Last night I:
Finished sewing together BittyBit’s sweater. All that remains is the crocheted edging on the cuffs and all the way around the body. Finished the cuff, the heel flap, the heel turning, and the picking-up-of-stitches on the baby sock. This morning I finished the heel and am about halfway down the foot. Listened to “Shall We Dance” and watched occasionally, while accomplishing the first two items. As ever, when I watch a dance movie I want to get up and dance. I toyed briefly with the idea of getting in Lorelai and heading out to the singles’ dance. Very briefly; less time than it would have taken me to stand up and pirouette and sit back down.
Dorothy was right; there’s no place like home, Toto, no place like home. With or without a pair of ruby slippers.
After work on Thursday night and before going to the hospital to visit my friend, I stopped in at The Shabby Sheep, hoping to find orphan skeins of Claudia Handpainted to make more baby socks. I found five that I liked. Not showing you any of them, as some may end up in the vicinity of Bitty feet.
Random foodie observation: Yoplait now has a cherry-pomegranate blend. Seriously yummy. Now appearing in a refrigerator near you.
The Yarn Harlot is coming to Texas! And when I yeehaw’ed in her comments, she wrote me back! I have no idea what the rest of you will be doing on May 29, but if all goes according to plan, my camera, my knitting and I will be in a bookstore in Plano. I’ve requested two hours of PT that afternoon, so as to beat the northbound traffic and have plenty of time to browse before sitting down.
I think I should take my Knitty shirt to work that day and change into it when I leave the office.
What’s on the agenda today?
Memorial service
Dessert with Fourthborn; I almost never get one-on-one time with her, and she hates the phone even more than I do
Haircut
Finishing the baby sock [probably before the memorial service]
Crocheted edging on BittyBit’s sweater?
Nap?
Studying my Sunday School lesson?
Buying more yogurt
About Me
- Lynn
- Eleven years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Retired, and mostly enjoying it. Still knitting. [Zen]tangling.again after a brief hiatus.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
Updates, Knitting and Otherwise
I had completed the ribbing, the heel flap, and the heel turning and on the second baby sock and was picking up stitches to do the gussets, when I noticed that I had dropped a stitch on the instep, four rounds back.
Rip it! Rip it! Rip it! And into timeout it went.
I picked up BittyBit’s sweater and stitched up the shoulder seams and attached one sleeve before leaving for work. On the train this morning, I made a good start on seaming up the sleeve and side. I finished that during my breaks and lunch. While waiting for the train to leave the station on the ride home, I attached the second sleeve. But this evening I did not have a handy-dandy table on which to rest my project, so I folded it up and put it into my bag and pulled out the sock, which seemed properly contrite.
And I finished the ribbing and the first two rows for the heel flap. It’s 8:01pm, and I’ve had a bowl of cereal with a large banana and about half the contents of the strawberry box in the fridge. With 20 carefully counted-out Cheetos for dessert. Not sure at this point if I want to grab my knitting and pop in a DVD, or if I just want to power down the living room and head straight to bed. I thought this morning that I might want to paint the boudoir, but mostly I want to sleep.
I am amazed at how much less tired I am at the end of this week, after having been sustained and set apart for my new calling, than I was last Friday night, when my thoughts were bouncing around like water on a hot griddle. I haven’t moved any mountains this week, but neither do I feel as if one had fallen on me. This is progress.
Last night after work I visited my friend in the hospital. They had already blessed the baby and taken her body away. There will be a memorial service next week, and the managing attorney is shutting down the office so we all may attend. I got to see pictures of the little one. Beautiful. Precious.
Rip it! Rip it! Rip it! And into timeout it went.
I picked up BittyBit’s sweater and stitched up the shoulder seams and attached one sleeve before leaving for work. On the train this morning, I made a good start on seaming up the sleeve and side. I finished that during my breaks and lunch. While waiting for the train to leave the station on the ride home, I attached the second sleeve. But this evening I did not have a handy-dandy table on which to rest my project, so I folded it up and put it into my bag and pulled out the sock, which seemed properly contrite.
And I finished the ribbing and the first two rows for the heel flap. It’s 8:01pm, and I’ve had a bowl of cereal with a large banana and about half the contents of the strawberry box in the fridge. With 20 carefully counted-out Cheetos for dessert. Not sure at this point if I want to grab my knitting and pop in a DVD, or if I just want to power down the living room and head straight to bed. I thought this morning that I might want to paint the boudoir, but mostly I want to sleep.
I am amazed at how much less tired I am at the end of this week, after having been sustained and set apart for my new calling, than I was last Friday night, when my thoughts were bouncing around like water on a hot griddle. I haven’t moved any mountains this week, but neither do I feel as if one had fallen on me. This is progress.
Last night after work I visited my friend in the hospital. They had already blessed the baby and taken her body away. There will be a memorial service next week, and the managing attorney is shutting down the office so we all may attend. I got to see pictures of the little one. Beautiful. Precious.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A sad week at work
On Monday, the brother of one of my coworkers died; she and her daughter will be back today, in time to close business for the month.
Yesterday, the daughter one of our legal secretaries was stillborn. Not much of legal consequence got done yesterday. A few depositions outside the office, a mediation here and there. Mostly we talked quietly and cried and [I suspect] prayed silently. Her attorney, her best friend, the paralegal, the managing attorney, and the office manager visited her briefly at the hospital and held the baby. They are trying to get her mother [the grandmother] here from out of state in time to hold the baby. We are taking up a collection to have meals delivered once our friend goes home from the hospital.
This is the sort of thing that Relief Society does so well. We mourn with those who mourn, comfort those who need comforting, nourish the physically and spiritually hungry. Thankfully, my young friend has faith in Christ to help her bear this blow.
We will return you to our regularly scheduled meanderings, tomorrow. Hug your loved ones, if you have them. Life is precious.
Girls, I love you. Just in case there was any question.
Yesterday, the daughter one of our legal secretaries was stillborn. Not much of legal consequence got done yesterday. A few depositions outside the office, a mediation here and there. Mostly we talked quietly and cried and [I suspect] prayed silently. Her attorney, her best friend, the paralegal, the managing attorney, and the office manager visited her briefly at the hospital and held the baby. They are trying to get her mother [the grandmother] here from out of state in time to hold the baby. We are taking up a collection to have meals delivered once our friend goes home from the hospital.
This is the sort of thing that Relief Society does so well. We mourn with those who mourn, comfort those who need comforting, nourish the physically and spiritually hungry. Thankfully, my young friend has faith in Christ to help her bear this blow.
We will return you to our regularly scheduled meanderings, tomorrow. Hug your loved ones, if you have them. Life is precious.
Girls, I love you. Just in case there was any question.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Specs and the Single Girl
So we did the Optomap pictures of my retinas. And he got such clear shots of my retinas that we did not have to dilate my eyes, woohoo! Then I walked over to the optical shop and found a pair of frames I liked. Unfortunately, they were not non-reactive metal, and I am rather fond of how well the current frames have held up for three years. No bronzy-green gunk has accumulated around the bits that hold my nose pads.
She started bringing me frames. I didn’t want any of the narrow, squinchy ones. I wasn’t crazy about most of the ones she found. And then I said, “You know, this time around, I think I would like clip-on sunglasses.” Because I knew I couldn’t afford two pairs of glasses, and I face into the sun on both legs of my commute.
That opened up new choices. She brought me two rhinestonedmonstrosities creations that would be fine for Red Hat events, but (A) my name is not Lola, and I am not a showgirl, and (B) they reminded me of my second pair of cat-eye glasses when I was 10, only moreso.
Yes, sad to say I have not always been the paragon of good taste that you know and love today.
Then she brought me a really cool pair, where the shades hang onto the spec frames by way of small but über-powerful magnets [this is new technology to me, guys, be gentle with me]. The spec frame is two toned, a bronzy chocolate accented with black, and the shade frame is bronzy chocolate, and where they join together it’s a little Art-Deco-ish. I really like them, and ever since I had to give up my red plastic Sally Jessie’s, I have not been overly enthusiastic about getting new frames.
I also have the featherweight lenses, and the non-glare coating on both sides and the no-lines multi-focal magic, and without insurance this would have set me back 850 smackers. But with my vision insurance, I came in under what I had budgeted, which means that since I did not buy the yarn I had also budgeted for Friday, I now have the option of buying one of those cute jackets I saw at Coldwater Creek and more of their dressy T-shirts to replace the ones I bought at Avenue two years ago which are now stained [the backs of which are destined to become doll clothing].
He told me he’d see me in a year and a half! My left eye is virtually unchanged, and my right eye is slightly more far-sighted than the last time he checked them. No signs of eye disease or of any of the symptoms that indicate other health problems. [Did you know that your retinas are tattletales?]
I got more secretarial training yesterday, and the secretary who trained me emailed the office manager to tell her that she had made me a cheat sheet but I hadn’t had to use it, and that I know as much about filing the electronic [scanned] mail as any secretary in the office. I may get to take on some of her attorney’s dictation, too.
So it was a great day, and I bound off the first baby sock after I got home from the shower last night and did not inhale too many of those meatballs with the sauce made of ketchup, chili sauce, and grape jelly.
And I went to bed about the time I finished doing the laundry on Monday night.
She started bringing me frames. I didn’t want any of the narrow, squinchy ones. I wasn’t crazy about most of the ones she found. And then I said, “You know, this time around, I think I would like clip-on sunglasses.” Because I knew I couldn’t afford two pairs of glasses, and I face into the sun on both legs of my commute.
That opened up new choices. She brought me two rhinestoned
Yes, sad to say I have not always been the paragon of good taste that you know and love today.
Then she brought me a really cool pair, where the shades hang onto the spec frames by way of small but über-powerful magnets [this is new technology to me, guys, be gentle with me]. The spec frame is two toned, a bronzy chocolate accented with black, and the shade frame is bronzy chocolate, and where they join together it’s a little Art-Deco-ish. I really like them, and ever since I had to give up my red plastic Sally Jessie’s, I have not been overly enthusiastic about getting new frames.
I also have the featherweight lenses, and the non-glare coating on both sides and the no-lines multi-focal magic, and without insurance this would have set me back 850 smackers. But with my vision insurance, I came in under what I had budgeted, which means that since I did not buy the yarn I had also budgeted for Friday, I now have the option of buying one of those cute jackets I saw at Coldwater Creek and more of their dressy T-shirts to replace the ones I bought at Avenue two years ago which are now stained [the backs of which are destined to become doll clothing].
He told me he’d see me in a year and a half! My left eye is virtually unchanged, and my right eye is slightly more far-sighted than the last time he checked them. No signs of eye disease or of any of the symptoms that indicate other health problems. [Did you know that your retinas are tattletales?]
I got more secretarial training yesterday, and the secretary who trained me emailed the office manager to tell her that she had made me a cheat sheet but I hadn’t had to use it, and that I know as much about filing the electronic [scanned] mail as any secretary in the office. I may get to take on some of her attorney’s dictation, too.
So it was a great day, and I bound off the first baby sock after I got home from the shower last night and did not inhale too many of those meatballs with the sauce made of ketchup, chili sauce, and grape jelly.
And I went to bed about the time I finished doing the laundry on Monday night.
Monday, April 27, 2009
It’s 10:42pm; do you know where your mother is?
The laundry is done, until next time. Cue the MoTab and Brother Handel’s famous chorus. I am sitting here at the keyboard with a pint of Blue Bell Rocky Road, my reward for getting through this day.
I made it to the T&P station in plenty of time with the start of a baby sock on my needles. I have finished the cuff, the heel flap, and am halfway through the heel turning. I’m using an orphan skein of Claudia’s handpainted in rich browns, reds, and greys; it has been marinating in my stash since late 2006 and will make a wee manly sock for a dear little man. And there will probably be enough yarn leftover to make a pair for BittyBubba, and maybe another pair for his own incipient bubba.
Had a phone meeting with the office manager this afternoon as she was heading out to an appointment. She is tweaking my job, handing off some of my longtime responsibilities to others on the admin team, and giving me a second legal secretary to mentor me. This is a secretary who has told me in the past that she would be happy to teach me anything that will get me away from those phones for good!
I feel amazingly, incredibly blessed.
All the pieces to BittyBit’s sweater appear to be thoroughly dry. I’m going to focus on getting at least one complete sock finished before the shower tomorrow night, and then I’ll put her sweater together and do the crocheted borders all the way around and go find one perfect button.
I get my eyes examined tomorrow. [Yes, I know there are some of you who are thinking, why stop at just the eyes?] The doctor has been pushing me for the past five years or so to have an Optomap Retinal Exam, which is not covered by my insurance. This year, I’ve budgeted for it. It’s not a particularly expensive procedure; it’s just that my budget has been tight and I thought the money could be better spent elsewhere.
And then I’ll drive in to work; we are going to be short-handed, as the brother of one of my friends passed away this morning.
That delicious aroma you smell is roast elephant, with raspberry chipotle sauce. You know, the elephant I am eating one demitasse spoonful at a time.
I’m going to dash through my Bloglines and then set the timer for 15 minutes and put my feet up on the couch.
I made it to the T&P station in plenty of time with the start of a baby sock on my needles. I have finished the cuff, the heel flap, and am halfway through the heel turning. I’m using an orphan skein of Claudia’s handpainted in rich browns, reds, and greys; it has been marinating in my stash since late 2006 and will make a wee manly sock for a dear little man. And there will probably be enough yarn leftover to make a pair for BittyBubba, and maybe another pair for his own incipient bubba.
Had a phone meeting with the office manager this afternoon as she was heading out to an appointment. She is tweaking my job, handing off some of my longtime responsibilities to others on the admin team, and giving me a second legal secretary to mentor me. This is a secretary who has told me in the past that she would be happy to teach me anything that will get me away from those phones for good!
I feel amazingly, incredibly blessed.
All the pieces to BittyBit’s sweater appear to be thoroughly dry. I’m going to focus on getting at least one complete sock finished before the shower tomorrow night, and then I’ll put her sweater together and do the crocheted borders all the way around and go find one perfect button.
I get my eyes examined tomorrow. [Yes, I know there are some of you who are thinking, why stop at just the eyes?] The doctor has been pushing me for the past five years or so to have an Optomap Retinal Exam, which is not covered by my insurance. This year, I’ve budgeted for it. It’s not a particularly expensive procedure; it’s just that my budget has been tight and I thought the money could be better spent elsewhere.
And then I’ll drive in to work; we are going to be short-handed, as the brother of one of my friends passed away this morning.
That delicious aroma you smell is roast elephant, with raspberry chipotle sauce. You know, the elephant I am eating one demitasse spoonful at a time.
I’m going to dash through my Bloglines and then set the timer for 15 minutes and put my feet up on the couch.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Bishop’s Right-Hand Ma’am
News from the weekend: my friend N’s oldest son D, who is one year older than Firstborn, is finally and blessedly engaged! I met his beloved on Saturday morning at the singles’ conference and immediately texted Firstborn.
Not-news from the weekend: if Brother Right was in attendance, he was wearing his invisibility cloak. I am singularly [pun intended] not-disappointed. To paraphrase the White Rabbit, “I’m late, I’m late, don’t really have time to date, no time to say goodbye, hello, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.”
BittyBit’s sweater is blocking. I hope it will be sufficiently dry by bedtime. Otherwise I am going to have to sleep out here on the couch, and I’m not sure where I would plug in my CPAP.
I have been sustained and set apart. I am the new Relief Society president in my ward. Firstborn and 1BDH and Lark and Middlest were able to be there; 2BDH had meetings that required his presence, and the Bitties were uncooperative in terms of getting dressed, so Secondborn wasn’t able to be there in the flesh, but I have no doubt that she was there in the spirit.
When I was set apart for my calling 1BDH was able to stand in the circle with the other brethren. He is such a good man, and I am so proud to claim him as a son.
After church I went over to the nursing home and put the children’s father into the loop. I particularly asked him to pray for our kids, as I am likely to be less available to them, especially while I’m getting my sea legs.
And now I am home, with a little less than four hours before I need to pick up one of the sisters in our ward and head back to Arlington for the singles’ fireside.
This week we have our first meeting as a presidency, and my companion is calling to set up deathbed-repentance visiting teaching appointments, and there is a memorial service on Saturday, and a baby shower on Tuesday night, which means that I need to grab my needles and some yarn and whip out a pair of socks or booties, stat! But first I want to get the sleeve of my sweater finished. I think I am six or eight rows from the armscye. I was knitting on autopilot in Sunday School class and during the lesson in Relief Society; that sleeve might be more appropriate for King Kong.
Not-news from the weekend: if Brother Right was in attendance, he was wearing his invisibility cloak. I am singularly [pun intended] not-disappointed. To paraphrase the White Rabbit, “I’m late, I’m late, don’t really have time to date, no time to say goodbye, hello, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.”
BittyBit’s sweater is blocking. I hope it will be sufficiently dry by bedtime. Otherwise I am going to have to sleep out here on the couch, and I’m not sure where I would plug in my CPAP.
I have been sustained and set apart. I am the new Relief Society president in my ward. Firstborn and 1BDH and Lark and Middlest were able to be there; 2BDH had meetings that required his presence, and the Bitties were uncooperative in terms of getting dressed, so Secondborn wasn’t able to be there in the flesh, but I have no doubt that she was there in the spirit.
When I was set apart for my calling 1BDH was able to stand in the circle with the other brethren. He is such a good man, and I am so proud to claim him as a son.
After church I went over to the nursing home and put the children’s father into the loop. I particularly asked him to pray for our kids, as I am likely to be less available to them, especially while I’m getting my sea legs.
And now I am home, with a little less than four hours before I need to pick up one of the sisters in our ward and head back to Arlington for the singles’ fireside.
This week we have our first meeting as a presidency, and my companion is calling to set up deathbed-repentance visiting teaching appointments, and there is a memorial service on Saturday, and a baby shower on Tuesday night, which means that I need to grab my needles and some yarn and whip out a pair of socks or booties, stat! But first I want to get the sleeve of my sweater finished. I think I am six or eight rows from the armscye. I was knitting on autopilot in Sunday School class and during the lesson in Relief Society; that sleeve might be more appropriate for King Kong.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Much too young to feel this d@mn old
It has been a really great day. A really, really long, really great day. The meeting this morning went well: informative, inspiring. The speakers and presenters at the singles’ conference were exceptional. Easily the best I have enjoyed in ten years of attending conferences like this. The food was good, too.
And I am blessedly weary, and my feet hurt from dancing, and my ankles are swollen because we did not move from room to room for our workshops; instead we sat in the chapel or the overflow, and the teachers came to us, and we had ten minute breaks between the classes. I needed a little more movement during the day, but that is my only quibble.
After the last workshop and before dinner, the Texas Boys Choir serenaded us. I love good music, and this was definitely good music. And now I am home, maybe an hour to an hour and a half early [I left the dance a little after 10:00], and am ready to slug down some milk, brush my teeth, and call it a day.
BittyBit’s sweater has been soaking in Eucalan all day and is now draining. Not sure if I have enough oomph to pin it out tonight. There was quite a bit of excess dye in the water; I might soak it in a fresh solution overnight and then pin it out before church tomorrow.
There is a fireside in Arlington tomorrow night, the last activity in the conference. I am hoping to be sufficiently recovered by then to feel like attending. At the moment, I just want to be horizontal and unconscious.
The first sleeve on the Sunrise Circle Jacket is almost to the underarm. I ran out of one of the yarns at the tail end of tonight’s keynote address.
Life is good.
And I am blessedly weary, and my feet hurt from dancing, and my ankles are swollen because we did not move from room to room for our workshops; instead we sat in the chapel or the overflow, and the teachers came to us, and we had ten minute breaks between the classes. I needed a little more movement during the day, but that is my only quibble.
After the last workshop and before dinner, the Texas Boys Choir serenaded us. I love good music, and this was definitely good music. And now I am home, maybe an hour to an hour and a half early [I left the dance a little after 10:00], and am ready to slug down some milk, brush my teeth, and call it a day.
BittyBit’s sweater has been soaking in Eucalan all day and is now draining. Not sure if I have enough oomph to pin it out tonight. There was quite a bit of excess dye in the water; I might soak it in a fresh solution overnight and then pin it out before church tomorrow.
There is a fireside in Arlington tomorrow night, the last activity in the conference. I am hoping to be sufficiently recovered by then to feel like attending. At the moment, I just want to be horizontal and unconscious.
The first sleeve on the Sunrise Circle Jacket is almost to the underarm. I ran out of one of the yarns at the tail end of tonight’s keynote address.
Life is good.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday, woohoo!
I slept in until nearly 7:00am. So that would be the first miracle of the day. I just finished binding off the neck of the Sunrise Circle Jacket and have updated my project notes on Ravelry.
Next on the agenda is the kitchen sink. And after that, a bath.
I’ve already printed off my map to the DFW Fiber Fest and need to decide for which projects I will be acquiring yarn. I’m not taking any of the classes this year. It might have been nice to take one of the spinning classes, as I’m definitely rusty, but while I could afford it in terms of cash, this is the weekend of the singles’ conference, and for me that takes precedence. Maybe next year they won’t coincide, and I can take my spinning up to the next level. Or at least regain the facility I once had.
The elders called last night while I was at the temple. I had forgotten that I signed up to feed them tonight. [Yes, it was in my planner, but it was tucked under my notes for Fiber Fest.] Which definitely means another drive-by fooding, as I hope to be sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of Nelda’s this evening, sharing my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant with the Trainman. Nelda’s is definitely out of their assigned area.
I can tell already that I am going to need more hours today than are possible. Or even plausible. That chortle you heard was me, laughing gently at myself.
My eye doctor, bless him, sent an e-confirmation and e-update. I think it has been three years since I saw him last. I am definitely overdue for new specs. But that, thankfully, is Tuesday morning, and maybe I will have slept by then.
I wonder if I can shoehorn new planner pages into my already overfilled day? I think the Franklin-Covey store is not far out of the way on my trip to Addison.
Wish me luck!
Next on the agenda is the kitchen sink. And after that, a bath.
I’ve already printed off my map to the DFW Fiber Fest and need to decide for which projects I will be acquiring yarn. I’m not taking any of the classes this year. It might have been nice to take one of the spinning classes, as I’m definitely rusty, but while I could afford it in terms of cash, this is the weekend of the singles’ conference, and for me that takes precedence. Maybe next year they won’t coincide, and I can take my spinning up to the next level. Or at least regain the facility I once had.
The elders called last night while I was at the temple. I had forgotten that I signed up to feed them tonight. [Yes, it was in my planner, but it was tucked under my notes for Fiber Fest.] Which definitely means another drive-by fooding, as I hope to be sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of Nelda’s this evening, sharing my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant with the Trainman. Nelda’s is definitely out of their assigned area.
I can tell already that I am going to need more hours today than are possible. Or even plausible. That chortle you heard was me, laughing gently at myself.
My eye doctor, bless him, sent an e-confirmation and e-update. I think it has been three years since I saw him last. I am definitely overdue for new specs. But that, thankfully, is Tuesday morning, and maybe I will have slept by then.
I wonder if I can shoehorn new planner pages into my already overfilled day? I think the Franklin-Covey store is not far out of the way on my trip to Addison.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
DVD’s back to the library? Check!
A full tank of gas for Lorelai? Check!
Pantihose to dance through the feet of? Check!
Admin lunch with the office manager and the rest of my team at Panera? Check!
Temple work? Check!
Milkshake for the trip home? Check!
[I skipped the ice cream social in favor of a relatively early bedtime.]
Four new DVD’s for $30 and change? Check!
I am going to sit on the couch and watch the first episode of Lord of the Rings. Or as much of it as I can manage before I doze off. I scored all three parts of the trilogy for $5.99 each, and Wall-E for $9.99. I’ve not watched any of them. Ever. Well, bits of one of the LOTR movies, but not to sit down at the beginning and grouse about all the good stuff they left out.
I’m better than half done with the raglan decreases. Maybe 2/3 done? I’ve decreased enough stitches that each row is starting to zip by, and I might get as far as the purl bump at the start of the neck hem before my brain and hands holler “uncle”. Which just might get me past the opening credits...
A full tank of gas for Lorelai? Check!
Pantihose to dance through the feet of? Check!
Admin lunch with the office manager and the rest of my team at Panera? Check!
Temple work? Check!
Milkshake for the trip home? Check!
[I skipped the ice cream social in favor of a relatively early bedtime.]
Four new DVD’s for $30 and change? Check!
I am going to sit on the couch and watch the first episode of Lord of the Rings. Or as much of it as I can manage before I doze off. I scored all three parts of the trilogy for $5.99 each, and Wall-E for $9.99. I’ve not watched any of them. Ever. Well, bits of one of the LOTR movies, but not to sit down at the beginning and grouse about all the good stuff they left out.
I’m better than half done with the raglan decreases. Maybe 2/3 done? I’ve decreased enough stitches that each row is starting to zip by, and I might get as far as the purl bump at the start of the neck hem before my brain and hands holler “uncle”. Which just might get me past the opening credits...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Almost done with Wednesday
Data entered into the computer at church, another quick visit with the bishop, great fun talking with a couple of the other leadership in between and afterward.
Lots of good knitting, too. I am maybe one-third done with the raglan decreases. The pattern has you do a decrease row, work a row even [purling back], a second decrease row, and three rows even. But the pattern wasn’t designed for striping like I’m doing, where it’s knit a row with color A, go back to the right edge and knit a row with color B, bring color A up the side and purl back, go back to the [new] right edge and purl back with color B. So it makes just as much sense to do the decreases every third row, since half of them will be on purl rows anyway, even if I stuck with the original pattern. And it makes for a less lurchy edge.
Note to my kids: at this point it looks like I will be sustained this coming Sunday. I will call LittleBit at the store and leave a message for her. My church starts at 9:00, sacrament meeting first. Be there or be square.
And now if you will all excuse me, I need to put the [cold] pizza in the fridge and curl up on the couch with my knitting and a movie. The movies have to go back to the library tomorrow, and for safety’s sake it had better be in the wee hours of the morning, because I’m heading to the temple right after work.
Lots of good knitting, too. I am maybe one-third done with the raglan decreases. The pattern has you do a decrease row, work a row even [purling back], a second decrease row, and three rows even. But the pattern wasn’t designed for striping like I’m doing, where it’s knit a row with color A, go back to the right edge and knit a row with color B, bring color A up the side and purl back, go back to the [new] right edge and purl back with color B. So it makes just as much sense to do the decreases every third row, since half of them will be on purl rows anyway, even if I stuck with the original pattern. And it makes for a less lurchy edge.
Note to my kids: at this point it looks like I will be sustained this coming Sunday. I will call LittleBit at the store and leave a message for her. My church starts at 9:00, sacrament meeting first. Be there or be square.
And now if you will all excuse me, I need to put the [cold] pizza in the fridge and curl up on the couch with my knitting and a movie. The movies have to go back to the library tomorrow, and for safety’s sake it had better be in the wee hours of the morning, because I’m heading to the temple right after work.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I didn’t fall in.
Just no time to post this morning. I was up until midnight, last night, because when I grabbed dinner last night on the way to my meeting with the RS president, I ordered what I thought was a small soda, and it was at least a quart of Coca-Cola. I had to nuke a mug of milk to more or less neutralize it so I could get any sleep at all.
I have reached the armholes on the Sunrise Circle Jacket. I may start the raglan decreases before hitting the hay.
Good visit with Middlest tonight, before and after Knit Night.
I was surprisingly productive at work for somebody who only wanted to faceplant into my keyboard.
Have texted Middlest to tell her, “Home and safe.” Am going to nuke another mug of milk and see if I can stay awake during my prayers.
Monday and Tuesday down, Wednesday and Thursday to go, and a bit of a break on Friday. We can do this.
Posts might be a little thin on the ground for the next week or so. But I’m healthy and happy and determined to stay that way...
I have reached the armholes on the Sunrise Circle Jacket. I may start the raglan decreases before hitting the hay.
Good visit with Middlest tonight, before and after Knit Night.
I was surprisingly productive at work for somebody who only wanted to faceplant into my keyboard.
Have texted Middlest to tell her, “Home and safe.” Am going to nuke another mug of milk and see if I can stay awake during my prayers.
Monday and Tuesday down, Wednesday and Thursday to go, and a bit of a break on Friday. We can do this.
Posts might be a little thin on the ground for the next week or so. But I’m healthy and happy and determined to stay that way...
Monday, April 20, 2009
In which Ms. Ravelled talks to herself. And others.
So, what was it that made Saturday night’s dance different from better than the others? The music was definitely part of the equation. Although after the third Latin song in a row, I raised an eyebrow at Brother Sushi and asked him if he’d had Tex-Mex for lunch. [No, merely two requests, and that’s how they had panned out.]
He did, at one point, suggest that I cover my ears.
“Oh, man, are you playing Michael Jackson? Ewww!” He grinned as the opening notes of “Billie Jean” moonwalked out into the room. Very hard song not to get up and dance to, but I [try to] hold fast to my standards.
I think one of the two guys I dropped an email to in the past couple of weeks [which was not responded to, but we are not surprised, right?] was at the dance. Wow, two mangled infinitives in one sentence. Maybe I should just go back to bed.
That good brother didn’t ask me to dance, either, but it was fun watching him dance with the skinny wenches. He doesn’t seem to have as crisp a lead as Brother Yummy, but he does move gracefully.
I’ll wait for crisp.
In talking with my friend who is newly-engaged, she spoke of how her prayers had changed during the time that she was single. At first she had prayed for somebody who would love her, and she dated a guy who was really nice but had children with serious problems that she didn’t want to inflict upon her kids. And then she spent awhile telling God that she didn’t know what or whom to pray for. And one night she had the impression “Please just tell Me the kind of man you want.” So she did. And within days, the man she is marrying next month, called to ask her out.
I did a little tweaking of my own, on the drive home from the dance. I told Him the character qualities I so enjoy in Brother Sushi. And the ones in Trainman that make me feel so comfortable and safe. And what I like about my good friend T, the other silver fox who has been my friend for going on a year and a half now. [And who still doesn’t have a suitable code name.] Not forgetting Brother Karitas.
And what I think I need from an eternal companion. And what I am willing to give.
I have zero expectation of meeting anybody like that at the conference next weekend. But maybe the slightest inkling of hope after all; anyway, it is good to remind myself of what I’m waiting for, and why it will be worth every minute of the wait. And to give thanks that this still does not feel urgent to me, or anxiety-provoking.
Oh, now this is scary. As I walked into the meetinghouse yesterday, the executive secretary was waiting at the door. “Bishop would like to meet with you at 2:30.” Which pretty much destroyed my concentration for all three of our church meetings. That little bot running in the back of my head, “What’s my new calling going to be? Oh please, not the nursery leader.”
And it wasn’t. [Yay!!!!!] I’ll be able to tell you once I’ve been sustained and set apart. Probably not next Sunday. Possibly the Sunday after that. The church, like the Army, has a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. But it confirms to me that Heaven has an excellent sense of humor. That’s all I’m going to say for now, except that I would love it if my kids could be there when I’m set apart.
Much knitting progress yesterday. I made it all the way up the back to the beginning of the darts. This is going very quickly, maybe because I’ve already made the back once before? And I was reminded at church yesterday that in the service auction, I committed to make a scarf for my friend the Relief Society president, who will be leaving our ward shortly to get married and live in the hinterlands of Missouri. I had completely forgotten, what with the excitement over the new grandchild, the towing of Lorelai, the mortgaging of my bonus to the IRS. Little things like that. I hauled out a skein of laceweight before going to bed last night. I’m hoping to get it wound into a cake before I leave for work this morning. But if not that, then before I go to bed tonight.
I’m really glad that I had a long weekend, because I have something going every night this week. A meeting with the RS president tonight to discuss my calling [we are both single, so we’re calling it Family Home Evening], Knit Night tomorrow night, entering the details on visiting teaching into the computer at church on Wednesday and printing up report forms for the sisters who report to me, the temple session of the singles’ conference on Thursday night, Friday blessedly off for the D/FW Fiber Fest and [probably] dinner with the Trainman to celebrate my raise and maybe [hopefully] dragging him along to the dance that night, a meeting at 10:00 on Saturday morning that conflicts with the opening exercises for the singles’ conference *and* my promise to convey two of the sisters in my ward who do not drive at night, lectures all day on Saturday, dinner and a dance that night, and the usual round of meetings on Sunday plus a fireside to wind up the singles’ conference on Sunday night.
Why do I suddenly feel as if I were deja vu’ing LittleBit’s senior year?
Tub. Bath. Timer, so as not to doze off in same. Thankfully, I know what I’m wearing today, and I set it out last night, and my juice and milk are already bottled and ready to go.
He did, at one point, suggest that I cover my ears.
“Oh, man, are you playing Michael Jackson? Ewww!” He grinned as the opening notes of “Billie Jean” moonwalked out into the room. Very hard song not to get up and dance to, but I [try to] hold fast to my standards.
I think one of the two guys I dropped an email to in the past couple of weeks [which was not responded to, but we are not surprised, right?] was at the dance. Wow, two mangled infinitives in one sentence. Maybe I should just go back to bed.
That good brother didn’t ask me to dance, either, but it was fun watching him dance with the skinny wenches. He doesn’t seem to have as crisp a lead as Brother Yummy, but he does move gracefully.
I’ll wait for crisp.
In talking with my friend who is newly-engaged, she spoke of how her prayers had changed during the time that she was single. At first she had prayed for somebody who would love her, and she dated a guy who was really nice but had children with serious problems that she didn’t want to inflict upon her kids. And then she spent awhile telling God that she didn’t know what or whom to pray for. And one night she had the impression “Please just tell Me the kind of man you want.” So she did. And within days, the man she is marrying next month, called to ask her out.
I did a little tweaking of my own, on the drive home from the dance. I told Him the character qualities I so enjoy in Brother Sushi. And the ones in Trainman that make me feel so comfortable and safe. And what I like about my good friend T, the other silver fox who has been my friend for going on a year and a half now. [And who still doesn’t have a suitable code name.] Not forgetting Brother Karitas.
And what I think I need from an eternal companion. And what I am willing to give.
I have zero expectation of meeting anybody like that at the conference next weekend. But maybe the slightest inkling of hope after all; anyway, it is good to remind myself of what I’m waiting for, and why it will be worth every minute of the wait. And to give thanks that this still does not feel urgent to me, or anxiety-provoking.
Oh, now this is scary. As I walked into the meetinghouse yesterday, the executive secretary was waiting at the door. “Bishop would like to meet with you at 2:30.” Which pretty much destroyed my concentration for all three of our church meetings. That little bot running in the back of my head, “What’s my new calling going to be? Oh please, not the nursery leader.”
And it wasn’t. [Yay!!!!!] I’ll be able to tell you once I’ve been sustained and set apart. Probably not next Sunday. Possibly the Sunday after that. The church, like the Army, has a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. But it confirms to me that Heaven has an excellent sense of humor. That’s all I’m going to say for now, except that I would love it if my kids could be there when I’m set apart.
Much knitting progress yesterday. I made it all the way up the back to the beginning of the darts. This is going very quickly, maybe because I’ve already made the back once before? And I was reminded at church yesterday that in the service auction, I committed to make a scarf for my friend the Relief Society president, who will be leaving our ward shortly to get married and live in the hinterlands of Missouri. I had completely forgotten, what with the excitement over the new grandchild, the towing of Lorelai, the mortgaging of my bonus to the IRS. Little things like that. I hauled out a skein of laceweight before going to bed last night. I’m hoping to get it wound into a cake before I leave for work this morning. But if not that, then before I go to bed tonight.
I’m really glad that I had a long weekend, because I have something going every night this week. A meeting with the RS president tonight to discuss my calling [we are both single, so we’re calling it Family Home Evening], Knit Night tomorrow night, entering the details on visiting teaching into the computer at church on Wednesday and printing up report forms for the sisters who report to me, the temple session of the singles’ conference on Thursday night, Friday blessedly off for the D/FW Fiber Fest and [probably] dinner with the Trainman to celebrate my raise and maybe [hopefully] dragging him along to the dance that night, a meeting at 10:00 on Saturday morning that conflicts with the opening exercises for the singles’ conference *and* my promise to convey two of the sisters in my ward who do not drive at night, lectures all day on Saturday, dinner and a dance that night, and the usual round of meetings on Sunday plus a fireside to wind up the singles’ conference on Sunday night.
Why do I suddenly feel as if I were deja vu’ing LittleBit’s senior year?
Tub. Bath. Timer, so as not to doze off in same. Thankfully, I know what I’m wearing today, and I set it out last night, and my juice and milk are already bottled and ready to go.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Yes, I did make it to the arts festival.
picture!
I caught the 5:58 on Saturday night and rode it to the next stop, which was two blocks from the south end of the booths. Heard some really great blues while walking about; at one point I called Trainman’s cell and left him an exceedingly musical voicemail, in the finest nanny-nanny-boo-boo mode.
It took me a little over an hour to walk the east side booths, chatting with the artists and picking up business cards, scribbling on the back of the cards just what it was that I had liked. It took me a little over half an hour to walk the west side, because I was tired and hungry and didn’t want to shell out cash for coupons to buy mediocre food. If 6 or 7 or 9 coupons = one beer [which of course I could and would not have], I wondered: how many coupons to flirt with a cop? There were a lot of Fort Worth’s finest in evidence, some of them fine indeed.
I behaved myself; I promise!
The artist whose work I fell in love with last year, was back again this year, and I got to speak to him. His wife is a knitter! And while I mostly ignored the jewelry, there was one woman whose work is both whimsical and exquisitely crafted. I think I will just stick $10 in each of two envelopes, every payday, until I have enough to buy the print from Artist A and a pin from Artist B.
[Now I am a little hungry for Chinese food, because I am old enough to remember the joke...]
And in the random-acts-of-artness category, I saw a ladybug which had been made from a hard-hat, or maybe an old metal motorcycle helmet or WWII helmet, or maybe Sally Fields’s hairdo from Steel Magnolias, and painted and embellished. No, I am not buying one. But it made me grin hugely.
Had a great visit with BestFriend. We sat on the couch and nattered away, then ran over to Lucile’s for bowls of lobster bisque and fresh-baked rolls, followed with entirely too much decadent dessert [Black Bottom Key Lime Pie for me; a moist, dense slice of chocolate cake for her]. We drove around my part of town. She showed me where my ward’s old meetinghouse is. We found Saint Emilion, a tiny and spendy French restaurant that we’ve put on the list for some day when we are both flush. I showed her my chapel, and the gorgeous house I posted about week before last, and then we came home by way of Ryan Place, which is full of lovely huge old houses and small cottages like this one.
And then I took a nap. When I woke up, I grabbed my bag of pretzels to donate to the munchies table, and I drove all the way across Dallas to the dance, which was the first dance since New Year’s that I had the kind of blast I used to have all the time. *Two* dances with Brother Yummy, good conversation with Brother Sushi, lots of hugs with various and sundry friends, and congratulations to two friends who are graduating the singles program [i.e., getting married, not getting carried feet-first out of their respective chapels].
I got home at 12:45 on the dot. The remainder of the key lime pie is now down the hatch, and I’m just waiting for it to settle so I can sleep all night without a visit from the Heartburn Fairy and her nasty sister, the Reflux Fairy. They don’t come here often, but they are never, ever welcome when they do.
In knitting news, I have almost 4” done on the current incarnation of the Sunrise Circle Jacket. I am alternating rows with the two yarns: one-row stripes rather than the traditionally advocated two-row stripes, because the differences in dye lot are so distinct as to produce two nearly unrelated colors. The yarn I have had for 20+ years is a true turquoise. The yarn I bought from my fellow Raveler this year is a lovely teal. In the light cast by the ceiling fan here in the living room, they are closer in hue. In daylight and fluorescent light they are dangerously close to “what was I thinking?” territory. But the fabric which they make when alternated is rich and lively, and I think I will enjoy the finished sweater.
We are sneaking up on 2:00am. I am almost ready to call it a day. But I think I will knit one more row. Maybe two.
I caught the 5:58 on Saturday night and rode it to the next stop, which was two blocks from the south end of the booths. Heard some really great blues while walking about; at one point I called Trainman’s cell and left him an exceedingly musical voicemail, in the finest nanny-nanny-boo-boo mode.
It took me a little over an hour to walk the east side booths, chatting with the artists and picking up business cards, scribbling on the back of the cards just what it was that I had liked. It took me a little over half an hour to walk the west side, because I was tired and hungry and didn’t want to shell out cash for coupons to buy mediocre food. If 6 or 7 or 9 coupons = one beer [which of course I could and would not have], I wondered: how many coupons to flirt with a cop? There were a lot of Fort Worth’s finest in evidence, some of them fine indeed.
I behaved myself; I promise!
The artist whose work I fell in love with last year, was back again this year, and I got to speak to him. His wife is a knitter! And while I mostly ignored the jewelry, there was one woman whose work is both whimsical and exquisitely crafted. I think I will just stick $10 in each of two envelopes, every payday, until I have enough to buy the print from Artist A and a pin from Artist B.
[Now I am a little hungry for Chinese food, because I am old enough to remember the joke...]
And in the random-acts-of-artness category, I saw a ladybug which had been made from a hard-hat, or maybe an old metal motorcycle helmet or WWII helmet, or maybe Sally Fields’s hairdo from Steel Magnolias, and painted and embellished. No, I am not buying one. But it made me grin hugely.
Had a great visit with BestFriend. We sat on the couch and nattered away, then ran over to Lucile’s for bowls of lobster bisque and fresh-baked rolls, followed with entirely too much decadent dessert [Black Bottom Key Lime Pie for me; a moist, dense slice of chocolate cake for her]. We drove around my part of town. She showed me where my ward’s old meetinghouse is. We found Saint Emilion, a tiny and spendy French restaurant that we’ve put on the list for some day when we are both flush. I showed her my chapel, and the gorgeous house I posted about week before last, and then we came home by way of Ryan Place, which is full of lovely huge old houses and small cottages like this one.
And then I took a nap. When I woke up, I grabbed my bag of pretzels to donate to the munchies table, and I drove all the way across Dallas to the dance, which was the first dance since New Year’s that I had the kind of blast I used to have all the time. *Two* dances with Brother Yummy, good conversation with Brother Sushi, lots of hugs with various and sundry friends, and congratulations to two friends who are graduating the singles program [i.e., getting married, not getting carried feet-first out of their respective chapels].
I got home at 12:45 on the dot. The remainder of the key lime pie is now down the hatch, and I’m just waiting for it to settle so I can sleep all night without a visit from the Heartburn Fairy and her nasty sister, the Reflux Fairy. They don’t come here often, but they are never, ever welcome when they do.
In knitting news, I have almost 4” done on the current incarnation of the Sunrise Circle Jacket. I am alternating rows with the two yarns: one-row stripes rather than the traditionally advocated two-row stripes, because the differences in dye lot are so distinct as to produce two nearly unrelated colors. The yarn I have had for 20+ years is a true turquoise. The yarn I bought from my fellow Raveler this year is a lovely teal. In the light cast by the ceiling fan here in the living room, they are closer in hue. In daylight and fluorescent light they are dangerously close to “what was I thinking?” territory. But the fabric which they make when alternated is rich and lively, and I think I will enjoy the finished sweater.
We are sneaking up on 2:00am. I am almost ready to call it a day. But I think I will knit one more row. Maybe two.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
What I did, instead.
More rain yesterday. Buckets and buckets of rain, what we in Texas call a frog-strangler. I sat on the couch and finished knitting BittyBit’s sweater.
And then I changed into my grubbies and shoved things around in my bedroom. Some of them even got hung up in the closet, put in the back seat of Lorelai to be given away, or mercifully euthanized [the black chenille sweater which had seen better days]. I found a box labeled “dining room” that was full of crumpled newspaper. Why it hadn’t made the trek out to the recycling bin long before this, is a mystery.
I frogged the back of the Sunrise Circle Jacket, and that yarn is taking a little siesta until it’s ready for another attempt, in which it will alternate rows with the new yarn [bought from another Raveler], which is allegedly in the same colorway. I’m wondering what that purl-bump turning ridge is going to look like, with half of the bumps in one yarn and the other half in the second. Oh well, if that doesn’t make it look on-purpose, nothing will. Though I am sortof thinking about doing a provisional cast-on and working the facings in a contrasting color.
Movie Mom recommended a film that went straight to video. I checked it out from the library, and I liked it. I Could Never Be Your Woman. Stupid title, some language but no F-bombs, cute clothes. [Well, not on her ex-husband.] I watched it while frogging. And frogging. And frogging some more.
I also checked out The Lady Eve and a compilation of four Mae West movies.
I surgically removed a bunch of dead leeks from the crisper and flung them unceremoniously onto the compost pile, along with half a bag of sprouted potatoes. And emptied the shredder. And sorted through a pile of paper that has crept in since the last time the Good Housekeeping Fairy smacked me with her wand. And put the umbrella swift and the ball winder back in my studio. All the little piddly things that contribute to chaos or order. I wish this stuff could magically take care of itself, or that I could wiggle my nose like Samantha or warble bibbity-bobbity-boo and be done with it. But there’s no doubt in my mind that puttering plays an important role in my growth as a human being; it’s all a matter of balance and stewardship.
There is also no doubt in my mind that I have been procrastinating some much-needed puttering in the kitchen. I put some food-storage items into use yesterday, and I need to tweak the cupboards, and there is the inevitable washing-up, which I have been [ahem] eviting.
Who knows? I might even get the batteries into the remote I bought last weekend, and the DVD/VHS player hooked up and the old gadgets donated. And the last three walls in my bedroom painted, or at least the two which flank the bed. Painted walls = possibly rotating the bed 45° into the corner, and attaching the headboard, and slipping the ficus into the space behind the bed [which means more room in the hall, because I wouldn’t have to move the tree to walk into the studio] and getting the dust ruffle out of a box and into place, and maybe even rotating the mattress.
After all that, world peace would be a snap, right?
BestFriend is coming over later this morning. Can’t wait to see her!
And then I changed into my grubbies and shoved things around in my bedroom. Some of them even got hung up in the closet, put in the back seat of Lorelai to be given away, or mercifully euthanized [the black chenille sweater which had seen better days]. I found a box labeled “dining room” that was full of crumpled newspaper. Why it hadn’t made the trek out to the recycling bin long before this, is a mystery.
I frogged the back of the Sunrise Circle Jacket, and that yarn is taking a little siesta until it’s ready for another attempt, in which it will alternate rows with the new yarn [bought from another Raveler], which is allegedly in the same colorway. I’m wondering what that purl-bump turning ridge is going to look like, with half of the bumps in one yarn and the other half in the second. Oh well, if that doesn’t make it look on-purpose, nothing will. Though I am sortof thinking about doing a provisional cast-on and working the facings in a contrasting color.
Movie Mom recommended a film that went straight to video. I checked it out from the library, and I liked it. I Could Never Be Your Woman. Stupid title, some language but no F-bombs, cute clothes. [Well, not on her ex-husband.] I watched it while frogging. And frogging. And frogging some more.
I also checked out The Lady Eve and a compilation of four Mae West movies.
I surgically removed a bunch of dead leeks from the crisper and flung them unceremoniously onto the compost pile, along with half a bag of sprouted potatoes. And emptied the shredder. And sorted through a pile of paper that has crept in since the last time the Good Housekeeping Fairy smacked me with her wand. And put the umbrella swift and the ball winder back in my studio. All the little piddly things that contribute to chaos or order. I wish this stuff could magically take care of itself, or that I could wiggle my nose like Samantha or warble bibbity-bobbity-boo and be done with it. But there’s no doubt in my mind that puttering plays an important role in my growth as a human being; it’s all a matter of balance and stewardship.
There is also no doubt in my mind that I have been procrastinating some much-needed puttering in the kitchen. I put some food-storage items into use yesterday, and I need to tweak the cupboards, and there is the inevitable washing-up, which I have been [ahem] eviting.
Who knows? I might even get the batteries into the remote I bought last weekend, and the DVD/VHS player hooked up and the old gadgets donated. And the last three walls in my bedroom painted, or at least the two which flank the bed. Painted walls = possibly rotating the bed 45° into the corner, and attaching the headboard, and slipping the ficus into the space behind the bed [which means more room in the hall, because I wouldn’t have to move the tree to walk into the studio] and getting the dust ruffle out of a box and into place, and maybe even rotating the mattress.
After all that, world peace would be a snap, right?
BestFriend is coming over later this morning. Can’t wait to see her!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Happy Birthday to Me!
Kristen made a good point in her comment yesterday. We do always owe Uncle Sugar. And it’s just a matter of timing as to which of us earns the interest on the money. My finances have been so precarious, much of my adult life, that it has been more prudent for me to pay in too much and get something back the next spring rather than have a tax bite that equaled my food budget for three months. We used the windfall cash infusion to buy things we couldn’t have afforded otherwise; that’s how I got my first spinning wheel. It’s how a lot of poor people save money. It was the only way I could have saved money, back in the day, because we needed every penny to feed and clothe the kids, what with their father’s uncertain income.
I am still unlearning the habits I acquired when I was poor. And the mindset. Even though my 401K is now more like a 101K, at least there is something going into savings for my old age every payday. The other savings accounts get hit on a regular basis. Some months it’s two or three steps forward, one step back; some months it’s the other way around.
It’s likely to take awhile longer before I do not feel like a nitwit when I have to pay Uncle Sugar on April 15th. I certainly don’t think other people are nitwits if they have to pay; for me it’s like raising my hand in class, thinking that I know the answer, and finding out I am wrong. I really, really do not like being wrong, and in common with the rest of humanity, it is one of the things I do best.
Middlest asked me a great question the other night, after Knit Night. We sat and talked in my car for almost an hour, and she asked me when I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. I could only give her half of an answer. A very long half of an answer, me being me, but half an answer nonetheless. I have only ever [mostly] wanted to be a mommy. Which I am, in spades. I think that parenthood is the best choice I ever made, after joining the church [and that joining the church is what made parenthood enjoyable in the best of times and bearable in the worst]. I was dragged kicking and screaming out into the work world when I was almost 20; all I wanted to do was “marry young, and then retire”. Listen closely to the first verse...
I wanted to sew dresses for a whole raft of little girls, who would sweetly and compliantly hang them up after removing them and would never make mud pies in them or raise their voices in anger at their sisters.
I have to say that life has turned out differently [and far better] than I thought it might when I was seventeen or at other points along the way. And I still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. I am trying to focus on what it is that Heaven wants me to do, or more precisely, on the sort of person I am meant to be. Which brings me to an excellent article by Larry Barkdull which develops some of the thoughts I have been mulling over recently. Please, please read this article, even if you don’t think of yourself as a religious person. It’s that good, and universally applicable.
I left the house to catch the noon train and missed it by about a minute. The police officer greeted me with “May I help you?” as I walked through the concourse and then informed me that I could not leave my car in the parking lot and walk downtown, even if I were catching the train back later. So I smiled at her, turned around and opted for Plan B, which at first I thought might involve eating something, but I wound up in the parking lot at the Amon Carter Museum and spent a lovely two and a half hours inside. I love Remington. I love Russell. And it’s all I can do, not to weep with joy when I see the OKeeffe’s [there are several] or the landscapes and seascapes by the Hudson River School artists. The special exhibit through May 10 is photography by Barbara Crane. Girls, it’s all free. Make the time and go. Some of her work is very quilterly. Some of it is a little disturbing [dead animals she finds in the back yard]. None of it is boring.
Girls, remember when you brought me the dead frog?
And I got to hear a grandfatherly-looking docent use the word @$$, right there in the museum, but in the context it was both appropriate and hilarious.
I picked up a light lunch and ate it on the couch here at home while plowing through more magazines. And then I knitted a lot. And headed back to the train station to try again. Except that I just had a feeling I should turn on my cell phone, and there was a message from 1BDH. I called him back, right as I got to the turn for the parking lot at the station. Firstborn’s engine had malfunctioned, and she was in Las Colinas. Was there any way I could get her to her evening classes?
Maybe you have had the distinct pleasure of being able to help somebody who doesn’t generally need your help. It was the leading edge of rush hour when I got that call, so it took me awhile to get up there. And by that point he had met her and gone to a nearby auto parts store to see if one simple thing could fix it. We headed south again, this time on the tail end of rush hour. She had already had Lark email her professors to tell them she would be missing class, and why. So we stopped at the house to pick up the paperwork on her dead car, and I drove her to the dealership to get another one.
Naturally, I did not have my knitting with me, because I had not wanted to drag it around the arts festival. But she had a novel by one of our favorite LDS authors, and I hadn’t read it. I sat in the reception area at the dealership while she wheeled and dealed, and I finished the novel about ten minutes before they handed her her keys.
She has worked in the car business for years, one way or another. So she knows the ins and outs of financing, what a dealership can do and what it can’t. She got the car she wanted at a price she liked and an acceptable interest rate and a payment she can afford. The dealership had been officially closed for an hour by the time we finished, and it took us almost ten minutes to find a way out of the car lot. I watched her drive off in her new car, and then I came home to Fort Worth and had breakfast for dinner. Love the senior menu atLenny’s Denny’s. I had planned to go to Ol’ South and get the German pancake, but it was 9:30 at that point and much too late for a big meal.
I woke up about 4:30 this morning and have been knitting steadily ever since. I am almost half done with the last repeat on BittyBit’s sweater. Sabrina is paused in the DVD player, because suddenly I was famished. When I bind off the shoulders, I will celebrate by dashing to La Madeleine for Strawberries Romanoff.
And then I think I will see if I can make it to the arts festival. Third time’s a charm?
I am still unlearning the habits I acquired when I was poor. And the mindset. Even though my 401K is now more like a 101K, at least there is something going into savings for my old age every payday. The other savings accounts get hit on a regular basis. Some months it’s two or three steps forward, one step back; some months it’s the other way around.
It’s likely to take awhile longer before I do not feel like a nitwit when I have to pay Uncle Sugar on April 15th. I certainly don’t think other people are nitwits if they have to pay; for me it’s like raising my hand in class, thinking that I know the answer, and finding out I am wrong. I really, really do not like being wrong, and in common with the rest of humanity, it is one of the things I do best.
Middlest asked me a great question the other night, after Knit Night. We sat and talked in my car for almost an hour, and she asked me when I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. I could only give her half of an answer. A very long half of an answer, me being me, but half an answer nonetheless. I have only ever [mostly] wanted to be a mommy. Which I am, in spades. I think that parenthood is the best choice I ever made, after joining the church [and that joining the church is what made parenthood enjoyable in the best of times and bearable in the worst]. I was dragged kicking and screaming out into the work world when I was almost 20; all I wanted to do was “marry young, and then retire”. Listen closely to the first verse...
I wanted to sew dresses for a whole raft of little girls, who would sweetly and compliantly hang them up after removing them and would never make mud pies in them or raise their voices in anger at their sisters.
I have to say that life has turned out differently [and far better] than I thought it might when I was seventeen or at other points along the way. And I still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. I am trying to focus on what it is that Heaven wants me to do, or more precisely, on the sort of person I am meant to be. Which brings me to an excellent article by Larry Barkdull which develops some of the thoughts I have been mulling over recently. Please, please read this article, even if you don’t think of yourself as a religious person. It’s that good, and universally applicable.
I left the house to catch the noon train and missed it by about a minute. The police officer greeted me with “May I help you?” as I walked through the concourse and then informed me that I could not leave my car in the parking lot and walk downtown, even if I were catching the train back later. So I smiled at her, turned around and opted for Plan B, which at first I thought might involve eating something, but I wound up in the parking lot at the Amon Carter Museum and spent a lovely two and a half hours inside. I love Remington. I love Russell. And it’s all I can do, not to weep with joy when I see the OKeeffe’s [there are several] or the landscapes and seascapes by the Hudson River School artists. The special exhibit through May 10 is photography by Barbara Crane. Girls, it’s all free. Make the time and go. Some of her work is very quilterly. Some of it is a little disturbing [dead animals she finds in the back yard]. None of it is boring.
Girls, remember when you brought me the dead frog?
And I got to hear a grandfatherly-looking docent use the word @$$, right there in the museum, but in the context it was both appropriate and hilarious.
I picked up a light lunch and ate it on the couch here at home while plowing through more magazines. And then I knitted a lot. And headed back to the train station to try again. Except that I just had a feeling I should turn on my cell phone, and there was a message from 1BDH. I called him back, right as I got to the turn for the parking lot at the station. Firstborn’s engine had malfunctioned, and she was in Las Colinas. Was there any way I could get her to her evening classes?
Maybe you have had the distinct pleasure of being able to help somebody who doesn’t generally need your help. It was the leading edge of rush hour when I got that call, so it took me awhile to get up there. And by that point he had met her and gone to a nearby auto parts store to see if one simple thing could fix it. We headed south again, this time on the tail end of rush hour. She had already had Lark email her professors to tell them she would be missing class, and why. So we stopped at the house to pick up the paperwork on her dead car, and I drove her to the dealership to get another one.
Naturally, I did not have my knitting with me, because I had not wanted to drag it around the arts festival. But she had a novel by one of our favorite LDS authors, and I hadn’t read it. I sat in the reception area at the dealership while she wheeled and dealed, and I finished the novel about ten minutes before they handed her her keys.
She has worked in the car business for years, one way or another. So she knows the ins and outs of financing, what a dealership can do and what it can’t. She got the car she wanted at a price she liked and an acceptable interest rate and a payment she can afford. The dealership had been officially closed for an hour by the time we finished, and it took us almost ten minutes to find a way out of the car lot. I watched her drive off in her new car, and then I came home to Fort Worth and had breakfast for dinner. Love the senior menu at
I woke up about 4:30 this morning and have been knitting steadily ever since. I am almost half done with the last repeat on BittyBit’s sweater. Sabrina is paused in the DVD player, because suddenly I was famished. When I bind off the shoulders, I will celebrate by dashing to La Madeleine for Strawberries Romanoff.
And then I think I will see if I can make it to the arts festival. Third time’s a charm?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Baroque, Bizet, and out of Monet
Well, not entirely out of Monet; I have enough to get me by until payday. And I have enough to eat. And more than enough trash bins and recycling bins, but that’s a story for another day.
My birthday package arrived safely at the office, all wrapped up in pink and raspberry paper with chartreuse (not yellow) accents and a bit of glitter. And a purple ribbon, which I am of course saving. My sister sent it there because I lived in apartments from 1993 until last year. Iffy apartments, in neighborhoods that were not iffy when we moved in but which became so not long after we unpacked; I must have an Iffy Magnet. Complete with percussion on the kitchen counters in the upstairs apartment at 2:00am and the extreme likelihood of incoming packages being shot down by “Section 8” missiles or absconded with entirely.
Yes, I did something rather out of character: I opened the card and the package two days ahead of schedule, on the principle of “Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.” Behold my new earrings. When I opened the box, I immediately took out my silver hoops and put these babies in.
Behold, also, much handpainted loveliness. My coffee table is becoming a paradise of purple pulchritude. [Spiro T. Agnew just rolled over in his grave and got a mouthful of merino for his trouble.] Not one scrap of blue in this yarn, despite what you see; it’s all some variation on the theme of purple.
The card made me hoot out loud in most unbusinesslike fashion. It features a sleeping dog whose tail is in the flight path of the business end of a stapler upon which a bunny is about to land. And inside it says “It’s your birthday. Live dangerously.” The cartoon is from Andy Riley’s “The Book of Bunny Suicides”, which I had never heard of, sheltered creature that I am. The card company is Sunrise Greetings. I might get one of those duplex frames to display the cropped card and the sentiment; I’ve framed other cards she’s sent me.
I finished tweaking and printing my tax return about 9:45 last night and spent the next hour and a half trying to find a post office that was open until midnight. Four useless post offices close to home in Fort Worth. I had just missed the cut-off at the main PO, which is by the T&P station where I catch the train. And I was not in the mood to drive to far north FW to find the one on that was open [one of those times when GPS would have been nice]. So I drove over to Arlington, where in years past they have had somebody standing at the window, accepting envelopes. Nada. That was the fifth post office, and I had had it. So I chunked the envelope into the slot and said ‘to hell with it’; I am already having to pay a fee for the installment payments, and penalties, and interest. What’s one more cha-ching?
Like Miz Scarlett, I will worry about that one tomorrow. Or next month. Or whenever they send me the bill.
On the way back to my car, something bounded across the grass, then turned to look at me. A raccoon. At 11:00pm. He didn’t look any happier than I felt. [Raccoons pay taxes?] I wonder if he washed his 1040 before sending it off to Austin?
I slept until 6:38 this morning, which is about the latest I can leave the house on a work day and get on the train at the T&P station without sprinting from my car. Strolled out to the living room and stretched my legs on the couch with some magazines and then knitted for awhile. I have a little over two pattern repeats left on BittyBit’s sweater, and then the blocking and putting-together and the crocheted edging.
But I am setting it aside in favor of sluicing off and heading over to the Main Street Arts Festival, where I will get fresh air and exercise and a slew of business cards to add to my long, long list of people whose art I like enough to want to buy. Someday.
Brother Karitas wants me to take pictures, lots of pictures. I will try to remember; I’ve set my camera next to my planner and keys. And I am going to drive over to the T&P station and catch the train to the ITC, which is two blocks from the Festival. I’ll walk around in the cool of the morning and avoid [I most devoutly hope] the crowds that will be there tonight.
My birthday package arrived safely at the office, all wrapped up in pink and raspberry paper with chartreuse (not yellow) accents and a bit of glitter. And a purple ribbon, which I am of course saving. My sister sent it there because I lived in apartments from 1993 until last year. Iffy apartments, in neighborhoods that were not iffy when we moved in but which became so not long after we unpacked; I must have an Iffy Magnet. Complete with percussion on the kitchen counters in the upstairs apartment at 2:00am and the extreme likelihood of incoming packages being shot down by “Section 8” missiles or absconded with entirely.
Yes, I did something rather out of character: I opened the card and the package two days ahead of schedule, on the principle of “Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.” Behold my new earrings. When I opened the box, I immediately took out my silver hoops and put these babies in.
Behold, also, much handpainted loveliness. My coffee table is becoming a paradise of purple pulchritude. [Spiro T. Agnew just rolled over in his grave and got a mouthful of merino for his trouble.] Not one scrap of blue in this yarn, despite what you see; it’s all some variation on the theme of purple.
The card made me hoot out loud in most unbusinesslike fashion. It features a sleeping dog whose tail is in the flight path of the business end of a stapler upon which a bunny is about to land. And inside it says “It’s your birthday. Live dangerously.” The cartoon is from Andy Riley’s “The Book of Bunny Suicides”, which I had never heard of, sheltered creature that I am. The card company is Sunrise Greetings. I might get one of those duplex frames to display the cropped card and the sentiment; I’ve framed other cards she’s sent me.
I finished tweaking and printing my tax return about 9:45 last night and spent the next hour and a half trying to find a post office that was open until midnight. Four useless post offices close to home in Fort Worth. I had just missed the cut-off at the main PO, which is by the T&P station where I catch the train. And I was not in the mood to drive to far north FW to find the one on that was open [one of those times when GPS would have been nice]. So I drove over to Arlington, where in years past they have had somebody standing at the window, accepting envelopes. Nada. That was the fifth post office, and I had had it. So I chunked the envelope into the slot and said ‘to hell with it’; I am already having to pay a fee for the installment payments, and penalties, and interest. What’s one more cha-ching?
Like Miz Scarlett, I will worry about that one tomorrow. Or next month. Or whenever they send me the bill.
On the way back to my car, something bounded across the grass, then turned to look at me. A raccoon. At 11:00pm. He didn’t look any happier than I felt. [Raccoons pay taxes?] I wonder if he washed his 1040 before sending it off to Austin?
I slept until 6:38 this morning, which is about the latest I can leave the house on a work day and get on the train at the T&P station without sprinting from my car. Strolled out to the living room and stretched my legs on the couch with some magazines and then knitted for awhile. I have a little over two pattern repeats left on BittyBit’s sweater, and then the blocking and putting-together and the crocheted edging.
But I am setting it aside in favor of sluicing off and heading over to the Main Street Arts Festival, where I will get fresh air and exercise and a slew of business cards to add to my long, long list of people whose art I like enough to want to buy. Someday.
Brother Karitas wants me to take pictures, lots of pictures. I will try to remember; I’ve set my camera next to my planner and keys. And I am going to drive over to the T&P station and catch the train to the ITC, which is two blocks from the Festival. I’ll walk around in the cool of the morning and avoid [I most devoutly hope] the crowds that will be there tonight.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Procrastination: It’s what’s for dinner. And it’s eating my lunch.
Well, I am almost done preparing my taxes. I need to snag a couple of numbers and plug them in, and I need to start over on the use-of-personal-auto-in-defunct-business section, and I won’t actually be able to give them any money until Friday the 24th [plus interest, plus penalty, minus at least half of the yarn I was going to buy], because it’s more than I have in my back pocket, but it’s nowhere near as bad as I feared.
It’s certainly not like the year when our tax bite was roughly two-thirds of our gross income.
But let me tell you, I should have made the switch to the single withholding rate at the first of 2008, and not at the point when LittleBit and I separated households. I suppose technically I provided more than 50% of her support last year [I have no idea how much or how little she made], but she lived with me less than half the year, and I suspect that carries greater weight with Uncle Sugar. And anyway, I don’t know how to get hold of her to ask. And she’s probably already filed.
Let’s talk about happier things. Lots of copacetic knitting on BittyBit’s sweater. I am galloping along on the right front. It’s easy to read my knitting and see a mistake, and I finally figured out after two sleeves, one front, and one-third of a back that I need to finish a bout of knitting at the end of a knit row, so I can tell where I am on the chart. Sometimes that purl row just totally changes what the fabric looks like, and I get naviknitionally challenged.
Leftover chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes are a reasonably effective antidote to the IRS blues.
I found out that there is another Tommy’s, further west on Camp Bowie, and that there is never much of a wait for your food, although they call your name and you have to walk up and get it, like you do at Kincaid’s. I can live with that. Trainman and his IT-geek friend say that each Tommy’s [there are others] has its own unique vibe.
I consoled myself for the tax news bymaking a run to the store for a video and a pint of ice cream eating a carefully measured portion of cheese puffs and watching “Sleepless in Seattle”. And knitting, of course.
Life is good. Today is my Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday all wrapped up into one. There is knitting tonight, and tomorrow is my Friday.
It’s certainly not like the year when our tax bite was roughly two-thirds of our gross income.
But let me tell you, I should have made the switch to the single withholding rate at the first of 2008, and not at the point when LittleBit and I separated households. I suppose technically I provided more than 50% of her support last year [I have no idea how much or how little she made], but she lived with me less than half the year, and I suspect that carries greater weight with Uncle Sugar. And anyway, I don’t know how to get hold of her to ask. And she’s probably already filed.
Let’s talk about happier things. Lots of copacetic knitting on BittyBit’s sweater. I am galloping along on the right front. It’s easy to read my knitting and see a mistake, and I finally figured out after two sleeves, one front, and one-third of a back that I need to finish a bout of knitting at the end of a knit row, so I can tell where I am on the chart. Sometimes that purl row just totally changes what the fabric looks like, and I get naviknitionally challenged.
Leftover chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes are a reasonably effective antidote to the IRS blues.
I found out that there is another Tommy’s, further west on Camp Bowie, and that there is never much of a wait for your food, although they call your name and you have to walk up and get it, like you do at Kincaid’s. I can live with that. Trainman and his IT-geek friend say that each Tommy’s [there are others] has its own unique vibe.
I consoled myself for the tax news by
Life is good. Today is my Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday all wrapped up into one. There is knitting tonight, and tomorrow is my Friday.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Well, hello Dali, this is Ravelled, Dali...
I scored the last four candy “rubber duckies” when I was out running errands on Saturday. I brought them home, remembered to take them with me to church, opted to come home for lunch and a rest before heading over to Firstborns, and thought, “It’s really chilly out here. They’ll be fine until I go.” And thought no more of it.
When I went out to the car at 4:00, it was only slightly warmer than it had been when church was over. However, it was significantly warmer inside the car. Behold: Ducks by Dali.
Middlest snapped that for me; used with permission. I am such a bad, bad Easter Bunny. This is what they looked like after two or three hours of rehab in the fridge. I gave the least-scary ones to the Bitties, because I did not want to scar them for life. Lark and Willow just snickered and took the thought for the deed.
I had lunch at Tommy’s after running my errands on Saturday. It’s out on Camp Bowie, a mile or two west of me, and I found a parking spot fairly close to the entrance. I had the mushroom Swiss burger, no mustard or pickles, yes lettuce, tomatoes and onions. Tots on the side. My waitress was cheerful and brisk; she kept the water coming. My burger was well-seasoned, juicy, and worth waiting for. I don’t know what radio station they had on, but it was playing lots of my [moldy oldie] favorite songs. There is an amazing mural on the east wall, a longhorn in a pasture with the Fort Worth Skyline in the background and five orphaned cowboy boots standing in the road.
I will go back again, at least once, if only to learn whether the longer-than-I-expected wait for my burger is normal, or if I just picked the wrong time on a Saturday afternoon. Francis? Any thoughts? [I don’t remember waiting this long at Kincaid’s, and I think I got my smothered pork chops faster at Drew’s.]
In knitting news, the left front is done on BittyBit’s sweater, and I was adding the last dab of yarn from that ball onto the sweater back when I went to bed last night. I will get to work on the right front, sometime today.
Sunday morning before church, I sorted through the accumulation of magazines that my friends at work have given me and put all the fashionista ones into a bag to give to Fourthborn, along with back issues of Real Simple. The pile on my coffee table is reduced by more than half, and the stack in my bedroom is nearly gone. I have another, smaller, stack of This Old House and Cottage Living to give to Secondborn and 2BDH.
I also have all twelve issues of the 2005 Liahona in German, if any of my German-speaking kids or friends are interested. [Tan? If you want them, I’ll mail them out on the 24th.] I subscribed when I was in my “und es begab sich” phase.
This is going to be a short week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and then a long weekend for Ms. Ravelled.
When I went out to the car at 4:00, it was only slightly warmer than it had been when church was over. However, it was significantly warmer inside the car. Behold: Ducks by Dali.
Middlest snapped that for me; used with permission. I am such a bad, bad Easter Bunny. This is what they looked like after two or three hours of rehab in the fridge. I gave the least-scary ones to the Bitties, because I did not want to scar them for life. Lark and Willow just snickered and took the thought for the deed.
I had lunch at Tommy’s after running my errands on Saturday. It’s out on Camp Bowie, a mile or two west of me, and I found a parking spot fairly close to the entrance. I had the mushroom Swiss burger, no mustard or pickles, yes lettuce, tomatoes and onions. Tots on the side. My waitress was cheerful and brisk; she kept the water coming. My burger was well-seasoned, juicy, and worth waiting for. I don’t know what radio station they had on, but it was playing lots of my [moldy oldie] favorite songs. There is an amazing mural on the east wall, a longhorn in a pasture with the Fort Worth Skyline in the background and five orphaned cowboy boots standing in the road.
I will go back again, at least once, if only to learn whether the longer-than-I-expected wait for my burger is normal, or if I just picked the wrong time on a Saturday afternoon. Francis? Any thoughts? [I don’t remember waiting this long at Kincaid’s, and I think I got my smothered pork chops faster at Drew’s.]
In knitting news, the left front is done on BittyBit’s sweater, and I was adding the last dab of yarn from that ball onto the sweater back when I went to bed last night. I will get to work on the right front, sometime today.
Sunday morning before church, I sorted through the accumulation of magazines that my friends at work have given me and put all the fashionista ones into a bag to give to Fourthborn, along with back issues of Real Simple. The pile on my coffee table is reduced by more than half, and the stack in my bedroom is nearly gone. I have another, smaller, stack of This Old House and Cottage Living to give to Secondborn and 2BDH.
I also have all twelve issues of the 2005 Liahona in German, if any of my German-speaking kids or friends are interested. [Tan? If you want them, I’ll mail them out on the 24th.] I subscribed when I was in my “und es begab sich” phase.
This is going to be a short week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and then a long weekend for Ms. Ravelled.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Hands
President Howard W. Hunter, in an October 1979 conference address called “Reading the Scriptures”, and quoted by Larry Barkdull in Meridian Magazine last August: “whatever Jesus lays his hands upon lives.”
I thought about the time that a friend and I were driving up a mountain road above Boise in her little VW, just tooling around, and we each perceived something black passing before our eyes, like somebody waving a hand in our faces, and we turned that car around immediately and drove back down the mountain singing “Put Your Hand in the Hand”, knowing we had just been saved from something awful.
I thought about how He had laid His hands upon me when I divorced FirstHubby and carried me into the fold of the Church and healed me. How He brought the children’s father into my life and blessed the early years of our marriage with more happiness than I could have imagined. How He sent those five lovely, choice spirits to join our family. How He sustained me while I was making the decision to divorce. Again.
I thought about the years of single blessedness since the divorce. Eleven years now, and mostly peaceful because most of the time I remember Whose hands I am in. And when I relax and trust Him, I am just fine, thank you very much. And when I think I am smart enough to call all the shots, He is kind enough to step back and watch me try, and even more kind when He steps back in ~ always at my invitation ~ to bandage me up.
I thought it was interesting, the point made in this article about how even our illness and suffering can be consecrated to our eternal good. I have experienced that in my life, many many times.
This has been, so far, a quiet Easter weekend. I am heading over to Arlington in a few hours, to attend church with Firstborn and her tribe. And then I will probably come home and take a nap. I had planned to make my first pavlova [two, actually] for dessert, but it’s raining outside, and the humidity would not be kind to meringue. We are having a tribal feast at her place this evening.
Can anybody tell me why or how ham became the traditional meat for Easter dinner?
At this writing, I am about halfway up the left front of BittyBit’s sweater. I have the right front cast on, on my larger needles, but its chart is on a different page from the left front and the back, and I was not inclined to flip back and forth, back and forth.
I picked up some lovely paper at the art supply store yesterday that should be perfect for printing photographs from the train trip last month. It’s made to look like canvas. This was my first visit to their Fort Worth location; I have done business at the Arlington store off and on since we moved back from the Hill Country in 1993, and at the Dallas store when we lived in Irving. The staff are all artistic and know their stuff, and they never make me feel like a dilettante.
I also bought a universal remote and resisted all the salesman’s up-selling blandishments. But I give him full points for trying.
I polished off the bread pudding last night while watching the commentary feature of You’ve Got Mail. I am torn between having half of the remaining chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes for breakfast [saving the rest for lunch at work tomorrow] or cooking up some cream of wheat.
I made shells and cheese for the missionaries last night. Or rather, shells in alfredo sauce, as nobody seems interested in bottling that good white cheddar sauce that I miss so much from the Kraft deluxe dinners.
I pulled two chorizos from the freezer and tossed in a box of chopped broccoli. When the chorizos were mostly cooked, I pulled them out and cut them into coins and tossed them back into the boiling water to flavor the pasta. I lucked into some of the larger shells, in a box, and used most of the box. I was afraid it would be bland, but those chorizos were *spicy*. I do not think I will buy them again. At least not intentionally.
I made a Waldorf-ish salad with a huge apple that was lurking in the fridge and some golden raisins and sliced almonds and the last of the pecan crumbs and spooned it into a ziploc bag. My goal when I feed the elders is that they don’t have to wash or return dishes to me. Not the most elegant presentation, this time around, but they got refueled with a minimum of fuss, and I had enough salad left for last night’s dinner and two or three meals’ worth of not-boring pasta.
Happy Easter, everybody! I am off to forage some breakfast and bite the ears off a chocolate bunny.
I thought about the time that a friend and I were driving up a mountain road above Boise in her little VW, just tooling around, and we each perceived something black passing before our eyes, like somebody waving a hand in our faces, and we turned that car around immediately and drove back down the mountain singing “Put Your Hand in the Hand”, knowing we had just been saved from something awful.
I thought about how He had laid His hands upon me when I divorced FirstHubby and carried me into the fold of the Church and healed me. How He brought the children’s father into my life and blessed the early years of our marriage with more happiness than I could have imagined. How He sent those five lovely, choice spirits to join our family. How He sustained me while I was making the decision to divorce. Again.
I thought about the years of single blessedness since the divorce. Eleven years now, and mostly peaceful because most of the time I remember Whose hands I am in. And when I relax and trust Him, I am just fine, thank you very much. And when I think I am smart enough to call all the shots, He is kind enough to step back and watch me try, and even more kind when He steps back in ~ always at my invitation ~ to bandage me up.
I thought it was interesting, the point made in this article about how even our illness and suffering can be consecrated to our eternal good. I have experienced that in my life, many many times.
This has been, so far, a quiet Easter weekend. I am heading over to Arlington in a few hours, to attend church with Firstborn and her tribe. And then I will probably come home and take a nap. I had planned to make my first pavlova [two, actually] for dessert, but it’s raining outside, and the humidity would not be kind to meringue. We are having a tribal feast at her place this evening.
Can anybody tell me why or how ham became the traditional meat for Easter dinner?
At this writing, I am about halfway up the left front of BittyBit’s sweater. I have the right front cast on, on my larger needles, but its chart is on a different page from the left front and the back, and I was not inclined to flip back and forth, back and forth.
I picked up some lovely paper at the art supply store yesterday that should be perfect for printing photographs from the train trip last month. It’s made to look like canvas. This was my first visit to their Fort Worth location; I have done business at the Arlington store off and on since we moved back from the Hill Country in 1993, and at the Dallas store when we lived in Irving. The staff are all artistic and know their stuff, and they never make me feel like a dilettante.
I also bought a universal remote and resisted all the salesman’s up-selling blandishments. But I give him full points for trying.
I polished off the bread pudding last night while watching the commentary feature of You’ve Got Mail. I am torn between having half of the remaining chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes for breakfast [saving the rest for lunch at work tomorrow] or cooking up some cream of wheat.
I made shells and cheese for the missionaries last night. Or rather, shells in alfredo sauce, as nobody seems interested in bottling that good white cheddar sauce that I miss so much from the Kraft deluxe dinners.
I pulled two chorizos from the freezer and tossed in a box of chopped broccoli. When the chorizos were mostly cooked, I pulled them out and cut them into coins and tossed them back into the boiling water to flavor the pasta. I lucked into some of the larger shells, in a box, and used most of the box. I was afraid it would be bland, but those chorizos were *spicy*. I do not think I will buy them again. At least not intentionally.
I made a Waldorf-ish salad with a huge apple that was lurking in the fridge and some golden raisins and sliced almonds and the last of the pecan crumbs and spooned it into a ziploc bag. My goal when I feed the elders is that they don’t have to wash or return dishes to me. Not the most elegant presentation, this time around, but they got refueled with a minimum of fuss, and I had enough salad left for last night’s dinner and two or three meals’ worth of not-boring pasta.
Happy Easter, everybody! I am off to forage some breakfast and bite the ears off a chocolate bunny.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
No need to cook this weekend
I have a leftover piece of chicken-fried steak half the size of my head, and almost half of my bread pudding. The absolutely best smashed potatoes I have eaten in my life, snuggled there in the cold with the steak, but the glazed carrots are so far past history that they have become the stuff of mythology. Huge carrot chunks, the sort of thing you see in foodie magazines and just know that there is a core half an inch thick that will never soften up, no matter how long you cook them [rather like that ill-fated rooster], but each perfectly tender, perfectly seasoned bite slips away into your gullet and starts flinging endorphins into your bloodstream.
So in case you were wondering, dinner last night was fantastic, and I would cheerfully go back to Charleston’s anytime [small chain; 15 of them throughout the country]. I had a taste of Brother Sushi’s prime rib; it was flavorful and tender.
We came back and sat on the couch and talked until we were both yawning. He skimmed the instructions for the DVD/VCR and confirmed that yes, I do need to hie myself to the store and pick up a universal remote, but that once I do, setup will be very straightforward. So that’s on my honey-do list for the day, as well as a trip to the art supply store for more watercolor paper.
I bound off the sleeves on BittyBit’s sweater a little while ago and have cast on the back using what’s left of one of the balls. When I’ve knitted that up, I’ll add on the second remnant and use it up, then set the back aside until I’ve done both fronts, which are [I think] a little smaller overall than the sleeves. Then I’ll see how far up the back I can get, knitting up what’s left on those two balls. I think this sweater will use about half of the yarn I bought, and I see no sense in having a lot of partially-used balls lying about.
I would show you a picture of the sleeves, but they are (A) black and (B) lace, which means that they are two dark crumpled blobs of knitting and not particularly impressive at the moment. The knitting equivalent of an ugly duckling.
Well, it’s 8:00, and the light is just lovely, so I think I will grab my camera and go take pictures for an hour or so until the art supply store opens. I may also make a run past the farmer’s market and pick up some fresh fruit. Or maybe I’ll just dash over to Central Market before it gets busy.
So in case you were wondering, dinner last night was fantastic, and I would cheerfully go back to Charleston’s anytime [small chain; 15 of them throughout the country]. I had a taste of Brother Sushi’s prime rib; it was flavorful and tender.
We came back and sat on the couch and talked until we were both yawning. He skimmed the instructions for the DVD/VCR and confirmed that yes, I do need to hie myself to the store and pick up a universal remote, but that once I do, setup will be very straightforward. So that’s on my honey-do list for the day, as well as a trip to the art supply store for more watercolor paper.
I bound off the sleeves on BittyBit’s sweater a little while ago and have cast on the back using what’s left of one of the balls. When I’ve knitted that up, I’ll add on the second remnant and use it up, then set the back aside until I’ve done both fronts, which are [I think] a little smaller overall than the sleeves. Then I’ll see how far up the back I can get, knitting up what’s left on those two balls. I think this sweater will use about half of the yarn I bought, and I see no sense in having a lot of partially-used balls lying about.
I would show you a picture of the sleeves, but they are (A) black and (B) lace, which means that they are two dark crumpled blobs of knitting and not particularly impressive at the moment. The knitting equivalent of an ugly duckling.
Well, it’s 8:00, and the light is just lovely, so I think I will grab my camera and go take pictures for an hour or so until the art supply store opens. I may also make a run past the farmer’s market and pick up some fresh fruit. Or maybe I’ll just dash over to Central Market before it gets busy.
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