Remiss, negligent, or both

It was difficult to pull myself together enough to write about the show. Now we are a week later and I still am gone incommunicado. What is wrong?, I hope you have asked.

Little or nothing, in fact. I joke sometimes about "terminal ennui", and I would accuse myself except I have spent a lifetime of the opposite behavior. Perhaps I was bone tired and needed to sleep. I don't think so. I simply need to find a constant source of people who will interact. Time to investigate groups again.

I know we should stay united on the issues that brought Biden to the presidency. Again, I should look for people to support and participate with. I feel little happened during "shut down", and we should be reuniting behind causes. Again, I know of nothing to jump into, and need to begin researching the best new fit for me.

One bit of history I've thought of, lately. I wonder if the Palin effect could happen to the former president? 

There have been some home front developments. I took El Gato to the vet for annual vaccinations, plus. My vet is admitting a controlled number of patients to the office. I still prefer the routine of handing over the cat carrier and waiting in the car. Toby was updated on vaccinations prior to going to the salon for another close shave.

He also was prescribed an antibiotic for presumed urinary tract problems. It is sprinkled on his food daily, beginning today. As I was making my own breakfast, Mr. Cat came out of his room and planted such a look I knew he could only be referring to dose one. I hope this does not become a contest.

This car pulled into the vet. I wish I could identify it. Here is a close up of the insignia. Any guesses?

We had daily rain this past week. That has meant flourishing plants and no watering by myself. Here are some wonderful pictures.

The Gerbera, and little more to say. I cannot remember one that bloomed so profusely.

This is a silly shot; the pot of wildflowers holding a downed white Mandevilla. The glass lady stands guard.

A nose dive into the zinnias. There is a little flower bud in the very center of each green shoot. Soon the pot will be waving with blooms, and zinnia are among my favorites.

Every mandevilla is a beauty. The pots are beginning to fill in and have lots of blooms.

And on that note, off to lunch and some weaving. Lunch is cherry custard. It is so delicious that I will consume the entire batch, four eggs and a quart of milk, in four lunches. All I can say is, if interested in "jam custard", just do it. Eggs and milk are completely forgiving. After your mixer froths the eggs, add the jam of your choice, then the milk, and just bake it up. Mine took over an hour to produce a clean knife to the middle.

A Day at the Fair

I set the alarm for way too early Saturday morning. I was not so rusty or out of practice as I thought. I rose on pure adrenaline at 5:30, finished my household necessaries (you're welcome, Cat), and ate my breakfast by 6:30. With nothing more to do, I left for the farm.

Farm hands unloaded me and set up my two tables. With nothing more to do, I sent them off, and waited for my daughter to arrive with the table coverings. At length she arrived and we commenced the old drill.

Though, as Beth pointed out, unlike the old days there was no tent to erect and nail to the ground, no wire grids to assemble, then hang "the goods", no zipping up at night and off to a restaurant, to begin all over the next day, sans set up. But wait, then after the close of the show, there was tear down and loading the remainder back into the van.

Beth had the front table, with old glassware and linens. I took the side table, stacked with towels. Many sales were made via the little square, and eventually Beth realized that putting the unit flat on the table and sliding the card was the charm. Apparently neither of us have hands steady enough to satisfy the unit while swiping.

The most evident phenomena of the day was the pure joy of the people who came. To be out, on a beautiful day, and in a fair venue was such a treat for body and mind. To have a conversation with the artisans was a pleasure. Happiness was in the air; it was palpable.

A dragonfly came past my face and landed on the window. I took its picture and told it to try the open back door, a few feet past. Hours later I looked again, and felt it was willing the glass to give way. Beth enticed it to a piece of paper, and the instant she cleared the end of my table and had it facing the door, it was off.

When I came in last night I saw all the plants had survived a fairly hot day with no additional water, save the Gerbera daisy. I mixed up several gallons of water and fertilizer and went out to give them my sincere apology. At the bottom of the steps:

and a big pot of zinnias to the right. There is also a pot of mixed wildflowers, names to be disclosed on blooming:

At the top of the steps I have the little pot of salpiglosis, started from the seeds I harvested.

And finally, all the Mandevilla:

And that's it. Home from the fair. Next are June 26th and then July 3rd. 

Another show

You might be happy not to know me back in the show days. I loved every minute. Sometimes I stood in the field or the exhibition hall and shouted "I love this show!"  Setting up. Seeing people Putting on my best show to give the public a pleasant day at the fair. Seeing friends. Sharing a meal. Falling into bed, dead tired!

All these years later nothing has changed a lot. I used to say if I could still lift the hand truck back into the van I was ready to go another year. I've managed to find someone to load everything into my car and I'm promised unlimited young people to unload it all to my booth.

My sister sent two lovely quilts to mount behind me to define the back of the booth. I will sell them too, if I can. That would be nice.  I just counted, and have 118 towels to take. I just added the orange towels to my inventory; there are 11.

Sales through the blog fell off dramatically this year, but a saturated market is, well, saturated. There are many towels of many colors to set out for the show. 

I put up the orange towels on the blog, so everything is out there. I also put up a new color wheel, and I like the layout I've done this time. The next set up to weave is cerise, but they won't appear for a couple of weeks. Here is the current color wheel:

It's good to add another strong color to the repertoire. Everything is packed in the van except the catch all bag, stuffed with everything that does not have a solid title, like "towels to sell". It will be the last out the door tomorrow.

I had lunch with Ruth today. It was good, as ever, and we are quite caught up now. She decided next I should go to her house and we will plan a trip to Aladdin's Eatery in University Heights.

Poor neglected kitty. Imagine when I come home with tabouli on my hands. Or falafel.

On a trip to the store recently, I made an unexpected purchase. I don't often buy "off the list" when I go shopping, and I could deliver a lecture straight from my mother's mouth on the pitfalls of gratuitous spending, but I won't. It was only $1.50 at the dollar store, which probably is as evil as You Know Who and You Know What, but small enough I can handle an unexpected trip for laundry soap.

I miss having a bird feeder, but not the mess. I have only occasionally seen a hummer at the mandevilla's, but I have seen them and certainly should tempt them more. And when I saw this tiny hummer feeder, I bought it. 

Here's to a good day for all of us tomorrow. I'll let you know.

A new post

I've worked hard, for me, these last several days, getting ready for Saturday's craft show and finishing Nomadland, by Jessica Bruder. Like Finding the Mother Tree, this book compelled me. It may be because I seriously contemplated this life style. Remember when I thought about getting off the grid? The pictures are still on the post:

The Mercedes Benz is a lovely illustration; not in my budget . I looked at used models and other brands. I could have done that in my budget. I drove a bigger van for twenty years. But this is after I'd broke my leg and the better part of valor was do not do it. And especially, do not need to work.

Nomadland is a report on people my average age surviving in homes on wheels. The author spent several years following groups of "houseless" people, documenting their pleasures and pain. They may be a larger group than ever, swept from the American dream by the Great Depression. The houseless have always been with us, from Westward Migration through the Great Recession. The houseless are everywhere and all time; Tinkers, Romani, migrant workers. 

The people in this book are relentlessly cheerful, can-do, helpful and sufficient. They work the mean hours, jobs and pay of places like Amazon warehouses, this country's national parks, fields of produce, stocking groceries. They mourn the passing of friends, often alone, without family or friends, and carry on to the next job.

Linda, the center traveler of the book, works the mean jobs and searches the country for the place to settle down. She finds her acre a few miles from the Mexican border and we leave her contemplating beginning construction of an Earth Ship, a home built from sand filled tires. She may do it, or give it up and find a new dream.

Quoting the author,  “America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves . . . Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters.”

Paraphrasing the author, life seems to be growing more difficult for people who use the free parking places. Park rangers are using modern electronic methods to track vehicles that stay more than forty five days on public lands. City law enforcers are doing the same. And people of color certainly could never consider this life style.

The people in this book never considered this life style while they were CEO's, CFO's, managers. brokers, owners of traditional homes, apartment renters, consumers of everything they must dispose of to live in a small or tiny vehicle. Now, they are an America no one knows of or thinks about.

Dear Mr. Bigwig

I just sent another email to New Jersey, this one specifically to Mr. Bigwig. On Wednesday I finished loading several days of dirty dishes to the dishwasher, put in the soap and closed the door. It did not engage; the dishwasher did not start.

The next morning I notified Theresa, the site manager, and hearing nothing from her, texted Dan. From the grapevine I learned that Dan is instructed to have all of Hudson Estates mowed, and probably weed wacked, as well as Ravenna, the other mobile home park owned by UMH in Ohio, before the visit of the Bigwig next Tuesday.

The grapevine and I figure this is all about the refinancing of the properties that I may have mentioned, back when Theresa rang my door bell, walked right in and began filming the interior, while using her sweetest voice to say "I just love the interior of this unit, so simple and sweet." Then she left. No by your leave and certainly no twenty four hour notice of entry.

So I sent an email to Mr. Bigwig, and told him I sincerely doubted Ms. Theresa will bring him by Cedar 28, sweet and simple as it is, for fear of a sink of dirty dishes. I did use the opportunity to mention, one more time, that I still have no grass, only clods and weeds.

It is pouring rain today. Here is the rain dropped red Mandevilla, through a rain streaked window. For the weekend the forecast is the same, cold and rain. Monday looks a bit improved. That is good; what have we done to lose a third annual holiday to fate? Last year was a clunking dud; the year before that we loaded ourselves on my porch and ate pizza. The pandemic was good conversation then. 

Now half the adults of this country are fully vaccinated, and the ones too lazy to make an appointment are being enticed with stadium drive throughs and million dollar drawings. We are such a strange breed of "rugged independence".

And one more thing! What is one thing America might do on Memorial Day? Look over a neighbor's new car. One of these admirers is my neighbor. The rest probably are husbands whose lunch awaits.