This is too good not to share.
The adult session of stake conference was just glorious last night. I am still processing it. And I will probably go on at length about it, some other day. Right now I am figuring out what to pack, in case the roads turn bad tonight and I end up spending the night at the home of the new guy’s bishop and family.
If I prepare for that, the roads will be bare and dry. If I blow it off, we will get the next storm a few days early, and I will get stuck on the High Five until the Tuesday after Easter.
The High Five is an interchange in North Dallas, where Coit Road and Central Expressway and I-635 all come together and dance around one another. It’s like tatting, for cars. It’s called the High Five because of how tall some of the overpasses are (and there are probably five of them, but I’ve always been so busy staying in my own lane that I’ve never had time to count). Let’s just say that when I’m bearing west onto 635 from Central, I am further from the ground than I was at the Clapton concert in 1998. And nowhere near as happy about it.
So, once I’m packed, I get to figure out today’s church knitting. If the general session of stake conference is anything like last night, I will be too busy taking notes and wiping my eyes to do much knitting, but again it’s better to take knitting and not need it, than need it and not have it.
And I have Not Clue One as to what football knitting might be. So I'm heading over to Ravelry in a few minutes, because after stake conference, and after I drop my friend at her home, I am heading across Dallas to watch the new guy, and the one son I have yet to meet, watch the Super Bowl. My children find this almost as amazing as I do.
Ms. Ravelled visits Testosteroneville.
They say the natives are friendly.
- 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!