Made French toast for breakfast. Sorted through two days of junk mail while eating it. Went back to bed, because I could.
Went into my studio and put a few more things away, including my 2008 tax return, which I couldn’t file before because I couldn’t get into the file cabinet. Shredded the returns for 2000-2004 and my state sales tax returns from when I had a side business [preceding and, later, in addition to my MK business]. Ate some gingersnaps.
Cleared off approximately half of the fainting couch and put the linens which had occupied the foot of it, into one of the recently-emptied tall Rubbermaid storage bins. I even got the big hooked rug folded up and crammed into another. All of my surplus linens are in now in four tubs in the same part of the world. Triumphantly polished off the gingersnaps.
Cut out the rest of the foundation pieces I needed to make Christmas stockings for Firstborn’s family. Had to piece the batting across the toe on 1BDH’s stocking, but since the face of his stocking is going to be pieced as well, I don't think it will be obvious.
Ran to the grocery store for three bags of steamer corn, a package of rolls, and a big bag of pretzels. Because nothing says Thanksgiving like a big bag of pretzels, right?
So, that was yesterday. I came home full of holiday food and general well-being, notwithstanding the fact that the children’s father is still somewhat obsessed with the idea of remarriage. He rode to the dinner with Secondborn and her tribe, and asked what it would take for that to happen. I spoke with Middlest on the phone yesterday, and she says that he asked her to put in a good word for him. Apparently he said the same thing to Fourthborn at dinner last night (she told me while I was taking her to work).
In perhaps the most amusing development in this saga, LittleBit was sitting on the arm of a couch and asked me for my address, which I gave her, not even thinking to ask her why, since she knows how to get here. She then handed it to her dad, and I followed her out to the kitchen.
“Why did you give your father my address?”
“Because he asked me to. It’s not like he’s going to stalk you, or anything.”
“Actually, he kindof is. [Well, as much as anybody in a nursing home can.] Last time I visited him, he sortof proposed.”
“Oh Mommy, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
I absolutely adore 1BDH’s sister. I was bringing her up to speed on all this, out in the kitchen, and she said, “Just tell him to get in line. That’s it, just ‘get in line’!!!”
The worst part of it is that after dinner, when I pulled out my knitting, I was sitting across the room from him, and he kept looking at me with puppy dog eyes. It’s a little sweet, and a little sad, and about sixteen years too late.
Not entirely looking forward to Christmas dinner. This is when a stunningly gorgeous but not obviously gay friend would come in mighty handy. Or being a few months further down the road with the new guy, either as JustFriends or sweethearts.
In other developments, the stockings are done for one granddaughter and nearly-done for the other. When JoAnn’s opens in a few hours, I will take the second stocking with me. I think it needs small jingle bells to finish it off, but I’m not sure what size or color: bright brass, antique brass, rusty, bright red, barn red, burgundy?
I have just refueled and am about ready to head back into my studio to work on 1BDH’s stocking. Once I get that knocked out, then I can work some more on missionary hat #2. I only got a couple of rounds added to it before the puppy dog eyes got to me, and I made like a cowpie and hit the road.
If you are Black-Fridaying today, please be careful, and watch out for the crazies. Mostly I am staying home to putter, although there is a planned visit to a friend’s house to help her debug a knitting pattern.