I have had nothing to say for the last few days. The weekend
passed in one of those warm glows that accompany pleasant evenings. On
Saturday, Ida come over to run me through the list of songs for Sunday's
service. (Apparently I am now officially on the worship team--I love a good
challenge--it's rather fun trying my hand at something I know very little
about. I suspect it's lighting up all sorts of dark and dusty corners of my
mind.) She played the synthesizer on the dining room
table and we sang together. After practicing for an hour or so, Ida and I broke
for tea. She set the table with flowered tea cups and I cut fresh apple cake
and called mamma and pappa to the table. We sat around the kitchen table and
drank tea, pappa reading bits from his travel diary from 1977, and we talked
about everything under the sun, ending the evening with an episode of Pride & Prejudice in the living room.
Sunday sauntered around much like Saturday, with the same weekend swagger of charm and ease. We attended church--attended isn't quite the word I'm looking for as we arrived early and arranged the tables, set up the sound system and fika table, pappa preached, mamma managed Sunday school, and I helped lead worship. (Ida has the most wonderful voice.) Afterwards Ida asked if she could wait at our house until her boyfriend arrived at the airport, to which we said, "Of course!" Once home, pappa and I packed all the church equipment back into the basement while Ida and mamma drove to Roberto's and bought pizza, and because we had started Pride & Prejudice on Saturday, we followed along the same path last night.
Ida has never read the book and never seen the series. Having myself watched it quite a few times, it makes me wonder how I felt the first time. Ida does not know what to think. Does she like the arrogant Mr. Darcy? Should she trust the affable Mr. Wickham? But then there is that niggling something-isn't-quite-right-but-I-don't-know-what-feeling. Why would Mr. Bingley be friends with Darcy if he were really such a bad man? Ida sometimes asks me such questions, but my answer is, as always, "I'm not telling you anything."
Sunday sauntered around much like Saturday, with the same weekend swagger of charm and ease. We attended church--attended isn't quite the word I'm looking for as we arrived early and arranged the tables, set up the sound system and fika table, pappa preached, mamma managed Sunday school, and I helped lead worship. (Ida has the most wonderful voice.) Afterwards Ida asked if she could wait at our house until her boyfriend arrived at the airport, to which we said, "Of course!" Once home, pappa and I packed all the church equipment back into the basement while Ida and mamma drove to Roberto's and bought pizza, and because we had started Pride & Prejudice on Saturday, we followed along the same path last night.
Ida has never read the book and never seen the series. Having myself watched it quite a few times, it makes me wonder how I felt the first time. Ida does not know what to think. Does she like the arrogant Mr. Darcy? Should she trust the affable Mr. Wickham? But then there is that niggling something-isn't-quite-right-but-I-don't-know-what-feeling. Why would Mr. Bingley be friends with Darcy if he were really such a bad man? Ida sometimes asks me such questions, but my answer is, as always, "I'm not telling you anything."
2 comments:
You do realize you broke for tea at least twice during your session, mom and dad came twice to the table and, as it seems, sang with you guys there? Ida set the table twice in exactly the same fashion and you cut the apple cake two times. Nice that you decided to have Ida over for tea again because you wanted to do it all over again;)
Puss och kram söta sanna
/broder joel
ps. dricker du verkligen te?
How terrible of me. I have now fixed the mistake. I must have written it in a rush. Nja, jag dricker inte riktigt te. Jag sitter där med min kopp och låtsas att jag gör det.
Kram
Sanna
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