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.