When All Else Fails, Clean the Workroom

 Where are two shoes to click to my clack
Where is a voice to answer mine back?
                                                                     (Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol)

An odd phenomena that I notice from time to time is that I'm often aware of the sounds of my own footsteps.  Like when I'm walking into a store, or a restaurant, or even down a sidewalk.

That's just a random observation.

I've spend a few days out in the cottage, aka The Wicca House, the workroom, my maker space, or (ever since a friend made the pun) the Sidhe shed.  I have always had a tendency to work on a project, finish said project . . . and walk away.  So it needed some attention - the dye materials for the Forest Walk shawl were still out on the counter in one room, the sewing scraps from my Ren Faire outfit in another, the lost-the-momentum possible Wendigo skull on a work table, all that alpaca fleece in pillowcases on the floor . . .  It's all been sorted, some tossed, things put away, surfaces wiped down, even vacuumed.  Ready for the next project when inspiration strikes.  I even did an upgrade.

From time to time when I'm working on a project, I find that I want to review a technique or instruction.  Or even follow a step-by-step video.  Squinting at my phone screen just doesn't work for me.  If I knew up front I'd want to watch something, I could take my laptop with me (no WiFi in the cottage but I can make a hotspot off my phone).  But mid-project, it was either squint or make a run back to the house.

Sometime in the last year or two I got the idea of taking my old  desktop computer down there (because,of course, I had never gotten rid of it, just stored it).  I can't remember how old it is, but it's very proud of itself for being a two-in-one instead of having a separate tower, and I believe it was running on Windows 8.  So, old.

When I turned it on, it would take about 10 minutes to lumber into life.  Then another 10 minutes to actually open a web browser.  A few minutes to tell it to connect to my phone.  A few more to find YouTube.  Basically - about 30+ minutes.  Definitely frustrating if I just wanted to check a technique mid project.  I started thinking about getting a laptop to keep out there.  But I really didn't need or want a full computer, with keyboard and mouse.  All I really needed was . . . 

Well, duh.  A television.  These days, for $80, you can get a 24" smart television.  No fire stick or Chromecast stick needed.  Just plug in and go, and I have YouTube and web access and everything I need.

So the cottage is cleaned up (well, at least by my standards) and waiting for inspiration.  But my brain is foggy.  I don't know the right word - not exactly depressed, or morose, or sad - but something.

I've realized that it's just because there have been a lot of things this month that underscores that I am now just Ann, not Ann-and-Bob.  I now wear his ring, which isn't exactly his ring anymore because it would now barely fit on the top of his pinky finger.  I went to a movie, and to two plays (by myself, of course).  When I had my mammogram done, I went to go check out Michael's and World Bizarre which are both nearby (I'm better now than I once was - the first time I went to Michael's, around 2021, I lasted less than 10 minutes before I had to escape to the car to cry).  He enjoyed exploring both of those.

Giving up the jeep was huge.  I still get twisted up inside when I go to the barn (which is daily, because the chicken feed is in there).  As I said in an earlier post, it's a similar feeling to that I get when RedBug goes hopping by, with the emptiness where his leg used to be.  But Russell is going to rebuild all the damage from sitting there for so long (from needing new tires to rewiring where mice have chewed), and someday, fingers crossed, it will go into a museum.  Best of all possible outcomes.  But I still miss the life that had that jeep in it.

I also finally did the paperwork on the trailer that we used to carry the jeep on.  Rik traded it for a sheep for the museum a few years ago, but still hasn't gotten around to dragging it off (life gets in the way sometimes).  I couldn't find the title; he said he would do a title search but recently said that it would probably be easier if I did it, because I own it so I could probably get a duplicate title online.  I couldn't; apparently that is one one sole thing that was only in his name (even the jeep had both our names on the title).  So it wasn't on my account.  I couldn't create an online account in his name because his license had expired.  So I took a deep breath and gathered up the materials I thought I would need:  the license plate, his driver's license . . . and his death certificate.  I *hate* seeing or touching that.  But it's the official document that lists me as the "surviving spouse" which would give me the ownership.

I hate being reminded that I'm a surviving spouse.  But having all that - it only took a few minutes there to get the paperwork done, and handed over to Rik on the way home.

Looking back - that's Bob's ring, four outings, the jeep, and the trailer in not quite a month.   I've learned that it's best to just let my feelings happen and acknowledge them, rather than trying to convince myself that they don't matter.

And in the meanwhile, do some cleaning up.

A Long Day and a Midsummer Night

 Friday night Tallahassee decided to take a break from the drought, big time (I'm not complaining because we really need the rain).  Bad enough that the power went out.  I went to bed but I couldn't sleep because I was being hyper vigilant. The bedroom has a flat roof, which is a stupid design.  Rather than shingles there is a heavy vinyl sheeting.  If, for example, a branch falls on it and tear it, well, it leaks.  So I was lying there listening for the telltale sound of water dripping inside the bedroom.  It wasn't happening, but I still couldn't relax so I moved out to the couch.

That was fine for a few hours (honestly, I rather like sleeping on the couch) until the power came back on in the wee small hours and the lights that I thought I had turned off when the power was out turned out to be on.  That snapped me awake. But I finally was able to get to sleep again.  Until . . .

Remember this picture of RedBug up on his shelf?  Notice that it's over the couch - and I usually sleep with my head at this end.  At some point after I got back to sleep, I was awakened again by the sound of a cat being very noisily sick.  Groggily I tried to pinpoint the sound and then wondered how it seemed to be coming from directly overhead . . . .  I was inspired to move very quickly.  Fortunately he managed to barf and keep it all on the shelf, but I still had to clean it up, and by then I realized that the alarm was going to go off in a half hour so sleep was a lost cause.

Normally I don't have to go anywhere on Saturday.  But of course this day I did.  The weaver's guild meeting was in the morning, and I was taking that wheel I got a few months ago to another member, and also off loading some of that alpaca.  So there I was, groggy, with a headache, driving in the rain to a meeting I didn't really want to attend (they tend to spend a lot of time on tangents that don't interest me).  At least it was at the library, which is next door to that excellent French pastry shop, so the morning wasn't a total loss.

Normally I never go anywhere on a Saturday night, but . . . .  I had a ticket to an outdoor production of a Midsummer Night's Dream out at the museum.  It was brilliant.  The scenes were set in different places along the trail, and the audience walked to them.  So when the rustics were meeting to rehearse their play "by the old oak tree in the woods" you walked to go see them.  When the young lovers were chasing each other through the woods, it was done literally.  Titania's bower up in the tree - was up in a tree.  Fairies in light-up costumes were overhead (using the Tree to Tree ropes course).  There were extra effects - like the nightbirds calling, the eagle being annoyed and screaming at the actors, and the turkey keeping up a steady comment.

I don't think I could ever really enjoy this play on a stage again.

Other adventures.  As I didn't get much sleep Friday night and had a very long day Saturday (I didn't get home from the play until after 10:00 p.m.) I was a bit of a zombie on Sunday and looking forward to bed.  But after the power outage on Friday the air pump on my fish tank became *very* loud (I'll go buy a new one tomorrow).  Annoying enough that I returned to the couch.  In the wee small hours the cats went bonkers, running all over and knocking stuff down and just having shenanigans.  That finally settled down.  I was able to get some sleep, but I can see the kitchen from the couch and at 6:00 the very bright light from my herb garden came on.  When that woke me, I noticed that the cats were still on high alert - and then I saw the mouse making a dash for the bedroom.  I jumped up and threw the cats out of the bedroom.  Now I had a mouse under my secretary to deal with.

I came up with A Clever Plan.  I got a shopping bag and put a towel in it to make it seem like a cozy safe place and laid it on one side of the secretary.  Then I got down with a flashlight and a ruler to poke under the secretary to chivy the mouse towards the bag.

Darned if it didn't work!  Mouse got moved outside.  At this point sleep was out of the question (the AC people were coming the clean the unit in a couple of hours).  So I did my morning ablutions, fed the cats, went to go let the chickens out of the coop and feed them, then finally made my tea and poured my cereal.  As I sat down, there was a tiny knock at the sliding glass door as a squirrel reminded me I had not put out their sunflower seeds and peanuts.

I doubt if I'll get much done today.

Frustrating Day (but a couple of cute pictures)

 Some days you're just spinning your wheels.

Granted, I'm still in a down mood from the jeep.  The barn looks like a cavern.  Live with something for 46 years and you get used to having it around.  And we had such fun with it.  Past tense.

I realize that I'm feeling the same way about the jeep as I did about RedBug's leg.  Making the decision, each time, tore me up.  Going through with it hurt.  Looking at the smooth blankness where Bug's leg used to be still twists me up a little.  Looking at the empty barn hurts.

But RedBug would have died.  And the jeep would have rusted away.  I did what had to be done to save them.  Sigh.

So today I've been doing, or trying to do, stuff that needs to be done . . . again.  There's a woman in the weaver's guild who wants the spinning wheel that I got in March (with the idea of passing it on).  We haven't gotten together yet (in her defense, she works and has two preteen boys).  I wrote her last week to see if she was going to the guild meeting this coming Saturday.  I rarely go, but I would to be able to take it to her.  I didn't hear back.  So I wrote again today.  I've fine either way, but I would like to know if I need to plan on going or not.

I wanted to look at the results of my Dexa scan and compare it to earlier years.  I tried to log onto my patient portal but couldn't.  I finally called the help number and apparently I fell out of the system.  So I went through all the steps and filled out the online forms to get reinstated.  They had to send me an access code, which it said could take a day.  I waited two days, then called back today to deal with that.  I finally get into the portal - and while it verifies that I had the scan, it doesn't have the results.  Now I have to call my doctor's office to find out how to get those.

I mentioned a couple of posts ago about having to try to contact the DMV to get a title for the car trailer.  Of course, I think it's the only thing we owned that apparently was only in Bob's name, so I can't get it online.  It's suggested that you make an appointment rather than just walk in.  You can't do that online.  So I called three times today, to go through the phone tree to get to the point you can ask for a human being, only to get the message "everyone is busy, try calling again later."  So I guess I'll take a day and just go sit there until someone can see me.  In the meanwhile, I know I'll have to turn the license plate in, so I went to take it off but the bolts have rusted so I'll need to tackle it with WD40, a screwdriver, and a wrench.

OK,that's today down the tubes. Maybe I should just take my blanket and book and go sit by my stream and chill.  I start down the path, and face this.

My path runs under those two fallen trees.  They're too big for my little chainsaw.  I'll still be able to get down to the stream (over the first tree, duck under the second) but I need to clean out the branches and other detritus first.   In my present mood I should not be working with implements of destruction.

Basically, this day has been a wash.  But to end it with a reset, a couple of cute pictures.  One of the young foxes at the museum is on medication, and it's given to her in little balls of meat.  So that we're sure she gets it, we have to hand feed her.  

One of the cats' toys is a round plush piggie.  RiverSong had decided that it makes a good pillow.

Maybe tonight I'll go sit with the fireflies again before their brief season is over.

Jeep

 Well, that didn't take long.  The jeep is gone.

It was Bob's pride and joy, and a vital part of WWII history.  The 1942 Willys.

Bob bought it, derelict and sitting in a barn, in December 1979.  He putzed around with it for the next 15 years, and then finally it went to stay about two years at a restorer's.

We had a lot of fun in that beast.  Sometimes we'd just take it out for a drive.  It's been to a lot of parades, Bob in his WWII kit, me as Rosie the Riveter.  One time for an FSU parade, Bob had to be a parade marshal so I got to drive it with our local astronaut Norm Thagard as my passenger.  At various other parades we would load it up with WWII veterans.  Bob's favorite part was in the display area afterwards, when the vets would come up and lovingly touch it, like someone seeing an old hound dog they thought was long gone, and tell us their stories.  Heck - even my mother.  Post WWII when she was in Japan with my father, she could check a Jeep out of the motor pool if she and her friends wanted to drive into Tokyo (I can just see my mother, in her early 20's, a farm girl from Illinois, driving a Jeep in Japan).

One time, we went to dinner after a parade, and when we came out, there were four vets sitting in it, laughing and swapping stories.  Rather than look embarrassed for sitting in someone's car when we came out, they handed us a camera and asked us to take their picture.

After Bob died, Robert and Amanda asked me to keep the jeep.  That was Uncle Bob's legacy.  Maybe we would all ride in it in a parade.  They could pass it down to their kids, and maybe someday to their grandkids.  Of course, because of Covid there were no parades for two years.  They got involved in other things.  The jeep has just been sitting in the barn.  I at least kept a tarp over it (cardinals like to roost in there, and I didn't want it spattered) but I never drove it (it actually takes a lot of muscle - no power steering or brakes).  The kids got on with their lives.  They rarely come to Tallahassee, and never go down as far as the barn to look at it.  Their kids - Dane and Zeke - have shown no interest.  Robert and Amanda don't have the interest, time, storage, or money to maintain a vehicle that's now 84 years old.

I've been feeling increasingly guilty over the years as it's been slowly deteriorating.  Yes - it's a unique vehicle.  Even part of my identity "why yes - that's a WWII Willys jeep under that tarp."  It's a legacy of Bob's.  But honestly - it's also a white elephant, something that must be stored and maintained.

Perhaps it's because I'm now wearing Bob's ring that I found the courage to grit my teeth and make the call.  Letting the jeep slowly rust away is not the way to show respect to Bob's memory.  Fortunately - it's not going to some stranger.  There's a man a couple of towns away, Russell Deese, who has made his living for forty years restoring and selling military vehicles.  He's worked on this jeep before.  He and Bob were friends.  I just wasn't expecting it to happen so quickly.  I emailed him on Friday evening - and Sunday afternoon he was here with the trailer.  We talked about Bob (he even came into the house to admire Bob's models).

Then came the moment when I teared up. He asked me "how would you feel about this going into a museum? We could put a plaque with Bob's name on it."  Apparently there are plans to create a military museum in Tallahassee, and Russell is on the board.  If things go according to plan, and the jeep goes in, it will be restored and cared for and I can go see it.  If not - it will go to a collector who will maintain it properly.  That is what I really want, to honor Bob.

Does it hurt to give it up?  Hell,yeah.  We bought that jeep 46 years ago.  It's always been around.  Now the barn feels like a big empty cavern.  And I'm no longer a woman who owns a WWII jeep.  But it also feels good to let go of the guilt, to not let something that was important to Bob simply rust away.  His legacy will go on.

Time for a Brain Dump

 I would give my weight in gold
For one last chance to tease you

I would burn my castle down
For one last chance to please you   (Weight in Gold)

I wrote in my last post how I love wearing Bob's ring.  I do, definitely. But there's something else, like a little twinge.  For six years I would look at it from time to time, almost with a sense of patient waiting.  What was I waiting for?  Subconsciously - that there would be a time slip and it turned out that everything worked out the way it was supposed to?  Or that it was all a big mistake, or just a dream?  That if I was patient enough - he'd put it back on again?  Getting it sized to fit me, made it mine.  I feel closer to him - which makes me realize even more that he's out of reach.

I went to see Project Hail Mary last week - I was curious because they were using practical effects and Rocky was a puppet.  Very good movie; I predict Oscars.  But, of course, they had to leave out 80% of the book - the part that I called "science porn."  But dammit - it happened again.  That imploding empty feeling I get (like after the play last week) as I walk back to my car alone.  I would have loved to go grab a cup of coffee and talked about the movie, but I don't know anyone who's into science fiction.
I'm semi-tempted to see it again.  I love "behind-the-scenes" insights (I've been watching a lot of YouTube videos).  There's an app that you can download that has the director's commentary throughout the movie (obviously you listen on ear buds).  I thought about just listening to it - but you have to be in a theater.  Which means sitting through the movie again.  Maybe they'll make it available when it shows up on home streaming.

After going to the theatre and then the movie (and having to drive into town for my rings) I once again opted out of the Chain of Arts in the Park.  I would like to go see all the art; I doubt if I would buy anything because I'm still drowning in too much stuff of my own.  The traffic is heavy, the parking horrendous, and the whole place is crowded.  I ended up that afternoon sitting on my back deck with a book, coffee, snacks . . . and a small pile of peanuts.

I sipped, nibbled, read, looked at the trees, listened to the thrum of the hummingbird's wings at the feeder, and the wild chirping when a mother wren came in with a bug for her wide-mouthed chicks in the nest in a corner of the deck.

Now, the brain dump.  I've been feeling restless and somehow oppressed.  Feeling like there are things that I've left undone.    When I get in this mood, I know that it's time to get a cup of tea, a notepad and pen, and figure out what's bothering me.

It's a lot of little things, a few big things, stuff that will take a few minutes, stuff that will take longer, and stuff I just have to accept.

Worrisome:  The drought here is getting really bad.  Fires are popping up all over Florida.  What can I do about this?  Well, nothing.  Maybe get my bug-out kit ready.
Annoyance:  I have realized that having a fire is a big part of my enjoyment of the continual cleaning up of the yard.  Picking up yard waste only to put it in a pile lacks a sense of reward, as does cutting up a tree and finding someplace to pile the chunks.  Also, this year I was going to give the azaleas a serious cutting back.  I don't know if it's caution or paranoia, but it strikes me that a living growing plant is less of a fire hazard than a large pile (the azaleas cover the entire front of the house - it will be a lot) of dead branches and drying leaves.

Worrisome:  I had my dexa scan last week.  My doctor called - my osteopenia/osteoporosis is slightly worse.  So much for my logged in 2,000 miles of walking in the last two years, taking my meds, my manual labor at the museum, my moving of cinder blocks and cut up trees and carrying 50lb bags of chicken food.  I don't want to end up like Dad, who one day was putting the sheet on the bed and fractured his back, and later jumped up from a chair to help Mom and broke his leg.  So I'll be going in for an infusion treatment.  The problem with an infusion instead of pills is that once it's in, it's in.  You can't stop taking it.  Fingers crossed that I don't have any reaction.
Annoyance:  I wanted to look to see just how much my numbers have changed since last dexa two years ago.  This is done by the online health portal - I tried for about a half-hour to get in.  It apparently doesn't recognize my email (I have noticed that their system periodically reverts to an old email that I no longer have access to).  So now I have to make a phone call to try to get that worked out.

Annoyance:  Time to take the car in for annual maintenance.  For some 24 years, first with the old Honda and now this one I just went to the dealership.  But year before last they broke the clips on my hubcaps, and last year they ripped the undercarriage skirting loose and were really annoyed when I wanted them to repair it so it wasn't dragging the ground.  This means that I probably have to go to two places - on for fluid change, and one to get the tires rotated.  And first I have to buy new hubcaps because a couple of the current ones are held on with zip ties.

Annoyance.  I sold the old car trailer to Rik (actually, I traded it to him for a sheep for the museum).  I can't find the title.  I went online to get a replacement but it doesn't show up.  Usually everything we got went under both names, but apparently the trailer was only under Bob's.  I tried to set up an account under his name, but his driver's license has expired so I couldn't.  Now I need to make an appointment and go to the DMV to see if I can get a title.

Hanging over my head:  Bob's jeep.  Amanda really wanted me to keep it (she's very sentimental).  But it's just rusting and rotting away, and I feel awful about that.  Maybe I was thinking/hoping that someone would contact me and be interested in it - but that's never happened.  I told myself last year that as soon as I passed Bob's death anniversary that I would start checking around - and then I didn't.  I did the first step - I just talked to my nephew Rob to tell him that it was time to make a decision.  If they want the jeep, they have to come get it (and probably rent garage space somewhere).  Meanwhile, I did write a WW2 expert (who recently gave a talk on jeeps, so I got his contact from the library) and he said he'll ask around, and also gave me a web site.

And there's some little things that I just need to take care of.

I think what's bothering me is that the theme running through all this is "I."  I have to do this, make that call, schedule that appointment, I have to go deal with this, I have to be prepared for an emergency.  I I I I I I I I I.   I feed the cats, I take care of the chickens, I call to have the annual maintenance on the air conditioning, I have to go buy hubcaps (and windshield wiper blades while I'm at it).   I sometimes get so exhausted from being "I."  I miss being "we."

OK - it helped to write it all down.  It's nothing that's not doable - I just have to suck it up, and do it.

My Ring Is Back

 My ring is back on my finger, thank God.
Even after a month, I couldn't get used to not having it.  I would find myself sometimes shaking my hand just to try to relieve the weird sensation.  I would wake up with a bit of panic in the night because something was wrong.

After wearing it for 54 years, perhaps it has become a horcrux.  All I know is that I've been feeling really stressed for the last month, and as soon as I slipped it back on again, I could relax.  Yes, it's different.

Before:

Now: 

Do I miss that wee diamond (marquis cut!)? Yes, of course.  Like I miss the 19-year old who didn't care what size the diamond was (it ended up being 1/5 carat) as long as it was a marquis cut, who tried to climb Bob to grab it as he held it out of her reach.  But I'm OK with it.  I was not OK with not feeling that ring on my finger.  And I didn't even want to think about getting a "replacement" diamond (honestly, I'm not that much of a diamond person).

I feel like I can breathe again.  Especially since it now has a companion on the other hand:

As long as I was getting one ring remade, why not two?  That's Bob's wedding ring.  I've kept it (of course!) but in a box to look at once in awhile, and sigh.  I know a woman who wears her husband's ring on her thumb - Bob's ring was far too big even for that.  There's the "ring on a chain" standard - but chains can come undone or break, and it would have to be something that I took on and off, because I spend so much time outside.  Now I can just wear it, all the time.

I love it.  I wish I had thought of this years ago.  A bit of him with me.  It feels so good.  Empowering.  Can a hand feel empowered?  Well, of course!  "Rings of power" is a thing.  Rings have from pre-history had meanings of power, symbolism, cultural meaning.  I am now me on my left hand, but Bob on my right, and I feel just a tiny bit more whole than I have for years.  A little stronger.

Like he's still with me.

The Play Went Wrong

 I've been to three plays at the FSU School of Theatre in as many years, and every time I wonder why I don't go more often.  The acting is great, the production values, settings, and costumes are wonderful, and the tickets are cheap - about as much as a couple of hamburgers.

This play had a lot of problems.  Missed cues, fumbles, the curtains falling off the wall, props broken - it all went wrong.  But considering that the title of this production is "The Play That Went Wrong" it all went wrong in all the right ways.  By the end, I had laughed for two hours, and the entire set, walls and all, was on the floor.

I even treated myself to a takeout from Cava for dinner.

Yes - I did have that feeling of - sadness?  wistfulness? when it seemed that everyone in the theater was in couples or groups, and I was the only one going solo. And it would have been fun to have been laughing with someone.  But my point of view about going solo (to the circus, or the RenFair, or out to eat) has changed over the years.   At first, it felt really weird.  Like everyone else had a partner or friends, and I didn't.  I think the change in my mindset came a year or so ago.  Jeff was in town, and we were going to meet for lunch.  I got there and waited inside - it was a hot day, so I wasn't about to sit in the car.  And I waited there for 20 minutes.  I just figured that he had gotten hung up at work.  But then I got a text from him of "where are you?"  It turned out that he got there, didn't see my car, so he just waited for me, outside in his truck, because he doesn't like to walk into a restaurant by himself.

There is it.  It's not like *everybody* else has people to do stuff with.  It's that the people who don't - simply don't do the stuff.  Don't go to the play, or the movie, or out to eat.   Whereas I've decided that if I want to do something, I do it.

I did have a group thing - the annual museum volunteer appreciation party.  That one is always fun.

I've been dealing with a chicken problem.  The dratted birds have figured out that eggs are tasty.  At first they were only breaking Djali's eggs (she's the only one that lays green eggs).  But now they're all fair game.  I've tried keeping the coop doors mostly closed to keep it dark in there (they can still go out to the scratch yard during the day). I changed to a different nest box.  I tried putting artificial eggs in the nest to see if pecking those would discourage them.  Now I'm just checking every hour or so to see if I can get an egg before they do.  If I find a bird on the nest, I shut the coop doors so no one else can get inside (and then have to remember to set a timer so I don't forget her).  I feel like I'm playing tug-of-war to get any eggs.  When I lose, I have to clean the gloppy nestbox.  I lose a lot.

This means war.  I made a couple of chicken bombs - I blew out some eggs, filled them with a mixture of mustard, chili paste, vinegar, and salt, and put them in the nest.
Me:  mwa ha ha ha ha
The Chickens:  Mommy made us tasty treats!!!!!

Sigh.

I'm *still* waiting on my ring.  It was supposed to take three weeks.  They had called after two weeks to give me the price estimate and get the go-ahead, so I was hopeful it would be soon.  After another week (when the three weeks was up) I called.  I got the "oops" call back.  The ring had not been moved from the "pending" box to the "work on it" box, so he said he should have it done within a week.  They're closed until Wednesday, so fingers crossed that I get it back.  Like someone with phantom limb pain, even after a month I can still feel the absence of the ring.  Even after this mistake, I'm going to put myself through this again.  I've been keeping Bob's ring in a box, but it occurred to me that I could have it cut down so that I can wear it.  I haven't found any other jewelers in town who do the work in-house instead of sending it out, so I hope this will go a little faster.

And now it's dark, and mid-April, so I must go out to sit with the fireflies.