I’ve got a definite weekday routine again, a rhythm for praying and offering to Mara and the local spirits on my way to work, short as the trip is. This morning I noticed that when I’m walking in that direction from my apartment, my mind automatically slips into the words now.
I thought about Brhenti this morning, though I didn’t call on her then. I thought about her off and on during the day.
It rained all day, but stopped just in time for my walk home so I was able to call her from the side of the water just as I did last week. I combined both of the rough drafts I had for her and liked the result.
When I came up to the house, it was with the sure sensation that she didn’t want candles and incense, she wanted something else. She wanted chores. So I loaded the dishwasher, took out the trash and recycling, started in on the laundry. That was good, but there she wanted something a little more out of my comfort zone.
Now, I’ve mentioned here before that my spouse is a knitter. They make beautiful objects and I’m still flattered every time they spend all that time on something for me. Nothing makes me feel more loved than hand knits.
So I have a lot of beautiful, hand-knit socks. I love my socks. I wear them all the time. Some of my knit socks are six years old at this point.
Holes are a thing.
I have just been putting the socks with holes aside waiting for the mythical someday when they would get fixed. And waiting. And, well, I’d been thinking about it more than usual today.
Just look it up on the YouTube and do it, is about what she said to me.
I watched three videos and darned two socks and mostly I am amazed I didn’t try this sooner. A+ new skill would honor Brhenti again.