SHAWL OR NOTHING

SHAWL OR NOTHING

Har har! (I crack me up.)

Sweetie has had a couple of days off - meaning that I have had no access to the computer. (Note to self: Add to the honeydew list and get him out of the house next time.)

Went to the Friendship Spinners meeting today and had a great time! Lots and lots of people there and exceedingly excellent food, and I would love to show you pictures of it all but someone forgot the camera. I have issues with cameras. My first husband, the Pyg, was a professional photographer, (among other things to which I may refer from time to time,) which means that he spent a lot of money buying film, taking pictures, developing pictures, renting equipment, renting a studio and so on and sometimes he got paid in return. Anyway, he had a way of intimidating the crap out of me whenever I would try to take a photo on my own. (He also made fun of my singing and tap dancing efforts.)(And my poetry.) It was years before I would even use a simple point and shoot camera. Three years ago, Sweetie got a digital, hoping I would "get into it" and take shots of my art. (Yes, I am or was an artist. I'll share on that later.) The thing gathered dust for ages until last year when I began selling fiber on eBay and HAD to use the digital. Turns out that it is not so scary and I am not so bad at it. Still, it isn't second nature to grab for me the camera whenever I go to places of interest.

I have been knitting on the shawl. Here is a shot of it on a string and laid flat with a yardstick for scale. Unblocked it is 30" square - 900 square inches done out of the 2304 needed. You can see an inch or so around the edges where I began the second skein, the one with fuchsia and red. Subtuttle but effective.



I am liking the pattern and have decided to stay with it throughout, only switching to a shale pattern for the last 6" or when I begin the third skein.

Fuzzarelly came out for a romp yesterday and this evening. She and Percival had a rendezvous.

ENOUGH DOWNERS, ALREADY

All God's children are not beautiful. Most of God's children are, in fact, barely presentable. - Fran Lebowitz


I'm feeling better today. Took a shower, washed my hair and put on clean clothes. I know this must sound routine for most of you, but for a depressive personality, doing these things is sometimes most remarkable. Recycled cans and cardboard and bought groceries - lots of good-for-me food and no beer. I exercised on the elliptical trainer and did some push mowing. (That used to be how I kept my squirrellish figure, before the shop and before Sweetie bought the lawn tractor.) (Before beer.)

So. I've been making steady progress on the pink shawl and with cooler, less humid temperatures, have been able to sit on the porch to knit. I love my porch. I love watching the bunnies play. Sometimes the cats play with the bunnies. Sometimes the dogs play with the cats. It's endlessly fascinating, like an aquarium. Okay, girl, FOCUS - you were writing about the shawl. Yes. Here is a close up along with the pattern and the last bits of the hot fuchsia. Like you can tell anything about it except it is pink. I'm up to about 320 stitches, meaning if it were laid out flat it would measure 27 inches square.

Are you impressed with my skill? My tenacity at keeping to a large project? My clean table?

Here is the wide shot. I ask you, how can two grown people create such clutter? And this is merely the kitchen table. I can assure you that the rest of the house is more of the same. No wonder I'm depressed.



Murgatroyd is doing well. She enjoys running around the yard with Percival. Percy likes it, too, I think. The back story as to why I was so taken with the Toeless Wonder is that one of the new babies, soon after he was born, got a piece of Kelly Bob's wool wrapped around his front leg. By the time I found him, the leg was a swollen, pink, sausage-looking mess. Crap. What to do with the little thing? The book says to cull (read KILL) the kit but if you know anything about me by now, you know that killing it was not an option. I left him alone for a week, dithering, then began massaging antibiotic ointment on it twice daily. Lo and behold! The foot is healing! Looks like one toenail is lost, but the pad of the foot is healthy pink and there is the slightest bit of white peachfuzz growing in. I am loathe to name babies when they are so young, but Hopalong, if he makes it, would be good.

THIS IS JUNE 6TH

Today is June 6, 2006. Some folks are associating the date with 666. Come on people! Enough with the Da Vinci Code, numerology, Revelations crap. IT DOESN'T WORK! IT IS A POINTLESS EXERCISE IN VANITY! Ahem.

Anyway. Today is the 62nd anniversary of D-Day. What an incredible horror that must have been for those poor soldiers. I can not even imagine it.

Today is also my mother's birthday. If she were alive, she would be 74 years old. I can only imagine what she would look like. White hair, maybe dyed blonde but certainly styled, and slim as always. A little frail but still active and dancing and socializing. But in my mind's eye, she will forever be my mom from when I was a teenager. Tall, slim and blonde. Smoking, slightly profane, and funny. Wearing those cat eye glasses with painted on eyebrows and drinking a cold beer of an evening. I miss her so much. Still. Even after 32 years.

She must have been so unhappy, so depressed, so extremely without hope to have taken that overdose of pills chased down with liquor. To have planned it the way she did in order to have the time alone to accomplish the deed. To leave not only me but my seven year old brother and two older brothers without her. For many years I blamed myself. I should have seen some sign - I should have been a better daughter - I should have done something differently. I was in my thirties before I could admit how angry I was with her for leaving us. Me. I needed her. It was also at that time that I was able to view my parents as just plain, regular people, and not some bigger than life, sacred icons - MOMMY and DADDY writ large. The towering presence that SEES ALL and is PERFECT. They were, after all, just people like me, dealing with their own demons and doing the best they could. Still, I wish she hadn't done it. I wish she were here now so that I could call her or visit and hear her voice and laughter. (Wish in one hand and crap in the other - see which one gets fuller, faster.)

I still grieve for her and all of the 'what might have been.' I love you, mommy, but I know you are okay.

I , too, am okay. I turned out pretty well, all things considered. (All of your kids did. You'd be proud.) I sought help when my depression was urging me to follow in your footsteps to end the pain. Your lesson to me was that I didn't want to leave my loved ones to deal with the grief and aftermath of a suicide. Here I am all these years later still crying because I miss you. I couldn't do that to my Sweetie and brothers and friends.

So, not to end on such a downer, let me share a memory of days gone by. My period, the "curse," started when I was 12. It was 1969. Mom took me to - I think it was Bob's IGA in Huntington, to get me a "sanitary belt" and "sanitary napkins." How quaint. Here is a very informative history of tampons and napkins. http://www.straightdope.com/mailbag/mtampons.html

HEAVENS TO MURGATROYD!

Back and almost recovered from the Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival. Firstly, Franklin, Indiana, is a delightful small town. Tidy lawns in front of nice homes. Very close to Indianapolis. The management of the festival was great, the facilities were above average, being in large, clean, cement-floored 4-H buildings. There were maybe 60 vendors in two buildings and outside.

Lynne and I were in the second, un-air-conditioned building. We set up on Friday afternoon and having had practice, it took only two and a half hours. We're getting better! The Quality Inn where we stayed, well, I would grade them a C overall. Not great, not awful. Rather pricey for what it was, what with the generally awful "continental breakfast," a noisy air conditioner, and a smelly refrigerator. The service, however, was just fine. Yes, I filled out the comment card and left it at the front desk.

The weather on Saturday was absolutely perfect! Highs in the upper 70s, with mostly clear skies and a nice breeze. Attendance was meager until about 11 and was steady until 3, and then it became, shall we say, dead. Lynne and I broke even and then some, so we were not unhappy but we did converse with other vendors who were not so fortunate. WTF? Is it the economy? The sudden plethora of fiber festivals? Graduation and wedding season? Lack of publicity? The bottom line was that the folks that came just did not spend much money.

We met a lot a great people, as always at such events, and made contact with other vendors and collected business cards.

Lynne and I became captivated with a little fawn colored, English angora bunny. Her owners at the Timbre Ridge Farmbooth were sort of cattycornered to us and we observed the fuzzy darling for some time. I, of course, was missing my babies, and made many rounds petting all the lovely angoras that were there. When I inquired of Marlene the particulars of this sweet little ball of fluff, I knew she was coming home with me. The bunny, not Marlene. Although Marlene was certainly nice enough to bring home.

The story is that when the litter was born, mother Katie, in her nervousness, chewed off the front toes of this one particular kit. Marlene was advised to cull (read KILL) the worthless kit. Being of kind heart, she didn't, and two months later, this little girl has adapted to life just fine, thank you very much. This little baby, if fully toed, would have been of show quality. Her parents, Katie and Steely Dan, are both papered show bunnies. But because of this defect, she was valueless in the show world, no matter how wonderful her wool. Within nanoseconds of hearing this sad story, two suckers named Lynne and Fuzzarelly stepped in to offer her a loving home. She is not handicapped, she is handicapable! She gets around just fine and has a lovely, inquisitive, and sweet disposition.

The next step was to name her. At first, we thought she was a he and we were thinking of appellations like Wellington and Buckingham. A little bitty bunny needs a big name, we thought. But when the taco/donut test was done and it was determined that he was a she we were stumped for awhile. We still needed a big name, but what? Heavens to Murgatroyd, What Happened to Your Toes! That's it, Murgatroyd! So now, dear Murgatroyd is sitting in my lap whilst I type this out.

Bringing her home with us was certainly less trouble than two lambs in diapers. Here's a close up of the little darling.



And here she is with her future mate, Percival.

MOSTLY TREES

Neighbor Kermit has been hacking away at the maple corpse for two days now. He brought reinforcements today, one of whom said, "This tree is a whole lot bigger than I thought!" Yeah, well, DUH! I do not know how old it is yet, but I'm guessing at 60+ years. When it was first cut, the rings were not distinct but as it dries I'm beginning to see them. It's raining at the moment or I would rush out and count.





From what I understand, there used to be two of these sugar maples on either side of the sidewalk leading up to the house. One fell on the porch roof way back, maybe forty or more years ago. And once, there were five linden (basswood) trees lining the driveway but now there is only one pitiful survivor. Part of him fell on the shed two years ago, so his time is also nearing. The only thing holding his guts together now is a whole mess of english ivy. When this basswood blooms, (which it didn't this year,) the flowers smell so lovely and the scent hangs heavy in the humid air. At the moment, the northern catalpa trees are blooming. These trees are native to this area - southern Indiana and southwest to northern Arkansas - and they are also known as the cigartree because of its fruit. We are lucky to have several of these catalpas close by.

I didn't attend yesterday's Barefoot Spinners meeting, and now I am sorry because Nancy and Lynne (among others) were there. But it was very hot and I knew I would be miserable and no fun. I heard that Kathy has suffered numerous weird injuries over the weekend and that Carol and Debbie are both dealing with bad mojo. My heart goes out to you all!

Tomorrow I will be leaving for lovely Franklin, Indiana for the 2nd Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival. Lynne will be selling her hand dyed rug yarn for felted bags and I will be shilling knitting needles and assorted angora blends. Guess what I need to be doing this very minute instead of nattering on -- yes, getting my shit together and packing it. This is a sample shot of my blends.



In the morning, I have to attend not only the regular Laconia town counsel meeting at 9 am, but also a special executive meeting at 8!!! You all, I am barely coherent, not to mention civil, at that hour. Some of you may know why I have to attend - I AM THE CLERK/TREASURER OF LOVELY LACONIA. (Tell me, who thought this was a good idea?) I tried desperately to resign over a year ago. The rub being, though, is that the clerk/treasurer needs to reside within the town limits and there was no other sucker willing to take on the task. Remember our huge population? I don't want to go into the details of WHY I wanted to resign from a position that I initially loved and tried to do well for practically no pay. Let's just say that my perceptive doctor told me that I needed to. My workaround has been to hire a deputy to do the actual work and I mostly just sign the checks - and attend meetings. Sigh. I don't even want to think about it.

LOST FROG

LOST FROG

What more is there to say?


Okay you all! I have been accused of being too cryptic, so this is what to do:

Click on the LOST FROG link.

At that site, click on any image or text. Then click on the resulting image. Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

Appreciate the wonderful creativity and effort! I mean, who did this? Was it one person or a group project?

A GOOD NIGHT AT THE GUN AND KNIFE SHOW

I hope you remembered our fallen sevicemen and women yesterday. Too many people all around the world are still being killed in stupid, needless conflicts and I hope that we can evolve beyond that someday.

It has been waaaay too hot in Lovely LAconia. The porch thermometer has been reading 95 degrees in the later afternoon for several days. What with my allergies to heat and pollen, I have tried to stay inside but have still felt not so good. Nancy wondered whether my allergies were caused or exacerbated by the bunnies. I would say "Probably not" to that, as I have had allergies a lot longer than I have had bunnies. Handling and clipping the critters doesn't affect me. The allergies are made worse, though, by being in the barn with the hay and all the miscellaneous, unknown, ambient particles of floating crap. Pollen affects me; dust and mold, too. That is why I do not clean if I can help it. No, I mean it! I cleaned off the dresser top last week and thought I would die from all the dust I tried not to stir up. Best to just let it lie. I'm thinking about getting professional help. With the cleaning, I mean.

The bunnies are doing fairly well in the heat. Put two fans on them and I rub water on their ears in the heat of the day. Also clipped the face and ear furnishings and feet wool on Caspar, Hippy and Groovy. They are due for full body clipping in 2-3 weeks, and I hope to get them through the heat until then. Four of Kelly Bob's kits are still alive. It is so much easier to lose them when they are so tiny. Used a nesting box this time and I do not like it. I think Kelly Bob trampled the last two to death. Not her fault. I plan to use a drop box for nesting next time.

Wendy asked some while ago what I read during my days on the porch (said days are now history. See heat and pollen above.) I had to shamefacedly admit that I read the mail - mostly catalogs and pleas for money, the weekly newspaper, Science News, SpinOff, Interweave Knits, Fiber Arts. I have let the subscription to the New Yorker lapse from sheer guilt at not reading it but instead looking at the cartoons. Sweetie gets Wired, MacAddict, and Scientific American and sometimes I glance through them. No cartoons.

I used to read and read and read! All the time! Now, not so much. Especially not fiction. Sweetie brought back several books from his visit south (thank you, Shawna.) A Million Little Pieces, Snow Falling on Cedars, Memoirs of a Geisha. Good, timely books that the committee in my head says I should read. Shut Up, you all! So here's where it gets a little funny. Sunday night two lovely gentlemen, Sweetie and I drove the Mercedes to the Gun & Knife Show, aka The Riverbottom Inn, which is down the road a piece in Mauckport. Yes, it's a dive - the usual cinder block building with dim lighting (thank you) and very cold beer. It was Karaoke Night! Woo Hoo! I didn't think it was going to be much fun, not really. But one has a few ice cold beers, and one enjoys or cringes at the singers - or just flat out laughs at them in a good natured way. Slow dance with Sweetie to "Crazy" and watch the drama of the evening unfold. After a bit, I saw the FREE sign on a box by the front door and, of course, I had to see what was in there. Books! Of all the damned things. And the first one I saw was called A Distant Mirror, about 14th century Europe. All right! My kind of stuff. Sweetie said that I was the only person he know that would go to a bar and find a book. (I'm special that way.) So it's a book club edition from the 1970s, but it's well written and non-fiction.

It was a good night after all.