This morning I sat at home with tiny knitting needles and worked furiously on the first section of the topsy turvy doll I am hoping to have finished in time to mail up to Seattle for my niece's birthday, and Richard headed for the computer room to scan through the huge stack of Lord of the Ring DVD's, looking for the scene's we'll be using for tomorrow's Sunday School class. My dad called to find out if I'd mind if the recorder group played the prelude, which also reminded me that I am the accompanist tomorrow (ack – guess who hasn't practiced a bit!), so I dashed downstairs to my piano at that point and discovered that the price for my forgetfulness was one hymn with five sharps and one with six flats, plus one that would have been a bear to play even without all the added accidentals. If Richard is not sick of hearing that hymn played over and over and over this afternoon and evening, he's got far more tolerance than I.
We drove down to Campbell to meet Richard's parents for the annual Robert Burns dinner – or the annual endurance test called eating haggis. I dutifully ate a small piece, since I figure there are far worse things I've had to eat, and while I am never going to become the slightest bit fond of the stuff, the whole point of the Robert Burns' dinner is the haggis so I might as well. It's only once a year, after all.
The dinner had the usual mix of entertainment and confusion. There were songs based on Burns' poems, the Ode to the Haggis, the parade of the mottled gray orc embryo….I mean, the parade of the haggis, dancing, and so on. We didn't stick around for as much as last time, however, since Richard was starting to get a little wheezy. So after the Immortal Memory was given (a long, dry speech given in a monotone, making it certainly seem immortal, since we were all convinced it would never actually end) Richard and I quietly slipped out and headed home.