And some of them may have blanket duty.
I came home early from church, due to lingering fumes from the refinishing of the floor of our cultural hall (gym). Took a nap around 4:00, wondering if I would wake in time to go to the break-the-fast for the singles. Negatory!
I did wake up, covered up, when I specifically remember not covering myself as I lay down. I don’t think I’m smart enough to pull the covers over myself when I’m asleep.
For some reason this reminds me of Gideon and the fleece. If the ground is dry and the fleece is wet, that’s a sign. If the ground is wet and the fleece is dry, that’s another sign. I am almost tempted to neatly fold my blanket and put it on the far corner of the bed. Because I know darn good and well that I am not smart enough, or coordinated enough, to unfold a blanket in my sleep and tuck myself in. On the other hand, I also know what kind of generation it is that seeketh after a sign, so probably had better not.
I read this on Candleman’s blog. Having been poor [by U.S. standards] for much of my adult life, I feel qualified to give him a hearty “amen”.
If I had not struggled so hard, for so long, I would not appreciate where I am right now. I am still in debt, but on paper I am in the black, and this time next year I will be standing on third base, hoping the pitcher is not paying attention, and getting ready to steal home.
There will be a party, even if it’s just the kids and me. I’m thinking of a cake decorated to look like a dollar bill, or a loan contract, with the words PAID IN FULL written across it, or the big red circle with the line through it. We can have those chocolate Mardi Gras coins, too.
And then I will celebrate by sitting on the floor and putting my left foot behind my head. Or not.
I had to laugh at church yesterday. I was standing in the hall after welfare meeting, bringing my friend Todd up to date on the state of the non-union, telling him that I knew somebody appropriate would turn up in Heaven’s own time, when he grinned and said, “I think you should turn loose your inner cougar.”
I’m thinking that’s another “no.” But if Bishop gives me the same counsel, I’m going to be officially worried...
- 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!