Quirkiness, sadness

So, I'm into the fourth ball of yarn for the blanket. I'm about 70% done at this point. It is kind of tedious, knitting a rectangle, and each time I tell myself it will be fun, and it is, but it's not exciting. I like how it's looking, and I am sure the recipient will adore it.

I love soda water. Love it. It's one of those things about me, I guess. I prefer carbonated beverages, and as a result, I drink a lot of pop (boo!). I prefer soda water, however, and it really grosses out some of my coworkers who see me spraying it out of the pop gun.

Speaking of food quirks, like my food at room temperature. I have never sent food back at a restaurant because it was kind of cold, because that's how I actually want it. I would never tell someone that, though, for fear of getting something that died a slow death in the window.

Dan claims to have no quirks, and I agree. It's more that he has a lateral perception of the world that is an act of volition rather than a confluence of weird habits.

He thought it was a compliment.

Gramma Mae is home now. Dad is off work, and Uncle Dan flew in from California to be with her. Were all just waiting, now. I can't help but think of the time I snapped at her because she tried to feed me (again) right after we had dinner. I feel so guilty, but it's the only time I can remember where I think I hurt her feelings. And that moment has shaped me as an adult, and gives me patience when I would otherwise have none.

I'd much rather remember the day I married Dan, the day we surprised her with a birthday cake. The cake she thought was a prize for the funniest hat.