There were only 45 emails waiting for me at work, after two days off. I got through all of them, responded to others that popped up throughout the day, participated in an hour-long meeting with the other secretaries, worked my To-Do's, got through three days' worth of mail for both attorneys, chased after a scheduling order that we should have gotten copied on three months ago, ate wisely, and remained focused, even after the text messages from Middlest regarding ER and kidney stone and morphine. Worked so steadily that I forgot to put on lipstick after finishing my breakfast. Oh well.
I was saddened to read of Glenn Frey's death. I imagine he is relieved to be free of a broken body, and I hope he was warmly welcomed when he went Home. I feel his loss far greater than I do David Bowie's, and about on a par with Alan Rickman's. It has not been, thus far, a good month for 60+ year old artists and musicians.
I made some progress on The Albatross before leaving for work, and more while the cornbread was baking. After that, I set it aside to finish book three in the Percy Jackson series. I may work on it for a scant few minutes before going to bed, or I may give some attention to the stealth Christmas presents. They come pretty close to being instant gratification.
I hope my kid sleeps well tonight. I hope Brother Frey's family is surrounded by angels to comfort them, as I was comforted when Beloved died. I am grateful for the moments of inspired silliness that happened throughout my day. There are brothers and sisters on the Widows and Widowers board who lost a spouse to cancer and are now fighting it themselves. When they post, I send a prayer skyward. I might be on to the next thing five seconds after the "amen" leaves my head, but I hope my oh-crap-not-another-one prayers do at least a little bit of good.
Tomorrow night is ward temple night, and part of me wants to go, and part of me wants to come home and do what I did tonight: make stuff, eat comfort food, and read. The singles are gathering for a session on Thursday night.
Random thought: I just realized that I stopped sneezing some time ago. I wonder why? I woke up yesterday morning very early, my CPAP nose-piece aimed a little off and irritating one of the little hairs deep inside my nose (sorry), and all of a sudden my nasal cavity was hollering "invasion from Mars! panic! run in circles, scream and shout!"
I told myself firmly, we do not have time to be sick. We have a talk to give, and we have family to visit, and you're not sick, you're just having a nasal hissyfit. Apparently my nose finally got the message. (When I sneeze it's kinda like the cannons in the 1812 Overture, only timed like a gatling gun. Ark! Ark! Ark-ark-ark! And approximately C#. Just in case you wondered.)
OK, I'm done.
- 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!