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.
- 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!