About Me

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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!

Monday, October 10, 2016

Decidedly delighted digits.

So I've said that I don't knit while I'm up on the stand during sacrament meeting, because I don't want to be a distraction to the congregation. I sit quietly with my hands more or less in my lap, and I listen. Sometimes I pick my hands up slightly and massage one hand with the other, then switch off. But mostly I try to be invisible until it's time to stand up and conduct the hymns.

I noticed yesterday that after two months of a low-dose muscle relaxer at bedtime, there is a greater range of motion in my hands. I can't quite bend my wrists back at a right angle, but my hands go back farther than they did, and my fingers remain straight instead of curling stubbornly. And it doesn't hurt to do this.

In news of the crabby, when I walked out into the parking garage after work, I noticed a big Lexus SUV-type vehicle parked halfway in one space and halfway in the handicapped spot. I determined to take a picture of the license plate and pull into my office manager's parking space on the upper level and go show the picture to security. I got into the Tardis, opened up the camera on my cell phone, and backed out. When I was halfway to the other car, a woman came out of the elevator, around the back of her car, and got in. She did not appear to be handicapped (yes, I know that some handicaps are invisible, but she was walking briskly).

I was slightly tempted to park right behind her and take that picture anyway, but I figured she'd do something unpredictable, so I kept going. And fuming. She followed me up the ramp to wait for the light to change. I was tempted to sit there until it turned yellow, but there was a chance she'd pull around me and go up the downhill side. And maybe there'd be an accident.

So I behaved myself (at least outwardly) and started praying crabbily. First I prayed for her to be blessed for whatever it is that she was doing right (because obviously, it didn't include knowing how to park). And then I started praying for an attitude change, because nobody died and made me her judge. And then I prayed that she would never need to use a handicapped spot, but that if she ever did, she would remember the time that she hogged half of one and reinforced my prejudice against Lexii and their drivers. As soon as I got to a long light, I fired up my Pandora and switched it to my Mormon Tabernacle Choir station.

By the time I got home, I was singing along. And meaning it. I love how music can clear the cobwebs out of my mind and heart, giving my spirit a chance to get back in charge. I didn't want to bring any crabbiness home to Middlest, who is just coming out of an off again, on again week long migraine.

We had a successful shopping trip to Bed Bath and Beyond. Middlest has a manic cat timer, and I have an anxious (or possibly just cross-eyed) ladybug timer. Neither of them are magnetic, so eventually we will want to get some of that magnetized tape and make them so. I used the cat to time tonight's pizzas. Works like a champ.

I am now going to knit for half an hour or so and go to bed like a sensible adult. Stop laughing.

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