about the cats;
Leo hs become increasingly talkative. She's 17 years old now, and has suddenly found her voice. She makes her wishes clear through a mixture of miaows, squeaks, grumbles and purrs when she finally gets what she wants (usually Himself's lap). She is liable to come in, soaking wet from the rain, and tell him all about it. Wetly. Leaving footprints every where.
McCavity has been getting thinner and thinner recently. We were beginning to worry, but the other day she managed to deposit a hair ball the size of a medium sized mouse on the back door step. Outside the back door, I'm glad to say. Since then she seems to be putting a bit of flesh on her bones.
I shall have to cut their claws again - both cats make clicking noises as they walk across the wood floors.
I met up with my friends mid-week for our usual drink-tea-eat-cake-and-natter evening. We crocheted another dozen sisal bookmarks for the World Day of Prayer service later in the week (see below!) and I also had another go at painting 'carrot people';
I'm astonished that the method actually produces effective results!
It was the World Day of Prayer on Friday; I went to the morning service in a small village church nearby, and took copious notes or the evening service that we were hosting at our church later on.
Afterwards I managed to borrow the candles, and a Zimbabwean flag, and gather all the spare note cards and pencils left over from writing promises during the service to take them back to our church for the evening service. We had a much simpler affair, but still well-attended. In a fit of grumpiness back in September when I agreed to take on the service, I changed the start time from 7.30 to7pm. Why? I don't know. I suspect I might just have been making some kind of point.
I've been 'on the committee' for too many years now - I only joined as a temporary measure until I could find someone 'more suitable' when the previous church rep had to stand down. I find the whole thing extraordinarily draining, even when our church isn't hosting the service. It all hangs over me like a bit of a cloud throughout November, December, January, February and the beginning of March, when I am prone to bouts of chest infections, and, this year, dealing with my God-mother's affairs as well! Every year I say 'no more'... and 'never again'...
Actually it was a good evening. Only two ladies came at the old time of 7.30, halfway through, and we were cleared up and away and back in our own homes by 9pm. The services have become more elaborate over the years; when I was first involved we just had the words and the songs. Now there are 'interactive' bits, reflecting the custome of the country that put the service together - Zimbabwe this year. Offering cups of water on arrive, haing a display of traditional Zimbabwean food and flowers and musical instruments, writing committments to serve the community, and giving everyone a sisal bookmark as they leave. I've now got a couple of bags of spare service sheets, and half a dozen sisal bookmarks, and all the left-over pencils and note cards to rehome and recycle and a flag to return to its rightful owner. I've managed to pass the candles back already.
Ah well. My first pupil tomorrow can't come, so I will have a more lesiurely start to the day - maybe clear the dining room table before I start teaching? Bed time now, anyway.