I spent much of Saturday with Mugs. We went shopping for baking stuff, and then we went to buy yarn. My honey made venison steak for dinner, and Mugs and I sat up half the night crocheting. For all of the time I spent trying to make this little dinky practice hat, as I called it, I only got this much done before I went to bed.
I worked on it a little more on Sunday, and the rows kept getting shorter and shorter. It was supposed to be a square, but it was looking more and more like a trapezoid. What's a trapezoid, you ask? Think waaaayyy back...it's like a squished square.
I think I have to do it when it's quiet so I can concentrate on how many stitches I'm putting in each row. I gave up and ripped it out. I'll try again when I get a quiet minute. Maybe that won't be until the next time she comes over again. LOL
I stayed up pretty late Saturday night, cleaning up the kitchen and clearing off the counter so we could have plenty of space to work. It makes it so much easier, and less stressful, if you ask me.
Clutter makes me stressed, have I said that once or twice? So why do I have so darn much of it? I guess it's like doing steps six and seven over and over again. You've taken the inventory, you know what you need to do, but you keep doing the same thing over and over again until you're so sick of the results that you're ready to do whatever it takes to change them.
So when I got up Sunday morning, the kitchen was blissfully clean. Well, not spotless everywhere, but the dishes were done and the counters were clear and clean. Just beautiful. Do you think it means that I'm getting old if I get so much satisfaction out of a clean kitchen? My kids think I'm absolutely weird because of the things that make me happy. I can hear them roll their eyes even when their backs are turned. I can.
That reminds me of two ladies at work who were having a discussion about age. One of them was telling the other one about how she was trying shoes on at one store, and she forgot to roll her jeans back down after she put her hiking boots back on, and she had these woolly socks on, besides. She went to a few more stores dressed like that, and didn't realize it until she saw herself in a mirror! She was mortified.
The other lady said, "Well, you know, people expect a certain amount of eccentricity out of a woman of a certain age. Don't worry about it."
The first lady spouted back. "Well, I'm not that age yet!"
Well, I think I am getting awfully close to that age! Here's my theory. Many women spend much of their younger years being responsible, taking care of a home, and raising their children. Once the bulk of that is done and their responsibilities lighten up, they want to have a little fun and be a little silly. That's what Marguerite and I did this weekend.
We made our fruitcake, laughed a lot, took pictures of every stage along the way--I'll post them soon, I promise--and we had so much fun doing it together. It was no grand party night out, but it was satisfying. It wouldn't have been half as much fun doing it by myself.
If you're lucky, you have friends to share the good times and the bad, and friends who will be silly and have fun with you any time you get a chance. If you're even luckier, you'll be friends with your family.