My friend Alison writes as beautifully as she knits, which is saying a lot. She is also passionate about peregrine falcons.
In the two-plus years I have known her, she has weathered challenges that would have felled a lesser woman. I think that if she were to have a totem, the peregrine (and its miraculous comeback from near-extinction) would be hers.
She recently posted a link to a YouTube showing a peregrine nest, with a breeding pair, one hatched chick, and other eggs in the process of hatching. I took four minutes to watch that video, and it was a lovely start to my day.
I am thankful that in the animal kingdom there are birds and beasts which mate for life, rising above appetite and natural selection, demonstrating loyalty and tenderness and affection. Thank you, my friend, for the Parable of the Peregrine.
I am humbled, awed, amazed at how stubbornly life clings to life. Much of Creation patiently and persistently continues to do just as the Creator instructed when He said, “Let there be...” Some would say that this is because only mankind was given the agency to ponder and to choose whether to obey.
I am laughing ruefully at one manifestation of this principle in my own flesh. I spent some time, a good bit of comfort, and a modest amount of cash on Saturday to have my unruly eyebrows tamed, the menopausal moustache uprooted, and the vagrant eyebrows on my chin begone.
By Sunday night, I could feel the first prickling of unrepentant facial hair, and it was off to the loo for a tryst with the tweezers. There is one little guy who is probably visible only to me, and on Monday morning was too short to be nabbed.
Call me old-fashioned if you will. I prefer facial hair on my menfolk. Not on myself. This is a case where the glass had better not be half-full.
I can accept that The Girls and my tush have both headed south. I view with more relief than regret, the prospect of not getting pregnant should there be a honeymoon in my future. [Been there, done that, have the stretchmarks.]
But notwithstanding the fact that I will be working until the end of my days, I would rather be pushing hot fresh French bread at the grocery store, than working as the bearded lady in the circus. Even if I would get to wear sequins before dinner.
[Postscript: I nabbed that one little vagrant eyebrow after dinner last night. Tweezers 1, Bearded Lady 0. Yeehaws all around!]
NintendoMan is back from his business trip. I will be going to the temple tonight after work and am hoping to be more than marginally effective while at my desk today.
A family in Secondborn’s ward could use your prayers. Their son, a high school senior, came home for lunch and surprised two or more home invaders. 2BDH has served as one of his youth leaders. My kids are devastated. The most recent information I have from our stake’s email tree, is that the family is keeping him on life support for a day or two so that he may be an organ donor.
Life is precious. And sometimes life is fragile. If you love somebody, tell them, and hug them if you get the chance.
- 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!