About Me

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Five 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!

Friday, May 19, 2017


I am sitting here, reading blog posts and eating fruit leftover from the retirement party for one of the nicest attorneys in our office. I've chewed my way through my share of the cantaloupe. I took my bowl back out to the kitchen to cut the hulls out of the extremely ripe strawberries and thought of Alan Rickman. "Locksley, I'll cut your heart out with a spoon!"

At this rate, it may take me until midnight to finish my "dinner" ~ I have three huge and one small strawberry left, and I haven't even begun on the grapes or the fresh pineapple which is lurking beneath them.

I'm quite enjoying the process. Chew on some food, chew on an idea, delete an email.

It was a good day at work. The vertigo appears to be ambling off into the sunset. I'm continuing to move a little more slowly, a little more deliberately. I feel a bit like the good guy in a 50's cowboy movie: "No sudden moves, podner, and keep your hands where I can see 'em!" The bad guy would be my inner ear, wearing an infinitesimally small black hat.

The most recent upgrade of my cell phone has give me a feature that irritates the fire out of me. When I plug in my phone to recharge (if it's still live), there's a banner that asks if I know that my phone is on silent, and do I want to still get my calls anyway, or is it OK? Yes, phone, I know that I've got you on silent. I do this because I only turn the ringer on when I'm expecting a call that I want or need. I might be a little forgetful from time to time, but I'm not likely to forget that I no longer enjoy visiting on the phone. That joy made like Elvis and left the building after eight years on switchboard to keep food on the table. Text me. Email me. IM me. Sit down and write me a good old-fashioned letter. Or we could meet for dinner and hours of face to face conversation.

I have to make and receive phone calls as a legal secretary. I get that. And I'm good at it. But on my personal scale of want-to-do-this, it's a notch or two below getting my teeth cleaned.

In knitting news, I picked up all of the stitches along the heel flap in order to begin the gusset decreases. There may or may not be more knitting tonight, but it's been an hour since I began this post, and I still haven't finished my grapes. Well, I've finished the ones I brought home from the party, but I haven't touched the ones that I took to work in my lunch bag this morning, nor the last of the grape tomatoes which accompanied them. I feel wonderfully refreshed by all this fruit, and if I don't send down something else to serve as an anchor of sorts, 2:00am may get interesting.

I'm thinking a moderate serving of Fage + Nutella, with maybe a handful of granola thrown in for good measure. Not too heavy for someone who hopes to be in bed in another hour, but enough to remind my body who's boss.

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