Saturday nights are quiet around the house. No late night parties, no big plans (usually), no large dinner parties (or small ones, even). When I preach on Saturday, in fact, I'm usually in the office for at least part of the day, after which we do something really exciting like watching "Antiques Roadshow". I might glance over my sermon once or twice, or I might avoid it altogether until just before I go to bed.
This weekend I am not preaching. I'm not even presiding at the early service. It feels odd, actually.
So, I'm knitting a turquoise footie (the second one, actually). Last weekend, I started it, found a dropped stitch, and ended up ripping up the whole sock and starting over. I'm just about where I started again. (There's a metaphor in there, somewhere, I'm sure. Or, a sermon illustration.)
I'm reading a little. I just finished The Birchbark House, by Louise Erdrich, and want to get the next in the series as soon as I can. I read all of the Little House books when I was little. Louise Erdrich was inspired to write her counterpoint from the Native point of view, at least in part, because of something Caroline Ingalls said in one of the books, "There's no one here." I'm glad to know this Ojibwe family; I think in future books they will probably travel from place to place like the Ingalls family, but for different reasons.
We watched an old movie from 1932, Love Me Tonight, while my husband did interesting historical background on his ipad. He also worked on an old acrostic. I could watch over and over the opening sequence, in which the song "Isn't it Romantic?" travels from person to person and place to place.
Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to hearing Nihjar Ekka-Minz preach, instead of me. I'm looking forward to hearing about work in faraway North India. Nihjar and her husband tell fascinating stories. And I can't help loving stories.