Comparing notes

One of the quiet pleasures of the trip to visit my sister was asking her questions about random things and finding out that her experiences have been similar to mine.

Me: Can I ask a weird kinda personal question?
Sis: OK?
Me: How come your eyebrows are neat and orderly, and mine have turned into old man eyebrows?
Sis: Because mine have almost completely disappeared, and I draw them on.
Me: Oh.

In the past five or six years, my over-plucked eyebrows have gone feral on me. Every so often I pull out the white ones, and sometimes even the dark ones have grown to an inch or more in length. Sleeping with a CPAP tends to ruffle them up every whichway, and mostly I try to ignore them, but eventually I reach a point where Something Must Be Done. I suspect that the time will come when my eyebrows, like my ankles, will have five hairs apiece.

Shoulders. My sister recently had a second surgery to repair a macular tear, and as part of the recovery she had to spend 75% of her time face down, and then 50%. The first time, they rented a special chair that kept her in the right position. This time, they did not, and she had to support herself in the face-down position, causing tremendous strain on her neck and shoulders. I remarked that I carry most of my tension in my neck and shoulders, and she said she did as well. It was one of those "you, too?" moments. She had to take muscle relaxers briefly.

I wonder if I should as well. Thursday was my first day back at work, and by the end of the day I knew why Atlas shrugged. My neck, shoulders, and upper back were stiff as a board. It was not quite so bad when I went home yesterday, but even after almost nine hours of sleep I am not relaxed.

The Lexapro seems to be working. I don't feel as snappish, and it doesn't seem to interfere with feeling happiness or joy.

Middlest is off on adventure today with Squishy and Mel. They have gone to a doll convention in Austin. I'm waiting on a call or text from Firstborn to let me know when to meet her and Fourthborn at the quilt shop to pick up our penultimate blocks in this series.

The kids did a yeoman job of tackling the chaos in my studio. The actual moving-of-stuff took longer than they had expected, because there was so much overwhelm (mine) in the room. I am going to try to deal with the "Mom needs to look at this" pile on one shelf today. It's not huge, but it is messy.

The doll socks are done, blocked, and on Sarabelle. They fit her perfectly. Middlest is pleased. So am I.

I'm going to knit a little, and then I'll work on The Albatross for awhile.

Mutatis mutandis

A new phrase, gleaned from page 36 of my bio of Musorgsky et al. My ignorance of Russian music is astounding. So every page in this well written book is revelatory. And every bit as slow going as War and Peace. But without the patronymics.

It's been a good day. I think all of the meds are kicking in. My foot is relatively comfortable. I'm about halfway done with the antibiotic. And while I'm not exactly relaxed, I think I'm thinking clearly. I've asked my sister to let me know if I'm any weirder than usual. She would tell me.

I found the missing DP. Even though I'd searched my purse twice and my suitcase two or three times, this morning before church I found it sticking out of a pocket in the bottom of my suitcase. (Which explains why Middlest and Fourthborn couldn't find it on my bed when I asked them to look.) Certainly made turning the heel and working the gusset a whole lot easier. I'm almost done with the toe decreases, but I'm done for now. I got a nap before dinner, but my phone says it's after 1:00am Texas time. And I need to be awake(ish) at 6:00 to take my next dose of antibiotic.

Night, y'all. Or should I say good morning?

In which we hit a streak of luck. The good kind.

Middlest and I had been racking our brains, trying to find a local doctor so that Rx's which were about to run out, could get refilled. There's a three to six month waiting list to get seen at the county hospital (unless we want to go spend however long in the ER). Inspiration struck recently, and I texted a friend in my ward who is a social worker. She gave me the name of a doctor in our ward (not currently attending church, which is why I don't know him) who has opened a practice specializing in family medicine for those who do not have insurance. Middlest and Fourthborn have both filled out and submitted the introductory paperwork.

We went in last week, and we like this guy.

In knitting news, I wondered if I had enough of the bilious green to make a pair of gender-neutral baby socks. So I weighed several finished socks, and the average weight was just under 14g. I have 30g of the yarn and have four rounds on the needles.

Tonight we went to Costco after work, and I've spent an hour or so fiddling with numbers. I've been so busy working on other things that my spreadsheets are a bit behind. I need to spend two or three evenings scanning things and shredding or filing them, depending.

I'm feeling both incredibly blessed and a wee bit frazzled. I need a few more hours in the day, so that I can spend as much time as I'd like, visiting with Middlest (who is excellent company) and keeping my usual eagle-eye on my finances and knitting and coloring and and and.

I'd write more, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. Middlest has a dental appointment and then a checkup on those new contacts, and then there's Knit Night. So a sensible person would take her meds, turn on the white noise machine, and call it a day.

Therein lies the problem.

I'll take Lexapro for about $7, Alex

My incredibly sore, icky toe is not athlete's foot, but a bacterial infection, and I have an antibiotic, plus industrial strength myconazole just in case, and I'm starting a low dose combined anti-anxiety, antidepressant medicine. When I went for my quarterly bloodwork in May, my doctor's associate said that a lot of the symptoms I have could also be signs of depression, and did I think it was a possibility?

At the time, I did not, but lately I've been thinking maybe, yeah? Not the deep, debilitating crashes of my PTSD days. More like an amoebic, noncommittal meh. And a growing tendency to snark. I have felt increasingly crabby with SemperFi, who has a newly engaged daughter and is just the teensiest bit harried.

I do remember those days.

Today, after my doctor examined my poor foot, she asked how I felt. And I told her, I feel sad. I am sick. I am tired. And I am more than a little sick and tired. She said that in the past when she's asked, I've talked about my projects, and that maybe I have been distracting myself.

Well, there is that. And the fact that I've regained 30 of the 40 pounds I lost two years ago when I was first diagnosed with diabetes.

Middlest looked at my ankles last weekend, held a hand over them, and said, "I think a lot of this is buried feelings, and I think a lot of it is your kids." I have wondered since then, if I have been stuffing my frustrations as far away from my heart as I can get them, without their actually leaving my body? Because my blood pressure is stellar, even if my attitude is not exactly.

I'm mostly packed for my trip. I fly to my sister's tomorrow, and I'm excited about that. Fourthborn is staying here with Middlest, and the two of them will (I hope) present me with a wonderfully reorganized studio upon my return. And a vanquished Mt. Shredmore.

As for me, there will be knitting, and the family reunion in Oregon with my brother-in-law and niece and all those nice cousins that my sister and I met last year.

I need to figure out my travel knitting. I have not a clue. I have sharp poky projects that will not make it through security. The idea of not-knitting makes me want to weep. Weeping would probably be good for me. Homicide, not so much.

I suspect the load of laundry for which I am responsible is ready to go into the wash. Maybe then I can sleep. I am wound tighter than a tick. Mostly from sweet excitement. I love to fly. I love my sister. (I love my kids, and I'm looking forward to missing them.)

Life is still good. A little more weird than usual, but good. Later, gators.

Kind of a weird weekend, in a sweet way.

The original plan was that I would pick up Fourthborn after work on Friday and bring her home to help Middlest reorganize my studio. Then go back Saturday morning and pick up J, who kindly offered to mow and trim my yard after I fired my Lawn Dude earlier in the week. Then take J and Fourthborn back home on my way to meet Alison and hit the new yarn shop in Fort Worth.

But Fourthborn texted me that she'd been spectacularly ill the night before and just wanted to stay home to recover. Middlest made backup plans with a doll friend since I was going to be gone most of the day. That eliminated one round trip to Arlington.

Saturday morning I picked up J, we retrieved the lawnmower from the bowels of the garage, and he got it to work after its nearly-four-year vacation. We could not find the weed whacker (I probably gave it to somebody because I had a Lawn Dude), so we made a run to Home Depot for that and a pair of pigskin gloves two sizes smaller than Beloved's, a backup reel of nylon line and a full bottle of two-cycle fuel.

While he mowed the lawn, I tackled boxes in the garage and have three or four ones ready to go out on the curb with the rest of the recycling tomorrow night. The rickety wooden table that was resting atop the lawnmower is now out on the curb. While J weed whacked the front, I put on the gloves and grabbed the loppers and started attacking the vines on the back fence. He polished them off on the alley side using the weed whacker and then finished the inside of the fence for me. I rolled a wheelbarrow out to the curb and made a pile. The Texas heat has now reduced it in volume by at least half. At this rate, when the garbage truck comes on Tuesday, there will be a pile of dry twigs and withered leaves.

Had a wonderful visit with Alison yesterday. We went to West 7th Wool, which has been open two or three months and had its grand opening last weekend. I limited myself to one ball of souvenir yarn. We met the owner. Alison gave her an autographed copy of her wonderful book. I took Alison back to her father-in-law's house and myself to dinner at Lucile's. On the way home I picked up some caffeine for Middlest's migraines and some strawberries and a clamshell of mini croissants.

Today after church I took a short nap (and am about ready to go back to bed). I sorted through a medium moving box (i.e., a largish box) full of notebooks and books and photograph albums. There are a few things that need to go to the boys, and Middlest will get the empty notebooks for school this fall, and there are a couple of pamphlets that 1BDH might find useful as assistant scoutmaster.

Oh, J and I dropped off a bag of toxic chemicals yesterday on the way to get the weed whacker. And I have stuff to drop off at the thrift shop and a bag to take to Half Price Books later this week.

I was the guest teacher in Relief Society today, from Sr. Burton's address in the April 2016 General Conference.

This post is all over the place. You're getting whatever bubbles to the surface, pretty much as it comes, and I think I'm done.

Takin' care of business (workin' overtime)

These past two nights I've put in an hour and a half of OT, working on a project for the office manager. I'm not the lead on this project. More like the VP in charge of documentation. It's reasonably interesting, seriously fiddly, and needful.

The money will be nice. Driving home after most everybody is off the road is a perk.

Last night Middlest and I ran a quick errand and got burgers. Tonight I had enough spoons to throw together something simple.

Middlest is watching Dr. Who via laptop. I have retreated to my room and am going to read some articles in the August issue of the Ensign, then knit until it's time for meds and bed. I may crash a little early. I'm definitely peopled-out, even with someone as non-demanding as Middlest. Too many meetings yesterday.

Tomorrow night I'll bring Fourthborn home to help us work on my studio. Her roomie is going to mow my yard on Saturday, as I've fired my Lawn Dude. That's a tale for another day. I'm also meeting Alison sometime that day.

Over and out.

Family council, other progress.

When the kids were little, we generally had family councils when one of them had messed up royally to the point that it was hurting the rest of the family. So, not a lot of happy memories associated with the phrase.

After church today, I asked Middlest (after acknowledging said fact) if it might be helpful to start having family councils a couple of times a month, along the lines of coordinating calendars and figuring out projects/goals we want to work on. Middlest was amenable.

We now know what's on the calendar, individually and collectively, what we want to cross off our respective lists, how that will benefit the household, and where we can help one another out. (Somehow I think this is more what the Lord and the brethren had in mind.)

In other news, I spent a happy two hours working on family history after a brief nap, mostly linking what I've recently added to Ancestry.com to my tree on Family Search. After which I told the dear departed that I was done, and I picked up my knitting.

I've turned the heel and completed the gusset decreases on the tiny purple sock for Sarabelle (sp?). There's about a quarter inch to go on the foot before I begin the toe decreases. I'm keeping my notes on Evernote, and when I'm done I'll transfer it to Ravelry. Thus far it fits like a champ. I'll work on it some more in the morning, or if I wake up in the middle of the night. Otherwise, I'll probably finish it after errands and FHE tomorrow night.

Sick. And tired.

Woke up yesterday morning with a crabby right sinus. Went to work. Got a call from the office manager, who was working from home and said she'd gotten numerous complaints from my coworkers about my nose-blowing. I got a little bit offended (more on that later) and went home. I truly did feel lousy. I did not feel contagious. I took half a dose of Mucinex shortly after getting home.

Middlest woke up yesterday with bleeding sinuses from the change in temperature chez Ravelled, and I thnk that's what was behind my own discomfort. We had the AC dude out on Tuesday night, and he restored the unit to full functionality. Which meant that over the next twelve hours or so, the inside temperature dropped from about 86F to about 73F, and I think that was just too much of an adjustment for either Middlest or me in such a short space of time.

I was feeling well enough last night to take Middlest to a dolly birthday party at a friend's house and to pick my kid up again when it was over. When the alarm went off this morning, I was feeling somewhat better but still not 100%, so I called in sick (with a noticeably husky voice), took the second half dose of Mucinex, ate a snack, and went back to bed for four hours.

Got up at 10:00, took another half dose with a slightly larger snack, stayed up for an hour and a half re-reading the Sunday School lesson and skimming the Relief Society lesson, then went back to bed. Slept until 2:00.

Took what I most devoutly hope was the final half dose of Mucinex, made myself a peanut butter sandwich on cinnamon raisin bread, took my vitamins, and washed it all down with a cup or so of milk, as about 98% of the congestion is gone.

I've read all the KnoWhy's for the Sunday School lesson. Learned a new word: talionic. And am yawning again. Not sure at this point if it's a hungry yawn or a genuinely tired yawn. So I'm grabbing a handful of carrot sticks and heading back to bed.

Middlest has a particularly bad migraine today. No doll meet up at Pie Five for us tonight. Me, because I didn't go to work, and Middlest because lights-people-noise.

Wondering if I have enough brain cells to knit productively until I fall asleep. I cast on (several times) for a tiny purple doll sock last night and can't remember if the final cast-on worked, or if I need to frog it yet again and start over.

I think the nap is going to win out over everything else. I just caught myself with my head listing to starboard.

Operator error.

I learned tonight, relatively inexpensively, that I'm supposed to turn off the AC before I replace the batteries in the thermostat. I have now set a reminder to replace the batteries once a year, and pour vinegar down the little stubby thing once a month, but I'm going to do that weekly for a month because I didn't know to do it, before.

The second pink baby sock is done. I've cast on another with the remnant and a fresh ball that I bought at Fiber Circle. I'm going to knit a little on that and call it a day.

We've picked out purple laceweight yarn for me to knit a pair of teensy socks for one of Middlest's dolls. So Avery's sweater gets pushed back yet again, but Middlest proclaims the mostly-done sleeve as lovely.

I also learned today what needs to happen for the credit card company to release my limit (make the funds available again when I've paid off the balance in full and don't want to wait two weeks for them to decide that they got their money). My bank cooperated graciously, and I was able to order my plane tickets for the family reunion later this month. I've saved my notes in the folder relating to the credit card.

Fourthborn will come stay with Middlest while I'm visiting family. I'm not expecting any significant work to get done, but Middlest's health concerns are sufficient that we will all be happier if there's someone else in residence when I'm gone. Plus, they like each other. (Imagine that.)

OK, seriously done here. The room temperature has dropped 3+ degrees F since the AC dude left four hours ago. I may be able to turn off the ceiling fan when I go to bed tonight.

What I did instead of going to work today.

You may have heard. There was a little excitement in Dallas last night. There was a peaceful protest, and peaceful protection from Dallas' finest, and then one or more snipers started shooting policemen, who did what they are supposed to do: they shielded the civilians, and several of them died for it.

I know this because my vigilant friend Tola was up and paying attention as it all came down. I was asleep. Middlest was up. Tola messaged Middlest to put a note on the inside of the front door for me, so I would not reflexively leave for work. I awoke at 2:30 or so, thirsty and a little hungry. Middlest was still awake and told me that there'd been trouble downtown, but to check things out after I'd gotten a full night's sleep. We visited for a few minutes, and then I went back to bed, after Middlest fetched the note from the front door and I tucked it into my bag where I'd see it before I left.

Alarm went off at 6:00am, and I fired up my phone. Text message from the office manager saying not to come into work today, but that those who have the capacity to work remotely could do so. (I don't.) I then came out here to the living room and fired up my computer and got the bare bones of the story. I was glad that I hadn't read the note when I was up earlier. I would not have been able to sleep, and sleep has been a rare commodity this week. (This is me being mortal and fallible. We are still working out how to keep the house cool enough for Middlest, in the middle of a Texas summer, and have enough conversation that life proceeds smoothly, when we haven't lived together for over ten years, and the mutual impulse is to talk until the wee hours so we can catch up. It is wonderfully exhilarating to have such a thoughtful, considerate, and creative roommate, except when the alarm goes off at 6:00am. I am experimenting with Middlest's spare ice packs, to cool down enough that I can fall asleep when my overtired body says Enough Already.)

After eating a little breakfast, I headed out to the dining room and sewed up the quilt block I'd cut out earlier in the week. So that's done. And while the iron was hot, I pressed a skirt that I'd tossed on the end of the ironing board five or six weeks ago. We make haste slowly around here. I worked a little more on the current baby sock. I played Sudoku and Flow Free on my phone. I grabbed a small pile of stuff from the corner of my room and sorted it out.

Eventually Middlest bubbled to the surface, and we went to Costco and Trader Joe's. On the way home, I saw a signboard along the freeway, advising that central Dallas was still barricaded. We unloaded the groceries, ate a quick snack, then went out to Kroger and CVS. There are only three items on our list that we were unable to find. We'll track them down next time. I ate a few bites of ice cream, put the pint into the freezer, and set the alarm for when I take my Metformin and antihistamine.

Middlest is sleeping soundly. I just ate a peanut butter on raisin bread sandwich and am still vaguely hungry. I'm also sleepy, and the house is relatively cool (not looking forward to August), and we are leaving at 6:00am to pick up Fourthborn for an early morning brunch at a friend's house in Arlington. So I think I'm going to eat another couple of bites of something or other and go back to bed. Brain wants to play. Body says we're done.

Please pray for the good people of Dallas. Particularly for those who have lost loved ones, and for the families of the shooters. I can only imagine how their mothers feel.

Still here.

Still working to find the new normal. Middlest is the most considerate roommate I could ask for. I come home to (or wake up to) neatly folded laundry, emptied boxes, subtly increased order. We're still working to find a room temperature that's suitable for both of us and won't require a kidney donation to pay the electric bill.

Found one of my old poems the other night. Based on a dream fragment around the time of, or shortly after, my divorce from the children's father. Turns out to have been prophetic, and I may share it at a later date.

That's all I've got for you now. Break is over. Putting my shoulder to the wheel and nose to the grindstone.

Honey, I'm home.

Have been for a week, actually, but what a week it has been. We unloaded the Tardis immediately. Fourthborn had gotten so much done on the middle bedroom in my absence. We finished the floor, set up the bed, and went out for Whataburger while the house cooled off. The batteries had died in the thermostat, which Fourthborn hadn't noticed, but Middlest and I sure did. I replaced the batteries, we went out, and we've kept the ceiling fans going in all rooms pretty constantly all week.

At this point, Middlest has the room arranged neatly. We just took out nearly two dozen flattened boxes to the curb, plus two large boxes filled with more. And the recycling bins. And a bag of shredding. I might be able to fill a second bag before bedtime.

There is a Rameumptom of food storage boxes about four feet to the southeast of me, here in the living room. Three towers stacked ten boxes high, with two partial boxes of flooring on top like cherries on a sundae. It's like the leaning tower of obedience, and it makes me antsy in the extreme, and between us Middlest and I need to come up with enough "spoons" to wrangle the boxes into some other part of the house. Because the new RS president is coming to visit on Thursday night, and while I don't give a squirrel's toot [suggests Middlest] what anyone thinks about my housekeeping skills or intermittent lack thereof, we need to have enough room for people to sit down like civilized individuals. And breathe. And maybe even make eye contact.

In searching "Rameumptom" on lds.org, I was led to a talk by Elaine Jack, a former General RS President. Middlest just said, "It's Monday night. Do you have any ideas for FHE?" Why yes, I do. I've read a little of this article, and it seems like a likely candidate. Later, gators. If the article is as good as I think it might be, I'll post a link on FB.

Radio silence, more than likely.

I leave after work tomorrow to pick up Middlest from her best friend's parents' farm in East Tennessee.  If you and I are also friends on Facebook, I will be posting some pictures, as Fourthborn will be holding down the fort.

She has been an immense help tonight: unloading the back of the Tardis, unloading the mess behind the seats, bringing in the trash bin and the recycling bins (apparently I got the week wrong?), helping me prepare snacks for the road, and helping me wind four balls of yarn.

This is the part where I try to wind down and get some sleep. I've been listening to bouncy music in order to stay awake while folding laundry, packing, printing off my itinerary. I just remembered that there's one last load out in the dryer, which I will need for work tomorrow as it contains my dark jeans.

I've got meds and vitamins ready, half-muffins bagged up, the apples, the bananas, the last of the tomatoes, a skirt and shoes for Sunday, the 2004 atlas which will back up Waze. I borrowed a USB adapter for the car, and Fourthborn noticed that I have a DC port that does not double as a lighter. Who knew?

Brain is still racing, racing, racing. Stomach is a little hungry. Bills are paid, so there will be no nasty surprises for Fourthborn on that account.

I'll be more or less out of pocket for two weeks. Middlest, Wes and Sarah, Palmyra, Harmony, Kirtland, Nauvoo (again, woohoo!), Independence, Far West, Adam-Ondi-Ahman. Plus some touristy things and more than one gravesite.

I am 99% excited beyond words, and 1% apprehensive, but I had a priesthood blessing on Sunday and know that all will be well.

Cambria, if you're still reading the blog, I might manage a drive-by hugging when we're in your state. I'll see if I can remember to PM you between now and lights out.

Ms. Ravelled, over and out.

I want to knit. I need to write.

And if I sit back down at the keyboard, I'll fall down the rabbit hole again. Several days ago I got notification that there was a record. I clicked on the link. Different name. Tried again. Same result. The second name would be easy to find again. So I went looking for my dear departed hacker. Who turns out to be my first cousin twice removed.

I've spent several days connecting records on ancestry.com and linking people to Family Search. Tonight I reserved three of those names and released others so they could be done by temple patrons.

When I clicked on Harriet's name, I started sobbing. Same for her sister Lyddie. So I thought, I'll get Elizabeth, who died before she was ten. Nada. It was like walking into a wall. So I'll give it more time, see if I can find out more about her, and try again.

I also sent emails to two families who have reserved their father Jacob's work, which is mostly done. I hope to hear back from them soon.

I am going to finish the heel flap on this baby sock, and then I am going to bed. Maybe now these good people will let me sleep?

I'm going to the temple tomorrow night to do three sealings.

The master bath is nearly done. And even in its unfinished state, it's gorgeous.

This is where we were on Wednesday night.

The ugly old commode, out on the street.

The nekkid (this is Texas; that's a word) shower stall, waiting for redemption.

The wallboard torn up, behind where the new commode will go.

It looks a whole lot better than that now, but my phone is in the charger, and I'm trying to get back to sleep. I lay down for maybe half an hour, and my right calf was twitching, and my right neck was thinking about a charley horse, and I kept drifting into half-dreams where people were holding puppies that might have been possums. So I decided it was better to get up, fix myself a snack, and wait for some semblance of normal to roll around.

I got bushwhacked by a first cousin twice removed. There are now 3101 people on my family tree, and over 12,000 hints, and the Millenium, when communication between Them and Us is supposedly going to be easier, cannot come a moment too soon. This was one of the daughters of my great grandmother Sarah's brother Jacob. I think if she were still mortal, she would be extremely internet savvy, because she figured out a way to hijack a records notification in my email that linked to someone on my surname line. There are so many people, and so many records for them, that I can't work on them more than a couple of hours without getting physically wiped out. The good news is, several other somebodies are working these lines, and some of the work has been done, and some of it is reserved, and some is released to the general temple files.

I finally figured something out yesterday afternoon. When looking at family tree matches, it shows how many records are attached. And if I have more records attached to my person than most of the others do on their trees, I mostly only need to look at the trees with more records than I have, to see what's missing and if it's relevant. It's been fun to link to the related Family Search profile and be able to update others' research with records and more details.

I'm yawning again. Hoping that this time I can go to bed and stay there until daylight.

Today I will be emptying and sorting all (or some) of the boxes that Fourthborn and I pulled out of the middle bedroom on Saturday. The dead people are just going to have to wait their turn, because my handyman couple will be back tomorrow (Tuesday) morning to finish up (!!!!!) the guest loo.

Sorry: a little distracted here.

Haven't been sleeping well. Not entirely sure why. Wish it would stop.

Bought a new pillow when I was out and about yesterday, in hopes that it would do the trick. One night isn't much of a test. I'll get back to you. If I remember.

Work's been going well.

The first blue/green baby sock is done and the ends woven in. Second sock has been cast on, messed up in the first round, frogged, and cast on again.

My bed is piled high with stuff that I need to find a place for in the next half hour. The remodeling of the master loo has commenced. The old commode is out on the curb. The icky shower paneling is gone, as is much of the wallboard, preparatory to the wainscoting going in. The new shower surround is in its box, and leaning against one of the trees in my dining room. My dolls are hiding out in my sweater drawers. The tree frog shower curtain is draped across the foot of my bed.

My NOAA (weather alert) radio came in today's mail, and I just finished a run for more batteries so I can set it up properly. There's a possibility of tornadoes tomorrow afternoon or evening.

I haven't quilted in two days, as that time has been spent clearing a path for my remodeling crew. I did more of that last night after Knit Night and the last little bit this morning before work. My body is screaming for sleep. Therefore, I am going to shut this down and I guess move the various piles out here in the living room for the meantime. And maybe I will be horizontal and unconscious before 10:30.

Weird(ish) day

I slept well. I ate sensibly. And still I fought sleep much of the day. Nevertheless, I managed to stay productive, and I made progress on the current baby sock at Knit Night and while waiting outside the thrift shop afterward while Fourthborn shopped for boots for her Scarborough Faire costume. She scored a really sweet pair of black ankle boots and some dressy flip-flops. She paid for them with some of her tip money from drawing on Free Comic Book Day earlier this month.

The kid is good. What can I say.

I finished the first pair of baby socks knitted in one-row spirals from two compatible remnants of previous projects. (I cast on half of the stitches with the first color, the second half with the other, and worked the heel flaps in the lighter yarn.) Those were more or less the color of sherbet. I am currently using a muddy green and a smoky blue. The overall effect is dusk in a rainforest, with the occasional splotch of powder blue or acid green. It's almost hypnotic to watch the colors play together. And I feel both clever and frugal, as none of this lovely handpainted yarn will be going to waste.

That's all I've got for you today. My body is tired but not in pain. My eyes are heavy. I've taken my meds and am going to grab a small handful of chocolate covered ginger on the way to bed. Night, y'all.

Rather a wild week.

At Knit Night a week ago Tuesday, my acquired brother T was showing me a pattern on his phone, and as he leaned forward, he put his hand lightly on my knee. At which point my brain went into lockdown. We had a lovely extended conversation via text over the next day and a half. I knew he wasn't making a move. He knew I knew he wasn't making a move. It was an act of compassion, and it shook things loose.

The hardest thing about being single, before I married Beloved and since his passing, has been the general lack of touch. I am a high touch person living a low touch life. It would be simpler if I liked pets, but I don't.

I think it will be easier in some ways when Middlest is here. That mother-child connection is clear and pure and holy. It's a small house. We are likely to bump into one another.

But as for last Tuesday night, Pandora conspired against me on the drive home, and I was able to cry for the first time in weeks. Not a lot, maybe not more than fifteen or twenty seconds, but it helped.

So if you were wondering at my cryptic posts on FB about Brain and Body and Spirit bickering amongst themselves, now you have another piece of the puzzle. I'll likely be pondering it for some time to come.

In other news, I had my quarterly diabetes check day before yesterday, and my regular doctor had taken a couple of days off, so I saw one who has treated me for bronchial yuck at the night clinic. He listened to my constellation of symptoms and agreed that the anti-cholesterol medicine was the most likely suspect and yes, I should stop taking it. Symptoms: joint pain, weak and achy muscles, blurred vision, ravenous appetite, weight gain, brain fog, fitful sleep. I have no idea if it was doing nice things for my cholesterol, but it was definitely impinging upon my quality of life.

In the two days I have not taken it, the aching in my hip and knees is almost gone. It is easier to rise from the commode. My appetite is returning to normal. I slept seven hours night before last, and six and a half hours last night (less, because I was mucking out my studio and lost track of time).

I worked for an hour on cleaning my studio last night, and another half hour tonight. My stacking bins have gone to a good home. I have a bag and a half ready to go to the thrift store. I found my baby shoes. I reshelved some books and collected all of my shipping boxes into one place.

Logic would suggest that I focus on clearing out the middle bedroom so that Middlest will have a place to sleep. But my heart tells me to declutter my studio so that I can use it for my sewing and crafting, and thus declutter the dining room.

I've had two stellar days at work. My focus and retention are returning (it was getting a little scary).

I have so much more to say, but my body is screaming for sleep, and I'm going to honor that.

Knitlandia: A Knitter Sees the World

I've tried (twice) to add that to my list of things-read, to no avail. Will try again when I'm more awake. It's delightful. Quite possibly even if you are not a knitter.

I picked up a novel while at Costco last night and am two chapters in. Thus far, no language issues, even if it is a New York Times best-seller. I'm always surprised to like something on that list, as my standards of what makes a book "good" are significantly different from the world's.

I like honorable people solving problems in an honorable way. And villains getting their comeuppance. And clean language. And a strong female protagonist doesn't hurt. What I love best about Drew Barrymore's take on Cinderella is that she doesn't just sit around waiting to be rescued. Unlike the doomed heroine of Wuthering Heights, she doesn't create problems; she solves them. Not a big fan of Catherine and Heathcliff. Brats, the both of them. Not a big fan of Miz Scarlett, either. She finishes the novel as selfish, clueless, and unredeemed as when she began. Bitter, not better.

I'd write more, but I'm supposed to be getting ready for work. And I really do like my job.

Better.

Email exchanges throughout yesterday with my friend who owns the much-procrastinated quilt. A dash through Trader Joe's. 59-cent party tacos from Bueno, and several chapters in Clara Parkes' Knitlandia. I slept like a rock until a little after 3:00am, awoke with a vaguely unhappy stomach, sent down a toasted English muffin and a few sips of milk, and went right back to sleep.

Dreamed that Beloved and I were working on the house. I walked out into the garage, and he had cleared it entirely. Gleaming bare floor all the way to the garage door in front, and impeccably organized shelves. He was planning on a massive baking project, and he had needed something that was out in the garage.

Tonight I am planning to attend a BYU Management Society fireside with Brad Wilcox. But in order for that to happen, I need to get off the computer, put on my "know what I'm doing, I do" clothing, and scoot out the door.

I am hopeful that by the time I get to work, my bank will have fixed its technical issues, so I may double-check that my paycheck is in there and pay my tithing. Very frustrating to log on and be told that there was a problem with my log-on name and/or password. I even rebooted my computer. After the third try, I X'd out of the page and found their contact page, which had an OOPS, SORRY, WE'RE WORKING ON IT message.

Work. Yeah. I'm going, I'm going!

Who ate that week?

I finished the last small element of The Albatross tonight and have messaged its owner for feedback on how she'd prefer that I complete it. This is a king size quilt that I have been working on (or, mostly, not-working-on) for nearly a quarter of my life. All thirty-six blocks are done. But there's a spot along one edge where the backing doesn't quite meet the front, and I need to know if she wants me to patch the back or trim the quilt by half an inch all the way around.

I worked on it fairly steadily at first, interrupted by Secondborn’s wedding, then Firstborn’s, and then four of the eight CPCU courses, until late 2003, when Firstborn led me into Mary Kay. The children's father had been out of work for awhile (he was out of work for over a year, and thus we got no child support).

Selling makeup provided a faster source of income while also eating up huge chunks of time, during which I might otherwise have been finishing the quilt. And then LittleBit hit high school, and we were suddenly busier than I had been with four children still at home.

She graduated in 2008, I moved to Fort Worth a week later, and I rode the train to and from work in Dallas until Beloved came into my life. It's reasonably easy to knit on a train. Not so easy to lug a king size quilt onto the train and keep it from getting stepped on. It didn't help when I was called to be the RS president in my ward.

Every time I saw her quilt folded up and waiting patiently in my studio, both in Fort Worth and since I moved here, I reminded myself that I needed to finish it. At the first of this year, I found my thimble and the two spools of black quilting thread. I was dismayed to see that the blocks were only a little over halfway done. I've chipped away at them, some days only five or ten minutes, but something on it every day of the week but Sunday.

I cannot find the French bias binding that I carefully assembled and pressed, a decade and a half ago. I know that I didn't throw it away. But I cannot for the life of me remember which box or tub it might be in.

So I'll need to buy a yard of black patterned fabric and make more binding. My goal is to have the borders quilted and the quilt bound off and handed over before I leave to get Middlest. That gives me approximately a month and a half. I'm also returning the commission fee, with interest, because hello? For someone who used to be a quilting professional, not professional at all. I just checked her FB profile, and she's widowed, like me. This was supposed to be a non-surprise quilt for her husband, who was colorblind but could see these colors.

Oh bleep.

If you will all excuse me, I'm going to go beat myself up and go to bed.

Mostly calm and wonderful here.

With a side order of mild panic when I thought I'd lost the files I'd scanned after shredding the originals. So I did a test scan and found the folder. Whew! Also, sheesh!

Monday I dropped off the rectangular frame to have a mirror cut and glued in. Then I made a beeline for Guitar Center and spent the better part of an hour trying out their electric pianos. I found one I like and several that thrilled me not. I made notes in Evernote. I'm not ready to buy, but I am getting itchy.

I am on the home stretch with The Albatross. One more fiddly section, and then some fairly straightforward stuff, and I might be done before Labor Day. One can hope.

Yesterday I got to watch two of our attorneys in action. The downside is that between a long lunch and leaving two hours early on Monday, plus yesterday afternoon, I lost almost one full day of working time. When I got back to the office at a quarter to five, there were 65 emails waiting for me. So while I was sluicing off this morning, I was also praying like crazy, and Heaven came through as usual. Notwithstanding another hour lost for mandatory training in preparation for mandatory records management, I got the mail wrangled and my inbox whipped into shape.

Tomorrow is another long lunch, this one for Administrative Professionals Day. My guys are taking me to lunch somewhere, no idea where as of now. Last year it was the restaurant at Neiman Marcus.

I'm yawning. So I'll do the sensible thing and make myself a mango yogurt smoothie in lieu of a third chocolate chip cookie. And then I'll work on The Albatross for a bit, pick up the dropped stitches on my church knitting, and call it a night.

More from the Main Street Arts Festival

There was another artist who did amazing needle-felted landscapes inlaid into blocks or chunks of wood. My favorites were the ones felted onto weaving shuttles.

A man who does portraits composed of word collages. The print I liked best, of a couple reading together on a couch, surrounded by books, is not on the website.

A woman who reverse-paints on glass, just a riot of colors.

And one who had ceramic coasters, nightlight covers, and sculptures like piano keys, but Fourthborn reminded me that I have a plethora of coasters. Le sigh… Note: that gorgeous mural at the Park and Ride on I-30 just east of Belt Line? Her work.

Two from the Fab Four

I'm picking up Fourthborn after church, and we're heading to Firstborn's. Hilarity, and brownies will ensue. I told them, I don't want cake. I don't want cupcakes. I want cheesecake. Or brownies.

And next year I want a huge (inexpensive) party.

And, briefly, he was there.

Fourthborn and I went to the Main Street Arts Festival in Fort Worth after working on the house today. I was leafing through prints in one booth when one knocked the breath out of me. Two cranes silhouetted against a full moon, over water, the moon’s reflection forming a heart.

I murmured to Fourthborn, “Aren’t cranes symbolic of eternal love?” And as she quietly replied, “Yes,” Beloved’s spirit was there. Tears welled up as I said, “He’s here.” Fourthborn gently scratched my back as the tenderness washed over me.

“Foreverglades” by Lisa Loudermilk, an artist from Austin, TX

Yes, it followed me home. As did one similar to this, but smaller, in blues, and unframed (i.e., affordable).

I'll post links to the other artists I liked, some other time. It's 9:00pm, and I need a light dinner, and then I'm going to bed.

Busy. And maybe a little crazy.

Mostly terrific day at work. By the end of the day I had about had it with SemperFi, who was balking at a new bureaucratic procedure. If Bennigan's still existed in its old format, dinner would have been Death by Chocolate. But the one remaining Bennigan's within driving distance (assuming that it's still open since the last time I was in) has reinvented Death by Chocolate as an adult beverage, and that was not an option for Ms. Ravelled.

As it was, I lugged home everything I'd taken to work and went back out to look for a shelf/ish/like something to go between where the wainscoting will top out and where the mirror will go. World Market. No luck. Pier One. No luck. Hobby Lobby. No luck. By which time I was starving, so I fired up Waze and headed to Saltgrass Steakhouse for another of those delicious smothered sirloins. Mine was more medium than medium rare tonight, but it was still tasty and tender. I brought home half of it and more than half of my baked sweet potato for tomorrow's lunch.

And now I'm going to take my meds and set the timer for 15 to 20 minutes and stitch. I can't go to bed right away without risking a visit from the Indigestion Fairy, and I just got myself back into my usual good mood.

There are days when retirement is the loveliest goal in my future. Today was one of them. With a side of order of "let's hang all the lawyers." Tomorrow is just about guaranteed to be better. It's Friday. It's payday. There's a doll meet with Fourthborn at PieFive. And we'll make more progress on the house tomorrow night and Saturday.

Before

This is what the master bath has looked like (structurally, at least) since I moved in four years ago. The amount and category of clutter has varied from time to time.

The walls of the shower stall are some sort of paneling, and Beloved told me that he'd erred in not taking them farther down the wall when he put this in. As you can see, mold and who knows what are there and need to be gone.

The sink obviously needs to be replaced. Yesterday I bought a one-piece vanity top in a warm white, and a sidesplash to go along with it. They will hold an oil-rubbed bronze faucet and handles. The old vanity is sound, and will stay.

The little red shelf, toothbrush holder, and medicine cabinet will go. The dated and boring beige tile is also going. It will be replaced by beadboard paneling on that wall and on the window wall facing it, and will be painted creamy white to match the trim throughout the house. The large mirror that I got from Wes and Sarah when they moved, will go up on that wall, unless I decide to spring for the mirror-trimmed one at Pier One, as it is still available (on sale!!! which presumably means on closeout) at the Garland store and may come home with me tomorrow after work. I'll have to ponder that and take my swatches with me.

The new shower stall will include a new shower pan, a place to sit, no tile or grout, and improved grab rails. All part of my plan to age in place. And there will be a place to plug in my blow dryer for those rare times when I feel impressed to use it.

I also trekked to Fort Worth to buy the vessel sink for the upgrade to the guest loo, which will not happen until next year, when I get that tax refund and bonus.

I am using the same husband/wife handyman couple who did my friend Sandy's bathroom remodel. If I had known (A) what I wanted in a remodel and (B) how reasonable the change is going to be, I might have done this a couple of years ago. But Fourthborn and I have been having so much fun working on the house, and up to this point we've been able to do everything that needed to be done. If I'm as pleased with the work as I suspect I will be, I'll be having these two back to upgrade the guest loo and help us finish out the kitchen.

They will probably start in two weeks, and it should take about a week. So in a month or so, I will have more pictures for you.

Song of the sleep-deprived

I got less than six hours of sleep last night. My knitting was exciting, but not so much as to account for that. I got through this day by grit and prayer. It was not a bad day, and I accomplished a lot, and because I was able to help a friend who had been off for several days (by calendaring trial dates and a scheduling order), I stayed productively active for most of my workday.

I cancelled plans with a girlfriend for tonight. Picked up Bueno on the drive home, ate that, washed my hands, and worked on The Albatross for a little over an hour while doing a load of darks. Knitted a couple of rounds on the stealth project for Christmas. Listened to classical music. Finished another chapter in the library book on the seven basic plots. Updated my spreadsheets and transferred money from my checking account to my savings account to cover the tank of gas I put in the Tardis.

It is weird to look at my balance sheet and see that I have more money in savings that I have saved, personally, than at any time before.

I haven't heard back from the guy who upcycles furniture. I'll have to give him another call tomorrow, assuming that I still remember in the morning. I would really like to have that church pew gone on Saturday.

In other happy news, my mortgage payment on Monday was the new, lesser amount, reflecting the change in my escrow payment. I wasn't expecting that to happen until next month.

Going to bed now. Hoping for better sleep tonight.

Saturday is going to be wild

Taking the Tardis in for safety inspection, including fixing the hyperactive left turn signal. Bulb out in the left rear, for about a week now. Sounds as if someone had poured cappuccino into the carburetor. And fixing the brake light that's part of the camper shell. And checking the brakes (I've had a couple of hard stops in the past few weeks). And checking the alignment.

The first handyman will also be coming over to give me an estimate, once I get home from the mechanic's.

And I've put a call in to the guy from whom I bought the console table which serves as my computer desk, and the corner chair, because his ears perked up last fall when I asked if he might be interested in the church pew that used to live in my dining room. I hope to hear back from him in the next day or so.

Plus the usual laundry, and we're hoping that the weather will be perfect to start mucking out the garage so that we can move a few items out there preparatory to ripping up the carpet in the middle bedroom and laying down vinyl plank flooring.

And Fourthborn has one or two doors left to paint, but mostly we will be attempting to clear the decks to turn the middle bedroom into, well, a bedroom.

I've just finished another installment of The Albatross and am giving my hands a rest from that. Will knit a smidgen on a stealth project for Christmas, but mostly I want to work on Middlest's doll's sweater sleeve, now that I have more color options. I'd like to get a pattern started so I'll know which balls of yarn to throw into my knitting bag for Knit Night.

Made some progress on the shredding pile last night. And the Sunday sessions of General Conference were amazing. But the cherry on the top was a quick visit from some friends, because I had posted a chinstrap for a CPAP on the ward's RS Facebook page, and they thought it might work for the husband. More stuff productively re-homed, huzzah! And he shared a little story with me. I mentioned how thankful I was that they had been on Team Me from the moment they found out that Beloved was dating me, and the husband said that in his conversations with Beloved when they went fishing, it was only ever me.

So now I want to know when Beloved knew that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me, even if he didn't have enough medical information (i.e., a good-enough prognosis) for him to think it fair to ask me. It's not an answer that's crucial to my eternal salvation, but I am curious.

And on that happy note, I'm going to log off and go play with yarn.

Oh dudes and dudettes, I am such a tired Ms. Ravelled

General Conference was splendid. The music was perfect. The talks were perfect. I got some answers and/or spiritual nudges. I worked on the stealth Christmas project. And worked on the Fair Isle sweater for Middlest's Avery between and after the sessions.

Ran to the store in the evening for some fresh fruit. Also splurged on a copy of HGTV magazine, which was $3.98, fun, and probably won't be coming home with me again.

I've done some scanning and shredding today. I've eaten reasonably intelligently. I was so emotionally wrung-out after this morning's Conference session that I had to set the alarm and take a short nap. During which I was doing obscure things with maps. I don't know. It made sense during the dream.

My head kind of exploded this weekend. At first I thought it was the spinning oils, but after checking the pollen count I think it's more likely that all of the trees and grasses in North Texas are having their way with my sinuses. I was amused to realize that my nose more or less behaved itself during all four of the Conference sessions that I watched. And it's been relatively calm this evening.

The veil was very thin today. I'm OK, but I am tired. Night, y'all.

Budgets and blessings

Around the time I wake up tomorrow, my bonus will hit my checking account.  I have had all kinds of wild and crazy fantasies about what to do with the surplus. I did splurge on Tuesday night after I got home from Knit Night, and I ordered a bunch of light-toned laceweight from WEBS. They kept upping the discount, so I kept piling balls and skeins into my basket. I ended up with a 20% discount on most of it, and one deeply discounted discontinued color, and free shipping. In theory, that box will arrive at the office tomorrow.

I plugged numbers into my balance sheet and was pleasantly surprised. My 401K did amazingly well last month, my TI stock is up, and the balances on my mortgage and line of credit are dropping steadily. I'm still waiting to take bids on redoing the master bathroom. I think the first one will happen between Conference sessions on Saturday. And while I would love to dash into the building surplus store after work tomorrow and pick up one or both of the vessel sinks, I've decided (for now) that I will be happier if I repay what I've taken from one savings account or another since the first of the year. The money will be there if and when I need it.

Who is this grownup, and what has she done with Ms. Ravelled?

I have a credit card now, with a modest credit limit, for which I am thankful. I've decided that the sensible way to use it is to put a matching amount into my savings account anytime I use the card. That way I do not overspend, and when the statement arrives it's a simple matter to transfer the funds. I stay out of trouble, I have a credit card for when I travel and need to rent a car, I continue to build my credit score, and a percentage of what I charge is applied to my mortgage. No late fees, no interest charges. The crowd goes wild! (Well except for the crowd at the bank that issued my card.)

I was pleased to see from the credit report the bank ran before issuing said card, that my credit score is up 20 points from when I refinanced the house in late 2013. This will only get better as the line of credit is paid down (and possibly paid off by the end of the year) and the mortgage balance drops.

Work is going well. I did not have to send out a will type for food memo to the other legal secretaries, and we're going to be short-handed enough tomorrow (my friends off spending their bonuses) that I may pick up another attorney or two. It feels really good to be on top of my To Do's, the incoming mail, the outgoing mail, the cases that are ready to be closed, and my inbox. I couldn't do this without the prayers that get answered daily.

Have you seen the meme on Facebook of the Savior sitting next to a little boy (I think it's a Greg Olson print), with the caption, "So, what can I help you with today?" I'm grateful for the days when my socks match, and my shirt is on right side out, and I don't spill lunch on my shirt, and work flows smoothly, and I get to laugh with my coworkers. I'm grateful for time with my kids, and time to myself, and those luscious moments of flow when the project du jour or du soir is behaving nicely.

I get a lot done, most days, and I don't kid myself that it's all me.

Time to take my meds, stitch for fifteen minutes just to keep the momentum going, and call it a night.

A more Easter-ish Easter

I attended church sporadically after we moved to Boise. In Wilder, we had lived next door to an American Baptist church, and I walked over every Sunday with a nickel knotted into the corner of my handkerchief as an offering when they passed the plate. My mother had grown up around Southern Baptists and found many of their teachings too restrictive of human agency, and there were no American Baptist congregations in Boise, so she kept looking.

For a few weeks after our move, I attended a Methodist congregation that met in the chapel of a mausoleum several miles away. The adults were kind, and several of the children were little snots who went to my grade school. In less than a month, I had had enough, and I told my parents that I no longer wanted to attend.

I remained unchurched until high school, when I began to attend a Friends church to which one of my girlfriends belonged. It was not due to any great religious feeling on my part. I had a crush on one of the guys (who, this being high school, had a crush on a different friend). Again, the adults were kind and welcoming, the kids my age significantly more friendly than the ones at the prior church, but I remained unconverted. I retained enough affection for that congregation that I married FirstHubby from that church, much good it did us.

The first Christmas and Easter after my conversion and baptism were revelatory. Christmas had always been as much about the music as about the presents, so being in a place where we sang Christmas carols all month long felt like my own little piece of Heaven right here on earth. But Easter? Easter was amazing. It had always been about a new dress and hat (as long as I was attending church someplace) and eggs and chocolate. Very much the secular trappings, with zero attention to the reason why we might be celebrating. (I do not blame my parents for this in the slightest. They were two of the best, and quietest, Christians I have ever known. I was just your basic self-centered child, and I remained in that phase well into nominal adulthood.)

I was baptized in August of 1975, and I began taking Institute classes along with my college classes when school resumed in September. I was hungry for gospel knowledge, and I devoured everything I could get my hands on. So I was definitely better prepared for Christ-centered holy days than at any previous point in my life.

I’ve been in the Church for forty years now, and some Easters have been more spiritual than others. We are blessed to focus on Christ and the Atonement every Sunday: in the sacrament prayers, in the music and the talks, in the Sunday School and Relief Society or Priesthood manuals. Anyone who thinks that we LDS are not Christian, is clearly not paying attention. Still, there have been (too many) years when Easter for me was just another lovely Sabbath, with the bonus of Easter hymns.

I am now blessedly past the years when I had to divide up the color-coded M&Ms to make sure that nobody got one more than a sibling. I’m not one of those grandmothers who goes bonkers creating Easter baskets for the grandchildren. I have the freedom to study as much, or as little, as I choose without interruption.

But I had a prompting either late last year or at the very beginning of this one, that I needed to ramp up my scripture study and deepen my discipleship, and so (me being me) I made a spreadsheet, laying out the lessons for Sunday School and Relief Society. As I’ve completed the lesson for each week, I’ve marked them off by color code. I just finished reading some of the background material I found on Book of Mormon Central (an e-book by the Neal A. Maxwell Institute of Religious Studies on the culture and history of the Holy Land at the time that Lehi and his family left for their own promised land). I’m enjoying the KnowWhy tidbits, although I am seriously behind on those, as the one which led to my reading the lengthy e-book was a link from KnowWhy #6 or thereabouts, and when I checked the other night, we were up to #60.

For years, I’ve been cycling through an audible version of the Book of Mormon on my morning commute. A month or so ago, I decided to listen to the parts that would be the subject of the following Sunday’s lesson in Sunday School, and to listen over and over as often as I could before it was time to move on to the next lesson. It’s weird, but it’s working. I’m definitely being obedient in terms of class preparation, and I’m getting more insights as to personal application. It’s even begun to influence my prayers, which cannot help but be a good thing.

I’ve done the same with the last two lessons for the fourth Sunday in Relief Society, when we study and discuss a talk from General Conference.

I will also say that the veil is significantly thinner since Beloved passed on, and since I’ve resumed family history research. It’s easier to feel the Spirit, and the spirits of my loved ones. And to want to dig deeper into the scriptures or my study materials. I am grateful for a heightened appreciation for, and understanding of, the Atonement: how it’s not just for the big stuff like my personal sins, or the sins which might be committed against me and mine, but also for the spiritual equivalent of pebbles in my shoe: the recurring respiratory nonsense; the financial surprises; the bruise on my arm which is now a ghastly yellow from the second failed IV attempt two weeks ago; the slow-to-heal abrasion from my mammogram last month; the need to take not one, but two naps this weekend; the necessity for a second prescription which I am likely to be taking for the rest of my mortal life; my frustration at having more to do in a given amount of time than is possible for any mortal to accomplish without Hermione’s time turner.

You know: just life. The Atonement covers it all. I am so thankful for His willingness to be a part of the details of my messy human life. And that He shares my joy when something goes right and I’m smart enough to recognize it, as well as being there for me when things go mildly or excruciatingly wrong.

He lives, and while He lives, I’ll sing. (Hymns No. 136)

It's been a good, weird day.

Woke up to daylight, feeling rested. Ate a leisurely breakfast, then put on my grownup clothes and drove down to the building surplus store for a scouting mission.

I found three gorgeous vessel sinks, and if they are still there next weekend, I will mostly likely buy two of them. I'll stick one in my studio until there is time and budget to redo the guest loo. Right now, having two functional bathrooms is a higher priority than having both of them spiffed up. And the sink in the master bath definitely needs replacing. I took lots of pictures, and the crowd went wild on Facebook.

Came home and read for a few hours, then took a nap that woke me just as the Women's Broadcast was beginning.  I missed most of the first video, but I can catch that later online. Right now I'm just so thankful for a charged-up phone and the BYU TV app.

Made a 9:30 Bueno run and tanked the Tardis while I was at it. In my pajamas (with my bra on underneath). I'm practicing to be an eccentric old lady. How'm I doing?

At this point I am spiritually and physically fed, and I've yet to touch The Albatross, although I have researched whether Bueno is a publicly held company (it's not), and what is available to restrain cargo in the back of the Tardis.

One of the things that happened today, is that I stopped at my favorite thrift store and dropped off the standing drafting table that I traded with J after that estate sale that Fourthborn and I hit last year. The pieces have been riding around in the back of the Tardis for months. The bolts and their nuts have been rolling around on the floorboard on the passenger side. While I was rooting around, I found one of the missing 4" DP needles and diligently scrounged for the others, but I think I may have lost both of them in Lorelai, in which case they are sitting in a cube in a landfill, or surprising somebody in a junkyard.

This is the part where I step away from the computer, wash the taco dust off my hands, and give The Albatross an hour of my time, with the timer set so I don't inadvertently wander into the Sabbath. And then I will read (again) until my body says we're tired.

Oh, and I should take my medicine. Like, 45 minutes ago.

Good news, bad news, progress, and a belly laugh.

The good news is that in the next day or so I will get a nice fat reimbursement from my health care savings account. The bad news is that I have exhausted my allotment for the year, and it's not even the end of March! The worse news is that I found out, after the fact, that my HMO pays for a colonoscopy only every tenth year. So it paid for part of last week's procedure, but I will apparently be writing a check to my internist.  And another one in three years, when I go back for a recheck, since they took out five polyps.

On the other hand, it's only money, and I can always earn more of it. This is going to affect my calculations for what I will need to retire in semi-comfort, and when.

Possible good news is that I will join the Medicare crowd next year, and that may give me a few more options. Not holding my breath, but maybe it will help.

In knitting news, I am finally making progress on the sweater for Middlest's doll. I need more colors of yarn, and I just spent a happy quarter of an hour looking at Debbie Bliss Rialto Lace online. It's almost exactly the same weight as the Knit Picks Shadow that I love so much: 429 yards per 50g ball, as opposed to 440 yards per 50g hank.

And I'm making good progress on The Albatross. I look forward to working on it tomorrow, but tonight I'm just going to put everything away, take my meds, and call it a day. Work wore me out, because nearly everything was closed for Good Friday, and we weren't, and I ran out of stuff to do at a quarter to four.

The belly laugh comes from the response to my note to that General Authority's father, with whom I had worked before I married and started a family. He stated very sweetly that no, he did not remember me after 40 years, but was glad that I am still firmly in the Church. Just a very nice note from a very nice man. And my primary purpose had been to thank him for his good example.

Shutting down the popcorn stand and hoping that my cogitation follows in quick succession. I am tired of braining and adulting.

Slipped my leash again.

Took an hour of personal time and deposited my escrow refund, my TI dividend check, and two rolls of pennies to my mad-money bank. Tanked the Tardis. Got an ice cream cone, because Braum's was half a block away. Picked up my second month's prescription for Pravastatin.

Came home and updated my spreadsheets, scanned more paper work, and shredded documents that I no longer needed.

I've finished reading the e-book published by the Neal A. Maxwell Institute regarding Father Lehi's world before he and his family left for their promised land. It was one of the first items I latched onto from Book of Mormon Central. I should probably try to catch up on the KnoWhy's and on research related to Jacob's prophecies.

I'm pleased with how my spreadsheet is keeping my on track in my daily scripture study and in preparing for Sunday School and Relief Society.

I've read until my eyes are tired, so I am going to step away from the computer after downloading the information I will need to vote my proxy for my TI shares. Look at me being a stakeholder in corporate America!

Mostly, I just want some non-argumentative knitting. We'll see how that goes.

Better

Stayed productively busy at the office today. Worked a little on my self-evaluation for my mid-year performance review, just before quitting time.

When my Waze updated recently, I lost the commands/directions in Morgan Freeman's voice. (When he was telling my which way to turn, and when, it was definitely more in the nature of commands. One night a couple of weeks ago, he told me to take a particular exit, and I didn't, and I got stuck in traffic for at least half an hour.) So I've reverted to Elvis voice, and I think they've tweaked his recordings as well. I don't remember being called "baby mama" in his prior incarnation.

I haven't been anybody's baby mama in over 25 years, so that made me giggle. When he told me to take the same exit that Morgan had told me to use, I bypassed a huge traffic jam. I have no idea how much time I saved by doing so, but I at least had the sensation of forward progress, which was a definite plus.

Picked up Fourthborn, we grabbed Bueno, and we were almost the only members of the knitting group tonight. Another came, with her truly darling little girl, and hung out for about half an hour, and we left shortly after they did.

I've updated my spreadsheet with my bonus amount, and I've downloaded three bank statements, and I am officially done for the day.

I did get some knitting in.  Fifty-two stitches cast onto 0000 4" DPs, and six rounds of garter stitch worked, to make what I hope will be a successful cuff to a successful sleeve for Middlest's doll Avery. I will attempt some miniature Fair Isle tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight my eyes are heavy and my hands are weak, I can't seem to stand on my own two feet, who'd a-thought that I'd a-have such luck? I'm too pooped to be all shook up.

Uh-huh uh-huh, uh-huh uh-huh, Oh yeah.

Definitely a Monday.

I left the house significantly earlier than I sometimes do, and without my knitting. Got maybe a mile from home to discover that the crossbars were down on one of the roads I take. Sat there for several minutes until enough people moved out of the backup that I could turn right into a parking lot and make my way to another southbound street.

Same problem.

So I whipped around and took what we laughingly call Central Expressway, which this morning lived up to its name. I made it to my desk with a minute to spare.

I didn't have quite enough work to keep busy (but it was nice taking care of a couple of little things that had been languishing). Sent out a "will type for food" email and got a response from the office manager, who was working remotely. She had a nice stack of filing. One of the authorized people let me into her office, and I knocked that out before lunch.

I got all of my mail read and worked. I closed a case. I also read the Harlot, and Mason Dixon, and Wendy Knits.

I've been significantly more fruitful since coming home. Stopped at the grocery store for a bit of produce, baked three of the tiny mushroom turnovers from Trader Joe's and enjoyed them with a huge salad. When that was done, I cooked up a salmon burger and squeezed half of a small lemon all over it. So. Good.

I knew I needed the protein, because as soon as I'd logged off my computer at work, my stomach started hollering for another steak like the one I enjoyed on Saturday. My debit card thought that was pretty funny. I have sufficient funds to see me through until next payday, but I can't justify using my disposable income for a sit down dinner at a real restaurant.

I've started a load of darks, and eaten a good dinner, and read about half of the March issue of the Ensign, and written my visiting teaching letter, and read an article on lds.org. I am now going to put that load into the dryer, slice some strawberries into a bowl with some Fage and Nutella, and bliss out.

Have been in a funny mood today.

This picture was waiting for me on Facebook when I woke up:



It was taken at my penultimate singles conference, five years ago today. That weekend was a watershed for me. The workshops were good. The speakers were good. The food was good, and at the conclusion of Sunday night's fireside, I had a meltdown. In that linked blog post, I blamed it on the closing hymn, one of my favorites, which nevertheless consistently brings me to tears. Looking back five years later, I'm pretty sure that the deepest reason for my tears was not the hymn, but the realization that I had fallen for Beloved (at the time I was still calling him the new guy, because I didn't know if he was going to get weird on me and/or go away).

Remember, by this time I had already dealt with the Near Date Experience, the Near Fiance Experience, and Br. Abacus a/k/a He Who Shall Not Be Named. I still believed the revelation which Heavenly Father had given to Secondborn when she was sixteen, that He had someone very special picked out for me, and she was not to worry. But I wasn't sure it was going to happen in my lifetime. In the local singles pool, the odds weren't good, and some of the goods were decidedly odd.

I suppose it is fitting that today I had lunch with several of the local LDS Widows and Widowers, one of them my friend who is five years ahead of me in Widow 101, and two of them friends from the singles program (he a widower like Beloved) who married shortly before Beloved passed.

It was good to share stories about him, to hear about the good things he had done for them, and to keep his memory alive outside of the family. It was good to spend time with people who get it, as only people who have lost a spouse get it, and to pick one another's brains, and to laugh together as well as quietly wipe our eyes. It's a club that nobody wants to join, but ah! there are such fine people in it.

Changing the subject slightly, when I was fetching Fourthborn after work, one of the songs on my Pandora station was an Allan Jackson standard that reminds me of my father, even though Dad was not southern. It brings me to tears, frequently a ten-second bout of ugly-cry that is gone as quickly as it comes. And last night I found myself stifling the tears, maybe so as not to embarrass my child. And noticing a few minutes later that my neck and shoulders were stiff as a board. I laughed at myself during my bedtime prayers, when I realized that I had tried to hide my feelings from my child the empath.

Today I brought that up. Had she felt my tears when I got quiet during that song? Yes, she had. I apologized. Next time I'll just let 'er rip. This is the song.



I've had a good cry, the one I should have had last night, and all is well.

Good news ~ mostly ~ and a mystery

Got the report back on my mammogram. The girls have a clean bill of health for another year. So that's one thing taken care of.

Got an email from the mortgage company: too much money in the escrow account (again) this year, so they're mailing me a refund check, and about two and a half times the size of last year's. Presumably they will adjust the monthly cha-ching to bring the numbers into better alignment.

I was part of two presentations at work today, and both of them went well. The first involved our annual Code of Conduct training. I read a paragraph and told everybody not to rob banks or dig a pit for their neighbor. The second involved sharing an application from Who Moved My Cheese? My compatriot addressed workplace issues. I talked about my life experiences. I'll attempt to reconstruct that here.

When I was a little girl, all I wanted was to be a wife and a mother. I did reasonably well in school, went off to college and wasted a year of my life, married and divorced, went back to school while married to FirstHubby and went from academic probation to Dean's List in one semester, joined the Church, married the children's father, had five years of happiness and fifteen years of struggle, got myself free from that, was happily single for fourteen years, met Beloved, waited for him to turn weird but he didn't, got his cancer diagnosis after we had dated about a year, looked up and said, "You send me this really great guy, and he's got a death sentence?" He was brave enough to marry me, and we had a great year.

I started out very much like Hem (one of the four characters in the book). I wanted my marriage and my 2.5 kids [affectionate laughter from my coworkers] and the white picket fence [sketched a box with my hands]. And what I got was change. Lots and lots and lots of change. And I've learned to be a lot more like Sniff and Scurry.

Pretty sure that everybody in this room has some sort of challenge or struggle right now, because nobody's life is perfect. I don't remember the rest of my comments clearly, because I switched into church-talk mode, and I was speaking by the Spirit, and when that happens I tend not to remember the actual words that come out of my mouth. But I had the room spellbound for two or three minutes, and my compatriot came to my desk after the meeting was over and said that it had been absolutely perfect.

Which was about the only thing that was, at work today. It wasn't a bad day, but I'm still a little slow from Monday's procedure. (That's my story, anyway.) I slept better last night than Monday night, which was a plus. And I got most of my To-Do's done and Monday's and Tuesday's mail read and worked. But SemperFi seemed a little impatient with me, and I may have barked at him. Just a little don't mess with me warning growl.

I did not plan my wardrobe well this week. I have two green shirts, and I wore one yesterday and the other one today. Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. I don't want to wear Monday's shirt again. I definitely don't want to recycle today's shirt. So I went to CJ Banks and Lane Bryant and Torrid (even though I'm more Tepid) in hope of finding a new green shirt. There was one at CJ Banks, but I didn't care for the fit. So I guess it's green earrings and a green necklace tomorrow.

I hit In N Out on the way home and have inhaled my cheeseburger. Think I will have a slice of pie, then wash my hands and work on The Albatross.

I've lost another 4" DP in the car. I had my knitting pinched in my right hand, waiting for a stoplight, and one needle got loose from the live stitches and disappeared into the black hole which ate a 4" 0000 needle a couple of months ago. I went through all kinds of gymnastics once I got home, feeling around under the seats, lifting up the floor mats, etc. When I got inside, I upended my purse on my bed, because my purse had been right under my knitting. Thankfully, I have a new package of DP's in this size (one of the needles I'm using came from it), so it will be a simple matter to finish the sock.

Needless to say, I will not be risking my Blackthorn needles by knitting in the car with them. Oye to the veh!

You say prep like it's a good thing.

In this case, you might be right. I've begun this post on Sunday evening, two hours into the process of getting ready for my colonoscopy. I've had a priesthood blessing. I've discussed my concerns with my home teacher and visiting teacher couple. I've discovered that I can drink apple juice (which I actually had, tucked away safely in a drawer, but had forgotten about) as well as chicken broth, while allowing the medicine do its thing, and I am feeling significantly less fragile and hangry than I did when I came home from church.

This cleansing solution is much easier to drink, and much easier to endure, than drinking half a gallon to a gallon of Go-Lightly. (To which Holly would never have give her stamp of approval.)

Church was interesting. The veil was very thin, and my emotions were right on the surface. So I cried when the guys from the ward choir sang "Ye Elders of Israel" as an intermediate hymn. And I choked up while pinch-hitting as chorister in Relief Society, for the closing song, "Praise to the Man." The melody is not exactly identical to "Scotland the Brave," but it's close enough that it got to me.

***

Six and a half hours of letting nature and medicine take its course, and I was more than ready for bed. So I prayed to sleep through the night, and that prayer was answered, and I feel remarkably well ~ and ready ~ this morning. Just waiting for my ride to show up. I have my driver's license, my insurance card, my knitting, and my phone. I'll endeavor to stay off Facebook until I've slept off the last of the anesthesia

***

It went well. He took out five polyps, all of which appeared benign. And I go back in three years. He's a young dude, so it looks as if he might last until I no longer need to assume the position.

In knitting news, I am nearly done with the gusset decreases on green sock #2. I've put in a good chunk of time on The Albatross today, and I'll get back to work on that when I have finished my (second) slice of pie for Pi Day.

Christmas presents/presence of mind/maintenance issues

I've been meaning to share since early December. These are what we gave SemperFi for Christmas, because he so thoroughly loathes technology. If there is barn language (the male equivalent of childbirth words) coming from his office, it's because something has gone amiss with his laptop.

You can just see a green holiday M&M peeking out between the folds of tissue paper in the left cup. He got a good laugh out of our creativity, but he did attempt to re-gift the M&M's. Relentlessly healthy dude, is our SemperFi.

Speaking of health, a week ago yesterday, it was time for the annual girl-smashing. New facility, because the old one no longer takes my insurance. When I got ready for bed last Saturday night, I had pain in the crease underneath the right one. I lifted her up, and there was an angry red racing stripe running across almost the entire width of the crease. A smaller one under the left side. So I dug out the Desinex powder and dusted both of them. The left one was nearly healed when I woke up before church. The right one was slightly improved. I dosed them again and couldn't wait to take off my bra after church. I wore my sports bra over to Mel and Squishy's to watch the series finale of Downton Abbey.

I dosed the girls again before bedtime, and then morning and evening every day through yesterday morning. I hope it is not going to be like this every year until I am safely dead. One week later, they are finally, properly healed.

I had really weird dreams during my after church nap last week. A mishmash of horror and science fiction, involving possession, mangled bodies, and near drowning. I was very glad to wake up and find myself mostly intact.

On a happier note, the Sunday session of stake conference was marvelous. I haven't been in the stake long enough (at four years) to know many people outside the ward, except for those I know from working in the temple. I do know enough to have a testimony that the new stake president and his counselors are exactly the right people to lead us for the next several years, and that they were chosen by inspiration and revelation.

In knitting news, I completed the cuff of the baby sock I was working on during the Saturday evening session and got the heel turned while at church. This is the sock whose ends I wove in Wednesday night. I have since cast on its mate and am several rows along on the cuff.

Yesterday I attended a funeral in the same small country town as Fiber Circle, the wonderful yarn shop where I bought the yarn for my Knit Swirl. I took in the dibs and dabs remaining from making baby socks, in the hope of finding semisolid yarns that would coordinate, so that I could mix and match them to create socks with contrasting toes and heels, and thus use up every last scrap.

I was pleased to score a second skein of one of the yarns, a plausible match to another, and two full skeins of a third colorway, from which I should be able to get three full pairs. She also discounted the yarn at checkout, because she'd had them for so long, and because she is an incredibly generous person. (When I bought the yarn for my Knit Swirl, she tucked two extra balls of Silk Garden into my bag so I would have enough, and didn't tell me until after I'd counted when I was ready to cast on and had freaked out, thinking that I'd cheated her.)

The funeral was my first experience in an almost entirely African-American congregation. There was a lot more audience participation than I'm used to at church, and the music was loud and exuberant. My mother, who loved the old spirituals and passed that love and respect on to me, would have enjoyed the service. I have to say that what was missing in hushed reverence was more than made up for in joy and faith and enthusiasm. This was the funeral for the mother of a church friend who was an adult convert and is now a counselor in our bishopric.

The population of Farmersville is officially 3300. I think there were at least a tithe of them at the service yesterday.

Today is going to be interesting. I'm doing a medical fast preparatory to tomorrow morning's colonoscopy, which is three years overdue. I'm not worried about the procedure; this is not my first rodeo. I'll get a priesthood blessing after church. I do have three not-worries-but-concerns: how will the fasting interact with my blood sugar and cholesterol, since I'll still be taking my meds at bedtime tonight? Is my blood pressure going to alarm the anesthesiologist tomorrow, as it did before my biopsy/D&C year before last? Are there going to be any polyps for the surgeon to take out, because I'm three years overdue for this? So the priesthood blessing will hopefully address all three of these and give me strength to successfully complete the cleansing process, which has changed slightly since eight years ago, and is at least theoretically less difficult.

Tomorrow is Pi Day, which I only became aware of a year or so ago. After I took Fourthborn home last night, I stopped at the store and picked up a buttermilk pie to enjoy after the procedure.

I hope that my innards do not yodel loudly while I'm at church today. I already provide enough comic relief during class as it is.

5th Serqet Court of Appeals

No, you don't want to take your case there if you lose. A truly brutal venue. Why? Egyptian scorpion goddess. Quite possibly the inventor of rough justice. Take your we-wuz-robbed no-negligence verdict and get on with your life. If Serqet upholds the lesser court's verdict, there'll be nothing left of you to file an appeal to the Supreme Court.

Yes, I've finished The Kane Chronicles. I own the first volume in the Norse series but am reading The Demigod Diaries, in between spurts of creativity.

I am tired. (In part because I stayed up far too late night before last to finish the third volume in the Egyptian series.) I am hungry. I have drunk significantly more water than usual the past couple of days, and I don't know if it's the new medication or just my allergies. I'm not worried. I don't feel sick. Just observant, and curious. And strangely unsatisfied.

Speaking of which, I had the start of one of those dreams a couple of nights ago. Beloved and I were smooching madly, and I woke up well before there could be any natural conclusions. I remember muttering, "What, did they notice you were missing?" and praying, "I hope he misses me as much as I do him. That was so unfair!" before falling back asleep.

In the fourteen years before I remarried, I got very good at sublimating my Heaven-sent natural desires into channels that would not cause trouble for me or anyone else. Those chaste habits will serve me well until I am reunited with Beloved and we get our resurrected bodies and the all-clear.

Interesting random factoid: my Gram and I were about the same age when we lost our husbands.

And I am finding new cousins right and left because of the AncestryDNA thing. Got a response from a second cousin once removed, who has four kids who live around here. It will be interesting getting to know him.

I'm outta here. There's a tiny green sock that needs its ends woven in, and I want to read a smidgen before calling it a night. My focus at work today was not as sharp as I would like, or as it was last week, and I'm hoping that a solid night's sleep will improve my prospects tomorrow. I did a good job today, and I'm thankful, but it was rather more of a slog than I'm used to.

Tomorrow is my next to last day at the current salary. Raise kicks in next week, huzzah! Something I have no wish to appeal.

J. Golden is my cousin.

That would explain a lot. Jonathon Golden Kimball was a son of Heber C. Kimball, one of the early prophet-presidents of the Church. He is one of the more colorful characters in Mormon history, having spent many of his early years working as a muleskinner, and has always been a favorite of mine since learning about him. Last night I was noodling around on Relative Finder and discovered to my delight that he is my tenth cousin four times removed. I am probably still more like him than his more famous relative, Spencer W. Kimball (eleventh cousin, three times removed).

Orrin Porter Rockwell is another fascinating character. Among other things, he served as a bodyguard to the prophet Joseph. He is my ninth cousin five times removed. I'm wondering if that is nearer, farther, or about the same as J. Golden. I have a biography of Porter Rockwell sitting a shelf in my church bookcase, waiting for me to get around to reading it.

I was on Relative Finder to see if there is a connection with one of the General Authorities who is here to reorganize the stake this weekend. There is not. But I worked with the father of one of them, forty years ago in Boise, and I wrote a note for him to forward to his father.

The most important thing that will happen today is the reorganizing of the stake at the general session of stake conference, where we learn who the new stake presidency will be. (Our leadership is chosen by revelation and sustained by the members. They will serve without pay until they are released. And work their regular jobs. And honor their family responsibilities.)

My first Sunday at church was a week before my baptism. A modern apostle of the Lord presided, to reorganize that stake. For the curious, that was Bruce R. McConkie (thirteenth cousin). As an investigator of the Church, I got to sit in one of the front rows at that stake center with my missionaries, and I got to shake his hand. It was like shaking hands with an electric fence. (The Force was strong with that one!)

I have since met several more General Authorities, back when the Church was smaller, and they were able to visit the stakes more often. I have shaken the hand of Boyd K. Packer (tenth cousin) and Neal A. Maxwell (tenth cousin once removed). These men are truly called of God. And it is no accident that Heaven found my cousin, my grandmother, and me, and gathered us into the fold.

(I am also related to a host of other people that I'd rather not claim: Butch Cassidy, Jesse James and Hanoi Jane, to name a few. More proof that you can't choose your relatives.)

I found out that I might be related to my friend Tan. That would be even cooler than being related to all sorts of famous LDS dead people, not to mention the infamous gentiles. I'll research her lead in the near future, but for now I need to get ready for church.