An Old Debt Repaid

On Monday Josie asked if 'we' could make god's eyes as Christmas ornaments for the classroom tree and presents for her classmates.  Her job appeared to be putting initials of each recipient on popsicle sticks and picking out the colors for the first two.  

I'd tried earlier to teach her how to make these, but the yarn proved slippery, and the super glue needed to finish the work off was tricky and messy, and she only got frustrated. I made two with her choosing the yarn but realized that it would be better just to devote my time on Tuesday to listening to Pride and Prejudice and making the rest of the needed ornaments.

When I was in Junior High Home Ec., I had a home project which was to sew a muu-muu--which I did with quite a bit of help from my grandmother and her treadle machine. In fact, I rather suspect that she did most of the work.

We got an A on the project. And now, I feel, I've done my grandmotherly part on Josie's project.

 

The Last Rose?

 

Untended, unfertilized, but never unappreciated, this rose down in the garden blooms on . . . As may we all.

Back At It

                                                                         

With Thanksgiving looming, I'm trying to take care of some long-postponed deep cleaning'. Baseboards and the unexplored areas of the kitchen, including the wodge of printed out or torn out recipes-- some that have become staples like the quick and easy mushroom pasta we had last night, or the very excellent coleslaw recipe, or the salmon/citrus slaw that is a summertime favorite. 

All I have to do is to winnow through this mess, organize it, and save the good ones.

As I work, I listen to classic P.G. Wodehouse--Jeeves and Wooster and the redoubtable Psmith. It's a good way to keep my mind off politics and the looming apocalypse.

Moon Bathing

 

Just a few moments are good for the soul. 

Long Gone

During these fraught times, I find that one way of turning off the mental doom-scrolling is to work on a piece with lots of detail. I don't know why I find these old filling stations and country stores so appealing, but I do.

The one below is from a year ago--and of a different place, despite some similarities. 

                                                         

Just Wondering . . .

 Thinking of JD Vance's comments about childless cat ladies with no stake in the future having no place in government, I am compelled to ask---What about those whose religion tells them this world is only their temporary home, so climate change doesn't matter? Those who look forward to an apocalyptic war in the middle east that will usher in the End Times? Those who count on thoughts and prayers to do the heavy lifting?

Just wondering . . .

Dogs Just Wanna Have Fun

They don't reel with each new announcement of the coming administrations plans to gut the government.

They don't wake up in the middle of the night, thinking about the Afghan women whose voices must not be heard in public. Or the Ukrainians, fighting for their homeland.

They don't worry about the fate of public education and public health.

                                                                                     

They don't worry about coming spate of pardons for the Jan. 6 rioters.

They don't envision a Cabinet made up of incompetents, chosen for amorality and absolute loyalty to the orange guy.

Dogs just wanna have fun.

What a Piece of Work Is Man

 

What a piece of work is man

How noble in reason

How infinite in faculties

In form and moving how express and admirable

In action how like an angel

In apprehension how like a god

The beauty of the world

The paragon of animals

I have of late

But wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth

This goodly frame

The earth seems to me a sterile promontory

This most excellent canopy

The air look you

This brave o'erhanging firmament

This majestical roof

Fretted with golden fire

Why it appears no other thing to me

Than a foul and pestilent congregation

Of vapors.

from Hamlet and the musical Hair--for some reason it's been running through my thoughts. Only now and then, when I read the news, which I'm doing less of these days.

Comfort Food

It was a coolish, dampish day, perfect for comfort food. I made pumpkin soup with some very good chicken bone broth I'd made the day before and lots of chopped celery, onions and garlic as well as red pepper flakes and thyme.

Also popovers. The recipe in The NY Times Bread and Soup Cookbook calls for "lashings of butter," which I usually ignore but not this time. After the election, we need all the comfort available.

A little sour cream in the soup and a spinach and purple cabbage salad, made a colorful presentation. And tasty too.

 

Veterans Day

                                                      Honoring all who served . . .

Josie's Song

This is me at the library. I am in my pajamas because it was Pajama Day at school.

There weren't any kids to play with, so I did Legos a while and then picked out some books.

Then I wrote a song. It took two pages.

This is the song. It is called "I Like the Light"

I am a star.

I twinkle every night.

I shine ever so bright

And I like the light of the city

Zoomin' around like they're so pretty.

I know where I am and I know where I'm gonna be going.

I am a star.

I'm going and seeing the light.

I shine ever so bright

Like the lights of the city

Zoomin' around like they're so pretty.

Woooooo!

I like the light!

 

Sixty-One Years --An Updated Repost

November 9, 1963

Sixty-one years!?! Where does the time go?

John's grandfather, with whom I am exchanging an air kiss here, and his wife had just celebrated their fiftieth anniversary a few days before our wedding. Back then, I thought they were really old . . .

The reception was held at my maternal grandparents' house, which had, in 1941, been the scene of my parents' wedding, and the wedding cake was a duplicate of theirs, baked by the same lady and in the same cake pan.

Of course there were little silver dishes of homemade butter mints on the table. It wouldn't have been a real wedding without them -- at least, that's what my mother and grandmother seemed to think.

Between mothers and grandmothers and the mandates of the Episcopal Church, John and I were swept away on a tide of This Is How It's Done -- lots of carrying on that, in retrospect, seems hard to believe.

Long ago and a galaxy far away. But it seems to have worked so far.

Time for Reflection

 Still feeling sandbagged by the prospect of four years of That Guy. I'm reading various articles dissecting the reasons for the outcome (misogyny, fear of 'wokeness,' the economy, immigration . . .)  and trying to assemble my own thoughts. 

Till those thoughts reach coherence, I'll keep quiet on the subject. Expect photos, Josie, recipes, critters, and random rambling.