About Me

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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!

Monday, October 01, 2012

Blessings (not in disguise)

While Saturday was rough, chez Ravelled, and I thought it might end with a trip to the emergency room, Beloved is feeling somewhat better. When we sat together and held hands for family prayer last night, his hand was warm. It had been distinctly cool for the past several days. He did pull a muscle in his rump while out picking vegetables this afternoon. I told him I would *not* be kissing it better. He snorted.

Dinner was a combined effort tonight. All I really wanted was a humongous bowl of mashed potatoes, liberally laced with horseradish. He wanted potatoes, but not spicy. And he wanted meat. I told him I am pretty inept when it comes to cooking meat. I have eaten more meat in the last eight months than I probably had in the previous decade. But he walked me through cooking two of the fat, sassy pork chops I scored at the discount meat bin on Saturday, and I ate half of my chop and saved the other half for tomorrow’s lunch, with almost enough leftover potatoes to call it a good meal. I was a complete and utter glutton with those potatoes tonight. Seconds. Not quite enough room at the inn for thirds, hence leftover taters in my lunch tomorrow, but not a whole whale of a lot.

Work went well. I got a lot of little piddly but thoroughly necessary things done today, and a good start on opening one of our new cases, and all of my To-Do’s to-done. Hoping for more of the same tomorrow.

It was cool enough this morning that I got to wear my new red corduroy jacket. And lunch was quiet enough that I got some serious knitting done, with more of that once I got home. My brain and my fingers want to go back out to the living room and crank out another round or two. My eyes and my metabolism want to grab the jammies and hit the sack.

Toothbrush, here I come!

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