I know that a picture is worth a thousand words, but my camera was here, and the side of the building was zipping past at 60mph. So you’ll just have to put up with some fraction of that thousand words.
I was on my way home from the temple last night when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the partially-lit sign at Spring Creek Barbeque. (Yes, that’s how they spell it. This is Texas, where spellcheck and motorcycle helmets are for sissies.) And I was rapidly approaching, not only home, but that level of tiredness where almost anything is funny.
Sure, why not? *chortle*
More eek. Somebody knocked on my door at 11:00 last night. No, I did not open the door. I went to the door and hollered “who is it?” No answer. “Who is it?” No answer, so I turned my head and hollered at the back of the house, “Honey, somebody’s at the door ... Yeah, *you* call them. Thanks!” Yes, I did call 9-1-1. And then I had to get dressed again, as I’d told the dispatcher that I only wanted to talk to the cops if they found somebody in the bushes.
Not amused [apparently I reached that point where not everything is funny; I know I was suddenly far more alert than I had been]. Maybe it’s time I renewed my acquaintance with Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson.
But it’s morning, and I slept reasonably well. The entirely fictitious male presence did a good job of patrolling the perimeter last night.
Still more eek. I took a good squint at my cell phone bill after work yesterday. There was a $75 charge that I didn’t understand. Why are you charging me for data when I don’t access the internet on my phone?
Did you know that if somebody sends a picture to your phone, even if you don’t look at it, you get charged for data usage? (No, Sherry, it wasn’t your fault. That single shot of your poor bashed car cost me something like 30 cents.)
So now I have a data plan, effective about 5:21 last night. And they have credited my account for that unpleasant little surprise, as well as the most recent 30 cents. I suppose the good news is that now I will be able to check my email from work, and post witty squibs [or half-witty ones] on Facebook.
I am almost to the armscye on the back(?) of Faith’s sweater. I think two more pattern repeats will do it. And then I will have to decide if this is the V-neck front of the sweater and knit accordingly, or if this really is the back.
More dancing tonight, but no new guy, as there are two birthdays in his tribe today. Time to go pull that third painting out of the backseat of Lorelai. I succumbed. The office manager reduced the price on all remaining artwork to $5.00, and this is the picture that reminds me so much of the foothills of home, in autumn.
Part of this Labor Day weekend will be spent hanging pictures. Seems appropriate, somehow.
- 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!