The courts are closed today, so there is a good chance that I can wrangle a week’s worth of email and get some sense of what is going on with our files.
I will be taking tamales, two by two like the ark, for lunch all week. This will not be a hardship.
I loved Middle-Aged Mormon Man’s post. I have some huge dominoes in the path ahead of me, and I have enough experience with life, and with Heaven, to know that sooner or later I will be able to work with the pattern as it unfolds and not work against it.
I still have no idea what to knit. I cannot lay hands on the next size needle for StellaLuna, although I do remember preparing it. Perhaps it is on the table with the lamp in the living room, amid the rubber stamps I was going to use to make birthday cards?
I slept last night, really truly slept. I still have not figured out this appetite thing.
I found Beloved’s senior portrait from high school and the related report cards. Yang to my yin: the man so obviously adored history, whereas I do not, the legacy of my having taken it from a succession of junior varsity coaches.
Downton Abbey rocked. I am so glad that our PBS station is showing last week’s episode first, and then the current one. I caught up on the episode I missed last Sunday when I was being obedient and attending my Primary presidency meeting.
I need to pick up a bushel of thank you cards on my way home from work tonight.
No profundity today. Not even close. The inside of my brainpan is one ginormous honey-do list.
- 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!