“I don’t know, but (s)he left this silver bullet.”
I was in love with “The Lone Ranger” when I was a little girl. Clayton Moore was dashing and mysterious, but my heart secretly beat for Tonto. [I called him Jay-Yay Silverheels.] Oye, he started out as Harold Smith? That is just too funny: Trainman’s first name is also Harry.
I am going to have to be six kinds of superhero today. I need to leave for the temple in approximately two hours. Before that I need to do my grocery shopping, wash one quick load of laundry, eat breakfast, and make myself presentable. While remembering my temple bag, my insulated bag for the AWOL cheesecake slice that’s in the new guy’s freezer, my knitting bag, the Ubiquitous Red Bag, a snack for the dance tonight, a doll to take to my friend MizP’s house (for a size comparison with patterns for doll clothing which somebody gave her, which may come home with me) and to possibly leave at the new guy’s for MelMelChan to re-string (I made the second and final payment to Fourthborn for Honor yesterday). And my manners. And my marbles.
Wish me luck. My friend Tom is begging for brownies. Not even on the radar screen today, dreadful sorry, Clementine.
- 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!