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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, July 28, 2015

Hopkinses 246; Ms. Ravelled 0

My brother-in-law has several meticulously organized notebooks of family group sheets. I innocently picked up one on Thursday. Entered those people onto ancestry.com. Started linking records. And family started pouring out of the woodwork like ants at a picnic. I have one pile of new family group sheets in which all the parties have been entered and matched to records. Another, smaller pile that I am actively working on linking records. And a third pile that I hope to finish before going home. All of these will stay here. And I will tag a bunch of sheets for him to photocopy and mail to me. I need to remember to ask cousin Norm if he wants them when I'm done.

I've walked with my sister every morning except Saturday and Sunday. Yesterday we walked with one of her friends. I am taking home a couple of that friend's recipes; she dropped them off earlier this morning.

Making steady progress on the stealth project. It's a pattern I've worked before, and I'm tweaking the decreases a little. My flight home tomorrow is nonstop, and I have to guess whether, if I knit up to and including the next beaded rows, there will be enough knitting to keep me occupied until I get home. 'Tis a puzzlement.

Today we're going to Powell Gardens, the site of a former gravel pit. I love how lush and green it is here. My sister's fuchsia blossoms are somewhere between the size of ping pong balls and golf balls. Unopened, they're the size of large cherries.

I think I will go tag the family group sheets that I want my brother-in-law to copy for me. And then knit a bit. They'll watch the Mariners game tonight, and I'll listen to them having fun (or groaning) while wrangling the dead people.

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