A metaphorical house-cleaning.

Weird dream this morning, in which I was back visiting the house in Irving. It was owned or inhabited by my parents, and Mom had just bought a sleek new minivan that was parked on the wrong side of the road, partway into the ditch, with no gas. Firstborn was the age she is now but needed to use the car to go to early morning seminary and then high school, because her career track required that she have certain classes that she didn't take in college. So, my old house, but Mom's kitchen about where my bedroom would be, and I was looking for a snack and unable to find it. I was also slightly in trouble because I had eaten up the last of something.

After I awoke and went out to forage in the kitchen, I realized that the children's father was nowhere in that house. Yesterday would have been our 39th anniversary, and I felt absolutely no neurosis, depression, nostalgia, angst, whatever. Yesterday was just a day for resting up after the excitement and exhaustion of Wednesday-into-Thursday. The swelling is mostly gone from my left ankle, and the inflammation is what is normal for me, judging by the color.

There are probably other layers to that dream, but I'd rather talk about the dream I had during my nap yesterday morning (after eight and a half hours of sleep). Middlest and I were in a large auditorium, quite near the stage, and one of the members of the First Presidency walked onto the stage, then made his way over to me and shook my hand. I asked if he would have time to meet with Middlest and discuss some points of doctrine that are currently a struggle for my child, and he said that he would try to do so. Shortly after which Middlest and I got separated, and I spent the rest of that dream walking halls and corridors trying to find my kid.

My take-away from that is that the Savior is quite aware of my concerns, and Middlest's. I wept in that dream, great tears of relief and comfort, and awoke dry-eyed.

I wonder if that good brother dreamed that he was in Texas, talking to Middlest and me?

When I went to bed Friday night, I determined that yesterday was going to be a day of rest (which it was, in spades) and finishing small projects. I completed the second doll sock for my little Hope. They remain to be washed and blocked, but I am pleased with them. I also tried them on Temperance and have guesstimated how much wider around and how much longer they need to be to fit her slightly stockier frame. Iplehouse dolls, from the bitties to the adults, are very solidly built. When I briefly owned a Jessica, I could barely span her waist with both hands, and at nearly 2kg, could not lift her without pain. They make some of the most beautiful sculpts on the market, and sell some of the most beautiful clothing for their dolls, but mostly they just inspire wistful sighs on my part.

I also sewed the snaps on the two bloomers that I made earlier in the week and picked out fabric for dresses and aprons for Chutzpah and Grace. Grace's nether bits are now properly and cutely covered, but she's shirtless and bald on my sewing table.

I realized yesterday that the lovely yarns my sister gave me for Christmas, which have stumped me for nearly a year, will go well with my newest skirt (which arrived on Friday), and I went to Ravelry and found a pattern that I like: the Geology Shawl by Verybusymonkey. It has multiple sections and several stitch patterns, and I think I'm going to work it in alternate colors, because I don't think I have quite enough of the darker yarn to work the whole thing.

My line of credit is paid off. And I am hungry again, so heading back to the kitchen for a substantial breakfast. I miss the days when I could fast, but I've been praying for what our bishop asked us to fast for, and I've been trying to listen for inspiration.