Beloved has shaved off his moustache, and the beard he has been growing since we wed, because he starts training as a temple worker on Friday; the policy/preference is that male temple workers be clean-shaven. (There are exceptions, for those who have distracting skin conditions or facial deformities. I am rooting for the chemo rash.) He looks a bit like (a very tall) Michael Caine. He has a nicely shaped upper lip. I am just not used to seeing it. And there is the vague suspicion, when we smooch, that I am cheating on my husband!
We got something like eight hours of sleep last night. I woke a little ahead of the alarm, hands itching to knit. Lunch is packed, and dinner as well. Hard to believe, but it is Knit Night already. We are waiting to hear back from some of the kids. One of my new daughters has a birthday today, and a family party will trump Knit Night with no grumbling from me. Her present is up on the hutch if they opt for a drive-by gifting.
I heard aerosol whooshing in the master bathroom a few minutes ago. The man who sounds like my husband is about to emerge and fix our breakfast.
Thankfully, he also kisses like my husband. I guess he can stay...
- 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!