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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.)

Monday, 10 March 2008

Daylight Savings Time

“I don’t really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen. As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves.”

-Robertson Davies, in The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks (1947)

(I ran across this at Abbey of the Arts and unblushingly stole it—it was just too perfect a description of the way I feel about this thing inflicted on us every year.)

Sunday, 27 January 2008

May I Just Say . . .

that I am getting very tired indeed of cats throwing up in the house? On the house's single piece of carpet, on the ironing board (the cover needed washing, but still . . . ), on my sewing table (thankfully missing the machine) . . . those of us who eat our morning catfood and promptly regurgitate two-thirds of it should do on the kitchen floor (preferably not far under the table, so I have to move it to clean up), and those of us who absolutely must go out and eat grass should remain outside until we have finished throwing up.

Thank you for your attention to this matter. I am going to go and find another roll of paper towels now. . .

NOTE: Yes, of course it's my fault for indulging them. I still get to complain: after all, it's not as if anyone is going to pay attention . . . We're all suffering from a touch of cabin fever here; thank heaven it's going to be a bit warmer this week and everyone can GO OUT! (including me)

Monday, 12 November 2007

Complaints

I have had a migraine headache all day. My neck aches. My ears are stopped up. My stomach is upset. My blood sugar is too high (not in the dangerous range, just too high). I am either too hot or too cold. I forgot the clothes on the line until they were damp with the evening dew, and now I have to put them in the dryer.

I think I'm coming down with something, and I have a dentist's appointment on Wednesday.

I tried crocheting today, since I felt too awful to do anything useful—just some simple ribbing. I managed to drop stitches all along one edge, so I had slanted ribbing. I ripped it back and tried again. This time I added stitches . . . so I just unraveled the whole thing and rolled it back up into a ball.

Bah.

Thank you for listening. I think I'll go fix a bowl of rice and some miso soup, and find a nice trifling book for the evening, and resolutely not look at the yarn basket . . .

Monday, 12 March 2007

A Glorious Monday To You All . . .

in spite of the damned daylight saving time. (It looks to me as if it would make more sense to let it get light earlier so people wouldn't have to get up and start working in the dark, but what do I know?) I'm just bitchy this morning: it will take me the better part of a week to get really functional again. Widget has eaten something that didn't agree with her and has diarrhea. Jesse is constipated (I think; it's difficult to tell with goats), which means he must probably be Dealt With. The chickens, which have now been let into the goat lot preparatory to fencing them out of the garden, keep escaping up into the yard somehow. I had intended to put a card table in the space between bookcases in the "library" room, so cats can nap in the afternoon sun somewhere besides my rocking chair and the bed, and said table is precisely 3/4" too wide to fit, and of course I don't have another one. (So I just put it in the hole cattycornered, and let it stick out into the room. And baited it with catnip.)

Bleah. It's definitely Monday!

On the other hand, John has retrieved Roger to help him sink the plastic pond down in the goatlot, so I don't have to. The bees are out . . . I've seen several working the crocuses. Seeds are beginning to arrive. Garlic we planted last fall is coming up, and so are tulips (which means the voles haven't eaten them—at least not yet). There are daffodils everywhere! I have two big bags of stuff ready to go to Goodwill, so there's that much less in the house. (Though I don't see any holes . . . ) I began to sort and press my satin/silk/velvet pieces yesterday (necessitating a trip to Office Max for a couple of plastic boxes, so as to keep at least some cat hair out), and there are many more than I'd thought. I have plans for a crazy quilt someday, in all my copious spare time . . . but for the time being, I'm planning to make a couple of pillows, or something, for Emma and Eliza. I have a box of assorted fiber-y things, and a big box of vintage lace and trim: enough to keep me happily sorting and pressing for several days.

And in the meantime, there are these in the yard:

Multicrocuses

And these down at the end of the garden:

Bushcherryblooms

And, even though it's cloudy today, tomorrow is supposed to be blue-sky all day, and I can hang the laundry out! (The clothesline is on the north side of the house, and if there's not a lot of sun, things just don't get dry in the winter.)

Thursday, 30 November 2006

Flu Shot Blues

So I had to go to the doctor yesterday for a diabetes-diagnosis-followup, and I thought, well, I'm here anyway, maybe I ought to get a flu shot this year. . . bad, bad idea. Now, I've never had a flu shot, because I'm allergic to chicken feathers. (And, no, we won't go into the fact that I have chickens and interact with them, and their feathers, on a daily basis. . . I'm not injecting feathers into my bloodstream, am I?) But now they have a version that apparently is OK for people like me, so that's what I got.

I should have been suspicious when the nurse directed that I hang around in the waiting room for 15 minutes, to see whether I had any adverse reaction to the shot . . . what sort of thing should I be looking for, I asked?  Oh, throat closing, trouble breathing, that sort of thing . . . OK. Do I really want to have a shot that may make it difficult for me to breathe?

But, like a good little soldier, I said, oh, alright and proceeded to do as directed. Fifteen minutes later, still breathing, I left. And I was fine until a few hours later, when I started feeling . . . well, not very good. Just achy, flu-y . . . joints hurting, maybe a bit feverish, vaguely nauseated. No big deal. I can handle this . . . except that this morning when I woke up, everything hurt. Especially my mouth; in fact, the entire right side of my head felt like it would be much better if it simply fell off. I have an upper four-tooth bridge on that side, and I can't eat because the slightest bit of pressure on it makes me want to jump out of my skin. Both of the anchoring teeth have had root canals, and the bridge itself is new this year, so I don't think it's a tooth problem. . . especially since my sinuses on that side hurt. Whenever I get a cold, my teeth hurt . . . they're my weakest area, and I suspect this is more of the same. Only worse.

By now, many aspirins later, I am down to just the bridge hurting. We'll see how it feels in the morning. (Why do these things always happen just before a weekend?) But I'm thinking that this may be not just my first, but my only, flu shot. And, yeah, I'm just a little bit annoyed that my doctor didn't mention anything about side effects . . . I probably should have asked, but shots never bothered me before.

All right, I'm through whining now. I'm going to go and take some more aspirin, and hunt up the heating pad . . . but I have a new book, so all is not lost.

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