One Of Those Days...

...when I had a terrible time motivating myself to do more than sit and knit or sit and sew.  Not that there's anything wrong with days like that, of course, but I still feel guilty for not roaring around.

I finished the third Chrysalis & Monarch.  I realized the other day that I couldn't enter one in the Fair if I'd given them all to LC and OJ, so I made another one.  Each one that I make gets more refined.



Then I cast on the June Seaman's Cowl.  I suddenly realized that it's nearly the end of June and I hadn't knitted a cowl.  I've only knitted one Preemie Hat this month too so I've got to fire up the needles.




When I went out to turn on the sprinklers to water the grass seed I saw that the peonies are blooming.  These poor flowers are so tucked away they get very little, if any, sunlight but they keep making a few blooms every year.  I think that these were the peonies that Dad transplanted from the Liberty St. house when they moved over here to have a smaller house to deal with.



This afternoon I went downstairs to flop laundry around and finish sewing the Tablecloth Dress no. 1.  I couldn't decide what color bias binding to use on the neckline and armholes so I put green on the neck, golden yellow on one armhole, red on the other, and I bound the turned in edge of the pockets with sailor blue.  Which means I used every stripe color in the binding.  I like it.






I've been so frustrated with my inability to control my eating for the last months that I dug out The Digest Diet book I bought years ago because they have you start by having 2 shakes a day and one bowl of soup for the first four days.  The shake ingredients are very specific, you get a small snack per day, and there are five soup recipes in the book.  It's not too hard to follow this, mostly because I know it's only going to last for four days, but also because after the first day I wasn't really hungry.  One more day to go.  I stepped on the scale this morning and I've lost 4.5# in two days.  I have no illusions that all the weight I lose in these four days will stay off but I'll have four days of not eating ice cream or donuts or other sweets under my belt so I'm hoping that I can keep to a better eating plan going forward.

23 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

            I felt a lot better about myself and all the changes I was making after talking to Clara.  And I was more determined than ever to recreate that first feeling of accomplishment.  The fact that the rain had ruined it, rather than a lack of skill, made the loss a bit more bearable.  I went home and tacked the smeared mess up on my wall.  It stayed there to remind me to be more careful.

            I got out another piece of watercolor paper and sketched in the window, the birdfeeder outside in the honeysuckle, the table and the bouquet.  As I’d done before, I laid in the washes, hoping my hands remembered what they’d done earlier that day.

            Sitting on the porch watching the sunset that evening, watching the light pry its way through the diminishing bars of rain clouds, the heat from my mug of tea felt good on my hands.  I’d spent most of the day painting.  It amazed me that I could paint and paint and never get tired of it.  The ideas flowed down my arm and my fingers knew what to do.  I put down my tea and flexed my right hand.  I’d better rub some liniment on it before I go to bed.  I don’t want to wake up with cramps in the middle of the night.  The red-golds and purples the setting sun washed over the sky made my fingers itch to return to the studio.  But I knew in my heart that I’d never be able to reproduce the sunset colors in paint.  It would be frustrating to try.

           I picked up my mug and sipped the tea, savoring the warmth as I drank.   My life was filling up in a way I’d never experienced before.  Painting, new friends, a new look, combined with the solid life I’d built added up to a deep satisfaction that warmed my soul, as the tea warmed my hands.

           I lay in bed that night replaying my sons’ reactions to the changes I’d made in my life.  I alternated between anger and tears.

           It hadn’t surprised me that Sam was upset.  I knew that my eldest was the most sensitive of the three.  I had no idea how Merry had persuaded him to move to San Francisco.  I suspected that uprooting Sam from his home overlooking the bay and his comfortable law practice would take something with the power of an earthquake.

            Aaron might work with computers which constantly changed, but he liked order in his life.

            Even though Matthew, the youngest and most flexible, had sounded encouraging, I couldn’t help wondering if I hadn’t heard a note of caution creep into his voice.

            I decided that I wanted to prepare a speech designed to remind all three of them who was the mother.  I sat up in bed, turned on the bedside light, put on my glasses, and grabbed the pad and pencil I kept there.

            Do I need to remind you that I’m an adult? I wrote.  I’ve managed to survive all by myself the eight years since your dad passed.  I’m only fifty-seven years old and I’m not ready for the trash heap.  All the changes I’ve made and will continue to make aren’t about you.  They’re about me.  You need to loosen up and give me a little encouragement like I’ve done for you all these years.

           I reread what I’d written, put my things aside, turned off the light, and fell asleep mentally repainting Clara’s painting.

The humidity rose today and kicked the air conditioner on.  It's been so nice having all the windows open day and night for the last couple weeks but I guess now it's summer so I'll be living in a sealed box again.  *sigh*
--Barbara