Well, the first thing was waiting for files to transfer to my backup drive from my laptop since I stupidly got rid of the working drive and kept the dead one.
The next thing was to trip over the cat and spill juice into said laptop and kill it. I swear I’m not brain dead, but it’s certainly starting to seem that way. Most files were in various clouds and a couple of external drives, so now I’m double-checking to see what’s missing.
Some files and programs are from a previous laptop that died midway through setting up the maker-space’s library. I pulled that hard drive, bought a housing for it and use that one for storage as well as a 2-terabyte portable storage device.
I use the portable drive to store files and programs to run on an inexpensive laptop I bought to keep at the maker-space to teach members to use software for our Cricut cutting machine and for use with other CNC tools such as the laser cutter, the big vinyl cutter, and the embroidery machine.
Right now, that’s my only computer until I save up for a better one. I still have my iPads, although the older one is used more for watching YouTube videos and is kept in my studio. There’re no programs of value on it except Pinterest, Slack, Zoom, Chrome, YouTube, and my maker-space email.
I’m still doing my watercolor project. I finally got caught up. I was a bit behind – by about six paintings, I think. I’m also making mini blank notebooks. They are tiny, suitable for a pocket or purse, and great as a small gift for a child. I’m doing some watercolor abstracts to be trimmed down as covers for the mini books.
This country was founded on a dream that all men could be free to live, worship, and find a way to start and make a better life. Later this freedom was extended to women, blacks, Native Americans, and immigrants fleeing oppression and poverty.
The dream has not yet been realized. The former slaves still endure harsh conditions, fueled by resentment that they were no longer slaves under control. Native Americans, confined to Reservations, with less opportunities of education, employment, and opportunity have a higher mortality and shorter lifespan of even poor Blacks and immigrants.
The quality of education has declined as politicians, less educated community members, and religious extremists have dumbed down, eliminated, or sanitized courses that would teach students the reality of our history, the responsibilities of citizenship, the general history of the rest of the world, and critical thinking.
Classrooms have become one-size education fits no one. The smarter students are dragged down by teachers having to spend more time with their less enthusiastic co-students. There is less incentive to do well because no one will acknowledge the work and effort put in.
As students in the “olden days,” most of us got the same basic level of education from first to ninth grades, depending on what part of the country we lived in. Students in poorer areas and some larger cities with larger poor populations did not always have the same opportunities for schooling.
Most students moved up grades. Some stayed behind for another year until they “got it.” A few were just passed along. Some students were able to choose classes that would lead to a career path.
Many students started to learn “life skills” — typing, drafting, home economics — in addition to higher maths, English composition, basic science skills, civics, history, and even a foreign language.
High School was where we separated into those who would most likely attend a college or university. The courses were harder — chemistry and biology, calculus and trigonometry, written language skills and research papers.
The second level of courses were for those students who would most likely become office workers — typing classes ( which were open to the College Prep students as well), bookkeeping, stenography, and business communications and business math.
The next level was general education. These were the students who had no interest in college or business, or had no means of getting into a place of higher education. They became auto mechanics, and repair persons, builders, and the folks who became the trash collectors.
We college prep folks and business students were taught to look down on these lesser beings — people who worked with their hands. We didn’t understand that these were the people who would ultimately live better lives as the people who kept our lights on, fixed the machinery that made and still make, our lives easy.
These were the folks who earned good money in the factories that made everything we used, grew and processed the food we ate, entered the military as a way to make a life. The funny thing about those folks — they were brainwashed into believing that they were not worthy unless their children went to college or business school to become better.
Which brings us to now— where we rely on immigrants to make and repair the equipment we use, to harvest our crops, to clean up our messes, to do the work that our families did to give us the lives we had.
And we complain about immigrants “taking our jobs!” The very jobs we were told by our parents and leaders that we were too good to do. And those migrants are sending their children to college to become like us— too proud to do the types of jobs our parents and grandparents did because it’s hard work.
It’s okay if you didn’t finish reading this. I lost track of where I was going anyway.
Medicare doesn’t cover annual physicals for us old folks. They only cover wellness checks. So I spent time mostly answering questions about my quality of life in the negative which confirmed the positive quality of my old age. Sounds odd, doesn’t it? Anyway, I passed, so I guess I’m doing well.
The Boomerang Child talked about getting some mental health treatment. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t made a move to do so. I fully expect to find him dead one day. I’ve had low periods— spent many an evening contemplating whether it would hurt for a long time if I slit some part of my body or if I took pills and drank alcohol, would I wake up in the morning.
The answer is yes, it hurts and I did wake up the next morning. More than once. The worst time was being held down while my stomach was pumped. I spent two weeks locked in the psych ward for that one. That was over 50 years ago. Now that I’m older, I don’t have time for that foolishness.
I’m still six paintings behind in working my way up to 100. I should have 83, but I’m only up to 79. I bought four frames from Dollar Tree and inserted some paintings. They’re not horrible.
I am still working on my 100 paintings project. In spite of disruptions, I’ve managed to complete 71. I was painting in my studio only, but have moved a paint palette back home to paint when my son borrows my car. I don’t fancy having what amounts to a two hour bus commute to the maker-space rather than the 10 minute drive I do now.
The city in its infinite wisdom had “streamlined,” “improved” the bus service. The buses still run frequently, but I’d have to take at minimum two buses by going in the wrong direction — first up to the Capitol Square to transfer to the bus that will eventually drop me off near the shop or, walk in one direction to catch one bus that will go up 2 miles, where I’d need to catch another bus to meet up with a third bus to loop around eventually go within walking distance to the shop.
The maker-space is in negotiations with our new landlords about adding on to our space by renting the seasonally-used suite next to us. They’re willing to do that but want to increase our rent by almost 40% per square foot for the total square footage. We’re the only permanent tenants with two companies renting seasonal storage to either side of us. The new area we wish to move into is used for seasonal storage of rental bicycles.
In addition, we’re losing our parking lot out front. It was actually sold by the previous owners to a developer who will be putting housing there. The city is losing its character. All the new housing built recently, and still being built is boring. They all look like stacks of freight containers with balconies. There’s no play spaces for kids because the buildings are built over parking ramps with token green space. Very dystopian looking.
Unfortunately, tomorrow I will not be going to the protest. I anticipate that there will be agitators there to start violence — not the folks protesting but plants to start a riot of some sort. I have a thing inside my skull that could become an aneurism if I’m struck just right. Otherwise, I’d be right there up front.
Remember, if we wanted a king, we’d still be British. Many writers in the ‘40’s and ‘50’s warned us that this would happen, but we didn’t really believe that those fictional stories would become reality.
Stay safe out there. Take precautions to insure your safety and health by wearing a mask to prevent airborne viruses that may be present in large crowds. Don’t use poles or sticks that can be interpreted as weapons to hold your signs. Use an old phone or other device to document incidents instead of the phone you’d normally carry. There will be agents of chaos out there looking for excuses for violence.
The First Amendment of the United States Constitution protects the right to freedom of religion and freedom of expression from government interference.
It prohibits any laws that establish a national religion, impede the free exercise of religion, abridge the freedom of speech, infringe upon the freedom of the press, interfere with the right to peaceably assemble, or prohibit people from petitioning for a governmental redress of grievances. It was adopted into the Bill of Rights in 1791.
The Supreme Court interprets the extent of the protection afforded to these rights. The First Amendment has been interpreted by the Court as applying to the entire federal government even though it is only expressly applicable to Congress. Furthermore, the Court has interpreted the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment as protecting the rights in the First Amendment from interference by state governments.
Freedom of Religion Two clauses in the First Amendment guarantee freedom of religion. The Establishment Clause prohibits the government from passing legislation to establish an official religion or preferring one religion over another. It enforces the “separation of church and state.” The Free Exercise Clause prohibits the government, in most instances, from interfering with a person’s practice of their religion.
Freedom of Speech / Freedom of the Press The most basic component of freedom of expression is the right to freedom of speech. Freedom of speech may be exercised in a direct (words) or a symbolic (actions) way. Freedom of speech is recognized as a human right under article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
The right to freedom of speech allows individuals to express themselves without government interference or regulation. Generally, a person cannot be held liable, either criminally or civilly for anything written or spoken about a person or topic, so long as it is truthful or based on an honest opinion and such statements.
The right to free speech includes other mediums of expression that communicate a message. The level of protection speech receives also depends on the context in which it takes place.
The right to freedom of the press guaranteed by the First Amendment is not very different from the right to freedom of speech. It allows an individual to express themselves through publication and dissemination.
Right to Assemble / Right to Petition
The right to assemble allows people to gather for peaceful and lawful purposes. Implicit within this right is the right to association and belief. The Supreme Court has expressly recognized that a right to freedom of association and belief is implicit in the First, Fifth, and Fourteenth Amendments. Freedom of assembly is recognized as a human right under article 20 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
This implicit right is limited to the right to associate for First Amendment purposes. It does not include a right of social association. The government may prohibit people from knowingly associating with groups that engage in and promote violent or illegal activities.
The right to associate also prohibits the government from requiring a group to register or disclose its members or from denying government benefits on the basis of an individual’s current or past membership in a particular group.
There are exceptions to this rule where the Court finds that governmental interests in disclosure/registration outweigh interference with First Amendment rights. The government may also, generally, not compel individuals to express themselves, hold certain beliefs, or belong to particular associations or groups.
The right to petition the government for a redress of grievances guarantees people the right to ask the government to provide relief for a wrong through litigation or other governmental action. It works with the right of assembly by allowing people to join together and seek change from the government.
I am dealing with a seriously depressed son. First, his sister’s ex-husband who was his friend, died. Then the guy’s mother whom my son met at his niece’s wedding, died of an aneurism on Sunday. Several days later, he received a text that his dad was dead.
Because of his grief for his friend, as well as another argument in a long history of fights with the Not-Wife, he kept calling into his job. Since he was a recent hire, they let him go. The friend’s mother’s death was a surprise to everyone.
The text instead of a phone call, from his snobby Aunt, to let him know his dad died was the final blow. He has been upset. His ex has been helping him deal with some of the loss. They are still close friends who will stop fighting and help each other out, and then resume arguing later.
Later….
I got a text from the Boomerang Child. He had a trip to the ER. He’s trying to stop drinking, but without his gut being numbed by alcohol, his throat and stomach rebelled. I wish him luck, but alcoholism flows through his genetic makeup.
I came close once, but made a conscious decision to control my drinking. Of course, if you look in the wardrobe in my bedroom, you’d find a nice selection of labels. But they’re hidden, but not from me but from my son. Alcohol interferes with my meds so I’d rather use it as flavoring and as a base for tinctures and extracts. I’ll probably toss most of it, including the wine stashed in the basement. I don’t think it’s aged well. I’m not certain I even want to open the bottles.
My son brought me a Mike’s Harder Lemonade as a birthday drink. I sipped about an ounce before my head went funny. It took me 20 minutes to drink that much. The rest got spilled on the floor when my dizzy self tried to stand up. It took at least 10 of my shop rags to blot it all up off the floor. He thought I drank it all because I poured a bottle of lemon water into a glass with ice. It looked the same.
It’s different. it has a colorful background and a slightly stoned looking cat.
Goofy cat
I’m still doing the painting project. So far I have 40 paintings. Some are okay, some are bad, and others are just plain weird. There’s no particular theme. I’ve probably done more cat paintings than any others because they’re rather easy. No one cares if the cat isn’t realistic. I swear sometimes my own cat doesn’t look realistic. When she sleeps, she’s so calm. But when she’s awake – bitey scratchy thing.
I allowed my son to move back in and his old habits are already coming back. I really wish he could stand on his feet, but there’s something broken. I can’t fix it. All I can do is wait for the crash. sometimes I think I’ll out-live him. As a parent, that makes me sad because I can’t fix his problems. That’s not my job anymore.
Sometimes, I’m ready to raid my stashed liquor, but common sense takes over. When I die and the kids find all the stashed alcohol, they’ll probably think I’m a secret alcoholic. Not so. It’s stashed because it will be drunk by my son very quickly if he finds it. I rarely have a drink and since I’ve been on multiple medications, I don’t want to risk a bad interaction so I abstain.
I guess I’ll start mowing the lawn. My son won’t get to it. I never understand. I have bad knees, brain damage, bad wrists, ankles that give out, and excruciating pain in various other parts, but I manage to get things done because they need to be done. Otherwise, my house would be a hoarder dump, people would avoid me because I would smell bad and look dirty and I’d just be wandering around mumbling.
Oh wait. Parts of my house look like a hoarder dump – I need to finish my re-arranging of the upstairs areas. I smell bad because I had my morning routine disrupted by a trip to the ER and then to the free clinic. And here I am mumbling at you.
So I’ll end here, go do some organizing, mow the lawn while I’m still stinky and then take a shower. And mumble at you another time. Peace and tranquility to you.
The Gingersnap has a routine. There’s 15 minutes until she is fed and she has already tapped my arm. Next she will touch my knee and stare up at me while licking her lips. If it were morning and I was in bed, she would do the poke where she manages to hit my forehead practically dead center with one claw.
If that fails, she bounces to various pieces of furniture and shoves things to the floor. Once I get out of bed, she will lead me to the kitchen, frequently looking back to make certain I am following. Once in the kitchen she will stare at her dish stand until I fill a bowl and set it down.
If it’s her evening mealtime, she will come to wherever I am, to do the arm tap and knee touch. If I don’t comply, she will jump up on the counter, desk, back of the couch, or table, and sit and stare until I head for the kitchen.
Right now now, I’m being glared at. How dare I leave her alone for FOREVER with only three bowls of food to last for 78 hours! She could have starved! Of course there was still food in one bowl, but that doesn’t count. The other two were empty! The amount left in the bowl was the equivalent of the amount she gets in a normal feeding, but she could have starved.
I went on a road trip to visit my now closed alma mater, Northland College (1892 – 2025). Keeping the college open was no longer sustainable, even with a reduced curriculum. One hundred thirty-three years and now shut and abandoned. From the outside, it looks like everyone packed up for the end of the week like normal, except the campus was dead silent. No people except for a maintenance person in a truck.
They didn’t stop and ask why I was wandering the campus. Honestly, I might have burst into tears if they had. There were only a couple of empty campus vehicles parked near one of the buildings.
This was my first Wisconsin home for two years – Anna McMillan Hall. The second floor window to the right of center was my first room. The second room was in the rear.
I found a Civics textbook in a resale shop up there. I don’t even know if they teach civics anymore. With what’s happened in the last three elections, I would say that Civics has gone the way of Handwriting, diagramming sentences, and Social Studies, along with Literature, World History, and Geography. We have become a nation proud of our ignorance. The great technologies that were to give us access to the world’s knowledge have made us more ignorant, gullible, and just downright stupid. We now lack the ability to sort out truth from misinformation. Just my opinion.
Partly because I was setting up my studio, and partially because I’ve been in a lot if pain lately. Probably because of setting up my studio and too much lifting. I keep forgetting I’m old.
I made a book to hold the second group of paintings.
This one has 26 pockets to bring the total to 50Latest paintings
There are cats for the most part.
I’m currently 2 scheduled paintings behind. I’ll catch up. I’ve also been clearing out fabric scraps at the Makerspace. I’ve emptied one bin and have the bin equivalent in unusable scraps in a trash bag to take for recycling. I still have two bins to sort.
I’ve been winding the lengths I’m keeping on pieces of mat board and standing the wound fabric upright in the bins. It’s much easier to see and touch the fabric. I didn’t bother to measure the lengths. For right now, I just want to get usable fabric organized. You wouldn’t believe how many tiny scraps were in the bins. Why was someone saving a 2” by 2” scrap of felt?
There were all kinds of tiny scraps. I suppose they could have been stitched into a “crazy quilt” but I doubt it would be worth the effort. If one of our sewists wants to take the bag and stitch the scraps together, I’m all for it. I have my own bag of scraps waiting for me to sew. I don’t need to add to my hoard.
I hate to give stuff to Goodwill. One of the local agencies gives vouchers to women to get clothing there. But the pricing for the donated items has gotten outrageous. Or so I’ve heard. I don’t shop there. I’m going to check with one of the local Hospice organizations that operates a resale shop. If they will take my clothing, I’ll give the extras to them.
My next project needs to be weeding out my closet and dresser. I probably have enough extra clothes to dress an entire homeless women’s shelter. My youngest granddaughter took half of my sweaters. She would have taken them all, but she doesn’t wear v-necks.
I almost never wear anything but tee shirts, flannel shirts, and an assortment of leggings, knit pants, and sweat pants. If the clothing exchange still existed, I would take my stuff there. When I retired, I gave them 7 bags of my work clothes so women who needed nice clothing for work could make use of them.
I signed a 6-month lease for a studio at the Maker space. It’s a whole 48 square feet. I moved in my drawing table, a chair, and some smaller things. I have a cabinet which was left behind two tenants ago and what I think is a microwave stand. I stacked them to save floor space and form a half wall at the entrance.
There’s already a wall from a different studio on the side where I created the half wall and I’m going to bring in some wire cubes to form part of the opposite wall. The back wall is the block wall of the room the studios are in. I’m debating whether to bring in the bi-fold door that’s been in the basement since I moved in. It would make a good backdrop and I could use S-hooks to hang my shop light so I have light at night.
We had an inspection earlier this year and they had a few recommendations for electrical drops in areas instead of extension cords. We should have put them in when we were re-wiring the place prior to moving in. We’ll probably do it if we extend our lease for another two years and acquire Suite A to expand into.
If we do extend the lease, I’d like for electronics to move to a different area, so I can expand to put in a nice printmaking area. Every tour, someone asks about block printing. If I could enlarge my area, I would get a good press to accommodate a variety of sized prints.
In other news, I’ve managed to do a few more paintings. My schedule has been disrupted by pulling assorted muscles doing heavy work. I shouldn’t have to do it, but The Boy Wonder is notorious for his lack of assistance.
Sillytoes Crafts 