Spirits linger

Make what you will of the imagery. I believe in Spirit.

I woke up to a wash of bright sun and knew it was not going to last. Took this quick and dirty picture just before the cloud cover slammed shut and a quiet rain began. No chance for a better shot.  I'll pin him up on the board with the other Littles for now. It was all about saving that one scrap.

For unknown reasons, Easter in our non-religious family evolved into a mini-Christmas where the boys were more excited by one or two small, but coveted toys than they were about the candy. Coloring (and eating) the hardboiled eggs was all me. In that spirit, Colin shopped for a small pail of treats and toys and left them at Charlie's doorstep on his way home from working the overnight shift.

While we were still in New York, visiting and feasting with family was a given. Someone always made a ham, something I never cooked. Get dressed up? Not that I can recall. Church? Never.

It's very disturbing that in the name of religion, people will be defying local ordinances and going to Church there to further propagate this pandemic. Probably a lot of people who ONLY go to church on Easter and Christmas while decent people stay at home and practice loneliness to keep families and unknown healthcare professionals safe. These selfish fools will be clogging up the hospitals and morgues in two or three weeks. Damn them all to hell, if you believe in that shit. Think I'm biased against the biggest racket ever created by man? You betcha.

Although neither were affiliated or practiced any religion, my parents tried foisting church hypocrisy on us before we were old enough to call it out for the bullshit it was, hauling us somewhere vaguely protestant where I'm sure my Dad sat in the car and smoked

New shoes (and clothing) for Easter was a common financial burden for so many parents back then. All I wanted was a new pair of sneakers, not another pair of patent leather flats that I might only wear that one Sunday and wouldn't even fit come September when school started. I used to daydream about painting my feet black with my Dad's shoe polish just to see if anyone would notice.

Appropriately, weather from hell, aka Alabama, is bearing down on us, the worst coming after dark tonight. I am settling in with things to occupy my mind and my hands. An image of a French Market bag floated by on the web. I blinked and said, I can do that. Why didn't figure in.

a day on the cusp

Here's that culinary industry from the day before. I'll eat the leftovers at every meal until they are gone.
~What to eat when~ has never made sense to me. Unsupervised, I served my kids grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup for breakfast and Cheerios for dinner. Whatever, whenever. We are true omnivores.




Yesterday, it was so cold in the morning I really didn't want to get out of bed. The furnace was turned off and I had left all the doors and windows wide open. The down comforter and duvet were all aired as well. Bed never felt so safe and comfy, but 930 was the limit.
I find the longer I lay in bed, the more miserable my bones feel. I miss the anti-gravity of being in the water but the pool is in a terrible state and weeks away from spring cleaning.

 Today, it bounced back to 70 and sunny and demanded attention. My mailbox garden is overrun with those irises and a gardenia bush that had better give me some blooms this year. The peonies are puny looking but there were buds. I put all these anomalies down to my poor stewardship and climate change.

The lawn is scrubby but thick. A shock because we never really got the leaves off it in the fall, just mowed them to shreds and let them fall.

This is the grove. The four crape myrtles set to the points of the compass. Still recovering from the chain saw butchery inflicted on them two years ago. I think they might bloom this year.

I sat on the lawn behind the mailbox, pulling weeds and hacking out tubers of iris. Baily and Salem inspected the work then scampered across the street to visit my neighbor's daffodils. They both seem to understand the need to look both ways even on our quiet straightaway.

I scratched up enough bare dirt to hide some sunflower and morning glory seeds to go with the zinnias that self-seed so well each year. I miss planting marigolds and such, but I won't go shopping. I may never go retailing again. It's been thirty days since I last went into a store and I don't miss it, much, but if Colin wasn't doing all the necessary provisioning, I'm sure I'd be singing another tune.

The weatherman promises that the South is going to hell in it's Easter basket tomorrow with "tornados" being the lead word in all the forecasts. Timing is everything.

a looking day

But I got a lot of things done. Overdue stuff, like vacuuming. Dish doing. Cooking even. We had spaghetti with meat sauce last night on a night where I would typically rather not cook and call for Chinese. It seems like our favorite place is closed for the duration.

My Croc ballet slippers rescued from the depths of the Closet from Hell. I wore them to Jake's wedding and nobody noticed. I never had to take them off because they hurt my feet. Brushed off and brushed out (I thought about scorpions) I will try to get back into the habit of wearing something on my feet.

The deck pots and planters got a little love. Old, tired dirt dumped over the side and new soil added. I need to go out and round up a large team of worms.




I'm not so certain this angel needs a head.

I got sidetracked playing with the resident Legos - the ones that never go home with Charlie so whoever needs them always has them.

Facebook memories usually sticks to pictures of people. Today it just brought some lovely things to look at.


Home. The view I grew up with.  The still water so rich with life.

And an in-progress shot of Demons Dance

Some dyed cloth from years ago. Great inspiration for upcoming dyefests.

I remember the steps needed for all that texture!

stitching protection

What started out as a small mission to save a scrap of cloth has turned into a small project (for now). A badge (remember them?) of protection.  A cloth angel.

 I'm going to linger with this one a while.  A great relief from mask making and we all need to give ourselves whatever small relief we can find these days.

Thank you, Jude, for the shout out. Your work, your philosophy, means so much to so many. 

For now, I'm taking reservations for Dirty Thread. I'm investigating Stamps.com in order to bypass the pest hole, I mean post office, and for the next dyefest, I will have a Mystery Apprentice! Stand by for clues.

Although we are only across town, it's been a great relief to be able to send fun and useful stuff through the mail to Charlie. I deliberately ordered 11x17 sheets of good paper to go along with a set of watercolors, big bright pans of fun.

The only advice I had for him was "own the page!". It looks like he understands damn the white space and go wild. I see a budding Kandinsky or Frankenthaler!

The paper is heavy enough to take acrylic paint so when the watercolors run out, we'll move on to the hard stuff!!

Sunday catch up

Breaking self-regulation here. I guess you can't call it a rule if you only have the vaguest intention of it being enforceable.  There were to be no distractions from writing.

right. as if.

I uncovered this scrap again to find it unraveling dangerously and decided that it needed saving. Of course, this will grow. The way a common word becomes uncommon when paired with another. Then the phrases grow legs and gather in bunches, restive. Then the whole herd of those wild phrases takes off for parts unknown. Story!

I'm supposed to be somewhere and have one minute to figure out how to get there. I'll be back. Sorry, K. I didn't have Zoom configured on my phone. I'll try again.

Bailey (aka Killah) is annoyed when I encroach on his corner of the bed. "Bitch, this IS a Cali-king. Do you mind?"

He has been wreaking havoc on the lizard population of the deck.

Movie recommendations! "Hidalgo" with Viggo Mortenson is showing on Roku. Good even with commercials. "The Road to Perdition" with Tom Hanks on Netflix and, yes it goes this low..."Deuce Bigelow, Male Gigolo" again on Roku.

These arrived yesterday and HOLY SHIT! In what universe have I ever paid 12$ a bar for soap? This one and forever forward. The bars are big and fat- if you drop one on your foot in the shower it is going to hurt! The fragrances are intensely intoxicating and you'd better like whichever you choose because it lingers even after thorough rinsing. Lather? So rich, so gooey...closest comparison? Fresh cum.
💋💋💫

Addendum. Although I couldn't figure out the Zoom call, I was able to sit in on my first live livingroom concert that musicians are giving. Dayna Kurtz is an amazing singer/songwriter and just minutes before I had to log in to the day job, she had me in tears with "You'll Always Live in My Heart" then finished with this gem.