Thursday, September 28, 2017

I'm falling for you.

So it’s autumn! Yay and yippee. It’s the time of goldenrod and walnuts, ripe poke berries, coreopsis blooms, and sassafras leaves. In short, it’s time for natural dyeing. It’s also way past time for me to process the 2 sheep fleeces that I bought last year, I think, at the Greencastle fiber festival. Dirty filthy things they are, border leister and corriedale crosses, but after 2 cold soaks for the dirt and 2 hot soaks with Dawn for the grease and one last rinse, they are wonderful. Then there’s the picking and carding and the spinning. From a red-brown mass of dirt, a beautiful white yarn emerges. 


It’s magic.






It was terrifically hot last week, in the 90ºs F, but a front has moved in and it is now more seasonal, with highs in the 70s and lows in the 50s. I feel better.

So much better that I may have talked myself into a job. A real job with compensation, even, at a local quilt shop. I have all the background knowing how to sew and quilt already, but I also have worked in a fabric store, and worked a register. What intrigues me the most is that I would have the opportunity to learn to use one of those big ass quilting machines. I’m going back with examples of my work on the 9th, so we’ll see if I’m still motivated. It would be something different to what I have been doing lately and it would get me out of the house on a part time basis. 

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Dick Man Approves.

So. Summer has almost passed and it has been pointed out that I have not posted since Spring. This blog was once my therapy and I crafted my entries with care, but now it feels like such a chore to have to think and then write but let me see what I can do.

After a couple of years, my depression is settling back in and my world is becoming more overwhelming each month. I literally do not leave my house except for meetings, which I still have, since I am on the board of the Chamber of Commerce, the Extension Office, and I am president of the Arts Council. I go to doctor’s appointments. I get groceries. I walk the dogs. (So, re-reading that, looks like I leave the house more than I think.)

I feel controlled by obligations. I feel anxiety and dread about my own abilities and lack thereof. I have 3 plastic tubs of items I have made to sell, with no plan to sell them besides Etsy. But to sell them on Etsy, I have to take a nice picture of every item, write a description, figure out mailing costs, and keep everything organized. I have sold 2 pair of earrings in a year. This is not cost effective and I feel like a failure. Also, I went through a bin a few weeks ago, and I had forgotten about some of the things I made and saw how wonderful and delightful they were. Some pieces were shit, though, and so what to do with them?

I am not feeling sorry for myself. I recognize my feelings and behaviors, with almost a clinical eye. However, beyond medication, I am not sure how to change these feelings and behaviors. I went back to my therapist in July with the idea of seeing her weekly, but her rates had increased to $60/hour, (cash, no insurance,) and I wondered if it would be worth it.

One thing in my life that makes me happy is Marie, who cleans for me. Last September, I engaged her to come every two weeks and so every two weeks my carpet got vacuumed, floors were mopped, and my house smelled better. It didn’t take too long before I asked her to come every week. My bathroom was clean, my furniture was dusted, and my kitchen was scrubbed. After seeing my therapist, I decided that instead of paying her, I would get Marie to come twice a week instead. Not only does it cost less than my therapist, I don’t have to leave my house and drive 50 miles. Marie says she really likes to do housework and I think that is the only thing she has done since her daughter left home. I find housework futile and never-ending. 

Now that it is Fall, I see another year almost ticked off and another birthday looming. There is a sense of urgency and panic that I keep damped down. My inner voice says, every day, “In another year, you could be dead. In nine years, you’ll be almost 70. That is almost dead.” Not that the thought frightens me; some days I would welcome death. But I am not going to do myself in, so please do not intervene.

My health is shitty. My heart stills thumps too erratically at times. My feet are still neuropathic, while the diabetes and high blood pressure are well-managed. I am on blood thinners and so I have the maroon splotched arms of an old person. I’m gaining weight. I have dizzy spells and feelings of weakness, and some days I am almost too tired to move. But I have good day, too, where I feel good and get shit done. 

Everything seems too much.

And you wonder why I don’t write more. (happy face emoji.)

So, on the other hand, I do get up every morning and take care of the things I have to, such as dogs and my medications. I am knitting socks for Sweetie, and I’ve made three pair using leftover yarn, and that makes me feel happy. I bathe occasionally and keep my hair in order, having cut it short makes that easier. 

I am doing a little bit of natural dyeing, with the sights set on enough yarn for a sweater. So far, I have done 2 batches of pokeberry and 1 of coreopsis from my garden. Goldenrod has just come into full bloom, so that’s next along with onion skins, which I just found 3 gallon-sized zip-loc bags of, and there are also walnut trees in the vicinity. I am thinking of setting up my little loom for the first time in a couple of years, which has come about because I recently moved all of my yarn and fiber to one room, (well, most of it,) and I was fairly stunned at the amount. Knitting is slow, whereas weaving, once the loom is warped, is fast. 


We’ve had the house painted and a new roof put on, and that makes me happy, too. Except for those people who say, “Well, as long as you like it…” Fuck them. 

Dick Man approves.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

The Art of Asking.

So, yeah. I find myself depressed lately. The real cause is, I am sure, my allergies and the enormous amount of pollen the surrounds me. I get that. But still, I feel as though I am in a fog, I forget names, I cannot count, I feel stupid, I feel old and all those things are contributing to my depression. I also have little drive to make things, and I like to make things. 

I’m no longer on any antidepressants, and for that, I am grateful. But damn I wish I could take something, drink something, do something to make me feel if not better, then different. But because it is allergies and the inflammation that they cause, I can only treat the allergies and stay inside and stay clean. (Yeah, stay clean with 3 dogs, 2 cats, and 3 chickens to tend and live with.) I take 2 generic Zyrtec, nasal spray, and a Benadryl every day. Every day no matter the season or how I feel. I also get an allergy shot every week or two. 

So, there’s that. That is how I feel regularly, on a daily basis. And today it’s raining and I like that because it is cooler and the plants need the water, and it’s gray, and so I can stay inside with no explanations. 

It’s been a long time since I have written here but I post in my mind. Which do my 2 readers no good. There are things I would like to write about but cannot because this is too public. I turned 60 a couple of months ago. Fuck me, how can I be so old? My surrogate mother, who is 85, is moving away in a month and I miss her already. I haven’t had sex with my husband in 4 years, but we still make a great couple. 

One good thing is that I have hired a woman to come clean for me. Marie vacuums, dusts, mops, and works magic in the kitchen and every few weeks she cleans the fur that seems to grow in the bathroom. I like having a clean house but I am a terrible housekeeper. So, Marie makes me happy.

I am the head of a non-profit arts organization, and that gives me an outlet for my abilities since I unable to work at a ‘real’ job. I get to write and plan and do my bit for my community. There’s no money for me, but I have a leftist disregard for profit and being a volunteer takes the pressure off.


Ah hell, I cannot seem to write everything I want to convey! (Yet, who cares but me?)  In the end, it’s just the struggle between the meaningless of living versus the actual having to do something in this life. 

I have pictures.
Succulents and high heels. 

Orange geranium that overwintered amazingly well.

Princess on the new afghan I made. She never sat in that chair before this.

Larson. Say no more.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Look up.

Yeah. So. I feel better. I had a heart operation 5 weeks ago, (ablation, outpatient,) which corrected my atrial flutter. I now have energy! My brain is less foggy! I am nowhere near as dizzy! My blood is, I guess, getting circulated to all parts of my body again, so I would call the operation was a success. Yay.

So yesterday, I moved some furniture and lifted and toted a bunch of things and after 2 hours, my body said Hey! Cut it out! Sit down! What was wrong? I came home and napped and tried to think why my body ached so bad then it hit me - I had been using my long dormant muscles! I have not been able to lift and shove and twist (and shout) for quite awhile! Now I know that I need to pace myself and maybe even start lifting weights again.

Then there’s the whole Cheeto thing. Jesus Christ. Right after the election, I was sick. Literally sick. But now I am able to visit Facebook, read some news, and the Pussy Hat thing made me happy. I mean, really, that march made me feel hope! I even cried a little.

And talk about crying! Sweetie and I saw the latest Star Wars and I wept at the final scene! I shit you not. I was not expecting that, especially right after, you know. No spoilers. I remember seeing the first Star Wars movie in ’77. First husband, (the Shit hook,) and I saw it the first day, second showing at Loew’s Tara in Atlanta. And we were tripping our balls off. It was great. I remember that there were souvenirs being hawked while we stood in line - cups, buttons, etc., and of course, we didn’t buy anything. Good times, though.


So. Planning to go to Iceland, late summer or fall. We finally sold our big house in Laconia and have a little cash to spend on a real vacation. 

So, I made these. Meh.