It's Friday! Hooray!

I've been looking forward to today all week. Porter & Maggie are taking me & Skully walking on the woodsy part of Baird Creek Trail, our #1 favorite trail. (Oh, did I tell you that one of the yogis told us last Friday that he'd heard that the "loop" segment of Ken Euers Trail out along the bay is a gay meet-up spot? Goodness.) Then we've got a prospective tenant stopping by, and I get to do a little sewing, go to yoga & knitting, then spend the night at Porter's house so DS & DIL1 can run away to visit her brother & SIL in Minneapolis. Should be fun. I'll bring Porter with me when I come home to sew etc. and then can go pretend I'm out of town (well, I will be on the east side across a big river so it'll be kind of another town). I'll take my laptop and all my assorted electronic toys as well as my knitting, and they've got a Wii Fit so I can play with that if I get bored. I'd better check if it's operational. Ah well, maybe me & Porty will take more walks. The weather's supposed to be excellent for the next week. Tomorrow night's the dive shop staff appreciation party. I'm looking forward to spending time with Bonnie, Terry, Kevin & Deb--we don't get to see them enough. Perhaps we should invite them over. What a novel concept, eh? Having friends over--whooda thunk it? And then in less than 3 weeks (one day less, but still, it's less) I'll be down in Sheboygan with Lala playing with origami, her new laminater (ooh, I should pack the big paper cutter... I'll put that on my list), my manuscript, walking on the beach, maybe geocaching... There won't be enough weekend, I'm afraid for all the cool stuff we want to do. Durwood and I watched a documentary on PBS last night (it's their begging campaign time, ugh) about paper folders. It was riveting, so riveting that I bought it on Amazon and downloaded it to my Kindle Fire. I'm loving that toy. Loving. It. Once I figure out/learn how to convert my iTunes music & books to mp3s and get all that stuff over there, I'll love it even more. (can you help me, Cookie?) I did, quite by accident, manage to download the app so I can borrow books, etc. directly from the library onto there. Soon it'll be my bitch, instead of the other way around.

March 15--Jean Fouquet, Portrait of an Ecclesiastic. So few lines to make a man, Roger thought. His gloved hands hovered over the parchment wanting to touch it but knowing he shouldn't. He leaned over to look closely, to see the way the metalpoint of the artist had scored the thick parchment that the black chalk had been rubbed into. In nearly six hundred years it hadn't smudged which said something for the old ways of preservation. The look of the man's flesh, the absolute certainty of the structure of bone and muscle beneath that skin, tightened Roger's throat with admiration. Few artists had the gift, or the skill he supposed one might say, to infuse life into so few lines, to imply dimension, to make it a certainty on a single sheet of paper. His eye was drawn to the two dark letters in the lower right corner. "RH" They were so dark, such an assertion that Roger felt sure that they were the product of the brazen hand of a forger. Today's work in the lab would prove him right or wrong. He reached for the ultraviolet filter to start with the simplest of tests when all the lights went out, plunging him into total darkness.

Dun-dun-duuuuun. Now, this story? I want to go on, want to know what happens next. That's a good thing. But first it's Cheerios, prunes, and walking with Porty McPorterpants. I'll put a big star by this notebook page or maybe a bright pink Post-it. You have an awesome Friday. I can smell by the warming air that I will.
--Barbara

Now That Spring's On The Way...

... I'm nearly done with Z-Cowl. I can't wait to finish it and put it in a sink of wool wash for a little soak, then pat it dry on a nice, fluffy towel, and then put it on. I know it's going to look smashing on me. You think so too, I can tell.

This morning on my way over to put a few lightbulbs into 1508 I saw this cheerful little bouquet had appeared overnight.

It was a welcome sight since this is the tip of the iceberg of what Durwood saw when he went in yesterday. *sigh* He had the locks changed yesterday. He's got the plumber and painter on the job. I need to call our electrician to set up a visit. We picked out laminate, wood-looking flooring for the kitchen, entries, and bath, and carpeting for the hall, bedrooms, and living room last, now we contact an installer to get that ball rolling. We were going to try to save it in two of the rooms but we've realized that the new carpet will make the old look even older. *double sigh* It's not the end of the world, at least there are no holes in the walls and they didn't take the light fixtures. We will survive and even triumph. I have a good feeling.

Good Grief

Our tenants left day before yesterday. Durwood went to check it out. They didn't clean. We have to replace most of the flooring. There's crayon, marker, and pencil on the walls, candle wax on the carpeting, and what looks like oily footprints down the hall. Gah! We went last night to Menards to look at flooring and carpeting, and picked out some laminate that won't scratch or tear with heavy use and the portable dishwasher rolling over it, and some neutral colored carpeting that seems durable. It's embarrassing to take lookers in, so embarrassing that he'll take the flooring and carpet samples to say "this is what will be there." We're hoping to salvage the living room & bedroom 2's carpets. Fingers crossed. We need to contact our electrician friend to get all the outlets and fixtures checked, call a plumber, find a painter, schedule flooring installation, order another garage door opener online, replace shredded screens & missing window shades, schedule a thorough cleaning--all by April 1 when we'll hopefully have a tenant ready to move in. We're keeping the security deposit. Just when we thought we were getting a handle on things... We will survive!

On the positive side, the gutter guys did a bang-up job yesterday. They were friendly and polite, cleaned up after themselves, and finished ahead of schedule. Now we've replaced all the big stuff--siding, windows, roof, gutters, and added leaf guards so Mama isn't out on the ladder when there's lightning. All good.

March 14--French, Suit. Jeanne watched her granddaughter Lisette bend lower over the sewing in her hand until her nose nearly touched the linen. From the time she was very small, Lissy had been fascinated by her grandmother's bright embroidery silks. She sat by Jeanne's feet laying out the colors, untangling the hands, and lining up the silver and gold needles that were like an artist's brush in her hands. Today Jeanne had cut a square from an old sheet. She drew a snowman with a top hat on the cloth and gave Lissy her first lesson. Now she watched with pride as the six-year-old made her first hesitant stitches.

I want to go open up the house next door to air it out and replace burned out or missing bulbs. One thing I never wanted to grow up to be is a landlady. Still don't really want to be one.
--Barbara

Oops

I just discovered that yesterday's link for The Red Mile Racetrack doesn't work. This one should work. Sorry if I ruined your day. Looks like The Red Mile doesn't open until Durwood's birthday on August 5th anyway, so I guess we'll have to make the sacrifice and go to the last weekend of Keeneland's Spring Meet. So, DD & DIL2, gird your loins for the invasion of BAM & DAM sometime on April 26th. We'll probably set off when I get off work at 5 on Wednesday, stay down around Hwy. 50 for the night (you know, in Racine [Racine or Kenosha? I get confused] by the Brat Stop) and then strike out for southern parts early on Thursday. We'd like to stay at that first place we stayed at (when I had the gall bladder attack--no Hot Brown for me, thanks), you know, DD, the one by Parisa Market, if they have a room, otherwise the other one by the Georgetown Road (and the naughty toys store, oh yeah, and Starbucks) would be good too. I hope this give you enough time to arrange to be off work on the 26th and 27th, and DIL2, is that by any chance when the cemetery walk is? Remember we were going to do it the weekend we first met but it was pouring rain? I'd like to spend the morning with you walking among the tombstones if we could. I'm also thinking I'd like to go to the Kentucky Horse Park to see the baby horsies, though, too. Too much for one weekend, you think? We'll just have to come back then, maybe in the fall when there's harness racing. (heeheehee)

Yesterday on our walk Porter proved that she's the mistress of the timber bridge. She led the way the whole walk, except when I shortened her leash so she didn't run into the street, and the scary bridge was nothing, NOTHING, to the fearless lead dog--except one noisy semi that sent her racing back to me and one ginormous thorn that made her limp until I plucked it out. We made her stand still for a nanosecond to take her picture with Maggie, her walking pal. Don't they look cute together? They're happy to walk me and Skully whenever we want them to. I get to sleep over at Porter's house this weekend and when DS & DIL1 are in Germany next month so they don't have to pay beaucoup bucks to the kennel. It'll kind of be like when Durwood was on the road but reversed, plus he can take her to our house during the day so she won't be alone so much.

March 13--Attributed to Mukunda Painter, Khamma of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. "The storm winds blew themselves out and all the boats when out on the lake so the king or rajah or whatever he's called could go swimming." This is the dumbest assignment we've ever had in all of fifth grade. Scott squinted at the post Ms. Challe had pinned up on the board and then hunched over his paper again. What did he care what was happening in this picture painted over five hundred years ago? But Ms. Challe was convinced there was a story and they had to guess what it was. "The guy in the white turban and the pink robe sat in the back of the boat trying to show off that he chased the storm away." Yeah, that was good.

So the gutter guys are here, ripping off the old gutters, and then they'll put up new ones with leaf-preventer things over them. We decided I'm getting too old to be climbing ladders in the middle of thunderstorms. *sigh* Will I miss the icy cold water running down my arm into my armpit? Not on your Nellie. I did Wii Fit Yoga, goofed around with downloading a book onto my Kindle (didn't go well), and now I'm doing this daily posting. Soon I'll eat, take a speed shower, and book out of here for the peace and tranquillity of the dive shop, Kindle, iPod and knitting in hand. I know how to spend the day, don't you worry 'bout me.
--Barbara

Up With the Birds

and in the dark. This encapsulates my anti-DST feelings. In one swell foop we went from getting up to dawn's early light and birdies chirping happily to awaking to nearly full dark and only a few brave birds peeping. Like I said, it makes it hard to roust myself out. But I managed today, and the Wii Fit says I lost weight, more than a pound, yesterday. Now I know that weighing every day isn't a true measure of weight lost, gained, or maintained but, kids, I gotta tell you, having that little tray-guy jump around and think I've lost weight MAKES MY DAY. Now, I'm glad that I got up early so I can crow a bit here and then pick Porter up and go walking with Skully and RainMag (Maggie rides the short bus; she's a little ;"special," too cute for words and friendly as all get out, but not the brightest bulb in the marquee) along the trail. That makes my whole day better and brighter. I'm determined to do everything I can to drag myself out of the doldrums. I know that missing Mom isn't going to go away anytime soon, if ever, but I need to stop letting it color my whole life. I'm too happy to be so sad for so long. Durwood suggested that we take a long weekend in the latter half of April and go down to visit DD & DIL2. There should be horse racing, either thoroughbred or harness (we're hoping for harness) so that'll be a fun thing to do and we want to investigate the barbecue at a country shack joint we ran across when we were down there for their wedding last spring and got lost. It was called Bubba's or something like that, it looked like it was made from scrap lumber, and it had four or five pickups (with gun racks) in the parking lot. It's bound to have great food, right? We both need to get out of Dodge for a few days. I'm going to meet Lala in Sheboygan on Holy Thursday and spend a few days writing and walking and goofing off and I CAN'T WAIT. We started doing this a few years ago and it has assumed legendary proportions in both our minds and psyches. Last year was the year of the Supermoon which was totally awesome, so now we plan to be there for a full moon. It won't be as super as the Supermoon but we'll sit on the chilly and windy shore watching it rise out of Lake Michigan and it'll be freaking fabulous. This year we'll bring blankets to stay warm in; we froze last year. Durwood doesn't have a boon companion like Lala so he doesn't get to run away and play so I make the sacrifice and go with him, like our UP tour last Fall. I'm a good wife.

March 12--Iran or Mesopotamia, Head of a Ruler. Gee stumbled back. The empty eye sockets in the verdigris head made her breath catch in her throat. She removed the rest of the packing in the crate noticing that some of it was stained. Reaching into the box on the shelf behind her work table she pulled on latex gloves, the sharp familiar smell of the rubber filler her nostrils. The copper alloy head that she lifted carefully out of the packing had the aroma of the desert clinging to it even though it had spent the last fifty years in a university museum in Des Moines. As she turned to place the head in the padded tray she felt something move. "Oh hell," she said under her breath, "I hope it hasn't broken in shipping." She leaned over and shone a penlight into one of the empty eye sockets. She gasped and dripped the light when it revealed a severed finger, a fresh one, inside.

Ew. That's all I have to say--ew. Gotta go eat my Cheerios and prunes so I can play with Porter, Maggie, and Skully for a while. And take Maggie's picture, I don't have any to share with you and that's an oversight I can rectify. Then I'm making veggie soup. I love soup. You love soup too?
--Barbara

Look!

You have to see what I'm making with Z-Dawg's handspun.

It's Z-Cowl!

I found the pattern on Ravelry yesterday, cast on, and it's zooming along. I've saved some of the red and white (hopefully half) for the other end of the cowl. I totally love how it's knitting up. I've never made or worn a cowl so I'm knitting like the wind to get it down before real Spring sets in and it's too warm to wear it.

The next, larger Color Stripe Vessel is growing too. I'm looking forward to having them to put small doodads into on my yarn shelf or the coffee table.

And it's raining. That's a good thing because I saw that the rhubarb is poking its tiny pink noses out of the ground, rain will be good for it. True Spring must be on the way if the rhubard's growing. Pies are on the way!

I finished the Pinboard to hang in my studio. I had three small bags of wooden buttons that I placed and re-placed on the ribbon intersections until I was satisfied, then I hot glued them in place, burning 3 of my fingers on just one button. I am grace and dexterity personified. I like the way it turned out and can see it'll be a great place to post ideas and instructions. Plus it makes the space look good. More studio-y and less basement-y.

I forgot to photograph the pottery buttons I got at Artigras on Saturday. The biggest one is a bit smaller than a jelly jar lid. I think they'll be just perfect on knitted shawls or felted purses, don't you?

Gorgeous

It was so gorgeous yesterday that even Durwood, who gets chilled amazingly quickly, sat outside and basked. And, look! He has unsnapped his jacket. (I'm proud of you, Dear.) It got up to 64 degrees, breaking the old record of 62, and my primroses are up. Not blooming yet, but they're up and budding. Hooray. Today we're getting rain, but it's not freezing rain so I'm not complaining. I was true to my word and did a lot of hiding in the basement yesterday. I know, I know it was gorgeous outside but last week was a hard week and I needed to hide and figured I might as well accomplish things while I was hiding. I finished my pinboard (burning 3 fingers with hot glue--go, me!) and then worked on the second lap duvet. This one uses a rayon sarong instead of flannel for the top. I saved the fringes so it'll be a different look. I wish the loftier batting wasn't so pricey, my duvets are pretty flat, cozy but flat, and I'd like to make at least one of them poufy. Oh well, you go with what you can afford. It's a work day and PAYday so I don't mind going to work. Besides I made a fresh batch of roasted red pepper hummus last night and Durwood got me a package of mini cukes and some Roma tomatoes for lunches. I cut up a pineapple last week so I've got quality fruit too. I'm set. I also stayed up too late (thank you very much, Daylight Savings Time) so it was extra hard to get out of bed IN THE DARK this morning. But according to the scale my weight stayed the same over the week and the Wii Fit tray weigh-y thing said I lost .7# so I feel good. Back onto the wagon, things will be better this week. Right? Right.

March 11--Egypt, Sporting Boat. Ever since she was a child Elaine had been fascinated by the Pyramids and the possibility that there were still amazing artifacts still to be discovered. She had read every account of Howard Carter's discovery of King Tut's tomb and all of the Amelia Peabody novels because the author, Elizabeth Peters, had a PhD in Egyptology. Elaine brushed sand away from an object with an old paintbrush. Her trowel had hit it, but it was just a rock. She'd like to find an artifact. maybe a pot sherd, a faience bead, or a finger bone, something to reward her patience. She was nearly doing a headstand in her hole when her trowel struck something hard again. She sighed, put her trowel aside, and picked up her brush. Very carefully she cleared away the packed sand from around what she was sure was another rock. No, it was wood, painted wood. A few more strokes and she was looking into the face of a tiny carved man. Grave goods, it had to be. The sweat that drenched her turned to ice as she brushed sand away from the mummified fingers clutching the statue.

Oooh, pharaoh or grave robber? I miss Mom. No, this week I really miss her. I've been leaking tears all week. I wish I had the balls to just cry, to let it all out, wailing and sobbing and getting all stuffy but for some reason I can't/don't/whatever. Tedious. Enjoy your Monday, I will.
--Barbara