Thursday, January 21, 2021

Keeping track

 I live a cheek by jowl existence here, neighbors ten feet away on either side and literally a stone's throw across the street. To boot, I notice things. Once I thought noticing was a natural state, but experience taught me different. My sister, for instance, notices little. She sees a lot, but doesn't notice changes, differences. 

We've had snow this past week, and more than a little. My neighbor across the street has two cars. Generally he's on the spot, clearing his drive and cars and often leaving. But, his cars were covered in snow Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. This morning I texted him. He's fine.

This map hit my email, compliments of Google. I visited 77 places last year, 36 of them new. My first instinct, why ever did I go to Mentor or Cleveland. Answer, with Ruth to a quilt show in Mentor and to the Natural History Museum in Cleveland. My endocrinologist is the southernmost dot and my dentist the next dot up. I live one dot above Cuyahoga Falls. 

When I look at Google's all time  map of tracking me, I've been all over the eastern half of the country. I doubt I'll put many dots outside Ohio this year. I did make an appointment for service to the car tomorrow. It was last done a year ago December, and in that time I have not driven the 3,000 miles between servicing. 

My age group is authorized for vaccination next week. I'm not holding my breath. Although I "signed up" on the official county vaccination request form, I've not even received an acknowledgement of that.  My governor lost interest in the epidemic when his president did, about last May.

I'm getting a lot of towels made in this stay at home mode. I've posted a new color wheel and put the khaki towels on the towel tab.

I like the color; it's completely unobtrusive. The color I'm weaving now is lime. In surveying the shelves, I find I'm completely out of blue. Fortunately I have three colors of blue on hand to weave.

Something new for supper! I found a pasta recipe whose sauce is bacon, butter, pine nuts, cheese and lemon juice. I'll probably add some onion and garlic. The recipe says it serves four to eight. I love that. Either you like it or not. My taste buds say what's not to like, so I'll make the entire recipe and after tomorrow night I'll freeze the other four servings.

And that's one more day in Maskville. See you down the road, as we used to say in show business.

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Been a whirlwind

 Each time I've planned a blog post for "today" or "tomorrow", life has jumped in. Now that I'm explaining the lack, I'm wondering what happened.

Some excellent news! I finished the socks. Yesterday I was down to closing the toe,

and I did that today, in my weekly phone call with Ann. Finished before the inauguration. I saw the yarn as far more blue, but knit up, it's fairly evenly distributed in blue, gold and cream. In any event, they are a new pair of wool socks and tomorrow they will be on my feet.

I took the skeins to my yarn drawer, to put them away. I opened the bag of partial skeins to deposit the one on the right, and was stunned to find my darning egg. I have not been in that bag for two years or more. The last time I needed the egg I used a ping pong ball, a poor substitute. Does the yarn appear predominately blue to you?

I also found my POW bracelet, a baby bracelet with my name and a baby bracelet my husband's grandmother gave to my oldest daughter. Years ago I found a web site that gave the current status of names on POW bracelets. My name had returned safely from the war in Vietnam.

The length of khaki towels is off and fulled. I'll get to cutting them tomorrow. A very neutral and soothing color.

I'm watching a series titled Atypical on Netflix, about a high functioning young man on the autism spectrum. I think it extremely well done. You may remember the two or three years I car pooled an Asperger's band member with my grandchildren. That experience helped me settle into the program quickly.

There is little else to pump up my post; just pottering in seven hundred odd feet and telling the cat I will not share my chair when I am knitting. Now that I'm back on that again, he could become a permanent fixture on the arm of my chair.

Friday, January 15, 2021

It's just a sad situation we're in right now

 All the packages of towels I've ever mailed have been delivered, except one. I shipped to Australia at the beginning of Covid fears, in the days of wiping down everything that touched our hands. It did not arrive after six weeks, though a package to New Zealand did. I think New Zealand is further than Australia. At any rate, I could duplicate and reship the order, and I did. It arrived in the usual month or so, and six weeks later, so did the first.

And at the height of the Christmas season, I shipped a package to Maryland. I've shipped to this person before; we've even joked it's only a six hour drive between our homes. This package was scheduled for delivery December 14th. It's not there yet. I call the post office it left from, and they tell me it's still moving. The container it's in was last scanned...! The container it's in! They say it should be delivered next week.

I wonder why I typed those paragraphs. Like my socks. I want it done by inauguration. And they will be. I turned the heel and knit off the gusset, bringing the sock back to the 68 stitches I began with. Now it's just the push to the toe. That's what I can do. I can't get those towels on the move myself, though. As the man at the post office told me, "It's a sad situation we're in right now".

My shoulders sag under the weight of troubles for the next administration. The count of the people who must be tried for high crimes! The count of the people who need to relearn, learn, "one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all". The national mall closed, national guard shoulder to shoulder around its perimiter.

And I potter about in 859 square feet. What am I doing to advance the cause? Well, I'm staying indoors. I sold some towels last year, so I'll be paying taxes. That's a good thing.

I have a problem with the blog. At least two readers report their Norton virus package won't let them on here. "Warning. Dangerous site. Do not open." In reading through the solutions, there is something I can do, but not today. It's too late in the day to do it right, insert a meta tag, or something. I'll try tomorrow.

This picture was yesterday. The new blossom stalks are even higher today. I cut off the last two blossoms today; too raggedy to keep looking at.

The blossom pods have the flowers bulging. That makes me smile.

I wonder if those are actual amaryllis leaves there in the center, that I first thought was a fourth blossom. I hope so. It will signify a return to normalcy. When the leaves grow tall and fall over, I read, I should cease watering, cut them off and let the plant enter a well earned dormancy. And I will.

January 20 is the middle of next week. We can make it, and restart from there.

Tuesday, January 12, 2021

Update amaryllis, weaving and vaccination

 This morning I called my doctor's office for information on Covid vaccination. Before that call, I checked the internet and learned the governor will release doses for age 80 and more on January 19, 75 or more years of age on January 25, 70 and more on February 1, and so on. I marked January 25 on my calendar. 

My doctor's office, which is a Cleveland Clinic affiliation, stumbled at first, telling me to go to CVS or Walgreens for vaccinations. I stated the question again, there was a discussion among the personnel around, then I was told they have heard nothing yet, and to call back in a week. See why I don't trust this doctor? 

So, one week from today the governor will release more vaccine, and, at least at the front desk, they are totally unprepared. 

The amaryllis is right on schedule. I've read a few things about it, and the best information I've put together is to keep treating it like a normal bulb. Keep cutting back the various bits as they decline and droop, until I'm back to a bulb. Keep it well watered and fertilized. When it's down to a bulb I can recommence the winter blooming cycle, or let it revert to it's normal state of being a summer blooming bulb.

I read of one fellow with a 75 year old bulb. What a challenge I've acquired. First I must outlive my cat, and now an amaryllis bulb. When it's down to a bulb again, I will repot it. I have time to look around. One person grows hers in canning jars. I think I'll go for a heavy, square, glass jar, so popular in the eighties for chotskie collections. Abby Ann's here I come again.

Over December I was able to accumulate what my business heart feels is an adequate inventory of towels. Call me what you will, my life of retail production has levels of comfort, and mine is having a decent inventory for an undertaking.

Finally today I am ready to begin a new run of towels. I'm going to make khaki, there on the left, near the end. I wonder how strange that will seem. That was the color of the army's dress uniforms during the second world war. I've always liked it, though never enough to wear it or decorate a room. 

So, I'll weave it once and get it out of my system. Some colors that I could not believe would be popular sold away in a heartbeat. Black, slate, kiwi, periwinkle...

Those I need to redo soon are one shelf down. But first, my tubes of khaki.

Sunday, January 10, 2021

Look at the time!

 When I read a book, I try to review what I've read before I put down the book. When I come back to the book, I do my best to remember what I read last. I think I need to do that to remember my day. 

I came to my office corner to update my towel page. But first, I thought I'd review the news. Afterward I had to squeeze my eyes tight shut to remember why I came here. To update the towels! 

They are updated and you can have a look at the cayenne. I am very pleased with the "hand".  The dye of a thread can affect the way it feels, called its hand, in weaving. Sometimes a color achieves hand in each wash. Sometimes it's there the first time.

When I came to breakfast this morning, I was in fine fettle. I had just one disagreement with Mr. Cat, for lying across a narrow aisle. On the other hand, he keeps me on my toes.

Even before breakfast I had to admire, then photograph that amaryllis. There were the first four blossoms on that stunted stalk, at eye level, and the tall new stalk, which had adequate water and even some fertilizer.

Speaking of The Cat, amaryllis and cat can be a deadly mix. I told him to keep his curiosity to himself, or one of them would spend the duration behind a closed door.

Toby did help himself to a taste test, as you can see there on the lower right petal. He was sick for a day, and then seems to have figured cause and effect. The amaryllis has not been molested again.

I have reason to be more than pleased with this bulb. It has four original blossoms, it has a tall stalk that will produce more blossoms, it has another stalk coming, there to the right of the tall stalk, and yet another stalk pushing up between the tall one and the other one.

It still was not eleven in the morning, so I made a pan of corn bread. It is crusty on purpose. I love it. An extra five minutes in the oven. Then I retired to the studio to begin hemming cayenne towels. I took photos to post and then had a square of cornbread for lunch. Eight potential squares left.

And so, down the hall to post photos, and I have pissed away an hour trying to ferret out some decent news. I quit. Better news won't start until we inaugurate a new president. It is obvious the GOP will not step up to the plate, admit an error.

I could have turned the heel of my inaugural sock in the time I have wasted reading the inconsequential, inadequate response of my government to an insurrection ended by a few brave officers hiding the lawmakers, even officials who encouraged the mob on, until a very late arriving line of law enforcement walked the mob back.


I'm done with the news for the next ten days. I will call my doctor's office tomorrow and see where to find my shot. I am in charge of myself. And the cat, if we need to evacuate. A little humor there.