decreases. I should have it done by the weekend so I can cast on Reef Sock #2 for Writing Retreat knitting in 2 weeks. I need something small and fairly mindless to knit on in the Lodge in the evenings. Look at how pretty the colors are in the foot of this sock. I am eternally entertained seeing how the colors lay themselves down. Love the orange and purple and yellow, even the pink looks good with them. I do love this yarn.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Reef Sock Report
I've been neglecting making Progress Reports because I've fallen down working on time-consuming, ongoing projects. I've been seduced by quick-finishing projects like felted purses and Mom's tea cozy, but I did take Reef Sock #1 to the neighborhood corn roast weekend before last and I picked it up tonight to work on the foot a bit. I'm about 1 1/2" from the toe 
decreases. I should have it done by the weekend so I can cast on Reef Sock #2 for Writing Retreat knitting in 2 weeks. I need something small and fairly mindless to knit on in the Lodge in the evenings. Look at how pretty the colors are in the foot of this sock. I am eternally entertained seeing how the colors lay themselves down. Love the orange and purple and yellow, even the pink looks good with them. I do love this yarn.
decreases. I should have it done by the weekend so I can cast on Reef Sock #2 for Writing Retreat knitting in 2 weeks. I need something small and fairly mindless to knit on in the Lodge in the evenings. Look at how pretty the colors are in the foot of this sock. I am eternally entertained seeing how the colors lay themselves down. Love the orange and purple and yellow, even the pink looks good with them. I do love this yarn.
Shh, Mrs. Boss is Here
I'm trying to type real quietly because the owner's here making phone calls. I don't think I'd go into my work on my day off unless I really had to, but then I'm not an owner of a business, so I don't really know. Anyway, with this post I'm caught up--again. I'm sure I'll fall behind--again, but for now here I am all caught up.
August 31--Pierre-August Renoir, Portrait of Claude Monet. You'd think another artist would hold still, that he'd quit talking long enough for me to get him sketched on there. But, no, he has to yammer away about how he's planning to make this series of huge paintings of water lilies. He even keeps going on about his vision, how everything looks blurry lately. I've tried to tell him that all the rest of what the critics call The Impressionists drink too much absinthe too and our eyes have gone to crap too. He insisted on wearing that dreadful dark blue smock when I told him I'm nearly out of indigo and can't afford to buy more. I hate that cheap drapery he's standing by and the bare branches of that shrub look like crap. I should have painted over them. Oh please, God, just shut Monet up for ten minutes and I promise I'll be polite to my mother-in-law at supper tonight.
Well, that's odd but kind of fun.
--Barbara
August 31--Pierre-August Renoir, Portrait of Claude Monet. You'd think another artist would hold still, that he'd quit talking long enough for me to get him sketched on there. But, no, he has to yammer away about how he's planning to make this series of huge paintings of water lilies. He even keeps going on about his vision, how everything looks blurry lately. I've tried to tell him that all the rest of what the critics call The Impressionists drink too much absinthe too and our eyes have gone to crap too. He insisted on wearing that dreadful dark blue smock when I told him I'm nearly out of indigo and can't afford to buy more. I hate that cheap drapery he's standing by and the bare branches of that shrub look like crap. I should have painted over them. Oh please, God, just shut Monet up for ten minutes and I promise I'll be polite to my mother-in-law at supper tonight.
Well, that's odd but kind of fun.
--Barbara
Crazy Busy
Man, did the weekend fly by! I worked on Saturday, mostly on Mom's birthday tea cozy but I had a few customers too, and yesterday after I took Mom to lunch for her birthday, I borrowed a friend with big muscles and a trailer to go to Shawano and pick up a king-sized bed for us, and then move the beds around and one into storage. I think the only time I sat down was on the ride to and from. But the bed sleeps well and we both finally have enough room to sleep. All those years of sleeping in the middle while Durwood was out of town made 2-to-a-bed a real adventure!
August 29 & 30--Paul Gauguin, Still Life with Oranges. I love the smell that floods the air when I peel an orange. That sharp, sweet smell that reminds me of summer and winter at the same time. Summer because of the freshness, the warm tanginess of the smell that clings to my fingers and makes me not want to wash my hands afterwards even though they're sticky. Oranges remind me of winter because there has always been an orange in the toe of my Christmas stocking as far back as I can remember. That mid-winter orange always represented the promise of summer to come and kept me warm when the snow fell and the wind blew.
Enjoy your week.
--Barbara
August 29 & 30--Paul Gauguin, Still Life with Oranges. I love the smell that floods the air when I peel an orange. That sharp, sweet smell that reminds me of summer and winter at the same time. Summer because of the freshness, the warm tanginess of the smell that clings to my fingers and makes me not want to wash my hands afterwards even though they're sticky. Oranges remind me of winter because there has always been an orange in the toe of my Christmas stocking as far back as I can remember. That mid-winter orange always represented the promise of summer to come and kept me warm when the snow fell and the wind blew.
Enjoy your week.
--Barbara
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Today's my mom's 81st birthday. I'm taking her to lunch at her favorite spot, HuHot, but it wasn't until Wednesday when I was about ready to leave for work that I realized that I didn't have a present for her. Now, I could have gone somewhere on any one of the intervening days and purchased something, but where's the frantic panic in that? So, in the 3 minutes before I had to leave to get to work on time, I sought out a free pattern, unearthed some yarn in her favorite shade of green (I can't believe I had it!), sussed out some needles (they were the aluminum "bottom of the barrel" and they used to be hers), shoved it all in a bag and left. I got the first half nearly done at work on Wed. and finished that evening. I cast on the second half Thursday after Writer's and finished it yesterday evening. I saw another pattern on Ravelry that had leaves at the top, I liked that so I knit some of other colors of the same yarn to place artfully on the side where I swooped an I-cord down from making the tab for the top. I got it all put together and photographed before bed last night. Ta-da! I really like it. I hope Mom does too. 
ll want it a bit narrower and twice as deep, but this is better than before. It wasn't until I looked inside that I realized more work was needed.
Um, can you imagine trying to find something in here?!? Me neither. Time for a shave, I think. Pretty colors though and I'll look for a swank button to sew over the closure this week.
Today I'm dragging a friend with a trailer and big muscles to a town 30 miles west to pick up a king-sized bed DIL's parents need to get rid of. After all the years of Durwood's traveling for work we both got used to sleeping in the middle, we're hoping a king-sized bed eliminates a few of the border disputes. Yesterday I was writing a thank you note to deliver when we pick it up and nearly wrote "we'll think of you every time we use it" but decided that was just too icky for words. I settled on "thanks for your generosity." A much more appropriate sentiment, don't you think?
ll want it a bit narrower and twice as deep, but this is better than before. It wasn't until I looked inside that I realized more work was needed. Um, can you imagine trying to find something in here?!? Me neither. Time for a shave, I think. Pretty colors though and I'll look for a swank button to sew over the closure this week.
Today I'm dragging a friend with a trailer and big muscles to a town 30 miles west to pick up a king-sized bed DIL's parents need to get rid of. After all the years of Durwood's traveling for work we both got used to sleeping in the middle, we're hoping a king-sized bed eliminates a few of the border disputes. Yesterday I was writing a thank you note to deliver when we pick it up and nearly wrote "we'll think of you every time we use it" but decided that was just too icky for words. I settled on "thanks for your generosity." A much more appropriate sentiment, don't you think?
Friday, August 28, 2009
Honestly
Artists were fixated on nude ladies, weren't they? This is the third day in four that the art-of-the-day has them, and I'm telling you right now, I'm darned sick of them. I've run out of things to say about them since I'm not all that interested in them anyway. Besides, today's artist seems to need glasses--badly. Might as well get this over. Here goes...
August 28--Otto Muller, The Bathers. Jeb and Max could hardly contain themselves. They were crouched in the bushes near the riverbank where the women came to bathe. Jeb's older brothers had talked about coming here and what they saw. Jeb told Max and Max didn't believe him. "Girls don't do that, Jeb," he said, shaking his head like an old man. The boys bathed only when forced to and couldn't imagine taking off all their clothes to do it either. "They do too," Jeb said. "I heard Samuel and Ezra talking about it." Max squinted at his best friend. "I could stand to see me some naked girls, we should go and see for ourselves." So the two eight-year-old boys slipped out of the village and wriggled their way to where they had a good view of the place--and the girls. They didn't know what to do with the feelings they were feeling except try not to giggle out loud.
I suppose boys are the same all over the world and in every age. Little pervs.
--Barbara
August 28--Otto Muller, The Bathers. Jeb and Max could hardly contain themselves. They were crouched in the bushes near the riverbank where the women came to bathe. Jeb's older brothers had talked about coming here and what they saw. Jeb told Max and Max didn't believe him. "Girls don't do that, Jeb," he said, shaking his head like an old man. The boys bathed only when forced to and couldn't imagine taking off all their clothes to do it either. "They do too," Jeb said. "I heard Samuel and Ezra talking about it." Max squinted at his best friend. "I could stand to see me some naked girls, we should go and see for ourselves." So the two eight-year-old boys slipped out of the village and wriggled their way to where they had a good view of the place--and the girls. They didn't know what to do with the feelings they were feeling except try not to giggle out loud.
I suppose boys are the same all over the world and in every age. Little pervs.
--Barbara
It Ain't Art
My Milwaukee writing friend, Laurel, came up yesterday to spend the night and go to writing with me. Jenny brought an exercise that gave us a word and then a sheet with four pictures on it relating to that word. My word was beach and one picture was of an elephant driving a little blue car down a beach. Of course that's the one I wrote about.
August 27-- Hilda loved feeling the wind whip past her ears as she wheeled her blue convertible down the hard sand of Coney Island beach. It wasn't often she got the chance to just cut loose. Her life was so busy with two shows a day and then packing up to travel to the next venue. It was lucky that the show was doing two weeks in one place and the boss had give the company an entire day off in the middle of it. She was glad their day off was in midweek so the beach was nearly deserted this close to Labor Day. The freedom and space of it was a real treat after spending day after day in the tent seeing an endless stream of gawkers pass by. She loved the few minutes she had in the spotlight dressed in spangles doing her act but it was hand to keep that feeling going once the lights were out and the fans went home. A few of the other girls wanted her to go shopping with them but Hilda had enough of crowds. She wanted to spend her day off with the ocean fresh in her lungs, driving down the sand, chasing up seagulls to watch them soar on the sharp wind off the waves.
It was a good night at writer's; we did 4 exercises and got lots of good work done.
--Barbara
August 27-- Hilda loved feeling the wind whip past her ears as she wheeled her blue convertible down the hard sand of Coney Island beach. It wasn't often she got the chance to just cut loose. Her life was so busy with two shows a day and then packing up to travel to the next venue. It was lucky that the show was doing two weeks in one place and the boss had give the company an entire day off in the middle of it. She was glad their day off was in midweek so the beach was nearly deserted this close to Labor Day. The freedom and space of it was a real treat after spending day after day in the tent seeing an endless stream of gawkers pass by. She loved the few minutes she had in the spotlight dressed in spangles doing her act but it was hand to keep that feeling going once the lights were out and the fans went home. A few of the other girls wanted her to go shopping with them but Hilda had enough of crowds. She wanted to spend her day off with the ocean fresh in her lungs, driving down the sand, chasing up seagulls to watch them soar on the sharp wind off the waves.
It was a good night at writer's; we did 4 exercises and got lots of good work done.
--Barbara
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Nearly Stumped
I was not thrilled to turn to today's page and find a white marble statue of three naked women. Yesterday's gilt naked woman was more than enough to deal with, now I had three of them to explain away or spin a story to cover them. Happily Wikipedia had a little about them so I had a jumping off place, but it was one of those times when it looked pretty far down when I peeked over the edge. Feeling good about myself today, I leaped.
August 26--James Pradier, The Three Graces. It is an unlucky man who has three daughters, thought Zeus. When they were children their beauty, charity, and joy entertained all who met them but now that they are young women they are becoming a burden. Their beauty attracts suitors from every corner. Young and old, wealthy and poor, handsome and plain, they all stand flat-footed staring at their desire. His daughters' joy rang out through the land. None who heard it could remain unmoved by it. Some days he thought that a little solemnity, even a touch of sadness, would be a relief. Their charity was legendary too. News of their generosity drew every beggar and unfortunate from far and near to press their case with near total guarantee of success. He had been forced to set up a separate kitchen that did nothing beyond bake bread and make soup for the hordes. Beside the kitchen stood a shop with three seamstresses who made basic garments and a pair of cobblers to make sandals for the girls to give away. If they did not marry soon he would go broke. Maybe he'd take another stroll through the throng of suitors to see what was on offer today.
Well, that was a surprise.
--Barbara
August 26--James Pradier, The Three Graces. It is an unlucky man who has three daughters, thought Zeus. When they were children their beauty, charity, and joy entertained all who met them but now that they are young women they are becoming a burden. Their beauty attracts suitors from every corner. Young and old, wealthy and poor, handsome and plain, they all stand flat-footed staring at their desire. His daughters' joy rang out through the land. None who heard it could remain unmoved by it. Some days he thought that a little solemnity, even a touch of sadness, would be a relief. Their charity was legendary too. News of their generosity drew every beggar and unfortunate from far and near to press their case with near total guarantee of success. He had been forced to set up a separate kitchen that did nothing beyond bake bread and make soup for the hordes. Beside the kitchen stood a shop with three seamstresses who made basic garments and a pair of cobblers to make sandals for the girls to give away. If they did not marry soon he would go broke. Maybe he'd take another stroll through the throng of suitors to see what was on offer today.
Well, that was a surprise.
--Barbara
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