Word to the wise: no jumping jacks

Busy day, busy day. Sitting here, twelve hours later, trying to remember why. I forget things that quickly now! I began the morning stripping my bed and starting the laundry. Then I cut towels and began hemming.

Hemming involves stabilizing each end on the serger before the rolled hem with the sewing machine. Three times a thread knot did not traverse the tension plates and broke the thread. Once a looper thread, which is a bottom needle and twice the inside upper needle. Grrrr. However, I rethreaded the machine myself. Peacock towels are up!

A month or so ago my oldest daughter was leading her team at work in a "Health Day" activity. A round of jumping jacks was an activity, and Beth, for the team, was jumping and clapping, and popping her knee. "Taking it easy" for several days did not improve the discomfort, disintegrating to outright pain. Some more time passed finding a specialist, arranging hospital time, blablabla.

Last week was surgery, and currently she's hanging out at Ruth's, on one floor, pending follow-up with the surgeon tomorrow. Her current advice: don't do jumping jacks, even for the team!

This brace has one more segment; you can see the buckle under her lovely turquoise trousers.

Ruth and I did amuse Beth, consulting our calendars and making dates for the Orchid Mania at the Cleveland Botanical Gardens and the annual quilt show at Lake Metropark. Discussing where we would meet and where we would lunch caused Beth some great amusement, and we didn't begrudge her.

Some time ago I gave Ruth a fleece I could not use, and was sure she could use. Today I thought to take a picture of it, in front of her fireplace.

The fleece is a Romney, from a Romney sheep. She calls it Mitt.

Before I move this to the Good Ideas page

I cannot remember how long ago I made this shirt. I made two of them, and gave one away to an incredibly thin twelve year old. So, I made another shirt, not much larger. This fits me, and would fit better if I opened the side seam more.

I wove the fabric for this after the TBI, back when casting about for what to do with myself. I thought I'd go back to weaving funky clothing for the gallery in town. That's when I learned my funky is gone, and I'm through looking for it. So, I'm offering the shirt for sale, along with more handwoven fabric.

Each length of fabric is composed of the same number of the same colored threads, arranged in a different order. The top piece is woven off in the light brown. The bottom piece is woven off in a light purple. 

The thread weights are 8/2 and 10/2, which are quite light weight. The "hand" of each fabric is wonderful, if I say so myself. So, now I will post this on Good Ideas, and get back to regular blogging business tomorrow.

You are my sunshine

I didn't get the name, but Sunshine was around all day. I opened the door to leave and was quite blinded. I fished in my purse for my sunglasses, first time this year. Mr. You Know Who didn't even notice I left. Stupefied, I guess.

This isn't winter. I wonder when or if it will begin; if it does, how bad will it be. When it does, how long will it last; when will spring begin.What the hell is going on?

I remember walking our mile round trip on the old road, and mom saying "This certainly has been an open winter. Not good for the trees." In my very early fifties at the time, I needed "open winter" explained to me. A warm weather winter, with minimal or no snow fall. She knew of such winters from her farming stock relatives and ancestors. Open winters in her lifetime, 1918 to 1997, were rare, and happened in her later years.

Weather is on so many minds. The burning in Australia is unspeakable to us discussing it at Monday cards in northeastern Ohio; unbearable to a resident of Australia. We did agree how fortunate we are to live in this heavily wooded section of the state, instead of the burning in our west, or in Australia.

I've been busy this week, and not all weaving or sewing. My neighbor Cathy got a flu shot last fall, and is a sick as she has been the last three or four years. The first fall and winter I lived here, Laura and I used to carry a plate of dinner to her house, she was that sick. I took her to Emergency last night, and she has an appointment with her primary tomorrow, to get to the bottom of this.

And back in the studio, I got the cerise towels hemmed and on the shelf. My biggest problem was remembering where I had stored the sewing machine needles when I moved. I have added the cerise remnant to the dark stack, on the Good Ideas page. Here are the cerise towels.

On the loom, peacock towels. I may be hemming them by next weekend.

Driving into Peninsula early this morning, I passed a turquoise car. Interesting. Driving to cards in the afternoon, I came out of my park behind...wait for it...an Alpha Romeo. I followed it all the way to town. And coming home, the waxing moon in a turquoise sky.

The Pie

I went to town this morning, in drizzling rain. Cold, drizzling, if you want to count forties cold. We'll even be above fifty this week.

The climate is happening too fast. I think we need to fix terra firma before we colonize Mars. I also think, it won't be my problem. I'll just keep eating root veggies and beans, and recycling. My trash would be a bag a month if I weren't scooping kitty litter. One little brown paper bag a day of litter fills my trash can by week's end. 

Oh, and I still eat bacon, but only half a pound a month. And I could quit that, maybe.

So where was I? Drizzling rain, and looking for the heron at the pond. I've seen it (I just backspaced through 'him', though I'm real sure he's a him) several times these last six months. The golf course is looking really skanky these days, but no heron, no incentive to stop in the drizzling rain for a picture.

I had a big afternoon ahead of me, clearing out last year's files, shredding, new files. When I came in from the drizzling rain, I looked at the bowl of apples and resolved, after lunch, The Pie.

That recipe claims to take an hour and a half of one's precious time, and an entire hour is devoted to baking. This time around I did limit myself to six apples, but it takes me half an hour, plus to peel six apples. Eventually I put it in the oven.

In an hour I put it on the counter, to cool. It smelled as good cooling for another couple of hours as it did baking.

I can tell you, any little bits of crust that chip off should be approached cautiously. They remain at three hundred odd degrees for longer than a few seconds there on the rack.

Creme stix restraint

I will confess I ate two creme sticks on Tuesday, when I bought them, and was simultaneously distraught by the unexpected, by me, blast of winter. Apparently those with talking heads on TV's were aware, and those of us who rely on little mute snowflakes on our weather app were in wait and see mode. If we even noticed the little snowflake.

On the second creme stick I discovered the great nine second rule. At the end of that little delight I told myself I remained annoyed enough to eat the remaining two on the spot, or at least by bed time, but a nine second creme stick deserved more respect.

And so, yesterday there were two in the box, and today there was one left for my excellent lunch. During the nine second wait I even looked on the bottom of the container, saw it was recyclable plastic and put it in the appropriate container. I don't always do that with plastic, because we have single stream recycle. I don't understand it, though I was personally responsible for getting it on board.

After lunch I even took a picture of it's nine second self. I'm confident merely devouring them would have left not a trace. Except you know....

I have gone to my knees begging my computer guru to get into the guts of my computer and deal with the malware hitch on a blogger's site. He promised to do it Tuesday. Sigh. I just sent another email.

With my accountant's encouragement, I returned to rudimentary bookkeeping. She may shed tears laughing when I turn in my books later this month. I bought a black, three column, hard bound book. I poised my pen to head two columns, one Dr and one Cr.  Then I said Fuck No, and wrote $In and $Out. That really is all it's about!

Starting with the Open Gallery last May, I have faithfully recorded $In and $Out. I've tallied each page and carried the balance forward. At the end of the year (and I hope you notice that was barely a day away), I began tossing all those $Out into appropriate baskets. 

I don't have many. CGS, Office Cost, Postage Out, Freight In, Bank card, Sales Tax. And I'm off $20.68, at the end of the year. I opened the book last night, for another go. But all those $Out items are neatly ticked off now. In the very olden days, when I had to keep a very similar General Ledger, I'd use a dot the second time through. But back then I also had a printing calculator. 

So, I ordered a printing calculator. A small one, and two extra rolls of 2 1/4 inch tape.  It will not arrive until Friday. So I read blogs and went to bed. Today I wove all morning (actually less than two hours), until lunch and blog writing.  Now it's 2:15 in the P. I am off to weave until supper and some more Bill Bryson. I'd mention where I have laughed my way to, except maybe some have not read it, and those of you who have did not spoil it for me.

If I get tired of weaving, I have another apple pie to bake. Or, mac and cheese. Cards on Monday, and Cathy and I are off to see Just Mercy soon. 

So remember, nine seconds on those creme stix.