintendoMan himself, or me when I’m with my girlfriends).
I could barely hear him, and I told him that if he were online when I finished the minutiae awaiting at home, I would pull up a chat window if he liked. He did, so I did, and we chatted for maybe half an hour, and then things got a little weird. OK, a lot weird, but not the kind of weird which requires call-blocking or a visit with one’s bishop. So I asked him to call, because typing wasn’t fast enough; we talked for another half hour or so.
[I suspect I’m being cryptic again, but that’s all you’re going to get.]
As I stated in Tuesday’s post, I fell into bed a little before midnight, but I didn’t sleep well because there was too much information to process. So I was a zombie on Tuesday morning, and a zombie at church that night, and a zombie most of Wednesday, at least until I got to the temple, where I was mostly awake and mostly alert.
[Amazing how quickly I woke up once I got to the all-night restaurant and waited for him to join me from the gig he had just finished.]
So in my less zombified moments, I have been wiping cryogenic fluid off of my heart and picking off the bits of packing peanuts in which it has been resting for the past month and a half (at least) and trying to figure out (A) what *I* want to do next and (B) what NintendoMan wants to do next and (C) what Heaven wants us to do next, individually and/or collectively.
What I can tell you, is this. He had missed me. He had been thinking for several days that he wanted to call and discuss a few things. So Firstborn, looks like you were the Non-Stupid-Cupid in this scenario, for which (at least for the moment) I thank you.
We are discussing those things he wanted to talk about. I asked a lot of questions Wednesday night. His responses were sufficiently detailed and rang of truth. I wish that I had been a little more present when he was holding me before I got into my car, but my brain was going ping ping ping, and I couldn’t get it to hush. I don’t exactly want a do-over on that extended hug, because there was nothing wrong with it. I just want another one like it, plus a quiet head, so I can relax into it and appreciate it.
By the time you read this, he will be off on a business trip until shortly before my birthday, and probably off the e-map, and up to his ears in gigs and barbecued ribs. I think this is not a bad thing. I really, really need to sleep. And I am glad to have the opportunity to enjoy General Conference this weekend without distraction.
As I reach this part of this draft, it is nearly 8:00pm, and I can barely keep my eyes open. I am turning off the phone and turning on my CPAP. Maybe I'll add more tomorrow.
* * *
This would be that tomorrow. I went to my room, but I did not immediately go to sleep. I finished listening to the CD I had started on Tuesday night after Relief Society, and then I listened to another, and I knitted. I finished the doll hat I had been working on and completed the ribbing and increases on a new one. I am playing with sizes, and I am still loving how the color transitions of the Noro Kureyon Sock create the impression of Fair Isle with none of the fiddling and none of the bulk.
I slept well last night. Or at least I think I did. It has warmed up sufficiently that the fireplace did not run, and I am running the ceiling fan on low or medium in any room in which I am sitting. I slept under a thin, faux-thermal cotton blanket last night, and I woke a little before the alarm would have gone off.
I am feeling somewhat calmer today, somewhat more rested, and a bit more settled in my mind. Driving in, because we are closing the office an hour early, and because half the office will be out, so there will be no question of whether somebody’s monthly parking will be available. I am about to fix a plate with cheese and some of that banana bread, and go sit on my bed and listen to another CD and knit awhile.
So where is this going? I don’t know. But eventually I’ll find out. On the one hand, both of us are the sort who mostly like to know exactly where we are going, how to get there, and how long it will take. And, in my case, if hot chocolate is available along the way. On the other hand, in my spiritual life I have gotten fairly good at moving along in what feels like the right direction and being flexible enough to head in another when Heaven says, “Enough of that; time for some of this.”
Neither of us is interested in a dawdling courtship; nor do we want to jump in thoughtlessly and reap misery. We both want and deserve a good fit and a happy, peaceful marriage, and we both want to make a choice that is pleasing unto Heaven and will bless the families we would bring with us into that marriage.
“Patient” is not the word which comes to mind when you think of either of us. But it seems to be the right tool for the present.
I stopped at Panda Express on the way home, because I did not have the energy to pour myself a bowl of cereal for dinner. My fortune reads: “Step-by-step you will ascend the stairway to success.”
Hold that thought.
- 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!