Where do the hours go!
I think I accidentally learned how to ruche today, which is awesomesauce. I love ruche-ing. And I love the way one of my shirts turned out, one I didn’t have a huge problem with in the first place, but now it’s even more awesome, all taken in and ruched down the sides and whatnot. And I did manage to fix my dress for church, removing the balloon skirt part of it and transforming to a regular hem. Although I nearly throttled the lining by the end of it. And then I took in another baggy shirt. I feel like that might be all I did today? Except make soup, which was onions, celery, chicken, broth, and rice noodles. With ginger and lemongrass and red pepper flakes.
I’m still working on your present, which is taking time due to technological slowness. Infuriating.
Whatelse did I not tell you during our chat. I was bit by a deerfly on Saturday. It’s like the horsefly’s cousin, and equally mean. It has stripey wings, and is attracted to dark colors, shininess, movement and sweat. So no wonder it was divebombing me as I walked around the lake in my all-black outfit and finally landed on my wedding ring to take a chomp. Still can’t wear my ring. My hand swelled epically. But otherwise you know. I’m still alive.
Oh my awesome K.Lo story. The other night before bed – when tensions often run high you know – she threw a fit about God. And incidentally St. Barbara, whom she claims did not protect her during a recent thunderstorm in spite of a prayer. But as she did not get electrocuted or even wet during said storm, I argued that she was indeed kept safe. God was a little trickier. WELL I NEVER SEE HIM. HOW DO I KNOW HE’S EVEN THERE! Oh K.Lo. The mind of a tortured adult in your 6-year-old self. HOW CAN HE BE LISTENING IF HE’S NOT EVEN HERE. Like legitimately panicked in tone. We talked about where He lives, and how and when we can talk to Him, and tried to sort out that He doesn’t actually live now, in Bethlehem, in the form of Jesus. Although I see how that could confuse. Meanwhile N.Lo, who has weekly Bible time at church, brushed his teeth and interjected occasionally, matter-of-fact if not bored: "He lives in your heart, K.Lo…”
And I didn’t tell you about my ice cream cone cupcakes that I made for the Relay bake sale on Friday – figuring they’d sell for a dollar apiece, right? Nice $24 donation, potentially. I spent over an hour packing them to make sure they’d be all right, because you know they’re a little precarious. Top-heavy. Anyway, at some point after dropoff they completely bit it (tipped over, melted? etc.) and weren’t even sold. Was feeling a little hormonal about this news and nearly cried. Even though it’s no use crying over fubar ice cream cone cupcakes. But sometimes? you just have to anyway.
Okay love. Must tend to your happy birthday. Which you’ll maybe feel is worthy of all the sacrifices you’ve made, or maybe not. snarf.