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I Am Easily Amused

Words to Consider

  • There must be more to life than having everything. -Maurice Sendak
  • Don't take life so serious; it ain't nohow permanent. —Pogo
  • The first revolutionary act is to call things by their true names, said Rosa Luxemburg.
  • The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much, it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt
  • When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. —Tecumseh
  • i do it for the joy it brings / because i am a joyful girl / because the world owes me nothing / and we owe each other the world / i do it because it's the least i can do / i do it because i learned it from you / i do it just because i want to / because I want to —"Joyful Girl", Ani DiFranco
  • Democrats are the party of those who are working, those who have finished working, and those who want to work. -- Elizabeth Edwards
  • Do not worry over the charge of treason to your masters, but be concerned about the treason that involves yourselves. Be true to yourself and you cannot be a traitor to any good cause on Earth. - Eugene V. Debs, Speech, June 16, 1918
  • "Nothing living should ever be treated with contempt. Whatever it is that lives, a man, a tree, or a bird, should be touched gently, because the time is short. Civilization is another word for respect for life." - Elizabeth Goudge, author of The Joy of the Snow
  • "There is nothing I can give you, which you have not; But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within reach, is joy. There is a radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look. Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly, or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, believe me that angel's hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Our joys too: be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts. And so, at this time, I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away. " (Fra Giovanni 1513 A.D.)

Art Dolls

  • Another Pink Jester
    My imaginary friends.

Artist Trading Cards

  • Feather
    A sampling of my ATCs. Some available for trade, as noted.

Beadwork

  • Face in Browns
    Mostly pins, with some other oddments.

Hats, Etc.

  • Yellow Beret
    Both hats and scarves, almost all crochet . . . so far.

Journal Quilts

  • Mona
    I'm doing one 8.5" x 11" quilt a month for an online challenge this year, plus a few others.

Paper Dolls

  • Pashmina, A Lady from the Mysterious East
    Second childhood? Not quite . . .

Books, 2008

  • A Language Older Than Words, by Derrick Jensen
    I don't know quite how to describe this book—it's disquieting, uncomfortable, and eminently worth reading.
  • Catwings and Catwings Return, both by Ursula LeGuin
    I listed them together because they're short juveniles, with charming illustrations. James, Thelma, Harriet and Roger were born with wings, and they flew into adventures.
  • Firebird, by R. Garcia y Robertson
    Takes the firebird legends of Russia and Eastern Europe and adds several new twists—a heroic heroine, for one, who rescues her knight . . .
  • World Made By Hand, by James Howard Kunstler
    American life in the aftermath of the long emergency, when lack of oil and climate change have put industrial civilization out of business. Not bad, but I've read better; specifically, I have problems with his characterizations of women (the proverbial madonna/whore and nothing else). However, I didn't buy this, so I got what I paid for . . . .
  • The Three of Swords, by Fritz Leiber
    A three-volume book club compilation of Swords and Deviltry, Swords Against Death, and Swords in the Mist. Leiber's epic fantasy stories and novelettes, featuring his heroes Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser. These were one of my first sword-and-sorcery readings, and I've never quite gotten over them, I suppose.
  • A Sand County Almanac, by Aldo Leopold
    This edition also contains Sketches Here and There, and some essays—I loved the Almanac part! The sketches were enjoyable, but not essential to me, and I'm afraid I got bogged down in the essays and didn't finish them.
  • The Penelopiad, by Margaret Atwood
    The story of Penelope, the long-suffering and constant wife of Odysseus, as told by herself and the twelve maids hanged by Odysseus upon his return.
  • Crossing Open Ground, by Barry Lopez
    Nature essays, on various subjects—I highly recommend this. In fact, I ordered his Of Wolves and Men, which has moved to the top of the "read this next" pile; and I have Arctic Dreams here *somewhere* . . . but I can't find it!
  • The Dispossesed, by Ursula LeGuin
    I've read this twice now, and I still don't "get" it. There doesn't seem to be much point to the story, though LeGuin is always a good writer. It's probably some lack in me, but there you are.
  • The Hounds of the Morrigan, by Pat O'Shea
    Comic fantasy set in the world of Irish mythology (and Faery)—the heroes are Pidge and his sister Brigit, who are chosen to thwart the Morrigan. This was O'Shea's first novel; I need to see whether she's written anything else . . .
  • The Pilot's Wife, by Anita Shreve
    I read this in one long evening—it's that good. Learning to live with the unthinkable.
  • The Iron Dragon's Daughter, by Michael Swanwick
    Very, very strange, even for a fantasy novel "Industrial Darkness and Magick" says the dust jacket—the story of Jane, a changeling stolen to toil in the dragon factory in Faery.
  • The Killer's Tears, by Anne-Laure Bondoux
    A very strange and thoughful little book that explores guilt, innocence and the nature of love.
  • The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula LeGuin
    Another of my periodic re-reads. The story of the Terran Envoy to Winter, a planet whose inhabitants are androgynous and may chance sex every 26 days (but there's a lot more to it than just that).
  • The Spiral Dance, by R. Garcia y Robertson
    I first read this ten or fifteen years ago, and have been searching for a copy ever since (thank you, Alibris!)—set in Elizabethan Scotland, it is the story of Anne Percy, Countess of Northumberland, and the conspiracy (one of them) to restore Mary Queen of Scots to the English throne—and of a madwoman, the Virgin Mary, witches, a werewolf, the lands of Faery . . .
  • The Moon Under Her Feet, by Clysta Kinstler
    A feminist retelling of the conception, birth, life and death of Christ, as told by Mary Magdalene, High Priestess of the Great Mother in Jerusalem.
  • Kitchen Literacy, by Ann Vileisis
    An account of how we as a culture have become disconnected from the sources of our food, and why we need to return.
  • The Death of Innocents, by Sister Helen Prejean
    An eyewitness account of wrongful executions, this is the followup to her stellar Dead Man Walking. Must reading, in my not-so-humble opinion.
  • The Last Girls, by Lee Smith
    Another fine story by the author of Fair and Tender Ladies, Black Mountain Breakdown, Oral History, and so many more—all evoke The South beautifully, and this is no exception. A reunion-riverboat trip down the Mississippi is the setting, and the "girls" are now women looking back.
  • Feasting the Heart, by Reynolds Price
    52 essays originally aired on NPR, plus a couple that never made in onto the air—varying subjects, but always beautifully done.
  • The White Witch, by Elizabeth Goudge
    A yearly re-read—Cavaliers, Puritans and Gypsies in the time of Charles I in her tale of love and subterfuge in the English countryside. And Froniga, one of my favorite of all her strong women . . .
  • Pucker, by Melanie Gideon
    Thomas, horribly burned in a childhood fire and burdened by a 'crazy' mother, has always been an outsider—but now he must return to his birthplace, the world of Isaura, to save his mother and to face possibility and temptation. Fascinating and well-written.
  • The Scent of Water, by Elizabeth Goudge
    Begins with a death and ends with a birth in the tiny village of Appleshaw—and in between there is life, love, friendship, faith, and the enchanting cabinet full of 'the little things." As always, a portal into a way of life long gone. . . and one that I miss, though I never knew it.
  • A Swift Pure Cry, by Siobhan Dowd
    The story of Shell, who finds herself pregnant at 15—the baby is stillborn, so she and her brother and sister bury it in the back garden. Then the Garda arrive . . . based on a true story, and very well done.
  • The Dean's Watch, by Elizabeth Goudge
    I'd never read this one; the characters aren't nearly as sympathetic as in most of her books, and it was difficult for me to finish. But it was worth it—there are lessons here, and things don't end well, but they do end rightly.
  • Book of a Thousand Days, by Shannon Hale
    A shimmering retelling of the Grimm's fairy tale 'Maid Maleen,' reimagined on the Central Asian steppes. I read until 3 a.m. because I couldn't bear to stop until the end. . .
  • Tistou of the Green Thumbs, by Maurice Druon (trans. by Humphrey Hare)
    A strange and pleasant little book: Tistou, an only child with remarkable powers of growing plants simply by sticking his 'green thumbs' into the dirt, takes on the wrongs of society. A French juvenile, ex-library, my brother found it at Goodwill and passed it on.
  • A Country Year, by Sue Hubbell
    About life on the land in the Ozarks, and a woman finding herself in middle age—I recommend it highly. And she keeps bees, too.
  • Losing Moses on the Freeway, by Chris Hedges
    The 10 Commandments in America—Hedges explores the challenge of living according to these moral precepts.
  • In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan
    An Eater's Manifesto—Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. (and nothing with over five ingredients, ingredients you don't recognize and can't pronounce, and nothing your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.)

Thursday, 15 May 2008

Old Ladies by the Fire

It's damp and chilly today, enough for a small fire, and the old ladies are hugging the stove . . .
Oldladiesbythestove Maggie and Widget (and me, too).

Other than that, we've been putting stuff up: two quarts of spinach (plus six quarts of mustard greens the other day) and three more gallons of strawberries, all in the freezer; and a gallon of strawberries in the dehydrator, and one more waiting to go in (minus whatever I eat while I'm capping them—the worker deserves a treat now and then) when these finish afterwhile. John is in the kitchen now making pickled ramps with what will probably be the last of this year's crop.

I'm working away on my goodie bag project (pictures tomorrow, perhaps). I mailed seven baby hats to San Francisco yesterday, to be sent on to Afghanistan later. And I made a nice big bowl of white bean salad earlier, which is waiting in the refrigerator for supper, along with a tomato and perhaps a big glass of buttermilk. . . and a slice of country ham for John, probably. I don't feel very carnivorous today.

After supper I need to make cookies for sale this weekend; then tomorrow it's fruit bread and gingersnaps for the tailgate, and finishing up an apron and a couple of floppy animals, and working on some more hats when I take a break. (They're very simple: a ribbed rectangle of half double crochet, done in the back loop. Then seam it up and gather the top. I just make them to fit babies, toddlers, children, whatever, with enough length to turn up for a good warm cuff. They make wonderful pickup work, and odds and ends of yarn make good stripes.)

Wednesday, 23 April 2008

New Furniture

Not for us, silly—new cat furniture! The old cat tree finally got too ratty for even me to tolerate, so it is now living on the deck and we have this spiffy new one. Maggie and LeeLee are investigating . . .

Cattree1

Ordinarily, Maggie and Victoria can barely tolerate being in the same room with one another.  Apparently being on different levels counts as being in separate rooms. Cattree2

What are you doing up there? Cattree4

And now I know who turned over the bowl of cat food on the window sill . . . Cattree3

The End. Cattree5

Wednesday, 16 April 2008

Defender of the Homeland

SamwithsquirrelsNote, please, the relative positions of Sam and the squirrels. Is he making any effort to catch them? Of course not. It's a lot more fun to just lie there and watch them eat. (And if he isn't watching squirrels, he's lying on top of the pheasant run, freaking them out. Which isn't difficult . . . ) The only thing he will actually chase is The Fitch, or the charcoal cat that sometimes stops by for a quick snack.

I just hope we never have an invasion of squirrels: he'd probably invite them in to forage in the pantry.

(Note: I do actually intend to put up a real post soon—but it's spring, the garden needs work, the tax refund is here, and we've been out stimulating the economy. Soon. I promise.)

Thursday, 21 February 2008

Of a Cat and a Pig

Here are a couple of bad pictures of Riley's pig (fleece and a pattern from Carol's Zoo):

Img_9352

Rileyspig2

And here is the reason for these bad pictures: Ocieandrileyspig

It's so good to have lots of help!

Monday, 14 January 2008

Relaxing

Don't you wish you were here . . .
Samonporchrail
(Except that it's right about freezing outside. Sam is an idiot—a charming, extremely well-furred idiot with a nice layer of insulating fat, but still an idiot. He should  be on the bed with everyone else. . . )

Catsonbed

Tuesday, 18 December 2007

This Is Why I'm Not Accomplishing Much Today . . .

Earlkaliinarms1Mr. Schmoodge and Kali are needy. Especially Mr. Schmoodge—every time I sit down to work on Madalyn's afghan, there he is. Some people, more talented than I, can probably crochet with a cat in arms, but I can't! (My heavens—look at that thin spot on top of my head! Apparently I should be wearing a hat most of the time . . . or perhaps I could persuade Mr. Schmoodge to ride around on my head, so I could cover the thin spot and work at the same time, and he wouldn't feel neglected . . . )

Thursday, 04 October 2007

No More Gifts, Please!

Sam just brought me a mouse. A live mouse . . . that's the third one today. (The other two were from Widget.)

Is this because they know I don't feel good and they're trying to cheer me up? Or because they know I don't feel good and I won't take their mice away and put them back outside?

(Yes, I know it's a trifle counterproductive to release them, but I can't bear to kill them myself. . . If they can get away from the cats again, they're on their own.)

Anyway, no more mice today, please!

Tuesday, 18 September 2007

Some People

just come right in and make themselves at home, taking over other people's chairs and refusing to move . . .

Alfredinrockingchair

Tuesday, 11 September 2007

She Who Is Rarely Photographed

This is LeeLee, Victoria's daughter . . . rarely photographed because she stays mostly outside or in the living room, lying in wait for John to sit down in his computer chair so she can climb up his leg and roll about in his lap while he tries to work.

She's been coming into the back lately, though, and I got a couple of good pictures. Isn't she gorgeous? And so, so soft!

Since she doesn't look anything like her mother, I would love to know just what her father looked like. But I don't suppose I ever will; we adopted the two of them from down in Concord, where Brian and Lara were fostering them.

Leelee1 Leelee2

Monday, 27 August 2007

Monday Morning

WidgetcloseupGo away and let me sleep!

I wish . . . but it is Monday, and we must be up and about. I did have a fairly productive weekend in spite of myself—we made a fair amount of money at the Saturday tailgate (and a good thing, too, for the property tax bill arrived in Saturday's mail. ouch!), then went to the grocery store and bought a huge batch of plums and another of nectarines, both for jam-making later this week; then I went home and took a nice long nap.

Yesterday I finished working in the two round robin recipe books that have been languishing on my worktable for the past two months (I'm sorry! I'll do better next time!!) and got them ready to mail today. Worked on a couple of ATCs. Went to Hancock looking for fabric that was there a couple of weeks ago, but no longer . . . let me explain.

I made this child's apron and took it to the market.
Chickenapron A customer comes over, pokes about for a bit, buys another child's apron, but says I really like this fabric. Could you make me an apron out of it? And I especially love the chickenwire printed pocket. . .

Well, yes, but . . . that apron is made out of fabric left from a pair of overalls that I made for Eliza two years ago. There just isn't any more—not in my stash, anyway. Well, she says, any chicken fabric like that would do, but I really, really like that one. So I got her name and phone number and promised to call if and when I could find something suitable . . . which is why I was at the fabric store on Sunday afternoon. (I'm trying to stop shopping on Sundays—after all, we managed without 24-7 shopping opportunities all the time I was growing up. But this was an emergency. Sort of.) I remembered seeing it last time I was there, which was last month, but they might have a couple of yards left . . . but they didn't.

I did, however, find this:
Butterflyfabric
which will make a lovely hat, and an apron, and perhaps a floppy cat or two. (I bought a yard of each.)

And I did find the chicken fabric, finally, at Favorite Fabrics. 3 yards are on their way to me, or will be soon. No luck on the chickenwire print, though.

I also spent a couple of hours weeding, and hauled three huge wheelbarrowloads down to the chickens—which is why I am sewing this morning, sitting down, with benefit of aspirin. Perhaps I shall weed some more tomorrow . . .

Halloween costumes: No, it isn't too early; I don't work very fast. Eliza would like to be a bride, in white. (Ever tried to find a bridal gown pattern for a five-year-old? But I have something that I can adapt, I think.) Riley will be a dinosaur (but not a sissy purple or light green dinosaur, says his father. A scary dinosaur.), and I have found some black-and-blue snakeskin printed moleskin at Fashion Fabrics Club Online. Emma will be a princess—PINK, if you please. Still deciding whether to use cottons (I'm thinking flower prints, maybe roses, and lots of lace. I think I have a couple of yards of very wide white lace that someone gave me years ago and that has so far proven useless for normal clothing. . . must dig in the trim box.) so she can play dress-up in it, or something less practical but more princess-y. And Jamie (Brian's half-sister) has a 5-month-old baby boy whom she would like to dress up as Captain Hook. Still working on that one . . .

Apparently they all wish to make sure that I don't become bored for lack of things to sew.

Today, however, I am working on a sundress for Eliza—yes, I know it's nearly September, but I cut it out last month and then got busy . . . and, anyway, she can wear it as a jumper this fall. So there.—and a pair of pants and a top for Emma (same sad story—sleeveless top. sigh.)

Hopefully I will be more productive now; the horrible heat-and-humidity that kept me sitting in front of the fan and whining for the past two weeks seems to have broken. We had nearly an inch and a half of rain over the weekend (but not during the market!), and the highs this week are only supposed to be mid-80s . . . this is more like the mountain weather should be. Of course, there are now horrible weeds that must be dealt with, and the goat lot is muddy . . . but it's always something. And it isn't hot!

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