Yesterday was a wee bit crazy.

The kids did close on their house, and they are about 85-90% moved out. The big dogs are still here until, probably, Sunday night. The sod in the back yard has to be down for 24 hours or so before they can go frolic.

Suddenly, the house is huge. My small dolls are in a basket on the bed which is in the room that will become our office. There is a ginormous armoire (Ikea, I think) in what will become my studio. Beloved is meeting me over at the duplex this afternoon or evening, and we will be doing what I devoutly hope is the last of the prep work for tomorrow’s move.

Beloved is making breakfast as we speak: raisin bran and toad in the hole, which is what I grew up calling gashouse eggs, probably a corruption of gasthaus. Piece of bread with a hole torn out in the center and an egg fried in there. Comfort food at just about its most simple.

Beloved is planning to dismantle my computer tonight and bring it back here. He is most generous with his computer, and I am thankful, and I want my own computer with my own bookmarks and files and fidgets and stuff.

Pottery Barn has a nice little touch: the gift tags that have come with some of our wedding gifts, have little keys attached to a house-shaped card. The keys are just about the perfect size to whip up a chatelaine for Blessing. I would love to make a fitted Renaissance gown for her, with a proper chatelaine hanging on her hip. Something fun to think about.

I did not eat properly yesterday, didn’t drink enough water, forgot my enzymes and my vitamin D, and was so groggy that for the first time in four months, I had to resort to a bottle of Cherry Coke just to keep my nose from diving into my keyboard at work. That bottle was gone by lunch. Thankfully, I was able to sleep last night. I stole the pillow off the bed his mother has been sleeping in, and I slipped it under the down pillow on my side of our bed, and no TMJ this morning, woohoo!

The memory foam pillow is too thick and unyielding for my recalcitrant head. The down pillow is lovely and soft and inadequate. I will be buying a fat, sassy feather and down pillow this weekend, to go with some of our new pillowcases.

Ankles are still a little swollen this morning, but I managed to avoid hives. I think it’s just a combination of wrong food, inadequate sleep, inadequate hydration, etc.

Breakfast is ready.

Milk and cookies at 4:00a.m.

I woke up half an hour or so ago, with an aching jaw but otherwise fairly well rested. I need different pillows. We have two memory foam pillows and two down pillows (one apiece), neither of which is just-right for me.

I was groggy off and on all day yesterday, the natural consequence of staying up too late on Monday and Tuesday nights. Last night was somewhat better; I think I was asleep around 10:00. The household is all pretty excited: the kids are supposed to finally, *finally* close on their house this morning and start moving this afternoon. All that happy energy bouncing around inside the walls of our home, made it a little tricky to get to sleep.

Beloved made a huge pot of pasta last night. I made a huge salad. I will be taking leftovers of both to work with me this morning. And I will have more of the same for lunch tomorrow.

I got some serious knitting done yesterday, before work and at lunch, and just before bedtime. I am within a couple of inches (I think) of halfway done on the ruana.

Beloved and Firstborn are both making noises about being at the temple tonight. Maybe they will be serving on the same session? I won’t know my schedule until I get there, but my bag is packed and ready to go. I am so thankful for this weekly opportunity to reset my internal clock to Heaven Standard Time. Everything sort of slows down when I am in the temple. It doesn’t matter if I am there as an ordinance worker, or as a patron. It just sets my world right, every time.

It was raining cats and dogs and little fishes when I went to work yesterday. There was a small river running off the end of our driveway. I managed to avoid stepping in that, but it was dark enough when I stepped off the curb, that I stepped right into another rivulet and got my sneakers (and feet) wet. Thankfully I am neither sugar nor salt, and did not melt.

I like working in the kitchen with Beloved. It is definitely a one-butt kitchen, so I take what I’m working on over to the breakfast table in the corner and work on it there. I’m out of his way, and vice versa, but we can talk and banter and grab the occasional quick smooch. We have not yet worked out a seamless rhythm, but this is only Day Twelve of our marriage. Wow, almost two weeks!

He definitely needs more sleep than I do, both from his natural rhythms and the added stress of fighting cancer. And he loves the snooze button. Right now the alarm is off, because I knew I was up for the count. Otherwise, it would be going off right about now, and it would go off every eight minutes until he turned it off and got up to fix breakfast.

I am getting totally spoiled by this. I am eating better (in terms of quality) than I have since I left the parental home. I am also recalibrating quantity. I knew how much food I needed to get through a workday when I was creating/packing it myself. My appetite has been all over the place this week. I go from ravenous to stuffed in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

It is getting less and less weird to be sharing a bed again. I don’t think I’m waking up much more often on a typical night than I was before we got married. The middle-aged bladder still rousts me at least once, most nights. And I am losing that sense of holy cow, there’s a man in my bed! Elbows and knees are becoming less of an issue when it’s time to sleep. I’m still having mobility challenges with my right hip, but I think walking together in the mornings will take care of that, over time. It’s raining again this morning, not as hard as yesterday, but enough that I am not interested in swimming around the block before breakfast. Thankfully, in a couple of days the kids will have all of their boxes out of the dining room, and I would theoretically have access to the exercise bike, so that is another option for mornings like this. I am coveting, a little, Beloved’s son’s recumbent bike, which will be emulating Elvis and leaving the building.

Right now I am thankful for a husband who sleeps like a rock. He said it wouldn’t bother him for the computer to be on, and he wasn’t kidding. (The reverse would not be true: even with the hissing of my CPAP, the clicking of the keys would bug me, as would the light from the monitor.) I will be thankful to have my own computer here, set up in what is probably going to be our joint office, so that I can bang away to my heart’s content when the Insomnia Fairy pays a call.

But in the meantime I am so very thankful for what I have.

A packer, but not from Green Bay

So, Monday night Firstborn and I organized the contents of the couch and the coffee table. Last night I tackled a small project that has been bugging me for awhile. Took about an hour, and when I left the duplex I had that small glow of satisfaction that comes from crossing something off the honey-do list.

We are getting rain in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Light rain, heavy rain, intermittent rain. No walking this morning, because I do not want two showers before work. Sounds like a frog-strangler out there. Lots of rumbles and booms, not to mention flashes of lightning.

While driving to Fort Worth last night, I hit a patch of water and hydroplaned slightly. Thankfully, I had both hands on the wheel, and I took my foot off the gas, and two seconds later (and for the next minute or so) it was thankYou-thankYou-thankYou. Not enough time to be scared, even after the fact.

From the duplex, I drove to Knit Night, where I handed off bits of yarn to my friend Grace for her friend the art teacher. I was still coveting, slightly, the last couple of yards of purple Manos Lace (leftover from the shawlette I made for Lark last year), but hand it over I did.

Tonight I will not be driving to Fort Worth after work. Instead, we have a Blue and Gold dinner at church, and at least one of my new grandsons is a Cub Scout. Beloved and I are planning a quiet evening at home, after that, and a much earlier bedtime than I’ve had the past couple of nights.

The new commute is working out well. I drive the dreaded Central Expressway into downtown, and rather like the Dread Pirate Roberts, it’s not so scary.

Beloved tells me that breakfast is almost ready, so this is it for now. Happy Wednesday, y’all!

Tuesday morning.

Work went well yesterday. I cleared another two days’ worth of mail, then headed to Fort Worth by way of Firstborn’s. I was hungry. She was hungry. So I scooped her up, and we went to my place by way of In N Out Burger (where we shared an order of fries with our burgers).

She helped me tackle the couch and coffee table. In an hour of work, we had all the sewing stuff together, all the knitting stuff together (and mostly in an open box), had found my thank-you notes so I can get started on that, another batch of printed-off knitting patterns which are now loosely tucked into a big notebook that is a souvenir of my Mary Kay Lady days. I need to pick up more plastic sleeves to hold those pages; there is still plenty of room in that notebook.

I dropped her off at her house at 9:44 and headed home. Beloved was dozing when I got there, but the porch light was on, a night light was on in our room, I slugged down some dark chocolate almond milk and a cookie, and it was lights out for Ms. Ravelled.

My friend Rebecca will not be at Knit Night tonight, so I will head back to Fort Worth after work, tackle what’s left in the kitchen, and come home (I hope) significantly earlier than I did last night.

Wish I could give you a visual of Chutzpah’s little bear sitting in the tee-ninetsy red wagon. But we’re thinking that the computer will come home with us on Friday night, when we plan on batting cleanup prior to getting the truck on Saturday morning.

The kids are really, truly, supposed to close on their house this morning. Beloved says that the last email they received, said that there were six closings ahead of them, and they should close yesterday afternoon late (not!) or sometime this morning.

Gotta go. There’s a dear man who needs a goodbye smooch, and then I’m out the door with grapes, some potato salad, the leftover salad from Sunday, and oh, I need to grab my hummus from the outside fridge and fix a half dozen skinny slices of cheese for the last of the melba toast in my cubby at work.

Be good. Remember who you are. You know the drill!

Sitting here with my mother-in-love’s dog.

Who just trotted into the bedroom as if he owned the place. This would be Cricket-the-Dog, as opposed to Cricket-the-Cat, who belonged to Beloved’s late wife. The two Crickets get along famously, frequently curling up for a good snooze in the dog bed.

Good day at church, although I did not take quite enough yarn along for working on the ruana. I finished the stripe repeat about ten minutes before Beloved finished his clerk duties, so I danced through my inbox and posted a couple of responses on Facebook while I waited.

I am seriously digging being married, and not simply because of the food. Love him, love his family, the food is amazing [it would be a sin of ingratitude not to mention how good the food is, chez nous], the helpless fits of laughter are frequent and exhilarating. I like the ward. I like not being a Primary teacher. I like the Gospel Doctrine teachers, who are well-prepared and elicit lots of class participation. Relief Society rocks, pure and simple.

Mel and Squishy ordered Temperance a pair of black slacks for Christmas, which have been riding around in the bottom of my bag for a couple of weeks. Today after church I finally put them on her, and they are a perfect fit, and she is delighted to no longer be commando under her jumper.

When we were on our honeymoon, I picked up a key chain in one of the shops which is a wee replica of a Radio Flyer wagon. It’s just the right size for Chutzpah to haul her bear around in. This will be fun for photo shoots, once we have the house reorganized.

Tomorrow night Beloved will be feeding the missionaries, but I will be heading to Fort Worth right after work, to deal with some of the packing that only I can organize. There is stuff on the couch that has drifted out from my studio, and I need to take everything off the couch, sort it out, put it where it belongs, and then we can pack everything together by topic or interest. I am planning a shorter pack-fest on Tuesday, which is earmarked for Knit Night if my friend Rebecca will be there. She has several yards of fabric that I have promised to take off her hands, which I think will be suitable either for doll clothing or for me-clothing.

He is puttering out in the kitchen with the game on. I am enjoying a few minutes, guilt-free, to type in the manner to which I am accustomed. If he is in the room with me, I’d far rather be paying attention to him (not to mention it is also good manners).

Not spending much time on Facebook or the computer these days, but not missing either particularly much, except for my blog time.

I also got a great nap after church. A couple of hours’ worth. This whole sleeping together thing is a bit of a mixed blessing. Still trying to figure out what to do with elbows and knees, and how to rearrange myself if one of us rolls over. I am used to going to sleep on my left side, then rolling over on my back. So if I happen to be on my right side, there is some interference from my CPAP mask, because the air tube feeds in on the right and smooshes into my face, and sometimes it disorients the part that snugs up against my nose. I think I must have awakened 20 times, that first night together, mostly from the uh-oh-there’s-a-man-in-my-bed-no-wait-I-think-he-belongs-here-OK-back-to-sleep-now.

He says that last night the machine was noisier than usual, and he thought it was maybe not fitting me just right, and he asked if I was OK, and I said yes, none of which I remember. I do know that I woke up a lot last night, and I didn’t feel as rested, but the nap this afternoon seems to have taken care of that.

Dinner tonight was salmon burgers, and I made enough salad that there are leftovers for two days’ worth of lunches, and I’ll have another burger to take for dinner on the drive to Fort Worth tomorrow night, and he made his first attempt to replicate a dessert we had while on our honeymoon.

I think I will play an AARP game or two to sharpen up my brain, and then I’m heading out to the living room with my knitting, to watch him watch the game.

He just brought me a bowl, saying, “Here, have a bite of this. It’ll be better after it’s chilled overnight and set up a bit.” Homemade potato salad, for tomorrow’s non-drive-by fooding of the missionaries.

Seeya!

The kitchen is nearly packed.

First thing we did, was to empty out the pretty chest of drawers in the living room, pack up or pitch its contents, and start filling the surrounding floorspace with towers of filled and labeled boxes. It never ceases to amaze me that two people, working well together, can accomplish things more than twice as fast as one person working alone. Synergy is a miraculous thing!

We packed for an hour or two, then went to lunch at Star Cafe, where we both had the chicken fried steak, cream gravy, salad (w/ranch), authentic (i.e., slightly lumpy) mashed potatoes, and a biscuit lightly flecked with cheese. Yes, I know, very little of it was on my good food list, and other than feeling parched because of the salt, no discernible consequences, i.e., crankiness, swelling, or whining from my bad ankle. Though I did get a little croupy at Firstborn’s because of Willow’s cat.

Who is in heat, and very vocal.

Beloved’s chemo pump is off, and so far there seem to be no side effects from this new drug. The neuropathy in his fingers seems to be going away.

I woke up at dark-thirty this morning and put several rows on the ruana before the rest of the household was up and about. So it’s been a longish day, with much to show for it, and I’m somewhat more tired than I would expect for it only being 9:00. I’m about ready to call it a night.

Current plan is for me to go to the duplex after work on Monday and pack up some or all of the stuff that needs to be packed by nobody but me, and put the trash and recycling out on the curb. On Tuesday I’ll hit Knit Night, pack more boxes if I didn’t finish on Monday, and bring the bins back in; then on Friday we’ll both head over there for any last-minute stuff, but we devoutly hope that when we go home that night we will be ready to start loading the truck bright and early Saturday morning, because now-eldest grandson is having a birthday party that afternoon. He turns 12 on Friday, which means another priesthood holder in the family on Saturday.

Night, y’all. [Yes, I’m still as happy as if I had good sense.]

He put a love note in my lunchbox!

That was Wednesday, my first day back at work after our mini-moon. And then this morning, when I grabbed a neatly-rolled bundle of underwear another was tucked inside.

This is one seriously cool dude I have married!

Work went well again today. I dealt with either two or three days’ worth of mail, plus the day’s to-do’s, and by the time I left the office, I had a respectable-looking desk. And two more rows of knitting done between pre-work knitting and my lunch hour. I am nearly halfway done with the ruana that may turn out to be an afghan. I will need to make that decision fairly soon.

We went out for Japanese food tonight. I had their Scottish salmon but could detect no brogue. Just perfectly cooked fish with an impeccable and thoroughly fascinating sauce, plated on seven or eight small logs of asparagus, a little shredded lettuce, and thinly sliced/steamed?fried? yams and pumpkin, with a huge bowl of steamed rice.

I bought the Winter IK, their handmade-gifts issue, and the premier issue of another magazine that has a red cabled shrug on the cover and all sorts of neat stuff going on inside the magazine proper.

It’s almost 10:00, and we have a lot going on tomorrow: Beloved gets the chemo pump off, and we are going to try to finish packing up the duplex, even if we don’t move anything until next weekend. I want to swing by Firstborn’s and pick up the cake topper and the Scentsy stuff which she gave me a year or two ago for my birthday or Christmas; I had her keep it in the interim, because at the duplex I don’t have enough outlets to run a Scentsy burner.

My sweetheart has finished his puttering. Time for me to log off and go be a good wife. Later, gators!

Another wedding vignette.

You will be getting this in dibs and dabs, as Beloved waited up for me to come home from my shift at the temple, and we have much to talk about.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

So, the morning of the wedding, I woke up and did some productive puttering before it was time to leave for the chapel. I loaded stuff into the car, fired Lorelai up, and was about five blocks from the house (as in, almost onto the freeway) before I realized that my wedding gown was still on the back of the couch. I was praying, which is probably the only reason that the Spirit’s “ahem, forget anything?” got through.

I turned Lorelai around, headed back to the church, and in due time peeled out of my street clothes, put on my slip, then my thigh-high lace stockings, and the garter, and reached for my shoes.

Which were still in their box, on the couch, at home. Thankfully, Lark and her boyfriend and Middlest-as-navigator were all willing and able to drive the 4-5 miles back to the house to fetch them.

The really cool thing is that I was not in the least upset, just a little sheepish, and grateful for my family.

I will leave you with the thought that you should cast your memories back to the final episode of M.A.S.H., which is what Beloved said I should do, in a conversation about a week or ten days before the wedding.

Radio silence.

Ms. Tola thinks it’s deafening. Hey, y’all, canoodling takes a lot of energy that might otherwise be spent typing. He’s cutting into my knitting time as well. (He just pointed out that I don’t seem to be objecting a lot.) Plus, there was no internet connection at the cabin.

I took a lot of pictures of the interior of the cabin, which was charming. We had a wood stove, a creatively painted bathroom floor (sponge painting and stamping and free-hand water lilies). The outside was pretty cool as well, with a dock that meandered out into the bayou, tons of cypress stumps and Spanish moss.

On walking back to the cabin and observing all the cypress stumps, I told Beloved, “Maybe it’s just me, but those seem seriously ph_ll_c”. He cracked up. It was fairly indicative of the weekend. My inner gypsy had a field day.

He posted a link to Brad Paisley’s song “Ticks” and commented that both of us were certifiably tick-free.

Oh, wait, you probably want to hear about the wedding. There will be plenty of pictures, both here and on Facebook, once his firstborn gets them developed and/or sorted out. (Probably 2-3 weeks, as they still haven’t closed on their house.) Secondborn took a bunch as well, and lots of friends snapped candid shots after we moved back into the cultural hall for cake and punch and general insanity. There were brief appearances by his Green Bay Packers cap.

He asked me a couple of days before the wedding if I remembered the final episode of “MASH”. I did. He told me that he just wanted to give me a heads-up, that he was going for something like unto the kiss Hawkeye gave HotLips. Which he did, right after the “I do’s,” to thunderous applause, especially after I started tapping him on the back of his right shoulder with the forefinger of my left hand, as in “Please let me up for air.”

One of his sons says that Bishop was starting to get a little fidgety.

Good night, all. I have work in the morning, and he has chemo (a new drug), and he is cleaning off the bed from our evening spent unwrapping gifts and entering the information on Excel. I suspect he might have a different sort of unwrapping in mind...

He says I figure things out pretty well.

Tuesday. Cake. Laundry. Fried taters.

I got all of my to-dos, to-done before leaving the office. Tomorrow is a me day. Fun and games at the dentist, followed by getting stuff waxed at the spa where my hair magician used to work. Or maybe still does; she has a new baby, so I’m not sure what her days look like now.

Blogging from Beloved’s, where the second load of laundry is in the dryer, perhaps an hour later than it should have been, because Ms. Twitterpated forgot to push the button to make the dryer go round and round.

I will be taking frozen cake over to Secondborn’s as soon as the laundry is done. I would like to stay later, but Beloved’s brother is here, and he is almost as much fun to talk to as Beloved is to kiss. Which is saying something.

Dinner tonight was two eggs, over easy and seasoned to perfection, a modest first portion of home fried potatoes, and a piggy second portion, plus one cautious experiment: a pork sausage, which thus far has not attacked my ankles.

Laundry is about done. Frozen cake is about to come out of the freezer and head for Fort Worth. Four dolls have made the move over here, so I can toss boxes around in the living room. I packed three boxes before breakfast.

Four days. Pritnear only three days.

Wonderful, but not entirely fair.

I thought I would be a good fiancée and spend a little time working on Beloved’s neck and shoulders while he was sitting in his easy chair, waiting for us to invade his mother’s storage unit in search of something she needed for the upcoming nuptials. I figured that his neck would be as tight and tense as mine. It is not. He has good muscle tone, (there is nothing soft about that man, other than his heart) and his neck feels like neck, and his traps feel like traps, and his shoulders feel like shoulders. The man is relaxed!

Boggles. The. Mind. Because we know that you could hang a good-sized suspension bridge from each of my trapezius muscles and support morning rush hour quite well, and I probably wouldn’t even notice.

He is confident that once we are married, I will relax significantly (get your minds out of the gutter). I carry my kids on these shoulders. I carry my grandkids on these shoulders. I carry my church responsibilities on these shoulders. Yes, I share the load with Heaven, but nevertheless, pretty much anything that passes through my mind spends at least some time on my shoulders.

It will be nice to share that, or give a good chunk of it up entirely.

When I arrived at my desk this morning, there was a lovely bag waiting for me, a present for us from two of my co-workers. I did take pictures, but my home computer is still incommunicado, so you will have to wait. Inside were items as colorful as they are useful.

Film at 11. (I won’t say which day.)

Five days. Somebody asked him at church yesterday if he were starting to count the hours. For fun last night, in between smooches, we did a little mental math. Today, of course, it is less. As I post this, we are looking at a smidgen under 113 hours.

Three more days of the long commute. He thinks we can find something vastly more interesting to do with that time. I’m inclined to believe him.

Those who can’t, teach ;)

With apologies to my friends who are excellent teachers. I taught Relief Society this morning in Beloved’s ward. Lesson prep kept me out of the pool halls all week, and my mind more or less off the honeymoon, and I learned things, and I assigned reading and got some great participation.

I do like teaching. I love the Church. I love the gospel upon which it is founded. I love the doctrines of the Restoration, and I am uncharacteristically jazzed about the lesson manual this year. This is not to diss any previous manuals. I am just really jazzed about this one.

Most of the brethren who lead the Church today were successful in earthly terms before being called to set aside their nets and go fish for men. I respect them enormously, and while I’m smart enough to know that they did not progress from ease to ease, it is difficult to think of them as having dealt with poverty, starvation, rebellious children, unemployment, debt, or other issues that the rest of us ordinary mortals have to deal with on a daily basis.

George Albert Smith, who died the year before I was born, had ill health much of his life, became visually impaired as a young adult, grew up in poverty and was not financially successful. Nevertheless, he developed character traits more valuable than a fat 401K while dealing with the ordinary stuff of life. This is a man I can relate to, and I am looking forward to getting to know him better.

I felt the Spirit every time I picked up the manual to study the lesson material. I felt the Spirit while I was teaching.

I learned this weekend that the Brethren have nixed the traditional wedding music in our chapels. So, no "here comes the bride" or the customary recessional. I have an email in to my bishop for our musical Plan B. I am not upset in the least about this, because the really important event will take place when Beloved and I are sealed in the temple once we are given clearance.

Saturday morning is about the legalities and about rejoicing with our friends and family who might otherwise not be able to participate. Saturday night is about the perks of marriage. About which I am trying not to think too much, because while blushing is very good for my complexion, it does tend to wear on one.

After church, I popped into the clerk’s office to hug Beloved and to introduce my BFFE from my childbearing years. As I left, I told him that I would let myself in, and when he got home he would find me unconscious on top of his bed, as opposed to next weekend, when he would find me unconscious in his bed. At which point he responded that he very much hoped I would not be unconscious when that time comes.

He is planning a little mischief for shortly after the ceremony. I am planning to enjoy it.

Six days, unless he’s the one doing the counting.

Bring on the weekend!

I have wedding shower the second this evening, followed by snuggling with Beloved in his well-chaperoned living room, and then the long, groggy drive home to my own chaste boudoir, where visions of something more rowdy than sugarplums are likely to clutter my dreams.

We are eight days out, and the hormones are spiking, but thus far still no Bridezilla episodes.

There is nothing on my calendar for tomorrow. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I do plan on trucking over to the optical shop and having them put new pads on my new specs, because the factory-issue ones are digging to China on the left side of my nose, and I’d like for everything to heal up before the big day.

Other than that, I foresee a little cooking, a lot of packing, and oh please, more knitting than I have seen since Tuesday night.

My checkbook is balanced. Me? not so much. My back is tight, my hip is aching, the twinge in my knee has returned, and I think it is pure and simple repression, which will continue unabated until shortly after we arrive at the cabin next weekend.

Catching a bit of a break.

In the old days, when a client gave us a disc with photos or a video, it was a simple matter to save it to the file. We got one recently with about three dozen photos on it. This time around, I had to convert each image to a PDF and save it to my desktop. Then I combined the images according to topic and saved those combinations. Then I converted three videos to zip files and saved them. Then I started importing them into the new system. And, finally, I dragged and dropped each item on my desktop into the recycle bin. All told, perhaps 45 minutes to do what would have taken me 45 seconds to do, before. On the other hand, I am now a whole lot faster at it than I was when I opened that disc.

In other news, Beloved’s platelet count was low, so no chemo this week. That means he gets to drink cold beverages until his next chemo in two weeks, because the sensitivity from the last round of chemo is wearing off.

We have a winner in the cake trials! It would seem that I was truly inspired when I suggested combining a spice cake mix with a carrot cake mix. We got height, we got great texture, and we got amazing flavor. [And I’ve got the last slice in my fridge at home. Hey, he wanted it out of his house. I do try to be obliging!] My slice of cake was dinner last night. I finished my bison burger at lunch today.

I had a really good, productive day at work today. It is great to feel as if I know what I’m doing, once more.

Fun with food and friends

We had lunch at Screen Door, a foo-foo place in Big D’s Arts District. I had a bison burger with feta. Yes, I know that the food analysis back in September said “no beef”, but strictly speaking, it wasn’t. And when I went to the churrascaria with Brother Sushi on Monday night, I ate sirloin, chicken breast (carefully picking off the bacon but enjoying the flavor it gave my chicken), a couple bites of pork tenderloin, with no discernible reaction. So I concur with Beloved that a recheck by a conventional medical practitioner is in order (it was on my honey-do list, anyway), and I will take care of getting a referral in the next few weeks. Or months, depending upon how busy married life keeps me.

Work is going suspiciously well. While I am not up to my former speed, I am getting there.

And now I am heading to Beloved’s. Today is my future mother-in-love’s 82nd birthday, and I have a B&N gift card in her name. Trying to score some serious good d-i-l points there. We will have cake at 6:00, and then I will accompany them to church, where his second grandson has Pinewood Derby tonight.

As I gave birth to five daughters, I know nada about said activity, so this will be considerably out of the box for me, and I am looking forward to it. After that, we are going to do something about dinner. At which point I might actually be hungry again. I am still full from lunch, and that was half of my burger, five hours ago.

Life at the moment is even more delicious than usual.

In which your intrepid heroine has adventures.

The first one, entirely positive, involved procuring our marriage license.

We took his firstborn son’s advice and went to a satellite county office, where the lines were shorter and the employees were civil. (As befits civil servants. A soupçon of bureaucratic humor, if you will.)

That burned an hour and forty-five minutes of PT.

When I got to work, we discovered that the bus/train passes which are needed tomorrow morning, were not here. The person who was supposed to pick them up last week, drove in all week, had the check to purchase the tickets with her, and was off work today. (She was under the impression that because the passes expire tomorrow, she could pick up the new ones when she came into work; unfortunately, they expire at 3:00a.m.)

So I got to take a company car, drive within a couple of miles of Beloved’s house, pick up the check, bring back the company car, bump another company car while trying to park The Behemoth (fill out an intra-office accident report), walk the check over to the DART station and come back with the passes, which I then distributed.

And then I went to lunch, about 45 minutes later than my usual late lunch. It has made for an extremely short afternoon.

In a few days, this will be funny. Thankfully, the office manager laughed (a little) when I told her I’d hit one of our other pool cars.

So, I have had an extra hour of driving today, and a brisk walk in brisk weather, and fresh air and sunshine and rosy cheeks, and people get to ride the buses and trains tomorrow, and other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, I have very little to show for this day.

I told Beloved that I wish we were already married, because this is one of those days where, (if I were still a drinking woman, there would be some serious elbow-bending once I got home,) an evening of mommy-and-daddy would do wonders for my frazzled nerves.

Eleven days. And now goodnight, because I have an appointment with NailDude to fix the thumbnail which I broke getting into Lorelai on Saturday, or maybe Sunday morning (I forget), and the little finger nail which is about to fly off and go into orbit.

Ms. Ravelled, quietly falling apart here in BigD. Over, and out.

(Bridal shower the first, tomorrow at lunch, tee hee!)

Seriously cutting into my knitting time.

On the other hand, the hugging, et al, is very nice. I had a really good day yesterday, working on wedding stuff. I found and installed new buttons on the wedding dress. I finished, really and truly stick in a fork in me I’m done finished, the corsages. I scored a dozen red pseudo-velvet bows at Michael’s on Christmas closeout at 59 cents apiece, as opposed to the box of pre-made wedding bows (white) for $49.99. Feeling a little smug about that.

Friday night I picked up the cake tower. The box was open. I put it in Lorelai’s trunk and headed to Lane Bryant, where I bought four new bras (one comfy but colorful, three racy) and five pairs of coordinating panties [reminds me of the old joke: six beautiful chorus girls, five beautiful costumes]. All of which are divvied up into gallon Ziploc bags and stowed in the honeymoon bag.

From thence to downtown BigD, armed with my driving directions. Which didn’t work. I stopped at the office, changed into a dress and confirmed directions with the security dude, and tried again. No such luck. I drove around for about half an hour, as it was getting darker and darker, and the neighborhood was getting scarier and scarier, and I was getting hungry and tired and more frustrated and finally just plain scared. So I called Beloved and headed to his house, where he held me until I stopped twitching.

Then we took the cake tower out of the box and started to play with putting it together, which is when we discovered that seven pieces were missing and it had been used: telltale green smear of icing on one of the support pieces, and more green icing on the assembly sheet. I took it back yesterday and got a refund and another 50% off coupon, which I will use tomorrow at another location. (I had bought the only box that store had.)

Dinner last night was baked potatoes, baked cod, his veggie sautee, and a small bowl of posole which the neighbors had brought over. Hominy is a sad thing to do to a perfectly good kernel of corn, but posole goes a long way toward redeeming it. Dessert was a sliver each of two test cakes when we came home from the dance. These would be contenders 3 and 4 for our wedding cake. The spice cake rose wonderfully and tastes better-than-OK. The carrot cake did not rise well, but the flavor is terrific. Tomorrow he is going to combine a box of each and see if we get the height of the spice cake and the flavor and moisture of the carrot cake. If so, that will be the wedding cake. And we have a friend in his ward who used to bake cakes, so she can loan us her cake leveler and a 12” pan.

I have bought the long tablecloths for the banquet tables, also the forks and the napkins, and priced out the rest of the stuff we need. I have transferred the information from our eVites into a spreadsheet, and I need to go into FB and pull that information as well, and then have Beloved add to it from the responses he has received.

He is snoozing quietly on the bed (they look so innocent when they are asleep). I am getting my internet fix.

What to say about the dance last night. The decorations were lovely: Christmas trees of varying heights, grouped in twos and threes, festooned only with white fairy lights. The food was good as well, a nice mixture of healthy and festive. I found several things that I could eat with a clear conscience. The music? Well, the younger generation seemed to enjoy it. We left about 9:40, in part because we were both tired, and also because the music was too loud and we had already hugged all or most of our friends.

Came back here, tried the cakes, visited quietly until it was midnight, then he kissed me, and I drove home. Two major wrecks on LBJ between one exit and the next, and I think a total of four during the course of the evening. I barely, barely made it home awake, falling into bed about 1:30 and getting approximately five hours of sleep. I tried to catch a catnap after church while Beloved was dealing with the tithing at church, but no such luck.

I am going to have to catch a few winks before I try to drive home again tonight.

Tomorrow night I am going to eat churrascaria with Brother Sushi, retrieve my spare key from Secondborn, and pack as many boxes as humanly possible between sunup and bedtime. I’ve already alerted the neighbors that there will be unusual cars and unusual activity chez moi for the next several weeks, and why.

And oh? I volunteered to teach Relief Society next Sunday. That will keep my mind on scriptures instead of honeymoon, but I’ve gotta tell you, a sixteen year old has nothing on me in terms of the-sap-is-rising.

So glad that I only have 13 days (almost, only 12) of this crazy commute, and then I can settle in chez Beloved. We are getting our license on Tuesday morning.

I am the poster child for crazy-tired. And I am heading out to the kitchen for more water, and thence to the AARP website, because the Sudoku is calling my name.

My vagrant earring has flown home.

It was hanging from a pushpin on the bulletin board in the break room and is now resting quietly with its mate on Lorelai’s front passenger seat.

I have a 50% off coupon for Michael’s and will head that way after work, the better to pick up the cake stand I’ve had my eye on.

Our first wedding gift arrived today.

I am also going bra shopping. Ordinarily I opt for the white, semi-orthopedic ones that are designed to mask the effects of working in an overly cooled office building. However, I am thinking more in terms of the sort that are designed to be worn for approximately fifteen seconds before they are removed by an exuberant spouse and sent flying into the far corners of the room. Lane Bryant is having a sale, and there is one bra in particular which is perfectly modest, and perfectly hilarious, and I hope they still have it in my size.

I’ll wait for my children to stop twitching.

Heading out to pick up a Brita pitcher and two boxes of filters from one of my yarnie friends, and then I start shopping. Wedding reception at 7:00 for BestFriend’s kid.

Beloved’s after that, because it’s been two or three days since I have been well and truly kissed.

There may or may not be posting over the weekend. We have a New Year’s Eve dance tomorrow night, but I make you no promises, other than the one that I will, as ever, behave myself.

Making a list. Checking it twice.

Last night I finished (lightly, not so much as you’d notice) beading the bodice of my wedding gown. Something like 26 beads across the back yoke. And became dissatisfied with the very plain plastic buttons on each cuff, so I will replace them with something subtly spiffier. If I can find very white natural shell buttons, I think that is what I want. I’ll look tomorrow after work, since I will have three hours between when I leave the office and when I need to be at BestFriend’s baby girl’s wedding reception.

I also put the finishing touches on the garter, and I am ridiculously pleased with it.

Whipped up the last two corsages, one for the pianist and one for the soloist. Still have not decided how to attach the wrist corsages to our collective herd of daughters. No doubt inspiration will smack me upside the head one night while I am lying awake at dark-thirty and the fabric and/or craft stores are closed.

Tonight I go serve in the temple. It’s been a wonderfully, quietly productive day. I love how that feels.

On the other hand, I have lost two, or maybe three, earrings in as many weeks. Last week it was a copper enamel one I’d had for years, sent to me by my sister and engraved with the maker’s name on the reverse. Something from Vashon Island, if I remember correctly. And last night one of my new feathered earrings migrated south for the winter. Maybe I should just stick to post earrings.

I found my grandmother’s pearl studs this morning and was reminded that one is missing a back. These are the old-fashioned ones with the slightly thicker posts, where the back screws onto the post. I vaguely remember that one back went missing maybe ten or twelve years ago. (Yes, yes, I have a screw loose. Ba dum bum ching!) So it is likely to be impossible to match the pitch of a new screw-back to the pitch of the post. And my cheapie white pearls from Target have grown legs and walked off. Or fins and swum away. I will probably find them as I finish up the packing, but probably not in time for the wedding.

Still, there is good news: my reimbursement for my new glasses will hit next Tuesday, which means that in theory I could order “Hope” to complete my trifecta of Faith, Hope, and Charity. Or I could save it for spending money on our mini-moon.

I love how God keeps His promises. There is no logical way for me to have had sufficient gas money to keep going this week, and yet I did. It is the day before payday, and I have three-fourths of a tank of gas, and I still have (a very little) money in my savings accounts and my checking account, and I am eating a chicken salad sandwich between sentences, and there is Greek yogurt for dessert, and just enough leftover oatmeal in the fridge at home to warm up for breakfast tomorrow. That may not be your idea of “enough and to spare”, but I am elated!

Tomorrow my various and sundry accounts will be replenished (but not from the East, nor with soothsayers; Brother Isaiah would be so pleased! [chapter 2, verse 6]), and I will buy enough fresh fruit and veggies to last me two weeks, and then it will be picnic basket + Jellystone Park + Beloved.

Spice, spice, baby!

So, we are agreed on the type of cake. Spice cake is tasty, visually interesting, and not likely to set off digestive bells and whistles. And we can make a huge one for a pittance.

All the paper invitations have gone out (at least until we get word that we need to send more). Kristen, I just figured out how to add you to the eVite list, and I sent one your way.

Tomorrow BittyBit is seven. Boggles the mind. Next year she will be old enough to be baptized.

I had a lovely, productive day at work. All the angst of week before last was ultimately worth it.

When I got on the scale at work this morning, preparing to be seriously bummed by the results of three weeks of Christmas goodies appearing (and disappearing) from the break room, I had a happy surprise: the needle was farther to the left than it has been all year! I credit the enzymes; it’s the only possible explanation.

I resisted the urge to devour the chocolate frog which my attorney brought me back from Harry Potter Land, in celebration; I ate three peppermints instead.

Beloved sent me home with leftover salad and steamed veggies last night. I had the salad with my lunch today. I could taste the love in every bite.

This is the part where I go home and finish the last dab of beading on my wedding dress. And get to bed sometime before midnight.

As you can tell from the brevity of my paragraphs, my thoughts are going every which way. Seventeen days, unless I’m still awake at midnight, in which case it will be sixteen.

Can I get a yeehaw?

Deep, cleansing, Christmas-cookie-flavored breath!

Wow! What a weekend! That blur you saw whizzing past? Probably me, either towing Beloved or being towed by him.

His present to me was perfect: a red(!) scrapbook to be filled with engagement and wedding stuff. A package of silver and white stickers to help out with that task. Prints of some of my favorite pictures.

I had dinner with Trainman on Friday night. Woke up about 3:30 on Christmas Eve and did a bit of holiday baking and put together the goodie boxes. Took a nap from about 9:30 until 2:30 that afternoon, then fluffed and foofed and headed over his way for his family’s Christmas Eve festivities. Drove home, slept a little – a very little – as I was awakened at 2:30 when I tried to roll over, by my ACL howling in protest. (I had LittleBit’s honey, a physical therapist, take a look at it at dinner on Sunday; it’s strained, but it’s not torn.) I did catch a few more hours of sleep, then drove like a bat out of Houston back to Beloved’s for the Christmas morning festivities, after which we drove to Firstborn’s ward, where she and Secondborn and LittleBit and I sang in sacrament meeting. From there to Secondborn’s for dinner.

Squishy and Mel accompanied us, and had a blast. My kids like them as much as they like my kids. This bodes well.

After dinner, we went back to Beloved’s, where he watched the Packers play, and I took a catnap so that I wouldn’t go off the road on the drive back to Fort Worth.

Yesterday morning was another party, breakfast for LittleBit’s birthday at Secondborn’s house. Where, in talking with the children’s father, I found myself asking him if he wanted to come to the wedding. He did. (I know, I know. Remember, the surest way for me to know that something is inspiration, is if it is something that is good and decent, that would not ordinarily occur to me.)

The lion’s share of the paper invitations went out in today’s mail. And as soon as I hit “send” and shut down my workstation, I am headed back to Beloved’s for dinner and, presumably, the launching of the eVites. If you want one and you have moved, or you aren’t sure we have your email address, message me here (not at the old Yahoo! address) or over on FB.

I am hungry, tired, disheveled (what, pray tell, is heveled?) and in need of more sleep than is likely tonight. But I am happy, and we are making progress on the wedding preparations, and we still like one another, so that is good.

My contender for the wedding cake has been crossed off the list. Taste is lovely, texture is heavier than he thinks appropriate. There will be further experimentation this week.

Let them eat cake. Quite possibly from Costco if we don’t find a more snazzy solution in the next couple of days.

OK, I’m outta here.

I am sitting here, eating cherries.

Because life is just a bowl full of them, right? These ones are the candy-covered, chocolate-covered ones from Harry and David. And are probably not on what I laughingly call my diet, but they are delicious, and I am enjoying them.

Got the call from my eye doctor that my new glasses are ready, so I will be heading out in five minutes to pick them up.

Bridal shower with the work bunch is all set up. Foo-foo lunch, with a side order of frivolity before heading back to work.

I put ten rounds on the Christmas project while I was sitting in traffic on the Tollway en route to the temple last night. And promptly frogged seven of them after examination this morning. Angry knitting is not pretty knitting. I would knit three stitches, creep forward ten feet, knit three more, creep forward a couple of car lengths, etc etc etc. I was fifteen minutes late for the prayer meeting, so I skipped it.

Quite possibly will be radio silence until Christmas or thereafter. So merry merry, and happy happy, and may none of you find a lump of coal in the bottom of your stocking this year.

I love to see the temple…

I’m going there tonight. It’s been a good day. I am not quite up to speed with the new programs here at work, but I am significantly closer than I was, and it makes for far less angst in my traps, neck, and upper back.

Beloved’s siblings would like to have lunch together after the wedding (when we had planned on making a quick getaway to the honeymoon cabin). I had hoped to check on availability of one of my favorite Tex-Mex restaurants, but I have been busier than the proverbial paper-hanger today.

Maybe tomorrow, when plaintiff attorneys are just about guaranteed to be out golfing or otherwise goofing off?

Had a blast at dinner with BFFE/early days last night. There is a fragment of leftover Thai omelette in my fridge, along with a handful of rice. All of it too good to throw away. Dinner with Trainman tomorrow night.

As you can tell, my brain is skittering like drops of water on a hot griddle. And this will not be an early night, but I will be trailing the peace of the temple behind me, all the way home and all through the night.

Can’t. Wait.

Nothing much to see here, just keep moving, folks.

The shoes came. They are very plain. I am not disappointed, other than in the fact that they were not the white patent ones available on close-out in almost any size but my own. I think white patent clogs would have been spiffy. And we all know how I feel about the “no patent leather after Labor Day” rule (i.e., foolish traditions of the mothers, since we haven’t had real patent leather in decades, the kind where you had to grease them up with Vaseline to get them through the winter). I think these very plain shoes will lend themselves to a discreet amount of beading.

I have cast on the last knitted gift. It is a very, very small project. I may be knitting on it come Christmas morning, but I am reasonably sure that I will not be giving half a gift to one of my beloved granddaughters. And that is all that I am going to say on the matter, for now.

Another good day at work. And I am headed out to meet my BFFE from my childbearing years, to Thai one on. And run the beading idea past her for a sartorial reality check.

Dances with wolves, lunches with lawyers

Two of my attorneys invited me to lunch with the rest of their staff today. We tried out one of the restaurants in the new Omni Hotel in downtown BigD. This is the edifice which ate my favorite parking space. I am somewhat mollified after lunch. I had a bison burger with goat cheese, and they substituted a fruit cup for the parmesan fries. (Yes, I know I should not eat beef; bison is not beef. Don’t ask, don’t tell.)

I got Mount Washmore checked off the list last night. It was an amazingly productive evening: spare floral bits returned, my sister’s Christmas gift mailed, and in bed relatively early.

Allegedly, my wedding shoes will be here tomorrow.

And now I am headed out the door for Beloved’s annual Chanukah dinner. With a little discreet smooching for dessert, once we shoo the missionaries out the door.

My brilliant children! And wedding stuff.

Firstborn graduated cum laude yesterday afternoon. And LittleBit has a 4.0 after her first semester of college. Proving, in both instances, that when one waits until one is ready for college, one tends to do well. Or in this case, two tend to do well.

I left Beloved’s a little after midnight yesterday morning, after slaving over the mailing list. Still not done, but making noticeable progress.

Tomorrow I go over there for Chanukah. Yes, we’re Christian. We still think Chanukah is cool. He is feeding the missionaries, and we will eat some of the traditional foods, and he has a menorah, and once we chase the elders out, we will work some more on the mailing list and maybe smooch a little.

I had a great day at work today. I have whittled my to-do’s down to manageable size, cleared up some weird/missing/duplicate entries in the docketing system, and pretty much gotten my desk under control.

And now I am headed out, to mail off my sister’s Christmas present and then to tackle Mount Washmore. I am not quite ready to wash my unmentionables at Beloved’s house. Although if I poop out on the drive home, I may have to do just that.

Firstborn and Fourthborn and I spent the better part of eight hours on Saturday, assembling my bouquet, and my throwing bouquet (I did a practice fling over the shoulder, and I did not hit the ceiling fan, and the bouquet landed a respectable distance behind me, so I am not likely to either clock somebody on the big day, or embarrass myself with a repeat of my softball throw in fourth grade. Underhand: 50 feet straight up, landing a foot and a half in front of me. Guess which distance got measured?) Not to mention various corsages, boutonnieres, et al.

Life is good. And we are 26 days out...

A beautiful day in the neighborhood.

On Wednesday I was squarely in Henry-VI mode (“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.”) I would now appear to be in remission. I am caught up on filing my mail. My desk is approaching its normal level of tidiness. My to-do’s are mostly to-done, and I have three days next week to get them all checked off and two cases closed, before my favorite attorney returns.

In other news, we have a firm date for the wedding: 14 January, 10:00a.m., my meetinghouse. Tomorrow morning I will get together with some of my kids, and we will put together my bouquet, the corsages, and the boutonnieres. I still have not found the perfect (i.e., attractive and comfortable) shoes to go with my wedding dress. Nor have I figured out what to do as hair ornamentation, other than the firm resolve it will not be yet another veil. So done with veils.

If you are not a Facebook friend, and you want an e-vite, please email me at the google address or respond in a comment (Jerilyn and Robi, you are already on the list).

I am skipping Beloved’s ward Christmas party in favor of a massage and an early bedtime.

I attempted to mail my sister’s gift on the way to work, but the 24/7 post office now has shorter hours. So I will take care of that tomorrow, which is already going to be crazy-busy, but what’s one more thing, right?

And now if you will all excuse me, I have 23 minutes before it’s time to shut down the popsicle stand, and no work to do, and I am going to check out the Dansko outlet.

His fortune, my fortune.

Mine: “Sail into the land of opportunity - treasures await!” Suitably generic, although if I give it a honeymoon slant, it’s good for a grin or two.

His: “You have the ability to excel in untried areas.”

Me: *snort*

Him: “Hey, keep it clean, keep it clean!”

So, maybe not untried, but definitely fallow.

Work today was way better than in recent weeks. I was justifiably tired by the time I got to Beloved’s, but I managed to slog through ten days’ worth of mail, and all but one item of the eleventh day’s. I still have three new cases to open, plus another that was tossed on my desk near the end of the day. As Miz Scarlett was wont to say, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

We drove up into the frozen north to take engagement pictures. Much hilarity. His eldest is our photographer, and he has a wicked sense of humor. [Not unlike his father’s.]

They just walked in, and I really don’t have a lot more to say, so I’m going to steal a few quick smooches and head for home. I might even get a box or two packed before I crash for the night. This will be the first night I’ve been in bed before midnight since maybe last Wednesday.

Tomorrow night I’m getting a manicure, and then I am coming home and going to bed, because Wednesday night is his ward’s temple night, and Thursday is my regular shift at the temple, Friday is a well-earned massage, and Saturday is another whirlwind of activity.

Life is good. 33 days.

In which your intrepid heroine laughs at herself.

Day before yesterday, or thereabouts, I mislaid the leather cover for my cell phone. I checked the loo on our floor. I inquired at the management office and with building security. Nada.

This afternoon, as I was finishing up work on a case which I had opened two days ago, the case fell out of the claim file.

In other breaking news, Beloved’s Christmas present arrived in today’s mail.

And I am heading out the door to meet Firstborn and sundry others for LittleBit’s dance recital at the college tonight. I am leaving behind me a desk which looks far more like what I’m accustomed to seeing at the end of a day/week. The massive, demoralizing piles of stuff have been wrangled into small, neat stacks, and while my attorney is still seeing all the stuff that isn’t yet done, I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

Tomorrow is crazy-busy. I have myself booked from sunup until dark-thirty. I’ll pick up boxes from Secondborn, get my nails done, meet Beloved to attend the temple wedding of some of his friends, and then go with him to a dinner/discussion at an outlying stake.

No, I haven’t looked at my Primary lesson for Sunday morning. Sufficient unto the day are the weevils thereof.

A silver sixpence...

… along with half a dozen perfectly delightful magnets, arrived from Tola Faery today. Thank you, ma’am!

Not only did I enjoy a little genteel smooching with Beloved last night, I also got to meet several of the adult women in his ward, who were there for tithing settlement. Several great conversations.

I made significant progress at work today. And now I am headed out the door for the temple.

Be good, and remember Whose you are.

Another drive-by smooching, woohoo!

My hair magician called to say that her neighborhood had been without power since about noon. We have rescheduled for next week. I have also booked an appointment with an esthetician she recommended, for massive waxing of the Ravelled frame, pre-wedding. I don’t trust myself with tweezers or a razor that close to the Big Day.

My pretty stockings arrived in the mail today. I am now only waiting on Beloved’s Christmas present, which should be here anytime between Friday and next Wednesday.

December is filling up fast.

I am feeling a little more effective with the new systems at work, and I am waking up each morning after approximately six hours of sleep, fairly consistently. The respiratory yuck is nearly gone. I have hardly coughed today, and what coughing there was, was nowhere near as eye-popping as on Sunday or Monday.

Beloved’s family has a tradition of hanging ginormous stockings on the mantle at Christmas. I joked that for next year, we should get a pair of red fishnet hose and hang one with the more traditional ones. He thinks that’s a great idea, and there might be one hanging there this year.

I’ve warned him that pretty much, whatever is on my mind, comes out of my mouth. This one may bite me in the ankle.

He’s got tithing settlement tonight, and since I am not in the mood to go home and pack boxes, I will grab dinner and go make mischief (and out, a little) in the clerk’s office.

No alarums; one excursion

Dinner with Beloved, last night, was just what the doctor ordered. Chicken breasts sizzled in butter with plenty of pepper; sautéed spinach and mushrooms; steamed cabbage, broccoli, and cauliflower (I am not becoming a convert, yet, but he seasons everything so well that I can even eat yucky vegetables without gagging). After dinner, we tossed my laundry from his washer into his dryer and took a little drive.

We headed for the park where he proposed. And, mostly, we talked. And it was very, very sweet and tender and respectful.

I was able to talk through some of my frustrations at work, and to put the sinus problems / borderline bronchitis into context. Consequently, I went home far more relaxed than when I awoke yesterday morning, and when I woke up today I was barely stuffy and hardly coughing. It has been a relatively quiet day, and my second consecutive productive day at work, and I am ready to head out for a manicure, if NailDude is available, or to go to Knit Night if he is not (but not for long, as I really ought to make an early night of it). The Relief Society Christmas social is tonight, and I have my contribution in the trunk for their professional clothing drive to support a local charity. I also have a car full of boxes that are the perfect size for books, and I’m thinking that maybe I just want to be a hermit (albeit a hermit with pretty nails) and pack as many boxes as I can before I have to pack it in for the night.

We laughed a little, as he bundled me into my car, about how we are both sorely tempted to just elope and get on with the happily-ever-after part. But there are too many people on both sides of the family who would be hurt, or livid, so we will continue to be good kids.

Engagement pictures next Monday night; pray for a good hair day.

39 days.

P.S. Send up some love and prayers for my friend Tan, and for her family; she lost her mother-in-love this week.

Posting at lightning speed.

Or as fast as I can go, given that the Bronchitis Fairy has smacked me upside the lungs. I am heading to Beloved’s for dinner and a neck rub and some hand-holding. He had chemo this morning. Daughter-in-law will be cooking. And my stomach is yodeling for sustenance.

Picked up his ring on Saturday. It’s beautiful, and you could drive a truck through it. Just what you would expect for a superhero’s ring. I will try to remember to take a picture of it with a quarter for scale.

While I remember: Tola: 1952, 1949, 1975 (when I joined the church), or just make up a date. And where did you find the Christmas cards? I would love to get some for next year, when I might have the time, the funds, and the inclination to send out Christmas cards for the first time in decades.

I ordered his Christmas present this morning. We are already starting to have our little private jokes, and I think this will tickle him immensely.

I’m outta here!

Another marginally productive day.

But I do seem to be picking up speed. My desk is still a wreck. Three years ago, it would not bother me. But I have been working for my attorney long enough that clutter on my desk now drives me a little nuts. (At home, not so much, although we count all the small victories.)

I got the birthday cake to work, intact.

I managed to stay awake all day, get the two critical reports done for Attorney B out in a timely fashion, and wrangle two hot potatoes for my attorney. I ate my lunch (sandwich, seriously yummy) at my desk and spent my lunch hour communing with the current knitting project.

I am now logging off and heading to the massage therapist. I have a number of errands tomorrow: picking up a superhero-sized wedding ring, looking for the last detail to complete my garter, getting a two-month supply of enzymes (which I have not been taking for at least three weeks now, and I can definitely feel the difference).

After the massage therapist, I foresee salmon and the usual veggie suspects at Black Eyed Pea, and then an early bedtime. Maybe just an early bedtime.

I leave it all in your capable hands.

Brutal day.

I did manage to get a new case opened and most of the discovery ready to go. I’ll finish that tomorrow. Also maybe half of a report (one of two) which has to go out tomorrow for Attorney B.

On the other hand, I (we) got a Christmas card from Tola and her hubby. Knitterly humor, and much appreciated. And the jewelry store called to say that Beloved’s ring is ready. And last night my wedding dress was waiting on the front porch when I got home from the drive-by smooching.

Speaking of which, it’s time for me to shut everything down, brush a tooth, and scoot out the door toward the temple. Beloved is meeting me there for dinner before my shift.

I am tired and most everything hurts, from my fingers to my wrists to my neck. But notwithstanding all that, I am still as happy as if I had good sense.

44 days.

He never ceases to surprise me.

(This is not a bad thing.) One of our friends is a gifted photographer. Beloved posted a link on Facebook, a picture of the groom spelunking amidst yards and yards of tulle in search of the garter. I allowed as how that was not going to happen at our reception.

First, because my wedding dress is not a Barbie dress (she looked lovely, and her style is not my style). Second, because I intend to park the garter just below my patella, thus displaying a bit of ankle and maybe a swathe of calf, but nothing in hey-sailor territory. Third, because Beloved might be a great one for teasing, but he would never do anything to embarrass me (nor I, him).

I think the guys in my office have seen my calves maybe half a dozen times in the ten years I have been working here. I am mostly a jeans girl, or dress slacks, or long skirts. I don’t want any of my co-workers to faint, or be snow-blinded.

Cake topper arrived yesterday. I ordered his ring this afternoon. My dress should be here in the next few days. The garter is mostly-sewn, and I have had second thoughts about its embellishment. What I chose, would be lovely; what I have in mind would be memorable.

Today was a far more productive, and far less stressful, day spent wrangling the new systems at work. While I didn’t get anywhere near as much accomplished as either my attorney or I would have liked, I am truly hopeful of being caught up by close of business on Friday. I even remembered to order the cake for Friday’s birthday celebration.

Jury is out on whether I will remember to pick it up on Friday morning.

As Beloved has tithing settlement tonight, and we have not seen one another since Sunday, and I fell asleep last night before he got home from his clerkly duties (ergo, no me on the other end of the phone when he called), I am doing another drive-by smooching after work. I told him not to expect me until I got there. Sprouts is having a sale on blackberries, and I fully intend to get my share of them. And maybe a healthy little treat for him and the other brethren who are slaving over a hot keyboard tonight.

45 days [tee hee]

Busy, spendy day

Bought the flowers for my bouquet, boutonnières for the guys and corsages for the girls, pre-ordered Beloved’s ring (because it doesn’t come in superhero size). And now have florist wire and florist tape, but will wait on the ribbons until everything is assembled, then take finished objects to the craft store for matching purposes.

Also ordered the white lace stockings. This morning I partially assembled the garter. I want to look for an alternate trim to finish it off.

Land line at home is cancelled. Now to reconcile my checkbook, and then will head for home.

This has been a magical staycation. Who knew that I could be so happy, being at home for nearly two weeks?

Life is good.

Beloved gets blog privileges.

I am blogging from his computer. And he is reading over my shoulder.

Church today went well. My ring is still gorgeous. He is still such a good guy. I would say all these things even if he were sitting in another room.

That stealth project I was mentioning? Forgot to tell you that this whole mushy business was that stealth project, but you probably already figured it out.

I am shutting down the land line at home, will keep my computer at home for printing off labels and organizing the move, the reception, et al.

Wedding gown is ordered, and cake topper will be here by the end of the week. Just found the white lace stockings that I want to wear and have emailed the information to myself. I can’t access it from home, or at work, but I can order it from Secondborn’s, or I can order it from here on a day other than the Sabbath.

We have had an interesting series of discussions, while I have been on his computer looking at one website or another. He now knows a whale of a lot about me. There has been some blushing. Not all of it mine. And a lot of healthy laughter.

And now if you will all excuse me, it’s time to head back out to the kitchen for a little smooching, and then I need to go pick up Middlest, who is spending the night at my house, and the day with me tomorrow, and tomorrow night as well, and on Tuesday I will drop her at the airport on my way to work.

Life is very, very, very good.

Blogging from Secondborn’s, again.

Thanksgiving was amazing. I managed not to eat myself into a coma, but it required enormous fortitude. [Fivitude?]

I came home with two meals’ worth of chicken pot pie from Wednesday night, the last slice of black bottom banana cream pie, about half of my Death Tart [has pecans; Fourthborn can’t eat any, hence the name], and four of Squishy’s hot rolls. Not to mention lots of sweet kisses, many hugs, and one discreet pat on the tushie when Beloved thought nobody was looking.

I am going to have so much fun with that man!

The meeting of spouse-emeritus and Beloved was calm, dignified, and otherwise uneventful. Willow or Lark asked if she gets to be my flower girl. Beloved and 1BDH and I had a great exchange during a dull spot in the Cowboys game.

1BDH: “You do realize that when you marry a [Ravelled] woman, the fun stops once you’re actually married?”
Beloved: “???”
Me: “That which stopped when you married Firstborn, begins when I marry Beloved.”
1BDH: “Lucky devil.”
Beloved: “Woohoo!”

Boys. Gotta love ’em.

Today I am paying a few bills while here on Secondborn’s computer, balancing my checkbook (which I like to do two or three times a week), and ordering the cake topper and maybe my wedding dress. I am thinking seriously about shutting down my land line at home, since I can blog from here or after-hours at work, and I’ve done reasonably well for the past three weeks without home internet. [It’s more or less a small twitch in one eye, as opposed to a grand mal seizure.]

I packed four boxes yesterday before leaving for Thanksgiving dinner(s), and another two boxes this morning (the latter two in my studio).

I have no idea what I’m doing for Christmas, either in terms of what I am giving people, or where I will be spending it. But the moostletoe is hung over the doorway to my kitchen, and I think when I go home, I will do a little decorating.

I need to ask him if he has an artificial tree; I do know that he is planning to hang lights outside this weekend, once he takes care of a couple of minor plumbing issues.

Bills. Bills, then shopping, then Costco with Secondborn. Seven weeks is looking like not-very-long to me. We are going with Plan B for the cake; I need to check into that venue while I’m online and thinking about it.

Happy, happy! Joy, joy! With a side order of EEEEK!

Posting from Secondborn’s

Oh, internet friends, how I have missed thee! It’s been quite the week. Middlest got here yesterday and spent the night on my couch. This morning we kidnapped Fourthborn and bought cinnamon rolls from KolacheMan and made a raid on Pottery Barn (hoping to find wee swords for the small dolls, but failing nobly in our quest) and are now here. My kids are helping out with craft day, downstairs, while I am up here getting my internet fix.

So: officially engaged, as in he gave me the ring at the dance on Friday night, breaking into the ring of sisters who were dancing to All the Single Ladies to do a John Travolta slide on his knees, ending up in front of me with a box full of ring. And I? I was momentarily, and uncharacteristically, speechless, doing the Sandra Bullock hand-fanning thing after pulling both hands away from my mouth. He says the look on my face was priceless. Then he stood up and hugged me, and if memory serves, announced to the younger brethren, “And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done.”

That thing that women with new engagement rings do? Guilty. I am rather glad that I lost that particular argument.

My friend Alison was in town over the weekend. We did a little texting and left each other a couple of voicemails, then finally met just before stake conference on Sunday morning. She is even more beautiful and wonderful in real life than she is in her blog. And I’m not saying that simply because she brought me two balls of cerise/fuchsia cashmere. I felt like a total ditz, with a serious case of the distractables as the hand and I got pulled from pillar to post. One of these days she and I are going to have to be in the same place at the same time, with no distractions, and spend a few hours or a few days talking and laughing and knitting.

Beloved and I are registered at Pottery Barn. He has initiated a letter writing campaign at Bass Pro, because they do not have a wedding registry, only a wishlist. [What? Rednecks don’t get married? I don’t think so!] As the shower curtain I fell in love with is being discontinued, I stopped in on Friday night before the dance and nabbed one. I also have a sheaf of paint chips which (once I can sit still and string two consecutive thoughts together, because right now I’m having too much fun laughing with my kids) I need to compare under natural light and incandescent light with the shower curtain, because I am actually thinking of something other than red for the living room walls.

This is the part where I post and wave goodbye for probably another week, unless I can get the internet fixed while I am avoiding the Black Friday crowds. Right now I need to reconcile my checkbook and pay a couple of bills.

Beloved says, 53 days and counting.

Another quick post.

I was in training all day today. My home phone line is supposed to be fixed by 7:00p.m. tomorrow. And then I will meet with Bishop after 8:00p.m. to sign the updated application for my sealing cancellation.

He has statements from FirstHubby and the children’s father. Bishop has written out his own statement. (And he would like me to take all or most of the bouncy songs off the playlist for the reception. I can do that. Beloved is wanting to have the marriage around 10:00a.m. and the whole thing over and done with around noon, so we can get to the place we will be staying, before dark. Fewer songs mean a shorter reception, less cake down the hatch, and a greater chance of my not falling asleep mid-afternoon through sheer exhaustion.)

I am going to Knit Night. I will probably not stay long, but I need to be around wool, and women, after a day listening to a most excellent presenter teach us how to navigate the new docketing system. He has a good, clear voice, an engaging personality, and makes what could be a very dull but necessary process intermittently enjoyable. I was successful in moving the documents which I created yesterday into the new filing system, once class let out.

Tomorrow should be slightly less crazy, significantly more productive, and then I am off for the better part of two weeks.

The shower curtain that I fell in love with last Saturday is no longer available on the gift registry (or online) so I am buying it on Friday. And I found more sheets that I like.

No internet at home.

I’ve reported it to Uncaring Monopoly. The last time this happened, it was because a tree branch was arguing with the line. And we’ve had a lot of wind lately.

Great weekend. A drive-by smooching of the new guy after work on Friday night. Harry Potter 7.2 with Secondborn and her friends. Some window-shopping on Friday and during the day on Saturday.

Yesterday he came to church with me, to watch my little ones in the annual Primary sacrament meeting. We left shortly thereafter (I handed the kids off to my team teacher) and drove east to his ward, where I attended the presentation in his ward, followed by the entire block of meetings.

His bishop’s wife is their Gospel Doctrine teacher. She asked him to stand and introduce his guest.

“This is my friend, Ms. Ravelled. In January, she will be moving into this ward. And changing her last name.”

I have been sitting on this news since Thursday before last, although my kids and my sister were told immediately (in a veryfasthighpitchedvoice). Some of you have guessed. He ordered my ring today.

When the ring is on my hand, we will update our status on Facebook to “engaged” and fill in the blanks in terms of names. No use of the e-word on FB until then, if you please.

Wedding most likely in early January, timing contingent on when he has his surgery to remove the colostomy bag. Venue to be determined by how quickly the First Presidency moves on my request for a sealing cancellation. The children’s father very graciously requested, in his statement, that they expedite matters due to the new guy’s health issues.

Because of the short time frame, we will dispense with engraved invitations and go the e-route, with a few paper copies for sundry meetinghouses. If you’re local (or not) and want an e-vite, please email me here or on FB.

And I suppose it is also time to unveil his new moniker here on the blog, but it’s what I’ve called him inside my head and inside my heart for a very long time:

Beloved.

So tired I could cry.

The past couple of days, as we prepare for conversion at work, have been brutal. Scheduled meetings, impromptu meetings, endless meetings, and the downside to my improving health is that I have very few trigger points near my knees, that I can push on discreetly while sitting through said meetings, in order to generate enough pain to stay awake.

The stealth project continues apace. Patience, grasshoppers, I shall have a picture of a finished object in the relatively near future.

Taking an hour of PT and possibly heading over to the campsite for a hug and a quick smooch before heading to Secondborn’s for some serious HP7.2 tonight. I will be the one falling asleep, bolt upright, on her couch.

Crazy day tomorrow: Greek Festival, potluck and dance. Possibly more smooching.

Life is good.

d. c. al fine

The training at work continues. We are just about meetinged to death. I am accomplishing very little of substance. My thoughts are like water droplets on a hot griddle.

On the other hand, my knitting is behaving in a particularly cooperative fashion. I like the pattern, the yarn, the colors, and the fact that this is my last birthday gift to create for 2011. I am so thankful to have a family who value handmade gifts.

Tonight I will be serving in the temple with the new guy. If I keep showing up at his ward’s temple night, people are going to start talking. (That is, if they are not doing so already.) Tomorrow is my regular shift. The temple was closed for semiannual maintenance for two weeks, and while it was theoretically nice to have an extra evening or myself, two Thursdays running, in reality it left a hole in the fabric of each week. I am glad to be returning to what passes for normal in my life.

I have made significant progress on the stealth project, one wee bite at a time. I might even have a picture of the work in progress before the end of the month. No promises, more like what we in our family call a definite maybe.

Time to log off and go make myself useful in the House of the Lord.

Monday mumblings.

I will begin and end with quotes which the office manager sent out to the office:

He who rejects change is the architect of decay. The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery. ~ Harold Wilson

So, I have finally settled on a pattern for 2BDH’s hat. I worked seventeen rounds of K1, P1 ribbing in purple #1, switched to white and knit one round (this, after two or three failed attempts at getting the plain stockinette to look pretty or to be visually the same gauge as the ribbing), then shifted the ribbing one stitch to the left. In other words, the purled stitches in purple are now knitted stitches in white, and there is no awkward transition between the purled purple stitches and the white ones. You can thank Jacqueline Fee for the lack of an awkward transition; I learned that trick in her Sweater Workshop Book.

Funny things that happened this weekend: when looking for the pit-stop before the baby shower on Saturday, I found it not in the medicine cabinet, but in the cupboard where I keep my hair spray and cleaning products. I laughed and put it back into the medicine cabinet. A little later, when I went back to brush my teeth after breakfast, I grabbed the pit-stop instead of the toothpaste and narrowly avoided having to trash my toothbrush.

On the other hand, I have a growing number of tasks to accomplish related to the stealth project, and I am checking them off nearly as quickly as I am adding new ones. This reassures me [somewhat] that the Alzheimer’s Fairy does not have a stealth project of her own.

I may or may not be at Knit Night tomorrow night. (I have an opportunity for more overtime.) Or the Knit Night after that. I hope to make the one in two weeks, if there is one, but it might be the one that I used to attend, because Middlest will be in town, and she knows more people in that group, I think, than in the group I am attending now. Or she may have plans with one or more of her siblings that preclude either or both of us attending Knit Night, anywhere.

I am just taking things one day at a time. And sometimes one hour at a time. Living and dying by the sticky-note, the electronic reminder, sundry calendars, and the intermittent subvocal childbirth word.

The new guy emailed me to say that his cancer count is now down to 8.9. These would be the cancer cells which are hanging on for dear life and biting anything that comes at them. They will be the hardest to kill. But we are ever hopeful.

Change has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful, it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful, it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident, it is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better. ~ King Whitney Jr.

Life is good. And I am logging off in three minutes and heading to see my NailDude.

Crazy-busy, with more to come.

Posts may be a little thin on the ground for the next few weeks. I recently undertook a major stealth project, we have the Primary program next Sunday, two Thanksgivings to get through, the usual Christmas insanity (which I adore), and the inevitable complications from the new guy’s chemo and probable surgery to remove the colostomy bag and reconnect his plumbing as Heaven and nature intended.

In other news, when I was at the baby shower yesterday (at which I did not present her with a finished pair of baby socks, but she was quite happy with Plan B), I learned that my friend AlisonH, whom I’ve known online for what? four-plus years? and who is my bishop’s wife’s sister-in-law, will be here later this month, so I finally get to hug her in the flesh. I am seriously excited about that, Alison, and I promise not to knock you over in my enthusiasm.

Tola, I’ll give her an extra hug, from you.

The call went out overnight from our compassionate service leader, for contributions to food baskets for sundry ward members. I have a bag by the door, things that are still fresh but no longer on my safe list. They will be going to church with me today. I checked the expiration dates on the two cans of cranberry sauce. 2006 and 2009. Oh dear. Mute testimony to my lack of enthusiasm for holiday cooking.

I could probably put in the #10 cans of powdered milk which are currently in my food storage, as that stuff keeps for years under the right storage conditions, and I’ve maintained those as much as possible in an old house in Texas in a summer like the one just past. Be right back.

Nope, not this weekend. That would require dismantling the impromptu shelves at the side of the fridge. I am using #10 cans as the uprights. And that would be way over the line in terms of working on the Sabbath, but I can rearrange things during the next week and contribute them next Sunday. OK, that’s on my calendar for bright and early Saturday morning, before I go to the Greek Food Festival. Woohoo! One more minuscule victory in the battle against the forces of chaos. Not to mention my ongoing and very personal war on hunger.

I have Middlest’s itinerary for her trip to Texas later this month. I am excited about that, as well. We have offered our services as pie-making flunkies on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, which is Pie Day in the new guy’s household, but he will be getting the chemo pump off sometime that day, which will cut into pie-making time. He’ll be management; we’ll be labor.

Apparently there was an earthquake in Oklahoma and Texas yesterday. 5.6 up where my friend Alyeen lives. I didn’t notice anything here, but I was at Secondborn’s, and the kids were running around being kids and showing off for Gram, so anything less than the house falling down around our ears would have gone unnoticed.

I think that’s it. Baby sock is going on the back burner, and I hope to finish the ribbing on 2BDH’s hat at church today and get started on the straightaway. I’m doing 1x1 ribbing on this hat and designing as I go. No idea why; I just am.

I also decided on Friday to give away all my hats except the one that Fourthborn gave me. I have a friend who is as hat-mad as I am, and she might as well enjoy them. I am on a downsizing spree, and this just feels like the right thing to do. This is me, at work last Friday, after we came back from lunch. There was a guy across the restaurant who kept looking at me. Looked like a poor man’s Gerald McRaney in his Simon and Simon days.



Still life: Red Hat with Chin(s). Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath, everybody. Life is good.

The news is mixed.

He spoke with his oncologist yesterday. There is a 5% chance for a complete cure. I figure that 5% is infinitely better than no chance. And the realistic prognosis is two to five years, which is not as much as I had hoped, but better than I expected.

That being said, he and I had a long talk last night, in the course of which he admitted that he loved me back. And there was a lovely, tender, respectful, and thoroughly enjoyable kiss at the end of the evening.

In more urgent news, I have a baby shower tomorrow morning at 10:00 that almost slipped past my radar. I just finished winding the yarn (an orphan skein of Claudia Handpainted Fingering) and will break in my 4” Harmony DP’s on this project.

I get to wear a hat to work today. I found the box that contained my hats. Now to decide which one.

That’s probably all the sense you’re going to get out of me today.

Tenterhooks

Took a bit of PT and ran an errand after work, then headed to Secondborn’s with her hat, which she loves. Got a picture of her in it, Bittiest on her lap.



Finished LittleBit’s hat and got it photographed for Ravelry and both projects marked finished. Did the set-up for 2BDH’s hat on Ravelry, noting yarns and needle size and date started, which will be in a few minutes, or maybe when I get to work.

Feeling a little like a kid on Christmas morning, for the moment. Am reasonably sure that my emotions are going to be all over the map today. This is a Big Day, for both the new guy and me, and don’t think the Adversary doesn’t know it. I have been praying that he has a clear channel in terms of knowing what Heaven wants for us, and that I have the wisdom, grace, courage, or whatever else is needed to respond accordingly.

What I am hoping, of course, is that this is going to be a yee haw, crawdaddies! day for both of us. And part of me wishes I could be a mouse in his pocket at the hospital today, while recognizing that he needs peace and quiet and no distractions when he is talking this over with the Lord, afterward.

I have to laugh at myself a little: I did the math and figured out that I have been patient approximately 8.5 times longer than I would have been in my 20’s. (A side benefit of having ovaries that are no longer screaming hey, sailor!) My calendar is free tonight, should he wish to visit face to face. I have a massage scheduled for tomorrow night and will be having dinner at Black Eyed Pea after that (wondering if there is a dance tomorrow night?), and I’ve told him that he is welcome to join me there.

If all of this sounds as if the Patience Fairy has left the building, along with Elvis, and has been replaced by the Tenterhooks Fairy, you would be right. I am now heading out to the kitchen to plan breakfast, lunch, and my snacks. I am already reconciled to the knowledge that I will be steadily eating my feelings all day. I want to make sure that at least some of what goes down the hatch, is healthy.

Prayers and positive thoughts, if you please.

Here is Clara Parkes’ review of BrooklynTweed’s new yarn, Loft. I popped a link onto Facebook from his website, night before last, and will be buying some of this yarn for next year’s gift knitting. There’s a pattern in Wendy Knits Lace that would be ideal for all the adult women in my tribe, even if my tribe doubles in the next few months.

This is the part where I go soak my head.

Real love eats curry.

I think I might have mentioned the Unfortunate Curry Episode from my misspent youth, when I was making two-thirds of a recipe of curried rice and flipped the fraction in my head while measuring out the curry, effectively making it twice as hot as it was intended to be?

There is an excellent Indian restaurant across the street from the high school which my kids attended. I have eaten there a couple of times with Brother Sushi, whose first (but apparently not last, tee hee!) wife was from India. I found a couple of things that I could eat comfortably, but while he was tucking into one curry or another, I was chiefly there for the joy of his company.

The new guy was supposed to get chemo yesterday. When they did his blood work, they told him that his platelets were too low, and they sent him home. He will try again next week. I figured that he might need a little cheering up, so I offered to come over after work and help dismember more pomegranates. His emailed response was very sweet. (I am welcome there, any time. Such a dangerous thing to say to a woman besotted!) He later emailed to tell me what was for dinner, and that they would save me some: chicken curry over rice, steamed cauliflower, zucchini, and spinach.

My inner four-year-old was shrieking OH GACK!

I got to work nearly two hours of overtime, and then I headed his way. True to his word, he had saved me some dinner. Perfectly cooked rice, two abominable veggies and the last of the spinach, and a delicately flavored curry made by his newest daughter-in-law.

I told him it was the first time in 35 years that I had liked curry. (Probably longer than that; probably closer to 50.) He brought her out to the kitchen so I could tell her personally. Note to my fellow loathers-of-cauliflower: it is better with a generous splash of curry liquid all over it. Ditto for zucchini.

In other culinary news, I made an executive decision yesterday and ordered the immersion blender for my Christmas gift from the corporation. I really could have used it during the Salmon Soup Fiasco of recent memory.

And I did my free annual credit check, more like my free about every eighteen months credit check, and got my credit score from one of the firms. *Much* higher than I expected to see, and today I will call them and cancel my free trial offer. I have one potentially-negative item that should drop off the radar in another eighteen months or so.

In knitting news, I reached the point where I needed to design the crown shaping on the current hat. I tried it on before the decreases, and I tried it on again after three decrease rounds, and I am decreasing too quickly. So I will frog back and start the decreases over, with fewer sections: six as opposed to ten. I think that will give me just enough depth in this portion, but if not I will frog back again and try it with five.

This is the part where I put on my shoes and scoot on out the door. I would rather stay home and knit and eat some of the chicken which was simmering in the crockpot when I got home last night. I portioned it all out and set it on the window unit on the porch to cool, setting the timer for 20-minute intervals. Everything got brought in and put in the fridge, and I probably will not need to cook for a week. Eight (or maybe ten) chicken thighs goes a long way, chez Ravelled.

Tonight I will take Secondborn her birthday present, which I forgot to photograph for Ravelry, but only realized at bedtime last night.

Twitterpated.

Fort Worth Greek Festival

For those of you who are local.

Brother Sushi may or may not be going with me; there is always room for one more. Secondborn is having a HP-DH2 party on Friday night, when I would ordinarily dine with him. (Which means that I need to see a few of the movies, including HP-DH1, before then.)

I hung out at the bookstore until about 8:30 last night. If I don’t get to eat candy corn, nobody else does. Actually, it’s a very quiet neighborhood, and on the nights I have stayed home with candy, I’ve had maybe one or two kids show up. I am not into giving candy to teenagers; Halloween is for little kids, and those of us who refuse to [entirely] grow up. The teenagers can get jobs and buy their own candy, or get it from their parents.

Bah pumpkinbug!

I did end up going to the drugstore on my way to work yesterday, but I came up empty in terms of a costume. One of my coworkers made a simple tutu from skinny black elastic and strips of tulle that were tied on with lark’s-head knots (as in macramé). Thus solving my problem of what to make for at least some of the resin kids next year.

After the bookstore, I ran by Sprouts and came home with more chicken thighs, a small bottle of maple syrup, an avocado, more grape tomatoes, deli-sliced chicken for sandwiches, a small wedge of goat cheese that I tried and liked last time, and a middle-sized bag of baby carrots. The chicken, some frozen chopped onion, and half of the carrots are simmering in the crockpot for dinner tonight. When I woke up, the house smelled heavenly!

Sometimes low-tech and old-fashioned is the way to go. I was trying to figure out an easy way to print new labels for my circular needle holder tabbed dividers. I don’t like the glazed cardboard inserts, and some of the crimping at the bottom of the tabs is faulty, so the insert falls to the bottom of the organizer. Setting up a label template and rotating it to landscape view (so that, in theory, it would print sideways) didn’t work. I ended up using return address labels (as planned) but hand-lettering them. No more fiddling with tweezers to shift the inserts about when I buy a new circ that needs to go between ones I already had. (Because when I wake up at 2:00a.m. and need a 2.25mm needle, I want to know exactly where to find it. Brigham Young would be proud of me!)

Why, you ask? He said that we should know where everything is in our homes, so that if we wake up in the middle of the night we can put our hand right on what it is that we need. You may not need a 2.25mm circular needle at 2:00a.m., but I never know when the muse is going to roust me out of bed and demand sticks and string.