Odds and Ends

We're getting all the rain now that we needed back in the summer. I mean, ALL the rain we needed. If it were snow, we'd be socked in for weeks. However, this munificent rain will replenish the local springs and aquifers and that is a good thing.

If I were a short story writer, I would have at least two story germs from today's drive home. One concerns a nice little pond in someone's side yard that had one white goose near the floating corpse of another white goose. I can't remember if geese mate for life. So, what had happened? Was the dead one a he or a she?

The other concerns several trailer homes along a stretch of country road. The homes look remarkably alike. Are they family? What are these people like? What are their dramas? "I want you to listen to what I have to say!" yelled into a cell phone by a thin and acne-scarred young woman. (Which I heard at the Goodwill this afternoon.)

One thing that is, I guess, too common to provoke outrage anymore, is the run down house where the husband is a drug addict and his three kids sleep on mats on the floor. They just put up one of those giant inflatable snow globes in what passes for their front yard that cost $50. On clearance.

My little rant: This is what keeps poor people poor; spending lavishly on spur of the moment, throw-away items from the WalMart.. Buy more cheap plastic crap that will break next week. Then go to the food pantry to feed the young-uns.

Maybe stuff like this. (Which I stole from Sweetie's side of the Mac. I have no attribution.)




Although Sweetie is working for his new employers, the shiny-new and better insurance is still in the works. He was instructed to go ahead and fill prescriptions and he would be reimbursed. So, today at Butt Drugs the refill for our combined Happy Pills cost the better part of $400. For one month.

I had decided to take WalMart up on their $4 drugs for the two things they cover at that price. So that was nice and everything. As they have anticipated, I shopped for awhile and spent sixty bucks on kitty litter, booze and make up. Yeah, figgered I need to try to look presentable at least sometimes. When I leave the house. If that doesn't work, then I can try the makeup. (That's a jo-, I say, that's a joke, son.)

The Big Deal today was Rex the Mailman bringing me a package from The Insubordiknit. She had put out an APB for hand-painted (or otherwise, I guessed,) clothes for her kids' Christmas presents. I had tie-dyed onesies and painted youth size Tshirts left over from my bricks and mortar store and figured, What the heck? Pass them along.

So, today I got a package from Jacey with a cake of hand painted sock yarn and a 110 yard skein of handspun that she said was "too daffy to sell." Wonderful! (Even if I have failed to capture the wonderfulness in this shot.)

Use No Knives

Last night when Sweetie got home, and I was sound asleep, he lamely tried to tickle me. I apparently said, "Sheila, I am so tired of you!" I don't remember a bit of it.

Sheila is one of the two house bunnies, and she has taken to jumping on me, looking right into my eyes, rearranging the bed clothes and running off with my pillows - usually around 3 am. It's hard to be too upset with her since she is such a goof, but it is disconcerting to wake up in the middle of the night with bunny whiskers touching my face.

Here is a shot of Heizen the Hutt and the Pootie Makers. Soon with their own pod cast!



I do remember the two dreams I had. I don't want to go into detail, so let me just say that one was sad and the other was of the I-want-to-go-home type. Sweetie told me this morning that the last one seems to be a recurring theme with my dreams. When he got up, he found me slightly weepy, in the kitchen, listening to Christmas music, and (pause) cooking! Oven baked french fries, Laura's Lean ground beef patties sauteed with mushrooms and onions, and fresh-cooked carrots in butter. Reckon I needed a good meal after last night.

My knitting on the lace shawl continues. Slowly. I ripped out, again, the previous work and started over for maybe the twelve hundredth time. This time on size zeros. Call me mad, call me crazy, call me a cab, I don't care! I love this combination of yarn and needles. My hands are happy. Let me just add that, anymore, size ones are beginning to feel big and clunky to me.



That's what I'm using on the latest socks. Here, I am starting the heel flap. I cannot remember what yarn this is, of which I like the striping. It's either Regia or Trekking that I got at Grinny Possum. I can only work on the shawl when I am fresh fresh fresh, (maybe a half hour each day,) so the socks are my not so fresh project for all those other knitting hours.




By the way, through Fleegle's Blog, I discovered how to make that seemingly impossible circular cast on using size eights and lace weight. Now I find out. But it is so cool and so elegant that I want to share.

And absolutely not least, The Most Wonderful Present from The Most Wonderful Sister-in-Law! Hand knit, (and spun??) angora.

A Merry Christmas Rant

I don't hate Christmas.

Christmas as a holiday is fine. Even for me, a non-Christian. It is okay to celebrate the fictional birthday of a holy person. It is also okay to celebrate the pagan holiday, the winter solstice, and bring evergreens indoors, burn the yule log, kiss under the mistletoe. It is a great time to visit with family and friends. To feast and give gifts.

I regret, though, that some people believe, somehow, once a year, everything bad can be made good again with a card or a present. A phone call or email. That a gesture on one day can atone for neglect or absence or ill will on the other 364.

I don't like the huge inflatable Santas, Grinches, and such like that sprout every night like nocturnal mushrooms. I don't like the white icicle lights that hang from every other house's gutters. The nets of white lights that cover shrubbery don't thrill me overmuch. Our rural energy cooperative gives prizes for the best outdoor Christmas display. Excuse me? Aren't we supposed to be conserving energy? Climate change and all that?

I don't like the crazy spending. To buy something just to buy something. I don't like that almost every toy, ornament, appliance and garment purchased by Americans this year is made in China.

I like me a home made holiday.

I like that at least once in a year we are admonished to remember those less fortunate - the hungry, the friendless, the homeless. I do wish that it weren't just once in a year. The hungry, the friendless, the homeless are among us all year 'round. I believe the essence of the holiday should be practiced all through the year, if it is going to be practiced at all.

Pray for peace. Practice good will toward all. Love my neighbor. Practice gentle loving kindness. Take care of one another. Forgive trespasses and debts.

These are the things, the acts, that I try to do every day - even though every day I fail.

The thing, though, is to try.

Every day.

The Split Beaver Edition

Bought this loaf of bread today. Is it just me, or would Judy Chicago buy this on eBay?



It has rained a lot lately, and the temperature is more Atlanta-like than here-like.



The english muffins are finally showing some mold and a bit of disintegration. One was stepped on and it turned to sawdust. Or something like sawdust, but not as pure. Yes, I should bake my own. Valerie says it's easy. Yeah, sure, have you seen my kitchen?



Happy news is that I have spotted two youngster-bunnies today. One looks like he belongs to Black Bart and Barbara Bobo - who both live in the back part of the property. He is living in the shed, I think. I saw him nibbling grass under my car this morning. I put out bowls of pellets and water.

This one belongs to Jackie Brown and most likely, Dickie! Circle of life and all that. Dickie was and Jackie Brown is one of the front yard bunnies. They live under the front porch, okay, the entire house, probably. I'm all atwitter with delight. Babies! Here is Buster and Jackie Brown. Jackie won't let me get anywhere this near to her. Shows you how vicious and intimidating Buster is. Must be the Rottweiler in him.

THE JOB REPORT

Sweetie has one! As Master Mechanic. Today, the new owner takes possession. The new name is Krunchers!, a subsidiary of Snyder's of Hanover Pretzels out of Pennsylvania. Last Monday, everyone had to reapply for their job, and he was rehired. Good news is that his seniority stands (ten years plus! woo-hoo!) and better news is that he got a pay increase and better insurance! (Happy Dance!) Yes, he is lucky. About half of the employees were not rehired, and that's a fine thank you for, in some cases, over twenty years of service. And just before Christmas, too.

We've put off doing a number of things for a couple of months, not knowing if we'd be flat broke or whut. Now, the stress of not knowing is behind us and life, after our own sorry fashion, can go on. We can order some books. I can pay off my medical bills. I can get him some of those Land's End wool socks. Aren't we the extravagant ones?

THE WEEKEND REPORT

The Shakertown retreat was wonderful. As usual. Saw friends, ate much, spun a little. The re-lined jacket was muchly appreciated by NNS.

Here are a couple of photos.

Someone's fox & coon skin hat is being coveted. I liked it, too.



The new Crone. She is our usual hammer dulcimer player. We kazooed Pomp & Circumstance for her. Dreadfully.




Three of the Crones on Parade. There are now eight Crones. One neglected to bring her costume(!) and so is only partially in regalia. (I am sure it is some passive-aggressive act. Norma Jean.)



All crones received new staffs this year, to stand in lieu of the dorky-ass scepters of years past. Much nicer, everyone agreed!

I got over-stimulated and by Saturday afternoon, I was toast. Couldn't make the dinner at the Beaumont Inn in Harrodsburg, KY. Couldn't stay awake for the late night spinning. Ran home as soon as I could on Sunday morning to see Sweetie for a bit before he was off the the potato chips mines. I'm almost recovered.

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.

Hi!

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.