Playing Dress Up with Meema

I am a ballerina queen. But Meema is just Meema. I will use my magic fan to make her fancy,

There!

 

Keep Calm and Follow the Prime Directive

Tempting though it may be.

I find myself thinking about Star Trek and the Prime Directive  as the news from Afghanistan tells of the abrupt collapse of the government at the hands of the Taliban. Oh, no, I think--all those women who had begun to enjoy a greater freedom are going to be back in burqas and relegated to chattel status. 

But. The USA is only the latest in a long list of powers that thought they could change Afghanistan. Alexander the Great, the Brits, the Russians--the best any could do was to suppress the local fighters with a permanent and hazardous occupation. And then, when it became obvious that the hazards and costs were only buying a fragile respite, the powers withdrew. 

As the US is doing. Twenty years and over 2,400  lives have gained little or nothing.

"What did my buddy die for?" asks one veteran.

Good question. The initial avowed purpose was to stamp out Al Queda and get bin Laden (a Saudi, by the way.) That done, it should have been a cue to exit. We didn't. And now we are. Maybe it could have been managed more gracefully. 

But sending more soldiers into harm's way isn't going to change the fact of that buddy's death.  

My husband just reminded me of a quote from an Afghan fighter--"You Americans have the watches. We have the time."

And that's what counts in a situation like this. The Afghans outwaited Alexander the Great, the Brits, and the USSR. They outwaited us and now they come, roaring back.

My heart breaks for the women and for the non-fundamentalist Afghans, for those who aided the US. My heart breaks for those all over the world, suffering at the hands of brutal regimes. But, our meddling in the affairs of other nations invariably turns out badly, especially when that meddling is due to some perceived advantage to our country. 

On the other hand, once the Taliban establish their fundamentalist, repressive,  uber-conservative society, perhaps strong-man admirer Tucker Carlson will pay them a visit to see just how wonderful such a government can be.

Maybe he'll stay there.

 

My, How She's Grown

Now . . .and Then

Eloise--A Story for Precocious Grownups

 My longtime friend Eleanor--and when I say long time, probably over fifty years--sent me this book, a favorite of hers, way before Josie was around. And now it's become a favorite of Josie's too.

Go figure. What do you suppose Josie makes of life at New York City's grand Plaza Hotel in the mid-Fifties? With bell boys and elevators and room service and debutantes and ladies who lunch in hats with little half veils. (I once had a hat with a half veil--for church, not lunching. But I digress.)

Eloise is a free spirit with a wonderful imagination and unbounded energy. I guess that's what resonates with the Josie. Eloise is also rather self-willed and naughty. Josie's very favorite bit is when Philip, Eloise's tutor, is trying to get her to pay attention to her French lesson--

"Here's what makes Philip angry

He says, 'Alors! nous commencerons' and I say 'Alors! nous commencerons'

And he says 'Shall we settle down Eloise?' and I say 'Shall we settle down Eloise'"

It goes on like this for a page till Philip is shouting for Eloise's nanny and Josie is laughing helplessly. And no doubt making mental notes.

If you haven't met Eloise--a classic--you too might enjoy her. 

I've ordered two more Eloise books--Eloise in Paris and Eloise's Christmas.

Poke Doing Its Thing

This bird-planted pokeweed (from the Native American puccoon) is growing up beside our deck. Yes, it's a weed but as Autumn comes on, its stems turn a gorgeous deep fuchsia and those little white flowers become glossy purple-black berries that the birds devour. I find it quite beautiful. 

The plant and berries and especially the roots are toxic though there is a tradition of using the young stems and leaves for food. Safe preparation involves three to five boiling water baths. 

I've never eaten poke so can't comment on whether it's worth the trouble if you're not desperate for greens. Some folks regard it as medicinal. I can't comment on that either.

I have crushed the berries and made a kind of ink -- a gorgeous fuchsia color which soon fades to brown. 

Mainly though, I just enjoy the way poke looks. 

 

August Doldrums

Hot and breathless air

We trudge on to September--

What awaits us there?

 

A Painting Collaboration?

Josie really loves painting --on good paper and with very runny watercolor that blend and soak in. She has a nice eye for color but isn't especially representational as yet. I saw a bird in this first one and added a bit. She was pleased.

One can see all kinds of things in these two.

This below is also a collaboration--but I did the ink drawing first and then she added the color.

She is very serious about all this. When I tried to give her some cheaper paper (which didn't soak up the colors in the same way,) she was outraged. Fortunately, she's happy with the cheap watercolor set from the grocery store--and I have to say, the colors are intense.

She often starts with a circle and then adds stuff. I like the dots here below.

For some perspective, the work below is by Helen Frankenthaler--with a suggested price of 75K. 

Josie may be on to something.

 

My Fantastic LIfe

 A meme I saw a few days ago suggested that one could liven up one's life by thinking of humdrum tasks in different terms--a trip to the drugstore for meds could be a visit to the apothecary for a potion, filling the birdfeeder could be paying tribute to the Crow Queen.

I loved the idea and am taking it a bit further. Hence my description of a typical morning . . .

7:30(ish) am--Reluctantly leave the tempting embrace of Morpheus and begin my day. Swallow Mystic Pill of Ambient Energy, infuse eyes with Drops of Seeing, perform ritual stretches. 

Visit Temple of Bast and ensure that her Avatars have the prescribed offerings of Holy Kibble and Blessed Springwater. Do ritual cleansing of Sacred Litter Box, bag nocturnal deposits and place in the Circular Shrine of Refuse.

Descend to the Nether Room where the Machine of Whirling Cleansing awaits the soiled garments of yesterday. Garments in machine, add the Magickal Jeweled Packet of Purity and invoke the power of the Machine with a carefully calibrated spin of the dial. Hear the water pour in, fresh from its trip through a maze of mystical piping from the Dark Underworld..

As the machine begins to churn, ascend the stairs and proceed to the next Ritual of the Morning--Tribute to the Crow Queen. Her minions are everywhere and they are impatient.

Greet my consort who has procured Magical Beans from far off lands and brewed them to produce the Elixir of Wakefulness, which he places, steaming in a mug, at my side. 

Journey into the Magical Web, wherein much that is true and much that is false can be found. Also many images of Bast's Avatars. Must use caution as the Web is sticky and many a poor soul has been lost there, forever prisoner in its silken promises.

                                                     

Seek Iron Rations to break my fast then proceed to the Marketplace to lay in more provisions. My carriage is drawn by invisible horses, summoned by a simple twist of the All Important Key and obedient to the slightest urging on my part.

At the market, I don my Mask of Protection as the Plague still rages and there be many fools who have not availed themselves of the Saving Needle.

Inside, I can chose from the wares of many lands--tropical fruits from Colombia, olives from the Grecian Island, cheese from Spain, and cherries from across our continent--Wenatchee, Washington. I can even purchase a Magical Powder to perfume  the Sacred Litterbox of Bast. I stand ready to haggle with the woman demanding payment but she refuses, bidding me to Have a nice day.

                      

Crossing the bridge as I make my way home, I see a band of hardy adventurers setting off for the perilous voyage downstream. I mutter a charm that their voyage may be safe and they may avoid the fearsome Dakwa that has drowned many a traveler.

                               

Yep, I like this way of looking at life. Speaking as one who spent several years pretending to ride a horse everywhere I went and hanging out with the Lone Ranger and Tonto, I have no problem jazzing up reality.

Josie

Hey! It's me Josie again! Sometimes I wear a tiara.

But mostly I don't.

I love painting. I use a LOT of water and the colors all mix together. My pictures take a LONG time to dry. But that's okay. While it is drying I have other things to do.

Like play with my garden fairy houses. Meema put them outside but I said NO thankyou, please. I would like them inside. So she brought them back.

Now I can keep an eye on my paintings and the garden fairy houses and the Castle People all at the same time while I eat my lunch. 

Meema just says Whatever and something about choosing one's battles.

I did not think old ladies could  be in battles. Silly Meema!

 

Silent Sunday

 

First Fruit--of the New Shop

I was all set to do a post about how tired I am of having to worry about Covid and 45--both of which keep hanging around like a truly awful fart. But John just brought up this lovely taboret/art cart that was his first non-shop-related project.

In spite of having two upstairs rooms available for my use, the dining room has the best light and best consistent temperature and the best view. So that's where I've been playing at watercolor. I asked John to make me a taboret on wheels so I could organize my stuff a little better. (It's been mostly stacked on a chair and on the floor. ) What a pleasure to have things right at hand!

More flowers copied from a Dover coloring book. It's a good discipline for me to attempt to replicate a line drawing. Once the pencil suits me (after considerable erasing,) I ink the lines. Then it's just to fill in the color which is pure delight.

I always did like coloring books.

 

Randomly

 

The King Must Die?

What lurks in the mind of  a four-year-old? 

I came upon this scenario after Josie had gone home. Earlier I'd seen her playing with the Castle People and she had the ladies all lined up and the king was going down the line and talking with each of them. CP conversations are carried out in wee small voices and Her Little Self doesn't like to be interrupted when she's involved in CP play.

So when I found the king in what looked like a sort of primitive Iron Maiden, I had to wonder if Me Too and Feminism had come to the Castle.

Considering that the Ladies outnumber those of the male persuasion, perhaps the King would do well to mind his manners.