A little pondering

 Thank you for the program suggestions. I've already seen some, and tried others. I've dipped into The Queen's Gambit several times, but have seen less than an hour. There's been enough to realize the title is from that opening move in chess and so the plot probably is about the actions of characters who might be considered like those pieces.

I'm sure I'll get back to it, but not while it can engage me too emotionally. Right now I'm not up to orphans, and dark dealings. It also seems the young girl was intended to be a victim too, and survived unscathed, by the standards of the day. Broadchurch was far easier for me.

The Repair Shop got me with the first episode, and is such easy watching that I'll go on awhile. I engaged in a stern lecture from and to myself to turn off the television and get back to work! And, all the suggestions are on a slip of paper tucked in by the cushion.

Watching the repair and restoration of the items brought into the shop, I wondered how significant the work would be to the generation these objects were destined for. How I can still remember my own pleasure at having, using, restoring items I considered valuable and heirlooms, and having them rejected by the next generation. Not only my own children, but nieces and nephews rejecting their father's and mother's treasures.

Those experiences devolved to sending the pieces to people who wanted and appreciated them. Turn them down once and gone. So much was auctioned. My daughter eventually made a family joke of "selling our inheritance" that they did not want.

Anyway, the warping tree is loaded, and the twenty tubes I will empty are on the floor in front of it.

And, the forty threads are distributed in the tension box, the knot is tied and put in the bout cord. The whole set up is pretty insulated from potential disaster. Oh, and the thread guides are set on the bout pins. And the crank is on whatever the crank inserts to.

Another good night's sleep and I probably can wind. I didn't mention that I gave my ribs a good thump yesterday, and they remain damn painful today. Another day should do it.

Speaking of, that Gerbera daisy will not recognize the changing of the season. Will Not! Another bud is poking out from under the leaves. Here are the two buds in blossom, holding up rain drops.

Big jobs, little jobs

 I spent a busy, quiet weekend. Who am I kidding there. Almost every day is qui-et! The only voices come from the radio or the Mp3. Or the very occasional cat meow. If he's waiting at the door in the morning he turns and heads to his end of the house. He looks back to assure I'm in his wake, but his progress is steady.

If he jumps down from the cat tower, he generally has something to say. As if I don't know the routine, and I won't continue to move on without encouragement. He's almost in the "cat room" when he leaves his tower and I'm still on my bedroom end. He beckons me to catch up.

I spent the weekend finishing towels. That is a not so big job, especially since I have a re-warping facing me. I will do my best to suck it up and get this warp beamed before the week is out. Then I will suck it up again and get it tied in a week. I do hope to finish another happy color of towels by Thanksgiving.

The problem is, I've run out of alternatives to beaming and tying. I finished The Crown. I've finished Schitt's Creek. I've started David Letterman, and that could be bad. For my time. I cannot listen to Mp3 and count turns. Can't go there again until I'm tying.

This morning I had a pleasant interaction with my state sales tax collection agency. I received another past due notice for not filing a monthly return. Sigh. I won't retell the sad story of incompetence from them over more than a year. 

Suffice it to say, for the first time I spoke with a woman. At the end of telling her what she needed to do she said "Just a moment, I'm fixing it now. There. Done." I asked her if there would be a confirmation number for whatever she had done and she said No.

Pause. Then she said "But my name is Karen and here is my badge number:" 

If I write about this topic again, it will have nothing to do with her.

Where is the land of lost days?

 I lost yesterday. I did not miss it until I got up this morning. "It's Thursday. Must remember the trash". And La-de-da, I worked my way into the kitchen with my bedroom and bathroom trash, and headed for the studio trash. Passing the window I saw the trash cans gone. Yep, Larry had them all out front.

First I thought I'd slow down and take care of the cat and eat breakfast, then take care of my trash problem. But, I didn't. I didn't even take care of the cat. If I was confused, he could be, too. Apparently it is Friday, and I had an appointment this morning to have my hair cut.

And by golly, I did. I'd take a picture, except Mel gets carried away with the gel and the "styling" and all that, and it won't be a real haircut until I have a shower tomorrow.

I think I lost yesterday to the weather, mostly. It was eighty yesterday, just as it has been all day today. Every window open. Every time I looked, the cat was following the sun, window to window. I wove all morning, gave my back a couple hour TV break, wove all afternoon. I am so close to the end of that warp, I can taste it. This green is lovely. Tomorrow it probably will be towels.

Yesterday and today have been immersed, in addition to heavy weaving, in Edith Wharton's The Song of the Lark. Did she really write so many books! Did I lose them or did I never read them? Surely the former, or how do I have a Master's in American Literature. 

This "lost" book has captivated me like Little Nell did several years ago. I hope I am not disappointed by the end.

Tomorrow does not bode well. Today's eighty will be forty tomorrow. There is a severe storm warning until tomorrow morning and a current lightening strike warning. A shame, but that's what weather is all about. I went out to take a look after supper tonight; it's still warm and lovely. But change is coming. Here's the sky:

And here are the first drops of rain. See them? It's probably raining right now in Illinois. Or Missouri.

Intuitive

 The other day I could not switch to the next episode of Schitt's Creek. I could not stop the action. After I assured myself no button on the Roku device was activating I said well, damn. The batteries must be dead. I wonder where they are. And fought my way into the secret recess, and found triple A. 

A methodical search of the house turned up two half packages of double A. I turned off my old TV with the separate control (so old I need two controls to watch my TV), put the Roku device in my purse, just in case those no name batteries were not triple A. 

But of course they were, and this afternoon I even gave myself a lesson in all the symbols Roku puts on my TV screen to navigate programs, episodes and so on and so forth. Almost like Blogger. Long story short, I got back to the interrupted episode and finished it.

My life has entertained some lovely moments since Roku's batteries crapped out. Every morning I've woken to rain on the window. We've had lovely temps since then, which make for a decent frame of mind. I had an errand this morning, and left to beautiful sunshine.

All the sun turned the water on the gerbera daisy into bits of glass. The sun was leaving as I drove down into the valley. It may well be my last opportunity to record the color this fall has given us, so here it is, under the growing overcast.

Another pretty picture on a corner in Peninsula:

I had one other surprise this morning. A ping to my phone, and I found this picture:

It still seems so strange she's in another county. 

1:30 on a cold and wet Sunday afternoon

 Thanks for all the tea and sympathy Friday. Dan is a sad specimen. I've put up with him for the last four years, and know his type from all these years of just knowing people. He was nicer back when he had Joe to push around, and we were happier encouraging Joe to find a new position. And life goes on.

Laura came yesterday to help me button up for winter, and to tell her good news. She came in all smiles for telling me about it. First we said good bye to the mandevilla.

Much as I wish I had a way to keep them, I don't. They made me happy this summer. That was the very best red mandevilla ever. May next year's be as lovely.

Miss Thumb's Up. I nearly added "little", and for shame. She will be twenty this year. She is a registered voter with her absentee ballot signed and sealed. She remains undecided about mailing, delivering or voting.

Her happy news, she found a studio apartment to move into. It's in the immediate neighborhood she lives in and she will feel quite comfortable living there. She showed me pictures she'd taken, and I do like it. It's an enormous room with a wall of windows facing the yard and garden of the home.

I made a mental note to find a box to put "things" into. I sent her away with some towels and a round butter dish, and I wonder which pleased her more.

Today I've divided between weaving and watching the British Bake Off. Laura and I used to watch cooking challenge shows. Laura loved them, and all I guess I can say is I believe I'm over them. I'll be surfing Netflix for something else next time.

Laura still loves cooking. She's working at Chipotle, and has a job one day a week at a Mediterranean food truck. Hard work for a good worker. I'm off for left over mac and cheese, with a side of peas, and am quite pleased.