Mutatis mutandis

A new phrase, gleaned from page 36 of my bio of Musorgsky et al. My ignorance of Russian music is astounding. So every page in this well written book is revelatory. And every bit as slow going as War and Peace. But without the patronymics.

It's been a good day. I think all of the meds are kicking in. My foot is relatively comfortable. I'm about halfway done with the antibiotic. And while I'm not exactly relaxed, I think I'm thinking clearly. I've asked my sister to let me know if I'm any weirder than usual. She would tell me.

I found the missing DP. Even though I'd searched my purse twice and my suitcase two or three times, this morning before church I found it sticking out of a pocket in the bottom of my suitcase. (Which explains why Middlest and Fourthborn couldn't find it on my bed when I asked them to look.) Certainly made turning the heel and working the gusset a whole lot easier. I'm almost done with the toe decreases, but I'm done for now. I got a nap before dinner, but my phone says it's after 1:00am Texas time. And I need to be awake(ish) at 6:00 to take my next dose of antibiotic.

Night, y'all. Or should I say good morning?

In which we hit a streak of luck. The good kind.

Middlest and I had been racking our brains, trying to find a local doctor so that Rx's which were about to run out, could get refilled. There's a three to six month waiting list to get seen at the county hospital (unless we want to go spend however long in the ER). Inspiration struck recently, and I texted a friend in my ward who is a social worker. She gave me the name of a doctor in our ward (not currently attending church, which is why I don't know him) who has opened a practice specializing in family medicine for those who do not have insurance. Middlest and Fourthborn have both filled out and submitted the introductory paperwork.

We went in last week, and we like this guy.

In knitting news, I wondered if I had enough of the bilious green to make a pair of gender-neutral baby socks. So I weighed several finished socks, and the average weight was just under 14g. I have 30g of the yarn and have four rounds on the needles.

Tonight we went to Costco after work, and I've spent an hour or so fiddling with numbers. I've been so busy working on other things that my spreadsheets are a bit behind. I need to spend two or three evenings scanning things and shredding or filing them, depending.

I'm feeling both incredibly blessed and a wee bit frazzled. I need a few more hours in the day, so that I can spend as much time as I'd like, visiting with Middlest (who is excellent company) and keeping my usual eagle-eye on my finances and knitting and coloring and and and.

I'd write more, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. Middlest has a dental appointment and then a checkup on those new contacts, and then there's Knit Night. So a sensible person would take her meds, turn on the white noise machine, and call it a day.

Therein lies the problem.

I'll take Lexapro for about $7, Alex

My incredibly sore, icky toe is not athlete's foot, but a bacterial infection, and I have an antibiotic, plus industrial strength myconazole just in case, and I'm starting a low dose combined anti-anxiety, antidepressant medicine. When I went for my quarterly bloodwork in May, my doctor's associate said that a lot of the symptoms I have could also be signs of depression, and did I think it was a possibility?

At the time, I did not, but lately I've been thinking maybe, yeah? Not the deep, debilitating crashes of my PTSD days. More like an amoebic, noncommittal meh. And a growing tendency to snark. I have felt increasingly crabby with SemperFi, who has a newly engaged daughter and is just the teensiest bit harried.

I do remember those days.

Today, after my doctor examined my poor foot, she asked how I felt. And I told her, I feel sad. I am sick. I am tired. And I am more than a little sick and tired. She said that in the past when she's asked, I've talked about my projects, and that maybe I have been distracting myself.

Well, there is that. And the fact that I've regained 30 of the 40 pounds I lost two years ago when I was first diagnosed with diabetes.

Middlest looked at my ankles last weekend, held a hand over them, and said, "I think a lot of this is buried feelings, and I think a lot of it is your kids." I have wondered since then, if I have been stuffing my frustrations as far away from my heart as I can get them, without their actually leaving my body? Because my blood pressure is stellar, even if my attitude is not exactly.

I'm mostly packed for my trip. I fly to my sister's tomorrow, and I'm excited about that. Fourthborn is staying here with Middlest, and the two of them will (I hope) present me with a wonderfully reorganized studio upon my return. And a vanquished Mt. Shredmore.

As for me, there will be knitting, and the family reunion in Oregon with my brother-in-law and niece and all those nice cousins that my sister and I met last year.

I need to figure out my travel knitting. I have not a clue. I have sharp poky projects that will not make it through security. The idea of not-knitting makes me want to weep. Weeping would probably be good for me. Homicide, not so much.

I suspect the load of laundry for which I am responsible is ready to go into the wash. Maybe then I can sleep. I am wound tighter than a tick. Mostly from sweet excitement. I love to fly. I love my sister. (I love my kids, and I'm looking forward to missing them.)

Life is still good. A little more weird than usual, but good. Later, gators.

Kind of a weird weekend, in a sweet way.

The original plan was that I would pick up Fourthborn after work on Friday and bring her home to help Middlest reorganize my studio. Then go back Saturday morning and pick up J, who kindly offered to mow and trim my yard after I fired my Lawn Dude earlier in the week. Then take J and Fourthborn back home on my way to meet Alison and hit the new yarn shop in Fort Worth.

But Fourthborn texted me that she'd been spectacularly ill the night before and just wanted to stay home to recover. Middlest made backup plans with a doll friend since I was going to be gone most of the day. That eliminated one round trip to Arlington.

Saturday morning I picked up J, we retrieved the lawnmower from the bowels of the garage, and he got it to work after its nearly-four-year vacation. We could not find the weed whacker (I probably gave it to somebody because I had a Lawn Dude), so we made a run to Home Depot for that and a pair of pigskin gloves two sizes smaller than Beloved's, a backup reel of nylon line and a full bottle of two-cycle fuel.

While he mowed the lawn, I tackled boxes in the garage and have three or four ones ready to go out on the curb with the rest of the recycling tomorrow night. The rickety wooden table that was resting atop the lawnmower is now out on the curb. While J weed whacked the front, I put on the gloves and grabbed the loppers and started attacking the vines on the back fence. He polished them off on the alley side using the weed whacker and then finished the inside of the fence for me. I rolled a wheelbarrow out to the curb and made a pile. The Texas heat has now reduced it in volume by at least half. At this rate, when the garbage truck comes on Tuesday, there will be a pile of dry twigs and withered leaves.

Had a wonderful visit with Alison yesterday. We went to West 7th Wool, which has been open two or three months and had its grand opening last weekend. I limited myself to one ball of souvenir yarn. We met the owner. Alison gave her an autographed copy of her wonderful book. I took Alison back to her father-in-law's house and myself to dinner at Lucile's. On the way home I picked up some caffeine for Middlest's migraines and some strawberries and a clamshell of mini croissants.

Today after church I took a short nap (and am about ready to go back to bed). I sorted through a medium moving box (i.e., a largish box) full of notebooks and books and photograph albums. There are a few things that need to go to the boys, and Middlest will get the empty notebooks for school this fall, and there are a couple of pamphlets that 1BDH might find useful as assistant scoutmaster.

Oh, J and I dropped off a bag of toxic chemicals yesterday on the way to get the weed whacker. And I have stuff to drop off at the thrift shop and a bag to take to Half Price Books later this week.

I was the guest teacher in Relief Society today, from Sr. Burton's address in the April 2016 General Conference.

This post is all over the place. You're getting whatever bubbles to the surface, pretty much as it comes, and I think I'm done.

Takin' care of business (workin' overtime)

These past two nights I've put in an hour and a half of OT, working on a project for the office manager. I'm not the lead on this project. More like the VP in charge of documentation. It's reasonably interesting, seriously fiddly, and needful.

The money will be nice. Driving home after most everybody is off the road is a perk.

Last night Middlest and I ran a quick errand and got burgers. Tonight I had enough spoons to throw together something simple.

Middlest is watching Dr. Who via laptop. I have retreated to my room and am going to read some articles in the August issue of the Ensign, then knit until it's time for meds and bed. I may crash a little early. I'm definitely peopled-out, even with someone as non-demanding as Middlest. Too many meetings yesterday.

Tomorrow night I'll bring Fourthborn home to help us work on my studio. Her roomie is going to mow my yard on Saturday, as I've fired my Lawn Dude. That's a tale for another day. I'm also meeting Alison sometime that day.

Over and out.

Family council, other progress.

When the kids were little, we generally had family councils when one of them had messed up royally to the point that it was hurting the rest of the family. So, not a lot of happy memories associated with the phrase.

After church today, I asked Middlest (after acknowledging said fact) if it might be helpful to start having family councils a couple of times a month, along the lines of coordinating calendars and figuring out projects/goals we want to work on. Middlest was amenable.

We now know what's on the calendar, individually and collectively, what we want to cross off our respective lists, how that will benefit the household, and where we can help one another out. (Somehow I think this is more what the Lord and the brethren had in mind.)

In other news, I spent a happy two hours working on family history after a brief nap, mostly linking what I've recently added to Ancestry.com to my tree on Family Search. After which I told the dear departed that I was done, and I picked up my knitting.

I've turned the heel and completed the gusset decreases on the tiny purple sock for Sarabelle (sp?). There's about a quarter inch to go on the foot before I begin the toe decreases. I'm keeping my notes on Evernote, and when I'm done I'll transfer it to Ravelry. Thus far it fits like a champ. I'll work on it some more in the morning, or if I wake up in the middle of the night. Otherwise, I'll probably finish it after errands and FHE tomorrow night.

Sick. And tired.

Woke up yesterday morning with a crabby right sinus. Went to work. Got a call from the office manager, who was working from home and said she'd gotten numerous complaints from my coworkers about my nose-blowing. I got a little bit offended (more on that later) and went home. I truly did feel lousy. I did not feel contagious. I took half a dose of Mucinex shortly after getting home.

Middlest woke up yesterday with bleeding sinuses from the change in temperature chez Ravelled, and I thnk that's what was behind my own discomfort. We had the AC dude out on Tuesday night, and he restored the unit to full functionality. Which meant that over the next twelve hours or so, the inside temperature dropped from about 86F to about 73F, and I think that was just too much of an adjustment for either Middlest or me in such a short space of time.

I was feeling well enough last night to take Middlest to a dolly birthday party at a friend's house and to pick my kid up again when it was over. When the alarm went off this morning, I was feeling somewhat better but still not 100%, so I called in sick (with a noticeably husky voice), took the second half dose of Mucinex, ate a snack, and went back to bed for four hours.

Got up at 10:00, took another half dose with a slightly larger snack, stayed up for an hour and a half re-reading the Sunday School lesson and skimming the Relief Society lesson, then went back to bed. Slept until 2:00.

Took what I most devoutly hope was the final half dose of Mucinex, made myself a peanut butter sandwich on cinnamon raisin bread, took my vitamins, and washed it all down with a cup or so of milk, as about 98% of the congestion is gone.

I've read all the KnoWhy's for the Sunday School lesson. Learned a new word: talionic. And am yawning again. Not sure at this point if it's a hungry yawn or a genuinely tired yawn. So I'm grabbing a handful of carrot sticks and heading back to bed.

Middlest has a particularly bad migraine today. No doll meet up at Pie Five for us tonight. Me, because I didn't go to work, and Middlest because lights-people-noise.

Wondering if I have enough brain cells to knit productively until I fall asleep. I cast on (several times) for a tiny purple doll sock last night and can't remember if the final cast-on worked, or if I need to frog it yet again and start over.

I think the nap is going to win out over everything else. I just caught myself with my head listing to starboard.

Operator error.

I learned tonight, relatively inexpensively, that I'm supposed to turn off the AC before I replace the batteries in the thermostat. I have now set a reminder to replace the batteries once a year, and pour vinegar down the little stubby thing once a month, but I'm going to do that weekly for a month because I didn't know to do it, before.

The second pink baby sock is done. I've cast on another with the remnant and a fresh ball that I bought at Fiber Circle. I'm going to knit a little on that and call it a day.

We've picked out purple laceweight yarn for me to knit a pair of teensy socks for one of Middlest's dolls. So Avery's sweater gets pushed back yet again, but Middlest proclaims the mostly-done sleeve as lovely.

I also learned today what needs to happen for the credit card company to release my limit (make the funds available again when I've paid off the balance in full and don't want to wait two weeks for them to decide that they got their money). My bank cooperated graciously, and I was able to order my plane tickets for the family reunion later this month. I've saved my notes in the folder relating to the credit card.

Fourthborn will come stay with Middlest while I'm visiting family. I'm not expecting any significant work to get done, but Middlest's health concerns are sufficient that we will all be happier if there's someone else in residence when I'm gone. Plus, they like each other. (Imagine that.)

OK, seriously done here. The room temperature has dropped 3+ degrees F since the AC dude left four hours ago. I may be able to turn off the ceiling fan when I go to bed tonight.

What I did instead of going to work today.

You may have heard. There was a little excitement in Dallas last night. There was a peaceful protest, and peaceful protection from Dallas' finest, and then one or more snipers started shooting policemen, who did what they are supposed to do: they shielded the civilians, and several of them died for it.

I know this because my vigilant friend Tola was up and paying attention as it all came down. I was asleep. Middlest was up. Tola messaged Middlest to put a note on the inside of the front door for me, so I would not reflexively leave for work. I awoke at 2:30 or so, thirsty and a little hungry. Middlest was still awake and told me that there'd been trouble downtown, but to check things out after I'd gotten a full night's sleep. We visited for a few minutes, and then I went back to bed, after Middlest fetched the note from the front door and I tucked it into my bag where I'd see it before I left.

Alarm went off at 6:00am, and I fired up my phone. Text message from the office manager saying not to come into work today, but that those who have the capacity to work remotely could do so. (I don't.) I then came out here to the living room and fired up my computer and got the bare bones of the story. I was glad that I hadn't read the note when I was up earlier. I would not have been able to sleep, and sleep has been a rare commodity this week. (This is me being mortal and fallible. We are still working out how to keep the house cool enough for Middlest, in the middle of a Texas summer, and have enough conversation that life proceeds smoothly, when we haven't lived together for over ten years, and the mutual impulse is to talk until the wee hours so we can catch up. It is wonderfully exhilarating to have such a thoughtful, considerate, and creative roommate, except when the alarm goes off at 6:00am. I am experimenting with Middlest's spare ice packs, to cool down enough that I can fall asleep when my overtired body says Enough Already.)

After eating a little breakfast, I headed out to the dining room and sewed up the quilt block I'd cut out earlier in the week. So that's done. And while the iron was hot, I pressed a skirt that I'd tossed on the end of the ironing board five or six weeks ago. We make haste slowly around here. I worked a little more on the current baby sock. I played Sudoku and Flow Free on my phone. I grabbed a small pile of stuff from the corner of my room and sorted it out.

Eventually Middlest bubbled to the surface, and we went to Costco and Trader Joe's. On the way home, I saw a signboard along the freeway, advising that central Dallas was still barricaded. We unloaded the groceries, ate a quick snack, then went out to Kroger and CVS. There are only three items on our list that we were unable to find. We'll track them down next time. I ate a few bites of ice cream, put the pint into the freezer, and set the alarm for when I take my Metformin and antihistamine.

Middlest is sleeping soundly. I just ate a peanut butter on raisin bread sandwich and am still vaguely hungry. I'm also sleepy, and the house is relatively cool (not looking forward to August), and we are leaving at 6:00am to pick up Fourthborn for an early morning brunch at a friend's house in Arlington. So I think I'm going to eat another couple of bites of something or other and go back to bed. Brain wants to play. Body says we're done.

Please pray for the good people of Dallas. Particularly for those who have lost loved ones, and for the families of the shooters. I can only imagine how their mothers feel.

Still here.

Still working to find the new normal. Middlest is the most considerate roommate I could ask for. I come home to (or wake up to) neatly folded laundry, emptied boxes, subtly increased order. We're still working to find a room temperature that's suitable for both of us and won't require a kidney donation to pay the electric bill.

Found one of my old poems the other night. Based on a dream fragment around the time of, or shortly after, my divorce from the children's father. Turns out to have been prophetic, and I may share it at a later date.

That's all I've got for you now. Break is over. Putting my shoulder to the wheel and nose to the grindstone.

Honey, I'm home.

Have been for a week, actually, but what a week it has been. We unloaded the Tardis immediately. Fourthborn had gotten so much done on the middle bedroom in my absence. We finished the floor, set up the bed, and went out for Whataburger while the house cooled off. The batteries had died in the thermostat, which Fourthborn hadn't noticed, but Middlest and I sure did. I replaced the batteries, we went out, and we've kept the ceiling fans going in all rooms pretty constantly all week.

At this point, Middlest has the room arranged neatly. We just took out nearly two dozen flattened boxes to the curb, plus two large boxes filled with more. And the recycling bins. And a bag of shredding. I might be able to fill a second bag before bedtime.

There is a Rameumptom of food storage boxes about four feet to the southeast of me, here in the living room. Three towers stacked ten boxes high, with two partial boxes of flooring on top like cherries on a sundae. It's like the leaning tower of obedience, and it makes me antsy in the extreme, and between us Middlest and I need to come up with enough "spoons" to wrangle the boxes into some other part of the house. Because the new RS president is coming to visit on Thursday night, and while I don't give a squirrel's toot [suggests Middlest] what anyone thinks about my housekeeping skills or intermittent lack thereof, we need to have enough room for people to sit down like civilized individuals. And breathe. And maybe even make eye contact.

In searching "Rameumptom" on lds.org, I was led to a talk by Elaine Jack, a former General RS President. Middlest just said, "It's Monday night. Do you have any ideas for FHE?" Why yes, I do. I've read a little of this article, and it seems like a likely candidate. Later, gators. If the article is as good as I think it might be, I'll post a link on FB.

Radio silence, more than likely.

I leave after work tomorrow to pick up Middlest from her best friend's parents' farm in East Tennessee.  If you and I are also friends on Facebook, I will be posting some pictures, as Fourthborn will be holding down the fort.

She has been an immense help tonight: unloading the back of the Tardis, unloading the mess behind the seats, bringing in the trash bin and the recycling bins (apparently I got the week wrong?), helping me prepare snacks for the road, and helping me wind four balls of yarn.

This is the part where I try to wind down and get some sleep. I've been listening to bouncy music in order to stay awake while folding laundry, packing, printing off my itinerary. I just remembered that there's one last load out in the dryer, which I will need for work tomorrow as it contains my dark jeans.

I've got meds and vitamins ready, half-muffins bagged up, the apples, the bananas, the last of the tomatoes, a skirt and shoes for Sunday, the 2004 atlas which will back up Waze. I borrowed a USB adapter for the car, and Fourthborn noticed that I have a DC port that does not double as a lighter. Who knew?

Brain is still racing, racing, racing. Stomach is a little hungry. Bills are paid, so there will be no nasty surprises for Fourthborn on that account.

I'll be more or less out of pocket for two weeks. Middlest, Wes and Sarah, Palmyra, Harmony, Kirtland, Nauvoo (again, woohoo!), Independence, Far West, Adam-Ondi-Ahman. Plus some touristy things and more than one gravesite.

I am 99% excited beyond words, and 1% apprehensive, but I had a priesthood blessing on Sunday and know that all will be well.

Cambria, if you're still reading the blog, I might manage a drive-by hugging when we're in your state. I'll see if I can remember to PM you between now and lights out.

Ms. Ravelled, over and out.

I want to knit. I need to write.

And if I sit back down at the keyboard, I'll fall down the rabbit hole again. Several days ago I got notification that there was a record. I clicked on the link. Different name. Tried again. Same result. The second name would be easy to find again. So I went looking for my dear departed hacker. Who turns out to be my first cousin twice removed.

I've spent several days connecting records on ancestry.com and linking people to Family Search. Tonight I reserved three of those names and released others so they could be done by temple patrons.

When I clicked on Harriet's name, I started sobbing. Same for her sister Lyddie. So I thought, I'll get Elizabeth, who died before she was ten. Nada. It was like walking into a wall. So I'll give it more time, see if I can find out more about her, and try again.

I also sent emails to two families who have reserved their father Jacob's work, which is mostly done. I hope to hear back from them soon.

I am going to finish the heel flap on this baby sock, and then I am going to bed. Maybe now these good people will let me sleep?

I'm going to the temple tomorrow night to do three sealings.

The master bath is nearly done. And even in its unfinished state, it's gorgeous.

This is where we were on Wednesday night.

The ugly old commode, out on the street.

The nekkid (this is Texas; that's a word) shower stall, waiting for redemption.

The wallboard torn up, behind where the new commode will go.

It looks a whole lot better than that now, but my phone is in the charger, and I'm trying to get back to sleep. I lay down for maybe half an hour, and my right calf was twitching, and my right neck was thinking about a charley horse, and I kept drifting into half-dreams where people were holding puppies that might have been possums. So I decided it was better to get up, fix myself a snack, and wait for some semblance of normal to roll around.

I got bushwhacked by a first cousin twice removed. There are now 3101 people on my family tree, and over 12,000 hints, and the Millenium, when communication between Them and Us is supposedly going to be easier, cannot come a moment too soon. This was one of the daughters of my great grandmother Sarah's brother Jacob. I think if she were still mortal, she would be extremely internet savvy, because she figured out a way to hijack a records notification in my email that linked to someone on my surname line. There are so many people, and so many records for them, that I can't work on them more than a couple of hours without getting physically wiped out. The good news is, several other somebodies are working these lines, and some of the work has been done, and some of it is reserved, and some is released to the general temple files.

I finally figured something out yesterday afternoon. When looking at family tree matches, it shows how many records are attached. And if I have more records attached to my person than most of the others do on their trees, I mostly only need to look at the trees with more records than I have, to see what's missing and if it's relevant. It's been fun to link to the related Family Search profile and be able to update others' research with records and more details.

I'm yawning again. Hoping that this time I can go to bed and stay there until daylight.

Today I will be emptying and sorting all (or some) of the boxes that Fourthborn and I pulled out of the middle bedroom on Saturday. The dead people are just going to have to wait their turn, because my handyman couple will be back tomorrow (Tuesday) morning to finish up (!!!!!) the guest loo.

Sorry: a little distracted here.

Haven't been sleeping well. Not entirely sure why. Wish it would stop.

Bought a new pillow when I was out and about yesterday, in hopes that it would do the trick. One night isn't much of a test. I'll get back to you. If I remember.

Work's been going well.

The first blue/green baby sock is done and the ends woven in. Second sock has been cast on, messed up in the first round, frogged, and cast on again.

My bed is piled high with stuff that I need to find a place for in the next half hour. The remodeling of the master loo has commenced. The old commode is out on the curb. The icky shower paneling is gone, as is much of the wallboard, preparatory to the wainscoting going in. The new shower surround is in its box, and leaning against one of the trees in my dining room. My dolls are hiding out in my sweater drawers. The tree frog shower curtain is draped across the foot of my bed.

My NOAA (weather alert) radio came in today's mail, and I just finished a run for more batteries so I can set it up properly. There's a possibility of tornadoes tomorrow afternoon or evening.

I haven't quilted in two days, as that time has been spent clearing a path for my remodeling crew. I did more of that last night after Knit Night and the last little bit this morning before work. My body is screaming for sleep. Therefore, I am going to shut this down and I guess move the various piles out here in the living room for the meantime. And maybe I will be horizontal and unconscious before 10:30.

Weird(ish) day

I slept well. I ate sensibly. And still I fought sleep much of the day. Nevertheless, I managed to stay productive, and I made progress on the current baby sock at Knit Night and while waiting outside the thrift shop afterward while Fourthborn shopped for boots for her Scarborough Faire costume. She scored a really sweet pair of black ankle boots and some dressy flip-flops. She paid for them with some of her tip money from drawing on Free Comic Book Day earlier this month.

The kid is good. What can I say.

I finished the first pair of baby socks knitted in one-row spirals from two compatible remnants of previous projects. (I cast on half of the stitches with the first color, the second half with the other, and worked the heel flaps in the lighter yarn.) Those were more or less the color of sherbet. I am currently using a muddy green and a smoky blue. The overall effect is dusk in a rainforest, with the occasional splotch of powder blue or acid green. It's almost hypnotic to watch the colors play together. And I feel both clever and frugal, as none of this lovely handpainted yarn will be going to waste.

That's all I've got for you today. My body is tired but not in pain. My eyes are heavy. I've taken my meds and am going to grab a small handful of chocolate covered ginger on the way to bed. Night, y'all.

Rather a wild week.

At Knit Night a week ago Tuesday, my acquired brother T was showing me a pattern on his phone, and as he leaned forward, he put his hand lightly on my knee. At which point my brain went into lockdown. We had a lovely extended conversation via text over the next day and a half. I knew he wasn't making a move. He knew I knew he wasn't making a move. It was an act of compassion, and it shook things loose.

The hardest thing about being single, before I married Beloved and since his passing, has been the general lack of touch. I am a high touch person living a low touch life. It would be simpler if I liked pets, but I don't.

I think it will be easier in some ways when Middlest is here. That mother-child connection is clear and pure and holy. It's a small house. We are likely to bump into one another.

But as for last Tuesday night, Pandora conspired against me on the drive home, and I was able to cry for the first time in weeks. Not a lot, maybe not more than fifteen or twenty seconds, but it helped.

So if you were wondering at my cryptic posts on FB about Brain and Body and Spirit bickering amongst themselves, now you have another piece of the puzzle. I'll likely be pondering it for some time to come.

In other news, I had my quarterly diabetes check day before yesterday, and my regular doctor had taken a couple of days off, so I saw one who has treated me for bronchial yuck at the night clinic. He listened to my constellation of symptoms and agreed that the anti-cholesterol medicine was the most likely suspect and yes, I should stop taking it. Symptoms: joint pain, weak and achy muscles, blurred vision, ravenous appetite, weight gain, brain fog, fitful sleep. I have no idea if it was doing nice things for my cholesterol, but it was definitely impinging upon my quality of life.

In the two days I have not taken it, the aching in my hip and knees is almost gone. It is easier to rise from the commode. My appetite is returning to normal. I slept seven hours night before last, and six and a half hours last night (less, because I was mucking out my studio and lost track of time).

I worked for an hour on cleaning my studio last night, and another half hour tonight. My stacking bins have gone to a good home. I have a bag and a half ready to go to the thrift store. I found my baby shoes. I reshelved some books and collected all of my shipping boxes into one place.

Logic would suggest that I focus on clearing out the middle bedroom so that Middlest will have a place to sleep. But my heart tells me to declutter my studio so that I can use it for my sewing and crafting, and thus declutter the dining room.

I've had two stellar days at work. My focus and retention are returning (it was getting a little scary).

I have so much more to say, but my body is screaming for sleep, and I'm going to honor that.

Knitlandia: A Knitter Sees the World

I've tried (twice) to add that to my list of things-read, to no avail. Will try again when I'm more awake. It's delightful. Quite possibly even if you are not a knitter.

I picked up a novel while at Costco last night and am two chapters in. Thus far, no language issues, even if it is a New York Times best-seller. I'm always surprised to like something on that list, as my standards of what makes a book "good" are significantly different from the world's.

I like honorable people solving problems in an honorable way. And villains getting their comeuppance. And clean language. And a strong female protagonist doesn't hurt. What I love best about Drew Barrymore's take on Cinderella is that she doesn't just sit around waiting to be rescued. Unlike the doomed heroine of Wuthering Heights, she doesn't create problems; she solves them. Not a big fan of Catherine and Heathcliff. Brats, the both of them. Not a big fan of Miz Scarlett, either. She finishes the novel as selfish, clueless, and unredeemed as when she began. Bitter, not better.

I'd write more, but I'm supposed to be getting ready for work. And I really do like my job.

Better.

Email exchanges throughout yesterday with my friend who owns the much-procrastinated quilt. A dash through Trader Joe's. 59-cent party tacos from Bueno, and several chapters in Clara Parkes' Knitlandia. I slept like a rock until a little after 3:00am, awoke with a vaguely unhappy stomach, sent down a toasted English muffin and a few sips of milk, and went right back to sleep.

Dreamed that Beloved and I were working on the house. I walked out into the garage, and he had cleared it entirely. Gleaming bare floor all the way to the garage door in front, and impeccably organized shelves. He was planning on a massive baking project, and he had needed something that was out in the garage.

Tonight I am planning to attend a BYU Management Society fireside with Brad Wilcox. But in order for that to happen, I need to get off the computer, put on my "know what I'm doing, I do" clothing, and scoot out the door.

I am hopeful that by the time I get to work, my bank will have fixed its technical issues, so I may double-check that my paycheck is in there and pay my tithing. Very frustrating to log on and be told that there was a problem with my log-on name and/or password. I even rebooted my computer. After the third try, I X'd out of the page and found their contact page, which had an OOPS, SORRY, WE'RE WORKING ON IT message.

Work. Yeah. I'm going, I'm going!

Who ate that week?

I finished the last small element of The Albatross tonight and have messaged its owner for feedback on how she'd prefer that I complete it. This is a king size quilt that I have been working on (or, mostly, not-working-on) for nearly a quarter of my life. All thirty-six blocks are done. But there's a spot along one edge where the backing doesn't quite meet the front, and I need to know if she wants me to patch the back or trim the quilt by half an inch all the way around.

I worked on it fairly steadily at first, interrupted by Secondborn’s wedding, then Firstborn’s, and then four of the eight CPCU courses, until late 2003, when Firstborn led me into Mary Kay. The children's father had been out of work for awhile (he was out of work for over a year, and thus we got no child support).

Selling makeup provided a faster source of income while also eating up huge chunks of time, during which I might otherwise have been finishing the quilt. And then LittleBit hit high school, and we were suddenly busier than I had been with four children still at home.

She graduated in 2008, I moved to Fort Worth a week later, and I rode the train to and from work in Dallas until Beloved came into my life. It's reasonably easy to knit on a train. Not so easy to lug a king size quilt onto the train and keep it from getting stepped on. It didn't help when I was called to be the RS president in my ward.

Every time I saw her quilt folded up and waiting patiently in my studio, both in Fort Worth and since I moved here, I reminded myself that I needed to finish it. At the first of this year, I found my thimble and the two spools of black quilting thread. I was dismayed to see that the blocks were only a little over halfway done. I've chipped away at them, some days only five or ten minutes, but something on it every day of the week but Sunday.

I cannot find the French bias binding that I carefully assembled and pressed, a decade and a half ago. I know that I didn't throw it away. But I cannot for the life of me remember which box or tub it might be in.

So I'll need to buy a yard of black patterned fabric and make more binding. My goal is to have the borders quilted and the quilt bound off and handed over before I leave to get Middlest. That gives me approximately a month and a half. I'm also returning the commission fee, with interest, because hello? For someone who used to be a quilting professional, not professional at all. I just checked her FB profile, and she's widowed, like me. This was supposed to be a non-surprise quilt for her husband, who was colorblind but could see these colors.

Oh bleep.

If you will all excuse me, I'm going to go beat myself up and go to bed.