So, can we call that a date?

I have yet to hear back from him on that. I went to the hospital after work. The newlyweds were there, with his mom. They stayed for about another hour, then went home; they’ll be back again today.

I settled in with my knitting, we talked, he wrangled with the laptop a bit, and we fired up a movie. Shortly after which we were joined by mutual friends, who stayed for a good, long visit [but not too long] and left. We watched the last few minutes of the movie, hugged carefully, and I came home.

I teased him that slow dancing is going to be a bit of a challenge, as his stoma is pretty much front and center.

His color is good, his attitude is great, and he has acquired a new talent which will delight his grandkids: unscented but distinctly audible farts. [I hope that word doesn’t offend you; it was not in my vocabulary, growing up, but life with the children’s father changed that. LittleBit’s first complete sentence was, “Hee! Hee! Daddy fart!”]

He says it ought to liven up sacrament meeting in his ward. All of his kids and grandkids live within his ward boundaries.

I grabbed something on the way home and stayed up just long enough to finish it. Had a couple of quick chats with friends via FB and was in bed a hair after midnight. I hope he slept as well as I did: roughly six hours.

My next two tasks are to spit-splice another ball of the main color onto BittyBubba’s gift, for uninterrupted knitting at the singles mini-conference this afternoon and evening. And then to figure out what to fix for my friend who just had her baby: no corn, no beans, no broccoli (no problem!), no cabbage (ditto!), no chocolate. I have three ginormous chicken breasts in the freezer. That’s a start.