You asked which sculpt I chose for the embodiment of Hope. Chloe. She has a dear little happy face. A lot of people like the pouty dolls. Not me. I didn’t tolerate pouting amongst my children. Blessed if I am going to shell out my hard-earned cash for a little resin sourpuss! And FairyLand has some of the prettiest sculpts around. I ordered her wig from Leeke World in this light brown. And I would have bought her outfit, had it not been sold out. It’s hard to find a dress that comes to the knees, even for the tinies.
Very peaceful and tender funeral yesterday. His sister (my friend) spoke, and there were two bishops and four present or former members of stake presidencies in attendance. I did not know him well, but from what I observed he was truly one of the noble and great ones, trapped for this lifetime in a wheelchair, and now free from physical pain and the sins and stupidities of his fellow mortals. One of the things she said, which I think I will always remember, is that when she goes Home, she will finally get to see how tall her brothers are. (They both died from muscular dystrophy.)
I grabbed lunch on the drive home, and it was a mistake. I went to Pie5 and chose the Athenian, because it has a garlic butter sauce rather than cream-based or from tinned tomatoes. The good news is that I avoided the hives which sometimes attack my ankles. However, the excessively salty feta, picked banana peppers, and Italian sausage conspired to make my ankle blow up, and even after a good night’s sleep and copious quantities of water, it is still swollen, stiff, and cranky, all the way down to my pudgy toes. I should be fine in the morning, and lesson learned.
Our dinner went well last night. Beloved first smoked, then grilled, two chickens which he had split and then laid out under foil-wrapped bricks. Our guests were delightful, and we are all agreed on a rematch. The house looks amazing. We are going to try to keep it that way, but we are pilers who drift in and out of remission.
Beloved is making waffles for breakfast. The first load of dishes from last night is humming away in the dishwasher, and there are not that many awaiting a second load. We looked at one another while relaxing in our chairs, and we agreed that if we were sensible we would load up the dishwasher and then go to bed. But there was something really cool going on with the moon, so we opted to go outside and be moonstruck instead.
I need to figure out what I am taking for church knitting, and then I need to get ready. He will want to leave in 40 minutes. He likes for us to be in the pew half an hour before church begins. This builds character, right? Well, even if it doesn’t, it makes him happy all out of proportion to the extra effort it requires for me to be on time. And if he’s happy, I get waffles.
- 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!