I’ve been a bit “out of it” lately due to world events and general procrastination. I keep meaning to get back into the swing of things so when I (finally) sat down to catch up with my online community, I came across this Lens-Artist Challenge is hosted by Leya. She encourages us to share what makes us smile. For some, smiles these days might be hard to come by so this is a particularly timely challenge.
What makes me smile? Here’s a few:
Nature
Whether it’s an Eastern Carpenter Bee getting up close and personal with Kay’s Pink Roses (photo featured above) …
Or the tell-tale sign of a raccoon visiting our campsite at night …
Or a swallowtail butterfly feasting on penta blooms …
Or a praying mantis praying that it is blending in …
Or an red-tailed hawk just hanging out in the ‘hood …
Or a momma gator and her baby.
Sometimes Art makes me smile …
Sonic Blooms, Seattle, Washington, 2014
From the exhibit: Created by Seattle-based artist Dan Corson in a collaboration between Pacific Science Center and Seattle City Light, these sun loving, harmonic blooms use regionally manufactured, custom solar panels to generate their own power. Each flower top contains 48 solar cells that produce 4.6 Wp (watts at peak production) for a total of 1,104 Wp for all 5 flowers.
The electricity generated will make the flowers dance with light through the evening and sing through the day, 365 days of the year. Sonic Bloom combines art and science to help educate about solar energy in the Pacific Northwest and inspire people to consider how they can incorporate renewable energy into their lives.
Especially funny signs or photos …
A bigger smile from me when they refer to knitting …
What makes me smile the most? Cats, always the cats …
Junior (RIP) and Maxine (RIP) staking out their territory on my husband. Wendy and Raji zonked out in the sun.
I hope you got some smiles out of my selection! Let me know what makes you smile.
If you want to participate in this Lens-Artists challenge, remember to tag with Lens-Artists and link to Ann-Christine’s original post.
Next week, Sofia will lead us from her beautiful site Photographias – be sure to visit on Saturday 30!
To all of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a wonderful time with family and friends. Despite current world events, we still have much to be grateful for. I know I am grateful for each one of you.
This week Donna from Wind Kisses challenges us to find connections using photographs.
Let’s photograph connections this week. Are you interested in the intricacy of mosaic art, or how the strings of a marionette bring it to life? How about railroads, rivers and bridges connecting spaces and places? Personally, I can’t have bacon without eggs, or paper without a pen. And it is impossible to ignore interactions of people connecting with each other and the world around them.
I’ve thought long and hard about this challenge, and I might (I said, might) step outside my comfort zone to meet it. Donna’s post is truly inspiring, expanding the idea of connections beyond what I usually consider the word to mean. And that’s a good thing.
Of course, I see connections in Nature, such as how my (finally) blooming Indian Blanket plant follows the rotation of the sun.
Every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon, I rotate the pot wherein this plant currently resides. It sits on my deck, and I see it through my window while I’m sitting at my desk working. The plant keeps me connected to the outside world just by being available to me visually.
Now, this might sound strange, but I feel connected to myself when I work with fiber, whether it be knitting or weaving. When I was about 9 or 10, I taught myself (not very well) to knit, and so knitting is part of who I am. I’ve used my knitting to connect me to others. Weaving came to me later in life at a private college where I was floundering. I was very unhappy at that college until I signed up for a weaving course. Long story short: the class had such an impact on me that I elected to take my tuition money and buy a loom rather than continue at the college.
I wove a few things but not very well and eventually sold my loom to a friend. Fast-forward a few decades and I yearned to weave again so I bought a modest 20-inch rigid heddle loom. My first project:
I wove this scarf with wool and alpaca yarns meant for knitting socks. Needless to say, weaving the scarf went a lot faster than knitting socks would have. Still, I made mistakes, wasted a bunch of yarn, but … I wear it. I love it. And the process itself connected me all the way back–40-some years–to when I first learned to weave.
I try to connect myself to the environment by upcycling and recycling. From a poster on a Facebook group I was in, I got the idea to cut up all our old t-shirts. Some were so worn that I knew they would only end up in a landfill if I gave them to Goodwill. I used a rotary cutter to slice through the shirts, tied the ends together, and then rolled the strips into balls. A weaving project was born.
I wove the above with no real end in mind. I just wanted to practice weaving. At worst, whatever I made could be used as a cat blanket. Then I wove another piece, only this time I untied the strips as I went, making the weaving process more meditative, connecting more closely with the threads and fabric.
This work I do with my hands often connects me to other people. I can’t wear all the scarves, shawls, socks, and potholders that I make. Sometimes I work with a special person in mind.
I knitted this blanket (above) for my mom. She’s no longer here and the blanket is with someone else now, but I still remember her saying that she loved it.
Connections.
I grew up among women. My mom and my two sisters, my aunts. My uncles were around but disinterested in a pouty-faced little kid.
Out of the seven sisters, only one is left, my Aunt Orvetta, the blonde in the middle. My mother sits to my aunt’s right. I look at photos like this and pine for the days when connections could be made with a letter or a phone call or a visit. Now the connections are made through memory.
I am so grateful for how photography, over so many years, has helped me stay connected to my family. So many of them have died, but when I see photos like the one above, I can almost hear their laughter.
Many thanks to Donna for this thoughtful and expansive challenge. If you choose to participate in this week’s challenge, take Donna’s words to heart:
Have you ever thought about how photography connects the world? Nobody sees the world exactly the same way you see it, and our impressions are as unique we are. How you interpret this week’s challenge is up to you.
Please include the Lens-Artists tag and/or link in the comments so we can find you.
Also, thanks to John for last week’s challenge, AI. What fun that was! Participating in John’s challenge helped me feel a bit less intimidated by AI, and I really enjoyed the contributions and conversations around it.
Ritva will host next week’s challenge starting Saturday 12:00 EST. Visit her site and get ready to be inspired.
Interested in knowing more about the Lens-Artists challenge? Click here for more information.
I’ve been finding a lot of ways to avoid writing. Firstly, I challenged myself with a new-to-me method of knitting. Well, not entirely new to me as I had knitted “top-down” sweater patterns before, but those patterns always resulted in raglan sleeves … you know, the ones with a diagonal seam from armpit to collar. Not the best design for someone with a pear-shaped figure like myself. This new-to-me method, designed by Julie of Cocoknits, has a tailored yoke and pattern variations for different body types.
Are you all still with me?
I bought the Cocoknits sweater book and workbook and even a work stand (which I haven’t yet used but it came with a nice hemp bag that I could put all my tools in so that was handy). I do have some issues with the book as it was written in a narrative style, and I spent a lot of time flipping pages to figure out what to do when. I also had three false starts (meaning I started knitting and then had to rip out and start again because I misunderstand the instructions). Eventually, I also realized that it would be best to use the stash yarn that’s been wallowing in my cedar chest for the past 20 years. If the sweater is a failure, no great loss then.
And I persevered … much better than I do with my writing. For some reason, I rarely, if ever, give up on my knitting. Following is the result of my labor. Yes, this is a selfie. I do NOT enjoy taking selfies but my husband was busy and I just wanted to get it over with. The “pose” is simply to show a sleeve, not my hair, but … whatever.
Me wearing Prototype 1 of Cocoknits Emma Version B, posed to show sleeve
As if that were not enough to distract me from writing, I decided to weave potholders. Yes, you read that right. Potholders.
Many, many years ago, long before I moved to California, I learned to spin yarn and weave at a college I briefly attended. I fell in love with both activities and when it was time for me to pay tuition for the Spring semester, I decided instead to buy a 4-harness floor loom and move back home. The loom I bought is similar to the one below, but mine had four treadles instead of six.
Four harness, six treadle floor loom from Harrisville Designs.
I wove a few things, dragged the loom across the country with me, wove a couple of more things, then sold my loom to a friend when I moved into a studio apartment that simply didn’t have enough room for it. Since then, I’ve wanted to resume weaving, but haven’t felt like I have the space for it or the dinero. And now I feel totally out of touch with weaving.
I subscribe to a magazine called Little Looms which promotes weaving on small, even tiny, looms. A recent issue had an article on weaving potholders. I know I wove potholders when I was a kid, but my memories are vague. That said, I was hooked (no pun intended) by the article. I promptly ordered a potholder kit from Friendly Looms (which just happens to be affiliated with Harrisville Designs, the company from which I bought my floor loom all those years ago). Of course, I also had to buy a pattern book. Of course.
Wendy wondering what all this has to do with her.
Here’s my first potholder.
After I shared these photos on Facebook, two of my relatives asked me to make a couple for them. Cool.
Weaving potholders is a meditative practice. It also doesn’t take long to make one. It’s almost instant gratification compared to knitting a sweater.
But, in truth, I have been writing. I joined a group in the SmokeLong Fitness Community and have written a bit. I want to share what I’ve written here. I just need to figure out how I want to do that.
And if you’ve read this far … here’s your gratuitous cat photo.
My little boy Raji loves snuggling up to my big boy Junior.
My youngest, Raji, superimposed over a stony path. The only time he is outdoors is in his dreams.
Happy New Year, everyone, and here we all are once again. You might notice that I’ve made some changes to this blog. I’m not yet done. Perhaps I’ll never be done, but I needed a change, and I needed it before the new year started.
As many of you already know, the last six months of 2022 were rather hellish for me and my family. Both of my sisters died unexpectedly as well as two of my cousins. The last (so far) was my oldest sister who died the evening after Thanksgiving, leading me to take the rest of the year off, so to speak. I can’t say I’m “better” since just thinking about my sisters will bring tears to my eyes. But I might be adjusting. Maybe.
I know death is inevitable. I get that. I just thought that everyone had more time. My mother, after all, is 99 and still squeezing some quality out of her life. I am, however, in a perpetual state of alertness now: always anticipating that phone call; always hoping, when I call her and her phone rings and rings and rings, that she’s just in the bathroom.
Well, there was that time recently when her phone rang and rang and rang because she had mistaken her TV remote for her phone. That gave us a good laugh.
When I ask her how she feels and she responds, “With my hands,” I can’t help but feel she’s got a lot more time ahead of her.
Meanwhile.
I have no resolutions for this year. I don’t believe in resolutions anymore. Too much pressure especially since I usually don’t do what I’ll say I’ll do and I often do what I say I won’t do.
I guess you could say I’ve resolved to have no resolutions, but I am lining up a few things to bring myself back to writing and to the social world I’ve been neglecting.
First, I’m cleaning up my blog, much like cleaning my house when I’m expecting guests.
Second, I’ve resubscribed to SmokeLong Fitness to get myself back into the writing groove. Yes, I still have my novel to work on, but it seems like a kind of punishment to focus only on that … at least right now.
Third, I’ve signed up for a Yoga Fundamentals Workshop at my local yoga studio. Four Saturdays where we will do a deep dive into the basics of yoga. I’ve been practicing yoga for over ten years but never really thought much about the science behind the poses. Plus, the instructor is an awesome woman who brings joy and humor to my practice. One can never laugh too much.
Last but never least, I’m also knitting. Knitting grounds me more than anything else I do.
We have a lot going on around our house … literally. Just recently we had a hardscaper install a patio and walkway on the west side of our house. The crew started work before Christmas and finished on December 30. Next, we’ll have a fence put up, making our patio private and our next-door neighbors happy. (Apparently, they don’t like seeing into our yard any more than we like seeing into theirs.) Roughly about the same time, we’ll have work done inside our house: replacement of hallway floorboards damaged by water from a leaky valve, and new tiles in our foyer. After that, we’ll take a breather and give our checkbook a rest.
So good things are still happening. I just have to make them happen. Hence, this post.
Happy New Year!
So tell me, dear Readers, what are your resolutions, if any, for this new year? And what, of all the things you do, grounds you the most? Please share in the comments, and thank you for reading!
I thought Wednesday was Saturday but I knew Thursday was Thursday and, so far, I’m confident that today is Friday (and my calendar says so too). Tomorrow should be Saturday and I just hope I don’t think it’s Wednesday because I have a couple of appointments and getting my days wrong would really screw things up.
I’m still backsliding on blogging and keeping up with blogs (as in, I’m not keeping up with blogs), but I have been writing a bit. Most of my writing has been on Medium mainly because I submit to publications there. I don’t crow about these publications because, although some of them do offer some good reading, I frankly don’t equate getting published in a Medium publication with getting published in a mainstream literary journal. The truth is, I’m always suspicious when my writing is accepted generally as-is, with perhaps only minor reformatting or editing. But maybe my writing is that good. What do I know?
In any case, here are a few of my most recent essays and stories. The following are “friend” links meaning you do not have to be a paid subscriber to Medium to read them, although you will probably have to open a Medium account if you don’t already have one:
I also started my own publication on Medium but it’s only for my writing. It’s called “One Sister’s Journey Through Grief,” and I’ll be using it to share my journey of learning to live with my grief over losing my sister. So far, I’ve published two essays there:
I’ve been toying with the thought of also using Substack for my writing. I follow a few writers on Substack, and I’ve only seen one writer (so far) who has the same readers on both Substack and Medium … but she writes about Medium so that’s probably why. Anyway, the idea is to expand my “audience” so to speak. And, while I’m used to WordPress and have had this blog here for a gazillion years, the platform can be clunky and temperamental. Life is getting shorter. I like going with the flow but feel I have less time for the ebb.
Meanwhile …
I’ve joined the SmokeLong Fitness Community Workshop which started on September 1 (that was Thursday). You can read about it in detail here: SmokeLong Fitness Community Workshop. Basically, I pay a monthly fee to be part of a small group online workshop. Every week we’ll be given a writing prompt, and we’re expected to provide feedback on each other’s writing. SmokeLong Fitness also includes monthly webinars, discounts on intensive workshops, and “surprises.” It’s only been a couple of days but I’m feeling psyched (and anxious) about writing and reading in a small group. I still have my novel to work on, but I’m hoping that being prompted to write flash [fill in the blank] will oil my writing gears and get me back on track.
Meanwhile …
I’m knitting.
The beginning of a cardigan!
We decided to get out of town for a couple of days and at the last minute, I grabbed a kit for a knitted cardigan to take with me. That was Tuesday, August 23. Today is Friday, September 2, and I’ve completed the back, left and right front panels, and one sleeve. Woo-hoo! At least I’m on a roll with my knitting. This might be the fastest I’ve ever knitted a cardigan. The key thing for me is to keep momentum and not stall when all the pieces have been knitted and it’s time to stitch them together. Finishing a project (much like editing a novel) is my least favorite part of the process.
Did I mention that I now take two Excedrin first thing in the morning, followed by a caffeinated drink? Caffeine is this writer’s little helper.
I close this post with one of my favorite photos of my sister Shirley (courtesy of my niece-in-law).
In a New Yorker article (September 13, 2021), author Amia Srinivasan made this observation: “[…] the Internet, […] has simultaneously given us too much to read and corroded our capacity to read it.” The context was feminism and what we think we know about it, but her description of how the Internet has impacted reading applies far beyond her subject.
It’s something I struggle with every day. So much to read, especially online, but also on my Kindle and my bookshelves, the dining room table and the living room desk where magazines pile high. And yet I’m supposed to be writing.
I know I’ve been going through a stressful time. Which requires a couple of updates:
My sister’s cast was removed last week and she was fitted with a walking boot. She’s still at the facility, but she’s been having more good days lately than bad days. The facility change was definitely a good move. Still, the uncertainty as to when she’ll come home and what kind of help my brother-in-law will given as he continues care for her subdues my efforts to be positive. We all just keep saying, “One day at a time.”
Maxine, our feline dowager, has been more her old self lately. Spunky, willful, and talkative. She’s been handling our handling of the twice daily antibiotic injections and every-three-days subcutaneous fluids quite well. My husband has even been able to give her the antibiotic injection by himself, that is, without me having to hold her still. Unfortunately, she has “good” days and “bad” days: good days are when she limits her pee and poop output to a litter box or a potty training pad; bad days are when she and Junior get in a tussle and, in her excitement, she poops on the kitchen floor (this morning) or when she sits on the potty training pad but still pees on the floor (also this morning).
I’ve been working through my stress not by writing, but by gardening (healthy activity) and binging on a podcast call Casefile (maybe, maybe not healthy). If you enjoy true crime stories (is enjoy the right word?), check out Casefile by clicking here. A few things I like about the podcast:
The narrator is anonymous. He wants the audience to stay focused on the survivors and victims in these stories; however, his fans call him Casey.
The podcast has no dramatic reenactments, no roleplaying, no editorializing, no aimless, mindless banter. Casey narrates in a steady, calm voice. Occasionally he narrates dialogue, which can sometimes be humorous with his Australian accent.
I say no editorializing, but Casey’s empathy toward survivors and victims is real. At the beginning of each podcast, he cautions the listener in case the crime is of a particularly disturbing nature, such as crimes against children. For example, I chose to not listen to the episodes on The Moors Murders because Casey admitted he had to stop recording a couple of times because he was so disturbed by the abuse done to the children.
He has, on occasion, expressed frustration with law enforcement responses (or lack thereof) to violence against women. But he doesn’t rant, he doesn’t rail. He just points out when injustice is being served.
The episodes do not focus gratuitously on details of crimes. Casefile only shares what is necessary to understand the seriousness of a crime, which doesn’t require a second-by-second account of an assault or a murder.
The podcast often includes interviews, audio clips and other materials, providing a deeper context of the crime.
The effort Casey and his team put into their research and production is impressive. Links to their sources are provided with each episode.
My most recent binge from Casefile was several episodes on crimes committed by the The East Area Rapist, the Original Night Stalker, and the Golden State Killer in the late 70s to mid-80s who happen to all be one man–Joseph DeAngelo. The best episode was the last one where Casey read or played clips of survivors’ impact statements at DeAngelo’s sentencing hearing. It was the best episode because too often, justice is not found. In this case, it was. A little late, but that was due to the limitations of forensic testing at the time, the fact that DeAngelo was a former cop and knew how to avoid capture and identification, and lack of communication among the various law enforcement agencies involved.
Finally, if you write crime fiction, this podcast will teach you a lot about crime, the justice systems in the U.S. as well as other countries, and how law enforcement, even with truly dedicated officers, can be hampered in their efforts to find and bring the perpetrators to justice.
Now, what about my novel, which is about a murder?
I don’t consider myself a gardener really, but I might allow myself to wear the label of amateur gardener. I am thrilled when one of my plants starts to bloom. Why, hello there, Georgia Aster! I’m so grateful to have a fall-blooming plant.
Georgia Aster. Photo by Marie A Bailey.
My red penta is still going strong, and I’ve planted a lavender penta and a red-yellow lantana in the front yard. Fingers crossed that I can keep them safe during the winter. The following Ruellia or Mexican petunia was an impulse buy.
Ruellia simplex. Photo by Marie A Bailey.
We had gone to Home Depot to order a new dishwasher (a whole other story, but let me just say that we’re never buying GE appliances again). I needed a couple of pots so we went to the gardening section. This lovely purple plant caught my eye. We’ve seen it around our city so, hey, let’s get a pot and see what happens.
What happened was I did some research since the pot only said the plant was Ruellia. Well, according to the iSeek app, this is Ruellia simplex, a highly invasive plant.
WTF.
Through my research (and panic … what does one do with an invasive plant and why was it being sold at Home Depot????), I found the distributor (Costa Farms) who claims: “We sell sterile Mexican petunia varieties that don’t spread by seed. However, these are often vigorous plants and can colonize quickly in gardens and landscaping beds and borders — especially when grown in rich soil.” Okay, fine. The Ruellia I see around town seem well-controlled, but I’ll have to think long and hard about this. It’s so tempting to plant just this one in the front yard, yet perhaps I should keep it in a container.
Meanwhile, there’s that novel I should be working on.
One of the joys of gardening is discovering critters who like to eat my plants. I have three Black Swallowtail larvae on my Rue which is fine because that’s what Rue is for.
Larvae for Black Swallowtail. Photo by Marie A Bailey
More Black Swallowtail larvae. Photo by Marie A Bailey
I’ve also been knitting. Finally finished this wool lap blanket so I can put it away in my cedar chest since cold temperatures won’t be arriving down here anytime soon.
Teal and purple wool lap blanket. Photo by Marie A Bailey.
I’ve started crocheting granny squares for a larger blanket in a desperate effort to use up my stash.
I have a punch needle kit and a cross-stitch kit as well as three knitting projects waiting for my attention. And sewing? Did I mention sewing?
And then there’s my novel. Oh, boy. You see what I’m doing here?
I’m avoiding my novel because I’m intimidated by the idea of writing from the POV of three narrators. My instinct (these days anyway) says to stick with one, that it will be enough of a challenge to write in first person. I’m trying to work through that. I’m trying to get my writing groove back. But I’m a bit overwhelmed.
Going back to the quote at the beginning of my post, I am realizing that I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to being distracted and drowning. I need to develop some discipline if I’m ever going to finish my novel.
So what do you all do? You publishing writers out there: How do you organize your time? I see a lot of you engage in social media. How do you manage to do that AND work on your writing? Is it just a trick of the Internet that you all seem to be out and about on social media all the time? How do you manage to stay engaged and yet productive?
Thank you for reading, and thanks in advance for any advice you wish to share.
Bonus cat photo: Junior, the green-eyed bully who harasses Maxine until she poops.
Junior, green-eyed monster. Photo by Marie A Bailey
I’ve always been indecisive, sometimes very indecisive, but never not indecisive. I wonder if indecisiveness is related to procrastination because I’m afflicted with both conditions.
I have worked on my novel a bit here and there, but I’ve been spending the bulk of my creative energy learning punch needle work and knitting up some old yarn into a blanket.
This here is my first-ever punch needle project. It was fun although I had some difficulties with the tools. I bought a kit, and the yarn provided was thick (and forgiving) wool.
I’ve since bought another kit but … surprise! … the yarn provided is cotton floss, what I would expect to use in embroidery. Because of that, I bought a different punch needle and now I’m scared. I’m intimidated by the project and am going to have to clear away a lot of space in my brain before I get to it.
Meanwhile, when the going gets tough, I go to my knitting. This here will be a lap blanket once it’s all done. The yarn is 100% wool and quite old. I either brought it with me from California thirty-some years ago, or I bought it soon after moving here. I can’t remember. In any case, the yarn has been stored in a cedar chest for many years. It’s past time it became something.
I have enough of the same yarn in different colors to make a second blanket. Times like this I wish I lived back where I grew up, in north-central New York where warm wool items are valued and used more than they are here in hot, humid Florida.
I procrastinate when I am waiting. But waiting for what? Good news? Is there such a thing?
Our 17-year-old cat Maxine has been wreaking havoc by peeing and pooping outside the litter boxes most of the time. We’re treating her for yet another UTI, but I think it’s her wobbly back legs and diminished eyesight that’s causing the havoc. I bought new litter boxes designed for cats with arthritis, and I have puppy training pads around them to catch any “overflow.” As well her kidney disease seems to have gone from a stage 2 to stage 3, according to her latest lab results. Fortunately, the steroids she’s taking keep her appetite up. At this point, the good news is that she still does her business in the vicinity of the litter boxes. She’s also still spunky, so two bits of good news.
My previous employer thinks I’m dead. Last month they refunded “the deceased policyholder” (i.e., me) for overpayment of my health insurance premium which had been automatically deducted from my pension, as it is supposed to be. I got it sorted out, but now it looks like it’s going to happen again this month. I can check my premium payments online so I guess the good news is I’ll be able to handle this before my premium is past due. Still, I don’t like being addressed as a deceased policyholder. Creepy.
My sister in New York is in a rehab hospital. She fell and broke her leg a couple of weeks ago. She’s been living with Parkinson’s Disease for several years, and falling is one of the symptoms. I’m struggling to find good news here. All I can think is how unfair it is that she, of all of us, has been saddled with this disease.
My sister has been a caretaker all her life. When our mother divorced our father (RIP), my sister stepped in and had him stay at her house when he came for visits (long story short: my father was mentally ill and during that time was living in a group home). When our father became ill, my sister pulled out all the stops to get him into a nursing home near her so she could visit him on her lunch breaks. When our elderly neighbor (RIP) was in failing health, she did the same for him.
My sister and I used to talk about how our mother would come and live with her. Our mother will be 98 in a couple of months. She lives independently and is in better health than my sister, so living with my sister is not going to happen. While my mom’s health is good news, I still struggle to find any good news about my sister.
All I have is this: she’s been married for 55 years to a wonderful man who loves her deeply. My brother-in-law is the epitome of “salt of the earth.” She has three sons who love her deeply. She has seven grandchildren who give her much joy and pride. This good news will have to do.
***
Thank you for listening reading. I’m always hesitant to publicly write about my family, but, hopefully, I’m not crossing any lines here. Plus, I’m pretty sure few of them (if any) read my blog. Here’s a prize to all of you who have read this far: Raji in his “safe place,” which is our closet, on top of my husband’s clothes.
Don’t worry. I’m not writing this post from my bathtub. No, I’m well-covered up in comfy clothes (including a wool cardigan), preparing another post of this and that and the other thing. Sigh. Where do I begin?
I sometimes think I should write my blog posts one thought at a time.
A while ago I wrote that I was knitting a lap blanket for my 96-year-old mother and was afraid I wouldn’t finish it before she left for Florida (yeah, she’s one of those snowbirds). You can read about my anxiety here. Well, as things have turned out, she’s still in New York for another six weeks at least.
My mom’s trip got derailed because she got a UTI. She wound up in the hospital only because one of my cousins insisted (and I quote from another cousin) that “it wasn’t normal for her to be in bed at 4:30” in the afternoon. My mom loves her bed, but, hey, there’s a limit.
Turns out my mom had had the UTI for awhile, but because she wasn’t in pain, she didn’t see the need to seek medical help. My mom would argue that her longevity and good health is due to her deliberate effort to avoid doctors. Her argument didn’t pass muster in this case. So she wound up in the hospital feeling lousy and thinking that this might just be “It.” She’s 96, I remind you, and she’s buried most of her siblings and two husbands.
The good news is the UTI got cleared up, her mood perked up, and she’s back in her double-wide, wondering what the fuss was all about. I called her the day after she came home.
Me: Hi, Mom! How are you?
Mom: I’m fine. (Pause). Who am I speaking to?
Me: Marie. Your daughter. (Pause). Remember me?
Mom: Vaguely.
I almost fell off my chair laughing. That’s my mom’s sense of humor. Smart-ass. Wise-ass. Wise-cracker. Whatever you want to call it. She thought I was being a smart-ass for asking if she remembered me, so she gave me one back.
The bad news is she still plans to come down to Florida. No, I’m not happy about that. The only reason why she got this UTI cleared up was because she’s heavily monitored visited by my cousins and my sister in New York.
In Florida, she stays with my other sister … eh, let’s just say my mom wouldn’t have the same network of support in south Florida that she has in New York. I’m about a six-hour drive from where she stays and that’s when traffic is light and the weather is perfect.
But let’s look on the bright side: I have more time to finish the lap blanket. I panicked last week because the instructions called for the border to be knitted separately and then sewn on. Sounds like one of my worst nightmares. Not to fear, though. I figured out I could knit the border while picking up a stitch along the edge, securing the border without sewing. Yay! Life is good! Now I just have to go on a knitting marathon to finish the blanket before the end of the year.
This is the last lap blanket I’ll ever knit. I mean that.
While all this was going on with my mom, I was taking every opportunity to get out and walk and find solace in nature, especially during my work week. In no particular order, here are some scenes from the nature walk that feeds my heart and soul.
A white egret and a blue heron at the same time!
Turtles!
Spotlight on the blue heron.
Wood storks grazing.
I don’t know the name of this plant, but it’s poetry in motion (except it’s not moving).
Ibises at work
An anhinga sunning itself.
I love these branches. They remind of a love knot.
By the way, for those of you who might be wondering about my often-talked-about novel … you know, the one I’m supposed to be working on right now for NaNoWriMo … well, I’m still working on it, but in a musing kind of way. You can read about my musing on Medium, in this article: Turning a True Crime Story Into Fiction. I’m sharing the Friend Link so you can read without subscribing.
Thank you for reading. To show my appreciation, here’s a gratuitous photo of Junior. I did not pose the cat pillow nor the cat.
For extra fun, here’s what I think of when I hear “Splish, Splash”:
I’ve been leading a non-writing life lately … well, if you don’t count writing letters (of the snail mail variety). Although I’ve been writing in my head a lot. Somehow I don’t manage to put those thoughts down on paper. No, what usually gets down on paper is my endless to-do lists for both work and home. Over the last few weeks, aside from writing lists and letters, I’ve done a few other things, things that compelled me to be in the “here and now.”
Knitting
I’ve been knitting up a storm, folks. Not for me, mind you. No, I’ve got plenty of shawls, scarves and hats for this relatively warm climate. I’ve been on a mission knitting for others. My most favorite knitting is serendipitous: I see a pattern and yarn combination and a friend or family member pops into my head. So I knit.
A shawl for a friend.
This shawl requires two different colors of yarn, but in the pattern, the colors are both solid. I had originally intended to knit a different shawl but the pattern and I weren’t getting along so I reverted to this one. It is one of my favorite shawl patterns, but the yarns deviated from what the pattern requires. So I was a bit of a nervous Nellie while knitting, worried that it wouldn’t look very nice at the end.
Ha!
Detail of shawl.
What’s not to love about this detail?! It was a real pleasure to knit and even more fun when I gave it to my friend. Nope, she had no idea.
Next up was a scarf for a family member. He is a relatively new family member, older than me and related by blood, but we’ve only just “discovered” each other recently. Yup, I took a DNA test and got more than I was hoping more. His birthday was recently. Usually I don’t knit for birthdays because, well, I don’t want to set expectations (i.e., no, D, you are not going to get a knitted scarf every birthday). But, again, serendipity. I wanted to do SOMETHING. I had the yarn (alpaca blend) and a favorite scarf pattern. So I went to it.
The long view.
Believe or not (and I know some of you non-knitters won’t believe it), this is a very easy pattern. It knits up quickly and is a real pleasure. I love seeing the pattern unfold.
Cables.
More cables!
Cables are fun to knit! I learned to knit cables decades ago. I used to be so intimidated by them but they are ridiculously easy to knit. The cool thing is knitting cables makes you feel like you’re actually building something :)
Hiking
Another living in the moment experience was going on a hike with my husband to Shepherd Spring. It’s a flat hike (no hills to stretch our calves), but lovely. It was quite pleasant until we got to the Cathedral of Palms when we were dive-bombed by mosquitoes. Usually this is a place where we would want to linger, but, since I have a blood type that mosquitoes can’t resist, I picked up my pace and nearly left my husband behind.
It was a lovely afternoon. A much-needed immersion in nature. There are a lot of things I don’t like about living in Florida. I can count on one hand the things I do like. Shepard Spring is one of them. Please enjoy the slideshow.
If you’re new to my blog and want to know how this road trip began, click here for the first post.
We arrived in Evansville, WY, just outside Casper, in the evening, early enough to take a walk around and become oriented to our new “home” for the next few days. To our surprise and delight, we found a “rail trail” that would take us all the way into Casper. Following are some photos of the trail, overpass and tunnel.
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Downtown Casper was pretty interesting. Well, this was just plain weird:
The Dick Cheney Federal Building. Seriously.
Although my husband doesn’t like to have his photo shared on social media, it was his idea to pose:
The convention that made this trip possible. And my husband doing his best cowboy impression.
The Chamber of Commerce was one place we stopped to pick up maps and to gawk at this “water feature”:
Since the trail is about 2.9 miles one way, the next day we elected to walk into town, assuming we could find a bus back to Evansville. (Spoiler alert: we assumed wrong and wound up walking all the way back. Over 20,000 steps went on my Fitbit that day.)
We spent some time at the convention and then went searching for Hell’s Half Acre, a 320-acre geologic wonder of ravines and rock formations. We had seen pictures. We were prepared to be awed. It was only a 40-mile drive from Casper. We had snacks and water with us. And long underwear.
Hell’s Half Acre wasn’t hard to find. As we approached, to our left stood tall chain-linked and barbed wire fencing. Yup, the geologic wonder was not just closed but sealed off.
I should have taken out my iPhone and started snapping the fences that obstructed our view, but I was too upset. And my husband … more so. We had researched Hell’s Half Acre. We already knew the original diner and motel were no longer there. We already knew there would be no amenities. An aerial view on Google maps suggested that we should be able to view the rock formations and ravines. All we had wanted to do was park and film.
My husband found an opening in the fencing and decided to investigate, see if it would be worth dragging his gear through. I sat on a splintery post and wondered if we would be both charged with trepassing, or just Greg. I mean, there were no “No Trespassing Signs” to be seen. And we had come all the way from Florida so we could put the “duh” into Flori-duh if needed.
Greg came back, still angry but now resigned (to my relief) to the fact that the county meant to keep people out. There was nothing to be done but find the nearest supermarket, buy some wine, and drown our disappointment.
Since he failed to achieve the Holy Grail of a time lapse of the Milky Way over Hell’s Half Acre, the next day Greg decided that we would drive up to a scenic outlook on Casper Mountain Road. There he would film a time lapse of Casper as the sun set and city lights came on. Following are my humble iPhone photos and video.
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Next week: the eclipse! Let’s hope I can show you more than just my humble iPhone renditions. (I keep telling my husband, the photos don’t have to be perfect … ).