An Early Visit from Santa

Yesterday was a lovely, leisurely day. My landlord was next door, helping the new neighbors move in about 10 days ahead of when we both thought it would happen. The plumber was there, connecting their gas fireplace, and he swung through here as well, checking for gas leaks and finding none. So that was good.

I’ve met the mother, who seems very nice. It’s a little strange to hear signs of life from next door, and I like it. This is a very old duplex, so if they open or close a door, the frame creaks over here. And presumably vice versa.

I spent most of the day on the couch, watching movies and knitting. [I did do a little bookkeeping, tweaking my budget spreadsheet for next year.] I am three pattern repeats from the start of the toe decreases on Willow’s sock. And I did something creative with the patterning on the toe portion of the first sock, so it will probably not be my best choice for church knitting today.

I have yet to hear back from Lark on my idea for her scarf/shawlette. She had a wrestling tournament yesterday, and her phone may still be charging. So I will take that ball of laceweight silk yarn that has tried to be something, at least twice and been frogged both times, and start something mindless for myself. There is a cowl in the Winter 2010 Interweave Knits which is designed for self-striping yarn. You knit a verylongstrip on the bias, and then you join it together with a crochet hook and chain stitch. I will tweak the gauge and the number of stitches and attempt one for me, and a smaller one for Blessing, as the yarn is peacock blue and teal and turquoise and caramel brown. It should go with her teal sweater very nicely, and I can envision variations on the theme which would make it my own design and therefore suitable for me to reproduce in doll-scale.

The new guy and I exchanged Christmas presents last night. I parked my car next to his at the dance, and I left at 11:00 so I could pick up milk and a few other things before the Sabbath. [I told you that I had a bad case of finish-itis. I didn’t leave the house at all yesterday, until it was time to head out for the dance.] I gave him a seasonal ceramic plaque, which he tells me is now hung up in his living room along with the last 7 candy canes he did not hand out as Santa Claus last night. He gave me a gift card to Michael’s and a miniature teddy bear for Chutzpah, which Mel-Mel Chan helped him pick out.

Behold:



The bear is about as long as my little finger, and fully-jointed. Just precious. So far there is no grumbling from the other resin kids that she has a bear, where’s mine?

So, now I’ll be able to replace my hot glue gun and get some other things I’ve been wanting but couldn’t quite justify.

Says he: You’re a hard woman to shop for.
Says I: I am at that.
Says he: Michael’s has yarn.
Says I: No, yarn stores have yarn.
Says he: I’m sorry.
Says I: No, I’m tickled! I have quite a list of things I’ve wanted and needed that Michael’s has, and now I can get them. This is great!
Says he: (big relieved grin)

He did put on the Santa suit, midway through the dance. I got to slow-dance with Santa Claus. And while he was still in civvies, one of our mutual friends walked up with a camera and a sprig of mistletoe and coerced him to give me two pecks on the cheek.

It doesn’t really count as a first kiss. That, if it ever comes, will be voluntary, mutual, and undocumented.

Random Bits

Blogger gives you the option of answering random questions and posting them on your profile. [I probably ought to check mine and update it.] I accidentally found this one on Firstborn’s blog:

RANDOM QUESTION: “For your birthday, your aunt gave you a maple syrup dispenser shaped like a rooster. Please write her a thank-you note:”

HER ANSWER: “Dear Myrtle, Thank you for the rooster shaped syrup dispenser. I hope it is microwave and dishwasher safe. I would hate for anything to happen to this priceless heirloom due to [1BDH’s] careless dishwashing skills. This matches the egg shaped salt and pepper shakers you sent previously. Hope all is well at the retirement center. We will be sending mom to join you in a few years! Love, [Firstborn]”

(1) They will have to catch me first, and (2)this is why some species eat their young.

Re: this morning’s Facebook status: Got on the elevator at lunchtime yesterday, sock in hand. On the ride back up, met another knitter. “Are you on Ravelry?” “Yes!!” and she scrawls her name on a piece of paper and hands it to me as she steps off. [While the men on the elevator are vewwy, vewwy quiet...] That was so much fun! It’s always great to find a kindred spirit, and it’s also fun to find an elevator car full of lawyers at a loss for words.

I have been remiss; here are the readings for yesterday and today. December 17: The Lamanite prophet Samuel prophesied to the wicked Nephites about Christ’s birth and death in Hel. 14. And December 18: Read the Prophet Joseph Smith’s testimony of the Savior in D&C 76:19-24, 40-42.

I’ve finished the gusset shaping on Willow’s sock. Now for the grand gallop down to the toes. I have Hook in the VCR and am taking a quick break to refuel. This is the point in a project where eating, sleeping, and work become a distraction. Finish-itis has definitely set in! [One of my friends in Fredericksburg used to say that every man who thinks he is a good dad, should watch Hook from time to time.]

If I did not have a dance tonight, I would stay on the couch until this sock is done. And I am likely to begrudge every second I spend on the road today, as taking me away from my goal.

On the other hand, this is my fortune from the dinner on Thursday night: A new friend helps you break out of an old tradition. The new guy would certainly qualify as a new friend, right? And I have been single (as in post-married single) for 2 + 12.75 years of my life; roughly a quarter of my life would certainly seem to be a tradition, right?

So I’ll go to the dance tonight, and I’ll take Willow’s mostly-finished sock with me, and if Tevye should pop in, bellowing “Tradition!”, I’ll tell him to stuff a [handknitted] sock in it.

A day mostly for the living.

Enough and to spare. That is one of the promises we are made, if we tithe. When I woke up yesterday morning, all the checks and debits had cleared, and I had exactly $9 in my checking account, and $5 in cash. More than enough for what I needed to do yesterday. (I had more money in various saving accounts, a generous handful of quarters in the bag that holds the laundry detergent, that jar of chunk change which has been accumulating all year, and when I contemplate the balance in my 401K, I get positively giddy.) Most of the blessings that come from paying my tithing, would not show up on a balance sheet or income statement. That quiet sense of there is enough, and I will be OK? Priceless.

We had our monthly support staff meeting yesterday. Two and a half hours’ worth. I still managed to get quite a bit done during the day, and I took the hour of comp time I was awarded at said staff meeting and left early, spending part of the time downstairs at the Christmas party which the building management puts on for us every year. [Let the record show that we all were allowed half an hour or so to mix and mingle, and my office manager suggested that I only use half an hour of my comp time, and the other half later.] Building management alternates between chamber music and a jazz quartet. This was a jazz year. One of the young guys in the building (probably what we call a baby lawyer, which has nothing to do with the practice of family law) got up and boogied, all by himself. I was sorely tempted to ask if he knew East Coast Swing, but I was really more interested in the potstickers and eggrolls and dainty little bites of this and that.

After the support staff meeting, and before the getting-stuff-done and the party, we had this week’s lunch-and-a-movie. Which was something of a bust. One of my coworkers brought a ginormous crockpot of taco soup. I had a bowl and a half of it; lunch per se was not the problem. But the movie was National Lampoon’s “Christmas Vacation”, which started out tacky and went downhill from there. I picked up my bowl and my knitting about 25 minutes into the movie and quietly left the room. I will not be joining them for pizza and the other half of the movie today.

From the party, it was on to the temple, by way of the LDS bookstore, where I ran into friends from Irving whom I hadn’t seen in 16 years. We are friends on FB, but he lives in Atlanta, and her work recently transferred her back up here. Their family did “12 days of Christmas” for our family, back when the children’s father was in chiropractic school. Truly, the salt of the earth. We stood there and talked for at least half an hour, probably more.

I then drove a couple of blocks to the temple, hoping that I wasn’t too late to do initiatories. I wasn’t. And I will be back there next Thursday night, for more of the same. In three weeks I will begin training as a temple worker, and I am so excited about that.

I blasted Kenny Wayne Shepherd all the way home, playing the same 5:52 long song over and over so I could learn the words and try to sing along. [Alas, I have a folk singer’s voice, and not a jazz diva’s.] He’s a year older than Firstborn. Amazing.

Came home to find that I still had clean unmentionables and did not have to add Mt. Washmore to what had to be done before bedtime. I was in bed a hair after 10:00p.m., asleep in something like 15 seconds, awake again at 3:30, have written to the new guy and posted on Facebook and written my tithing check on today’s paycheck and am ready for some breakfast and some knitting.

I would embed a YouTube of Kenny Wayne Shepherd and his band doing “Everybody Gets The Blues”, but there doesn’t seem to be one. Southern blues rock loud get up and move your feet music.

Bliss.

The cooking mojo was elsewhere yesterday.

You guys know that I am not into false modesty, but I was not happy with what I pulled out of the oven yesterday, and I sent this email out to the office:

Subject: Apologizing for the brownies

Also apologizing that they are not the chocolate pecan tart for which I signed up; friends from church came over last night, and by the time they left, I was not inclined to run to the store for more chocolate chips.

I baked the brownies in a disposable pan on top of a jelly roll pan, for support. The jelly roll pan warped during baking, and most of the batter ran to one corner of the baking pan. So we have brownies, and we have chocolate adobe. [A co-worker] prevailed upon me not to throw out all the adobe. And [my attorney] says there is no such thing as a bad brownie. I hope he’s right. But these are definitely not up to my standards.

Funny thing is, around 2:30pm there were maybe a dozen brownies left? And when I went home at 4:30, they were all gone, and the disposable pan was on top of the trash.

I am either going to have to invest in a single unrimmed baking sheet, to be used only for supporting disposable pans, or I am going to have to resume using real baking pans when I make brownies. The base of the jelly roll pans (rimmed cookie sheets) expands at a different rate than the sides, and the pan almost invariably skews while baking. Lasagna would be the exception, but a pan of my lasagna weighs a good deal more than a pan of brownie batter.

In other news, I started sneezing yesterday afternoon. So I burned my last half-hour of PT and came home early, had a mug of chicken broth and two slices of toast, and went to bed for several hours. I did call the new guy on my drive home, to tell him that I would not be at the temple last night, on the off-chance that it was not simply allergies. [I have yet to learn how to sneeze reverently. It’s more like the St. Valentines Day Massacre, or the 1812 Overture complete with cannons.] When I awoke several hours later, there was a kind email waiting for me. What a nice guy, is the new guy.

I may or may not go to the temple tonight. That will depend upon how I feel, and any flashes of inspiration that may pop up during the day. In the meantime, I have just popped the third Kenny Wayne Shepherd CD into the Ubiquitous Red Bag, so there is small chance of a boring commute regardless of which direction I drive.

Small but significant progress on Willow’s sock yesterday and in the wee hours of this morning. Life is good. [Ka-choo!]

P.S. Holy cow! I posted this without adding today's reading!

December 16: King Benjamin testified of the coming of the Savior in Mosiah 3:1-12; 20-21.

Don’t you call *me* a chocolate pecan tart!

December 15: Nephi saw in vision the Savior’s birth and ministry before and after the Lord’s Crucifixion. Read Nephi’s account in 1 Ne. 11:3-33; 1 Ne. 12:4-8.

Clarification: no, I did not just finish a 1999 ornament for Middlest. [I concede that it is a fair question, considering that I gave your big sister the completed quilt I began when she was in kindergarten, when she was in 8th grade. But, no.] I *found* the ornaments I made for all y’all in 1999, and one by one I am getting them back to you. Firstborn and Fourthborn have theirs. Middlest will soon have hers. And you and LittleBit will get yours at Christmas. (Take that any way you like.)

My home teachers came over last night, bringing joy and the second chapter of Luke and listening ears. Good thing, too; I appear to have been vaccinated with a phonograph needle. Bishop asked for a spinning demonstration, which I gave. He asked how wool is dyed (and was probably sorry he had, LOL). We talked about how much we like his sister-in-law-in-law (were your ears burning?)

I shared the micro-drama generated recently by the father of my children (i.e., he thinks it would be a good idea if we remarried, and I am filibustering like you would not believe). And my home teachers prayed that I would have a peaceful and joyful and drama-free Christmas.

Their mouths to Heaven’s ears.

Not much knitting yesterday. I did get about half of the gusset stitches picked up along one side of the heel flap. And no chocolate pecan tart baked last night, good intentions notwithstanding. I had everything on hand except the chocolate chips, and the patience, and the desire to leave my warm living room to buy more chocolate chips.

So this morning I have a 13x9 pan of brownies baking, for today’s Christmas luncheon at the office, and my temple bag is by the door for tonight. I have polished off the last of the virgin eggnog and also the last of the cottage cheese. And I have swept up the shards of a glass jar of cotton balls that became depressed last night and took a fatal leap off the back of the commode, falling between it and the tub. I was too sleepy last night to do the job properly, so I put the lid down and the dustpan on top of it, to remind myself to tread lightly in there until this morning and relative consciousness.

Listened to the first of three Kenny Wayne Shepherd CD’s to and from work yesterday. Will toss another one into the Ubiquitous Red Bag, but I doubt that I will get to it today, as today’s listening pleasure in my Book of Mormon CD is the fifth chapter of Jacob. My Latter-Day Saint friends are nodding and smiling or groaning: it’s the longest chapter in the entire Book of Mormon. It’s also one of my favorites.

I will probably burn that last half hour of PT this morning, wrangling the brownies out of the oven, into Lorelai, and on down the road to work. Mmm, they are starting to smell plausible...

Attribution and subversion. [Hallelujah!]

I came home from Relief Society on Sunday with all manner of handouts. One of them is for Learning More About the Savior: 12 Days of Reading. I wanted to share it on Facebook and here, but lacked the attribution. And we know how I am about copyrighted material.

I wasn’t able to find this on the new official website, but Brother Google came to my rescue.

So, for your reading-and-pondering enjoyment, here is the selection for today: The prophet Isaiah foretold and testified of the Savior’s divine mission and birth in Isa. 7:14-15; Isa. 9:6-7; Isa. 53. There are bits of Isaiah which I cannot read without hearing Brother Handel’s lovely music from Messiah.

I finished the heel flap and got the heel turned on Willow’s sock yesterday. And figured out what to give my wonderful sister. (I also have a head start on next year’s present, but that’s another story for another day.) So there will be a detour to the 24/7 post office on my way to work this morning. Middlest, I am also mailing your 1999 Christmas ornament to you.

Tonight I get to bake a chocolate pecan tart for our Christmas luncheon tomorrow. Let’s hope my cooking mojo really is back from her extended absence.

And now if you will all excuse me, I need to gather up a few more things to take, and tidy the coffee table, before getting ready for work. No Knit Night for me: home teacher is coming over tonight, and I’m handing him a short but crucial honey-do list.

R.I.P. Glue Gun

You’ve had a long and useful life. I think I bought you when we lived in the Hill Country, back in the early 90’s. So I ought not to complain when you cannot fire up enough enthusiasm to help this little cat “get a grip,” once more.

I could have just as easily called this post “Come, thou font of every blessing.” Does the title seem as if it were somehow familiar?



Unless I miss my guess, this is the same font as the eye-charts at my optometrist’s office. And considerably less blurry, in this photo snapped at 3:15am, than what the world looks like, before I put on my glasses.

So: thankful for a glue gun that just wore out its ninth life; for the gift of seeing connections, no matter how slight; for the artists and technicians who make it possible for me to navigate my world on a daily basis; for good writing (the above is a mordantly funny book, and probably too close to home for my girls to enjoy, but I find myself thinking, her parents were not entirely crazy).

Also thankful for Ravelry, where I keep my notes on works-in-progress, thus enabling me to see that I had worked seven pattern repeats too many, between the cuff ribbing and where the heel flap should go. I frogged 35 rounds last night before bedtime, chuckling at myself. I have now worked six of the 40 rows of heel flap, and I am going to grab a movie, fix myself a healthy snack, then wash my hands and try to finish the flap before leaving for the health club, and work.

Happy Monday, everybody!

Hypothermia Lights

One of these days I need to sit down with the manual for my camera and figure out how to take pictures at night. Meanwhile, I offer you these, taken on the grounds of the Pier One building just west of downtown Fort Worth, one night last week.



Another view:



We’re walking, we’re walking:



And we’re stopping:



Why hypothermia lights? When she was not much more than a tot, Fourthborn said the blue lights made her think the trees were very, very cold. [My kid, a chip off the walking-thesaurus block.]

Too good not to share.

MovieMom’s interview with the stepson of C.S. Lewis.

Have done my morning stint at the church, bagging up more gold coins for tonight’s activity. And I just realized I should not have been swigging down eggnog (cut with milk) nor eating cottage cheese for lunch, if I want to have any kind of a voice tonight. Looks as if I will just have to be content to make a joyful noise.

We have transformed the cultural hall [gym] into a reasonable facsimile of Bethlehem’s marketplace. There are a tailor shop, a place for somebody to run the shell game, other games for the children to play, food vendors. Hang on while I go get my admission fee: a can of something non-perishable. It would not do for a member of the activities committee to arrive without tribute for Caesar. Caesar and his centurions will load up the chariots and take it all to the night shelter, later.

I have my costume, though I did not remember until this morning that a woman of good breeding would keep her head covered. [I suppose it would not do to show up as a harlot, right?] So I have divested Mehitabel (my dressmaker dummy) of one of my belly-dancing hip scarves, which has lots of jingly bits, and will drape that suitably about my head.

Continued progress on Willow’s sock. And I did some of my visiting teaching this morning. When I came home, I made up the rest of the goodie bags to take on my other visits, and I have some things to send to my sister in Seattle, although I still have no idea what to give as her main present, and time is becoming of the essence. I need to get her box in the mail by half-past Wednesday or so.

Had better have another mug of virgin eggnog whilst pondering what to do.

Lawwwwyer, you got me on your fees

Alison’s comment was too good not to recycle as a title: Lawwwwyer, you got me on your fees, lawyer. Darlin’ won’t you please, lawyerrr. You know that I love a good (bad) pun as much as the next ma’am!

The Clapton CD goes all the way back to his days with Derek and the Dominos, Blind Faith, and Cream. There are songs there, big hits for him/them, that I’ve never heard, presumably because I was mired in the 17th century with the children’s father? Promises takes me back to the thrilling days of codependency, when all that I wanted was for him to love me as he did when we were first married. [The children’s father. Not Eric Clapton. Just in case you were confused.] Infectious, rollicking tune about the futility of some forms of love and/or entanglement. I’ll finish listening to that CD on my way to work today. And then it’s on to a Diana Krall that I didn’t have.

After work, I headed straight to the chapel to insert five coins into each of the bags I made. Several people very kindly offered to help. I just smiled and told them that I needed to do something mindless and quiet at the end of the day, and that filling bags with little plastic coins meant I didn’t have to do any of the heavy lifting in the cultural hall (gym).

And when I did go in, I got roped into the second run-through of the rehearsal for the program tomorrow night. I sang alto when I could, and soprano when I didn’t know or had forgotten the alto line. Since I never know on any given day if I’m going to be a soprano or an alto, it’s useful to know both parts, and to have memorized most of the hymn texts, so that I can focus on finding the right note or coming up with a plausible alternative.

It’s fair to say that I warble to the beat of a different larynx.

We are having another lunch-and-a-movie today. I looked at the menu and decided that paying $10 or more for an alligator sandwich was not my idea of a Real Good Time. Though it will be fun watching everybody else eat, while I eating something boring and conservative and frugal. [I takes me fun where I finds it.]

We get to wear Christmas-themed garb to work today (not that folks have not been hauling out the Christmas sweaters or tucking a red sweater-vest between the dress shirt and the topcoat). Last night before bedtime, I walked in the door to my studio, around the end of my work table, and to the closet, pulling out (A) my Santa-embroidered linen-blend shirt, which needed a button three buttons sewn on; and (B) a J. Peterman batik caftan which will be my costume tomorrow night, now that I have re-sewn the facing at the neck. [My wise men made a little detour through Java before finding the Holy Land; sorry about yours!] I was supposed to come up with a costume that looks vaguely 1-A.D.ish. You know me: it is more along the lines of 1-ADDish.

Elsewhere in my studio, I also found (C) the box which contained a card of shell buttons in the right size. One of which I broke while attempting to wrangle it free from the staple connecting it to the card. So the new buttons are in place on my Santa shirt, and the button card will go out to the recycling bin on my way to Lorelai this morning. There was a minute stain above the pocket, which I have spot-cleaned and mostly gotten out. I have an angel pin that I can put over the oops, for today, and once the holidays are over I can do more redwork embroidery if the stain does not come out in the wash. When the day comes that the shirt is utterly unwearable, I will carefully cut out the Santa and build a pillow front around him.

I think I am finally tired enough to go back to sleep. Happy Friday, everybody!

Veryquickpost

Stockings are done for that branch of the family tree.

Slept like a rock last night and am ready to sluice off, foof up, and scoot on out the door.

We have clients coming in from out of town for depositions today. Looking forward to meeting them; they have been lovely on the phone. Am dressing up a little, just for them.

One of my attorneys gave me nearly two dozen compact discs that he no longer wanted, one of which has been on my Amazon wishlist just this side of forever. Glad that I did not buy it; the woman has an incredible voice, and 99% of the songs are done-me-wrong blues. Not congruent with the Christmas season and my general level of perkiness.

He had a Clapton CD that I did not own. Guess what I will be listening to on the way to work today, after I have listened to my scriptures?

Having fun with dead presidents.

So, yesterday I had the CT scan of my heart, ringing down the curtain on the medical study in which I participated, and walked out with another $25 cash in my pocket. Which I promptly took to Braums for an eggnog ice cream cone, and then to the bead store.

Brought home two new packages of beading needles, one in size 13 and the other in size 15. As with crochet hooks, the larger the number, the finer the needle; these might be fine enough to navigate those peach baby freshwater pearls. Also two tubes of beads for doll necklaces and two featherweight hand-blown glass beads to make myself a pair of earrings.



Then I drove over to Arlington to see Fourthborn and give her the bag of stuff that I forgot to take to Thanksgiving dinner at Firstborn’s, and to talk doll stuff. From there I went to Subway and picked up dinner, then across the street to where I expected Knit Night to meet. I will need to go to our group’s page and figure out what happened, but I was the only one who showed up. Sat there in relative peace and quiet until 7:30, gathered up my stuff, and came home.

Put a movie in and sat down to turn 100 bags inside out, with the idea of tidying up the top edges once that was accomplished. This is what 100 money bags look like:



At which point my common sense [stop laughing] overrode my perfectionism, and I decided that my eternal salvation did not depend upon these bags being perfect. Good-enough would do.

Tonight I will work on 1BDH’s Christmas stocking. And in the meantime, I have completed nearly 7 repeats of pattern on the cuff of Willow’s second sock, and it is calling my name.

I did finally get the flowers put into a vase.



And now I am going to put those last four dead presidents into my wallet and take them out on a field trip. The Christmas lights down by the Pier One building are pretty amazing. I think I’ll put my camera into the Ubiquitous Red Bag, as well.

Lab-ratatouille

Or, possibly, lab-rat-door retriever? (Alison, this is all your fault!)

The money bags are stitched up. Tonight I will turn them right side out and finish the top edges, probably with my pinking shears.

1BDH’s Christmas stocking is next on the list, but as Scarlett said, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

Time to sluice off and head out the door for a short day at work. I’m taking the afternoon off, as this is the day I get a CT scan of my heart for the medical research study.

Not much knitting yesterday, but I did get a round or two added to Willow’s sock. Taking it with me in case traffic comes to a screeching halt, but otherwise I don’t expect to make much progress until I get to the lab this afternoon for some hurry-up-and-wait.

Heading over to Fourthborn’s after that, to put our heads together regarding our respective upcoming business (ad)ventures. And Knit Night tonight.

Only 17 more knitting days until Christmas! (This is probably not the time to sit down at the spinning wheel and whip up some handspun to send to my sister, right?)

I’m getting neighbors!

For the two and a half years I have been living here in the duplex, the other half has been vacant. Three weeks from today, I will have neighbors. I was stretched out on the couch last night with my knitting and a movie, when I heard the other door open and close. I popped up, hit the porch light, and opened the front door in time to see my wonderful landlord heading out to her car.

This will be a nice change. Young family, daughter about BittyBit’s age, temporary living situation. (My best guess is that they are probably waiting to close on a house. I was standing on the porch barefoot and in my jammies, thus not inclined to linger.)

Had a great weekend. Cooking mojo appears to be back from her extended stay at Club Med. I will not need to cook for the better part of a week.

Fourthborn and Fiancé came to dinner last night for my take on one of Firstborn’s specialties, Texas Skillet. I had put the serger manual, four cones of thread, another book on serging which was my mother’s, the slightly crazed Nutcracker, and the ornament from 1999 on the table in a nice, neat stack.

Still there.



But I’ll give them all that when I see her again tomorrow night, to look at doll clothes I might want to acquire for the doll which I’ll buy from her shortly after the clock ticks over into 2011. We’ve agreed on a price range, depending upon how many outfits I may want. I have three paychecks this month, the last on the 31st, with only taxes and my 401K coming out of it.

Depending upon how high my utilities are with the gas fireplace running, I may do it all on the first, or I may do half then and the other half when I get paid again on the 14th. By mid-January she will be paid for, and Fourthborn will have cash for her new sewing machine. We did a little research online for an upgrade to the one she has and talked about the fact that she may eventually want an industrial machine.

But for now she will do well with a good mid-priced machine and the serger and some hand-finishing. We both have an eye on the doll couture market, and we may do a mother-and-daughter Etsy site. She’s read their rules; I haven’t.

It will be a little weird to have a fully-human doll sitting on top of the dresser with my goat-girl, my vampie, my unicorn, and my fairie. And I will not be able to make her a sweater and skirt that suit her personality until after I have completed Willow’s socks (which may be done by Christmas), Lark’s shawlette/scarf, and little Faith’s silk duppioni altered-for-modesty harem pants. Which I can do after 1BDH’s Christmas stocking, which I can do after I finish the bags for Night in Old Bethlehem, which will happen tonight and/or tomorrow night.

Fourthborn was amazed at how much better the studio looks and how much easier it is to get from Point A to Point B in there, after all the puttering and pitching I’ve been doing. (Me, too.)

I am going to allow myself another doll purchase in 2011. Not sure if it will be Hope or Charity or Joy. I will not order her until I get my bonus in April or May, and I may put her off until 2012 in favor of a Lendrum spinning wheel. But for now, I am putting her in the budget.

If I do buy the Lendrum, I would probably sell my Louet S-10 wheel, but not until then. The sale of this wheel would give me roughly the cost of a doll Chutzpah’s size plus shipping from Korea.

Life is good. My living room is (mostly) tidy, the kitchen is under control, the bathroom is amazing, the studio is coming along, and I just shut the door to my room when company is here. I start at the temple on January 6th. My goal is to have the ongoing organizational push done by then, so I can start the new year off properly without the necessity to gag down black-eyed peas for good luck.

Southern tradition. I totally don’t get it. I will probably go for a nice pan of cornbread washed down with a tall glass of milk, instead.

Ms. Ravelled, signing off for now.

This is why Ravelry is so brilliant.

Because I started Willow’s sock six weeks ago, and I documented how many rounds for the ribbing at the cuff, and how the pattern starts, where the gusset begins and ends, etc., thus increasing the likelihood of ending up with matching socks.

Notwithstanding the fact that I lost one of my DP’s either in Central Market when I nipped in [for mozzarella for the caprese, and dolmas to go alongside] or out in the parking lot afterward, I finished the ribbing last night while watching Return to Me with the new guy. He brought me four VHS movies to enjoy between now and when we see each other again. And flowers, currently having a sip in the bathroom sink.



Tola, I got your Christmas card from Old Blighty. What a lovely surprise! Thank you.

So, dinner last night was caprese, arranged like a flower on my square white plates, with two dolmas on either side, impersonating foliage. Followed by bread-cheese pudding while the soup finished cooking. And I forgot to pick up the canned cherry pie filling which I normally chill and serve alongside. Basic potato soup, un-thickened for once; essentially what I served my friend J last month when she came to dinner, minus the leeks, which are sulking somewhere in the back of the fridge.

When I made the bread-cheese pudding, I used the last five croissants from Thursday’s lunch-and-a-movie and half a loaf of potato bread that is a little too tender to toast (the crust keeps breaking off and bolting for the bottom of the toaster), the last of the open package of dried onions, my last four eggs, and most of a pint of half and half, thinned with some water. Also upended my jar of minced garlic, and maybe a tablespoon somersaulted out before I righted it and clapped on the lid again. 350°F for half an hour in a disposable 9x13 pan, and it was nearly done, so I turned the heat down to 300°F and left it in there until the elders arrived and we had finished our salads. I had had to guess how much water to throw in, to approximate whole milk and counteract the fact that I was about four eggs short of the ideal.

I just ate half of the leftovers for breakfast and at great personal sacrifice am saving the remainder to take for lunch tomorrow.



As you can see, the fireplace is humming merrily. Having reviewed the pattern for Willow’s sock, I am ready to curl up on the couch with Grumpy Old Men and put some mileage on the cuff before it’s time to get ready for church.

Oh, what’s that? You want a progress report on the new guy and me? Well, he still talks during movies. And it still makes me twitch. But thus far that’s the only red flag, and we had an interesting if brief discussion on organ donation, brought on by the movie. I told him, “Oh, by the way, I’m an organ donor.” To which he responded that his late wife had not wanted to be one, and that he had defended her right when the nice man at the hospital came to ask, twice, if they could divvy her up when she was through with her body, and that they were not to ask a third time.

I probably ought to ask him if he could as passionately and faithfully defend my right to be one, on the off-chance that he outlived me. (I have a good shot at making it to 100. I have no idea how longevity plays out for the males in his tribe, but his mother is still lively at 81.)

There are lots of ways to show respect for the temple which is one’s body. Not giving or receiving blood is one way; the Christian Scientists have that down to an art form. Not being an organ donor is another, and I recognize and respect that. Giving blood (assuming one has not had hepatitis, as I have) is another, and to my way of thinking, being an organ donor is a really cool way to spend a little more time here on this lovely earth, doing good. And if I donate my body to science, science picks up the tab for planting what’s left, and I am totally fine with that.

Just have a memorial service and then get together afterward and tell funny stories about me and eat too much chocolate, and if you can find somebody to play “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes in the general vicinity of my grave, after the dedication of my gravesite is finished, I promise not to come back and haunt you.

Yeah, probably need to discuss all of this with him.

So, progress? Nothing measurable, and I continue to be strangely fine with that. Nice hug at the beginning of the evening, another nice hug at the end. I was even OK with the fact that David Duchovny and Minnie Driver were smooching onscreen, while I was sitting in a smooch-free zone.

After church today I will go pick up Fourthborn and Fiancé and bring them over here for some Texas Skillet. We will also discuss the feasibility of my buying one of the six dolls she is putting up for sale in order to capitalize her Etsy business. She has one I’ve always liked, in a size between the dolls I already own, and it would be nice to keep her doll in the family while supporting her business goals; I would also have a another model for my own creations. I really think I am ready to put some of my designs on the market, and Secondborn has graciously offered to do the photography for both sites.

I would still honor my commitment not to buy any new resin during 2010, if that works for Fourthborn.

Life is good. I’m going to pop in a movie and go knit for awhile.

Just hand over my breakfast and no one gets hurt.

I think there is a dance in Plano tonight. I think my favorite might be DJ’ing. I need to check on that. I may or may not make it. I’ve been doing stuff three nights in a row, and a quiet evening at home sounds mighty appealing. [Note: that Plano activity is next Saturday, when I will be at our ward’s Night in Old Bethlehem. So I can enjoy that quiet evening at home, guilt-free.]

I need to do something about brownies for today’s lunch-and-a-movie. We’re watching the second half of “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Not sure that I would remember (or want to) not to lick my fingers if I made the brownies I was planning to make. [My appointment for that research project is at 7:30, and I have to go there fasting.] Might be wiser to make a run through the bakery section on my way to work.

I just tried Willow’s sock. I need to do a little math, but I think I am within half an inch of beginning the toe decreases. My foot is shorter and wider than hers

Crazy-tired. I took my three hours of comp time yesterday afternoon, ran an errand, hung out in a bookstore until time to go to the temple. Came home with the new Interweave Knits and Verena, the latter mostly for inspiration for doll sweaters.

Thankfully, it will be a busy day at work. And then I will come home and set the table for tomorrow, because it gives me joy.

I am the Queen of Balderdash

For the second year running, I walked away with the most points in Balderdash at our game night. There is talk of not letting me play, next year. I laughed so much last night that my endorphin cup runneth over.

Today we are having lunch-and-a-movie. My friend C. is bringing the good stuff for chicken salad sandwiches. I have 26 small croissants out in the trunk. It took me four stores to collect them all. [Color me tired.]

We will watch the second half of the movie tomorrow. I will be bringing brownies. The makings for that are out in the trunk as well.

I am not having to move my desk next week. Huzzah! They reconfigured the reconfiguring.

I hope I will be busier at work today than I was yesterday. I took off at lunch for some fruitless shopping, to burn most of the rest of my PT. I have half an hour left to use between now and the 31st. I spent part of the afternoon on the company-approved website for personal health management, inputting doctors and pharmacies and surgeries, oh my!

And if I do not stir my stumps, I will burn that last half hour this morning, by being late to work.

Got the ends woven in on missionary hat #2 at lunch yesterday, and a few rounds worked on the sock at game night.

Temple tonight. Cannot wait!!!

♫ Feelings. Eating all my feelings. ♪

Dealing with the children’s father frequently feels as if he is standing atop a bridge, and I am standing in the shallows of a pond passing beneath it, as he drops a cinder block down into the water; I get thoroughly drenched, and the ripples spread out for days. [Though today is already better than yesterday, which was better than Monday...]

I shot an email to the new guy on Monday night, inviting him to Christmas dinner at Secondborn’s, with the proviso that I make it abundantly clear to my children it is not to be construed as a declaration of commitment or intent. First of all, because I enjoy his company. Second because I would like to forestall another bout of puppy dog eyes.

He may be able to come and actually have a good time. (We are a remarkably entertaining lot, frequently with no effort at all.) Failing that, I think my next best choice is to pray that the aforementioned hypothetical not-obviously-gay guy pops up in my life and is willing to hover protectively.

A couple of months after I joined the church (about five months after my baptism), I was dating a fellow college student who was a returned missionary. Very nice young man. He did not condemn me for being a divorcee, but he did remark to my mother that he did not understand how people could get divorced; his family went back into pioneer days, and there had never been a divorce.

We were perking along just fine until the night he brought me home from Family Home Evening to find FirstHubby at my parents’ place, having brought over the Christmas gifts from his folks to mine, and I can only imagine what he was thinking, but that was our last date, so if this gets my petri dish voted off the lab table, well, there is a precedent.

The new guy has responded, and it may not work out timewise, depending upon when his son’s fiancee arrives from overseas, but he thinks he is up to meeting an ex.

I had also suggested as a final alternative that I go fishing with him, and he drop me overboard. That would solve the problem rather neatly. At least for me. His response? I don’t think that taking you fishing and then dropping you over the side - would or could be done quietly.

One more reason to like the man.

I finished the actual knitting on missionary hat #2 at Knit Night last night. I will weave in the ends shortly and get back to work on Willow’s sock, which is nearing the point where toe decreases can begin. And I may have found the pattern I want for Lark’s scarf/shawlette in the new issue of Interweave Knits. Don’t ask me the name of it. I haven’t had my breakfast or chocolate yet.

Fuel City tacos for lunch today, courtesy of the big boss because we took such good care of our clients last month, and our second annual Game Night tonight. I’m not excessively fond of games, but I had a blast at last year’s and am looking forward to this one.

What a great weekend!

Got the refilled Advent calendar delivered to one of my friends and her family. (Get thee behind me, Hershey kisses!) A box to the thrift store on my way to church. The restrung bracelet back to its owner, and because I have not reset all of my clocks, just most of them, I was an hour early to church and had a great visit with my friend who is our ward librarian and also serves unofficially in the same capacity for the other ward.

Church, of course, was wonderful. Afterward, I drove straight down to Secondborn’s house and retrieved the last of Mount Washmore from their dryer, with BittyBubba’s help.

The concept of a truly helpful three-year-old is still somewhat foreign to me, but he asked if he could help me, and help me he did. [Somebody that height is mighty handy when a sock tumbles out onto the floor, mid-scoop.] We were done in less than a minute, I visited for another five, hugs all around and then out the door, and he locked it after me.

And then I came home, nuked an entrée, and went to bed, sleeping until almost midnight. Up for two hours and some crackers and peanut butter, back down for three.

Missionary hat #2 is nearly done. I could finish it before leaving for work, but my gym bag is packed, and Im out of milk and juice. ‘Tis the season to be listening to Christmas CD’s. I listened to George Strait on the way to the kids’ house on Saturday night. I’ll grab another for the commute today, for after I’ve listened to my scriptures.

I might even pick up some eggnog, to cut 50% with milk. And I suspect that the pumpkin shakes are back at Jack in the Box.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Dreeeeeaaaaam, dream dream dream...

Love the Everly Brothers. But they’re not helping, just now. I had part of one of my serial dreams, which morphed off into entirely new directions. I lost my shoes at a singles(?) dance at a venue in a bad part of town, and then I couldn’t find my car, and some guy gave me his business card [me, the one who basically doesn’t call guys], when suddenly I was 35 years younger and living in Mom’s house [but Dad was already gone], and LittleBit was a baby, and the new guy was 35 years younger too, redheaded as he must have been at that age, perched on the back of the commode or maybe in a window seat that never existed, with his feet on the lid, watching me dab perfume on my pulse points. He had driven over to go to church with me. Oh, and we had cell phones.

Weird. I blame this on The Five Love Languages.

The best antidote to weirdness is creativity. I went into my studio and retrieved the container with the leftover freshwater pearls from Firstborn’s wedding. And I made two three-strand necklaces and one choker from the lavender pearls and used up most of my patience trying to find a beading needle slim enough to string up the pale peach baby pearls. I plan on keeping the first necklace and saving the other two for my Etsy shop, if I open one next year.

Wrapped up the first Christmas gift, possibly to give this year, possibly not. I am trying to figure out something small and useful and fun to give the sisters I visit teach. I am more than a little frustrated with myself for my self-imposed budget and declaration of “no gifts please / don’t expect anything unless you are a grandchild”. I like to give gifts. I like especially to give handmade gifts, and those take time which I haven't had until recently. I haven’t minded not getting loot this year; receiving gifts is not my love language. I do like to shop, and I adore wrapping presents, but I think that falls under acts of service for me. Acts of service are how I stay sane when I am bilingual in quality time and physical touch. I’m rarely awake enough for quality time, and don’t get me started on physical touch.

Thank heaven for grandchildren! Best memory from Thanksgiving day was when the Bittiest toddled up to me, grinned his little toofer smile, and said, “Hey! Ah-YA-ya!” And I replied, as I scooped him up, “Hey! I love you, too!” And he grinned even wider, as if to say, “OK, I was pretty sure Gram was smart. This confirms it.”

I was feeling a little utterly starved for touch, so I invited myself over to the Bitties’ house for some baby hugs and general hijinks. Kisses from a guy who is 14 months old will not get me in trouble.

This is what I did, part of yesterday. This is my worktable, where everything just sort of collects. First, the before, panning left to right from the door:







And now the after, again panning from left to right :









The beige rectangles are bags-in-waiting. And I found the green earrings which I bought at the same time as the green necklace I recently restrung. Also one-half of another pair, and another necklace which needs restringing.

There was also knitting. I put several more rounds on missionary hat #2 yesterday, especially while I was at Secondborn’s to watch over sleeping Bitties, tackle Mount Washmore, and watch “The Corpse Bride” [which I found utterly enchanting; it seriously interfered with my knitting] and “The Proposal” [which made me laugh out loud, even if it was not exactly edifying].

This morning I have the restrung bracelet in my scripture tote, so it will get to church and its owner. I also have the cat/chocolate pin attached to the strap of said tote, where it is distinctly out of place and therefore easier for me to notice and hand off to its new owner. I just repurposed the small velvet ring box, in which my sister sent my birthday earrings this year, as a hassock for Chutzpah. She seems happy to have a cushie for her tushie.

I have one small box that is mostly-sorted, on the seat of my spinning chair, which is at my worktable. I have a large cardboard box under the table, and a smaller box with mending in it, which may actually get dealt with before New Year’s Day. And a clear shoebox filled with notes and memorabilia, which I am now going to sort through. I really want to get my hands on my knitting, but I am making myself tackle the shoebox first. Later today I need to re-tidy the coffee table. There are roughly three stacks of Important Stuff which I salvaged from the shredfest. They are starting to slip and slide and commingle. I need to sort them out again, put all the genealogy bits together, the knitting pattern printouts with their compadres, and the warranty information in that file folder in the file cabinet.

Yes, I know where it is. [I found it yesterday.] Now hush!

So I didn’t get all of the remaining boxes and tubs sorted through this weekend. I’m still ahead of where I was this time last week, or even yesterday morning. I am almost to the point where I can start flinging pictures up onto the wall, which makes me feel positively beamish.

And I think I have earned this Sabbath. Have a nice, peaceful one, y’all!