Remember That Monday Sky?

I intended to eat my breakfast out on the patio once I'd blogged.  By the time I was pouring the Cheerios it was spitting rain.  Those puffy white clouds had been pushed aside by their dark brethren.  Gah.  But I forged ahead, slicing fresh mango to top my cereal, and by that time the drops had stopped falling and I was able to eat outdoors.  I plan to try that again today.  

I sold a tank!  A priest (yes, priests can dive if they want to and know how) stopped in to pick up his serviced regulator (the breathy thing) and drop off his tank for service but didn't want to have to wait the week it'll take.  Also he doesn't live in town so 2 tanks will give him more chances to dive before he needs airfills.  Don't worry, I'm absolutely certain he didn't pay me out of the collection plate (since he didn't pay with a bag full of dimes, pennies, and wrinkled dollar bills).

OMG you guys, I got a letter yesterday.  A real letter.  An actual, handwritten letter on stationery.  See, I read this blog, Yarnagogo, and the blogger is a writer and a knitter like me, and she asked for letters to motivate her to go to the post office to mail some things she needed to mail.  I like letters and I like writing so I pulled out some fish stationary and wrote her a letter.  She wrote me back.  Now I'll wait a suitable time until I have something to say back and then write again, then she'll write again... that's how this letter thing works.  You gotta write 'em to get 'em.  One of the ladies up at The Clearing when I was there last time said she writes letters all the time.  In fact, she said she wrote and mailed 8 of them that week.  EIGHT!  Gives me hand cramps just thinking about it.  But I wrote one to my Aunt Ginny and my Darling Daughter too.  Let's see if I get some back from them.  Ooh, this is exciting!

June 18--Charles Courtney Curran, Betty Newell.  Betty was too young for the tennis party.  She knew how to play but she didn't always understand the conversations and jokes, and she was too young to drink anything stronger than lemonade.  Her brother, William, was home from college with a threesome of friends who were staying the week.  They stayed up late at beach bonfires and out in cars, then they slept until nearly noon, played cut-throat tennis, swam, had supper with the family (neckties required), and were off again.  One of William's friends wasn't quite the wildman as the others.  Morton read in the mornings out on the lawn while the others slept and actually made it a point to talk to Betty.  She had a bit of a crush on him.  She knew she was too young but he sought her out and made sure to sit by her at the dinner table.  Yesterday they were out on the lawn sitting under the willow by the lake talking about books when William and Dodd called Morton to come in to play billiards.  Morton stood up to go and then he leaned over and kissed her cheek.  Just like that, he kissed her.  She must have sat there stunned for ten minutes before she raised her hand to touch the place his lips had brushed.

I'm off to walk Porter, or let Porter walk me, and I've got a big bag of peels and stems for Henny & Penny. It's a pretty, cool day with lots of sunshine so it's a great day for a walk.  I'll be stopping by the bank to cash my paycheck too. Toodles.
--Barbara

I'm Going To Have Blueberries After All

Monday morning sky

I was certain that transplanting my blueberry bushes while they were flowering would be the death knell of any berries this year, but I was willing to sacrifice the handful they'd make to have them in a place where they'll get the sunshine and nutrients they'll need to make a lot more berries next season.  Well.  When I walked past them on Saturday while I mowed,  lo and behold, there were tiny green berries-to-be on the middle bush.  There were still flowers on the largest bush which today are making teeny tiny berries, and the smallest bush has none.  That's okay by me.  They'll all get another dose of their favorite fertilizer (Miracid) tomorrow (they're getting a nice big drink this morning, I've got the sprinkler running) and plenty of sunshine all season so that next year they'll be bigger and stronger and happy to all make me luscious berries for my breakfast eating pleasure.  (Hmm, I just realized that in weeding around my struggling shrub rose bush this morning I stabbed myself repeatedly with the tiny thorns and have blood and little bitty scabs all over my hands.  Such is the life of a gardener, I guess.)  The shallots and herbs are enjoying life on the patio.  It's time to fertilize the shallots too; they like tomato fertilizer because of the high potash content.  I've got some, so that goes on the to-do list for tomorrow.  The poppies are still blooming and the first lilies are blooming too.  Everything seems late to bloom and very scrawny this year, probably because of the drought and heat last year.


DS & DIL1 came over yesterday evening after spending the afternoon at Donald Driver's charity baseball game in Appleton in DS's new employer's luxury box.  They had a blast, DIL1's a big Donald Driver fan (he's a recently retired GB Packer football guy who also won Dancing with the Stars and who is also a fantabulous human being).  Durwood's Father's Day gift from them was an indoor/outdoor weather system, not just a thermometer; it tells barometric pressure, humidity, temp, date, even the phase of the moon.  You hang a sensor outside and it sends the info to the base unit inside.  It's a fun weather toy.  Be ready for some detailed WI weather reporting, out of town family & friends.

I managed to sit myself down in the shade on the patio for nearly an hour yesterday afternoon to knit.  I'm not good at sitting still at all, I keep finding things to do but I managed to resist... for a while anyway.  I'm proud to say that I actually let one big (cutting back the hummingbird vines) chore go even though I had the loppers and work gloves out and ready.  Go, me!  That little job will go on the list for tomorrow.  Watch, it'll be raining... ah well, I won't melt, I'm not water soluble.  Well, I am eventually but nothing like the Wicked Witch of the West.  (how'd she take a shower?  she must have smelled bad, no wonder she was cranky)

June 17--Eugene Delacroix, The Natchez.  She lay there in the lee of the dunes.  Sand had blown over her, whipped by the storm winds into ropes that lashed the beach grass.  The next time she woke the wind had dropped, the waves had calmed a bit, and there were a few peeks of blue sky overhead.  She rocked her head back and forth to loosen the stiffness of lying there for so long.  She groaned at her stiff muscles and felt bruises from branches that had hit her in the storm.  There was sand in her mouth.  She needed a drink a water.  She needed a shower.  She needed a phone.

I have no idea who she is or what she's doing on the beach.  I was just glad I wrote that barely a page and could put The Natchez behind me.  I don't have a lot of interest in those over-romanticized paintings of "the noble savage" from that era (the painting's dated 1835) plus ol' Eugene's French so I'm sure there was a dearth of Native Americans hanging around his studio.  Way to imagine, Eugene!!  It's Monday which means I have to (no, I GET to) go to work.  Will I wear a skirt today?  Maybe.  Depends on how pasty I think my legs look and if I'm in the mood once I put one on.  I'm outta here.  It's Cheerios time, plus there's all that showering and combing that desperately needs to get done.  Seeyabye.
--Barbara

Happy Father's Day!

Are you a father?  No?  Well, you for sure had one so I hope you've called your dad and wished him well if he's still among the living.  Durwood's gotten one phone call from DD in Kentucky and one warning "we'll swing by after 5" call from DS & DIL1 who have a work thing this afternoon.  My dad's been in Heaven (or on its golf course or in its woodworking shop NOT cutting his fingers on the table saw) for about 17 or 18 years so it doesn't hurt so much on days like today anymore.  I still miss having him around to boss me around (sometimes), though.

I got the lawn mowed and the flowerbed weeded yesterday and I thought about watering the garden but Mother Nature took on that job around 9 o'clock last night.  From the sound of the rain pounding down I think she tried to do it all at once and there was a little thunder, but I'm still going to check the garden today.   After I make a diagram of which tomato is where.  (forgot that yesterday, I need a list)

Yesterday morning when I got up and opened my pill keeper I realized why I was having such a "challenging" week.  (that means I was a weepy, cranky, bitch on wheels)  I forgot to take my pills two days.  That means I skipped my multivitamin, vitamin C, calcium, and reflux meds (which isn't such a big deal) but then that also meant that there were two days that I didn't take my anti-depressant (which IS a big deal).  Sorry, Dear, that explains a lot, especially the less-than-cordial start to Friday's erranding togetherness.  You'd better bet I'll be vigilant this coming week.  Vig. I. Lant.

I got my Green Soup with Chicken (I actually call it Green Chicken soup but some people think that sounds yucky, go figure) made for work lunches yesterday with an intermission for running to the Farmer's Market for tomatoes for Durwood.  He napped until 11 (because of his oddball sleep the night before, see yesterday's post) so I went by myself and much later than usual.  They still had $5 bags of the tomatoes like he likes and they also had 4/$3 crab rangoons for me.  I usually have those for breakfast on Saturdays but since it was almost noon I counted them as lunch.  One of my favorite stalls is run by two friendly, ex-Army women from up Oconto way who sell herb plants and gourd.  Not just any gourds either, they make fanciful birdhouses all painted up and gorgeous.  Look at that flamingo!  You know if I'd have had fifty bucks anywhere near me I'd have brought it home with me.  As I was down to $3 I just goggled at it and munched my way back to the car and home, pining for a giant pink flamingo gourd birdhouse all the way.  *sigh*  That's a lot of moolah for a birdhouse anyway. (says Durwood the ant's voice in back of  my head but I grew up with a grasshopper Mother so I could go either way)  (I just remembered that one of the kids called them "grasspoppers", aw)

June 16--Eugene Delacroix, The Natchez.  He had paddled as hard as he could but they hadn't reached shore before the rain came.  The storm built behind them and she'd tried to hide her fear.  "It'll be okay," Charlie told her, "it isn't too far and the wind will push us."  Then he'd turned his back to the approaching weather and paddled.  He tried to keep his eyes on the far shore, tried to not look at the fear on her face, and not to see how she cradled her belly in a protective embrace.  He felt the windblown drops hit his back, just a few fat drops at first but then they came, cold and stinging, driven by the wind.  Laura hunched in the bow of the boat trying to stay dry, trying to keep from seeing the lightning lance into the water.  He barely heard her cry out when the first pain hit but he saw her convulse and paddled harder.

That surprised me.  I stared and stared at the painting of the young native couple with their newborn but the storm clouds in the background saved me.  Whew.  Enjoy your day.  I hope you're cooking out and enjoying family visits or phone calls.  Happy Father's Day to all you dads, grandpas, uncles, step-dads, and sorta dads out there.  Big hugs.
--Barbara

A Saturday Day

That's what it feels like, it feels exceedingly Saturday-like today.  Durwood dozed last evening away while I was at Friday Night Knitting so he was no way ready to go to bed at 11 PM when I was.  When I got up at 7:30 there was a note on the table that said he was up til 1:30 then slept until 6:10 (such precision) and was going back to bed at 6:30-ish (I don't blame him one bit.)  He's been housebound with that exceedingly painful muscle spasm in his neck and I dragged him through Woodman's grocery store and Walmart yesterday and he cooked supper so he was worn out come evening.  I'm sure without my energizing presence (or the level of noise I generate) he dropped off in his chair and stayed dropped off until he got chilled, like you do when you sleep uncovered, just before 9:00 and woke up.  Anyway, it's quiet in here.  I've had my breakfast and read the important parts of the paper (Ann Landers, my horoscope, and the funnies).  I have a mug of coffee and I can hear a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood.  After Durwood wakes up, we'll zoom to the Farmer's Market for some tomatoes for his breakfasts, then I'll fire up our mower and plant the last cauldron I found lurking in the shed.  They look so pretty, bright, and cheerful I just couldn't resist getting soil and plants for one more when I uncovered it.  I also need to weed the used-to-have-lavender & lilies & iris flowerbed at the corner of the lot.  I suspect that years of road salt and the depredations of drought have killed all but the hardiest of decorative grasses out there.  I'll take my little kneeler out there later and find out.

I rearranged the trash areas in the garage and made room for the ENORMOUS recycling cart the city dropped off the other day.  Of course they don't provide them, we have to pay for ours and the renter's, but at least they deliver.  And I ordered the small version which I suspect I could fold Durwood up into without too much trouble, I'd hate to have to work the big one into the space.  Of course, now I have a spare empty garbage can (and a wooden rack that Dad made to put newspapers into) that I don't know what to do with.  I hate having it sitting there taking up space.  I wonder if anyone I know needs one...  I'll ask around.

June 15--France, Virgin and Child in Majesty.  "I don't want them to see me," Celia said, "turn them around."  "Oh for the love of..."  Isaac got up, padded to the mantle and turned the old wooden statue to face the wall, then climbed back into bed.  "Now..."  He leaned over to gather her into his arms.  "Can they see us in the mirror?"  She felt cold and tense in his embrace.  "They're not real, Celia, it's a statue."  "Oh, I know, but do you think they can see us?"

Poor Isaac needs to cut his losses and RUN, she might be gorgeous but she's dumb and you can't fix dumb.  No sir.  Dumb always wins out.  D'you think if I concentrated really hard whoever's mowing their lawn out there will spontaneously come over and do mine?  Yeah, I don't think so either.  The moon was out when I got home from knitting last night and it looked so pretty that I tried, once again, to take its picture.  It was behind a scrim of clouds so it's fuzzy but I like it.  Happy Saturday.
--Barbara

It's Friday All Day

That means... erranding with Durwood.  He's still got a stiff neck so he doesn't feel safe driving around since he can't turn his head to the right (good call) so I'm in charge of driving him to Woodman's since we're out of fresh veggies.  Out, do you hear?  Out. Out. Out, and we can't have that.  Also navel oranges are getting scarce so we need to seek out some of them too.  This hunter/gatherer stuff is never done.

Last night was the Knitting Guild's first Knit in the Park night for the summer.  (we don't have official meetings in June, July, and August but didn't want to not knit together all that time either so we just gather one night a month near where we have our indoor meetings and knit in the park across the street)  VJ was out of town so she passed off the church key (really, the key to a church, not a bottle opener) so I could open up if it rained.  I didn't go home from work, I just stopped for some chicken strips and toodled on over.  There were about 10 of us sitting, knitting, and chatting for a couple hours as the sun went down and it got cooler.  I was jealous that TS had jeans and a hoodie in her car as I got kind of too cool, but I managed and then made a mug of tea when I got home.  I was looking at the ankle sock I'm knitting and found a dropped stitch that showed on the inside way back at the edge of the ribbing.  Luckily I had a tiny crochet hook so I could ladder it back up and then stick a safety pin stitch holder into it.  I'll sew it in place later today.  Man, I hate when that happens.  I happened upon a very fascinating sweater pattern yesterday when I was killing time at work and now I have to figure out how to make it in my size and with the stash yarn I'm thinking of using.  Should be either an adventure or a death march, could go either way.

June 14--Georges Seurat, Study for A Sunday on La Grande Jatte.  Everyone in town was in the park the Sunday that the monkey got loose.  At first no one noticed, then Mamie's dog Jack started barking.  The monkey threaded its long fingers in Jack's collar and leaped onto his back like a jockey mounting a horse before a race.  Jack spun in circles trying to dislodge the monkey but the little primate just held on tighter.  People began to stare and retreat from the spectacle as Jack took off running around the pond.  Women shrieked, men laughed, and boys ran along behind with a pack of baying hounds on their heels.  No one saw where the monkey came from.  It wore a red wool vest trimmed in gold braid and a thin leather leash, broken and trailing, as the unlikely pair turned the corner, flushing a pair of nesting mallards from the reeds.  People said they thought there had been an organ grinder on the corner near the popcorn stand but by the time Jack and the monkey were rounding the other end of the pond there was no organ grinder to be seen, only a spill of popcorn where he might have been.

Well, I like that.  I need a magic wand.  I have all sorts of "things I'd like to do" rolling around in my head and I know I'd be happier if I could just get them all done and laid out before me in a nice row.  I have a bajillion knitting and sewing projects I want to do, a few (okay, six) novels that need rewriting and publishing, I'd like to have more motivation to workout, and I'd like to weigh about 100# less, also I want Durwood to be better, all around better, not just "no more stiff neck better" but ALL better (my bedside manner's worn exceptionally thin lately, poor him), so I really need that wand.  Anybody got one handy?  No?  Oh... well that's disappointing.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara

How Does My Garden Grow?

Just fine so far, thanks for asking.  I went out to snap a picture of the yellow iris that's blooming on the west side of the house and found all kinds of things to take pictures of (including my right foot down there in the corner of the frame).  I'm happy to see that the biggest blueberry bush has retained or opened up a few more flowers so that I might (mightmightmight, fingers crossed) get a berry or two this year.  I need to reread my blueberry lore from Vijay (the county horticulturist, I took a class, you remember) to make sure I'm taking the best care of them a casual gardener like me can.  I spied some baby tomatoes on one of the plants which reminds me I need to get out there with a scrap of paper to mark down which tomato plant's where so we can keep a record of what works and what doesn't.  The herbs are looking good and growy too and all but one of the shallots are now sprouting like champs.  14 out of 15's pretty good, I think, especially with the chipmunks' "cultivating" help.  I don't think they're eating the shallots I think they're trying to dig new dens, the dopes.  I was enchanted at the rising sun shining through the fuzzy poppy buds so I bent around trying to get them in focus and still have them look the way I was seeing them.  I think I did okay.

I have to work again today or more likely keep the world safe from SCUBA diving.  Yesterday I had 1 entire customer, a couple from Minnesota came in for airfills.  They're vacationing in Door Co. so I shared dive site maps and told them where to stop for goodies like Renard's cheese curds, Swedish pancakes with warm cherry sauce and real whipped cream at Al Johnson's where there are goats on the roof (there's a goat cam!), and that they need to stop at Nueske's in Wittenberg for bacon on their way home.  When they were in on Monday I sent them to Hyline Orchard's Market for cherry salsa; she said she bought an armload of jars.  In the morning the FedEx guy brought a big box of wetsuit hangers that had a bunch of bubblewrap in it.  We don't need any more so I got to stomp it.  I'm not bored at work, no, I'm not, no, sirree.  Even without many customers I wasn't totally alone, my knitting pal MW stopped in 3 times.  Yes, I said 3 times--the first time he drove in just ahead of the MN couple so he left, came back in about half an hour to show me some yarn he'd bought and his project progress, then he left to knit at an area retirement home for an hour or so, then he came back to try on a sleeveless, hooded shortie he thinks would be good for kayaking.  I had to shoo him out so I could close.  He's a nice guy, I think he's lonely.  At least with no customers I get a lot of knitting and audiobook listening done.  I'm listening to a book about an astrologer/private eye; it's not as fascinating as I'd hoped but I have the second of the series on my iPod too so maybe it improves.  I also figured out how to borrow Overdrive books in mp3 format and put them on my Kindle Fire this morning.  I'm always so self-satisfied when I figure out things that other people know already but, hey, I'm oldish, give me a break.

June 13--Honore Daumier, A Man Reading in a Garden.  Lilou watched from the cover of the honeysuckle.  Uncle Frank sat in the yellow chair in the shade every afternoon when the rest of the family lay down during the hottest part of the day.  Shades would be pulled and shoes kicked off.  Mama would stretch out on the daybed on the screen porch with her book.  Grandma sat in the rocker in her darkened bedroom praying her rosary.  Gramps went to the barn where he said he could think.  Pops when to the cool cellar to snooze leaning his chair back against the old sink.  The rest of the kids lay on the braided rugs with a library or comic book.  Only Lilou went outside in the still heat of midday.  She followed Uncle Frank down the lane to the orchard where he kept a book wrapped in an old oilskin cloth with the stub of a pencil holding it shut.  He spent his rest time writing and she lay in the cool grass and watched.  Even though she knew where he hid his journal she never read it.  Some secrets need to be kept.

I hear the Cheerios calling me, or maybe it's the granola and Fage yogurt; whichever one it turns out to be involves blueberries, you can be sure.  Enjoy your day.  Stay cool.
--Barbara

Knitting Origami

I like doing origami with paper.  I'm not terribly good at it or terribly dedicated and I for sure don't remember how to make very many figures.  (I keep in practice making origami balloons because they're so much fun to play with and they amuse children of all ages.  Ask me to make you one sometime, you'll be amazed--and amused.  Toys!)  The ultimate in knitting origami is Elizabeth Zimmerman's Baby Surprise Jacket, but this One-Piece Baby Kimono by Cristina Shiffman has a lot of origami in it too.  I'm nearing the finish of the left front segment and it's been a blast to knit.  Not hard, not by a long shot, but you need to think when you're knitting it and that can sometimes be a challenge (at least for me).  Our young friends, K&GZ, are expecting their first baby in October and KZ is not a pastel girl.  She's got personality to burn and is always dressed to be noticed in bright colors and fun styles, so I hope that the Bean likes color too.  I knew that this was the right yarn for the Bean's sweater the minute I laid eyes on it.

When I was finishing the Spring Boot Sock last week I remembered how much I like having a sock OTN, and I remembered that I had an anklet OTN that got pushed aside last fall, AND I even remembered where I'd put it in the sinkhole that is my knitting area right now.  (I see a weekend organizing fest in my near future)  So I zoomed downstairs last night and resurrected it.  I added a couple rows last night while watching a Curb Appeal episode that I'd DVR'ed so it knows that I mean to finish it.  Don't want to raise its hopes only to have it end up downstairs unfinished again.  I don't know why I quit on it anyway, I'm through the "hard" part (the gusset, the never-ending [to my usually patient but not in this instance self] decreases of the gusset), now comes the foot and toe.  Beyond all logic I love the toe decreases and I especially love the Kitchener stitch.  It's a magic trick with yarn.  (thanks one more time to my beloved DD who gave me a little booklet when I started knitting with the Kitchener mantra in it:  knit off, purl on, purl off, knit on that makes it possible for me to make that fancy toe join effortlessly, so effortlessly I even impress myself.) (huh, when finding a video to link to show you, I discovered that I haven't been doing the "set up" part, it's worked for me but maybe it'll be even more impressive if I do it all.)  Thanks also go to Z-Dawg for the nugget of yarn that is becoming this sock.  When it runs out before the toe (which I know it will) there will be a lovely pale yellow to complete the sock.  What?  No one will see.  It goes in a shoe anyway, besides who wants a plain sock?