My boys' Scout troop has an annual pancake breakfast. Always before I've been the parent at home taking care of the littles, but this year I spent seven hours doing dishes. I was surprised to see how much fun I had. I don't spend much time doing physical work with other adults. Maybe I should.
There was a point when I got pretty draggy. I wasn't quite sure about the etiquette of working the breakfast, when it was all right to say, "Hey, I want to go eat some of those pancakes!" I remembered Brother Lawrence turning his little omelet in its pan for love of God, and dried plates for the love of God. It surprises me every time what an immediate difference it makes. Maybe I should read The Practice of the Presence of God for Lent.
Remember how this was Sweater Week? (Probably not. I know my knitting is not nearly as fascinating to anyone else as it is to me.) I finished the body of my version of this cute sweater and am working on the buttonband. I am making it with sleeves, and it always seems a little unjust when I bump up against the cruel reality of how many stitches there are in an adult-sized sleeve. But I suppose a person whose idea of a cruel reality is the circumference of her arm (and not, say, encroaching tanks) has a pretty cushy life.
Good night, all, and thanks for reading this week!