"You have a sharp tongue," my future mother-in-law said to me last night, after she had gone off to sulk, apparently because I had criticized a TV show she was watching while she was asleep. I did not return the comment but God knows I could have. When we move to the West Coast Eric's going to complain just as much about my mother, I would guess; in the meantime I get to do it about his.
My last day to be twenty-five. I thought briefly of making something of it, but no, there's nothing to make. I disposed of twenty-five reasonably well--all except the not having a job part--and I'm not yet afraid of turning thirty. I'm hoping I won't. Today I job-hunt and maybe even (gasp) write a little, now that I've spent the last few days inexplicably reading all the fantasy books I have that I hadn't yet read. (Today I reverted to type and started Jane Eyre for the fifth or sixth time.) Stuffing my thoughts with good writing makes me want to create my own. Motivation would be a nice birthday present. I think I wanted that last year, or the year before, or maybe both. That's probably not a good sign, but maybe this year I'll improve.
Tomorrow will be about the same as today, with more quilt-making in it, and then in the evening I'll go over to the aforementioned future mother-in-law's and have, I'm told, dinner and dessert (I was asked whether I prefer cake and ice cream or an ice-cream cake) and then come back to my apartment to snuggle with my fiance and maybe watch some of our unwatched movie backlog. What is it with me and unperused media?
Yesterday I got a guilt-inducing card from Bev ("Look! I sent your card and gift on time!" she wrote, probably not actually intending to make me feel bad about not yet sending a present for her son, whose birthday is exactly a month before mine, but that was the effect) and a gift certificate to Toys R Us or Babies R Us. "I'm not trying to hint at Babies R Us," she wrote, "but I figured you probably need a new toy." It's a lovely thought, but she doesn't know of the vow I made never to step foot in a Toys R Us again after my experience at Christmas, so it will indeed be Babies R Us. Someday, someone I know will have a baby again (it ought to be soon; I have a bunch of fabric I need to use up, preferably as baby quilts) or if I don't find anything interesting for Gabe in Korea--the plan now is to get him something from there and pretend I meant to all along; it's not like he's going to notice my lateness, this year at least--I'll use it for him.
The quilt for halmoni is going quickly, but not well. I should have chosen a slightly less simple design; I would have complained more about the work, but I would have liked it better. However, I have less than two weeks to finish and it's not bad; just not what I had hoped. She'll still like it, if she'll like it at all--I'm uncertain whether she's the type of person who will, not knowing her. I also still have to get to a liquor store to buy Johnny Walker Red, as requested by Dad to give to my aunt who'll be hosting us...I think our entire stay. I wonder if she'd like the furry scarf I'm making (because garter stitch is sometimes soothing). I wonder what I'd do if I didn't make things.
(I also wonder what I'd do if Eric started picking up after himself. That's going to be a bone of contention forever. Sigh.)
All right: job hunting, and maybe writing, and in the evening perhaps going to the park to scout for a wedding site; and doing anything, if I think of anything, that I want to do one last time before I'm no longer twenty-five.