a shakeup

NOW I'm in for some fun. I keep the dirty thread on covered plastic trays on a high shelf, out of reach of five-year-old fingers and feline paws.

I thought.

Last night, Baily, aka Mr.Big, managed to pull them down onto the work table into this stew of color.

Rather than try putting them back into the old collections, I'm going to first put together some rainbows (thanks for the idea, Liz) and post those.

It's gray and rainy here. First sunny day - Sunday, I think I read- I start taking good photos and posting them to the store.

Guilty as charged.

time

Nothing lasts forever.

Many things try. This little bear had already been around awhile when I put it on the stem of the rearview mirror of the year-old Civic I bought in 2002. Its owner was in the Navy Reserve and was unexpectedly called to active duty and needed to sell it quickly, made me great deal.

The beads were a gift from a boy I liked in 1969 when I spent time on Cape Cod. Who strings beads on thread? Boys in love, I guess.

Little Bear saw every one of the 300k+ miles put on that car between myself and my son. It still runs, just passed inspection, but I doubt it will serve as transportation again. The next owner is most likely to part it out. It served us well.


These came in the mail yesterday. I have no way to know how old they are. Twenty? Fifty years. Come dye season, they'll be born again, this time in service to art.

And yesterday, after five years, give or take, I typed ~fin~  on Prophets Tango.

notes from an armed camp

I wish I had something else to post, but it's been a long time since we've welcomed family members into the household. Sweetie should be more gracious as she was the last to join the tribe, but truly, she never got along with Karma or Voodoo. There was always the possibility of a scrape, but the house is big enough for everyone to have their territory. Eventually.

Bailey is young, a teenager. Won't be two until sometime late next April. A bottle baby. He seeks to insinuate himself everywhere.

Salem, the black and white female, is more elusive, but beginning to show herself for moments at a time. That business of her climbing onto my bed...I think she might have forgotten where she was. Do cats sleepwalk? She hasn't appeared upstairs since.

Sweetie continues to moan and sulk.

I am absorbed by the impeachment hearings on TV. I would much prefer the earth open a firey mouth and just swallow him up, but I'll settle for the law taking him down, lawfully.

I'd really love comments from some of my international readers regarding this.

Thanksgiving

It was enjoyable. I was too busy to bother taking any pictures. Taught Jake how to make stuffing over the phone and it was perfect, as was the turkey. I got there in time to demonstrate how to wring rich, brown gravy from whatever comes out of the oven. Missy's broccoli casserole stole the show, in my opinion. Charlie declared saying Grace to be boring..my little heathen, but really, he'd already led a spirited discussion on what to be grateful for. He understands the concept.

The Strange and wonderful: Just before dinner, Missy got a message from a local friend. Immediate help was needed for some beings who were about to lose their lifelong home and family.

I didn't think about it. I said 'yes'.

Better pictures once they both come out from hiding, but this guy, Bailey, is personable and sweet. 

Sweetie disapproves highly, but I will spoil her extra until she re-finds the rhythm of living in the company of her kind.

ps. Look who just strolled in and climbed onto the bed. Her name is Salem.

Saturday rescued

5th Ave at Twilight 1910  LB Harrison

November is the month that Georgia weather can't make up its mind.

Thursday afternoon, I gathered with friends on the clubhouse patio for a small birthday party. Mid-sixties, bright sunshine. We kept looking around going "Wow."

Saturday morning was as rainy, dark and dreary as they come. Days like this always bring back the day Jim died. All too easy to slip into sorrow unless plans are afoot and they were.

Charlie showed up and we spent the morning in the kitchen listening to music, doing Lego, making Rice Krispy treats, working in his scrapbook. He talked. I listened.

Jake arrived midday to collect him and brought in a wet package the postman left on the doorstep. A large box. My sister sent my mother's vast collection of costume jewelry and what-nots. In the box, a small American flag.

Jake unfolded it and held it up and Charlie said, "Oh. I have to do the Pledge!" Jake doffed his cap and I sat, wide-eyed. In a very quiet, solemn voice, Charlie recited the Pledge of Allegiance without a flaw. "...with Liberty and Justice for all."

It was so touching. We applauded and with pride, his father said, "My little American!"

 Please, America. Get your shit together for the sake of these children.