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!

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Chooseday.

Found myself arguing with my need to be right yesterday. Still crops up from time to time. One of my less attractive characteristics. Maybe by the time I am ready to leave mortality, the Spirit and I will have beaten that sword into a plowshare.

In other news, the paperwork that I need to take to my sealing is done. It was lacking two dates. Since I have no idea where my book of remembrance is (as Beloved would say, "It's in the house"), I had to log in to Family Search again and look up the date I was sealed by proxy to my parents. And I had left off the date that Beloved and I were wed.

No, I don't think that's my subconscious. Just one more sly dig from Below.

I knit a handful of stitches on the swatch. A bunch of us took Mellow to lunch for his birthday. I have half a slice of most excellent meatloaf in the fridge for my supper tonight, if I choose not to attend Knit Night.

Lawn Dude will be here today. I put the the key to the gate in my shoe before bedtime. I can't forget to unlock the gate if I have to handle the key right before walking out the door. When I called to say how nice the yard looked after his first visit, he said it would look even better after a second visit.

Cat is driving me nuts. (Hush.) Mel and Squishy started moving into their new place last weekend. Soon they will come get the cat. Who is turning into the feline equivalent of a four year old. Stands outside the bedroom door and whines. And is seriously, perpetually underfoot. I take two steps. And stop. Three steps. And stop. One step. And stop.

I have reached the point where I get when I've been told that I'm getting released from a calling at church. Excited. Antsy.

Gimme three steps, gimme three steps, Cricket.

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