I've spent a good chunk of the day sitting up in bed, reading one thing and another. I was able to re-read tomorrow's Sunday School lesson without the distraction of other drivers (one reason why I took to listening to the week's lesson in the Book of Mormon over and over during the week, so that I would have the chance to catch what I might have missed in other "readings").
I tweaked my study spreadsheet for the year, adding the information for the Teachings for Our Times lessons (fourth Sundays in Relief Society) through April, the dates for the two stake conferences, and which of the Gordon B. Hinckley lessons will be taught when.
I also read several chapters in what I think is a decidedly inferior biography of Orrin Porter Rockwell, who is my 9th cousin 3x removed. A friend in my ward has expressed interest in it, but (to quote the Spaniard) "I do not think it means what [she thinks] it means." There is another biography of him, which I hope does not read like church history in the style of People Magazine. I will try to track that one down.
I read the preface and part of the first chapter in Sheri Dew's biography of Gordon B. Hinckley, which is an altogether more pleasant reading experience. Well-written, well-edited, and spiritually hypoallergenic. By which I mean that it doesn't irritate the hell out of me. (As I get older, there is incrementally less hell to expunge, for which I'm grateful. And you're welcome.)
Middlest is still honking madly. I stocked up on Puffs with lotion while I was gathering a few items before the drinkers got on the road. My neighbors kitty-corner across the alley ~ the ones due south from Shut Up Maggie ~ have begun their annual New Years Eve celebration, which is family style, melodic, and punctuated with fireworks but not firearms. They are good neighbors, and I enjoy their family karaoke because it seems that all of them can carry a tune.
It's a Southern tradition to begin the New Year with black eyed peas, which I loathe, so this year I've begun a new tradition: lentil soup, which Middlest and I both love. Remember the batch of carrot soup that was an experiment a couple weeks ago to use up the shredded carrots before they went south? It's been residing in the fridge in several pint mason jars, and I decided to use it as the basis of the lentil soup. Added some onion powder and granulated garlic and dried parsley, then stirred in a pint of lentils and put the pot on low.
I forgot how quickly lentils cook. We nearly had a culinary catastrophe when I went back to stir for the third or fourth time. The lentils had all blossomed, and the soup was the consistency of mashed potatoes! I turned off the burner, moved the pot to a cold burner, stirred in another can of chicken stock, and let it all set for a few minutes. I was able to scrape up the stuck but not burnt bits, and it tasted wonderful.
I took a short nap, which means it's nearly bedtime and I'm not the least bit sleepy. So I will do my impression of a responsible adult, unload the dishwasher, and reload it with the glasses that have piled up during the day. Middlest has been chugging Airborne off and on all day, using more glasses than either of us would ordinarily use so as not to have the undissolved bits of powder bond to the glassware.
And I have been combing the internet for people who make doll-scale accessories. I'm thinking I need to buy a lathe and start making my own doll furniture, because I have a vision of a proper dining room table, chairs in scale, and glorious holiday tablescapes with drawnwork linens, chargers, goblets, and the like.
I've said it before: what I really need is Hermione's time turner.
- 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!