About Me

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Five 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!

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Stating the obvious.

Just in case you missed it, on the back of that bag of Blue Diamond Almonds, “Ingredients: Almonds. Peanut free. May contain other tree nuts.” Like, maybe, almonds?

Yesterday was a good one. A really, really good one. I had no difficulty staying awake during the temple session. We made a brief stop at an LDS bookstore near the temple (where I frugally visited with other friends while he picked up a couple of things), then had lunch at Pei Wei.

We were in our own cars, so he told me where to turn, and where the restaurant was, but not the name. There is an exit with a traffic light from the parking lot of the bookstore, and another exit a couple of car-lengths south of it, for traffic turning right. I normally use the light, even if I am turning right, but there was a backup, and I was starving and impatient, so I hooked the right and got ahead of him, then realized that my phone was turned off, in my bag, in the foot-well behind my seat, and there was no way but telepathy to contact him if I guessed wrong. I turned left at the next light and made an immediate right into the parking lot in front of Pei Wei, hoping I was right.

He pulled in a few seconds later, and I grinned in relief. When we got out of our cars, he said that he had momentarily forgotten the name of the restaurant, as he hadn’t eaten there in awhile. He just remembered that he liked the food.

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s named after the famous ball player, Pei Wei Reese.” I got more than a pity-laugh out of him for that. [Alison, my punny friend, are you proud of me?]

I had the sweet and sour chicken. He had the sweet and sour shrimp. One more reason to be thankful that we are not kissing. [For those of you who just tuned in, I am severely allergic to shrimp.]

Note to self: next time, do not order the sweet and sour chicken, which though delicious, is hotter than the hinges of Houston Hell. I ate about a third of it, which kindled a minor inferno in my stomach, and put the rest in a to-go box. I think if I make up a week’s worth of plain rice and mix the two, just before eating, and add fresh sweet and sour sauce, I can polish it off without pain. Because it’s too tasty to just pitch out and chalk up to experience.

We talked. A lot. We talked a little about finances, not in a we’re charging ahead with this way, more in a if we decide to go forward once we know how the chemo is going, this is a snapshot of what we bring, good and bad, way. And I gave him a supremely condensed version of various things in my personal, and our family, history that underlie the dynamics of how the girls and I relate to one another.

A lot of it will depend upon whether his application for disability is approved. Because we already know that with my current take-home I would not be able to cover the mortgage payment, much less utilities that are roughly half again what I am currently paying (because his house is larger though better insulated), and still continue to chisel away at my debt at the current rate.

We also briefly discussed the issue of my need for a studio, and that having a bed in it for the grandchildren would defeat the purpose of having a lock on the door. We were both sufficiently well rested to see the humor in that.

So, a good start made. And now I need to finish my preparations for today’s Primary lesson. Salt clay. Not what I wanted to make at 7:22a.m. in August when it’s already 85°F at DFW Airport.

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