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].
- 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!