Stuff

So, I was a reasonably good Do-Bee and threw a small load of Stuff into the car and dropped it on top of a couch at the thrift store on my way to church. They had the driveway barricaded because they were closed, so I parked on the wrong side of the street (side street, breathe easy, y’all!) and schlepped it over the grass and sidewalk and parking lot in one trip. It may be there this morning, or somebody who needed it more than I do may have picked it up by the time the shop opens. Either way, not my concern. I am incrementally less Stuffed and am encouraged and inspired as to what should go into the next load. And when.

My scripture tote has gone missing. I looked in the Lost and Found at church. I looked on the couch, under the coffee table, under the table where I ordinarily stow it, along the tops of the ladderback chairs, which collect Stuff like you would not believe until they have individually or collectively had enough and fall down on the job. [Loudly, and generally when I least expect it.] I looked in the trunk. I called Firstborn, to see if I had left it there at the family party last weekend.

You will be amazed and delighted to know, however, that the remote which has been more remote than its companions (i.e., MIA for the better part of two years, inspiring the purchase of that universal remote which I could not figure out how to program), peeked out at me from where it has been hiding (beneath and to the rear of the monitor, resembling nothing so much as the rebellious chick beneath the hen in all those parables).

Came home from church and fixed a PBH sandwich, set the alarm, and crashed. Woke up six hours later. Have enjoyed a tall cool glass of water and am thinking about another, plus something a little more substantial. And then I think I will gather up the next load to go to the thrift store and make another swing by there on my way to or from work. Gym bag is packed. I am almost in the mood to put in a movie and sit on the couch and knit, but I think I want to have a little quality time with the shredder, first.

It was a good mini-vacation. Did I get everything checked off my list that I wanted to do? Nope. But it was a tasty mixture of the spiritual, the mundane, and the restful. While I could use another full week off, just to keep on with what I’ve started, I shudder to think what my desk at work would look like if I did.

I think tonight I will actually make it to the laundromat to do the laundry I thought was going to get done last week. Not holding my breath or betting the rent, but it’s looking like a real possibility.

Happy Monday, everybody!

Oye to the Veh.

Had a blast at the conference this weekend. There is still the fireside tonight at 7:00, but I am abstaining. I intend to be horizontal and unconscious at that point.

Yesterday I woke up about 7:30 or 8:00 and dashed over to the pool for a quick sploosh to work the kinks out. I really tore it up on the dance floor Friday night, so I could barely move. Nothing actually hurt, but various bits were not on speaking terms with one another.

This being the Sabbath, I do not have that option (because going to the gym today means that the people who work there do not get a Sabbath) so will have to settle for a long, hot shower.

I got stuck in traffic on the way over, yesterday, and missed the first part of the keynote speech (Danny White). What a lovely, warm, humble man. I enjoyed all the speakers in the workshops I chose. (More than some of my friends did.) I even deigned to grace the speed-dating activity with my presence, where I was surprised to realize that I knew a guy who showed up in the room midway through the activity.

Girls, do you remember Elyssa(sp?) and Gabriel from Irving? Their dad. Just as quiet and kind as I remembered.

A lot of thought went into the conference. Dinner last night was pecan-smoked brisket, but they had also prepared some chicken for those with nut allergies. And they had people serving out the portions to make sure that everybody got fed. [Because there are always a handful of people who see a buffet and think I am never going to eat again in my life, so better stock up now, leaving 20 people at the end of the line with a quarter-cup of potato salad and five beans.]

Glad I went. Glad I do not have to do this again for another six months or so, and hoping the next one will be a little closer to home.

Yawwwnnnn... Stretchhhhh...

I love vacation! [I know, I know: nobody likes me.]

Yesterday I finished the shrug for Blessing, my first and largest doll. I also retrofitted my temple skirt with one pocket (hand-stitched in the interest of sanity, if not of time). And I watched/listened to 3.5 movies and didn’t leave the house until it was time to head up to the temple.

And that was about it. My elaborate plans for cleaning and foofing just kinda piddled away in the steady progression of stitch after stitch.

I wrangled Blessing back into her skirt, the one I washed after the sap incident on Memorial Day Weekend, when we did the photoshoot at the Botanical Gardens. Said skirt has been draped over a hanger on the back of the bathroom door for four and a half months.

We make haste slowly, around here.

I am heading to the gym in a few minutes. Slept in until nearly 7:00a.m. I think that after I get home, if I don’t immediately head to my boudoir for a nap, I will tidy up the bead-buttons on Blessing’s sweater, which have a distressing tendency to leap out of their buttonholes. I don’t want her flashing the new guy on his first visit, next weekend.

The temple session last night was pretty amazing. We had so many people turn up that they had to run three sessions instead of the two which were planned. And (miracle of miracles) I got to the temple sufficiently early that I was able to make a quick purchase at the Distribution Center and stow it in the trunk, then do four initiatories before I needed to head to the chapel for our session.

Ordinarily, I skip the ice cream social which the marrieds hold for us at a nearby meetinghouse afterward. But I wanted a chance to hug the new guy. I actually spent more time visiting with the other two petri dishes [I know, some of you think that is distinctly weird], but I did get that hug. One of the other petri’s is defending her dissertation on Tuesday, so I put her on the prayer roll and will keep her in my own prayers until she’s gotten through that.

Yes, I like her that much. The other one, too, who told me last night that I ought to go for it, as she thinks he’s a little too old for her. Other petri told me to take good care of our guy tonight, as she has other responsibilities and will not make either dance or the workshops tomorrow.

My pleasure, sister, my pleasure.

He called a few minutes ago, to let me know of a new(ish) development for tonight’s dance, so I have already heard his voice today, which makes a beautiful morning just that much better.

Am hoping to have Willow’s first sock on the needles when I go to the dance tonight. But first, swatch happens...

See no weevil, hear no weevil, speak no weevil

Because I crack myself up!



(And because not all of you are on Facebook.)

Had a good, quick visit with my doctor yesterday. I asked her why I’ve been taking the vitamin D for two months. She said it was a preemptive strike against osteoporosis. She is hoping that by getting my vitamin D level up to normal, I can maintain that by a thoughtful diet and supplemental calcium with vitamin D.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there was no co-payment; I had a credit, which probably dates back to my well-woman in July, where the EOB stated that there was no co-payment, but my debit card said otherwise. I’ve since gotten the paperwork and submitted it to my medical reimbursement account.

I was unpleasantly surprise to learn that I’ve gained eight pounds since my well-woman. Some of that is due to a certain someone’s good cooking. More of it is attributable to my only working out three days a week, on average, for the past several weeks. Needless to say, that is going to change.

I spent a (very) little money yesterday: two white crocheted doilies to make pockets for my temple skirt; I will curl up on the couch later this morning to stitch them on. I also bought 3/8 yard of scarlet silk shantung for a dressy skirt for Blessing (to go with the shrug which is nearly finished), and a ball of #8 perle cotton (DMC color 321) to tat lace trimming for said skirt. This will be her Christmas dress or formal. Not sure at this point what I will do for the blouse or bodice. I was designing things in my head when I was in the pool last night, and I lost track of my laps.

There is a jewelry repair shop in my neighborhood; I took in my watch and got the wristband adjusted. They also have a respectable amount of semiprecious stone beads, but not as much as the bead shop down by Secondborn’s old house. Naturally, I discovered once I got back in the car that I need a new watch battery, but I am going back with the necklace which Brother Sushi gave me, to get more red coral beads and a new clasp. (BittiestBubba gave it a good hard yank when he was tiny, and the clasp was mangled beyond my ability to restore it. I like the necklace. I want to wear it.)

Lunch was two party tacos and a pomegranate smoothie from Bueno, with a nap for dessert. Through October, for each smoothie purchased, Bueno will donate to the local children’s hospital. I asked the manager how much. He said he thought a dollar. I have not verified this.

Woke up from the nap ready to hit the gym. Also realized that I could drop in at the belly dancing studio, since I would have all day today to recover from the results. Ran my copy of Edward Scissorhands over to a friend’s house, then stopped at the ATM at my credit union, then got a call from a friend who doesn’t drive, who needed to take dinner to a mutual friend who just had a baby. We did that, and I dropped her at the church one minute before the class started. And the class was at least 15 minutes away. My friend felt awful, but I told her it just might be Heaven’s way of telling me not to take the class. She said it would be interesting to check the news, to see if there was a wreck that I didn’t get into because I wasn’t there.

So, it might be that, or it might be that I’m not supposed to sign up for belly dancing lessons at this time, or it might be that this is the wrong studio. I’m not upset in the slightest. This will give me something to talk about with Heaven while I’m stitching on those pockets.

I have about an hour’s worth of knitting left on Blessing’s shrug and all sorts of puttering on my list today. Am hoping for a nap after lunch, because we have the temple sessions associated with the singles’ conference tonight, and an ice cream social after that, at which I will see the new guy.

At my advanced age, beauty rest is not (just) the name of a mattress company. It is NotOptional.

Epigenetics in Aulis

One of my friends posted about this on Facebook, and I made one of my typically smart-aleck replies. Doesn’t everybody read epigenetics and think Iphegenia? Bueller? Bueller?

So, I am officially vacating today. Have a doctor’s appointment in a couple of hours, to check my vitamin D levels. I was so single-minded when her office called to remind me yesterday, that I did not remember to ask what sort of bodily fluid they needed to test that.

Enter the internet, where after a couple of minutes of tweaking my request, I had news I could use. Blood. They are out for blood. When I am there, I will ask if they need it fasting or if I can eat first, should this supplementation and testing become a regular thing. Right now I am taking no chances, and I am giving thanks that I do not have to “hold it” for two hours.

I am also going to ask why we are supplementing me like this. When I got the results back from my well-woman, my wonderful doctor said that my bone density levels were stellar (better than they were three years ago). I know she has an excellent reason. I just don’t know what it is.

I am also planning to get my flu shot today, preferably for free at the doctor’s office, but if they are out of vaccine I will go to the pharmacy.

There will be more shredding, and I plan to make a nice big pot of potato leek soup and a pan of cornbread for dinner tonight. And tomorrow night. And...

There will also be knitting. I want to finish Blessing’s shrug, and that will almost certainly happen in the next day or so. And then I want to get started on Willow’s socks, although I have no idea which pattern in my Ravelry queue I might want to use. Probably something a little lacy, because this is an alpaca blend and therefore quite warm; it is also black, so any fancy cabling would be more or less invisible.

After a grueling day at my desk, I had my first committee meeting for the Night in Old Bethlehem we are doing in December. It is going to be a whale of a lot of work, and I came home brim-full of enthusiasm, notwithstanding how tired I was. And still am, a little, after six!!! hours of sleep.

No time to work out this morning. I will take care of that later today, after the vampires are done with me and after I have eaten.

Nice chat with the new guy last night. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months, and still no idea what to call him. Any of you who think that there are no good men out there? I know several, and I’m dating one of them.

This is where I normally say that it’s time to grab breakfast and start getting ready for work. No breakfast, yet, and no idea what I want to wear to the doctor’s office, and I wish I could throw half the contents of my fridge into the Ubiquitous Red Bag, I’m that hungry.

Nevertheless, life is good.

Ballet Shoes and Hemingway

I finished reading A Moveable Feast yesterday. Not sure what to think of it. There are stories in which Hemingway demonstrates compassion and delicacy. There are stories which confirm my long-held opinion that I wouldn’t have liked him much, had I known him.

Which I guess just proves that he was human, as I am human, and maybe he wouldn’t have liked me much, either.

I don’t know how to interpret the last story in the book, in which he describes the end of his first marriage. It was a situation similar to Middlest’s, wherein the generosity of one and the selfishness of two caused chaos and heartbreak. It was interesting to get a male perspective on that situation, and I think it may not have been all that different for Middlest’s former spouse. I still have the odd moment where I would like to wipe the floor with that little man. Not as many as I used to, so we are making progress on the work-in-progress which is Ms. Ravelled.

But I digress. I cannot tell from the writing if Hemingway was being a journalist, just giving the facts as he observed them, or if he was trying to justify his behavior.

I do not have any overwhelming urge to read more of his work. On the whole, I liked the book better than I thought I would, but I’m not sure if that is damning with faint praise, or praising with faint damns.

I promised you ballet shoes, a few days ago when Adobe was not cooperating.



Look at the negative space near the bottom of that scarf. Doesn’t it look like ballet slippers? Which gave me the idea to plop my own on top of the scarf and snap away.

If all goes well, this is my Friday. Cross everything you can, and wish me luck.

Fascinating.

What follows, is taken from an email to the new guy a week or so ago.

Shortly after I was baptized 35 years ago(!) one of the married guys in one of my Institute classes offered me a book his wife had allegedly enjoyed. I was still in the process of deciding which elements of feminism were consistent with the gospel, and which were rabid/rampant nonsense.

The book? Fascinating Womanhood. I read it over the weekend, handed it back with a big smile and thanked him for loaning it to me.

“You’re welcome. How did you like it?”

“I liked it a lot. I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time.” I don’t think that was the answer he had been hoping for.

Men are neither idiots to be manipulated, nor babies to be coddled. I remember a needlework piece that one of my friends had in her home, years ago: “Love, honor, and negotiate.” Negotiation is only possible between parties who know themselves to be equals, and if I were to place it on a spectrum, I would say that manipulation is the world's (fallen, telestial) way; negotiation is perhaps consistent with a terrestrial mindset; and consensus-building, with all parties being heard and valued, begins to approach the Heavenly (celestial) pattern.

And this is turning into a blog post. [Ta-DAAAA!] Sorry. [End of email portion.]

I did re-read Fascinating Womanhood a few years later, when the children’s father and I were up to our ears in multi-level marketing. That time, I read it prayerfully, so that if there were any grains of wheat among the chaff, I would find them. I found a few, but thirty years later I still look on that book with what my father would have called love and suspicion.

If it’s a choice between a man who needs to be managed, and no man, I’d choose No Man’s Land, thankyouverymuch.

In other news, I was bushwhacked by my sinuses yesterday but seem to be recovering nicely. The birthday party for Lark (with her sister Willow in attendance) was enormous fun, even though I was still intermittently honking last night. Both girls like the yarn I picked for their presents.

And I have a date scheduled with the new guy for the middle of next month, though I am sure to see him before then. [The upcoming singles’ conference guarantees it, LOL.] Mt. Washmore tonight, and a planning meeting tomorrow night for a big to-do in my ward at Christmastime, and a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday to check my dipstick for Vitamin D levels, and if all goes well (i.e., I get a lot of things checked off my list at work today and tomorrow) off on Thursday and Friday for more puttering. I would like to get the rest of the house looking as good as the living room and kitchen do, preparatory to the new guy seeing it in a couple of weeks when we go to Secondborn’s for dinner.

Not spazzing. Not yet.

How the Spirit teaches me.

Yesterday, I had a nice experience with the Spirit on the way home with my car full of groceries. I remembered that I had gotten a magazine in the mail a couple of days ago that was intended for a woman who lives exactly one block north.

“I should take her her magazine after I put the groceries away.”
And?
“And it would be polite to attach a note, explaining that it had been mistakenly and coincidentally delivered to another quilter.”
And?
“And I could also attach a fat quarter or some charm squares.”
Attagirl.

Proving that Heaven is behind my ongoing project of stash-busting; i.e., really *is* in the details.

I share this not to glorify myself, but to illustrate a process. Candleman touched upon this in a recent post (well worth your time to click on the link, for another perspective on the sixteen smooth stones that went into the barges), in which he discusses why we might be so reluctant to ask, or to not ask the deep questions.

It is always instructive, and sometimes entertaining, to ask Heaven what we should do next, or why we should do the thing that is obviously inspiration because it is a good thing which runs counter to our [OK, my] natural desires.

When I first saw the chapel for my current ward, I knew that I was supposed to be here, and I asked, “Would you mind telling me why?”
Relief Society.
Oh.

So I was not entirely unprepared at the answer to another question, just shy of a year later. “I feel like I need to be doing something, that You don’t have it in mind for me to go dancing six nights a week, although I certainly could.” No immediate response, but a few days later [two days after my birthday] as I walked up to the chapel door, there was the executive secretary telling me, “Bishop would like to meet with you at 2:30.” And it all came together in my head, interspersed with flashes of oh please let me not be presumptuous about this.

Friends have asked if my life is any less complicated now that I am no longer the Relief Society president. Maybe a little; my keyring is certainly lighter. But I still have a lot on my plate, most of which I have consciously chosen.

Get fit. Get out of debt. Save money. Serve others. Eat chocolate. Make art. Be a good matriarch. Know and live the scriptures. Live a consecrated, sanctified life. Clean house and simplify, both literally and metaphorically. Sustain my leadership. Attend the singles’ conferences (even if the one next weekend is in Allen, which is 55 miles from my house, and the keynote speaker is Danny White, and we know how much I love football). Stay open to the concept of remarriage. “You want me to what? We see how well that happened, last time.”

All the little ordinary acts and hopes that make up a human life.

Today is pretty cool. I have already read a couple of the Conference talks which I missed when I took that much-needed nap last Saturday. And after church today, we are congregating at Firstborn’s for Lark’s birthday party. Big sister Willow drove in from out-of-state. I will get to see 80% of my children (and have chatted briefly with the other one, via Facebook, this morning) and 100% of my grandchildren.

I am about 75% done with the Hemingway book, something like 50% done with Blessing’s shrug, and 100% ready for a quick nap before church.

Still breathing. Really!

But barely. Allergies were driving me nuts yesterday.

Neat stuff to show you, but when I tried to insert photos into the post that did not happen, my program decided to update the names of every photo I have renamed. And I got bored, and then cranky, and shut it down.

Right now I am knitting the red skein of Berroco Seduce which I bought at Jennings Street Yarn when Middlest was still here in Texas. 47% rayon, 25% linen, 17% silk, and 11% nylon. Each fiber took the dye a little differently, which makes for the sort of rich monochromatic fabric that I adore. I am working with size 1 needles (tiny for most of you, rather larger than I have been using for the past couple of months) and knitting a strip that is roughly 4 inches wide until I run out of yarn or patience or both.

This will eventually be a shrug for Blessing. I am using the same broken 2x2 rib that I used on the tiny green sweater for Chutzpah. It is fiddly going, because this yarn is subtly lumpy-bumpy and has zero flexibility. So I am wrangling it onto the needle, and I am liking the fabric as it accumulates at the bottom of my needle, but I am not exactly enjoying the process.

I logged my new 47 inch needle onto Ravelry yesterday, along with the new steel crochet hooks and my tiny needles. Ravelry finally added a page to inventory the skinny stuff I mostly work with these days.

I have done so many projects that are not yet entered on Ravelry. We will blame this on Facebook.

Got almost six hours of sleep last night, and this seems as if it will be a breathing day, as opposed to yesterday, which was a sneezing and coughing and hacking day. At one point my attorney looked at me and asked if I were OK. I told him I looked a lot worse than I felt (I felt lousy, and, well...). He, being a wise man who has been married more than 15 minutes, said nothing.

Insert clever title here.

Had a good, productive day at work yesterday. Two more days like that, and I will feel as if I am somewhat in control of my workflow. Somewhat being the operative word.

Current knitting project is humming along. It is likely to end up being a gift for somebody, so no pictures.

Went to the temple after work last night. Just barely dragged myself there but came out feeling a bit more lively. Did proxy work for a handful of sisters who were born in Latin America. They have some really great place names there. I will try to remember to share them, later. Along with my marginally reverent translations and editorial comments.

I wish I could teleport myself to work this morning. Antsy to get started. My to do list is stacking up like planes over LaGuardia. And my energy level is ambling back up toward what it usually is. This respiratory stuff just wears me out.

That, and the whole dating thing. There is a reason why we are supposed to do this when we are young. If I mind my Ps and Qs and we fall in love and get married, can I please have a nice, quiet honeymoon and then sleep for three weeks?

Thank you!

I need more hours, please!

Twenty-four are not quite enough, it seems.

Had a good checkup at the dentist’s yesterday. My little cheapie battery-powered toothbrush is having results that make my dental hygienist very happy with me. She did not have to bring out the jackhammer to clean my teeth.

It was cool enough in the morning that when I stopped for gas, I bought another insulated mug for hot chocolate and had the first of the season.

We had a brief(ish) staff meeting. We are trying a pilot program in terms of how the mediations get scheduled. Who backs up whom in cases of short- and long-term absences, has been tweaked a little, as have my job duties. I made some progress digging out from the stuff that piled up when I was on vacation and out sick on Monday.

Dinner was maybe the best yet. I told him that I need to start bringing my camera, because I think nobody believes me. I have an impeccably cooked salmon steak in the fridge and a generous slice (two servings, maybe three, if I behave myself) of key lime cheesecake. And good music playing in the background; always something a little different, as his musical taste is as catholic as my own. Zydeco, John Philip Sousa, MoTab. As always, the company is even better than the food.

I left his place at 9:22 and made good time getting home. But still, it was after 11:00 when I was done on Facebook. And it’s a little too late this morning to have hope of getting a lane at the pool; I was severely disappointed yesterday morning. The gym bag is in the trunk, and I’m going to the temple after work, and maybe tonight I will actually be able to sufficiently chlorinate myself. My right foot is thinking about being itchy. I want to discourage that.

I need to jump over to Etsy and give feedback on the ribbons which arrived in the mail yesterday. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous.

The current knitting project frogged well and is looking much better on bigger needles. I have switched from stockinette (all knitting, to you muggles) to seed stitch (alternated K1 P1 over an odd number of stitches so that you do not get ribbing, but an allover pattern that is both mindless and stable). While a sweater entirely in seed stitch would drive me nuts [OK, more nuts], for a project this size it is eminently do-able.

Speaking of nuts, I need to grab my camera and take pictures of the top step. Apparently there is a squirrel who likes to sit there and eat acorns. Better that than a cat who brings me dead mice. When I was home on Monday, there were several squirrels in the yard, all flourishing their tails with much enthusiasm.

OK, so if I’m not going to the gym this morning, I had better hit the shower and pack my lunch. I might have to break down and iron a shirt while I am at it.

He is feeling guilty because I have to drive so far. I don’t mind, though I know a way to fix that ;)

Ms. Ravelled gets profiled!

So, I had a little excitement while trying to get some relief from my symptoms yesterday. I am doing a Reader’s Digest condensation from Facebook, in the interest of time.

The herbalist wanted to charge me $145 for a bottle of Chinese herbs that cost me $40 last time (admittedly, four or five years ago, but really?) The shop wasn’t open when I got there, even though the sign said it should be. I called the cell phone. Could I come back in 40-45 minutes?

When I met him back at the shop, he tried to sell me several other bottles as well, and I explained that I couldn’t afford $145; we discussed the smaller bottle (which lasts approximately two weeks), but it would be $95. He offered me increasingly larger discounts, ending with “How much money do you have?”

At which point I got in touch with my inner Gilmore Girl and said, “I have to go, thank you, I have to go.” And walked out. It’s not just the $145, it’s the other three bottles of medicine that he wanted to sell me, which would probably have cost me a total of $500 - $600.

At a friend’s suggestion, I googled the products and found a source which sells them for what I paid four or five years ago. Firefox warned me that the site was not secure, so I let them know that and just took a nap, instead.

Wonder what the price would have been if I spoke fluent Vietnamese?

Not amused, but feeling much better today, so looks as if I won’t be needing those herbs after all.

One of my children asks, “What is a black and white dance?”

Not what it would have been, here in Texas, outside of the Church, sixty years ago (i.e., segregated). They have asked us to show up in black. Or white. Or both. There will be those who will not comply, thus spoiling the motif. I may very well be one of them, depending upon what is both clean and dance-worthy when I start grabbing things on Friday morning. Though I do have a fetching black skirt with asymmetrical hem, and I would be delighted to top it with my “dontcha” shirt, which is black with white lettering.

Meanwhile, I am going first to the gym, then to the dentist for a cleaning, then on to work. Dinner at the new guy’s tonight. Hot chicken broth throughout the workday. I am *so* ready to be back at work. I hung five pictures yesterday (banging nails into the wall was quite therapeutic!) and gave my shredder a non-fatal case of indigestion.

No idea what to knit today...

Oh gack. Just, gack.

I am not going to be my usual perky self today. Not when I am feeling like the last act of “Camille” and need to be well for work, not to mention for my date tomorrow night.

I came straight home from church yesterday, pausing only briefly after sacrament meeting to be set apart for my new calling. I feel reasonably confident that once my sinuses are no longer overreacting, I will be properly enthusiastic about the new adventure. I am the newest member of the ward activities committee. [The new guy says he loved that calling, because you can do all sorts of crazy things. Which would seem to be right up my alley.]

Bishop said he had also just received the paperwork to initiate my serving as a temple worker. I smiled blearily up at him. My spirit is jumping up and down and SQUEEEing. My body just wants to breathe. Or, alternatively, sleep.

I finished the doll-sized purple cashmere cowl yesterday, before church. Then I grabbed three harmonious balls of laceweight yarn and fat needles and cast on for a cowl in human scale. I am using the teal Gloss Lace, the hunter green Shadow, and the moss green Alpaca Cloud, all from KnitPicks. I bought three skeins of Alpaca Cloud three or four years ago, but it is rather disappointing and wiry to knit with. I was hoping that by combining it with other yarns which I love, that wiriness would be tamed. Thus far, it would seem to have been inspiration. I do think that I will frog back and knit it up on size 8’s, rather than the 4’s which I am currently using. I want something that is loopy and drapes well, rather than something which will stand up to a Blue Norther in a couple of months.

The desired loopiness may perhaps be a homeopathic quality. I am feeling distinctly loopy myself this morning.

I was in bed by 5:30 last night, up again at 10:30, back to bed at 2:30, awake at 6:30. I do not have a sinus headache, for which I am immensely thankful, but my head feels as solid and dull as one of those tees for T-ball.

I did get a lot of remarkably therapeutic shredding done when I was up at dark-thirty this morning. Primarily old EOB’s from when the girls were still under my roof. There is no point in keeping them any longer, as Fourthborn and LittleBit are legal adults, the statute of limitations has passed to have the Attorney General pursue their father for back child support and co-payments, and he is a pauper and in a nursing home. (Their father; I have no clue about the financial status of the AG. I told you I was loopy!)

I think I will gather up another sheaf of vintage paperwork and turn it into confetti. That should keep me safely and productively occupied until the herbalist’s shop is open and I can pick up some ba nguyen. I am also going to pick up some chicken stock, lemonade, and apple juice for nuking. The couch is about halfway cleared off (yay!), and when I have finished that I think I shall plug in the TV and see if I can figure out how to run the VCR which is part of it. This seems like a good day to stretch out on the couch and watch movies and drink hot, reasonably healthy beverages. Maybe pick up more orange chicken on the way home from the herbalist’s?

Apples, running amok!

If someone in the parking lot had had a waterproof camera, I’m sure the video would have been priceless! Much of what follows is from an email I sent to the new guy, verb tense updated.

I stopped at Central and carefully picked a dozen huge Jonagold apples to contribute to the lunches for the Night Shelter. Bagged them up, six to a bag (they were nearly as big as my fist) and lugged them out to the car by the tops of the bags. I hadn’t bothered to take in one of my recycled bags, and as I had schlepped the produce bags up to the checkout with no trouble, I figured I could get everything in the car just fine, as is.

Oops.

One of the bags plummeted to the parking lot as I was opening up the back door. Four apples stayed in the bag. Two rolled under the car, one of them making a break for the Borders on the other end of the parking lot. I chased it down. The lady parked next to me found the other fugitive.

On the drive home, I prayed over the apples, that I hoped it would be OK to ask Heavenly Father to heal them and keep them from bruising. I am absolutely fierce about not giving defective things to poor people. My kids wore a lot of hand-me-downs, growing up, and most of the stuff we got was still presentable. But there were a few times when we were given things I wouldn’t have let the girls wear to a dogfight. (Not that I would have let them go to a dogfight.)

Just because somebody is poor, or homeless, or crazy, or all of the above, it doesn’t follow that they have no appreciation for beauty, or good food. Or that they don’t know when someone is condescending.

Oh, and I feed beggars, the ones who stand on corners with signs that say “hungry.” [Sometimes I go around the block to get it done.] I won’t give them money, but I can give them a burger and fries, and a tall soda in the summertime, and not once has one of them cussed me out and demanded money instead.

If that is a deal-breaker, might as well let me know now.

I know that there are lessons that I learned from poverty that I might not have learned any other way, but hunger just makes me livid. I can’t feed everybody, but I can feed one person here and another person there. [I also make a small monthly contribution to the Food Bank’s parent organization, and when I am out of debt next year, I plan to increase my donation significantly.]

Stepping off my soapbox.

His reply? Helping people in need with a meal rather than money is not a deal breaker. And it is okay to get on the soapbox occasionally as well.

The RS service project and dinner and broadcast were all, as expected, wonderful. Our goal had been to make 600+ bagged breakfasts for the Night Shelter, which typically needs 400 per day. Last year we made 400 sack lunches for them. Last night we made 800+ bagged breakfasts, which will feed those brothers and sisters for two days. I thoroughly washed those two AWOL apples before contributing them, and the six that went klunk onto the parking lot seemed to be in pretty good shape, if not quite as pristine as I had hoped. Maybe my faith was insufficient for a complete reversal of the natural consequences.

I got to sit with Secondborn and sing along with her glorious alto. (I love to sing with any or all of my girls.) After the broadcast, I followed her back home, and I served as the nominal adult while the kids slept, 2BDH went to a mixed martial arts thing, and she went to the hospital to visit NintendoMan. [She is part of the two daughters / three sons thing that made the whole idea of dating him so wonderfully weird.]

He is speaking at the non-denominational service at the hospital today. I would love to be a mouse in the corner.

I finished all the fiddly bits on Faith’s sweater yesterday. I am not crazy about the nylon snaps. I may end up taking them off and putting traditional brass ones on, instead, but for now they look fine, even if closing them fully is a bit of a chore.

While at the broadcast last night, I frogged most of the purple cashmere cowl I had begun at church last week. By the time I got home, I was more than halfway done with the new version, which will probably fit either Blessing or Celeste (but I might have to take the wig off, first). 100% cashmere. May I just state for the record that if I could dress entirely in silk and cashmere, my skin would be very, very happy. This yarn is leftover from the smoke ring scarf/cowl I made for myself a year or two ago.

Time to forage some breakfast and read my Sunday School lesson. I should be sustained and set apart for my new calling today. And then I can come home and decide if I would rather have a nap, or go to the break-the-fast and fireside this evening.

The week ahead holds dinner with the new guy, an evening at the temple, churrascaria with Brother Sushi, a black-and-white dance, a plethora of salad, and [it is devoutly to be hoped] no further episodes with fugitive apples.

Onelongblur

That’s what Wednesday through Friday felt like, except for the part where I was in the temple. Where I managed to leave my earrings in the locker as I left. [We don’t wear gaudy jewelry while serving in the temple. I had up to now remembered to re-bling before leaving. They are holding my earrings in the lost-and-found, and I will get them when I go back next week. Not expensive, relatively conservative (which is probably why I overlooked them), but I like them because they go with just about everything in my closet.]

I have been having fun with salads the past three days: grape tomatoes, craisins, sunflower seeds, pecan chunks, clementine sections, carrot coins, confetti’d baby Swiss, a few croutons, all over a healthy portion of romaine, with a bit of raspberry vinaigrette to bring it all together. For some strange reason, I can eat more salad when I’m here at home than I can when I’m at the office. I brought home half of yesterday’s salad and am enjoying it now. The croutons are a little the worse for wear, but everything else is just dandy.

My sinuses were driving me nuts yesterday. There is a storm front blowing through, and it brought who-knows-what with it, but I’m allergic. Very glad not to have had a date last night, because I looked awful by the time I got in the car to come home. I didn’t even bother to put on lipstick all day, because I knew it would be gone by 10:00a.m. from all of the honking and wiping.

I stopped at Panda Express on the way home and got a two-entrée plate: steamed rice, orange chicken, and their new spicy beef. Lots of veggies, lots of zip. Half of it is waiting in the fridge for me, for later. I just wanted something I could halfway taste. That seemed to do the trick.

Today I need to pick up a dozen apples to take to church. We have the annual Relief Society broadcast from Salt Lake this evening, and it has become traditional to have a service project beforehand, then dinner as a stake, and then the broadcast. One service project is the assembly of bag lunches for the night shelter.

The gym bag is ready, and I need to do a small amount of laundry, so I think I will bag that up and put it in the backseat, then head straight to the laundromat after my workout. Once that is done, I can think about groceries. Maybe today I will finish the handwork on Faith’s sweater and take a squint at the three UFO’s of dolly knitting that are in one spot or another, and figure out what to finish and what to frog. Mostly, they have just been something to do with my hands during sacrament meeting.

And I am almost in the mood to sit down at the sewing machine and whip up another Christmas stocking for Firstborn’s tribe. [One down, two to go.] I would also like to make stockings for the dolls, while I’m at it. I think those would be more successful and less bulky if I did cross stitch or needlepoint on very fine linen or canvas, but I will probably just choose a small-scale print and go with that. Maybe bands of linen inserted with their names embroidered on them, as I did on the stockings for my first three children.

I had better get moving if I hope to be done with the pool before the water aerobics horde gets there.

Poster child for crazy-busy

Good to be back at work. Work is good. Feeling productive. Feeling appreciated. Always good!

Tola, the crochet hook was waiting when I got back to the office. The red glass magnet is going to work with me today, to adorn my binder bin. Merci beaucoups!

No time to knit since Tuesday. I plan on fixing that today or tonight. Looking forward to a quiet evening at home.

Good, clear communication flowing back and forth with the new guy. Spent too long writing back this morning, so no trip to the health club. Maybe tonight, before or after the above-mentioned quiet evening at home?

Neat stuff happening tomorrow. Annual RS broadcast and service project. Details to follow.

Lunch is packed. Gym bag is not. Shower is calling my name.

What I did instead of going to the gym this morning.

Answered two emails. Wished a friend happy birthday on Facebook. Gathered up my sewing supplies to finish putting snaps on Faith’s sweater. Realized that I had used the wrong grey to stitch the last snap on, halfway. Re-threaded the needle with the right grey, wondering why this time was so much more difficult than yesterday. Discovered another needle (with a far larger eye) in my pincushion, threaded with the right grey. Laughed at myself. Packed my gym bag. Fixed my hair. Packed my lunch. Remembered to turn the window unit back on, after using the blow dryer. Grabbed my work-appropriate shoes and a pair of suitably conservative socks. Shredded approximately half of the 100 pages that my shredder considers its limit. Gave it indigestion anyway. Found Middlest’s address in VA, and my postage stamps. [The old, dead planner was way more useful than I thought. I had my whole life in there, and I am not feeling the love with the new simple planner which replaced it. I may have to bite the bullet and cough up the cost of a new binder and a new package of filler.]

Dinner and dolly time with Fourthborn tonight, woohoo!

What I did this morning.

(Just about all morning.) There is a website, SewTrue, which carries a wider range of Gütermann silk thread than is available locally. They have a color card with every color manufactured, and another, smaller card listing what their shop has in stock. I copied/pasted both lists into Word documents (sadly, the interactive color chips did not transfer) and then transposed the greater list into an Excel spreadsheet. Which I then put into numerical order. Then I marked each color which Sew True carries, in red. And then I grabbed my spools of thread, a few at a time, and marked them on the grid in bold purple type. And reduced the font size so it would all fit on one page, and printed it off.

Why this numerical insanity, you ask? JoAnn’s has all their thread on sale, half off, through Saturday. And while I was picking up the grey I needed to sew up Faith’s wee britches and party dress, I saw some other colors I liked, but wasn’t sure whether I had them on my wall here at home.

In the process, I discovered that one of the colors in my possession, has apparently been discontinued. (We will now have a moment of silence.)

No it is not my [present] intent to amass one of each color which Gütermann makes. I would have to buy a spool a day for a year, Sabbaths included, for that to happen, assuming I could find a source for the spools not currently in their color rotation. But this will prevent my buying three spools of one color unless I need three spools for a project.

That’s how I’m rationalizing the morning’s activity, anyway. Mostly, I did not want to wash up the breakfast dishes or scrub the commode.

The ribbon sample arrived in yesterday’s mail, and it is lovely. Unfortunately, it is also a little too stiff, a smidgen too wide, and altogether too blue a grey to go with Faith’s sweater and the fabric I just bought. But the quality is superb! And my disappointment did not stop me from buying three other, narrower ribbons from her Etsy shop.

Tonight is Knit Night, which feels a little weird, because this would seem to be two Saturdays in a row. Yesterday definitely did not feel like a Monday, and today does not feel like a Tuesday. Tomorrow will be my Monday, because I will go back to work. It would also have been Mom’s 97th birthday (yesterday was my brother-in-law’s 78th), and this coming Friday would have been my 33rd anniversary with the children’s father. And Thursday will mark the one year anniversary of the passing of the new guy’s wife.

We should just call this Whammy Week and be done with it.

I am going to take another trip into JoAnn’s before hitting the bookstore for Knit Night. I saw some gorgeous doll-scale fabric and described it to Middlest while we were chatting last night. So I will pick up a yard for her, and she will pick up some of the erasers that look like cupcakes for me, and we will send each other CARE packages, and the resin kids will all shout “food fight!”

I am off to do my impression of a responsible adult and wash up those dishes, and scrub the commode, then treat myself to a nice sploosh at the pool. I think both trucks have been by, so I can probably put away the garbage can and the recycling bin.

A lot of neat stuff has happened this weekend.

And some sad news. Where to begin?

John and Lauren were sealed in the temple on Friday night. There were maybe three empty seats in the ordinance room. His former wife’s sister and parents were there, in one of the most quietly spectacular acts of godliness it has ever been my privilege to witness. Their bishop (new bishop, my old ward) was there, as was the stake president. BestFriend and her hubby were there; he and John have been BFFE’s since they were kids and joined the church together. Family of said new bishop played a large part in that, and the matriarch and I were visiting teaching companions. Great lady, that one: smart and good and feisty.

I had planned on attending the Balloon Festival afterward, but the hour and a half of stop-and-go that it took to get to the temple, and all the tender feelings stirred up by witnessing my friends’ happiness, just flat wore me out. So I stopped for awhile at a Braums I’d seen when I got off the highway (or it might have taken me two hours) on the way there, and I had two scoops in a cup while reading several more chapters in the Annotated P&P.

On the drive home, my phone rang. It was Secondborn, with the news that NintendoMan had suffered a stroke earlier in the week and was now in the hospital. I am sitting here at my keyboard, procrastinating a visit to him (also procrastinating studying my lessons for church this afternoon, but those are lesser omissions). He has lost the use of his left side. And this is one more thing I cannot fix. I put his name, and the names of his six kids, on the prayer roll at the temple when I was there yesterday with my ward.

I am feeling a little like the Black Widow at this point. Brother Stilts? dead and gone. The children’s father? in a nursing home. NintendoMan? in the hospital. Which makes me even more leery of letting myself fall in love again.

One very real delight from yesterday was having my dear friend (former first counselor and current RS president) sit next to me in the chapel at the temple. I did not see anybody else from our ward in our session, but Bishop came over and visited quietly with both of us afterward, so he must have been in the session just prior to ours.

After the temple, I drove north (and north, and still farther north) on Preston to L&L Hawaiian Barbecue, where I had the mahi mahi and rice and ubiquitous macaroni salad. I have no real interest in going to Hawaii, but if somebody wanted to plant a macaroni salad tree in my yard, I would praise them forever!

Then I drove to Fabrique, which is the upscale fabric store (as you might guess) which has taken up the torch at the passing of Kay Fabrics. Wow! doesn’t even begin to describe it. A much smaller store in terms of square footage, but textile heaven. I am going to have to kidnap Fourthborn some Saturday for a field trip. That store is full of “rubby”, which is the word she coined as a very small girl, to describe the feel of silk.

[She had asked for permission to handle a scrap of leftover (generic acetate satin) fabric from bridesmaids’ dresses I was sewing, and she said, “It’s pretty, Mommy, but it’s not rubby.” She would sit next to me in church and rub the hem or sleeve of my silk blouses between thumb and forefinger until I would twitch it out her hand in exasperation. (I was exasperated a lot when she was a child, but not specifically by her).]

I came home with half a yard of Dior grey silk shantung, to make (first) a pair of modified harem pants and camisole for Faith, and later her Christmas dress. It will be interesting to see how closely this fabric matches the snippet of vintage silk ribbon which is on its way to me.

I finished reading Pride and Prejudice yesterday. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy will go up onto a shelf, to be revisited in a few years.

Last night I went to the potluck and dance. The potluck was pitiful, and I am partly to blame for that, having contributed a bag of Skittles and another bag of Starburst jelly beans. But I have no convenient way to make a more substantial contribution, as third Saturdays are an all-day thing for me, and Lorelai is mysteriously lacking a full kitchen in her back seat. Richardson is a good hour away from Fort Worth when traffic does not further complicate the drive. No way to keep cold foods sufficiently cold, unless I invest in another large ice chest and a plethora of gel packs. I would rather buy books. Or yarn. Or silk.

The dance itself was great. I really like the band, although they were too loud for the venue. Next time I may succumb to common sense and take along some earplugs. Don’t bet the rent, but it could happen.

OK, Ms. Ravelled. Time to eat some breakfast and gussy up and go be a real Christian and not a theoretical one.

Wherein I learn neat stuff from my kids

“...there’s only so much space you can fill with bookcases in any given living situation.” Sad, but true. When I was still living in apartments, I had at one point something like seven bookcases in my bedroom alone. You can do that if nobody is occupying what I lovingly call the fallow side of the bed. You can stack books on that side. You can put a French laundry basket on that side and fill it with all sorts of goodies: projects to work on when the insomnia strikes, books to read, stationery for when the urge to write faraway loved ones strikes at 3:00a.m.

Currently the French laundry basket is buried under *stuff* on the Chastity Bed in what I laughingly call my studio. Might be time to haul it out, empty it, and restore it to its former place of glory. That would certainly keep other *stuff* from sliding off the back of the mattress, under the headboard, and into the Bermuda triangle behind my bed. I know there is at least one issue of “Real Simple” gathering dust back there.

I had another great day yesterday. Went to the paint store and yes indeedy, Faith’s sweater is Dior grey. I have the paint chip to prove it. And a new spool of lighter grey silk thread added to the stash, some clear plastic snaps that may go on the sweater once I’ve reinforced the back edge with the vintage silk ribbon. I may opt for traditional black snaps. (I certainly have plenty of them.) I also scored a small, high three-legged stool from the clearance table at JoAnn’s, half-price. Celeste is perched upon it as we speak, book in hand, looking for all the world like a petite vampire schoolmarm.

Got the oil changed on Lorelai, while I was in the vicinity. You would have been enormously amused to watch me trying to find something interesting to read amongst the stacks of “Sports Illustrated,” “ESPN” and the like. Yes, I left the house without my knitting. That will teach me!

Treated myself to an ice cream cone at Braums and thoroughly enjoyed it on the way to the health club. Had a relaxed, enjoyable workout: half an hour on the recumbent bike with the ghost of Irving Berlin, another ten minutes on the treadmill watching “Biggest Loser” in horrified fascination, and over an hour in the pool with no time pressures and water that was considerably warmer than it is at 5:00a.m.

A quick run through the window at Wendy’s, picking up a potato and a side Caesar. Cheap, fast, easy, and relatively healthy. Had planned to go to the temple again last night and just could not get excited about the rush hour traffic. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, during the work week. But yesterday? Meh. I called Secondborn, and she had a Relief Society meeting, to which she invited me, but I opted to stay home and go to bed at 7:00 instead.

Woke up, as you can imagine, at midnight and have been puttering quietly ever since. A cheerful email from the new guy was waiting for me when I awoke. New guy = good guy.

Today there will be more errands, chiefly on the Dallas County side of the line so that I will be in the general vicinity when it’s time to be at the temple tonight for the sealing of my friends John and Lauren. After that, navigating by cell phone until I catch up with my single friends at the Plano Balloon Festival. All these years, and I’ve never gone.

Have read several more chapters this morning in the Annotated P&P. My snack has settled, and I am going back to bed. Because I’m on vacation, and I can. Thbpppp!

Snippets

Wow, I slept in! This is after being awakened at 2:00a.m. by a gnat blundering into my ear, after which I required more than an hour to get back to sleep.

I finished the knitting and the putting-together of Faith’s sweater yesterday. At which point I decided that I wanted to face the button bands in back with narrow silk grosgrain ribbon in a harmonious shade, to support the snaps which I will be sewing on. The ribbon for silk ribbon embroidery is too lightweight for what I want, and commercial polyester ribbon is too thick and stiff.

So I went on Etsy, where I discovered a purveyor of vintage silk millinery ribbon from the 1930’s and 1940’s. I learned a new-to-me color: Dior grey. I am going to swing by the paint store on my way to the gym to see if I can score a paint chip in what is allegedly Dior grey. And the Etsy shop owner has offered to mail me a sample of the ribbon, to see if it will suit.

In the meantime, I am swatching for a sweater for me. This is the mystery yarn that was stranded with the discontinued Noro Kureopatera which I found at that yarn garage sale held by the local homeschooling group of which my friend is a member, shortly before I moved into the duplex.

Fourthborn has a remarkable gift for handling fabric, fiber, etc., and being able to tell what it is made from, and in the case of blends, in what proportions, within a percentage point or two. Sadly, she is allergic to wool, llama, camel, alpaca, cashmere, angora: basically everything that ever mooed, baaed, or spit. So I can only guess at the content. It is burgundy, approximately DK/sport weight, and has the buttery softness of cashmere, none of the limpness of alpaca, and a smidgen of hairiness that could be angora, or could be mohair (there is that brilliance and depth of color). There might be a bit of wool in there, but I am doubtful. This feels like 100% luxury fiber to me. It has a nice little halo in the frogged yarn, accentuated as I re-knit it for the swatch, and it’s the teensiest bit splitty.

Right now I am swatching on 4’s, and it looks a little loosey-goosey to me. I think I will try 3’s and see if I like that any better. I am using the same stitch pattern as for Faith’s sweater, but I know that I do not have enough of this yearn to do an entire sweater in it. So what I am thinking is this: I will knit the sleeves as written, and then I will redesign the body to make it shorter and wider, and I will end up with a great cropped sweater to wear at my desk this fall and winter.

I still feel as if that gnat were in my ear. I am probably imagining it.

I am not imagining that the singles session at the temple last night was better attended than it has been in a long time. I will be back again tonight for my usual Thursday night session of initiatories. I think that a vacation which includes four temple sessions is a very good vacation, indeed.

I was also pleased with the amount of honey-do’s I got done yesterday. Am trying for more of the same today, but first there is the matter of breakfast and a workout, in that order. And I need to get more milk and juice and good stuff like that.

I almost said happy Tuesday, everybody, because this is my second day of vacation, and apparently my inner calendar has reset itself to Ravelled Standard Time.

Food. Food would be good.

All y’all take care.

The secret to good tempura?

Ice water in the batter (just like a good piecrust), and resting the bowl of batter in a larger ice-filled bowl. Best onion rings I have ever eaten. I was extremely sorry that I had left the camera here at home, because they looked as light as meringues!

The potatoes were good too: crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, impeccably seasoned. And the fish! Better than at Zeke’s.

His coleslaw is as good as my mother’s. [Which we all know is the gold standard, if we had mothers who were good cooks. I’m not sure what standard my kids use, because when they were little it was all about getting them filled as quickly and as cheaply as possible. It is only now that the nest is empty, that I have the time, the funds, and sometimes the inclination to cook well.]

I picked up a petite chocolate mousse cake and an individual pear tart at Central on my way over. We divvied them up for dessert. He had sparkling pear juice for us to drink, a happy coincidence.

And he sent me home with a slice of cheesecake for my breakfast today.

I am stitching up Faith’s sweater. I might have one more row to work at the top of the left back, but now I am stitching most of the side seam, and then I will stitch up most of the raglan seam and adjust my rows if necessary. Which would leave the row of single crochet up the back edge, and the stitching-on of snaps, neither of which is getting done until I accomplish measurable progress on today’s honey-do list.

Tonight is the assigned temple session for the singles, so I’ll get to see him again.

☺

Ears like a bat?

Laughing at myself. I was transcribing a tape for one of my attorneys. There was a fairly quiet conversation going on, on the other side of my cubicle, about the “worst hamburger in America”. And I typed “after which [Plaintiff] was given a prescription hamburger in the emergency room.”

It’s all grist for the mill.

Last night I figured out how to post to Facebook from my cell phone. I turned off the notification features; otherwise I would spend all day responding to text messages, and where’s the fun in that? Not to mention that they might take a dim view of it at work. And Upstairs.

I came home and stretched out my legs and finished the left back of Faith’s sweater, up to the armscye. This morning I woke ahead of the alarm and began the raglan decreases. I will probably finish them at lunch today, but it’s doubtful that I will get that piece joined to the rest of the sweater tonight. Why?

The new guy is cooking dinner. Yes, I may have mentioned that before. You’re likely to read it again before I hit send on this post. I have the route mapped on a PDF on my computer at work. I have his cool-packs ready to return (the ones that came home with me from the dance a few weeks back, when he brought me Version 1.1 of his German Chocolate Cheesecake).

I have two suits to answer today before I leave on stay-cation. The answer is due on one of them next Monday. The other could theoretically wait until I return, but I know that my lawyer will be chomping on the bit. He could easily be the poster child for proactive.

The EOBs that I requested, arrived in yesterday’s mail for two visits to my PCP earlier this year, which for some mysterious reason were not automatically submitted to my medical expense reimbursement account. And I need to pick up a copy of the billing sheet for a third visit, which is yet to show up on my HMO’s records. I can do that when I am in Arlington for my eye exam next Monday.

I also need to have my friend, the paralegal, teach me how to redact a PDF. I have saved copies of my bank statements for the months in question. If I can obliterate everything on the PDF except the lines showing that I had co-payments, I can print off the edited statements and submit them with the EOB that states no co-payment was required for my well-woman. Because they certainly did liposuction that money from my account!

Bureaucracy: it’s what’s for breakfast.

Because we know what’s for dinner tonight: authentic British fish and chips [malt vinegar, no less!], coleslaw, onion rings, and something decadent for dessert, which I will pick up between the office and the new guy’s place.

Now to figure out what I’m going to wear...

A really great Sabbath

Another one of those golden days, and much appreciated.

I made it to Arlington early, so I drove through my old neighborhood to see the flood damage. My friend Leslye's house is by a park and a creek. That creek sent four feet of floodwater through her home last week. All along that curve, the houses were open, and many of them had Dumpsters out front. I saw her hubby and a younger man (not their son) out in the yard but did not have time to stop and hug everybody. A little further down the street is the complex where we lived for several years, the one where it was Mardi Gras 24/7 upstairs, after Katrina. The property is still surrounded by a chainlink fence. The units on the west side ground floor had their windows and doors open, so they must have had some flooding. Our old apartment, on higher ground, appears to be intact.

Then I drove on to the chapel and to hear Firstborn sing, “I Heard Him Come,” a lovely song written from the viewpoint of one of the lepers. I wish her voice coach from high school could have heard her. I got a lot of knitting in and am now halfway up the left back on Faith’s sweater.

Then I came home, took a catnap, and picked up my companion for visiting teaching. We went over, had dinner, and talked for nearly four hours about family life and the gospel. I got home just in time to go to bed again.

My gym bag is packed; let Monday officially begin.

Bitties and bits

I think the funniest thing I heard yesterday, was “Happy Birthday, N@ked Boy!” That’s what the Bittiest grandchild got told by BittyBubba (age 3) or BittyCousin (age 2) as 2BDH plunked him down into his highchair, clad only in a diaper, for the ceremonial Destruction of the Cake.

It’s a great line. I am filing it away in the back of my mind (where it will never be seen again) should the day ever arrive when I am married. Until then, all my married friends? feel free to use it annually, with my blessing.

How many middle-aged women do you know who would spend $18 on erasers? The answer is, at least one. Middlest and Fourthborn had a photoshoot with their dolls when Fourthborn flew back in July. A dolly picnic, complete with quilt to sit on, cupcakes, and assorted junk food. Erasers, all.

After the birthday party yesterday, I repurposed a small plastic square space-keeper from the new package of furniture slides which Secondborn slipped under the legs of their couch. I was originally thinking that it would make a cute end table, but then I pried away the layers of padding that were under the plastic, and there was enough adhesive that stuck, to do this:



The burgers would be the size of a small pizza for Chutzpah, but more like an average hamburger for Blessing and Celeste. I was only able to score two milkshakes, three sets of fries, a couple of packages of assorted apples, three ice cream cones, two ice cream sandwiches, and a pineapple. I will hit the Michaels in south Arlington when I am off this week, and ones in BigD and Plano when I go to the temple and the Balloon Festival.

I had no luck in the search locally for more steel crochet hooks. So I will order them online, where I can get them more cheaply anyway. [Tola, thanks for asking. If you do have a spare Boye 2 and Boye 3 (not Susan Bates), let me know. I have all the red aluminum hooks I will probably ever use.]

I am about halfway through the Annotated Pride and Prejudice. I don’t think that Jane Austen would consider me well-bred. And I think I am not as much like Elizabeth Bennet as I would wish, except perhaps for the stubbornness.

The annotator makes the comment that there are few real villains in Jane Austen’s novels. Most of the chaos that ensues is a result of good people making poor choices. And I think that that is a pretty fair description of real life, certainly as I have experienced it.

I don’t think that the children’s father’s paternal grandfather had any idea how much wreckage would follow his choice to leave his wife and four children for another woman. I am quite certain that the children’s father did not wake up one day and decide that he had had quite enough with being responsible and the rest of us could just fend for ourselves. I made the decision to divorce him after much pondering and prayer, knowing that it would cause enormous pain and difficulty for our children, but having faith in their essential goodness and strength. [I have been frequently appalled at the result.] And I do not think that Brother Abacus made a conscious choice to deal with the pain of losing his wife by breaking as many hearts as he could, as quickly as he could.

In a small way, I suppose, he has done me a favor. I am very much more careful about where I bestow my heart, and I am much happier being single than I was in my 20’s. And far more patient about the dating process. And more willing to trust Heaven about the timing.

Last night, on Facebook, there were pictures posted of a group date. The new guy was on it, with one of the other petri dishes, and I just looked at the pictures and smiled. No jealousy. [Yay!] No wishing that I had chosen to ask him. Group dates are really not my thing. This peacefulness-regarding-a-guy is not the norm [for me], but I am thoroughly enjoying it.

And it doesn’t hurt to remind myself that he is cooking dinner for me on Tuesday night.

Because sometimes I am flexible.

Don’t laugh, it happens. Just not very often. I stopped at JoAnn’s after work and bought an EZ Design Flex Rule. From the front of the package, “Flexible ruler bends to create and measure curves. Holds shape to repeat designs.” [Repeated in French and Spanish.]

And from its back, “Suggestions for use: Quilting -- Create vines, place leaves at intervals along vine, and flip to create exact mirror images in corners. Create unique edges, scallops, and more for quilt borders. Mark quilt designs, set in any pattern (like a wave) and move across quilt to repeat design. Trace shapes for applique or quilting designs like heart, circles, and more! Sewing and Crafts -- Measure curved edges for sewing or craft projects. Create curved lines for beading, sequins, and trims on apparel. Great for pattern making, measuring dress lines, crotch seams [huzzah!], and armholes. Warning -- This product contains lead, a chemical known by the state of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm.” [Apparently the other 49 states are unaware of this?]

Note to self: do not conveniently carry this tool around in your mouth, as you have been known to do with knitting needles.

They did not have any steel crochet hooks, so I also made a quick trip to Michael’s, where I found four that I did not have: a 4, a 5, a 6, and a 7. None of which are quite what I need at the moment, but I now have a nearly complete set of steel hooks. I am still trying to find the missing red larger hooks to complete that set. Yes, I could just buy a hook in the right size but a different color. Where is the fun in that?

I also tidied up their display. There I was, standing at the corner of Math Geek and Slightly Obsessive, and aren’t we supposed to make the world a little better than we find it? I suspect that somebody tiny had made a grab for all of that Oh Look Shiny, and the parental unit had just jammed the packages back on any convenient display hook. When I left the store, the 1’s were on the 1 hook, the 8’s were on the 8 hook, and all the 4’s were having a party right where you would expect them to be.

I will check Wally World when I buy more milk, to see if they have the missing 2 and 3. I may also replace three other hooks with the same size by Boye; I have them by Susan Bates, and the 11 and 12 are combined, as are the 13 and 14. I like the business end on the Boye hooks better than on the Susan Bates.

If I am unsuccessful at Wally World, I found an online site which carries the Boye hooks in every imaginable size. I suppose I could ask them for the missing three red aluminum hooks, but I have them in B through K, and I rarely use fat yarns. At this point it is more the thrill of the hunt. I would have to call in to make that order, to specify that if the red hooks showed up in some other color, I would send them back. And I don’t think that’s how I want to spend my Saturday morning.

Not when I need to be at Secondborn’s in an hour for the Bittiest’s birthday party, and I have yet to sign his birthday card and wrap his present.

The right back of Faith’s sweater is now firmly attached; what I want the crochet hook for, is to work a single row of single crochet down the back edge, where I slipped the stitches, to subtly firm up that edge. A 1 is too big. A 4 is too little. Either a 2 or a 3 should be just right. [I wonder if Goldilocks or the three bears crocheted?]

Quick Friday Post

Punctuated by intermittent bursts of speed, flyswatter in hand, inspired by the presence of a moth in my living room.

Yesterday was crazy-busy, squared. I got a lot done at work, but it was bam-bam-bam from one task to the next, and I expect more of the same today. I have been trying to open our new case (the answer is due on Monday) for three days.

Three more days of the job I love, and then a week of staycation. Woohoo!

The right back of Faith’s sweater is attached at the raglan seam, that sleeve all stitched up, and now I am working on the side seam. I think I will pick up a pair or two of dressy black socks to cannibalize for her turtleneck and possibly a pair of leggings. And I think it would be useful to get one of those bendable sticks that you can press against an irregular shape so you can reproduce that shape. Quilters sometimes use them when tracing shapes for applique.
I think Dritz sells them, and I wish I had remembered to look when I was in JoAnn’s last night on my way to the temple. They’re about 1/4” wide and should do a good job of memorializing the curves that the center seams on a pair of trousers need to navigate. They would probably also be useful while mapping Blessing’s curves when I’m ready to make her a formal.

I filled out paperwork last night to serve as an ordinance worker in the temple. There will be a series of interviews, but I hope to start after the first of the year.

Maybe today I will remember to take my camera? The Trinity was swollen with muddy water when I was sitting on the Commerce Street Bridge on the way to work yesterday. I would have had time to film a documentary. Dallas = sauna, until the runoff has made its way downstream and the ground has a chance to dry out a bit.

Dinner tonight with Brother Sushi. [Dinner Tuesday night with the new guy!] Drive-by fooding of the elders tomorrow. And possibly a family birthday party for the Bittiest one, who is one today. Where has this year flown?

Why I like dolls with elfy ears

We figured it out at Knit Night last night. We talk about all sorts of stuff: TV shows we watch [in my case none, as the TV is still not plugged in], which led to the discussion of a new one that William Shatner is in, and how much most of us had liked Captain Kirk, while I was always more enamored of this guy.

Imprinted as a teenager, I was.

I read with some comfort, another blogger’s struggle with forgiveness. Maybe we are doing a better job with the rising generation, because my children seem to be more skilled at it, notwithstanding my checkered example. Or maybe the issue I am struggling with (Man, Behaving Badly) is simply a non-issue with them because of the generally lowered level of civility from when I was their age. Maybe it seems as quaint to them as June Cleaver, vacuuming in pearls.

But the women of my generation, and a little younger? To a woman, the reaction is smite first, forgive the remains. So I am actually ahead of the curve, a little, because I have gotten past the point where I think it would be a great idea if all the women he has treated thus were to line up with cream pies and apply them to his face.

There would be a sudden, and marked, pie shortage in North Texas. People would stand, perplexed, in bakery departments from here to San Antonio as hordes of middle-aged women marched triumphantly toward the checkout lines. Strong men would weep at having to settle for a cold-storage apple and a slice of cheese for dessert. Toddlers would wail, “But I ate all my broccoli!”

Do you see how good I am being? At great personal sacrifice?

Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear.

Oh you can’t get a man with a gun

If they ever make an aftershave that smells like gunpowder, I’m a goner.

Re: Brother Abacus, who keeps popping up in my life like mushrooms after the rain. If I were in need of a financial services adviser of impeccable integrity [and had not dated him], I would recommend him wholeheartedly. That being said, the man has left emotional carnage in his wake. And not just with me. He may have too much self-interest to cut notches in the bedpost, as some men do [but his Chapstick is another story].

Pride? Yes. Prejudice? You betcha!

So, as my girls have tenderly pointed out, apparently I am still not quite done forgiving him. I really am trying to be like Jesus. Some days it is easier than others. I managed to forgive their father, for far more. This gives me hope...

May [I] live in interesting times...

What I want to know is, what did I ever do to tick off that Chinese person, and why did s/he curse me?

I had played hooky from Sunday School for two successive Sundays, so I had to guess at where we were in the schedule. The new guy was subbing in his Gospel Doctrine class, and he was teaching the Jonah lesson, so I knew that if I studied that one, I had a 50% chance of being right.

For my non-LDS friends: our curriculum is correlated. Two Sundays a year are devoted to the Sunday sessions of General Conference. Two more are dedicated to our local stake conferences. Which leaves 48 lessons to cover the lesson material. And we have a four-year cycle: first year for the Old Testament and the Pearl of Great Price; second for the New Testament, third for the Book of Mormon, and fourth for the Doctrine and Covenants. This year we are neck-deep in the wranglings of the children of Israel.

It is pretty darn cool to come up for air in the middle of a study session and realize that all [or most of] the other LDS grownups throughout the world are thinking about Ruth that week, or Noah, or Isaiah. The schedules may vary by a week or so, depending on the timing of our stake conferences, but we can count on the fact that on the first Sunday of this year, we will all be “In the beginning...”, and that we will all bat clean-up with Malachi.

So yesterday I picked Lesson 33, and I read the assigned chapters in Jonah and Micah; the related enrichment materials in a book written by Daniel Rona, who is Jewish and LDS; and the enrichment material online at Meridian. I also rediscovered my hand-written notes in the margins of my Bible, pertaining to some in-depth study I did a few years ago when I was in counseling after a family tragedy. I had forgotten that the Book of Jonah is a chiasm, with the central verse being Jonah 2:8. My further notes on this, on a blank page in the front of my Bible, led me to ponder the nature and the necessity of forgiveness in my own life.

I felt really prepared to worship when I went to church, and I enjoyed the discussion in our Gospel Doctrine class.

Even though everybody else was on Lesson 34, and hobnobbing with Hosea.

It is a good thing that forgiveness was uppermost in my mind when I went to the singles potluck and break-the-fast, because one of the first people to greet me was Brother Abacus. Who got my name wrong. And then patted me on the shoulder in passing. [There are so many reasons why this was incendiary; this is not the place to discuss them.]

I walked down the hall to wash my hands, and then I invited him outside for a little talk. And by the grace of Heaven, I tempered justice with mercy. I told him, quietly and politely, that just because I had forgiven him for the way he treated me when we were dating, that did not mean we were friends. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Again. At which point he (A) looked very surprised and (B) gave me the apology he should have given me four years ago.

So, he is forgiven (again), and I am going to have to rip out all the knitting I did last night, because angry knitting is not pretty knitting.

Forgiveness means that you do not continue to beat somebody about the head and shoulders for their mistakes. It means that you are civil to them, should you meet them again. It does not require that you allow them to trespass upon your boundaries.

I called Brother Sushi when I got home, and he said that my behavior, as described to him, seemed perfectly reasonable and appropriate. (I was second-guessing myself at that point.)

Today is likely to be a busy one. The pool has reopened, and I am looking forward to a nice long sploosh in it. I have a date with Ben and Jerry this morning, to tackle Mount Washmore. And I have a lunch date with Firstborn and 1BDH and Messrs. Smith and Wesson. I have not shot off anything more deadly than my mouth in 40 years, so this should be interesting. I do remember the first two commandments: do not point at anything I do not intend to hit, and always assume that it is loaded.

Well, it certainly seems to be a weekend for consistency.

Nearly Perfect Saturday

Went to bed early yesterday morning, after a Friday dance that was meh. While there are plenty of individual songs that I like from the 80’s, it is my least favorite decade in terms of music [unless we are talking the 1780’s, approximately the time period when Pachelbel wrote his Canon in D, or the 1880’s, when John Philip Sousa’s band played for two Presidential inaugurals]. (It was a terrific decade in terms of being fruitful and multiplying. Eighty percent of my children were born in the 80’s. Seems appropriate, somehow.)

Where was I?

So, I slept until nearly 6:00a.m., got up and drank some milk, knitted a repeat or two on the front of Faith’s sweater, and went back for a nap.

Then I went over to the Will Rogers Coliseum for the Cowtown Indie Bazaar, a craft show featuring local Etsy dealers, including two of my friends. He makes beautifully crafted modern furniture. Not my aesthetic, but his workmanship is impeccable. I got to run my hands over a chair he made, and the finish is smooth as silk. And she makes neat stuff for kids.

I showed remarkable restraint. Mostly, I collected business cards and wrote down what I liked on the back of them. I did bring home a pair of earrings (really bad picture follows).



The general effect is that a brass ballet slipper dangling from a disco ball. The French hooks are very large and voluptuous. We’ll see if they make my ears crazy. I don’t have the metal sensitivities that several of my girls do.

Here is a far better picture: a pendant that followed me home.



It’s about 1.5 inches square. I will wear it with a silk ribbon, or maybe a narrow leather cord.

There were two vendors who specialized in steampunk accessories. I am really digging the steampunk, but no, you do not have to worry about my showing up at a singles’ dance in Victorian regalia. I am altogether too fond of having freedom of movement. But I got some great ideas for doll necklaces, if I can find the right charms. The vendor was wearing a necklace which combined a rusted/patina’ed pair of children’s round-nosed scissors with rhinestone buckles, delicate chains, and gemstones. Sounds goshawful, I know, but the total effect was charming and harmonious. Take a look at the necklaces that a lot of the catalogues are offering, and kick them up a notch (add watch bits or small keys or lockets, etc.), and you have a fairly representative idea. I could start with the chatelaine my sister gave me that holds my needlework scissors...

After the craft show, I went over to the French Knot to show off Chutzpah’s bloomer/skirt, because that is where I bought the soy-silk thread a few weeks ago. They love show and tell at that shop! Then I went across the street to Lucile’s and had lobster bisque, a side Caesar, and two freshly-baked sourdough rolls.

After which I came home and took another nap. Fairly late last night, I hopped in the car to pick up milk and juice and something to take for my ward’s linger longer, a quarterly break-the-fast that competes directly with my stake’s monthly break-the-fast for the singles. So I will eat with my ward and then meander down to the Burleson chapel for the fireside, assuming I do not either come home for a nap after dinner, or go to visit the Bitties and their parental units. I make no promises.

I got a few pages into the actual text of the Annotated Pride and Prejudice last night. The comments are fascinating, but I think this will be harder going than the last time I read P&P, because the annotator keeps commenting on how irresponsible a father Mr. Bennet is. Which reminds me of all sorts of things I can cheerfully ignore while watching the movie or reading the standard edition. No wonder my girls have issues reading Jane Austen.

I am so thankful to live in a time when women have the right to own property, and when many of us have sufficient education to be able to support ourselves, and a family if necessary. When my options are greater than an arranged marriage, prostitution, or a sweatshop.

In knitting news, the front of Faith’s sweater is done. I realized that it had to be the front because hello! she has a tail (magnetic, removable), so the sweater needs to open in the back. I have the two front raglan seams done, most of the sleeve seams, and a whole lot of ends woven in. I’ve cast on for the left back section and expect to get quite a bit of it done at church today.

EEK Barbeque

I know that a picture is worth a thousand words, but my camera was here, and the side of the building was zipping past at 60mph. So you’ll just have to put up with some fraction of that thousand words.

I was on my way home from the temple last night when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the partially-lit sign at Spring Creek Barbeque. (Yes, that’s how they spell it. This is Texas, where spellcheck and motorcycle helmets are for sissies.) And I was rapidly approaching, not only home, but that level of tiredness where almost anything is funny.

EEK Barbeque

Sure, why not? *chortle*

More eek. Somebody knocked on my door at 11:00 last night. No, I did not open the door. I went to the door and hollered “who is it?” No answer. “Who is it?” No answer, so I turned my head and hollered at the back of the house, “Honey, somebody’s at the door ... Yeah, *you* call them. Thanks!” Yes, I did call 9-1-1. And then I had to get dressed again, as I’d told the dispatcher that I only wanted to talk to the cops if they found somebody in the bushes.

Not amused [apparently I reached that point where not everything is funny; I know I was suddenly far more alert than I had been]. Maybe it’s time I renewed my acquaintance with Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson.

But it’s morning, and I slept reasonably well. The entirely fictitious male presence did a good job of patrolling the perimeter last night.

Still more eek. I took a good squint at my cell phone bill after work yesterday. There was a $75 charge that I didn’t understand. Why are you charging me for data when I don’t access the internet on my phone?

Did you know that if somebody sends a picture to your phone, even if you don’t look at it, you get charged for data usage? (No, Sherry, it wasn’t your fault. That single shot of your poor bashed car cost me something like 30 cents.)

So now I have a data plan, effective about 5:21 last night. And they have credited my account for that unpleasant little surprise, as well as the most recent 30 cents. I suppose the good news is that now I will be able to check my email from work, and post witty squibs [or half-witty ones] on Facebook.

I am almost to the armscye on the back(?) of Faith’s sweater. I think two more pattern repeats will do it. And then I will have to decide if this is the V-neck front of the sweater and knit accordingly, or if this really is the back.

More dancing tonight, but no new guy, as there are two birthdays in his tribe today. Time to go pull that third painting out of the backseat of Lorelai. I succumbed. The office manager reduced the price on all remaining artwork to $5.00, and this is the picture that reminds me so much of the foothills of home, in autumn.

Part of this Labor Day weekend will be spent hanging pictures. Seems appropriate, somehow.

Consider this a note on the fridge.

Very quick post, as I want to hit the pool before it closes for maintenance until 5:00am Sunday. I will have to track down the other Fort Worth club in this chain.

Doll sweater back is more than halfway done.

@Sherry: yes, no more riding the train. I’ll miss those two hours of knitting time, but it frees up an hour in the morning and gives me the option of another hour of sleep. Or at the health club. Or dawdling over breakfast.

We are having rain. I love rain. I love cooler weather.

Great day at work yesterday. Hoping for another one today.

Went to the temple last night. Did initiatories. Turns out, the new guy was also there, but he did different ordinance work. So we never saw each other, which was probably part of the plan. I’m going back tonight for more of the same. [Robi???] And then I can do mundane stuff all weekend and thoroughly enjoy that, as well.

Took some of my leftover three-bean salad for lunch yesterday, and it was good. Probably wasn’t the wisest thing I've ever done, to grab a couple of party burritos for dinner on the drive home from the temple last night, but thus far no internal 1812 Overture, so I’m a happy camper.

Heading out between raindrops to go take care of this body that Heaven gave me. I hear thunder. Yum!

Minutiae

Because that’s what you come here for, right?

I was blasting through my Bloglines last night, when I got to CrazyAuntPurl. She just finished hosting a Pride and Prejudice read-along. She mentioned an annotated version. I checked it out on Amazon. And then I hopped in the car and drove over to the bookstore, where I paid retail (because it sounded that good).

While standing in line to pay, the Gershwin CD came on overhead. I grinned. Two fallings-down in a bookstore (same chain) on consecutive Tuesday nights.

From there I went to Target, since the Hallmark stores were long since closed. The new guy has a birthday coming up soon. I was hoping to find a birthday card that was squeaky-clean *and* funny *and* had fish on it *or* a LeCreuset pot with little curlicues of tastiness wafting up out of it. [Or, maybe, a nice assortment of petri dishes.]

I am part of an under-served demographic: those who are dating and are not quite ready for Medicare. Throw in a commitment to behave with decorum and honor, and that eliminates 99.9% of the cards intended for guys. No Viagra jokes, no flatulence jokes, no drinking jokes, you get the idea. There was one for a 60th birthday that might have worked, about what would happen if you had a whole string of 60 year old guys lie down end to end. The punchline being something like very few of them would be able to get up again, unassisted. But since I’ve had my own issues with mobility, and I have no idea if he does, it was only marginally funny. And this will be something other than his 60th birthday. So that was two strikes.

I am one-third to one-half the way up the back of Faith’s sweater. Lots of good knitting time yesterday.

Today I am officially no longer a commuter-by-train. No more hoping to score the use of somebody else’s monthly parking on the days I drive into Dallas. I might need to celebrate by sneaking in an extra evening at the temple this week.

Time to pack my lunch and see if I can remember where I put the Happy Birthday stamps.