Thursday, May 6, 2021

Bizzy, bizzy

I've worked steadily the last couple of days to get to the end of the current warp. In fact, I got there last night, and that also included weaving 800 yards or one tube of natural, and so there should be six cream towels going into stock.

This morning I spent straightening up the studio, preparing for a new warp, prepping the towels I took from the beam. I putzed in the kitchen, cleaning surfaces, changing out winter for spring. I love these place mats.

After lunch, with the idea of turning on a new and possibly longer warp in front of my eyes, I wondered if Laura might be available for the weekend. She said she would at least call me to say goodbye, and I haven't heard a word.

So, I called.

"Hello there," her ever chipper voice said, down the line. Tomorrow will not work because she is leaving for a short WWOOF assignment in Cleveland, at an inner city food project. "Darn!", I grumbled. I'll have to do this all by myself!"

"What's wrong with the rest of today?" Laura wanted to know. I left at once to pick her up and by two this afternoon she was on the hardest part of dressing a loom--putting on a warp.

"A member of your fan club is missing the thumbs up," I suggested.

Well, dressing a loom is no more fun to her than it is to me. We kept steadily at it, emptied and changed out 32 tubes of warp, and finished in two hours. 

When Jan helped me by changing out the emptying warp tubes we were done in two hours, too. But Laura put an extra 25 turns of warp on each bout. I believe that will yield an additional twenty towels, but I haven't done the fine math yet.

Every time a tube emptied, I tied on a new one and heaved the empty over the warp threads. That made the kid laugh. "And I always thought of you as super neat!" 

We stopped at the local tavern for a hamburger on the way home. And back in her neighborhood, I took some pictures.

When we had the problem at the old trailer with drainage in the little flower garden, Ellen Abbott suggested we make a drainage route with flat stones. That's what these folks did. Pretty neat.

And I'll always be a sucker for stone retaining walls.

Wednesday, May 5, 2021

A viable solution

I am bone tired! Too much of many tasks! I went to a town fifteen miles north to pick up my banner for the booth at the Peninsula Flea. I've been there before, to order and pay. I followed the trusty Google app, and paid little attention to where I went. 

Today the app went completely berserk, and thought I intended to walk to an intersection along the route. I could not reset the app. I knew I turned on a numbered highway, but I could not remember the name or number. My phone kept rerouting me to the intersection back at home.

I called the sign store. The lovely receptionist is a landmark follower. Have you passed Starbucks? I had to cut across mightily to convince her I drove by road names and numbers; landmarks are a waste of time. I finally got her to remember street names and route numbers, and I arrived!

Pretty neat, eh? Another box ticked. It's rolled up and ready to go.

There was an email this week from the gallery owner, with her usual recap of business in April. She noted there might be a problem with staffing the gallery on Sundays; two artists had to cut back on hours.

When Diane first opened the gallery, I was pretty much done with shop keeping, so I declined her offer of work in exchange for a lower commission. And now I'm a bit unstable, possibly unsuitable to work.

Sunday is such a low traffic day, Diane was considering not being open that day. And that is anathema to this old retailer. So after a couple days consideration, I said sign me up for Sundays.

Diane was not amenable to start, but I convinced her to give me a shot. They had scrambled and covered most of May, so I am not on the schedule until the first Sunday of June. And if anyone wants out of their Sunday in May, I'll be there.

Monday, May 3, 2021

Another day, another day

New normal seems little different from old normal. I suppose the next thing to look forward to/hope for is decent weather. It rained all day today, and will rain all day tomorrow.

Another day with little live interaction. I wove some more, but knitted nothing, spending the time either napping or food prepping. I made vegetable soup, which simmered from about two this afternoon until I woke up from a nap at five.

It's OK, but not great. As I packed up portions for the freezer, I realized I'd omitted those innocent little soup noodles. No idea of their Italian pasta name; the little guys that take the sharp edge off the tomatoes. I have lots of them in a little jar in the pantry. I wonder how I can add them after the fact?

In another adventure today, I moved the left most leaf of the amaryllis away from the window, and it fell straight down and snapped off, with a definitive snap! Now it looks bedraggled.

I've run out of new books to read, so picked up Alexandra Fuller's Cocktail Hour under the Tree of Forgetfulness. Not my favorite of her many, and I really should start her over with Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight.

I do have a new book on order, Finding the Mother Tree. Since I will be reading it at least twice, I'll be occupied for a bit...when it comes.

Thursday, April 29, 2021


It's amazing; put one foot in front of the other, just carry on, and the most unexpected person rocks your world. Laura agreed to help me out today, and so I picked her up at the usual time and asked the usual question, "How's work?"

Well, she doesn't work there any more. Her news was delivered in the style to which I've become accustomed, first I must ask the right question. Here's the Reader's Digest version:

Laura resigned her job at Chipolte, and has fallen back on her weeding route to pay the rent until she moves on. There is an organization, WWOOF, and she will work at one of their jobs after she finishes a job in Texas. She is packing up her apartment as we speak.

She laid out her plan for me and I couldn't see any faulty thinking. I did ask if she'd told any of her siblings, and she laughed and said they all were too busy to listen to her, except Bekka. We shared a mutual laugh over the old memory of the next two oldest spinning a big plan of relocating to Seattle to become the next programming wizzes, and Laura could tag along.

That's my big news. Except yes, she has green hair this week. She says it was orange for a while, but I'm spared that.

So, I may have enjoyed our last shopping trip for awhile. It is spring, but still far too early to plant mandevilla. When the monumental overnight rains had subsided to a hard sprinkle, we did plant the seeds I'd saved, and my birthday gerbera daisy that the cat made himself sick over. 

Laura told me she had her second vaccination shot yesterday, and I thought she was a real trouper to turn out and devote a day to me. "Oh, I'll be fine!" she said. "The last one barely bothered me!" 

On the way home I was hungry. "Would you like a hamburger?" I suddenly asked. I was in a through lane and needed to be in the right lane for the hamburger or the left turn lane to continue taking her home. She knew where we were and recognized my dilemma. I could hear the wheels turning in the passenger seat.

At the last possible moment she said "No, I need to go to bed."

So I will return to my job of weaving towels. I reached the half way point of the grey this morning.

Saturday, April 24, 2021

And look, it's Saturday

 Whenever I think I should write another post, the thought is crowded away with another, what on earth should I write of?  There is a new normal for all of us, deadly stifling, stifling difficult to write about. What new subject to whip to life this time? Oh, yes, it is Saturday!

I went to the grocery store this morning. I've made my life incredibly easier these last many months by shopping for a month of groceries in one go and enlisting Laura to carry it up the steps. Then she cleans my whole house and does her laundry in the time it takes me to shelve the goods.

Sometimes we have a five week month. Actually, four times every year the "month" is five weeks. That's like leap year; it's necessary to keep the world on schedule. And for old retired people, all the scheduled money comes to the bank sometimes four weeks apart, and sometimes five. 

The rent payment may be late this month; I'll make it the same day May funds become available. Since the business disordered management cannot move to the modern world of electronic funds, it arrives at the whim of the post office. Sometimes the payment is a week early, sometimes a week late. 

I will not budge and move funds from savings to pay the rent on time. It's far more satisfying to see if Theresa has the nerve to assess a late fee, whereupon I will report her sins to New Jersey and the late fee is erased. As long as she continues smoking and the smell oozes from every orifice of that building, I'll be safe from late charges.

Where was I?

I went to the grocery store. Now I'm back. The extra loaf of bread and pound of butter are shelved. How I need a haircut. Monday.

Here is the amaryllis we're tracking for the Weaver. When I shelve mine, she'll shelve hers. Mine had five leaves. In turn they drooped to the table, turned brown, completely limp and snapped off at the bulb. The next leaf to go will be the one on the right. It will be awhile; the leaf feels sturdy to me.

My job for the balance of Saturday is to hem the black towels. Not the fun part. At the end of the first weaving project you learn now it must be finished. The several hundred raw threads from each end must disappear somewhere. Sigh.

Then back to weaving. I've scheduled a run of dark grey towels next (bobbins already wound!), and I'll finish the warp with lavender. And that's what I'm doing on Saturday.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

A mere four inches

A lot of us went to bed and woke up expecting snow. I pulled the curtain aside and saw the grass covered with snow. Eventually, after cat duty and breakfast, I got out to see what I could do with the broom.

This load of snow was so wet and heavy I could only leave a streak of bristle marks along the top. Of course the snow shovel, as well as the tote of salt, is in the shed. I was expecting a delivery and common decency meant I must clear the way. I puzzled for a minute, and remembered the short, short shovel behind the door. Don't ask.

After I'd pushed a lot of snow through the rails I thought to put the camera down by the deck and take a picture. It's about four inches of cold, wet stuff. Enough I was not about to go in for a ruler. All I have to say is, this time last year my bulbs were up and in bud.

I expect to read a lot of blogs tonight with the topic of the Chauvin trial. How far there is to go, but justice was met here. The distance to go is the change in policing tactics. And so much more. What can change to make decent housing possible and good parenting possible, and good education possible. 

A sea change is still required.

Sunday, April 18, 2021

In for a dime, in for a dollar

What do I do all day? Sometimes I wonder, myself. I'm not anti social; I'm fine with solitude but enjoy being with people, rubbing shoulders, chatting, knowing what friends are up to. But, I'm covid-cooped. This is the first time in my life I've sat back and followed orders. It's time to take covid the shoulders and shake some sense into it.

Winter essentially is over; I've made it through the need to remove snow just to go up the road.  A hopefully long and wonderfully warm spring, summer, fall waits. I stand on the deck, breathing it in. This spring I have no doubt what awaits. Work. My happiest occupation.

I'm exhibiting at all Peninsula Flea events this summer and fall. I signed on tentatively, wanting very much to participate, but needing everything to fall into place. And it has. A space in the barn became available. I can set up by myself and cover the booth myself. I can do this!

To that end I've begun accumulating equipment I need and that I can handle. The biggest score to date:

Look at that chair! When I saw it I dutifully scrolled to the end of the page, in the event an even better chair was available, then hastened back up the page and bought it. It is so light I can carry it myself. It is so firm I can stand up like a person, not like a struggling old lady. Look at the amenities. A table that can be a desk. On the other side, an array of pouches to hold everything. Hooray.

The chair arrived at the beginning of the week. I set it up, surveyed it, and realized I am totally in exhibitor mode. Back to the computer to begin accumulating all the "stuff" I need to be an exhibitor the first Saturday in June. Thinking of all the towels I must weave, that is the same as tomorrow!

I am so in the need of cherry blossoms of my own that on a run for toothpaste and toilet paper, I made the last second decision to drive through the cemetery for the trees. I was past the main entrance, and elected the service entrance, a fast and crazy left hand turn onto a dirt drive. 

Bump, bump, thump, thump, I was glad I was not and never will be the occupant of a coffin. The dirt tract went on forever to meet up with a concrete tract. Even on a grey day, the pictures were fine, though.

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Good morning

The morning inbox was awash with Boye steel hooks of every size. Thank you; I am so grateful, especially to know their original owners may have left off using them, but they still are in the collections of new owners, and probably will be attracted to another at the proper time. The Boye size 0 is on its way from California, View from my Window in Tehachapi.

I must add a probably long remark about what I do when I knit. I watch television. I am not sure how this works. I have a 17" television, to the sheer dismay of most who have seen it. I think it simply keeps things in perspective. 

The service is called Roku. It's like cable, without local news, which I miss. The amount of money required for television "entertainment" is staggering. But that's not where I was headed.

Of everything available on Roku, I use Netflix the most, and have enjoyed watching so many shows that have been recommended. For a time I was watching Last Tango in Halifax. I know it ends somewhere, but I haven't checked that out. I had to quit watching; every episode was a new disaster, and even reducing it to 17" was no good. Every show another fight, another death, another relative.

I quit Last Tango for Outlander. I watched a couple of episodes prepared to scoff at all the mistakes in presenting the lives of 18th century rural peasants. But what I do know about dress, about the history of clans, which the British treated rather like Americans treated Native People, was ringing true. 

Every episode of Outlander is a new adventure, and most are fairly rough. It was a rough time. I was in for the long haul when I saw the tax collecting episode. Claire, the female protagonist is commandeered into the tax collecting group for her skill as a nurse. Claire wanders into a group of woman in one village and is fit into the group "waulkin" the wool. 

A length of woven woolen fabric is being fulled by waulking. The length is rolled or scrunched its length on a long table and the women on either side pick it up in unison, slap it on the table, pick it up again further down its length, slap it on the table and so on, in time to a waulkin song, like a sea shanty.

I have omitted so far, the rest of the fulling process, which is moisture and heat. The wool has been saturated in warm urine. And so we have the three components of fulling, heat, moisture and agitation. Claire even has a pee into the communal pot of new heat and moisture. And this is how waulking occurs, to my knowledge.

The show goes intensely into the infliction of pain between two warring cultures, and there came a time when one show's action kept me awake far too long. And then I realized Outlander had become as predictable as Last Tango. Each new episode was another murder, kidnapping, extreme loss.

I had to know where it ends. I took to friend google and wound up on my other friend, Wikipedia, which has a one line synopsis of each episode. I read and read and read to catch up to where I am, and then read ahead a bit, then scrolled to the end. Yes, there are hundreds of episodes. 

For the present, I'm off Outlander, too. Picture from Google.

Tuesday, April 13, 2021


 Two projects currently underway are nearing completion. The amaryllis is looking forward to its "long winter's nap" and shedding leaves as fast as it can. See how much chlorophyll is gone!

And soon I find the leaf totally resigned and happy to be gone.

When I put the bulb into this pot, I squeezed it gently and it felt very mushy. I wondered for a minute if I should even keep it, but put it in the pot and carried on. Now when I squeeze the exposed bit, there is resistance. The fertilizer, the water and the sunshine have done the job.

I wonder how long it will take the bulb to learn it is in the northern hemisphere and really should be blooming come spring, not hibernating to bloom at Christmas.

The other job at hand is a different way to close the toe of a sock. I invented my own way years ago.

I've always worked a wedge style toe, but instead of grafting, I crochet the remaining stitches together. After the obligatory decreases on both sides of the top and the sole, I put the top and bottom stitches on two needles.

Holding the two needles together and using a small crochet hook I took off the first back and front stitches and pulled front stitch through the back. Then the next front and back and pulled the back stitch through. Then the next back and front, and so on. Pull the end through and work in.

That crochet hook is lost, missing from the knitting bag when I went searching to finish that last pair of socks. It is an old steel hook, with a softly rounded tip, size 0 or 00. Still available in my childhood. Now they all seem to be aluminum or bamboo, and do not slip easily through a size one yarn loop.

I thought I'd try some decrease that would leave fewer than the twenty ending stitches I currently have, so I could simply pull the yarn through the remaining. I've done that now, using a wedge toe, and it's almost too ugly to show.

So, I will rippit back and try something else. And finally, I intend to find more interesting topics for future essays.

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Where have I been this week?

This week has been unlike April! Temperatures in the high seventies. Blue skies. Mild, mild breezes. All week every window is open, creating a notable current of that air in every room. 

If I were outdoors, I'd throw myself to the grass and succumb to the soporific effect. It's like my first spring in college, falling on the green like all those other bodies, and giving way to...spring.

But I'm indoors, and certainly not near any patch of grass, from which I could not rise unaided, in any event. I will not throw myself on the bed; I surely would not rise until someone said it was time for dinner. Dinner, alas, from my own hand. 

So I give over weaving and retreat to my easy chair, between two open windows, to watch the news for a bit and then back to the loom. And when I open my eyes, and again make words of the voice of news, it's two hours later. I make a late lunch and return to the easy chair, feeling spring air on all my exposed skin.

I've moved the tiny Gerbera daisy to the porch. It fascinates the cat. I brought in a Gerbera to overwinter a couple of years ago, and flowers and all, it had no attraction for the cat. Not so this Gerbera, the identical color as the overwintered plant. No mind they are not toxic, dear Mr. Cat's stomach finds them intolerable. 

I find cleaning the morning mess intolerable, especially as Toby does not appreciate he could help by selecting tile over carpet. The Gerbera is out, but cannot take its appointed place in front of Pig until I put it in a heavy clay pot. So, the Gerbera is tucked in a safe corner (barring a big storm).

The smell of gardening is in the air. Laura brought my bag of potting soil and trowel from the shed on her last visit. I didn't think to include the watering jug. I just added it to my running list of light bulbs that need replaced, and other things I cannot reach.

Back inside, I'm still following the progress of the second declining amaryllis leaf. Less and less chlorophyll in that leaf, but still resistance to my finger, so it remains on the job. 

I've spent my afternoons, on awakening, with Netflix. My algorithm has enough building blocks now to hold my interest in the row of suggestions along the bottom of the screen. I've watched some amusing trash, and have left as much dangling. I did watch Philomena with great interest.

Well, Judy Dench and Steve Coogan and why would I not watch it!  

Over the last very few years I've followed the unfolding of the Irish mother and baby hospitals scandal (for want of a better word), always hoping for a clue to the marriage of my Irish paternal grandparents and the fate of five orphan children abandoned by the church of their mother. 

Of course, my story of interest unfolded in this country, but, The Church remains The Church for much of its time in this world. Its solution to mothers and children it found improper was living as penance for unworthiness of existing. My grandmother, it also advised to sue her husband for child support, a radical idea in 1914.

She did so, and at once her Presbyterian husband jumped bail and went west, where he died, under an assumed name, without paying any support. His family and hers made little or no effort to assist the mother and five children, though some effort was made toward the three girls. And The Church did nothing. Involuntary penance.

The breeze through the window is light and sweet. I have two paperwork problems to work through, and then I will see what Netflix has on offer this afternoon.

Monday, April 5, 2021

Kiwi, loom waste, living in Australia, and amaryllis

Kiwi, done and dusted. Although I wound all the periwinkle bobbins and wove a bit, I really kept my nose pointed to the kiwi towel job. It is not good to let oneself be distracted. That's where little unfinished projects begin, occasionally with a note, but more often not. And a year later, there it is in the back of a drawer.

It was a good thing I turned my back on that lovely bit of periwinkle! There is someone in Australia who I've corresponded with just a little bit. She bought towels more than a year ago (back in another lifetime), and was so enchanted she bought a loom. 

Jennifer has what is called a rigid heddle loom and is weaving a fabric called Buffalo Plaid. Take a peek; she is a fine weaver! Buffalo Plaid is the Rob Roy plaid. That is another great story and there is a link to it.

One weaver to another, I wanted to show her my cheap and dirty approach to a quick  fell line. I used to weave row after row on my tie up, until the separation filled up and I could weave a header and get started. One day I saw what a waste that was, and switched to weaving a few rows, just to say I'd been there and then weaving a header and getting on with weaving.

Here is Jennifer's Buffalo Plaid on her rigid heddle loom. You can google all those words and have a fine Looms 101 class.

I've lost the first leaf from the amaryllis, and here is a short tutorial from this amateur to anyone who is interested.

Here it is with six leaves. The bottom left was creeping along the table. I slid my finger down between that leaf and the one above. Plenty of resistance, so I quit and went to weave. 

I tried it again the next day and so help me, my finger slipped between the two leaves a if they were greased, right to the beginning of old growth, where it folded over.

I took off the leaf as if it were a sheet of perforated notebook paper!

And now there are five leaves. The opposite bottom leaf is about where this leaf was a day ago. Slow but sure.

Friday, April 2, 2021

Interesting trips around the sun

This past week included my birthday, and was celebrated by phone calls from relatives and children and friends. Ann and I began putting together duplicate coincidences. It is my birthday. It is Easter. It is cold and snowing. A duplicate of the day of my mother's funeral.

Ann and I chuckled and pieced together the events of that day, twenty four years ago. The scramble to find warm clothing and boots for those unprepared, like my cousin in from Texas, and Ann, and my brother and his wife, in from southern Ohio, and the children, and my niece, and on and on and on. We looked like rag-a-muffins, and that surely amused mom, who specifically forbad the notice we put in the paper.

Such a send off. A beautiful eulogy from Mom's beloved pastor, the floating, dancing fingers of the woman who signed for my deaf niece. Mom left a life time of friends. So many came to her interment that two escort cars were required to direct traffic. And we delayed her burial to the day of my birthday to not interfere with Easter weekend.

What goes around comes around, as they say, and my daughter's fiftieth birthday included her Uncle Walt's funeral. Interesting markers. Mom was 79 when she died in 1997. My father was 70, twice my age that year he died. My brother Mel's life was so confused, I pegged his death as the thirty third of August. My sister says the coroner gave him a date.

I hope you're still with me. It really did snow yesterday, a lot more than that. Or the day before. I don't remember which day it was.

I literally have been out of the house once in the last two weeks, and that was to sweep the snow from the deck and put the trash in the cans. I should go stand on the deck and deep breathe a lot some time today. The sun is blinding. Maybe when Cathy comes with the mail this afternoon.

My accomplishments this week include finishing the current length of towels, and knitting the current sock as far as turning the heel.

Kiwi. I love this color. It's in the dryer as I type, and will be towels before the weekend is over.

I love knitting socks. They are simply a set of math rules. For a long time after the head injury I believed I never would reconstruct the meaning of the math. But when I found the half finished second sock in the knitting bag, next to the finished first sock, I found I could do it, and so I did. So, I'm half way to trying the new toe.

There is not one thing new in my little house, except the Gerbera daisy I was gifted for my birthday. It was sampled by Mr. Cat overnight, the night before last. It made him act extremely unwell yesterday morning, which I did not find the cause of until he deposited some green leaves and orange flower petals on the floor. Later he added his entire breakfast! He has lived with a Gerbera in the past, with no incidents.

The amaryllis simply continues to nourish itself via leaves. The leaves are beginning to droop, and I don't want to cut them off yet, until I can make a good, close cut to the bulb. That seems to be the way it was groomed for at least the last ten years, if I'm counting correctly.

Monday, March 29, 2021

Jam and a surprise supper

Full disclosure: I have been staying up too late, sleeping in mornings for several days now. The only way I know to get back to a better routine is go to bed earlier last night (which didn't happen) and get up at my "normal" morning time (which I did this morning). Of course, consequently, I am in trouble staying awake. I've dozed off several times.

Jam: Almost every morning I have a lovely grain filled bread for breakfast, toasted and jammed. I prefer jam to jelly, and for several years have used boysenberry jam.

It's a lovely hybrid of raspberry, blackberry, dewberry and loganberry. For several years I could buy boysenberry jam at the market, but when they quit (for lack of sales volume, I suppose), and did not restock, though I asked them to do so, I turned to my reliable source, Amazon, and bought it from there ever since.

I joke with my cat that he has a jam breakfast, too. He has his breakfast before I ever have mine, and I sprinkle a powder on his kibble that I began using several years ago in an attempt to reduce hairballs. It is something called Nutra-Thrive, and it's first ingredient is fish oil. A kitty yum, yum I can tell you.

My attempt to filch a picture from the internet was not successful. It is in a little brown jar, an inch of powder in a three inch tall container. It goes on a quarter teaspoon at a time, and I stir it thoroughly to get the powder on all the kibble. Next morning the powder is licked from every remaining kibble and from the bottom of the bowl. I believe he would be unhappy if I quit.

A new container of Nutra-Thrive is needed, too, so I checked, and sure enough, Amazon carries it. Theoretically, all the jam will arrive in the same shipment.

Last night I was going to make a mushroom pasta for supper. I need to use the mushrooms I bought, and also the greens I bought. But when I opened the refrigerator door last night, most of all I needed to use the squash I bought from the day old bin. It was already cut, one piece halved and one quartered. It had a yellow rind, was not identified and I did not recognize it. It looked like any fall squash, so I roasted it.

As I scraped it from its shell I realized at once I was dealing with spaghetti squash, for the first time since I was thirty something. In short, it did not become a family favorite. But, I saved myself. In my freezer was a tiny container of jarred spaghetti sauce, saved for a rainy day, or a spaghetti squash as the case may be.

I am so looking forward to braised mushroom and leek pasta for supper tonight.

Has anyone watched the Netflix series "Episode"? Opinions, please.

Sunday, March 28, 2021


 OK, the pneumonia thing is done and dusted. I did send the doctor an email, "What, if anything should be done about the CT findings?" We'll see.

My weather has certainly changed! Spring is transitioning to fall. I put a note on my calendar to not jump the season and hang mandevillas before mid May. I believe I will pick a sunny day next week and plant my seed hoard. 

I am especially interested to see how well I did with salpiglosis seed collection. I was not especially confident with either my understanding or my method until I collected the zinnia seeds. I have enough of them to start a zinnia shop. Nevertheless. I bought another packet. They were right next to the wildflower garden seeds, so I bought both. It's probably time for them to stretch their arms and wiggle their toes and begin another year.

All the blue cobalt towels were hemmed yesterday, when I came back from shipping two large orders. Isn't that just how it always is? I actually wondered how I would find room on the shelf for the new stack of blue cobalt, or if I must make room on another shelf. And then in one fell swoop, the shelf was cleared for me.

The circle of towels needs big spaces to get around, and the other sad news, there are no more cream. I probably should have selected a color other than kiwi, but I kept it. This entire set I've selected is very "retro". I also have black, grey and, I think, periwinkle.

Well, I finished the last book in the "retro" line up on my Mp3. I had Theodore Dreiser and Henry James. I swapped out for a new biography of Alexander Hamilton, and Obama's first book, read by the author. I guess I'll fire them up and keep on with the kiwi.

I never got to the subject of the title, "Jam", so I'll pick up there next time.

Saturday, March 27, 2021

Dr. Joanne's conclusion

And the CT scan says my old lungs belong to an former smoker who has undergone multiple surgeries and never took the tube to blow on and raise the three little balls seriously. I do not have pneumonia. All I ever had is a PC who heard diminished breathing sounds, and leaves me to read the procedure results. No word yet from her about the scan. Maybe at my six month follow up she will say "Well, as you saw, the scan said bla bla bla, which is not serious at this point of life, so I put off discussing it until your next appointment."

So, on to life. We must keep an eye on Georgia. I hope better minds than mine are making action plans we can help with. The blatant exercise of voter suppression must not stand, and it's a much bigger problem than boycotting Georgia peaches. In addition to forcing change in the short run, how do we show that the right to vote belongs to all of us.

I'll keep listening and reading, and some clear mind will help me understand what to do.

And back at home, I have plenty to do. I must go to the post office soon and mail some packages. The post office closes at one on Saturdays.

Back home, towels to weave. I was in a discussion of looms yesterday. I love and appreciate the counterbalance LeClerc that I use; it is a worker and I put it through its paces. I took off the blue yesterday, and while it was fulling I tied on the warp and just began the next color. Remember kiwi, that interesting green. It's been a long time since I last wove it.

And the length of blue is waiting to be cut into towels, as soon as I get back from the post office. It closes at noon on Saturday.

And on a happy note of spring, my neighbor stopped with an early birthday present, a gerbera daisy. Won't pig be a happy fellow when it's in a pot on the steps.

Finally, remember this travesty in Georgia. My vote was challenged once, here in my little blue corner of an extremely red state. I lost my temper and faced the man down, until he finally waved his hand and told them to accept my vote. But this is so much bigger, including here in Ohio, where late release of census figures will keep gerrymandering in place for another ten years...unless we do something about it.


Wednesday, March 24, 2021

A bit stifled at the moment

I've been busy every day, last week and this. Bizzy, bizzy, bizzy, as I've often typed, and not just weaving. But I've had so little to say. I've been concerned about this damn pneumonia thing, and shuffled about in it.

First there was an x-ray that showed pneumonia in the right lower lung and a bit in the left. A course of drugs and a new x-ray that showed it gone in the right lung, but present as much now in the left. Wait three weeks and yesterday a CT scan to see what the pneumonia is doing.

Pause for statement from patient, why wait three weeks? Response: to see if it resolves. I emailed the doctor, why are we waiting?  They don't make real answers in writing. It's all verbal. Email answer: protocol.

So yesterday was the CT at one, with no eating the previous four hours. That probably is the chief cause of my current irritation Half the cause, at any rate. I got up early to be done with breakfast before nine. The very brief CT over, I drove through Dunkin Donuts to have a lunch of coffee and bagels stuffed with cream cheese.

I simply cannot tolerate the flavor of fast food any more. Not an honest hamburger from a real restaurant, but stuff that really isn't food, but refined petroleum distillates. The little cream cheese stuffed bagel had an interesting, herby flavor, but...? I ate the second one because I still was hungry. That was about 1:30, and at bedtime the flavor still consumed my body.

Worse yet, the results of the CT have not yet hit my clinic chart. X-rays show up no later than the next morning. Now it's been twenty four hours since I took a deep breath, hold it and breathe. 

On a happier note, I stopped at the gallery and consigned a dozen towels to Diane. She seems excited. Knowing how full up she is with artists' works, I expected the towels would be scattered about, augmenting other displays. To my surprise, immediately inside the door:

And for everyone who has not seen the inside of a shop in too, too long:

And that's about a third of what is in there. Riverlight Gallery. Diane ships. But buy your towels from me. 

And finally, I'm off to get Laura in a few minutes, for the monthly shopping and laundry spree.

I'm sure I'll have the answer to the CT scan by tomorrow, and I can quit grumbling. And, I've begun a new pair of socks, to try the new toe. After the socks, I have a red sweater to knit. Hard to believe trying out a new toe takes precedent over a red sweater.