General Conference, tangling, and knitting. In no particular order.

I don't think that I have enough yarn for another repeat of the pattern on my sister's birthday present, so tomorrow I will probably grab a 4" DP and bind that edge off.

I've joined two more Zentangle groups on Facebook, and I've commenced Inktober (which I hadn't heard of until earlier this week), combining the prompts from the official list with those on one of the Zentangle groups. I realized after this morning's session of Conference that instead of toggling back and forth between two saved posts, it made more sense to take tiles for the rest of the month, number them sequentially through the end of the month, then add the prompts for each day.

I was uber-focused on Conference during the first two sessions, taking several pages of color-coded notes, but this evening I just listened while noodling around with my pens, pencil, and tortillon. I've completed the third day's tile for Inktober and am about to go back to my room to maybe knock out the fourth one. I also shaded this week's tangle for the first group that I've been part of for about a month. I need to photograph both tiles, and the reference tiles that I drew, and upload the former tiles to their respective groups.

Last night I found an online tutorial that taught me how to draw a reasonably realistic human skull, which is not something I thought I'd ever want to do. As I once told the children's father, the reason it's called gross anatomy is because it's gross.

This is likely to be more rambly than usual. Sleeping in, spiritual over-stimulation, omitting my morning studies in favor of hitting Costco before Conference began, trying to wrangle my various series of tiles into some approximation of order. Not gathering sufficient snacks before each session of Conference to keep me alert and non-crabby for two hours. I feel as if I'd eaten all day long, and it was almost exclusively really good, nourishing food, and my brain has been blowing through it as if it were angel food cake.

Learning stuff, whether it's art or eternal verities, is wonderful. And exhausting. I'm very happy, intellectually and emotionally engaged, and right on the cusp of knackered.

Later, gators.  Be good, and remember Whose you are.

P.S. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland knocked it out of the ballpark this morning.

A much better day, thank you.

While I haven't been getting much sleep, I'm feeling better-than-OK, and today I had a steadily productive day at work, followed by minimal dinner and maximum drawing.

When I have a new Zentangle prompt, my first instinct is to cram as many shapes that I know into the confines of the string (outline) on the 3.5" square. I just basically run amok with my Micron pens until nothing else will fit. I've taken to drawing more than one variation on the week's theme. Tonight I finished over-stuffing the first tile, and I think I'm about ready to start shading the second one. Which looks far less like the love child of Pablo Picasso and Peter Max than the first one does. I like drawing in black and white. I like starting with a minimal suggestion for shapes to fill, then freehand drawing until I'm all drawn out, or I need to go to bed, or my hands and eyes are tired and want to do something else.

My 2-in-1 volume of Asimov's Guide to the Bible arrived yesterday. I've read the few pages of background that are related to Galatians, which is what we are studying this week. There is minimal guidance in Come, Follow Me. Apparently in Chapter 2, Paul tears into Peter over no longer eating with the gentile Christians. I haven't gotten there yet. I've spent much of the past couple of days mindlessly scrolling Facebook, reading a couple of articles here and there in The Economist (I'm behind again), and thinking about the children's father.

The obituary is done, I think, and the eulogy is coming together nicely. 1BDH will be reading it, because he can do so without breaking down up on the stand during the service.

I found myself arguing with Asimov's suggestions or conclusions regarding bits of Galatians. I think he will be useful in terms of what was going on in the rest of the world, and why the various authors of the various gospels were discussing a particular subject. I know enough about how the Brethren work together in the upper levels of the church to quibble with Asimov's ideas about schisms between the Jewish Christians and the Gentile Christians while the original apostles were still alive. The Savior Himself said, "If ye are not one, ye are not mine." The modern Council of the Twelve Apostles do not bicker. They state opinions, counsel together, hearken to the Spirit, and come to a consensus. If even one of them is not fully supportive of a proposed plan, they table it and revisit it later.

So I think Asimov is going to be a little more right than the proverbial stopped clock that is right twice a day. And from the little I've read so far, I think he is doing the best he can with the sources that he had, and occasionally talking through his hat.

I need to take my meds, put away the art supplies, and actually read Galatians 2 to see what my own sources say the fuss was all about. Night, y'all.

Mission accomplished.

Not mine. The children's father's. Ten years ago he experienced several severe bilateral strokes. They were probably not his last. They were definitely not his first. The TIA's began more than 35 years ago, before he began chiropractic school, before LittleBit was conceived. Back when I still had some hope that the marriage would end as it began, rooted firmly in eternal covenants between us and our Maker.

The marriage died long before I divorced him. It sounds clinical on paper: he stopped loving me when I stood up to him and brought the US Postal Service into it. He stopped listening to me. He stopped touching me. He fell in love with talk radio, if only to boost the testosterone level in our home and to tune out the needs of a wife and five children. My mother died. I suddenly had money that was mine. I bought my freedom, paid off the IRS and the dentist and the midwife and I don't remember who-all else, and I told him to go.

The children were angry that he had to move out on his birthday. I got it then, and I get it now. I was the bad guy then. Our ward did not understand it. I later learned that there was gossip that I was having an affair. (I was not.) Or that I divorced him to protect my inheritance. (Partially true, but not the only or even the primary reason.)

His personality, always quirky, darkened with each successive stroke. At the end he was passive and defeated, but verbally abusive to the two of our children who had his medical and financial powers of attorney, and to the staff at the assisted living center where he got moved when the nursing home in Fort Worth could bear him no longer. Our two eldest would no longer visit him without one or both husbands in attendance.

He had been in and out of the hospital several times in the past few months, most recently with cellulitis. He could not or would not care for himself. He refused to eat the diabetic-appropriate meals, preferring to do without. I have prayed recently, if he crossed my mind, that he would live to complete his mission, though we didn't understand why he was still here. I'm grateful that I was able to pray without bitterness. There have been occasional spikes of irritation over the past ten years, but for the most part I made my peace with him when we thought he was going to die a decade ago.

He only stopped asking what it would take for us to get back together when I went to visit him after Beloved's diagnosis and told him that I didn't know if I would be getting a proposal, but that if I did, I would be accepting it. Before that, he brought it up every Thanksgiving and Christmas, sometimes asking the kids to intervene on his behalf.

Sorry, y'all. So much good and bad cycling through my mind as I wrap my head around the fact that the man with whom I made five precious babies is gone. He passed peacefully in his sleep overnight. Today would have been Mom's 106th birthday. It's two days before what should have been our 42nd anniversary. It's going to be a complicated grief for all of us. Middlest and I have picked out the music for his memorial service. We had a conference call this afternoon to hammer out some details. He was a veteran, so there'll be a place for his ashes at the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery.

Please pray for our kids and grandkids. I may be AWOL for awhile.

Yesterday was better. Also, yarn chicken.

I've completed 35 steps of the 42 for my sister's Hitchhiker. I have 35 grams of yarn left. I've decided to stop and weigh the yarn at the completion of each remaining step so that I don't run out of yarn midway through a step.

SemperFi was almost his usual delightful self yesterday. He was obviously making the effort.

The Col-O-Ring which I ordered earlier this week was waiting when I got home from work. I am drawing a small sample of each tangle that I've learned so far and putting them in alphabetical order. When I've worked my way through all of the official tangles, I'll regroup them by shape (round, square, triangular, weird, etc.) while keeping them alphabetical within the subgroup. That way, when I want a certain shape of tangle to fit into a particular space, I can flip through a handful of like shapes until I find the one I want, rather than having to sort through all 160+ of them. Last night I drew six of them.

Today I take Middlest and Fourthborn for their monthly doctor appointments. I knew that. It's on my calendar at work and on my phone, and I remembered it last night but entirely forgot it until a few minutes ago when they said something. I had finished this morning's scripture study and was thinking about what to pack for lunch and what to wear (it's football season, so I guess it's my "Go Pack" Green Bay Packers shirt over leggings) and was wondering if there'd be time to knit or draw more samples before leaving for work.

I have time to knit. I have time to draw samples. A good day just got significantly better.

A h#!! of a day in the neighborhood

I knew it was likely to be at least somewhat stressful, as I needed to work on and hopefully complete a trial notebook for SemperFi. So I ate a healthy breakfast before going to work and spent the morning swilling Cherry Coke and eating Keebler's Faux-Moas (the fudge stripe cookies). At lunch I went across the street and picked up a chicken teriyaki bowl and took it up to the rooftop patio in our building. Then I came back down to our break area and tangled until it was time to go back to my desk. (I knew that knitting was not going to cut it. I'll do some of that when I log off here.)

During the day, SemperFi didn't listen to me, OR the office manager in training, when we told him how to print certain documents. He went and got the IT person, who told him exactly what we had said, and he did it. The office manager in training (OMIT?) was quietly and visibly-to-me irate, as was I. She took a little walk to cool down. I took another swig of Cherry Coke, and when he returned to his desk, I said quietly, "I'm feeling a little frustrated. It took three women telling you how to do something before you listened." He's not normally like that, and he responded equally quietly, "Thank you for the feedback."

Later I told him, "You get really crabby when  you're in trial prep."

"Yes, I do."

Naturally, because I wrangled 400 documents into submission ~ it took 22 minutes to upload the folder to his outbox ~ the judge granted opposing counsel's continuance. I am magic. I should run for office. (My friend Tan says on the Murphy's Law ticket.)

The OMIT was still not quite herself by the end of the day. I was still simmering but no longer irate. At some point SemperFi remarked, "So you feel my pain." To which I retorted, "No, I feel you are a pain." Still later, I asked if he would be in the office tomorrow or working remotely. I hope I was able to keep the disappointment out of my voice when I said, "OK, see you tomorrow."

I flew my snark flag high and free today. I was definitely not nice. I was probably also not kind, although tipping tables over is certainly within the realm of possibility when you're trying to emulate the Savior.

I told SemperFi to go home and drink some wine tonight. Me, I will probably add a muscle relaxer to the usual evening meds.

The day did turn around for me, however. I took myself to Rockfish to eat some crab cakes homeopathically. They were stellar, as was the service. On the way out, I nearly collided with a younger couple at the door, so I held it open for them and wished them a good evening. As did they, to me. I said, "I'm going to go home and draw." The husband stopped, spun around, and asked, "Are you an artist?" "I'm learning to be. Right now I'm learning Zentangle." His face lit up. "I'm an art teacher in one of the schools. I teach my students to Zentangle!" So I had him take a picture of a page from the Facebook group I'm in, and I PM'd a moderator to be on the lookout for a membership request. Very nice man, and his wife is equally charming.

I'm going to put myself in timeout now. Later, gators!

Drawing and more drawing.

Unfortunately, the Blogger app on my phone will not let me post pictures. Last night I came up with my very own ornate design. This evening I followed one of the weekly prompts in a tangling group I've joined.

Funeral tomorrow for my wonderful dentist. I've got appointments scheduled for October with a local office that was highly recommended by three RS sisters in my ward.

Time to put my art supplies away, take my meds, and go to bed. Night, y'all.

Four hours. Thirty-seven minutes. L

That's how much sleep I got last night. I finally had to take a diclofenac around midnight. I'll do do again tonight.

Had a good checkup this morning. I'm down 15 pounds from three months ago. Haven't gotten the lab results back yet, but I'm hopeful that my A1c and cholesterol numbers will be proportionately improved as well.

Will be taking half doses of the Lexapro to see if my perceived reduction in stress continues, with the idea of weaning off it entirely.

My appetite was erratic today. When I finished the lab work I went to IHOP and had a reasonably portioned, reasonably healthy meal. All the way to work, Stomach was asking "When eat? When eat?"

So I stopped at Whole Foods and put together a salad for lunch. And then ate two sausage kolaches (bakery pigs in blankets) to celebrate my weight loss. Followed about an hour later by the salad and two small mozzarella sticks swaddled in prosciutto. I had to keep taking swigs of Cherry Coke to keep my eyes open. And I triple-checked my work until time to go home.

Dinner was two leftover slices of cauliflower pizza and a scoop of ice cream. I'm knackered. But Brain thinks we want to draw a little before turning off the lights.

I think I'll spend much of this weekend snoozing. We shall see.

Pain in the foot.

Last year (I think it was last year) I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis in my left foot. I acquired a podiatrist, over the counter orthotics, and had to give up my beloved Dansko clogs, which I had worn in various iterations for roughly twenty years.

I loathe spending money on shoes. For the past several years I've gone to Academy and bought whatever was on sale. I bought two pairs last time. A conservative black pair. A pair that shifts from red to orange and tones wonderfully with my favorite combination of Gudrun pieces. A couple of evenings ago, I stepped out of bed and felt a dull ache when my left heel touched the floor. I felt it again when I got out of bed this morning, and intermittently when I walked.

Tomorrow night I'm going back to Academy, hoping for a good sale on a better pair of shoes. Ones where the insoles come out and the orthotics can go in. Meanwhile I'm treading gingerly with bare feet inside my penultimate purchase, which has my orthotics. I will probably wear those to work tomorrow. They're a little worn looking, and it's better than limping or muttering childbirth words.

In more exciting news, I have my quarterly diabetes checkup tomorrow morning, and I think my wonderful doctor is going to be pleased.

I really had fun drawing last night. Stayed up too late and am likely to do it again tonight. Starting right about now.

Work has been slow.

How slow, you ask? Slow enough that today, after sending out my "will type for food" email, I finished reading one issue of The Economist and made a good start on another. At this rate, I should be all caught up by the time our office is ready for us to return.

I'm having fun working on my sister's birthday present. I'm having fun with Zentangle. I'm madly in love with the new translation of the New Testament.

Which is now calling to me in dulcet tones. Night, y'all!

Waiting for the pizza to bake.

I got another sleep-killing nap this evening, and I woke up ravenous from a dream which morphed from general weirdness to a movie to a Broadway show, where I was suddenly the anti-hero and about to give birth.

I don't think I can blame that on lunch, which was relatively normal.

Brother Paul stopped eating my lunch and started kicking my derriere last week. Thankfully, I was able to purchase the last local hardcover copy of the new translation of the New Testament after work on Wednesday, and I am so impressed with it. My two-part study has morphed into a three-part study. Read the chapter in my phone app (KJV). Write in my study journal what, if anything, makes sense to me. Read the chapter again from the Chronological Bible. More notes. Dive into the new translation. And the angels sing! Roughly the lower third to lower half of each page is comprised of footnotes, which give alternative translations, explain the cultural significance, give the modern equivalents of the Latin or Greek names of various places where Paul had served and established churches.

It is very, very cool, and an excellent investment of both money and time. Last week we studied the last ten chapters in Romans. It was exhausting. I had to take mini-breaks between most chapters, either for appropriately diabetic-scale carb-loading to refuel my weary brain, or to read something else or play a quick game on my phone. I was basically studying those last seven chapters All Day Long yesterday (although Fourthborn and I did pop out long enough so she could have an eye exam and come home with a week's trial of daily contact lenses). And when I finished, I was too tired to draw, although I did pull up a novel on my Kindle and read the first few pages. It's been months and months since I've read fiction. I read a smidgen more today.

Pizza is done. I am hoping for a couple of hours of quiet creativity and then back to bed. This week's reading is 1 Corinthians, which is only(?) seven chapters instead of ten. Wish me luck.

Drawing on experience.

My doll-friend, Onna, is the one whose posted Zentangle tiles have drawn me [har har] into learning how to tangle, has been most gracious in her comments on tiles I've drawn and posted on Facebook. It has been so much fun watching her learn this method. I'm having fun as well. My resolve to make sure that other things that I love to do, come first, so that I am not sucked willy-nilly into the world of 3.5" tiles to the exclusion of all else, is looking a little dog-eared.

I had planned on knitting tonight, but Fourthborn awoke from her nap right after I finished my dinner, so we both got dressed like respectable human beings (i.e., not "People of Walmart") and went to Winco to round out the grocery shopping.  I should be in bed, asleep, in two minutes. Somehow I don't see that happening.

To be continued...

***

(Later" has arrived.) Brother Paul is eating my lunch! I've spent great chunks of the past two days in Romans 1-6, listening to the audio version, writing down what I think he meant, going back and reading carefully, chasing all of the footnotes. I love the poetry and flow of the King James Version. And once we leave the synoptic Gospels, comprehending the New Testament becomes a miracle on the order of the loaves and the fishes.

*However,* several years ago I asked for and received a copy of The Chronological Bible, which is one of the modern translations, and after I finished slogging through the chapters in the King James Version, I turned to that. Unlike other translations I've skimmed in the past, this one didn't feel "flat". I still feel as if I'd sat for the SAT (one of two college prep/entry exams, if you're not familiar with the term), and my brain is demanding carbs like you wouldn't believe, but I'm now reassured that I can finish this year's study with some measure of the enthusiasm with which I began.

I've been a Christian for 44 years this month. We rotate through the standard works (the scriptures) every four years. This will be the first time that I haven't abandon my study of the New Testament somewhere between Valentine's Day and Easter or the Fourth of July. I'm not patting myself on the back. I'm just astonished. And very, very stubborn.

Friday night I attended a lecture by BYU classics professor, Thomas A. Wayment, who has recently published a modern translation of the New Testament, utilizing sources and documents that were not available to the scholars who did the King James Version 400 years ago. I will be ordering my own copy this coming week, and I am looking forward to diving into it. He said, among other things, that the word "raca," which is generally translated as "fool" is actually much harsher than that, and that "fool" is the gentlest possible translation. I am not so secretly hoping that I get to read the more harsh translation. After all, tumping over tables was not out of the realm of possibility during the Savior's mortality. And as Middlest is so fond of pointing out, at heart I am (still) an anarchist, if a devout and reasonably obedient one.

I've finished the knitting and grafting of Middlest's linen-stitch cowl, and I've done several more Zentangle tiles this past week, and I've begun another iteration of Hitchhiker, using the yarn remaining from Leftie. I had thought of attaching a bead on each little point, but after doing so decided that I preferred the pattern in its simplicity.

In other news, the fitness app from work has a step equivalency chart for things like dancing, rock climbing, light or heavy housework. The half hour I spent dusting ledges and picture frames in our meetinghouse yesterday added over 3600 steps to the others that I accumulated in a more leisurely fashion. I'll finish this day with something under 1900 steps, but that's three times what I get on the Sundays when I nap.

Time to take my evening meds and kiss this day goodnight.

The Princess and the Pea-Brain

So, my normal (stop laughing) MO is to carefully place my breakfast on my bed, walk around, grab the juice, put it on the bedside table, and get into bed. Something, I don't remember what, distracted me Friday morning.

I cheerfully hopped into bed and hopped right back out, muttering childbirth words. Which is why I did the first of two loads before breakfast. Fourthborn helped me stuff the mattress pad, which did its job of protecting my mattress from the evil orange juice, into the washing machine. Middlest helped by unlocking and opening the door to the garage.

My granola was wilted like a Victorian heroine when I got back to it but was still delicious.

I hope your Friday was significantly less adventurous.

***

As it turned out, the mattress pad did not survive its swim. The plastic backing pulled away along most of the stitching lines. I spread it out on the garage floor to dry, with the idea of cramming it into a garbage bag when it no longer weighed ten pounds or more. It is still out in the garage. I might remember to grab it tomorrow night and put it in the bin.

The sheets fared better. Fourthborn loaded them into the dryer after I left for work, and I remade the bed when I got home from work.

You would think that a thin layer of padding between mattress and Ms. Ravelled would not make all that much difference in quality of sleep. And you would be mistaken. Sadly mistaken. I did not sleep long, nor did I sleep well.

After family brunch at IKEA, we stopped at my favorite home goods shop and picked up an inexpensive mattress pad. I unmade the bed, remade the bed, and promptly died for about four hours.

Bliss!

I have been Zentangling all weekend. Last night's tile used an L-shaped string and all seven of the tangles that I'd learned. I saved the shading for today and have drawn another tile since then. I am now ready to read or knit or maybe just go to sleep early.

It's been a good day. I'm at that weird, slightly strung-out stage which comes when you've brained a little too hard and a little too long. For once, Brain is the one asking if we can please just stop thinking and go to bed, and Body is saying, but I'm still having fun, and it's light outside, and I don't wanna.

This could get interesting.

Tired but not quite sleepy.

I got through the day on about five hours of sleep. Usual breakfast, stop at Chick-Fil-A because I had a gift card. That bowl kept me full until lunchtime. All that I ate from my lunch bag were two small breadsticks and my pistachio-and-Craisin mix. A very few ounces of Coke, and I was buzzing all day. I'd been home for over an hour when I finally wound down. I managed my 5000 steps for the day (currently sitting at 5303), but I will not make today's knitting goal or do any drawing. Instead, I'm taking my meds about an hour early, turning off the light, and hoping for about nine hours of sleep. Pretty sure that a lot of this weekend will be spent horizontal and unconscious. Although there *is* family brunch on Saturday morning. Night, y'all.

Family council

We had one tonight, via conference call, with 80% of the kids and one son in love, regarding the children's father, who is Not Doing Well. We came to consensus on what needs to be done, and we have various tasks broken down by who is best suited for it. We talked on the phone for a little over an hour, and everyone was polite and thoughtful and helpful, just like families are supposed to be. I wish our family home evenings had been like this when they were little. (Instead of being the only family fight that begins and ends with prayer.) I am so proud of these people that their father and I made. Further affiant sayeth naught.

I finished last night's Zentangle and a new one before the conference call. I was halfway done with the next when I put my pens down. I finished it afterward and ate one and only one small bite of Nutella, and read a little more and noodled on Facebook and it's midnight and I'm not sleepy and I have to leave for work in a bit less than eight hours.

Blest be the ties that bind. Even 23 years post-divorce and six years post sealing cancellation and sealing to Beloved. I wish he (Beloved, obviously) were here tonight.

Bitten by the Zentangle bug

I started the second chapter in the primer last night. It was an almost completely execrable tile. And I'm OK with that. Anne Lamott, in her advice to writers, counsels to go ahead and write the [horrible] first draft. So I did.

Tonight I practiced two of the new tangles. I'm quite pleased with one of them. It's the one I hated the least last night. And I drew bigger circles for the second one. I'm updating iTunes on this computer and blogging a bit while some of the ink dries. I'll finish that tile tomorrow night.

I've listened to all seven chapters in this week's reading for Sunday School. Tomorrow I'll start reading each chapter in depth, chasing down the footnotes, and making notes as I go.

If I want to get any knitting done today (and not let Zentangle take over my creative life), I need to post this now and restart my computer.

Keeping it simple, keeping it honest, keeping it real

One of my favorite no-brainer meals is a cup of Easy Mac with a nuked burger from Costco cut up into it. Sometimes Rarely, I'll stir in cooked broccoli. More often, it's a handful of sliced grape tomatoes. Today, while the macaroni cup was doing its thing in the microwave, I rinsed and sliced up the last of the grape tomatoes. I placed them in a ring around the burger while it heated through, and I sliced up two green onions and stirred them into the mac after adding the cheese. It made for a pretty and deeply satisfying lunch.

The Fitbit works well in one Costco that I patronize but not so much in the other. I am quite sure that I put in more than 150 steps while I was in there this morning. I'm also a little puzzled as to how I could have racked up 86 steps in my sleep. Oh well, as one of my professors 40+ years ago stated at the beginning of the semester, there are lies, d@mn lies, and statistics.

I've had a quiet, putter-y day so far. (I've begun this post at 3:30 in the afternoon.) Small breakfast. Two small, sensible snacks. And now lunch. Also two loads of laundry. Clean sheets on the bed, and about a third of my Gudrun and other delicates hanging to dry in the shower, now that I've had a shower of my own. I've done cleaning and maintenance on the CPAP. I've read several pages in an issue of The Economist. I'm ready to head back to my squeaky clean bed and listen to a General Conference address while knitting. I got most of the way through it yesterday morning, and when I got into Diana, my phone synced with the car, and my audio disappeared. I had neither the time nor the patience to figure out how to make that stop, so today I'm starting over.

***

Finishing this up at the time I would normally be going to bed, because I had such a great nap. (Dozed off while listening to a second General Conference address and took the hint.) Dinner tonight was a nuked potato topped with guacamole. I had read of it as an alternative to butter, sour cream, and salt. In terms of taste, it was great. I like my potatoes salty but not ridiculously so. The guacamole provided just enough seasoning to keep thing interesting. In terms of appearance, it was kind of gross. But I ate it anyway, and I will probably do so again. Cheap, fast, and easy, unlike me.

I finished the Zentangle that I've been noodling at for approximately a month. I'm nearly done with the issue of The Economist. The new issue arrived today. I love the cover, of England's new PM drawn suspiciously like our own president, riding atop a double-decker bus labeled "Make Britain Great Again" on a roller coaster track that dead-ends into space. And at least one person inside the bus is emulating "The Scream." [Andrea Over the Pond, I don't know what your politics are, so I hope this doesn't offend you.]

I need to go sort out next week's meds and make a little more progress in studying this week's New Testament lesson. There are so many people named in the Book of Acts, and so many places, that it's rather like trying to keep track of the characters in "War and Peace." I find that I'm liking and understanding Paul a little better, this time around. I have the prophets Mormon and Moroni to thank for that. Their writing styles are similar to Paul's, and the translation is vastly more recent and therefore comprehensible, at least to me.

It's been a great day. I feel physically rested, and refreshed in all of the other important ways. Be good, and remember Whose you are.

I had forgotten...

... how much I like nectarines. I bought one, and only one, the other day because I didn't know if Middlest or Fourthborn like them, and I wasn't sure if I was up to eating three of them. I left it in the plastic bag and put it in the fridge.

This morning I decided I'd better eat it before it died of old age. Didn't want to squirt juice all over my clothing, so I sliced it six ways from Sunday and thumbed the sections into a small take-along.

After eating my sandwich, I only had room for one bite. So now I am sitting in bed, noodling around on my phone, and eating the rest of the nectarine. Cutting it up was one of the better ideas I've had. Because as much as I didn't want to get juice all over my clothes or my chin, I especially don't want to get it on the sheets.

I spent about half of the day in a series of meetings, which I guess is a pretty good thing, because I didn't have all that much to do until the last hour or so. New case, answer thankfully not due for another week, and a full set of discovery that I can clean up for our paralegal when I'm back on Monday morning.

Plan for this weekend is to putter a little and create a lot. More Zentangle. More knitting. Maybe start putting some of my bead acquisitions together for new earrings. A whole lot of reading, I hope.

Nectarine is finished. And so, my dears, am I.

I've grown accustomed to this purse?

I may have moaned and gritched about this. If so, I've slept since then. The 20th anniversary (with the corporation) gift which I chose was a designer bag, of the brand which Firstborn prefers. I didn't open the box for something like a week. When I did, the purse was smaller than I'd envisioned, and I certainly couldn't lug all the stuff that I was accustomed to. And I wasn't sure that I liked it all that much. It retailed for nearly half again as much as the bag I chose five years ago, which is hanginging dejectedly from a knob on one of my dressers, whimpering in leathery tones, "Don't you love me anymore?"

There are a few things that I'm discovering that I like about the new bag. It fits neatly under my arm and stays on my sloping shoulder, probably because it weighs five pounds max, and not fifteen. Like me, it has a quirky shape. It's black, so it works for work or church or family brunch at IKEA.

I'm hard on bags. My favorite was a large red leather tote from Franklin (as in Franklin Planner) that I bought half-off at a price that nearly choked me. And was a fraction of what either of these bags would retail for. Good purses, like good steaks, should cost less than $10. Right? I stuffed that bag like a pregnant elephant, and it lasted at least five years. The bag which is in timeout no longer stands tall like a soldier on review. It bulges out on the front and back. It has hourglass creases on the sides. And it probably has another 15-20 years of usefulness left. I'm wondering how well this fancier bag will last. It's more delicately constructed.

In other news, if you start drinking 64 ounces of water a day, and one day you drink half that much, your hands and forearms will tattle on you. I'm naming the left one Mojave and the other one Sahara.

Random thoughts during scripture study.

(This is based upon a draft that I began in November 2017.)

I had been listening to Mosiah 28, where the repentant sons of King Mosiah ask their father for permission to go preach to their enemies, the Lamanites. Since the likelihood of their getting killed far exceeded the likelihood of successful missionary efforts, the king was understandably concerned, and he took those concerns to the Lord, who reassured him.

Random thought the first: I wonder what their mother had to say on this subject. Was she still on this side of the veil? Was her faith as great as her sons' faith, or did she have a Sariah moment in which she said are you all nuts? (or the Nephite equivalent thereof)?

Random thought the second: with these four sons out of the picture, none of Mosiah's other sons wanted to inherit the kingdom. Was this because they had other interests, or because they wanted nothing to do with either a mortal kingdom or the kingdom of God?

Random thought the third: why did Mosiah confer the records which his sons did not want upon Alma the Younger, rather than Alma the Elder? Was the senior Alma already close to death? (Both he and Mosiah are dead by the end of chapter 29.)



I loved this song, back in the 70's. Thankfully, now I know about the Holy Ghost, and I know that all of my questions will be answered someday.

~~~

I have to say that my study has vastly improved since "Come, Follow Me" began at the first of this year.  As much as I'm enjoying the New Testament, I am really looking forward to studying the Book of Mormon next year.

OK. I've caught up my bookkeeping, and I've eaten a delicious dinner of questionable nutritional value, so it must be time to read or to knit. Maybe a little of both.

I saw a doll today that is really tempting. I have bought no dolls for two years. This is an MSD boy with a lively and mischievous face. And they offer extended layaway.

Breaking the mold

When the workmen tore out the last of the kitchen cabinets at work this past weekend, they discovered mold. Our office manager texted us last night that we would tentatively open at 1pm, pending what a mold expert had to say. Midmorning, we got another text, stating that we were closed for the day and that there would be another text no later than 8pm regarding whether we would open tomorrow.

Currently, we are looking at a tentative opening time of 1pm but are not to go in until we get the all clear, which may not happen until close to noon. Followed half an hour ago with notice that the kitchen would be sealed off and completely unavailable and to plan accordingly, if we are allowed to go in.

So, what have I done today? Read. Knitted. Read some more. Gone out for dim sum with doll friends to celebrate Middlest's birthday, which was yesterday. Napped. Read, again. Tidied my room a little more. Gathered up clothing for donation. Finessed the timing for salmon burgers in my George Foreman grill. After eating rather too much dim sum and the consequent nap, my body was vaguely hungry but pleaded, No more carbs, please, for the love of all that's good and holy.

I have trundled the trash bin down to the street and am now enjoying my cool, quiet bedroom, about to wash my evening meds down with buttermilk, which minimizes the dysphagia. And then I'll turn out one light and read (surprise!) by the other until my eyes say we're done. No need to set the alarm tonight.

I could get used to this.

Defragging.

You know how lots of people don't want to engage with others in the morning until they've had one or many cups of coffee? Not an option since my baptism 44 years ago next month. (Plus, I never really liked the stuff. It just makes me sweat and skip to the loo.)

I can't say if I've been this way all my life or if it began when I had a houseful of teenagers and a growing disconnect in my marriage to their father. But I crave solitude at the beginning and end of the day.

At various times I've ma'amaged this by mall walking or by doing needlework in the foyer when the kids were in seminary or by having a mini-devotional or by going to the gym. (Walking several laps in cool water brings both alertness and calm. It's as close to Zen as I'm likely to get without knitting in my hands.)

I finally found the metaphor for this over breakfast with Middlest a week or so ago. (I think Fourthborn was still snoozing.) Defragging. He nodded in recognition.

Most days I've spent enough time awake in my room, with three quick games on my phone followed by diving into my scriptures, that I can genuinely enjoy any available companionship over breakfast. I am both ready and delighted to be civil.

Other days, especially those where sleep or dreams went sideways, I just want to stay in my room until it's time to deal with the breakfast dishes, sluice off, and slink out the door to work.

~~~

It's been a good weekend. Decent progress on Middlest's scarf/cowl. (Maybe I should just call it a scowl?) I've eaten wisely and well. There has been napping. And masses of reading. Church was great, as usual. I've tried to be sensible about media consumption. Spent time hanging out with the dead people after church today. Discovered that I have a plethora of fourth cousins here in Texas. I've made goals for non-scriptural reading for this week. Just need to go into Come, Follow Me and bookmark the lesson, the readings, and the adjunct material. The videos for last week's reading were deeply touching.

One problem solved. OK, two.

Middlest has been the primary document shredder chez nous for quite some time. I've tossed a lot of paper onto the shred pile in the past week and a half. Thankfully, he's not had a chance to do anything about that. Because I accidentally sorted the current bill for my long term care premium into the shred pile, and three minutes of careful digging has retrieved it.

Work went well today. And on one of my skips to the loo, I was able to help an attorney in another firm on our floor get back into her suite. No, I did not pick the lock. I had my phone with me. She gave me her number. An associate answered and came to let her in.

Not much knitting so far today. I'm going to put things away, turn down the lights, and try to go to bed by 9pm, aiming for a solid eight hours before morning.

In which your intrepid heroine pokes a hornet's nest

I've mentioned that the office is being remodeled. The support columns throughout our office used to have mahogany(ish) baseboards around them. Even the round ones. I think all of the columns have been repainted at this point. Two of the round ones have now have vinyl baseboards. I asked the managing attorney if this was going to be the new aesthetic. She hadn't noticed.

This, after a morning in which the workmen were drilling ten feet from my desk when I got to work. It was audible all the way across the office. It continued for another hour or so, until someone spoke to someone who spoke with someone else, who made it stop. The managing attorney was not made aware of it until after it was blessedly quiet. (Both she and the office manager were elsewhere at the time.)

Mid-afternoon, the head of the building management company arrived in our suite with a peace offering: at least two dozen fresh from the oven cookies from Tiff's Treats.

The renovation guys were absent yesterday, and they're not supposed to be working tomorrow or over the weekend.

In knitting news, Middlest's cowl-in-embryo is now a scarf just short of two feet long. I've knitted up all of the pre-knitted dark blue but am still soldiering away on the lighter blue. Also, I found my little red clicker row counter. And three separate patterns that had gone AWOL.

Furthermore, I've sorted through massive amounts of accumulated paperwork that I collected last Saturday: trash, recycling, shredding, and deal with it already. There's a half inch stack of envelopes in the last category, in a pile by my left elbow.

I caught up my financial spreadsheets, and my credit score is four points higher than last month. Baby steps. I had some momentary panic last week when I learned how much dental work the kids need, according to the dentist who's filling in for our regular dentist while he deals with an acute health issue. Assuming he concurs, it will have to be piecemeal.

OK, I'm going to tackle the deal with it pile. Later, gators.

Stuff I learned today.

Banana bread is my nemesis. Or my Waterloo. Or my anti-matter. One of my coworkers made two loaves this weekend and brought them to work. I did my impression of a sensible diabetic and took half a slice. And then the other half. And then...

Predictably, within the hour I had the woozies. I ate the high protein portion of my lunch to even things out. Midafternoon, my right knee started aching like it used to. (My joints have been much less crabby since I made a general improvement in my diet, so for almost a month now.)

Lesson learned. I can only have banana bread when 23 other people are in line to fight me for it.

In knitting news, I've made a lot of progress on Middlest's scarf that will become a cowl. It's nearly two feet long, and I'm still having fun with it.

In order-out-of-chaos news, I tackled a small corner of my room. Disposed of Beloved's two Rolodex files. Consolidated two batches of UFOs into one basket. Scooched the banjo into a more secure spot. There is still a three inch high pile of paperwork that was resting under various bags. I'll deal with that in a day or two.

I am now free to knit with a clear conscience. And I will probably go to bed early tonight, the better to sleep off today's culinary minefield.

Notes from church.

So, yesterday I cleared off the bed. The following was the inspiration that came to me during my friend Andrea's talk in sacrament meeting. I listened with one ear and thought with the other.

Set goals that will enable me to finish the month of July with a room that is neat, clean, and orderly.

I don't understand why homemaking is so hard for me. When the kids were little, that was one reason. I was outnumbered, overwhelmed, and underfunded. As the nest emptied, it didn't get much easier. But it was all my own mess.

Anxiety meds have helped, significantly. And now two of my kids have moved back. They brought a lot of stuff with them, and their stuff is only a very small part of the problem. The mess and the clutter and the chaos is mine. With Heaven's help I can do better. I might even be able to conquer this before I go Home.

(At which point I resumed taking notes on the talks my friends were giving.)

I'm pleased to say that I had a great, relatively brief nap this afternoon. I've read a few articles in The Economist, listened to a couple of General Conference addresses, a podcast about insincere apologies, determined that a reference book on the Gospels can go back out into the bookcase in the living room since we start on Acts tomorrow, finished a chapter in the first volume of Saints, reneged on my intention to write members of Congress about the warehoused children on our southern border, read an article by Dr. James Dobson that gives a slightly different perspective on the problem, and pondered the uproar among liberals for Wayfair selling mattresses to provide for those kids. Which seems to me to be a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. I'd be happier about it if they'd donated the mattress, but I can't fault them for remembering that they are a business.

There's a lot bouncing around in my head right now. I need time and space and peace to think about it all. But for now I'm going to take 15 seconds to clear off my bed (because it shouldn't take much longer after yesterday's efforts), turn off the lights, and let Heaven and my subconscious wrangle with it all.

Gack.

This will probably be written in stages. The alarm clock said that I slept for seven and a half hours. My body said otherwise. And my dreams were more weird than usual. I was attending church in an unfamiliar building with a huge parking lot, on Easter Sunday, wrapped only in a towel. I left the meeting right after taking the sacrament, because I didn't want anyone to notice(!). And then I couldn't find my car. And it was raining and very, very dark. My dad drove up to help me look. He's been gone almost 30 years. I have no idea what all of that means. I just woke up feeling dazed and slightly dark.

~~~

In which your intrepid heroine spends a couple of hours listening to "Revisionist History" while turning worn out, unsalvageable items into rags. Because she needs to clear off the bed, dust the headboard, throw away the old cheap comforter that's been living inside the nice Pottery Barn duvet cover since after Beloved's funeral, likewise the flannel sheet with holes engraved into it by her alligator heels, wash and put away the duvet cover until winter, when maybe there will be sufficient progress on the honey-do list to justify a nice duvet filler from IKEA.

All this because a cup of the sherbet from hell tipped over and spilled mango raspberry fire onto the partially shredded sheet (and the otherwise impeccable duvet cover). Thus forcing her to finally deal with the archaeological dig which is her bed.  PSA: the raspberry mango spicy sherbet from Braums is evil, and you have been warned.

~~~

I've spent the better part of the day sorting out my bed. Clothes hung up; compression socks that had escaped my notice are now matched, rolled up, and in the sock drawer; old comforter extricated from the duvet cover, which is currently tumbling in the dryer; a load of whites washed and waiting their turn; half an issue of "The Economist" devoured and almost ready for recycling; a few rows of knitting; etc. etc. etc.

I learned something while wrangling the duvet cover. It has ribbons sewn into the inside corners to hog-tie whatever one chooses to insert.

Old dog. New tricks.

I am going to need my muscle relaxer tonight. I've been using my phone as a Fitbit. It thinks I've only walked seven steps today. My feet would argue otherwise, but my pajama pants don't have pockets. So it really is true about lies, d@mn lies, and statistics.

PS: I'll have to do a bit more reorganizing in my boudoir before I can lay hands on the lambswool duster. It's around here somewhere...

Sundry bits of progress.

I think I mentioned in my big, catch-up post that I'd received a certified letter about Lorelai's having been towed. I was finally able to connect with an authority figure at the towing company to determine that the registered owner (no longer me, for something like two years) has also been contacted.

There will be another certified letter in the next few days, because I'm still listed as a former owner on the state's system, and I can safely ignore it.

I just didn't want to be the reason that the new owner never got notice of whom to contact to free Lorelai from car jail.

I've lost another two pounds through improved diet and increased movement. Furthermore, the weird drowsiness and incessant appetite have disappeared. I think my wonderful doctor will be pleased when I see her in August.

I've struggled for years with being on time for work, averaging slightly over one tardy per month. In January I was successful every blessed day. I rewarded myself by splurging on three new lipsticks and two lip pencils.

February, March, April, and May were pretty sad. But I met my goal for June, and this month's reward will be art supplies. There's a YouTube artist I follow who draws Zentangle tiles. To shade some of them, she's used aquarelle (watercolor) graphite pencils. I am charmed! I already have a healthy supply of colorful aquarelles. I've been playing with them for almost 30 years.  I've also been trying my hand with Zentangle. It's slow going, because I have to be in the mood, and mostly I'd rather knit.

I think of it mostly as a way to train my hand and eyes. I've seen a charming landscape created from various doodles, and once I have a better grasp of how to draw and combine them, I'd like to try doing still life drawings incorporating them. They appeal to the part of my brain that likes math, logic puzzles, and whimsy.

My phone wants to call it a day. It's down to 29%, and frankly so am I. Looking forward to a good night's sleep and some solid puttering tomorrow.

Mad dogs and English ma'ams.

The kids are playing some sort of video game behind me. So I have access to the computer.

It was a really, really good day. I took a little time before lunch and walked to the Records Building with various pieces of paper. Diana is now titled in my name and reflects the lien from my credit union. I could have had another baby* in the time it took to get the paperwork straightened out.

*Well, if Beloved were still mortal, and I were two to four decades younger.

I still have not been able to speak with the one person who theoretically can help me get information to Lorelai's new owner about where she (Lorelai, not the owner) was towed and how to get her out of car jail.

But for now I'm going to take my meds and try to be asleep in ten minutes or less. I only got five and a half hours of sleep last night, because of distraction. I'm hoping for eight hours tonight. I did compensate for the lack of sleep by logging almost 5,000 steps throughout the day. Tomorrow I'd like more rest and less trudging.

Night, y'all.

Productive day with no nasty surprises

I've eaten sensibly today, traveled safely, and gotten stuff done at work. Right now I am contemplating a plate with the last four strawberries and a fat handful of cherries. It is balanced atop a mug of V8.

There's been some knitting, with time to do a little more before bedtime if I choose. I don't have the ambition to draw or make music tonight.

Today I submitted this month's medical receipts for reimbursement. I was a little surprised that it won't entirely use up the balance in my fund.

And I finished straightening out some weirdness with an old, closed credit card. That account has been closed for over fifteen years. When I got the notice, in my prior married name, regarding opting out of their arbitration agreement, I thought at first that I'd been hacked.

I went to a local branch yesterday, where I was informed by a teller that the account was closed but had been racking up interest over the years with a balance now owing of $3700!!! So I waited and waited to speak with the only banker on duty, and he gave me a number to call.

I did that today. She reassured me that the account was closed, that I had paid the balance in full, and that I owed them nothing.

Whew!

So all I need to do now is get word to Lorelai's registered owner on who towed her and how to get her out of car jail. Because the notice got sent to me. Apparently s/he never bothered to get me off the title.

We've all calmed down about the pending dental work and are waiting to hear back at wonderful dentist's convenience.

It's been a much better day in my neighborhood.

Still breathing.

Andrea, thank you for the lovely comment that you left.

I miss blogging. I'm trying to figure out how to shoehorn all the things I want to do into my day, and great chunks are falling to the wayside.

Part of this is because of how much time I'm spending in the scriptures because of "Come, Follow Me." Some of it is because we moved Fourthborn in, in stages, and that took up a bunch of April and May.

She's all moved in, and I'm delighted, as is Middlest. We haven't had the chance to do the garage remodel, so currently Fourthborn is camped out in the living room, as she has been when she's visited ever since Middlest moved in. She's no longer sleeping in a pallet on the floor, or on one or the other of the geriatric cots that I inherited from Beloved. We have a very nice secondhand mattress for her, and she's significantly more comfortable.

However. Her bed is about two feet from my computer, and all three of us are on significantly different sleep schedules. If you can call them that. I learned to type on a manual typewriter, and I type loudly. Right now I'm swyping on my phone, which has its own challenges.

I'll try to bring y'all up to date before my evening meds kick in. Earlier this month, Middlest and I visited our friends in Tennessee and brought home the last dab of stuff. The living room and dining room look like an active game of Tetris.

We saw the ducks march at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis. I could get used to valet parking and five star service.

I bought the lap harp that I fell in love with on our previous visit. I've tuned it and am learning to play "Rock of Ages." I bought two skeins of souvenir yarn.

I've downloaded an app and am tracking all sorts of stuff. Because of that, I'm making better choices about what I eat. I've lost a (very) few pounds.

We had an active shooter in downtown Dallas a week ago Monday. They evacuated our building, which is kitty corner to the Federal Building. I went home and dug out the banjo and knitted.

This Monday we had some clueless guy who parked his semi by the Federal Building  and wandered away. That shut down the central business district for about four hours. I was able to get into our parking garage, and before it was time to log in, they told us to evacuate. No bomb in the semi, and we reopened at 11, which made for a short and frustratingly unproductive day. I was rather cranky on the way home.

Today I'm off, because we had our every four month dental cleanings. Our wonderful dentist is quite ill, but there is hope. The substitute is very professional, and she recommends a boatload of work on each of my bipolar bears, to the tune of approximately ten grand. I was ready to weep by the time it was my turn in the chair.

I've quietly requested that our dentist review the treatment plans and X-rays, determine how much of this is urgent, and prioritize everything.

It looks as if Fourthborn will be camping on the floor awhile longer and the garage revamp may get pushed back until next year.

That's all I've got for you at the moment. I need to swig more buttermilk, as dinner is sending up a few fireworks. Imagine that!

What I've been up to.

Discovering that I really, truly, do not like jazz. I knew that last week's concert was not going to be bluegrass, because Chick Corea is not a famous bluegrass artist. I knew that Bela Fleck pushes the boundaries for banjo, because I read a lot. I am glad that I went. And I left after the first set, because my feet had begun their "get me out of here" dance.

The Majestic Theatre is a beautiful venue, and I hope that future adventures take me there again. The seats are comfortable, and the acoustics are good. My two favorite songs they played were improvisations on two piano sonatas by Scarlatti. I'm not sure that there's any Italian (instrumental) composer I do not like. Respighi is almost but not quite too modern (i.e., shapeless, dissonant, and painful). I like his "Pines of Rome" and companion pieces, and I don't know if I've heard anything else of his. Rossini, Scarlatti, and Vivaldi? Bring it on!

We've already established that I don't have much patience for opera, largely because of how uncomfortable the seating is at the Winspear Opera House. I loved Carmen. Even though I found the choreography a bit shocking. I loved "The Marriage of Figaro," because it was simulcast, and I got to see the singers' faces and the costumes clearly.

So I paid a modest amount to hear technical virtuosity, and I learned more about what I do and do not like in music, and I had an adequate but unmemorable dinner out beforehand, and a great experience with the valet parking, and I met another fiber artist in the loo after dinner. We exchanged contact information.

I took Thursday off, because I'd been expecting to be out later than I was, and I slept in, and it was delicious. Later in the day, I took Fourthborn back to the apartment for a second load of stuff, and I bought five books on Zentangle techniques, and we had dinner at IHOP.

Saturday I finished the sashiko-inspired mending of the holes near the hem of my favorite teal skirt, and Sunday I wore the skirt to church. Yesterday I wore it to work. Saturday I also began basting the lace to the hem of my tunic. I haven't touched it since then, but I'll probably work on it some more tomorrow night.

Saturday we made one last trip to Fourthborn's apartment, and she left the keys in the kitchen for J. He and his mother will be cleaning up the apartment. Our part is done. (Fourthborn has helped him move his parents more than once, so she's already done her share.)

I've already adjusted my withholding at work, but it probably won't take effect this pay period. First of the month, I'll add Fourthborn to my healthcare reimbursement account.

I'm starting to fade, so this will have to do.

I have reservations.

Actually, only one. Yesterday I purchased a ticket to next Wednesday's performance at the Majestic Theatre by Bela Fleck and Chick Corea. (For about half of what it would have cost me to sit on the grass and listen to Joan Baez a few weeks ago.) I've never been to this venue before, and I understand that it's a good one. Since it's not far from my office, and I have three hours between the time I get off and the concert begins, I did a quick scout of nearby restaurants and found one with food I will probably like, at a price that I probably won't flinch to pay, that's a very short walk from both the venue and the parking garage, and I made a reservation. I will take my knitting and a book and see what feels most appealing once dinner is down the hatch.

Earlier this week I had two free tickets to a performance by the Dallas Winds at the Meyerson Symphony Center, because I am a "Friend of WRR." The music was largely out of my wheelhouse, and the middle piece was something that would have inspired me to turn off the radio or switch stations, but there is something about being "forced" to sit and be polite and listen that is eye-opening. Or at least ear-opening.

I handed out three pairs of baby socks at church on Sunday. I'm working on the second sock for another pair of Frankensocks, where I cast on half of the stitches in one color and the remainder in another, and then I spiral around until it's time for the heel flap. It's a lot of fun, and it productively uses up various yarn remnants

I've also been watching one or two Zentangle videos on YouTube in the evenings. I am really drawn (yes, I went there) to the technique, and I'm making myself finish two sewing projects before I allow myself to buy supplies and books.

My turquoise maxi skirt has had the hem chewed in several places by the wheels of my chair at work. I'm going to try my hand at sashiko. Heaven knows that I have enough fabric scraps for backing from one quilt top or another.

I'm actually feeling brave enough to start the first patch. Wish me luck.

6.7. How on earth did that happen?

This has been a wonderful, amazing day. Errands and self-care in the morning: podiatrist (hoof trimming and diabetic foot check); La Madeleine for quiche Florentine; Costco for muffins and granola, as we were out of both; Supercuts to get my ends trimmed; Goodwill to re-home a large grocery bag of clothing that no longer sparked joy; post office to drop off Easter cards to the sisters I used to visit teach and now, theoretically, minister to.

My amazing sister made me a quilt!!!!! I'll share a picture (eventually), but first I need to clear off the bed, dust it, and decide where all the stuff that hangs out on the fallow side of the bed wants to be, instead.

Last month I spent two to three weeks rehabbing my favorite 20 year old skirt. I wore it and have washed it and will probably iron it in the next day to three months. Because ironing is a thing that has to be done (a) when the mood strikes and (b) when my lower half feels like cooperating (not so much head and shoulders, but definitely knees and toes). I am currently embellishing the pockets on a black and grey striped Gudrun dress. I'm doing individual lazy daisy stitches, about 1/8" long, and it's s*l*o*w going. At this point I haven't decided if there will be other stitches and, if so, what color they will be.

I'm also knitting yet another pair of baby socks, using red variegated Regia and orange variegated Three Irish Girls. Also very slow going, and not really car knitting.

And I'm reading a real book. One I bought year before last and couldn't stay with but now makes perfect sense as I read it. My attention span is a weird and special thing.

Time for me to take my evening meds and, notwithstanding the four hour nap I had earlier today, go back to bed.

Hi. I've missed you.

It's Sunday evening. I'm back from taking Fourthborn home. We had a good visit. Virtually nothing got done in the garage while she was here, but what did get done, she did.

I prayed and pondered all the way home, and the only thing that came to me was to come here and make a list.

Things I want/need to do:

1. Study the New Testament.
2. Not neglect the Book of Mormon. (It's definitely taken a back seat to "Come, Follow Me.)
3. Pray without falling asleep, or wandering off mentally.
4. Make music.
5. Mend/embellish my clothing (boro/sashiko/visible mending).
6. Clear off the fallow side of the bed. This is somewhat urgent, as the plumber is coming tomorrow to unplug the sink in Middlest's bathroom and make that commode stop spontaneously flushing and get my shower to start draining again. I don't want him to get caught in an avalanche.
7. Clear a path on the floor in my room, also relating to access for the plumber. And my general mental health.
8. Read for information. I'm three months behind in The Economist.
9. Read for pleasure. I keep putting things on my Kindle. I have no idea where my Kindle is. Probably on the fallow side of the bed.
10. Learn to draw.
11. Blog.
12. Make most of my own jewelry.
13. Buy more Gudrun Sjoden.
14. Minister to my elusive ministering sisters.
15. Sleep.
16. Exercise.
17. Spend more time in the temple.
18. Exercise (that would be a need, not a want).
19. Family history research.

Rinse and repeat.

I asked Heavenly Father what His priorities are for me. Still waiting for an answer. I should probably take that to the temple in the next couple of weeks and ask again. Meanwhile, I'm going to pop on a New Testament podcast or related General Conference talk and knit. Later (probably much later than I'd like), gators.

And they're still busy.

I miss writing. I am overwhelmingly joyful in my new study mode, thanks to this year's New Testament study guide. Spiritually, I often feel the way I did when I was immersed in institute the first two years after I was baptized. The study guide is absolutely inspired, and it is exactly what I needed, when I needed it. It is also enriching my daily reading in the Book of Mormon.

And I miss writing. I do write in my study journal, and I'm the admin for a small Facebook group devoted to this year's course of study, so I post there a few times a week. I'm trying to remind myself that studying more deeply is better than studying quickly. There are days when I come home from work and can't wait until I can curl up in my bed with the study app and my journal.

I've fallen way behind in reading The Economist. I'm allowing myself to read just a few verses in the Book of Mormon at a time, but I'm highlighting and tagging and making notes in the app, so I'm feeling strangely not-guilty about that.

Have I mentioned that I miss writing? I'm also not getting a whale of a lot of knitting done. LittleBit's baby shower is tomorrow, and thank goodness I've gone in with Firstborn and Secondborn on a gift, because the second baby sock that theoretically should have been done last night so I could wet-block them and have them dry by tomorrow morning? I just finished turning the heel, and the first sock is hiding somewhere in a pile of clean(ish) clothing on my bed.

I'm spending minimal time on Facebook and Pinterest of late. I try to keep up with my friends' birthdays and good news. I throw the occasional pin onto one board or another, and I've somehow acquired several followers, which I think is hilarious.

OK, my two new tunics that I got from Gudrun for 70% off are lovely. I like the patterns. I like the colors. I like the fabric. And I'm less than thrilled with how they look on my body. There is a sort-of waistband that hits nowhere near what's left of my waist, and as either Middlest or Fourthborn remarked when I asked for an honest opinion, the tunics make me look lumpy in places where I'm not. I've worn both of them, and spilled soup on one of them, so I can't in good conscience return them. I'm thinking of trimming off the bottom parts and attaching them either to the bottom of a tank top or one of my spare slips, so that I have a fetching ruffle peeking out under other tunics.

Also, I got the spring catalog yesterday, and I'm frustrated that the cutest leggings are not available in my size. I don't know if the solid colored ones made from recycled nylon will be opaque enough to cover my garment bottoms. I am cautiously optimistic about the new compression hose in wild colors.

Speaking of compression hose, the white ones that I bought several months ago to wear when I'm in the temple, are working for me. It is wonderful to complete a session and not have my ankles pooling down over the tops of my shoes. I've been to the temple twice this month, which is better than I did last year. I went last night, asked for and received an accommodation regarding seating in the session, and was significantly less achy when I went home, though not enough to avoid a muscle relaxer and pain pill. I've been dealing with that hangover all day and can't wait for dinner to finish cooking so that I may put on my PJs and make an early night of it.

Dinner's done. Later [who knows how much?], gators!

Things got a little busy around here.

Perhaps I should say, even more crazy-busy than what passes for normal. I finished President Nelson's  challenge to read through the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, noting all of the references to the Savior. My app has beaucoups of little aqua highlights. It was a good experience.

Also good was our Christmas celebration. Another year wherein nobody went home crying.

I'm falling farther and farther behind in reading my issues of "The Economist." The new Come, Follow Me study program is wonderful and absorbing. I'm not getting much else done in my free time at home. The techniques I've learned through the Book of Mormon rereading and my new attention to footnotes and cross-references are blessing my daily study of the Book of Mormon as well. I would really appreciate having more hours in the day. I don't want to miss one iota of the spiritual growth I'm experiencing. And my creative life is suffering, although I did finish knitting Leftie and have returned to Middlest the small ball of orange sock yarn that I used for four of the leafy stripes. I've cast on a pair of baby socks for LittleBit's baby, who is due the end of next month. With any luck, the socks may be done by then.

More news: at Christmas, Fourthborn told us that she would need to be moving out of her hellhole apartment by the end of May. Was it possible to make room at the inn? I spent about ten days studying and pondering, and Middlest approached it from a different perspective. And we came to the same conclusion, which was that not only was it the right thing to do, it was the right thing for us to do. And that we needed to prepare to move her in sooner than the end of May.

So after work on Friday, I picked her up, and she is spending the week with us. On Saturday we gathered up a bunch of household chemicals out in the garage, and I took them to the drop-off. She and Middlest widened the path from the front of the garage to the back, and today we emptied boxes and bagged things that were not salvageable and took several items out to the curb, as tomorrow is trash day.

I should probably mention that I'm off work today and tomorrow. Today is my seventh wedding anniversary, and tomorrow is Beloved's sixth angelversary.

The nice couple who remodeled my loo two and a half years ago came by to discuss what it will cost to seal up the garage and turn it into a studio for the three of us. I'm wanting to do this without dipping into my 401K, so what we (the kids and I) are now talking about is having them do the basic shell and upgrade the wiring, we do the painting and flooring, we maybe just go with IKEA sewing tables instead of a long shelf at the right height, etc. Right now we're looking at $3K - $4.5K with all of the ideas that we floated. If we can take it down to $2K and then install the refinements a bit at a time, I would feel much more comfortable with that.

At this point I'm not sure whether I'm getting a tax refund and if so how much, how large my bonus will be, how large my raise will be, all of which will make this infinitely more doable.

At this moment we are all achy from the day's labors and excited about the future. Fourthborn will move into Middlest's current room. Middlest will take over the studio. We will have a place to create if we wake up in the middle of the night and can't fall right back asleep.

For the flooring out in the garage, Middlest has suggested bamboo over cork. We are thinking about a traffic door like restaurants have, but Fourthborn just priced one at $700, so we might just have an open doorway for now. We've figured out how to fit three of the four steel shelving units next to the dryer in a C-shape for our food storage.

There will probably be lots and lots and lots of ramblings on here, thinking out loud, rethinking, overthinking. You know, the usual.