Another sleepless night

Last night I slept well, being exhausted after only sleeping 1 1/2 hours the night before, but tonight it's the same thing again. It's almost two o'clock now and I really should be sleeping because I have to catch the nine o'clock train to Falkoping, where my grandmother lived. My mother and her sister and all my siblings and cousins will be there and we are going to divide my grandmother's things between us. The bigger things has already been dealt with by my mother and my aunt, but there is still a lot. The thing is, I don't know any case where there hasn't been hard feelings when people divide an inheritance and I think I'm worrying about that. Not that there are many valuable things, but things can have other value than money.
I don't think people will fight, but those of us who rather step back than have an argument (my mother and me, for example) might feel hurt afterwards and that we've lost something.
Tomorrow Rickard doesn't work so maybe I can wake him and make him talk to me, instead of sitting here alone.

On the costuming side I finished the machine seams on my red wool 12th century dress. I also hemmed the 4 m hem while talking with my friend Anna who making an embroidery in silk sewing thread. She made two pairs of medieval shoes last week and one of them has a fantastic cut out pattern in the upper leather. What I need to do now is to decide which trim to use for my dress. Some of it will only be enough to go around the neck and some will be enough for the 1,5 m long hanging sleeves too. The dress is too small now, but it's made from an old dress so I trust it will fit after I have the baby, I'll just have to lace the sides looser, so one can see my pleated linen shift in the sides now. I can't see the point in making a dress with all those hand made lacing holes that I can only wear when I'm pregnant.

Eva

I didn't cheat

I went to Lithiate's journal and found some quizzes. This is the result from one of them:

Robert Heinlein wrote you - your stranger in a
strange land, you.


Which Author's Fiction are You?
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The thing is; Robert Heinlein is my favourite author. Always. I don't know what I would do if I had to choose between reading him and Tolkien, but I know that I would much rather meet Heinlein. Even though we have wildly different political opinions (or had, in his case) I think we really would have liked each other.
And I didn't cheat, I didn't even know he was a possible result.