Best vacation ever

We spent almost a week in Wisconsin. But first, the lead up to a vacation. Empty the fridge. Clean the kitchen. Nurse the flowers through the week, rather than replace them. The daisy on the right died a dramatic and picture perfect death, don't you think?

We left on Saturday, a beautiful day. It wasn't even too hot. Laura took the first shift driving. It's nine hours to Ann and Pat's, and my drive/fly decision is based on the weather and our itinerary.

I had a cat companion. This is Zaggy, a small cat, rescued fourteen years ago, together with her brother, Ziggy. All the farm cats live outside, but Zaggy has retired and lives at Ann's kennel. However, the kennel was over capacity last week, and Zag was rehomed in my room, for the week. Here is my morning wake up.

Seven days a week Ann is up by six and out the door to open the kennel by seven. Laura and I know her kitchen as well as our own. That notwithstanding, this is laid out for her guests every morning, when they get their sorry behinds downstairs. That is genuine Amish Frog Jam there in the back. I tried it the first morning, but devoted myself to black current the rest of the week.

So you know, little has changed at the farm. The silo is covered by more greenery. The barn to the left is to the ground, and covered in vegetation. The foundation wall, on the road side of the picture, is about gone.

The creek still flows under the bridge. Almost nothing has changed. But this week Ann was able to arrange her schedule so we could visit Taliesin and Mineral City together, for two days. Laura and I went to the International Crane Foundation, rode the Wisconsin Dells boat on the Wisconsin River, went shopping the St. Vinney's, and ate a lot of ice cream. And then more ice cream. And, more later. 

Blowing the popsicle stand

How fortunate I have little to do and all day to do it. I was at the post office yesterday and forgot to put in my stop mail order. I calculated out this morning to get to the post office and back in time to deliver the cat to the kennel and get to my PT session by eleven.

Ha.

I couldn't cross the bridge with all the beautiful flower boxes because the railroad crossing gates  were stuck down. I spent ten minutes waiting, then turned around and detoured the fifteen miles on Riverview to the next bridge and back. Events like bicycle tours, art festivals and railroad gate malfunctions surely can disrupt small town life. The cat was rescheduled to tonight's drop off slot.

Back from the session, I had everything to do except laundry. I ate lunch, and passed out until Laura announced supper. Today was all calisthenics, plus pain left over from a CT scan yesterday. 

I'm ticking off the protocol for shoulder surgery, and yesterday was a CT scan that would be integrated into the minimally invasive shoulder replacement. But, lying on the table, the tech walked by, and without warning flipped my arm from my safe palm down to complete palm up. With warning, I could have managed it. As a complete shock, I levitated. 

Tonight's trip with the cat was amusing; we are on the route to Blossom Music Center. On a good concert night we can get from A to B because every intersection's lights are manually operated by a person in radio contact with every other intersection for miles around. 

Traffic tonight was twice as heavy, I think, because last night's show was cancelled due to electrical storms and heavy rain. I'm sure the festival grounds are as wet as my garden.

When Toby was boarded in June, for South Carolina, I arranged for a haircut. The groomer was reluctant, and put him down for a lion cut. I said if she must, but the cat truly is a complete woos, and if they could just give him a trim with the number 8 clippers, he might give over the daily hairball hack, and still maintain his dignity.

Tonight, as we put him on the counter, he encountered two old friends. The groomer, and the kennel owner, who happened in on him as he was being clipped down. "Is that cat drugged?" the owner inquired of the grooming. "No, he's just a placid cat," said the disbelieving groomer.

I will have Toby clipped again, maybe the number 6 clippers next time. But no lion cut. He does have a standard.

So, off for a week in Wisconsin. Taliesin and a Dells boat tour. And definitely hitting a couple of St. Vinney's for front button shirts.

Connected thoughts

Those are Tibetan prayer flags at work in my friend Deb's yard. Deb, of Bures Porcelain, whose hand carved plaques and small birds I have left around America. 

The first time I visited, a thin line of seer cloths hung. I did not know what they were. Another time I visited, a new line was added, and I commented, and asked, and realized I was looking at something new to me.

Prayer flags, that waft hopes and dreams to the universe, spreading good will and compassion. I wonder if I ever knew that, but why question. It's a humble and humbling concept. 

When I felt the need to weave towels again, and send them off to people who would enjoy them, I faced the previously mentioned problem of human nature and its overwhelming urge to do something in return. And so, by all means, if I send you a towel, and I probably will, if obligation weighs, send me a note. I like those. And keep doing your random acts of kindness.

This morning I hemmed the towels. One of the royal blue towels has a weaving error, a skip, that I must fasten. Whoever gets that towel will be told, and is welcome to point it out to everyone. Why waste a perfectly good towel. In the old days it would be called a house towel, and sent to live in the towel drawer in the kitchen.

Two busy days

I do like well choreographed days! Today I dropped Laura for another kid-wrangling morning at the library and went on to an appointment of my own. I stopped for her on my way back, and saw she still had a line waiting to be face painted stretched out behind, so I quietly circled the library's cul-de-sac and headed for my next appointment.

Leaving there an hour later, with only fifteen minutes until cards with the Methodists began, I called her. She had just wrapped unicorns and rainbows, and was perfectly happy to walk down to the church. We all met at the appointed time, and played away. Laura and I had our usual card afternoon lunch of chips and dip, and then salad for supper. 

Laura's trip down the hill netted three beautiful pictures across the bridge. These garden club ladies take great care of their flower boxes across the river.

While I waited for a decent amount of time to pass between my large lunch of chips and supper, I worked some more on the last batch of towels. Sadly, the current warp is gone.

There were forty four towels from the first round of warp. Before I have my shoulder repaired, I'll ask Laura to help me put on a new warp. With someone to help with the tedium of winding bobbins, I can cheerfully wind many more yards of warp.

Tonight I prepped the last batch of towels for hemming. Made a very nice pile to work on. Cut apart, and then edges serged.

A couple of smiles

When my sister and I started a business together, we didn’t know if we would end up in cotton or wool, so we called our business The Ewe Tree. This was a time everything natural was so engulfing retail that we received offers not only to purchase the name, but to do business as, and use on the internet. When we retired weaving, Jan kept the name for her quilting business. It was twenty plus years old, known and respected, had great credit and accounts; why start over.

Now she has a lovely web site that features her work, and that would be the end of it. Oh, for years there were anguished emails begging for one more shirt, one more jacket. The occasional phone call did end when she relinquished the thirty year old phone number several years ago.

Recently she forwarded a lovely email:

Hello, Janice

I was in a thrift store outside Philadelphia today, shopping for interesting clothing, and came across this excellent sweater – I’m always drawn to clothing I can tell is unique or handmade. I’d just gotten rid of a number of sweaters and thought I had room in the closet for another, and noted the odd label – “The Ewe Tree, handwoven” it said. So I looked it up and found this site.

Just wanted to drop you a friendly line and tell you it’s strangely in the 50’s and raining tonight here in Philly and I’m really enjoying your sweater. It’s going to have a good second (or third or fourth or however-many) life with me! I’ve attached a pic if you want to see if you remember making this one.

Hope all is well, Joe

Awwwww. We made that style shirt from the mid-nineties until I retired in 2002. I remember putting on that tomato soup warp. We only wove it one time, and I have no recollection of when. I do recall two or three shows in Philly, but it could have come from anywhere. I’ll never forget the woman who found me in Virginia and called her husband in Boston: “I just found the weaver who made the shirts that your brothers took!” and bought half a dozen of that very shirt for her husband and his brothers.

Friday I saw the shoulder surgeon. After discussion, he recommended a “reverse” replacement. After cleanup of all the damaged goods, a new ball is placed in the shoulder blade, and a pad on a shaft in the upper arm bone is the new socket. Reverse of the old. I will have as much motion as now, more if I work at it, and no more pain.

Next week I’ll schedule out all the protocol to be able to meet the surgeon in the operating room.  It’s an overnight stay, and I was offered local anesthesia. I think I’ll do that. But first, we’re spending a week in Wisconsin.