A Sky Full of Kites

OMG, the kite festival in Two Rivers was awesome.  The day was perfect, and we stopped at an alpaca farm/store on our way there.  Skully spent fifty-cents out of my change in the car for alpaca nuggets so she could feed them (she didn't have change and I did), I kept my hands clean of alpaca spit and took the pictures.  We were good girls and didn't buy anything, not any yarn (which was so soft it made me want to faint but the prices made me want to faint too--$35/300 yd. skein--EEK!), not any ready-made stuff (which wasn't exactly "priced to sell" either).  We found an on-street parking place on the edge of the park and only had to walk about 100 yds. to the beach and the lakeshore and the kites.  The kites!  The sky was filled with colorful kites, big and small; they were every shape imaginable and some you'd never imagine would fly.  Pros flew formations and did tricks to music; they can make their kites stop an inch from the sand and then land softly like birds.  Awesome.  There were a bajillion people there, lots of families, old people, young bikini-clad beauties,  middle-aged goofballs (like me and Skully), with either a string in their hands or their eyes on the sky.  We walked around a bit and then found a spot in the sand near the water and the pros' practice area so I floated my froggie kite, tied off the string pretty short so it didn't stray into anyone's way, and sat in my chair in the sand enjoying the beautiful day.  I trowelled on sunscreen and wore a hat so I'm not burned today. Skully met a teenaged boy who helped her try flying those fancy 2-controller kites and she also joined the Wisconsin Kiters hoping to learn more.  I didn't join; sitting in the sand on a sunny day flying my pretty tree frog, no-brainer, delta kite is the perfect level of kiting for me.  (Today's Photo a Day theme is "far away" so here's my kite, kinda far away)  While I was gone Durwood made the rest of his half-bushel of tomatoes into tomato soup and canned it.  We tasted it (oh, mercy, it's good) and he decided that it'd be a great base for all kinds of tomato-y goodness, not only soup.  That means he'll be canning at least another half-bushel.  He got 22 pints out of the first one and I know we've got at least that many more jars downstairs for him to fill.  Hey, I'll pay for more lids and give advice and do the final dishwashing any old day for more chances to eat that yummy stuff.  I'm not a moron (all the time).  Today I want to mow de lawn and maybe do a little tidying, that's about it.  Durwood's making eggplant & mushroom lasagna for supper, I can't wait.  Maybe I'll spend a little time packing for my week at The Clearing which officially starts on September 9 but will actually commence on September 8 if they'll have a room for me.  What?  I like to go up a day early and start soaking up the peace and beauty so I'm ready to write come Monday morning.  Hey, you have your "process," I have mine.  And I might also go downstairs and start making the September BOM quilt blocks.  Maybe, or not.  It's a holiday, I'll figure it out.

September 3--Bolognino Zaltieri, Page from Le Imagini de I Dei de gli Antichi.  Bill hunched over the workbench with his smallest gouge almost invisible in his hand.  His back ached and his eyes nearly crossed but he kept working.  The pieces of rubber he carved out were small, thin as hairs, but he knew that it was important to get just right.  The little lines made shading, gave the contours of the land dimension, and made the water in the little river visible.  he relied on suggestion in his work rather than laboring over details.  Years of practice had taught him that he only had to hint at things to have them loom in a viewer's mind, plus that's the way the artists he'd made a career of faking did it.  Bill was no fool, and he was a rich one too.

Heh, somebody has to fake all those ancient artworks that litter museums and art dealers' galleries.  Might as well be my guy Bill.  Have an enjoyable Labor Day and try not to labor too much.  I long for the days when I actually goofed off on days off... but did I ever really?  Probably not since I was a kid but, hey, I can dream, can't I?  Toodles.  I'm off to Cheerio.

--Barbara Sue (I realized that that's what I call myself when I talk to Aunt B, Uncle Walt & Aunt Ginny, cousin Mike, Aunt Suzie & Uncle Len, etc.; I think I'll see about reclaiming that part of me, I like the way it sounds in my head and feels on my lips and the way it makes me feel being her again)