No, I didn't die. But I probably could have.

Thanksgiving morning I mixed up the usual batch of black beans, corn, chili, and Ro-Tel, because I was hungry and knew I needed to eat something wholesome and filling before we got to the kids' for Thanksgiving dinner.

Dinner was great. And nobody went home crying, always a plus.

About two hours after we were home, my gut started screaming. I woke out of a sound sleep with that uh-oh feeling, made it to the loo just in time, and as I sat there was hit with a cold wave down my spine, with just enough time to lift up my T-shirt to catch the debris. I would much rather clean up barf than diarrhea. It was an easy decision to make, although strictly speaking it was more instinct than decision.

For the next twelve hours or so I alternated between catnaps and the loo. I looked at my hands at one point, and to my astonishment they were not dehydrated. And both ankles were nearly slim. For years I've used the phrase "throwing up all the way up from my toes" but this was the first time it was literal as well as metaphorical. I remember wondering, where is this pee coming from, because I haven't done more than rinse my mouth out in hours?

Middlest wasn't sick. Fourthborn, trying to sleep out in the living room, wasn't sick. So it had to be my jollop. Sure enough, when I was well enough to step away from the loo for more than fifteen minutes, I wandered out to the kitchen and inspected the cans of Ro-Tel. Most of them appeared to be fine, but two or three of them had lids that were almost imperceptibly rounded.

It's a good thing that Ro-Tel is acidic, because it probably saved me from botulism.

I also killed the garbage disposal. Apparently it doesn't like Ro-Tel any more than my body did. I called the plumber on Saturday afternoon and made an appointment for Monday morning after Middlest's doctor appointment. Several hundred dollars later, we have a gloriously beautiful new disposal and a bit of updated plumbing.

When I got to work on Monday, I discovered that I'd forgotten to ask for the time off, and nobody knew where I was. And I had a trial notebook for TheKid which didn't get finished until an hour and a half after my normal quitting time. There will be a discussion with the office manager once she returns to the office; she's been out at least two days with a killer migraine.

Tuesday I was off (and everybody knew it) for my quarterly diabetes blood work. My doctor was pleased that I'd lost some weight since last time, and we both laughed because I probably lost it the hard way over Thanksgiving weekend.

I am typing this from Beloved's laptop, which I am learning to use because my big beautiful computer has a tummyache of its own. I need to get in touch with 2BDH and see if he can figure out what's wrong with it. The fan is starting to make a racket, and the CPU is no longer talking to the monitors. Middlest has rigged my backup memory and a mouse to the laptop, and I'm slowly learning to navigate. Thankfully this thing has a full-size keyboard.

OK, I'm done for now. I really need to get to bed before midnight, and I don't remember what I ate for dinner, but something, and I need to take my meds, and I want to play at least one game on the AARP website now that Microsoft has updated on this critter and Firefox isn't crashing every time I look longingly at Mahjonng.

Oh, and it's my Saturday to help clean the chapel, but this time I have a bright pink sticky note on my bathroom mirror to remind me.

Another good day: I got so much done!

But not as much as Middlest who, fueled by prednisone, cleaned out the fridge, polished the stove, de-thugged the kitchen counters and cleaned them to a fare-thee-well, and even had enough "spoons" to clean up one of three (literal) silver spoons that had crawled under the microwave when nobody was looking.

Middlest: "When you say you alphabetized your spices (when I was on prednisone last year), are you being literal or metaphorical?"

Me: "Look at the spices."

Middlest: "The ones in the cupboard are all jumbled up."

Me: "Look in the top drawer of the brown chest." (Sounds of drawer opening.)

Middlest: "I didn't know these were in here! I thought you just didn't season your food. I'm sure you told me or showed me when I first moved in, but I was pretty sick back then." No argument.

I came home from work with a ginormous martini glass, the decorative kind. It's about as tall as a Barbie, and I plan on using it for a photoshoot with some of the dolls. I also have an even taller wine glass that will be a prop for another shoot, but it's still on my desk at work.

The kitchen is so clean and uncluttered that it's a little unnerving, but I think I can adjust.

In knitting news, yesterday I finished frogging the scarf/cowl back to the first garter stitch rows, which I knitted on a 3. I'm knitting the body of it on a 2 and am far more pleased with the fabric that is coming off my needles now.

Right now I'm doing laundry. Middlest is off to bed, having more than earned a good night's rest. I'm going to wait until the second load is safely in the dryer.

There's been no repeat of last night's abdominal rumblings, for which I am most thankful. The house is quieting for the evening. I think I've got a decent chance at some effective scripture study if I go sit down in the queen chair and open my books. (I made such good time getting to work this morning that I didn't really have time to listen to my Book of Mormon like I usually do, so it's double duty tonight.)

A really good day, and I'm knackered.

I don't know if it's the Metamucil we sent down night before last to encourage that stuck pill to ease on down the road, or the applesauce with which I took my meds last night, or the apple dipped in hummus I had for a late afternoon snack, but I have had rumblies in my tumblies for about five hours off and on. No pain, but the same sort of abdominal pressure I used to get on the first day of my period when my digestive system and my reproductive system were battling it out like two Wagnerian sopranos.

I had a phenomenally productive day at work, and I am going to dip my nose into the Gospels, take my meds, and go to bed.

Middlest is feeling somewhat better. My kid on prednisone is something of a trip. But productive, which pleases us both.

One more day of work, and then I can sleep in on Thursday.

Amazing, and amusing.

The yarn I bought a couple of weeks ago, a silk/merino blend in light fingering weight, is nearly identical in color(s) to the Silk Garden from which I made my Knit Swirl. Two different yarn companies, three or four years apart.

I'm frogging the scarf/cowl because the gauge is too loosey-goosey. I think I said that yesterday. I've said a lot of things.

Had an episode of dysphagia last night, wherein my Metformin pill got hung up in my esophagus at the base of my throat. (At least, that's where the ache was.) Middlest rubbed my back gently and made me a dilute solution of Metamucil, OJ, and water to kind of grease the slide. Thankfully, I knew not to panic and that it would eventually come unstuck. I put a query out on Facebook and got all sorts of suggestions that may prove helpful the next time this happens. Meanwhile, I'm going to do what my home teacher does and take my meds with a bit of applesauce. I bought a six pack of unsweetened, organic applesauce at Costco tonight, and it's about time to try the experiment.

Work was fairly productive and only a little nerve-wracking today. Hoping for as good a day tomorrow, or maybe even a better one.

Have completed Day 6 of my bishop's reading challenge and am now going to read for pleasure. A friend from church gave me three books yesterday. One of them is John Bytheway's "Pigs, Pearls, and Prodigals," his explorations of the Savior's parables. It makes for a nice parallel with my scripture study.

My Book of Mormon study is going less well. The last time I tried to listen on the way to work, the audio stopped so often, and so regularly, that it sounded as if the narrator had the hiccups. Not exactly conducive to reverent pondering.

That's one, one rehabilitated skirt, bwa ha ha ha ha!

I put the new elastic into the waistband, secured the elastic in a way that will be easy to undo should my weight fluctuate, and restitched the waistband at both side seams. Then I hand-washed the soft rayon tunic I bought a couple of weeks ago, rinsed and spun it out in the washer, and have hung it to dry upside down, hoping that the weight of the yoke and collar will be sufficient to discourage any wrinkles from forming overnight. I'd like to wear them to church tomorrow, but I haven't worn that skirt in at least six years, so one more week really doesn't matter.

I've added another inch or two to the scarf (?cowl?) I'm knitting and have decided that I need to gear down another needle size. The fabric is just a little too loosey-goosey for my taste. I want it to be supple, not limp.

Kept the running-about to a minimum today. Blitzed through Costco, picked up KFC for the elders and dropped it off at the church, bringing home some for Middlest and me. After lunch, I went back out and grabbed more water and saltines. That's about it.

Watched a couple of TED talks while knitting. Read my allotted pages for the bishop's 4 Gospels in 40 Days challenge. That's about it.

Night, y'all.

Grandparents Day, and other fun stuff

Today was the annual event at the Bitties' school, wherein we get to see how brilliant our descendants are, and the school bribes us with excellent baked goods so that we'll include the school in our bequests if we can't make a donation outright at present.

BittyBit (who is in seventh grade!) made me a card in Mandarin(!), and the other grands and I got to participate in a pass-along story from a prompt on the blackboard. BittyBubba (fifth grade!) and I danced a Russian folk dance together. And Bittiest (second grade!) had a presentation on his class iPad about his heritage. Really cute picture of the children's father as a toddler. One of me in my late teens in an outfit I'd mostly made that showed off my Tina Turner legs. I'm not sure if he or Secondborn chose that picture. A great one of 2BDH's mother, who is lovely inside and out; BittyBit takes after her in looks, and once we all survive adolescence may well resemble her on the inside. And a nice one of 2BDH's dad and his wife, who is a quiet, gentle soul.

I got back here in good time to take Middlest to the doctor for diagnosis and treatment of the respiratory ick which I unknowingly shared before my own symptoms appeared. We love the doctor's PA, who is a military vet. He asked Middlest how the headache was, and my kid said that yesterday not only was there migraine, but also sinus headache, and he just wanted to punch a puppy. (Metaphorically speaking; Middlest wants me to make it clear that he doesn't "hurt animals, I eat them, but they're already dead.")

PA started to ask, "Do you want me to get you a --" at which point I cracked up, because my brain inserted "puppy" and Middlest, who can generally read my mind (poor kid) knew exactly what I was thinking, and the PA had to wait for us to stop laughing so we could explain what was so funny. And then we had to wait for him to stop laughing so that he could finish taking Middlest's vitals.

After which we drove up to the pharmacy and came home with nuclear-deterrent antibiotics for Middlest (the next step up from the ones I've just finished for my own ick) and prednisone. I asked Middlest if prednisone brings with it the urge to alphabetize spices and organize everything, and his initial reaction was "no" followed immediately with the caveat "not any more than usual. I'm OCD, and I organize everything."

I brought Middlest home, polished off the pint of Moose Tracks I brought home last night, and endured the annual booby-smashing, which should have happened this spring but did not. Came home, read today's allotment of the Gospels (our bishop has issued a challenge to read the four Gospels in 40 days, finishing on Christmas Eve), and my computer crashed or froze three times, and I took a nap.

I woke up full of ands, as you can see.

Knit has happened. I almost forgot to mention the drive-by hugging of Fourthborn, in which I handed off a bag of Bueno for her lunch and a bag of assorted craft supplies so she can make a Christmas diorama for a dolly party which I am apparently hosting next month, and she gave me two finished quilt blocks and the kits for the next blocks and a spare charging cord for Middlest's phone.

I ordered another top from Gudrun Sjödén last night. This one. (The Yelena in teal.) I almost ordered another skirt and one of the basic striped shirts, but I decided to wait until this piece arrives and see what items in my closet go with it and what gaps I need to fill in. I'm kicking myself for not ordering the moss green broomstick maxi from another website when I saw it a few months ago, because that colorway is no longer available. It would have been perfect.

Back at work today. More or less.

I was pretty close to winded by the time I got dressed and ready to go, and I was half an hour late. And my phone was on the fritz. I could hear the receptionist on the other end of the line, but she couldn't hear me.

The day improved rapidly once I got to work. My compatriot who shares TheKid's docket had thoroughly worked the mail both days I was out. Basically all I had to do was read through the mail folder and sign off on the mail sheet, then delete the folder. I thanked her profusely. Basically, she saved me about a day and a half of work.

SemperFi knew that I was going to be scrambling to catch up, so he pretty much left me alone to get on with it. I was able to close one of his Big Ugly Files. And he settled another case at mediation today. I'll deal with that tomorrow.

Attorney B (his secretary is out all week) only gave me two or three things to do. I'm trying to play catch-up on his mail, which was reviewed but not worked by another secretary in my absence.

I got some of my ToDo's worked and we had a brief secretarial meeting and I volunteered to lead one of the committees I'm on again next year and the office manager has given me a crunch-time assignment that needs to be done by the end of the month and when she was leaving for the day I said, "See you tomorrow?" because she frequently works remotely due to some time-gobbling adjunct duties, and Wednesdays are usually one of those days and she said, "Yes, support staff meeting tomorrow!" and my filter kicked in before I said "oh bleep" out loud. (I'm hoping it didn't show on my face.)

I do not need a two-hour meeting eating my productivity tomorrow. Counting today, I have three days to do six days' worth of work, because Friday is Grandparents Day at the bitties' school, and I'm scheduled to be off. I basically went back to work today because it's easier to do six days of work in three days than in two.

I was pretty sure that I would be knackered by the end of the workday. One of those times when I hate being right. So I came straight home and took my evening antibiotic. I've eaten the delicious bean concoction that Middlest whipped up and followed it with a bowl of granola.

My Zulily shirt finally arrived at the office, four days after the post office said they'd delivered it. I don't know if it went to the wrong suite first, or what. I'm about 95% pleased with the shirt. It fits OK, a little more snug in the bust than I prefer, and the notes are printed crisply, but the piano keys are pixilated and blurry on the edges. It looks fine from a distance. I'll just have to remember not to look down at my right side while I'm wearing it.

I cast on for the scarf (?cowl?) I'm making to go with the new Gudrun Sjödén outfit, thinking size 4 needles would give me a fabric that was supple but not too lacy. Not so. As soon as I post this, I'm heading into my studio to grab my 3's, 2's, and 1's.

Moonlight Sonata

This is what greeted me a minute or two after I woke to take my antibiotic this evening.



It was one of the first pieces I tried to learn when I bought my piano in 1976, because the opening movement is slow and forgiving. I was to the point where grace was beginning to infiltrate that section, when I met and married the children's father, and my piano went into storage for three and a half years. I'd taken a stab at beginning to learn the second movement, but the third and final movement was far beyond my ability, even though I could type over 100 words per minute back then.

I tend to learn physical skills slowly. Witness: killing the engine seventeen times in front of the babysitter's house with her father watching, when I was learning to drive a stick-shift. Or the hours and hours I practiced the one simple line dance I know while washing dishes, and how gleeful I felt when I was finally able to integrate a spin into the stepping-backward part. And then teach others to dance it.

I like to learn physical things when there's no one else around to see me fail. I think this may be the dregs of the shyness I felt as a child, before I discovered how amazing and wonderful people can be. And I think part of it dates back to high school, when the jocks would stand around the trophy case and "rate" the girls as they walked by. (I was never a 10, in case you were wondering, and by my senior year I would go far out of my way to avoid walking past the trophy case, even if it meant walking the length of one hall, outside in my shirtsleeves in freezing weather, and back down the next hall for a class that was 50 yards or less from the class which preceded it.)

But I digress. Notwithstanding my present inability to play it, I love that third movement of the sonata. It's a musical snapshot of what it feels like to be me: the holy fire, the refusal to be silenced, the grit. So many church guys were intimidated or downright terrified. I'm so grateful that Beloved was brave enough to warm his hands at my heart.

I'm sick, and I have no filter.

As evidenced by the fact that last night, just before I stumbled into bed, and just after one last trip to the loo, I remarked to Middlest, "My tush sounds like that sweet potato I nuked in the microwave at work last week." (The one whose singing I captured on video and posted to FB.) And we both cracked up.

I am on a new-to-me antibiotic (Cefdinir) and industrial strength cough medicine (Virtussin AC). A friend on FB warned me that the antibiotic was likely to clean me out. Which should counteract the codeine in the cough medicine rather nicely. Or possibly set off the 1812 Overture in my gut as they fight for bragging rights. I'm taking my probiotics as usual and will supplement with "lots of yogurt".

At any rate, I am going nowhere this weekend. Middlest dished up my breakfast and vitamins, in self-preservation. I am allowed to load and run the dishwasher but not to empty it. Firstborn and Fourthborn will pick up our quilt blocks this morning.

I did manage to wind two balls of yarn yesterday. The first one fell off the new swift onto the floor and required three to four hours to untangle. The second one was significantly more cooperative. I am retiring the swift to sculpture status and will order a different swift from Ed Jenkins' protege after the first of the year.

Breakfast is down the hatch. The dishwasher is running. At some point this morning I will take a nice long shower, but for now I am setting the alarm and going back to bed.

Knackered. And maybe allergic to my Christmas gift.

Finally got calmed down enough last night to get some sleep. It was after midnight before I lay down, and I slept reasonably well. Woke up, turned on my phone, and it froze. I couldn't turn it off, access any app, nada. Thankfully, Middlest is something of a phone whisperer, and while I took a hasty shower, my brilliant middlest child was inspired with an obscure way to do a hard shutdown and restart. I drove to work with the phone plugged in to charge, and I kept it connected for much of the day. It's still in power-saving mode.

Then I was nearly half an hour late to work because of construction and traffic. First item of business was to warm up the herbal neck and shoulder warmer, and it truly helped un-kink both my muscles and my attitude. I repeated about an hour later and was reasonably functional all day. Just before quitting time I nuked the warmer again and popped it into a plastic bag to schlep out to the car so I could relax on the drive home.

I don't know if it was third time not a charm, or the closer quarters of the Tardis, but while I'd been a little sniffly all day my sinuses ramped up for Sneezemageddon. I took off the warmer, put it back in the plastic bag, and dropped it behind my seat. Every time I hopped out for an errand on the way home, my head cleared a little more. But right now I am feeling tender of beak and the slightest bit wheezy.

Of course it could all just be in my head, har de har har.

In foodie news, I've been wanting to try baking some fish with the last of the mango salsa, and tonight I stopped at Sprouts and invested in a halibut steak. I wanted fish, and I specifically did not want fish from China, and I could have bought a skein of Claudia for what I paid, but that's OK. (I remember when halibut was poor people's food. High-quality, but still...) I rustled up a small covered casserole, spritzed the bottom with olive oil, poured in half of the salsa and smooshed it around, then put the fish on top of that and smothered it in the rest of the salsa. It. Was. So. Good. And I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

A few more rows on the heel flap but nowhere near done.

I finally realized why my truck and then my phone have been on the fritz. I agreed to substitute teach in RS on Sunday, and he who shall not be named is trying to rile me up and keep me that way.

To which I say thbppp!

I'm going to take my crazy-tired carcass to bed. Night, y'all.

A tale of three stockings.

The past two days at work have been amazing. I've looked up and said, "Lunchtime? Already?" and later, "How can it be 4:00 o'clock?" So that's going well.

I am cautiously optimistic about the compression socks I bought. I wore them to church on Sunday under my turquoise maxi skirt when I attended the stake conference broadcast. The right leg went on like buttah. The left leg was a matter of bend and grunt and willpower, but I got it on. And for the first ten to fifteen minutes I could feel two distinct pockets of crabbiness in my calf where the lymph was all knotted up. I wore the stockings almost all day, and when I took them off my right ankle looked almost normal, while my left ankle was about 50% reduced in bulk. I had also been able to stand and finish cutting the pieces for Middlest's blocks and get them sewn together, all without pain in my ankles, calves, knees, or back.

I ordered another three pairs, in different colors, after work last night. They should be here in about a week.

On Sunday night, after taking the stockings off I dutifully washed them and hung them to dry, thinking I'd be able to wear them to work yesterday. They were no longer soggy, but they were still distinctly damp, so I left them hanging and wore them to work today, under a pair of slacks.

This is how I learned that there was just enough friction between the socks and my slacks that my slacks rode up like jodhpurs and my stockings crept down my calves. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until I was stuck in the express lane on my way to pick up Fourthborn for Knit Night, felt my calves just below my knees, and couldn't feel the top of the stockings under my slacks. They had slid down to half-mast, and my left leg was getting painful.

Scooped up Fourthborn, dashed to Cacique to see if I could pick up a second pair of socks to wear tomorrow while this pair dries, and they'd sold out. They did let me run back to a changing booth, pull down my slacks and pull up my socks and pull up my slacks again.

Third sock, you ask? I'm working on the heel flap for the current baby sock.

In other news, when we got into the Tardis after Knit Night, a weird noise came from under the hood. I know what tappets sound like just before a cylinder blows. It wasn't that. It was more like the sound you get when you use a clothespin to attach playing cards to the back frame of your bicycle so that they smack the spokes and your bike becomes a pretend Harley.

So I took Fourthborn home and drove to Firstborn's so 1BDH could take a look under the hood. He was still at ju-jitsu when I got there but arrived a few minutes later. We went out to the Tardis. I popped the hood and fired her up. Nothing, except maybe the suggestion of a leaf blowing out from under the hood. At his direction, I revved the engine a little. Still nothing. So I thanked him and came home, feeling much relieved

My only thought is that maybe Heaven wanted me off the road for half an hour. I'm just glad to be home and safe and not facing a mechanic's bill in the morning. I had Middlest work on my neck for a few minutes, and I'm about ready to call it a day.

I also invented a limerick today, but that's a story for later. Assuming I remember. Night, y'all. The buttermilk and ginger cookies are calling my name.

More DP's, more yarn, and fussy-cutting

I think the real reason that they call it fussy-cutting is because it's fiddly and inspires childbirth words. I have no doubt that the quilt blocks these squares will fit into will be all the prettier because of the time I took to center the floral motifs within a 4.5" square, but my ankles and back are hoping there will be no more of it in the other six quilt blocks. Today I cut enough for twelve blocks, as Middlest is getting everybody's blocks this year, and Firstborn and Fourthborn are working on the other colorway.

I did have a moment of delight when I discovered that I'd already preshrunk the fabric for the last blocks in the quilt club we finished in September. Those fabrics are now pressed and stacked neatly for when the current blocks are done.

Today we went to Costco, and from there to the jewelry store because it was time for my rings' six month checkup and cleaning. After that we went to a yarn store I love but don't get to very often. I needed to buy more 00's in 4" and 6" because the Tardis ate one of my 4" needles last week while I was stopped at a long light. It slipped out of my fingers, did a one and a half gainer, and vanished under the seats. I've gone spelunking with a halogen flashlight, to no avail.

This is why my carbon fiber needles never leave the house.

While at the yarn store I found a skein of yarn that goes with the new clothing which arrived earlier this week. I envision hours of happy knitting once I decide on a design.

But for now I need to go fold all the laundry I did earlier today so I can take my meds and call it a day. I got most of the new blocks cut out before discovering that I'm going to have to Frankenpiece some scraps together in order to get enough 2-7/8" blocks to cut on the diagonal, unless I can find a similar fabric in my stash and Middlest doesn't mind.

Looking forward to the regional? area? broadcast stake conference tomorrow morning.

Able to leap one-storey buildings in a single bound.

Filed two answers, closed another case, got through everybody's mail, worked my ToDo's and fought sleep until lunchtime. Thoroughly surprised my friend who runs the deli by ordering a cheeseburger, with onions, and fries, then squirting half a cup of ketchup into my to-go box.

I did OK for the rest of the workday. Came home and fixed a salmon burger and a batch of mashed potatoes. Updated my financial spreadsheet. Tried to play Sudoku on my computer, but it kept defaulting to the main page. Something must be bent or broken or bruised on the AARP website.

I've started preshrinking the fabric for Middlest's quilt blocks and plan to sew them up tomorrow. Goal is to not leave the house until Sunday morning for the special, regional broadcast stake conference. We had one of those last year as well. It will be interesting to see what's up.

Maybe while I'm sewing tomorrow I can figure out how I want to finish Justice's skirt.

My face still feels (fairly) amazing after Wednesday night's facial. I might remember to do that again some year.

This is probably enough random nonsense for one night.

More stuff comes home with me.

I've been wanting to try a pair of trouser socks, and I needed to double-check my bra size, so I stopped in at Cacique on the way home and found a pair of brown compression stockings that might not squeeze my feet off at my ankles. They weren't as expensive as the pair I bought at the drugstore a few months ago that I couldn't get on past my heel. Also brought home more Ricola and two boxes of saltines for Middlest, a package of hard-boiled eggs and more muffins from Costco. I think that's it. I didn't go nuts in the produce aisle tonight.

I wore the embroidered tunic to work today, and because it was a little more sheer than I'm comfortable with, I tossed on the cream fringed vest and felt like Jenny from Forrest Gump. (Well, minus the drugs and the tragic death.) Calling that a success.

I juggled two and a half lawyers today, and I think everything crucial got done.

My face still feels wonderful from last night's facial. Middlest gave me the science behind that, then laughed because I hadn't actually asked. My kid has a gift for learning all sorts of obscure things and sharing them without coming off as a know-it-all.

I took a video at lunch of my sweet potato shrieking in the microwave. It's posted to FB, but there was no way to link it to the blog, and I didn't think it was YouTube-worthy.

I thought I was ready to go to bed, but my stomach had other ideas. Hey up there! We're not done! Which is why I am downing half a mug of milk and half a muffin at 10:00pm.

Spa night.

I had another good day at work. I'm not quite caught up, but I'm getting there. I picked up two more cases of water on the drive home, a ready-made salad, a big stalk of organic fennel (as opposed to the carved-from-marble kind), and a few other fruits that I hope to eat before they wither from neglect on the counter or in the fridge.

Plucking my eyebrows these days consists of ruthlessly going after the white hairs while trying not to uproot any of their brunette neighbors. Eventually I will have no eyebrows, and I can draw them on to suit the mood of the day.

So: eyebrows have been weed-whacked. I've subjected my poor unsuspecting nose to a Biore strip. I've waxed my lip, cheeks, and chin and plucked the hairs that staged a sit-in. And now I have electric turquoise Dead Sea minerals drying on my face. I'm typing with my glasses off. I can see the little red squiggles under words that the blog thinks I've misspelled or knows that I've run together. When the mud is dry I'm going to take a nice long poach in the shower, and then I'm going to baby my feet. I did slather them with lotion last night before going to bed, and they're feeling a little less like trilobites.

Hey, don't judge. My hips are crabby, and I have a belly that would make Rubens swoon. Ergo, it's almost impossible to get my feet close enough to my eyes and my hands to care for my feet the way that other women take for granted. I have tried to like pedicures, but on principle I don't like having anyone else touch my feet. Plus, the last one I got, about five years ago, revived the athletes foot I had so carefully doctored into submission and required at least two rounds of medicine to banish it permanently. I was significantly more flexible five years ago.

Remember how I said last night that I didn't have enough spoons to press the new clothing? I caught my second wind as I was ready to fall into bed, so I stayed up until a little after midnight and got 'er done. Another error: I said the scarf my sister gave me was Pucci. It's Gucci. And it goes perfectly with the copper shirt and rusty plum skirt.

Face is dry. I'm off to go soak my head, and then my feet. Night, y'all.