Shopping.

When Middlest and I were at the Container Store a few weeks ago, we spotted something that would be a lovely joke to include with my sister's birthday or Christmas present. I bought it after work tonight and will photograph it for a future reveal, along with the story of why it is so funny.

And I needed a pink shirt for Friday, because we're all supposed to Think Pink, and I'm fresh out. So I went online to my favorite place for layering tops, and they had one in ballet pink. After work I called the local shop to see if they had one in stock in my size. They had one left and set it aside for me. The last batch I bought were two for $30, and there was an extra sale that ends today, where I could get two for $25. So I did. I bought another dark brown shirt to replace the one which got stained a few months ago. The one where I sewed on buttons carefully in a triangular pattern from the neck and shoulders to mid-chest, alternating various values of brown buttons from one of those color-themed packs at Jo-Ann. When I tried the shirt on, I discovered that I'd not been quite as careful with button placement as I had thought. Two big light brown buttons exactly where they should not be. So I hung it up in the back of my closet where it could think about how it had tricked me. I will eventually remove the buttons, cut up the shirt into four sections, and share it with Middlest, Fourthborn, and Mel. (I just realized that if I were to have Middlest or Fourthborn doodle on it, I could say that it was hung, drawn, and quartered. A little gallows humor. Sorry not sorry.)

Tomorrow we have the monthly doctor's appointment for Middlest, after which I will drop my kid off at the house, and Squishy will come by at some point to fetch, feed, and get into mischief together.

I've begun an Eva Cassidy station on my Pandora. I was just in the mood for female voices and mellow tones. So far I've given the thumbs-up to Bonnie Raitt (oh yes, please) and an unusually mellow song by Aretha, and the thumbs-down to one and possibly two songs by Norah Jones. I adored her voice when she first began recording, but not so much in recent years. Much as I love Sweet Baby James, I passed him over, so the only guy currently on this playlist is Izzy and his version of "Over the Rainbow." I love the orchestration. I love his voice. And it makes me a little nuts (hush!) that he scrambles up the phrases. I think this station will be slow to build, because I think I want it to be almost exclusively female voices. I've come a long way from my man-bashing days. The first couple of years after divorcing the children's father, I listened to very few male singers, primarily as an antidote to all the years of unavoidable talk radio when we were married. (Which was probably his desperate attempt to counteract the estrogen-fueled atmosphere in our home.)  [Middlest nodded vigorously when I read that.]

I'm going to see how much knitting I can do before bedtime. I'm trying to re-establish my bedtime routine. I think it's hilarious that going to bed sensibly is referred to as "sleep hygiene." I'm a widow. And I bathe regularly. Come up with your own punchline.

Minutiae.

Good day at work. Got my desk back under control.

Put three potatoes, a leek, and a can of chicken broth in the tiny Crock-pot before leaving for work. Middlest plugged it in around 9 or 10. The aroma bowled me over when I walked in the door tonight. All that remained was to stir some cornstarch into some half and half, add it to the pot, and wait a bit. Two generous servings for dinner, and a small one to take for lunch tomorrow.

After dinner, we hopped in the Tardis and hit three game shops for Pokemon codes for Middlest, Fourthborn, Squishy, and M back in Tennessee.

I added maybe two rounds to the current baby sock.

We skipped Knit Night.

And my eyelids are getting heavy, which I take as a good sign.

That's all I've got for you tonight.

Feed His sheep? Sure!

Woke up this morning well ahead of the chickens, to head downtown an hour earlier than normal so that I could meet five coworkers and help serve breakfast at the cafe which is operated by a downtown church in conjunction with the homeless shelter. For a little over an hour, I filled glass after glass of milk. I think I emptied at least a dozen tall pitchers. We fed over 400 people. It was a lovely, tender, energizing, and intermittently hilarious event. I want to do this again.

One guy told me, "Just one more glass, and then no more. I gotta drive, and I don't want to be pulled over for driving under the influence of milk." I told him that I've been really lucky, because I've never gotten caught, and I'm definitely guilty.

At another table, the guy on my left looked up and grinned, "Hey, you gave him more milk than me." I looked down at the two of them, grinned back, and told them they were just like my kids. And then I told them about how, when the kids were little, I had to divide up the Easter M&Ms by color and make sure that nobody got one more than a sibling. (Bonus: I got to eat the extras.)

I should have taken my pedometer (not that I know where it is), because I'm pretty sure that I got my 10,000 steps in. If I had been standing in the serving line, I'd probably be pretty miserable by now, but because I kept moving nothing really hurts, and it was relatively easy to put my sneakers back on at the end of the day.

I also had a reasonably productive day at work. I didn't get everything done, but I got a lot done. And that will just have to do.

I ate breakfast around 5:30, before leaving the house, and by the time I finished my shift at the cafe, I had blown through all of those calories. I got a plate at the deli (eggs, bacon, biscuit) washed down with a pint of orange juice, and that lasted me until lunchtime at 1:00. At which point I went back to the deli and got a single puff pastry filled with (really) spicy beef, because I didn't want a large lunch after two breakfasts. Around 3:00 I inhaled the muffin half that I'd brought to work, and now that I'm home, I'm eating a ginormous salad.

It is wonderful to feel awake and clear-headed at 7:15p.m. I hope that I can wind down enough to go to sleep in two or three or however many hours.

Oh hi! And Plan B.

I really am trying to blog every day, but we went to IKEA last night, and all three of us came home exhausted. Middlest bolted for the middle bedroom, I went into my room and closed the door, and Fourthborn communed with her laptop.

I slept until approximately my usual waking time and woke up feeling human again. Both kids slept until approximately noon. So I had a quiet morning of reading and snacking and knitting. The third section of the Geology Shawl is finished, and when I post this I will commence the fourth section.

I'd been looking forward to tonight's bluegrass festival ever since it popped up on my calendar, but as it rained off and on all morning, and while I ran to Costco and the grocery store early this afternoon, I decided it would be wiser to go to the doll meet with my kids. I took Blessing. Fourthborn took Xavin, and Middlest took Orion and Twinkle. We all had a good time visiting with other doll folk until Pie Five turned up the music around 9:00, when Middlest signed "finish" and we picked up our stuff and left.

I did more or less finish the cuff of the current baby sock while we were out. I will probably finish the sock while at the singles conference tomorrow, or at the adult session of stake conference tomorrow night.

If I were a sensible woman, I'd go to bed right now, but I just finished the last of my pizza, and it needs to settle if I don't want to wake up in two hours with a crabby stomach. So I'll play a hand or two of solitaire, noodle around on Facebook, and go knit until it's safe to be horizontal.

Feeling mischievous.

I discovered the perfect thing for one of the few people who actually gets a birthday gift from me these days. And that's all I'm going to say for now.

Had dinner with one of my visiting teach-ees tonight. Mediterranean, and I brought home hummus (which will go to work with me tomorrow) and the other half of my gyro. It was good to catch up with her. We are planning another dinner in January, after the holiday madness is over.

I am two and a half rows away from finishing this section of the Geology Shawl chart. (There are three rows of garter stitch after every chart. I'm not counting those.) If I'm lucky, I'll finish the half-row tonight. My body is screaming for sleep, and I intend to be in bed before this hour is up.

Work went well. I have four cases this week that are pending closed, and I did the initial tasks on all four over the past two days.

I washed a load of whites this morning and got them into the dryer before leaving for work. I just emptied the dryer and brought the basket inside. Pretty sure that nothing is getting folded before I go to bed tonight.

And that's all she wrote.

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.