Type Faster

 


I was so tempted to skip blogging tonight because I'm so tired (only slept 6 hours last night).  This morning I planted the last three Stella D'oro day lilies I bought yesterday.  Planting isn't too tiring and sweaty-making, it's the weeding that precedes it.  I shook a good amount of Preen weed preventer once I'd weeded but I suspect that's only to keep seeds from germinating, not to keep quack grass and creeping charlie in check.  Ah well, such is life.  All too soon everything green will turn brown and then be covered in a blanket of white.  Arrgh.

 

Yesterday I drove down Lombardi Ave. shortly after they used a front end loader to shove one of the remaining supports and send the entire roof of the Arena falling to the ground.  I sure wish they'd have imploded it instead.  






This Downy Woodpecker spent time on the corn this morning instead of on the suet.


 



One of the exercises T-the-trainer had me do yesterday was vertical pushups.  I did ten, five regular speed and five slow.  It felt good and I thought my new workout clothes look good too (and I don't really even like the color blue, go figure).  I love Meijer sale racks.




I blame these three women for how tired I am.  BV and TW arrived around midday today so we lunched at Kroll's (along with all of the Packers shareholders in town for yesterday's meeting and today's start of training camp; can you say "crowded"?), walked around Titletown Park, went to our old school but didn't have a selfie stick so we went to Walmart because TW wanted new Packer stuff and I found a cheap selfie stick, then we went to Meijer for a card game they both like, and I had the brainstorm that I'd grill some chicken breasts for us for supper.  *pant, pant*  After they left I sewed the other side seam, turned the vent side hems, and hemmed the sleeves.  All that's left is to bind the neckline and sew the bottom hems and I've got a new dress for the reunion.

26 July--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.

             Before I knew it I'd gotten a letter from Laurel saying how happy she was that I'd be in her class and giving me a list of the things I needed to bring.  I had most of the stuff and went into Simpson to the craft store to pick up the rest.

Not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb, I called the office up at The Clearing to find out what kind of clothes to pack.  Kathy told me that it's usually cooler up there on the bluff and that most people wore jeans or other comfortable clothes.  Good, that meant I didn't have to buy a whole new wardrobe to go to camp.

I showed the catalog to Clara when she came over for coffee a few days later and we pored over the pictures and the sample schedule.  It looked like heaven--wooded grounds with old stone and log buildings, and best of all, they did all the cooking and cleaning up.  There were a few pictures of painting classes and I hauled out a magnifying glass to try to see if they were better painters than me.  Clara thought it was funny but I realized that in my first two classes I’d gotten used to being one of the better painters and wanted to be prepared if I was going to be one of the worst.

Sunday, June 15 dawned bright and beautiful.  I'd laid all my clothes out on the bed the night before and figured I'd probably packed too much but wanted to be ready for anything.  Check-in started at one p.m. so I left nice and early so I could spend every last minute of time up there.  It was only a two-hour drive but Door County's a big tourist destination and I hoped to avoid the worst of the traffic.  I figured I could take a walk around the grounds if I got there way too early.  Traffic wasn't bad, most of it was going south, so I could relax and enjoy the scenery—miles and miles of cherry and apple orchards, picturesque herds of black and white cows, small wineries and roadside stands selling fruits, jams, cherry pies, and art.  Maybe I’d stop of the way home and find some special wine for Jack’s wedding gift.

I turned off the highway onto Garrett Bay Road and nearly missed the driveway of The Clearing.  As soon as I turned in, the blinding sunlight bouncing off the asphalt was replaced by dappled sunshine through tall old trees.  The curving gravel drive wound through the woods and meadows leading me further away from my regular hectic life.  A small sign directed me to the student parking lot where I parked and sat for a moment drinking in the silence.

I saw another small sign with an arrow pointing to the Lodge for check-in.  There I met a smiling woman named Kathy who turned out to be the woman I’d spoken to when I called the office. She gave me a nametag on a string with instructions to wear it at all times, a map of the campus, and directions to my room.  I couldn't afford to have a single room so I'd have one roommate, a writer named Connie from suburban Chicago.  I asked Kathy for my key and was amazed to discover that there weren't any.  She said they'd never had problems with people losing things and were very aware of strangers on the grounds, but she'd get me a key if I felt I needed one.  I said I guessed not if no one else felt the need, and went back to my car to haul in my things.  Kathy told me I was welcome to take my painting supplies down to the big room of the Schoolhouse that afternoon so I'd be ready to start early tomorrow and that I could drive down if I had a lot to carry.  While I’d thought ahead and brought a dolly to haul my things, it turned out I didn’t need it.  The Clearing provided wheeled carts.  I grabbed one and took it back to my car.

I was pleased to discover my room, number six, was right near the parking lot overlooking the propane tank.  Not the most inspiring view but I didn't figure I'd be in my room much. I intended to make the most of my week in the woods.

I was pleased at how pretty the room was--a pair of twin beds with lovely handmade quilts, a desk and chair beside each bed, two built-in armoires with plenty of space for clothes, and a roomy bathroom with a shower.  There was a set of towels and soap on each bed.

Leaving my painting things in the cart, I put my suitcase on the bed nearest the window since I like to have a window open when I sleep.  Then I walked my art supplies in the cart down a sawdust path through the woods to the Schoolhouse.  There was a couple from Illinois, Don and Jane, there who had been in Laurel's class before and helped me pick out a spot to set up my stuff.  They were friendly and funny and made me feel welcome.  I was glad to have met someone right away to help me settle in.

Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
--Barbara