I was already having a good day.

And then my coworker who picks up the mail, dropped a package on my desk. I would show you a picture, but it would be red on red (since I usually photograph yarny goodness on this chair), and all you would get would be glimmers of coral here and there. So you’re going to have to settle for the thousand words.

Schaefer Andrea, their 100% silk laceweight, in every shade of red you can imagine, and probably a few you can’t. Deep coral to vermilion to carmine to scarlet to crimson to cranberry to Cabernet (I gave up drinking wine 36 years ago, so I don’t know where Merlot fits on the color wheel). A no-reason gift from one of my fellow knitters. Love made evident.

Gobsmacked.

I have another skein of this yarn all wound up, in teals and turquoise and browns, bought two or three years ago with birthday money. I have swatched with it a little, and it frogs nicely. I have yet to decide what to make with it, although I’m sure that if Blessing could talk, she would say that she wants a silk skirt to go with the sweater I made her, but it was my birthday present, not hers, so she’s out of luck. The color changes in that ball are a little too distinct for lace knitting. I might end up making a Pi Shawl out of it, with a simple I-cord border. But not yet.

This new skein, however, was made to show off the most extravagant lace pattern I can find. And I suspect that the scarlet teardrop beads which I bought awhile back will become part of the design.

It is only the love which I have for my youngest granddaughter that keeps me soldiering away on the third burgundy and gold scarf of the year. KnitPicks’ Telemark is, for me, what Cascade 220 is for many of my knitting friends. It is my workhorse yarn: well-crafted, sturdy, dependable, predictable. I have yet to be disappointed.

But it is not lush. And mysterious. And seductive.

For you benighted souls who do not knit, this yarn is the equivalent of the Cowboys winning the Superbowl and the Rangers winning the World Series and the Mavericks winning the whatever it was they won, within months of one another. Or a Coach bag. Or a Porsche 356SC (Dad’s was red, and he was smart enough not to let me drive it, after I bent the axle on his Karmann Ghia when I drove us into a shallow ditch because I couldn’t remember how the clutch worked with the brake). Or the very best Belgian chocolate. Or having Sean Connery sit at your kitchen table and read to you from the Book of Mormon. [You have your fantasies. I have mine.]

Thank you, my friend. Thank you!

He leadeth me to buy distilled water.

Because my CPAP is unhappy when I don’t. I don’t know how long it took me to blow through that last gallon; it seemed faster than usual.

I was supposed to get a haircut and a facial, but the dear young friend who is my hair magician, is in her last trimester of pregnancy and texted me from the hospital. She gave me no details, but she’s in my thoughts and prayers, and if you wouldn’t mind? her name is Julianne.

So I took all my lights and darks to the laundromat, and all my lovely lightweight dressy T-shirts are on hangers suspended from various doorknobs, because I need to go in and rearrange my room (again), so I can get to the closet and hang them from the rod which is theoretically there for that purpose. The grammar fairy wishes me to let you know that the rods per se are not theoretical; merely their usage.

I really, truly, deeply, devotedly miss the walk-in closet from the penultimate apartment. It was at least five feet deep, and the length of the bedroom, and there were rods on three sides. I have three closets here: a coat closet in the hall, between the living room and my studio. The closet in my studio. And the closet in my bedroom. The coat closet is by far the largest. Apparently people ran around in the benudies a lot more, back in the 40’s?

After the laundromat, I ran to Sprouts for more of the really great crackers I picked up last Saturday, and some avocados, and another chunk of salmon, and a quart of goat kefir. Thence to Wally World for the aforementioned distilled water and a couple of other things. General Conference is this coming weekend, and I will be able to sit on the couch with my knitting and soak up all that inspiration and eat healthy stuff rather than bonbons. I have plenty of fresh fruits and veggies. If I want something sweet, I will make lemon squares or oatmeal cookies.

Yeah, me. Baking.

This is [woohoo!] a temple night for me, and ordinarily I try to go to bed early the night before. I was up far too late last night, baking a fish and then a batch of corn muffins to use up the butter and olive oil mixture in which I dipped the salmon before wrapping it up in baking parchment.

And since I began this post in a tangentially religious fashion, I will close with one of my favorite hymns, in celebration of the fact that I now have functioning speakers on my computer. Some of you will recognize the melody; he [RVW] is one of my favorite composers.

Reasonably, and officially, well-adjusted.

In applause and support of Fourthborn’s ongoing efforts in her home and studio [as well as my own], I give you this. Having spent an hour or so analyzing, comparison shopping, purchasing containers, and then actually corralling most of my crochet thread on Saturday, I can attest to this. I would be 100% done with that task, were it not for the fact that JoAnn’s was closed when I thought I would pop in at the last minute. Apparently the last minute had come and gone without bothering to inform me. Rude! But just the anticipation of checking this task off my list was enough to inspire me to brainstorm a better storage solution for my button collection.

I’ll get the makings for that soon, possibly after the massage I thought I would be getting last night, but then she called to say that we were locked out of the building, and could we reschedule? It was a blessing in disguise, because it gave me more time to tackle Mount Washmore, and also time for a leisurely stroll through the produce department. I brought home bananas, strawberries, grapes, carrots, and spinach, plus divided storage containers and a couple of new dish wands. Once I got home last night, carefully not stepping on the new part of my sidewalk[!] or the new end of my driveway[!!], I sliced up a generous portion of strawberries and enjoyed them with a sprinkling of Demerara sugar and a splash of goat’s milk.

I weighed myself at work yesterday. I’ve lost another five pounds, making it eleven since I went off cow’s milk less than two weeks ago. I’m not dieting. I’m not starving myself. I eat when I’m hungry, and I don’t when I’m not. It’s working out to four or five small meals a day plus the odd snack, plus I am like unto the proverbial racehorse every couple of hours. I no longer feel like weeping when I drive by a Braum’s, I’m not craving chocolate (which I can have), and I haven’t had a Cherry Coke in over ten days. Haven’t needed one.

I can’t wait to see what my massage therapist has to say when she works on me tonight. She asked me last time if I had lost weight, and I told her no. Turns out she was right!

The chiropractor says that the problem with my right hip is the hip flexor. I have exercises to do before bedtime (three gentle stretches with each leg), and when I wake, and whenever I get the chance during the day. He’s not sure if it’s related to that 5,000 mile drive when Dad died, or to my broken femur five years ago, or to something unknown, but my right leg is shorter than my left because all of the muscles in that thigh have shortened. Essentially, they have their arms folded and their backs turned and are pointedly not speaking to one another.

My theory? It’s rust. Some of it physical, and probably most of it psychological. Definitely something I’ll talk over with my massage therapist. She is amazingly intuitive. And in the meantime, there are grapes which are calling my name. And bananas. And good stuff like that.

Those exercises? I thought they would be easy-peasy. I have two variations: one standing in a doorway, and one where I lie on my back and try to insert my kneecap into my nose. Surprisingly, that one is easier. I managed three reps with each leg before getting out of bed this morning. And I won’t stop trying to do the other, which will raise fewer eyebrows if I stand and do it in my cubicle at work.

Parting thought? A blouse I love, which would gap in front were there not two buttons spaced closely in the danger zone, is flowing primly over my pulchritude this morning.

I think that calls for some celebratory knitting!

Insufficient “Caution”

It’s not as obvious in this picture as it is in real life, but the new ball is a markedly different gold than the stitches on the scarf. I do have two full balls of the new color, so there will be plenty for BittyBit’s scarf, and I am glad that I did not discover this last night, when I was at the fireside. It might have put a crimp in the evening.

As it was, I noticed first thing this morning, with about two yards of the first gold left to knit. And since many North Americans believe that Monday is pretty much of a loss (a theory to which I do not subscribe), I had about five seconds of oh dear before coming up with a blog post title and my camera.

@ Middlest: I have an unopened half gallon of almond milk in the fridge. I much prefer the Blue Diamond to the Silk. I also have two of those everlasting juice-pack quarts up in my cupboard as part of my year’s supply.

My friend Mickie gave me her old computer speakers last week. I hooked them up last night and am now YouTube-ing to beat the band, catching up on links that friends have sent me.

This is going to be another busy week, filled with activities (and people) I love and maybe an adventure or two. I’m leaving work early for an appointment with the chiropractor whom my massage therapist recommended, and then I have an appointment with her, after which, if I do not go tackle Mount Washmore, I will be in what an old roommate used to call the benudies (accent on the second syllable) tomorrow.

Mount Washmore has been bagged up in the back of Lorelai since mid-morning on Saturday, so there will not be the distraction of coming in after the massage for just a minute to grab things and ending up on the couch with my knitting and a podcast or three.

Speaking of Lorelai, the jaunt to the fireside last night just about emptied my gas tank, so I need to get off the computer and blow dry my hair and grab my lunch and scoot.

Another excellent day.

I took all the healthy foods that are on my better not list over to Secondborn’s, and then she and BittyBubba and I went to Costco. I came home with goat cheese crumbles, easy on the salt, and a ginormous box of raisins.

So, maybe not the soy milk. I had significant rumblies in my tumblies last night after downing a glass at dinner. Not nausea. Not vomiting. Just a whole lot of audible discomfort that my mom would have called an organ recital. I did a little online reading, and apparently soybeans require as much work to make them nontoxic for humans as does canola oil. If you have TVP in your food storage, you might want to rethink it.

And yes, Secondborn, I am planning to get a (medical) second opinion on the dietary thing, after the first of the year. It’s not covered by my HMO, or wasn’t when I started to do it two or three years ago. I’ll check again. And I’ll save up.

I finally decided on the next knitting project: a third Gryffindor scarf, for BittyBit’s birthday in December.

The RS broadcast last night was purely and simply glorious.

Time for breakfast and then some deathbed-repentance in terms of my Primary lesson. So much for my resolution to do better this week than last. But I feel really good about how I spent my time yesterday. I did the things which were needful. And I also got 95% of the crochet cotton organized and boxed up last night, and a bit of shredding this morning.

Jokes the new guy has sent me.

1) Men’s Logic

The following is perfectly logical to all males.

A wife asks her husband, “Could you please go shopping for me and buy one gallon of milk, and if they have eggs, get 6.”

A short time later the husband returns home with 6 cartons of milk.

The wife asked him, “Why did you buy 6 gallons of milk?”

He replied, “They had eggs.”


2) Not So Humble

I was once a legal secretary to a young law clerk who passed the bar exam on his third try. This fledgling attorney worked hard on his initial pleading, which should have read “Attorney at Law” at the top of the first page.

After I submitted the finished document for his review and signature, I was embarrassed when he pointed out a critical typing error. “Must you rub it in?” he asked.

I had typed: “Attorney at Last.”


3) Advice to an old guy

An old guy was working out in the gym when he spotted an attractive young lady.

He asked a nearby trainer, “What machine should I use to impress that lady over there?”

The trainer looked him up and down and said, “I would try the ATM in the lobby.”

***

The chemo cap is done. The mailing label is prepared. I have also gathered up the Addi Turbo’s which Tola wants and prepared a mailing label for them. Now to hie meself to the post office while they are open this morning and get them on their way.

I gathered up the new lace bits I was given by an attorney friend (leftover from her mother-in-law’s estate sale) and found a container for them, as well as the other lace bits I bought when my second doll was on-shipping. I think the project du jour will be to gather up all of my crochet thread and organize it, first by size and then by color, and put it into clear storage containers, and stack those in my studio.

My own vintage stuff, DMC #30 Cebelia white cotton thread bought at 75% off from a shop in Richardson that closed when I was pregnant with Middlest, is largely in an underbed storage box that resides under The Chastity Bed in my studio. I have another of those boxes which is totally empty, but it is too tall for a single layer of the larger (Coats & Clarks) balls from my friend, and not quite tall enough to stack them two-high.

I would love to keep them in red document boxes from the Container Store, as I do with my printer papers here by my desk, but it does not make sense to me to spend $30 on containers to protect $40 worth of thread (estimating $1 per ball; no idea what current prices are*). So I will probably take an empty box with me to Jo-Ann’s and get stackable clear plastic containers that are roughly the same size.

I also need to tackle Mount Washmore, and bathe, and eat breakfast, though not necessarily in that order. And I have no idea what should go on my needles next.

Tonight is the annual Relief Society broadcast. I walked to my first, in Provo, when Firstborn was a babe-in-arms. I have missed very few of them in the years since. And this would have been my 34th anniversary with the children’s father, which means that I can expect all sorts of weirdness to crop up today. I hope the day comes when I can celebrate 34 years, in mortality, with a beloved eternal companion. But if not, I do realize that I am incredibly and wonderfully blessed to live the life I have.

*DMC Cebelia #30 now retailing for $5.99 a ball; I have 14 balls. Coats & Clarks’ closest equivalent is their Aunt Lydia line; those balls retail for about $3.00 a ball now. I have 13 large balls and 21 small balls, plus half a dozen small balls of #5 pearl/perle cotton. American Thread Co. is no longer in business; I have three large balls. So I guess the replacement value of my crochet thread stash is roughly $170.00. I’m still not spending $30 to round it up and keep it dust-free.

Breakfast. Breakfast would be good.

My new, new favorite number is 65!!!

That’s the good news. His cancer count is plummeting. The less-good news is that his platelets are getting hammered, and he is having some internal bleeding, but they are monitoring him closely. As far as I know, he has not had to get a transfusion. (I’ve asked, and he’s not had a chance to respond, as he is in full-on zombie mode at the moment.)

In other good news, there will be opportunity for much overtime next month, which should make a dent in the financial damage of recent months.

I have a whole set of new dates calendared for his chemo, CT scan, etc. He gets the latter on the 10th, but he does not get the results until November 3. He is hoping that a discreet bribe of a loaf of homemade bread and a jar of pomegranate jelly to the nurse may shorten that wait. There are three more chemo treatments scheduled, the last one for November 1, but he is back on the Tuesday/Thursday schedule, which he prefers. And he will be flying out to CA after the penultimate treatment in order to drive his mom and her stuff back to Texas.

We both thought that he would be closer to a decision by this point. My irreverent thought when he told me November 3 was that it doesn’t leave much time to plan a wedding (not that he has asked) if I want to have it when Middlest is here over Thanksgiving. I did not share that thought with him. And, thankfully, he does not yet have blog privileges.

I ate well yesterday. I feel well this morning. I had a nice steep in the tub and massaged my cankle and loosened things up a little. I am now leaving a few minutes earlier than usual, in order to pick up raisins and read the label on Mrs. Dash. Dinner last night was the leftover mushroom jollop stirred into a package of unseasoned ramen noodles. Next time I fix the mushrooms, I will add some chopped ham or chicken to the leftovers, and I would really like to be able to season the noodles.

The rice pudding was a success. I ate it for breakfast at my desk yesterday. Most of it before the staff meeting, and the rest of it afterward. When I make it again, I will actually measure the almond extract instead of splooshing it in, but that’s my only quibble. A mere quibblette.

I would just about kill for some hash browns right now, but I will close my eyes and think about England.

A lot on his plate today.

The new guy has hematology at 7:30, chemo scheduled at 8:30 but he says probably closer to 10:00 because that first lab always runs an hour and a half to two hours, then the oncologist at 3:00. He is going to be wiped out out. Please pray for him.

Yes, the chemo (this would be #5) was originally scheduled for next Tuesday, but somebody decided it would be better to do it today. The new guy is less than thrilled, as he had planned to go fishing tomorrow.

I am hoping this puts us five days closer to his being well. He said he would email me when he’s home, or call me if the news is really good. Naturally, I am hoping for a call, although I hope it doesn’t come during the staff meeting. Which I am hoping against hope will be a short one.

I have been juggling chainsaws all week at work, after taking Monday off. I made a lot of progress yesterday, and I still have miles to go before I sleep. [I’ve been covering another attorney for two days, plus mine, plus the dictation from Attorney B. It will be nice to only have the regularly scheduled chaos to deal with, for the rest of the week.] I am hoping to finish the report I was working on last night, before the staff meeting, and then get the rest of my to-do’s done, plus open a new file, before it’s time to leave for the temple.

I had anxiety dreams last night. I’m not sure if it’s a function of my current workload or a reflection of dietary changes. But I woke up going “Whew, glad that’s over!”

In knitting news, I’ve begun the decreases on the chemo cap, and I will probably finish it today, which means that it’s time to plan the next project and also to decide what to take along in case I run out of stitches before I run out of lunchtime.

The new Knitty is up (I may have said that already), and I bookmarked half a dozen designs, and I’m also thinking it’s time to play with an idea of my own that has been rattling around in my head for awhile.

I was going to say Happy Tuesday!, but this is my Wednesday, and your Thursday, so never mind. Just, happy!

Six pounds. Probably from my ankles.

My massage therapist said last Friday that it looked as if I had lost weight. I got on the scale at work yesterday. Six pounds. I’m guessing it’s mostly fluid from my ankles and lower calves. The right ankle is a still little puffy just above the foot, but it looks fifteen years younger. The left one has a ways to go, but the swelling is markedly less, and it’s not as warm to the touch. I’ll give it some time with the golf ball in a couple of minutes before I start getting ready for work.

I am cooking this morning, a recipe of the new guy’s. Mushrooms in the pan with about half the butter he would use, because butter is on my better not list. Then some chopped onions. Then about a tablespoon of jarred, minced garlic. Then three generous handfuls of baby spinach, lid on tight, heat turned off.



I spooned out all the bits with spinach into one container, and what was left into another. I’ll have that over rice one day soon.

I got the stitches picked up for the crown of the chemo cap, and about two inches worked up the side, so I’m guessing that it’s about one-third done. It goes a lot faster once the mindless stockinette begins.

I cannot believe that I only have one project on the needles. The new Knitty is up. I am moderately to sorely tempted by several of the designs, six of which are hanging out at the bottom of my queue, which is now five pages long.

My camera is yeeping at me. The batteries that I bought at the battery store do not last as long between charges as the batteries I bought at the camera store.

I made an appointment with the chiropractor my massage therapist recommended, for next Monday afternoon, just before my next massage. My right hip is in serious need of a tune-up. I was feeling it yesterday morning, but this morning it seems to be behaving itself. I divorced my chiropractor thirteen years ago, so I am probably way past due.

Now to check my calendar to see if I booked my next appointment with my hair magician, or if I only thought I did. My bangs are at that awkward stage, but the rest of it is growing out nicely.

They changed the new guy’s appointments. Originally he was just meeting with the oncologist tomorrow, but they’ve moved up chemo #5 from next Tuesday, which pretty much trashes this weekend for him. On the other hand, that might also make a decision on his part five days closer...

The one we had to throw back.

Behold the 7” striped bass, or striper. One of my friends misread it and thought I had caught a 7’ stripper. No, we would have thrown her back even faster!

I took this one shortly before we headed back to the boat ramp. People zipping back and forth across the bridge, not sitting in a boat with a really great guy. [Funny story: we pull into a gas station on the way to the lake so he can get some minnows. Truck pulls out while he’s inside, two guys with a trailer and cement-working tools, and the guy in the passenger seat gives me a dirty look. I just smile back sweetly behind my shades.]



May I just say that I am now a true believer in SPF45. I did not even turn pink after 4+ hours out on the water. It was a really great day, even if my sneakers now smell like lake water. I have rinsed them, and they are drying out in the shower.

I did ask the new guy if there were still two petri’s in the experiment. His response? A somewhat flustered, “Umm, yeah, I think so.” The look on his face was priceless.

But we are going fishing again. And maybe next time I will catch more than a too-small striper or the anchor rope. He caught two drums, or possibly the same drum twice. (Trash fish, not musical instruments.)

The knitting went along, but I didn’t touch it, except to move it out of the way, until I got home and took a nap. As of this moment, I am ready to graft the hatband and start picking up stitches for the sides and crown.

Life is good.

Random Synaptic Firings, Monday Edition

The fishing stuff is packed. Ditto a complete change of clothes in case I fall out of the boat. [If I’m prepared, it won’t happen.] Most of the October birthday gifts are wrapped. I have a small bag of stuff that will go to the thrift store next time I’m in the neighborhood. One of my girlfriends has old, but working, computer speakers; she will bring them to church next week, and I will be all set for General Conference the weekend after that.

I forgot to tell you how it went when the new guy ran the gauntlet with my people on Saturday. My bishop was there, ditto the high priest group leader, ditto the oldest and feistiest member of that quorum [those of you who know Brother Kayak from my old ward? this one’s feistier!], my dentist (who lives in my old stake), a member of the bishopric in my old ward and his wife, plus my friends H & P who live in Firstborn’s ward, and a dear friend [female] from the weeks we lived in Burleson Ward.

I sat there feeling encircled by love, surrounded by priesthood brethren who only want my happiness. [Everybody should have the privilege of knowing that feeling. Often.]

After the session, we were all in the celestial room of the temple, whispering quietly and reverently, hugging, strengthening Zion in general and me in particular. It was interesting to stand at the new guy’s side as my bishop greeted him. They are eye to eye. Nobody flinched. And I was just standing there, enjoying the moment and no doubt grinning like an idjit.

I think that I also failed to mention that the new guy has emailed me an Excel spreadsheet with foods to inquire about. I am adding to it as I think of things, and I will make an appointment with Sister Biofeedback for more testing.

It occurred to me as I was driving to church that he’s going to an awful lot of trouble for someone who hasn’t declared himself; sounds as if he might want to keep a certain Ms. Ravelled around.

It is now crazy-early in the morning, and I am going back to bed for a few hours. ETA at his place sometime between 5:30 and 6:00. And I need to wash my hair first.

Middlest, good progress on the chemo cap for your friend today.

Night, all.

Matzoh me, matzoh me mucho...

So, the kosher Tom Thumb over by the temple is my new best friend. I came home with two boxes of matzoh: one whole wheat, and one interestingly named tea matzoh, pictured with a dollop of whipped cream on it.

My wonderful whole grain saltines have grains on my don’t list. I gave them to a friend at work. I also bequeathed the half-bottle of ranch dressing to another friend. And the last two tablespoons of edamame hummus got pitched [along with a wee hissy-fit] on Friday, because they contain canola oil. Which means, I guess, that if I want edamame hummus I shall have to make it myself.

The new guy printed off his copy of the PDF and pulled it out of his pocket when we went to the restaurant. I was hoping to get a baked potato, but they are not on the menu where we ate. While I was talking to the waiter, the new guy was comparing the menu to the PDF, and he came up with two options. I ended up with a Caribbean(ish) salad, minus the pineapple, plus half an avocado, and spritzed with salad dressing which I picked up, also at the kosher market.

We had a good lunch, and a good discussion. Then I drove up to Flower Mound and picked up a bottle of enzymes, back to Arlington to meet up with LittleBit, by way of Walmart so I could renew my fishing license for Monday, then two hours with my youngest in Braum’s, where I ate fro-yo with strawberry sauce and we talked for two hours. After that, it was nap time, then off to the grocery store with my laminated chart in hand, and home again with fresh produce. Including one perfect potato which was subsequently nuked, half saved for another meal, and seasoned liberally with goat’s milk kefir (which makes an acceptable if not perfect substitute for sour cream) and herbes de Provence.

And that was my day. I am going to email the new ward librarian with a list of pictures we need for this morning’s lesson, and then I am going to reset the alarm and go back to bed. And sometime between now and Primary, I will run my eyes over the lesson and hope for the best. [Magnifying my calling, as we say, is not on the list this weekend. Will strive to do better next time.]

A little knitting progress today. There are roughly four inches on the hatband for the current chemo cap for Middlest’s friend. It will be good church knitting tomorrow, as I’m using the same pattern I did for the new guy’s first chemo cap. [His hair is still firmly in place as of this writing. Pretty cool.]

Crazy is as crazy does.

My friend Leslye linked to this on Facebook recently.

I didn’t want to say too much in that forum. I feel a bit more free, here, where everybody has code names.

FirstHubby, when we were both young and insensitive, used to stand outside the shower and howl when I sang in the shower. My voice is better now than it was then. His social skills are better now than they were then. We have been friends-again for the past nine years, and in the eternal scheme of things he was by far the less obnoxious of us.

The phrase that jumped out at me from this article was emotionally mute. That was me, for at least eight years of my twenty year marriage to the children’s father, the years which I spent cycling in and out of depression. He never put me down, never physically abused me, never did anything which I could really put my finger on. He just refused to see that there were any problems in our family. It got to where, when our home teachers would come for their monthly visit, he would talk deep points of doctrine with them until it was time for them to go. And then I would walk outside with them and stand at their car door and tell them what was going on in our family.

I’m not seeing any signs of gaslighting with the new guy or his family. He talks a lot and tells great stories, but he also listens a lot, and he remembers what I tell him, and while it is likely to take some time before I entirely lose the feeling that if I were to disagree with a man I loved, the man would stop loving me, I have had some practice being brave in this friendship and the one with Brother Sushi.

I am so thankful for both of them.

In other news, my massage therapist was pleased last night to see the changes that have taken place in my body since she worked on me ten days ago. Not to mention how much better I’m doing than when we started. She says that initially the inflammation went up a little above my knees. Now it has receded to my ankles and lower calves. My arms are also more relaxed; there’s just one small trouble spot in my right upper arm, and my back is doing well. We’re both looking forward to seeing how much improvement happens over the next ten days. She says it looks as if I’ve lost some weight. Not sure about that, as I haven’t noticed any difference in how my clothes fit.

Today is our ward’s temple session. The new guy is meeting me there. He gets to meet my bishop. Is it evil that I am really looking forward to that? Then he and I are having lunch, assuming we can find someplace that serves food which won’t be problematic, and discuss what munchies to take fishing on Monday morning. From there I’ll go to see Sister Biofeedback and pick up a month’s supply of enzymes, and then meet LittleBit at Braum’s [sigh] where, with the enzymes, I will be able to eat their frozen yogurt. Probably.

Skipping the dance tonight, because least-favorite DJ will be in charge. But I will probably be needing a nap at that point anyway, and if not I can continue the puttering which has been gently rolling along all week.

We got rain last night. Puddle-jumping, frog-strangling, rain! I drove down my street[!!!] and tried to cross the gap into my driveway. It was a little too steep and a lot too squishy to proceed, so I backed up and drove to the neighbors’ [blessedly empty] circular driveway, up it, and across six inches of grass and grit into my own. Which was puddled like you would not believe. I will repeat the process in reverse this morning.

Trying to think where my umbrella might be...

Good Cop Food, Bad Cop Food

Safe Food:
Almond, almond milk, basil, black bean, black pepper, brewers yeast, broccoli, coconut, coconut milk, corn, garbanzo bean, garlic, goat milk (yay!!!), grape, hazelnut (American, but how can they tell, eh?), lemon, lime, macadamia, mushroom, nutmeg, oat, onion, peach, peanut, pear, pecan, peppermint, pinto bean, pistachio, poppy seed, raisin, salmon [yeeeeehawwww!], sesame seed, soybean, soy milk, strawberry, tomato, whole wheat.

+ Enzyme = Safe Food:
Avocado, bakers yeast, banana, blue dye, brown rice, cane sugar, carrot, chicken, chocolate, cilantro, cocoa, corn sugar, cow’s milk albumin, decaf coffee (ick), gluten, green pepper, ham, hemp milk, honey, ketchup, lettuce, mayonnaise, orange, red pepper, rice milk, shrimp[so it was apparently only the Roquefort which sent me into anaphylactic shock the day after I married FirstHubby?], rosemary, sodium fluoride, spinach, sweet potato, white corn, white potato, white rice, yellow corn, yellow squash (ick), yogurt, zucchini (double ick).

Better Not:
Anise, apple, barley, beef, butter, cheddar cheese, cinnamon, Coca-Cola, coffee [duh!], cow’s milk, cow’s milk lactose, cow’s milk whey, egg, fish oil, gliadin[I had to look this up], mozzarella, olive oil, pineapple, pork, red dye, rye, salt, sunflower seed, tuna fish, turkey, vanilla, watermelon, yellow dye, yellow mustard (ick).

Not Only No:
Canola oil, cashew, corn syrup, cow’s milk casein, green bean, green pea (my favorite non-potato vegetable!), MSG

Goodbye, Ben! Goodbye, Jerry! What we had was really special. I’ll come looking for you when I get my resurrected body. In the meantime, I just might have 38 years of not-eating-shrimp to catch up on. My plan is to have one bite of shrimp with the new guy and one of his sons and a vial of consecrated oil standing by, and see how it goes.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled knitting. And eating. *sigh*

I am wondering if I should get screened for celiac disease. I looked up gliadin and discovered that one can be sensitive to gluten though not allergic to wheat, and then looked at the other grains that are related to wheat (rye, barley), and the fact that celiac disease causes inflammation; my massage therapist says there is inflammation somewhere in my body, which backs up what the testing last December said about my blood chemistry. I tried reading the whole article, and my brain quickly zoned out and demanded wool.

I’m seeing my massage therapist on Friday night. I’ll take my chart with me. [I printed off three copies and had them laminated last night: one for home, one for work, and one for in the car.] And based on what my body tells her, I might be giving my doctor a call. It’s time for my flu shot, anyway.

Whoa. Need to talk with the new guy about that and have him ask his oncologist about the best timing for my flu shot. Because I certainly don’t want to put any additional burdens on his immune system. [The new guy’s, not his oncologist’s. The English, she is such a funny language.]

How did life ever get so complicated?

Breakfast, not at Tiffany’s

I didn’t sleep all that well, night before last. Not because there was some sort of rebellion going on within my body; more like a kid on Christmas morning.

Met the new guy at the restaurant at 6:30. I beat him there by about three minutes and was sitting in a booth, facing the door, knitting in hand, when he walked in.

We ate and sat and talked for two and a half hours. The restaurant was busy but not slammed, so we were not depriving anyone of a place to sit.

Two eggs scrambled, hash browns, bacon, toast with something that was almost certainly not butter, for me. Two eggs over easy, hash browns, biscuits and gravy for him. Water to drink for both of us, mine with ice, his without. He says that the sensitivity to cold is lasting longer with each round of chemo. I countered that at least he is not throwing up from his toes.

Just a very calm, relaxed, comfortable time. No sense of being rushed, although we both kept an eye on the time so I wouldn’t be late for my dental appointment.

I brought up the topic of grandchildren visiting. I’d been afraid it would be an every-weekend thing. He said no, about every three to four weeks. I said that, in theory, I’d want my own included. He said of course. I mentioned that it would be an adjustment, having lived alone for so many years, to living with husband, mother-in-law, son-in-law and spouse, two dogs, and a cat. He said the herd would be thinning, as the younguns want a place of their own and the dogs would go with them.

We talked about three women in the kitchen. I did not tell him that I would be quite happy to cede that territory to him and the others.

No, we didn’t settle anything. We are still what-ifing. I did not ask him if there are still two petri dishes in the experiment. But I am feeling a whole lot better having discussed most of the rest of the things that were niggling at me.

From there, I went to the dentist, where my periodontal health, you will be glad to know, is excellent. Years ago, when they measured the depth of the pockets, I was a fairly consistent 4, 5 or 6. Yesterday I was mostly 2’s, some 3’s, one 1, one 4, with a happy hygienist. I’ve got two funny little Gibraltars in my jaw, small bony protrusions on either side of my tongue which she says are very normal, but my toothbrush tends to skid off them. She told me how to counter that.

Knit Night was fun, but I only lasted a little over an hour, in part because of the previous night’s lack of sleep, and also because I wanted to get home before it was fully dark. They did, indeed, pour the concrete on my half of the street yesterday, along with a gorgeous new curb, and yes, there is space for a sidewalk between that and what is left of my yard.

The stealth projects were well-received at Knit Night. Now I can wrap them up for their intended victim(s). And I am about 90% done with Lark’s scarf. I will finish that sometime today. Am planning a quiet evening at home. It is his ward’s temple night tonight, and I just need to be here at home, with my knitting and my puttering and another early night so that I can be well-rested for my temple shift tomorrow night.

They have switched the monthly single adult temple session to Thursday nights, so I will likely see him and other friends then, but I will be a worker bee rather than a temple patron.

And now if you will kindly excuse me, I am going to unpin the Summer Mystery Shawlette from the blocking board, take the blocking board apart, and enjoy an uncluttered coffee table for the first time in weeks [and for however long it lasts].

A non-stealth project, for a change.

I finally blocked the Summer Mystery Shawlette, which I began in May and finished in June.



Yes, that’s a big honking hole over there on the left side. I’m calling it a design feature. It’s red, it’s mine. And it wasn’t made by a moth. Here’s a close-up:



The Tonka trucks are back. There are cones and gridwork all along my street. There’s also a slot carved along the street that I think might become sidewalk when it grows up. Meanwhile, I am parked around the corner and walk across four yards to get to and from Lorelai. It was fun, in the dark, last night. It will be even more fun on Thursday night after the temple, when it’s later and darker.

I have a day blocked out next week to go fishing with the new guy. I also have a breakfast date with him in 25 minutes for coconut meringue pie and other things that will soon be culinary contraband. Time to grab my bags and start hiking.

Knit Night tonight, with two finished objects that are bagged up and ready to show off. I think this is going to be one terrific day!

Stealthy. Like a ninja. [Or not.]

The most recently completed stealth project is blocking as we speak. Lark’s birthday scarf is a little over 80% complete. I dropped off the Bittiest’s present very late on Saturday night, after a full day of to-ing and fro-ing. No word as yet on how he likes it. He’s two. He definitely has opinions; I just can’t understand him [yet] when he expresses them, if they are positive ones. As his is the second Gryffindor scarf, I’ve saved pictures of it, and his brother’s, for a single post after BittyBit’s birthday in late December.

Saturday went very well, until the end. The graveside service was sweet and reverent, and I was honored to have been invited. From there I went to my bank, listened to the three options that will be available to me, and chose Door #2. Same services I have now, a couple of additional ones, still at no cost to me, and no change of account name or number. Basically, banking life goes on as before; they just call my account something new. Fine; I’m glad we have that settled. And then to NailDude’s; he made my hands look respectable again.

The session with the biofeedback machine was interesting. Basically, I am sensitive to nearly everything that goes into my mouth, either because of what it is, or because I lack the enzymes to digest it. My enzymes must have run away to Club Med with my marbles. I will get the PDF of my printout in the next couple of days. Then we can all sit down and have a good chuckle about it.

I was tired, a little hungry, and slightly cranky when I got home. Ate my leftovers from Friday night and took a nap. Woke up in time to print off the Primary lesson and run it over to my co-teacher’s[!!!] house, as she has no printer. Did some grocery shopping. One last run through the drive-thru at In N Out until I get my digestive system sorted out. And then home, to find two emails which just struck my last nerve. Hence the post on Facebook at 1:00am yesterday, channeling Dorothy Parker.

More on that later. Am having dinner with my friend J tonight, and the subject of those emails will be one topic of discussion. As it will be when I have breakfast with the new guy tomorrow.

But back, briefly, to the topic of Saturday’s biofeedback analysis. Years of marriage to the children’s father have made me wary of any business which offers me something for free. [See dealing with my bank, above.] I was reasonably sure that the person offering the free analysis had some way to profit from it, eventually. I was right. There are supplements, enzymes, etc. There are optional treatments, which are not free. I came home intrigued, but also looking at it with love and suspicion as my father would say.

When I was describing the testing to my friend who is a retired nurse, and gave her the Readers’ Digest version of the sensitivity/digestion issues, she exclaimed, “You’ve got no enzymes!” so I felt better about that. I had been reminding myself that to him who holds a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Or words to that effect. And it had just seemed a little too convenient that spending X a month on enzymes would go a long way toward solving my problem.

What seems reasonable to me, is to begin an elimination diet, eating only the foods that are on my safe list for a couple of weeks, to see if I feel any better. And then to gradually reintroduce foods which are on my safe-if-I-take-enzymes list, which would give me a somewhat greater range of options. I have not yet bought the enzymes, but she did send me home with a sample.

I am not starting said elimination diet until after I have had breakfast with the new guy tomorrow morning. Don’t know if I will have the printout at that point.

But in the meantime, I don’t ever have to eat watermelon again, or cashews. Sadly, broccoli is not on the list.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled knitting.

Two off the list

Brother Sushi says that the knives by that particular company have never impressed him, although pretty much everything else they make, does. He also says that the electronics produced by the company I hadn’t heard of, are nothing to write home about. Seven is an easier number to juggle than nine.

No doubt other items will drop off the list before I have to make up my mind.

Lots of happy knitting yesterday. After dinner with Brother Sushi, I went over to Firstborn’s and hung out for a couple of hours. Fourthborn had painted three small abstracts to go in the newly redecorated bedroom, so I got to visit with her as well. They have new bedroom furniture, beautifully and gracefully designed in a lovely warm dark finish, and far easier to dust than the stuff to which I naturally gravitate. Mostly, I sat and knitted.

Lark came home at one point, and while she was across the room and couldn’t see exactly what I was knitting, I held it up briefly and asked, “You like this color?” “Yeah?” “OK, good, you didn’t see anything.”

I am almost to the end of the first ball of yarn.

But what I need to do now, is put on my shoes and scoot out the door. It’s nearly 7:30, and there are groceries to buy. It’s going to be a busy day. Graveside service for BestFriend’s mom later this morning, and then a couple of hours between that and when I need to be at the place where I am getting tested for allergies. I hope to squeeze in a manicure and a chat with my bank during that time. The manicure is, frankly, a higher priority. The chat with the bank is because they want to talk with all of their customers about new banking services and products (I am guessing, how to charge more for less; I liked them far better when they were still a credit union).

And I’m afraid that I will have to give them a definite-maybe. I could be closing that account entirely in a couple of months, after 17 years, in order to open a joint checking account at a different bank. Or we could be opening a new account together, here, if that is a better deal. Or we could each be keeping our individual accounts and opening a joint one for household expenses. Or I could get voted off the island, keep the new guy as a friend, and start knitting a wedding present for them.

Strangely, this is not crazy-making. There is plenty in my life that is, and mostly that is not bothering me, either, at least not on a conscious level. When my massage therapist was working on me, she hit one trigger point and asked quietly, problem with one of the girls? Yes, there is something which I have been processing for quite awhile. We will all get through it. We love one another, and that is what family is all about.

After the massage on Tuesday night, when I took myself out for salmon, I sat in a booth. It was a little hard to squeeze into. It was even harder to get out of. I twisted as I pulled myself free. I felt something immediately along my ribs on the right side, just behind my arm. Thought at the time that it was a little ironic to have done that right after getting a massage. Went to bed and went through my day on Wednesday and Thursday and didn’t think any more about it.

Woke up yesterday barely able to drag myself out of bed. I don’t know if I cooled off too much during the night, and that aggravated it, but yesterday I was emulating Chester from “Gunsmoke”, minus the whine. I could feel it in my ribs, in my lower back, in my right hip socket, in the ligament that connects the kneecap to the groin (or maybe it’s a tendon; whatever it is, it was not happy; this is the same part that got injured during that long, long drive in 1990), and in my left foot and ankle.

Work went well; that helped. Dinner with Brother Sushi helped some more. And two hours of laughter with Firstborn and Fourthborn seem to have been the chocolate sprinkles on top of the sundae. I woke up barely feeling any crabbiness from all the parts that were shrieking at me yesterday.

I told him last night that it was almost as if my body were saying, now that you can relax a little about the new guy, here are some things you need to be paying attention to. He said that made sense.

The body and the spirit are interconnected in ways that we do not presently understand. My body frequently speaks to me in metaphor, to get my attention about spiritual matters. I’ve had a lot on my mind, not worries exactly, and stuff I needed to get off my chest. (You will be pleased to note that I am also breathing more easily. I barely coughed yesterday, and I don’t think I have coughed, yet, this morning.)

But I am hearing what sounds suspiciously like heavy equipment out on my street, so I had better get out of my driveway while I still can. I do hope that I will not be parking on a side street for the next two or three weeks and traipsing across my neighbors’ yards to get there. I think the Tonka Boys are about ready to pour the driveway-bits and the sidewalks, across the street.

This could turn out to be a far more interesting day than I had thought, or planned.

110 is my new favorite number.

Why? That was the new guy’s cancer count yesterday, down from 234 in June, 339 in July, and 888[!] in August. Not where it needs to be, yet (approximately 3.8), but definitely moving in the right direction.

Took me forever to settle down and go to sleep last night, but on the other hand, I had no difficulty staying awake during the temple session.

In considerably less important news, I am torn. The corporation’s online Christmas catalogue has come out. Instead of the usual two or three things I would like, this year there are nine. Here they are in alphabetical order:

1. A black-framed still from “Mulan” (mostly red, and thoroughly gorgeous)
2. Cook & Serve Pan - Stainless Steel
3. Immersion Blender
4. Nonstick Five-Quart Chili Pot
5. Speaker System for iPod/iPhone (brand I’ve never heard of)
6. Square[?] Griddle (11x16; I’m guessing that extra 5 inches = handle?)
7. Steak Knife Set
8. Tackle Box (Ready to Fish)
9. Thermos Front Seat Organizer Cooler

Some of these things would be superfluous, should my living situation change. Some would be entirely unnecessary, unless it did. Thankfully, I have several weeks before I need to make a decision.

And in news that is between these two in importance, but somewhat closer to the top, tonight is the monthly dinner with Brother Sushi. Very much looking forward to that.

On little cat feet...

Visits: 47,591
Page views: 56,285

Pretty amazing, for five-plus years on a rather quiet blog. I suspect that the Yarn Harlot and Mason-Dixon Knitting get more hits in a day. I remember how excited I was to pass 1,000 visits, and when I hit 10,000 I thought I’d hung the moon.

Do you see what I see?



No, not the sunrise reflected in the window of that building. Little cat pawprints marching up my windshield. One of the neighborhood cats has adopted Lorelai’s roof as a safe place to snooze. We startled one another a couple of weeks ago, when I came home late from something. I was sitting there in the front seat, gathering up stuff and putting it into my bag. The cat leapt up on the hood and started walking up the windshield. Seeing me in the car, she froze, obviously thinking, What are you doing inside my car?

A good Monday, for a Tuesday

Lots and lots of happy typing at work, stuff flying off my To-Do list into his outbox, through the postage meter, and out the door. Today my other attorney, the one for whom I transcribe, is taking his legal secretary, his paralegal, and me out to lunch. I am not sure where we are walking, but we will have lovely weather for it.

Early on in the Book of Mormon, the prophet Lehi is speaking to his young son, Jacob, explaining that there is a good reason for opposition in all things, and that it is part of the plan for our happiness. Taking it down to a personal level, if I had not sweated and slogged through the summer [now hopefully] just past, I would be nowhere near as appreciative of this cool front as I am, or should be.

Not a lot of knitting yesterday. A little before work. A little more at lunch. After work there was the mad scramble to drive from BigD to far west Fort Worth for my massage. After that, my body wanted protein, specifically fish, specifically the grilled salmon at Black Eyed Pea. And then I came home and answered a few emails and went to bed.

I slept fairly well and woke up about 4:30. So, somewhere around six and a half hours of sleep, and my ankles look good this morning, and nothing obviously aches. Which is amazing after the massage session. Two weeks is too long for me to go between massages, at least for now. I have another one scheduled for Friday week, which puts it at ten days and is just about right.

I asked if she thought we could get the whatever-it-is straightened out, that I did to my right knee on that long, long car trip twenty years ago when Dad died, that makes it exquisitely painful to drive for much more than an hour at a time. (I can take far longer car rides as a passenger.) She said yes, but we have a lot to do before that happens.

Well, I probably have another 40 years in which to do so, and if not, the resurrection will take care of it once and for all.

In other good news, I am breathing almost freely. I barely coughed yesterday. I had one coughing spell a little earlier this morning [and it was rather noisily impressive (think 1812 Overture), but my eyes are still in their sockets, and my pancreas did not come flying out of an ear].

I think this calls for some celebratory knitting.

Mmmmm, dead cow.

Seven ounces of filet mignon from Central Market. Grilled to perfection by the new guy’s eldest son, who called me out to the grill to ask if/how I had seasoned it. Unseasoned, straight from the market. Did I want him to dip it in the Asian marinade. *Sniff*. Eww, no I did not. Did I want any rubs on it? No, I just wanted dead cow that tasted like dead cow. Went back into the house, where I went through discussion v1.1 with Squishy. No pepper. A little season salt is OK.

I like my dead cow significantly less dead than does the new guy. Just a skosh more medium than medium rare. I want it crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, not all tarted up. It is not often that I want a steak, maybe a couple of times a year. It has been maybe four years since I bought a steak to cook, and the first time I have paid per pound what a good skein of sock yarn costs.

This one was worth every penny I paid for it. [And I am putting Kobe beef on the bucket list.]

I have a slice of chocolate meringue pie in the fridge. Ditto some of his from-scratch potato salad. Both of them excellent. Cannot. Wait. For. Lunch.

And over the course of this lovely long weekend, I have knitted up 45% of Lark’s birthday present.

What we did in Sharing Time yesterday

September 4, 2011

Dear Elder ~

Thank you for your willingness to serve. I hope the work is going well, and that you are loving the language and the people.

Here is where I would love to serve when I grow up.

(Sketch of la Tour d’Eiffel and l’Arc de Triomphe)

But first, I have to grow up. This is taking longer than I expected.

In the meantime, I am teaching Primary.

Your sister in Christ,
[Ms. Ravelled]

What did I do when I got home? Took a nap for a couple of hours, then got up and finished correlating blog posts with Ravelry projects. After which I headed to the couch with Lark’s birthday scarf and my iPod.

The new guy liked his birthday gift. Easiest birthday present ever: gift card to Bass Pro.

I did a little puttering as well. Not enough that I would consider it work, or breaking the Sabbath. A handful of things back where they belong, a bit of bookkeeping, a soupçon of shredding. Another fifteen minutes to half an hour at the same pace, would have the coffee table in a state to block my Summer Mystery Shawlette or the most recent stealth project, although it will take longer than that to deal with the somewhat tidy pile of paper at the near end of the table. Some of it needs to go into a notebook: printouts of knitting patterns. Some of it needs to be scanned and shredded: medical and financial stuff.

And then there are the items which are ready to be gift-wrapped: four of the five or six birthday gifts which will leave the house before the end of next month. I like wrapping presents. I think I will do that next, after breakfast.

It is deliciously cool here in my house. All three window units are momentarily off. They will all go back on sometime during the day, but for now I am savoring both the cool, and the silence.

Have a great, and safe, Labor Day.

Little did she know.

Yesterday I spent some time linking old blog posts with completed Ravelry projects. I had stopped at the end of 2009 because of technical issues with that function on Ravelry. I found the post where I met the new guy’s son. (I met Mel-Mel-Chan a month or two earlier, shortly after Blessing finally got here.)

Another amusing post, about an alleged match on the Churchboy Dating Service, with a guy who was allegedly a widower (and from whom I did not hear back). Paragraph three is the one you want. So much more impressed with the widower I am currently dating!

In which the new guy makes his first appearance.

That was pretty much my day. I read all the way through 2010 and added three or four completed projects to Ravelry, with photos from the blog, reconstructing the beginning and ending dates from my posts. I did not bother to add all the doll hats which I made, since they are inventory rather than gifts or items for personal use.

I took a break around 9:00 for a nice sluice in the shower, then ran to the store for the makings of three bean salad for tomorrow’s cookout. I did not speak to a living soul until 10:00p.m.

When I got home, I read through January’s and February’s posts, but there was essentially nothing to update, as it was all dolly knitting, all the time, at that point. After church today I will update from March to the present.

I did do some actual knitting, about six inches on Lark’s birthday scarf. It will be church knitting today, and when I get home.

It was interesting to read back through 2010 and the first two months of this year, to see the personal and spiritual growth, to contrast how I felt when I was dating NintendoMan with how I feel dating the new guy. With the exception of brief periods where his job schedule and his undiagnosed illness played hob with our seeing one another, it has just been such a wonderfully calm experience. It was interesting to read, back in February, after the second petri had been voted off the island, that he actually said it was time to get serious about the courtship/winnowing process. [So the increased focus I perceived beginning around Valentines Day was not just wishful thinking on my part. Most reassuring.]

I don’t know if the other remaining petri has been invited to the cookout tomorrow. I suppose I could go into the invitation on FB and see. I do know that as far as Mel and Squishy are concerned, I’m the one, and have been since before the new guy and I were introduced ~ they just couldn’t figure out a way to get us together.

So, grinning. Hugely.

And now I need to put my Primary bag together and make sure that my knitting goes into my purse. When church is over, I need to call BestFriend back and hammer out the details of our get-together tomorrow morning. I couldn’t have made a decision yesterday to save my life.

We will blame it on the wool fumes.

So much for my plans to stay in my jammies.

That was my big goal for Monday. Sit on the couch all day with my knitting and my iPod and endless glasses of water. The new guy’s youngest put paid to that.

Today is their birthday. FullMetalSquishy invited me to a joint birthday party on Monday night, at the home of Mel-Mel-Chan’s parents, the general theme of which being eat yourself into a coma. So now I need to figure out what sort of meat I want to take, for the guys to cremate grill for me, and what sort of side dish that involves neither cooking nor excessive salt. There’s no sense in my taking my usual pan of brownies, as that would be like my showing up in white as the non-bride at a traditional wedding. They are all great cooks. Somebody is going to make a cake that is worth my full attention.

That morning I will also be getting together with BestFriend for something involving culture and/or conversation, and food. Ball is in my court to decide what, and when. Will have to call her later this morning to figure it out, as my head is full of the current knitting pattern, with little room for anything else.

I do have opinions about local restaurants and activities. [They were just here a moment ago. I must have put them in a safe place.]

I need to go see NailDude today, so I will have pretty hands at the barbecue. They will be flying that afternoon. I finished one stealth project last night about 11:00, after my nap, and began Lark’s birthday present immediately thereafter. I will be heading to the couch shortly, to see how much knitting happens in a typical hour. She wanted a purple scarf. A purple scarf is exactly what she is going to get, in my default pattern (the one I used for 2BDH’s birthday scarf and the smaller one for BittyBubba, a couple of years ago, if you’re on Ravelry) so it will be a very quick knit. Quite possibly finished over the long weekend.

I am loving the yarn. I gave it the neck test at the yarn shop on Thursday, and it passed. After the last two stealth projects, it is fun to work with relatively fat yarn. After this, there is a chemo cap for one of Middlest’s friends, and then there are birthday presents to work on for the remainder of the year.

I also have a possible sweater commission to consider.

But for now, my stomach is growling, and it’s time for my morning allergy meds, and Lark’s scarf is warbling my name. Later, gators!

Yet another quick post.

Concrete is poured along the north half of my street. I got home (late) from the temple last night and executed another perfect three-point turn in my driveway/front yard, so that I am aimed toward the street for easier egress this morning.

We get to wear our college colors to work today (to celebrate the beginning of football season; you know I am the AntiSports). University of Idaho + Boise State University + North Lake College + (then) Tarrant County Junior College (where I finally got a AAS degree). I need a Frankenshirt!

I picked up yarn for a scarf for Lark for her birthday. As I will finish the current stealth project sometime today, I am taking the new yarn along so I can get started on it immediately.

Really, truly looking forward to the upcoming long weekend. My game plan for Monday is to stay in my jammies all day.

Time to enter the new yarn on Ravelry then grab my bags and git!