Wednesday, November 16, 2011

So Tired I Couldn't Sleep

That was me last night. I hardly ever have nights like that so it was doubly frustrating but Durwood's a good snuggler and that helped me settle down. I took the doll shoes, socks, and hats out to the doll lady who wouldn't buy them (she's downsizing too) but kept them to sell to her students and at 2 doll shows in April and June on our behalf. I hadn't even counted the stuff but people around here are usually honest to a fault so I'm not too worried. She offered to do the same with all of Mom's patterns so I'll load those up on Sunday when I have Durwood's big van, AND the lady who came on Saturday to give me some pricing help called last night to say she's got people interested in both sewing machines and a bunch of the bins of fabric. Hoo! Ray! (I'm naming my next child Gail in her honor.) They're willing to come up on Sunday to get the stuff so it won't even make it to the estate sale the next weekend. We're getting there, Aunt B, don't you worry about us. I even found time to get my nails done, play with Porter for an hour, and to rake a few leaves so I did some stuff for ME too. After supper I made a big pot of chicken vegetable soup for work lunches this week and next. I'll go over to the apartment tonight and start taping boxes shut in the doll room. I want to get a jump on Sunday's chores.

November 15--Paul Poiret, Textile Sample. She couldn't keep her hands off the silk satin of the lining. It was the softest thing she'd ever touched. She smoothed her fingertips across it and her eyes half closed with the sheer sensuality of it. She felt the weave as if it were a More Code message aimed only at her. Her eyes closed as she gave all her sensory attention to the three fingertips of her right hand. The whole world was reduced to the richness of the silk and the electricity it generated along her nerve endings. Back and forth, back and forth her fingertips barely grazed the fabric but the thrill of it raised goosebumps up her arms and she felt her nipples harden and strain in the confines of her bra. Outside sounds receded as her breathing deepened. A shudder ran down her spine and her knees shook.

Whoever she is, she's sure having a moment, isn't she? The cold has come in on the knife edges of the wind. I'm dressing in layers today--and where did I put all my pashminas? Stay warm.

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