This is gonna be a quickie. I want to hit the ground running today. It's my only day off between now and Family Supper and I need to get ready. GET READY! I didn't find the time to clean the daylights out of the kitchen on Tuesday, I did manage to do a teensy bit of pre-cleaning the other night after work, but I want to get back to the edges of the counters with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (don't you love those?) today. I've already eaten and in an hour I want to be picking up Miss Porter McPorterpants (the grand-dog) to walk with Skully & Maggie, then I'll hit the grocery for more bell peppers and some fat-free sour cream (or maybe I'll just use the no-fat Greek yogurt I got at the U Bake the other day) to make some curry dip for appetizers, hm. Which one, which one? Last night's Knitting Guild picnic was lovely. Not as many people (I don't think, although the weather was better so we weren't all crammed into one room) but the food was great and the company even greater. I find it totally engrossing that so many disparate personalities all have the same hobby. Plus the food rocks. Who wouldn't love a table groaning with salads of every kind and enough desserts to put the whole crowd into a coma? We talked and ate and knitted and talked and knitted and talked... until it got too dark to knit outside. Then we went home. It was perfect. Thanks, Vicki! I just realized that either Mr. or Mrs. Boss or both were at work with me this week. Maybe they won't be tomorrow. Oh, wait, yes they will be because they're going to Shawano to do the annual gear service for the dive team and will be done and back long before closing time. *sigh* Good thing I don't get punished for knitting at work.
May 11--Greek, Hellenistic Period, Ganymede Jewelry Set. The gold jewelry felt like boulders and chains weighing her down. When Charles leaned over her, draping the necklace around her, Nita felt as if he had slipped a noose over her head. "Like it?" he asked, spots of red lighting his cheeks. She knew the right answer. "Mm-hm. It's lovely." She forced her hand to reach up and touch the gold that lay cold upon her pale skin. His hands tightened their grip on her shoulders. "It's a copy of the Ganymede parure. Leo had it made for Grandmother in the thirties." He touched his lips to the pulse in her neck. "I knew it would look right on this tender skin of yours." His fingers caressed her, sending shivers down her legs. She was glad to be sitting, sure that she wouldn't be able to stand with the weight of the thing around her neck.
Well. The jewelry didn't look that heavy. Oh well, I can never predict what runs out my fingers late at night. Time for dressing, then dog-getting, then walking. Hasta la vista, babies.
--Barbara
Cool in the morning and warm during the day. Ahhhh. (and I'm tired of Spellcheck telling me that it's wrong if I put extra aitches or ems into "sound" words for emphasis) My lettuce is up (see the tiny green specks? Click on the pic to embiggen) and I planted lots of rosemary. I don't know why, but rosemary's the herb I can't get out of my head lately. The spinach, basil, and scallion seeds are still working on sprouting but I have faith in them. Tonight's the Knitting Guild May meeting/picnic; my half of the alphabet's supposed to bring salads so I've eighth-ed 3 bell peppers and stirred a teaspoon of sweet curry powder into the carton of ricotta cheese. When I get to Vicki's I'll lay the peppers out on a platter, spoon on a bit of cheese (which should be varying degrees of curry-ness because it's not all stirred together uniformly [on purpose]), and then grind on a bit of black pepper. Mmm, yummy and not run of the mill. I even remembered to put my bag o'chair into Beverly's back hatch so I'll have someplace to sit, and my Wingspan shawlette is the perfect project for a picnic--all garter stitch and no counting. (What's not to love?) Mr. Boss was at the dive shop most of yesterday--again. He'd bought a new "cleaner" program, trying to de-virus the thing so that it worked faster than a snail (which worked) and would let Outlook boot up (which did not). That's where business emails come and it won't open on that computer. He said that Mrs. Boss tried to accuse me of downloading a virus (and maybe I did unwittingly) but she's always out there on travel sites looking for places to go and I suspect that virus-mongers haunt those sites too. Ah well, it's done so now the fixing begins. Because they're running Windows on a Mac they'd have trouble finding a repair person to work on it (evidently there's little cross-pollination) so he gets to bumble around, trying his best. I think she'd like to take a hatchet to it and just go back to paper and pencil. Some days I sympathize with that sentiment. Oh, and DIL1 GOT A NEW JOB!!!!! With insurance!!!! She applied on May 1, interviewed on Monday (May 7), and was offered the job on Tuesday (May 8). I can only think that they acted so quickly so that she didn't get away. Congratulations, Sweetie! I couldn't be happier and prouder of you if you were my own sweet baby. Mwa! (((((X))))) The bad news is that all the "fun" things like beer & food pairing dinners will go away; the good news is now there might be grandchildren. Someday. If they decide to do that sort of thing. Also good news is that she might only have to work 40 hours a week instead of 60 or 100, and will actually have a marriage and a LIFE. It's all good. She's a keeper. We've got her (okay, DS does) and you can't have her.
May 10--Charles Willson Peale, George Washington. Thom squinted up at the painting over Sister Joseph Therese's desk. He was trying to figure out how to make a spitwad stick in the middle of old George Washington's forehead. The funny thing was that the Gorge in the painting looked like he wouldn't really mind it. He looked like he might have owned a pea shooter when he was a kid. Sister thought George was the best of the best. She said he was honest and she didn't like it when Thom said, "But, Sister, I thought they called Abraham Lincoln "Honest Abe." He stayed in for recess for that one. Thom had his best shooter straw shoved down the spine of his math textbook laying right out in the open on his desk. It was math time and Sister was pacing up and down the rows of desks, talking about angles and trajectory. He paid close attention. Maybe he'd finally learn something useful in school.
Ah, Sister Joseph Therese... she was the bane of my seventh grade year. A hulking nun who always checked in her hankie after she blew her nose. One smart aleck boy said, "are you reading your fortune?" when she did it one day. He was down in Sister Mary Jane's office so fast he didn't know what hit him. Sister Mary Jane was the principal. She was scrawny and terrifying. Okay, I have strawberries today. I need to go eat some. A bunch of them. Maybe all of them to wipe memories of nuns being nuns (remember the clacking of those huge rosaries when they walked?) out of my mind. Toodle-oo.
--Barbara
...that I have to go to work today. It's shaping up to be one gorgeous day--sunny and mild--and I don't wanna be shut up in a cement block bunker all day with a dodgy computer--and dodgier bosses. On Monday both Mr. and Mrs. Boss were there trying to fix the internets and a few other computer & POS (Point Of Sale, that means cash register for those of us old enough to remember life without computers [be still my heart]) and there was tension to burn. I was waiting on the customer of the day (the only one!) who was looking at spearguns. I take my time with customers, letting them lead (sort of), and employing pauses so that they can sell themselves by eagerly filling that silence. (I learned that from Durwood, thanks, Dear, it works like a charm) Mr. Boss kept butting in, "helping" me sell the guy, and jumping ahead in my sales plan. Imagine 2 people trying to sell you, wouldn't you balk? I would. Too much pressure. I held my tongue until after the guy left--with his new pole spear and trident tip, I might add--and then I let Mr. Boss have it. With both barrels. Then I stormed out the back door to fume/cry in peace for 10 minutes. I came back in to hear him hollering at her (?????) and then things went back to (semi)normal. I did apologize to each of them individually for my outburst and we managed to coexist in there until I left at 6 PM. At one point I couldn't take their bickering for another minute (it's their sole way of interaction) and went into the back to knit. It's crazy enough to work in a place where sales are few and far between, but to have them/him be so unprofessional is a real stunner. I've told them a number of times that they need to stop being so pushy and desperate when they're trying to sell, and never poor-mouth which is one of his favorite tactics, but they don't listen. Mrs. Boss is better than he his, still unwilling to make a deal to make a sale, but not as desperate-sounding. At least I've stopped having a stomach ache from not being able to change their behavior and "save the business" like I did the first 2 years they owned it. At least I can change. It is good to get paid to surf the web, knit, and listen to stories on my iPod, although sometimes I feel like I'm stealing my paycheck but, hey, someone has to sit there and answer the robo-calls and referee when they're there together. Less blood flies when I'm there, I guess. Think of your paycheck, Barbara. It's all about the money. Huh, I used to work there for love and now it's just about the money. Too bad. I still need to be there for JJ and BLV and ES and KC and... well, the staff and the customers, some of whom have been known to call me at home to ask when I'll be in to avoid having to deal with Mrs. Boss. That's flattering. (Life sure is strange, isn't it? Mine sure is; I hope yours is too.)
May 9--Adolphe Braun, Albumen Silver Print from Glass Negative. There were too many booms to count on Mama's "Rose of Sharon" bush the year Hack moved into the house down the road. He said they called him Hack because as a kid he'd always spent his penny on a kind of candy called hack but I never tasted it and he didn't explain. Hack worked as a foreman on construction jobs all over the tri-county area and drove a dark green pickup with a tool box bolted behind the cab. That was years before Rubbermaid made one so Hack built his own with iron strap hinges and a hasp so his padlock kept things safe. In his spare time Hack would be in his workshop building furniture. He had a feel for wood that let him make things others could only dream of. He'd let me sit by the stove in his shop and watch, as long as I stayed out of his way. He let me put cheese out for his pet mouse Herbie.
How I got from a picture of a rosebush to my Grandpa Stephan I do not know, but I'm glad I got to visit with him again in my memory. Enjoy your day and don't yell at your boss. I'll try not to too.
--Barbara
At Friday Knit Night I was catching up on my Maple Tree scarf rows. I cut the black sock yarn and added in a different, brighter green because the leaves were starting to emerge and were greener than the buds. I was thinking that I'd eliminate the black and add in another green to emphasize the greenness of the leaves, letting the brown fade into the background, perhaps even scaling brown back to a sock-weight brown for the summer. Well, that bright, lime-y green was just wrong. It was too blue for the ambiance of the scarf as it was but I kept knitting it in thinking I'd get used to it. I didn't. I went down and pulled out all the greens I had gathered. The skein of Heart & Sole kept jumping into my hand, so I carried it up, tinked back to where the wrong green started and added in the Green Envy. I also decided that the trunk deserves to be represented by a worsted weight brown all year, so the brown sock-weight went away and a skein of brown brown got spit-spliced onto the end of the original heather brown skein. Now that that's decided I feel much better. 
Here's a gratuitous cute baby bunny photo. It's name is Flash because it's exceedingly speedy when it dashes across the patio.
I had such high hopes for today. Hopes to get the kitchen cleaned. Instead I walked with Porter, Skully, and Maggie for over 3 miles, went to the bank, dropped off Porter, went to Hobby Lobby to buy a birthday gift for DIL2, picked up a book at the library, stopped at Walgreens for a gift card and some new earbuds, dropped off an empty SCUBA tank at Van's Fire & Safety for a hydro test, went to Kennedy school to vote in the recall election primary, ducked into U-Bake for frozen dinner roll dough balls, came home for a quick lunch, went to the dentist, drove back across town to potty Porter, came back to wrap DIL2's gift & write the card, then to FedEx Kinkos to ship it off. *pant, pant* Damn Tuesdays, they're always chock full of errands and things-to-do and I don't get everything done and then I get frustrated. Right now I'm eating a bowl of pretzels. Crunchy and salty snacks are good frustration eating. I count out 18 and that's 3 WW Points Plus points. Cheap satisfaction. I plan to tackle the pile o'crap that lives on the end of the counter after supper, and maybe I'll clear off and clean the shelf with the canisters, etc. that's over the dishwasher. I'll still have Friday to get the joint cleaned to "having company" standard. Hey, that pound that returned when I went back to "regular" eating? It left again. Yahoo. Last night we were sitting at the kitchen table watching Dancing With The Stars (Donald Driver's on there and he's a Packer, ya know) when I saw this tiny brown streak zoom across the patio. I watched and it came back. It was Flash, the baby bunny. A couple years ago there were two baby bunnies, one that zoomed around and one that hopped a bit then sat staring around no matter what was going on, so I called them Flash and Bobo. I decided that those are good names for all baby bunnies. I haven't seen a Bobo yet this year but I did manage to snap a photo of Flash looking all cute. I think they're cute until I catch them eating my ferns, that is. I noticed this morning that the leaf lettuce I planted last week has sprouted. I'd take its picture but the little green dots are so small they don't show up as different from the white things in the potting soil. Trust me, they're there. I'll be getting out the chicken wire fencing to protect my salad by the weekend.
May 8--John and Hugh Finlay, Side Chair. The music played. Three children circled two painted chairs, concentration making them frown.
And that's all there was last night. I got that one thought down on paper, then I woke up an hour later to take off my glasses, put my notebook and pencil on the nightstand, and turn out the light. I promise I'll do better tonight. Cross my heart.
--Barbara
It didn't take nearly as long to give the bathroom what-for as it did the living room on Saturday. It had better not. It's about 1/3 the size plus bathroom dirt's just ooky and must regularly be beaten back to an acceptable level, and I do that. I do see a pressing need to paint the bathroom soon, once it's warm enough to leave the windows open. All those steamy showers take a toll. The male Red-bellied Woodpecker is spending lots of time on the suet lately. Durwood's tried taking his picture but through the screen doesn't do well. At all. And one of the hawks has been hunting too. Durwood's not sure if it's the Sharp-shinned Hawk or the littler Cooper's Hawk but it sure is fun to watch. He never fails to tell me what I've missed, the darling man. The scale has registered a .4# weight gain the last 2 days, proof that my guesstimate that at least one of the pounds I lost during that 4 day shakes & fast diet was due to lack of salt. I'm not fussed, I'm back on the straight and narrow with my points and there's nothing that's more aerobic (and productive) than cleaning and hauling winter clothes and excess random crap downstairs. I love putting things away. A place for everything and everything in its place... I'm getting there, slowly but surely. I sent off a check last week and paid in full for my week at The Clearing in September. Even though this blog blabbering and my nightly prompts are all of my writing these days I still am looking forward to a week of focused writing and working on that novel manuscript that needs a little tweaking and some additional fleshing out in the later chapters. I know that it's mulling around in the back of my brain and something semi-brilliant (or at least serviceable) will come out when I need it. I can't leave Rose and whatshisname out there on that island all unsatisfied and unfulfilled, can I? No. No, I can't. And I won't. Because that would just be wrong. There's a guy coming to patch the tiny nick and incipient crack in the rental's fiberglass bathtub in a little while so I'm going to wrap this up and make sure I'm decently covered (or at least have my hoodie zipped up to hide my saggy and unfettered boobs) when he arrives. Or I suppose I could grab a quick shower and fetter things so I look humanoid... yeah, maybe, if I quit blabbering and get going.
May 7--Anatolia, Seated Goddess with a Child. She looked benign, that golden face about the size of a quarter. Mariel smiled back at her and, taking her softest brush in hand, began to gently move the dirt out away from the face it see if it was a complete piece or just a fragment. A burst of laughter from the camp reminded her that night had fallen completely and she was hungry. Her hands kept moving and smoothing the soil, each movement revealing more of the figure. Soon it was fulling uncovered. the goddess in her ceremonial headdress and jewelry sat on a chair with cat feet, holding a boy-child on her lap. "Adenab," Mariel said aloud. The goddess of creation in the Hittite culture that had thrived in that place around the 13th century B.C. still held a place in the lives of the locals. Many little girls were named for her and many women built small shrines to her in their homes. Mariel sat staring down at the small golden statue small enough to fit into her hand and thought about the reaction when she revealed her find. She knew she should go right away so that Dr. O'Neill could photograph her where she lay and then put her in the safe in his tent. It would be foolish to leave the little treasure out there now that it had been found and uncovered. Mariel had just put down her tools to go announce her discovery when she thought she heard a footstep in the gravelly sand behind her. "Who's there?" she said. Her voice sounded loud to her and she was surprised to hear it shake. She turned to see if there was someone out there when her lantern when out. The blow came out of the darkness, knocking her out before she could scream.
OMG! That's not half-bad. I wonder who it is out there in the dark. Hmm, I may have to do something about this story bit. Plus I was thrilled that I pulled a goddess name out of the ether so late at night last night. Pretty good, eh? Hey, have a great day and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Hasta la vista, chicas.
--Barbara
If your definition of one is dreary, rainy & GREEN, it is. See? See the pretty raindrops in the birdbath? My definition might lean that way, at least today since I want to spend the day evicting Old Cesspool from the bathroom, and then sitting and crafting on the couch until time for my 2-weeks-delayed haircut. (It's hard to believe that it's been two weeks already since we drove home from visiting DD & DIL2 but it has.) I was going to tackle the bathroom while Durwood napped this morning but then I realized that I'd be clonking around in the shower which shares a wall with his napping spot so I'd risk waking him. I'm not the quietest of cleaners... in fact, I don't do much quietly. It surely won't take me 3 hours to clean the bathroom, it's not that big a room, and it isn't that dirty, but I do want to use the Mr. Clean Magic Reach in the shower stall and that makes noise, or rather, I make noise with it. But now it's nearly noon and that's when Durwood wanted to be awakened so instead of going in and gently shaking him saying, "Honey, it's noon" or awakening him in a more friendly fashion, I could just get started cleaning and let the dulcet tones of aluminum on fiberglass wake him up. Hmm, which to do? (BTW, remind me next time I finish my one cup of morning caffeinated coffee that I should NOT have even another half-cup. Even if Durwood's made a fresh pot and it's aroma is enticing. Right now I feel the drug coursing through my veins and my jaw is tightening into an over-caffeinated clench as we speak. Grrr.)
May 6--Central Anatolia, Seated Goddess with a Child. The glitter kept Mariel in the pit until after dark. All day there were minute flicks of gold in the dirt she was painstakingly removing from her assigned section of the grid. It got cold when the sun when down here on the edge of the Turkish desert but she shrugged into her denim jacket and kept working toward the source of that tantalizing gleam. She shifted to rest on her hip and stretch out her legs. They were cramped and nearly numb from being sat on for most of the day. Once Harriet, who was working a meter away in the next grid square, left for supper she could make herself comfortable without getting snarled at by the petite blond. Harriet had found a breastplate with glass beads in it a few days ago. She had rubbed herself all over Dr. O'Neill when he bent down to examine her find in situ. That Harriet, she'd stop at nothing to get ahead. Just when Mariel was about ready to pack it in for the night, her trowel hit metal. She brushed awaay the sandy soil and a calm golden face glinting in the lantern light gazed up at her.
Dun-dun-duuuun. Oh, I can tell that hussy Harriet's just waiting in the shadows trying to figure out a way to either discredit or remove Mariel. Guess we'll have to wait and see what happens tonight. Good thing the weekend can generate a two-part story, eh? Ah, the sleepyhead's up; time to attack the bathroom. Don't want Old Cesspool's hairy hands grabbing our guests' ankles when they sit on "the throne," do we?
--Barbara
This is gonna be a quickie. I want to hit the ground running today. It's my only day off between now and Family Supper and I need to get ready. GET READY! I didn't find the time to clean the daylights out of the kitchen on Tuesday, I did manage to do a teensy bit of pre-cleaning the other night after work, but I want to get back to the edges of the counters with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (don't you love those?) today. I've already eaten and in an hour I want to be picking up Miss Porter McPorterpants (the grand-dog) to walk with Skully & Maggie, then I'll hit the grocery for more bell peppers and some fat-free sour cream (or maybe I'll just use the no-fat Greek yogurt I got at the U Bake the other day) to make some curry dip for appetizers, hm. Which one, which one? Last night's Knitting Guild picnic was lovely. Not as many people (I don't think, although the weather was better so we weren't all crammed into one room) but the food was great and the company even greater. I find it totally engrossing that so many disparate personalities all have the same hobby. Plus the food rocks. Who wouldn't love a table groaning with salads of every kind and enough desserts to put the whole crowd into a coma? We talked and ate and knitted and talked and knitted and talked... until it got too dark to knit outside. Then we went home. It was perfect. Thanks, Vicki! I just realized that either Mr. or Mrs. Boss or both were at work with me this week. Maybe they won't be tomorrow. Oh, wait, yes they will be because they're going to Shawano to do the annual gear service for the dive team and will be done and back long before closing time. *sigh* Good thing I don't get punished for knitting at work.
