The courts are closed today, so there is a good chance that I can wrangle a week’s worth of email and get some sense of what is going on with our files.
I will be taking tamales, two by two like the ark, for lunch all week. This will not be a hardship.
I loved Middle-Aged Mormon Man’s post. I have some huge dominoes in the path ahead of me, and I have enough experience with life, and with Heaven, to know that sooner or later I will be able to work with the pattern as it unfolds and not work against it.
I still have no idea what to knit. I cannot lay hands on the next size needle for StellaLuna, although I do remember preparing it. Perhaps it is on the table with the lamp in the living room, amid the rubber stamps I was going to use to make birthday cards?
I slept last night, really truly slept. I still have not figured out this appetite thing.
I found Beloved’s senior portrait from high school and the related report cards. Yang to my yin: the man so obviously adored history, whereas I do not, the legacy of my having taken it from a succession of junior varsity coaches.
Downton Abbey rocked. I am so glad that our PBS station is showing last week’s episode first, and then the current one. I caught up on the episode I missed last Sunday when I was being obedient and attending my Primary presidency meeting.
I need to pick up a bushel of thank you cards on my way home from work tonight.
No profundity today. Not even close. The inside of my brainpan is one ginormous honey-do list.