Woohoo! Loads and loads of progress!

Notwithstanding the fact that I picked her up around 9:30 and we didn't get to the house until 2:00, Fourthborn and I knocked it out of the ballpark yesterday. She got the carpet and tack strips out of the coat closet after I offloaded most of the contents onto my bed.

She got the shelves off the brackets in the living room and finished the first round of cutting-in on that wall. She touched up the window wall and cut swathes of carpet around the perimeter of the room so we could Tetris the furniture out of the middle of the room and eliminate most of the rest of the carpet.

I got the closet reloaded and moved 18 boxes of flooring singlehandedly and again with her. I also finished taping the long wall in preparation for the alternating stripes of eggshell paint in the same color.

The matte paint is very low. I hope I won't have to buy a quart to finish the job. That paneling is mighty thirsty. We (mostly she) schlepped the carpet and padding out to the curb.

And then we went to Firstborn's for crafting and conversation. It was a really, really good day.

Only downer was that I ate something that woke me with hives after I'd slept for about an hour. I wish the little bump beasties would have the courtesy to spell out the culprit so I could avoid it in future. I haven't had an episode like this since last year.

I slept until 9:30 and made myself a good breakfast and am now going to scramble to leave for church in half an hour. Sarah's first glove is nearly finished. I will make 20-24 cards for Relief Society after church. All the makings of a good Sabbath.

Note to self: don't scratch.

Hey! Who turned on the winter?

I was just getting cozy with fall. Tuesday morning I went to the gym in my shirt sleeves. Today I had to toss a sweatshirt on over my gym clothes.

Lots of happy knitting. I am nearly done with the increase/decrease portion of Sarah's first fingerless glove.

Bought a few Christmas ornaments this afternoon. Got a coat of paint on the wall under the picture window. I keep falling asleep while writing this. It's been a most excellent day, and I'm ready to put it, and myself, to bed. Night, y'all.

The incredible vanishing VT-ee.

The apartment manager called me at work yesterday afternoon. There are two Hispanic and one Asian family living in three of those apartments. A guy lives in the fourth. She did not have a forwarding address for my VT-ee.

I reported it to the RS president and the ward clerk.

In happier news, I made noticeable progress in the living room last night, with a bit of followup this morning. Part of me wants to see how much I can get done before it's time to leave for RS. The rest of me strongly suspects that I would get sucked into flow and forget all about RS, and this is an activity I've been looking forward to. So, no.

But the odds are great that when I come home at the end of the activity, I will hop right into my painting clothes and see if I can finish this second wall and around the front door.

We shall see.

In happiest news, BittyBit made it into a prestigious choir. She had to audition in order to audition. The grand finale is next spring, out of town, and I've already gotten the time off approved.

This is the part where I brush my teeth, grab a sweater (and my knitting), and head to Relief Society.

Feeling a little like a bum.

But not in the British sense. Took Secondborn her finished fingerless gloves after church. The Bitties reprised their Primary sacrament meeting parts for me. And Secondborn helped me extract my home dec photos from various Facebook posts and toss them into an album. I wouldn't say they are exactly *organized*. But they are now in one spot. I can go back on some mythical "someday" and tidy them up. Or not.

I also responded to a bajillion messages that had been piling up since FB introduced its messenger program and I opted not to install it on my phone.

By the time I got home, took my Rx, and got ready for bed, it was 11:30, and me with no nap. So I pushed the alarm back an hour. And woke around the usual time, laughing a little at the irony of it.

No gym for me this morning, hence the title of this post. I will cheerfully walk up the stairs from the parking garage and try to move around as much as possible while at work.

Dinner tonight with the Empty Nesters. And then home to paint some more. I didn't touch a roller all weekend, so I'm hoping that a divide and conquer plan like last week's will get me where I want to be at the end of the week. I have RS tomorrow night, and I'm looking forward to that.

If I seek first the Kingdom, all the other stuff will either fall into place or fall off the list. I spent yesterday morning putting together the packets for my VT route. And I determined that the reason one of last month's envelopes came back was because we don't have an apartment number for her.

So I drove to the complex and dropped the packet with a note through the mail slot where folks drop their rent. And followed it up with a voicemail to the management office explaining what I had done and why and asking them to call me if she is no longer a resident, knowing that they could not or would not give out her apartment number.

We'll see how that goes. I'm hoping that maintenance will tape it to her door or something. I didn't put a stamp on it, so it might go right in the trash.

If that doesn't work, I'm thinking four postcards or notes, each with the address and a possible apartment number. There are four units in her building, and I am nothing if not persistent. If I mail four and three come back as undeliverable...

In knitting news, I cast on for Sarah's first fingerless glove yesterday and got part of the first row on the second section done. I'm on a roll. Why stop now?

Two men. Make that three.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf is a member of the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I learned this morning that he is one month older than the children's father. It gave me pause.

President Uchtdorf fled political persecution as a child in East Germany and has consistently followed the Savior. He has served humbly, in positions of increasing responsibility, and is loved and respected by 15 million people.

The children's father joined the Church in California two weeks to the day before I was converted and baptized in Idaho. He and I have had our individual struggles to remain faithful and active.

(I never lost my testimony, even when I was struggling hardest to apply the principles I've come to love, in daily life.) I've managed to "stay in the boat" [see the October 2014 General Conference talks on lds.org to appreciate that reference].)

The children's father has splashed and flailed and nearly drowned at times. He was able to regain the privilege of a temple recommend a few years ago.

It was weird and uncomfortable to run into him -- frequently -- on Thursday nights when I was serving as a temple worker, even after I remarried. Once, while waiting for my sealing cancellation from him, he asked how that was going. I told him it was stuck in Salt Lake. He exclaimed, "What the hell's wrong with those people?" Loudly. In the foyer of the temple.

No filter. One more thing lost to his diabetes and the multiple strokes. Our children still love him. As they should. They have no use for the (truly) crazy lady he "married" (no license, just some words said over them by somebody at her church). I will be biting my tongue at Thanksgiving.

Thankfully, I will come home to the peaceful house provided for me by Beloved, who in his own less public way followed humbly in the steps of President Uchtdorf and the prophets and the Savior and is now serving and blessing others in the world of spirits.

We all get to decide who we'll be.

Thank you, Susan!

I'm glad I'm posting more often, too. My life has felt all lopsided lately. Too much "home" work and not enough music and other good stuff.

I mostly just played today. Had a blast visiting and shopping at the Dallas Flea. Brought home a turquoise glass bowl that resembles an oversized brandy snifter (who came up with that word, anyway?). A small steampunk wall hanging that pleases me enormously. And a couple more prints to frame.

I also picked up my November quilt block and the tool we ordered last month. Tanked Lorelai and the Tardis. Put together my standard wedding gift (note to self: buy more small glass candle holders and candles) and went to a reception. Had dinner with the local widows and widowers. Which deserves its own paragraph.

We met at an area chain restaurant, and the food and service were uncharacteristically *off*. There were six of us. Three dinners were served cold. Mine was one of them. One woman's dinner was inedible, so she ordered fresh. It came with a big chunk of plastic from the mushroom packaging. I am not naming names, because the manager really did everything he could to make it right. So the company was excellent, and I won't go back to that location, but neither will I diss it online.

I finished Secondborn's second glove today. I've wound the yarn for Sarah's but am thinking the best thing would be to publish this, brush my teeth, and call it a night. I took a little catnap before leaving for dinner, but that has worn off.

I just want to curl up in Beloved's sweatshirt and kiss this day goodnight. Paint did not happen. At all. But I did ponder the next steps. And I looked up the names of some architectural salvage places.

Did I mention that Steadfast's wig is just that much too small? Consensus at dinner last night was that the manufacturer has made recent batches a smidgen smaller. Mel can loan me a wig until I can buy him a new one.

Bed. I said I was going to bed.

Paint on a wall.

I spent yesterday afternoon at the dentist with Fourthborn, who doesn't drive. I got a lot of knitting done. I will definitely finish Secondborn's second fingerless glove today or tomorrow.

Delivered the empty bookcase to its new home. Attempted to buy a new grille for the ceiling, but Home Depot did not have one in this size. Beloved said that the builder was known for making things a non-standard size so people would have to come to them for replacements. I will go online when I'm at work to see what I can find.

Provisionally, I love the new color. I wasn't sure I would when it first went on. I didn't bother to cut in. I just went with the roller and took it somewhat near the edges but not enough to endanger the new paint on the ceiling. A second coat will improve things considerably.

Tonight I have a doll meet up. I'm taking Steadfast, to get his wig from the group order. Right now he looks like a pediatric chemo patient. And I'll get to meet Middlest's friend Ashbet, who organized the group order.

I have all kinds of sweet mischief planned for tomorrow.

Ceiling is done.

My non-evil plan succeeded. I painted the second coat in three sections, and it's done, unless Fourthborn sees placed I've missed.

Sarah came over after YW and picked out yarn. When I am done making Secondborn's second fingerless glove, I will crank out another pair, to exchange for a massage.

It was so good to have my friend visit. I loved showing her the progress on the house.

Tonight, unless I am prompted to do otherwise, I'll start painting the walls in the living room. That should be a breeze compared to the ceiling. It will definitely use my muscles differently that the ceiling did. I have all sorts of interesting creaks and stiffnesses in my neck, back, and shoulders. (No real pain. Just moving a little more slowly than usual, but still moving.)

I brought home a box to mail the cupcake shaped cookie jar to Middlest. When I got the jar down from the storage shelf in the kitchen, I discovered that it had been broken and glued back together. Maybe more than once. So I regretfully pitched it.

This morning I have cleaned out a small bookcase on the cusp of the living room and the kitchen. Three partial packages of Thrive freeze-dried fruit that will get incorporated into a smoothie or a baking project in the very near future. Two packages of Brita water filters.

Three #10 cans of food storage. A square vase I saved from the memorial service. A two-years-expired packet of taco seasoning. An unopened bag of cheesecloth (for making pomegranate jelly). The red wooden box with my eBay silver service. A green leaf shaped plate my aunt helped me make the day my parents moved us from Wilder to Boise. (Still unbroken more than 50 years later.)

A coffeepot with hinged lid that must have a story to tell, because Beloved and his mother were faithful, observant members of the Church, and we don't *do* coffee. A ginormous bar of Italian soap in a scent that makes my nose crinkle but does not quite make me sneeze.

A soft-sided briefcase containing an extension cord. (I have no idea.) Two small coolers: one collapsible, one not. The latter one containing stuff that Beloved took along when he went for chemo. Whew! Not ready to sort that out.

One of those plastic sleeves that holds 10 to 20 business cards, this one with cards for his team at the Cancer Center. A whole shelf of cooking magazines (some dating back to 2003) and more cookbooks to add to the stash. Some of which are diabetic themed.

Bookcase is now emptied, approximately dusted, and strapped to my luggage carrier for easier schlepping to the car. It will go to its new home after work, and the light fixture will go to Habitat.

That's a hunka hunka Elvis leaving the building. And I've freed up one of the two short walls in the living room. The other is covered up with the two tall bookcases stacked back to back. As soon as I've finished breakfast, I'll put on some shoes and load the car before sluicing off for work.

Work has been a little frustrating of late. I am scrambling to keep busy. Thankfully, today is a short day for me, because I'm ahead on my To-do's for the week.

Visibility.

I've posted more than once about the fact that in a culture which worships the young and the sleek, a middle aged woman is frequently nigh unto invisible, at least for middle aged white men. This was brought home to me even more strongly when I was walking with a cane after I broke my leg line dancing. (Thankfully, this is Texas, and there were plenty of young men whose mamas had raised them right, who opened doors and spoke cheerfully to me.)

Men of color seem to have better vision. I cannot say why this is. The young ones, of course, are as susceptible to idiocy as any full grown Bubba. But once they have outgrown the "hey, baby, baby" stage I've found their appreciation to be leavened with respect.

It has been at least 15 years since anybody hollered, "¡Ay, chiquilina!" to me. I'm fine with that. But let me tell you what happened on the way to work yesterday.

I was driving down the road, one hand on the wheel, the other gently finger-combing my hair. It's by far the easiest way to untangle it, as it's nearly to my waist. This takes me about three-fourths of the way to work, and then I comb it with my wide tooth comb to get anything I've missed.

Anyway. As our story begins, I have begun to comb my hair at the stoplights. I roll up to a light and hear a quiet whistle. I don't think anything of it, but as I am waiting for the light to change, I happen to see a guy two or three cars back in the next lane over (in my right mirror), and he is definitely looking at me, and smiling. The light changes, he passes me, as his lane is moving much faster than mine. I am focusing on not-hitting the bumper of the car ahead of me. He zooms on while I try to figure out if I am putting one and one together and getting three.

As I pull up to the last major intersection before turning downtown, I catch up to him. He turns to look at me, nods courteously, and smiles. I smile back, astounded.

I am visible.

We make our turns. He goes his way. I go mine. And I spend the rest of my commute asking Heaven's blessings upon him and the people he loves.

It's the small kindnesses we give, that make someone's day.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

Work. Costco. Tom Thumb. Tank Lorelai. Start a load of laundry.  Stow the groceries. Tank the Tardis. Shuffle furniture. Start a second load of laundry. Paint. Run the dryer again. Paint some more. Run the dryer *again*. Finish painting for the night. Put that stuff away. Knit three rounds on the thumb. Doze off. Call it a day.

This morning, the first load was finally dry. And I discovered that the second load hadn't spun out completely. It's now on its second tumble in the dryer. I've cleared the decks for tonight's paint-fest, which will happen after I vote. Which will happen after work.

Staying awake at work might prove to be a challenge. When I left the office last night, I had pretty much done my To-do's through Thursday. I sent out a "will type for food" email but got no takers.

I would love to just stay home, go back to bed for an hour or two, and spend the day knitting and painting. The finish-itis has subsided a little from Saturday night. I made enough progress last night that the frustration I felt on Sunday has nearly disappeared.

Where we are.

"We" being me + the house. Fourthborn did two rounds of cutting-in on the perimeter of the ceiling in the living room. I got the first coat of paint up, and about 20% of the second before we ran out of paint. At which point we were both ravenous, so we combined a paint run with dinner and a yogurt run, getting home just as daylight was fading.

We work well together, and as she remarked, we tend to forget how often we need to take breaks. So we didn't get anywhere near as much accomplished as I had hoped, but what we did was good solid work.

More importantly, we enjoyed the process and the time together.

So during the coming week, I will finish up the ceiling in the evenings after work, and maybe get started on the walls. I am trying to figure out how to remove a shelf that Beloved put up. It is very solidly attached to the wall, with no visible clue as to how. (There are none of those little wooden buttons that people use to hide countersunk screws.)

It is a great shelf, and there is another in the kitchen, and each has supports painted the most lovely shade of red. The shelves are barnwood from a barn that belonged to someone in Beloved's first/late wife's family.

I would like to keep the shelves, and I would like to *move* the shelves, and those red supports are not likely to play well with the shade of green that I am repainting the walls. (Or they will make my living room look like Christmas 24/7, which is not the look I am going for.)

The chandelier-ish lamp is down from the ceiling. I will probably donate it to Habitat for Humanity. It is absolutely lovely, and it gives great light, and it is absolutely not-me.

I discovered another wall plate after we took down the curtain rod and brackets, this one for a co-ax cable. I may be stuck with it, as I don't think the manufacturer makes those in the Texas star pattern I am using, any more than they make blank ones. I will probably just have to paint over those, or hide them with furniture.

I had originally planned not to get together with Fourthborn next Saturday, except to meet her and Firstborn to pick up our quilt blocks. I had planned on having solo adventures. And that still might happen.

But I had also hoped that we would get as far as ripping up the carpet yesterday, and we're a long way from that, and Thanksgiving is in less than four weeks, and one of those weekends I'm going to be making a getaway with some of the other kids, so time is of the essence if I want to have enough space to set up the air mattress so Fourthborn can spend most of Thanksgiving weekend with me, playing with dolls and helping me decorate for Christmas.

Whew! Pausing for air.

It will all get done. Maybe I won't be able to put up two trees (one big, one little). Maybe we will be painting and ripping and planking the floor right up to the very last minute. Maybe it's unrealistic to think we can redo the living room in three weeks when it took a month and a half to do the hall.

Maybe.

But we can try.

Plan Q?

Got a call from one of my kids who is as fiercely independent as her mother. She needed a little help with something. It is such a pleasure to serve people who know their strengths and when it's time to call in reinforcements. I try to be that kind of person.

The second back to Temperance's sweater is done and attached at the shoulder. Now I need to design a sleeve.

My FHE project tonight was about equal parts wonderful and frustrating. I wound two balls of yarn. The first one cooperated and is now an elegant cheese of teal and midnight goodness. The second skein was just that much too long to stay put on the umbrella swift. It leaped off and somersaulted to the floor. The first was wound in less than five minutes. The second took nearly one full hour to untangle. It's 9:00. I'm knackered. So much for casting on Secondborn's birthday present tonight.

Have found a home for the entertainment center and the TV. Am hoping that tomorrow night I'll get another bookcase emptied and moved. Trying hard to stay awake until 10:00 but am not sure I'll make it.

Lorelai is less than ten miles away from 200K miles. There's a miracle on the order of the loaves and the fishes!

A whole week of progress.

Again I ask, who thought it would be a good idea to put seven doorways in the halls? Only six of them touch the floor. Trimming the vinyl plank flooring to fit around the door moulding is fiddly work.

I spent the better part of two hours cobbling together the floor inside the linen closet, mostly from scraps leftover from other edges. It looks really nice now. I managed to dislodge the center dome from one of the decorative door pulls. Hot glue will fix that, once I find the glue gun and glue sticks. Or I could look for teal buttons the same size, pry out the other four domes, and customize the knobs.

Wes and his boys (13 and 3) came by on Tuesday night and wrangled the hot water heater closet for me. The sill is sawn off. The paint cans are stacked neatly in a corner of the kitchen. The trunk is in the living room for now. The boys rinsed off the AC filter, and I can do that myself from here on out. I haven't built the shelves yet.

I got the smallest, empty bookcase moved back into place in the hall. I put maybe a dozen books on a shelf before cleaning myself up for the Saturday night session of stake conference. I think today I will unpack all the DVD's and stow them there. Maybe add my boxes of CD's. That would come more under the heading of puttering than real work.

During the week ahead, I'll start clearing the living room so Fourthborn and I may paint the ceiling next Saturday. I also want us to rip out the carpet in the hall closet so I may extend the flooring into it and finish that doorway. We can pull up the carpet in the living room after I've repainted the walls.

My Wall Words arrived in Friday's mail. That box will sit on my dresser until I've repainted the double doors, which won't happen until I've sanded a couple of rough spots on the sill and dealt with the moulding. But it's incentive to keep moving forward.

Today I will go to stake conference, make the November birthday cards, maybe finish the second back piece of Temperance's sweater, and pick out music for sacrament meeting for November and December. Not necessarily in that order.

Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath, y'all!

More progress!

We ran a lot of errands yesterday. Multiple trips to Home Depot. Bittiest's soccer game. Drive-by fooding of the elders. There are two coats of paint on the ceiling in the hall, and I don't think it will need a third.

Fourthborn got the piece cut for the missing triangle of flooring at the corner of the alcove in the dining room. It looks wonderful. (And had defeated me three times, back in July.)

I've hung four pictures and a shelf this morning. Posted some pictures on Facebook. Taken the three small Willow Tree figurines and placed them atop the shelf (which hides the botched wall patch I'm pretty sure was botched by somebody other than Beloved, because the man was meticulous).

Tomorrow after work I will tackle the flooring. I am so excited that I can barely sit still. When that is done, and Wes has trimmed the sill on the water heater closet, I can paint the trim on that doorway, paint both doors in that section of hall, and empty the big closet of Beloved's footlocker and a bajillion paint cans.

It just occurred to me that I might be able to install shelving on one wall in there, which would provide an orderly place to keep the paint cans and my stash of Costco TP. I need to be able to access the AC filter, which is blocked by the footlocker and the clutter. It has not been tended since before Beloved passed, so it is long overdue.

Most of those paint cans will disappear when I have the outside of the house repainted. I will *not* be doing that myself. I don't mind climbing up and down stepstools to paint the interior. There are plenty of places to grab, when the day comes that I feel a little unsteady. I draw the line at tall ladders and tree branches. If the kids are willing and able to tackle the outside, fantastic! Otherwise, I will wait for a bonus and hire it done.

When I lived in the penultimate apartment, I had a Mae West quote along the top of my dining room wall in burgundy vinyl lettering. On Friday, I reordered it in the same font in a new color that I think will tone well with the color I'll be using on the double doors to the water heater closet.

One of the joys of having my own home is the freedom to paint the walls in a riot of colors and then "write" on them. These walls are too textured to accept wall words, but the doors are more cooperative. This company has a sign language font (finger spelling hand shapes). I am toying with getting L-O-O for the guest bathroom. Or "room of requirement" in their "Parry Hotter" font. Either of which would please me immensely.

So grateful to Fourthborn for helping me to get past the creative block and resume forward movement.

Cats, dogs, fishes, and a tornado watch.

It's Monday. It's raining. And the tornado watch expires at 7:00am. The only reason I know about it (I turn my phone off at night) is because I awoke from the beginnings of a nightmare around 1:00am and needed a distraction to clear my mind before going back to sleep.

I hear thunder out there. And dripping. And the gurgling of my stomach. I barely ate yesterday. Healthy breakfast. Didn't need my snack during church, so that was late lunch or pre-dinner once I got home. Then a catnap so I would be safe driving back from the birthday bash. (I drove almost 200 miles on Saturday. I'm tired.)

Slice of Tillamook while throwing on my clothes after my nap. One bottle of water down the hatch on the drive to Arlington. Four bites of dried pineapple, one cupcake, and two small cookies at the party. No Arby's on the way home, because it was the Sabbath. But another bottle of water. Ravenous when I got home. Nothing sounded good. I fixed an English muffin, took my Metformin, and called it a night.

My stomach thinks my throat's been cut. I just finished an English muffin with almond butter. My clothes are laid out for my shower. And I'm about to head back to the kitchen to rustle up a salmon burger sans bun. Thank you, Costco. I will probably follow that with bacon and eggs and a biscuit once I get to work. And I have the last pint of soup to take for lunch. Maybe by the end of the day I will no longer feel 10,000 calories behind.

The front of the new incarnation of Temperance's sweater is about half an inch from the neck shaping. I plan on leaving in about 45 minutes and taking the freeway to avoid any downed trees or misfiring traffic lights. As it's Columbus Day, traffic should be minimal. Ergo, plenty of time for knitting progress once I reach the office.

Tonight it's "Keyboard Conversations" and Mozart's variations on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Cannot wait!

Glad to know I've not been recalled.

"This email is to notify you that an important patient recall/reminder message has been sent to your account at (notification provider). Please login at your earliest convenience to review this information."

I wasn't sure what to think. I've been reasonably lively today and thought I was healthier than I have felt in weeks. I hoped it wasn't a case of their knowing something that I didn't know.

Turns out that they just wanted me to schedule next year's well woman exam. Which I did. Glad to know that my warranty did not expire when I wasn't looking.

I am going to see "Meet the Mormons" tonight. Picking up one of the sisters in my ward and going to mingle with the fellow travelers. It's supposed to be a good film. (The church doesn't do anything boring or tacky, and this is allegedly both entertaining and edifying.) At any rate, I am in need of, and in the mood for, a little company and something other than knitting or painting to occupy my mind: i.e., culture.

Which is why I am also going to the Keyboard Conversations concert on Monday night, bypassing the evening with my beloved Empty Nesters in favor of Mozart's variations on "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I have loved that piece since I was a student wife at BYU. And the pianist is quite engaging; I attended his Chopin presentation last year and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The sweater I made for Temperance was too tight in the shoulders, a result of my following Alice Starmore's instructions to decrease my cable stitches (two into one, four into two, etc.) just before binding off, in order to prevent the cables from flattening and splaying out. This sweater was more heavily cabled than the first two, resulting in greater compression where I joined it to the sweater body. It fits Hope just fine, but it isn't her turn, so it's gone into a baggie with detailed notes until I am ready to take apart the side seams, shorten the sleeves by the depth of one full "fish" repeat, and put it back together.

In the meantime I have commandeered the start of what I thought was going to be a sweater for Steadfast, which is far less heavily cabled, and Temperance is likely to end up with the little-girl equivalent of the boyfriend sweater.

I am picking up Fourthborn tomorrow, and we will paint paint paint until it is time to head over to Dolloween. I have been stuck in terms of painting for the past two or three weeks, and having her assistance may mean that we finish the @#$%&*! trim in the hall, once and for all.

Because I am so ready to be done in the hall and move on to the living room. And I am jonesing to decorate for Christmas but have settled for displaying one small fall-themed item in a bookcase in the living room.

Good morning!

Not much going on chez Ravelled. Attached the first sleeve to Temperance's sweater yesterday and got started on the second sleeve. Paid bills for the upcoming two weeks. Shredded a small batch of receipts.

Big weird storm moved through the area yesterday afternoon. Straight line winds of 60-80mph. Arlington, where I used to live, got trashed. There is a building in the FW Stockyards that is a pile of bricks spilling out into the parking lot. I really hope it was not the Star Cafe, which serves the best chicken fried steak I've ever eaten. (I go back every couple of years just to make sure.)

Lots of trees broken or down. Lots of traffic lights out. Because I decided I was smarter than Waze and ignored its attempts to shunt me onto the freeway, it took me two hours to get home last night.

Here at the house, all appears to be well. A number of my friends were without power last night.

Really looking forward to General Conference this weekend and quilt club sandwiched in between sessions and quantity time with Fourthborn and dropping off birthday presents for Lark and Willow.

This is the part where I figure out breakfast and what I'm going to wear. Lunch will be leftover Subway, because I had to dash into one (that had power) last night for a much needed comfort break. A bladder with no sense of humor is not the best companion for a two hour drive home!

Ms. Ravelled buys a bed.

I thought maybe I'd mentioned it here, but I can't find it. Maybe it was over on FB. Or maybe I put it in a letter to someone recently.

Anyway. On my way home from the doctor's office last week I stopped at the estate sale consignment store where I bought the plant stand that's in the alcove in the dining room. And there was this bed.

It is massive. Probably oak. A light but warm finish. Headboard has a deep ogee curve at the top (like an old secretary or armoire). It and the footboard are fashioned to look as if they were made of plantation blinds or shutters. There are four heavily carved bedposts, not tall as a four-poster but nevertheless impressive. This bed is solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. (Please don't tell me that that icon has been carted away and dry docked next to the Queen Mary.) One could found dynasties in this bed if one were not postmenopausal and if one's DNA coprovider of choice were not post-mortal.

Ahem.

When I saw the bed last week, it was priced well out of my comfort zone. I called today, to ask if they could let me know if or when the price dropped. She said it was marked down as low as it would be. I said that it was a gorgeous bed and that I could not afford to pay X. She said, "Oh, didn't you know? It's marked down to Y."

Y was 10% lower than the top of my comfort zone! The kids will help me get it home on Saturday, and it will live in the garage until I'm ready to repaint my bedroom, somewhat earlier than I'd originally planned.

In painting news, there is progress on the trim around the doors, and I am hopeful that I may get it done before I crash on Sunday night. Once the halls are done, there's really very little fiddly stuff left until I have to repaint or replace the kitchen cabinets. Just acres and acres of flat surfaces.

Seven doorways in these two halls. Really?

Time, I think, for a smidgen of knitting and then lights out.

Priorities.

I testify that when help is prayerfully and sincerely sought, our Heavenly Father will help us to give emphasis to that which deserves our time above something else. - Ian S. Ardern, A Time to Prepare, General Conference, Oct 2011

The front of Temperance's sweater is done. I do not have enough brain cells to rub together to design the back, before bedtime. Last night I finished the trim on the door to the middle bedroom. Tonight I ran a few errands and got another coat on the trim for the bathroom door. In theory I could put on another coat before bedtime, but it's a quarter to eleven, and all I want is to be horizontal and unconscious.

Lest you think I am bummed, after work I brought home four new drapery panels and another teal backless chair for the dining room. More on that later, maybe, but definitely not tonight.

Prayers tonight are likely to be of the "Lord, bless Heber; he is so very tired" variety.

The right place, the right time.

The Savior... gave us a great example about not waiting to administer relief to those who have lost a sense of happiness and joy. - Jose L. Alonso, Doing the Right Thing at the Right Time, without Delay, General Conference, Oct 2011

Last night's General Women's Conference was another great example of this. I'm in pretty good shape emotionally. And very grateful for that. President Uchtdorf's talk lovingly illustrated the difference between visiting teaching as a box to be checked off each month, and as Christlike, loving service.

I have a writing route, because coordinating with a companion and making actual visits would be just One More Thing at the moment. By the time I come home from work I am pretty much peopled out. But I can take an hour or two and write letters to send out with copies of the RS newsletter and the VT message from the Ensign, and I can remember birthdays and Valentines Day and send Christmas cards.

I hope when they get my letters they feel Heaven's love for them. These are hard times for many. In the broadcast last night, a woman who lost six of her children in the earthquake in Haiti when her neighbor's house fell on them as they played, bore testimony of God's love for her and the comfort she takes in knowing she will see and have her children again.

Puts my own small struggles in a proper perspective. And makes me all the more grateful for the life I have. Part of the impetus to focus on setting my house in order is so I may have the time, money, and energy to serve my family and others with greater effectiveness.

And the house is a little more chaotic than when I woke up yesterday. There was no room for the new bed in the garage, so it's leaning against a wall in the dining room. When we were there to pick it up, I found a wing chair that wanted to come home as well. It is solid enough for the largest member of the Beloved family, expertly upholstered in a fabric that doesn't make me cringe, was reasonably priced, and I got another 25% off that!

Here I am, trying to curate and simplify, and Heaven is telling me to incorporate more beauty into my life. Affordably. This comes under the heading of blessings so abundant that there is not room to contain them.

In knitting news, the second back is attached to Temperance's sweater. Today I will figure out the sleeve design and get to work on that. And maybe I will also finish the dresses for the twins.

But first there is breakfast. Have a blessed Sabbath, y'all.

If you don't know where you want to go...

In our day many people are living in the midst of sadness and great confusion. They are not finding answers to their questions and are unable to meet their needs. Some have lost a sense of happiness and joy. The prophets have declared that true happiness is found in following the example and teachings of Christ. He is our Savior, He is our teacher, and He is the perfect example. - Jose L. Alonso, Doing the Right Thing at the Right Time, without Delay, General Conference, Oct 2011

Can I get an "amen"? I am so thankful for last weekend's General Conference sessions. I am glad that I wanted to go sit and listen for four, two-hour broadcasts. I am looking forward to the November issue of the Ensign, which will have all five sessions (there is one just for the priesthood brethren; the children's father used to call it the "stop being idiots" session) and the Women's Broadcast from the preceding Saturday, all printed out for study and review.

Last week was weird. A short week of exceedingly long days. I spent chunks of it looking for things to do and ways to help. Mostly, I succeeded. This coming week, I will be doing some training-of-others on two projects, which will be both fun and interesting. I'm part of a two-person team for one project and driver of a four-person committee on the other.

The Culture Fairy has put her oar in the water. I'm going to a concert tomorrow night. A bluegrass festival on Friday night.  The opera with Firstborn a week from Friday. All that has been largely set aside while I work on the house.

So I'm glad that Fourthborn and I made some noticeable progress on the painting yesterday. Two of the doors in the hallway are done. Two more are nearly done. I'm hoping that next weekend we can finish that, plus the ceiling, and lay in the flooring. Tuesday is ward temple night; I will only have Wednesday and Thursday (theoretically) available for painting.

I did get Lark's birthday present finished after work on Friday. And her card and Willow's begun. The butler's tray table is piled high with gifts, which makes me happy. Soon to be joined with more, because I was successful yesterday in finding birthday and Christmas gifts for my sister.

I love wrapping presents. I love making presents. One of the things I have enjoyed most about this year (and the "new normal") is that I've been able to make several of the birthday gifts.

Part of me wants to sit here and write all morning. But I have cards to finish and lessons to study, and I have no idea what to wear to church, and I need to write the notes for my visiting teaching route.

Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath.

Reading the instruction manual.

The most important way to teach is to be the kind of parents to our children that our Father in Heaven is to us. He is the one perfect parent, and He has shared with us His parenting manual-the scriptures. - Lynn G. Robbins, What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?, General Conference, Apr 2011

So, General Conference is over for another six months. My spirit is fed. My body was exhausted until I came home and took a nap. The music was superb. Much of the counsel seemed just for me, and only some of it made me squirm.

Two most memorable phrases? One I didn't have to write down: Stay in the boat (a parable about river rafting). And one I did: The process of gathering light is the quest of a lifetime. (Elder Uchtdorf)

In mundane news, I made a killer pot of soup. There are five pint jars of leftovers in the fridge. And I finished the second sleeve to Temperance's sweater and attached it to the body. It's ready to be blocked, and I've cast on for the front of Steadfast's.

I've tried to eat sensibly all weekend and have pretty much succeeded. Enjoyed my first shawerma yesterday. Will go back for more. If I were not out of Greek yogurt, I would be having some with Nutella and finely chopped pecans and berries (which I'm also out of). I want something sweet but not stupid.

It's officially not-the-Sabbath. I started a load of laundry and will go back to bed once the shirts are hung up and the socks are in the dryer.

He's quoting my mom.

The single most important principle that should govern every home is to practice the Golden Rule - the Lord's admonition that "all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them" (Matthew 7:12). - M. Russell Ballard, Finding Joy through Loving Service, General Conference, Apr 2011

I heard that a lot, growing up. My parents, though not outwardly religious, were two of the best Christians I know. Mom said the Golden Rule would get you through pretty much any situation in life. I have to agree.

Work has been going well. I haven't had that much to do for SemperFi, so I've been helping the other legal secretaries with one thing or another. Just when I think I have run myself out of work, something else pops up.

Paint did not happen last weekend. At all. But Firstborn and 1BDH helped me get the new bed home, along with a wing chair, and I had a spiritual feast at the General Women's Broadcast on Saturday night. Sunday was restful. A sleep wrecking nap and lots of knitting.

I got blindsided at fast and testimony meeting when the father of one of our young husbands stood and bore his testimony. He is recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and a short time frame. They are traveling around the country to see the kids and the grandkids before he goes Home. And I just sat there in the choir seat with leaky eyes and barely got through conducting the closing song.

"I Am a Child of God" does not typically make me cry. I warned them when they called me as sacrament meeting chorister that music affects me deeply, and that I never know if or when I will get hit by a wave of grief. They said that's fine.

I'm holding them to it.

In knitting news, I am nearly done with the first sleeve on Temperance's sweater. She will go to work with me today, because I'm leaving early for my four month dental cleaning, then picking up Fourthborn for Cheesecake Factory. Having Temperance along will make it easier to fine-tune the length of the sleeve. And if Fourthborn brings MoMo, they can have a dolly tea party while the humans are feasting and laughing.

I miss Knit Night. I'm more rested on Wednesday morning, but I miss Knit Night.

Retrenchment

Therefore, it is good advice to slow down a little, steady the course, and focus on the essentials when experiencing adverse conditions. - President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Of Things That Matter Most, General Conference, Oct 2010

I can't complain of any adverse conditions chez Ravelled at the moment. I have enough to eat. A closet full of clothing that I like, that still fits reasonably well. A year's supply of yarn. Or more.  Nevertheless, I am intentionally slowing it down a bit. On the one hand, finish-itis is starting to kick in, in terms of the hall. I did a little more painting tonight. A second coat on the grilles. The strip that will show between them when that wall is finished. Two coats on the door to my studio. If I had Hermione's time turner, I would stay up all night and paint the trim on the doors. But I don't. So I won't. As Tevye said, "There is no other hand." At least not tonight. I am going to focus on getting a decent night's sleep. Maybe I will wake just enough ahead of the alarm that I can put a third coat of paint on the door before hitting the gym.

Salt of the earth

God knows that some of the greatest souls who have ever lived are those who will never appear in the chronicles of history. They are the blessed, humble souls who emulate the Savior's example and spend the days of their lives doing good. - Dieter F. Uchtdorf, You Matter to Him, General Conference, Oct 2011

People like my dad. My mom. My dear, feisty Beloved. Any number of my friends. People who didn't, or don't, think of themselves as anything but ordinary.

That's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up. I am wonderfully blessed.  I am intermittently humble (i.e., teachable). I can only hope, like J. Golden Kimball, that I "repent too damn fast" to go to hell.

This is not false modesty. Nor is it an attack of self-loathing. It is merely an acknowledgement of human frailty. Like every person but One who has lived on this beautiful earth, I sin and fall short on a regular basis. I have gotten a little better at learning from my mistakes. And I take ever greater joy in doing right (and in insisting less on *being* right).

We made some progress here yesterday. Fourthborn got Steadfast's faceup mostly done, ahead of the humidity. She also got the first coat of paint on the grilles. I got one side and both edges of the bathroom door painted. She cleaned the door to my studio. Those doorknobs are bagged and set aside.

Memo to self: time to invest in another box of Magic Erasers.

Wes came and used a different claw than the one I'd borrowed to get rid of the rest of the nails in the hall. He also analyzed the arrangement of the grilles and the baseboard. I won't have to buy new grilles. (Hence the painting.) Once the flooring is down, I can attach the new, taller baseboard, move the grilles up about an inch, and install fresh molding above them to cover where the sill sticks out. (He forgot to bring his oscillating saw to cut that off.)

And while we were doing inside stuff, his eldest was out in my backyard picking up horse apples (the bright green fruit of the bois d'arc tree) and chunking them into my trash bin.

I need to hit Costco after work tomorrow. But after that I should be able to do the last bit of painting where the grilles were (mostly in between them) and get another coat or two on the grilles themselves. And maybe even paint the studio door, if I don't run out of paint. That would give me Tuesday through Thursday to paint the trim around four or five doors. Then Friday and Saturday I could paint the ceiling and install the flooring.

I don't want to replace the door handles until the doors are painted, front and back. I know what I want to try on the inside of the door to the loo, and it will have to wait until I buy the paint for the living room. I have no idea what I want for the insides of the other doors. Or for the vanity in the loo.

In knitting news, I will probably finish the left back section of Temperance's sweater sometime today.

In sewing news, all the fabric is preshrunk to make Halloween dresses for all the dolls. I may very well get started on those today, if I have the right thread colors. I ordered a pattern for Steadfast on Friday. There will be enough fabric to make him a shirt, as well.

The October issue of the Ensign arrived yesterday. Time to curl up with a snack and improve the shining moment.

Stealth mode.

I stopped at JoAnn's after work and invested in a five-pack of Olfa blades. It was getting to the point where I could have chewed my fabric into strips and pieces faster than cut them. Pitiful.  

If last night was about serving the dead, and it was, then tonight was about serving the living. I whipped up Willow's birthday present. Just totally lost myself in the flow, and before I knew it, I was done.

Had another good, productive day at work. The office manager cancelled the monthly support staff meeting, so I did not lose an hour and a half to two hours right in the middle of what is frequently my most effective stretch of the day. I closed two cases, finished calendaring a scheduling order I'd begun last week before I got sick, dealt with the day's mail, and got several items e-filed, e-served, or e-faxed, even started a grocery list for tomorrow night.

Tan suggested a combination that I tried for dessert tonight: Fage yogurt, nice blob of Nutella on top, and a generous sprinkling of roughly chopped pecans on top. I tossed ten or so fresh blackberries on top of all that.

Oh. Wow. The Nutella and pecans play nicely off one another, and the yogurt keeps it from being cloying. I wanted seconds, but that would have led to thirds.

Not a whole lot of knit has happened today. I've enjoyed what little there was.

Tomorrow night is for a modicum of grocery shopping and a whole lot of writing to the sisters on my VT route.

Night, y'all.

Struggle

Our testimonies fortify us and strengthen us as we face challenges in our daily lives. Some people struggle with difficult health problems; some experience financial problems; others have challenges in their marriage or with their children; some suffer from loneliness or unfulfilled hopes and dreams. It is our testimony, combined with our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and our knowledge of the plan of salvation, which helps to get us through these times of trial and hardship. - Barbara Thompson, Personal Revelation and Testimony, General Conference, Oct 2011

I can check all of these items off, at one point or another. Illness, cyclical depression, marital troubles, financial chaos, rebellious children, broken hearts, broken dreams. And yet, life continues to be worth living, because of my faith in Christ and His continuing demonstrations of faith and trust in me. (Oh d@mn. I'm sniveling in Starbucks.)

I got to meet Sr. Thompson in the spring of 2009. She was the keynote speaker at a regional singles conference, and she also met separately, beforehand, with a horde of local Relief Society presidents. I was a newly called but yet to be sustained RS president. It was so much fun, and so needful, to attend that early meeting and see many of my friends there. And to see "well, of *course* you would be here" on their faces before the flurry of hugs.

This, in marked contrast to the "poor dear Sr. Ravelled, however does she stand it?" expressions I was used to. Sometimes we are called because we have an aptitude for the calling. Sometimes we get a calling to shake things up a little. And sometimes we get a calling so Heaven can say, "This. This is how much We trust you. This is who you are worthy to stand among. No matter what anyone else thinks. Ours are the only opinions which matter."

But I digress. I had an insight while sluicing off in the shower this morning. Whether the respiratory yuck has been contagious or allergic, I think it is at least partially psychogenic. I was reviewing other instances of similar disruption: the first serious asthma attack on my 16th birthday, in part because of my sister's cat but more because my best friend was so beloved by my family, and I was jealous. The bronchitis related to my near date experience, when I was so frustrated at not being able to get a word in edgewise that I could not breathe for a week. The illness last year related to communication issues with the twins.

So what triggered or contributed to this? I think it not coincidental that I began to sneeze on Tuesday afternoon, now that Knit Night meets on Mondays (better for the majority, but not for me). Compounded by the news on the previous Saturday that Middlest's name change is final, and it's time for me to keep a promise that when my child went to the time, trouble, and expense involved, I would begin using the preferred name.

I read that post while Fourthborn was visiting, and Fourthborn is totally supportive of all the changes that Middlest is making. So I couldn't follow my instinct, which was to cover my face and howl. By the time I got back from taking Fourthborn home, I was too weary to cry.

It feels as if my sweet baby girl has died. Not in that horrible, vindictive "you are dead to me" way. The goodness, decency, and personal integrity are still there under the shell which still startles me a little, even after five years of metamorphosis. So it is still very easy to love my middle child. And it is *not my child's fault* that I am sick.

Feelings are not good or bad. They just *are*. And I have worked hard to recognize and own mine with increasing promptness, and to express or wrangle them appropriately. I just got hit out of nowhere with a double whammy and insufficient time and space to process both. The Adversary is good at that.

So the trick seems to be, to find a way to honor my feelings, without letting them bully others, or me. Sounds like a job for the Holy Spirit and the priesthood of God.

I get by, with a little help from my Friends. Gonna try, with a little help from my Friends. Gonna fly, with a little help from my Friends.

To my kids: keep following your dreams. I'll support you when I can. And even when I think you're misled, nothing, *nothing* you can do will ever break my love for you.

Somebody hand me another box of Puffs.

Pain and progress

Our great personal challenge in mortality is to become "a saint through the atonement of Christ." The pain you and I experience may be where this process is most measured. - Kent F. Richards, The Atonement Covers All Pain, Apr 2011

And the lesser stuff as well. For the better part of a week I have been playing reindeer games with my respiratory system. Not sure if it's allergies or a cold, because I've been doctoring myself with OTC medicines with varying degrees of success. The loratidine did nothing. I tried it for two days before acquiring some generic Mucinex, which has slowly but steadily been making inroads. I will have to go see a doctor before returning to work, because I missed two straight days (not a problem), went back to work on Friday, and got sent back home (problem).

The rule is, if you're out three days, you need a note from your doctor. I see this as the adult equivalent of a note from your mother, verifying that you were not playing hooky. I understand that many people abuse their company's sick pay policy. I am not one of them. I have to be barely able to walk (or breathe) before I will stay home. Yes, if I have a fever. Yes, if I'm throwing up (sorry).

Ferris Bueller I am not. I pride myself on keeping going, even when the going gets tough. It's what I do. It's who I am.

My office manager took one look at me and said Go. Home. So I did. Am I physically better off because I did? Possibly. Probably. Am I a little bit cranky because I will have to shell out $30 for a copayment before I can go back to work? Because this might not be just the usual fall allergies? Who goes to the doctor for a cold?

Me, apparently. But I don't have to like it.

Thankfully, I do have the money. And good insurance. And a doctor I love and trust.

Rant over. Happier stuff. The doll sweater for Mel's Jimmy is done, and I hope she will be as pleased with it as I am. Like the one I made for Middlest's Doran, a miniature Aran of many cables knitted on ridiculously small needles. I am midway up the front for a sweater for my Temperance, who is the doll I've had longest without making anything for her. I'm incorporating design elements from the first two sweaters. Honor's sweater will probably be next. I'll do Steadfast's (working title) last, both because he's the newest and because I will want something relatively uncomplicated after designing around Blessing's curves.

The ultimate goal is for all of them to have Aran sweaters, proper kilts if I can find a miniature tartan I like, kilt socks for the ones with human feet, and proper shoes or boots. Middlest designed a sporran pattern for Steadfast, and sooner or later I will be cannibalizing my leather jacket, which is now too large and practically loved to death. There should be enough good leather for me to perfect several pairs of shoes. Not to mention give me knowledge about authentic historical Scots footwear.

Please, Brer Fox, don't throw me in the textile patch!

In other happy news, there is visible progress on the Eternal Painting Project which is my home. I finally ma'amhandled the obstreperous doorknob off my bedroom door. (Inspiration, tin-snips, and both kinds of screwdriver. Miraculously, no childbirth words.) As well as the polite one from the door to the middle bedroom. Both doors are repainted on the hall side, and I am pleased. I have masked four of the five doorways, preparatory to painting the trim. And I got all of the baseboards up and the nails removed. And the grilles off the intake slots beneath the closet where the water heater lives. And the bits of wall painted which we deliberately left undone on Labor Day weekend, to either side of the grilles.

Do I feel frustrated at all that hasn't been done, because I've been sick? Yes, a little. But then I look at what I've accomplished this year, on my own or with Fourthborn's help, and I am so pleased. It's very much a line upon line process.

I would love to have the hall well and truly done by the end of the month. Ceiling painted, flooring down, new handles on all the doors, bookcases in place, art hung or rehung. Done. And the living room done in time for Christmas.

Next year? The really scary stuff. Kitchen and maybe even the garage.

And now if you will kindly excuse me, FB  and popcorn are calling my name.

On doing things the hard way.

There is a beauty and clarity that comes from simplicity that we sometimes do not appreciate in our thirst for intricate solutions. - President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Of Things That Matter Most, General Conference, Oct 2010

I have done things the hard way for much of my life. Sometimes from sheer bulldog stubbornness. Sometimes because I blinked and missed the road sign. Sometimes because I was sick, or tired, or both. Those are the lessons that have tended to stick with me over time.

Sometimes the solution really is as simple as doing something I know is right when I would rather do something else. (Not necessarily a bad something. Just a different something. And sometimes even a very good something, but not the one that will bring about the greatest good.)

The scriptures talk about the lightness of the yoke and the easiness of the way, when we are yoked with the Savior. I am so grateful for His patience. It cannot be an easy thing to be willingly yoked to the infinitely distractible. And there are so many of us. I wonder how He keeps from being pulled all over Creation?

That may be where the "be still and know that I am God" kicks in.

I love it when He gently slices through the Gordian knots of my thought processes and shows me a single, simple, clear image of the desired result. Whether it's the application of a spiritual verity in my daily life, or something as simple as the remembrance of an item already in my possession (somewhere) that will serve the design function I'm currently pondering. I probably need to do the mental macrame in order to appreciate the sublime solution. (Thank you, Elder Maxwell.)

Happiness

So often we get caught up in the illusion that there is something just beyond our reach that would bring us happiness: a better family situation, a better financial situation, or the end of a challenging trial. - Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Of Regrets and Resolutions

I'll tell you what real happiness is: doing something for someone that they can't do for themselves. Beloved's mother left his father when my sweetheart was a baby. It was the wise thing to do. Later she remarried and had his four siblings. That marriage ended through no fault of her own. So when she passed, and Beloved passed, they were not sealed to one another.

I fixed that tonight. It was heart-stoppingly wonderful. When Beloved's stepfather, whom he adored, and who passed a couple of weeks ago, has been gone a year, I'll see what I can do to seal her to him as well. (A living woman can only be sealed to one man, which is why I needed the sealing cancellation from the children's father. A woman who dies may be sealed to any or all men to whom she was legally wed, even if the marriage(s) subsequently ended in divorce. At some point, as I understand it, she will get to decide which one she wants to keep, or possibly choose someone else.) At any rate the paperwork is done for one marriage, and it was a lovely, tender experience.

And now I'm going to say goodnight and see if anybody wants to come talk to me in my dreams.

Gratitude

When we encounter challenges and problems in our lives, it is often difficult for us to focus on our blessings. However, if we reach deep enough and look hard enough, we will be able to feel and recognize just how much we have been given. - Thomas S. Monson, The Divine Gift of Gratitude, General Conference, Oct 2010

From time to time I have enjoyed a somewhat ironic appreciation of the blessing which Malachi and other prophets have shared: that if we are obedient, Heaven cannot be restrained from pouring out blessings on our behalf, to the point that we run out of room to receive them. Most of the rooms in this house, and the garage, demonstrate this verity.

My challenge and blessing is to share the wealth. Not to make room for more stuff in my life, but to make room to navigate safely. I'm happiest when it's two steps forward and one step back, and not the other way around. (Dang. I just remembered to take my antibiotic, almost three hours late. The consequence of taking three different medicines at the moment.)

In the spirit of slowing down while making sure the needful things get done, Tuesday night I served the dead. Last night I made Willow's birthday present. Tonight I wrote the letters for my VT route and reported to my VT supervisor. I am about to put my stationery away and knit for a few minutes. I was up until nearly midnight last night. I'd like significantly more sleep tonight and a reasonable chance of getting to the gym in the morning.

Had a really great day at work today. The urgent stuff got done. So did the important stuff. And I was sensible at the quarterly birthday party and only had a small ice cream cup, bypassing the charming and obviously lethal cupcakes.

I need to do a lot of cooking this weekend, as well as a lot of painting. I've used up most of my leftovers, so it's time to start rebuilding that stash.

I love being able to breathe again.

And they did!

The Shiwoo arrived on Tuesday. He had an exquisitely done faceup in grey, which suited his previous life, but I see him as a tween boy, and Fourthborn wiped* his face yesterday while I folded laundry. It was too humid to use the sealant, so his new faceup will happen the next time we get together, if the weather cooperates.

*Wiping means to remove all previous paint and embellishments. It's like cleaning the chalkboard and starting over.

The Australian print got here on Thursday. I found its frame after work on Friday, in the clearance bin for $8. Sweet! That's all assembled and waiting in the living room.

The Vettrianos arrived on Friday. I unrolled them, admired them, and rolled them back up. I don't have time to mess with them now. Will probably mat them identically to the new print of the Savior, as they will be hung nearby in the hall.

Oye, the hall. I pulled quite a few bits of paint off the wall when I was removing the painter's tape. So that will need to be fixed. Fourthborn and I got the last of the tack strips up yesterday. Along with small chunks of the concrete, enough that I will have to do some patching (unlike in the dining room). And there are maybe a dozen nail heads that must be removed, or they will tear the vinyl flooring. So I'm kinda stuck until that gets figured out. And we know how much I love feeling stuck.

I also can't get the doorknob off my bedroom door, to replace it with one that won't pinch me or lock me out. I'm wondering if a hacksaw is the solution (and if that would work for the nails in the hall). The door is in good shape, but bland. One friend suggested replacing the door. That may turn out to be my best option.

In happier news, I now have a butler's tray table for the hall, saving me the cost of the demilune table at IKEA, which was the right color but also, sadly, bland. (People! I don't *do* bland!) The savings covered most of what I paid for four carved oak chairs. All from my favorite little antique shop. I got four chairs for less than the cost of one of the chairs that Squishy butt-tested for me a few months ago. So I can cross those off my list.

I also have two new 7.5 foot ficus trees that match the small one. Friends from church sold their house faster than they thought it would go. So she put a message on the ward RS Facebook page: please come help yourselves. That saved me another $300 plus.

So, I have spent some money, and I have saved a lot more. Six new dining room chairs would have set me back between $900 and $1000. I briefly considered getting two benches from Pier One, on sale for a little under $400 total, but I couldn't tuck them under a gateleg table when not in use. These chairs are eminently tuckable, and they cost me $119 plus tax and a quarter of a tank of gas (but I was picking up Faythe anyway).

I have a lot of stuff out in the living room, just waiting to go up on the walls, but I need to do the ceiling and floor first. I knew I needed a relatively quiet weekend for pondering and planning. That doesn't stop me from feeling a little frustrated that I can't start charging full speed ahead when I wake up tomorrow.

It's just another reminder that I really have minimal control over my little corner of the world. And I have had far too many of those reminders of late, from the thing with my eye that could have been a detached retina but wasn't, to a child's name change that will cost me another $400 at some point to get my will updated if a handwritten and notarized codicil is insufficient, to concerns about where some of my beloved children will spend eternity if they don't rethink some of their choices.

This is Fast Sunday, and because I am diabetic I will not be fasting. But I will definitely be praying for wisdom, understanding, and comfort. And if my home teacher is in town I may ask for a blessing. I have a lot to think about, from stubborn nails to my own faults and weaknesses.

I am so thankful that I am not in charge of the universe.

Someday my prints will come.

I ordered three today. A calligraphy piece by Bianca Cash, an Australian artist. Two by Jack Vettriano, who painted "The Singing Butler," which I have loved and wanted for years. Beloved liked it, too. It was the subject of an extended, mischievous, and chaste but flirtatious discussion, early on.  So having a copy in the house will remind me of my sweetheart's joie de vivre.

Next week is going to be Christmas nearly every day. The Shiwoo should arrive over the weekend. I've alerted building security in case it shows up tomorrow. The Vettrianos should be here around Friday. I don't expect the package from Australia to arrive until the following week. And then I get to go nuts picking out mats and frames. I love that stuff!

Nearly done with the first back on Mel's doll sweater. And discovered a cabling mistake on the front that will require my frogging back about an inch to fix it. It's a subtle error, easily missed, but it bugs me, so out it comes. After I finish the back, because I've decided to try a three needle bind-off at the shoulders.

Will be trying the opera again this season, with Firstborn. Am hoping that all the weight loss and exercise will have sufficiently improved my mobility that I can sit in a cramped space for the duration.

Tomorrow begins a weekend of hard work and hilarity. I'm borrowing Fourthborn, a compressor, and a nail gun. We are going to paint and otherwise knock things off my honey-do list. I'm hoping that when I take her home, the hall will be essentially done, and the carpet will be gone in the living room.

A girl can dream. And this one's going to bed shortly.

Almost 40.

No, I haven't found a magical age-reversing machine. I am nearly 40 pounds down. Without dieting, starving myself, or becoming an exercise anorexic. Just a few simple changes to my diet, and gentle exercise on a regular basis. I'm still learning how much to eat, how often, and in what proportions. Obviously, the Metformin helps.

Today it all worked out pretty evenly. Irish oatmeal for breakfast, with half and half and a bit of Demerara sugar. Way less than I would have used in the bad old days. A little later, some orange juice. Lots of water. At lunch, some of my black bean and Ro-tel soup with the last of the taco meat stirred in. And a bowl of watermelon/avocado/mint/feta salad. Late afternoon? Pistachios and Craisins. More water. Several sticks of sugar free gym throughout the day. Enough that when I grabbed an Arby's on the way to Costco, my jaw ached. So, maybe a little too much gum, chewed a little too vigorously. Oye to the veh.

The fridge and pantry are restocked. And all without having to deal with the Saturday shoppers. I would rather have a mammogram than go to Costco on a Saturday.

The front of Mel's doll sweater is done, with the ends all woven in. I did that at lunch today. I'd like to find my box of DP's  so I could leave the front on the needle until it's time to do a three needle bind-off at the shoulders. I may have to settle for running a doubled strand of silk thread through the stitches for now, so I may get the backs cast on.

That's all I've got for you tonight. The recycling is out. I have a bag that will go into the trash and out to the street tomorrow morning.

Time to take my Metformin. Good night,  Gracie!

I bought the Shiwoo

But I did not buy the B&G. Alternate song title: Shiwoo(s) in Mysterious Ways. Yes, I have bought another doll, this one from Middlest, who was recently laid off and could use your prayers and positive thoughts.

(B&G is a doll line.) Shiwoo is one of the Fairyland sculpts; my little Grace is a Pukifee Shiwoo, I think the smallest size they make in this sculpt. She is getting an older brother, a bit shorter than Honor and the Adamelli twins.

Middlest texted to say that my check had arrived and that He Who Is Yet to Be Named will go out on the mail as soon as he has eyes, boxers, and a pattern for a sporran. He is currently bald, blind, and naked. I bought a pair of eyes, and Middlest is sending a second pair in the package. Wigs for boy dolls are pretty uninspiring unless one is into anime or emo. And I am neither. He might be bald for awhile.

This means that I am going to have to knit another miniature Christmas stocking from the cream Noro. I think I have just enough.

It's been an interesting week. I hung the new picture of the Savior in the hall. I had tried the one that was hanging by the front door. It's Del Parson's smiling Christ and I think called "Christ's Love". I had never seen it before the night Beloved first cooked for me. And it makes me happy every time I see it, both for the subject matter and the associated memories. But the new wall color in the hall clashed horribly.

I had had the inspiration that it would be lovely to see the Savior smiling at me whenever I walked down the hall toward my room.

The new painting is not a "feel good" painting. It's a "remember and ponder" painting. Which is why I bought it in the first place, because the connection was deep and instantaneous. But it does not convey that sense of "Oh good. You're home. I've missed you." that the first one does.

Maybe it's a good thing to be reminded that, much as I love my life and the house my husband gave me, I have a long way to go before I am Home.

The work continues. I have the west walls and the south wall masked in the north-south hall, and the north wall masked in the east-west hall. And the paint bought for walls and ceiling. And a goodly number of new switch plates installed. Fourthborn is spending next weekend with me, and I hope to see the hall mostly finished and the carpet ripped up in the living room.

One door frame in the hall needs a new piece of vertical molding. The sill of the double doors that hold the water heater needs to be replaced. I don't know if we'll get to repainting the doors to various rooms.

I have the hardware to replace the recalcitrant doorknob on my bedroom door. It locked me out on Friday night. The nerve! Thankfully my phone was with me on the outside, and Squishy was both willing and able to help. (No more hangers on the doorknob. That's going to be a hard habit to break.) I think eventually I will be replacing all of the doorknobs with French-door style levers. They're prettier, and I think perhaps better suited to this aging body.

I finished the front of Mel's doll sweater this morning and am in the process of designing the backs. Rather than the saddle shoulder I used when making the sweater for Middlest's doll, I am planning to use a three needle bind-off.

I had really wanted to get some painting done yesterday, but after all the up and down on the stepstool to mask the edges, my feet and ankles had had enough.

I think this is all the news that's fit to print.

Kaaaa-choooooo!

Probably stirred up by cleaning out the third bookcase. Lots of dust. And a surprising amount of Gracie fur that had sifted in behind the notebooks. I started sneezing on Friday. I am the new sacrament meeting chorister. Church is in six hours. And I don't think these people have ever heard me sneeze.

I sneezed during my mechanical drawing final, my senior year in high school, and almost all of the guys jumped so hard that they snapped the lead on their pencils. Definitely not something you want to hear during moments of reverence and quiet contemplation. (Although there would likely be less, or less audible, cussing in reaction.)

So I went on the hunt. Somewhere in this house is a Ziploc with the last of the Mucinex. What I came up with, under Beloved's sink, were two tabs of Alavert. After researching possible drug interactions, and getting multiple reassurances that I would not keel over, I took one. It's not supposed to make me drowsy.

Wish me luck.

In other news, the bookcase is emptied, dusted, and moved. I had just enough painter's tape to mask off the area above my studio door and the east wall of the hall. It felt great to go to bed last night with that accomplished.

I've cleared most of the bags out of the living room. The largest but not heaviest will go to church with me. Squishy will get the last two after I get home from Empty Nesters tomorrow night. And that will be that until the next batch.

Because I'm in this for the long haul, and there is always going to be another batch.  However, I have a functional bathroom, and the dining room looks great except for the quilt block clutter. I hope to deal with that sometime today.

(Painting a wall counts as "labor" in my book. Not so much the actual painting, but I haven't done the cutting-in. Cutting-in has a high PITA factor.) Sewing a quilt block doesn't seem like work to me. And is therefore Sabbath-appropriate. At least in my world. Whereas sewing together an entire quilt block would probably be work.

Hrmm. This is beginning to sound like "you can only walk so many steps on the Sabbath before it turns into work and you're going to hell". I might want to rethink this. As I'm sewing the quilt block?

One hour. No sneezing. This could work.

I've commented before that I have an impressive collection of cookbooks, because everyone needs a rich fantasy life, and I like to keep mine G-rated. Last night I brought home a book on home management. It is wonderfully well-written. Except for my teenage years, I've never felt that housework was beneath me. I have frequently felt that it was beyond me.

On the trip to Nauvoo, one of the sisters commented about how we women base our self-esteem on how our house looks and how our children behave. I cracked that I must be a man in drag.

Housework has been both a battle of wits against the forces of entropy and a lifelong battle of wills with my mother (even 16 years after her passing), who quite reasonably expected me to be a participating member of the household, while I wanted to read or play or daydream.

Chores were something to be gotten through. I learned the mechanics, but I never gained a testimony of housekeeping. I read Daryl Hoole's books on the domestic arts, and she might as well have been speaking Sanskrit. I bought "Sidetracked Home Executives" and made the index cards. But I rapidly reached the point where there were more people making messes than there were cleaning them up, and everything fell apart. For years. I would feel frustrated and guilty and depressed, and I would make forays into order. The good guys would win for awhile, and then *meh*.

This woman (Cheryl Mendelson) and her book (Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House) make sense to me. It's a huge book, 894 pages. And it's written for rank beginners as well as seasoned homemakers.

That clean, fresh scent? Hope.

The end is near.

No, I am not in doomsday mode. I am about this [    ] far from emptying the third bookcase. And I needed to take a little break before tackling the last few notebooks.

I had a moment of stark incomprehension before placing the five dutch oven cookbooks into the bag for Squishy and his brothers. One of those times when I realize how much there is to know about a seemingly simple topic. And how different Beloved's interests and mine could be. It truly does take all kinds to make a world. Or a universe. I'll be in charge of nakedness prevention. Beloved can be in charge of feeding the hordes.

I do miss that man. Today, rather fiercely. But I wouldn't call it loneliness. Just feeling the connection. Sorting this particular bookcase has been more time consuming and thought provoking, because the others have been mostly filled with books. This one has had notebook after notebook. Training manuals. Resumes. Genealogy. Personal information that has needed to be delegated or shredded.

I am almost there. And a little worn out from the tenderness. (I certainly haven't been working hard enough to break a sweat.) So I think I will knit for a few minutes, and read for a few more, and then take a short nap. And then maybe I can wrangle the last couple of notebooks, move the empty bookcase, and start painting a wall or two.

Adventures in sundry places.

Arkansas, Thursday night and Friday morning

Freight train broke down on the line ahead of us. We sat for over an hour, not far beyond Texarkana. Power went off a couple of times but only for a few minutes each time.

We sat again in Little Rock, for who knows how long. At 3:16 am we started moving. I still hadn't slept. Stopped again. I dozed for maybe half an hour. Two freight trains rolled by. [This train I'm riding is 21 coaches long. (Not.) Thank you, Worried Man Blues.]

Missouri, most of Friday

The Mississippi, at St. Louis, is huge. And dirty. Impressive only for scale and not for grandeur. Apparently it's prettier when viewed from the observation deck on the upper level.

Breakfast was tasty. Overpriced, but tasty.

At this point we were running about four hours behind. I had zero interest in sightseeing. I wanted a shower, and clean clothing, and a minimum of five hours of unbroken sleep. In no particular order.

South St. Louis is full of the little old houses that I love. And I had "St. Louis Blues" looping in my head. I thought you should know.

Illinois, Friday afternoon

It was evident as we crossed the river that Illinois is doing much better than Missouri.

By the time we got to Springfield, we were six hours behind. The Amtrak trains are slotted around the freight trains. So the problem with that first train just kept snowballing. We bagged all the carefully planned sightseeing in favor of heading straight for the British pageant.

At Springfield I had been up for 33 hours, more or less. When we arrived at Nauvoo, it had been 37 hours. (By the time I got to bed it was closer to 40.) Lots of food and/or snacks.

The Mississippi is a whale of a lot more impressive at Nauvoo.

The British pageant was lovely. I just peeled out of the support hose I put on under my jeans yesterday. Happy ankles.

I. Am. So. Tired.

Carthage and Nauvoo, Saturday

I had so many spiritual experiences that it will take me weeks to process them. Observing the dungeon cell where Joseph and the others spent some time before being moved upstairs. Looking out the window through which he fell after he was shot. Visiting the Smith family cemetary.

We saw the Nauvoo pageant Saturday night, after catching the final session in the temple. Sharing a house and a shower with eight women was surprisingly peaceful.

Nauvoo, Sunday morning
Nauvoo is a small town of 1100 people, when it's not tourist season. From April through October, there are 800 missionaries and who knows how many visitors. The Visitors Center is lovely, quiet, and impressive. I stood at the feet of the Christus statue replica and pondered. And again at the foot of another marble portraying the First Vision. Beautiful, moving, inspired work. I cannot comprehend the talent that goes into making that kind of art.

There is nothing like singing "Praise to the Man Who Communed with Jehovah" in Nauvoo First Ward. Nothing.

Amtrak, Sunday afternoon and overnight
Nowhere near as exhausting as the trip up. My take-aways? I like riding on the train, per se, although it took me two or three days at home before I didn't feel as if I were still on the train, when I closed my eyes in the shower. Very discombobulating. I still have the cross-Canadian railway trip on my bucket list, but if I go it will be with a sleeper car reservation. When I go to Nauvoo again, and I will, I will fly or drive. The food on Amtrak is surprisingly good. Not gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but far better than I expected. Support stockings under jeans are adequate for the prevention of exploding ankles. Traveling with nearly two dozen people is not crazy-making. I would do that again. The trip was well-planned, and any glitches were not the fault of the planners. I was wise to take the extra day off.

Nauvoo

This was on my bucket list for many, many years. Every Latter Day Saint who can do so, owes it to himself to go to Nauvoo. It has been an adventure replete with changed plans and minor frustrations, but it has not been a disappointment.

This place is holy ground. It has been sanctified by the prayers, faith, sacrifices, and deaths of my people. I have stood where Joseph stood. I have sat in the window from which he fell when he was murdered. I have worshipped and served in the rebuilt temple, which is exquisite in every detail. I have sung "Praise to the Man Who Communed with Jehovah" in the Nauvoo First Ward with 1500 fellow Saints. I have stood at the feet of the Christus statue in the visitors' center. I have seen the new British pageant and the Nauvoo pageant. And the newest temple film.

I will share the adventures and mishaps when I get back to work and can edit the draft I began on Thursday night.

Before I board the train for home, I want to leave you with this: Joseph was a prophet. The gospel is true. The Book of Mormon is the word of God.

More breathing.

Picked up my new shelving units yesterday. "Picked up" in the relative sense, as the boxes weigh 50 pounds apiece. Skinny dude a little older than I wrangled them onto my cart. Skinny dude a lot younger than I wrangled them into the back of the Tardis. Where they remain for the moment. I have yet to nail the baseboards in the closet. Until that happens and the shelving units have a place to go, that's where they'll stay.

Meanwhile, I emptied out the second bookcase, moved it, and refilled it. I am that much closer to being able to repaint the hall and rip up the carpet. None of which is happening today.

Today I am going to make birthday cards and wrap presents. Nice quiet activities for the Sabbath.

I realized with some dismay when I awoke yesterday that I need to buy pajamas. I will be vacationing with friends this summer. We are renting a house. It is one thing to throw on Beloved's Packers sweatshirt when the weather is cold. Or to sleep in a worn T-shirt and 18 year old pajama bottoms during the summer. The one is insufficiently modest for company. The other is frugal and a little forlorn.

So we know what FHE will look like tomorrow night. While I don't mind shopping, I don't want to spend a lot of money on something I'll wear a few times and then be too small for.

Anyone who says that women dress for men, is deluded.

In knitting news, the sweater for Middlest's doll went out in yesterday's mail. Along with several years' worth of gifts from Fourthborn. And I have nearly the first round completed on a cowl from the sultry silk blend yarn. That will be my church knitting today.

You know the drill: be good, and remember who you are.

Yup. Still breathing.

Just in case you were wondering.

I woke a little ahead of the alarm this morning and finished the neck shaping on the doll sweater. It's blocking on the ironing board as we speak.

Tonight I'll stitch it together and figure out the neckband. This will be my first evening at home since Sunday night. I'm glad for the time with family and friends. I am also tired.

And I have no idea what to take for knitting today. Maybe it's time to fire up another cowl? I have some silk blend sock yarn in sultry jewel tones. And it's already wound. My size 4 Addi Natura circ was waving hello from next to the dark chocolate. I think I'll see if the yarn and the needles want to play together.

Be good. 

Tuesday is trash day.

The old baseboards have been divested of their nails and are waiting on the curb. My wonderful neighbor cut the new ones yesterday. I've nailed two in place and moved the armoire into the corner and unfurled the area rug.* The drop leaf table and lamps are back in place. I baked a pan of lasagna and took it across the street. One of the three bookcases in the hall has been emptied, moved into the space that the armoire vacated, and refilled.

*Which I love, but not necessarily for the dining room. I think it might be more suitable for the living room.

What I think needs to get done by Tuesday morning: empty and move the other two bookcases. Pull up the carpet in both halls and schlep it to the curb. Remove the old baseboards. Remove the nails from the old baseboards. Pull up the tack strips. Put the bag of small baseboard scraps, pulled nails, and short lengths of tack strips on the curb.

And today is the Sabbath. I love the Sabbath. I want to honor it. I need a day between today and Monday, preferably one that nobody else knows about. Because I don't see anything on my list that doesn't come under the heading of work.

The one thing I could do, is grab some paper bags and put them by the bookcases. There's a whole lot of non-book stuff that got put in there at one time or another.** I just looked at it. Made me tired. Dividing the keep from the donate from the trash would definitely come under the heading of work. But I can gather up bags and be prepared for a more appropriate time.

**What was the handle for my mandoline doing in there? Do I even still have my mandoline, or did I give it away in an earlier purge?

I am ravenous. I didn't eat breakfast until afternoon. And I was too tired to fix dinner for myself after making the lasagna for my neighbors, so I just drove out to recycle the water bottles and picked up Arby's on the way home. I ate breakfast an hour ago, and my stomach is yelling that my throat's been cut.

Fixing that is definitely a Sabbath appropriate activity. If the rest of it is done by trash pickup a week from Tuesday, it is still forward progress.

For those of you not following along on FB.

I spent most of Friday and a little bit of yesterday laying down the new flooring in the dining room. I think that I have never been so thankful for a Sabbath in my life!

I'm not quite as stiff today as I was yesterday. There is no way I could have done this before I started going to the gym. None. And I haven't gone since Thursday morning, but I have definitely been getting a workout.

I'll finish that corner tomorrow after work. That's the plan, anyway. Cutting the planks to fit around the moulding is fiddly business. I was able to flip and tweak my paper template from the bit on the right. Maybe it won't take me an hour and a childbirth word or two to do the one on the left, which comes just at the end of a plank. The hardest part of the inside of the closet is done. Once I get the moulding accounted for, the rest of the closet will be a snap.

And what I learned in doing the tough corner of the closet, which will barely show when the shelving units are in place, will stand me in good stead when doing a similar corner in the entry, where precision or the lack thereof will be far more noticeable.

I can't wait to rip up the carpet in the living room and get going in there.

But for now I am reveling in the fact that today is the Sabbath, and finish-itis can just go pout in the corner.

Smoke. Mirrors. Underwires.

It was a B2G2 sale. And I am more than a full cup size down. So I bought two the next band size and  cup size down, because the bras I like do not come in the new cup size in my current band size. (And I don't trust the engineering of the bras that do.) Perfecto, once I add the band extenders I bought at Hancock's after that. The other two bras are two band sizes and one cup size down. It seemed like a reasonable approximation of where I'll be in another six months.

I am hoping that when I have reached my target weight, I can resume buying nice boring full coverage bras from Wally World, without extenders. And not have to rein in the girls with industrial strength models from Lane Bryant.

I hope Beloved is not disappointed that the girls are waning. I know he is busy with important stuff for the Kingdom on his side of mortality. And he was more of a generalist than a boob man. And he's got FirstWife right there to keep him on the straight and narrow if he wanders too far down memory lane. (Or mammary lane, as the case might be.) I just don't want to hear, "You weren't kidding about the Tina Turner legs! But where did the girls go?"

Am I the only one who wonders what is going to support them when I have my resurrected body? Maybe they will become immune to gravity. Pretty sure there won't be underwires in Heaven.

In knitting news, I nearly finished the first back of the doll sweater last night. I will be working on the dining room today, with frequent breaks for knitting. I hope to make significant progress on the second back.

White jeans.

People who buy them should maybe ponder the advisability of washing the car before wearing the jeans. And I probably should have bought the talls. The average are on the cusp of being high water, and they haven't been laundered yet.

I rocked them anyway. Buying jeans in a smaller size is a treat. Buying bras in a smaller size is a little demoralizing. And something of a guessing game. Lane Bryant has a B2G2 sale going. Or maybe it's a buy 2 get 2 half off sale. I need to find that coupon.

I think the solution is to buy two in the current band size, one cup smaller. And the other two, another cup smaller. I think that might be a good approximation. I can finesse the fit by tightening the band.

Meanwhile, I am wearing the other new jeans to work today. And heading to Lane Bryant tonight.

It's raining cats and dogs and little fishes. I bagged the gym this morning. The lightning was impressive, and a bit intimidating. Wish I could just stay home and knit and putter today.

Tack strips are gone.

Floor is swept and vacuumed and partially mopped. I ran out of steam about a third of the way through. And I could see where I'd been when I glanced in there on my way out the door this morning. On the one hand, kinda gross. On the other, somewhat encouraging.

And what a morning it has been. Another staff meeting. A little over an hour and a half. Mail out the wazoo, nearly all of it for one case. A deposition with seventeen attachments, all of which needed to be saved first to the incoming mail folder, then to the docketing system, and finally sent to an expert for review. Oye to the veh.

Started my lunch half an hour late. I've finished yesterday's salad. And most of yesterday's entrée. But what I want to do is go home and take a nice long nap. The HP's are supposed to come tonight to dedicate my house. I thought they were coming last week, but there was a scheduling conflict. Maybe tonight I can finish mopping the floor and pull the rest of the baseboards and start putting down the vinyl planks. Even if I don't get it all done, it would be so nice to go to bed with a good size corner of it completed.

A girl can dream. I can picture that room with the flooring done, the area rug in place, and the table set for company.