I was at the Maker-space for Craft Night, but due to the weather reports, most people stayed home. Those of us there stayed until a bit after 8. The drive home was nothing special until I saw the rainbow the red sky.
I didn’t want to pull over on the side of the road so I took the photo after I pulled into the garage. It was weird seeing the multicolored arc in the evening sky. I thought it might be a moonbow, except the sun was just setting behind storm clouds in the west and the rainbow was to the east. So technically, it should be a rainbow not a moonbow. But someone who knows more can feel free to correct this old lady.
So far, I only have one person signed up for my first Basic Papermaking class. I hope I get a few more students by Saturday or I’ll have to cancel. And move that person to the session in August. Ah well. That’s it for now.
In the last two weeks, I have been called “old” more than once. Not directly, mind you. (Okay, that’s an old people phrase.) But old? I’m only 76. How can I be old?
When I look in the mirror, I don’t see an old face. I see a face with some maturity, some lines, a bit of sag, but not old. My hair is 90% grey and not as curly as it used to be, but I’ve been going grey since I was in my early 30’s. Parts ache, but I’ve been hard on this body. Sprained wrists and ankles. Broken bones. Scars from all the stupid stuff I did as a kid growing up with mostly boys as playmates.
Arthritis seems to be invading so I have trouble with my hands and knees. My memory is still sharp. My memory is still sharp. Okay, I did that on purpose. But yesterday, I was referred to as “that old woman.” Say what?
And I have an appointment with the Geriatric Fall Clinic. Old people go there. I can’t just go to the regular Fall Clinic. And I keep hearing, “people your age…” I mean I use the “people your age” line when I’m telling my son he needs to consider his life choices, or telling a child they’re too old to be behaving that bratty.
But I’m not old. I know people a lot younger than I, who behave as though they’ll fall over dead tomorrow – they’re old. They shuffle along like 90 year-olds and complain about “young people”. They eat at old people restaurants so they can stuff bags with food from the all-you-can-eat buffets. They know where every restroom is in a three state area and they drive 10 miles under the speed limit. That’s old.
I know I’m getting there. Almost everyday I get an email – “so-and-so from our high school class has died” or the euphemistic “has passed.” I think of it as I failed to die. I’ve outlived a lot of friends, classmates, and relatives. In a way, it’s not fair. There won’t be anyone left to go to my funeral in 30 or 40 years from now. Or tomorrow, which ever comes first.
I’m not really concerned with my life ending. No one gets to live forever. When I go, I’m gone. Fast or slow. And on that happy note, have a good day.
I will be flying out to attend my friend’s memorial service. Her son is paying my way. My son will be staying at my house to collect mail and feed the cat. I won’t be gone long.
I decided to clear out my file cabinet. The first thing I did was get rid of 25 years of receipts for oil changes, tires, and repairs for my former wheels. That was quite a thick folder.
Next went 10 years of gas/electric bills. Another fat folder but not as fat as the one for the car since I stopped getting paper bills when I started paying electronically. Ditto for the water bills.
I then moved on to instruction booklets and receipts. I reduced three folders to two much thinner ones. There were a lot of instructions for small appliances and tools that I no longer own. There was a fat folder of veterinarian receipts, some with rabies tags still attached.
I figured that out when I had to spend 20 minutes attempting to pluck aluminum shards from among the cutting blades of the paper shredder. I succeeded until I put too thick a sheaf of paper in and jammed the blades again.
The shredder still works. It was guaranteed to shred credit cards. It’s my third shredder — I’ve had this one maybe 10 or 12 years. I filled a clear recycling bag with two shredder bins-worth of paper shreds to go into the recycling bin. I think I can shred tax returns up until 2016 or so. At any rate, I’ll start shredding from around 2008 and fill another bag.
I’m getting better. The funky fog that trapped my brain is lifting. Eventually, I will be able to get back to weaving, bookbinding, and printmaking. But for now, accomplishing one or two small things is progress.
…lungs, furnace filters, air conditioner filters, car engines, and other things. The Canadian wildfires are wreaking havoc everywhere. In my case, the smoke is triggering asthma attacks. I’m a coughing asthmatic, not a wheezer. I don’t have regular attacks because I’m generally as active as a slug. But all the smoke in the air caused me breathing problems.
So I cough. And then my chest hurts, but not bad enough to go to the doctor. Right now all the windows except one are shut. That one has a fan to send the hot air upstairs out. I’ve been running the furnace fan to help circulate air. It does pull air from outside so I’ve had to change the filter sooner than normal. I was gone for a couple of weeks and when I checked the filter, it was a serious mess, almost completely clogged.
The filter is changed now and we’ve had a little rain. The air quality alerts have been cancelled. However, with the fires still raging, air quality may go down again. Eventually, the fires will die down, but the cycle will repeat.
My sisters have been planning a road trip for months to go to visit relatives out west. I’ve been fighting the idea for months. There are my health issues to contend with. (Did I just end a sentence with a preposition? Shades of fifth grade English! Or whenever. I have the stone tablet somewhere.)
Back to the subject at hand (such highfalutin language. I had to look that up.) Must be 4am or so. Asides aside, I’m not fond of the idea of leaving my safe zone. Sitting in a car for days at a time with people I barely like is not my idea of fun. The offspring thinks it’s a good idea. He’ll be around to watch things and get the mail.
At any rate, the sisters are here since I’m a logical stop on the way.
Everything except the zines has a price sticker. I will also have a price list posted with general info. Most of the items I’m taking for the sale fit into one under-the-bed storage bin. The two book planters have their own boxes for transport and the folded page book will fit in a bag. Those three items will be transported in a large tote.
I’m ready to do a set-up in the garage tomorrow so I know what fixtures will fit in the limited space. I’m confined to just 1 table. Normally, I spread out onto at least two, but space is limited to the floor plan I drew up. If the landlord allowed us to use the parking lot, I would set up differently, but we would be required to have additional liability insurance. Our booth fees would have to go up to cover it.
Thursday evening, we will mark the booth locations and set up tables. I’m contributing 4 plus the one I’ll be using. I used to have 7 tables but I gave away two. I don’t have a lot of parties anymore, so I don’t need all the stuff. For instance, I used to be able to feed 50 at a time. I’d invite 40 people to my annual Halloween parties. My current house is half the size of the last place I lived. I didn’t get rid of much, so it’s cozy. At least it’s not hoarder cozy.
Now if I could just remember where I stuck the cash box. I think it’s in the basement because it wasn’t in the bins in the garage. I’ll have to take a look. If I can’t find it, I do have a small cabinet with drawers that I take. I can use the bottom drawer as the cash drawer. Everything is rounded up to include tax so I don’t need coins for change. The cabinet holds business cards, receipt books, the card reader, assorted odds and ends, as well as my seller’s permit and tax ID. Even though I haven’t sold anything due to Covid, I kept my paperwork current.
Now I have to clean the messes I have made and the parts of the house I’ve neglected. It’s not bad. Lawn mowing, refrigerator cleaning, mopping, dusting. The two rooms that are always clean are my bedroom and the bathroom. The rest of the house varies, but the upstairs gets the messiest because that’s where I work. I wind up with paper scraps everywhere. Fun, fun, fun.
I’d be done prepping for the sale, but I got distracted by an entire series of books which I’ve been reading over the last two weeks. I’d read for a bit, go back to work for a time and then work on books. I finished the series and now I am in the process of moving the mess I created in the living room back up to my craft area. I’ve been tossing, well recycling, a lot of paper. I put tiny scraps into a clear plastic bag and the larger scraps go into the collection bin as is.
Keeping up with the work around the house is the biggest thing. I started out participating in “No Mow May.” I gave it up because going an entire month without mowing is ridiculous. What I wound up with is foot tall dandelion stems standing above the violets and grass. I’ve mowed twice and the second time was awful.
I have a small electric mower, and the first cut a few weeks ago wasn’t too bad. I raised the deck and mowed the front yard higher than usual. The weather remained cool and the grass did its thing and grew the length it would have had from a shorter base cut, achieving even greater heights. When I started mowing last Tuesday, I realized I had to raise the deck again in order to not clog the mower. Because of the length of the grass, it retained a lot of moisture and I had to clean the underside tw
To finish the front took an additional battery charge. That charge allowed me to complete the entire front and part of the north side. Another charge allowed me to finish both side yards and I got to make a path in the back before the batteries conked out. Normally a charge gives me 45 minutes to do the entire front, one full side, and part of the other.
The next charge allowed me to do less than half of the back yard because it was like mowing a hay field. I had only done the front the first time I mowed, so the grass in the back was twice as long as usual. I needed another charge to do most of the rest of the back and one more to finish. I’m not doing that again. I’ve noticed that most of my neighbors also gave in and mowed.
The whole purpose of not mowing was to give the bees a chance at finding food after the winter. I actually saw fewer bees in my yard after not mowing because they couldn’t get to the low flowering plants that they normally feed from. I’m not doing this again.
I’ll be done with the final sale prep by Monday of next week. Then I’ll do a set-up in my garage so I know how I need to set up my display on sale day. Until next time.
I didn’t count on being invited to brunch on Mothers’ Day. My youngest granddaughter who is the only grandchild that lives near me, was most insistent that I join her, her sister, and their mom at the Bistro where my son works. He had invited me as well, so I decided to go. Normally, it’s just another day. He lives about an hour away.
We were to meet at 1 pm so I planned to leave around noon to arrive close to 1. It didn’t matter because traffic was crazy. I don’t usually encounter that many cars. The granddaughter lives 15 miles closer than I do, so I expected them to arrive before I did. Nope! They were a half hour late.
After our meal, the girls went home and I waited for my son to finish cleaning up so he could ride home with me so he could borrow my other car to move his stuff out of my garage and have transportation to his upcoming appointments. So I spent all day not working on my faux leather.
Today, I applied the final coat of glaze and I’m waiting for it to dry overnight. So there’s no picture today. But I will have one tomorrow.
Thursday was my weekly lunch with a friend. We usually meet at a cafe owned by friends of my son. My friend and I been meeting here since we each retired twelve years ago. It’s a nice little place that serves breakfast and lunch seven days a week. It’s one of three owned by the couple.
Lunch was fine. We mostly meet so I can have some social time outside of my house because I like to stay home. In fact, the maker space, lunch, and knitting at the public library provide the bulk of my social interactions.
Because it’s orange barrel spouting time, I have to take a detour to and from the cafe. I decided to go home along some of the back roads I used to travel when I lived on the nearby lake. It was interesting driving down roads I used to bike down with a toddler strapped in a seat over the rear wheel. In spite of being in the car, the distance I used to bike daily to visit a friend was farther than I remembered. Apparently, I had thought nothing of biking the ten miles from my house to theirs.
I decided to take a drive to where my former in-laws lived. I haven’t been in that area since they sold their property 40 years ago. The property consisted of a colonial style house on 15 acres between two roads. There was a shed-type building that used to house chickens and another larger shed that was used to stable a couple of horses when the kids were young. Once the kids grew up and moved away, the stable became a chicken house where cockfights were held on Saturday nights. I could have gone forever without knowing that. I’ll bet you could have as well.
The house was still there, but the 15 acres had been parceled out and there were a lot more houses. The land closest to the highway was more wooded and overgrown than when they lived over there, but I passed eight new homes before I got to the old house. There used to only be one between them and the highway. The house still looked the same. I guess whoever owned it appreciated the classic lines of the Colonial.
I didn’t stop, but seeing the house brought back memories of pheasant chicks in the garage in the early spring, disturbing holiday celebrations, and weekend trips “home” when we lived in Illinois. My father-in-law never seemed to get to hunt any of the birds he raised, although his friends frequently did. The man also had a beer distributor deliver 30 cases of beer every month. I used to find partial six packs all over the property when I took a walk. They used to wonder why their oldest son was such a drunk.
I stayed on the road and drove along, looking at all the changes in some areas and how certain other properties remained the same. The road meandered as country roads do, but I knew where I was. Eventually, the road became the road that leads to my street. All in all, it took 40 minutes longer to get home.
A few zines for the Craft Sale.
I’ve included a photo of the zines I’ll be selling. The Title is Insanity Shuffles because as it says on the back, “Insanity doesn’t just run in my family. It slinks, oozes, shuffles. Occasionally, it cartwheels, jumps, strides, pounces, and gavottes.” They’re essays and other items that may or may not be interesting. That’s the story and I’m sticking to it.
Sillytoes Crafts 