Why are you tearing up my street?

Looks as if I picked the wrong day to be home and sick. I was tempted to step out onto the porch with my camera and take pictures of the backhoe and other things that go beep in the day. But as I was still in my flannel nightie, and my hair looked even more appalling than my poor, sore beak, I took a pass. I didn’t want those poor honest workmen to think that I was the advance guard for a zombie infestation.

I made something like unto chili yesterday. A pound of ultra-lean ground beef, half a package of frozen chopped onions and peppers, the leftover potato water from Monday night, about a cup of minced sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, my last can of garbanzos, and two cans of Ro-Tel Original. More Mediterranean than Mexican in inspiration, but plenty fiery. At this point I still don’t know if it tastes good, but it went a long way toward clearing my head. And there is a whole lot of it leftover in the fridge, so I will neither starve, nor run out of gas.

A plus side to being home was the opportunity to chat via Facebook with NintendoMan, who sent me an irreverent get-well card. For once, we were awake and online at the same time; that hasn’t happened a lot lately and is all the more amazing considering how little I was actually awake yesterday. He prescribed soup and sleep. But I think the laughter did me as much good as anything.

Another silver lining to this storm cloud that has taken up residence in my head, is that I flat do not have the energy to be lonely. Breathing seems, oh I don’t know, a whole lot more important at the moment.

I found the last little dab of pepperjack cheese. I ate it to confuse the garbanzo beans.

Knitting happened. Maybe another half-inch on the heel gussets. Nothing worth getting up to grab the camera for.

I made my Excel spreadsheet for paying off the line of credit by the end of next year, and I calculated how much needs to come out of each paycheck. Next year will actually be a little easier in terms of cash flow, because Lorelai will be paid off in late January or early February, and I will roll that payment over into the other loan. Just guesstimating, but I should be completely out of debt by Labor Day 2011. And once those two loans are paid off, I will throw it all into my emergency fund. And then I will be, officially, obedient. [And can tackle gardening and genealogy, though possibly not simultaneously.]

Staying home again today, though I am feeling considerably better than when I went to bed last night. The hot *unleaded* toddies seem to be helping. I am having cinnamon toast for breakfast and contemplating my first nap of the day. (I've been up for a little over an hour; I love naps, but not that much.) I just called into work, and last night I canceled tonight’s presidency meeting.

I am now going to stand in the shower and poach my head. Maybe I can get a nice nap in before the boys come back to play with the über-Tonkas in the street.

Bizzerable

That would be the inside of my head, this morning. Though I am feeling marginally better. When I went to bed at 10-ish last night, I thought, “Boy howdy, I’m tired.” And as I was drifting off to sleep, I realized that I had been up for most of the preceding 24 hours, and a normal human being [I hear you kids snickering; stop it, or I’ll breathe on you!] would indeed be tired if that were the case.

I have already called in to the office. One of the blessings of being this congested is that nobody who heard me honking and sneezing yesterday, or who listens to the voicemail I left this morning, can accuse me of faking it. Thankfully, I have a nearly-full box of Puffs here on the coffee table, and another nearly-full box out in the car.

But there will be no Knit Night tonight, though there will likely be knitting all day. The sock is back in my good graces, and I managed to knit almost an inch of gusset increases yesterday. I was hoping that unbundling the computer cables to schlep the CPU to Secondborn’s on Saturday would cure the popping and crackling in the speakers, but no such luck. I tried to listen to an archived episode of Sticks and String, and it sounded as if David had eaten an entire case of Pop Rocks.

As you can see, my sense of humor is limping back. As is my 1-900 voice. Between the garlic-cheese biscuits on Sunday and the horseradish mashed potatoes for dinner last night, my breath and my skin and probably even my hair, smell like the International Food Court at the 1963 Seattle World’s Fair. You would probably not want to be downwind of me, and I haven’t even begun to make that pot of chili I was fantasizing about last night.

I finished the Marcella Hazan memoir, Amarcord: Marcella Remembers, and it is now on the shelf with my cookbooks and related topics. There is a little cartoon near the back of the book, all the more delightful because it was unexpected. Not sure what I want to read next. This might be a good day to sort through catalogues and some of the magazines that I haven’t gotten to yet.

I got almost six hours of sleep last night. I just finished a mug of apple juice and think I will have another, and maybe some cinnamon toast. And then I think I want a little nap, to celebrate leveling-up in Fairyland. I have somehow managed to stumble up to level 8, and my wildlife is allegedly talented, whatever that means.

My friend Francis had a great post waiting for me in my Bloglines. It links to the NYTimes obit of the man who was the inspiration for Rainman. Apparently, once upon a time the family lived in Arlington. And he passed away in Salt Lake City, which makes me wonder if he or some of his family was LDS?

Mmm, cinnamon toast. My world is looking brighter already...

Yesterday = Not a Good One

Talks went well. They danced around one another rather nicely. I love my counselors!

I was in something of a daze in Sunday School, feeling the right half of my sinuses backing up on me. I excused myself from the joint meeting afterward. I’m pretty sure that I’m allergic to something in the RS room, after the flooding. Either there is residual mildew or mold, and I’m picking up on that, or it’s something they used to treat the building.

So, if you take the near-weepiness that I felt after giving my talk, and you add the growing physical discomfort I was feeling, and toss in the fact that I have not seen NintendoMan in almost two weeks [though we have communicated] because he is dealing with family matters, what you get is me, having a mini-meltdown in the hall between Sunday School and going home. Thankfully, my good home teacher was right there, as was my favorite member of the bishopric, who is a good friend, and the three of us nipped into the overflow area of the chapel, where they gave me a blessing.

I came home and ate the last of the garlic cheese biscuits from breakfast and went straight to bed, which means that I slept from 4:45 until 10:15 and not a lot since then.

Oh, I am also having a flare-up of the athlete’s foot, just to add to the general not-having-fun-in-my-skin-ness. I am rapidly approaching the “if thy foot offend thee, cut it off” stage.

This will all pass. I will go to work today, and maybe there will be good news of a job-ish nature. And even if there is not, I like my job, and I am happy there, and some of that happiness will follow me back home tonight. I will go to the temple at least once this week, and that will increase my peace. Things will eventually simmer down in NintendoMan’s life, and we will get some face time. I will get through the gusset increases on the sock, turn the heel, and decrease again to the proper number of stitches for the cuff; I am not happy with the sock at the moment, but the sock itself is utterly innocent of offense. I am just cranky, and I will get over it.

The good news is, I am redolent of garlic, so I need not fear a vampire attack. But I am a little sorry for anybody who has to sit next to me on the train this morning. Speaking of which, it’s time to dose my foot, put on my socks, and head on out the door.

I will be the one who smells like biscuits and has sharp poky sticks in her hand. Malefactors beware!

Dithyrambling

Do you ever get a word stuck crosswise in your head? Sometimes, when I was a little kid, I would sit in my room and say a word over and over and over until it lost all meaning, became a random sound and I could play with volume and intonation. (Sometimes I wonder why my own dear mother did not pinch my head off.)

On Friday night, the word was dithyramb. It danced in and out of my calculations while I was working on my tax return. Finally I just had to pull up a fresh window and google it.

That was before my computer had to be rebooted half a dozen times yesterday. My computer is now de-McAfee’d, and it’s working just fine. And in the unbundling of cords which was necessary in order to schlep the CPU over to Secondborn’s, my speakers appear to have regained their integrity as well. I may now be able to listen to my Aussie boyfriend on Sticks and Strings. I won’t know that until tonight, or maybe later this morning after I put the finishing touches on my talk for church.

My pantry is restocked (my checkbook is weeping softly), and all of the grocery bags are hanging in a lump from the handle to the front door, so I will remember to take them to church today and give them to my friend who crochets them into market bags and other goodies which he sells on eBay or Etsy.

I had one of the Healthy Choice entrees for dinner last night. It might be healthy, but it was definitely not choice: the pasta was flabby, the pesto was insufficiently garlicky, and the blessedly minimal sodium appeared to be concentrated in the three pieces of chicken which enabled them to call it chicken pesto and not the other way around. I might have been a little less cranky about it, had I not been reading Marcella Hazan’s memoir about learning to cook with the miraculous pastas and veggies of her native Italy.

So, again with the meh, and a side order of oy to the veh.

I did, sortof, hear from NintendoMan last night. I popped up a chat window long enough to tell him that the computer was fixed and that I was logging off to work on my talk. Which I did, immediately. When I went back to Facebook before hitting the sack, there was an iHeart waiting for me. [I know: mush.]

OK, time to fire up some potatoes O’Brien and see if what seemed like a brilliant and inspired talk when I went to bed at a quarter to one, makes any sense whatsoever at a quarter to seven. Ordinarily, I have no problem coming up with a talk on an assigned topic and rambling on for as long as they will let me, but this time I am speaking as part of the Relief Society presidency, and it has to mesh nicely with what my counselors will have shared (I am batting cleanup) and put people in an I-can-do-this mood and be reverent and scriptural and not soporific.

Sigh...

Radio Silence

2BDH is working on my computer, which isn’t. I am blogging from Secondborn’s. She is at Firstborn’s.

I should be at the stake High Priests’ social, but I took a nap and slept until five minutes before it was supposed to begin. The theme was family history work; can you sense a little resistance on my part?

I suspect that my ancestors and my ancestresses are tapping their feet at me, on the other side of the veil of mortality. I just want to be tapping my toes. Thankfully, my ward is having a social in two weeks that is purely and simply a social. [A sock hop. I may or may not be teaching people my one and only line dance.] Edification is a lovely thing, but isn’t that what sacrament meeting is for? Sometimes I just want to have fun.

I am fed up with the singles’ dances, with the music, with most if not all of the DJ’s (not a criticism of their character, just a severe lack of appreciation on my part for their musical choices), with the 30-somethings who appear to be taking the program over (and are probably waiting for the geezers and the geezettes to die, so the fun can begin). I did sign up for the next singles’ conference, in March, but mainly because one of the featured speakers is Brother Farrell, who wrote The Peacegiver, and I want to thank him to his face for the peace that his book brought me at a very difficult time in my life.

Otherwise, I have low expectations for the conference. I realize that I will only get out of it what I am willing to put into it, and I am thankful that somebody is willing to make the effort on my behalf, and on behalf of the others in this same leaky boat, but I am just. flat. tired.

I am tired of being single. I am tired of dating. I would love to get to happily-ever-after without having to put in the time to get there (wouldn’t we all, LOL). I am *not* tired of NintendoMan, but he is busy with family drama, and I miss him, which added to the computer issues is not making me any happier with life or myself at the moment.

I think 2BDH is done fixing my computer, which means it is time to publish this and go home. And then to go out and do some grocery shopping to get me through the next two weeks. And reconnect my computer and unfreeze my garden on Fairyland. And put my talk together for church tomorrow. And eat a whale of a lot of chocolate.

Meh.

“Let There Be Toe”

Crazy morning yesterday. C*r*a*z*y morning! Minimal juice on the cell phone battery, which of course meant that I had two urgent messages from my RS secretary re: compassionate service of a fairly urgent nature. And my Compassionate Service person on the injured-reserve list, and my list of Whoyagonnacall, safely stored in my computer here at home.

This is why Relief Society presidents turn grey.

This is also why Relief Society presidents go hide out in the temple, where there are no cell phones. Which is what I am planning to do (again) tonight. My best friend from way back when the babies were being born, is meeting me there, and we are going to bless a few lives together, and after that I sincerely hope that chocolate will be involved. Preferably in liquid form, with an IV tube.

You would think that, having taken Monday off to play and putter, I would be rested and ready to lick my weight in wildcats. You would be mistaken. I didn’t get back to Fort Worth from Tuesday night’s temple session until after 10:00pm, and it was nearly 11:00 before I was sitting here in front of the computer, ice cream carton in hand. I tried to pick up dinner on the way to my presidency meeting last night, but the customer service at that place was execrable, and I walked out, unfed. I came home after our meeting and made four slices of toast with a cheese stick for intermission, and then I killed the rest of that first pint of ice cream and went to bed. (I did eat a sensible, healthy lunch, so nutrition did happen at some point during the day.)

I came home from the meetinghouse with a slightly irritated nose and throat. I think it may be related to the flooding we had in the building a couple of weeks ago; I am ridiculously sensitive to mold. Am feeling much better this morning but would like to just go back to bed and stay there until it’s time to go to the temple tonight.

I am about halfway up the foot on the current sock. Thus far, it is not arguing with me. (It is a very wise sock.) Nothing to photograph, really, just a plain sock in Noro Kureyon Sock, around and around and around on 00 needles, and I might make it to the heel flap sometime today.

But for now, I am going to nuke a mug of apple juice and follow that with a boiling-hot shower and see if I can poach my nose and throat into submission.

Random Reflections

Stuff I either found, or thought of, at one time or another while I was at work yesterday.

Thought of the Week
Courtesy of my office manager: “Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.” (author unknown) – and I googled that to make sure that the author really is unknown.

$6.12
I was just leaving switchboard when my cell phone went off. It was the office of LittleBit’s gastroenterologist. Or possibly mine. They had returned mail for me, a check for $6.12. How cool is it to deal with people who are determined to get $6.12 that doesn’t belong to them, back to its rightful owner? (Apparently, I overpaid or was overcharged; this would have been two years ago, because it’s been that long since LittleBit’s last endoscopy or my last colonoscopy.)

Coconut(-flavored) M&M’s
Not bad; not bad at all. But they would be better if there were real coconut inside them.

Health club
Two more days, and I can join up. I am really looking forward to this!

Monday off
Since not everybody goes back and reads the comments, or the comments on the comments, I am excerpting as follows:

1B: “No mention of 6.5 – hung out with NintendoMan???”

Moi, sadly: “Alas, no. He is off, doing Important NintendoMan Stuff, which will continue through at least tomorrow [Wednesday] night. We are suffering severe NintendoMan Deprivation Syndrome, chez Ravelled.”

***

I had a wonderful evening at the temple. [I’m not sure it’s possible to have a bad evening at the temple.] I ran by the church bookstore beforehand, and I picked up Bueno on the way home, and I almost made it to Braums before they closed, for that ice cream I’d been craving. So I hit CVS and scored two pints of Blue Bell for $3.

Computer is being wonkier than usual, this morning. I’m going to post this before it crashes again.

So, what did I do on my day off?

1. Made pigs in blankets for breakfast.
2. Washed up the dishes and tidied the kitchen.
3. Put a little more mileage on the sock toe.
4. Took a nap.
5. Had an invitation to dinner at Secondborn’s, but...
6. Went with Plan B when a friend in my ward needed a quick favor.
7. Sat at the computer and cleaned out most of my backlog on Bloglines.
8. Laughed ruefully at the lovesick cat mewling underneath my living room window at 10:00p.m.

I know, honey, I know. And it’s not even a full moon.

Candleman’s Book of Mormon Blog

I found the link for this via Dr. Wally. I subscribe to both through Bloglines. It is always interesting to me to read the thoughts of another simple foot-soldier for the Lord.

The first article is a discussion of Mosiah 20 and the apostate priests of wicked King Noah. Candleman makes some trenchant comments upon their choices, and upon the consequences of those choices.

Some might think that the Book of Mormon is dismissive of women, because they are so rarely mentioned as individuals. But a careful reading will reveal that throughout this book of scripture, the Lord's love of women and his insistence upon our being treated with respect and dignity, are a recurring theme.

Jacob, the younger brother of Nephi, served as the Lord's prophet to the Nephite people. He had experienced first-hand the effects of unrighteous dominion in the family, when Laman and Lemuel (the two oldest brothers) wanted to kill their father, and Nephi, for testifying of (and exemplifying) righteousness. After the worthy part of the family separated from the selfish part, they became two great nations in Mesoamerica. And at some time after the separation, worldliness crept in among the Nephites. They wanted gold, and silver, and fine clothing, and concubines, just like the bad guys had.

Jacob called them to task on it. They were breaking the hearts of their wives and children, perhaps in different ways than Laman and Lemuel had broken hearts in the original family, but sin was taking them over. (This is not unlike the scourge of pornography which is blighting many families today. I have at least two friends who have divorced husbands who would not repent.)

After reading Candleman’s comments in that post, I wondered for the first time if perhaps it had not been something of a relief when those unrighteous men left, and the Spirit was free to return to the homes of the ones they had left behind? Yes, there would have been grief, and anger, and confusion. The sons were so disgusted by their fathers’ behavior that they would no longer be called by their fathers’ names, and those sons became a great force for good in later years. [I know a little of what it feels like, to be a rejected or a neglected wife, though thankfully never an abused one, and to arrive by the grace of Heaven to a place of healing, and dignity, and peace.]

I have ached for years at the plight of the 24 Lamanite daughters whom the wicked priests captured and took as wives. There may have still been a spark of good within those men, because when the Lamanite fathers caught up with them, the women pled for the lives of their husbands. I hope that means that the men had been kinder to their new wives than to their original families, and not that the men put their wives between themselves and the fathers, as a living shield. Though that was not an uncommon practice.

I have also thought about the Lamanite queen whose husband was poisoned by Amalickiah, who then married her in order to become king, and later, when he was assassinated, his brother married her. I want to sit down and talk with her sometime about what her life was like.

The Lord delights in the chastity of women. He also delights in the chastity of men and honors those who honor one another in thought, word, and behavior. In the Lord’s church, there is no double standard, no “boys will be boys”. I am immensely thankful for that. It gives me a security in my friendships with men that would otherwise be absent. What a blessing it is to know that NintendoMan sees me because he likes me, and not because he is angling to get me into bed.

Make no mistake: the spark is there, but we are careful to tend the spark by acts of kindness, rather than fan the spark by acts of selfishness that would ultimate destroy us, and possibly our respective families as well.

I highly recommend that second link, above, and not just for my LDS friends. Quoting Dr. Wally, “Anyone who is not irritated with someone at church is either ready to be translated, or isn’t spending enough time at church.” Loved it. Last Thursday night, when I was in the temple, I ran into a man who used to irritate the fire out of me, right after my divorce. Thankfully, I was in the temple, and so I was able to quickly switch stations inside my head and tell myself, “Isn’t it wonderful that he is worthy to be in the temple? And so am I.” Baby steps. And it may have helped that I ran into him on my way out of the temple, after I had been hugged by four friends on the way in and had spent the evening in service to others.

I particularly like Dr. Wally’s 4th point. I have been experiencing that a lot lately, myself. Especially at the end of an evening with NintendoMan, when he wraps me up in a bear hug. It is like he is hugging me on behalf of Heaven.

Some of you come here for the knitting. Behold, let there be toe:



[Sorry, couldn’t resist. We are studying the Old Testament in Gospel Doctrine this year, and yesterday we were comparing the accounts of the Creation in Genesis, Moses, and Abraham. Plato was at least a little bit right: everything was created spiritually before it was manifested materially.] Since finishing Celeste’s sweater late last week, I have been mulling over what I want to work on next. Yes, a sweater for little Faith, but what color, and which yarn? So at the last possible moment before heading to church, I grabbed a ball of the Noro sock yarn and my knitting tool bag. Between my early meeting and the start of Sacrament meeting, I cast on a sock. It may only get worked on at church for the next several weeks, or I may use it as the knitting equivalent of a palate-cleanser. The color is washed-out here; the real sock is like unto a plummy rust with tiny flecks of gold. These are going to be some crazy socks, notwithstanding that they are simple toe-up, heel-flap socks in basic mindless stockinette.

I have the day off, and it is my devout hope to stay in my pajamas and not leave the house all day. I’ll let you know how that goes...

One

I think my favorite Three Dog Night song will always be “One”, even if I don’t feel that way now. I certainly did in the past.



Y’all know how much I enjoy the Yarn Harlot’s blog. This is her sixth blogiversary post. Grab the tissues, even if you don’t read down into the comments. Because of her Knitters Without Borders initiative, I now send a modest monthly donation to Doctors Without Borders. Comes right out of my account the same day as my car insurance, so there are no surprises. If/when there is a raise later this year, I will bump up my donation a little. It’s not much per month, but it is a pleasing sum over the course of a year.

One of the Great Lies is that one person cannot do much [and so why bother, just go on digging that pit for your neighbor]. One person can accomplish much on his or her own. And when individuals combine their efforts, as inspired, miracles can and do happen. I offer another link for your thoughtful consideration. Perhaps it is not your time to run for Congress or the Senate -- I watched the gracious concession speech last Tuesday night, and the equally gracious victory speech, from NintendoMan’s office chair -- but there is something you can and should be doing right now, beginning with making sure that you are registered to vote.

Ghandi was right: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”



Sing it, Brother Ray!

RIP, Robert B. Parker

One of my favorite authors died earlier this week. Trainman emailed me at work.

I discovered Robert B. Parker [the Spenser novels, the Jesse Stone series, and the Sunny Randall series] by way of Orson Scott Card, who is my favorite living author. Both of them really like women. Both of them write strong, smart women and show compassion for women who are neither.

Take “Spenser”, dunk him and give him the Priesthood, and you would just about have my ideal man. Brother Sushi has a lot of Spenser in him. NintendoMan, too; when I was exploring his bookshelves after picking him up from the airport last Saturday [my first time to visit his place], I was amazed at some of his musical tastes.

Change of subject: I am sitting here in my remarkably tidy living room (note that I did not say that it was clean, pristine, or any of those other Girl Scout virtues) at a time when I would much rather be asleep. Last night's dinner dishes are stacked neatly on the coffee table. I should probably take a picture and make this part of a blog post. [This started out as an email to a friend, and as you can see, I have done so, at least in part.] I should probably also get up and start washing dishes. But I think I will slug down a glass of water, or maybe a glass of milk, and try to catch another couple hours of sleep.

Today I am picking up Fourthborn, and possibly Fiancé, to go to a doll meet in a nearby suburb. I will take Celeste (the vampie girl) and Faith (my new hoofie baby) to show them off. Doll people are interesting. In multiple senses. There are a couple of other people in the local group who are LDS. None of us are your basic 1980’s floral dress with white lace collar people. I find it highly amusing that I am probably the most normal person there. Which, some days, is not saying much, you know?

There was a little corner of Zion in my home last night. Brother Sushi and Trainman and LadyZen came over, and we cooked together and gathered around the coffee table. The Spirit was there, and the love was there, and among the four of us there was peace, and comfort, and security. That is how a home ought to feel.

I had originally planned to make lasagna, but changed the menu to breakfast-for-dinner. I had stuff; they brought more stuff, and now the inside of my fridge, already filled with the bread I picked up week before last when I took that day off to clean before hosting presidency meeting while the church building was unavailable, now resembles nothing so much as the local RS president's fridge after the Savior did His loaves-and-fishes thing, if she had had a fridge.

Pictures, soon, I hope. I think I am figuring out the most effective end-run around the current computer problems. But for now, I am going to dive back into my boudoir and thumb-wrestle with the Sandman.

Technical Difficulties

I have suddenly developed issues on the computer at home. Not sure how serious they may be. Will try to bribe 2BDH to check things out and see if a virus has slipped past the ever-vigilant dragon at the portal, which took down a Trojan several days ago.

It is taking McAfee forever to scan, and midway through the job, my screen gives me an "insufficient virtual memory" message. When I click on "OK", my screen freezes. I rebooted three times this morning.

We are not amused.

But Celeste's sweater is nearly complete, and I am heading out for a quiet evening of service at the temple just as soon as I shut down my workstation.

I may be absent from Facebook for awhile.

“Taffeta, Darling!”

“Young Frankenstein” is one of my guilty pleasures. I like everything about it except for the part where Dr. Frahn-ken-shteen takes the Lord’s name in vain. That part makes me cringe, and I really need to send my geriatric VHS tape to one of those editing companies to have it edited out, or get a new copy on DVD and invest in the filtering gadget which removes F-bombs and other nasty stuff. [Park this paragraph off to the side somewhere; we’ll come back to it.]

NintendoMan and I have had some interesting conversations. The topics are broad, and sometimes we pursue a thought until we have worn it to a raveling. This is all part of the getting-to-know you process. Thirty-five years ago, if I had dated a man as long as I have dated him (which in the eternal scheme of things is not very long, and really, outside my safe and comfortable LDS world is still not very long) and the man had not proposed, said man would be sitting on the curb with the imprint of my foot on his rump. I am delighted and amazed to declare that I have no inclination so to do.

I am discovering the pleasures of taking life slowly. Thus far, neither of us has scared the other one away. This bodes well. We have yet to have a fight. [He says he has already figured out a couple of my hot-buttons. I asked him what they were, and he smiled and said, “Have I pushed them? No, I have not.”]

No, he has not. And he takes particular pleasure in pushing some people’s buttons. I think he must like me, or something. It’s certainly not my cooking. After the leather-omelette episode, I grinned fetchingly and told him that he could be in charge of the eggs from now on. (Let the record show that he was very kind in conveying that he liked his eggs somewhat less al dente, *and* he cleaned his plate. I did point out the sign on the wall which warns that I kiss better than I cook.)



He says that he probably cooks better than he kisses, in which case all hope of regaining my waistline, is toast. [With poached eggs. And Hollandaise. And strawberries dipped in chocolate, on the side.]

Things I did at work, because I was bored. It was a legal holiday, thus only Saturday’s mail to deal with, plus any faxes which straggled in. I went through my “sent” items and deleted everything that was not case-related, then saved the case-related emails to their proper folders. And then I went ripping through my inbox and did the same thing. I printed off roughly two dozen color photos for one of our cases, which ensured that I got plenty of exercise walking back and forth from my desk to the printer in the library to pull the prints and lay them out to finish drying flat.

I ate a small bag of baked potato chips. And a stick of string cheese. And a clementine. And a big juicy apple, dipped in caramel sauce. And my leftover veggies from last week. And a spoonful of natural peanut butter with my lunch, just in case I hadn’t already gotten enough protein. (Note to self: natural peanut butter, on something or with something, and washed down with plenty of milk, is a good thing. Natural peanut butter in a spoon : Nutella in a spoon :: buffalo chips : potato chips.)

BTW, yesterday was my 1,000th post. I should probably have a contest, or something. Winner gets to send me a year’s supply of dark chocolate. [Oh, that’s not the way it works?]

OK, back to “Young Frankenstein”. I am slowly coming to the realization that much of my life has been spent in “taffeta, darling” mode. Remember when you first see Madeline Kahn’s character, and you just want to tell her, “Oh honey, lighten up!”? I can’t really see myself channeling her post-tryst-with-Creature persona, with the Bride of Frankenstein hair and testing for steam on her hip. But laughing all the way up from my toes with NintendoMan is persuading me that there are many ways to be a righteous woman that fit comfortably between those two extremes. And maybe I really haven’t been having all the fun the commandments allow? And maybe there is room for even more fun in my life?

What a concept.

The New Normal

So, 3:00am seems to be the new reveille time around here. I’m not sure whether to be amused, or appalled. [I would far rather be asleep.] Sadly, there will be no trip to the health club this morning, because my free membership has expired. But I will definitely be signing up next payday, and this morning I think I will put on Brother Ray Charles and boogie around the kitchen for 15-20 minutes.

I just had a quick chat with NintendoMan. Middle-aged necessity woke me two hours ahead of the alarm, and then I came out here, and he was online but winding down for the night. I was feeling a little domestic after church and fed him overcooked eggs and hash browns and an English muffin. We sat in my seriously cool chairs by the kitchen window.

So I got to “talk” with my guy a little, and now he is heading off to Dreamland, while I am wondering if I can extort another two hours of sleep.

[Later.] Not a full two hours, but nearly an hour and a half. Brother Ray is going to have to wait until later, though I might take a stroll at lunch if the weather is decent. Time to grab breakfast and my lunch and my knitting, and scoot on out the door.

[Retroactive title]

Yesterday was one of those days that just got better and better. I woke up about 3:30 [this appears to be the new normal] and puttered around for an hour or so, then went to the gym and had a great workout. Good session on the recumbent bike, greater comfort on the resistance machines, which rock as I stretch, so when my head goes back beyond a certain point, the fear of falling kicks in. I just took things very slowly and told my ears and my brain to hush.

Then I came home and had a light second breakfast [Eggs McMommy; remember those?], which I ate in the car on the way to the church for carpooling to the temple. Except that nobody showed up before my Nervous-Meter kicked in, so I drove over on my own. Some have referred to the temple as the Lord’s University (not to be confused with BYU), and I noticed details about my surroundings when I was sitting in a quiet, holy place after serving in the session, which led to some thoughts, which led to other thoughts.

I learn something new about my relation to God, or my relation to others, any time I go, if I am sufficiently alert and well-rested and prepared. And always, always, some of that Heavenly peace follows me home and lights up the days that follow.

Then I went to Fourthborn’s and watched her put the finishing details on Faith’s body blushing and faceup, restring her with the unicorn bits, and adjust the fit of the wig, which came miles too big even though we ordered the proper size. She was almost done when I checked the time on my phone and gasped, because it was fifteen minutes later than the time I had had in mind to leave for the airport to pick up NintendoMan. So I lit out like a scalded dog and made it to the parking garage a few minutes before his flight came in.

I was sitting by the baggage claim [oh, how I miss the days when you could welcome people home as they walked out the gate]. No NintendoMan. No baggage. Thank goodness for cell phones. I called him: “I’m at baggage claim XYZ.”

“I’m at baggage claim ABC.” Sometime between Friday night and yesterday afternoon, they had switched gates, and of course I had not been home to double-check, so I just went with what I had written in my planner.

I picked him up, two terminals away, and thanks to the wonder which is the TollTag, we barely had to slow down to exit the airport. We had dinner at his favorite hamburger joint, and then I took him home, where I sat in the chair at his desk, and he sat in his recliner, and we talked for hours, and when it was time for me to leave, we caught up on hugs, et al.

And today is Sunday, which is already my favorite day of the week because of church and naps and time with family or friends, and is now even better because there is no competition from his job or mine. So there is a pretty good chance that I will get to see him again today when we are done with our respective meetings.

This does not displease me.

I called Fourthborn when I left his house last night, to see if she were home so I could pick up Faith, but she was off with a friend who also participated in our group order, so, no. I will most likely pick up Faith on Tuesday, when I am in town for Knit Night.

The problem with eating healthy stuff?

If you’ve been eating normal-people food, i.e., cheap/fast/easy, and you start sending down veggies and more veggies and whole grains? Your cells get a little confused. Like, “What are we supposed to do with this? The nuclei keep telling us it’s good for us, but it doesn’t taste right! Are you trying to kill us?”

And if you throw exercise into the mix? Whoa, dude! You get hungry faster. And you want more veggies. And your cells start marching around with little picket signs and hollering “One! Two! Three! Four! We don’t want these greens no more!”

So, yeah, it’s been a little crazier than usual, what with mitochondrial mutiny and nuking dinner in a dark kitchen and ending up with way too many albino vegetables.

Plus, there has been a dearth of smooching, which is crazy-making all by itself, but my fiendish plot involves a smooch or twelve at the intensely public, ferociously well-lighted airport when I pick up NintendoMan. Heaven only knows what his fiendish plot involves, but I hope that it includes at least a little hand-holding. [He’s a boy; of course he has a fiendish plot. This is why we like boys.]

I forgot that when you drink something using a straw, you tend to drink it faster. So when I started to wilt, mid-afternoon, and hauled out the 20-oz bottle of Cherry Coke which would ordinarily last me two days or more, and I poured it over ice in my insulated mug, all of a sudden I was talkingreallyfast.

Try to act surprised.

It is now 9:12pm, and the Cherry Coke has finally worn off, and I am going to bed, so that I may get up at dark-thirty and go play at the health club before tomorrow morning’s ward temple trip. There’s a dance tomorrow night, but jury is out on whether I will be going. It will depend upon my general energy level, whether I want to spare the gas, and if I am reasonably sure I will like the music. I will probably hit Fourthborn’s sometime during the day, as Faith’s eyes and wig arrived today, and the faceup and hoofie blushing may be done.

There were no culinary surprises at dinner tonight. Woohoos! all around.

Singing the albino vegetable blues

The little microwave cups of triple-cheese mac-and-cheese that cook in 3.5 minutes? Good. The little containers of frozen veggies that also cook in 3.5 minutes? Could go either way. The trees-and-cheese (broccoli) is pretty good. Opening up a package that you thought was trees-and-cheese, only to find albino trees (cauliflower)? Bad.

However, if you nuke the first cup and stir in the powdered cheese that comes with it and let it set up while nuking the narsty albino vegetables, and then you stir said narsty albino veggies into the mac and cheese? Not bad.

There has been a rash of lightbulbs-burning-out, chez Ravelled. I was able to stand on the couch (ooh, scary, and a little wobbly) and tighten up two of them. I also managed to unscrew one bulb out of its ferrule, or whatever you call the business end of a light bulb; if it were a pencil, it would be a ferrule. This lightbulb was just ferAL.

I wasn’t that lucky in the kitchen. Three bulbs, all of them bona-fide-edly burnt out. [I’m tired, and the muscles I worked at dark-thirty this morning are starting to yodel at me, and my guy is halfway across the country. I can too make up words if I want.]

The bulbs that I bought several months ago, have normal-bulb-sized business ends, while the ceiling fans all call for itty-bitty business ends, plus my porch light burnt out sometime yesterday. Which suggests to me that it is time for a little field trip. But probably not tonight.

I have had, thus far, two servings of fruit and two servings of vegetables, three if you count the tomato sauce on the lasagna at lunch. I am nuking one of those nice steamer bags of mixed vegetables; vegetables will shortly be leading the pack. I bought all sorts of whole-grain goodness at the bread thrift store yesterday.

Oh rats! In the dark, I grabbed the wrong bag of steamers. More cauliflower in this mix. That hardly seems fair. Maybe I will eat them first and get them out of the way so I can enjoy the carrots and broccoli?

It is almost 8:00, and I am going to bed. Which probably portends waking up sometime between 1:00 and 3:00, all slept out, but a girl can dream, can’t she? (She just can’t sleep, not around here, or not for long.)

In Which Your Intrepid Heroine Has Further Adventures

Yesterday began well. It is a pleasure to wake minutes before the alarm goes off, so that I am awake and alert without having to hear that infernal electronic bleating. (As opposed to waking hours before the alarm goes off, so that I am vertical when I would much rather be horizontal.)

I went to the health club and gently started nudging my body toward greater flexibility and endurance. A friend at work asked if this is because of NintendoMan, and while I will not deny that he plays into the equation, it is more a matter of having wanted for quite some time to be more physically active, with greater range of motion, and fewer aches and creaks, but having no idea how to shoehorn it into my schedule, or whether I could afford one of the round-the-clock fitness centers.

And it turns out that I can, and they have a few classes I would like to take; if I wake in the middle of the night, Facebook and writing and knitting are no longer my only options.

I celebrated, naturally enough, with a hot chocolate from Racetrac on the way to the grocery store for more apples and carrot sticks and bags of microwave-steamable veggies. And then I came home and took a shower with my new shower cap and headed out the door to work.

Where I promptly got stuck behind an accident, and at 8:29 I was calling the office to tell them that I would not be at my desk 15 or so miles away, at 8:30. I had just eased past the wreckers and was accelerating cautiously when my left front tire blew. Thankfully, I was going maybe 20-30 mph, so there was no question of losing control. I just signaled and pulled over and rolled slowly on the rim to the nearest gas station.

There was a man walking out the door to his car, and I asked him politely if he had time to put on my donut tire, and he did. Called his work, uttered a string of rapid-fire non-English into his cell phone, and had me on my way in five minutes or less. I went to a different outlet of the tire store I use and discovered that (1) they are far less busy than the other one [there was a bright young man with a clipboard at my door before I was completely unbuckled] and (2) my tires were still under warranty, so I was out only another 20 minutes of my time and $20.00 to renew my warranty.

I drove into work singing “How Great Thou Art” with joy and gratitude and abandon.

So much to be thankful for: the warranty, where I was on the freeway when the tire blew, my speed, the fact that it was no longer 15°F outside, the amazing coincidence [not!] of a gentleman walking out of the gas station with two strong hands and a willing heart, that it was not 5:00am outside the health club, lots of things.

Work went well. I plowed steadily through my inbox, got the day’s mail read and dates calendared, noted on the daily mail sheet that I had printed off the dismissal order and release on a case we are closing and would draft the cover letter to the court today (which garnered me a “Good work! Thanks!” from my attorney in his own comments). I actually got the letters written and mailed before leaving the office, in spite of working switchboard from 4:00 until closing.

Firstborn came and joined us at Knit Night. Mostly she and I sat off slightly to one side and talked, but we also played well with others. She enjoys beautiful knits (of which there were plenty last night) but has no wish to produce them herself. [I converted her to the joys of the handknitted sock last year, bwa ha ha ha ha!]

And then at 9:00 she went home, and I went to meet NintendoMan at a restaurant that keeps late hours. We talked until after midnight. Yeah, me. The woman who is ordinarily craving sleep at 8:30. I had the option of staying up that late because I am taking PT today to tidy the house. It is clean enough for the boyfriend, who knew me when my family lived in a shabby apartment and the house was full of kids and their friends and their stuff, but not clean enough to be having a RS presidency meeting in my living room. It may never again be as clean for them as I intend for it to be tonight, but at least we are setting off on the right foot.

There will also be excursions to the laundromat, to the bread thrift store, and to the health club. And there will be frequent breaks for knitting.

I had so much fun with TheBoy last night! He has amazing stories to tell, and I’m not sure which I enjoy more: the stories per se, or his voice and facial expressions as he tells them. We covered a lot of ground last night. College adventures. The kids we are not worried about. The kids whose choices are breaking our hearts. The proper way to celebrate birthdays. Rigor mortis.

And I am rapidly becoming a fan of the late-night, or all-night restaurant. It’s public, it’s well-lighted, it’s climate-controlled, we can be near but still maintain a proper physical distance, and there is time to get to know one another better. And when we reach the point that we absolutely, positively, need to go to our respective homes and get some sleep, there is that minute or two at the door of my car for sweet and appropriate exchange of affection.

He flies out to U-tahr tomorrow for his son’s wedding on Friday. He is granting me the pleasure and privilege of picking him up at the airport on Saturday. I had wanted to ask if I could, but felt a little shy about it, and we just kindof stumbled into the realization that it would make both of us very happy if it happened.

You married folks? you know, or should know, that it is the small daily kindnesses that keep love alive. [Do something nice today for the one you love.]

Places I have been.

A bit of insomnia this morning. I went to bed at 9:30 last night and woke three hours later. So I have been plowing through my Bloglines and decided to sift through drafts here and see what I could share.

Candleman’s Book of Mormon blog. He is a frequent commenter on Dr. Wally’s blog. Just an ordinary foot-soldier in the army of the Lord, like you, like me.

Vicki Pahnke Taylor’s article on Meridian.

Scott Proctor’s photo essay on Richard Kirkland.

Did I share this link on financial infidelity?

I am paying a little visit to the doctor this morning. Vanity, pure and simple, if of a lesser degree than that which drives people to Botox themselves. I am having some skin tags removed. I do not know what causes them, but like the man on the stair (who wasn’t there), Oh how I wish they would go away. Wishing just hasn’t done the trick, so I’m calling in the cavalry.

I wasn’t sure that I would remember to go to the doctor’s office this morning, in spite of having put it into my planner, so last night I opened up a past-its-prime circular bandage and stuck it to the bathroom mirror, so that when I woke up and staggered into the loo, I would see it and go oh yeah, detour this morning. Because I drove so much on Saturday, and was so tired when I got home, that I only had enough gas in Lorelai to make it to the stake center for church yesterday, and back home, and I most devoutly hope, to the gas station this morning. My idiot light came on half a block from home. And Tank the Car, Ma’am is currently looping on my internal soundtrack. [To the uninitiated, it would sound like the ride of the Valkyries, or maybe just Kill da Wabbit.]

I’m going back to bed and hoping to wrestle the Sandman, two falls out of three. Wish me luck.

Sleep: gotta love it!

So, I was in bed before 7:00 last night and awake again, a bit before 3:00. I have watered my plants on Fairyland, responded to various comments on Facebook, played Beach Sudoku on the AARP website, and polished off the last of the pigs-in-blankets. My right hand still bears bore (there is a nap under my belt, since I began this post) the imprint of the air tube on my CPAP, a sure sign that I am slightly dehydrated (unlike the floors in our meetinghouse, where a pipe burst yesterday).

There is a pot of soup in the fridge, leftover from the meal I took to a recuperating sister in our ward. I expect to do a lot of cooking today. And maybe I will get the Christmas stuff put away, though I’m not holding my breath on that one.

I have the figures for interest earned in 2009 and just plugged the last one into my tax return. Now I only have to wait for my W-2. There will be a refund, albeit a small one, which tells me that I did a good job tweaking my withholding. No sense letting Uncle Sugar play with my money for free, as I did when the kids were little and we used the refund to buy big-ticket items like my first spinning wheel [because with all the unemployment, etc., there really was no way for us to save up on our own]. And no pain like last year, when I got pinched severely in the demotion from head of household status. Oye!

Fourthborn has set up a group order, which includes a wig for Faith and some skivvies for her big sisters. I think those orders ship fairly quickly. Middlest tells me she has made undies for Faith, and that package should arrive soon, as well. I also have sections of cannibalized T-shirts to send to her; Fourthborn, will you have anything to add to that package?

I don’t remember touching my knitting once, yesterday; it really was a crazy-busy day. I think there will be a good deal of knitting today, while stuff cooks. That would be a pleasant reward for all the tidying that needs to go on here, Sabbath or not. With our building out of commission for awhile, our RS presidency meeting may very well be taking place in my living room on Wednesday night. I would very much like not to have to apologize for the state of my house.

But first, I am going to use all this unaccustomed free time [because we are only having sacrament meeting today, down at the stake center] to sit on my messy couch and read my RS lesson and my Sunday School lesson and eat a couple of clementines and revel in the peace and quiet. NintendoMan may be coming over tonight when he finishes his home teaching (a man who honors his priesthood by doing what he is expected to do, well before the end of the month, and who truly cares about the families over whom he has stewardship; imagine that!). I would not call our time together “quiet”; typically he has me in stitches. Though one of the nicest developments in recent weeks, is the joy I feel at sitting on my couch, holding hands and talking about everything and nothing.

People who just jump into bed together, miss out on so much.