Are you Vivian?

I saw or heard or read something today that reminded me of this story. Of course I cannot remember. I even had to text my sister tonight to remind me of Vivian's name. This was long ago; my girls were still in school, and they will be sixty and fifty-eight on next year's birthdays.

It's also about my brother Walt, the old cornmudgeon. 

My neighborhood was unusual for it's time in the forties,  fifties, sixties, right through the late eighties, when mom sold her house and I mine and we all moved into the same house in Boston Township, with its studio for weaving. It was unusual in that there were black families and white. 

Walt lived on the street behind us, and across the street from him and up the street were black families. Walt was married to Hazel, his trophy wife. They were married many years, but then it all fell apart. Hazel eventually returned to England, and Walt kept himself busy finding women he could take care of. He always cast himself as the protector of women and children.

Vivian lived next door to Walt. She had several children. A couple of girls who were adults, a couple of boys, and then Crystal, a lovely little pre-school child. Crystal had wild, curly white blond hair. There were several fathers involved, but I was gone from the neighborhood by then and not involved. 

Walt was in full protector mode about Vivian and the children, and eventually he married her and blended the families. The marriage lasted a few years, but it too ended and everyone moved on.

Jan and I were living in Boston, weaving, when we learned the neighbor across the street from Walt's house, Bob, had passed away. He and his family had moved there after I moved away from home. He was close with my family and Walt's. When the screened room in the back yard was destroyed, Bob's son helped our brother Melvin rebuild it.

Jan had been a good friend of Bob's, too, and asked me if I would go to his funeral with her. I hadn't known Bob well, but I did have several family years with Crystal, and the neighborhood was aware that her father was Bob. And the service was at a black church we were not familiar with, so at least we would know each other and Bob's children and grandchildren.

The service was at a large church in Akron. It's pastor was a member of Akron's council. It was full of people celebrating Bob; we found seats way at the back. The service was lovely, and pleasant to observe. As my Catholic nun aunt told me after a funeral service for a cousin, years and years before, "It's just like our service!"

Yes, people are much the same. When the service ended, we found ourselves escorted as guests to a receiving line, and Bob's family thanked us for being there. Then we passed through a line of women who could have been the ones running the little community church I grew up in.

We passed down the line, shaking hands, saying our good-byes and thanking the women. Toward the end, almost at the door, one woman kept my hand and pulled me toward her. "Are you Vivian?"

"No, we're old friend's of Bob". 

"Well, we just wanted to know and I see no one has asked you yet."

Jan and I smiled all the way home. Another old curmudgeon, just like our brother.

Back again

First the usual complaint. I'm sick of being sick. Fixed the back, caught a cold. A bad cold. Or a sinus infection. It's getting old. I bought a new humidifier.

Well, we had a big storm for Portage County, here south of the secondary snow belt. Another is forecast starting tomorrow evening. A lot of icicles from the eaves of the new apartments.

I've sold my car and will depend on public transportation in the future. I have my doubts about the senior transport system here in Portage County. We'll see. Their website says they do not stop at senior citizen housing complexes, but the woman who answers the phone says "Of course we do!"

Then there is Uber or Lyft. My last attempt was a disaster. The app would not take my reservation in the morning for a ride at noon for the reason it did not know how busy it would be at that time. It seemed patently absurd to me. Laura gave me a clue, showing me an app that located all the Uber and Lyft cars and they all seemed to be cruising the interstate highways, fifteen or so miles away. A sort of What am I, Chopped Liver? moment.

Speaking of whom, she had a birthday last weekend. Blake (nee Emily) is next weekend. France is Christmas Eve. Blake shares a birthday with Ruth, and Aunt Flo's was in there, too. The grands are getting older. France and Laura will be 23, and are still in college. Blake is programming computers for a small company. Here's the rest: Bekka works for Lincoln Electric; Hamilton is still at University and manages a Starbucks; Laura is in her last year at Akron U; Caroline is a junior at Macalester in Minneapolis. 

Back to my physical complaints, which have been a hindrance for the last two months, I finally finished the green towels and have them on the shelf and on the web. The loom is tied up again and the next run of towels will be yellow.

Of all the colors I weave, yellow is my least favorite. Most of the rest have a silky feel to me, but the yellow dye seems different and even fulled, the fabric does not have the same hand. But they are cheerful and happy, and of course, dry dishes, etc., superbly. 

I think the last batch took me a month or more to get off the loom, and I doubt these will be ready before next year. My back still bothers me enough to limit the amount I can weave in a day. But I have a lovely array of colors yet to weave:

I just finished a wonderful book, The Boys in the Boat, Daniel Brown. It's subtitled, Nine Americans and their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Well researched, well written. If you are a child of the Great Depression, or a child of parents of the Depression, it will be compelling. Or a sports fan, or a history buff, or simply a decent person, it's a good book.

That's about all the news fit to print. I hope to be back sooner next time.

Pleased to report

I believe I'm feeling better. I certainly hope so. Headaches are gone so the blood pressure must be down. My back still hurts--from sneezing. Something in either the bedroom or the bathroom, or both, is setting off occasional fits of sneezing. Haven't located it yet.

Good news: I finally have a set of towels finished and up on the web page. The web site has changed since I last used it. "Improved"! Only when I figure it out. I've been warned for weeks it would happen, but I felt too awful to keep up with the news. The towel listed is blue, and the next set I will weave is grass green.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, interested residents were taken on a tour of the apartments available in the new wing. They are considerably larger than anything here in the older part, and considerably more expensive. I have no envy whatsoever. My world fits comfortably in my little studio. 

I am going for Thanksgiving to my sister's home, and a grandchild will take me and deliver me home. Sounds like a mighty fine time. Reminds me of all those years I would ferry my Grandma Rolf to and from family events.

That's it for now. Time for dinner. I'm not up to current events tonight. We've been here before and will come through again. We're down to local governments to provide the agency. School boards, libraries, food banks. Above all, do the right thing. 

Carry on

 I still wonder how all of you even started a new post, moving your thoughts through your fingers and onto the keyboard. Now it's tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, time to begin again.

We've been in tough spots before, even in our memories and extended memories. There are family stories of poverty, death in the flu epidemic, orphanages, death in wars, "coffee-sop" for dinner (bread in coffee), child labor, and on and on. 

I saw Beth today, first time in weeks since a deer ran into her car. She told me of a book she's reading, The Fourth Turning is Here, Neil Howe. I will get it and read it, as soon as I can. From her description it seems we may be at the cusp of the fourth turning.

Back to my take on our turn of events, we have been in ugly spots in our own life times, and know how we handled them. For my part, that has been Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq; being a single mother and how that formed my life. How back in the sixties I wrangled credit and a mortgage from male bankers, raised two daughters on women's wages. Together with my sister started a business.

Well, here we go again. Hold on to hope. Stay engaged, always push back, don't make it easy. Today I started on a simple project, a thank you note to every Democratic Congress member for what they have accomplished. We must make real the world we want to live in.

I'm sad to report real life is rather slow, here at home. My blood pressure is closing in on normal, and then in a fit of sneezing I seized up my back. I even dug out and reinstalled my toilet booster seat so I can rise up from the throne without moaning in pain.

The season is changing before my eyes. The trees in full color last week are bare branches this week. The red maple in one of the court yards has put on a lovely show. Half the leaves are a red skirt around the base, the rest seem to have delayed falling for another week or two.

Twenty days...

Hard to believe it's more than two weeks since I've posted. I left you with the new warp wound on and ready to tie on. This past week I finally finished that job and wove a bit. But on the whole I spent the time realizing I had a health problem and beginning to resolve it.

At a six month check up with one of my doctors, I had a frighteningly high blood pressure. I spent quite a few hours in emergency, but was sent home and advised to see my PCP quickly. That took another week. I'm back on my old blood pressure meds, which really aren't controlling the situation. However, I do feel better, am sleeping less and have my next appointment in another week.

And so, I've been weaving. Finally. Lots of new warp, and perhaps two or three new towels on the beam. That's good.

We finally have color in the trees. Actually, this past week has been the peak. I have some nice pictures from out and about.

The "resident's" garden has been put away for the winter. My dipladenia has been brought in and hung in the atrium. We'll see what becomes of it.

I finally prevailed with the Cleveland Clinic over a bill from last August. A five hundred fifty odd dollar bill. For as long as I can recall, Medicare has picked up an annual eye exam. I now understand it is only for some conditions, but for the last fifteen years I've met the criteria.

This time I have a new eye doctor. When I first saw the last one, some time in the eighties, I was pleased to have found a young one who would outlast me. Well, he retired and now it's a new young 'un. But someone didn't check the coding and I had a full freight bill.

Every time I checked up on correcting it, either it was being reviewed or they could find no record of all the previous bills. That was the story the last time I called and the billing department person patiently reiterated in indecipherable accent they would set up a payment plan.

Finally I yelled "Shut up! Listen to me! You have made a mistake and need to figure it out." I hung up and began reading Medicare eye exam rules. I still did not understand why I had not been billed all these years but was billed now. But the next day I looked at my statement on line again, and the invoice was gone. So, we'll see.

Well, I don't like the polls, but I don't believe them, either. We'll see.

From the top

Wow. I just deleted the entirety of the blog I just wrote. That is a first. And, it's not in the recycle bin.

Two weeks ago yesterday, Rose and I went for annual flue and Covid vaccinations. The next day I was fine. Rose has suffered no effects past a sore arm. But on the Monday, I was debilitated. Temperature, fatigue, pain. I spent several days totally in bed. Then down to two naps a day. Then one.

Jan agreed to come help me wind on the new warp that Saturday. That date was cancelled to yesterday. My only contribution was turning the crank. Jan did all the rest, including cleaning up, re-shelving the extra warp, putting away the tools. She left me sleeping.

It's ready to tie on, probably later today, and only a couple of bouts.

We seem to be in our last week of pseudo summer. Today will be in the low eighties, and the rest of the week sixties and seventies. Overnights have been in the forties for a couple of weeks.

There is little fall color this year. Leaves are simply turning brown and falling. Too little rain over the summer.

I am looking for a new home for Kitty. My balance grows more and more precarious; her demand for treats more and more obstreperous. Every time I stand she is between my feet, commanding. I told Jan I probably could solve the whole problem by throwing away the damn jar. Or make it worse.

So far no luck. She could always go back to the shelter, but I really don't want to do that. 

Well, that's as much as I can remember of the previous post. Off to put the laundry in the dryer.

Sunday morning coming down

Actually it's Sunday afternoon, still coming down. The sun is shining, my laundry is done (not folded), and my rudimentary Sunday morning  straightening up is done. I was invited to join a friend to watch a screening of The Hobbit this afternoon. When I looked up from the article I was reading it was 1:10, so fine. I'll look for it on Netflix or Amazon Prime or somewhere if I get very interested. Or listen on audio. Wonderful weaving companion.

Weaving is sidetracked, probably for the rest of the week. Thread is on order, but not yet shipped. Then the thread must go on the loom, tied on, pulled through...you know the drill by now. I'll be busy enough when it all begins, but for now, stalled.

Having little else to do, I'm still knee deep in the coming election, and the big fool says to push on (apologies to Pete Seeger). The article I was reading is in the Washington Post. "In rural Wisconsin a tangle of facts and fears over far away refugees." Probably a paywall, but if you can get it, good reading.

It's about a town hall meeting in Baraboo, Wisconsin, the winter home of the Barnum circus. Probably the former home. I don't remember. I did a show in Baraboo once, and I remember the crowd closely resembling the attendance of this town hall. It also referenced our Springfield, Ohio problem. 

The debate of interest concerned a non binding resolution to aid refugee settlement. Debate was vigorous in spite of the outcome being non binding. The Board of Supervisors voted to table without a vote, indefinitely. Neither the conservatives or the liberals were happy. I predict that county will go for Trump in November. It is fear mongering at its finest.

Our Portage County sheriff who recommended collecting addresses of Harris/Walz signs has his post relieved of responsibility for safeguarding ballots when early voting begins. With any luck he'll be relieved of his job come November.

I stumbled on a wonderful YouTube post last night, before going to bed, and stayed up late to watch it. It's by Robert Reich, Secretary of Labor under Clinton, and called 10 Worst Things about the Trump Presidency.  Totally worth the watch. Great to pass along.

And, in other news, such a week at home. On Monday morning, in the very a.m., a text from Beth. Her precious Subaru totaled. She is unhurt save bruising from airbags. She said every airbag in the car engaged.

She was on a country road and hit a deer. Beth says the car and the airbags saved her. And of course, she's looking for a new car, another Subaru, standard shift. Before the loaner rental insurance runs out.

In our old family litany of things happen in threes, Beth told me that Shelly was on her way home in the dark and hit an unmarked road construction open pothole. She lost a tire. "Thank goodness they all are brand new and I bought accident insurance!"

But wait, that's only two. Caroline, at college in Minneapolis, fell and hurt her shin. She iced it overnight, and her mother sent her to Urgent Care the next day. Broken fibula. When I broke my tibia several years ago, it was spliced together with a long shaft and I was on my back in rehab for a month. Caroline is in a walking cast. Young bones and young body!

Rose and I went for fall shots yesterday. I signed up for Covid, flu and RSV. It turned out I could not have the RSV vaccination. I had it last year and it has not been approved for annual use. Save the sore injection site, I am very well today. No Covid shot after effect at all.

And in hope of not having my thumbnail picture be a wrecked car, here's a picture of a mandevilla from only a couple of years ago.

Tic-Tacky

Past the pale: some bloggers have warned recently, and often, to check your voter registration status because the rolls are being purged. One method of selecting registrations to purge is name collection. This isn't done by reviewing voter lists for party affiliation, I hope. (In Ohio such official lists are not published, I hope.)

(Sidebar: I just went to my old county, Summit, and generated list of names and addresses of people who voted in the last primary, where a party may be declared. So I found all the names and addresses of those who voted the Democrat ticket in the last primary.)

Names are collected by collecting addresses of "adversaries". Having never participated in such collecting, and being sublimely unimaginative, I could only think of collecting addresses of political signage.  

A few days ago I read a headline in my news feed that the Portage County sheriff, (where I currently live), posted on his Facebook page that people could collect the addresses of Harris/Walz supporters by recording the addresses of their political signs. The headline was attributed to the Akron Beacon Journal, which has a paywall to read its content, and to which I do not subscribe.

I mentioned it on Allison's blog, and asked my sister to look in her paper paper for the article. I found the article this morning and just pulled up Gmail to send it to my sister, when Allison's email came in giving me the reference, too.

The collection of addresses is not for voter purge, but to direct  "the Illegal human "Locust(s)" (...who...) Need places to live...We'll already have the addresses of the their New families. 

He also had pejorative names for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. 

What a despicable human. Darrell Roland is up for re-election in November. I will make myself familiar with his Democrat opponent, and vote for her. The Republicans are building a war machine and it seems no act of suppression or intimidation or defamation is too small for them to ignore.

Make no mistake, MAGA plans to suppress the vote; intimidate the electorate. Do everything you can to encourage new voters and old to get to the polls.

In happier news, my daughter was picking figs, and found this: 

She captioned it "From Texas, no joke intended" since she had never seen a red dragonfly. My apologies to Ellen! Ours are commonly blue. Beth texted later she's found it is a Ruby Meadowhawk, common to Wisconsin. See, David, I raised my children to appreciate more than Blue Herons.

And finally, I finally was able to take a picture of our resident white cat.

We are reduced to two cats in the building, as far as I know. I know  little about this cat, whose picture is through three windows. I have it on excellent authority (Diana, who spoils Kitty to death) that this cat is a blue eyed, white, deaf cat. The first time I saw him, he was asleep in where you see him. Diana says his owner is an obtuse fellow. He put that disc in the bed hammock, and now the kitty can only sit on it.

That's it for now. No weaving news; I'm at warp's end and cannot weave until more thread arrives.

Interesting week

I feel as if I've wasted too much time this week. I have a series of pictures I wanted to make into a collage, but suddenly I cannot sign into PicMonkey to do that. So I've wasted more than a day trying other photo programs, to no avail. Since that is not working, here they are; some bird and butterfly flowers in one of the courtyards.

Our weather is changing. Day time highs are sixties and seventies; overnight into the fifties or less. Tonight is forecast to be forty. This does not auger well for winter; I'm afraid to learn how much snow is predicted.

We've also had decent amounts of rain, while much of the state is in drought emergency. In fact, one of the new units flooded because ...below grade. I believe there are twenty new units and three or four are occupied.

I've been weaving this week, and the current run will be done and posted next week. This time it's dark grey. When they are off the warp won't be enough for a full run of towels, so I'll finish with a batch of cream.

It also is my sister's birthday next week, so I made the front door curtain from the khaki and sent it off. I sent it on Tuesday and she had it on Wednesday. Granted she's only thirty miles away, but...

That's about all the news. I am rather tired; I have not slept well the last couple of nights. Tonight feels like a good sleep coming on.

Political junkie

I've watched four nights of the DNC, most of them from start to finish. Biden and I are the same age; I owed it to his excellent presidency to hear him say Goodbye. The rest of that night was OK to very good. The rest of the show, the last three nights, was stunning.

How did they put it together? It was like a show rehearsed for months. Everyone on their mark, delivering pointed, poignant, deliberate and direct addresses. The mass of delegates and spectators every night! Half way through I had to agree, the Democratic party has taken back patriotism.

The election is still a cliff hanger; it can go either way. This great ground swell of enthusiasm must be laser focused on the outcome, the goal of putting Harris and Walz in office. Only by voting big can we save our government from a fascist term; put ourselves back on the path of a moderate Supreme Court, House of Representatives and Senate.

I'm also concerned about what may happen after Harris and Walz are declared winners. I know there are militias, well drilled and organized, intent on more armed disruption and rebellion. I pray our national guard and our police are equally intent on disrupting their plans and putting more and more time between their mayhem and good government.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, I did not report that Betty left this life a couple of weeks ago. She fell and hurt herself enough to require a couple of stitches. She seemed well enough, talking, smiling. But literally overnight she gave up, quit, and died one day later. 

It's not the first time I've seen this happen. A room mate in my rehab days closed her eyes one evening, with family and children chattering about her, trying to make her eat dinner, and left. Across the room I saw it happen and rang for a nurse, who came in, looked at his patient, and explained her death to all those around.

That's enough of that subject from the last place I intend to live.

The empty place at table has been filled by a friend of Rose, who moved in a few days ago. The new section of the building has twenty apartments available, and three have been filled in the two weeks they have been available.

Back at the loom, I will be done with the khaki towels this week. 

On my shelf of thread, so many colors left to weave. Lavender, light grey, charcoal, yellow, blue, grass green. Any picks?

Oh, to be old and doddering

Some days I wish stupid errors did not get under my skin, even to the point of irritation. Here's a small one. A small sign announced Eggs Benedict, Saturday morning, for breakfast. I ordered one Egg Benedict, with my usual substitution of a piece of bacon instead of ham under the egg.

Two mornings a week we have a doddering old woman behind the counter, relaying orders to the kitchen. Like the character Joan-Margaret in Grace and Frankie, she shuffles in and out of that swinging door, bringing her breakfast offering back with a hopeful smile. She brought me a poached egg, broken and swimming on the plate, over several pieces of bacon, topped with Hollandaise. "But you asked for it over bacon!", when I refused it. Enough of the petty.

I switched my pharmacy to my prescription plan's mail order service. This began a month or so ago when I called them to compare prices, and to update my address when the comparison was quite favorable. A prescription came up for renewal, so I gave the nurse my new pharmacy. The next day I had a text to confirm the order for delivery to my address--in Peninsula.

Back on the phone, I called to confirm the order and switch the address, again. I was told the three month prescription would cost $450 and change. I was transferred to Benefits, where I learned I was again in the Donut Hole. An annual occurrence. Back to the order desk to confirm and be sure my address was correct.

Thursday I had a text that the script would ship that day. I called again to confirm it was shipping to the correct address. "Oh, yes, Ms. Noragon, the address is correct." I made him repeat it to me, to be sure.

Saturday I had a text that my package was delivered that day. Since my mailbox is downstairs, I waited until breakfast today to retrieve it. No package. I checked the tracking. Yep, delivered to my old Peninsula address, where I have not lived for four years.

I called and spoke with a well trained operator, whose only mistake was to tell me I had confirmed the old address. I informed her that every call was recorded so there were at least three recorded instances of my change of address. She is sending the replacement by expedited mail.

I certainly hope I don't have a credit problem to unscrew, too.

This whole transaction should have been as simple as some operator rising from his/her keister and verifying the address on all platforms. Perhaps not even standing up.

In better news, the pumpkin towels came off the loom yesterday and are on the computer today. A real head start on Halloween.

Another week in review

Very early in July I had a big shipping day. So many mailers of towels, they were bundled by a big rubber band about the middle. And with not a lot of further thought, off they went. USPS has been good, once they recovered from Covid.

A few days later, all had been delivered. Except one, to Florida. At first the tracking number only indicated it had arrived in Georgia. Then, in two or three giant leaps, the package was across country, to California. It made a U-turn there, and began a return journey. It came back to Georgia, early last week.

Ah, good, thought I. Next stop, Tampa. But NO. Actually, I do not know where it went from there. The recipient visited her post office for help, and help was Do not worry; it will appear when it's tired of travelling. They did institute a missing package alert.

Between July 7 and today, it was handled by nineteen different USPS facilities. I sat down at my computer today, thinking there would be more bad news about that poor package, especially now it was out there in Debby's path, too. And there was an email, telling me the package was safely in the addressee's mail box.

Now I'm looking to find everyone else has weathered the storm!

Weather here has not been spectacular, though no hurricanes are possible. We've had two weeks of severe heat, and around here that means afternoon thunder storms. We've had one of those more days than not, plus a sighted tornado. A storm was winding down as I went to supper one day last week, so I stepped out to the courtyard to take a picture.

April showers and all that. Actually, July and August rain storms have keep the grass green and flowers healthy. My not Mandevilla is beside itself with blossoms and grasping shoots.

It's trying so hard to throw a tendril around the bench and own it, too.

In weaving news, I finished the pine green towels this weekend. They are on the shelf and on the web page.

Currently on the loom, pumpkin. In anticipation of Halloween, I suppose, but also because I visited my sister recently, and noticed she'd made a valance to shield the west facing window in the front door. It's one of those silly windows no one is tall enough to see through, but she says the winter sun is brutal. 

Only problem, she made the valance from a towel. A bathroom hand towel. I can provide a length of toweling, and in a good color for her living room:

Normal has returned

Or, the current news from my turf. There is little to report, but I am capable of scraping up a bit of news. I have a standard appointment with my PCP next week and had a note on my chart that she ordered some routine bloodwork and please have it done two or three days ahead. Great, thinks I, I have a standing order for thyroid blood work that I have not bothered with; I'll do it all at once.

Visiting this clinic is not so easy as visiting the clinic I used to frequent. I think that was a Cleveland Clinic afterthought, smallish, easy handicap access, fairly quick turn around. This new clinic is intimidating. I made the first visit cold; I didn't go look around first. Consequently I learned it is big and has a lot of business. Parking is adequate, but all up the side of a hill.

All handicap parking was occupied that first time, and my walker and I made a long journey down a long hill, across two streets and a median, then the long walk to my appointment. Reverse process to get back to the car. Ever since I have bit the bullet and paid an attendant for valet parking.

So, checking in yesterday for the two sets of blood work, I learned my PCP had ordered fasting. Of course I wasn't. I get out of bed to eat breakfast.

So back this morning on an empty stomach. Surprise, the Saturday parking lot was fairly empty, a good deal since there is no valet on Saturday. My walk was reduced to crossing two streets, a median, up the sidewalk and down a hall to the labs. Job done!

Speaking of job done, my new HVAC unit was installed a week ago Friday afternoon, as promised. Some pictures:

Ain't it purty! I hope it outlasts me; I don't want to do this over again. My carpet did get dry in 24 hours, but only because of that industrial fan, open windows and low outdoor humidity.

I'm weaving again, now that the loom and all else are back in place. This time it's a green, bright, not too dark. Pine tree green. Here are both sides, and then I'm back to work.

Topsy turvy

 It seems I am grounded for awhile. I was weaving this afternoon, with my treadle foot stripped to my sock. After some time I decided that foot was wet. Actually, the sock was sodden. I looked for the source of the water for a bit. Where had I stepped in it? It was dry around the refrigerator and the kitchen sink. Same in the bathroom.

A mystery. I changed my sock(s) and took my length of fabric to the laundry room. Back in the living room, I realized the carpet might be wet. It felt wet to my hand, and did not pass the tissue test, which came back wet.

The ensuing hours have been a whirlwind. Maintenance came, removed the front of my HVAC unit and saw it was about one third iced up. The thermostat was turned off, two big men moved my loom and several other things on wet carpet. Up came the extractor, which sucks up water. Then the industrial fan, which exceeds OSHA noise limits, in my opinion. Kitty retreated to the back of my bedroom until I came back from dinner and unplugged the damn thing.

The HVAC unit is disassembled. Two windows are wide. Temps are forecast to be very low fifties tonight. Maintenance tells me they will have it all back together by tomorrow afternoon. I barely believe that. For now the giant fan is off. My ears are still reeling. I'll turn it back on in the morning. Kitty may have a nervous breakdown.

Back to the surprise birthday party! Rose was completely surprised. Completely. One hundred people did not spill one bean. She was not dismayed. The affair was organized by two people she would have suspected, a daughter and son-in-law.

But also in attendance were a son from California, two great grandchildren who also live there, and the grandmother of the grands. It was a very nice party.

So, wish me luck returning quickly to a normal life. For now, it's a very hot shower and winter jammies.

I haven't gone over the edge yet

A silly little meme has popped up several times recently. It's profound, actually, and needs shared: If the earth were flat, a cat would push everything over the edge.

Kitty does not work from that direction. In fact, since that great television disaster the first month she lived here, she's made no effort to jump up on anything.

She tried to jump onto the chest that holds the TV, but sunk her toenails into the mat under the TV and dragged everything several feet to the floor. No cat was injured, and the TV likewise survived. 

Now Kitty is content with standing on her two back legs and surveying any flat surface she can see. If something is enticing, she claims it. Chap stick and pens are most fascinating, and I am currently reduced to pencils. I guard my chap stick closely.

The warp I wound on end of May or the beginning of June is gone. I only put on fifty turns because I did not know how the current towel would be received. But all the towels left on the shelf were hemmed and put there tonight. so I should weave more towels next time.

Jan is coming to monitor the spools on Saturday, and then I'll be tying on the current warp of probably a hundred turns. That should turn into maybe fifty towels and perhaps I can get a little ahead. The rosepath towel is very nice, and there are other small weaves that will be good for towels, too. I think next I'll try a birds eye weave.

You would think in a building of a hundred residents it would be hard to keep a secret. I'm privy to one that has been kept. Tomorrow is Rose's ninety sixth birthday. Rose is adamant there will be no singing or fuss. In fact, she instructed the dining room director the staff is not to sing and there will be no cake.

Rose's daughters have outwitted her. Every Friday most of the residents gather in the Bistro for live entertainment and "Happy Hour", in the hour before dinner. Unknown to Rose, her daughters, and probably sons and daughters-in-law, will appear and lead the party.

Rose is one of my dinner partners, and it's clear no one has tumbled, and Rose is pleased as punch tomorrow will pass without a fuss. At supper tonight, she didn't even mention that tomorrow is her birthday. 

More news

First and foremost, a happy holiday to all. I hope everyone could celebrate with friends or family, or both; and there was plenty from the grill to eat, with baked beans and coleslaw and watermelon.

It is raining here, which is good for the flowers in the atrium, though there may be a damper on fireworks tonight. Just a tiny corner of the atrium:

Speaking of outdoors, an amazing amount of work went on this past week. Plenty of landscaping has improved the view from my window immeasurably. 

Temperatures last week approached or exceeded one hundred degrees. The landscaping crew consisted of Amish men and women, who planted hundreds of specimens. 

I cannot find any use for the concrete in the middle of the yard. The patios do not connect to it. The only access is from the back, utility entrance. But, the interiors are coming along. There are blinds in the lower windows and the stickers are gone from the doors and windows.

I finished weaving the light blue rosepath towels and have them on the web page. Bobbins are wound for the next set of towels. They will be lavender. 

I'm still here

The red rosepath towels are done and mostly hemmed. I put eight towels on the web page today. The loom is tied up and I think I'll weave the light blue next.

I believe I like the roses with no path best. Here is a one over one comparison:

Or perhaps deeper rows of roses before the path. We'll see.

In other news, we had an astounding presentation last weekend. A group named Matsiko performed. It is a troop of orphaned children, mostly from Liberia, singing songs in their language. The songs were accompanied by energetic dancing and footwork.

The first two photos need to be animated to convey the volume and dancing. Here is a video from earlier this year. The singers circulated in the audience during their opening number, shaking all the hands they could reach.

After the performance the children ate supper with us. There were three at out table. but the girl at the end of the table was off for more ice cream, dessert. All three ate plenty of supper, and plenty of ice cream.

The girl across from me was eighteen, the girl next to me sixteen and the one off for more ice cream was the group's youngest at fifteen. This last also had a sister in the group, as did Elizabeth, across the table. 

Among our three we had a future doctor, geologist and undecided. That and a bit about their life on the road was all we could elicit. They simply did not stop talking and had been primed with endless questions to keep us talking.

How old are you?

How many children do you have? What do they do?

Where have you lived?

What did you do?

And on and on and on. Irrepressible. And maybe high on ice cream.

Where have you been?

It's Sunday morning. I'm doing laundry. There are two machines in our laundry room, and generally I am using one and Sandy the other. But this morning EMS took Sandy to the clinic. I teased Maddie, the other machine is free this morning. Old folks humor.

I did eat breakfast with Maddie in the atrium, after she watered the plants. This is the other atrium, the one I pass every morning, going to breakfast. The Japanese dogwood is in full bloom. The other atrium is surrounded with plants that Maddie and our activities director, Joan, take care of. 

That atrium is like working in my old gardens, except I can't, anymore. I did decide this morning I can carry the watering can on my walker tray and take care of the plants in pots, so I'll do that. I asked Laura to bring me a shovel full of pinks from the old garden.

In other family news, my oldest daughter is in Ireland, on a hiking trip around the Dingle peninsula. I'm sort of jealous, but not so much. I can't do that kind of walking any more.

The first is the Dingle Bay. The second an historical library somewhere in southern Ireland, or a train ride away from their base lodging. Perhaps another time she'll head for Omagh or Armagh, where our Presbyterian ancestors originated.

And my other daughter bought a house. Not the first but hopefully the last. This house is half a mile from her sister. Isn't it amazing, how siblings can fight like cats the first twenty years and be friends ever after.

I'm weaving red rosepath. I'm weaving the paths as well as the roses. I like the look of it and can't wait to get it fulled. That will be next week, earliest.

It's been some time since an update on our two year old construction project. It has devolved into mud. In addition, I wonder how attractive apartments renting for thousands per month will be with a view either into someone's window or the street with traffic; cars, trucks, ambulances! Anyway, here are some views:

The top picture is right out my window, across the trash strewn parking area. These apartments are several feet below grade, as you can see. There is no water retention area; they are the retention area. Aurora seems to have no master water plan in effect.

The second picture is the concrete poured between these apartments and my building. Excuse me, but wtf? Just one more nail in the flood plane problem. What about those second floor balconies! They could at least have installed beige railings!

Moving along, the third picture is the sidewalk to nowhere and a view across the parking area, stacked with excess siding, so the dump trucks bringing in dirt from who knows where have an awful time getting it dumped. The sidewalk to nowhere ends just under Kitty's window. I need to get down there and figure it out.

And finally, see that chunk of red in the last picture? That's just another piece of trash they didn't bother to pick up; all that concrete is poured over any piece of siding, pipe, drink bottle or 2x4 in the way. 

Every one I explained these problems to just rolled eyes way back and said "Not in charge!" Well, my second floor apartment won't flood, come the big storm. 

I'll take pictures when the landscaping is done. Probably next summer.