I *could* go to church today, and *probably should*, but I’m not and here’s why: Currently the lessons are on the book of Ephesians, and he’s at the bit where Paul is exhorting husbands to be good to their wives and how that’s done. I don’t want to hear about husbands being good to wives today. My mood is good. Himself was a most excellent husband, and I don’t particularly want to hear exhortations about it, and see husbands and wives nodding their heads or making faces or whatever. In general I don’t want to think about married life. It isn’t something I may ever experience again. Maybe will, maybe won’t. I just don’t know and I’m too busy thinking about other stuff. Plus I’m feeling pretty cheerful these days and I like that as well. So, sorry church, not there. Only not really sorry. Maybe I’ll go this evening instead. Maybe. (different preacher and sermon).
I think it’s the Springtime. My mood always improves when things are blooming, even with pollen issues. My eyes itch and sneezing abounds, but whatever. There’s roses and wisteria and dogwoods making lovely things to look at. I would say the air is warm but for some reason today it isn’t. The heater is on because Mom and Dad were here and Mom was cold. Also windows are all closed and socks are on the feet and I’m wearing a sweater. In April. Apparently in other parts of the country that’s not unusual. Only, there’s a new girl-person in the family mix (#2, The Engineer Personality, finally got around to noticing The Opposite Sex …am I supposed to say gender? whatever…and has a female companion) who’s from Way Up North and doesn’t find this arctic blast unpleasant in the least.
Mom and Dad (as previously mentioned) came for the weekend. Dad has an antique tractor that he uses for pulling parade floats and hayrides, and #4’s school was having a fundraiser, and since he (Dad) kind of lives for an
opportunety Pooprtunitey chance to pull many children in the trailer, he was happy to bring it over and do the hayride for the school. He pondered how the trailer was empty, and he was pretty sure no one wanted a hayride, then a thousand children appeared out of the ether and populated the hay bales. I said kids these days are like that. “Huh.” he replied. “At least they seemed to be well-behaved.” He also commented that there was one teeny tiny little girl who refused to get off the trailer, and simply spent the entire time riding around. Since she seemed to be enjoying it and wasn’t bothering anyone, he saw no reason to say anything to her. There were also a trio of hooligan boys who, inexplicably, never got hurt nor hurt anyone else, so he didn’t say anything to them, either. After describing them to me, I said at least one of them and possibly 2 were the older brother (s) of the teeny girl who wouldn’t leave, so if they’d done anything egregious, she would have reported it, and if anything had happened to her, he would have seen to it.
The whole event was fun, and there was the constant rhythm of a chugging tractor and raucous music of screeching children as a soundtrack. Fun stuff. Also the aroma of smoking meat, tables of cakes and bread …I nearly got into a physical altercation over a lemon velvet cake with someone, but we decided neither of us actually NEEDED an entire cake, so we split it and everyone was happy. Especially the woman who baked it because nothing is more complimentary than seeing people fight over your cake. Many items were auctioned off, ranging from tickets to Dollywood and a tank-driving experience, to baskets of goodies and bottles of wine. I love seeing the mixed bag of stuff people donate to such auctions (this was a silent one) and how invested some people can get in that particular basket or set of tickets. I am also pretty glad it’s over, because crowds of people are exhausting. Fun, but exhausting. Today I am hoping to speak to no one (another excuse to skip church.)
Today, while no one is speaking to me or making requests or requiring anything at ALL from me, I am going to read the instructions for the pattern of a prom dress. I’l read over it carefully, visualize every step, make the dress in my head several times, then get to work on it sometime this week. By the time I actually put scissors to fabric, I’ve already done it several times in my head, made the mistakes there, corrected stuff, changed something that was inefficient. It takes longer but beats having to run back to the store for for fabric because I messed it up. I will, with permission from the young lady for whom the dress is being made, post pictures.
Or I might park in the comfortable chair with a book, an afghan, and a cup of tea. And a slice (or two… heh) of lemon velvet cake.