Checking myself for a pulse.

Whew! Stealing from myself this morning to say: The single adult conference is underway. Last night was the temple session. I saw three dozen variations on the theme of “beautiful” in the sisters' faces, in the session where I served. Got home a little before midnight and am taking the day off because I knew I’d be no earthly good to my attorney today. (You’ll notice I woke at the usual time, anyway.)

I thought I’d show you pictures from last Sunday’s dinner with Secondborn and her tribe. Here we have pancakes in progress, hobnobbing with some turkey sausage.



And here we have the world’s best pancakes. You’ll just have to trust me, as we ate the evidence.



Topped off with Honeycrisp apples sautéed in butter, with flecks of cinnamon and maybe a touch of nutmeg. Perfection.



OK, that’s it, y’all. I am going to be teaching some of my friends to knit, later this morning, but first I am taking a nap.

Greased slide toward the weekend.

Today is my Friday. Tonight the singles’ conference begins with a temple session at 8:15, so it will be a late night for me, as I will be a temple worker and not a patron. I knew that I would be no earthly good to my coworkers tomorrow, so I scheduled the day off.

I will not get to see the new guy tonight, or tomorrow night either, as his new job assignment has screwy hours. [Yay! for a man who is gainfully employed.] But I will get to see him Saturday night.

I have a great haircut, and my face is thoroughly waxed. It’s also still faintly pink. And it itches a little, not in an allergic way, more like a holy cow what just went on here? way. She is very very good at what she does. If you’re local and you need a hair magician, let me know.

The first doll scarf is finished. It took me an hour to Kitchener it together, and I was dropping IQ points right and left. Basic Kitchener is pretty much a no-brainer. I, however, was attempting to join the two edges in something approximating the pattern, and even I have to look again to see where I did it. I think that calls for a celebratory cookie.

I had a smidgen of yarn left, so I’ve cast on five stitches for a Chutzpah-sized scarf. It may or may not be an infinity scarf like the first one, and the pattern is a simple seed stitch over five stitches, with the first stitch in each row slipped for a pretty selvage. Mindless knitting at its best.

Yesterday I organized my miniature button supply. Turns out that I have 470 of them, all sorted by color and strung together on bits of sewing thread. I know this because I counted the number of buttons in each loop and entered them on a spreadsheet for inventory purposes. I would toss in a picture of the jar with thread loops (it’s rather pretty), but I need to scoot out the door for work.

Happy Thursday, everybody. I’m going to eat that cookie while I get ready for work.

Some things really do get better with age.

Yesterday’s leftover baked potato half being one of them. As the Mama Bear said, just right. The perfect size, and the proper balance of protein, fats, and carbs to keep me humming merrily along all afternoon.

I would have to add Knit Night to that list. I have been going for almost six years now. The cast of characters has changed a little, and there have been a couple of splinter groups, but much of the core remains.

What a great bunch of ladies, and I use that word advisedly. I have remarked from time to time that it is very much like a good Relief Society meeting, minus the opening and closing prayers and the hymns. We like one another, we speak kindly to and about one another [i.e., no gossip], and we encourage one another.

Plus, there are refreshments! We alternate between a bookstore which has a coffee shop attached, and a coffee house. Last night I grabbed a half-price burger at Sonic on the drive there and finished up with a generous block of rice-krispy-treat at the coffee house for dessert.

I put another couple of inches on the doll scarf last night. At this point I am torn between calling it finished [which means I would still have some yarn leftover and the possibility of a second, narrower, shorter scarf for a smaller doll] and knitting on to the end of the yarn, just to see how long it would get. I’m trying to maximize both knitting pleasure and potential sales income.

Tonight I see my hair magician for phase two of turning my beloved spikiness into something which still expresses some personality but is more appropriate for a temple worker. And which might provide a more hospitable playground should the day ever come when somebody might be inclined to run his hands through it.

And on that note, I think I will go tend to my knitting for a few minutes before the whole sluicing-and-primping routine begins.

Enough?

There is half of a decadently-loaded baked potato in the fridge at work, waiting for my lunch. Yesterday I took my attorney out for his belated birthday lunch. It was a little too nippy to walk down to our favorite restaurant, so we walked to The Tunnels, a series of underground restaurants and shops that begin more or less underneath the Bank of America building and continue eastward for a few blocks. We had lunch at Colter’s BBQ. He had one of the combo plates and said it was delicious. I had a good-sized tater with butter, chopped brisket, sour cream, green onions, cheese [and quite possibly a MiniCooper] on top.

I looked at it and knew that I would be having dinner at a friend’s. I also knew that if I ate the whole thing, I would face-plant into my keyboard before quitting time. So I ate half and saved the rest for later.

One of the legacies from my twenty-year marriage is that I sometimes have trouble knowing when enough is enough. In subsequent dating relationships, I have frequently held onto hope longer than was wise or prudent. In my food storage, I have pasta that I put up in 2002, back when there were two of us at home. I may have achieved the pasta equivalent of what we yarnies call SABLE: Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy. I went on an orgy of book-buying after my divorce. I am winnowing through that collection. I have more kitchen tools and toys than I have counter space for, or cupboard space for. [I did find a new home for the food processor I haven’t used in five years. Now to find time to dust it off, make sure it works, and adopt it out.]

But I am pleased to report that there is still some ice cream in the freezer from two and a half weeks ago. I have had a bowl here, a bowl there, without the feeling that if I don’t eat it up right now, I may never get to eat ice cream again.

Starvation causes deep hungers that are slow to go away. Perhaps it rewires the brain. When there has been a dearth of food, or beauty, or love, the healing process and the finding of a new normal will take however long they take. I rarely resort to retail therapy anymore. (I just cast on a new project, preferably from stash yarn.) Only occasionally do I eat my feelings. And, thankfully, I have friends and family to love and to hug, so the need to touch and be touched is at least intermittently satisfied.

I strive to be grateful for what I do have, and not to pine for what I might lack. Today, it is enough.

Spinning a yarn or two.

I posted the links on Facebook, so if you’ve already checked them out, feel free to ignore them here. This is part one in BrooklynTweed’s series on how his Shelter yarn is made at the Harrisville Designs mill in New England.

Here is part two. And part three. Followed by part four. And the finale, part five.

~~~

Last week, one of the in-house publications at work sent out a request for stories about first jobs. While the following was not my absolutely-first job, it was the first one I had after business school.

How did I enter the working world? Kicking and screaming, at the ripe old age of 20. I had dropped out of college, gone to business school, and interviewed for two jobs about three weeks before I was due to finish that program. One was with an architectural firm owned by the parents of a classmate at business school. The other was with an organization aligned with the medical industry.

The second job made me an offer first, and I accepted. Three days later, I got an offer from the first job, which would have been my dream job at that time. But having been raised by my parents to keep my word, I went with the second job, which turned out to be the most miserable place I have ever worked. My boss was acerbic, almost to the point of being verbally abusive. I lasted two months.

That was nearly 40 years ago. I have long since gained a testimony of work, and I *love* my current job.

~~~

This, recently from our office’s safety committee. I’m sure that Dallas is not the only place having this problem.

The crime rate on the bus and train is at an all-time high. The crime has to do with personal items (laptops, purse/bags, etc.) being stolen.

The scam:

A group of teenagers get on the bus/train and will distract you with their rude and loud behavior. When you are distracted watching what is going on, another teenager takes your personal items and gets off the bus/train before you notice anything is missing. The distraction usually occurs very close to a stop.

Please be aware of what is going on around you and your personal items. The thieves are counting on you focusing on the situation and not your belongings.

~~~

Had something interesting happen at the kids’ house last night. Secondborn greeted me at the door, asking if I had gotten her text. No, I hadn’t. I didn’t turn the phone on, all day. Her dad had invited himself over after church, because there was a stake priesthood meeting that evening, and he wanted a ride with 2BDH.

She wanted to give me the option of coming later, or not at all, if it was going to be an issue for me. [My kids are considerate about that. And for my part, I work hard not to be one of those ex-wives. I want them to be able to have whatever level of relationship they’re comfortable with him, without interference from me.]

So, he was upstairs, listening to a Harry Potter audiobook with 2BDH and the kids. I stayed downstairs on the couch. (I was not being obstinate. I really, truly, do not like their stairs, which are well-designed and adequately railed. There are just so many of them.) Secondborn sat down on the other end of the couch and got caught up on NewsOfTheBoy. I promise, there would have been no pouting from me if she had chosen to go upstairs with the rest of them.

Eventually, her father came downstairs to head out for the priesthood meeting. He was startled to see me, but greeted me politely, as I did him. Out the door he went with 2BDH, and we started preparations for dinner.

When 2BDH returned a couple of hours later, he said that the children’s father had asked him in the car, “Who was that girl on the couch with Secondborn?” When 2BDH told him it was me, he said, “Oh. She didn’t look like I remembered.”

I immediately went into checking-the-emotional-dipstick mode and discovered that it didn’t hurt. Anywhere. And I’m still in that place, this morning. [Because this is my blog, and it’s mostly all about what goes on inside my own brainpan.] I will feel very sad if the day comes when he does not recognize our children or grandchildren, but I am perfectly fine with the fact that he may be losing his memories of us.

~~~

When I was at dinner on Saturday night with my BFFE from our childbearing years, we talked a little about the bad old days, when life was so hard in both our families. And I told her that I could not have done it without her love and support, or that of a mutual friend. If you are one of the blessed souls who has never struggled with what Churchill called his Black Dog, or you have not had to deal with a loved one’s depression [and I hope you never have to do either], then you have no idea how much pain one human being can hold without falling apart.

Driving home from Secondborn’s last night, this came on the radio. Y’all, be kind to one another. You may never know that your kindness has saved your friend’s life.

So. Much. Fun.

Yesterday was golden. Just-enough knitting. With cashmere. That project is set aside for today, as I am not sure if it is something for one of my dolls (which means that I would not consider working on it, to be breaking the Sabbath) or something that will go in my Etsy shop if the finished object matches the idea in my head.

Lorelai has fresh oil and a clean air filter. She is breathing more clearly than I am, though I am far better than on Friday.

Thursday night, on my way to the temple, I picked up a Happy Meal. The toy was a tiny Fairy Barbie (or maybe vice versa). I called Fourthborn yesterday to ask if I could bring it by on my way to dinner with my friend. I think what I said was something like this, "Hi, can I stop by for just a minute to bring you a Barbie Happy Meal toy and yell at the dog?" She was still snorting and snickering when I got there.

The dog is none too bright. I think she might be related to the golden lab dachsund mix we had briefly when the girls were little. We named that dog Mensa, but mostly we just called him Densa. Golden lab body. Dachsund legs. Great big golden lab head. Little bitty dachsund brain rattling around in it. I think Harley is just about that smart. Great name. R-e-a-l-l-y dumb dog.

Had the best sweet and sour chicken in my life last night, at a little Thai restaurant. The chicken was not breaded, and there were copious amounts of vegetables, and mine was cold long before I finished it, because of the talking and laughing and reminiscing. But still incredibly tasty.

Definitely going back there, quite possibly with Brother Sushi for our postponed March dinner later this month.

Funny moment: her phone went off (it was her husband, one of the dearest men in this world) and she handed it to me, asking “Wanna mess with his mind? Just say ‘It’s Lynn’.” Which of course I did, and he first got extremely confused and then delighted, at which point I handed him back to his beloved.

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

The dance last night was a blast. I love Latin music. Doesn’t matter if I’m dancing to it, or just doing a quiet little boogie in my chair. Love the stuff. I danced last night to “Good Golly Miss Molly” in Spanish. And sat out “Jailhouse Rock,” ditto. Got in some merengue and some cumbia, visited with friends, collected a couple of hugs, caught up my buddy M on the dating situation.

He is pleased that there are now only two petri dishes in the experiment. I told him that I had gotten my fishing license. He asked why. I told him that the new guy had posted on FB that nobody was getting a ring until she had gone fishing with him at least once. He (my buddy) said that I don’t fight fair at all (and he approves heartily).

The big news at church is that I am now the CTR4 teacher. That means I have a small flock of four-year-olds to corral confuse teach. In theory that means seven short people; in reality, most weeks, it will mean three bright, charming, and oh-please-let-them-be-tractable little girls. I think this calling is probably more for me than it is for the kids. But the funny thing is, I am actually looking forward to it.

After being sustained by the ward members (in sacrament meeting) and set apart (after church), I have come home long enough to grab some lunch and prepare to take my temple clothing over to Secondborn’s, along with a bag of apples, there to mooch dinner and wash up my ceremonial clothing, which ought not to be seen by the heathen. Ergo, I cannot wash it at the laundromat with the rest of my clothing, and I’m insufficiently fond of hand-washing to do it here at home. Plus, I get to eat breakfast-for-dinner and visit with some of my favorite people, while contributing a little something toward the meal.

Book club. Beans.

CrazyAuntPurl has been running a monthly book club discussion on her blog (in between the knitting and other topics) for the past several months. I have skipped some of the selections, either because I had browsed the book in one of my bookstore ramblings and found it wanting, or because I knew the subject or the writing would not be edifying. The most recent selection was When We Were Strangers, by Pamela Schoenewaldt. Last Monday night we commented on CrazyAuntPurl’s blog. Yesterday she posted the author’s responses to some of our comments and questions. [Yes, I know I did not insert a link for the book per se. I think three links in one short paragraph is plenty, and research builds character. Right?]

Carlo is the hot-headed brother of the protagonist. He disappears from view fairly early in the book. Several questions were devoted to what might have happened to him. In one of her responses, the author includes this gem:

“Maybe that’s one difference between Carlo and Irma: he has ambitions larger than the work he is willing to devote to reach them.”

I responded: “I was married to somebody like that. Thank you for wrapping up twenty years in one elegantly crafted sentence.”

That is my marriage in a nutshell. He had wonderful dreams for our family, and apparently still does. I want to sit down with him after this earthly life is over, when our minds are not clouded by mortality and we are able to see all the subtexts and undercurrents and outside influences that were playing into the life we were trying to build together. I know that when I can see everything clearly, it will all make perfect sense.

Having things make sense is important to me. I like math, logic puzzles, Tetris, Bach, houndstooth, and cross-stitch. [I also like poetry, seashells, dancing, Beethoven, lace, and handspinning. And what I sometimes get is advertising, junk mail, Monopoly, hiphop, the currently popular fabrics which are crinkled before printing so that there are irregular vertical stripe-ish spots with no color, and mending. But I digress.]

The math-y portion of my brain just told me that all of those factoids would fit amusingly into an Excel spreadsheet. Which of course resembles a logic puzzle, only in this case without the logic.

I should probably eat some breakfast. The toast and jam and mug of milk appear to have worn off. Or it may be simply the natural consequence of contemplating my marriage to the children’s father. We have been divorced for more than half as many years as we were married. We started out with such high hopes. His apparently continue to fly high, up there with all his dreams of wealth and comfort. Mine, at least in terms of our union, were shot down one by one, like skeet. When I contrast what we wanted, with what we got, the disconnect is as jarring as twelve-tone jazz.

The good news is, I started out extremely naïve, and I have become what I hope is the best kind of realist. I try to see things as they are, and deal with them as they are, and not overthink them or take them too personally. I am still on good speaking terms with hope; we take nice little rambles together several times a week. I rent a minuscule duplex which fits my needs. I have enough to eat, and beautiful yarn to knit, and flowers drooping on my sofa table that really need to go out to the compost pile, and a large and lively family, and wonderful friends and the possibility of romantic love a little farther down this road.

My life is very sweet to me. I don’t need [or want] the big house, fancy cars, expensive jewelry, or elegant clothing which some people crave. I just want to live this quiet, simple, peaceful life which brings me so much happiness. I show up for work, I do what they ask, they give me money, I pay the bills, there is extra for books or yarn or music, and for meals out with friends. Sometimes I get to talk with people about the Savior and how God’s plan of happiness blesses my life.

Today I need to get Lorelai’s oil changed. [Did I mention it here yesterday? She’s paid off.] Laundry is nowhere near critical-mass, but if I do it now I might have one evening at home next week before the insanity starts. I have a dance tonight, and dinner before that with my BFFE from my childbearing days. Very much looking forward to both, and I want to touch base with another BFFE. I am blessed to have a best-friend from each of the major phases of my life, and to be in touch with nearly all of them, either via Facebook or in real life.

Last night was cool. Briefly attended the wedding reception of my young friend, long enough to hug the bride and hand over the loot :) before scooting on to the new guy’s for dinner [good simple nourishing fare] and the movie [sticker shock but worth every penny].

Rango was brilliant. You will not get it all in one viewing. And it is most emphatically not for little kids. My favorite character? Beans, if only because I spent much of my late, lamented marriage standing very very still while life swirled on madly about me.

Yay, Beans. [Yay, me.]

Gearing up for the weekend.

Lorelai is paid for. I am just that much closer to being debt-free. Woohoo’s all around!

The gift bag is assembled, and my enclosure card is signed. I have a wedding reception first-thing after work tonight, for a dear young sister who serves in the temple on Thursday nights like me. I will pop in, shake hands, eat a mint or two, and scoot on down the road.

Why?

Because the new guy is putting a pork loin into the crockpot, with smashed potatoes, and some other vegetable yet to be announced, and cheesecake for dessert. And then we’re going to see Rango.

All of which will be delicious in its own right, and excellent preparation for tomorrow.

“Who was that masked [wo]man?”

“I don’t know. But [s]he left this silver [cable needle].”

Take me out to the *what*???

I don’t know. It was just one of those things that struck me funny. [And if I hadn’t laughed, it would have struck me again.] My friend C at work sent out an email reminder about her daughter’s fundraiser for softball. Discount tickets to a Rangers game.

I called the new guy on his cell. “I can get discount tickets to the ballpark. Does this sound like something we want to do?” He said yes, I wrote C a check dated for Friday, and I am now the proud owner of two seats in the nosebleed section, right next to the private boxes, with an aerial view of first base. [Which is as close as we’ve gotten to “first base” in this dating situation. A fact which I will point out to him after the game, if we are still at that point, just because it’s so much fun to watch him turn red.]

I emailed him after Knit Night, asking “So, after we talked today, did you sit there and scratch your head and say to yourself, ‘That sounded like Lynn, but I think maybe she was kidnapped by space aliens’?”

To which he responded, “No ... thought cool - a Rangers game ... spent a few minutes thinking about what to load the cooler with for the game ... we bring ... lots of snacks ... that will be fun.” Take that, all you vendors of overpriced hotdogs!

Oh yeah. That will absolutely be fun. Although we stand an excellent chance of getting mugged by my friends and coworkers for our food. (It was quite an impressive list of snackage.)

The reactions from my girls (well of course I texted them) were predictably varied, everything from “who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” to “old dog, new tricks”.

Yes, I am taking my knitting. Speaking of which, I finished the first fingerless glove for Celeste and am knitting away happily on the second one. I discovered when it came time to bind off, that I had left my 000’s at home on the coffee table. So I called the Shabby Sheep, and they carry HiyaHiya’s in the teeny sizes, just like Whirled Fibers, but only in the 4” length, whereas Whirled Fibers carries them only in the 6” length. So I get to support my two favorite local yarn shops and not slight either one or feel disloyal. I bought some 4” 000’s last night and bound off that edge in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. I am already up to the split for the thumb on the second glove.

I slept very well last night, six hours of unbroken sleep as opposed to the previous night’s installment plan, which wasn’t restful at all.

Time to finish getting ready for work. Looking forward to a productive day there and a quiet evening at home, after which three days of crazy-busy-ness begins.

Eeeek! Or maybe aughhh!

Family is the crucible in which we learn love, and forgiveness, because there are so many opportunities to practice both.

There was some drama with the children’s father this weekend. I did not experience it personally, but I spent some time yesterday soothing my two oldest, and I was physically and emotionally wiped out.

It is at moments like this when a spouse would be handy. First to listen, then to hold me until I am all cried out. [And maybe to knock some sense into their father. I just hurt so badly for Firstborn and Secondborn, who have the medical and financial POA’s. Dealing with their father is a topic that is frustrating and guilt-inducing for all of the girls, and sadly it is not a topic which tends to increase unity within our tribe.] Failing that, I ate a bowl of ice cream and planned to go cry myself to sleep.

I am frequently amazed to rediscover how curative a nap can be. I lay down, told Father “it’s OK if I cry,” and was asleep within seconds. No tears, just sweet, restorative sleep and a mildly amusing dream in which my dear, departed mother was scolding me for mugging down with some guy. It wasn’t Sean Connery, more’s the pity.

Where was I? Basically, what has happened, is this: the good news is, the children’s father has re-qualified for a temple recommend. And he has done so not with the hope of winning me back. The bad news is that he passed out in the temple on Saturday, BP 80/40, and was kept overnight at a nearby hospital for observation. Firstborn had to get a sub for her Primary class so she could pick him up and take him back to the nursing home.

He, of course, didn’t want to go. He keeps insisting that he will do just fine on his own. She said there were about 20 minutes of pleasant conversation on the drive home, where they talked about her classes and her plan to go on and get her masters’ degree while she is on a roll academically. [Go, Firstborn, go!]

But mostly he was yelling and pitching a fit, and she was crying. This is my child who rarely cries. She gets mad, she yells, there might be childbirth words, but it is a measure of just how crazy-making he is that he can reduce her to tears and guilt with his tantrums.

I did ask her if she’d like me to go down to the nursing home and yell at him. She snorted and said she had pretty well handled that herself. [I can only imagine. *insert eye roll*. I will add, the thing for which I most proud of her, is how she has learned over the past 15 years to control her temper. Which she got from me. And my grandmother.]

The nurse at the nursing home wouldn’t let him leave to go to church until he had drunk two bottles of water in her presence (he is also severely dehydrated).

I was starting to feel a little hopeful that he was getting his act together spiritually and might be able to regain the trust of our children. Yesterday pretty well shot that hope in the foot.

So that, in a coconut-sized nutshell, is what my children are having to deal with, and of course it *would* happen on a fast-and-testimony weekend, to interrupt their rejoicings, and consequently my own.

I can only hope that they have received as much peace in the evening hours, and overnight, as I have.

I was a little concerned that all the talking yesterday put me near the limit on my phone plan, but I reviewed that this morning and am much reassured. I have more minutes per month than I remembered, and I am nowhere near red-lining them.

Don’t everybody call at once to congratulate me. [Texting is fine.]

Today I get to see Rayyna’s finished shawl, and tonight is the online book club discussion, and I am past the wrist on the fingerless glove I am designing and knitting for Celeste. So if I am not yet firmly in my happy place, it is easily within reach.

May you all have help and hope and comfort in your own, individual challenges today. And may you each feel Heaven’s loving care enfold you.

I got really brave this morning.

This is something experienced doll owners do all the time. [No, she is not auditioning to back up Ringo Starr.]



And I’ve watched Fourthborn do it with one or the other of my dolls, but it was always “Here, please, you do it,” as far as I was concerned. The idea of deliberately removing a hand or a foot (knowing that I would have to replace it later) just gave me the heebiejeebies. But I wanted to knit something to go with the skirt I made Celeste several months ago, and I needed her hands to make sure it would fit. So I took them off.



Yeah, straight out of The Addams Family; only thing missing is the box.

Off to church they went, cushioned by all the squishy goodness in my project bag. And when I came home three hours later, I had a fingerless glove worked all the way up to the wrist. It’s not ready for its spotlight, Mr. DeMille. But soon, very soon, if I decide that I like the wrist shaping, and if the gauntlet shapes up in a pleasing way.

In other happy news, the children’s father has been quietly working to get his spiritual life in order, and he is once again worthy of a temple recommend. I couldn’t be prouder, or more pleased for him. He went to the temple to serve with his ward yesterday.

And in news which proves that Heaven has a delicious sense of humor, I have a new calling. They’ll sustain me next Sunday, and then I’ll let you know what it is.

The new guy and I have worked out a plan for getting to the theatre to see Rango.

And I just discovered what happened to the missing black sock from last night’s laundryfest. I knew that four socks went into the washer, and I remembered four coming out. But only three tumbled out of the dryer. I just now rested my left hand briefly on the facing of the jacket I am wearing, down by the hem. Guess what had crept in there when the other socks weren’t looking?

Heading over to the couch to listen to the new episode of Sticks and String, and then I’m off to take a nap.

To sleep, perchance.

Eight hours’ worth. As the short, bad guy said in The Princess Bride, “Inconceivable!”

I am finally, finally feeling caught up at work. I worked through 30 old emails yesterday, plus dealing with the new ones that came in throughout the day. My attorney didn’t need me after about 2:00; the attorney for whom I transcribe, didn’t need me; the second one I back up was out of the office, and there was nothing urgent in his mail. So I took off at 3:00 for a rendezvous with NailDude. Two nails had popped, another was on its way out, and the remainder just needed fills.

I went for a pseudo American manicure this time. Layers and layers of translucent pink polish, very subtle, and while I miss my hey-sailor-red nails, I am feeling elegant and ladylike. Anytime I can manage that before breakfast on a grey Saturday morning, I think it is a good thing.

The tater tots are nearly done. I can smell them. It is probably time to head back into the kitchen and whip up a cheese omelette.

~~~

That was a couple of hours ago. Breakfast is over, the dishes are washed, and I have nearly finished the novel I am reading. I took it into my head to participate in the online book club, and the discussion is Monday night (if I remember). So last night I put my shoes back on and left the house around 8:30. It took three bookstores before I found a copy, but the 20% I saved offsets the gas I expended to find it. I read until I could not keep my eyes open one moment longer, and then I did my impression of a sensible human being and went to bed.

In knitting news, I’ve put another 3+ rounds on the doll hat I am swatching in the pale green silk tweed blend yarn. It will fit somebody. I’m just not sure which of my dolls, if any, at this point. Possibly Chutzpah. Possibly Faith or Temperance. Possibly somebody else’s doll that is somewhere in between.

The new guy and I are negotiating when to see Rango. MovieMom gave it a terrific rating and said, “This is not a movie for kids. This is a movie for cool, sophisticated, highly discerning teenagers and adults.”

Now to figure out which of those I am.

I just spent an hour on Facebook.

The new guy has that new calling with the singles. He asked several of us for opinions on various topics. Boy, do we have opinions! I sat and thought and typed for an hour, and now I need to figure out what I will wear to work, put it on, and scoot on out the door.

We are doing lunch-and-a-movie at work. This time it is EatPrayLove. I am liking it better than I thought I would after the review MovieMom gave it. We will finish it today.

The only thing on my agenda for this weekend is some quality time with NailDude. I have popped two nails, and a third is hanging on for dear life.

I am hoping for a quietly productive day at work, but mostly I am wishing this day away so I can curl up on the couch with my knitting and a tall glass of milk and an audiobook or movie. I may aim to spend this weekend incommunicado. [Or life may surprise me.]

Happy Friday, everybody!

Ribbit!

The pattern is brilliant, and a pleasure to stitch. The yarn is beautiful: soft, lively, and relatively non-splitty notwithstanding the number of plies. The color sequence, while subtle in the skein and not distracting in something like a plain sock, overpowers the lace. Bigtime.

Frogging is such sweet sorrow. But frog, I must. This yarn might work for one of Susanna IC’s shawlettes, like the one I made for Lark. And the only way to find out is to give the yarn a rest for a few days, then cast on eleventy-bajillion stitches and work a few inches and take a squint. The color sequence which produces bright spirals over 72 stitches, as in the gauntlet above, may produce only dappled bits over 300+ stitches.

Or not.

In other news, I had a great day at work yesterday. Only one or two sneezing fits, lots of happy typing, and the near-obliteration of my to-do list. I have been typing vacation letters since the first of last month, a few one day, a few more several days later. This is good on a number of levels. The work gets done, the courts don’t get flooded with letters from my attorney over a one- or two-day period, and the receptionist (who opens the mail) and the scanning operator don’t get overwhelmed with file-marked copies from the court. I finished the last of the vacation letters for our cases yesterday, plus two for files which have been reassigned to us because of shifting responsibilities among some of the attorneys. I have two more vacation letters to type (for additional reassigned files) and three notices to the court for the changes, plus related letters to our clients and claims.

Also had a great breakfast yesterday, which may have contributed to the great day: about a third of a carton of organic Greek yogurt (vanilla) stirred into a sliced banana and a serving of relatively healthy granola. I was musing over what I wanted for dinner last night, and the muse said salmon. So I picked some up at Central Market, along with dolmas for lunch or dinner today. I overcooked the salmon, but it still tasted good.

Time for me to pack my temple bag and figure out what in the world to take for my knitting. We are doing lunch-and-a-movie again today: EatPrayLove. I loved the book, and I love Julia Roberts, but MovieMom was less than enthusiastic about this adaptation.

*[Kachoo! Kachoo!] repeat from *.

A little knitterly humor to get your day going. The Attack of the Killer Sinuses continues apace. I polished off half a box of Puffs at work and another here at home. Something between three-fourths of a box to a box and a half, total. That is a lot of sneezing. [Just ask my coworkers.] I also polished off the remainder of the chicken broth in the quart I broke open last Friday and three cups of chamomile tea. It is probably a good thing that I forgot to transfer my lipsticks into the new bag when I left the house, because putting on lipstick yesterday would have been an exercise in futility.

So yes, I looked every bit as drab and miserable on the outside as I felt on the inside. I came straight home from work* and got in the tub with a hot washcloth on my face. No Knit Night for me, missy! *[I did make a slight detour to Panda Express for spring rolls and Chinese mustard.]

Feeling considerably better this morning, after dreams in which I was trundling a recycling bin (bright yellow) from one school in the neighborhood to another. I have no idea where that came from.

The knitting is going well. I like the yarn. I like the pattern. I like the needles. If everything in my life were going as well as my knitting is at the moment, and mostly it is, then my life would be perfect. And maybe I wouldn't appreciate all the parts that are going well. And that would be sad.

I’m going to head over to the couch and put another few rounds on my knitting before it’s time to gather up my stuff and hit the road. There may be frequent pauses to look up and enjoy the flowers (because I certainly can’t stop and smell them at the moment).

Going back to work today, huzzah!

In my perfectly legal car. Whose trouble light went off somewhere between home and the Muffler/Exhaust Dude’s yesterday, and came back on two blocks from home, once all the stickers were in place on my windshield. I am going to emulate Miz Scarlett in this, and worry about it tomorrow. (Or whenever. I am beginning to suspect a problem with either the computer or the electrical system, but since I tend to kill a car every six years, if Lorelai goes another year without dying, I’m more or less OK with that.)

Have balanced the checkbook, shredded the receipts, maintained the shredder, and put all the financial stuff in its duly appointed place. I need to stop off at the post office this morning to get stamps.

Mount Washmore is momentarily subdued. I’m a little subdued myself. This changing weather continues to play hob with my sinuses. I foresee another day of coughing, hacking, and honking, but not as bad as last week.

In undiluted good news, I put 20 rounds on the current knitting project yesterday. The funky twisted right-leaning decrease is not as scary to execute as it is to read.

I need to figure out where Knit Night will be tonight. February was kindof a blur.



The roses from Saturday night bid you all a gracious good morning.

Monday mumbling.

Church yesterday was a spiritual feast, even though I only stayed for sacrament meeting. Our new stake president was there, and he is just amazing. He was serving as the stake patriarch when he was called to preside over the stake, and he has held both callings for about three months.

Yesterday he presented the name of our new patriarch for a sustaining vote. Goosebumps. This brother served as a counselor in the former stake presidency, and because of my former calling I got to know him a little better than I might otherwise have. So it was very much my pleasure to feel the Spirit, to know that the calling was inspired, and to raise my hand in support.

The stake president also presented for our sustaining vote, the advancement of various brethren in the stake to the high priest quorum, including two brothers in our ward. They are about the same age as my sons-in-law. When he gave the first name, my thought was Oh, of course; this brother, though young, has much of the gravitas I associate with seasoned leaders. He is not stuffy; he is steady.

When the stake president announced the second name, my hand flew to my mouth to cover a delighted gasp, and the tears started up. He was the elders quorum president in this ward when I moved in, far more spiritually astute than he would like anyone to know [he was one of two people who knew I was going to be the RS president before the former bishop did; the other was the RS president (and yes, I knew before I moved into the ward; I just didn’t know it was going to be quite so soon after I got there)], and far more outspoken than the average elder. So we have always gotten along quite well.

Nothing more was said, so I just wiped my eyes and settled in for the rest of the meeting.

Bishop also announced changes in our RS presidency. The dear woman who was my secretary, and continued in that capacity with my successor, is now one of the counselors. And one of my visiting teachers is the new secretary.

The stake president took back the podium after we had all partaken of the sacrament, made us chuckle with a couple of quips, and explained that he had neglected to tell us why these brethren had been advanced in the priesthood [because he had forgotten for a moment that he was not addressing another, nearby ward; his duties take him all over the stake, and he rarely gets to attend meetings in his own ward; it’s understandable]. He then released the bishop’s two counselors and presented the younguns for our sustaining vote as the new counselors, telling them to kiss their wives goodbye and come sit up on the stand in their new capacity.

There was not a hope of my remaining dry-eyed for the rest of the meeting. The two just-released counselors gave farewell remarks and testimonies. The wife of one also was invited to speak. The other is single and said he understood that this was when his wife should speak, which cracked us all up. And then the two new counselors were invited to speak. The stake president finished with a few remarks, I handed in my tithing, and I came home.

The wife of the feisty counselor is my other visiting teacher. I am going to have to figure out a way to make visiting teaching easy for them, because my house is not child-friendly, and their husbands are no longer available to watch the kids so the moms can come give me a monthly lesson. We’re smart women. We will figure something out.

Today I will be taking care of car stuff. Possibly a new catalytic converter, but more likely an O2 sensor, which is significantly cheaper. And once that is done and the computers have re-set themselves, getting the safety inspection because hello! tomorrow is the first of March.

I also need to tackle Mount Washmore, which is once more approaching critical mass, and get my nails done.

All of the napping and the resting-with-feet-elevated which I did yesterday, have made my ankles far less cranky than they were. I will endeavor to do more of the same today, when I am not running around like the proverbial headless chicken.

But for now I am going to go sit on the couch and grab my knitting and see if I can figure out the chart, because there is going to be a whole lot of sitting and knitting today while my checking account gets liposuctioned, and I would like for knitting to be the one non-frustrating part of the day which lies ahead.

Bliss. Mostly.

Didn’t have to share him with the other petri dish last night. And he is having leftover lasagna for breakfast this morning. Am hoping that puts me way ahead on points.



And I hope I never get tired of him bringing me flowers. Alstromeria are some of my favorites, and he got the color right. The roses are from last night’s dance. Somebody donated a bunch of them for the single sisters. I nabbed the yellow one and clenched it between my teeth. When I got back to our table after a dance, there was a red one, too.

I did get the Christmas tree and the moostletoe holder put away. The living room is tidy, and the bathroom is clean, and other than that I didn’t worry about it. I had a really good day. The lasagna turned out well, and the company was excellent.

Last night’s dance does not require my channeling Thumper’s mother in order to comment. It was what I would have expected from my friends in my old stake in terms of food, music, and ambiance. Had a blast, and only went home early(ish) because I was plumb tuckered out.

I am still tired, although I slept well. My ankles want to swell. I may only go to sacrament meeting, hand in my tithing, and come home again. The respiratory yuck from earlier in the week flared up a bit on Friday, and last night the new guy got to hear me give a sneezing recital before we left for the dance. Something like seven-to-nine sneezes in rapid and deafening succession. My head is fairly clear this morning [no comments from the peanut gallery], but I am just pooped.

Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath, everybody. I’m going to sit here and look at my flowers until I have to put on shoes and get in the car.

Emulating Thumper’s mom.

I enjoyed the speed dating which preceded last night’s dance far more than I thought I would. Got to talk with several friends. Was not spared having to interact with an age-appropriate brother who is into the Barbie-types. So now he is not simply that arrogant, dismissive twit; he is now that arrogant, dismissive twit from Coeur d’Alene whose father knows the father of the husband in the couple with whom we were best friends when the children’s father was getting his MBA at BYU.

That may or may not be progress. And it does not quite qualify as something Thumper’s mom said, but it’s the best I can do, for now, in that particular situation.

The other petri and the most-recently-former petri were at the dance. I got to visit with, or say hi to, both of them.

I also had a nice chat with Middlest while I sat in the parking lot of a restaurant after work. From there I drove to a different restaurant, whose food I was craving, and I knitted while waiting [briefly] for my cream of jalapeno soup, salad and rolls. Then I drove across the street and picked up a bag of clementines and a tub of ginger animal crackers for my contribution to the snack table at the dance.

I am looking forward to the music at tonight’s dance. (I do not have words to describe how strongly I am channeling Thumper’s mom as I write that.)

I am glad that the mid-singles had music they could dance to, last night. Best part of the dance per se was when the new guy walked me to my car and hugged me.

Thumper’s mom, Ms. Ravelled, Thumper’s mom.

Augh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h! [OK, I feel better.]

Thumper’s mom.

The new cast-on which I learned, is magic.

Yes, I know who it is.

No, I’m not at liberty to say. I don’t know the other petri dish well, but I like what I have observed (both before and after I knew the new guy, or I knew that he and she were dating), and she has always been gracious to me. I’m glad that neither of them got hurt as they sorted this out. And I’m glad that both of them want, and get to keep, their friendship.

In other news, yesterday was just-verging-on-brutal at work. On the one hand, I only had one to-do remaining from my attorney at the end of the day, down from eight or so, all of them requiring a significant amount of time. So that was good. On the other hand, I had two items I was expecting from the other attorney, and another one that I wasn’t, and when I inquired gently, “Isn’t [your secretary] here?” he told me that she left earlier in the day.

I will have to check my email to see if she sent me one to that effect. After 2:45 or so, the afternoon was pretty much a blur, and the end of the world could have come and gone without my noticing it. But all the mail went out, and all the faxes went out, and all the fax confirmations got matched up with their corresponding faxes, and all the faxes went on the first try.

And if she didn’t let me know, I need to visit with her briefly about that. Makes us both look bad if I don’t know that I’ve become the secretary du jour.

I have two new suits to open today, and two cases to close before mid-afternoon. Which will generate spaces for two more suits to be assigned to us in the next week or so. Job security. And thankfully, I love my job. But yesterday there were moments when I felt like my hair was on fire.

Tonight, there is dancing. I will have to wade through a speed-dating event first, to get to the good part, but there is a hug with my name on it at the end of the day.

And another [petri dish] bites the dust!

No, I don’t know which one at this point. It was a mutual decision, and they both feel good about it, and my friends at work will be doing the happy dance today. Brother Sushi will be pleased, too, but we all know that he doesn't dance ;)

I would be turning cartwheels, if I only knew how.

Tonight is my temple night, and he will be there, helping one of the sisters in his ward with some of her family work. So I will get to see him tonight, and tomorrow at the speed dating and dance event, and here Saturday for dinner so I can feed the elders with a non-drive-by fooding, and then we will go to the dance in my old stake.

I should probably take down the Christmas tree.

Cover me, guys. I’m going in!

I might have been watching a little too much John Wayne, of late. Though I have friends of both sexes who would say that that is impossible.

I’m vertical. My head is relatively clear. I am tired of my lovely red comfy couch. I don’t ever get tired of my own company [they know me here], but I would welcome the company of others, and I think I can manage that today without deafening them by my honking and sneezing.

I finished the fronts and back of the tiny sweater, joined the shoulders with a three needle bind-off, picked up stitches for one sleeve and put a quarter-inch of length on it, and realized that I picked up too many stitches. And made the armscye too deep. And really, truly, prefer raglan sleeves to just about everything else. So this may become a sleeveless vest for a larger doll, or I may rip all the way back to where I bound off for the underarms, cast on two sleeves, and take it from there. It’s going into timeout for a bit, and I’m going to knit something quick and wonderful, in wool, for me.

Later, gators. There’s a hot shower calling my name.

Random acts of sinus, day two.

I came home early yesterday. [Honk, honk, gag, snort, honk.] Transcribed three tapes for my attorney and a report for the other attorney and called it a day. Thankfully, we have a generous sick-day policy. Even more thankfully, I rarely have to use it. This is what the tulips looked like when I got to work yesterday.



I think I know how they feel. Just put me in the compost pile and pour out the stinky water.

I have taken the trash and the recycling out to the street. The neighbors, bless them, will haul the empty bins back to the side of the house later today. I have called in to work. I have no idea what I will be missing today [other than a clear head and free and easy breathing]. Breakfast was a mini-bagel, with two slices of pepperjack cheese nuked on top of each half. Spicy food and warm liquids will be the order of the day. My sinuses will thank me. My digestive tract, not so much.

I did sleep fairly well last night, notwithstanding the lengthy nap which I took shortly after coming home. I suspect there will be more napping in the near future, but first there will be a nice poach in the shower until the hot water runs out.

In knitting news, I am back at work on the minuscule sweater prototype in the non-wool tweed yarn. The body is done up to the binding-off at the armscyes, and I am currently working on the shaping of the left front, typing up each row as I go.

So the day will not be a total loss, though I would really much rather be typing away madly at the job I love and anticipating Knit Night tonight.

Be good [honk]. Remember who you are [sniff].

Random acts of sinus.

So there I was, happily snoozing away, when all of a sudden I woke up to the Parting of the Red Sea inside my head. It feels as if the ants are marching, one by one, pausing every so often to kick one of those itty bitty hairs that triggers a fit of sneezing.

This would probably be a good time to rifle through the pile of coats and sweaters on the end of the couch, to see if there is one last unopened box of tissues lurking underneath.

In happier news, the latest missionary hat is finished, and I will be within blocks of their apartment after work tonight, so I can deliver it in case the weather man really knew what he was talking about when he said it would be getting colder again.

But wait, there’s more. Fourthborn texted me yesterday afternoon to say that the faceup was finished, and I could pick up my new doll anytime. Which I did, about an hour later.

I had been holding off on a name until I could see her in ready-to-be-played-with form. I bought her with the intent that she would be “Hope” or “Charity”, but she is neither, nor is she “Joy”. Although she is thankfully neither sad nor pouty, she is also insufficiently perky to be any of the lighter virtues. But she is just perfect for “Temperance”; I knew I could rely on both my daughter’s talent and her intuition.

If you are a Facebook friend, you can see Temperance in the new cover page of the “Dolls” album, with a close-up shot at the end. Those pictures will also be featured in the post on my doll blog tomorrow. And she will be going to work with me today, in the Ken outfit that Fourthborn sent her home in: a T-shirt and bermuda shorts.

Fourthborn solved the lack-of-eyes problem by sending Temperance home with a pair of lilac glass eyes. And I can see that I am going to have to update the eyes on all the other dolls, in process of time, because glass eyes look so much more realistic than the acrylic ones I am used to.

There are some interesting developments ahead, according to the new guy. He is preparing to pick up the pace of the courtship/winnowing process. I do know which of us petri dishes I would prefer to be the next one voted off the island. [Hint: it’s not me.] What I am praying for, is a generous scoop of wisdom all around. I can’t imagine liking and respecting and trusting any man more than I do him, but if that is how it is meant to be, all I can say is Oh wow, can’t wait.

And in the meantime, there is knitting. Today I will get back to work on the Chutzpah-sized sweater prototypes while pondering ones for Honor and Temperance. [I found a new tissue box.] Life is good.

In which our intrepid heroine oversleeps.

Yesterday was quite the day, capping quite the week. I was already having a good day on Monday, when his flowers were delivered.



These will probably be the last of those pictures; I suspect that when I get to work on Monday, there will be a shower of petals all over my desk.



I had already been anticipating dinner with my young(er) single friends, and then there was the news that my Naias was on-shipping, two months before I expected her. Usual business practice for doll manufacturers who offer layaway is that you make your last payment, they acknowledge it, and then your doll order enters their manufacturing queue. Not this company. You order the doll, they make the doll, you pay for the doll, they ship the doll. I had forgotten that since ordering my Jessica last year (traded to Fourthborn for her Anastasia, now my Celeste).

So, Monday was basically one long round of giddiness, punctuated by flowers and lobster ravioli. Tuesday was yet more fun, a church friend joining us for Knit Night and then some ice cream at Braum’s afterward. Wednesday was singles’ night serving in the temple, and an enthusiastic exchange of hugs with the new guy afterward. Thursday night was my regular shift as a temple worker, with new responsibilities learned on the fly, a quick visit with friends in the lobby afterward, and the drive home.

By Friday morning I was feeling rode hard and put up wet. I just barely made it to work. We do not have assigned parking in the garage at work, so I am rarely in the same spot twice. When I opened my door, this is what I saw:



Just the tiniest bit scuffed, which is a miracle on the order of the loaves and the fishes, as it had lain there in the parking lot for at least a week. I didn’t see how the day could get any better than that, but it did.



My attorney plunked that down on my desk as he breezed past, with a “For all that you do.” No, wait, it gets better. My Naias arrived an hour or so later. I got all the important things done at work (including backing up two other attorneys, only one of whom actually needed me), and at the end of the day I opened the box to say hi to my new doll.

No box-opening pictures here. It’s something of a tradition in the doll world, but until she has her faceup, which Fourthborn will do as soon as the humidity calms down, there’s really not much for you to see. Oh, and the factory forgot to include her eyes, but I’ve emailed them about that, and Fourthborn has a loaner pair, so we will not have to be making do with pirate patches (Arrrrrr!) or Ray Charles shades.

After work I dropped her off at Fourthborn’s, then took a check to Firstborn’s from one of my coworkers and hung out for a little, then came straight home to bed.

Firstborn is the family’s designated bearer-of-possibly-bad-tidings. She and Secondborn shared with me that their father is working to re-qualify for a temple recommend. [They fear that he is doing this in hopes of a reconciliation. I think it is as a result of the fact that I keep his name pretty much constantly on the prayer roll at the temple.] I hope he follows through on this. It is, after all, his birthright as a child of God. I hope that he is able to regain the trust and respect of his children. That would be a very good thing for this family.

At this point, I can state with reasonable confidence that while I would require an unmistakable witness of the Spirit to marry outside my faith, I would require an even stronger one to induce me to remarry their father. Some of you will remember John Denver’s song Forest Lawn. Something like the tapdancing angels with golden wings he sang about. Umm, I just listened to that. It wasn’t tapdancing angels with golden wings, LOL.

The temple session yesterday with our ward was just, well, words fail me. A faithful family in our ward. Older son passed away a few years ago from the same wasting disease that the younger son has, so they were able to get clearance for E. to take out his endowment (make his temple covenants) a little earlier than is usual. And his sister was doing the same. Virtually all of the ward leadership was there, and a good number of the regular members, and our former bishop and his wife, who live in another ward. A very lovely, tender mercy.

And I had a good time at the doll meetup in Denton, afterward. Here are Celeste and Chutzpah (with her wee bear), looking a little overwhelmed at the horde of dolls and people.



I had great visits with Squishy and Mel-Mel-Chan. He asked me how things were going, and I told him great, that his dad had sent me flowers for V-day. His face lit up, and he exclaimed, “All right, Dad!”

When lunch was over, I was suddenly and overwhelmingly weary. The week just flat caught up with me. I was past the exit to I35-W (which would have taken me straight to Fort Worth) when I realized that there was no way I was going to enjoy an afternoon at the bookstore while waiting for the potluck and dance. So I took the road less traveled, which meant that a trip home which should have taken a bit under an hour, took just over an hour and a half, and my ankles were screaming, and my eyes did not want to stay open.

I came home, posted briefly on Facebook, and went straight to bed, waking an hour and a half before the dance was due to end. Verklempt. It just did not make sense to drive an hour, dance for half an hour, and drive back home, but I had been looking forward all week to dancing with the new guy. There is just something about having that man’s arms around me that makes my world go all calm and still. I dashed out to pick up some groceries, and he called when he got home, so the evening was not a total loss, and my ankles and feet are much happier with me than they were yesterday afternoon.

I told him what his son had said at the doll meetup, and he laughed with me.

Well, it is nearly 2:30a.m., and I think I am all written out, and I still have not fixed those wonky cables that I wrote about on Wednesday or Thursday. Time to put in a movie and take care of that, then maybe catch a quick nap before I have to get up for church.

Eu5ia

In the spirit of Victor Borge, who played elevennis.



These are not blurry. They are soft-focus. Think of it as your daily dose of impressionism.



This one might be my favorite.



Or, possibly, this.



My doll has [finally] escaped the clutches of the customs office. Last update to her EMS status was that fact, time-stamped at 10:51 yesterday morning. She should show up at the regional hub for USPS sometime today.

No knitting yesterday. Not. One. Stitch. Boggles the mind. I expect to remedy that in about an hour, which means that I need to log off and hit the road. Happy Friday, everybody!

Links and pondering.

The new guy sent me this link to an article in the Washington Post.

I read that and clicked through to an article about the address by Elder Dallin H. Oaks.

And from there to an interview with him.

Here is the link to the address itself. It is worth your time.

So glad that I pre-fabbed this post yesterday. It’s been a long week and shows no sign of getting shorter.

I found three cabling mistakes in the current missionary hat and have fixed one of them so far. Thankfully, I know how to drop the offending stitches and pick them back up properly, without the necessity of frogging the hat back several rounds to the problem.

The doll is still in customs in Chicago. I am too sleepy to be upset or worried. I could use another two or three hours of sleep. [And I really, truly need to hie me to the gym. Not happening today.]

The flowers are more gorgeous every day. I forgot to take my camera to work yesterday. It’s in my bag now.

You know I’m tired when I write short sentences like Hemingway. Heading out to the kitchen to find something to appease this growling stomach.

Tiptoeing through the tulips.

First thing in the morning.



Getting on toward lunchtime.



Late afternoon.



In other news, my doll is at customs in Chicago. I had forgotten how efficient this manufacturer is, regarding shipping and communication, as compared with the one that made Blessing and Faith.

In other other news, the missionary hat is galloping along. I worked on it quite a bit yesterday, and there is a reasonably good chance of finishing in time to hand it over on Sunday.

I had a very productive day at work yesterday. Still digging out from the backlog of having the office closed three days, two weeks ago, and one day last week.

Had a blast at Knit Night last night. My friend from church showed up. My other friends brought ball winders. We attempted (briefly) to un-ply the laceweight tweed, but discovered it was too well-plied to undo and gave it up after about 18 inches, to much laughter. So my solution will be to break off 2-5 yard lengths and take them apart manually, spit-splicing as I go, or simply weave in the ends at the side seams. I might be able to calculate just how many yards I need to knit a Chutzpah-sized sweater back and break up the yarn accordingly.

Like Prohibition, a noble experiment, and a learning experience.

I went to bed at 10:00 last night and woke about 3:30. I’m going to try to catch a catnap before I have to leave for work. This is going to be a long day, with seeing the new guy at the temple at the end of it, and I need my beauty sleep.

Typingreallyfast.

He sent me tulips at work yesterday. With a short, sweet note. Miraculously, I did manage to get some real work done. Today I will take the plastic sleeve off the tulips and photograph them in all their glory. I was completely surprised. He was pleased about that.

Had dinner last night with friends, and it was a blast. I ate lobster ravioli, no salad or soup or dessert, just a plateful of perfection with lots of good bread and olive oil on the side (though I prefer the bread and garlic butter at Spaghetti Warehouse).

I checked my order status at Iplehouse this morning. I have a tracking number for my new doll. She may be here as early as tomorrow, depending upon how long she spends at customs.

And now I need to get ready for work and get the trash and recycling out to the street.

Church rocked. (Happy V-day!)

I had a blast visiting with the wee people yesterday. Our Primary is very, very small. Less than a dozen kids in Junior Primary (the ones aged three to eight). Less than half a dozen in Senior Primary (the ones who have been baptized and will graduate to Young Men or Young Women when they are twelve).

I made them laugh (on purpose). I got a bearhug from my friend when Primary was over.

Note to Heaven: The fact that I had fun yesterday with children-not-my-own should not be construed to mean that I have any desire to serve in Primary. Extended exposure to wee people brings up old memories of feeling like a failure as a mother because I was so fixated on making sure they ate that I didn’t have much chance to teach or enjoy them.

[I am not fishing for reassurances, girls. I know you love me, and I know you know that I love you, and I’m glad we have reasonably sane, reasonably functional relationships now.]

I cast on a hat for the new missionary elder while at church yesterday and put about six rounds on it. Came home, decided that I didn’t like it, and frogged it after my nap. Cast on again, another 20 stitches this time and the same pattern, and I’m liking it better in this incarnation.

This is going to be a very social week. I am doing something unusual tonight to celebrate Valentine’s Day: I am meeting friends/acquaintances from the church singles for dinner at a nice restaurant. This is not my regular crowd; I will be hanging out with a handful of the younguns, including the sweet and lively sister who introduced me to the new guy. There will also be at least one brother my own age, someone I know slightly. Definitely quirky and possibly a candidate for posse-hood. I’m not sensing sparkage in either direction.

Tomorrow night is Knit Night, and I’ve invited one of the sisters I visit teach to join us. Wednesday night is the monthly singles temple night, and Thursday is my regular shift at the temple. At the moment, I don’t remember if anything is happening on Friday night. [I most devoutly hope not.] Saturday is ward temple day in the morning, and I really want to be there this time, because two of our own are going through the temple for the first time (a brother and a sister), and then I have a doll meetup in Denton, and a potluck/dance that night in Richardson.

Posting may be a little sparse between now and Sunday; we’ll see how that plays out. I think I need another nap, just thinking about this!

Thoughts on the singles fireside.

They put a lot of thought into it. The music was carefully chosen and lovingly presented. I was in reasonably good voice for the opening and closing hymns, and it was nice to sit next to the new guy (who was sporting a vibrant red tie with an Op-art motif, to my great approval) and just sing my heart out. He gave the benediction.

They quoted me a lot. (They didn’t know that it was me, as the questionnaire was carefully crafted to be anonymous.) But the bits that I was most passionate about when responding, those were front and center, perfectly illustrated in the Power Point presentation.

It was touching, and a bit humbling, and a sweet honor, to have so many of my thoughts chosen as representative of the whole. And to know that my comments, along with all the others, are being sent on to Church headquarters in Salt Lake City.

Well, Heaven knows how I feel about being single, and how I feel about the strengths and weaknesses of the singles program as currently constituted, and about my fellow-singles. I’m not embarrassed to have Heaven’s servants know as well.

After most of the congregation had filtered down the hall toward the refreshments, I went up to the presenter and thanked him, shook his hand, and quietly outed myself. He grinned.

When we were having punch and cookies afterward, one of the guys in my posse quietly asked me if some of those quotes were mine. I told him that a lot of them were, and he said that he was pretty sure which ones.

When the new guy walked me to Lorelai, he said that a couple of his quotes had been used, and I outed myself again. He agreed with a lot of my points. After I got home, there was a brief flurry of emails, the upshot of which [where does that come from? must Google] was my statement that *if* we decide to get serious, he needs to know just how broken I have been in the past, and how thoroughly Heaven has put me back together. Because we bring our past with us, and thankfully I no longer have the matched set of emotional steamer trunks, only a vintage hatbox or two.

It is so nice to be dating a grownup. And to finally, authentically, feel like one myself.

In knitting news, I went back to the yarn shop in Duncanville and picked up the two infinitesimally small circular needles.

And now I need to figure out what I will be telling the Primary kids today. Another friend has asked me to speak with them on how to make ones signing fluid and fluent, instead of a bunch of hand-shapes strung together by rote.

How do I explain be passionate to a bunch of kids? You have to know the hymns. You have to understand their meaning. You have to know the appropriate signs, the five elements of a sign and how to modify them. [Hand shape, hand position, hand orientation, hand movement, and facial expression.] You have to have a sense of yourself in space. You have to feel the Spirit. And it all has to come together inside you, and when it does, the signs fly off your hands, and even the hearing can feel the Spirit and the connection when they watch.

Saturday Scraps

Yesterday I made the final payment to Fourthborn, this one for a delectable pink outfit (complete with shoes) for Celeste. It was the petticoat that got me. That, and having a commercially-made crinoline to go under it, so my own next attempt would be more successful than the previous one.



I also stopped in at Whirled Fibers to score more Kureyon Sock for doll hats, because my first love will always be wool, and I rotate as many purchases as possible among my local yarn shops. I also picked up another ball of Silk Garden Sock, and replacement DP’s in 00 (one of my pink aluminum Susan Bates needles went AWOL a few weeks ago, so I have been knitting hats on three needles, using the fourth as my working needle; it’s way more fun to use five needles).

These are HiyaHiya’s at $5.50, as opposed to the stealth-bomber ones at $34.95. I also discovered that HiyaHiya makes circs in 4-0 and 5-0, which I didn’t buy last night but think I will swing by and get on my way to the activity in Plano tonight (yes, Duncanville is absolutely on the way to Plano on my personal GPS, especially when yarny goodness is involved) and pick them up.

Both circs are only 16” long, but she is checking to see if they come in a 40” length for Magic Loop. In the meantime, they will be useful for back-and-forthing on the bodies of doll sweaters, when a 6” DP is just that much too short.

Brother Sushi utterly surprised me when he said he wanted to have dinner again at Cheesecake Factory for our monthly outing. This is the man who doesn’t like cheesecake, and didn’t eat it when we went there a few months ago.

I got there a few minutes before he did, and the line was out the door, and there were maybe 15-20 people queued up to be seated, with more in the benches, more milling about, and a whole bunch huddled on benches outside. I’m thinking something like 100 people standing between us and dinner. Not to mention that I could barely hear myself think.

The hostess said that we could sit at the tall tables, if we liked. I did not like. I smiled, said no thank you, and walked out again. Called him up; he was just leaving his house. We met over at Spaghetti Warehouse a few minutes later.

M-u-c-h better. It was obviously not where the elite had chosen to meet in Arlington, Texas, on the Friday before V-day. The restaurant had a soft, contented buzz, our server was cordial but unobtrusive, the sourdough bread was especially good, and we spent the next two hours eating and chatting. Bliss.

Although I was more than a little surprised with my entree, fettuccine alfredo with red peppers. I was thinking pimiento or bell; the chef was thinking peperoncini. So it was not the taste my mouth was expecting (i.e., warm and creamy), and every bite was “Tex-Mex? Here?”, but it was still quite tasty, and I have leftovers for later, along with most of the last mini-loaf of sourdough and all of the remaining garlic butter.

I’m doing a drive-by fooding of the missionaries at lunch. There is a doll meet between here and Plano which I may or may not make, depending upon the time. I would like to get their opinions on some of my non-wool yarns, and on my finished hats.

New guy got my valentine yesterday and thanked me for it. It was his first since his wife passed. His to me was my first in a long, long time. And I get to see him tonight at the Plano activity.

I’m thinking this is going to be a good day.

Friday Follies

I shared this on Facebook. Too good not to repeat it here, where I can editorialize a little. I think we’ve all been there at one time or another, sometimes with the genders reversed.

I didn’t know that the artist had been to some of our singles activities.

And I am thankful that I learned, early on, that the singles program in the church is not to match us up two by two, like the Ark, but to provide opportunities for fellowship, mutual support, and the refinement of souls [as well as our social skills].

Which is why I will be driving to Plano tomorrow night, with gas hovering just under $3.00 a gallon, to hear the consensus from the questionnaire which a good brother sent out to us. I know what my experiences have been, as a single woman in the church. I know what some of my friends, of both sexes, have experienced. I’m going, to learn more.

In other news, the rest of the yarn which I ordered last week arrived safely at work yesterday, and it is splendid, and I’ve already started swatching some of it. I really really really want to get my hands on the burgundy silk tweed laceweight, but I am making myself work with the silk/linen/poly tweed first. And it’s not all that great a hardship. It is easier on my hands than the first efforts with the Habu, though not much. I am going to have to recalculate the numbers for a Chutzpah-sized sweater in this yarn if I want to use the same stitch pattern as hers.

I need to get moving. I’m picking up the cake for the office birthday party on my way into work, and I have to do that on company time, so I will walk up to the counter in the bakery department at 8:31. But first I will have to step away from the keyboard and get out of my pajamas. And with all of the lazing-at-home over the past two weeks, I am having a bit of difficulty overcoming inertia and approaching escape velocity.

Dinner with Brother Sushi tonight. Can’t wait. OK, there’s my motivation...

Snowpocalypse 2.0

This is what my porch looked like at 5:45a.m. yesterday.



This is what I did while the tater tots baked.



The Panopticon posts about his new carbon fiber DP’s. Same material as a stealth bomber, and priced accordingly: $34.95 per set of five, which takes the term wretched excess to a whole new level. I can get a complete set of all eight sizes, in a leather case, for $299.00.

That would buy a dozen balls of the Karabella laceweight cashmere, with enough cash back for a Chop House Burger and a slice of sawdust pie, á deux.

My spinning went really, really well yesterday. As posted elsewhere, midway through the skein I was plying, all the things I used to know about spinning, kicked in; the wool is telling me what it wants to be.

I spun and plied an entire bobbin while watching Finding Forrester, who [Forrester] at one point tells the student, Jamal, that the way to a woman’s heart is to give her an unexpected gift, at an unexpected time. And of course the next scene shows Jamal giving a gift to the girl he likes. Not half an hour later, I paused the movie to bring in the mail.

And found a Valentine.

Oh my.

So I guess it’s safe to send him the one I got for him, right?

Not much going on here.

I know: you’re shocked. Had a quietly productive day at work yesterday, including a training meeting that was well worth my time. Also had the wrap-up PRT (performance review) for 2010, which included plenty of attagirls and a bit of truly constructive criticism. My office manager excels at that.

I’ll find out next month how the evaluation translates into raise and bonus, but I have to say that the overall evaluation was better than I had expected for my first year in the new position.

I sat down with the Habu silk and cast on 72 stitches during lunch, which I worked up at Knit Night last night and frogged after about four rows. I think I need to go down at least one needle size. I’m hoping that the 00000’s will do it. Wrangling this yarn (thread, actually) is a lot like trying to herd cats, and I am looking forward to seeing what a swatch is like, once washed. Silk yarn tends to grow when washed.

Lorelai’s tank is full, I have healthy food and new snackage, and I borrowed ten VHS’s from the new guy when I came home Sunday night. So if the promised storm comes through and I am snowed in for the second consecutive week, I think I’ll be OK in the physical and mental health department.

[No wisecracks from the peanut gallery, if you please.]

I am hoping that the second batch of yarn makes it to my office today, so that if they send us home early I will have more ammunition against cabin fever.

I found a really great V-day card for the new guy yesterday. Not mushy, not snarky, just cute and old-fashioned and tasteful. With any luck the roads will be good on Saturday, when we are both supposed to attend a singles activity in Plano, and I can give it to him then.

I have another meeting scheduled for this afternoon. I hope that it is as lively and useful as yesterday’s.