Makers make

Charlie did this drawing over a year ago. It's been hanging on the refrigerator all that time. In crayon, I tried ironing it onto the fabric but nothing transferred, so I'm stitching right through the paper with the idea that I'll be able to pick or wash it away when I'm done.

Bad idea? Hasty? Just a few small rebellions when you're stuck in the house and time seems both short and long.

I don't know why I was being coy about where and how much purple to use. Now that I think about it, if I wind up in the pest house at least they will remember the lady with purple hair if they can't remember or manage my name.

The whole time my husband was in treatment for cancer and when he was here at home, I was with him. More often than not, holding his hand to the last moments and beyond. The thought of someone I love and care about having to be in the hospital alone is more than I can bear to think about. Any and all distractions are welcome.

And to the point of being out of time or coy, I give you this.

the hardest part

It's been twelve days since I spent the day with Charlie. He was sick with a small fever a week ago Monday - back before a fever was terrifying. It was gone Tuesday morning, and he was fine and has been fine, but by the school rules, he had to stay home so I spent the day with him. It was the first day that he's missed school all term.

I didn't know then it would be the last visit we'd have for a while since we've all agreed that it's safest for everyone to limit our circles of contact.

We facetime, but I get the feeling that young children expect more from an electronic device than facetime with Nana can give. There are no big hugs, no silly business or fart noises. I miss him terribly. There is so much I still have to teach him. Learn from him.

I'm having a good cry along with "Yentl". Each and every time I watch it. 

Warm winds

I got out in the sun today and got the rest of the bigger sticks off the lawn in preparation for the long-overdue first mowing. By 230 it was nap city.

All the windows were open. Soft warm breezes were lurking in the curtains. The deep chimes on the high deck were very soft, almost apologetic. I didn't drift off, I dropped like a rock. Good sleep.

When I woke up, I realized how warm it was. 79 degrees out at the peak today. Warm enough to start thinking about the first dye fest of the season. It may not happen tomorrow, but soon.

As I work the phones tonight, I'm winding thread between calls. Tonight, I'll dream in color.

And did you see these wonders? Huzzah The Bucklings of the Hill!

afternoon drift

At first, I wished that I had planned this one better. Now, I'm forced into a way to insert some really rich profanity. White on white, maybe.

I never really minded the hermit life because it was by choice and I knew there was all manner of crazed doings going on out in the world- parties, parades, flash mobs, drive bys- you know, Life.

Now it's disturbing. Our town has a curfew.

I don't want to dwell on imagined outcomes, but I inherited a lot of hard times angst from that same grandmother who taught me embroidery. Not that she ever complained.

They did what they had to do. Tenant farmers during the Great Depression. She would take slivers of soap, soften them, then press them together into a multi-colored lump to keep on soaping. Teabags used all day long. Real rag rugs.

 This morning I set up online shopping for two different grocery stores. It took two to find the things I wanted.

It was good to see the stores limiting the quantities of things people can buy. You pick a time window, they bag it up, email you when it's ready, you pull up and they drop it in your trunk.

Two twenty pound bags of their favorite dry food and another forty pounds of cat litter was the find.

Knowing that at least Salem (the black and white one) and this demon know how to kill stuff and go to the bathroom outside is comforting.  He gets very pissy when I try to pry him out of the sewing chair.

It's my day off. Stop looking at me like that.

biding my time

I learned very young to never say "I'm bored" out loud or you'd find yourself sitting at the kitchen table polishing silverware, cleaning the parakeet's cage with a toothbrush and Windex, or hand whisking the stair carpets - all three floors worth. There is no end of tedious housekeeping tasks that a five-year-old can do if her Grandmother hears those dread words. Being bored was unacceptable.

Aside from forced child labor, I still have Nelly to thank for introducing me to needle, thread & hoops.

So here's the nearest reading pile. TV has too much temptation to drop in the news. We all know what's going on and what we need to do, I hope. Not that I'm putting my head in the sand. Just not letting the sand clog my eyes, ears, nose, and heart.

More about things to read soon.

Thanks for the tip, Dee. The heating pad is my new best friend.

No particular injury to my back, but my job (Yay! I still have one and will as long as there are lawyers) and my avocation keep me in a chair way too many hours and I'm paying for that.

I miss walking and hope to get back to it soon. New sneakers arrived just the other day.  I went to the park yesterday, but couldn't even find a place to park for the families with SUVs fulla kids. Good for them. I have a yard that needs picking up and a street to stroll.

This, a reminder of Things I Used to Do and Look Forward to Doing Again, soon as Spring starts thinking about Summer. Big and Batik.