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!

Saturday, June 20, 2015

A much needed goof-off day

In which I baked muffins for breakfast and bagged up the leftovers for breakfasts to come.

Stitched up the sub-units in this month's installment of the medallion quilt, counted my leftover bits to make sure there were the right number, and organized the remnants (there are a lot of them) on hangers in numerical order. The pattern features a key with thumbnails of each fabric. I realized only today that it might make sense to arrange the actual fabric in the same order, for when I get the next installment, sometime in the next ten days. My dining room table is saying "thank you".

I just finished cooking dinner: one of the over-spiced pollock burgers (I'm halfway through the bag, and they're still not growing on me) and two yellow potatoes boiled up and mashed. I will have potatoes for at least one more meal, possibly two. I'm a little sad that the discounted spinach which I bought two or three weeks ago (I know, I know) had given up the ghost before I remembered that it was in the fridge. I had my mouth set for some homemade garlicky spinach. I did try some of my new pink Himalayan salt on the potatoes, and pronounce it, and them, excellent.

I've run the dishwasher once already, but now I need to empty it so I can start loading it again. But first I am going to pre-wash the fabric for the June block on my other quilt. And after that I am going to do a little bookkeeping that I've been putting off.

After which, I will dash to WalMart for some of the liquid starch that Susan suggested. Somewhere in the studio I have a lace tablecloth that the mice got to when it was in storage between late 1998 and early 2000. I've been cannibalizing it for the tops of Christmas stockings, a set of placemats, the lapels and collar of a denim duster that I have been embellishing with silk ribbon embroidery (when I remember) since 1998, etc. There might be enough of it left, in big enough pieces, that I could applique it to the kitchen window.

I may not find the bag of lace before bedtime, but I'd like to have the bottle of starch sitting on the floor in the hall next to the ModPodge, which is waiting for a different project.

After WalMart, I'm going to the gym, which is across the street, and I am hoping that Mr. Chatterbox will be elsewhere this evening. I'm a long way from being able to walk on the water, but I'm quite content to face down my water-related anxieties by walking in the water. This pool is not as deep as the one at my former gym in Fort Worth. I don't get as rattled when I walk through the 4'4" part as I did when I tiptoed through the 5'0" part over there.

My rule is, I don't put my head underwater. I don't even want to get my face wet. I got splashed by two drops on my cheek the other night, and I jumped as if I'd been shot.

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers." ~ Dorothy Bernard

Correction: not going anywhere. The sky just opened up. Although I suppose I could walk around the block two or three times in this downpour and get almost the same workout, as long as I kept far from the storm drains ... nahhh.

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