Probably in the top five, definitely in the top ten. I came home to find notes tucked into the wooden Viking that stands by our front door, a plate of cookies, and more valentines in the mailbox. May I just say that my friends and family are amazing?
Long-time readers will remember my elation at picking up a dozen Waverly dinner plates on closeout at Target for $10, several years ago. These were followed by a splurge at Hobby Lobby, resulting in a dozen earthenware bowls shaped like poppies and a dozen wee heart-shaped ramekins. Then a dozen hand-blown goblets from Pier One, followed by gold-leafed glass chargers brought home one or two at a time until I had a full complement.
I have been using some of my scarlet glass salad plates but wishing for something that toned a little better with the dinner plates. (I am long since past the days of matchy-matchy, but the red plates were an artistic stopgap and nothing more.) The night that I scored seasons two and three of Downton Abbey, I nipped into Pier One for a little visual inspiration. Boy, did I ever find it! So yesterday I put one of the plates into Lorelai before leaving for work, and I made a beeline out of the parking garage.
Bingo! Not a perfect match, because that would be boring, but I now have a dozen salad plates that pick up the whisper of darker green in the border of the dinner plates. I need to take a few minutes and remove the price stickers so I can run the dishwasher and get the plates up on a shelf where I can admire them. I am not ready to start having friends and family over for dinner (the dining room table is still out in the garage), but this is another small step forward into whatever the new normal will be.
Work went very, very well. Another day or two like that, and I will feel like I know what I am doing.
I finished the last of the thank-you notes, a blessing of having awakened at a quarter past three. You would think that among all those cards (fifty or more over the past month) there would be some duplicates, but I don’t recall any.
The respiratory yuck of the past week appears to be more or less over. I am so thankful.
It’s been a month, today. I have a whole new appreciation for the elasticity of time. In some ways it feels like yesterday that he died. In others it feels an eternity. And through it all, for the most part, peace and joy and calm have prevailed.
We have stake conference this weekend, and I am looking forward to it. I love the Saturday night meeting best. It’s adults-only, and I always seem to hear counsel that is meant just for me. Heaven knows I could use some now. We are having a family council on Sunday night, so I’m glad that the Beloved side of the tribe will have had a weekend of inspiration and instruction. We have a lot to discuss and decide. The boys are good men, with good hearts. My kids will be there, in person or via Skype, to support the rest of us.
- 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!