I'm Home

I got home yesterday around noon but had to spend the evening with two of my favorite short people so I was too tired to blog when I got home.  Sorry about that.

My week at The Clearing in the Women's Writing Retreat was wonderful.  (enough "w"s in one sentence?)  I spent Monday tucking all of the little "key" scenes I've been writing all summer into the full manuscript (which got me to 75k words, only 5-15k to go!), then I wrote a starting-to-make-up scene to get Rose and Iggy back to kissing, etc. and another scene where Rose scatters her late husband's ashes in the sea.  (cry much?  oh, just a little.)  The weather was gorgeous except for Friday when it rained and blew like crazy.  I was very glad that I thought to take my plastic rain/gardening shoes so that I didn't get rain and wet sawdust in my socks because we spent quite a bit of Friday walking on sawdust paths in the rain.  I arrived at TC on Saturday and was setting up my computer when I realized that I'd left the power cord at home.  Good thing I live so close because my lovely roomie, cda, rode along with me on Sunday while I drove home to get it and my yoga mat which I also forgot.  It was frustrating to the max until I realized that meant we could stop at Joe Rouer's in Duvall for the best cheeseburgers on the planet for lunch.  We spent the whole time yakking about just about everything so the time wasn't wasted.  Besides what were we going to do all day--shop???

One of my favorite parts of the retreat is Quiet Writing Time which means that we put our butts in a chair or on a rock or log from 9 AM until 11:30 AM and just write, no talking, no eye contact, just fingers on the keys, eyes on the page or screen.  I poke my earbuds in my ears and cue up my hours of nature sounds on my phone most of the time but last week I sat on the porch of our room, looking into the woods (can't see the water but I know it's there), listening to the birds and wind.  When I'm in places like that the words come a bit easier.  So satisfying.  Not that I don't love the individual conference, roundtable (reading/critique in a group), and all the other parts of the retreat, I do, but QWT is my favorite.  I will confess that if cda and I are in the room together we do talk when we get stuck or need an opinion but not a lot and not all the time.  Really.
 
On Thursday the bookstore manager is the host for the midday meal and she brings a few items to tempt us to come over and shop.  Well, I fell victim to her pitch.  She brought over a carving by the assistant director of TC of the Cliff House which is an isolated room at the edge of the property where you can spend the night.  I've done it twice and over the next day or so I came to believe that the carving shouldn't be bought by someone who hadn't slept there.  So I bought it.  What can I say?  It was love at first sight. 

As I came in the door yesterday I got a message from Michaels that the things I'd taken over to be framed were ready so I turned around and went to get them, and hung them today.  One is a crewel embroidery that I did when I was in my teens that's a squirrel in a tree and since Durwood was such a fan of squirrels (not!) I hung it by his picture.


The other one is one Mom made in 1961 and never framed and hung.  In the center are five animals--cow, pig, chicken, lamb, fish--and under each one is a different color satin stitch dot.  Around the animals are herbs in boxes and under each herb are dots that show which meats they're good with.  I loved it when she sewed it and was thrilled to find it downstairs last winter.  Now it's framed behind good glass and hanging over the stove.  It makes me smile whenever I see it.



Last week I didn't have a lot of knitting time but I did cast on and knit most of OJ's mitten #1.

Today I didn't have much energy (Clearing-lag?) so I sat on the couch watching shows that had taped last week and once I was tired of sitting with idle hands I cast on another purse to be felted.  It probably won't be ready to take to knitting guild on Thursday but it'll be ready for another time I need something to give away.

13 October--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

            Clara was quiet on the ride home.  Even when we stopped at Joe’s in Duvall, our favorite country tavern, to eat the best burgers on the planet, she seemed distracted.

“Cat got your tongue?” I asked after we ordered.

            She slowly shook her head, then said, “No, I’ve been thinking.”

            “What about?”

            “Well,” she showed me a little embarrassed smile, “I guess I never really believed that someone I know could be a famous painter.  I mean, I like your paintings, don’t get me wrong.”  She held up her hand to forestall any protests from me.  I kept my mouth shut and let her talk.

“But the way that Gil guy was so glad to see you, and then that rich woman demanding to see your paintings…  I guess I’ll have to start treating you with a little more respect.”

            The waitress came and put our burgers and fries in front of us.  I squirted catsup on the meat.  I picked up my burger, careful not to let any of the fried onions slide out of the bun, and said, “You don’t have to treat me with respect, Clara, but back to normal would be great.”

            She put the catsup bottle back in the center of the table after pouring half the bottle over her fries as usual, and picked up her burger.  “Okay, it’s a deal.  Back to normal it is.”  The old Clara shone in her smile.

Neither of us said another word until our plates were empty of everything but catsup smears; food this good was meant to be gobbled.

In RAT news, my knitting friend, MW, kept the traplines running while I was away and caught another chipmunk but no RATs.  He uses the old traditional snap traps but I think I'll get the new-fangled trap out there too.  Might as well get the whole arsenal involved.  Man, it gets dark early, doesn't it?  Daylight Savings Time doesn't end for another three weeks.  Ugh.  Longtime readers know that I'm not a fan of DST. (that's an understatement)  And on that crabby note I'll say good night.
--Barbara