Birthday lunch over at Mel’s folks’ this afternoon. Half a dozen different kinds of bratwurst, all grilled to perfection. Ate mine on a bolillo roll the size of a toddler’s football, a generous half cup of potato salad, and two bottles of water, at which point there was no more room at the inn, Mary.
We delegated the tie-dyeing of two of Beloved’s short-sleeved dress shirts to Squishy, came home, and took a nap. Mel and Squishy have gnomed our flower bed, right by the front door. But the best gift Beloved got [at least in this woman’s opinion] was the card they gave him: Grim Reaper is out cold on the floor, a small red dog standing over him, holding a baseball bat, and looking triumphant; inside it says “don’t let the b@st@rd win!” At which I let out a most undignified yelp of glee.
We have been busy bees all weekend. Baking and eating and visiting and churching and napping and visiting and eating and baking and visiting and ... you get the idea. This morning I emptied that small bookcase out in the hall, transferred its contents to other bookcases, and set it atop the desk on my side of the bed. After we got home from Mel’s folks’ house, I spent 15 or 20 minutes finding new homes for all the stuff I had removed from the floor, desk, entrance to the closet, etc., in order to get at the top of the desk, so we could take the aforementioned nap.
Dinner was one large root beer float apiece, and half a slice of French silk pie. Dessert, methinks, will be the first Indiana Jones movie. Beloved shares his birthday with Squishy, and on the day that P went into labor, Beloved took the twins to go see Indy.
Firstborn, don’t faint. The Scentsy burner that you gave me, now has a proper place.
I have a small dishpan of papers to sort and alphabetize for filing, and then I’m going to knit through the rest of the movie. In about five more rounds, I will have enough length in the body of the sweater that I can go ahead and stitch up the hem without interfering with live stitches.
Beloved says there is one last small thing to do in the guest bathroom, and then we can start clearing the decks to create my walk-in closet. Life is good.
- Five 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!