About Me

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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!

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

That's not a bag!

(This may be a duplicate of an earlier post from where you're sitting. My mobile Blogger function changed format, and I published this from work a couple of days ago. But I just figured out how to publish the Comma Chameleon post from my phone.)

That's a car payment! Behold my anniversary gift from the corporation. It would appear that I have gone over to the dark side (into the world of designer bags). I could have gone with the Tiffany earrings, but I am more about semiprecious stones and wearable art.

I needed a new tote bag. I have been pondering that for several months while carrying one that closes with velcro and snags my knitting, my scarves, and my patience. There were two bags in the catalogue: this one and a black Coach handbag that was nowhere near large enough to haul around my life. So I sighed and rolled my eyes and chose this one.

I will concede that it is attractive. And appears to be sturdy. But I shall have to winnow out some of the things I carry. Because I doubt that those runway model straps can wrangle a 10-15-20 pound bag for the next five to ten years. Not when I wore out my Franklin Covey (Kenneth Cole) bag in something like five. And it was built like a Sherman tank.

But with thoughtful editing of its contents, this might last until my 20th anniversary with the corporation, and then they can give me another, or something like.

I wish I had thought to include the lunch bag I was given for my birthday. Black and white and sassy all over.

Knitting progresses. I am halfway through the current miniature sock. This is either eight or nine in the series. Finish-itis is starting to kick in. I skipped Knit Night in favor of a quiet evening at home. There will be another one of those tonight.

I also finished HP6 last night and started HP7. Dumbledore's death hit me a lot harder this time, even though I knew it was coming. On the other hand, I realized how much Ginny Weasley there is in me. That is not a bad thing.

I spent 40 blissful minutes with Olive. Make that 37 blissful and 3 spent learning to play C#. I think that may be easier to learn than the high E that nearly drove me mad. And then I fired up the banjo (still unnamed) and realized it had gone out of tune overnight, and I was just that much too tired to fiddle with it. So I put it away. I will try again tonight.

Maybe I like piano and recorder and harmonica and voice so much because the tuning is simple, infrequent, or unnecessary? Maybe that's why I liked zill work as much as I did belly dancing lessons? Maybe that's behind the vague desire to learn to drum?

Maybe I just want to be a lazy musician? Something to chew on while curating the contents of my ridiculously expensive knitting bag.

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