The Rutabaga That Ate Green Bay

One of our customers, an enthusiastic gardener, stopped in yesterday with a second box of veggies for me. He brought leeks, carrots, apples, squash, and a rutabaga. I thought when he told me what was in the box that maybe one rutabaga wasn't enough for a meal. I was wrong. So wrong. I think Durwood might have swooned a bit when I hefted it out of the box to show him, but he's gamely making plans to subdue it for our table. We've agreed that the next batch of soup will be Jamaican Pumpkin Soup. It is to die for. Makes me want to eat my chicken soup faster.

I've been knitting a bit. I finished the Fast & Fearless Fingerless Mitt #1 and immediately cast on Mitt #2. The first one I made on double points so I transferred the second one onto a long circular needle to see which one I like better for making mitts. I've only done a row or two on the circ so I can't be sure but I'm thinking I'm liking the DPNs better.

It was sunny and beautiful when I crossed the bridge toward work this morning so I snapped a photo as I crossed the bridge. I love sunny and clear days like today, it's pretty darned cold and windy though. I'm not as much of a fan of that.

Ack! Snowflakes!

There we sat minding our business this sunny morning and snowflakes, yes, SNOWFLAKES came tumbling out of the sky. They were riding the sharp, cold wind in the sunshine and they weren't melting when they landed. I saw 'em. They landed on the patio and just stayed there. No, no, no, no, NO. Not time for snowflakes. Not yet. I have too much to do within the next two weeks for snow to come and stay. After that, well, I'll deal but not in November, no sirree bob. I went to Mom's bank and closed out her accounts this morning. I transferred all the money left in them to the estate account I set up at the bank closer to my house so now it's all in one place and if someone tries to deposit or withdraw from them they're no longer there. Like I said, things are moving along. I got about 1/4 of the doll room boxes taped and marked last night. That room is like quicksand; I get in there and get sucked into doing other things. Last night I first made certain that I had gathered all the feet and tools and manuals for each of the sewing machines, then I got out the tape and the big marker and started at the top left of the first shelving unit. My idea worked rather well. I checked inside the box, moving any pattern to the bottom so it can be seen through the plastic, then I taped around and around so it can't be opened and marked a price on the tape in 2 places. There's just too much stuff and it's mostly jumbled together to allow people to pick and choose. We'd be there for a year just getting it organized. This way the boxes are reasonably priced for their size and contents so that, hopefully, most of it will sell. If not, somebody's getting a huge donation. It's the only way. Yesterday I made sure to cancel all the magazine subscriptions Mom had (that I've found so far anyway), and there were a bazillion, mostly food mags. Already I've gotten 3 refund checks from publishers (over $100!) to put into the estate account. You just never think of how much you spend on stuff like that, do you? It's very relaxing being at work these days. Not because there're no customers, there are a few, but because I can't do estate work here. I can only post to the blogs or knit while listening to my iPod. Ahhh.

November 16--Central Asia, Shaft-Hole Axe Head with Bird-Headed Demon, Boar, and Winged Dragon. Karak kept one pair of eyes on the huge boar coming at him from the left. He could smell the swamp and see the greenish cast to the bristles that covered the grunting wild pig. The creature made low grunting sounds as it pushed through the rushes. Right before his other pair of eyes a winged dragon landed near the path and exhaled a plume of smoke.

Dagnabbit! I was rolling, all ready to keep going but I fell asleep. Next time.

--Barbara

So Tired I Couldn't Sleep

That was me last night. I hardly ever have nights like that so it was doubly frustrating but Durwood's a good snuggler and that helped me settle down. I took the doll shoes, socks, and hats out to the doll lady who wouldn't buy them (she's downsizing too) but kept them to sell to her students and at 2 doll shows in April and June on our behalf. I hadn't even counted the stuff but people around here are usually honest to a fault so I'm not too worried. She offered to do the same with all of Mom's patterns so I'll load those up on Sunday when I have Durwood's big van, AND the lady who came on Saturday to give me some pricing help called last night to say she's got people interested in both sewing machines and a bunch of the bins of fabric. Hoo! Ray! (I'm naming my next child Gail in her honor.) They're willing to come up on Sunday to get the stuff so it won't even make it to the estate sale the next weekend. We're getting there, Aunt B, don't you worry about us. I even found time to get my nails done, play with Porter for an hour, and to rake a few leaves so I did some stuff for ME too. After supper I made a big pot of chicken vegetable soup for work lunches this week and next. I'll go over to the apartment tonight and start taping boxes shut in the doll room. I want to get a jump on Sunday's chores.

November 15--Paul Poiret, Textile Sample. She couldn't keep her hands off the silk satin of the lining. It was the softest thing she'd ever touched. She smoothed her fingertips across it and her eyes half closed with the sheer sensuality of it. She felt the weave as if it were a More Code message aimed only at her. Her eyes closed as she gave all her sensory attention to the three fingertips of her right hand. The whole world was reduced to the richness of the silk and the electricity it generated along her nerve endings. Back and forth, back and forth her fingertips barely grazed the fabric but the thrill of it raised goosebumps up her arms and she felt her nipples harden and strain in the confines of her bra. Outside sounds receded as her breathing deepened. A shudder ran down her spine and her knees shook.

Whoever she is, she's sure having a moment, isn't she? The cold has come in on the knife edges of the wind. I'm dressing in layers today--and where did I put all my pashminas? Stay warm.
--Barbara

A Long List of Errands

marks my Tuesday this week. First I'm off to the bank to do estate stuff and cash my beloved paycheck. Then I'll visit the Dollar Store to get some Glade and after that I'll get my scraggly nails done by either Kim or Tuyn at the nail salon. I'll visit my friend Skully to see how she's feeling and gift her with Mom's big box of ribbon embroidery books and supplies because I know she likes to do that sort of stuff, maybe stop and play with Porter the grand-dog for a while and let Henny peck my newly painted nails (she loves my red nails, or maybe she hates them, but she pecks at them and I prefer to believe it's love), and then go to the DOLL ROOM to get a start on taping boxes shut and making prices on them. Hmm, maybe I'll go there sooner and load up the doll shoes, socks, and hats, then stop by the doll store on the east side to see if she'd like to buy them off us and save us the hassle of trying to sell them. Better call first. Dang it, another estate thought just zoomed through my mind and I wasn't fast enough to catch it. Oh well. Ah, got it. I need to stop at an office store to get some price tags for next Sunday. This afternoon or evening I want to whip up a cauldron of chicken soup for work lunches this week and next because I have to work lots of days and need something nutritious and delicious and not off-plan. I've got a big bag of frozen peaches, mangoes, pineapple and strawberries so I can defrost those for lunchtime fruit. Mmm, soup and fruit. What's not to love?

November 4--Edgar Degas, The Rehearsal Onstage. The floor was gritty with rosin and it crunched. LaBelle stood still and pale holding her last pose while the final notes quivered in the chilly air. A pair of hands clapped once startling her out of her concentration. She shuddered but let herself down off en pointe, her heels kissing like grainy floorboards like feathers. The chatter of the chorus girls and boys flowed around her as she drew a shawl gray like cobwebs across her shoulders. She was an oasis of dignity and calm in the center of the whirlwind of the stage.

And that's when the lines went all wonky and I dropped off to sleep. That Degas and his ballerinas. He had a mania for them, didn't he? I watched a series on the Impressionists from Netflix and really enjoyed seeing them as actual men instead of icons or shadowy figures lurking behind their paintings. Imagination is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Mine keeps me entertained all the time.
--Barbara

Monday, Payday

I always look forward to going to work on Mondays because Monday is payday at the dive shop. I love pulling the cash out of the safe and having that little check in there too. I sign my timecard, write a new one for the week, and then tuck my paycheck into my wallet. Ahhh, what a lovely feeling. About one-third of my pay goes into the grocery wallet on the kitchen shelf, $50 of it goes into my stash to pay for weeks at The Clearing or weekend retreats with friends, and the rest is mineminemine to do with what I will. I can buy yarn or fabric or books or kites or lunch or... or whatever I want. Liberating, that's what that is. I'm trying not to buy yarn this year because I have a metric crapload of the stuff down in the basement. Bringing home stuff from Mom's (sewing stuff like thread and a bit of this and that which added up to another metric crapload) has shown me that I have to stop being sentimental and sell Mom's stuff and also that I need to stop, dead stop, buying anything until I get some of the fabric and yarn down there sewn and knitted/crocheted up. Last night we took DS & DIL1 out for supper to celebrate his 33rd birthday and to thank them both for all their help with Mom's funeral and the attendant activities, then we retired to their place for cake. Mmm, steak followed by carrot cake. It was an excellent night. DD & DIL2, you're next, just as soon as you get here next month. This is not a threat, it's a promise.

November 13--Edmund C. Coates, Bay and Harbor View. "Sailing, sailing over the bounding main..." Mark's voice boomed with joy in the early morning light. From the back seat stereo roans greeted his song. "Dad, don't sing," Avery said with all the pain a thirteen year old can put in his voice. "Yeah, Dad," ten year old Lisa said, "I'm sleeping." Just then the car floated over a small hill and the kids gasped and giggled at the momentary weightless thrill. Thank god they're not too jaded and sophisticated to enjoy a good tummy tickle, Mark thought. The morning sun glinted on the chop of the bay between the small harbor of Bay Ridge and Bedlow Island a half mile offshore. The morning was brightening fast and he couldn't wait to get his ketch rigged and out on the water. Even if the kids grumbled about it he knew they liked to sail with him.

Ooh, everything's too happy and going too well. I feel a storm coming on. Have a day.
--Barbara

A Bit of Knitting

I'm telling you (and I know I keep harping on this but it's consuming all my available personal RAM) but I'm too driven to get thorugh all of Mom's stuff and have a sale before the end of November so we don't have to pay another month's rent. I did make an awesome discovery the other day in the doll room. I found Mom's knitting basket. I remember being pretty small, about 10 years old, and this basket sat on the floor next to her place on the couch and held her knitting and her latest romance novel. Now it's holding my knitting. No novel because mine lives either on the counter next to the potty or on my nightstand.






I found a pattern for some bulky yarn fingerless mitts and decided that I need another pair. So I dug up a couple of skeins of worsted that I bought at a Fiber Fest in Valders last November. They're the undyed wool of a "black" sheep. I put the word "black" in quotes because the sun bleaches the wool and it's really dark, walnut brown, but I like it anyway. I'm holding it double and it's knitting up beautifully, crisp and defined stitches and it feels great. I can't wait to finish them. Here's some of the sheep that the wool came from and here's the mitt so far.




Last night we took DS & DIL1 out to supper at the Prime Quarter Steak House for DS's 33rd birthday and to thank them for all their help during the funeral. We had a great time. Mmm, steak.

Writing Promptly

It was a little difficult to get my brain wrestled back into the swing of nightly writing. I've been feeling like I was hit over the head with a 2 X 4 for the last 3 weeks, maybe more since Mom was in the hospital for a week before she went to rehab where she passed away after 5 days. So it's been more like 5 weeks that I've been in the middle of this particular whirlwind. Today TW, AJ, and I met at Mom's and pulled out all the things in cupboards, closets, under beds, and anywhere else she hid, uh, stored things. We took some tables in to set things out and next Sunday we plan to finish up sorting and price things, then we'll be ready to have an Estate Sale the weekend after Thanksgiving so that we'll attract deer hunting widows. That was AJ's idea. Pretty good, eh? Look! I cleaned out the doll room closet! It's a small triumph but very appreciated.

November 12--Edmund C. Coates, Bay and Harbor of New York from Bedlow's Island. Sarah had been down to the harbor many times. She loved the noise and the sounds of so many voices from so many countries. The ships sailing in or out brought spices and goods from all over the globe. She had been sent into town to deliver a dress order for her mistress. That errand had been swiftly done, and she had slipped down two blocks from Mrs. Parkins' Dress Shop to breathe in the salty air and to dream of one day seeing other parts of the world.

See? Not exactly a rip-roaring return to the page but a return nevertheless.
--Barbara