Balm In Gilead, Catholic, fun, funny, I do not know my limitations, I have a strange sense of humor, inner child, Little Philosopher, painkillers, Pinterest, prayer, Sae, sewing, Sext, sick, surgery, Sweet Pea, The Little Philosopher, The Messiah
Every day at precisely noon, my phone begins to vibrate, play Comfort Ye My People from the Messiah, and display across the screen, in large, friendly letters, “Sext.” If I could remember what model of phone I have long enough to google how to take a screen shot, I would totally show you. Anyway, this is not my noon reminder to send smutty messages to… someone. It is my regular reminder that it is time for the Midday Prayer part of the Liturgy of the Hours. If I am at work, it also means I can go shut the door and not have to talk to anyone for an hour.
The reason why Midday Prayer is called Sext is because back in the day when they were naming things, the noon prayers were at the Sixth Hour, and Sext is Latin for Sixth. I’m the obstinate type who figures that just because some upstarts invented another word that happens to sound and be spelled just like the word we’ve been using for a couple of millenia, but happens to mean something very different, is no reason why I should change the words I use. Plus, it amuses me greatly. I have no idea what my coworkers who happen to be near me at noon think, but that makes me giggle too. So I’m keeping it.
My alarm that lets me know that it’s time to take my painkillers is also from the Messiah: Behold, I Tell You A Mystery. The text is 1 Corinthians 15:51-52: “Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep; but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” Because if that doesn’t describe what painkillers do, I don’t know what does. I’m thinking about changing it to Balm In Gilead, except an alarm needs to be loud, startling, or annoying enough to make you take action, and I think that’s maybe too soothing. We’ll see.
Part of the problem of being off work is that I have the illusion of endless time to spare, and since I’m on painkillers, no sense of my own limitations. For example, Sae has been trying to find a dress for Sweet Pea to wear for her flower girl gig at AnniePott’s upcoming wedding. It doesn’t have to be a super fancy dress, but it does have to conform to Indy’s carefully curated palette of greens. Last Saturday Sae brought her latest attempt to Indy for approval, but alas, it was more turquoise than emerald, and did not pass muster.
Sae was sounding a bit discouraged, and suddenly I found myself volunteering that if Sae would buy a couple of yards of eyelet cloth, I’d be happy to dye it the right shade with Rit Dye, and then sew the dress myself. This seemed like an entirely reasonable proposition to me. After all, kids that size are basically cylinders, so a pretty party dress would be basically four rectangles sewn together, and two of those would be straps. Plus I could put a little pocket on the front, and it would be ridiculously cute. I thought a lot about that pocket.
Then I thought that it would also be a really great idea to get a couple more yards of cloth and sew a matching dress out of it for The Little Philosopher too. This also seemed entirely reasonable. I even talked about it with The Duchess. I decided that the pockets should be little gathered pockets like this, all edged with tiny white lace. I never once thought about the five other projects I also need to get done before the wedding, which is in three weeks.
However, God loves me. Sae found a dress that will probably work, and it looks like that particular domino chain of crazy is not going to tumble down after all.
After abdominal surgery, this is not funny.
This, however, is hilarious.
Yesterday my niece the Little Philosopher came over to be babysat by people who are not me. She is beginning to get in touch with her inner chatterbox, and we had a very good time with each other. I was getting more and more tired, so after a while I was mostly lying on the couch while she climbed over me like a jungle gym (miraculously not kneeing me in my incision, though it came close a couple times!). She eventually perched herself on the arm of the couch, right behind my shoulder, and I introduced her to Pinterest. These were her two favorite Pins:
I think I know what she’s getting for Christmas…
This morning Mai posted a link to and article: 18 Photos To Prove That Growing Old Is Inevitable, But Growing Up Is Optional. And, yes, I know, that title is cumbersome, but the article is awesome. Also, I would humbly submit that’s it’s not so much an article as a To Do List. For example, I really think this needs to happen:
Maybe if I talked it up to my brothers & brothers-in-law, they might do the heavy lifting for me. But first I’ve got to find just the right tree…
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