SUMMER TIME AND THE LIVIN' GETS QUEASY

Very hot, very southern feeling today. Most sane people are inside the house on days such as these. I know I was. When the sun sets, some of those people get outside on the porch or deck to breathe and move around a little. Turn up the car stereo loud. Kids on trikes, Me, I stayed inside and peeked through the curtains.

As darkness comes, so does the fog. It's all that humidity condensing. The grass Is soaked with dew. I remember staying up all night (or as late as I could) in the summer, trying to find some rock and roll on the transistor radio or reading some trashy, grown up novel. I only did this on the hottest nights, which were always in July.

Somewhere inside me is a memory of our family camping on the river bank in Tennessee. Our people were hunters and fishers, raised up in the southern hill country. There is an exceedingly old black and white photograph of my grandfather holding a 7-month old baby (me) under one arm while the other held up an enormous mud cat. When I was older I do remember bon fires on the shoals and the sounds the night made and being wrapt up in a quilt.

So. The maggot story seemed to capture everyone's attention! I received the most emails ever and I am glad to say that no one was grossed out. Maggots are part of life when one is in livestock.



I have clipt 4 bunnies in 2 days. I wish that I could have waited on a couple of them, let their wool grow out just a bit more...no, in this heat they needed to get nekkid. Here is Bonnie and The Magnificent Spot from earlier today.

MAGGOTS!

Maggots at once repel and fascinate me. Small, pale and wiggly like a teen-eintsy yet ginormous litter of hungry puppies. Without the cute.

The repelling part is where the maggots are born and how they survive. Flies lay eggs where there is an opportunity for their babies to thrive. Open wounds are perfect.

Are you grossed out yet? Well, wait.

I clipped Silky, aka Casey aka Sickie, yesterday. Not a bad harvest and he felt so much better! Anna Nicole, the Great White, was next. This girl is huge and had seemed lethargic for a week or so. I had attributed this to the heat and her full coat. I noticed what looked like a motor oil spill on her back side - WTF? It was blood. This wasn't going to be good.

I clipped off bloody wool for several inches around what turned out to be a small wound. The maggots were living in and off of the festering flesh of the wound as well as in the bloody wool. There were a lot of maggots. And several clumps of fly eggs in her wool that would have been maggots within 24 hours. The thing that maggots do well is exactly what makes them so revolting. They eat dead flesh. The edges of her wound were trimmed perfectly even and her raw flesh was pink and healthy. The hole was small; dime -sized.

I attached the shower attachment to the tub faucet and hosed down Anna Nicole's butt. That removed the rest of the blood and flushed clean the wound. I clipped her wool down to the skin. That's where even more maggots were. Big ones. Medium size ones. Hatchlings less that a quarter inch long. I thought I'd never see the end of them. And Anna was so good, like she was relieved that I had noticed and was finally Doing Something.

She's doing well today; looking alert and happy. I brought her inside for a look-see, killed a few remaining maggots, and applied more antibiotic. Since she also had ear mites (no secrets here) she also received an injection of ivomectin.

Bonnie also received attention today. Two shots at the vet (antibiotics and cortizone) plus a treatment of Frontline and a few other little things. All told, $150. I have to do a major flea destruction in the house. Whoopee. A kept layabout's work is never done.And apropos of nothing, here are two shots of the Laconia General Store, The Most Happenin' Place in Town!





"The two most common elements in the universe are Hydrogen and stupidity."
- Harlan Ellison

Waning Gibbous, 75% of the Moon is Illuminated

I packed the car by the light of the waning gibbous moon Saturday morning, preparing for the Knitty Paws fiber gig. I love moonlight and moon shadows. I do not like to do mornings anymore; I mean, it takes an extraordinary event to get me at up at 3:45 A.M. An opportunity to make money counts.

And I did well. Thanks to Danny for all her planning and for giving me a primo spot. All four babies went home with new parents (sniff) as did the Baynes spinning wheel and - a goodly bit of Fuzzarelly Fibers. Yippee!

And the day exhausted me. I clipped 2 bunnies today and mowed the lawn. Tomorrow, Bonnie goes to the vet.


I Didn't Know Cheney Had Kids That Age

Amherst alum: So we're looking over the applications, and there are all these amazing kids. Won the Westinghouse, worked for the UN. And the questions: "Who do you most look up to?" "My parents, because they're immigrants, and they taught me to work hard." And with each of them it's like, "in". And then we get to this one, it's like, "What's a recent intellectually stimulating experience?" The answer is, "I love my dog, walking my dog." Stuff like that. On and on, really ridiculous. And then, "Who do you most look up to?" The answer: "my parents, especially my dad. He's the President of the United States." And we look at each other, and Steve is like, "in."

--Williamsburg

Overheard by: Julia Mandell

via Overheard in New York, Jul 16, 2006

SOLD OUT

I am now a part of Louisville's Home-a-rama. The houses were all very large yet strangely crowded together. The houses were luxurious, all brick, but - shall I say it? They looked cheesy. Or maybe flashy would be a better term. A type of place to live in for three or four years and then sell and buy a house a little further out. One with more land.

Where have I seen this before? Oh yeah! I lived Atlanta from 1975 until 1994. I saw the suburbs change, the exodus of white people into surrounding counties, creating more far flung areas being served by another fucking strip mall and gas station. And no mass transit out there. In the eighties, the hip, the gay, the young professional moved into downtown and midtown. Up went those property values. In came the chain stores. Out went the small local businesses. And here I am doing my small part. That is the decorator in the photo,, holding up a pice I like to call Morning Glorys.

Except The Little Five Points area and environs. This neighborhood is fighting to keep out a CVS drug store. They maybe have won or lost the case by now as I don't try to keep up with the news from Atlanta anymore. They fought to keep a free way from dividing their people. (That case was in the courts for years. Bur the neighborhood won.)

My point being, this type of sprawling development is not sustainable. I'm just saying. And here's Claudia holding up Rapid Monsters.

Had a fun evening clipping Whitey. It was his first grown-up haircut. Since I am trading bunny wool for cages, I am being super picky about what qualifies as prime wool. He had 2 ounces of prime and 5 ounces of less that 2 1/2 inches long. I'm hoping to get 4 ounces of prime from Whitey at his next clipping in three months. He was among Kelly Bob's first litter born back in February. That was the litter of the pasteurella. This last litter has been kept apart from all the other bunnies and they are all very healthy. Bred Fuzzarelly to Percival June 9 and two days ago, she began nesting behavior but no babies. Also dyed more angora. Yesterday it was bubble gum pink and today, moss green.

I FEEL PURTY, OH SO PURTY

Local Sports Editor Arrested by Karma Police; Sentenced to Ride 'It's a Small World' in Perpetuity

City editor: Do you think they give you your money back if your kid dies at Disney World?
Editor-in-Chief: No, but Mickey Mouse volunteers to be a pallbearer at the funeral.
Sports editor, in a Mickey Mouse falsetto: Hey guys, what's in the box?

7 North Jefferson Street
Huntington, Indiana

Overheard by: tricky nikki

via Overheard in the Office, Jul 11, 2006

Nothing I ever read about Huntington, Indiana is ever good. I like to read "Overheard at the Office" and "Overheard in New York" and "Overheard on the Beach." It makes me feel as though I have been out in public but without having to actually deal with all those people.

This morning, I have to actually deal with people. One in particular, anyway. She is decorating several new houses for Home-a-rama in Louisville this weekend. This person wants to adorn one of the houses with real, live art from five real-life artists and she was directed my way by a couple of suave, smooth talking bullshitters. They told her how busy I was and how I may not have any work on hand because I sell everything as soon as I make it blah blah blah. Thanks John and JD!

So It's only a Home-a-rama, but it is getting my work back out there. (So have you noticed a trend here? Two art quilt gigs all at once and out of the blue. Is this an omen?) Which reminds me of a story from Sweetie's aunt. She was in the midst of leaving her good-for-nothing gambling husband and didn't know where she was going to live and didn't even know if she was doing the right thing. She prayed every night for God to give her a sign. A few days later, she got hung up in traffic and noticed the weekly slogan at a certain church that read "THIS IS YOUR SIGN." True story.

My friend Lynne gave me a shoebox of quilt squares and pieces from her late grand mother and great aunt. Some are hand pieced and some are machine pieced. I have begun stitching some of the small pieces into squares and arranging blocks and strips on the design wall. This quilt will be dedicated to Lynne's ancestors but it will not be sappy or sentimental. Don't make me have to get a stick after you. It will be interesting.

FIBER AND BUNNIES

Friendship Spinners was yesterday. Pictures? Prohibited - everyone there was in the Witness Protection Program.

It was a lovely day! A July gathering is always a crapshoot as far as the weather is concerned and we lucked out. (Is that throwing a 7 or making point? It's been so very long since I shot craps.) Partly cloudy, low humidity, and a high of 85. A nice turn out and excellent food as usual. Lots of fiber for sale, too.

I've been trying to get fibers ready for next Saturday in Columbus (Indiana) for Knitty Paws First Annual Dye Day and Fiber Fest. Fuzzarelly will have Al Gora, Silky Al Gora and Silky Al Gora with noils. Also, Shee Gora, Silky Shee Gora and Silky Shee Gora with noils. And silk. All dyed and beautifully blended by me. I also will be taking the 4 little babies and Caspar Milquetoast to sell. It's not too hard to sell Caspar as I've gotten good wool and good genes out of him and I have several other boys. But the babies will be hard - they are at their most adorable, being 8 weeks old.

Getting the fiber ready is way too much like having a real job - except without a regular paycheck. Rather like being an artist. Of which I have been reminded being. (How is that for grammar?) Say whut? I have an art quilt show lined up for the late fall and the best part is the gallery called me! After the FiberMania fiasco last year, I was tempted to set fire to all my pieces. But did not, mainly because of the effort it would have taken.. I have had ideas for new art quilts, but now I have the motivation and the incentive to actually create something. Now I'll really have to clean the studio. Crap. It's always something.

Here is a picture of Stuart. He's going to be Lady Murgartroyd mate.

And Heizen, who lives under the shed now. We've put up a little fence but he can still come and go. He's becoming quite the
neighborhood character.

LACONIA NIGHT LIFE

There isn't much good to be said about Bonnie's dementia. I clean up her poop once or twice a day. Her eyes are vacant. Her brain is toast. She's wakes up every night around 3 am and paces and/or barks loudly and suddenly. I try to keep her quiet for Sweetie's sake - he who works second shift and lately, lots of overtime too. (Today for example - in at 1 pm and work until 3 am.)(Of course, my sleep is shattered, too, but I can take naps!)(Mmmmm...naps.)

The Pollyanna in me has found a silver lining in this thing, though. The other night, I took her for a walk at 3:30 in the morning with the hope of either tiring her out so she would sleep or getting her to poop - so she would sleep and maybe not poop in the house. Ha.

Lovely LAconia is exceedingly quiet and still at that hour. One car drove the state road that passes through town - probably a shift worker on his way home. I was marveling at the night sky, lost in the cosmos, when I heard the mockingbird singing. First the sound of a cardinal, then a water bird, a wren, a grackle, and then other, less familiar songs. How enchanting! He sang without stopping for breath, so loudly and so close but invisible in the darkness.

Last night, I waited for Sweetie to get home. I took his hand and said "Come with me. I want you to hear something." We walked up the hill and turned the corner and we could hear him singing. There was no other sound - no insects or other birds. No planes or cars or tv sets. Just the mockingbird.

Why does he sing at night? Is he a juvenile practicing until he gets it right? Did he not get a mate and so sings for himself? I don't know but I am glad that Bonnie brought me out of the house so I could hear him.

It rained today. It has been dry here for a week. Rain to the north, rain to the south, but no rain here. These are pictures of Indiana corn fields and clouds.