tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86261073707976783902024-02-07T14:28:04.390-08:00Left-Handed HousewifeMaking a Mess Out of Things Since 1964Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.comBlogger535125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-45734844303329550792020-03-30T18:52:00.001-07:002020-03-30T18:55:42.215-07:00Anybody Out There?Hello! For the last two years I haven't been able to get into this site. I don't know why. But I decided to try it today, and here we are. Let's see if this works!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAfvAZb6lUpqu8dVAatiP-TIeYikIc5lPE8bKKb4YmZ1nNoXZUYy99nVqrRIikt4c2NtjvoR2N-Caap5jHGwy6DBYhDvnDceObOYLGqXW58zpP43OxIOVHpa3IcGqC7WMWANM7dwlgRI/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1080.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1581" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAfvAZb6lUpqu8dVAatiP-TIeYikIc5lPE8bKKb4YmZ1nNoXZUYy99nVqrRIikt4c2NtjvoR2N-Caap5jHGwy6DBYhDvnDceObOYLGqXW58zpP43OxIOVHpa3IcGqC7WMWANM7dwlgRI/s320/fullsizeoutput_1080.jpeg" width="316" /></a></div>
<br />Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-786214660206420492017-07-12T14:37:00.001-07:002017-07-12T17:35:10.570-07:00The Mice Are Away, So the Cat Will ... Scrub Floors?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhdqXLOUoGuiY4UNziQYDiM7qy17Pq9tPhFV0JNCDZ72bfFHCiWMWIcf1b1x7v9umU6DE70DdOIL5wPrK8M0JBxjDvEYbJSy_UnikwfeQBxSlJXBjsRTJkU6O-hmWFtphsPJ5F_dUKNs/s1600/IMG_0885+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhdqXLOUoGuiY4UNziQYDiM7qy17Pq9tPhFV0JNCDZ72bfFHCiWMWIcf1b1x7v9umU6DE70DdOIL5wPrK8M0JBxjDvEYbJSy_UnikwfeQBxSlJXBjsRTJkU6O-hmWFtphsPJ5F_dUKNs/s320/IMG_0885+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Above: The quilt I'm currently quilting. It's called</i> Sit-In.</div>
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Speaking of islands (as I was last week), Will is off on his own island vacation. His friend Henry spends the summer on Harker's Island, which is an old fishing village in a part of North Carolina known as Down East. If you want a great shrimp burger or a wooden duck decoy, Harker's Island is the place to go. Henry very kindly invited Will to come visit for several days, and Will left this morning.<br />
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While Will's gone, I'm going to clean the floors in his bedrooms. Yes, that's right--Will has bedrooms, plural. He started out with just one, but it's a room that's flush against the walk-in attic and gets super-hot in the summer. Many years ago we started moving his bed across the hall into my (mostly unused) study when the weather got hot. Come mid-September, we'd push the bed back into his old room, which had cooled down by then. <br />
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At some point, Will permanently relocated to my old study, his former summer-only bedroom. Soon after, I found a pretty nice Ikea table by the side of the road and installed it in Will's first bedroom to make him a nice study area. Two summers ago Will and I painted the walls a very mature and sober dove gray. I found a futon couch frame on Craig's List for a hundred bucks, bought a futon and a small dark gray shag rug, and--<i>voila</i>!--a guestroom/study was born.<br />
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Will almost immediately moved back in. Yes, it was steamy, but the room looked so good he just couldn't resist. And somehow instead of being a guestroom/study, the room became part of Will's upstairs suite.<br />
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He actually keeps his study pretty clean. The bedroom? Not so much. One of Will's summer projects is to really, truly weed out his old tee shirts and socks and underwear from his dresser so that he can fit the clothes he actually does wear inside the drawers.<br />
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One of my summer projects is to empty all my old junk out of the closet and the desk drawers. I want Will to start high school with a clean and very organized slate.<br />
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To that end, I'm sprucing up the floors in both rooms. This involves hands and knees cleaning and then the application of mop-on floor polish. It will probably take three coats, but I just did Jack's room a month or so ago, and it really makes a difference. Not exactly like you've had the floors redone, but close.<br />
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I hope I'll get both floors done before Will comes back on Saturday. It's still so much easier to get work done in the boys' rooms if they're not around.<br />
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Here's something fun: The Man and I are going to pick Will up from Harker's Island on Saturday, and on Friday night we're going to spend the night in Kinston, NC, home of the somewhat famous Chef and the Farmer restaurant (and halfway between here and Harker's Island). Have you watched <i>A Chef's Life</i> on PBS? It's all about this restaurant and its wonderful chef, Vivian Howard. You can check it out <a href="http://www.pbs.org/show/chefs-life/episodes/">here</a>. I'll give you the report when we get back!Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-3278270437595655922017-07-08T07:16:00.000-07:002017-07-08T07:33:38.511-07:00Finland<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/91/1c/3d/911c3d80418b1ebe2a03b8660b10f8f3--garden-tomatoes-old-stamps.jpg" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/91/1c/3d/911c3d80418b1ebe2a03b8660b10f8f3--garden-tomatoes-old-stamps.jpg" width="222" /></div>
I have a friend from Finland named Monica who moved to the States with her family ten or so years ago. Her husband, Dan, is an engineer. They've been a couple since high school and have four sons, the youngest of whom goes to school with Will. One of her older sons is in graduate school here in North Carolina, and her other two sons live in Europe.<br />
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Every summer, Monica returns to her home village with her youngest son, which means that every summer all of her Facebook posts are in Finnish. Finland in the summer looks very cool and inviting. North Carolina summers are anything but cool, although they're quite beautiful and the tomatoes are delicious. Whenever I start feeling too jealous of Monica and her Finnish summers, I think about the fact that it's very hard to grow tomatoes in Finland.<br />
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I've been thinking about Monica this morning because I just purchased via Amazon a book by Finnish author Tove Jansson called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/159017268X/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1"><i>The Summer Book</i></a>. It was first published in the early 1970s, but is periodically reprinted. Apparently it's a classic of sorts. Here's how Amazon describes it:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This brief novel tells the story of Sophia, a six-year-old girl
awakening to existence, and Sophia’s grandmother, nearing the end of
hers, as they spend the summer on a tiny unspoiled island in the Gulf of
Finland. The grandmother is unsentimental and wise, if a little cranky;
Sophia is impetuous and volatile, but she tends to her grandmother with
the care of a new parent. Together they amble over coastline and forest
in easy companionship, build boats from bark, create a miniature
Venice, write a fanciful study of local bugs. They discuss things that
matter to young and old alike: life, death, the nature of God and of
love. “On an island,” thinks the grandmother, “everything is complete.”</i><br />
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I think I'd like to spend the summer on an island, albeit one with tomatoes. Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-61924285255526134402017-07-05T16:27:00.000-07:002017-07-05T18:10:04.740-07:00Have I Mentioned the Garage?<br />
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<img alt="https://www.wikitree.com/photo.php/thumb/5/55/Hamblett-25-2.jpg/300px-Hamblett-25-2.jpg" height="281" src="https://www.wikitree.com/photo.php/thumb/5/55/Hamblett-25-2.jpg/300px-Hamblett-25-2.jpg" width="400" /> </div>
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<i>I've just recently become acquainted with the paintings of Mississippi folk artist Theora Hamblett, and now I'm smitten. </i></div>
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The garage is the attic's cousin. Its temperament is sweeter than the attic's, its condition less grave. Also, you're less likely to collapse from heat exhaustion if you spend a summer's morning trying to impose some semblance of order upon a garage. The attic is no-man's-land after 9 a.m.<br />
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Still, the garage needs some work. A few years ago it was in relatively good shape. We even had room for a ping pong table so that I could school my children in the sport of kings. But then we sold our little house in the mountains and carried its contents back to Durham, where they have sat scowling in a corner ever since. In my experience, stuff attracts stuff, and junk attracts junk, and over the last two years the garage has become a sorry site indeed.<br />
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<img alt="https://news.olemiss.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/TheoraPaintingIP.jpg" class="shrinkToFit" height="223" src="https://news.olemiss.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/TheoraPaintingIP.jpg" width="400" /></div>
This morning I spent a very sweaty hour in the garage moving things around in order to move things around. We're going to need to hire a dump truck to haul junk to the dump and another kind of truck to haul stuff to the Goodwill. I'll also be making use of Jack and the minivan.<br />
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I believe that once the attic hears about what's going on in the garage, it's going to want to get in on the action.<br />
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<img alt="https://farm1.static.flickr.com/63/202094402_dd53dd6774.jpg" src="https://farm1.static.flickr.com/63/202094402_dd53dd6774.jpg" /> </div>
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Travis, my good pup, has taken to sleeping on the foot of my and the Man's bed. He is getting old (as are we all) and can't tolerate being on his own at night any more. This is all fine and dandy, except that he's started waking me up around 6 a.m. It's like having a one-year-old again. Little Jack in particular was fond of getting up at sunrise. Me, less so. I will say that in the summer it's very nice to be up while the air is still cool, and so I usually let Travis convince me to go downstairs by 6:30. </div>
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<img alt="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/77/bf/f8/77bff89aa2124170320e5e5fa92bcca1.jpg" height="311" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/77/bf/f8/77bff89aa2124170320e5e5fa92bcca1.jpg" width="400" /> </div>
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Theora Hamblett was born in 1895 in Paris, Mississippi. Her paintings often depict scenes from her childhood. I learned about her from reading a book called <i>Local Color: A Sense of Place in Folk Art</i> by the folklorist William Ferris, who teaches at UNC-Chapel Hill. I didn't know when I ordered it that the book would primarily be comprised of oral histories by Mississippi folk artists. I was so delighted by Theora Hamblett in every way; not just her paintings, but her story. She grew up on a farm, became a teacher, and eventually became a painter (she took a correspondence course).You can learn more about her and three other women artists (including a wonderful quilter named Percolia Warner) in a short documentary film found here: <a href="https://archive.org/details/fourwomenartists_201701">https://archive.org/details/fourwomenartists_201701 </a>Theora Hamblett starts talking around minute 16:20, but it's all good stuff. </div>
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Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-35007750651252752672017-07-04T07:45:00.000-07:002017-07-04T07:45:47.736-07:00Attic Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Corkey's Store, Ocracoke Island, NC</i></div>
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Alas, there is actually nothing to say about the attic. I have made very little progress since I last wrote. What happened is this: we had some friends over for dinner in early February, so I had to move all the stuff I pulled out of the attic back into the attic. And there it stayed and there it stays until the next time I work up a head of steam.<br />
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How've ya been? I've been pretty good, all and all. The spring was super-busy with getting Jack graduated from high school and getting Will baptized and confirmed and commenced from middle school. I had periods of moderate free-floating anxiety, which always happens when there are ceremonies to be attended and lots of small talk to be made. But everything went off without a hitch, and as usual all that worry was wasted.<br />
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Now we're back from our annual trip to Ocracoke Island and I'd love to think that things will settle down, but they won't. Will goes to soccer camp at the end of this week, and then next week he's going down East to Harker's Island with his friend Henry. On the 17th, Jack leaves for a week-long camping trip, and the week after that, Will is volunteering at a baseball camp for middle schoolers. Then we go to Kentucky for our annual family reunion, and a couple weeks later we take Jack to college.<br />
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Which is to say, no settling down for us.<br />
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I'm eyeballing my house (but not my attic) for ways to spritz things up a bit. Have you ever looked at around at your stuff and thought, 'This isn't what I meant at all?' I don't feel that way entirely, but the fact is I think I meant to have more painted furniture than I do. I think I was supposed to go to thrift shops and junk stores and buy roughed-up antique tables and chest of drawers and paint them red or aquamarine. Somehow I never got around to that. But there is a spot in my bedroom that is exactly right for a small lavender dresser, so now that's my goal.<br />
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I hope you're having a good July so far. It's early days, but July can be a long month for me. Summer doesn't always bring out my pretty side. Fortunately, I've got Travis, and he reminds me that life's too short not to be as cute as you can be. Wish me luck!<br />
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<i>Travis says Happy 4th of July, Yanks!</i></div>
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<br />Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-27640745323798709302017-01-28T08:53:00.000-08:002017-01-28T09:52:55.835-08:00What My Saturday Looks Like So Far<br />
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The attic work has begun--again.<br />
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Now, if the Man had his way, we'd just throw everything in big plastic trash bags and take it to the dump. Even the good stuff. The Man is a Shock & Awe kinda guy. But me, I want to make sure all the good stuff goes to a good home. I want to box up craft supplies and take it to the Scrap Exchange. I want put together boxes of similar things (play camping gear, play kitchen stuff) that I can advertise on FreeCycle.<br />
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Which means it's going to be messier before it gets neater. But I have a dream, and right now I have an almost free Saturday to make my dream happen. To get a good solid start.<br />
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Are my outer messes physical manifestations of my inner messes? Part of me thinks that if I finally get my attic put to order, my brain will be put to order in some way, too. It will help clear out my head. Give my soul a little room to move around. Maybe that's crazy. Might be, could be.<br />
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Have I mentioned that I'm taking a sabbatical? Not from writing, but from most social media, too much news, anyone who stokes the fires of doom and gloom on a daily basis. I am intent on taking the long view. Is the sky falling? Maybe. But maybe not. It won't fall if people of good will listen to each other more, call fewer names, seek communion with one another across our differences. But when I propose this as a possibility, I don't get a lot of buy-in. Even in church, I fear, so I'm taking a sabbatical from church as well. I want to get re-centered in my faith and my thinking. I want to look for a way ahead.<br />
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Yes, I do believe I'm cleaning out the attic in my head. I need more light shining in. Please keep me in your prayers.Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-5754042754310735302017-01-26T12:34:00.001-08:002017-01-26T12:35:32.071-08:00Me, Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Travis!</i></div>
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Usually I write in the morning and run errands, go to the gym, meet with friends, what have you, in the afternoon. I pick up Will at 3:05, and after that I'm typically home for the rest of the day.<br />
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But today I had to do something late in the morning that was going to cut out a chunk of my writing time. So I decided to switch things around. I'd run my errands and go to the gym before my morning appointment, and then I'd write in the afternoon.<br />
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As soon as I came up with that idea, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't try switching things around on a more regular basis<i>.</i> Maybe not on the days I have lunch with friends (which I'm trying to limit to once a week), but on other days? I could get stuff out of the way and then sit down to write without those nagging thoughts that I have so much to do, so many errands to run. Also, my gym holds most of its classes in the morning, and I've been wanting to do yoga and stretch these old bones out.<br />
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I've written for two hours this afternoon, and plan on sitting down tonight around 7:00 (another good time of day for me--I'm often energized in the early evening) and do my last hour of work. So far I feel like the day has worked out well, and it's been fun to think that my errands are done as well as my exercise.<br />
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The thing is, I've been thinking a lot about things I'd like to change in my life, but I've felt sort of stuck. That attic I'm always writing about? Still a mess. And now, as we've collected the contents from the old mountain house my mother-in-law passed onto us years ago (and which we sold a few years back) as well as things that the boys have outgrown or have outlived their use, the garage is another huge problem area. Will we ever get either of these storage spaces cleared out?<br />
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And will we ever get new counters and back-splashes in the kitchen? A new carpet in the living room? Will I ever lose twenty pounds?<br />
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Maybe by changing my schedule around, I'll open up windows of opportunities I wasn't aware existed. Maybe I can get some of that cleaning and organizing done with my morning energy, and still feel I've got plenty of juice to write later. I'll keep you posted! In the meantime, how do you get things done? Have you ever made a serious change in the way you do things?Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-87151647819813568062017-01-21T05:22:00.000-08:002017-01-21T05:22:30.617-08:00I Don't Know if I'm Back, But I Thought I'd Say Hi<br />
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<i>A baby quilt I made in December. I still need to give it to the baby, but the holidays got in the way, and then the weather got in the way ... Soon!</i></div>
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It is a gloomy Saturday morning. I just dropped Jack off at school, where he boarded a bus to a debate tournament in Raleigh. In a little bit I'll eat breakfast and then work on some quilts. At 2PM, I'll meet my writing workshop girls at a nearby Barnes & Noble. Our group is small, and sometimes I think my presence isn't necessary, these girls are such good writers, but it's true I do keep them on track.<br />
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I had not meant to stop writing here when I last wrote, but I did. It was a hard, hard summer. My mother-in-law had a stroke in early July and died in late August. I have often relied on theologian Sam Well's words, "If you can't make it happy, make it beautiful," but we could make that time neither happy or beautiful. To protect the Man's privacy, I can't go into details, but the actions of some of his relatives made his life--and our life together--miserable. To give you some idea of what it was like, I actually convinced the Man, a total non-self-helper, to read a book called <i>How to Talk to Crazy</i>. I highly recommend this book if you have to deal with difficult people on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
It's not really over yet, as the Man is the executor of the estate, which is a huge job. He finally hired an estate attorney to help him with some of the paperwork, and we're hoping everything will be taken care of by the end of the month.<br />
<br />
Some nice things happened this fall. I published my first book for adult readers (it's about quilts and quilters--you can check it out <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Birds-Air-Frances-ORoark-Dowell-ebook/dp/B01LSZTW7C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485004178&sr=8-1&keywords=birds+in+the+air+dowell">here</a>), and it's gotten a great response. I entered three quilts into the Modern Quilt Guild's national show, QuiltCon, and two were accepted. The show is next month in Savannah, GA, and I'm going! Jack applied early decision to Davidson College and was accepted, which he's very excited about (as are we all). <br />
<br />
I've been working really hard, maybe too hard. The good news is, as soon as I get my show quilts mailed off to QuiltCon on Monday, I'm going to have a nice long period of quiet time. I plan to write and quilt and to maybe take a hike or two, maybe find a new house cleaner (the old one didn't work out in the long run) to come in every couple of weeks to clean the bathrooms and mop the floors. I plan to take a little time off to do nothing. Doing nothing sounds really nice.<br />
<br />
I hope this finds you well. I hope I won't be a stranger. Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-64295712256054876752016-07-07T12:19:00.000-07:002016-07-07T12:19:41.589-07:00Sorry to take a few days off. My mother-in-law had a stroke on Monday and that has made our life topsy-turvy. She is doing okay--she's aware, responsive, herself, and in good humor--but will have to spend time in acute rehab. As is often the case with strokes when it comes to a prognosis, we won't know until we know. <br />
<br />
The Man has been in Charlotte with his mother for several days now. As is often the case when parents get ill, there is stress in the family. Everyone has the best intentions at heart, I believe, but this is an emotional and complicated time. So far the Man's cooler head has prevailed in the decision-making process, but the road may be bumpier up the way.<br />
<br />
My mom was diagnosed three years ago with a very aggressive form of lymphoma, from which she is now fully recovered (and is considered cancer-free, praise be). The stress level was enormous. My and my brothers ideas about how best to serve her and my father during this difficult time varied and sometimes were at odds. No one was ugly, no one yelled or said mean things, but communications were strained. So I know how it goes. You always think you'll handle things beautifully until you don't.<br />
<br />
So we're a little tired here, a little discombobulated. All prayers for Melvene and the rest of us are appreciated. I'll be back, hopefully with happier news. See you soon!Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-39336964299324593792016-07-04T13:44:00.001-07:002016-07-04T13:44:57.134-07:00Hello & Welcome to My LifeOpened up the fridge this morning to grab some half and half, and this is what was waiting for me:<br />
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That's right. That's a plate with a tiny bit of pizza crust on it. Plastic wrap pushed back, but not removed. Plate not removed. So yes, a nicely chilled all but empty plate greeted me first thing this morning, and it wasn't the least bit embarrassed to be found in such a state of undress. It was enjoying the cool climate.<br />
<br />
Please note that the nicely chilled all but empty plate is surrounded by many, fine nutritious snacking options: carrots, honeydew melon soup, a variety of lettuces and slaw. On the shelf beneath it are the remains of a lovely roast chicken. But whomever ate the pizza wasn't interested in healthy snacking. That is not their way.<br />
<br />
What is their way, other than grabbing pizza slices but leaving an all but empty plate? Cereal boxes left open and out, little bits of cereal littering the counter around them. Cereal bowls with just a touch of milk in them, left to the side of the sink. Never in the sink, and never, ever rinsed, and never, ever, never, ever rinsed and put in the dishwasher.<br />
<br />
Never never never never ever.<br />
<br />
I can see there's work to be done here, and this work doesn't involve me rinsing cereal bowls and putting them in the dishwasher.<br />
<br />
On a related note, the other day I asked Jack to please empty the dishwasher. His immediate reply was "sure," but after a second he looked at me and asked in a pleasant, curious tone of voice, "Why?"<br />
<br />
As in why on earth are you asking me to do this, not why does a machine filled with clean dishes need to be emptied.<br />
<br />
For the sake of my children's future spouses, I must start riding herd. And yes, I have the laziest children in the world, and yes they will resist and grump and grouch every time I remind them to do something. But it has to be done.<br />
<br />
Because I can't take another morning like this one.Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-10248684597405853852016-07-02T08:21:00.000-07:002016-07-02T08:22:50.381-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3kbfXmZZrFFUr9KqvDNiFNmiU0u2s1hrqryUMM0oXfoGeD1_8lnnvtziCQmkwajGyYahD79FVug0U6X_Di50WCN49nAEbs-UBbShXcXf21J9rTFMEahyphenhyphenAylTzaYhl8q3tD466HXR_Ug/s1600/durham+central+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3kbfXmZZrFFUr9KqvDNiFNmiU0u2s1hrqryUMM0oXfoGeD1_8lnnvtziCQmkwajGyYahD79FVug0U6X_Di50WCN49nAEbs-UBbShXcXf21J9rTFMEahyphenhyphenAylTzaYhl8q3tD466HXR_Ug/s320/durham+central+park.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I went to the farmer's market this morning in search of the perfect peach. The peach I bit into when I got home wasn't perfect, though it was better than the ones I've gotten so far in the grocery store. <br />
<br />
We had tons and tons of rain in May, and I wonder if that's going to affect the quality of the peaches this year. A man I talked to when we were in Ocracoke, where they also had a very wet spring, said the island figs this year were the size of baseballs and tasted terrible. Essentially they were big globules of water. <br />
<br />
Our figs are finally back. Two years ago I gave the fig trees a severe talking to--which is to say, I pruned them within an inch of their lives--and last year there were lots of leaves but no fruit. This year we have fruit and I couldn't be more thrilled. The figs are still small, so I don't know how they taste yet, but I'm relieved to know I have not robbed our trees of their productive purposes.<br />
<br />
Today I'm going to work on a quilt. I may go to the gym, although it's so hot and muggy outside that it will take courage to leave the house. Tonight we're in for a treat: The Great British Bake-Off returns for its new season! I can't wait to see who this year's contestants are. Fingers crossed that they are asked to make something divine with figs!<br />
<br />
Last night for dinner I made tortellini with pesto and bruschetta. As far as I'm concerned, tomatoes, basil and garlic are the very essence of summer. They're all I ever wanted.<br />
<br />Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-59691679737872199732016-07-01T06:17:00.004-07:002016-07-01T06:19:56.561-07:00<br />
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<i>Fridge at Ocracoke Museum </i></div>
<br />
No post yesterday--I fell asleep early in the evening (I did a workshop yesterday afternoon--always fun and always exhausting for this introvert) and didn't wake up until 6AM this morning. The good news is, this puts me on a morning posting schedule. It's easier for me to do daily things in the morning. By most afternoons, my mind is scattered and unruly and not good for much.<br />
<br />
No big plans for this 4th of July weekend. We are a lazy people who refuse to drive on trafficky holidays. If someone wants to go look at fireworks at the ballpark, I'm game, but I'm actually not that big on fireworks, at least not after the first five minutes. We'll cook out hamburgers on Monday and eat banana pudding (banana pudding!), which seems like plenty enough celebration to me.<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned the entire family is obsessed with "Hamilton"? Jack got there first, but in April, after I decided to listen to the cast recording and figure out what all the fuss was about, I too became a Hamilton-head. Then the Man, then the Will, and then a few weeks ago we were all sitting down in front of the TV to watch the Tony's, just so we could see our beloved "Hamilton" cast members live and (almost) in person. I've never watched the full broadcast of the Tony's before and it was good! Much better than the Oscars.<br />
<br />
Anyway, "Hamilton" is a work of genius and I bless Lin-Manuel Miranda for writing and composing it. If you haven't listened yet, be forewarned: some strong language lies within. Will and I have had some good talks about profanity and the power of language as a result, and how sometime profanity can be extraordinarily effective, but you dilute it of its force if you use it all the time.<br />
<br />
One of the things I have to remind myself to do is keep an accurate ledger when it comes to the world. So many bad things happen that sometimes it feels like it's all bad. But good things happen as well--small good things and larger good things, acts of decency, kindness, courage and, yes, artistic genius. We get to put "Hamilton" on the side of the ledger that counts the amazing genius things that are a gift to us all--we get to put it on the side of the good. It counts.<br />
<br />
In that vein, I will leave you with this quote from <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark
places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands
love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.</i></div>
<br />
<span id="quote_book_link_34">
</span><br />
See you tomorrow!<br />
<span id="quote_book_link_34">
</span>Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-6713404778643502752016-06-29T15:23:00.004-07:002016-06-29T19:59:56.988-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello! I'm in the middle of cooking dinner, but I'm afraid if I don't post now, I'll forget later. I've got book group tonight, and who knows when we'll finish up. Could be 9:00, could be 11:00. Suzanne, the earliest riser among us, always gets sleepy by 8:45. Sometimes I look over and her eyelids are fluttering the way mine used to do in Econ 101 ... Bless her heart, as we say here in the South.<br />
<br />
Did I do yoga today? Yes, I did yoga today! Was it the old ladies yoga class? Yes, it was the old ladies yoga class! I was awesome. I kicked yoga butt. It's possible I was overqualified. On Friday, I'm going to try Gentle Yoga, which looks like it's the next step up, and this time yoga will probably kick my butt. But today I was victorious.<br />
<br />
The gate pictured above is helping to keep the deer out of one of our neighborhood gardens, the one at the top of the hill. It's a group garden, and usually it's filled with all sorts of interesting things, but this year it's more subdued. Is someone missing? Did one of the gardeners decide to take this summer off?<br />
<br />
We have a small garden this summer--tomatoes, peppers, blueberries and raspberries. We knew we'd be busy, and there's nothing more depressing than to look out your window mid-July and seeing a half-acre of weeds. Also: my children are the least adventurous eaters in the west, and the Man and I got tired of eating all those eggplant and summer squash by ourselves last year.<br />
<br />
Okay, the bacon is done and I must put the Cobb salad together. That's it for today. Except for this: I found a picture of the boarded-up house I talked about yesterday. I knew I must have taken at least one! Here it is:<br />
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See you tomorrow!Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-67647762310643042162016-06-28T17:12:00.002-07:002016-06-28T17:12:31.602-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZZdWPzfCHQdWjlKFVLF8DirF9tJpXTayZ_thyphenhyphenZocVUKhPr2IWx4157yDMjoC1UfAXXh8WdAAJZe_K_ngjwVrUZ7rNxuHtOm5PBmXPg-8gN5Qd8wLfYb2zNeyr3isgTJQp8ClsMhxVUc/s1600/clothesline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZZdWPzfCHQdWjlKFVLF8DirF9tJpXTayZ_thyphenhyphenZocVUKhPr2IWx4157yDMjoC1UfAXXh8WdAAJZe_K_ngjwVrUZ7rNxuHtOm5PBmXPg-8gN5Qd8wLfYb2zNeyr3isgTJQp8ClsMhxVUc/s400/clothesline.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
This clothesline was in the yard of an shuttered-up house on Ocracoke Island. The house (and the clothesline) belonged to a couple who had retired to Ocracoke--she died in 1994 and he in 1997, and they are buried there on a hill at the edge of this property. A utility worker I ran into while I was snooping around said the family still owns the property but doesn't use it.<br />
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<br />
<br />
For some reason, I failed to take a picture of the house, but I did get one of this shed:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXn0MO8DGg6c7925hoUfyfvQpVzplzSjmZMCNrRnHQwCGXzwVoQLV7wvpUqDiRtb93sp2L8xbqRL1h_ybPF6BhsZ1Cf7ZF-dDkjngDYjvR7iIPSwiqIt1IN_3M_0gkxI-tO-TkYiEpps/s1600/shed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXn0MO8DGg6c7925hoUfyfvQpVzplzSjmZMCNrRnHQwCGXzwVoQLV7wvpUqDiRtb93sp2L8xbqRL1h_ybPF6BhsZ1Cf7ZF-dDkjngDYjvR7iIPSwiqIt1IN_3M_0gkxI-tO-TkYiEpps/s320/shed.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
It's all very lush and beautiful and vaguely spooky. There was a screened porch that wasn't boarded up, and I wanted to go press my nose against the screen and see what I could see, but I was too afraid that a face would pop up in front of me and scare me to death, so I didn't.<br />
<br />
I like hidden away places. I like secret paths. I like knowing only half the story. When I got home, I looked up the couple and learned a little bit more about them (he worked for the State department and was an assistant dean at Yale Law School, for instance, and neither of them were from North Carolina), but I didn't learn anything real about them. I guess in a way I already knew a few real things--that even though they weren't from Ocracoke, they loved it enough to retire there and be buried there. I don't know if I want to know a whole lot more. <br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
What have we done today? Will worked out with the school baseball team this morning. I don't know why they're working out this summer, except maybe to build team cohesion or something, since they don't play fall ball. Maybe they just wanted to make sure Will got some exercise.<br />
<br />
Jack? I don't know what Jack does. He's supposed to get some exercise, but to my knowledge he's had none since we got back from the beach. I will begin my nagging anon.<br />
<br />
I wrote a bit and watched it rain and went to Whole Foods and walked Travis and made dinner and did laundry ... Just a regular day in the life. Tomorrow: yoga! Really. I mean it.<br />
<br />
Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-6378529876933544642016-06-27T14:19:00.000-07:002016-06-27T14:20:59.695-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm back from Florida. The weather today--mid-eighties, medium humidity--feels downright arctic compared to the wild, thick heat of Orlando. This morning I picked blueberries and raspberries. That part of our garden has been woefully untended these last few weeks, but now that it's really, truly summer, I plan to be a better caretaker.<br />
<br />
Here's a picture of the me being a panelist. I'm the one with the short dark hair. I'm sitting next to an famous author who has entered the world of children's literature. She was lovely, I'm pleased to inform you.<br />
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<br />
I'm always very nervous when I go to these big events, but everyone this weekend was wonderful and kind. And when I went to do my book-signing yesterday there was actually a line! I'm always sure no one will come, but they do. I adore librarians. They're my favorites.<br />
<br />
***<br />
This morning I woke up to this fabulous comment from Mags: <br />
<br />
<i>Ah, talk of the attic. I love your attic. Please go on just talking
about the attic. It gives me such hope! I feel those blues right now.
Summer starts on Thursday here (despite the fact that we have had our
summer weather month in May, as always, and it will just rain on and off
now, as always), and I am stressed and sad at the thought of all the
interesting things to do that will stay on slips of paper in the
interesting things to do jar, and at the knowledge of all the screen
time and fights that will not stay in the screen and fights jar. Sigh.
There may be reading and music practice, but that will come our of the
fights jar too! </i><br />
<br />
Mags, I promise to keep talking about the attic. It makes me feel hopeful too. It's such a dream--that somehow, someday, I'll clean up all my messes and get rid of all the junk in my life. As though that were possible. But it's pretty to think so, and some days it seems <i>almost</i> possible. <br />
<br />
And thank you, Miss M, for admitting that you, too, feel the summer blues. It's good to know I'm not alone. I don't know about the UK, but here in the US there's an endless stream of messages about how fun, fun, fun summer is. Summer in my part of the world is beautiful, but it goes on too long. And yes, the screen time and fights refuse to stay in the jar.<br />
<br />
I'm very, very tired of screen time.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I'm going to try to write here every day, Monday through Friday. One of
the hard things for me about summer is the lack of routine, so I'm
looking for ways to give my days more structure beyond writing time. So check in, say hi, and wish me luck!<br />
<br />Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-60300707936897342562016-06-24T10:53:00.001-07:002016-06-24T10:53:23.333-07:00Still Waiting for Summer to Start<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o9E-mttiDiy1YM4fNerMhG9AVr0UXDn9yTwBONjRpHhwzN4mUv8P5YrMGGP-1CF3phy3OGMSCFmoEGk7jn12kaD-PAxdsvBi0eSi-Sv31BmPAeF6L4N1NGbY7tdlLf_8cDNLHZyT-cI/s1600/IMG_3544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o9E-mttiDiy1YM4fNerMhG9AVr0UXDn9yTwBONjRpHhwzN4mUv8P5YrMGGP-1CF3phy3OGMSCFmoEGk7jn12kaD-PAxdsvBi0eSi-Sv31BmPAeF6L4N1NGbY7tdlLf_8cDNLHZyT-cI/s320/IMG_3544.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>At the Ocracoke Island History Museum. My favorite exhibit is the circa 1930s kitchen. </i></div>
<br />
<br />
Okay, it sort of has started, but I'm still in that stage of denial where I believe things will settle into a wonderful, productive summer routine. They never do, but a girl can dream.<br />
<br />
Last week we took our annual trip to Ocracoke Island on North Carolina's Outer Banks. For reasons I can't explain (but I swear aren't morbid), I spent a lot of time in graveyards this trip. There are eighty-one burial sites on the island, which seems excessive until you think that people have been living and dying on Ocracoke for close to two hundred years. Most of the graveyards are small, some with only a few stones. Some are neatly tended to, and others have been grown over by vines and weeds.<br />
<br />
This family cemetery on Howard Street is typical of the graveyards you'll find in the heart of Ocracoke Village:<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
Things get a little wilder in the wilder parts of town:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nibzOpdazFzW-KVQvjEhp3yNgz0ud_EDgTXGp8yBRHF9gHRC6lstY6fTRYyvaTpbFZRW5dEmQ8K_9TkSOkpd2QI9ZEiWLaPXxbT1IvLwOMyWPyOWu02HrkXP1-G-dj6_iIrmYLUccII/s1600/graveyard2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nibzOpdazFzW-KVQvjEhp3yNgz0ud_EDgTXGp8yBRHF9gHRC6lstY6fTRYyvaTpbFZRW5dEmQ8K_9TkSOkpd2QI9ZEiWLaPXxbT1IvLwOMyWPyOWu02HrkXP1-G-dj6_iIrmYLUccII/s320/graveyard2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />I didn't track down all eighty-one graveyards, but I found quite a few. During my explorations I wondered what it would be like if every subdivision had its own cemetery. Why does that seem like such a strange idea?<br />
<br />
A folklorist I know documents tombstones and graveyard art in the South--you can find her work here: <a href="http://folkfuneraria.tumblr.com/">http://folkfuneraria.tumblr.com/</a> Again, it sounds like a morbid preoccupation, but I find something very moving and tender in these spaces. People are so strange and interesting and idiosyncratic and funny. That's what I like about them.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
We've been back almost a week, and I can feel a bout of the summer blues brewing. This is not my favorite season. I've decided to give taking an afternoon siesta a try and see if that helps. And yoga. Although I always say I'm going to give yoga a try and I never do. It's sort of like my ongoing plan to clean out my attic. Such a good idea, such folly! <br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I'm going to Florida for a big librarian convention. I come back Sunday. And then summer will begin for real. I mean it.<br />
<br />Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-30098512820172462802016-06-07T08:53:00.000-07:002016-06-07T08:53:39.322-07:00Howdy, Stranger!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdvQwdhPLMX3l82Q0htPaEe7cQqqZkeOSJtWJfU-avnhla-rA2VDrhKx5qVfBWViRViEUA9PBYFA1zyLunlwIajTjE2bDO6CLBIIj6Y4CTLPzN6YCjd5_TpmxqsVH5fnZqBA0qrpj08A/s1600/lacy_crib_quilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOdvQwdhPLMX3l82Q0htPaEe7cQqqZkeOSJtWJfU-avnhla-rA2VDrhKx5qVfBWViRViEUA9PBYFA1zyLunlwIajTjE2bDO6CLBIIj6Y4CTLPzN6YCjd5_TpmxqsVH5fnZqBA0qrpj08A/s320/lacy_crib_quilt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My latest quilt--I made it for one of Jack's teachers, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>who's about to have a baby</i></div>
<br />
I guess it's me who's the stranger. But let's get past that and onto other things.<br />
<br />
I'm reading the best book right now. It's called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wander-Society-Keri-Smith/dp/0143108360?ie=UTF8&keywords=the%20wander%20society&qid=1465313652&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1"><i>The Wander Society </i></a>by Keri Smith. Do you know her? She does all these fun, funky books like <i>Wreck this Journal</i> and <i>How to Be an Explorer in the World</i>, perfect gifts for your creative, artsy niece--or for yourself if you like to take walks and notice interesting things, draw and take notes.<br />
<br />
<i>The Wander Society</i> is a bit different, but still delightful. Its conceit is that one day while she was out walking, Smith stumbled upon an old copy of <i>Leaves of Grass. </i>Inside she found notes about a mysterious organization called The Wander Society. Its patron saint was Walt Whitman of course, and its motto was <span><i>Solivitur ambulando</i>, or <i>It is Solved by Walking.</i></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Now between you and me, I believe Smith made the Wander Society up out of whole cloth, but that's part of the fun. For instance, in the list of famous walkers, she includes a woman named Alice P. Hobbs, a supposed activist and artist who disappeared in 2014, who is rumored to be one of the founders of the Wander Society. If you google Alice P. Hobbs, you will find a <a href="http://whoisalicephobbs.com/about/">website </a>with very little information as well as many references to Keri Smith's book. I suspect Alice P. Hobbs is also a figment of Smith's imagination. </span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I love that Smith is using the both her book and the internet to create this interesting fiction, and I love that she has created a society that encourages people to go out and wander. I walk a lot, but would like to wander more.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>***</span><br />
<b><span><br /></span></b>
<b><span>My List of Things I would Like to Do This Summer</span></b><br />
<br />
<span>1. Wander more.</span><br />
<br />
<span>2. Study the crows in my neighborhood.</span><br />
<br />
<span>3. Spend more time with art.</span><br />
<br />
<span>4. Get rid of stuff!</span><br />
<br />
<span>5. Write on my blog!!!</span><br />
<br />
<span>6. Write letters.</span><br />
<br />
<span>7. Write in my journal.</span><br />
<br />
<span>8. Close my eyes and wish really hard that all the junk in the attic and garage would go away.</span><br />
<br />
<span>9. Cook more interesting things.</span><br />
<br />
<span>10. Meditate. </span><br />
<br />
<span>***</span><br />
<br />
<span>Today is Will's last day of school. In fact, he's out of school now and should be at the swimming pool with his friend Ashaank. It was raining this morning, but is now sunny and bright. Maybe that means he got an A on his Spanish exam. Signs and wonders, etc.</span><br />
<br />
<span>Jack's last exam is tomorrow. I suppose I should tell you that he got his driver's license. We are learning to live with this development. </span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>***</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Do you make summer resolutions? Do you ever keep them?</span>Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-50839805157313960242016-03-17T10:12:00.002-07:002016-03-17T16:36:52.102-07:00Hello, It's Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQCg5t5RDeDu151oaBjc3MAzdaAdzTJoe0xiVv3qrmJXGxXFPA3Iqj8oy355h_SmTPjedT0oU1No1xrzRvADaSBH_H56Cbg5EulLGjRiIm5wkaQxQ-ZohX3iyA-jf2_poxLSs133rVak/s1600/vfwtopfullborder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQCg5t5RDeDu151oaBjc3MAzdaAdzTJoe0xiVv3qrmJXGxXFPA3Iqj8oy355h_SmTPjedT0oU1No1xrzRvADaSBH_H56Cbg5EulLGjRiIm5wkaQxQ-ZohX3iyA-jf2_poxLSs133rVak/s320/vfwtopfullborder.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My latest quilt top. I made up the design myself. Did you guess?</i></div>
<br />
Sorry for the long pause. I'd check in more often, but I seem to be writing three different books at the same time. This is funner than it sounds, but just as chaotic as it sounds. I'm at different stages with each book, and they're three very different kinds of books. But they have consumed my time and my head.<br />
<br />
Yes, my head has been consumed! It's not a pretty picture.<br />
<br />
Right now I'm feeling a little discombobulated. It happens a lot this time of year. It's very centering for me to come back here and touch base with you. This has always been true, for the almost-nine years that I've been blogging. Nine years! Almost!<br />
<br />
So, some updates:<br />
<br />
In early February I had a party. A friend of mine has started selling non-toxic beauty products through home parties, and she asked if I would throw one. I could not say no, though every fiber of my being begged me to.<br />
<br />
But you know what? It was fun. I ended up inviting a bunch of the 7th grade moms that I know (my friend is a 7th grade mom) from Our Fine School, and I think we had fifteen or sixteen people in all. We had such a wonderful time talking and catching up that the sales talk didn't start until almost two hours after the party started.<br />
<br />
Having a party made me think that I would like to have more parties, even though I hate having parties. Because I actually love having parties. I just hate the<i> idea</i> of having parties.<br />
<br />
You can see why my head has been so easily consumed.<br />
<br />
It is Our Fine School's spring break, so Jack and the Man have gone off to visit some colleges. I have a child who's old enough to go college-visiting! Will and I are lazing about the house. Well, I'm writing and Will is lazing. Travis is Travising. We're all very relaxed and eating lots of potato chips.<br />
<br />
Will is playing baseball for the Our Fine School's JV team. I fear his coaches want him to pitch. Talk to the moms of any baseball pitchers you know and they will tell you it's a heart-attack sort of life. Very stressful. For the moms, not the pitchers. The pitchers love pitching. They'll risk being the goat for the chance to be the the star.<br />
<br />
I don't get pitchers.<br />
<br />
This morning when I was out walking Travis, I was thinking that I needed to get a little more spiritual. I'm going to church, doing Sunday school, participating and all that, but that doesn't always mean I'm feeling the spirit.<br />
<br />
Then I turned the corner onto my street and lo and behold, there were masses of Jehovah's Witnesses floating toward me. They show up every couple of months and are the nicest crazy people you've ever met. They were coming toward me in pairs, the men in suits and ties, the women in dresses, and one pair would split off and go up this driveway, and another pair would split off and go up that driveway. It was like a ballet of Witnesses. And while I do not intend to convert, there was something lovely about all these nice crazy people floating down my street to tell us that God loves us and that we are doomed.<br />
<br />
So that's it for now. You are loved, but I don't think you're doomed. Hang in there! I shall return!Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-41272085673244803912016-01-18T09:03:00.001-08:002016-01-18T09:29:08.963-08:00Begrudgingly<br />
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<img alt="http://www.readingthepictures.org/files/2013/08/Freed-March-on-Washington-83-Magnum.jpg" src="http://www.readingthepictures.org/files/2013/08/Freed-March-on-Washington-83-Magnum.jpg" /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>In the Reflecting Pool, the March on Washington, 1963</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"The end is redemption, the end is reconciliation, the end is the creation of the beloved community."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
--Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.</div>
<br />
I don't recall holding grudges when I was younger. This seems to be a problem of my middle ages, one I'm trying to rid myself of.<br />
<br />
I don't hold many grudges. I'm not sure "grudge" is even the right word, but I don't know another one. The source of my grudges? Not being loved enough. I think it boils down to that.<br />
<br />
I have two friends who I've known for a long time--since college and grad school. Both are people I admire and look up to. People I love to talk to. But for some reason these friends no longer respond to my emails. No longer make an effort to keep up. I don't know why.<br />
<br />
Now, one of my mottos is "You don't know what you don't know." You don't know when someone is having a hard time in her marriage, or when other family problems have proved overwhelming. People get depressed. Undone by life in general. So I try to keep this in mind when I think about these friends. There could be any number of reasons they've fallen out of touch.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, I have found myself feeling resentful toward my friends, and over time the resentment has hardened. But I don't think it's doing me much good. It feels corrosive to my spirit. It feels like a weight.<br />
<br />
The wise and wonderful Anne Lamott has this to say about resentment:<br />
<br />
<i>When I first got sober in '86, I first heard someone say that
harboring resentment is like drinking rat poison, and waiting for the
rat to die. Resenting someone is about not forgiving them--thinking
that they have done something to you so damaging or disgusting that the
are beyond the pale; so therefore you are choosing to be toxic for the
rest of your life, rather than to work and pray For the healing. You
are willing to go through life not metabolizing the rat poison, so that
this person should know what a morally repellent you believe them to be.</i><br />
<br />
<i>But the most horrible thing is that half the time, they aren't even
AWARE of what it is you think they did to you. So it's a complete waste
of your precious bile. When I am willing to have clogged bile ducts,
because of a person who hardly thinks of me, or has no idea that he
behaved like a total asshat, then I'm the crazy one. Good, because this
is where my healing will begin. HELP.</i><br />
<br />
I think she's right. So one of my jobs this year is to give up my resentments and grudges. Pray them away and let them go. To forgive and move on.<br />
<br />
Step one in this process is to actually feel my feelings about the situation--to let myself fully feel the hurt, whether or not I've got all the facts. I don't think you can heal from a hurt until the wound has been fully exposed to the light. I have a habit of minimizing my hurt feelings. I have a habit of saying "who cares?" or "it doesn't matter."<br />
<br />
That's one way hurt feelings fester into resentments and grudges, I'm pretty sure.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to go through the painful process of feeling things, and then after that I can (begrudgingly, I'm sure) work on forgiveness. Because<br />
<br />
a) forgiveness is required for my own mental health; and<br />
<br />
b) it is required of me by the faith that I supposedly practice; and<br />
<br />
c) I don't know what I don't know.<br />
<br />
Here's the other thing I plan to do: Write back to the friends who write me. Call the friends who call. Be grateful for all the friends I have who continue to love me in spite of my own flawed self.Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-30706388105028667192016-01-11T17:48:00.001-08:002016-01-11T18:13:55.971-08:00Who Will Clean While I Make the Quilts?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35zV1b8LDsM36YQJl1H9ThdmgAbOWO6nKQ-hkX-uIpDRXaZVajuNZ1OLQhE5-lbFlfnDmsWNwQfrxpvsroijt89y0J_ApQ0YFSTzdFmytcK0LZ8ykAREgnt8bpQ1ENvFP8lBBbB0U7fI/s1600/made+fabric+star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35zV1b8LDsM36YQJl1H9ThdmgAbOWO6nKQ-hkX-uIpDRXaZVajuNZ1OLQhE5-lbFlfnDmsWNwQfrxpvsroijt89y0J_ApQ0YFSTzdFmytcK0LZ8ykAREgnt8bpQ1ENvFP8lBBbB0U7fI/s320/made+fabric+star.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Funky Star</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
So it's a new year, and as I do every year I've made my annual list of resolutions for my children. This year I've resolved that they will do more around the house. They've always had to do chores, but the fact is they could pitch in a lot more than they do. Over Christmas, as I was <strike>performing open heart surgery</strike> <strike>climbing Mt. Everest</strike> <strike>cursing the holidays</strike> working my tuchus off to get everything ready, I started to grow ... what is the word for it? <i>Resentful</i>. Yes, that is the word for it. There they were, my wonderful boys, doing absolutely nothing while I did absolutely everything. This must change, I told myself. And so it has.<br />
<br />
Sort of.<br />
<br />
Jack now does the dinner dishes. Will vacuums every day and puts the water glasses on the table for dinner. Both of them are supposedly making their beds every morning, but that's hit or miss. Will is doing his laundry, but hasn't gotten around to the folding part. Jack has been doing his laundry for years--still doesn't fold.<br />
<br />
The thing neither of them seem to be able to do? Put the dang cap back on the toothpaste. Why is this? I'm trying not to focus all of my energy on one tiny thing, but good grief, fellas!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjerQ7wjm1KMUqg0UzUW5dttoJkgyBtUYFqweyU-TjRRUh97Er6TQKwpvmUO9MnQRUkK898Q3kvxWE7d2947uKhPFfIr14zkrCCkXLSh8iHNWpkopkwtVUwOubKF22OKlt4FGyp54_Sp4/s1600/nypl.digitalcollections.quiltladies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjerQ7wjm1KMUqg0UzUW5dttoJkgyBtUYFqweyU-TjRRUh97Er6TQKwpvmUO9MnQRUkK898Q3kvxWE7d2947uKhPFfIr14zkrCCkXLSh8iHNWpkopkwtVUwOubKF22OKlt4FGyp54_Sp4/s400/nypl.digitalcollections.quiltladies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(The New York Public Library has digitized its </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>photography collections!)</i></div>
<br />
The hard thing is not nagging. I'm doing my best to simply, gently remind. I send Jack funny texts, mention to Will oh-so-nonchalantly that I'd love to have the living room vacuumed by, say, dinnertime?<br />
<br />
Which reminds me, Jack still hasn't done the dinner dishes. Sigh. Time to text.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*** </div>
<br />
Can I tell you something? I'm so over making dinner right now. It's not that I mind cooking, I just don't want to have to cook. I'd rather read.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Do I have resolutions? I'm not really a resolution girl, but I would like to pay closer attention as Travis and I take our walks around the neighborhood. I walk Travis almost every morning, and it's always one of two walks. We go to the end of our street and either turn right or left. Travis always chooses, and he always alternates.<br />
<br />
I like taking the same two walks. Which are never the same two walks. We've lived in this neighborhood for almost nine years, and I've gotten to know all the yards really well. I've gotten to know the light. And still I see new things every day.<br />
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This is my neighbor's garage. The windows are at the back of the garage. You can look through them to the backyard. Usually the garage door is down, so I've never had this view before. (If you click on the picture, you can see their winter garden + sculpture.)<br />
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This is the bottom of my street in the late afternoon. There's something about the light here that's very January to me.<br />
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I saw this car this morning. Don't know who Aunt Puddin' is. Wish I did. Do you have an Aunt Puddin' in your neighborhood? I think every neighborhood should have one.<br />
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What are you resolved to pay attention to this year?Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-85892745436350908422015-12-27T16:42:00.000-08:002015-12-27T18:44:28.390-08:00My Dears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I am still here. But where have I been?<br />
<br />
Mostly working on projects that have made me very happy. Good work. But consuming. <br />
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Let me update you. We're having a lovely Christmas. Some Christmases aren't lovely. Some Christmases I never get the spirit, or get it but lose it quickly. This Christmas was the same as others in ways. I felt like it was too much work. I hate presents (except that I love presents). We do too much, spend too much.<br />
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But an hour after we'd opened our presents Christmas morning, my whole family was sitting in the living room, the tree twinkling before us, drinking Christmas punch and reading our new books, and it was so peaceful and lovely I wanted to bottle it.<br />
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The boys are good. Jack left this morning for the mountains. His friend Charlie invited him and several other classmates up to his family's cabin in western North Carolina for several days. Originally the plan was to ski, but it's so warm there's not even fake snow on the slopes. But this is a crew of kids who love to game, and so I suspect they will spend a lot of their time playing Risk and D&D and enjoying their first foray into what feels like freedom.<br />
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This is Jack at the Man's family Christmas party we went to last weekend. He is one tall drink of water, that's for sure.<br />
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Will has been sleeping in until 1 or 2 p.m.! He's suddenly taller than me, which I have mixed feelings about. Thank goodness for Travis, or I'd be the shortest one in the room.<br />
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Travis and I have taken a lot of walks the last two days. My jeans are feeling tight. Tonight we had turkey soup for dinner. Time to start walking away from all the pies and Chex mix, I'm afraid. I can gain three pounds just looking at sugar, and I believe I have. Sigh. Tomorrow is another day, am I right?<br />
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I hope you're having a lovely holiday. Did you get any good books for Christmas?<br />
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ETA: My Christmas books include <i>The Lake House </i>by Kate Morton, <i>Dispatches from Pluto</i> by Richard Grant, <i>Only Time Will Tell </i>by Jeffrey Archer, <i>Fairy Tale Girl</i> by Susan Branch, <i>The Givenness of Things</i> by Marilyn Robinson and<i> The Shepherd's Life</i> by James Rebanks. Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-75814883786366985632015-10-30T17:21:00.000-07:002015-10-31T11:55:35.429-07:00My Halloween Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tomorrow Will turns 13. Earlier today the Man and I recollected the night that Will was born. Around midnight of October 31st, 2002, I thought my dinner was disagreeing with me. Then it struck me I might be going into labor. The Man called the hospital, but the hospital was not impressed with my contractions. And then suddenly my contractions were coming faster and faster. We hopped into the car (okay, I don't think I was hopping mood at that point; I think the Man half-carried me to the car) and sped off to the hospital. I was fairly sure I was going to give birth in the backseat of our Honda Accord, but amazingly I didn't. Made it into a wheelchair, into the delivery room, and a few minutes later, Will was born. I believe I was still begging for an epidural at the time.<br />
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When Will was born he looked like a prizefighter. Who'd lost. Jack had been a beautiful baby and was a beautiful toddler and we felt so bad for Will, the ugly duckling. But around the time he turned six-months old, he blossomed into a pretty baby. He's still cute.<br />
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He's getting old, though. Tonight he's at the school dance. Last year the sixth graders could go to the spring dance, but Will wanted no part of it. This year, there was no question that he'd go. I dropped him off at a friend's house around 5:00 so they could all get ready together.<br />
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He called from the dance just a few minutes ago, wanting to know if he could the spend the night at his friend's house. Now, we're pretty good with the last minute sleepover requests, but usually Will's asking to stay with one of his friends we know well and whose family we know. This friend we don't know. I'm friendly with his mom and like her a lot, but we're not close. And the friend has an older brother I don't know at all. On top of that, I don't know this family's policies on Internet usage, whether or not they have HBO (and let their kids watch it), if they allow phones upstairs (we don't), etc., etc. So my answer was no.<br />
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He seemed okay with the decision. I remember asking my parents if I could sleep over at somebody's house and halfway hoping they'd say no. Maybe Will felt the same way about this sleepover. Who knows?<br />
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So happy birthday, Will; sorry you'll be waking up on your birthday in your boring old room with your boring old dog (Travis!) scratching at the door. Me, I'm glad you'll be home with us. You'll spend plenty of birthdays out on the town; we've only got you for a little while longer.Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-9711612494345344022015-10-19T19:05:00.001-07:002015-10-19T19:25:04.747-07:00Quick Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I know you're dying to know how the colonoscopy went, although probably not in detail. Okay, so here's the scoop: much to my amazement, it was a piece of cake. The day before wasn't a whole lot of fun, but I learned something: I can fast. Well, I can fast as long as fasting includes drinking a lot of chicken broth and eating bowls of lemon jell-o. I never knew that about myself.<br />
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Here's the thing. If you've ever given birth, without or without drugs, pretty much everything else is easy peasy--root canals, gum surgery, colonoscopies, whatever. This is something I forget and then I'm reminded: I'm a soldier. I've been through the wars. <br />
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Anyway, if you're at that age when it's time to get your first colonoscopy (that would be 50), then please do. Colon cancer is the third most common cancer, excluding skin cancers (the first two are lung and prostate, interestingly enough). Getting screened is the best way to prevent it. Colonoscopy bonus? Once you get home, you just nap and snack and watch saved episodes of "The Great British Baking Show" all day. Really, it's like getting a free vacation.<br />
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So now it's late and I'm about ready for bed, but I remembered that I wanted to get back into my blogging routine. So here I am to say hello and get a colonoscopy when it's time and I'm reading Patti Smith's new memoir, <i>M Train</i>, and it's really good but to enjoy it you have to be the sort of person who doesn't mind it when writers aren't particularly linear, something I don't mind in nonfiction but can't really handle in fiction.<br />
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All right then: see you Friday with more public service announcements!<br />
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P.S. Do you watch The Great British Baking Show? So much fun! You can check out episodes on PBS online--http://video.pbs.org/program/great-british-baking-show/Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-64855044668815886252015-10-05T18:49:00.001-07:002015-10-05T18:49:55.864-07:00I'm not looking forward to Friday ...<br />
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I am 51 years old. For the last year I've put off the procedure doctors encourage you to undergo when you enter your 5th decade . Do you know which one I mean? Starts with "colon" ends with "oscopy"? Ideally I should have gotten one the minute I turned 50, but for some reason I kept putting it off ... who knows why?<br />
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Oh, I think we all know why. But Friday, I bite the bullet and get 'er done. I've been dreading it since I made the appointment. No, I've been dreading it since I was 45 and know the dreaded c-oscopy was a mere five years away.<br />
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I would like to write about something other than having this procedure, but it's on my mind. I've been snacking all day, storing up fuel for Thursday, the day of the big fast. The day of chicken broth and lemon jell-o. I imagine some people lose weight in the days preceding their colonoscopy; I suspect I'll gain five pounds.<br />
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***<br />
<br />
We had such a strange weekend. Will was out of the house almost the entire time. On Friday afternoon, he went to a friend's house, and then on Saturday morning he went to another friend's birthday party and ended up spending the night. Sunday afternoon he went to the movies some other friends. <br />
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I'm glad Will has lots of friends, but I'm not sure I'm ready to give him up yet. I've had a couple of dreams recently where he's a baby again, and I think I know why.<br />
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The other strange thing that happened this weekend is that the Man and I went to a party where we knew virtually no one and had a great time. I've recently gotten to be friends with a woman in my neighborhood who also goes to our church. She turned 50 last week and had a humongous birthday party on Saturday night. Our plan was to go in, give her a bottle of wine, wait around for 15 minutes and then go get a pizza. We were there for over three hours. My socializing strategy for meeting people was to go up to individuals or couples standing by themselves and say, "Hi, I'm Frances, this is my husband, and we don't know anybody here."<br />
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We met a lot of people that way. We made new best friends for life. We also saw some other folks from church, and my dog-walking neighbor Mel, who was wearing long pants. I never see Mel in long pants--he runs marathons and is always dressed for a run when I see him. We ran into Will's youth group leader and learned the origins of her admittedly odd first name.<br />
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So, yes, the two introverts enjoyed themselves. We were glad we went. We were glad to go home when it was over. For a few hours, I forgot about my colonoscopy. Life was good. It will be good again.Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8626107370797678390.post-89782205427272995962015-10-02T17:37:00.001-07:002015-10-02T17:37:11.638-07:00Friday Report<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So you're wondering how it went with Betty. I think it went well, though I was sort of weirdly exhausted by the end of it. Certainly the house--or the rooms that Betty and her three daughters cleaned--were beautiful, shiny and fresh. They cleaned the dust off the ceiling fan and made the boys' bathtub a thing of beauty. I couldn't be more pleased.<br />
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I was interested that when they were done cleaning Betty left a religious tract on my counter with a note ("Thank you for letting us clean your house, I hope you're happy with the job we did today ..."). The tract is the sort that most of us are familiar with--<i>Did you know that Jesus died on the cross for your sins so that you wouldn't burn in Hell? Say the Sinner's Prayer today so that you will be saved. </i>Given that I have a postcard of Mary and baby Jesus on my fridge alongside a poem by Kathleen Norris called "Imperatives" that begins,<br />
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Look at the birds<br />
Consider the lilies<br />
Drink ye all of it<br />
Ask<br />
Seek<br />
Knock<br />
Enter by the narrow gate<br />
Do not be anxious<br />
Judge not; do not give dogs what is holy ...<br />
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<br />
you'd think I might have been given a pass on the whole "we're concerned about the state of your soul" thing, but I guess not. A little disappointing, I have to say.<br />
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It's funny having a stranger in your house, especially one that's mucking about in your space for a couple of hours. You start to see what's weird about your stuff, at least if you're me. For instance, for the last three or four years we've had this dangling from our livingroom ceiling,<br />
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which is a dried bundle of Salvia clippings from the garden. The Man trimmed back the plants one day and liked how the remnants looked, so naturally he bound them together and hung them from a hook, as one does (the hook was already there--I believe the previous owners of the house hung a lamp from it). I've always loved our Salvia, but looking at it through Betty's eyes, I could understand that she might think us quite insane.<br />
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Then there's our fireplace mantle, that runs the length of the wall, upon which we have displayed all sorts of things, including one of the Man's many fine documentary photographs, various children's art projects and some barbecue sauce:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPQDRddSL1uJE6EmEaz4KB5Vay6vMBUwYJHcckDUuaYyMMYQJ2Tl3mS9Ew2BD9YVMVMVEC7TsUrxNx7tY0ur2JgVqJRB27Ose6LQTSm1uR2ZFyixlaLdn6SC_ZmZQAQzwaLK258ILTk60/s1600/mantle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPQDRddSL1uJE6EmEaz4KB5Vay6vMBUwYJHcckDUuaYyMMYQJ2Tl3mS9Ew2BD9YVMVMVEC7TsUrxNx7tY0ur2JgVqJRB27Ose6LQTSm1uR2ZFyixlaLdn6SC_ZmZQAQzwaLK258ILTk60/s320/mantle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sometimes I wonder what my children think when they go to other people's houses. Do they think, "Ah, at last, normal decor?" Or do they think the normal stuff is weird? Do they wonder where the display of barbecue sauce is? Where their friends parents display <i>their</i> bundles of sticks?<br />
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So I believe the house cleaner experience was a success. When I get rich, I'll have Betty and her daughters (everyone in the family is stunningly gorgeous, by the way--it's like have the cast of "Petticoat Junction" clean your house) come weekly. Will they bring me religious materials to read every time they come? Will the tracts become increasingly scarier? Should I start leaving my Bible out in obvious places? I'm curious to find out what happens next. Stay tuned! Left-Handed Housewifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15014518128739580267noreply@blogger.com7