Magical Misery Tour

Recent Life Update

My news junky brain has ODed on Wall Street and Sarah Palin. Feh! I'll tune in later in the week. (Tomorrow.) Sometimes, too much is too much. (Unlike opera where too much is generally just enough.)

I've tuned the radio away from NPR to guitar driven rock and roll, aka Little Steven's Underground Garage on Sirius. Loud. It is cathartic. Please, rock these blues away.

Spinning has happened! Don't think I have spun at home since last winter. I barely spin at the Friendship Spinners' meetings.

Okay, so if someone has already come up with this name for this blend, then I will be damned.

May I present Bunny and the Beast!

Roving.



On the bobbin.



In the skein.





The beast is sheep, shetland in this case, although I was gifted with a bag o' white alpaca last month (thank you, Nurse Kelly!) and so it will also be beast in the future.

Found this catterpiggle on the front porch today. Wow.



Spot, the Magnificent!



Per the Deteriorata, I have the actual vinyl! National Lampoon Radio Dinner 1972. "Portions of this Record May Not Be Suitable for Air Play." I never listened to Dr. Demento, but I ate up the Lampoon.

Brother and Zippiknits, some things do change. Good or Bad? I think bad. There is a parody of Joan Baez singing what is euphemistically titled "Pull the Tregros." It is a comment on the white liberals folk music supporting the minorities. If I may, the lyrics start like this - Pull the triggers, N*ggers, We're with you all the way. (From across the bay.) Could this sort of parody pass muster today?

Nibbler, please join my world of the non-sequetors. Ten-four, Eleanor.

And although I totally love John Lennon, there is an hilarious spoof of him bashing Paul, George and Ringo for their bashing of Yoko. "Yoko is a Concept by which We Measure Our Pain." Gotta laugh. It was 1972, after all.

If pot is harmless, why do so many teeny boppers think Cheech and Chong are funny? And Nixon. Nixon running for President against a 1973 Pontiac.

Compact and Ideal for Travel

Yikes!

The storm on Sunday, the so-called leftovers from Hurricane Ike, was awe inspiring. We experienced 35 to 70 mph winds for about 5 hours steady. Can you imagine that much energy, that far inland, for that long?

We sat on the porch and watched it all in HD, silly mid-westerners that we are.

The power was off from noon until 3 am. Our little shed lost a bit of roof and the barn was stripped of a bit of metal siding. Our house is fine. The bunnies are fine. We were worried about our neighbor's house.



And rightly so. Everyone had gathered there to watch the Colt's game. Nobody was hurt.



No ladder needed to get the apples from the top of the tree.

Address Correction Requested

Deteriorata


You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.



Go placidly amidst the noise and waste, and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof. Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep. Rotate your tires. Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself; and heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys. Know what to kiss - and when. Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do. Wherever possible, put people on hold. Be comforted, that in the face of all irridity and disillusionment, and despite the changing fortunes of time, there is always a big future in computer maintenance.

Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.

Remember the Pueblo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate. Know yourself. If you need help, call the FBI. Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you... That lemon on your left, for instance. Be assured that a walk through the seas of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet. Fall not in love, therefore, it will stick to your face. Gracefully surrender the things of youth: the birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan - and let not the sands of time get in your lunch. Hire people with hooks. For a good time, call 606-4311, ask for Ken. Take heart in the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese. And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.

Therefore, make peace with your god, whatever you perceive him to be: hairy thunderer or cosmic muffin. With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal, the world continues to deteriorate. GIVE UP!

Tony Hendra
National Lampoon

The contents of your box may differ.

Again with the Apples!

I picked these this morning, after a gentle rain last night. I think they are beautiful! And such a gift. I mean, all I have ever done for this tree, besides plant it, has been late winter pruning.



Yes, there have been apples in the past years, but that fruit was small and wormy and bitter. These guys, though, are big and mostly unblemished. They are sweet, too. A gift!

I spent a couple of hours yesterday canning. Of course, there are still a jillion apples left.

Believe it or don't, Sweetie, Buster and I ventured into the relative wilderness of a public ramp/picnic/fishing area along the Ohio River on Sunday evening. The Indiana side is kinda shabby, but the road to it is almost paved and someone keeps the parking area leveled and puts down more gravel after high water.

The Kentucky side, on the other hand, is fancy. Paved ramps, real picnic tables, the occasional free concert. Lights, even.

The Ohio River hosts many barges like this one.



Three engineers cook a weenie.

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Back to knitting.

The better part of Sweetie's afghan is complete and I am quite happy with it! (It's all done but for weaving in some ends.)

It measures more or less 3.5' x 5' and weighs a hefty pound and a half. I was ready to be done with it because the thing was getting too big and warm to deal with even in the air conditioning.

The overall look is very much like some of my art quilts. The fact that practically all of the yarn was my own handspun makes me happy. It is warm and soft and just the right size.

The yarn was a worsted weight. I combined two yarns sometimes to get the right weight. It is a bit wonky, I admit, but I am glad to say that I am no longer constrained by the Tyranny of The Square.

Also, Apples!

The red delicious tree is this close - to ripe. And they taste so different from the store-bought variety. I know that this apple tree needs another apple tree to act as pollinator. I don't know, though, that if the pollinator is a different variety, whether the red delicious fruit on my tree will be "true." They are getting redder and sweeter. From the drops I made Apple Crisp today. Sweetie is going to be happy! Nomnom. I am searching for my canning jars in order to preserve this so-far-unique generous harvest. Dried apples slices and canned applesauce and canned pieces in light syrup are what will be in my future this month. Also, the Asian pears are ripe, too. Again with dried pear slices and canned bits in syrup. The pears also keep well in refrigeration for up to three months, as I learned from the interwebs.

These fruits, these pomes, are totally organic and for that, I am delighted!

I don't feel so much like wasted flesh today.

This a T shirt I found at a thrift store last year.

Take at Bedtime

Read an email this morning that asked, "[D]o you have a dream?  [D]o you know what you want to happen in your life next?"

Of course I read it as "Do you know what you want to happen in your next life."

Sadly, the answer is no, either way I read it. Right now, I have no desires or dreams for anything more than the possible trip to Canada. The trip that fills me with free-floating anxiety and amorphous dread. And this is a trip that I think I might actually Enjoy.

Part of me thinks that I could go to some classes, maybe art classes or writing/journalism. (Some people have complimented me on my writing. Pshaw. My writing skills are suitable for press releases. I've read good writers and I ain't one.) Then another part of me, another Voice in the Head, chimes in with the fact that I don't drive well at night, that I generally hate to be around people, and my inability to sit still through a class that doesn't fascinate and enthrall me. Like the Spinner's Workshop this summer.

Anyway. I am just trying to get through each day with as little stress as possible. I don't know if I am being more Buddhist or Nihilistic. I don't know if I care.

So Susan, there's your answer. I'm feeling like a complete waste of human flesh at the moment. Yet I don't feel bad. I feel mostly unconcerned.

Faster and More Secure

In other news. We have had no rain to speak of for awhile and the pollen count of nettle and plantain is is near 12. (On a scale of 1 to 12.) (Accordoing to Pollen.Com) The landscape looks drab and I am trying to stay indoors at all costs.

Except for Sunday, when Sweetie and I drove to Tennessee for the Hall family reunion. The event was at a private home (thank you, Bill and Glenda,) but most everybody re-uned outside under the trees. Oldest Brother and his Wife were there, along with a few identifiable relatives. I got drunk on the drive home. Sweetie drove.

I have been plagued with what I am sure are turkey ticks (aka seed ticks, or in fact, tick larvae.) At first I thought they were flea bites but in all my life I have never had bite wounds like these, fleas included. That's when I decided that it must be turkey ticks. Nasty little monsters. Where I got into them, I don't know, except maybe the over grown field next door where I harvest bunny greens.



Last weekend, we went into the woods with a friend and covered ourselves in Deep Woods Off. But I still got a few more bites, some that were mere red splotches.

One particular red, non-scratchy spot developed a red ring. Hello, Doctor?



She diagnosed a staph infection, possibly caused by my scratching of the tick bites. Whatever. Tetracycline was prescribed.

I am to stay inside for the nonce. In the air conditioning. How awful, huh? The thermometer is at 100. Relief is expected by the end of the week. Hot and allergen-filled is the outside. No, Please Don't Make Me Stay in the House!! Heh heh. Please, don't throw into that briar patch!

There is only one bunny still in full wool in the barn and I will clip her tonight. Last night was Oscar's turn. Still, the heat is nowhere near as bad as last year.