About Me

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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, November 28, 2010

Dreeeeeaaaaam, dream dream dream...

Love the Everly Brothers. But they’re not helping, just now. I had part of one of my serial dreams, which morphed off into entirely new directions. I lost my shoes at a singles(?) dance at a venue in a bad part of town, and then I couldn’t find my car, and some guy gave me his business card [me, the one who basically doesn’t call guys], when suddenly I was 35 years younger and living in Mom’s house [but Dad was already gone], and LittleBit was a baby, and the new guy was 35 years younger too, redheaded as he must have been at that age, perched on the back of the commode or maybe in a window seat that never existed, with his feet on the lid, watching me dab perfume on my pulse points. He had driven over to go to church with me. Oh, and we had cell phones.

Weird. I blame this on The Five Love Languages.

The best antidote to weirdness is creativity. I went into my studio and retrieved the container with the leftover freshwater pearls from Firstborn’s wedding. And I made two three-strand necklaces and one choker from the lavender pearls and used up most of my patience trying to find a beading needle slim enough to string up the pale peach baby pearls. I plan on keeping the first necklace and saving the other two for my Etsy shop, if I open one next year.

Wrapped up the first Christmas gift, possibly to give this year, possibly not. I am trying to figure out something small and useful and fun to give the sisters I visit teach. I am more than a little frustrated with myself for my self-imposed budget and declaration of “no gifts please / don’t expect anything unless you are a grandchild”. I like to give gifts. I like especially to give handmade gifts, and those take time which I haven't had until recently. I haven’t minded not getting loot this year; receiving gifts is not my love language. I do like to shop, and I adore wrapping presents, but I think that falls under acts of service for me. Acts of service are how I stay sane when I am bilingual in quality time and physical touch. I’m rarely awake enough for quality time, and don’t get me started on physical touch.

Thank heaven for grandchildren! Best memory from Thanksgiving day was when the Bittiest toddled up to me, grinned his little toofer smile, and said, “Hey! Ah-YA-ya!” And I replied, as I scooped him up, “Hey! I love you, too!” And he grinned even wider, as if to say, “OK, I was pretty sure Gram was smart. This confirms it.”

I was feeling a little utterly starved for touch, so I invited myself over to the Bitties’ house for some baby hugs and general hijinks. Kisses from a guy who is 14 months old will not get me in trouble.

This is what I did, part of yesterday. This is my worktable, where everything just sort of collects. First, the before, panning left to right from the door:







And now the after, again panning from left to right :









The beige rectangles are bags-in-waiting. And I found the green earrings which I bought at the same time as the green necklace I recently restrung. Also one-half of another pair, and another necklace which needs restringing.

There was also knitting. I put several more rounds on missionary hat #2 yesterday, especially while I was at Secondborn’s to watch over sleeping Bitties, tackle Mount Washmore, and watch “The Corpse Bride” [which I found utterly enchanting; it seriously interfered with my knitting] and “The Proposal” [which made me laugh out loud, even if it was not exactly edifying].

This morning I have the restrung bracelet in my scripture tote, so it will get to church and its owner. I also have the cat/chocolate pin attached to the strap of said tote, where it is distinctly out of place and therefore easier for me to notice and hand off to its new owner. I just repurposed the small velvet ring box, in which my sister sent my birthday earrings this year, as a hassock for Chutzpah. She seems happy to have a cushie for her tushie.

I have one small box that is mostly-sorted, on the seat of my spinning chair, which is at my worktable. I have a large cardboard box under the table, and a smaller box with mending in it, which may actually get dealt with before New Year’s Day. And a clear shoebox filled with notes and memorabilia, which I am now going to sort through. I really want to get my hands on my knitting, but I am making myself tackle the shoebox first. Later today I need to re-tidy the coffee table. There are roughly three stacks of Important Stuff which I salvaged from the shredfest. They are starting to slip and slide and commingle. I need to sort them out again, put all the genealogy bits together, the knitting pattern printouts with their compadres, and the warranty information in that file folder in the file cabinet.

Yes, I know where it is. [I found it yesterday.] Now hush!

So I didn’t get all of the remaining boxes and tubs sorted through this weekend. I’m still ahead of where I was this time last week, or even yesterday morning. I am almost to the point where I can start flinging pictures up onto the wall, which makes me feel positively beamish.

And I think I have earned this Sabbath. Have a nice, peaceful one, y’all!

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