It isn't as frosty out there as it has been the previous two mornings but it's plenty chilly for me. Not much sunshine either which always makes me feel it's colder than it is. I'm very excited about having next week off. I have visions of long days planting bulbs and knitting, working on the articles I need to write for TC's newsletter, and generally relaxing. What do you want to bet very little of that'll happen? I intend to do my best but we all know that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. (Did you know that cliches become cliches because they're true? True.) I have to hurry and post this so I can get ready and go to work for the last time in, oh, 10 days. Mwa-ha-ha-ha.
November 3--Tonga. "And that's Malinoa," Drake said, pointing at the speck of an island off the port bow at least a half a mile. Jean shaded her eyes with her hand. "How can you even see that much less know what it is?" She shook her head. He laughed. "I know it's Malinoa because I know where we are at all times." He swept his gaze from side to side as if surveying his kingdom. She made sure her wide-brimmed hat was settled securely on her sweaty head and then shifted into the shade of the sail. "Really." She gave him a skeptical look. "All this water looks the same to me, and you could tell me any name for that little pfft of sand. You say we're in Tonga but that could just be a random patch of island time zones away from where you think we are." Drake smiled and watched the frigate birds soar so high they were nearly invisible.
Hey, I just realized that I'm not as sleepy this morning as I have been the past week or so. Maybe taking my Paxil at supper is the right way to do it. Keep your fingers crossed. From the way I'm typing this morning I evidently have mine crossed too.
--Barbara
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I Hate Waking Up In The Dark
My alarms ring (yes, there are two) between 6:15 AM and 6:30 AM. It's dark then, full black dark. Not a shred of sunlight peeks around the shade. It's hard for me to pry myself out of my warm bed to get up, cross the room, and turn one off, and then STAY up (the staying up's the hard part). Next weekend is the end of Daylight Savings Time (the "Fall back" part of the "Spring forward, Fall back" couplet) and I'm just as glad. While I like having more light at the end of the day all summer, we could just stay with regular time, I wouldn't mind, although I would have to have some other reminder to change the batteries in the smoke alarms. One of my grandpas hated what he called "fast time" (sorry, I know I've told you this before) and refused to change his pocket watch. When you'd ask him what time it was, he'd pull the watch on its chain out of his pocket and growl, "Regular time or fast time?" Now I get why he was so cranky about it, I mean besides being a crusty old German guy. It takes me days to adjust to the time change and I hear cows don't acknowledge it so dairymen have to reprogram their milking machines to account for it. I think it's a silly thing that's outlived its usefulness.
November 2--Godaido, Japan. Preston sat on the floor of his dingy hotel room in the coastal town. Outside the red neon lights of the sign blinked like a harbor buoy. It kept him awake but he probably wouldn't had slept if there was no blinking red light. Tomorrow's plan ran through his head like a movie on a loop. It had to go right because tomorrow was the only day in the next thirty-some years that the five golden statues of the Fates would be on display in Godaido temple out on the island. Preston didn't question why anyone would commission statues made of gold that they could only show off for one day every thirty-three years. If he had a gold stature he'd put it in his living room where all his friends could admire it. If he had a living room. If he had friends. Mr. Quimby had sent his security head to bring Preston to his office where Mr. Quimby had expressed his desire to own the five golden statues. Preston could see in the man's eyes the need to possess them, not just own them. That's what he was doing in the crummy room in a drab town in Japan. He was waiting for a one-horse temple to open for business so he, Preston McBride could relocate five smiling fat-guy statues from the dim temple to the teak and stainless steel house of a man with too much money. What could be simpler?
Ah, larceny. An excellent subject. May you be bathed in light today.
--Barbara
November 2--Godaido, Japan. Preston sat on the floor of his dingy hotel room in the coastal town. Outside the red neon lights of the sign blinked like a harbor buoy. It kept him awake but he probably wouldn't had slept if there was no blinking red light. Tomorrow's plan ran through his head like a movie on a loop. It had to go right because tomorrow was the only day in the next thirty-some years that the five golden statues of the Fates would be on display in Godaido temple out on the island. Preston didn't question why anyone would commission statues made of gold that they could only show off for one day every thirty-three years. If he had a gold stature he'd put it in his living room where all his friends could admire it. If he had a living room. If he had friends. Mr. Quimby had sent his security head to bring Preston to his office where Mr. Quimby had expressed his desire to own the five golden statues. Preston could see in the man's eyes the need to possess them, not just own them. That's what he was doing in the crummy room in a drab town in Japan. He was waiting for a one-horse temple to open for business so he, Preston McBride could relocate five smiling fat-guy statues from the dim temple to the teak and stainless steel house of a man with too much money. What could be simpler?
Ah, larceny. An excellent subject. May you be bathed in light today.
--Barbara
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Mutant Alien Ice
When I got home from walking and voting I went out to clean out the birdbath and put the little heater thing in so the birds will have water all winter. There was ice floating on the water when I tipped it out to empty it. That was 3 hours ago. The ice is still out there in the grass. I know it's above freezing out there because the thermometer says so. It says it's 43 degrees and that is way more than 32 degrees, so why isn't the ice melting? D'you think it's some sort of mutant alien ice that'll never melt and emits some sort of death ray when the light hits it just right? Nah, I don't either. But that'd be cool, wouldn't it?
Dusty had the brilliant idea for us to walk along the newly paved Baird's Creek trail by her house on the east side. It was a lovely 3 1/2 mile walk along the babbling creek in the bright autumn sun. It was a whole lot less windy too.
Last week's wind storm blew down part of the privacy fence across the back of our yard. The fence belongs to the office building behind us and today some Gomer in a gimmee cap, a Winston hanging from his lip, and Rush Limbaugh blaring on his truck radio is out there fixing it. I went out with a hand saw and some lopping shears to help him cut off the apple tree branches that were keeping him from strengthening the fence and he seems nice enough but he sure looks like a cliche.
Excellent suspense, Roi. I thought about Nano last night before bed but decided that this year I don't need the stress. Happy writing!
November 1--Cook Islands. Aitutaki lagoon looked like it had fallen out of a calender. A cliche if ever there was one. Brea looked out of the window of her bungalow and shook her head. The place was straight out of Central Casting, white sand, tall coconut palms, a far horizon where sky and sea met under a smudge of clouds. There was even a hammock strung between two of the palms. This had to be the end of the earth. It had taken over two full days to get here and it was truly the corner of No and Where. It made no difference what kind of phone or laptop she had, there was no Wi-Fi here. There was barely any here here. Exactly what she would do for the next few weeks was a mystery. She couldn't paint like Gauguin but she had her watercolors. She didn't write like Robert Louis Stevenson but she had notebooks too. Maybe she'd let her hair down, kick off her shoes, and spend the time turning into something wild.
Time to go make soup so I have lunches for this week and next.
--Barbara
Dusty had the brilliant idea for us to walk along the newly paved Baird's Creek trail by her house on the east side. It was a lovely 3 1/2 mile walk along the babbling creek in the bright autumn sun. It was a whole lot less windy too.
Last week's wind storm blew down part of the privacy fence across the back of our yard. The fence belongs to the office building behind us and today some Gomer in a gimmee cap, a Winston hanging from his lip, and Rush Limbaugh blaring on his truck radio is out there fixing it. I went out with a hand saw and some lopping shears to help him cut off the apple tree branches that were keeping him from strengthening the fence and he seems nice enough but he sure looks like a cliche.
Excellent suspense, Roi. I thought about Nano last night before bed but decided that this year I don't need the stress. Happy writing!
November 1--Cook Islands. Aitutaki lagoon looked like it had fallen out of a calender. A cliche if ever there was one. Brea looked out of the window of her bungalow and shook her head. The place was straight out of Central Casting, white sand, tall coconut palms, a far horizon where sky and sea met under a smudge of clouds. There was even a hammock strung between two of the palms. This had to be the end of the earth. It had taken over two full days to get here and it was truly the corner of No and Where. It made no difference what kind of phone or laptop she had, there was no Wi-Fi here. There was barely any here here. Exactly what she would do for the next few weeks was a mystery. She couldn't paint like Gauguin but she had her watercolors. She didn't write like Robert Louis Stevenson but she had notebooks too. Maybe she'd let her hair down, kick off her shoes, and spend the time turning into something wild.
Time to go make soup so I have lunches for this week and next.
--Barbara
Tuesday
27 degrees this morning when I woke up and forecasts of snow on Thursday -- I guess we're heading to winter and fast. The SF Giants won last the World Series last night and I am a happy woman. Still have one foot in CA, no matter how much I love Wisconsin. Working on NANO and a huge list of other to-do's today. I've already voted, now for something good to watch tonight rather than all the election news.
****
****
Lauren locked the door and went the closet, and opened a panel that housed a concealed safe. Inside were bundles of money, a small hand gun, three passports — United State, Great Britain, and France plus two disposable cell phones. Taking one of the cell phones she dialed a familiar number.
“This is Bernie.”
Her sudden tears surprised her. She managed to choke out, “Uncle Bernie —”
“Who is this?”
“Lauren.”
“Right. What do you want this time?”
“This time —?”
“You’ve got ten seconds to prove you’re Lauren.” His voice was gruff, resigned.
“You gave me my first pony when I was six —”
“Yeah, that birthday party was covered by Town and Country — common knowledge. Five seconds.”
“When my mom died,” Lauren’s voice quavered at the memory of her mother. “You came up to the Casa that night, wrapped me up in the quilt Sunbonnet Sue Quilt that Gram made. We walked out to Indian Rock, where mom loved to meditate. You told me she died. We cried until there was nothing left. The sky was clear and filled with shooting stars. You told me it was the heavens celebrating mom's arrival. It was years before I realize it was Peruses."
Silence was followed by throat clearing, a cough. “Where are you.”
“London.”
“We have a corporate plane in Greece, I can have there within 48 hours.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
Monday, November 1, 2010
I Got Mail!
When I was up in Door County I stopped at Spin in Sturgeon Bay and bought two skeins of cotton/poly yarn from the 40% off basket that I knitted into a narrow scarf. I love that scarf. On the way home I stopped again and got the rest of the yarn in the basket, which was 3 skeins, meaning I could knit a scarf and a half. Naturally the yarn I like the best Gedifra Fiorista is discontinued. Naturally.
I trolled around other yarn shops, buying yarn here and there, but none is exactly right.
I got an email from Knitting Daily last week offering free shipping from Webs. So I went on their website and found the exact yarn I got at Spin and ordered 3 skeins, one each of three colors. (Of course you had to order $75 worth to get the free shipping. I resisted.) It came today! Yippee! Now I have enough to knit 3 more s
carves of the optimum yarn. If only I had a couple more pairs of hands to knit faster.
Polite Yarn
I went with some knitting friends on Saturday afternoon to check out a new store, the Copper Llama in rural Clintonville about an hour from Green Bay. It's a gorgeous little building at the edge of the dooryard of a llama farm that's run by a friendly woman who spins, dyes and sells yarn made from her llama fibers. Unfortunately getting the shop up and running has prevented her from doing any dyeing and spinning lately so all she has at this point is Plymouth, Cascade, and a bit of Noro. 
I bought a couple skeins of Cascade Eco Wool, one dark brown/gray called Night Vision and the other lighter gray called Tarnish, that'll go well with the 2 skeins of red Cascade Eco + that I already have. I bought a pattern last week for a zippered hoodie that calls for chunky yarn and needed more. Now as soon as I finish the two sweaters I have on the needles, I'm ready to start another. It was a fun day. Karla's a good driver and tells good stories, Lyn and I sat in back knitting on scarves and chatting about kids, Jennifer rode shotgun, she had the GPS because, let me tell you, that was some twisty, turny drive. Th
ere were about 6 cats on the front porch when we pulled in so Jennifer had lots of kitties to talk to. I was interested in the llamas (they have 40!) which were all different shades of cream and brown. They wouldn't come to the fence when you talked to them, they turned away and mumbled to themselves. Lyn picked up the littlest, fluffiest kitten and Karla was flirting with the goldendoodle wagging it's tail behind a fence. A fun time was had by all. None of the yarn blew me away so I consider the 2 skeins I bought "polite" yarn because it would have been rude to shop and not buy. Oh, all the yarn had at least some wool content so if you're allergic to wool (poor Lyn) there's not much for you, but she does have a lot of spinning roving and supplies since she said she began as a spinner. No surprise since she's got a herd of llamas!
I bought a couple skeins of Cascade Eco Wool, one dark brown/gray called Night Vision and the other lighter gray called Tarnish, that'll go well with the 2 skeins of red Cascade Eco + that I already have. I bought a pattern last week for a zippered hoodie that calls for chunky yarn and needed more. Now as soon as I finish the two sweaters I have on the needles, I'm ready to start another. It was a fun day. Karla's a good driver and tells good stories, Lyn and I sat in back knitting on scarves and chatting about kids, Jennifer rode shotgun, she had the GPS because, let me tell you, that was some twisty, turny drive. Th
ere were about 6 cats on the front porch when we pulled in so Jennifer had lots of kitties to talk to. I was interested in the llamas (they have 40!) which were all different shades of cream and brown. They wouldn't come to the fence when you talked to them, they turned away and mumbled to themselves. Lyn picked up the littlest, fluffiest kitten and Karla was flirting with the goldendoodle wagging it's tail behind a fence. A fun time was had by all. None of the yarn blew me away so I consider the 2 skeins I bought "polite" yarn because it would have been rude to shop and not buy. Oh, all the yarn had at least some wool content so if you're allergic to wool (poor Lyn) there's not much for you, but she does have a lot of spinning roving and supplies since she said she began as a spinner. No surprise since she's got a herd of llamas!
Frosty
The leaves and lawns are painted white today and the birdbath is a solid slab of ice. I put some hot tap water in there earlier and it's already skinned over with ice. Guess the birdies will have to wait for the sun to hit before bathing. Brr, makes me shiver just thinking about dunking in the water out there. Although the sparrows do seem to take great pleasure in their group bath. They splash and flutter and duck their heads in to let the water roll down their backs. There's always a bunch of them and they look like they're having fun. I have to clean out the basin and install the water heater in there so there's always open water for them.
Did you have lots of trick or treaters? We had a few, mostly neighborhood kids and grandkids, so now I've got a small bag of hard candies to put in the candy dish at work. I did have to show a 5 year old how to jump in the leaves. Can you imagine a boy (no less) not knowing instinctively how to run and jump in a big pile of leaves? Me neither, so when he looked at me kind of quizzically I just took off running and did a bellyflop into the biggest pile. I kind of slammed into the ground but it only hurt for a minute. It was only after I got up that I remembered that I'm 59 and probably should cut back on the flopping, especially when I have a running start. It was fun though.
October 31--Moorea. It didn't look much different in Opunohu Bay than it had when Captain Cook was there. People still built huts out of bamboo and thatch, and most had an outrigger canoe pulled up on the sand out front. Gaia and Max had sailed in a few days before from Rangiroa where they'd spent a week in the boatyard getting their motor overhauled and the fridge lines blown out and recharged with freon or whatever it was in those tubes that kept it cold in the box. Max had taken the dinghy ashore in search of the post office and Gaia was hanging out a load of wash on the lines run from the mast to the jib stays when the splash of a paddle made her turn. A young native man smiled up at her, his teeth Chicklet-white in his dark brown face. "You need pineapple, missus?" he called. She smiled too. It seemed like she was in a scene from a movie. "No, thanks," she said, "my husband's shore and will bring one back." As soon as the words were out she wanted to recall them. How foolish to say that she was alone. Before she finished the thought the young man had climbed aboard and stood too close.
Happy November 1! Don't forget to turn the calender page. Gotta get ready for work; it's payday. Yay!
--Barbara
Did you have lots of trick or treaters? We had a few, mostly neighborhood kids and grandkids, so now I've got a small bag of hard candies to put in the candy dish at work. I did have to show a 5 year old how to jump in the leaves. Can you imagine a boy (no less) not knowing instinctively how to run and jump in a big pile of leaves? Me neither, so when he looked at me kind of quizzically I just took off running and did a bellyflop into the biggest pile. I kind of slammed into the ground but it only hurt for a minute. It was only after I got up that I remembered that I'm 59 and probably should cut back on the flopping, especially when I have a running start. It was fun though.
October 31--Moorea. It didn't look much different in Opunohu Bay than it had when Captain Cook was there. People still built huts out of bamboo and thatch, and most had an outrigger canoe pulled up on the sand out front. Gaia and Max had sailed in a few days before from Rangiroa where they'd spent a week in the boatyard getting their motor overhauled and the fridge lines blown out and recharged with freon or whatever it was in those tubes that kept it cold in the box. Max had taken the dinghy ashore in search of the post office and Gaia was hanging out a load of wash on the lines run from the mast to the jib stays when the splash of a paddle made her turn. A young native man smiled up at her, his teeth Chicklet-white in his dark brown face. "You need pineapple, missus?" he called. She smiled too. It seemed like she was in a scene from a movie. "No, thanks," she said, "my husband's shore and will bring one back." As soon as the words were out she wanted to recall them. How foolish to say that she was alone. Before she finished the thought the young man had climbed aboard and stood too close.
Happy November 1! Don't forget to turn the calender page. Gotta get ready for work; it's payday. Yay!
--Barbara
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