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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!

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America

BestFriend gave me this book several years ago. It survived at least two moves and languished on a bookshelf until I started working on the recumbent bike. I finished reading it at home last night. Brother Sushi gets first dibs, after I write down the titles of some of the other books the author cited. It really helped me put more of the pieces of my life in place. Beautifully written, and as I blogged awhile ago, now I understand why I prefer certain types of men to others.

Girls, let me know if you want to read this when he is done. It would give you a good feel for my parents, and my mother’s parents, your aunt S, among others. There’s that Svenska strain coming down through your father’s mother’s side; I have no idea how that blends in or complicates things for you.

Slept like a rock (again) last night. Seven hours Friday night, six hours last night in spite of a 1.5 hour nap after the service project. I have my notes for my PPI with the bishop this morning. I have read my RS lesson. I may even have time to take a squint at the Sunday School lesson while eating breakfast, if I can figure out what I want for breakfast.

Remember my posting about the key chain that goes “baaaaah”? It surprised me again on Friday night, as I was shoving my tote bag into the locker at the temple. I hope that the “angels above us [who] are silent notes taking” (Hymns, #237) got a good snicker. I was torn between mortification and helpless if quiet laughter. Remind me to throw that part of my keys into Lorelai’s trunk when I go back later this week.

Time to start getting ready. Since I am now swimming six days a week, it is weird to shower here at home. At this rate, a bottle of shampoo will last me a year. Which means that I now have a year’s supply of shampoo and am just that bit more obedient.

I will take personal progress anywhere and everywhere that I find it.

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