snakes and such

Today's best moment (and also the worst moment): A mom came in with her daughter to get an alteration on a prom dress. The daughter was quite reasonable, but mom was flitting here and there, trying to make things perfect when...they already were. Daughter didn't want the train, mom did. Well, mom isn't wearing the dress, and I'm caught listening to both of them argue with each other, knowing something would have to happen at my hand. So. I told them I generally side with the person wearing the dress, but I also don't want to cross the mama. How about a compromise? The girls who have trains have six inches only of train. They both agreed.

And now the best moment...the mother is the sister of one of the pain in the ass kids I taught back in my teaching days. I finally had a chance to tell the snake story.  The junior high boy, despite guidance on preparing a science project, decided he wanted to do a project on snakes. That's not forbidden, by the way. What he did was definitely forbidden. Without any mention to me, he had his uncle bring a snake to school in a shoe box, delivered to the office. There was probably only one person in the school prepared to deal with a snake without killing it, and that was me, and I was not in the office. I got an urgent call to deal with the beast. I found the boy and told him to get the snake out of the school immediately or I would eat it for lunch. He believed me. He also cried. He called someone who quickly got the snake, and all was well. That's it. It was only a garter snake, as I recollect, and I'm grateful I didn't have to eat it.

the best part of the day

The best part of the day? In the morning I thought it might be watching a jumping spider in the bathroom. I like those little critters with their alert and kinda comical eyes. At one time a jumping spider hung out by my computer for a week or so, coming out occasionally so we could look at each other. Nah, there's nothing scary about those cute little guys.

But then another best part of the day was when a high school girl came to pick up her prom dress which I'd altered, and decided that now she wants to wear five inch heels and now the dress is too short. Hmmm. She doesn't quite "get it", but I know some of her story and was willing to bend as much as possible to make her be as beautiful as she wants to be. She'll be back in a couple of days, having to decide between five inch heels...and sandals.

But then another best part of the day was when another high school girl came over to pick up her dress. I love this girl's spirit. She's still in high school, but has already started a cupcake baking business and will put herself through college with this business. I asked her if she'd like to barter rather than pay for the dress alterations. She went home with a drop dead gorgeous dress, and I have two dozen cupcakes, most to be frozen for a family reunion soon.

But then another best part of the day is right now, figuring I actually had something worth saying. It's all good. Life is good. No matter what.

it begins

I have begun. Finally. One book or two remains to be seen. Title sort of like...cancer and other poetry...

Now that I have the tools that allow me to merge my words with my photos in a way that pleases me, I can proceed.

pas de deux

She danced in the water
with her reflection
and in her strength and joy
she stretched upward
and touched the sky

better than flying

An old man, seated on a sofa, is going to teach me how to dance.
I approach.
He instructs me to put my feet on his feet.
Now he stands and starts to walk, this old weak blind man.
I am trying to anticipate his movement
because I certainly must be a burden to this old man...
but he doesn't let me into his mind.
Instead, I learn to find balance inside my own self.
I learn that's the only way we can both dance together.
He extends his arms, palms up.
I extend my arms and lightly rest my hands palms down on his hands.
Lighter than air, we dance and glide.
At the end of the dance we hug
and we hug again at a deeper level.
It was surely like hugging God.
This, my friend, is better than flying.
~me, 1995

standin' in the middle of all there is

if the universe has no boundaries 

then every point in the universe is the center of the universe 

 you stand in the center of the universe 

you ARE the center! 

everybody is the center 

every thing is the center 

the center is all there is 

 I love this dance

this day

Such beauty carved into the stone that built these historic buildings! It reminds me to take my time, create beauty even if it takes time, and pause to appreciate the beauty created by others.

 On a more mundane note, I'll say that toenail surgery isn't half bad, and it sure feels good to walk without pain.

my voice from my past

Unacknowledged pain is the birthing area for monsters and fears.
~me, 1995

and it didn't even hurt

one day
two doctors
four needles...
two in my mouth
two on one toe

 Hey!
What can I say!
getting old is not for the faint hearted,
but as long as I can
eat,
talk,
and walk...
life is good
in fact, it is very good

bliss

Somewhere in the universe a lake exists
a magical lake
deep clear blue
blue as the sky when seen from the mountain tops
surrounded by trees, rocks,
 a mountain lake without the mountains
because all there is...
is the lake
a fluid jewel
 I swam the perimeter of that lake
effortlessly
a special swimming stroke
or maybe it was a dance
or perhaps the lake was teaching me how to magically swim
 I swam the perimeter
a complete circle
circle complete
with all the symbolism that might entail
 it was bliss
I've lived long enough to swim in the lake of bliss

A mystery, eh?

As time moves on and I consider my next birthday - my 70th, the end of life becomes increasingly...interesting.

 Yesterday I visited mom again on her deathbed, wondering...just wondering. Wondering, loving, mourning. It isn't an easy visit.

 Last night I dreamed mom and I were decorating a room with gold metallic fabric, which shone magnificently as we artfully draped it in the sunlight.

 A comforting mystery, eh?

just an ordinary day

tired
busy
deep into learning CS6
figuring out how to turn my new camera into a world class paintbrush
catching up on fiber art
trying new recipes
clearing out clutter
reading
napping
getting up the next morning and doing it all again!
and oh yeah, housework, gardening, family time...
life is good, even when there probably isn't much time left...

eyes wide open

It's taking me forever to read Howard Zinn's "People's History of the United States". Today I completed 33 pages devoted to the Viet Nam war, which now I understand much, much more than ever before. It's all economics, eh. George says all wars are fought for economic reasons. I think if more people paid attention to our own history, we'd have a much better understanding of our country - what it is, and what it isn't. My take away is this: patriotism basically sucks. If religion is the opiate of the masses, then patriotism is what condemns us to following whoever is holding the flag, and for whatever reason said person says they're holding the flag. We may have ideals, but in the mud fights of life, the bullies have the advantage.

now

September morning early
the sun is up, yet the clouds are hanging low
and all is comfortably dark
raindrops are gently drumming their songs
as I sit by the window
and dream

stormy adventure

The storm has passed. It was only a small storm, lasting for maybe two days. Nobody knew
until it got pretty bad, then George got me calmed down. It's like this: having had cancer three times, and having first hand knowledge of what it's like to zombie walk through chemo, it therefore happens that minor quirks in my body put me on high alert. Also, I'm rapidly becoming too old for another successful battle. But all's well that ends well, they say. We all have minor quirks, yes? And the elderly can be especially quirky. But yes, I'll stay on top of things, get my check-ups, do the work. I have too many pictures yet to take, too many art pieces still undone, too many delightful journeys still in the que. Life is good, even if occasionally scary.

humming a happy tune

Although I've read that the hummingbirds are beginning their migration, and whichever birds I see on one day will be totally different from the ones I see on another day, there is still one little guy who is hanging around, constantly defending his feeder from all intruders. How do I know it's the same bird? Behavior, and a tiny little feather out of place on his head. How cool is that! I can differentiate between different hummingbirds!

oh happy day

The sky was so vibrantly blue I wanted to sing to it.
But I didn't.
But my spirit did...

Today was a perfect day. I remember when I was a kid, reading my Bible, thinking I was doomed, perhaps. The verse was about being lukewarm - something about God would spit the lukewarm from his mouth. Or something like that. The poor were guaranteed salvation, the rich were required to practically become poor themselves, or so it seemed. But what about us middle class folks? Comfortable, well fed. I figured I was supposed to give it all up and give it to the poor, but I was just a kid, not having a lot of control over my life yet. And if I did and gave all I had to the poor, then I'd become poor, too, and what good would that do? It was such a dilemma to my teenage mind, and if nothing else, it left me with a sense of guilt.
Today was a perfect day. Now I know the Bible is a book written by men. Inspired in parts? Sure. I'll buy that. I also know I spent a lot of time and energy dealing with that damned guilt monster, and now I know it is a human construct. I know and have encountered true guilt, not the imagined guilt from my childhood.
And why was today a perfect day? The sky was blue. The hummingbirds feed so close to our kitchen window that I can see their little throats quivering with each swallow. I got through my entire to-do list and still had time for a nap. The local cardinals are getting their head feathers back. Weeds pull out from the soil thanks to a recent rain. I am still alive, and so are the people I love. That's all. No big drama. Just a peaceful, happy day.  

drama at the bird feeder

Soon after we installed a hummingbird feeder, one little guy decided it belonged to him. He'd drink, of course, but he'd also sit on top of it, or sit in the tree close by, and chase away any other hummingbirds who'd visit the feeder. I know it was the same bully each time because of a feather mishap on top of his tiny little head.

Word has it that hummingbirds are at risk because of the drought. Their preferred flowers have dried up, but I guess Mr. Greedy hasn't read the newspapers. Hummingbirds. Humans. Not a lot of difference, eh?

50 years

Fifty years. The history book I'm reading spans 400 years, and when I read what happened 50 years ago in that perspective, it seems almost like the present. So yes, in some regards it is the present. I started becoming aware of the bigger world 50 years ago, and my memories are part of my personal present tense. Yet, in 50 years I will be long gone, and there's a reasonable chance my sons will also be gone. That will leave the grandchildren, who by then will be approaching their own senior years. I wonder what political issues will bedevil them, and I wonder if they will care. I wonder what their world will be like. One thing I don't wonder about, though. They have amazing brain power and creative abilities. They may be pissed at the world they live in, but they won't be helpless.
Probably.

On the other hand, the astrophysicists may have miscalculated the approaching asteroid. Planet earth may be desolate in 50 years. So I will be comfortable with knowing we all go sooner or later, and despite our mythologies, we don't know what happens next.

More importantly, I gaze at a butterfly that simply drinks nectar, and is complete.

Wine glass emptied, time for sleep, and musings will continue at another time.

just sayin'

We're heading up to Youngstown today to visit with an elderly aunt.

 But what's on my mind? Doctors. I'm beginning to think doctors, to a great degree, are enablers for unhealthy lifestyles. So many of the things we see them for are a result of poor lifestyle choices, and when do you ever hear a stern lecture from them about that? Maybe some do, but I have yet to encounter any. Yes, we are responsible for our own health and lifestyle decisions, and I'm as guilty as many at not taking care of myself.

Here's my example. Blood work showed I have high cholesterol - not horribly high, but high enough that he wanted to put me on a medication. I said no - I'm going to give myself six months to get back in shape and then I'll come back and we'll see where things stand. Well, getting back in shape is difficult, and I did a little better, but not enough to justify ignoring the need for cholesterol meds, he said. So I started the meds. Within a week I had an unusual muscle cramp. Ok, we get old, hurt happens, hurt goes away, and so I ignored it, though it did keep me off my bike. Then another cramp in another place a few days later. Huh? Meds? Lets wait and see. And then a few days later another one so strong in one foot that I could barely hobble for a couple of days. Ok, that's it. He did say that muscle pain might be a side effect, and so I took myself off the meds. Am I going back in? No. It's my body. I shall work my butt off to get into as good a shape as a senior can do. It will be hard. I will have to say no to foods that my husband loves and loves to share, and I'll have to say no in a way that isn't attitudinal. But if that's the way it is, then so be it.

I've thought for a long time that doctors do two things: cut you or drug you. Both are passive to the patient solutions. Sometimes necessary, granted, but more often than not...not necessary.

And that's all I'll say about that...

brain cramps

There aren't enough years left for me to learn all the things I still want to learn, and do all the things I still want to do. With my new camera, I'm now honoring the cost by delving deeply into all the nuances available. I have brain cramps, and I'm not complaining. But sheesh! Thank goodness for awesome online tutorials.

committee

Next year I'll be 70 years old. How does that happen? It seems I must rethink what "old" really is, because inside me there's still the little girl that had a nest in the mint under the bushes next to the field. And there's also the young girl with her first love, and the young woman who walked down the aisle to be wed, and the mother who had such pleasure nursing her babies, and also the growing smartass rebel. I am a committee!! Anyway. The collective age of this committee is increasing. So be it. But there's this: as I stay open to further growth and awakening, it occurs to me that perhaps I'll be most alive on the day I die. That doesn't suck.

afternoon delight

A delightful day
swirly stormy noisy weather
two little neighbor boys playing with the same toys my own boys played with almost 40 years ago
learning my new camera
pulling weeds
yes, pulling weeds is delightful; messy, sometimes painful, but delightful as I see the garden take shape

an audience of one

He asked me why I write. He guessed I write here on my blog because I want others to read my words. So. Why write? I don't know who reads this blog unless I get feedback. And when I get none, which is most of the time, all I know is that Blogger tells me about a dozen or so, on average, read this on any given day.

 But the question is: do I write because I want others to read my words? Not necessarily. In the past my words have inspired others, and at one point I was asked by many people to write a book. That hasn't happened. Why would you want me to write a book when, if you like what I write, you can just read the words here?

 But more deeply, I write for myself. Writing is a bit zen-like for me, and sometimes thoughts, memories, insights bubble to the surface when I'm writing that have lurked until then. What do you do? Write? Sing? Run? Paint? Why?

 I'm not a religious person. I can't live my life based on other people's stories and mythologies. I write my own stories to make sense of things. This is what makes sense at this time: The Goddess, the Creator, the Ground of all Being. Creation. When I create, I am doing the work of the Creator, and the universe grows a bit. I guess we all create, yes? Art, or relationships, music, chaos, peace, war. Perhaps its all creation. I don't know. I just write. Oh, and take pictures.

meow

I have a friend named Cat.
One son works at Cat.
We have had eight cats in our lives
...plus a couple of kittens
I can be catty
I have never walked on a catwalk.
The Cat in the Hat is on the bookshelf.
It rained cats and dogs a couple of days ago.
Bike riding is the cat's pyjamas.

and that's all the cat talk I can think of.

elderthought

We travel further into the kingdom of the "elderly."

Yesterday we boarded a bus to Schnormeier Gardens, a bus full of senior citizens, and we were two of them. Actually, it was quite nice. Though it was only a one hour (or so) journey, the bus nevertheless stopped at McDonald's for a pit stop. Now that's right nice for those of us who, oh, never mind. Lunch in Gambier was delightful, and, on the way home, we stopped for ice cream. All that and George didn't have to drive. We sat back in relatively comfortable bus seats and chatted with really cool older folks. I can get into this! What I like about a gathering of elderly is this: they've already dealt with most of life's challenges, routinely carry scars that have schooled them in what's important (and what's not), and no longer do the posturing and positioning that is fairly common among younger people.

Their stories are interesting.

Fortunate are those who live long enough to become fully alive!

home again

back from Oregon, 695 pictures, and this isn't one of them...
so what will I remember?

friendliness, amazing Oregonian friendliness

the coast in fog
the coast with sunshine

 my sons' delightful stories about climbing Mt. St. Helens

cool temperatures

Portland's awesome transit system

and speaking of Portland...
VooDoo doughnuts
Wowburgers

Oregon inland

Mt. Hood

my brother's beard

...to be continued...

this day

today's goodies... We drove to Delaware to sign a petition to stop gerrymandering.
Simply being in Delaware is a "goodie".
The day after The Day! It still feels good. The Supreme Court ruling has momentarily checked my downward spiral into the darkness of thinking homo sapiens has outlived any possible usefulness.
An awesome thunderstorm. Much needed rain, even if inadequate in the long run.
watching Alliance videos.
Nova

 and today's baddies... That same thunderstorm. Damage, even if not to us personally.
Eating at Arby's
the heat, dear god, the heat

I'm glad there are more goodies than baddies

last lap?

Almost finished. A difficult dress left the house today. A bridesmaid with a dress at least four sizes too big. How did that happen? Was the store at fault, as I suspected? No. Her friend took her measurements incorrectly, and that's what the store had to use to order the dress. However, I have a magic wand, and now her dress looks lovely on her. We were both delighted. But hoo boy it was a lot of work!

I'm trying to get all the alterations out of the house before vacation, and proclaimed out loud that I'd take no more work until we get back. But then Greg called. He's an Iraq vet, returned home with cancer. I've worked quite a bit with his wife, and whatever they ask of me, if possible, I will do.

But I am tired. Maybe exhausted. It feels good to be able to work this hard, though.

plan B

another tiring day, but the work is getting done
because it must
there is no plan B, especially for brides

and at the same time, there's always a plan B, and C, and D...
I sometimes remind my brides that their lover is not marrying a dress
and nobody will remember what the reception table decorations looked like

lotsa work

Yesterday from my workroom: two projects left the house: a black wrap around curtain for a truck driver who sleeps in his rig when on the road, and a bejeweled wedding gown. Sure am glad I didn't get them mixed up!

Today in my workroom:
three bridesmaids
black Peter Pan
two flying boys
boy scout shirt
DeSales uniforms
pants hems
another bridesmaid dress
a long bejeweled gown
and a partridge in a pear tree...

Life is good! 

today's adventure

Today's adventure was to finally finally! explore Schnormeier Gardens, located in Gambier and open to the public for only four days per year. It was worth the trip, with pictures to follow. Eventually. You know how that goes...

http://www.schnormeiergardens.org/

morning musings

I'm not feeling so hot about Wisconsin's election last night, but in the end, will it matter to me and the life I live? At the current moment, no. But as moment follows moment, who knows.
And so, I do what I always do with the pain of deep disappointment: I go sit on the moon and look at things from a distance.
 Who are we as a "people"? As "Americans"? As "homo sapiens"? Everybody has their own opinion, right? That's what mom used to say, right before George would say yes, you're entitled to your own opinions, but you're not entitled to your own facts.
 Facts. From where I sit on the moon, it seems humans are sorting themselves out into two broad teams: one adheres to belief, the other adheres to truth. Which team will prevail? Probably neither, as our brains are currently wired. Belief has passion on its side. Truth has endurance, perhaps, on its side.
As peoples of faith from the beginning of time have hoped for, yearned for, watched for their own particular saviours, I, too hope for something. An evolution in brain wiring in humans. In the meantime, I guess I'll get my butt off the moon and go back to living my day, calling bullshit as I see it, and continuing the work of chopping wood, carrying water.
Final thought: will homo sapiens shed the bully on the playground mentality before earth becomes uninhabitable or before the sun novas? Too bad I won't be around to read our final chapter...

both and

We got the call. Could we house a couple of Obama organizers for a week? Yes. Of course. I looked forward to having two energetic young women of the "left" persuasion staying with us, and enjoyed redding up the downstairs; making the beds, making sure the bathroom was stocked, adding a couple of comfort touches. I remember my own time of being housed by strangers, though mine was for church outreach.

 We waited. Another call. Sorry, but there was a mixup. These two people will be working in Mansfield, so houses closer to their assigned turf were found for them.

 Interestingly enough, I was relieved, just like I'm relieved when alteration and bridal clients call and have to reschedule. OK, I'll admit it. I'm a loner; even a hermit. So why be open to others? Oh, a variety of reasons, and I like being with them, too. I guess its a both/and thing. I'm happy to see folks walk up the front sidewalk, and I'm also happy to see them walk back to their cars.

Except for family. I don't like saying goodbye to family. 

this day

simple pleasures
gardens
grandchildren
warm sunshine laced with cool breezes
shared stories
sons and daughters
good coffee
home made bread
health
laughter
46 years
joyful, peaceful plans
a glass of wine at the end of the day
salut!

first story

One of the benefits of my line of work is I get to hear a lot of personal stories from my clients. I still remember the first wedding dress I made. She was just out of high school and pregnant. Though she and the baby's father had wedding plans, she was nevertheless kicked out of her parents' home because of the pregnancy. So she lived with an aunt, who heard about me and brought her over. I asked her to come back with a drawing of the kind of dress she wanted, figuring that would be a good, positive, creative thing for her to focus on. I guess it's the teacher in me. But she did, in fact, come back with a simple drawing of a classic dress; simple princess lines, no frou-frou, and I was able to create that which she imagined. I like empowering people! I wonder how it all turned out. Did her mother get down off her moral high horse and choose instead the morality of love? I'll never know, but I don't need to know. It's her story. Though we wouldn't recognize each other on the street, and don't even remember each other's names, I'm nevertheless happy to have had a chance to walk through a couple of sentences in her story.

smilin'

yesterday
bone crunching brain sucking work
and yet...
merging the awareness of the work load
with the awareness of the ever present creativity muse
means the work got done
with a smile

best parts

What was the best part of the day? Probably seeing how well the altered dress fit my client. No. Wait. That was nice, but maybe the best part was getting the AC repairman out the same day we called for help. No. Wait. That was good, but maybe the best part was getting some significant weeding in my front flowering weed garden and bringing some sunlight to perennials we planted last year. No. Wait. Not that. It was going out to the garden and seeing baby tomato plants singing their silent songs to the sun and soil.

Notice something different from yesterday's? The garlic in the back bed has been dug up and out and is now drying or curing or whatever it is that happens on the back deck. Ah, the fragrance. Plus no vampires will harass us tonight.

it begins

Steve did what we couldn't do. He brought over some materials, his tools, his son, and they put together a raised bed garden for us. I am in dirt heaven! Removing the compost bin and shoveling the compost into the garden was delightful. I'm wondering if a tomato will be ready to pick tomorrow???

jump

Marge and I have known each other, mostly by sight recognition, for years. Last Christmas we sat across the table from each other at an event, and had an opportunity to get to really know each other. What a woman! She has wonderful stories about horses; she raised them, broke them, trained them, raced them, and loved them. When she told me she'd taken flying lessons, I shared with her my desire to tandem jump out of an airplane. Oh, how she lit up at that, and before you know it, we had made an agreement to do this thing together. I've been looking for a twofer deal ever since, having seen them in the past.

 Time has passed, we got busy with other things, the jump idea was still alive, but day to day work put it on a back burner.

 We met again at another function. She had a stroke last month, but told me she was impatient to heal - she wants to jump out of that airplane with her girlfriend, though family thought she might need to put it off for awhile. Did I mention that she's 81 years old? So now its my job to find the best deal, and we've agreed to jump later this summer. We won't put it off any longer. One never knows when we've taken time too much for granted.

project

I have a long term project: reading one last time all that I wrote while in therapy, then tearing up the pages, one by one, and throwing them away. Why not save them? Nobody's going to want to read them, and I'm surely not reading them again...and again...and again. But I'll tell you what! Four years of writing is going to take a long time if all I do is read a page a day.

maybe

Maybe I'll start writing again...

here and now

We've been asked to canvas for the Obama campaign. Yes, we should get off our butts and do something, but I'd rather make phone calls, and that is the other option they gave us. The problem with canvassing is this: I don't want to do a face to face with a bigot, and around here there will be a few. Phone calls are less personal, and I don't have to see their faces. No, I would not represent the best of the Obama campaign if I had to stay professional in the face of willful ignorance.

As I see it, if you want to vote conservative, that's fine, but base your votes on facts, not myths and beliefs. Same goes for voting liberal. Where did I read, though, that the facts have a liberal bias? (grin)

Myths and beliefs. In my view, the two prevalent myths are Christianity and patriotism. There are priceless nuggets of wisdom within those myths, but if you haven't done the work and know how to extract the nuggets from the shitpile...

enough already!
homo sapiens
I'm not sure we know what we are
or what we're doing
but as fate would have it
we're doing what we do in any case
and maybe that's as good as it gets.
the universe will probably not notice our passing
when that time comes
or, instead, we may evolve
but the universe probably will not notice that, either.
I'm ok with all that; it forces me to focus on...now.
here
and now

what if

What would it be like if I (and a multitude of others) were raised without the religious environment that teaches and preaches that we are sinners, flawed, unclean, in need of salvation? Loved by a God who made us flawed, then judged us as flawed, then did a self sacrifice to clean up our flaws, then awaited our acknowledgement of our flaws and our rejoicing that the flaws are not permanent. Of course, if this God had created a universe that didn't require a blood sacrifice in the first place, and created us without flaws in the first place, well, what would that be like? Oh. That's right. Free will. That troublesome free will, which just might be the original flaw in the first place.

You see, I can't wrap my head around these ideas and hold them close, though I tried mightily for many years. In those years I stifled the development of my own strength because it wasn't seemly to be independent of this God. Precious energy was diverted to shame and guilt - those concepts that kept us in line with the hope of salvation. And none of this fostered our own growth.

Here I am, freed now of the mythology, and with only a few years left to flex my muscles and encourage them to grow. Maybe the path from then to now is just fine anyway. Who knows.

But what would it be like if a generation of children were raised without the stifling teachings of a mythology like this?

both/and

Life is good these days, full of health and outdoors and bicycles and stuff.
As I continue to read Howard Zinn's history, the myths I've grown up with continue to drop away. I'm beginning to wonder if human beings are really just one click away from reverting to savagery.
But other than that, it's a good day! Hows that for holding opposites at the same time?

play

I'm playing with a new Photoshop toy - watercolor frames.

blood and noses

Continuing to read Howard Zinn's "A People's History". It isn't a fun read, that's for sure. Yet it is compelling. Perhaps because it speaks truth, as near as I can tell. It pretty much shines a light on the origins of "patriotism" and all the ideas, dreams, and nightmares that accompany that great myth. For example: it never occurred to me that July 4, the celebration of our country's birthday and the eloquent waxing of "freedom" has only applied to wealthy white males until recently. Blacks? Uh-uh. They weren't even considered to be human. Women? They weren't considered to be intelligent. The poor? Nope, not them either. And none of these deprived groups came into their own freedom except by fighting and dying for it.

So here we sit as middle class Americans, the majority of which don't really give a rat's ass about anything except what's at the end of their own noses. Well, someday what's in front of their noses will be something that has to be fought for. And, there will be blood. In fact, that is happening now. It just never ends, does it?

toxic bananas

I was standing next to the bananas. A woman's voice exclaimed "79 cents for bananas? No way!" I told her the regular bananas were 54 cents a pound, the 79 cent bananas were organic. So then we wondered...are there inorganic bananas? Huh? Well, ok, it has to do with pesticides, etc. She shrugged her shoulders about that, commenting on some people get all het up about organic. My thought was well, if you can afford it, then fine. She looked at me, said she's not sure anybody has died from a toxic banana.

bam!

Today's bit of excitement: a visitor rammed our garage door. Poor guy, he was so upset about it. Hey. You didn't ram our car, and nobody got hurt, and we'll get it fixed. It'll cost him, though. The biggest problem was getting the door secured. George had to jiggy it up so we could get the cars out, then he couldn't jiggy it back down. Fortunately he made some calls and got someone out here today. So now we're stuck with cars in the driveway, just like in the old days pre-garage. But you know what? I know plenty of people who park their cars in the driveway because their garage has become their junk room, so I'm guessing I won't get any sympathy on this one.

miters

Mitering. I can sew a mitered corner on a quilt edging with my eyes closed. Not so much on a coat sleeve vent. Perhaps the majority of people don't even know the inside of a jacket sleeve vent is mitered at one corner, but I do. You would too if you brought your jacket to someone for a sleeve alteration and they didn't know how to do a proper corner.
So. I had to shorten the sleeve and finish it up to make it look like nobody had done any work. That's my preferred look. Untouched. I've bumbled through mitered corners many times, but THIS time I decided to master the technique and not have to reinvent the wheel each and every time. So I opened up the sleeve. Marked the new hemline. Sewed the miter. Turned it right side out.
Oops. Wrong miter stitch line. Rip, Sew again. Right side out. Still not right. Rip. Mark the stitch line more carefully. Sew. Right side out. Shit. Try a couple more times. More shits and damns.
Ok. Just what IS the problem? So I folded the miter as I knew it should look on the outside, pressed the folds, then opened up the sleeve and studied just where the creases were which should be where the stitch line should be. Hmmmm. I think I got it. So I go to my alterations manual and check. Yep. That's it! I got it!
Now why didn't I go to the manual in the first place? Because its mostly words, and I don't learn that way. I'm a tactile learner.

This was an exhilarating experience, though not at the time. Just afterwards. Yes, I invented the same wheel many others had done before me (and even wrote directions in manuals to help others and make some money in the process). But this time its my wheel, and now I can do sleeve vent miters in my sleep. Just like quilt binding miters.

Speaking of sleep.....time to plant my face in a pillow.
G'night.