No, I am not sitting here, typing in the benudies (pronounced bee-NOO-deez, in case you are curious), as my favorite roommate would have said. I am very properly wearing my church clothing, while my jeans and jeans shirt are tumbling in the dryer. Secondborn and BittyBubba are, respectfully, moderately allergic and spectacularly allergic to cats. And we are currently owned by one.
We are heading to Secondville as soon as my de-dandered, de-haired jeans are dry. I am going to try to put the cat out before changing my clothes, so he doesn’t love all over my ankles on my way out the door, thus defeating our bending of the Sabbath to keep my progeny breathing naturally.
I took the cat’s name in vain as I was getting into the car this morning to go to stake conference. I had my stockings, slip, skirt, shoes, blouse, suede jacket, raincoat over that, earrings, bag, knitting, charged phone. And I realized that I didn’t have my new barrette, which I bought last night to go with this outfit. It’s a small brown flower with tiny white polka dots. I chased the cat off our bed while I was putting on my stockings. He looked guilty. I decided that he might have mistaken my new barrette for a chew toy.
Thankfully, when we got home from church, my new barrette was sunny side down on the carpet and otherwise unscathed. I probably owe the cat an apology.
I finished the cuff on baby sock #4 and turned the heel. When I start again, I will pick up the gusset stitches and start the gusset decreases. There is an excellent chance that I will have another finished sock when I go to bed tonight, as I tend to get a lot of knitting done at Secondborn’s, and it’s an hour’s drive each way.
We had a serious financial falling-down at Costco yesterday, followed by a lesser one at the grocery store. But we now have all kinds of goodies for our three-month supply and are, therefore, just that much more obedient to the counsel of our church leaders to provide for the unexpected.
I expect to want to eat salmon patties on a fairly regular basis. should I need to eat from our food storage. I can’t speak for the rest of you.
Our young(er/ish) friends’ wedding yesterday was just lovely. He was in Secondborn’s ward. She lives north of Dallas. The wedding was about 45 minutes north of here, in McKinney, and when we got to the meetinghouse it was set up for an outdoor wedding in an orchard which is part of the property the Church bought.
A whole raft of chairs with white covers and black ribbons. Equally suitable for an elegant wedding or a reverent disposal of the family goldfish. [Yes, Beloved and I are just that irreverent.] An outdoor wedding in Texas, any time of year but especially on the cusp of winter and spring, is a declaration of hope and faith, and possibly an indication of insanity. I’ve said for years that we have two seasons in Texas: February and summer.
Please note that it is no longer February. But we had glowering skies and exceedingly brisk breezes, rather than the typical swelter. The happy couple showed mercy on us; the wedding was held indoors.
So good to see them both so happy. She has a whole raft of half-grown sons. He has one little girl. [I wonder how long it will take for her to have those boys wrapped around her wee fingers? She appears to be a very sunny child; shouldn’t take much.]
We have a CT scan this week and chemo again, empty-nesters’ FHE tomorrow night, a visit with my aesthetician on Saturday morning, and maybe “John Carter” on Friday night. I am hoping to get the rest of the boxes in my studio dealt with before next weekend. It was wonderful to have Beloved’s brother here for a couple of days, but not conducive to my emptying boxes in my jammies before breakfast.
I’m thinking that stuff ought to be about ready for us to head to Fort Worth. Beloved is making his veggie jollop, and Secondborn is fixing something she calls Cowboy Casserole, which sounds dreadfully hard on the cowboys if you ask me. There aren’t that many real cowboys left these days. I don’t think we should be eating them. There’s probably something in the scriptures about that.
Thank you, JustJennifer et al, for your kind comments. I do like to put words in a shaker and mix them all together and see what pours out.
- 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!