Blogging from my phone.

This was not a good night for knitting. I had to slip in extra markers and recount stitches at least three times before I could confirm that I was two rows ahead of where I thought I was in the pattern, mark those lines accordingly, and add one full row of new knitting. Most of my time at Knit Night was spent scowling at or mystified by the chart and the shawl. But finally I got them to agree, put my project in my bag (after triumphantly making the row done, and took my kids to two different game shops to pick up Pokemon cards. It's almost 11:30, I haven't taken my meds yet, and I am even more done than my knitting. Tomorrow's gonna be a long one.

Decidedly delighted digits.

So I've said that I don't knit while I'm up on the stand during sacrament meeting, because I don't want to be a distraction to the congregation. I sit quietly with my hands more or less in my lap, and I listen. Sometimes I pick my hands up slightly and massage one hand with the other, then switch off. But mostly I try to be invisible until it's time to stand up and conduct the hymns.

I noticed yesterday that after two months of a low-dose muscle relaxer at bedtime, there is a greater range of motion in my hands. I can't quite bend my wrists back at a right angle, but my hands go back farther than they did, and my fingers remain straight instead of curling stubbornly. And it doesn't hurt to do this.

In news of the crabby, when I walked out into the parking garage after work, I noticed a big Lexus SUV-type vehicle parked halfway in one space and halfway in the handicapped spot. I determined to take a picture of the license plate and pull into my office manager's parking space on the upper level and go show the picture to security. I got into the Tardis, opened up the camera on my cell phone, and backed out. When I was halfway to the other car, a woman came out of the elevator, around the back of her car, and got in. She did not appear to be handicapped (yes, I know that some handicaps are invisible, but she was walking briskly).

I was slightly tempted to park right behind her and take that picture anyway, but I figured she'd do something unpredictable, so I kept going. And fuming. She followed me up the ramp to wait for the light to change. I was tempted to sit there until it turned yellow, but there was a chance she'd pull around me and go up the downhill side. And maybe there'd be an accident.

So I behaved myself (at least outwardly) and started praying crabbily. First I prayed for her to be blessed for whatever it is that she was doing right (because obviously, it didn't include knowing how to park). And then I started praying for an attitude change, because nobody died and made me her judge. And then I prayed that she would never need to use a handicapped spot, but that if she ever did, she would remember the time that she hogged half of one and reinforced my prejudice against Lexii and their drivers. As soon as I got to a long light, I fired up my Pandora and switched it to my Mormon Tabernacle Choir station.

By the time I got home, I was singing along. And meaning it. I love how music can clear the cobwebs out of my mind and heart, giving my spirit a chance to get back in charge. I didn't want to bring any crabbiness home to Middlest, who is just coming out of an off again, on again week long migraine.

We had a successful shopping trip to Bed Bath and Beyond. Middlest has a manic cat timer, and I have an anxious (or possibly just cross-eyed) ladybug timer. Neither of them are magnetic, so eventually we will want to get some of that magnetized tape and make them so. I used the cat to time tonight's pizzas. Works like a champ.

I am now going to knit for half an hour or so and go to bed like a sensible adult. Stop laughing.

Good Sabbath!

It was! the music went well in sacrament meeting. The Young Women sang a beautiful song with words by my friend Sandy and melody by my friend Bruce. (They reprised it at Young Women in Excellence this evening.) I set the timer for a short nap, got up and added six rows to the shawl, got dressed again and went to YWiE. I'm home again, half an hour earlier than I'd planned, having disciplined myself to eat only one small brownie and a small piece of toffee.

I've looked at the spreadsheet for next payday, and I am going to have to move money around to make everything come out even, and it's all right. I have faith that there will be means to pay for the inevitable surprises.

Speaking of surprises, I signed up for next weekend's singles conference, the General Relief Society president is the keynote speaker, but I will be attending the adult session of stake conference. I've signed up only for the workshops during the day, because two of my friends are presenting, and the topics interest me. I don't plan to go back to that stake center after my evening meeting, even though my yenta's band will be providing some of the music (which means that it won't stink).

There is a tri-stake devotional Sunday morning before the regular session of stake conference, and Sister Burton will be speaking to us then, so I won't miss out on hearing her. I just won't be able to hear her twice. The last time we had a member of the General Relief Society presidency come to a singles conference, I had just been called as the ward relief society president, but it hadn't been announced, and I hadn't been sustained. There was a meeting of all the regional relief society presidents with that good sister early in the morning, which necessitated my telling the sisters that I'd been going to give a ride to, that they needed to find another way there, without telling them why.

Our good RS president sent around a sign-up sheet for drivers and riders for next Sunday. Parking will be at a premium, so they're encouraging us to carpool. The Tardis can only seat two comfortably, so I will be one of the riders.

Time for me to figure out what I'm going to wear to work tomorrow and hang it up with socks and accessories. Buying that little over-the-hanger organizer was an inspired decision. It has made getting ready for work faster and easier for the past three or four weeks that I've been using it. I'm also going to portion out some carrots for this week's lunches.

I'm off on Friday, so I'll be picking up Fourthborn after work on Thursday night to keep Middlest company. They will be picked up for a doll meet Friday night, and I will be going to a bluegrass festival. Sunday they will hang out here and play Pokemon or whatever, and I will be at the singles conference, then stake conference, then home for an early bedtime because we're meeting at the church at 6:00a.m. I will need to figure out snacks to keep my blood sugar stable all morning.

I'm going to spend some time visiting with my kid, and then I'm going to bed.

In which your intrepid heroine kills her ladybug timer.

So my ladybug timer died. One too many high-dives off my end table. I bought it at Target about ten years ago while shopping with LittleBit, and I figured that I could find another one there, plus a different cute one for Middlest's use.

All they had were utilitarian timers: boring and/or ugly. So it looks like part of Family Home Evening on Monday will be spent at Bed, Bath and Beyond, which allegedly carries them, or shopping online.

On the other hand, we found something on sale that my kid needed, and those sharp eyes spotted the "clearance" sticker on a pint of Ben and Jerry Raspberry Fudge Chunk Greek yogurt for me. So the trip was not a waste of time and gas.

I used the new, on-sale crockpot today, to make a pot of lentils. I'd sauteed a bag of frozen chopped bell peppers and onions in the lemon-infused olive oil from Trader Joe's, then divvied that up into small containers to take in my lunch to jazz up a cup of mac and cheese. The rest went into the crockpot, then half of a pint jar of lentils inherited from my mother-in-love, a can of Costco chicken chunks with broth, and the broth leftover from last night's ravioli, which brought everything up to the 3/4 mark. This crockpot is either plugged-in or off. No messing with Mr. In-Between. And the vessel and lid are both microwave-safe. I got enough to fill a half pint jar to take to work next week, and two nicely filled latte cups. And it was yummy. We will definitely be doing this again.

Middlest and I talked about a rice cooker. I love rice, but I don't eat much of it anymore because I know that white rice is one of the worst things for a diabetic. I don't have the patience to cook brown rice properly, but Middlest has been eating a lot of rice for the past ten years and misses it. So I think it makes sense to get either a stand-alone rice cooker or a microwave version. That way Middlest can have rice as often as the mood strikes, and I can have it occasionally, and I stay healthy, and Middlest has wholesome comfort food.

In knitting news, I completed the second pattern in the Geology Shawl and the first row in the third pattern. We are now going to carefully take my bed apart, because of an incident in which a generous handful of chocolate covered ginger ended up leaping out of its container onto the floor, including between the back of my mattress and the headboard. Plus, I think that Beloved's baseball made a similar leap a week or so ago, because I can't find it anywhere in the perimeter of that side of the room. And occasionally I like to fall asleep holding it in my hand as a tangible reminder of the dear man I've married. (Several weeks ago I'd fallen asleep with it lying nearby on the fallow side of the bed and awoke to find it cupped gently in my left hand.)

K, if you're still reading the blog, every so often I pick up that lovely bell you sent at his passing and give it a good shake, and smile. Thank you again.

It's been a slightly weird day but a mostly restful one. I awoke a little after my weekday time, cut a slice of the pumpkin bread and sorted out my vitamins, poured a mug of buttermilk, and settled onto my bed for a leisurely breakfast. I had washed my hands and was ready to commence knitting when I looked at the notifications on my phone and realized that I was 45 minutes late to help clean the chapel.

You have never seen a middle-aged woman get dressed quite so quickly. I did arrive in time to help with a few last bits, so I feel properly repentant. I spent the rest of the morning re-reading the lessons for Sunday School and Relief Society, alternating with knitting, frequent healthy snacks, and intermittent drowsiness. Mid-afternoon, Middlest awoke from a Benadryl-fueled nap, and we visited for a few minutes before I decided to stop fighting the drowsiness and take a nap.

When I woke up, the soup was nearly ready, and I set the timer for half an hour, and when I got up to do something (I don't remember what) the pillows shifted and knocked the ladybug timer to its doom.

It's almost time to take my meds and think about sleeping again, but I'll sleep better knowing that there are no chocolate covered tempting bits under my bed to invite the attention of bugs.

Sleep well, y'all, and have a blessed Sabbath.

I'm in a holiday mood!

I took an orange artificial pumpkin to work today, along with my shoebox of Halloween things, and I put them up on top of the cabinets in my cubicle. (I used to have a lot more Halloween stuff, but I gave it away when I was living in Fort Worth, because the duplex was so small.)

Had a calm, productive day at work and came home by way of Trader Joe's and Braum's. Ginger cookies, chocolate covered ginger, pumpkin bread mix, those tiny pumpkin cookies I brought home a couple of weeks ago, and some pumpkin spice salted caramels (!). The pumpkin bread is almost ready to come out of the oven. Breakfast tomorrow will be pumpkin bread with cream cheese. I threw in half a cup each of craisins and freshly chopped pecans, as the box suggested, but am passing on the powdered sugar glaze. (As a celebrity who is famous mostly for being famous once said, you don't slap a bumper sticker on a Bentley.)

We are also stocked up on milk, buttermilk, and orange juice for the weekend. My goal is to stay in the house (preferably in my pajamas) until it's time to get ready for church on Sunday morning.

I've worked about half of the second pattern section on the Geology Shawl. As soon as the pumpkin bread is out of the oven and I've washed my hands, I'm going to curl up either in my wing chair or on my bed and knit until I can't keep my eyes open any longer.

For dinner we had the tiny ravioli from Trader Joe's, simmered in chicken stock, with half of the chopped onion I'd been sweating added to the cooked pasta (the other half is helping to wilt a batch of spinach) and a little over half a jar of very simple tomato sauce heated and stirred in. I portioned out one day's lunch, and we inhaled the rest of it.

The pumpkin bread is cooling on top of the stove. A ridiculous amount of objects are soaking in the sink, because the dishwasher is running. The spinach is more or less refusing to wilt, so I think I will pop it into a large glass bowl and into the cooling oven and leave it there awhile.

My Christmas prezzie is here!

Every year we get to browse through a catalogue and choose our own Christmas gift from the corporation. (There are other catalogues for "milestone anniversaries": one year, five year, ten years, fifteen years, etc. Which is why I own an expensive leather bag that still looks good after two years of being overstuffed with knitting.) This year I chose a Cuisinart Mini-Prep Processor. It was waiting on the chair by the front door when I got home tonight, which means that I can delete an email from my inbox when I get to work tomorrow.

I've already taken it out of the box, because the packing slip said to examine it for damage within 24 hours. And I've completed the warranty registration. I took the cute little rascal apart, put it back together, and ran it (empty) on both speeds. It is now tucked away in a cupboard, but if the weather cools off this weekend like they're teasing, I might use it to slice a mess of onions for some French onion soup. When I bought groceries last weekend, I found a small black Crock-Pot on sale for $10. It's still in its box in the living room.

I do love kitchen toys. Yes, I know I only cook when the mood hits me, but when it strikes I want to have the right tools for the job, and I had been thinking of spending my hard-earned money on a new food processor (the other one did not survive the move from Fort Worth). Now I don't have to.

In knitting news, I've completed the first section of the Geology Shawl, and I'm not getting anything like gauge. I'm using the recommended size 6 needle, because I want an airy fabric. The yarn is a merino/nylon/cashmere blend, a little limp compared to the Jitterbug and Claudia and Koigu that I've been churning through to make baby socks, so I'm pretty sure that I would run out of yarn before getting to the last section. And the lighter shade of blue is not a color that exists in my closet, although it's quite lovely, so alternating sections of light and dark will be harmonious and not outshout the patterns. Of which there are a plethora.

I've listened to my Lindsey Stirling station on Pandora the past two nights. Their computer thinks that bossa nova goes nicely with dubstep violin. And I learned the name of a song I've heard most of my life (Manha de Carnaval). Every so often they'll throw in some Celtic fiddle tune, and then I have to back off the gas pedal.

Today went well at work. I'm going to celebrate with some knitting. Night, y'all.

When all else fails, communicate.

So, I've been stewing for awhile. Today while I was filing an answer for SemperFi, he came and asked me a question, then as he left my desk remarked, "Don't forget to file the [thing]."

Really? I finished filing the answer, faxed the discovery to opposing counsel, worked on another task or five, then found a moment when he was off the phone and went in to talk to him.

Me: Are you unhappy with my work?

Him: (big saucer eyes) No! I'm very happy with your work!

Me: It was a little embarrassing when you told me not to forget to file the [thing] where anybody could hear you.

Him: I wasn't trying to embarrass you. I was trying to be helpful. You didn't file it yesterday, and I wanted to make sure you filed it today, so I put a sticky-note on it.

Then he shared with me what the next three weeks of his life are going to be like: an endless round of mediations and depositions, some of the latter out of town, and other tasks that fall under his purview because he's so darn good at what he does. [I have minimal sympathy regarding the mediations and depositions, because he schedules his own, but I do have sympathy for how the other tasks only add to the stress.]

He listened to me, really listened, so it was easy to ask if there was anything I could do to lighten the load, and there's not. Then he said, "You have a lot to do, and you do it well, and if I get up in your [stuff], just tell me to get out of your [stuff]." He acknowledged that he's guilty of micro-managing, and I agreed that there was a lot more of it recently, but now I know why. There are five people in various functions who are out of the office indefinitely due to health reasons or training, which adds significantly to the load the rest of us are carrying.

I resumed my tasks with a much lighter heart (and Middlest could see the difference when I walked in the door tonight). Since I'm not willing to say [stuff] unless someone throws up on me accidentally, I came up with a solution. Pulled up a Word document and started typing and tweaking. When I was done, I printed it off and ran it around the corner to our paralegal. She cracked up. So I took it into his office and said, "Wanna have a little laugh?" He answered that he would like to hear something funny. I showed him the printout, in 120pt type with a 150pt emoji:

You're doing it again. :(

He guffawed, said it was great, and that when necessary, I'm to pull it out of my drawer and wave it at him. Mission accomplished.

Crabby.

In happy news, Middlest has had two good days in a row. We are both delighted.

There were enough seats together for Knit Night. The noise level was lower than usual.

I cast on the Geology Shawl by Verybusymonkey. Other than the lamination starting to wear on my Knit Picks modular needles, I'm pleased. I have another pair of tips the same size and will transfer the stitches before crashing.

I woke up with aching hips and knees. So that sort of set the tenor for the day. SemperFi has been stressed and micro-manage-y (which he usually isn't), and by the time I went downstairs to have lunch with Middlest I was wound tighter than a tick. I need to go in his office, close the door, and have a talk, but workflow does not permit it at the moment. I've had an extra attorney for three days.

I needed both my anti-anxiety meds and my muscle relaxer at lunchtime, nine hours ahead of schedule. But as Middlest pointed out, the reason I take them at bedtime is so I don't face plant into my keyboard or drive drugged.

Lunch with Middlest helped. By the time I logged off at 5:00, I wasn't sure if I would make it to the loo on time, but I did.

On the way home tonight, Middlest observed that I'd been quietly agitated all day. Would it help to talk? After establishing that Middlest was not the problem, I was able to discuss my concerns with another loving, sensible adult. And I felt better.

But I'm feeling rumblies in my tumblies again, so over and out.

Single.

I know quite a bit about being single. Married at 21; divorced at 23. Married to the children's father at 25; divorced at 45. Married to Beloved at 59; widowed at 60. Thus far, 40+ years of being single, with varying degrees of happiness about it.

But that's not the kind of single that I'm thinking about. When I was listening to 3 Nephi 13:22 this morning, the word jumped out and bit me. While I was stuck at a long stoplight, I paused the narrative and punched the footnote. Doctrine & Covenants 88:67, Topical Guide: Dedication. (See also Commitment; Consecrate; Diligence; Obedience; Steadfastness. Each with its own hyperlink.)

Why do I get the feeling that if I followed every one of those leads it would take me weeks and weeks and weeks?

Turn signal on now for a change of topic: when I got home tonight, I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich. [Poof! You're a ham and cheese sandwich! Never mind. Too hard to type without fingers and thumbs.] And I sat down at the computer, intending to scan the rest of the piles and make an early night of it, after watching one of the Conference talks that I missed on Saturday afternoon.

Instead, I noodled around on Facebook and Bloglovin' and Pinterest while whittling down the "social" and "promotions" folders in my gmail. Saw a couple of neat ideas for finishing the kitchen and saved them to Pinterest. Caught up on the blogs that I follow. Finally settled down and got rid of several piles and maybe half the volume of paper that remains to be scanned.

Middlest spent the day chez Squishy and just got home. Did have enough spoons to help me decant the shredder into the bag and wrestle the bag closed so it can go out on the curb tomorrow.

I also had high hopes for winding yarn and starting a shawl from the yarn my sister gave me last Christmas. But it's still sitting here on my computer desk, where I can pet it as the mood strikes. What I am going to do is post this, shut down all my windows, play one hand of solitaire, take my meds, move the boxes of sweaters off my bed so there's room for me, and declare this day finished.

Happy and knackered.

Yes, it's possible to be both. The sessions of General Conference today were wonderful. Between them I started sorting and scanning paperwork that has piled up for the past couple of months. I'm not done, but I'm a whole lot closer.  I also caught up my spreadsheets, thus reinforcing the illusion that I am at least somewhat in control of my life. (Go ahead and chuckle; I'm laughing, too.)

I finished the baby sock and gave the rest of the yarn to Middlest, because I am flat tired of it.

I have neat(ish) stacks of paper on the living room floor, to encourage me to finish this, because they make me twitch ever so slightly.

The new leggings fit like a dream, and are only for wearing at home.

I still haven't found my darker turquoise dressy T-shirt.

But I ran the dishwasher. And I didn't eat all of the ginger cookies.

I'm going to gather up the last pile for the shredder for today, turn off the lights out here, take my meds, and crash.

You should go find the new Piano Guys video on YouTube. Thanks, Tan!

General thoughts about General Conference

We caught all of this morning's session, and the last fifteen minutes of the afternoon session because we went to visit our friend who lost her dad. It was one of those "the Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath" moments, in which I felt I would be a better Christian by loving on my friend than by staying home to listen to talks that told me to go love on my friend. Besides which, the afternoon session already available online, so I can catch up before tomorrow morning's broadcast.

Tonight, I took advantage of the fact that the Priesthood session is now broadcast to the general membership, instead of being something the brethren went to the stake centers to listen to, as it has been until very recently. I think April conference was the first time, but it may have been a year ago. Old habits die hard, and I know that last time I wasn't particularly interested in listening to the Priesthood session when I knew I could read the talks when they were printed in May's copy of the Ensign.

This time I had the impression that by not taking advantage of the opportunity, I would be putting myself in the same stinky boots as those who say, "A Bible, a Bible, we have already got a Bible, and there cannot be any more Bible." So I listened, and Middlest listened until the evening meds threatened a TKO (technical knock-out, for those of you who did not grow up watching prize fights with your father).

I woke up a little past 5:00 this morning, ate a very light breakfast and took my vitamins, and went back to bed, waking up at 10:00, which gave me time to put an Alsatian onion tart from Trader Joe's into the oven and take it out before the morning session began. After that session, I sluiced off in the shower, and we hopped into the Tardis to meet Firstborn and Fourthborn at the quilt shop to pick up the first blocks in the current series. From there to a Hallmark shop to buy a condolence card, then over to our friend's.

It's been a long, full, rich day, and I feel wonderfully blessed. I not only finished the cuff on the second fourth pink baby sock but got the heel flap worked as well. After the Priesthood session I hopped into the Tardis again and made a run for bottled water (because Garland water is vile to drink) and another bottle of distilled water for my CPAP, and a few other things. I am sleepy, and I am going to bed.

Friday, blessed Friday.

Work went well. And I'm glad to be home. Productive day, followed by safe trip home (fueled by zydeco), a blitz through Bueno with Middlest, and a trip to Costco while Middlest finished up the laundry. The food is put away. We've polished off the last of the individual pizzas from the previous Costco trip, which made room in the freezer for a new batch. The Tardis is tanked.

Brain wants to stay up and play with spreadsheets. Body says nope nope NOPE. Phone is going into the charger, Ms. Ravelled is hitting the sack, and September is one for the books. Whatever that means.

Tomorrow is two sessions of General Conference, with a trip to the quilt shop in between, and maybe a quick drive-by hugging of a friend from the doll community whose father unexpectedly passed. Unless I decide to watch the Priesthood session of Conference, which became available to all six months ago. I've always been quite content to wait for the addresses to come out in the Ensign. The children's father used to say that that session was largely devoted to "brethren, don't be nincompoops."

G'night, y'all.

Diversity and the corporate mind.

The company I work for is big on diversity and inclusion, both in theory and in practice. In the past, I have been part of our office's Diversity and Inclusion Committee, responsible for quarterly activities to increase the appreciation and respect we have for one another. These are a couple of the posters sent out from corporate for the past quarter or so. (There are more, but these are the two I like best.)

As one of the brighter crayons in the box, both in terms of brainpower and force of personality, I rather like that poster. (Less so on the days when I feel not-particularly-sharp or downright dull, but that's why I take Lexapro, right?) I have a quibble or two with the next one. They get full points for choosing my favorite shade of yellow. And it's a nice sentiment. However, you'll notice that all of the pencils are yellow. The only difference is that one is doing yoga. If they really wanted to make a point [har, har], each pencil would be a different color and one would be standing on its head. The message I get from this poster is, it's OK to be a little different. Just don't be too different. Because that would be weird. And would make the rest of us uncomfortable. We still want you to be a well-behaved cog in the corporate machine. Squeaky wheels may get the grease, but cogs that don't mesh well with the other cogs might just be replaced.

Which is not to say that I don't feel appreciated and accepted at work, because I do. You just won't see me being fully myself between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. Because I am one of the brighter crayons in the box, and I have short-term and long-term goals which require a dependable flow of income until I am safely dead, or retired.

In other news, the Eternal Pink Baby Sock is finished, even to the weaving-in of ends. And I have made it this far into the work week with the new timekeeping system without making fiscally fatal errors or throwing my monitor out SemperFi's window.

In which your intrepid heroine learns a thing or two.

When I got home tonight, Middlest was sleeping, so I tiptoed into my room and started putting things away. A few minutes later, I heard some fairly vigorous nose-blowing (the pollen count has been high lately) and assumed that my kid was awake. So I stood at the open doorway and said, "Good evening!" which elicited a startled GAAAAHHHH!

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Middlest told me the other night about the time when both ankles were broken and the medical advice was can't fix that; stay off your feet, which was not conducive to eating or keeping a roof overhead. So Middlest wrapped both ankles (gently) each night and put on socks to prevent the bandages from coming undone, only to wake up in the morning to neatly rolled bandages and socks halfway across the room. Middlest was sleeping on the couch during that time, and BFF/roomie actually witnessed the whole thing: Middlest yanking off the socks and flinging them, then methodically unwrapping each ankle, rolling and securing the bandages, and putting them on the end table, all without waking up.

Middlest lived with two autistic people for the better part of ten years and is still adjusting to living with a more neurotypical person, i.e., me. [I can't say that I'm completely neurotypical, since I'm on my third month of anxiety medicine and second month of muscle relaxer. The silver lining in this is, I could actually buy that sign I saw before heading East to pick up Middlest, the one that said Your crazy is showing. Might want to tuck that back in. Because it would not be exclusively pointing a finger at Middlest. Or Fourthborn.] But I digress.

The former living situation required profuse apologies, lengthy explanations, etc. I'm more of an OK, you've apologized, and I can tell that you mean it, and can we please be done with this because (A) I want to get back to my reading or (B) I need to count stitches or (C) I want to take my meds and go to bed. Middlest is working on shorter apologies. I am working on communicating clearly and politely that I respect Middlest's need to apologize, I've heard the real or perceived transgression, I appreciate the apology, I believe the apology, and this is taking longer than I'm comfortable with, in fact I'm starting to feel anxious and really really want to change the subject. And maybe eat half a box of chocolate covered ginger.

Thankfully, I know where all the Trader Joe's are, within fifteen miles of home.

I've been framed!

Well, not me, exactly. The custom frame which I ordered for the butterfly print I bought at Main Street Arts Festival this spring arrived in today's mail, and it is perfect, notwithstanding that once the package arrived in Mesquite, TX, it was handed over to USPS for final delivery.

I am not happy with the USPS at present. I contacted them last week because the new, pre-printed certified mail green cards are not trackable on the customer-facing tracking page of their website, although they are trackable in-house. I spoke with a most excellent customer service representative after being on hold for a minimum of half an hour, and I have a reference number. The following day, I got a "how was our service?" email, which I let sit in my inbox at work over the weekend. Yesterday I had time to respond, and I did screen-captures of the questionnaire and my responses and saved them to a Word document. I emphasized that Ms. CS Rep was stellar, everything one could wish: concerned, appalled, diligent. But that no one from USPS has called or emailed to follow through on my complaint, and the tracking application wasn't working when I replied to their survey. I have a reference number, and if the technical issue isn't fixed tomorrow, I may very well give them another call.

Re: other technical issues? The timecard/time off website at work, was functioning properly today. I got the rest of my requested and approved time off entered into the system, as well as my time worked for today.

Middlest and I went to have the potholes filled today. Our dentist is a lovely man, warm, gentle, and kind. As well as a good listener, and a superb technician. He navigates Fourthborn's neuroses, and Middlest's, and my own. I wasn't aware until today that I had any, at least in terms of dentistry, but I kept trying to fold my shoulders up and around my mouth. At one point, with my jaw up on blocks, I managed to garble, "Good thing I'm taking anti-anxiety meds!" and we all cracked up.

Afterward, we picked up Fourthborn (who had no cavities) for ice cream sundaes in lieu of Knit Night. None of us had the spoons to deal with people. We took her back home, came back here, and I'd guess that Middlest was asleep within the hour. I've been piddling around on Facebook but finally gathered up all the bubble wrap and bagged it, then moved the empty box over by the front door to go out with next Tuesday's recycling. I need to clear some paperwork off my bed, and in theory I'd like to sew or knit, but I think I'll just stick my nose in the October Ensign for awhile, take my meds, and call it a night.

Tomorrow I'll go to Hobby Lobby and see if they'll cut me the glass for my frame. And maybe find a frame for the other print, cranes against a full moon and reflected over the water.

Every whit.

That word jumped out at me when I was listening to 3 Nephi 8:1 last week in preparation for yesterday's Gospel Doctrine lesson. I made a mental note to look it up as soon as possible, then promptly forgot it. Because: middle-aged, and many plates spinning madly.

 Dictionary.com says: “n. a particle; bit; jot (used especially in negative phrases): not a whit better.” And says that the origin is Middle English, somewhere between 1470 and 1480A.D.

The British Dictionary definition is “n. (usually used with a negative) the smallest particle; iota; jot: he has changed not a whit. And says that the origin is 15th Century: probably variant of wight: a human being, or a supernatural being, as a witch or sprite, any living being, a creature; this meaning going back to Old English, before 900A.D.

“smallest particle,” 12c., in na whit “no amount,” from Old English nan wiht, from wiht “amount,” originally “person, human being”

It's a word that shows up in the Old Testament (Deuteronomy 13:16; 1 Samuel 3:18), the New Testament (John 7:23, 13:30; 2 Corinthians 11:5), the Book of Mormon (Helaman 11:19; Alma 34:14, 42:25, 3 Nephi 1:20, 1:25, 8:1; 4 Nephi 4:19), and the Doctrine and Covenants (33:4), and the Pearl of Great Price (JST, John 13:10). That's a lot of presence for something that's barely there.

We started the new timekeeping system at work today. I was able to log on just long enough to enter the time off request for tomorrow, when Middlest and I are getting three fillings between us. I tried many times throughout the day, in between other tasks, and was only able to log on shortly before quitting time. I got my hours worked and my lunch break entered, and a couple more pre-approved times I'll be out of the office. I hope to get the rest of them entered tomorrow. Apparently there was a wide swath in the middle of the country that had problems accessing the system.

Technology is wonderful, except when it's not.

Middlest got to spend a few hours with Mel and Squishy today but ran out of spoons and came home early, staying up until I got home in order to pass on hugs and love. My poor beleaguered kid is snoring softly in the middle bedroom. I am sitting here, typing away in between bites of cornbread, which is all that I really wanted for dinner. Well, maybe an apple for dessert.

Normally on Tuesdays, Middlest goes to work with me and hangs out in the atrium of my office building with a backpack full of games, art supplies, knitting, or whatever. We discussed it via text and decided that the best thing for tomorrow is for my kid to stay here until the last possible minute, and I'll leave work earlier than originally planned, race home and pick up Middlest, then scoot over to the dentist. Knit Night is almost certainly out, so we'll just grab Fourthborn and get ice cream cones, drop her off, and come home after the worst of rush hour is over.

Time to put away the leftovers, wash any traces of butter off my hands, and decide whether I'd rather sew or knit. It would be fun to finish the evening with a completed dress for Gracie. Pretty sure she's tired of being bald and half-naked (which is an improvement over much of the past week, when she was bald and totally naked on my sewing table, while Blessing clucked over her disapprovingly.

Haven't found a pair of Marian-the-Librarian glasses for Blessing yet, but I've found a cute pair for Celeste. Both of them are such bookworms that they really need decent specs. Besides, who could be afraid of a near-sighted vampire who faints at the sight of blood? (No, she doesn't sparkle. Don't be silly.)

A metaphorical house-cleaning.

Weird dream this morning, in which I was back visiting the house in Irving. It was owned or inhabited by my parents, and Mom had just bought a sleek new minivan that was parked on the wrong side of the road, partway into the ditch, with no gas. Firstborn was the age she is now but needed to use the car to go to early morning seminary and then high school, because her career track required that she have certain classes that she didn't take in college. So, my old house, but Mom's kitchen about where my bedroom would be, and I was looking for a snack and unable to find it. I was also slightly in trouble because I had eaten up the last of something.

After I awoke and went out to forage in the kitchen, I realized that the children's father was nowhere in that house. Yesterday would have been our 39th anniversary, and I felt absolutely no neurosis, depression, nostalgia, angst, whatever. Yesterday was just a day for resting up after the excitement and exhaustion of Wednesday-into-Thursday. The swelling is mostly gone from my left ankle, and the inflammation is what is normal for me, judging by the color.

There are probably other layers to that dream, but I'd rather talk about the dream I had during my nap yesterday morning (after eight and a half hours of sleep). Middlest and I were in a large auditorium, quite near the stage, and one of the members of the First Presidency walked onto the stage, then made his way over to me and shook my hand. I asked if he would have time to meet with Middlest and discuss some points of doctrine that are currently a struggle for my child, and he said that he would try to do so. Shortly after which Middlest and I got separated, and I spent the rest of that dream walking halls and corridors trying to find my kid.

My take-away from that is that the Savior is quite aware of my concerns, and Middlest's. I wept in that dream, great tears of relief and comfort, and awoke dry-eyed.

I wonder if that good brother dreamed that he was in Texas, talking to Middlest and me?

When I went to bed Friday night, I determined that yesterday was going to be a day of rest (which it was, in spades) and finishing small projects. I completed the second doll sock for my little Hope. They remain to be washed and blocked, but I am pleased with them. I also tried them on Temperance and have guesstimated how much wider around and how much longer they need to be to fit her slightly stockier frame. Iplehouse dolls, from the bitties to the adults, are very solidly built. When I briefly owned a Jessica, I could barely span her waist with both hands, and at nearly 2kg, could not lift her without pain. They make some of the most beautiful sculpts on the market, and sell some of the most beautiful clothing for their dolls, but mostly they just inspire wistful sighs on my part.

I also sewed the snaps on the two bloomers that I made earlier in the week and picked out fabric for dresses and aprons for Chutzpah and Grace. Grace's nether bits are now properly and cutely covered, but she's shirtless and bald on my sewing table.

I realized yesterday that the lovely yarns my sister gave me for Christmas, which have stumped me for nearly a year, will go well with my newest skirt (which arrived on Friday), and I went to Ravelry and found a pattern that I like: the Geology Shawl by Verybusymonkey. It has multiple sections and several stitch patterns, and I think I'm going to work it in alternate colors, because I don't think I have quite enough of the darker yarn to work the whole thing.

My line of credit is paid off. And I am hungry again, so heading back to the kitchen for a substantial breakfast. I miss the days when I could fast, but I've been praying for what our bishop asked us to fast for, and I've been trying to listen for inspiration.

Stone is out of the kidney.

When I got home from work today, Middlest reported that while there is residual tenderness in the kidney, the pain has moved forward and down, into the groin area. We're hoping that it passes in the next 24 hours.

In other good news, I was able to take PSF (paid family leave) for yesterday instead of having to burn a day of vacation.

In fun but not particularly important news, the teal skirt that I ordered earlier this week arrived today, and it is gorgeous, and at least one of my turquoise shirts goes perfectly with it (I can't lay hands on the other one), and there are multiple pairs of earrings that will go, and I have tons of teal Gloss Lace to make a cowl or a shawl or maybe even a loosely knitted jacket. Plus quite a bit of yarn that was originally cut for warp, 25+ years ago and still in good condition. I foresee all sorts of crazy knitting fun.

Did I mention that I finished the first beige doll sock while we were at the ER?  I'm midway through the calf decreases on the second one, and I may get those completed before bedtime, but I'm not holding my breath.

Taking it easy this weekend, because I took a spill in the parking lot at the grocery store tonight. Nothing injured but my dignity. I was pulling a cart out, stepped funny against the curb and wobbled, steadied myself with the cart, cart said nuh-unh! and flipped on its side, and since I hadn't let go of the cart, I went down slowly and softly, in stages, landing squarely on the backs of my thighs. A nice gentleman helped me up. A nice store employee ran up to check on me. I righted my cart, did my shopping, came home by way of KFC, and Middlest has wrapped my ankle as a precaution. I tore a bit of my thumbnail on the handle of the cart, but I wasn't dumb enough to try to break my fall with my hands, so my thumb's a little tender but my wrist is undamaged.

I will probably be a little stiff in the morning. And I plan to do nothing more strenuous than knitting or sewing. I've studied the Sunday School lesson and read the Relief Society lesson once through. So more of that tomorrow, while I sit up in bed and make the needles fly.

Night, y'all. I'm going to check out Book of Mormon Central, take my meds, and hit the sack.

Edited to add: I read this to Middlest, who said that as long as "a little stiff" doesn't mean that I'm dead, that's perfectly fine.

And it shall come to pass

One of my favorite phrases from the Book of Mormon. But in this case it refers to Middlest's kidney stone, mercifully a small one, and with no accompanying infection. When I got home from work last night, we hopped into the Tardis, armed with enough healthy snack food and bottles of water for a small siege, because we were going to the county hospital's ER on the advice of Middlest's wonderful new doctor.

Have I mentioned how impressed I am with him? And with the pharmacy he suggested we try?

I was hoping that we would be done with intake, treatment, and discharge by breakfast time this morning, and I was not far off. We were discharged a little after 2:30, made our way to their pharmacy on the other side of the building, only to discover that the medicine was exorbitantly expensive. The woman at that front desk suggested we go back to ER and ask to speak with a social worker to get a coupon. Security by that door wouldn't let us back in and sent us to the security dude at the other end of that lobby, who called the social worker, who called back, who told Middlest sorry, no discount.

I could see frustration and the beginnings of panic in my kid's eyes, because one of the medicines is a pain reliever, and the other is designed to open up that impossibly tiny channel and make it easier (and less painful) to expel the stone. I gave the second security dude my frustrated mom who is remembering her manners smile, and we walked back to the other security desk. One of the security officers graciously escorted us back through the ER waiting room to the exit. And I do mean graciously. She was warm and kind and just what we needed after roughly eight hours all told.

Once we got outside, I told Middlest, do not worry about the prescriptions. I am not going to work tomorrow (meaning this morning), and after I get a few hours of sleep, I will take the Rx's up to the nice pharmacy we've been using, and I'm pretty sure they can do the job for less.

So after about four hours of sleep on my part and three on Middlest's, we were both awake at the same time and drove up to Wylie and actually got to meet the lovely man I've been speaking to for the past week and a half. He asked if the prices that were hand-written on each Rx were what Parkland had been going to charge us, and I confirmed that they were. He filled both of them for about $10 less than the cheaper one would have cost us.

On the way home, we ran by the doctor's office so he could copy the medical records we took home, and then we both crashed. I don't know how long Middlest slept, but I got another four solid hours before waking a little before afternoon rush hour. Middlest was still asleep. I played on FB and on my phone until traffic was down to a manageable level, hopped in the Tardis, and hit Costco and Trader Joe's before running out of spoons.

The perishables are stowed, and Middlest will wrangle the rest of it (there isn't much) during the next waking period. I have killed the cottage cheese and am ready to take my meds and call it a night. The swelling and inflammation in my left ankle are much reduced, and the itching from Monday night's mosquito bites has ceased. I feel utterly weary and incredibly blessed.

Spit happens.

So I got bitten by the skeeters last night. Quite a bit, actually. By bedtime, the bites on my hands and arms had calmed down. By morning, I couldn't tell that they had ever happened.

Not so with my ankles, however. I posted a picture on FB of my poor cankle, red as a first degree sunburn and itching like fury. I got lots of advice: dryer sheets (don't have any); hand sanitizer (have some, somewhere); and spit.

Spit? Well I knew it worked for blood. Old quilter's trick: your spit has the power to unlock your own bloodstains, and I've found through experience that it will even work on dried blood. It's useless on anybody else's blood. Note: it even works on menstrual blood, if you've been surprised while wearing your favorite pair of skivvies. You might get dehydrated while working up enough spit, but spit spit spit, rub the spit into the bloodstain(s), then rinse in cold water and launder immediately.

I am here to tell you that spit has another magical property, because I tried it, and it worked. Took me a couple of minutes to make enough spit to go around both ankles (right one wasn't as bad as the left), but the itching has stopped. It's been more than an hour, and zip zilch nada. Of course, my ankles probably smell faintly of gingerbread, as I had just finished eating some triple ginger cookies.

I know, I know, TMI.

Middlest, clever child, has created an avatar for one of the many computer games now in residence. It resembles me as closely as pixels will allow. My weapon is a giant paintbrush, and I have some fairly impressive moves, and my secret power is "boundless intelligence" or something like unto that. Middlest was in the middle of a battle when I wrote that and couldn't look it up for me, but has since verified.

I took a short video, but my phone is tucked in for the night, which is what I hope to be shortly.

We had the monthly checkup with Middlest's doctor this morning, decided to move the appointments to Thursdays, because fasting for bloodwork + hanging out in my lobby till I get off work + Knit Night + getting home late is a bit much to ask of my kid, who recently had a two week migraine and is not sleeping well at all. We decided to bag Knit Night. I took Middlest home, went to work and dragged most of the day but still managed to get the necessary stuff done. I came straight home and made smoothies for dinner and folded the whites and am Done.

But thankfully, no longer itchy. I was trying to figure out how to rig a tent over my legs so nothing would touch my ankles while I slept.

I'm working on the ankles of the first heathered beige doll sock for Hope. Theoretically, I would like to finish the ankle and maybe the sock this evening, but I'm knackered, so my intelligence and I are gong to bound to the boudoir and collapse, after carefully removing the knitting needles from my bed.