- 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!
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Ms. Ravelled. In the boudoir. With a gyro.
Just in case you think I haven't a "Clue."
This was Fourthborn's lunch on Friday (or what was left of it, anyway). She reached for what she thought was a cup of ranch dressing and poured it on her sandwich, took a bite, and realized immediately (by the pricking of her tongue, something lethal this way comes) that it was tzatziki sauce, which contains cucumber, which is toxic to her. Rather in the same camp as avocado, which is why she calls guacamole "death paste."
Her loss. Definitely my gain, and eaten for breakfast before sunrise yesterday with much appreciation.
We got the lower doors reinstalled on the linen closet, and the upper doors are ready to be decoupaged and hung. My goal is to decoupage the one which will hang closest to the bathroom door, after dinner tomorrow night. We will hang it Tuesday night or Wednesday before I take her home, hang the second, unembellished door, which I will decoupage later in the week. Why the change to our routine, you ask?
At work we get a periodic email from a business collective, highlighting upcoming events in the fifteen downtown districts. Tuesday night there is a Princess Bride quote-along, and I have purchased tickets for Fourthborn and me.
So Tuesday is going to be jam-packed. Well woman in the morning, J's driving test in the early afternoon, Knit Night (which we will leave a bit earlier than usual), and then the movie, which starts half an hour before my alleged bedtime. I will be too pooped to drive Fourthborn home that night, drive back here, and be any good at work on Wednesday. So she will crash here with a honey-do list, which we have already discussed, and I will come home to further progress and then take her home.
Going back to the upper doors of the linen closet. Why am I not decoupaging both at once, then hanging the doors? Because I don't remember if the doors hang straight. They've been off the wall for several months, and I've slept since then. So we'll put one up, hang the other, mark where the other half of the poster I will be bisecting will go, and my need for perfect alignment will be satisfied. I would be eternally cranky if the design were cockeyed. When the children's father replaced a light switch in the bathroom of our house, many years ago, he installed it about 5° off the vertical, and it bothered me every time I saw it. Not everything needs to be perfect. But 5° off the vertical is about 4.9° too much in this woman's book.
Yes, I am the woman who goes around straightening pictures in the passageways at work.
I continue to make progress on The Albatross. I make sure to work on it at least a little (and preferably a lot) Monday through Saturday. Last night was no exception. I was crazy-tired, but I gave it fifteen to twenty minutes then set it aside for the Sabbath with a clear conscience. I am also nearly done with a baby sock to go into the stash for the next baby shower. I have a plethora of pink socks and am evening it up with what I consider boy-appropriate colors.
Yesterday I got the oil changed on the Tardis, got my ends trimmed and my brows weed-whacked, gave J some drive time, and still made it to bed at a decent hour. Speaking of which, notwithstanding the nap I had before going to Mel and Squishy's for Downton Abbey, I am sleepy, and it's half an hour past my usual bedtime. And it's raining outside, which bodes well for being able to sleep all night.