Changes at work. Big changes.

When I went back to work today, there were 177 emails awaiting me. And a file from Mellow's docket, which I took over to the next cubicle.

"I think this is your file?"

"No," she said quietly, "he's not here anymore. The file's been reassigned to your attorney."  I've only gotten snippets, and it's not my story to tell. But I will miss him. He was a good friend to me, and I wish him only the best.

We also had a software upgrade, which will probably be wonderful once I learn my way around, but there were several small glitches today that hampered my productivity.

I got about 40 of the emails dealt with. Maybe more. There were a few new ones throughout the day. I got all the way through both attorneys' calendars, and I got all of the emails from SemperFi wrangled, and reports saved for both of them, and was led to catch a couple of things that I absolutely had to do today, but as far as formally touching my To-Do's or working the mail, that did not happen. And unless the Court grants our motion for continuance, I will have to assemble trial notebooks tomorrow afternoon for a trial that will take place on Monday.

Tomorrow could get interesting, in the Chinese sense, in a Noo Yawk minute. But I will pray like crazy and work like crazy, and hope that I am working smart as well as working fast. And I am not going to give it one more thought until morning prayers tomorrow.

I'm off on Monday for my quarterly bloodwork. So next week might be crazy as well, at least until I get new cases opened and old cases closed and wrangle seven days' worth of mail and catch up my To-Do's.

For now I am going to open the package of quilt fabric that was waiting for me when I got to the office today, and I am going to knit at least one row on the stealth project. I finished reading Standing for Something, by the late Gordon B. Hinckley.  I highly recommend it.

Last night before bedtime I finished the travel reading, a first novel that was mostly wonderful but had one foul-mouthed character and his mother who continually admonished him, "Language." while ironically harboring murder in her heart. Interesting bit of irony, there. I cannot explain why I continued to read the book. I'm not going to recommend it to you. But I am going to continue pondering plot details and literary devices.

Ack. It's nearly 10:30. I meant to be asleep half an hour ago.

Did I mention that I shredded my toes in the pool last night?

Hopkinses 246; Ms. Ravelled 0

My brother-in-law has several meticulously organized notebooks of family group sheets. I innocently picked up one on Thursday. Entered those people onto ancestry.com. Started linking records. And family started pouring out of the woodwork like ants at a picnic. I have one pile of new family group sheets in which all the parties have been entered and matched to records. Another, smaller pile that I am actively working on linking records. And a third pile that I hope to finish before going home. All of these will stay here. And I will tag a bunch of sheets for him to photocopy and mail to me. I need to remember to ask cousin Norm if he wants them when I'm done.

I've walked with my sister every morning except Saturday and Sunday. Yesterday we walked with one of her friends. I am taking home a couple of that friend's recipes; she dropped them off earlier this morning.

Making steady progress on the stealth project. It's a pattern I've worked before, and I'm tweaking the decreases a little. My flight home tomorrow is nonstop, and I have to guess whether, if I knit up to and including the next beaded rows, there will be enough knitting to keep me occupied until I get home. 'Tis a puzzlement.

Today we're going to Powell Gardens, the site of a former gravel pit. I love how lush and green it is here. My sister's fuchsia blossoms are somewhere between the size of ping pong balls and golf balls. Unopened, they're the size of large cherries.

I think I will go tag the family group sheets that I want my brother-in-law to copy for me. And then knit a bit. They'll watch the Mariners game tonight, and I'll listen to them having fun (or groaning) while wrangling the dead people.

I'm on vacation. And loving it.

The new (living) cousins are delightful. Everything you could wish for: smart, funny, kind. You know that's a home run for me.

(Sorry. Sister and brother in law are watching the Mariners game downstairs.)

Stealth project is coming along.

Body is tired. Going to bed after I read my scriptures.

The dead people are ganging up.

Brother-in-law and I spent several hours on genealogy today. My mind, heart, and spirit would like for me to stay up all night connecting more dots. My common sense (stop laughing) tells me to put down the phone, turn off the light, and go to bed, dadgummit, because tomorrow we are driving to Olympia and then heading toward Portland for the family reunion on Saturday.

There has been minimal knitting on the current stealth project. There will be more while we're on the road tomorrow.

Walked a mile with my sister this morning. Uphill both ways, as her neighborhood is all ups and downs. But only 61F, so I didn't even break a sweat.

Bed. Now.

*Fine!!!*

Learning curve.

I realized yesterday that I had forgotten to water the air plant mid-week. I scooped it up and took it to the kitchen sink, where I cradled it in my hand and spritzed it like crazy. I think it's forgiven me. Maybe.

Picked up beads for a stealth project yesterday. I may be picking up more beads on Friday. I've started collecting the items that will need to be packed for my vacation: vitamins, toiletries, et al. And making a honey-do list for Fourthborn, who will again be house-sitting for me.

I've been a scanning-and-shredding fool this week. There's a full bag that will go out with the recycling, Tuesday after next.

The July quilt block is done, after a blunder on my part. When I was cutting out pieces last week, I cut the red ones 3/8" too short on all sides. So yesterday I had to make a run by the quilt shop and purchase another block kit.

I would really like to finish the scanning before I go to bed tonight, but I think sleep will win out over diligence. I did not sleep well Friday night, although I got a respectable night's worth last night. But I'm still feeling as if I had been dragged through a knothole, sideways.

The house is warm. Very warm. I keep meaning to call the AC magician and ask him to drop by a copy of the manual, or send me the link. I don't know how to program my smarter-than-I-currently-feel thermostat, and the ambient temperature is now 83F. Which is several more F's higher than I would like.

I am working on another stealth project: supervising drive time for Turnip (Fourthborn's nickname for her former fiance, previously referred to here as Fiance. You get Turnip instead of an unpronounceable symbol.) His mom and stepdad are lovely people, with good intentions of giving him driving hours so he may get his license. Something always comes up. So as of yesterday I am quietly furthering his ambition. When he's officially licensed, his grandfather is giving him one of his cars. And then I hope to be able to see more of him, because he's one of my favorite people. We spent an hour and a half in the parking lot of the church, while he practiced turns, head-in parking, back-in parking, and approximations of parallel parking.

Then he came back here with Fourthborn and me, because he's never seen the house, and I parked the Tardis on the street, and he practiced parallel parking some more. I took them home and came back by way of the gym, where I walked in the lap pool for half an hour. I spent six-plus hours in the car yesterday, two two-hour round trips and some miscellaneous stuff around town, with none of the whining from my right knee that used to be a given, anytime I spent more than an hour or so behind the wheel. This tells me that if I choose to drive to Galveston for my birthday next year, I will not arrive so crippled that I cannot enjoy myself.

Now that is a happy thought on which to end this post.

A little stuck.

I just realized this morning how thankful I am that Secondborn and 2BDH have sons. They are too little to help with the temple work at present, but in a few years they can do proxy baptisms for the dead, and a few years after that I can work them like the Hebrew slaves, doing the greater ordinances for my male ancestors. (BittyBit turns 12 next year and will be able to help with the baptisms.)

Firstborn and 1BDH, and Secondborn and 2BDH, all have far more demanding callings than I did when I was their age. So this is in no way intended to be a criticism of their unavailability to help me wrangle my (pushy) ancestors who are wanting their work done. There is a time and a season for everything, and this is my time to do family history research and temple work. Their time will come later, and then we will progress faster.

Last week I did the temple work for my great grandfather's first wife. I have seldom felt such a pervasive sense of joy as I did in the temple that night.  Last night I did the work for their daughter. That feeling did not come until I finished her endowment. Some other kind soul did the work for Alice, the daughter-in-law. And I will have to sweetly press-gang the brethren in my ward to do the work for the two sons so I may seal this family together. Mama Amanda wants it done.

These people are very much alive, just out of sight. They have feelings, and opinions, and are begging us to pay attention to them. I'm just glad that I'm at a time and place in my life where I may cooperate with them.

In other news, 2BDH was recently ordained a high priest and set apart to serve in the high council of my old stake. (This is a big deal.) I don't have time to go into the theology, or how the church is organized, but it's a position of great trust and responsibility. The kids invited me to be present for his ordination and setting apart. Much leakage of the eyes.

This is the part where I grab the bags which I've set down by the front door and drive like the wind, Daniel-san.

So I apparently like brussel sprouts.

But then, almost anything would taste good basted in avocado oil and balsamic vinegar, hanging out with carrots and taters and the odd parsnip.

There is a phenomenal article in the July 2015 issue of "The Ensign" which is directed at young adults but applies equally to this less-young one, on the virtues of arising early (check!) and going to bed early (oops!)

I tried last night. I really did. Picked up Fourthborn for what I thought was a doll meet, only to discover that I had gotten the date wrong (for the second time in ten days), and we were at PieFive one week early. So we went across the parking lot to In N Out for burgers and were reasonably content. The dolls aren't speaking to us (dolly joke). Came home and went almost directly to bed.

Fourthborn had been up since 1:00a.m., and I had slept in until 5:30. So I said my prayers and called it a night, only to wake about two hours later by the warbling call of nature. Back to bed. And awake about every hour and half after that, for one reason or another, notwithstanding that at the end of the midnight comfort call I dabbed my forehead with lavender massage oil, which usually does the trick.

When I reached for my phone this morning to wake it up, I discovered that I had not quite plugged it in. So when I did, it registered at 43%. Which is about where I feel at the moment.

The day will get better. I will figure out breakfast. Fourthborn will stop reading hilarious Tumblr memes at me, and I will be able to complete a sentence without cracking up. We will pick up our quilt blocks with Firstborn, then come back to Garland to check out the flea market, and an organic gardening store somebody told me about.

I have a short but comprehensive honey-do list in my head, but items keep flying off because I am snickering. I need to get off the computer, forage in the fridge, take it into my room (the food, not the fridge) with a notepad and pen, and close the door. Love my kid, but she is literally too fun for words.

Peeling potatoes to Alison Krauss

Not a bad way to spend part of the evening. Half a bag of brussel sprouts, one parsnip, two carrots, a carton of baby bellas, four small red potatoes, one yellow squash, one red onion, a good slosh of avocado oil, and several "goodies" of the (formerly) white balsamic vinegar that goes back to my Fort Worth days, if not earlier. Some celery seed. Some dill weed. I just realized that (as I did on my maiden roasting voyage) I forgot to salt this. I am so out of the habit of salting that it just does not occur to me, and within reason, it should. I am cooking from scratch much more often, not getting help from mixes, and

Now roasting in an oven near you. Me? I'm taking a little sit-down break before heading back into the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher and to pre-fab as much of tomorrow's lunch as possible. I've got the timer set for 40 minutes and will test the parsnips at that point. Notwithstanding I just washed my hands, they are still vaguely redolent of herbage and vinegar.

I'm a little frustrated at how long it takes to make things from scratch. I spent the entire length of an Alison Krauss CD, and more, on that finicky task. Maybe I will get faster with practice. The parsnip was certainly easier to wrangle than my first one, last week.

I am juggling, juggling, juggling, and trying not to break any plates. Reading more lately than I have in a long time, and learning stuff. Want to keep that. Need to keep up, and vary, my physical activity. Do my church callings. Get enough sleep. Eat properly. Find the right balance of food, rest, activity, and supplements to reduce the inflammation in my body. Shake hands with new vegetables and herbs. Make peace with old ones that I've loathed for years, unless there's a diagnosed allergy. Listen to my body. Listen to the Spirit. Socialize. Cherish my solitude. Earn a living. Plan for retirement. Continue to set my house in order, literally as well as figuratively.

Oye. Y'all, I'm tired. Not depressed, praise be, but down-to-my-toenails (what's left of them) tired. Stick a fork in me. I'm done. (The parsnips might not be, but I am.)

Stuff I am learning

1. A roasted parsnip, in the company of carrots, potatoes, and onions, is tasty, and worth repeating.

2. I do not loathe ginger. Now I've always loved gingersnaps; they're one of my favorite cookies. But actual ginger, fresh or candied, has not been at the top of my list. Until I brought home the dark chocolate covered ginger from Trader Joe's. The first time I tried it, I could not taste anything but the chocolate. Since then, I've become able to distinguish the ginger, and I really truly like it. I bought it for its anti-inflammatory properties, and I'm eating it for the taste. At great personal sacrifice, I have not emptied the entire container down the hatch at one go.

3. I made my first wrap tonight. Ultra-thin whole grain tortilla, lump crabmeat, romaine, a thin layer of balsamic mayo. Not pretty, but also not bad. It needed something. But for a first effort it was acceptable. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube.

4. Neil Sperry (the Texas gardening guru) says that rhubarb does not do well here in the Lone Star State. The googling I did beyond his website, says that rhubarb likes temperatures well under 80. Yeah. Not happening here, except maybe in February.

5. The rhubarb sauce that I made when I was home on Friday, was so good that I wept when I tasted it.

6. I'm braver than I generally give myself credit for. I brought home a small bag of Brussels sprouts and will try them roasted. I had hoped to be able to only buy three or four of them, in case they are as awful when roasted as they are when steamed or boiled. My mother was a fantastic cook. But Brussels sprouts and broccoli and cauliflower and cabbage all smell wet and metallic to me when they are steamed or boiled. I am trying to make friends with cruciferous vegetables, because they fight inflammation. I can eat broccoli without gagging. That is major progress. I will concede that the little heads of raw Brussels sprouts are very pretty.

7. I was craving an artichoke, so I bought one. Steamed it over water liberally laced with balsamic vinegar, and in lieu of hollandaise or melted butter, threw together a sauce of Greek yogurt, a couple of splashes of balsamic, some dried dill, and a whisper of dried thyme. Since I'd already eaten my wrap, I did not have enough appetite for the whole artichoke. What's left is hanging out in the fridge in a Ziploc bag, as is the jollop. They were really good together.

8. I made a batch of sun herb tea yesterday afternoon from the gold-plated tea bags I brought home from my first massage in April. Aveda. Which is ayurvedic for spendy. Put some into one of those little mason jars with a handle and took it to work this morning. So. Good.

9. My energy levels were fairly stable all day. I did not run out of things to eat. I had no particular cravings. My left ankle, which is the more cankle-y of the two, is relatively normal in size, and the habitual heat and redness is almost entirely absent. If it had not taken so long to fix dinner (and then eat it), I would go walk in the pool tonight, but I can feel myself gently winding down, and I think I will be horizontal and unconscious in half an hour or so. I need to check my email first, to see if I have the topics for the rest of this month's sacrament meetings.

Night, y'all.

Happy Birthday, America!

This week got away from me. But it's been a good one.

I thoroughly enjoyed my day off yesterday. Puttered and knitted and visited with various people and bought groceries and cooked like crazy and ate and napped (I think I napped; I'd have to check Facebook to be sure).

I am in the midst of re-knitting Beloved's chemo cap to fit the sister of my new attorney, who is battling lymphoma. There were a handful of moth (or something) holes in it, as it's been hanging out on the fallow side of my bed and elsewhere in my room for the better part of two and a half years. I frogged it back to the lowest hole and have been knitting and spit-splicing for the past several days. I'm working on the final decreases and may get them done before bedtime, or not.

When it's done and the last end is woven in, I will carefully wash it. Because Malabrigo felts if you look at it funny. And because, while I am more than happy to forward the love that went into this when I was making it for Beloved, and the love I am adding while I am reknitting it, I don't think somebody battling lymphoma necessarily needs the DNA from my saliva. Even if it's awesome.

I bought an air plant while I was out and about yesterday. I washed a fat handful of red glass vase filler thingies in the most recent load of the dishwasher, and they will be going into one of my miniature vases (for individual flowers at a place setting). The flared top of the vase is just the right size and shape to cradle the derriere of an air plant and keep it up out of the water.

Went back to Arlington for the Fourth of July parade, after an absence of several years. Picked up Fourthborn, and we sat with Willow and Firstborn, in the shade, just east of the midpoint of the parade route. Nice little walk from Lorelai to where we sat, punctuated by visits and hugs with old friends from the wards we lived in. Lots of horses. Two troupes of belly dancers. Drumlines. Definitely my favorite part, even above my love for horses. The Wheeling Elvises (or Elvii, depending on whom you ask). A friend from my single days is dating one of them. People on unicycles. People on really tall unicycles who have figured out how to high-five (really high, high-five) the crowd as they zip past. Lots of entries from the local churches. And one from the local atheists' association.

Willow, who is either a bartender or server at the place where her high school graduation party was held (the place where my kids learned to their surprise that Mom knows how to wield a cue stick), says that these folks meet once a week where she works. And that their membership takes an uptick every year after the Fourth of July parade, because of the stony silence in which they are received by the (allegedly) Christian parade-goers. (One year the city "lost" their application.) So we decided to cheer the atheists' club for their patriotism.

I do not understand how somebody can look at this miraculous Creation and not believe in the Creator. But, upon some thought, I've decided that I absolutely have to respect the thought processes of somebody who decides to behave in a decent and ethical manner with no scriptures or faith system to back him/her up.

I did refrain from hollering, "God bless America!" to them, even though I was hollering it in my heart. And I didn't look to see if we were getting any nasty looks from the other parade-goers. Maybe if more of us who profess to be Christian do a better job of behaving like one, it will give the atheists something to chew on.

Went to the fireworks here in Garland for the first time. Found a decent spot to see them, after the place I had in mind had also been had in mind by several hundred other people. I've put it in my calendar for next year, with a note for where I sat this year.

Notwithstanding the great nap I had after coming home from the parade, from which I woke with a rogue sinus, I am sleepy again, so I will bid you all a gracious good evening.

Plan B night

Had planned to go to the temple tonight after work, but my friend texted me at dark-thirty to say her beloved had had a night of insomnia, which wrecked her own sleep, so we've rescheduled.

What did I do instead? A few rounds of knitting on the chemo cap I am making for a coworker's sister. Remember the green cap I made for Beloved, with the braided hem? The moths (or something) have nibbled on it over the years, but it was mostly intact, so this morning I frogged it back to the lowest hole, rewound the yarn, did some judicious spit-splicing, and am merrily working my way back to the top.

But mostly I tidied the dining room, which had become my default sewing room over the last year or so. The ironing board and iron are tucked into my studio. The Ziploc bags of quilt units are clipped together on two skirt hangers and have joined the numerically sorted remnants inside the armoire. The pattern is tucked into an open shoebox in the hall, along with the pattern for my First Saturday quilt. The boxes of sewing and quilting tools are tidied, closed up, and stacked on a shelf in the studio. I have not yet put the sewing machine into its carrying case, but that is likely to happen tomorrow night. A large recycled-plastic shopping bag has been emptied of miscellaneous painting supplies and tossed on top of the stack in a corner of my bedroom. A box lid holding art paper and printer paper (inherited from my mother-in-love) has been emptied of its contents, which are now atop a different stack in the middle bedroom, and the lid is in the recycling bin for two weeks from now. There are still a few small, random piles, but another night or two like this and I could actually sit down and eat at the dining room table.

Boggles. The. Mind.

Part of me wants to go to the gym and walk in the water for half an hour, trailing my hands, which are very tired and a little sore. But my eyes are telling me that I should be asleep no more than eighteen minutes from now.

I still have not bought shampoo. (But I can make doll clothes.)

Thirteen minutes from now. Night, y'all.

Juggling

I got all but one of my To-Do's done today. Caught up a little on the stack of must-do's on my desk. I need to wrangle the rest of them tomorrow, and then whittle my inbox (which blew up like Old Faithful today) back down to a manageable level. Washed laundry tonight. The second load is about ready to go into the dryer. I've completed this portion of the medallion quilt and will have to wait until the end of next month for the next packet.

Going to the temple tomorrow night after work, which means that I need to go to bed now. My temple bag is packed and waiting by the front door. I need to remember to grab another pair of shoes and put them next to it. I know what I'm wearing. And again ~ again! ~ I forgot to run by the grocery store and pick up more shampoo, which means that I will be washing my hair tomorrow morning with shower gel, twisting it into a bun, and hoping for the best.

After work I dashed to the post office for more stamps (need to remember to report my visiting teaching, and that one of my sisters has moved or been translated or otherwise disappeared from the ward list). From there to Whole Foods in search of unsweetened flaked coconut. No dice, but I did get almost the last of their chickpea flour to try making a pizza with gluten free crust from a recipe I tore out of a magazine. Zig-zagged over to the new Trader Joe's for more crackers, because I know they agree with me. The plan was to come home, stow everything, then go out to the gym for a stroll in the pool, followed by finishing off my shopping list on the way home.

Instead, I grabbed a junior Arby's and snack fries and snack root beer on the way home from Trader Joe's and spent the rest of the drive trying to burp, with minimal success. If you hear reports of an earthquake from my part of North Texas tonight, you'll know that I've re-established some degree of equilibrium.

What I wanted was lemonade, but they didn't carry it, so I chose what I hoped was the next best thing, and it wasn't. Tasty, yes, but almost immediate talking-to from my stomach. OK. Got it. No more root beer. Sigh.

I could really use an extra 24 hours between now and morning. Over and out.

More pondering.

I've kept this day deliberately simple. Well, mostly. I forgot to set my alarm last night and awoke naturally an hour before church was to begin. So getting ready was something of a Chinese fire drill, and breakfast was two cheese sticks in the car while driving around the corner to church, because I wanted to be there half an hour before church began. Followed by pistachios and Craisins gobbled down at the beginning of Relief Society.

I have a ride arranged to pick me up and take me to the airport when I leave for the family reunion. I have faith that sometime between now and when I fly home, I will have a ride arranged to pick me up at the airport and bring me home.

Church per se was especially good today. There is a hymn I have loved since I was a little girl and heard Anita Bryant sing it. "Brightly Beams Our Father's Mercy." It's in our hymnal, but arranged for a men's chorus. Between the choir director and me, we got four of the brethren to sing it as the rest hymn today, in lieu of a congregational hymn. Was it perfect? No. Was it perfectly lovely? Yes. Did I get a little leaky around the eyes? Yes.

That was one of the hymns I sang to myself when times were tough in Fredericksburg, and when my marriage was winding down. It helped me to pull myself up out of depression into the sunshine. And it is keeping me from being depressed or fearful about the recent decision by the SCOTUS that they (or at least five of them) are way smarter than God.

Just because something is now legal, does not mean that it is right or moral. Think slavery. Think apartheid. Think the extermination order signed by Governor Boggs of Missouri in the 1800's. Sometimes, as the Dickens character once stated, "The law is a ass."

Satan thinks he is winning. He and his minions are turning cartwheels. But I've read the book, and I know which side wins in the end. That's the side I choose.

As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. #mormonwomenstand

Pondering.

Some of my loved ones are rejoicing at the Supreme Court's decision. I was too busy at work to weep when I read about it, and since coming home I've kept busy one way or another, as random thoughts flitted through my mind.

I've got most of the pieces cut out for this new installment of the medallion quilt. I ironed them this morning before going to work. I'll finish cutting them out tomorrow. The organizing that I did last weekend, distributing the leftover pieces on hangers and arranging them in numerical order, has greatly reduced the chaos involved in choosing the right fabric for each successive set of pieces.

I also cooked up the spinach and portobello mushrooms with a dab of butter, a little olive oil, some freshly grated nutmeg, half a red onion, and at least a tablespoon of minced garlic. It's tasty, but nowhere near as garlicky as I had hoped. After I tired of standing and cutting, but before the spinach was done, I peeled several gold potatoes and simmered them in chicken stock with herbes de Provence and a bit of celery seed. When I went to make the white sauce to thicken the soup, I discovered that the milk (which I bought two weeks ago) had, surprisingly enough, soured. I was not in the mood to make cornbread or any other kind of bread, so I poured it down the drain (sob!) and tossed the rinsed jug into the recycling bin. I finished off the soup by stirring a couple of generous spoonfuls of cornstarch into the last of the Greek yogurt, then adding that to the soup and mooshing things about with the bean smasher.

Really. Good. Soup. The leftovers are waiting for me in the fridge, hiding out in the repurposed yogurt container. (I've taken to buying my Fage at Costco, where it comes in industrial sized vats.)

Last of all, I tried the three-ingredient Nutella brownies. 1 1/4 c Nutella, 2 eggs, 1/2 c flour, stirred together and baked in a sprayed pan at 350F for "15 minutes". Pan size is not specified, and I didn't think that would make very much batter, so I used my small Le Creuset pan. 15 minutes was not enough. An additional 10 minutes was not enough. I gave it ten more minutes, and I think we have a winner, although the brownies are so tender when hot that it's nearly impossible to cut them without winding up with confetti.

I took a stab at it, nibbled on a small chunk that refused to stay in the line of slicing, and will leave the rest of it for tomorrow morning. Have been reading back issues of magazines, thinking about what I want to buy at the grocery store tomorrow to supplement the good stuff in my pantry with new foods and old friends.

Hoping for healing, peaceful dreams for everyone on both sides of this issue.

Boomboomboomboomboom

That's the kind of day it was. One task after another. My inbox blew up. I hope I can clean it out in an hour or so tomorrow. I have three answers to file for one attorney. SemperFi put out five reports today, all of which need to be copied to our clients, and we have a new and time consuming procedure to do so. By the time I left the office I was more than ready to hit the pool.

It was not a bad day. But I was sprinting through the office, picking up this, dropping off that. I blew through my breakfast by 11:00 and took lunch at 11:30, when I normally wait until 1:00 or later.  Hungry again by a little before 2:00, so back to the deli for the chocolate chunk cookies I had virtuously passed up two and a half hours previously, and a pint of milk, which I generally try to avoid because I don't need the extra sugar. But I was so tired that my brain ached. Not a headache. Nor a blood sugar induced fog. Just the sense that I was consuming fuel at warp speed.

I was hungry again at quitting time, so I hit the pool by way of Arby's, where I picked up a classic roast beef and had pretty much inhaled it within two or three miles. Nearly an hour of jogging in the pool set me to rights. I've been home for about an hour and a half, have prewashed the fabric for the fifth installment of the medallion quilt, and am joyfully finishing up a good-sized salad of julienne carrots, strawberries, grape tomatoes, grated parmigiano-reggiano, chia seeds, almond slices, and a fat handful of spinach, with the dregs of the Panera poppy-seed dressing.

Heading back to my boudoir, to read a little before crashing. I need to get up early in order to make breakfast and a big lunch and lots and lots of healthy snacks, because I think tomorrow is going to be rinse and repeat. This is way better than a few months ago, when I was begging for enough work and adjunct tasks to keep busy. And in spite of the prodigious amount of food I've eaten at work this week, I'm within a pound of my checkup last month, so that's good. But I'm still not feeling adequately nourished on a consistent basis. The time in the pool is just magical. I jog until I'm hungry, or shivering, or nature yodels.

Rambling. I'm outta here.

Very quick post.

The only thing better than serving in the temple is showing up to find a longtime friend serving in the same capacity. One couple sealed. Three daughters from three other families sealed to their parents.

The draft has cleared for my next monthly installment of the medallion quilt. I suspect that the kit will show up at work tomorrow. If so, I plan to prewash the fabric tomorrow night.

Really enjoying the book I got from interlibrary loan. "Vegetable Literacy". I have no desire to become vegetarian. But I need more veggies in my life. And I don't want to get tired of the ones I'm eating.

That's all I've got for tonight.

Lots of good stuff today

A modicum of dots connected in Beloved's family. Vacuuming (I know!), dusting, rearranging of furniture in the dining room and living room. Two loads of laundry. Ten laps walked in the pool at the gym. Caught the matinee of "Inside Out" and loved it. I might have cried a little. A very little grocery shopping. Some general tidying. A bit of bookkkeeping.

I'm not done making changes, but I'm done for today. Three and a half new pockets of order. Part of me wants to stay up until 1:00a.m. as I have for the past two nights (there were naps both days that made it possible). I'm going to cheerfully ignore that part of me.

I know the next two or three micro-increments that I want to make happen. They will build upon the progress I made today. But if it takes the rest of the week to get them done, you know what? I'm OK with that.

Night, y'all!

Happy Father's Day. No, I mean it! (Anybody want a peanut?)

I do not appear to have the same neuroses connected with Father's Day that I do with Mother's Day. I guess because I've never actually been a father, although I definitely wore both hats when I was a single parent. I did not have anywhere near the same issues with Dad that I did with Mom. (And to be fair to Mom, they were my issues, not hers. She was an exemplary parent.)

So it's easy to think fondly of my dad (as I do of my mom) and wish him the best on Father's Day and hope he gets to go fishing in Heaven, where I suspect it's all catch and release.

It's also easy to think fondly of Beloved. I wish he could have been here to hear the good talks and the music in sacrament meeting today. One of the best moments was when our bishop stood and gave a few remarks after the Primary children sang their obligatory Father's Day song (they were cute, and did a good job, as ever). He said that it was hard to think of himself as the father of our ward (one of the verses in the song referred to our bishops as that), but more as the red headed stepchild.

I went up to him after sacrament meeting and told him I have two redheaded stepsons, and he doesn't resemble either of them. (For one thing, I noticed only today that all three members of our current bishopric are young and bald. So when the problems of the individual members get to them, we have no way of knowing if we are making them turn grey.)

I also ma'amed up and wished the children's father a happy Father's Day on Facebook, because without him I would not have our five blessings. And they are. Intermittently in disguise, but blessings nevertheless. I am not FB friends with the children's father, but I am with his sister, and I am with our kids, and if one of them thinks it's appropriate to forward to him, they will. And in the meantime I can, without hypocrisy, thank him for providing half of their genetic material. And a fair number of their good qualities.

Home teacher and visiting teacher came over right after church, and we had a good visit. Love them both. They understand the challenges of remarriage and stepchildren and kids who wander.

Lots of rain earlier today. I lay down for a nap about two and awoke four hours later, much refreshed. As is my yard.

Since then I've read one of a stack of magazines which has been waiting patiently on the fallow side of the bed. I just scanned a recipe which I tore out, for pizza with a crust made from chickpea flour. I did not know such a thing existed. But I will definitely be trying that out.

I also ironed the fabric which I prewashed yesterday and stitched up the June block for my First Saturday quilt.

Spent a little time on Ancestry.com and FamilySearch, entering names from the latter onto the former for Beloved's side of the family. That will also be my focus tomorrow, on our second anniversary of being sealed. But for now I'm getting sleepy again, so I'm going to take my meds and grab a small snack and play on Pinterest until I can't keep my eyes open one. moment. longer.

Really looking forward to my day off tomorrow, and to waking when my body is rested. Am planning to make a batch of potato soup for future meals. Feeling sad and disappointed because I got the rosemary ham out of the fridge when I was making lunch earlier today, and I forgot to put it away, and it was out all four hours that I slept. So I put it in the trash. Deep sigh of remorse. I hate wasting food.

Need to end this on a positive note. While I miss spending time with Fourthborn this weekend, as we'd originally planned, I keep getting quiet confirmations that what I needed was a weekend just to myself (except for church). I have a couple of small projects using stuff on hand, which I can do tomorrow as breaks from the family history work. And I made progress on the swatch for Middlest's doll sweater, which has been mocking me since last Sunday. So nyah nyah nyah!

A much needed goof-off day

In which I baked muffins for breakfast and bagged up the leftovers for breakfasts to come.

Stitched up the sub-units in this month's installment of the medallion quilt, counted my leftover bits to make sure there were the right number, and organized the remnants (there are a lot of them) on hangers in numerical order. The pattern features a key with thumbnails of each fabric. I realized only today that it might make sense to arrange the actual fabric in the same order, for when I get the next installment, sometime in the next ten days. My dining room table is saying "thank you".

I just finished cooking dinner: one of the over-spiced pollock burgers (I'm halfway through the bag, and they're still not growing on me) and two yellow potatoes boiled up and mashed. I will have potatoes for at least one more meal, possibly two. I'm a little sad that the discounted spinach which I bought two or three weeks ago (I know, I know) had given up the ghost before I remembered that it was in the fridge. I had my mouth set for some homemade garlicky spinach. I did try some of my new pink Himalayan salt on the potatoes, and pronounce it, and them, excellent.

I've run the dishwasher once already, but now I need to empty it so I can start loading it again. But first I am going to pre-wash the fabric for the June block on my other quilt. And after that I am going to do a little bookkeeping that I've been putting off.

After which, I will dash to WalMart for some of the liquid starch that Susan suggested. Somewhere in the studio I have a lace tablecloth that the mice got to when it was in storage between late 1998 and early 2000. I've been cannibalizing it for the tops of Christmas stockings, a set of placemats, the lapels and collar of a denim duster that I have been embellishing with silk ribbon embroidery (when I remember) since 1998, etc. There might be enough of it left, in big enough pieces, that I could applique it to the kitchen window.

I may not find the bag of lace before bedtime, but I'd like to have the bottle of starch sitting on the floor in the hall next to the ModPodge, which is waiting for a different project.

After WalMart, I'm going to the gym, which is across the street, and I am hoping that Mr. Chatterbox will be elsewhere this evening. I'm a long way from being able to walk on the water, but I'm quite content to face down my water-related anxieties by walking in the water. This pool is not as deep as the one at my former gym in Fort Worth. I don't get as rattled when I walk through the 4'4" part as I did when I tiptoed through the 5'0" part over there.

My rule is, I don't put my head underwater. I don't even want to get my face wet. I got splashed by two drops on my cheek the other night, and I jumped as if I'd been shot.

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers." ~ Dorothy Bernard

Correction: not going anywhere. The sky just opened up. Although I suppose I could walk around the block two or three times in this downpour and get almost the same workout, as long as I kept far from the storm drains ... nahhh.

Boho who? Me?

Because I do not watch the decorating shows (no cable) or buy most home decorating magazines (I confess a fondness for "Cottage Style" and used to love "Victoria" and "Cloth Paper Scissors: Studios") - desperately in need of a verb here, folks - I am blissfully unaware of what is trendy. Or what it's called. But I spent some time playing on Pinterest while eating my dinner tonight, and apparently my tastes are squarely in the "boho chic" camp. Or maybe just the "camp" camp.

Layers. Yes. Textures. Yes. Color. Absolutely. Pattern upon pattern. C'est moi. Longtime readers of the blog will remember my raving over the interior of the heroine's home in "Stranger than Fiction" with its granny square afghans, jewel-toned walls, and pale lavender kitchen cabinets.

Got some great ideas tonight, things that will require more time than money, repurpose items already on hand (somewhere; I'm pretty sure) and seriously up the quirk factor without making my house unsaleable when I kick.

Which I hasten to remind you, I'm not planning to do anytime soon.

In other news, I finished cutting out the pieces for this installment of the medallion quilt. And have zero interest in staying up until all hours stitching some of them together. I am about this [   ] far from shutting down the popsicle stand for the night. No alarm clock for the next three days.  And I will probably not turn the ringer on, on my phone. If all goes according to plan, I will only leave the house for church on Sunday, and I will spend the rest of this weekend stitching, puttering, and hanging out with the dead people. Monday is the second anniversary of my sealing to Beloved, and since the temple is closed on Mondays, I hope to honor that by getting a ridiculous amount of research done. Interspersed with naps and a modicum of cooking.

Night, y'all.