Ravelled Eat Black Hole

[With apologies to Jimmy, not to mention the world.] Three more bags are headed out to the curb before I leave for work.



Plus a box empty save for a few stubborn seed beads from an ancient beaded bag (reticule?) that a friend gave me several years ago, which bag may end up finding a new home with another friend who is much into steampunk and Victoriana. [Or I may just photograph it within an inch of its life, surgically remove the rotting bag and the moulting beads, and reuse the frame.]



My sleep was much disrupted last night. Went to bed at 10:00 or so. Woke up about 1:30 with a body screaming for water. Back to bed an hour later, up again at 4:45. I think I am going back for another hour. We are having our Thanksgiving luncheon at work today. I need to rest up for that. And since I have missed the last two Knit Nights because of my fatal attraction to the shredder, I probably ought to look up where it’s being held tonight, so that when I [probably] skip it again in favor of more sleep, I will at least know where I’m not-going.

When you’ve made other plans...

Dear New Guy,

So, I am sitting in the back of the stake center, next to Secondborn, waiting for stake conference to begin, when one of the counselors in the (now released) stake presidency steps to the podium and announces, “If Sister [Mom-of-Deaf-Girl] and Sister Ravelled are here, would they please come up to the front of the chapel to interpret for a deaf member?”

Thankfully, one of my new visiting teachers had had two years of American Sign Language at BYU, and we took turns, and it was a wild ride. Oh, and the children’s father was sitting five rows back from the deaf member. Much inadvertent eye contact, at least until I got into the thick of things :(

After church, they had all the children and youth file up to the front of the chapel to shake hands with the General Authorities. Once I was able to thread my way out of the chapel, it was easy to get into Lorelai and out of the parking lot.

The VT’s came over for a nice visit, and I mostly just babbled (normal behavior for after a performance or an interpreting stint, at least for me; big adrenaline high and then a massive crash, which is happening as we speak).

What a marvelous honor and responsibility, to interpret for 1.5 General Authorities! I’m setting the alarm for tomorrow morning; no idea if I will wake before then.

(Signed) Sleeping Beauty

***

There was much chocolate abuse when I got home. After my VT’s left [yes, of course I shared my chocolate with them!], I slept for three hours and was really surprised to find out it was still Sunday when I woke up.

I put in a Sabbath-appropriate movie and spent a lovely evening on the couch with the knitting that I’d thought was going to get done at church. I also sorted through more papers in the Black Hole box.

For some inexplicable reason, the work went faster last night, and the feeling of subtle discouragement had evaporated, along with another two-inch layer of Stuff in the box.



Last night I also learned what a polymath is. Fascinating interview with Umberto Eco which I found through a link at unclutterer. So, does this imply that math was once the Greek word for knowledge as a whole? Not sure I want to pursue that line of thought; definitely no time for it at the moment.



More bags, bound for the recycling bin this morning. And on my drive home yesterday, I discovered where the new Smashburger is, just north of TCU. I think there may be a little celebratory french-fry eating tonight after work. Got to make the new neighbor feel welcome, after all!

This is what a Black Hole looks like.

More on that, later.

All of my beading supplies, at least all that I am aware of, are now gathered in one spot. I found four tiny bronze beads, given to me on my birthday when I was in the interpreting program, which spell out my name in finger-spelling. I may intersperse them with beads leftover from restringing the green necklace and either insert another strand on that, or start a new necklace.

I found a pin that says, “I have my cats and my chocolate, who needs anything else?” That will go to a friend, later today.

I found an award from when I was employee of the month at the movie theatre, when I was in the interpreting program. I have shredded the certificate and put the frame in the out-it-goes pile.

I found this sonnet, not one of my best, but I love the couplet at the end (although I’m not sure I believe it anymore).


The prophet told us any righteous man
And any righteous woman might be wed,
To make a home celestial, Spirit-led,
Through prayer and fasting, following God's plan.
I dated dozens; priesthood's greatest fan
Was I. In mingled hope and dread
I sought a man to share my heart, and bed.
(The branch’s barracuda: how they ran!)

In time God sent a man who feared me not.
Most thankfully, those others I forgot.
We married in the temple, children came,
And passions cooled, though neither merits blame.
Then comes to me this bittersweet idea:
How rare is Rachel - most of us are Leah.
©1994 (me)


For better or worse [pun intended], that is where my head was during the last few years of my marriage.

I found my rough draft of a novel that, if ever finished, is not likely to be published by and for the LDS market, although its protagonist is a faithful Latter-Day Saint woman. Sherry read that draft, years ago, and said that it was good writing, powerful, and difficult to read. Premise: what would you do if your best friend were overjoyed because her long-lost brother was moving into your ward, and when he came to church on Sunday you recognized him as the man who had raped you when you were fifteen? How would that affect your friendship with her? How would it affect your marriage? How would it affect your children? How would it affect your ward? What if your husband was the bishop?

(Sherry does not have an evil brother. I was not raped when I was fifteen.)

I started that novel when I was gutting my way out of my last major depression. It was a good way to channel my pain, my loneliness, my despair, and my fury. And someday it may be a novel of restoration and redemption. But for now, it has moved out of the notebook where it lived for fifteen years, into a file folder, and into my file cabinet.

I found a pen, still working after all this time, and several containers suitable for the inflicting sharing of holiday treats. Ornaments I made for each of the girls, and me, from art paper for Christmas 1999; the rattan and wire star for the top of the tree, that first Christmas without their father in residence. A garish red and green basket which is structurally sound and will make some kindergartner’s day. A rickety, slack-jawed nutcracker which I am passing on to Fourthborn’s Fiancé because he loves nutcrackers, even awful ones, and he can make the decision whether this is good-bad or just plain bad. My Santa hat. Three dopey-looking angels that are meant to perch over votive candles: Peace, Hope, and Joy. They just look as if they had been over-served and were hoping for a quiet place to sleep it off. A two-inch length of dowel, with no clue as to what it may have once been a part of. Smooshed fake evergreen swags with patently fake red berries, most of them chipped, all of it into a trash bag; I moved this, why? A kluge of icicle lights, and no spare outlet to plug them in. Ditto a bundle of Christmas tree lights. After I plug them in to see if they light up, they will go to the thrift store with another, larger loopy/looped-angel tealight holder. [Postscript: buy butter; those lights are toast.]

That would all come from three large, empty tubs, one of which has had a nice soak in the bathtub to remove shards of candy cane, which are now stacked neatly on the floor of the closet in my studio. Next up? the shredding of a large recipe box full of MK sales receipts and customer cards. And then the tackling of another large box filled with mysterious paperwork. The recycling bin which pertains to my half of the duplex is full to the gills. I may need to press the other one [for the unoccupied half of the duplex] into service; my landlord has to pay the city for it every month, but mostly it just sits there looking forlorn.

So, I tackled that box of old paperwork, and I think it just might have a black hole tucked inside it. After pulling and folding and creasing and stacking for an hour, and pulling out a two-inch thick sheaf of magazines, birthday cards, etc., as you can see, there is not a lot of empty space above the stuff that remains to be sorted. It reminds me of that part of labor where you grunt and puff and groan and flail, and there is still no sign that a baby is coming out within your lifetime. So I did what any sensible woman would have done: I got ready for the adult session of stake conference and grabbed a burger and fries on the road.

My review of the Saturday night session, and the dance in Richardson (almost an hour and a half away from my stake center) and today’s session of stake conference, will have to wait. I need to eat breakfast and put on my Sunday best and put the donation pile into the car and drive back down to the stake center. I am almost done shredding the stack I made yesterday afternoon from the paper I pulled out of this box. And I am almost two inches into the pattern on missionary hat #2. I need to join on a new ball, but that will probably wait until I am sitting at church, waiting for stake conference to begin.

If all goes according to plan, my new visiting teachers will come over this afternoon. Unlike three or four weeks ago, it will only take two or three minutes to get the couch looking presentable. Maybe half again that long to deal with the piles on top of the coffee table, most of which are things belonging to one daughter or another, which I will hand off to them at Thanksgiving dinner.

I don’t have any illusion that my life is under control. I do have a sense that Heaven and I are making a modicum of progress, and that the more important Partner in this process is pleased that I am still trying to order and refine my life and my physical surroundings. When I was sitting at church last night, I was granted a glimpse of the Heavenly perspective on my life. That makes the effort worthwhile, and once more confirms that God really *is* in the details.

A quiet, putter-y evening at home

Love ’em. I spent a very productive 45 minutes in my studio last night, shifting things around. This morning I will go through two three Rubbermaid tubs of [probably fairly generic] Christmas stuff. The important stuff, I’m keeping. The other stuff goes to the thrift store if it’s in good shape, or into the trash if time and repeated schlepping have taken it past the point of shabby-chicness.

Before that, I spent half an hour or so folding the last of this morning’s batch of shredding, preparatory to feeding the shredder its breakfast. Two more battered empty cardboard boxes will wend their way to the recycling bin, along with the bags of shredded paper.

And before that, I hopped in the car and made a quick run to JoAnn’s, to get new blades for my Olfa cutter. I think the last time I bought them, circa 2003, I spent about $5 per blade and was verging on a hissy-fit. Now a single blade (45mm) costs between $10 and $12; you can get two blades for $16, and $32 will get you five.

So, I now have five, although I would rather not have shelled out $32 in one whack. At my current rate of quilt construction, I may very well have bought enough blades to last the rest of my life.

When I have these three tall tubs sorted out, and a smaller one over here by the coffee table, I will tackle the stack of cardboard boxes atop the sofa table [the one that Brother Sushi helped me to build a few years ago] and then the ones atop the skinny folding table that is in the corner, in front of the east window. The latter boxes have followed me from our house in Irving, to Fredericksburg, to storage, to Arlington, to here. Nineteen years.

Assuming that the boxes on top of the sofa table are filled with more paper to be shredded, and that I have not had to send the shredder to the mechanical equivalent of the Betty Ford Center [paper is a substance, right?], I can then begin to transfer things from the fainting couch to the shelves of the sofa table and/or the folding table. My goal (which I came up with about an hour before bedtime) is to go through all the boxes in my studio and deal with the contents, by the end of Thanksgiving weekend.

Eminently achievable, since I have no intention of joining the feeding frenzy on Black Monday. I may do a modicum of Christmas decorating next week, or if my studio is basically rearranged (if not entirely whipped into shape) I may just start working my way through my vast assortment of UFO’s.

Here is a shot of the south wall of my studio, in progress. The brown blob on the left is the armoire which I bought because it says “pyjamas” on one of the shelves. Eventually I will tidy the top of said armoire, but at the moment I have smellier fish to fry. Those shoeboxes which you see stacked in front of the yarn bins, hold things which are not needleworkish in nature and must be Dealt With.



Those books are likewise not needleworkish in nature and must be moved to a bookcase, either in my room or in the hall.

There has been knitting. I finished the ribbing on the second missionary hat last night and have worked the transition row and added twelve stitches to my needle.

But now it’s 7:00a.m., and I’m hungry, and I want to go to the pool, and then there are four tubs to sort and brownies to bake for tonight’s dinner and dance, and stray eyebrows to eradicate, and I’m due for a manicure and a haircut and I’m making myself tired, just thinking about it.

I got a lot accomplished here at home this week, and I’m pleased. My needlework tools are more accessible than they were, and the clutter is markedly less. (I know it doesn’t look that way in my carefully-cropped photo. You will have to trust me, and when it’s all done I’ll do a photoshoot in there, especially when I can get at the walls that are not occupied by vertical storage and hang up the rest of my pictures, which now fill several small boxes and at least one drawer in the wooden file cabinet by my studio door.)

Magnets and Missionary Work

I am trying to figure out how I feel about the fourth petri dish, the one who is very good friends with the former spouse of NintendoMan. I don’t dislike her. This is not what I remember jealousy feeling like, so I’m reasonably sure it’s not that, neither for her closeness to GreyhoundWoman nor for the fact that she is dating the new guy (for whom I do indeed have a couple of possible permanent names depending on how things turn out, so nyah!). I think it is something as basic and simple as two magnets that, no matter how hard you try to push them together, they pop apart as if spring-loaded.

It’s strong enough that I’m not sure I could stand in a prayer circle with her, at least at this time. We served in the same session at the temple last night, and I was in the dressing room a minute or so ahead of her, to change out of my street clothes. I had put my stuff into a changing area so I could grab a hanger from one of the lockers, and as I came back, she popped in there and back out again when she saw my temple bag. We ended up in adjacent cubicles, and on either side of the new guy while sitting in the chapel waiting for our session to begin. We did not, thankfully, sit next to one another during the session.

I cannot explain this sense of uneasiness; it has nothing to do with her worthiness, or mine, to serve in the temple, and I think what I need to do is to pray for her and keep her name on the prayer roll at the temple and ask Heaven to purify my heart.

That ought to spill over into other aspects of my life, as well.

I emptied another box this morning, but it barely had anything in it, and it is in good enough shape that I can pass it on to my friend who is moving. So that’s a good start to the day.

I am ready to begin the fifth round of ribbing on the second missionary hat. And on my way to the temple last night I stopped into the church bookstore to pick up two more copies of the Conference issue of the Ensign. This time around, when I subscribed, I paid a little extra to get two copies of that issue when it comes out twice a year. I have already given the spare to a friend at work. And when I was helping another friend take the mail down last night, I asked her if she would like a copy. I already have both of them (good Christian women of other denominations) hooked on Meridian magazine. And she would, so I picked up one for her and one for who knows who.

I need to grab some stuff and head out the door. Back to the temple tonight, to do my weekly initiatories, where I think it will be a little less complicated than last night.

Torn.

Part of me needs to go to the gym. Part of me needs to sit and write. I shredded old medical billing records and some from my beauty consultant business last night. Also the correspondence from wrangling about child support or, mostly, the lack thereof. I could never quite make myself sic the Attorney General on him, and it was good to fold and shred a one-inch stack of paperwork last night and realize that I truly did forgive him for all of that when he had his last two strokes, two years ago. Just “I remember that I used to be really upset over this, and now I’m not. Wow. Thanks!”

I started that business in 2003, when he was out of work for over a year, in order to replace the child support. I actually made a modest profit my second full year in business. After three years I realized that my raises at work more than equaled my profits, with less effort, so I sold off all of my inventory and concentrated on enjoying LittleBit’s high school adventures. Which were many.

I have three empty boxes waiting by the front door, ready to be broken down and put into the recycling bin. They’re not in good enough shape for me to hand them on to a friend who is moving. I have the next batch of shredding folded and stacked on top of the shredder. I have one completed missionary hat on the coffee table, another half-inch worked on Willow’s sock, and the needles in the Ubiquitous Red Bag to cast on for the second missionary hat. I even cleaned out my purse last night.

Temple bag is by the front door, as is the gym bag. I think only one of them is going to get used today.

Before I forget, I have been accepted into a study on menopause and heart health. They are investigating whether there is a connection between hot flashes and heart disease. Since I have/had neither, I will presumably be part of the control group. I have the first appointment in early December, when we will schedule the second and final appointment, which involves nuking various bits of me [if I remember correctly, they will do a CT scan of my heart, thus proving that, unlike my children suspected when they were teenagers, I actually have one].

Which is in pretty decent shape, literally and metaphorically, until somebody tells me otherwise. Saturday went well. Saturday, actually, was pretty darn terrific.

He arrived here at 10:30, and we sat and talked for a bit, because there was room for him to sit on the couch (!!!). I went to the Iplehouse website and showed him Fourthborn’s new doll, and the one I traded to her for Celeste. Then we hopped in his car and went up to the Greek Festival, where we proceeded to eat and eat and eat. The food was amazing. So was the music. And the dancing. There were two dance troupes: one of kids maybe 9-12, and another of older teens and young adults. Even the little kids were good, particularly the girls. The native Greek costumes were spectacular. You know that I am going to be happy when surrounded by skilled embroidery.

Ran into one of my friends from stake choir practice and introduced her to the new guy and vice versa. Then he and I went outside to sit under a tent and eat dessert(s) and plan out the rest of the day. We decided to skip the Maya exhibition at the Kimbell, because it will be there until sometime in January. We came back here, and he puttered with the TV while I put a batch of brownies into the oven. Then he freshened up for the dinner and dance while I puttered. And I delegated getting the brownies out of the pan to him while I freshened up, and we got into our respective cars and drove toward Denton. It did not make sense to either of us for him to drive us up to Denton and then have to come back here, drop me off, and drive to Garland after the dance.

We thought we had good directions: up I-35 to University, right on University, left on Malone. The only problem with that was that the exit we needed was not named University, and we didn’t figure that out until we were in Sanger, which is nearly in Gainesville, which might as well be in Oklahoma. So there we were, navigating by cell phone, making U-turns at exits and taking one creative detour that was my idea but put us back on the highway, headed north. And through it all, neither of us got mad. We just concentrated on solving the problem. I know that I wasn’t frustrated about it, and when he told mutual friends after we arrived at the meetinghouse, he had them in stitches, so I think it’s fair to say that he wasn’t mad, either. Which is pretty darn cool.

We sat at different tables during the dance, visited with other friends while occasionally touching base. We weren’t on a date, at the dance. And we did dance together, and I had great visits with two of the other petri dishes, one of whom seems to think I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread [and my nonsense detector works really well, with other women]. So it was a lot of fun, and I came home when I was tired, and I slept like a rock.

I don’t have a sense that we made any great leap toward couplehood last Saturday, but it was a very pleasant day, even while we were lost. One of the other petri dishes is definitely off the island, by mutual desire, and she is rooting for me. I keep telling her, gently, that it has to be his idea, and when he makes up his mind, then I will pray over it and decide what I want to do.

Oh, and there was an email from NintendoMan at the beginning of last weekend, telling me that he would like to go to the Thanksgiving dinner and fireside and dance, this coming Saturday, and could he hitch a ride? I told him I was perfectly fine with it but wanted to run it by the new guy to see if he had any problem with it. New guy said “no problem whatsoever, but thank you for asking”, so I will be taking my ex-boyfriend to the dance, and I will be assured of lively conversation there and back, and NintendoMan can maybe make some great new friends to go with the ones he already has. And it certainly ought to liven up some conversations among my age-mates that evening, LOL.

Confusing people. It’s one of the things I do best...

Deets? DEETS???

No time for details at the present. I was up until nearly midnight with a bad case of finish-itis. Got some of the ends woven in on missionary hat #1, then decided I didn't like how it finished at the crown and frogged the last two inches or so. I reset the alarm for 6:15, giving me just enough time this morning to sluice off, grab lunch, and boogie on down the road.

Thankfully, I put the trash and the recycling out when I got home. The last of the 390 pages which I folded on Sunday, is bagged and ready to go out the door with me in a few minutes. The next victim box is waiting here by my desk, looking nervous.

One of the other petri dishes is no longer on the burner. Not the one I had hoped, but still...

Remind me, when I have time to sit down and spill about Saturday, to also tell you about the medical study for which I have volunteered. I have this parody of a Primary song running through my head now:

A lab rat, a lab rat,
Heaven wants me for a lab rat!
A lab rat, a lab rat,
I’ll be a lab rat for y’all!

I had a small falling-down on Etsy last night: three more yards of antique/vintage silk and/or rayon velvet ribbon will be on their way soon from a shop owner whose business ethics are as lovely as the goods in her shop.

Yet another quick post

Yesterday was pritnear perfect. Church, of course, was wonderful. I noshed all day on leftovers from Saturday: half a souvlaki, the last of the Greek donuts in cinnamon honey glaze, a random brownie or two. Watched Anne of Green Gables while whittling down the number of stitches on my needles for missionary hat #1. I should easily finish that today, and I have Willow’s sock in my bag for if I do.

I also have the coffee table set up with Olfa cutter, mat, straight-edge, and the homespun-looking fabric to make 100 money bags for our Night in Old Bethlehem. I hope to get that project knocked out tonight, using techniques gleaned from years of making Log Cabin quilts. And then I can cast on for missionary hat #2, if not tonight, then most likely tomorrow.

I have three small bags of shredding waiting by the door, as is my gym bag. Tonight’s appointed shredding is stacked neatly atop the shredder, waiting for my attention, while the shredder itself is panting gently as it naps. Time to put on my shoes and go work off all that good food and make room for sensible fare. It’s a good thing I’m not Greek: I would weigh 500 lbs!

I have my eye on the next box to be dealt with. I don’t think it suspects.

Opa!

Oh man. Oh man. Oh-man-oh-man-oh-man! Seriously good times.

Good food, good music, good company. We determined that the new-to-me TV cannot be connected to my DVD player, at least not by us. So we watched The Man from Snowy River while the brownies baked. And then we convoyed up to the dance in Denton, for more food and my favorite DJ.

Lots more to tell, but I just had a bagel and schmear for breakfast and am chasing it with a mug of orange juice. I am going to put in a Sabbath-appropriate movie and start folding paper for the next round of shredding. What I really want to do is to go back to sleep. If I still feel that way in an hour or so, after breakfast has settled, then I will. But for now I want to sit on the couch and enjoy the fireplace (which just came on).

There are funny stories to share, but they will have to wait.

Fire Drill

Not necessarily of the Chinese sort.

So, we had our quarterly fire drill at work yesterday, and because I have been working out since the end of April, I had little difficulty walking down seven flights of stairs. In the past, I was unofficially designated as a Crispy Critter (i.e., I would remain at the switchboard) and only required to do this once a year. Downstairs is hard on the knees. Upstairs is hard on the lungs. I haven’t tried seven flights’ worth of upstairs, but I bet I could do it, if there were somebody to let me in through the fire door once I made it to our level.

I took my purse (ergo, my knitting) with me, thus guaranteeing that the drill would not be an actual emergency. Because we remember a few months ago when we had that bomb threat; while I had my purse and phone with me, I had unaccountably left my knitting in Lorelai in the parking garage, where I could not get to it.

Ms. Ravelled + bomb threat + knitting = happy camper
Ms. Ravelled + bomb threat – knitting + dinner date – way to get there = unhappy camper

[And some of you thought math was difficult.]

My attorney, whose middle name ought to be Noah, took his umbrella, thus guaranteeing that we would not be rained on while milling about at our designated gathering spot. We were all properly thankful. And I got a few stitches knocked out while waiting for the “all-clear” to sound.

I got those three boxes delivered to the thrift store before my workout. And the workout was brief but effective: I did a quarter-mile at something between a jog and a flat-out run, in warmer-than-usual water, at a depth of 3.5 to 5 feet. That, plus the seven flights of stairs a few hours later, equated to a respectable workout for one morning.

Right now I am engaged in a battle of wits with a large moth. He may be ahead on points, but *I* wield the Flyswatter of Doom.

I am almost to the point where the decreases begin on the first missionary hat. I’ll try it on my own head in a few minutes, and I’ll try it on the new guy when he gets here.

Ate too much at Cheesecake Factory last night: Steak Diane and Herb-Crusted Salmon, and a proper (i.e., huge) serving of garlicky potatoes. Had a nice brief chat with the new guy when I got home, and then I went to bed and just died.

And now I need to figure out how to get X amount of picking-up and puttering done in Y amount of time, with Z amount of motivation, where X is far, far greater than either Y or Z.

29 hours

More or less. That’s how long I have before the new guy gets here tomorrow morning. Thankfully, I don’t have a lot to do to make this place presentable before he walks in the door, because I have been nibbling at that elephant, one bite at a time, and as inspired or energized, for the better part of two months.

Dinner with Brother Sushi tonight. The man has never eaten at Cheesecake Factory, primarily because he loathes cheesecake. [Does. Not. Compute.] So we are crossing that particular item off his bucket list, if indeed it made it onto the list in the first place.

I shredded a mere 55 pages last night. There is a two-inch-thick notebook sitting atop the shredder, but I am not going to think about it until Monday. Well, maybe Sunday after church.

I have, I think, eleven rounds to go before I start the decreases on this first missionary hat. I really, really like the pattern I have chosen. And the yarn is so soft and luscious. Part of me wants to go hop on the couch and whip out another pattern repeat before breakfast. But the part of me which is impersonating a responsible adult is going to throw her jeans on, load three boxes into the car, and go work out for the first time all week.

I went to the temple last night. It reopened on Tuesday, and it was so good to be back in the House of the Lord. And I realized while pooping out toward the end of a measly five initiatories that I need to get into better shape, and fast, if I want to be any good as a temple worker in a month and a half.

A much better motivation than simple human vanity.

Happy Friday, everybody! Eat chocolate. Hug somebody, two-legged or four-. I plan on doing the same.

Progress, on several fronts.

Another 100 pages shredded this morning, and 50 more stacked atop the shredder for when I get home tonight. One last 2” thick notebook to open and shred, but I may save that for next week. A ginormous bag of shredded paper waiting by the front door, next to the boxes which are bound for the thrift store.



[No, the spinning wheel is not also on its way out. It just wanted to get in on the act.]

The green necklace is re-strung, and the leftover beads have been bagged up and collected by color family into larger Ziploc bags. And put away in my studio. The bags do not have a permanent home in there, as yet, but they are together, and they are visible.



I still need to put some sort of fastener on the ends, but the fiddly part is done. Did I mention that I recently found my second pair of round-nose pliers, for jewelry-making?



And I have completed another repeat on the first missionary hat. The yarn really wants to be knit up in this pattern, and it is cooperating wonderfully.

Lovely email from the new guy last night. Nothing mushy. Just, nice. We are both looking forward to the Greek Festival on Saturday.

I did not get out the door to the gym this morning. But the bag is going into the trunk, and I hope to hit the pool after my service in the temple tonight. “It requires a constant labor, all His precepts to obey...” (Hymns, No. 273) The day will come when I can do it all: keep an immaculate house, get my visiting teaching done the first week of the month, eat a balanced diet and get enough sleep and exercise, and be kind all the way up from my genes. Until then, we function on the basis of selected neglect.

Great American What?

Knock me over with a feather. While I was shredding last night, I found a notebook that I thought was just more of the same: writing exercises from 1997 and 1998. Instead, I have a good quarter-inch of first draft, I think meant to be a fictionalized relation of some of the experiences that have made me who I am. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, as well as the guilty.

I have read about 15 pages of it, and for the most part it reads just as I experienced it. While I find that memory is becoming a subtly fluid thing, there are excerpts where I find myself thinking, “Yes, that is just what happened,” or “Oh dear, and I don’t think I made that part up.”

And there is one wickedly funny scene which takes place in a laundromat, as the intrepid heroine ponders how two little girls can contribute one panty apiece to the laundry pile, when no laundry has been done for two weeks. As she says, it does not bear contemplating, and I remember that that bit was drawn from life, when my own kids were much much much much younger.

There is good stuff in there. Bits of one friend and another, memories, and the transmuting of the pain I felt at my second divorce into the longing of a widow for the husband she lost. Because one of the few things the women in my family can agree upon is how it feels as if their father has died, even as the shell of the man lingers on.

I did skip Knit Night last night; got a load of whites washed and dried and home. And only now remembered that I forgot to hang up the damp bras. Thankfully it is not August, so they will only be cold and damp this morning, not cold and damp and beginning to turn colors and smell funny. And I got a few rows done in pattern on the first missionary hat, throughout the day.

Shred 2010 continues. The stack of notebooks is dwindling down. The folders are in the recycling bag and will go out to the bin when I leave for work. And now if you will all excuse me, I am going to sit on the couch and pre-fold tomorrow morning's batch of shredding. Ten sheets. Empty. Ten sheets. Empty. [I told you the receptacle was much smaller than on my old shredder.]

Take that, you forces of chaos!

She who shreds and runs away...

...shall live to shred another day. It progresses, apace. I also have two five-ream boxes and one ten-ream box near the front door, full of stuff to take to the thrift store. Bottled candles, mostly, and my least-favorite candlesticks.

I found my organ donor card this morning. Ditto my rosewood tatting shuttle. And a pair of earrings that Mom brought me back from Hawaii in 1992, when my niece got married.

Had a productive (and tasty) meeting after work for the big ward activity in December. Came home and shredded until both the shredder and I were weary. I was so tired that when I went to bed, I forgot to set the alarm. Thankfully, my inability to sleep more than five or six hours worked to my benefit. I woke up at 4:15 and have been sorting and shredding ever since.

I am going to have to skip Knit Night tonight; Mount Washmore is threatening to erupt all over my bathroom. And it is a small bathroom.

Had a nice chat with the new guy last night, while I folded sheets of paper preparatory to feeding the shredder. We roughed out the shape of our date on Saturday. So I might have been loopy with fatigue when I shut down the popcorn stand last night, but I was grinning.

One of my KnitPicks laminated needles self-destructed yesterday. I need to remember to grab my Addi Lace needle of that size before heading out the door, or there will be no progress on missionary hats today. By sheer bulldog stubbornness and a bit of ingenuity, I managed to get the first round of pattern worked, broken needle notwithstanding. Thankfully, KnitPicks stands behind their stuff, so a phone call will get me a replacement needle, no problem.

The recycling bin and garbage bin are out on the curb. I have a couple more additions to them on my way to the car. I have a tidy stack of notebooks to take apart and shred, here by my desk. There is an empty Rubbermaid storage bucket up on a shelf in the closet in my studio.

And I need to get moving.

Found Objects

And did I ever find a lot of them! I found blank food orders that needed to go back to Bishop, but since he is my new home teacher and had an appointment to come over, I put them on the couch. I had useful papers for the RS president, but since her husband is my old home teacher and came over with Bishop to wrangle with my gas fireplace, I handed them off to him.

I sorted through one small box and shredded most of its contents. And got halfway through the contents of a middling-sized Rubbermaid box before the shredder started to whimper. Since I didn’t want to kill it on its second day home from the store, I shut it off and simply started folding papers for the next shred-fest.

I found the card with the birthday check for LittleBit, which my sister had asked me about. And a couple of Christmas cards that were never opened. And my tatting shuttle. And the book about Genghis Khan which I thought I had already returned to Brother Sushi, but we are having dinner on Friday night, so I’ll get that taken care of then.

Sheesh.

My living room is sweetly, pleasantly warm. This is in contrast to yesterday, when I hopped out of bed and immediately threw my black leather jacket on over my jammies. [Because I thoroughly intend to enjoy the privileges of single blessedness for as long as I can, and I really do not want to start collecting cats. Black leather + Tweety Bird seem like a reasonable compromise.]

You would probably be as amazed as I was, to see how many months of bills went into the shredder. Not to mention unopened catalogues and all sorts of political propaganda that sifted in through the mail slot. I think I can get that Rubbermaid container emptied out by the end of the day, but if not there is always tomorrow morning.

I got the ribbing done on the first missionary hat while at church yesterday. The 2.75mm HiyaHiya needles were just what the doctor ordered. I wanted to get the pattern started before bedtime, but it was not to be. Who knew that shredding could be such an exhausting proposition?

So, it is not even 6:00a.m., and I have shredded the papers I had prepared last night and moved the glass-is-half-empty Rubbermaid container over here by my desk but away from the fireplace, topped that with my gratitude journals and “three pages” exercise notebooks from when I was doing The Artist’s Way, around the time of the divorce. Those journals and notebooks filled half of one of those boxes that holds ten reams of copy paper. Said box is waiting by the door to be broken up and put in the recycling bin.

I also brought out another box to go through, which is likely to be the foundation of yet another contribution to the thrift store. It held a teddy bear which I will donate to the Teddy Bear Concert, and a cardboard advent tree which I bought at Starbucks five years ago. LittleBit and I thoroughly enjoyed the contents, and it is visually pleasing, so I kept it. I think this year it will get refilled with Hershey kisses or something like, and given to the kids of a sister I visit teach.

I found the other pair of round-nose pliers (for jewelry making). It is now on top of my coffee table with its twin.

I am going to set the timer and curl up on the couch with my knitting, before the mad scramble to get ready for work. This is going to be a terrific day. I feel it in my [somewhat warmer than they were this time yesterday] bones.

Stuff I learned yesterday.

Calamine. It’s a mineral. Did you know that? I learned this while reading about Pierre Curie’s early experiments with the crystalline structure of minerals. One of them being calamine. I just knew it as the stuff that saved my sanity when I had chicken pox. Calamine was the lotion which made those blisters stop itching, at least temporarily, and that was all I cared about. I didn’t know what went into the making of calamine lotion, whether it was named after its contents or after somebody’s daughter.

Dreadful sorry, Calamine.

I also learned that it is possible to be humorously holier-than-thou via one’s license plate. While I was out running errands, I saw a Prius sporting “53 MPG”.

I learned that once again, my mother was right: you always find something in the last place you look. Yesterday I found several knitting magazines, a knitting book, and another two cubic feet of order (as opposed to entropy) in my studio, before finding the box containing my jewelry-making supplies.

I give you BEFORE:



You know that I am excessively fond of rich monochromatic color schemes. I had a necklace that was a little too choker-y for my tastes, which had serendipitously separated itself from its clasp, just before or just after the move. I had tossed it into a snack-sized sandwich bag for safekeeping, and every six months or so it would bubble up to the surface. When it surfaced most recently, I determined to restring it, incorporating semiprecious and/or glass beads to add variety and real value. (I probably paid $15 for the original when one of the vendors came to our office building, four or five years ago.) That carved pendant is plastic, not jade.

Here are the beads which I bought.



And the worktable, also occasionally known as the coffee table.



I wanted to find an old pair of onyx earrings from the mid-80’s. I had two large pairs of gemstone earrings, which dangled from something that looked like a clip from the front, but had a bail that came up over the post in the back. The onyx earrings are now too heavy to wear (my geriatric earlobes would hang nearly to my shoulders if I tried), and I want to make a bead lasso around one [earring, not earlobe] like the one which suspends the original green pendant. So here is where I stopped this morning.



A closeup:



I spent fifteen or twenty minutes rummaging around in the closet in my studio until I found the box which holds the jewelry boxes that Dad made for me, and one which belonged to Mom. But victory is mine! I have the earring I was looking for. After church, and maybe a nap, I will get it properly lassoed and start working on the fifth (perhaps final) strand. I have not used up all the original beads at this point, nor the ones which I bought yesterday. I would like to have few or none of them left when I am done.

Just to show that my world is not all about what goes on inside my head, here are two pictures which I took on Friday night, coming out of The Shabby Sheep.



and

Sweet, Sweet Saturday

I have the new shredder set up and thoroughly broken-in. It doesn’t hold as much as the old one, but it’s quieter, and it has cut the confidential portions of a three-inch stack of paperwork down to size.

I’ve spent the past couple of hours working on my budget. I had hoped to be further along in Project Debt-Free, but there have been a few hiccups in this last half of the year. Still, I have managed to pay off 30% of what I owed at the beginning of the year, and I guess I should take my own advice and remind myself gently that direction is more important than speed. I think I have 9 more semi-monthly car payments, so Lorelai should be free and clear by the Ides of March. And then there will just be the line of credit to contend with. I may still be able to meet my goal of being debt-free by the end of next year.

At which point I can focus on completing my year’s supply of food, as well as becoming perfectly obedient about Family Home Evening. And maybe even be a little less tightfisted about replenishing my wardrobe. Though I still don’t intend to go hog-wild. I have three tiny closets here, if you count the coat closet, and one of them is properly filled with items that belong in my studio.

Living the life of the carefree bachelorette this weekend. The last of the leek and potato soup for breakfast. (Possibly a bowl of cereal for lunch, for karmic balance.) I have stuff to lug out to the recycling bin. And another small bag to go into the trash. Have re-purposed the receptacle belonging to my defunct shredder as a sleek and trendy mesh wastebasket. I think it will eventually end up in my studio, as I mostly re-purpose grocery bags to hold my sewing scraps. Not elegant, perhaps, but at least mindful. I rather wish I had that old black leather wastebasket which we had in the house in Irving; it belonged to the grandmother for whom Secondborn is named, and we got it when she sold her house. I hope it is being cherished somewhere and is not at the bottom of some landfill.

Bought another circular needle last night after work. A stainless steel HiyaHiya [like the town in Washington State, they liked it so much they named it twice] US size 2 (2.75mm), because the only thing I had in that size was a set of DP’s for socks, and I am still swatching for the missionary hats. [And swatching. And swatching.] This yarn is lovely and soft, and my swatch was still too airy on a US size 2.5 (3.0mm). Addi needles are all metric, and they don’t always correspond exactly with standard US whole sizes. An Addi 1 is really a US 1.5.

Makes. Me. Twitch.

But thank goodness for Ravelry, where I can keep an inventory of what I have, so that I know if it’s in use somewhere, or if I really, truly do not have it in that size.

Not sure what I want to do next. On the one hand, the knitting is calling. On the other, the house is cold, and I am feeling distinctly chilly, whilst dithering on whether I am ready to fire up the gas fireplace and take the edge off, or just go to the gym and warm up that way and maybe poach myself gently in the hot tub. On the other, other hand, I want to sit down at the sewing machine and work on several projects that are calling my name.

I should maybe make a list.

Happy Saturday, everybody, whatever you decide to do.

Friday Follies

So, when I got to work my attorney was still stuck in Fern Parts, waiting for the good people of the jury to finish exercising their collective civic duty. Which meant that (aGAIN) I had nothing-to-do. I went through my inbox and whittled the number of emails down to nine, after finding where various topics were located in our virtual reference folders. I really am trying to be a good paperless corporate citizen, though old habits die hard. (You know: Must save this; might need it someday.)

I am doing much the same thing at home: going through old files, saving what is absolutely necessary, and recycling (but mostly shredding) the rest. Using up dibs and dabs of leftover raw materials to make Things New and Useful. Knitting (primarily) from my stash. Restringing my necklaces. I have a box of beloved clothing which needs mending. It is inching its way up my Honey-Do list. I am nearly ready to do the second and third Christmas stockings for Firstborn’s family.

I never thought the day would come when I would feel sad about not having to attend a staff meeting, but the one on my calendar yesterday morning had been entered when I was still a lowly admin, and had in any case been rescheduled. Thankfully, one of my friends had a new case to open, and she let me do the honors.

I did a lot of Mom-I’m-Bored eating yesterday; it seemed a better alternative than chewing off a paw. One-third of a bottle of chocolate milk (leftover from Wednesday; I’ll finish it today). Half a dozen saltines, half an hour before lunch. Way too many fun-sized Twix. I will be glad when the Halloween candy is all gone. Yes, I know it’s not necessarily my job to make that happen, but it gets me up and away from my desk, even if the trip to the candy jar and back eats up only a tithe of a tithe of the calories each piece contains.

I have been enjoying the VHS, now that I’ve got the new-to-me TV plugged in. I’m watching two or three movies a week. Actually, not quite true: I’ve been listening to two or three movies a week, mostly with my glasses off or up on top of my head, knitting-knitting-knitting away, and only looking up for my favorite scenes. But it’s been almost like seeing long-lost cousins at a family reunion. Hey there, Regarding Henry. Looking good, Ladyhawke!

I did stop at the office supply store on my way home and pick up a new shredder. Also a packet of fancy oiled paper to feed it every other week: the mechanical equivalent of antacid. Or maybe just vitamins. And I also purchased (for $5) a two-year extended warranty. I am not an fan of extended warranties per se, but $2.50 a year vs. how quickly I kill shredders, seemed like a good deal to me.

Speaking of good deals, the emails were flying back and forth last night. The new guy will not be coming to dinner tonight, which had been discussed as a spontaneous thing. Which means more knitting time for missionary hats and Willow’s sock. And he is mine-all-mine for next Saturday, which is when the Fort Worth Greek Festival takes place. I am thinking of a couple of quick tasks, if I don’t get to them myself this weekend, and then loads of culture and way too much food.

Fourthborn, mark your calendar for Sunday the 5th. This is dependent upon tithing settlement in his ward, as he is their financial clerk, but so far it looks good. I will come get you and Fiancé after church. We may or may not also invite Squishy and Mel-Mel-Chan. We’ll hammer out those details next Saturday. I’ll talk with Fiancé about what I can fix that we will all like that will not be as dairy-heavy as my usual creations. Maybe Texas skillet, which can heat up in the crockpot all day, and you can skip the guac and Fiancé can skip the sour cream and the cheese?

And now I really must get dressed and scoot on out the door.

Foodie Fervor

Yesterday was a much more lively day, in terms of workflow. My attorney was still in trial. I fired off several emails and a voicemail throughout the day. He called me back shortly before 5:00; the jury had been out for an hour. I told him they should toss chocolate into the room.

Hey, I always seem to think more clearly when there is sufficient chocolate in my carburetor.

I felt absolutely terrific (other than being significantly underworked) until lunchtime. All afternoon I was sneezing and honking. We had had much mysterious thumping overhead in the morning. It is an historical building (and, where the elevators are concerned, frequently a hysterical building). I wonder if some Paleolithic dust got knocked into the vents and thence into my airway? In with the pteranodons, out with the brontosaurii. In with the T-rex, out with the triceratops.

I am just fine this morning.

Came home and nuked a big bowl of the potato-leek soup from Monday night. Oh yum! Put in a movie and curled up on the couch with Willow’s sock. I am about halfway down the foot, which means I have another couple of inches to go, and then I can start on the toe decreases. And I think I'm going to do something a little creative when I get to that point. We’ll see.

Had another bowl of soup toward the end of the movie. Woke up an hour ahead of the alarm, feeling a little rumbly because of the leeks. There are two good bowls left in the fridge, and I’ve teased/invited the new guy to come over tomorrow night and help me finish them. I am also planning to make lasagna tonight after work, just to sweeten the pot. It’s probably 68°F here in the living room, and I am delighted at the prospect of cooking/baking all winter to stay warm.

I am scheduled for another drive-by fooding of the missionaries on Saturday night, and I gave the new guy that option as well, recognizing that he probably has plans with one of the other petri dishes. But if he is able to come, then we will have solved the whole chaperone thing, and I can give them a home-cooked meal. And in the meantime, I am having fun saying really good food in my house, don’t you wish you were on the other end of the couch with a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other?

Heading out to the kitchen now to see if I can cobble together a plausible salad dressing from ingredients on hand. I put some commercial honey Dijon on my salad yesterday, and it was cloyingly sweet.

And then I will check out that hat pattern that Tola recommended. I am in the mood for some knitterly instant gratification. It would be fun to give the elders their warm hats when I give (or take) them dinner on Saturday night.

Great dreams last night.

I was knitting, knitting, knitting. Red yarn. [But not Red Heart yarn, which was good, honest wool when I was a kid and is now a shoddy acrylic.] Skimmed the new issue of “Vogue Knitting” and will probably buy it, because there are lots of great red sweaters and accessories in it. And several designs in other colors that wouldn’t look good on me, but in the right yarn would be magnificent on some of the dolls.

As I was preparing to leave the parking garage last night, a woman pointed at one of my headlights. I rolled the window down, and she told me it was out. I had been planning to skip Knit Night and just go home. Instead, I called 1BDH and asked if he would be available to switch out the light after class. He would. So I drove to Arlington, to the parts shop where one of his friends works (or worked), and bought a new bulb and some Neiman Marcus (high-end) wiper blades. And the guy at the parts shop installed it all for me, gratis.

The wiper blades really do work magnificently. I spent more on them than I used to spend on a pair of shoes, and I have no idea whether they will last any longer than the cheap ones through a Texas summer, but we shall see. And it’s raining [still] today, so they will get a good workout.

I can’t pull up any election results for Dallas County. There are a handful of spectacularly awful judges who really need to go. I am crossing my fingers (I can still drive like that, barely), but I am not holding my breath.

Hoping for another quiet evening at home. Much progress on Willow’s sock at Knit Night last night. I went, after the parts store and after a burger and most-excellent fries at Smashburger, but I did not stay long. I need to go pull up a shoe size = foot length chart to know how much longer to make it.

The Yarn Harlot’s post yesterday was scathingly brilliant.

The big news?

The big news is that I got eight hours of sleep last night. And made the worst pan of cornbread in my life, for dinner last night. One of my girlfriends came over for dinner, bringing two side salads from Wendy’s and an apple crisp for dessert. I made cornbread and a big pot of potato-leek soup. She went home, and I went to bed after paying a couple of bills online.

I have maybe two decrease rounds left on the gusset of Willow’s sock and then a quick gallop to the toe. Still pondering stitch patterns for the missionary hats. Tola, I will check out your suggestion, once I get over the shock of being fully rested.

Happy Tuesday, everybody! I may or may not go to Knit Night tonight. I may just come home and celebrate a full night’s sleep with a victory lap around my pillows.

Crash; no burn.

I crashed last night about 5:30. Could not keep my eyes open, so gave in to the inevitable and set the alarm, just in case the inevitable lasted twice as long as usual. Woke up around midnight, and here I am. Have enjoyed another serving of the breakfast casserole and am trying to decide if I am still sufficiently hungry that I need some toast and juice as a chaser.

Not sure what I want to do next. I could putter some more, or I could put in a movie and knit. The gym bag is packed and waiting at the front door, alongside another bag of recycling. I have a small box that is nearly ready to go to the thrift store. I think my shredder is about to give up the ghost. I am trying to do this methodically, so that I do not re-mess-up the places I have already cleaned and organized.

I cleared all the dolls and their accessories from the top of the painted dresser in my living room. And then I carefully wrangled the small glass-fronted cabinet atop the dresser, so as not to break glass on either item. It fits, with nearly a foot of head space above it. So I (we) could secure it to that wall, a couple of inches above the dresser, and it would look on-purpose. For now, I have it back down on the floor and the dolls restored to the top of the dresser. I didn’t want to put them back and risk the cabinet falling over on them.

Taking a break to do something other than type. If I sit too long in this chair, my ankles start to swell. (I wonder why that does not happen in my chair at work?)

Just finished watching Shadowlands [lovely movie], and now it is time to go to the gym. Thankfully, I can come straight home from work and take a nap. One of my girlfriends is coming over for dinner tonight. I’m thinking potato-leek soup and a pan of cornbread...

So, the Rangers won.

I debated putting an exclamation point in the subject line, but I figured it would only freak out my kids. [Mom? getting excited about a sport?] What that win means, in my world, is that there will have to be at least a fifth game, so I will have a short day tomorrow. Traffic was crazy enough during the playoffs. I don’t even want to think what the roads are like in Arlington during these three days of the World Series.

I picked up Fourthborn early enough yesterday that we missed that traffic entirely, and LittleBit took her home from Secondborn’s party after a brief stop here to pick up Fourthborn’s dolls.

I curled up on the couch with my knitting and got the heel turned on Willow’s first sock. After breakfast, I plan on picking up the stitches for the heel gusset and working on that for awhile. Though I may take a break and re-string my coral necklace

As I predicted last night, a good night’s sleep has washed all the emotional flotsam and jetsam back out to sea. Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath, everybody!

A Mostly Wonderful Day

Slept in until 6:30, puttered a little, went to the gym, ran a couple of errands, got my nails done, picked up Fourthborn, and came to Fort Worth.

We didn’t do much of anything, other than combine forces to find the foot-feed and power cord to the serger I inherited from Mom, which I passed on to Fourthborn several weeks ago. I started at the closet and was working my way back toward the door. She was sorting the stacks on the Chastity Bed, when she said, “This is a foot-feed, what does it go to? It says Bernette.”

I told her she could stop looking. So, that was pretty cool. We celebrated with milk and cookies. She sat on the couch and looked at stuff while I gift-wrapped BittyBit’s birthday present (after Fourthborn had had a chance to read it). We talked. We laughed. We talked some more. She brought me four pairs of shoes that will fit Celeste.

We are both thinking that the cabinet which the new guy helped me with last weekend would be a good place to keep doll stuff. I showed her all the hats I have made (which she couldn’t touch, because she is allergic to wool, cashmere, alpaca, etc.) and the shrug I made for Blessing, which she could handle to her heart’s content.

I have been biting my tongue all week, because tonight was not only our ward’s Trunk or Treat, it was also a surprise birthday party for Secondborn. And I was able to arrange my contributions as a member of the activities committee, so that I could go to the family party instead of the ward party.

On our way to Secondborn’s, we stopped at the bead shop near where Secondborn used to live. Fourthborn liked it every bit as much as I had hoped she would. She also found some resin beads so I can make a corsage for Blessing’s teal sweater.

I am trying to decide if I want to throw on a costume and head to the singles’ Halloween party. On the one hand, I would like to be there, and I kindof need to be there, because the one dim spot in my day is when we went to the nursing home where the children’s father lives, so Fourthborn could see him, and he asked me what it would take for us to get married again. I did not tell him that I am dating somebody. I did tell him that that window of opportunity has already passed.

He said, “I miss you.”

I said, “I miss what we had. When it was good, it was really good.” (And it was.)

I did manage not to cry, not there in his room, not out by the car when Fourthborn held me for a bit, not when we got out of the car at Secondborn’s and I asked for another hug.

What I would like, right now, is to be at the party, and to walk into the new guy’s arms and just boo-hoo in a corner and eat too much chocolate. What I think I am going to do, instead, is to put in a movie and eat a sensible snack and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

Reverting back to the other topic of local excitement: no, nothing famous froze over; I am not taking off early on Monday to go to Game 5. I am taking off early to avoid the traffic on I-30, I-20, 183, and every other major road between Dallas and Fort Worth that even thinks of connecting with something which leads to the Ballpark.

What’s that lurking in the corner?

I do believe it’s my cooking mojo, trying to sneak over the border without a work visa. I ate the last of the baby spinach for lunch yesterday, and I also needed more goodies to go on top of it. So I just shopped by instinct, and I came home with sliced baby bellas, a small bunch of green onions, more goat cheese crumbles, a bell pepper, and even a small bunch of radishes (my children are fainting as we speak; not sure that I ever brought home radishes in all the years they lived at home).

I also had half of a killer sandwich for dinner: two slices of that garlic/jack bread, hummus on one slice and a whisper of mayo on the other and almost the last of the shaved honey ham, in between. I’ll take the other half with my salad today. [Already packed in my insulated lunchbox.)

It’s probably all his fault.

House is cool this morning. I remembered to turn off the window unit in my room last night. I should have turned off the ceiling fan as well. It is probably a fashionable 68°F here in the living room. I was torn between heading to the gym for a workout and warm-up, and staying home to make that sausage/egg/potato breakfast casserole (which would also provide breakfast for the next week or so, more if I froze it in portions and nuked them later).

I have asked to take Monday (or Monday afternoon) off if there is a 5th game in the Series.

Casserole won. Almost time to take it out of the oven. And all the dishes are either washed up, or soaking. I have a very small dish drainer because my counter space is so limited.

I will probably finish the heel flap on Willow’s sock today. On Sunday I plan to measure the head of each elder and then cast on for the first hat. [If we keep switching out elders every six weeks or so, I may be doing this all winter; if so, Firstborn, I’ll take you up on your offer to help out with yarn.]

Breakfast comes out of the oven in ten minutes. Time to sluice off and figure out what I’m going to wear today. If I took my spinning wheel and some roving, I could go as Rumplestiltskin’s princess...

Gold spun, while you wait. Yeah, that might work!

Yet another quick post

Came home and nuked a frozen entrée, put in “Benny & Joon”, and finished the cuff on Willow’s sock. Just finished documenting the pattern, thus far, on Ravelry. I have about half an inch of heel flap done.

Got a call from my friend M. at church; she is the ward librarian. My scripture tote finally showed up in the lost and found, so I dropped everything and dashed over to the chapel. Feeling very thankful, as I wasn’t quite ready to replace my scriptures. I have had this set since early 1992, when we sold our house in Irving for $2,500 cash, to avoid foreclosure.

If we could have held onto that house for another five years and rented it out, it would have been paid for, and we would have had a modest income from it. But when we moved to the Hill Country, we basically took the clothing on our backs and left almost everything else behind us. I did make a couple of trips back to take down things I needed for my craft business.

Ah well, it’s only money.

Tonight is all about pulling my weight (as a member of the activities committee) for Trunk or Treat on Saturday night. I will be back at the chapel tonight, helping with the set-up. The Spanish ward has theirs tomorrow night. We have ours on Saturday night. Half the decorating, twice the fun. I bought my chips and salsa and two bags of candy when I did all that grocery shopping last weekend.

I think this new calling is going to be like a basketful of ironing. A whole lot of unnecessary dread while contemplating it, and a whole lot of satisfaction once I actually get going. Immensely thankful that I am not the nursery leader, because I’m not sure that I could get up off the floor, unassisted, after story time.

Time to grab the gym bag and scoot.

No time for pictures.

And definitely no time for 1000 words. Left around 10:00 on Monday night after having been wrist-deep in pomegranates. Met or spoke with more of his family.

Happily exhausted yesterday; I started hitting the Cherry Coke at 9:24. Skipped Knit Night. Watched part of Greater Tuna until I got disgusted with the language and pitched the VHS into the trash. Watched Anastasia instead.

Knitted a lot. Am within two pattern repeats of beginning the heel flap on this sock. Have luscious black superwash wool to knit soft hats for the missionaries.

Noodled around on Family Search until I could not keep my eyes open One. Moment. Longer. Re-set the alarm for 6:00. [Have re-set it, again, for tomorrow morning.]

Skipped the gym, but the bag is packed for tonight or tomorrow morning or whenever. Need to sluice off and scoot on out the door.

Most of the office will be wearing Ranger red today. I was mildly tempted to buy a shirt, which I could have worn again on Friday as my costume for Halloween. You know, when we dress up as something we are not? Because we all know that I am not a sports fan.

Happy Wednesday, everybody, regardless of whom you are rooting for [or against].

Thoughts on the Sunday School lesson

Written as I studied it. My scripture tote is still AWOL. If I haven’t found it by next payday, I am getting a large-print quad (Quadruple Combination, containing the King James Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price) and a gurney to lug it around on.

Yesterday’s lesson was from Isaiah, chapters 54-56 and 63-65.

Isaiah 54:6 For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God. I know something about being a wife who has been refused. This verse always makes me wince a little, just before it comforts me.

Isaiah 54:13 And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children. My children have all been taught about the Lord and His place in their lives. This verse suggests to me that at some future time the Lord Himself will teach them. So for me, it refers not only to the peace despite tribulation which comes here and now for those who heed the words of the prophets, but the eternal peace and safety which await us if we truly desire it and demonstrate it by our choices.

Isaiah 55:2 Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. We once had a visitor from the stake high council (whose responsibility is to bring a lesson or message from the stake presidency once a month) who was a man large in both body and spirit. He quoted this verse, to gentle laughter from the congregation. The scriptures testify that we do not live by bread alone ~ and how thankful I am for chocolate! ~ so to me this verse suggests the importance of using my time and energy wisely. Or in the words of the late Neal A. Maxwell, to make sure my ladder is not leaning against the wrong wall, that I am not pursuing the things the world thinks are good, to the exclusion of things that will draw me closer to Heaven.

Isaiah 55:8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. I think this backs up verse 2. The remainder of the chapter continues in this vein.

Isaiah 56:1-8 All who hearken will be blessed, whether children of the covenant who grow up true and faithful, or converts like my Gram and me. Even those who have been cruelly mutilated by life will have every blessing promised to the righteous, in Heaven’s time.

Isaiah 63:9 In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old. Yes, this refers to the children of Israel in the time of Moses. It also is a shining thread in the fabric of my own life.

Isaiah 63:16 Doubtless thou art our father, though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not: thou, O Lord, art our father, our redeemer; thy name is from everlasting. While Heavenly Father is the father of our spirits, the Savior becomes the father of all who strive to become obedient unto the Father’s commandments. This is part of the plan for our eternal happiness, and it predates our coming to this earth.

Isaiah 64 This is the first time that I noticed it was a continuation of Chapter 63, barely pausing for a catch-breath.

Isaiah 65:2 I have spread out my hands all the day unto a rebellious people, which walketh in a way that was not good, after their own thoughts; Something that anyone who has parented a two year old, or a teenager, can relate to.

Isaiah 65:24 And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear. This one makes me weep with joy. Have you ever had a prayer answered so quickly that the amen was still warm upon your lips?

Much of this lesson describes the peace that will reign during the Millenium. And I believe we can know a good measure of that peace before that blessed day.

Here is a link to a Meridian Magazine commentary on this lesson. From this commentary, I learned that Edom is the Idumea to which the Savior referred; Edom was the traditional enemy of ancient Israel; Bozrah was its capital.

And from my notes in class: shalom means more than peace; it also means happiness, wholeness and well-being. I am guessing it’s the Hebrew equivalent of aloha.

We had another high councilor yesterday. He paraphrased one of the modern prophets in class, and these are my belatedly-scribbled notes on what he/they said: “Peace is the one thing the Adversary cannot emulate, so if we are feeling peaceful, we can know it’s from God.”

We now return you to more mundane, but possibly eternal, topics. When the new guy was bringing me home on Saturday night, we talked about the ten gallons of pomegranates he had harvested from the trees in his back yard before coming over. (It is now up to 15 gallons.) I offered to come over after work tonight and help him seed them, even though he will have the Cowboys on. [Oh, the sacrifices we are willing to make in order to be near a guy we like.] He gave me a definite maybe, contingent on whether he would be able to get the living room vacuumed before I came over.

Last night I got the go-ahead. I am taking a new loaf of bread, a container of hummus, and the bag of petite Gala apples I picked up on Saturday. He is thawing a pan of enchiladas; like me, he only knows how to cook for a small army, so he freezes the extras. So we will eat the United Nations and let the food fight it out inside, as Mark Twain recommended.

In knitting news, I have knitted way past the point where I stopped to frog Willow’s sock this weekend. And I have finally found the pattern the yarn wants to become. You would not think that an inanimate object could have an opinion. You would be wrong. Some of you might chalk it up to fiber preparation, the amount of twist in the singles, how that was reversed when four singles were plied together to make the finished yarn. I never took physics in school. I just know that it will soon be time to work the heel flap, and then the gussets, and on down toward the toe.

Our new elders came up to me between meetings and humbly asked if I might be willing to knit warm hats for them. As a matter of fact, I would. So Willow’s sock may get put on hold for a week or two, once I find the right yarn for the job. Which I will go look for after work today, as I meander over to the new guy’s house so as not to beat him there.

And now I am heading out to the gym so I can make room for those enchiladas tonight. I have the feeling it is going to be a splendid day, Cowboys or no Cowboys.

Two pictures hung, four lightbulbs replaced

All of the recycling out to its bin, and a bag and a half of trash, likewise. Not to mention a bathroom floor that you could [almost] eat off of.

Praise be for men with power tools! I still have no idea where to hang the cabinet, and I was unable to match the shelf peg thingies, so instead of buying four, I had to buy sixteen. We used my drop-leaf table as a workbench, laying the shelves under the cabinet wrong-side up, so that if the drill bit went awry it would strike the underside of a shelf, and not the table.

The sawdust is all wiped up. My tools are back in my toolbox (in which I found a pair of AWOL ladybug earrings).

We got quite a bit of rain yesterday. I got all of my grocery shopping done before it started, but I had to dash out between showers to get the shelf peg thingies at the hardware store.

Dinner at Secondborn’s was everything I could have wished. She is turning into quite the cook, the Bitties were charming and/or entertaining, and conversation flowed [punctuated with bouts of he touched me! or she’s breathing my air!

We stayed for family scripture study and prayer. BittyBit (not quite 6) is reading: out of that tiny mouth came explained, but more than the fact that she can recognize or sound out the words, is the fact that she is beginning to read with expression. And BittyBubba (barely 3) is sounding out short words, some of which he now knows on sight.

I think I’ve mentioned that last weekend I learned of the existence of a fourth petri dish, probably the most elegant of the four of us. I know her slightly; she is good friends with GreyhoundWoman (NintendoMan’s former spouse). The new guy and I were discussing the petri situation in general on the drive back to my place, and he is preparing to thin the herd. Too much of a gentleman to say who has been voted off the island, but I am wondering if it is the same one who told me the other night that she thinks he and I make a cute couple, or one of the others.

At this point we seem to be in agreement that I should meet the other daughter-in-law [and presumably her spouse and kids], and he should meet the rest of my tribe. Which may not happen until after tithing settlement [he is his ward’s financial clerk] and finals for Firstborn’s lot. And I would love to have a get-together with him, Fourthborn and Fiancé, and his kids FullMetalSquishy and MelMelChan. With or without dolls. So which of my local kids gets to meet him next, is still very much up in the air. LittleBit will be the toughest nut to crack. She is going through a rough patch, and in her world, I am understudy to the AntiChrist. [This, too, shall pass.]

Heading back to bed for a nap. I worked very hard yesterday, at a sane and sustainable pace, up and down the stepstool, wielding disinfecting wipes and Swiffer and hammer, et al. My body is tired. My heart is peaceful. And my eyes are growing heavy...

I promised y’all a story.

This was my Wednesday morning, the day I picked up the certified police report. [How hard could that be, right?]

1. Found the police station. Right where I thought it would be.
2. Pulled into the parking lot at Texas de Brazil.
3. $2.00 minimum, $12.00 deposit, but I only had $13.00 in cash.
4. Explained to Attendant the First, and exited parking lot.
5. Pulled into the parking garage where I parked for the first day of jury duty.
6. Had forgotten that it was a $15.00 flat fee. [See #3, above.]
7. Attendant the Second graciously let me exit.
8. Went to Target and bought an apple, in order to break a $5.00.
9. Drove back to the police station, turned right.
10. Went down the hill behind TCC to the Trinity Trails parking lot.
11. Dropped $1.50 in quarters into a duplex parking meter.
12. Walked two and a half blocks, more or less, at a 20% or greater slope.
13. Had to stop twice and catch my breath.
14. Got the certified police report.
15. Walked carefully downhill, in order not to trip and roll into the river.
16. Stopped to get gas.
17. Stopped at Whataburger to grab breakfast.
18. Nearly 10 minutes in the drive-thru to get my breakfast.
19. Drove to work.
20. I-30 had one lane taken away for a mile or so, midway.
21. Walked into the office more than 2 hours after my usual starting time.

Learning curve: it’s what’s for breakfast. And brunch. And, almost, lunch. Next time I will know that the records office at the police station opens at 7:00am, and where to park, and that I should bring an oxygen tank and/or a Segway to navigate that hill. And maybe a pack of fine-looking age-appropriate paramedics following along respectfully, just in case I fall down on the job.

The new guy will be here in approximately eleven hours. Time to sit down and make a list of all the stuff that absolutely has to get done before he gets here. I don’t suppose there’s time to paint the living room?

Better West End than Deep Ellum. :)

Taking my title from a recent comment by one of my kids. The West End was a trendy part of downtown Dallas, back in the mid-1980’s. Followed by Deep Ellum (the part of Elm Street which is east of downtown) in the 1990’s. There are lofts in Deep Ellum. There are studios and artists and wannabes and an assemblage of tattoos and piercings that would make P.T. Barnum proud, and I actually went there, unaccompanied, for a couple of poetry slams around the time of the divorce. I was feeling somewhat bulletproof in those days.

There is much to look forward to at work today. I am wrist-deep in transcribing a summary of several hundred pages of medical records, which my attorney has shaped into a smooth narrative flow. I have learned the names of several body parts, a new syndrome, and another medication.

I’ll finish that today and open a new lawsuit and find out how the deposition went yesterday afternoon. I may or may not go to the knitting group after work. I may or may not go to the local singles’ activity. I might just come home and finish the book I am reading and try to get some sleep. It has been a lovely, full week. I am looking forward to quiet time with the new guy and my family.

The fact that today is payday, is gravy. [With or without sausage, biscuit, or chicken fried steak.] Happy Friday!

Q & A

Taken [mostly] from various comments on sundry posts in the last month or so. And sometimes followed by my posted responses to those comments. Because I am too tired to think this morning, but do remind me to tell you about the adventures [amusing but exhausting] which I had in downtown Fort Worth yesterday while striving to get that certified police report.

Q. I'm not sure if I remember the people you are referring to. Were they kids? Did their dad take us to that Polar Bear ice cream parlor once?
A. Yes, they were kids. But not those kids: those were Amber and Mahonri and all the ones that zoomed along after them, whose dad was our home teacher the summer your dad was in Amarillo with the car, and I was home with you kids and the money.

Q. Does he get to meet her first because her kids are so cute, and she and hubby are not as scary as my crew?
A. Yeah, pretty much. He is a sucker for cute little kids. No, I don’t fight fair, why do you ask? (He also appreciates beautiful women, so you and Lark will probably be next.)

Q. Do you remember creepy squirrel (the ceramic squirrel who lived on Firstborn’s neighbor’s porch when she lived in the apt complex right before she moved to Florida)?
A. I do. Creepy squirrel may be the only inhabitant of those apartments, other than the security dude in his pickup truck. The last time I was by there, all the apartments were empty, and there was a six-foot chain link fence all around the property. Plus, it bordered the creek which flooded out all those houses a few weeks ago, including my friend Leslye’s.

Q. What if I gifted my phone to you in another month or so?
A. Is that offer still good?

Q. Who wrote the book of love?
A. Dang if I know.

The George Foreman grill is at its new home. We did a trunk to trunk transfer after the temple session last night.

Two days.

☺

The unStuffing continues...

Willow’s first sock is growing a bit every day: one round of stitches that move, followed by two rounds of K3P2 ribbing. Rinse and repeat. The yarn would probably not be splitty if I were working plain stockinette, but with the 1x1 cables I am having to slow down a little to make sure I’ve scooped everything up before proceeding. I am wondering if I would like the pattern even better if I reversed the direction of the cables. I am not sufficiently curious that I want to rip out two inches of pattern on size 00 needles in order to find out.

I get to leave for work about an hour later than I usually do, because I am picking up a certified police report before heading to Dallas. My attorney is working remotely today, so he will not be spazzing about it.

He took us to lunch yesterday because it was his paralegal’s birthday (she is my best friend at work). We emulated the pioneer children and walked and walked and walked and walked to the West End. Y-O Ranch, where I had the salmon salad, half of it for lunch and the other half at 5:00 after I’d shut down the business applications at my workstation and was reading knitting blogs before heading to Knit Night.

Seriously yummy food. And the comparatively pitiful salad which I took to work is still in the fridge, waiting for lunch today, so I won’t have to pack anything. Woohoo!

Time to grab the gym bag and get moving. It will be nice to have a leisurely workout and not have to deal with rush hour.

Tonight is the regular monthly singles’ session for temple service. I am taking the new guy some old plastic terra cotta colored pots and the George Foreman grill, which I have not used once since moving to the duplex. [Which means I will still have visitation rights, at least for the foreseeable future.]

Shoulder to the Wheel

I was afraid that my desk would be a disaster when I got back to work yesterday. I am not ordinarily a pessimist, but it took me several weeks to dig back up to the surface after taking a week off in September. So I was guesstimating 60% of that for being out three days this time.

I got through all of my email; in fact, there are fewer in my inbox than there were when I left, huzzah! I got all of the electronic mail filed through Friday, and halfway through yesterday. I transcribed all but one of the tapes in my inbox, responded to three emails from one of my attorneys on something which I delegated (training one of the admins to step up to legal secretary; she was sick yesterday), and will either finish that today or teach her how to do it if she is back. Plus, I was not the default carrier-down-of-the-mail yesterday afternoon.

So yesterday was pretty much golden, a welcome respite from the madness of last Tuesday, when I was scrambling to get things done so I could leave. I am looking forward to sitting down at my desk today and polishing off that tape for Attorney A.

And there is knitting tonight. But no swim this morning, as I have spent too long on the computer. I will just pop the bag into my trunk for after Knit Night. Did I mention that I regained eight pounds between my well-woman and my doctor appointment last Wednesday? This is not about vanity; it is about being strong enough and flexible enough to accomplish my mission here on earth.

It is only tangentially about having room at the inn for some of the fruits of my favorite cheesecake-baker. Four days until he meets Secondborn and her tribe...