I put reminders of everything on my Google calendar, so I don't come up short in the remembering department. March first announced (and still does), New Drivers' License in March. Eleven days into the month I have done little more than think about where everything is to get my Real ID.
Today is the day, I announced to no one on the house, and rounded up my passport, my social security card, a bank statement, and after a good breakfast, set out for the DMV. Sadly, all my ID had my old unit number for the same address. Only my bank statement was correct. Back home to get a utility bill to second the address on the bank statement.
Back at the DMV, I held the door for a very frail looking old woman wielding a four pronged cane, and we commenced a very slow march into the building. Eventually she stopped and motioned me to go ahead. "I'm the slowest in the line," she said. I turned her down, and did tell her it was a pleasure to give up my "slowest one here" line.
I'm very unhappy with my picture. It's the best one I've ever had, except I had to remove my glasses, and it does not look like me at all.
How about Joe Biden? I take it as a sure sign this coalition is about to stop messing about with what might have been and get on with electing a president. I think he will reach into the pool of might have beens for vice president, and I wonder who it will be? I can venture a pool of possibilities, but can't even make a guess.
There was a new recipe to try for supper, Mac and Cheese with Cauliflower. It's basically every day mac and cheese in a slow cooker, with cauliflower flowerettes broken in. I measured out 12 ounces of macaroni, added a frozen tub of shredded sharp cheddar, two pints of half and half, and half a head of cauliflower skulking in the fridge.
I stired it after a couple of hours, per directions, and was not impressed. The macaroni had almost cooked, but the cauliflower had not. I added some salt and pepper and went off for a half an hour. When I stirred it the last time, I wondered what on earth were all those marshmallows bobbing in the mac and cheese.
They were the cauliflowers! And, it was good! One leftover container in the fridge, one in the freezer.
And here is my one pot of three bulbs. There are more, but these are biggest. I packed one pot with paper narcissus. Apparently not this pot, and the other two have not made a stir.
Sunday morning I turned off the alarm and slept an extra hour plus. I thought good thoughts about getting up, and just did not. And when I did, I accomplished everything I intended to do yesterday, except run the vacuum.
Today I turned off the alarm and slept an extra forty five minutes. I still have not run the vacuum. I did go to cards today, needing to ask Nancy if Grace and Frankie ended after seven seasons and what I should watch next. But she wasn't there.
She recommended the series about the British Crown, but I can't remember the title, and that's my current method of finding things on NetFlix. I wish I understood that little clicker like Laura did.
Several days ago I found the first indication of a bulb in one of my pots. It's just to the left of the flower pot standard.
Of course it was cold and snowed over the weekend, but there is the bud, between the bird and the standard. I looked closely today (no snow) and saw several more. None in the pots around the corner, yet.
The weather for the next ten days is sunshine, with warm days, and probably freezing and snow overnight. (Perhaps the other two pots heard this on their secret radio in the glass bird.)
This came to me recently, on a fairly nice day, driving somewhere and looking at the layer of litter along the berms. The township roads are lined with a film of empty bottles and wrappers.
Back when I worked for the township, every Monday the two road "guys" took the township truck out on litter patrol. You remember Tim, the super who nursed stray sunflowers and worked around pumpkins in the slag bin.
Tim could not abide litter or people who treated our roads like their personal garbage cans. Our weekend visitors and their calling card. It is obvious Tim is no longer the road super.
All that trash the road crew brought back to our dumpster, to be thrown away. But there is no away.
And I'm guilty, too. Tomorrow I get my trash together for the week. Good intentions notwithstanding, week in and week out, I contribute half a bag of trash and a larger amount of recyclables.
I used to be proud of that small amount to be thrown away.
But no more.
There is no away.
I like numbers; I keep track of things. I confess I did not for a year or more after the TBI, but I'm sure we all know that. The Mira came back to me three months ago, early in December. Since then I have woven 120 towels. I'm almost to the end of the second warp on the Mira.
This is the warp remaining of one hundred turns. The next time I turn a warp, it probably will be 110 turns. A turn is a complete revolution of the beam, the predetermined number of times.
The beam will hold much more, and I wish I could do it. But thread is heavy. Back when we did shows, and I off loaded all the clothes and rugs, I said in the next life we would weave with feathers.
I took off the plum towels yesterday, and they are on the blog.
I also took a short sequence of pictures to show how I go from one color towel to the next.
When I cut off the plum towels, I tied slip knots in the warp. This keeps the threads from being pulled out of the reed, or worse, the heddles. That can make any weaver, man or woman, cry.
Starting in the middle, the threads are tied to the cloth (or breast) beam, alternating to the next bout left and the next bout right. Some weavers start with the outside bouts and work to the center.
Next, idle weave, to take up the inverted V between each bout. I use a coarse cotton twine for most of the idle weave, and finish off with the white idle weave I will cut when I cut off the towels.
So, tada, the next towels will be this marigold. And the last set of towels on the current warp, is on the shelf of many colors. I'm thinking the darker lavender on the extreme right.
The coffee Greg makes before we play cards is the best. I've thought about that. It's whatever brand is on sale, made in a restaurant sized coffee machine. Why is it so good? I finally asked Greg and he said the only secret is precise measurement of coffee and water.
I felt confident enough in my measurements for coffee and quit thinking about it, short of admiring Greg's coffee every Monday. But one day, using a can of baking powder or soda, I noticed the neat measuring spoon leveler across a third of the opening. I've done it ever since on my coffee cans.
I think the coffee is better.
I've had steroid injections in my knees. For the good they have done me, they were not so awful. Interesting, even. The doctor shoves his thumb into my knee until he locates the right place. He marks the spot, sprays the can of liquid ice until my skin is frozen, injects the steroid, and it's all over.
My thumb injection occurred this morning. I do not know how successful it may be; the Novocaine, or whatever anesthetic was used, has only partially worn off. I feel like I'm typing on a rubber keyboard. It did not involve liquid ice. I could not watch this time.
One of you who lives in Canada purchased towels. We kicked around the best payment option for both of us, and the dear customer decided to pay the amount in Canadian dollars, per the Google conversion rate that day.
When I took it to the bank, the teller turned me away. Since US Bank is no backwater bank, I smiled and suggested surely she could call headquarters for instruction. It's not like she had any other customers at the moment. I offered to sit down and wait.
As it turned out, I couldn't sit for too long; I have to know everything. But, I didn't hang over the counter. And the answer is, money is money the world around, though you could wait longer for some, depending on how many banks are involved.
I neglected to ask if I could deposit via my phone. Next time.
