Tuesday, December 04, 2007

I spoke too soon about there being no yard-bunny road kill. Just now found Dickie, the white one with the funny top knot, in the street.

He and Barbara Bobo were the kits from Bambi, and he was the one that had the furry tendencies of his dad, Stubby the Lion Head.

I'm sad but not bereft. Dickie had a good life and many girlfriends. Maybe he has babies not yet known. I'll take him into the field tomorrow for a pseudo-Tibetan burial, offering him up to the hawks and coyotes.

I've lost several babies this year. Murgie, Stubby, the Netherland dwarf brothers, Soul Man the Old Man, Hippy, the black babies. So it goes.

Oldest Brother asked if I had a cure for the winter blues. Medication. Better living through Big Pharma.

Don't know what I would do if I didn't knit. Honestly. Not that I knit constantly or anything, although I pretty much knit some every day. Knitting gives me a focus, something to work on, and a finished product at the end of the day. Finally found a pattern for the purple cashmere that I could manage. Tried it this summer with handspun and became so bored with it that I ripped it out. (I had gone off my medz and was fairly on edge then.) I hope this time will prove different. It is the Shaped Triangle Shawl from A Gathering of Lace. It begins with a simple cast on of 5. I can do that. I'm not bored yet.

Last night I dreamed about a house, a big house, of which I occupied only one room. When I ventured into the rest of the place, I was amazed at the treasures it held. Lots of radios and record players.(!) Lots of built in appliances. Two huge kitchens. A dining room with a credenza thing for dishes. Some pieces of furniture were huge and ugly Victorian pieces. Some had beautiful bird's eye maple interiors. My late maternal grandparents were there, Big Momma and Pap, and I was exploring all this stuff with them. The detail was incredible.

In dream imagery, a house stands for one's body. This dream seems to say that I need to step outside of my "one room." Take a chance? Make a change?

I also dreamed about movie making last night. I was a ineffectual wardrobe flunky. I was always late or did the wrong thing. Bunnies were involved. Of course. And elevators in tall, tall buildings. I have no clue as to the meaning. Maybe, sometimes an elevator is just an elevator.

Costume-wise, I do have the Crone costume(s) to make for this weekend, the Friendship Spinners Guild Shakertown retreat. Fabric is in hand and I know what I want to do. Only need to do it. The jacket relining for Nancy NeverSwept is done. Believe it or don't. I truly hate to be paid in advance. What motivation is there to complete the work? Except that I couldn't go to another spinner's meeting until it was completed. Vile Blackmail!

As usual, I am simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the retreat. Getting there, getting out of the house, is the hard part. Once there, I'm mostly fine. They are such a great group of people! The Crone costume(s) will be finished. Otherwise, again, I could never go to another meeting. More Vile Blackmail!

What is the Crone thing, you ask? It began four or five years ago with the thought that the guild should honor the elders of the group that have given selflessly to others in order to further the crafts of spinning, knitting and weaving.

The possible Crone needed to be of a certain age, and after the first year, needed the most votes from the group. Our Crones are Vivian, Norma, Jerri, Donna, Jean, Jerry and Jean. Yes, that is Jerry, a man. An honorary Crone maybe, or as I like to think, a Croner. The Crowning of the Crones is a sight to see! The previous Crones wear their outfits of purple capes and crazy hats (some include pieces of the legendary Penis Hat) with some sort of scepter and a spinning wheel charm on a neck chain and they parade around the large meeting room. When the new Crone is thus adorned, Pomp and Circumstance is played on the fiddle and hammer dulcimer and much joy and celebration and parading ensues. Crazy!

What else? I am glad to say that no yard bunny has become road kill. Yet. I am thinking that they may have figured out that road sitting was not a Good Thing.

I took the back yard bunnies to live in the barn for the winter. They must be some sort of Badger Goat, eating all green grass to nubs and also digging and tunneling like maniacs. It will take until May of 2008 for the land to recover. Also much filling in of topsoil.