Ms. Ravelled makes a plan.

I checked a voicemail last night while we were out shopping. It was for someone who wanted to lower my credit card rate. I deleted the message. Middlest just looked at me. "Are you on the Do Not Call list?"

"Yes, for years and years."

"You can report them. They're breaking a Federal law. The FCC will go after them."

So I went online and verified that I'm on the list and have been since 2003. Then I went into my phone log and made a list of all the numbers that I don't recognize since November 9, 2015. I'm going to go back into my phone and add the date and time of all the calls. There are 47 numbers on my list, after I removed the duplicates. And I'm going to report them to the FCC. It is theoretically possible that I could receive $500 from each number, which would buy a whale of a lot of yarn or pay for two or three planned vacations or cover most of the cost of the next phase of renovations.

And you bet your bippy that I'm going to document and report every unwanted call that comes in from here on out.

In other news, we flaked on Knit Night tonight. Middlest did not sleep all night, but packed both of our lunches, a knitting bag, a backpack of personal electronics and possibly art supplies, and would have caught up the laundry had I not filled the dryer with a load of whites, which I strongly prefer to handle myself. Oh, and took out the trash. And caught maybe two or three five minute naps during the day while sitting in the atrium in my office building as I worked. When I took our lunch bags down at 1:00, I was greeted by a determinedly cheerful but bleary-eyed blessing.

We ended up putting a message on the Facebook group, picking up Fourthborn, and going to our favorite sit down Tex-Mex restaurant, where we ate ourselves stupid (as Beloved would say). I have tomorrow's lunch in a to go box. Good food, great company, much laughter, and a fun server.

Middlest is snoring gently in the middle bedroom. I have done all I can do with the spreadsheet tonight and have tossed the load of lights that Middlest started, into the dryer. It's time for my meds, and I'm hoping to be asleep within a minute of my head hitting the pillow.

Oh, before I forget, I got the mess straightened out regarding the CPAP supplies which did not come. Somebody fat-fingered the shipping address, and the mis-addressed shipments have been or will be credited back to the insurance company. New supplies are on the way. So relieved to know it was a clerical error and not an attempt at insurance fraud.

OK, this time I really mean it. (Anybody want a peanut?) Night, y'all.

A frogging we will go...

So I worked the moss green baby sock to the final decreases and weighed the yarn that was left. Only 13.9g, theoretically enough to work the second sock but a little too close for comfort.  I frogged the sock back to the end of the cuff and removed five rounds. (Note to self: that's 35 rounds this time, not 40, if we want the socks to match.) Thankfully, Jitterbug frogs well, so I let it rest overnight and reworked the heel flap. That gave me enough knitting for Sunday School and Relief Society, and I will probably finish it tonight, with plenty of time after dinner to work on the charity scarf.

I've been playing with numbers. Specifically, dancing my way through the IRS publications in anticipation of filing my 2016 tax return. I confirmed several days ago that while Middlest is too old to be my qualifying child I can still claim qualifying relative. This afternoon I confirmed that I will be able to file as head of household instead of gloriously single. I've set up a section of my spreadsheet to estimate what my refund might be under two scenarios. Scenarii?

But now I need to think about dinner, and I need to step away from the computer, and I want some interaction with my kid.

I think the dear departed are getting restless. I've been having family members pop up in my dreams of late, and I rarely dream about the people I love. I will just have to dedicate one evening this coming week for family history research.

Just goofing off today.

Got the oil changed on the Tardis, and a new air filter. Ran to Costco for a handful of things and ended up spending less on food than on gas. I call that a win! Then to Paper Source for a miniature book for Blessing, who has claimed all of my miniature books for her own, and party hats that will be verging on Lolita-scale for the big dolls, to-scale for the MSD's, and charmingly clownish on my tinies or on Chutzpah and Grace. There is a Trader Joe's across the street from the paper store, so I restocked the gingersnaps and chocolate covered ginger. Then I came home, ate half of a blueberry muffin, put the rest into the freezer for later, and took a nap.

Middlest slept through all of this and woke up about the time I went down for my nap. We have since had a nice chat, and I am trying to figure out what to do with the rest of this lovely, lazy day. Which I needed, because yesterday was hellacious. Not the work part, which went just fine, but the unannounced fire drill. For all the years I have worked in this building, we have had one every quarter, on a Wednesday, and because my mobility is intermittently impaired, I just have to go stand in the stairwell and wait to be let back in when the drill is over. Because this one was on a Friday, I slipped into my walking shoes, grabbed my purse and keys and cell phone, and gimped down seven flights of stairs. I was livid to get outside and discover it was just a drill.  My hips and knees were screaming. Thankfully, I had acetaminophen in my desk drawer, because I can't take ibuprofen with my new meds. I just wanted to curl up and sleep it off. Or cry.

The acetaminophen worked. Within an hour or two, my joints had hushed significantly. But my neck, shoulders, and traps were still whining. Since that was probably stifled anger, it took longer to go away.

Oh, and we failed the fire drill, because not everyone had cleared the building within five minutes.

When I got home, I dug out my floofy yoga mat (that I used maybe four times for the yin yoga class) and put it up on my bed, then lay down with my spine centered on it and chilled for several minutes. When I rolled off, my back was much happier.

I'm on the home stretch of the moss green baby sock. I nearly finished the gusset decreases while the Tardis got her oil changed. So that's definitely on my honey-do list for the rest of the day, and I want to work on the charity scarf as well. But I spent fifteen minutes browsing the Etsy shop where I bought the lovely specialty ribbons for doll clothing, wishing for both more time and more money. I saw a mug at Paper Source that perfectly expressed my philosophy: "I need a day between Saturday and Sunday."

Word.

Yarn chicken, reprised.

Last week I finished the second sock and had this much yarn left. We knitters call that playing yarn chicken. As the end of the yarn approaches, you knit faster and faster, hoping to outwit your stash. In this case I cut things pretty close. Photo by Middlest, which is why I couldn't find it on my phone.

Because I like a good challenge, I'm playing yarn chicken again. I had a small ball of leftover Jitterbug in a dark mossy green. I wondered if there would be enough to make two socks, or only one and a half. So I weighed half a dozen finished baby socks. The heaviest weighed 14g. I have 30g of this yarn, and no color in my stash that plays nicely with it, so I couldn't cast on half of the stitches with this and half with another, as I've been doing for the past several pairs. I'm more than halfway up the cuff, and I'll weigh this sock when it's done. If I'm lucky, there will be a little over 16g left for making the second sock.

I am now within spitting distance of finishing that cuff. I may get that done tonight and start on the heel flap, or I may choose to go tweak things in my studio while dinner digests. I'm a little sleepy, maybe a little goofy (hush!), and it would probably be a good idea for me to move around gently for fifteen to twenty minutes. Not enough to keep me awake when I lie down in an hour or so, but enough to feel that I've accomplished something here at home tonight.

The charity knitting project is approaching completion. I will probably finish the scarf on Saturday, and tonight Middlest helped me to find a compatible yarn to make a hat, as the original yarn is apparently discontinued. One of the downsides to stashing yarn from a big box craft store.

Speaking of staying awake, when we got home from Knit Night on Tuesday, the city was tearing up the pavement where I would normally turn onto my street. They were still running the jackhammer at 10:00. So I turned on my white noise machine in thunderstorm mode and cranked up the volume significantly. (It still wasn't as noisy as the fan Middlest has going in the middle bedroom, so I wasn't being a rude mom.) I think we were both asleep shortly after hitting our respective pillows. I know I was.

And if I don't get moving right now, I will be sleeping here in my computer chair, accomplishing nothing but a sore neck.

It's been a week already?

Sorry, y'all. Our evenings seem to be taken up by grocery shopping, picking up Rx's, a whole lot of driving, some of it in driving rain (pun intended), leaving little time to sit at the computer and blog.

This week we have a dental appointment for Middlest followed by a re-check of the new contacts. I spent an hour or so today sorting through the stuff that had piled up on the footstool by my desk, and then clearing all manner of stuff off said desk.

I'm starting to feel like myself with the Lexapro. Middlest, who has been on one sort or another prescription since middle school, says it takes about three weeks to find out if a new medicine is effective, or if something else needs to be tried. In my case, I could not be more pleased. My emotions are still there, and my speed of thought is almost what I'm used to. I just don't feel frazzled.

The nightly, low-dose muscle relaxer is doing its part. I'm now aware of when I'm tensing up, and I can consciously choose to stretch and relax, or flex, or whatever needs to be done. A serendipitous benefit is that it no longer hurts to rise from a sitting position, or to descend into a seated position on, say, a standard height commode. I've been using the handicapped loo whenever possible, both for the grab rail, and because there is less whining from my knees and hips. I noticed today while rising to lead the music in sacrament meeting, that my joints were not grumbling. Those choir seats are not designed for aging bodies, because my hips rest lower than my knees, even if I take my shoes off, which mostly I do.

Barefoot, but distinctly non-pregnant.

Thursday night after work I had driven over to Arlington and picked up Fourthborn, because we had planned to go to the doll meetup at the pizza restaurant; however, I drove home in a deluge that was nearly as intense as the frightening one when we were driving along the Great Lakes in June. By the time I got home, I was tired and anxious, and the Tardis had wet brakes and squeaky belts. So we did a Plan B dinner at home. No way was I going back out in that. I took her home last night, after we all had worked a bit more in the studio.

Middlest graciously stayed home, instead of accompanying me as usual, because I needed some alone time. And I got just enough of it.

Yesterday I picked up the red scarf that I started months and months ago from the red bulky acrylic yarn that Wes and Sarah gave me for my birthday a couple of years ago. Our stake is working with a local synagogue to provide hats and scarves for the homeless. I already had half of a scarf, and yesterday I reached almost the 3/4 mark. I will finish it this week and block it, then see if I have enough to knit a hat, or if I will need to buy more yarn.

Had an interesting experience with overwhelm yesterday while we were working on the studio. We got nearly another quarter of the floor cleared, and a shelf emptied and reorganized, and one of the "Mom needs to wrangle this" piles reduced by half. I thought it was my overwhelm, and it crept into my room, but it turns out that the majority of it was contained in one storage tub full of stuff a friend had given me when she was decluttering (in the days when I had not yet learned to say "no, thank you"). There was some seriously crabby juju in there, but I got everything sorted, and there's a nice pile by the door that will go to the thrift store on my way to work one day this week, and my house feels clear and safe again. Middlest was able to take a few items, and we sent more home with Fourthborn, and I kept the felt and one pillowcase charmingly stamped with little houses.

I got a nap after church, and I am blessed and happy, and I am sleepy again. So I am going to turn on the white noise machine, say my prayers, and call it a day.

Fun and games. No, really.

Last Friday we had a quarterly team building activity that was side-splitting fun. Beforehand, we had to answer eight questions and tell the organizers our favorite song and the name of the artist. When we assembled in the large conference room, we found ourselves playing the Office Spouse Newlywed Game. One person sat with his back to the screen. Three others faced the screen, and as the first person asked a question, had to reply convincingly as if it were his or her own answer. The questioner had to figure out which of the three was the source of the answers.

A surprising number of my coworkers, when asked "What did you want to be when you were small?" replied, "Big." One of the women responded, "Big. And now I want to be little again." SemperFi's answers had us doubled over. I thought the managing attorney was going to bust a gusset, as my mom would say.

So here are the questions, followed by my answers, followed by my song.

1. What is your biggest fear? Heights.
2. What makes you laugh the most? My kids and grandkids.
3. If you could choose to do anything for a day, what would it be? Create (knit, draw, write, etc.)
4. What did you want to be when you were small? A mommy.
5. If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be? Grilled salmon, glazed carrots, red beans & rice, Caesar salad.
6. If you had a warning label, what would yours say? I have sharp, poky sticks and I know how to use them.
7. What was your first job? Sorting lima beans on a conveyor belt at Birds-Eye during the summer.
8. If you had to describe yourself as an animal, which one would it be? Mama bear.

And my song? This.



It's been a really good, productive day, but I'll share that another time. Night, y'all.

And a muscle relaxer.

It's been a long day for Middlest and me. I had my quarterly diabetes check this morning, and before heading there we stopped at the community college so Middlest could find out why there was a sudden glitch in plans to register for fall. I circled the parking lot until I absolutely had to leave. Middlest's phone is a WiFi phone. I was unable to connect via text, so I sent a message via FB saying that I had to scoot and would be back.

I missed my kid by probably less than a minute. Made it to the doctor's office with minutes to spare, to find a series of FB responses indicating panic attack. Messaged back that I would return as soon as possible, which I did. Drove back to Arlington so Middlest could get fitted for contacts. Knitted. We did a lot of (helpful) talking on the way to Arlington and back again.

There was time to kill before picking up Fourthborn for Knit Night, so we went to the bookstore, where I found two ridiculously expensive magazines that spoke to my artist heart. Middlest was looking like I felt, so I paid for the magazines, and we headed back home, making our excuses to Fourthborn and to the knitting group. No spoons.

We beat the rush hour home. I think Middlest fell asleep almost immediately. I set the alarm for my usual bedtime so I would take my meds on time, and I slept for two and a half hours.

Since then, I've had a tuna fish sandwich, some gingersnaps, a little buttermilk, my meds, and a couple of bites of chocolate covered ginger. I've washed a load of laundry and will pull it out of the dryer in the morning. I've emptied and filled the dishwasher, which is whispering to itself in the kitchen. (If ever a machine purred, it would be my dishwasher. I chose well when I bought that one a few weeks or months after Beloved passed.)

OK, back to my health. Doctor was pleased to see that I've lost five pounds since I went in for the infection that was beginning on my toe, which has since healed nicely. I was astounded. I was pleased to tell her that the Lexapro seems to be working nicely. I'm thinking more slowly than usual, as marked by my times on electronic Sudoku, but I'm thinking clearly. Except for the part yesterday where I got distracted while listening to a friend as I was slicing a banana onto my cereal at work, and I sliced at least half of it right into the trash. As my friend Trish remarked, ten second rule definitely did not apply there!

Since coming back from vacation at my sister's, even though I'm feeling less snappish, the habitual muscular tension in my neck, traps, and upper back has been marked. I can feeeeeel my muscles tensing when I'm at my desk. And this morning, when I was driving to the doctor's office, I felt a twinge on my right sitter, under the bone, about (I think) where the sciatic nerve ties in. So I inquired about muscle relaxers, and my doctor nodded, grinned, and e-faxed the Rx to my pharmacy. I've just taken my first dose, along with the regular lot, and I've read the possible side effects and interactions.

It would be nice to wake up some morning feeling completely relaxed instead of merely less-tense.  It was interesting to talk with my sister and find out that she has always carried her stress in her neck and shoulders, too. My doctor is not one to over-prescribe, and she knows how much I dislike taking pills. I've tried yoga. My toes are too badly broken for it to be at all useful to me, even with major modifications. (The best part of yoga for me is lying on my back with my legs run up the wall and my arms extended to either side, breathing quietly.)

I'm fed up with being stiff and sore, knowing that it is more emotionally-based than age-related. I'm hoping that modern pharmaceuticals will give my body enough of a rest that my spirit can take over and help Heaven to bring about a healthier balance.

For the moment? Gonna go knit. Trusting the universe to keep the plates spinning while I try to wind down enough to go back to sleep.

Life is (still) good.

Comparing notes

One of the quiet pleasures of the trip to visit my sister was asking her questions about random things and finding out that her experiences have been similar to mine.

Me: Can I ask a weird kinda personal question?
Sis: OK?
Me: How come your eyebrows are neat and orderly, and mine have turned into old man eyebrows?
Sis: Because mine have almost completely disappeared, and I draw them on.
Me: Oh.

In the past five or six years, my over-plucked eyebrows have gone feral on me. Every so often I pull out the white ones, and sometimes even the dark ones have grown to an inch or more in length. Sleeping with a CPAP tends to ruffle them up every whichway, and mostly I try to ignore them, but eventually I reach a point where Something Must Be Done. I suspect that the time will come when my eyebrows, like my ankles, will have five hairs apiece.

Shoulders. My sister recently had a second surgery to repair a macular tear, and as part of the recovery she had to spend 75% of her time face down, and then 50%. The first time, they rented a special chair that kept her in the right position. This time, they did not, and she had to support herself in the face-down position, causing tremendous strain on her neck and shoulders. I remarked that I carry most of my tension in my neck and shoulders, and she said she did as well. It was one of those "you, too?" moments. She had to take muscle relaxers briefly.

I wonder if I should as well. Thursday was my first day back at work, and by the end of the day I knew why Atlas shrugged. My neck, shoulders, and upper back were stiff as a board. It was not quite so bad when I went home yesterday, but even after almost nine hours of sleep I am not relaxed.

The Lexapro seems to be working. I don't feel as snappish, and it doesn't seem to interfere with feeling happiness or joy.

Middlest is off on adventure today with Squishy and Mel. They have gone to a doll convention in Austin. I'm waiting on a call or text from Firstborn to let me know when to meet her and Fourthborn at the quilt shop to pick up our penultimate blocks in this series.

The kids did a yeoman job of tackling the chaos in my studio. The actual moving-of-stuff took longer than they had expected, because there was so much overwhelm (mine) in the room. I am going to try to deal with the "Mom needs to look at this" pile on one shelf today. It's not huge, but it is messy.

The doll socks are done, blocked, and on Sarabelle. They fit her perfectly. Middlest is pleased. So am I.

I'm going to knit a little, and then I'll work on The Albatross for awhile.

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.