One day last year, a new couple had just moved into town, and I held the door open for the dad as he pushed the stroller in the front door at church. The wife asked me, “Excuse me, where’s the cloakroom?”
I laughed, and told her, “Californians don’t know a thing about cloakrooms!” And then it was oh, where are you from? Where are YOU from?
And then we both stood there, jaws on the ground. You’re Cameron’s sister! And Brent’s daughter!! –You’re the JEPPSONS’ daughter!!
We grew up going to the same ward (congregation) in Maryland. Her dad had interviewed me as part of my application to go to BYU, 31 years ago. I think my little sister used to babysit her.
P’s sister was here visiting on Sunday; she was not quite the baby anymore who was born while I was away at college, either. I sent her off with the navy scarf. She told me she had spent “about a year!” knitting a scarf, and couldn’t believe that it had only taken me about three hours to make this one. (Hey. It was a bulky brushed-alpaca yarn, and lace is airhole space as much as yarn; throw in size 7mm needles, and how much time can it take?) Three hours, huh? I could see the wheels turning; maybe knitting was doable with a little practice after all!
Still being subversive over here…