No Kings

 For some reason, 50501 organizers have asked attendees to wear yellow. 

 A half century ago, I owned a chrome yellow satin blouse with full sleeves and three button cuffs. It zipped up the back to a high collar and fit like skin. With black jeans a pretty nifty outfit.

There was a party. I was standing in a crowded room with a drink in my hand and happened to catch a glimpse of myself reflected in a glass door. I looked like a BRIDGE OUT sign. I was mostly averse to wearing yellow after that. But then I thought about it and looked through the pictures and there I was with my pale yellow fuzzy Angora boobs,  my head in the boyfriend's lap right after we announced our engagement on Christmas morning. He loved that sweater.

Yesterday, a brief look to the closet proved nothing yellow. I might bring these creatures along as Guardians.

Midweek rushed by

We got what we asked for. A kitten for the kitten. The Elder cats are getting their rest and keeping their dignity. The humans of the household get to watch and accommodate all the feline needs.

The wild rumpus starts before dawn. Toy stealing. Running, tagging, clawing up and down my (already ratty) office chair. Digging around in the sandbox like somebody has a treasure map. 

But they nap like champs. For some reason, I've been calling Bong Moon. As in the Darkside Of. And little Miss Sophie is becoming that Long Tall Sally I saw in her from day one.

There's been a lot of time for mending, reading, writing, and anxious introspection.

Anyone who is not anxious about this upcoming weekend is in prison or a fool. At the very least, I'm hoping the perfect weather holds on. 

 And smack in the middle of the week, there was another birthday. Lunched with friends and spoke to everyone! Thanks to everyone who took the time to say hey.

For a while now, I thought I was turning 77. My sister, who is two years younger, dragged me over the coals for that mistake. 

At what age, and why, do we start using the expression, "I'm going to be __ years old"? 

When does that anticipation begin?

Was it 17? 20? 

Why keep doing it? What is the fucking hurry? 

Prepping

 

It's Indigenous Peoples Day. I found the shitweasels' Columbus Day proclamation particularly stomach-turning. Of course, he didn't write a word of it. That's all his little nazi, Stephen Miller. 

I haven't yet heard what poison he spouted in Israel. He and Netanyahu will be roomies in hell.

Getting my NO KINGS banner ready for Saturday. I'm not going to any organized event, but plan on parking in a public space somewhere that the ass end of my car will be visible to passing cars. 

Today, I'll be scoping out a few spots on my way to a celebratory lunch with friends. 

We will be eating outside at a local pizza joint, and I'm going to bring it with me to work on there. 

So far, this is the extent of fall foliage in Georgia. This poor maple was planted here by the parks department. It will not live long enough to get big. The summers are too long and dry, and the soil is too shitty for maples, but fools keep planting them. 

I sat in my car in the park, multitasking like a madwoman and relishing every moment. I don't take NPR for granted anymore. 

My phone was tuned to a live waterski competition where my waterman was taking yet another championship. There were two cannoli instead of a proper lunch, and I had a sheaf of printed pages to read and edit. 

Is this heaven?

The dailies

 

Free from the grocery store because they have my data.

Big update to the dirty thread store today. The light was right, and I made the time to get it done. 

I also finally got all the equipment cleaned and put away for the season. All that color in the sink gave me such a pang.

Something's afoot across the street at my friend's house. It's been empty since she passed back in January. Family came and took what they wanted, but no one has come since to care for the place. The beautiful pool behind the house is probably a loss. Her beloved Caddy rots in the garage.

I hope they are here to set things right.

The Elders tuck me in at night. On guard. The kids have to make do.

The dark

 

Not moon...

 

...at least not while I was still awake. It should have risen from the fork in that tree, but the clouds were creeping.  

I used to take my Tarot cards outside on the full moon. Outside, naked on the upper deck because Jim was watching from our bed. It's no fun with no one watching, and the cats don't count. Now I spread the cards out on the carpet by the glass door and say, "Good enough". 

Next night, another try looking out the kitchen window this time. SOMEBODY better cut that frigging weed down!

Also, I just finished watching the last episode of After Life with Rick Gervais on Netflix. If you've been left behind or lost someone, this will both put you through the wringer and restore you, scene by scene.

 I've also started calling the myriad assholes in my life "cunts". 

(Redacted dialogue)

"What's his name?" 

"Um....Jackson."

"I knew it. All guys name their cocks."

"Cock, you say?"

"Want me to say weiner or dingus?"

"Jeez, no, now that we're on a first-name basis and all. What do you call yours? Pussy?"

She made a face. "I hate pussy."

"Fine by me, but you know what I mean."

"In my tribe, we call it your Woman. "You got to work your Woman. Make her strong. Make them men faint when she grabs ahold dem."

"Amen!"

"Personally, I like the word 'cunt'."

"Ouch."

"Why? Four letters and straight to the point, just like cock. Serviceable, pardon the pun."

"Yeah, but the Brits and the Aussies ruined it, you know."

"Yep. Wore my cunt right out."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Stop talking?"

Conditionally

 

I wish I had the full set of these. I bought them in a head shop in Provincetown, MA, back in the day. I can still smell the incense. 

The gorgeous art by David Palladini still speaks deeply to me - the colors and composition ring like a bell in my heart. They were published as 6x8.5 postcards by Morgan Press in 1969 with text on the back by Linda Goodman.

The five missing signs - Scorpio, Aquarius, Capricorn, and Sagittarius? I gave or mailed them to special recipients. 

Dee created a chart for me a long time ago. I never dug into the nuts and bolts of astrology - it looked like more math than fun - but I suspect that there are a lot of other planetary alignments skewing me away from the traditional Libra model.  Peacemakers (who will cut a bitch) are a bit outside the pale. 

I miss how the threads look all wound up this way. My hands and wrists do not miss doing it. Now, it's a small pleasure only for my own stash. Sorry, you'll have to wind your own.

                              ~○~

Here are the leaders we need. 

 Addendum.  Thanks, Dee.

Windows wide

For the fresh air of October. There was a visit with family in the country that included a little tlc for Nibbler, who was under the weather.

(I closed the blog while I was away due to a gush of AI visits. 

They get bored and go away.  Feckless twats,

Some worry about what they post on the web.  The one thing I know is that the internet, as it is now, is forever, and evil men die daily.

I can still find things that I posted in 1995, and my expertise is strictly amateur, so having my say here now is my nod to the 1st Amendment.

Los Dados Encantados

At home, I've started gathering the pieces I want to bring to the show in January so there's no mad scramble over the holidays.  

Remember wood slats for hanging? Seems like another lifetime ago.

Karma IV

Welcome back, Grace!


 

This is why.

 They spend a third of the time chasing each other around the house, even in the middle of the night...sigh. But I'm savoring the hijinks because I know kitten foolishness fades quicker than the terrible twos. 

This morning, there was a snag in the feline social fabric. 

Bailey had a spat under my bed with Bong. Then he strolled into the studio, lifted his tail, and pissed on an open box of comic books stored under the table, marking "his" territory. In his tenure with us, I've never seen this distinctly male behavior, but then, this is the first time we've welcomed another male cat into the family, even though they are both neutered.

 Colin was quick to salvage what he could, wiping down everything else with disinfectant. I will have to watch Bailey like a hawk and shut the door when I'm not in here to observe. This too shall pass.

I posted more thread sets to the store this morning, but I also felt the need to treat myself to a few more, even though I can hardly get the stash closed. 

There has been a lot of turmoil close to home this past week, and I'm not feeling well. Vertigo is the worst. It makes it hard to be fierce in body and mind. 

A few days of routine as fall sneaks in, and I'll be fine. 

Not crazy

 Yet, at a feline count of four, we are full up.

This is Bong. Six months old and already nine pounds. Sweet-natured and all-day handsome. His foster mom wrote a great marketplace post about everyone needing "Mini house panthers, shadow goblins..." The writing pulled me in, and the picture of him and his three sisters kept pulling me back.

And Sophie was driving me nuts with her beagle impression. What cat wants to play fetch all day long? And when she wasn't in my face, she wanted the Elders to play. They have come to tolerate her, but play? The kitten needed a kitten. So, yeah. Welcome Bong! He answers to the name so it stays.

In the middle of this, I needed to make some changes to my bedroom that involved emptying and getting rid of a massive old desk and moving an overloaded bookcase. 

So many books and, to my shame, bookmarks in a third of them, only one or two chapters in. I was so happy to see them, I plucked them all and wished the books good luck. Maybe I'll pick you up again one day. 

The desk drawers were full of pictures, important papers, and notebooks. The bottom drawer was full of expired technology. Flip phones, PDAs, a Blackberry, some digital cameras, and a nest of cords that might belong to some of them. 

 I have never seen this picture before. Jimmy, Colin, who is about three, and my Dad. Everyone dressed to kill. Why and where? No clue. My handsome devils.