Cats, Sticks and Books

Wait...it's JUNE?

2011-06-02T10:37:00.000-05:00

They say when you get older, time goes by faster. OY!! It's true. Now, let's see....twelve months in a year; four months' indolence - isn't that a quarter of a year? Or is it a third....hmmm...three fours are twelve, yes? So it's a third? I'll go with that. ((Darn teachers were right, I should've tried harder in elementary math -- one year my parents gave me a new chess set for getting a D in math! It wasn't an F!)

So what happened in May, anything? Well! Lay-deez and gentle-mens, May was so chock-full that I should've blogged every day. SO I need to make up for it now, and I will. I still have to futz some with my pictures, and this may take some days, so (as I am SO fond of saying) BEAR WITH ME!!

Here's what you'll see here over the next few days:

1. As BAD as December, January, February and March were, and April just a slight improvement, May was all-around spectacular. I still have vestiges of the #)#**&@ tremor, but am Adjusting the Medication and (hopefully) beating it.

2. May included our 25th Wedding Anniversary (!). Or...29th year together if you count our four years of Shackin' Up before traditional marriage....as Her Old Man and His Old Lady -- we hippies did that, you know. And there WILL be a whole blog about it, because while we generally go camping in a canvas wedge tent with no floor, and while we have dine on our anniversary at Taco Bell (hey hey hey here....we both LIKE Taco Bell and I still have TWO eyeball straws from there so shut up) -- this year Mr. Dearling took me to CELEBRATE our Silver Anniversary in style. We spent a week at....ready? Remember the wedge tent with no floor? We spent a week at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island!!

Of course I took pictures. It was perfect; there was not one moment that we did not enjoy. It's required to "dress for dinner" so with one exception, we DID dress...as though it were 1890. We had such fun - and being elegantly dressed reminded us that we were NOT at home and no matter how great the temptation, plate-licking was not allowed. (See "hippies", above.)

3. May also included my blogiversary, but being on May 11 we were still portraying 120-year-old visitors, (dare I say?) I forgot. So I'll mention that too. And I have a Resolution to try to pick it up now that I seem to be largely recovered (that thumping you hear is me pounding vigorously on anything resembling wood).

I'm back to work, mostly -- and a good thing, too, because we're getting ENORMOUS tour groups at the Museum -- all the kids from all over the state who cancelled because they couldn't pair it with their usual tours of the Capitol. (We've had a protest or two, you might've seen references.) It's still very wonky here in Wisconsin; for petessakes. Recall Walker ("Stalker" "Hawker" &C &C). Ain't going all political here - suffice it to say I love living in Madison, Wisconsin.

There's no more ice around, the weather is mild, my beloved lilac bush had flowers this year, the peonies are covered with buds (and their attending Caretaking Ants) and our backyard looks like....well, the Amazon comes to mind.

We've had the delight of attending a lovely wedding of friends, we're looking forward to a granddaughter's high school graduation, and it's very pleasant, being summer. We have some living history events planned, and my assignment (should I choose to go) is my upcoming high school reunion in September.

Ready for this? It's our FIFTIETH HIGH SCHOOL REUNION! I may go just to see who's still alive!!

So....watch this space.

Semantic Point --

2011-05-02T08:17:00.000-05:00

I awoke this morning to the news that Osama Bin Laden has been killed, and apparently buried at sea. My first thought?   Hope they took pictures before they "buried him at sea", or sent some DNA to CSI or wossname.

But I have a wee problem-o. How do I feel about the whole thing? OK, let me be clear about this: I think he was like Hitler -- hateful, odious, no redeeming value. He finally got what was coming to him, because I remember as clear as though it was yesterday (and it's been ten years!) how I felt when I heard the reports on the car radio on September 11, 2001, and how I felt as I watched all day on television and cried for the brothers and sisters who had died, and cried for everyone who loved all those people. At that moment, We Americans became related -- no "six degrees of separation"; they were OUR family members.

So please read carefully, because I am relieved that such a hateful man is dead. BUT!! The phrases I'm hearing on television this morning: "People all around the world are celebrating the death...." "The news was met with delight at Ground Zero...."    "Retribution",   "Revenge" - "Joyous atmosphere...."

I'm relieved that he's gone, I hear the news with relief that a chapter has closed (and some trepidation, of course, because clearly it's not a total solution). But there's something that jars in the reporting and it occurs to me that certain words should never be joined. For example, "celebrate", "delight", "joyful" paired with "war" or "death". He's gone. GOOD! But you know, I'm not going to raise a glass, dance in the streets or express joy. Relief? Yes. Unbridled delight? nawwww.

From the mouths of the babes: Mr. Dearling tells me that one of his 4th grade students on tour at the museum asked him why we celebrate the 150th anniversary of the Civil War. And when I think about it, (the CW) I first think of the hundreds of photos taken by Matthew Brady of young men lying dead on the battlefields. I'm sorry, I can't entirely separate that image from the realization that every one of those men (or boys) was, at one time, a swaddled infant being smiled upon by his Mama or his Meemaw (or even, perhaps, his mammy).

So let's COMMEMORATE today. Commemorate the fact that the most Evil, Hateful, Baneful Demon of our time is no longer walking this earth.   I will commemorate his death, and I feel proud of the Navy SEALS who apparently succeeded in this. But gee, guys - I really can't celebrate death.

NOTE: they just mentioned that he was "buried at sea" within the required 24 hours (same as Jews - there must be burial "before the sun sets" - which is interpreted as "within 24 hours").

Boy - these are heavy times for Emotionally-charged Aging Jewish Bubbes.....the high of watching our little William marry that lovelly girl in England, the plunging relieved/bummer that Bin Laden's gone. Good thing Mr. Dearling keeps a good supply of tissues at hand.

It was the Worst of Times, it was the Best of Times....

2011-04-18T02:29:00.000-05:00

"WRONG"; definition - bad; wonky; BIG mistake; erroneous; boo-boo; uh-oh; aw sh**; bigsigh. And periodically you hear tell of something...something - that embodies all of those definitions, a tangible, physical, really-o truly-o thing that is the "wrong-ness". This thing is not something I ever would have thought of, conceived of, no matter how hard I tried. No, this thing was mentioned to me blithely on the telephone by my Lovely Daughter. We were talking about programs on teevee; we share an enjoyment of food shows, cooking shows. We share a real taste (no pun intended...snerk) for the whole eating thing So what was this mentioned item?

DISCLAIMER: if you're not sitting down, do so -- if you have a dicey ticker, if you're prone to the vapours, go look at the pictures on Cute Overload for a few minutes.... Here goes:

Bacon-Wrapped MATZOH BALLS.

I am allowing you a few minutes to roll that around amongst your marbles. See what I mean? "That's just WRONG". And you know, some things that appear wrong actually, surprisingly, wind up being quite nice. THIS?    uh-huhn. It ain't happenin'.

That's the worst...."evar". Other bad stuff? A new "reality" show about a woman who makes a hefty living as some sort of maternity counselor. Rents herself out to pregnant, hugely-wealthy New York pregnant mothers. One woman hired her to assemble a group of "talents"? to select a name for her baby.   The trailer showed a woman who was lining up the hair and makeup staff for when she comes out of Delivery. SAY WOT????

That's enough of the negative. Now for the BEST! The Decorah Eagle. NOTE: my link thingies might not be working. If they aren't, PUNT. You won't be sorry.

Prepare for rant.

This whole innerwebs thingie, the 'Net, sometimes simply called "on line". As an entity it strikes me as the perfect "Little Girl with the Little Curl", quoted to me so often in my early childhood. For those of you who are either   a) well-behaved little girls; or) boys, naughty or nice, I repeat the wholeof the verse here. Imagine it in a sort of sing-song-y voice:

"Once there was a little girl / who had a little curl / right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good she was very, very good - and she was bad, she was horrid!" I am edified to know that I was NEVER just naughty or cross as a wee girlie - I was HORRID!

Back to the internet at hand.   We all know about the Potential Evils of the Internet; frankly, I'm just as glad that my children grew up and moved out BEFORE the Day of the Insidious Pervasive SCREEN. On the other hand, I believe (as I may have said before) that I think World Peace can be achieved through the Internet. Sample conversation in home somewhere in world, April 18, 2020:

Husband: "pack my Fierce Weaponry, Wife, I'm going off to war.
Wife: "where?"
Husband: "why?"
Wife: ""do you always answer questions with another question?"
Husband: "do I?"

{period of quiet follows as each Ponders}

Husband: "we're fighting with the country of EastNorth Wherewickton. South."
Wife: NO YOU ARE NOT!! (she turns away from her laptop and points both eyes and a grim mouth in his direction.) He sags a little (going off to war has been popular for some centuries. Eons, even.)

Wife continues: "As a matter of fact, Mr. Smartypants Warrior, I am FB friends with 300 women in EastNorth Wherewickton, South AND North. We all chat every day, we are trading Nifty Hints about Child-Rearing and there's an active game of "Does your husband ever........??"   Furthermore, we just started a Recipe Exchange, and if you think I'm going to let you and the guys go attacking and breaking the recipe chain YOU HAVE ANOTHER THINK COMING, MISTER!"

See? End of war. It's in the future. In the meantime, however, there are other opportunities which are now commonplace, but which (another of my pet sayings) wasn't even in science fiction books when I was a girl. Limitless free knitting patterns. INSTANT information on almost anything that might pique the curiosity. Pictures and films from everywhere, of everything -- including the aforementoned Iowa Eagle cam . Me? I relish the opportunity to sit at the edge of the nest and watch at all hours of the day and night.    I've watched for a part of every day since first seeing the eagles on my evening news show.

So on the one hand, somewhere in this world there are bacon-wrapped matzoh balls {pfeh! ptooey!} and elsewhere in the world is the ability to sit 80 feet up in an eyrie and watch the unimposing eaglets as they grow into birds like their parents. Not something one has access to every day.

I am pleased to observe that I seem to be crawling out from the Blarg - although I do find I have to sort of build back up. So far so good, the medication is controlling the tremors. I'm scheduled to seee the neurologist again next week (I'm thinking I should keep scheduing regular appointments on the off-chance I may someday need a neorologist again -- she's something like the Great and Wonderful Oz).

So hopefully I will soon be completely returned to knitting and bloggng and working -- and I have some very exciting plans coming up that are pretty assured of being a Genuine Experience!

So - I'm going to watch the end of my teevee show with the madman who calls himself "an extreme fisherman" to see if he's going to have his legs ripped off by a gargantuan fish with two-foot teeth and a cranky disposition. All's I can say is, "better him than me."

Things I've Learned....

2011-04-04T10:28:00.001-05:00

...from watching teevee for roughly twelve hours a day, for roughly four months.

1. That much teevee is against the Geneva Convention. For something intended to be "entertainment", I suggest something like thumbscrews. Brenks' Bridle. THE RACK!!

2. The New York SPCA officers have full police capabilities. Which means that they can go to rescue a dog and arrest the wretched MFers who mistreated the dog.

3. Houston has a lot of fighting cocks (eeeewww, they clip their crops and spurs to put razor-sharp long spurs on); they also have a problem with pit bull dog fights. BOTH are totally illegal - the Texas animal cops don't have police powers but they DO have a very intimate (so to speak) relationship with the local constabulary. I have a streak that takes delicious satisfaction in watching the arrests of the MFers -- they're usually arrested right after the Civil Court hearing where their animals are legally transferred to the SPCA. (I also like it when the MFers come to court to get their animals back, I mean THAT's cheeky! "Yes, your honor, I was starving him because I only have a pony saddle and I wanted to ride him...." OOOOHyeah.

4. There are a LOT of starving horses in the Houston area - also goats, pigs, various fowl, miniature horses and an unending supply of dogs and cats.

5. Animal HOARDING is a real problem everywhere, apparently - and I've concluded that...
I AM AN ANIMAL HOARDER! Well, ok, so I only have two cats. But you know, I'm sort of a Theoretical Animal Hoarder. (The truth is, as Mr. Dearling pointed out, if I bought ANYTHING in here -- kitty, puppy, boa constrictor -- Mistress Evangeline would dine upon them. Her tolerance of Lilliane, all these years later, has remained terse.) ...which reminds me, I have to go open the bedroom door...Lilli was put there in time-out for attacking Evi....seems she learning BAD behavior!

NOTE: I AM aware that all the animal cop shows are showing the bad stuff...lovely healthy animals wouldn't make very good teevee. I know the people in Houston are not meaner to their animals than anywhere else. Probably.

Let's see - I have diagnosed myself with everything for which there are advertised medications available. I quit wrriting them down to "ask my doctor for" after about 40. Not only is there medication for depression - there are adjunct pills in case the ones you're using aren't enough. WTH??? Of course, everything advertised causes moggles and rooblets and extra hair and hair loss and thoughts of suicide and murderous wrath and an incomprehensible desire to eat human brains. No, wait - that's zombies, only four or nine medications list that one.

I've also been watching stuff like "First 48" in which real genuine scofflaws are apprehended for a huge variety of crimes, almost 99% of which are drug-related murders. The idea is, the first three days after a Dreadful Crime is the best time to wrap it up. Sometimes it takes more than a couple months, but that's ok, the nefarious and unruly are ultimately caught.

Then there's "House", which is an amazing fantasy - people come in to the hospital and Dr. House and his team perform elebenty-six tests, many of which are invasive or unpleasant, but eventually the diagnosis is made, the patient healed and all's right with the world. Of course this all takes days and days -- and do they EV ER use the "i" word? (Yes, "insurance") -- I think my favorite was the one where a beautiful mulatto girl was brought in with dreadful symptoms by her handsome white husband. They were TRULY in love, a match made in heaven, only it turned out the match WAS made in heaven -- for some reason a DNA test was run (I think the husband was prepared to donate ALL his organs to save his cherished wife). AND GUESS WOT??? Yup, they were half-siblings. Seems White Papa had been "helping out in the garden" of his Black Neighbor. OY VEY!!

OK, enough of the crappy news and on to something better: namely ME, I'm better. and tomorrow will be a red-letter day. I get to vote (and I'd get three different disguises and vote again if I could) AND...readly for this? My Neurology appointment (made in February) is tomorrow!!! So far, the first muscle relaxer I got helps enough but I'm hoping for something that works a little better. But (speaking with crossed fingers) I am gradually climbing out of the Abyss of No Knitting, No Writing &c &c and so forth.

By the way, to any and all who commented, THANK YOU! I could say "I was so warmed...." or something. The truth? OK, I had a decent Ugly Cry over it all. There isn't a cure or treatment equal to that. Consider youselves hugged by a 4'11" woman with a case of hiccup-y cryin'.

tick tick tick Is this thing on?

2011-03-28T18:07:00.000-05:00

Hmmm...maybe I really AM part bear; all the other ursine members of the family are emerging now too!

PRIMO: heart-deep thanks for all the lovely thoughts, prayers and nice greetings. My current status is as follows (imagine doctor raising eyebrows and shrugging). I've had blood tests for everything under the sun and CAN report that I do not have beri-beri or Lymes' or Mongol Trots or anything else that could be determined. I had the alimentary x-ray deal which revealed nothing unusual. NOTE: My stomach is weird anyway - most people's stomachs like horizontally; mine is sort of vertical. Say WOT??

I also did have the heart ultrasound. I found it intriguing, watching my heart on the monitor. Fortunately that was fine too - the technician said, when I arrived, that it would be "just like the ultrasounds I'd had when I was pregnant". I explained that - in the days when I was pregnant they just candled us like eggs - holding a candle behind of us.

In the meantime, I did begin to feel better. Wouldn't you know it? My appetite was the first thing back, so any weight I might have lost didn't stay away long. I'm taking some prozac-oid stuff which seems to have worked on what might have been my depression -- remember, "better living through chemistry".

HOWEVER! My perpetual benign tremor (a slight shaking of my hands, slightly worse if I'm very tired) took advantage of my Blarg and became anything BUT benign. I refer to it as "Jazz Hands".... it had become a veritable palsy. Stop for a moment and think about the myriad little things you do all day that require fine-motor control. (Eating soup; writing with a pencil, typing (!) knitting -- imagine trying to put a nice line of tooth glue in the dentures!!)

I found myself feeling better - but literally physically inCAPABL:E of doing any of those things. No writing with a pencil? There goes taking notes, jotting down story ideas, marking passages in a book - highlighting! No knitting? That's just foul, but I couldn't even manage garter stitch with #15 needles.
No TYPING? Oy vey iz mere!! Serious palsy effectively removes the possibility of typing. (No chats, no Facebook -- no BLOG....blarg!)

To tell the truth I found it a real embarrassment too, and was happiest at occasions where I could keep my hands in my pockets or tucked into my armpits. "Why Dale-Harriet, don't you think you should perhaps see a Neorologist?" Matter o' fact YES! In fact, in mid-February I called, and GOT an appointment in Neurology. April 5th. Having pretty much spent 2.5 months on the couch, the thought of making it a solid four months on the couch about did me in.

So I emailed the doctor requesting a prescription for muscle relaxers. She phoned one in and I got them -- and get this: IT WORKS! Mostly. Generally. Basically. I'm still keeping that appointment, but I'm gradually relearning how to blog and knit and jot down notes.

I will, ere long, set out to describe the effect of 14 hours' daily of Animal Planet; what I have learned from Criminal Minds and the various CSIs -- and what I think of the Miami Housewives. (And Orange County wives and so on.)

I went to the Knit-In last Saturday, and signed up and paid for a class in "beginning Victorian Knitting", which I was pretty pumped for. I stayed for the morning session but did NOT go back after lunch, because even with the medication, lace-weight yarn and "0" needles just weren't working - however, the syllabus, samples of some eight yarns and the information on deciphering Victorian patterns are sufficient that I feel as though I got my two sous' worth.

Soooo -- after four months of downright Inability - I believe I'm on the mend. I'm gradually getting back to work -- imagine this scenario: there I am, with my mandatory pointing-tool (a mouse-shaped laser pointer I purloined from the cats) and jazz hands! MIght shorten the tour, being as I'd be pointing at everything, up to and including my own shoes.... So I haven't actually been to work since the end of November either.

So at least I can finally enjoy some of my daily chazerai (Yiddish, look it up) and will report next on The Effects of Modern TeeVee on the temporarily-disabled Yenta. Oh, and again, THANKS -- unless you've been in my position (and I earnestly hope you NEVER are!) you can only imagine what your little notes have meant to me. Suffice it to say -- just thinking about it makes me all over verklempt!

Oh-one-one-one-one-one

2011-01-11T12:13:00.000-06:00

....otherwise "01-11-11". That has to be historical. Only thing that'll be better will be in November, right? Because that'll be "11-11-11". Now THAT is cool.

On the "me" front - still battling the Blarg. Able to stay awake for a few hours at a time. Sleeping great - but I still feel like my old "me" is lying around somewhere. I still am hoping that some combination of things will stir the Old Me into coming home.

This afternoon I'm going to talk to someone who might have some answers - and some insights.

I'm also going out for lunch shortly. I'll order something Mr. Dearling likes so we can share it!

PS: Evangeline....and Mr Dearling....are taking CAPITAL care of me, and Lilliane is helping too. At the end of this I'll report on what effect 10 hours a day of "Law and Order" and "CSI" has on the human brain.

The Blarg, phase two

2011-01-06T18:35:00.001-06:00

OK, so I went to the doctor again today. Now - my own doctor is on vacation (if anyone ever deserves a vacation it's a good and thoughtful doctor) so I saw one of her partners. I like my doctor a lot. I like her partner even more.....

Turns out she's young, very friendly, and shares a whole bunch o' Points of Commonality with us:
1. She's an MOT (Jewish....we refer to one another informally as "members of the tribe");
2. She's a transplanted New Yorker - in fact, grew up on Long Island (as did Mr. Dearling);
3. Her husband is a goy (non-Jew...NOT a derogatory term; Mr. Dearling is also goyesha)
4. We have some friends in common!

So I enjoyed visiting with her. But we weren't there for tea - in fact, Mr. Dearling had a list. So we went over everything, she took notes, ordered a couple more tests (*blood tests...see below) and changed out a couple of prescriptions. I've said it before - I'll say it again: I'm a believer in Better Living Through Chemistry. In this case....from my lips to God's ears.

So we'll see what the next couple of days hold - hopefully some improvement because as much as I love "CSI" (the original one) I'm beginning to tire of it, as I watch it all day. This is still a Heckuva Major Drag.

Blarg.

*Blood Tests: I have perfectly lovely large vein s in my elbows (I may have mentioned that before, too tired to go back and look - apologies, if so). And I have no qualms, fears, problems about blood draws. At least not by normal phlebotomists in lab coats. Long capes, sparkling teeth - not so sure.

Insult to Injury...

2011-01-06T05:25:00.001-06:00

Well, here I am again - STILL in the doldrums. Not feeling much better. ANY better. Plus...I seem to be coming down with a cold. Sneezing my head off. Coughing some (repaired by honey-filled cough drops, though - at least).

Going back to doctor today - my own is off for a couple of weeks, so a different one. Not sure what on earth the outcome will be...but let me tell you, I am entirely and thoroughly worn out, fed up, disgusted, bored and tired of The View from The Couch.

Still too weary to hold up a book; nothing in the head to write, and I've probably knitted 75 stitches since -- oh -- December 2 or so. (I can say that pretty precisely - I have a scarf on the needles that's 25 stitches wide.)

Having sat up long enough to write this, I'm plumb worn out and will take to my chaise for a nap.

I'll try to report back after the visit to La Medecine....

Guess Where I Am?

2010-12-29T18:53:00.000-06:00

WHAT I am is -- not inclined to complain. I'm generally philosophical; no point complaining as a rule, it doesn't change or improve anything. (The stuck-in-traffic theory: you can stew and swear or knit and read....no one's going anywhere either way.)

OK, so where am I? In....in....I'm in the DOLDRUMS! According to some branch of Wikipedia:

Colloquially, to be in the doldrums, said especially of a person, is to be listless, despondent, inactive, stagnant, in a slump.

(Note that I put in in BLUE, get it?)

Here's the problem. NOTE: in spite of what I said, I fear I am about to launch into a full-bore COMPLAINT. I mean it to be a unique, unusual, rare, not-to-be-repeated experience.

I arrived in the Doldrums around the first of the month (this one, December).   No energy, no spunk, no get-up-and-go. (Can't resist: "my get-up-and-go...got-up-and-went.") Anyway, after several days of this -- well, a couple of weeks, I went to see la docteure. Now, having wonky thyroid (can't recall if it's too little or too much) I do take medication and I thought that must be it. Or anemia - I've had anemia in the past and napped a lot.

So the Kind and Friendly Vampire was solicited and I contributed copious amounts of blood. (Actually? I have perfectly dreamy veins in my elbows - if there was a competition judged by lab techs I'd win the Golden Vein for sure!)

Good News: all tests came back "within normal limits".
Bad News: all tests came back "within normal limits."

I'm continuing to be a pretty good representation of peanut butter. Warm caramel. Warm Jell-o. So it was back to La Docteure. Step Two: yesterday I had a Gastrointestinal Imaging Experience.

Arrived at the Clinic at 1:30, per intructions (Mr Dearling came along - bless him, he didn't think I should have to spend TWO HOURS of boredom alone!) "Two HOURS?" you say in amazement. Why yes - because over the course of time between arrival and the x-ray (yes, I know, they're not x-rays anymore...I'm old, I use quaint language. Withal.) I had to sip ("not gulp" said the droll lab tech who gave it to me) four 8 oz paper cups of -- stuff. 'It's ice-cold", she said, "it's not bad." She assured me it wasn't minty (some things are NOT improved by being minty) and admitted that she'd had to taste it when they were in school -- seems to me that she said something about "punishment".

It wasn't all that bad, actually. It WAS, as she assured me, "watered-down barium". It had a vaguely citric flavor. I had to sip it ("the better to coat the linings") over the two hours. Now, the truth is, I actually didn't finish all four cups. I got three down -- but I rarely drink that much of ANYTHING. Except maybe an icy-cold frothy glass of milk with something chonkles.

So the time came. Let me tell you, it was a lovely test for someone with no NRG: I laid on a table at a comfortable angle with a pillow and a comfortable pillow under my knees. I could easily have dozed off - the test itself consisted of the table sliding back and forth through a great scientific-looking hoop. When inside the hoop, a pleasant female (robotic) voice said "Breathe in - hold it - breathe" a couple of times.

However - although I'll be interested to hear the report, I am NOT sure what my stomach might have to do with doldrums or ennui or weariness or wossname.

Next step: middle of next month (!) a cardiac ulstrasound(!) I'm further not sure why my heart would make me tired - but we'll see.

Here's the deal though: what I HAVE been doing is spending days (WHOLE days) and often nights on the couch. Flat. Plotzed. Resting. Napping. Lazing. Sleeping. Spending maybe an hour vertical, online, after which I need a nap.

What I have NOT been doing is: working, knitting, reading, writing....and I've had to miss SEVERAL events upon which I had my heart set: I missed my Writers' Group meeting (never did that before and was bummed majorly); a Solstice celebration, a house party, several programs for the Museum....including a storytelling gig today.

I managed a very nice Christmas Eve morning Icelandic breakfast and enjoyed (enormously) the company of my beloved Youngest Son (with his cherished bride, three stunning daughters and clever darling son) and my Lovely (and very helpful) Daughter. Mr. Dearling does our Christmas Day cooking and we hosted my beloved Elder Son (with his cherished bride and two adorable sons) and the still-Lovely and more-helpful Daughter!   We also spent Christmas evening with specially dear friends,, pere et fils, as they say, in extraordinary conversation and company...although we left at 10:00, rather earlier than in previous years -- and I pretty much slept for the next elebenty-thirteen hours but it was worth it.

So. One possibility remains: DEPRESSION! Now, I'm just not sad - I haven't been, I don't know why it would come on suddenly. Mr. Dearling says depression can be a chemical imbalance and not "a case of the sads"; I think he's right.) What I am is suffering from is a profound case of BLARG. (Thanks, James, for the best word EVAR!) Yep, I have the blarg.

Now - here's one thing: it's about to be a New Year, rife with New Beginnings, &c &c.   I AM going out New Year's Eve in my hoops and furbelows, (as Mrs. First Mayor's Wife) with Mr. Dearling (as Madison's First Mayor) to ride around the Square in a festive trolley, pointing out sights of interest in OUR (1857) Madison.     I reckon I'll nap a while afterward -- maybe a week or so . But I don't like keeping missing out on stuff, it's infuriating. It's making me sad. It's...yeah, depressing.

So that's where I am, and I am looking forward to a) finding out WTF?? and b) so what do we do about it now? and c) enuff is enuff.

Two other side points: I'm chilly most of the time (but that's not really new; it's my thin Mediterranean North-Dakotan blood); and I have no appetite. That last? That's the weirdest of all. And of course eating next to nothing doesn't promote high energy either. I don't remember EVAR having no appetite....except right after my father died -- and after Willie's funeral. (THAT was a missed opportunity....but Lovely Daughter said it would be rude to ask for a doggy bag at a funeral.)   Truthfully? Somewhat worrisome.

Soooo....Chanukah continues --

2010-12-08T11:41:00.000-06:00

The order in which I set out to list my gifts -- my treasures -- was changed. My intention to list something each of the days of Chanukah was also changed. I will, therefore, connect the two:

Date Two (also Three, Four, Five....) my treasured gift is: Good Health. Now, I don't necessarily mean robust and hearty chest-pounding, mountain-climbing, horseback-riding health. No....in fact, I mean simply no aches, no pains, no nonsense. Why did this move to the top of my list? It was gone. I was - well, it didn't even have the dignity of "sick".

This didn't have the drama or dignity of the darkened room, Mr Dearling whispering quietly, keeping the kitties quiet, taking messages, having the doctor in once a day.....

It didn't have the excitement of ambulances with flashing lights and all those scenes from "House" -- people coming in and out, puzzling about whatever mystical malady has turned me green and purple....

In other words: I had {drumroll} The Crud. for five days. I had zero energy. Strength enough to hobble to the bif and then back to the sofa and my coverlet. and Evangeline. In the last few days I've eaten two soft-boiled eggs, a bowl of soup...perhaps two cups of tea. And I'm not hungry. (Re-read that....it's true!)

I'm a little better today, which is a good thing. In a couple of hours I'm presenting one of my Senior Outreach Programs (at the Senior Center....I am not the senior. Although ... nevermind.) Please to reserve comments to later. It's the program on the Metis - the rich blending of Native and French (and French-Canadian) cultures and lives during the Fur Trade. I'm counting on my muse, the Goddess Adrenaline, to get me through (she always does). And when I've finished - back home to rest. But!! Tonight I feel confident that my Chanukah present will be a return to plain old feelin' ok!

Now then - as a few days have gone by, here are some other things I consider gifts of value, which I relish:

My Legacy from my Dad: this may be one of my favorite possessions ever. It has two parts: first, a love of reading. A huge delight in the printed word, an appetite for a wide variety of stories, an appreciation for "literature". I have uncounted hours of contentment lost in the depths of one story or another; I've relished plays (and majored in Drama).

The other half of this legacy - was that I believe I have inherited some of his skill with words both in speaking and in writing. Daddy had what we called his "Speaking Voice" - and he was a public speaker in great demand. And I'm only now consciously working on utliziing the skills he left me for writing....it's all part and parcel, the gift of reading, writing, speaking. With such a gift, I have never known boredom, I have passed time pleasantly. I've awakened at night with inspiration for stories - and in fact - a little secret: Mr Dearling and I first shared a mutual love of reading aloud and being read to, and it's led to my contentment.

Now - if I don't look over my notes, my gift of taking pleasure in public speaking won't be enough!!!

More later -- as Chanukah draws to a close.

Happy (earlier than usual) Chanukah!

2010-12-02T16:44:00.000-06:00

Happy Chanukah! Or Hannukah, or Hanukkah. For my part: "Chanukah". Traditionally (at least here in America), celebrants receive one gift each night of the festival; in our family, they increased in some way each night. until the eighth night, when they got a "real" present. The earlier ones might qualify as "stocking stuffers" and I might be wrong (you'd have to ask them) but I think they enjoyed it that way.

The first night was always a new Dreidl and a bag of chocolate coins. We would then play wild games of cutthroat Dreidl, usually using dried beans for counters while enjoying the traditional potato pancakes with sour cream and applesauce. I tried to make one night's gift about food: a pint of ice cream with a jar of topping, nuts, maraschino cherries -- and permission to eat it all at once if they wanted to. As I recall, the seventh night was always a book. Today every grandchild gets a book for each occasion too. (And they'll continue to - I don't do e-books or that kinda #$@)*.

So here's my plan: each day of Chanukah, I'm going to describe a gift I have. And my intention is to save the best for last. Now, these are presents I already have, and enjoy, and I'm going to enjoy describing them a LOT. You know how, when you're a kid and a new friend from school comes over and you get to show 'em all the cool stuff in your room? Yeah, it's like that. So here goes:

First day of Chanukah: KNITTING. I have the gift of knitting. I learned to knit from my mother, years and years ago. I don't remember the teaching; I do remember a stunning dress with a matching sweater she knitted for herself out of ivory-colored yarn shot through with gold. She bought gold-and pearled braid for the sweater (it was a cardigan) and she bought a gold belt to wear with it, and it - and she - was exquisite!

I knitted periodically - until a few years ago, when it All Came Back. For the last few years it's increased from "Gee, this is fun" to "I am TOTALLY addicted, a perpetual knitter, and...wait! Was that a yarn shop?" I now have a S.A.B.L.E. stash. (That's "Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy", otherwise known as "if I never bought another skein...like THAT's going to happen...I couldn't knit it all up before I die").

I am what is known as a PROCESS KNITTER. I knit perpetually unless I'm writing fiction or blogging or ...OK, you got me...on Farmville or Frontierville or some other Facebook timesuck. BUT! other than that I knit all the time. I knit riding in the car (not if I am driving, but when I perfect that, all bets are off); I knit in meetings, while reading, at movies. I knit while visiting. I knit while watching the teevee or listening to the radio.

Believe it or not - one time I was sitting on the couch watching teevee and knitting plain ol' stockinette, in the round (see "toque", below) and I dozed off...and woke up a few stitches further along, and they were FINE!! I knit voyageurs' toques (see below, as I said above), shawls, scarves, socks, mittens, fingerless nitts, caps. I knit cool little felted bowls. And as a process knitter, when I finish a project and it REALLY IS SOMETHING! I'm delighted. Because I b'lieve I'd knit even if it didn't become something. I always have a lovely cotton dishrag on needles set aside for if I have nothing else available.

Now then, TOQUES. Toques (a French-Canadian name, not used in France) are the knitted caps, usually red, seen in all the depictions of voyageurs and fur traders in the 18th century. This is how they start, on three DPNs. There are increases - and then just plain old knitting knitting knitting knitting, to the point where you decrease. Now - there was a sailing ship that sank in icy Canadian waters in the mid-18th century, and almost everything on it was preserved. It was carefully raised and the stuff was recorded, photographed, documented and published in a book. (My good luck!) Among the things found was a genuine, certified voyageurs' toque, incomplete but enough that I can point to it as provenance for the historic accuracy of the toques I knit. I make them for a few reasons: 1) they're easy; 2) they're fun for me; 3) they're popular among living history reenactors; 4) they're easy; 5) they're fun for me....wait, I'm repeating myself. Lastly, but no kind of leastly: oftentimes I get paid for 'em. And when I DO knit them on request by voyageurs or traders, I send them with a "wool care" sheet; a monograph about the historical use of toques; a sheet about Ste Anne, patroness and protector of the French-Canadian voyageurs -- and I pin to it a Ste Anne's medallion (with an 18th century-style straight pin).

So on this first day of Chanukah I enjoy my gift of knitting - which has brought with it also a Community, a group of dear friends, on Ravelry and at my LYS; I am a member of a MOVEMENT of modern knitters; I am one of a long line of women (imagine us all holding hands) that stretches back to some girl on the shore of the Nile putting together fishing nets - and the Virgin Mary who was painted knitting a little baby shirt on double-point needles. (She was a Jewish mother, of course she'd knit him a sensible little sweater!)

As it is now sundown, I am going to light TWO candles on my menorah. DISCLAIMER: I have a shiny silver menorah with lovely flame-shaped blue-and-white bulbs. Yep, it's electric. For the cats, you know. (My sons asks what's the Hebrew way to say "Blessed art Thou, oh Lord our God, King of the Universe, who commands us to plug in the Chanukah lights". I have no idea....but I figure He made cats so He knows all about it and sympathizes. Tomorrow? Second day of Chanukah.

A LOVELY Time....

2010-12-01T13:09:00.000-06:00

....was had by all! My grumpy is gone (long gone); as is usually the case, all was well and ended well. Our Thanksgiving table had four, not twelve - but...(all together now) more for the rest of us! And oh, my dear ones, there WAS. Everything was as delicious as always - I am a fan of the Typical Repast: roast turkey, dressing, wild rice with sausage, corn pudding, cranberry sauce, gravy.

NOTE: Regarding cranberry sauce. Every year we have BOTH kinds (and you know what they are, I'm sure),   There's the sort of whole-berry type; there's the jelled type. Since a wee girlie, my Lovely Daughter has expressed a determined preference for the jelled kind - you have to be able to see the round lines around it from the can. Might I add, this suits me, as I like both kinds, and as long as we HAVE both kinds, there is (all together again)   more for the rest of us!   There's something about the blending of flavors of Thanksgiving that's just so satisfying!

As usual, Mr Dearling did the bulk of the cooking. The man has a Gift with turkey.   Furthermore, we had the genuine pleasure of sharing our table with Molly Bee , who is a special knitty friend of mine and Lovely Daughter's. She's of an age with Lovely Daughter - I consider her my "other daughter by another mother". She endeared herself to us more (if possible) by bringing along a Nantucket Cranberry Pie. Let me say this about that: OH YUMMM-OH! (Lest we come up short after the meal, she also brought along her lovely apple dumplings, and Lovely Daughter came bearing her annual delicious pecan pie.) Only the fact that I am a Jewish Bubbeh, and therefore aware that one should have a meal BEFORE dessert prevented my throwing tradition to the wind and just downright having dessert first.

So...as I did not do this before, and as it's never too late to be all over verklempt: My many blessings are foremost in my mind every day, not just at Thanksgiving, but the fact that I have arrived at this point in my life, this age, and find myself comfortable, secure, safe, healthy, and surrounded by cherished friends and beloved family is something worth mentioning at Thanksgiving time.

Mr Dearling exercised his annual prerogative by asking us each to name something for which we are thankful - OTHER THAN the usual family, friends, health &c &c. Because those things are always at the top of the list, that was something of a challenge - but it occurred to me that I'm just awfully tickled to be able to share my love of history at the museum, and moreso, that I'm able to put on fun costumes and go speechify at senior centers around town. Having the fun and privilege and joy of that just tickles me pink.

I'm awfully pleased that I live in these days of innerwebs and can google and twitter and all that (can you imagine the effect of saying "I'm not sure what kind of person he is, I'll just go google him up" in 1950? I can!) And of course, I'm most earnestly grateful that my station in life and my own little nest are such that I can share my existence with my two kitties (WARNING: verklempt alert). It's no accident that the first word on the title of this blog is "CATS". I feel as though a pet (in general) and cats (specifically) are the Soul of a home, and my kitties? Well - my cats are really my darling treasures...especially my Evangeline, my stout black kitty.

If we found ourselves in the Middle Ages, Evangeline and I would surely be hunted down as witches, because she IS my Familiar, my companion, -- in fact, although in "His Dark Materials" the characters' daemons are the opposite sex, Evangeline IS my "daemon".   I've always loved my kitties, but she and I share a bond I haven't enjoyed with other pets.

DISCLAIMER: our wee brown tabby, Lilliane, is a sweet darling too (albeit she is a genuine certifiable paschkudnik) but she is very pointedly "her Da's cat". She snuggles with me sometimes, and sits near me sometimes, but she clearly, unequivocally, most assuredly owns Mr Dearling. She can bend him to her will (example: leaving the clean clothes in the laundry basket for hours because she's sleeping on them) with just a strong gaze from her big green eyes. So don't be thinking she's all ignored and stuff. She's not.

You know, being unhappy over social mishaps (such as I was dealing with on Thanksgiving Day) really is, after the first flush, a conscious decision. I'm over it - that was SO last week! And anyone with the embarrassment of riches such as I am blessed with is in no position to hold on to grumpy.

So now the Holiday Season is officially on - let the merriment begin!

Yup...

2010-11-25T10:39:00.002-06:00

...sadness and disappointment now becoming relief and anger.

Two Rants

2010-11-24T13:10:00.000-06:00

I am preparing my Thanksgiving message - be forewarned. I get maudlin, verklempt, sappy, soppy and cloying. I fairly REVEL in it; chalk it up to my being OLD ENOUGH that I have a lot for which I am eye-wateringly grateful.

But first....

Rant #1: I am outraged and appalled at the whole TSA thing.    You get a choice of being seen (virtually) nekkid by someone who is "scanning" or being groped by someone else. It' s been in the news a lot lately. Now, I wouldn't even have a problem with the Nekkid Scan so much if it were simply that the images vanished instantly the minute you walked out. I'd even go along with the ability to take a photo IF -- IF -- there was something clearly dangerous that warranted using the image.

But no, I understand there are nekkid scans of people (allegedly either laughable, ugly or "hot") that HAVE made their way out of the airports and onto the innerwebs. Even if there's no way to actually identify the victim...erhm....subject, I draw the line there. The story I read (and no, sadly, I don't have the documention which means this is "hearsay" or by legal definition, "bullshit") said that the TSA had no way to figure out who was stealing the images and posting them on the innerwebs. Shucks.

HOWEVER - that being said, I hope no one tries pulling some kind of a scene during this Thanksgiving holiday travel scene. I've read about the boycott or "opt-out" or what will you and the hippie-rebel-outraged-old-lady part of me shouts "RIGHT ON, BRUTHAH!!" But the old-grandma part of me thinks of all the other old grandmas whose families might be so delayed by something like this that whole family holidays are uprooted, spoiled, cancelled.   What's the right thing to do? Damned if I know. Looks like a lose-lose to me. For my part? I b'lieve I may just avoid flying anywhere any more. Fortuately, I guess, my life is such that travel of any part is not urgent, and we sort of like seeing the sights when we go anywhere. Furthermore, if god meant us to fly, she'd have given us wings and big mammary muscles. Shaddup.

Rant #2: Everyone knows that the use of tobacco carries with it the potential for certain health hazards. That has been made abundantly clear - and in case somehow someone missed it, there are dire warnings on cigarette packs. Non-smokers don't see them, probably don't care, and are thus unaffected. SMOKERS do see them, probably care to a greater or lesser degree....and have either made up their mind, as a result, to:

a) quit smoking, by sheer dint of athletic prowess or by emotional or chemical help;
b) cut way back, which does reduce some of the hazards, while still being aware that the hazards are there and they're still potentially going to develop the health problems;
c) know all that and continue to smoke, for whatever reason.

Now - I smoked for years, up to about a pack a day (in the days when I was collecting my Raleigh coupons). Anyone know if there's any value to eleventy-bagillion Raleigh coupons?   I HAD to start smoking. I played a character on stage who smoked. And I was a theater person and we were cool and all sat around smoking. I was also a writer, and a big glass ashtray was as necessary as the typewriter it sat next to.

I quit smoking - while I was pregnant, at least, and I never did smoke into my kids' faces (that I know of -- certainly not intentionally). I knew the pleasure of a "cigarette after". When I met Mr Dearling, he mentioned that he didn't care for smoking, that it made him quite ill. I quit smoking in the house or car or anywhere he might be (realizing early on that if I let this one go I deserved to just be walled up and forgotten, even without the wine....five points for recognizing the allusion). I still smoked occasionally, out with other folks or wossname.

Present status? I feel pretty bad for people who are literally hooked on tobacco, people whose lives are interrupted by the need for a smoke, the people who can't take a four-hour flighte because they can't "step out for a cig" (whether or not they're seen nekkid first). I feel sorry for people who lose relationships, alienate friends or risk children by the Great Need. But by the same token, it IS A CHOICE. Even the most hard-bitten, hard-core smokers CAN live through withdrawal; you don't DIE without tobacco. (And yes, you in the back muttering "they can die WITH it" under your breath, that's true - says so right on the pack).

But I still occasionally enjoy a smoke. VERY occasionally, and since the damned things cost as much as a bottle of wine, they should be used the same way. (That doesn't count Chocovine, which I feel inclined to enjoy a lot oftener than a cigarette...OR Absinthe, my new fave, which no one enjoys very often.)

SIDE NOTE: I love Absinthe, it's legal again. I love the taste (anise, which a lot of people don't like) and I love the frou-frou. You have to put it in a tiny glass, and then suspend a slotted silver spoon over it. You then put a sugar cube on the spoon and VERY SLOWLY drip ice water over the sugar which dissolves down into the glass, giving the absinthe a shimmery greenish glow. "The Green Faery". It's dramatic, it's frou-frou, it was the talk of Paris among the intelligentsia and artistes and writers of the 19th century. I'd probably drink it even if I didn't like it, for the drama. Back to my rant.

OK - so smoking. I saw a commercial for the Next Big Deterrent. They're literally going to put pictures on the packs of dead people with their "Y"-shaped autopsy incisions crudely stitched back up (not done by anyone on CSI clearly). Or pictures of a young man in his coffin. Or a young woman with a nasal cannula and dismal eyes. Or the lungs - you know the ones: shrivelled, blackened, rotten-looking.

Now - with a reminder to those who know me (and information for those who don't): I tend toward the irreverent. So how did the information and illustrations of these new picture warnings affect me?

TRADING CARD PACKS!! I hope they're on my brand, because I want them ALL! I want a mint-condition collector set -- and I hope there's a website where they can be traded -- "I'll give you two Rotten Lungs for a mint-condition Dead Guy Inna Coffin! I have three Autopsy Guys, anyone need an extra? Or I'll trade all three for a Dying Girl.....

That's what they look like to me. Just sayin'.

Count the Words....

2010-11-19T11:10:00.000-06:00

All right, I'll accept all brickbats and tsk tsks and "man are you a crappy blogger". Will it redeem me at all if I mention Best Intentions to Improve? (Yes, you in the back, you probably have heard it before; shaddup.)

However. Right about now I AM counting words - yes, I'm doing NaNoWriMo again. I'm about to go off to a favorite writing spot and attempt to break 40k. (Being a Professional Typist for all those years is paying off...a tip o' the hat to Mr. Johnson, who told me in 11th grade that I should learn typing "so that you'll have a saleable skill in case you never marry".) Of course, I married three times, HA HA I showed HIM! But my Chosen Profession of being a classical ballerina crashed when I learned that you had to be 5'4" for any professional company, hence the Secretarial Career.

So for the moment I'm pretty much going to be hunched over my netbook pounding. But I have a new post begun here, and here's a teaser: it's a Rant that will probably offend a whole bunch o' people (if they ever read it, which is unlikely, but I'll feel better).

I'm at that point in my NaNo novel where all of my characters have turned on me. The lovely old priest seems to be some kind of wonky killer or something; the main guy just may be worse than the priest, and next thing I know, the rabbi is going to drop a milchig fork in the drawer with the fleishig silverware.

Oy.

Remember --

2010-11-10T12:17:00.000-06:00

November 10, 1975

35 years ago today

The Edmund Fitzgerald sank in a sudden squall on Lake Superior, around 17 miles from Whitefish Bay. It sank quickly, no distress signals reported, carrying all 29 aboard to their frigid deaths. When the wreck was found, it was discovered to be as above: broken in two.

The song (everyone knows the song) says that Lake Superior "never gives up her dead" - the fact is, that's a fact. The water is so cold that the usual bacteria who cause disintegration and the creation of gases which cause the corpse to float are absent. Lake Superior keeps her dead.

I mark this date - as a lover of Lake Superior and as a woman whose family (or part of it) made its living on the lake and witnessed her beauty and her fury.

A fact which brings tears to my eyes: every year the light at Split Rock (no longer in regular use) is illuminated on November 10th, to remember and honor the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

One day I will be there to see it.

Here's ANOTHER Fine Library You've Got Me Into....

2010-10-06T17:16:00.000-05:00

This one is in Marquette, and it IS a FINE library. There is the ubiquitous free wifi...but in ths beautiful and spacious old building there is a second floor which has (among the many shelves of books) rows of dark wood desks, each with dividers rendering it private from the next. There is ample plug-in-place-ness. And this desk is large enough to accommodate a full-sized laptop and a large bunch of books or other materials.

Mr. Dearling returns to tell me he's found breathtaking reading rooms with fireplaces, wonderful comfortable chairs, &c, where e will happily bide his time while I handle my emails and....ok, I admit it....tend to my little plot on Frontierville in Facebook. It really is so comfortable here, though, that one is tempted to linger over reading other blogs, checking out all the LOLs (Cute Overload, Historic LOLs, Happy Chair is Happy -- not taking time to put links here, but I suspect I'm not the only one who spends that kind of time chuckling over the available offerings).

We had a couple of errands to tend to "in town" - some purchases, &c - and I find myself feeling an emotion that I forgot I had ever experienced before: when I was ending my senior year in high school, I had my First Real Beau, whom I adored. He took me, on a few occasions, home with him - and "home" was a farm near Aberdeen, South Dakota. I was introduced to his large family and to my first real experience on a midwestern farm. There were chickens, a few dairy cows - and he and his father grew crops too, though I disremember what they were. (It comes to me - that might be where my newly-rediscovered addiction to the glory that is fresh, sweet, RAW milk came from...but I digress.)

Anyway, I chipped in with work, rather than just sit around, and I got pretty decent at collecting eggs and even mucking out the henhouse. As a result, on the day that his mother and sister were "going in to town", I was allowed to go along and was even given a few dollars of "egg money".

Well -- I found I really did not WANT to "dress up" and go into town shopping. I managed, and was of course polite to the mother, the sister, and the girl cousin who went with us. But I found myself wishing I could just "go home" and stay around the cows and so on. And....today, I found myself sort of feeling that way again! Mr. Dearling loves coming to this cabin so he can use it as a base camp for his walking tours, &c. I, on the other hand, LOVE just being THERE.

My decisions involve "Do I knit on the sofa, or in the rocking chair in front of the fire?" Or "Is it warm enough to lounge around on the screened-in porch to read?" or...."how about spending ALL DAY in the loft at that perfect little desk where I can write, uninterrupted, except to gaze out the window at the dancing aspens and fluttering brilliant leaves"?

I finished another knitting project last night - it had been in the bottom of a basket for about two years, but I discovered the pattern and was able to sort it out and complete it. It's a yarmulke. But....well, I followed it exactly and used size 1 needles, but - I think I'll have to find a Jewish Sasquatch; it's rather large. Oh well - there are dimensions involved and those are numbers (see previous post).

As for right now - I'm happy to wrap it up and "go home" to the cabin. Mr. Dearling has another outing planned for our last two days here, but I'm staying in. It's not specious though -- I took out a novel I've been working on, began rereading it from the beginning - and had an EPIPHANY! I suddenly realized that there was something could be done MUCH better, and I can hardly wait to settle back in at the desk and start my revision!!

Hope you're all enjoying the same rich and beautiful autumn where you are, as we're seeing here. I'm glad to recall that "peak" should just be about settling in at home so we won't miss it there. I'll post again from home, the promised tale of the Wonderful Person ( patience, friends, patience!) I hear my Lovely Daughter chortling; I'm not known to possess that particular virtue myself.

Back to the absence of innerwebs. (I wonder - would I relish every instant of this as much, if I didn't know the full range of technology IS at my fingertips at home?)

Sequence?

2010-10-04T14:21:00.000-05:00

OK, here's the deal: I started a blog post several days ago. But I wasn't where I could post all the pictures I wanted, so I didn't. So now it's in "EDIT" where I can eventually go tidy it up, fix the date and post it. Or not, because it'll be out of sequence.

But I think I'm past caring about sequence, so here's the deal: I will be posting about a Most Remarkable Day (with pictures). And it won't matter so much about sequence anyway, as it deals with meeting one of the most interesting, talented women I've had the pleasure to cross the path of. I'll give you a little teaser: when I was introduced to her (by Mr Dearling, at a fun event in a nearby town) I did NOT -- I repeat, I did not - squeal, and while (not) jumping up and down, declare "Are you really THE...(her name will appear here).

In the meantime, a few recent details: first, I am writing from the public library in Munising, Michigan, on the fourth of ten days we're spending in the forest cabin of friends. It's isolated, beautiful, thoroughly modern. It's comfortable beyond belief, and is heated by a (gas) potbelly stove. There are rocking chairs, comfortable sofas and a modern kitchen. This is the third (I think) year we've had this uncommon privilege. There IS no internet (hence the library) and there's no teevee (except one we could watch tapes or DVDs on if we had any, but we don't).

Mr Dearling spends his days out hiking and his evenings reading. I spend my days reading, knitting, writing (fiction), daydreaming and napping. I also spend my evenings in this manner, with the occasional game of Solitaire. In my lexicon, this is the definition of "bliss". So far I have finished two books, completed a muffler and a baby cap, finished about 2/3 of the Mason Dixon "Ball Band Dishcloth" (which I've tried unsuccessfully to figure out COUNTLESS times before) and made real progress on a baby wrap. I'll post pictures and book reviews shortly (but not today). I'm keeping a daily journal, some of which may be either blog material or at least notes for same.

I also brought along some games (Yahtzee, Bananagrams, Milles Bornes) which I mean to share with Mr Dearling, and I also brought my little Tarot deck for some study. And lest ye think I'm frittering - I also have two books along for program preparation for the museum...which is admittedly another form of delight.
So to go back a bit (and so that I can work in SOME pictures, which I feel obligated to include - AM I? Obligated to put in pictures? It hangs me up sometimes) - here's what occurred before we came up here:

I have a new beau. A sweetheart. My version of Raoul the Pool Boy. His name is Natty Bumpo. ("Pathfinder", get it?) His voice actually belongs to a fellow named Simon. He has a British accent.

For some of us (well, ME) finding our way around in this world is challenging. I cannot read maps. I don't do "turn north at the gas station". I'm a "right" or "left" kinda gal. Never, in any travels, have I seen roads that are red, or state lines that are bright blue. Because I am numerically dyslexic, things like "miles" don't mean anything to me. Enter Natty Bumpo.

This is what he looks like at home. Yes, I know - "geez, Dale-Harriet, that's just a plain ol' GPS thingie." YES! And because there are satellites in the arms of seraphim in the heavens, Natty (Simon) Bumpo can tell me how to get where I am going!! I've tested him, having him take me places I know. He works as if by magic (other than the time I was going to Barnes & Noble the back way and he almost had a nervous breakdown because I wouldn't turn around; he's forgiven me).

I am loving this thing, and will head off to Racine to my Writers' Fall Retreat confident that he will direct me STRAIGHT to my destination. I have to admit, there are things in this, the 21st century, that I like. A lot.

The day is passing, and I'm feeling anxious to leave all this civilization and return to the little refuge in the woods. I can report that the weather is crisp, nearly freezing at night, and that the fall colors are "at peak" as we say up here. I do know that I could not be happy living ANYWHERE that didn't have four distinct seasons, one of which was Autumn. The potbelly warms the whole of the cabin, and I love it dearly.

I will therefore leave you with a picture which reminds me of my happy home, as the ONLY thing that could be described as "lacking" in this heavenly place is, of course, my kitties. So - mindful of the grace, the dignity, the elegance which is my precious Evangeline:

Worshipful Daughter of Bast

Watch this space; we'll be coming back into town for at least one more connection to the Outer World.

At Last! I have learned l'anglais!

2010-09-11T03:51:00.003-05:00

By way of apology for my absence, let me say simply that the anglais, she is very hard to learn. But I have now the confidence to expressing myself and shall therefore relate recent occurrences.

NOTE: While we Jews don't really do resolutions for the new year, it seems a good time to try to get back on track, blogwise. L'Shana Tova! May you all have a good year, a sweet year, a year of prosperity, and be written again in the Book of Life. Have a piece of apple dipped in honey in honor of the occasion. (What?!?! It's a tradition!) Oh, yes, that's a good question, and the answer is: it is now the year 5771. Started a bit before the whole Gregorian thing.

So! Helas! It is true, Ft. Ponchetrain fell to the British. But it was a good battle, fairly fought. Truth was, the first day of battle saw the French take the fort, and the fleur de lys was raised over the gate. But the last day of battle (following history or some such silliness) the British took the day. Reenactors tend to try to avoid being creative with history.

NOTE: In my absence, Blogger made some improvements, which seem to simplify putting in pictures with captions, &c. But I don't have the hang of it, so it may be that all the pictures are at the end; seems like that may be the best way for the moment.

All the citizens - farmers, workmen, women and children were hurried into the fort by the French officers and militia. When it became clear the direction of the wind - the British officers generously allowed the French to make a choice: lay down arms, swearing fealty to the King - or leave to be returned to France. Few chose to bend the knee to the British King, and when all was said and done....we were marched away from the fort, between columns of their soldiers. The children were surrounded by the women and one or two of the farmers and presented brave little faces. For my part, confused and frightened as I was, I clung to my voyageur-husband's belt and stumbled away - not knowing if we would be able to make our way back to the lands of my people at La Lac Superieur..... All in all, very dramatic. Judging from the faces of the observing visitors - we all performed convincingly.

The Grand Encampment was a fine, fine event. One of the highlights for me is always The Parlez:: the French officers gather in a field near the Native Village, where they gather and put off all arms. The guns are placed in a circle; cartridge cases, knives &c are dropped to the ground. Then, with an Interpreter, the Officers proceed to a clearing in the middle of the village (overlooking the lake) and seat themselves on the ground on one side of a scarlet blanket - the Native elders and shaman and warriors are on the other side.

The event being recreated did take place - often, before the major battles. These are not scripted; they are improvised. (The Parlez is not on a schedule - it's really not a "performance" and no mention is made to the public. It's a part of the "come-real" time of the event. The Headman and his elders were so well-spoken, and matched in kind by the Officers.

The chief among the French Officers had his men produce goods which were placed on the blanket: my recollection is of bolts of cloth, blankets, ribbons - a promise of guns and powder was made, and some coffee or tea (a little native boy was sent to fetch the bag...he ran over and took it and ran back to his grandfather, who opened it, sniffed, tasted some on his finger and then nodded his approval to the Headman).

The French declared that they wished only to treat these natives as partners in trade, and affirmed that they were not seeking land for settlement; one of the elders said that the British had asked likewise for a parlez. One of the young men stepped forward and said "They demanded that we go to their camp, where you come to us; they gave us one gun and paltry goods."

Then, the Headman asked what the women thought of the gifts and words of les francais and there was a general nodding and comments of approval. The Headman asked the same of the elders, then said, with rich eloquence, "Our sisters and daughters are your wives. We will fight with you as friends, and as brothers."

I know, it's a bit of acting - but so dramatic, and sitting on the wooded hill overlooking the sparkling lake, it truly is a Come-Real moment. Hands were clasped and the French moved away, back to where they collected their weaponry, and the gifts they'd brought were passed from hand to hand and met with approval. Love it.

And so I am back, enriched (as always) by our time spent in the 18th century. We had occasion to camp again, this time inside the palisades on Madeline Island, - different sort of event altogether, as we were there as educational interpreters at the (stellar) museum, but we visited with good friends and I was able to wade in my beloved Lake Superior (that was a bit of luck, as circumstances were such that I was unable to accompany Mr Dearling to the gathering at Grand Portage).

The intervening time included a wonderful "girlie weekend" wherein my good friend Donna and I travelled to Green Bay for the Tall Ships Festival - that will be described and illustrated very soon, in coming days.

Now - a couple of images from The Grand Encampment:

Some of the French Militia
(Mr Dearling, blue-and-white striped shirt)

French Marines disarm for Parlez

The Parlez begins...

Rapt Attention!

Return to Camp - Success!

Dare I say? A good time was had by all! And yes, we did manage to return to Ouis-con-sin and avoid being sent back to France.....I'd have been mad if learning English had all been in vain.

Think "Sorcerer's Apprentice"

2010-08-25T14:58:00.003-05:00

Quick note: I came to complete my post -- and found a ton o' spammy, greasy yucch. Believe it or not, I just NOW figured out how to get rid of it. So imagine me with my mop and buckets...BUCKETS...of hot bleach water. I'm getting rid of the lot, and then will come back and post.

Teaser: The Brits took the fort at Ponchetrain; I've spent these weeks learning zee ainglish. I think I can now converse in it. Watch this space.

And We're Off!

2010-07-08T05:50:00.005-05:00

I'll be away for a few days - it's time for the Grand Encampment! This is one of the larger historical reenactments specific to "our time period"; i.e., roughly the mid-18th century -- in this case, a reenactment of the French & Indian War near Detroit. (That's pronounced something like "Day-Twahn" by us les francais. As I've been saying for weeks, with great relish: "If we lose....be prepared to having to speak English from now on!" (Insert great hilarity and laughter here. Thank you.)

So I'll be tucked into my cozy lodge (notice knitting baskets). On this particular occasion, I will be dressing as a French-Canadian woman for at least part of the time, so I can knit. (I will otherwise be dressed as an Ojibway or Metis woman, at which time I canNOT knit.) However, I have multiple other diversions available, including visiting with my dear friend Jen (albeit she will be in the British camp, so I may have to pretend to be sympathetic to the British forces).

I am, in this instance, NOT, however. I (or at least the men of my people including my voyageur husband) are allied most firmly with the above-mentioned francais.

THEREFORE! This is the level of technology which will be available to me for the duration. Notice that there are no outlets in evidence, no power cords, no plugs. You will see a goodly supply of fuel (my husband always makes sure there is plenty of hewn firewood) and a proof of my great prosperity (the result of being involved in the Fur Trade) - I have a lovely brass kettle!

But it'll be 400 years (give or take, I'm dreadful at doing the maths) before anyone thinks of innerwebs or netbooks or iPods or wossname....so I will report back upon our return to the 21st century. I wish a nice (not overly hot, not dreadfully humid, not pouringly-rainy) weekend to one and all, ourselves included.

NOTE: these pictures were from a foray to Grand Portage, MN in 2007; there is a certain sameness to the appearance of our camp, regardless of its geographic position.

Le Mariage du Fils....

2010-07-05T11:04:00.020-05:00

We're beginning to organize for our trip to the Grand Encampment of the French & Indian War. I have breadstuffs to bake and pack (never did master baking in a dutch oven), new leggings to make; I should see if my corset fits; launder my caps and petticoats -- and decide if I'm going to be a White Lady or a Red Lady for the weekend. (Or both -- maybe both, because only my White Lady can knit.)

Hence the French title of this post. If the Brits win the battles, we'll all be speaking English, so watch this space - I'll report results when we return on Monday.

Now then! THE WEDDING! On June 26 my Number One Son married my daughter-in-love, at a nice small park nearby. It was very hot, but the shelter was on a knoll and enjoyed breezes most of the day. No wedding goes off ~~without a hitch~~....well, of COURSE there has to be a "hitch" -- but there is invariably some little problem.

In this case - the musician had a glitch with his equipment at the beginning. It took a little futzing before it actually worked. (Mind you - his double keyboard sounds like an eleventy-eight piece orchestra - far as I know it's some kind of magicalness in there.)

Tempting as it is to try to post all 150 pictures (and those are just MINE, I can hardly wait to see everyone else's!) I believe I'll select just a few of my favorites for your delight:

Had I mentioned that I am qualified to officiate at weddings? ("Hatch, match and dispatch", actually....) So here we are, my son and I, waiting for his bride. The one drawback to my appearing in an official capacity was that I HAD to not weep, and I always weep at weddings! Especially considering that this is MY SON...and more to the point, I love his bride dearly.

The bride approaches on the proud arm of her father. Hard to see any details here - but her gown had palest pink flowers with crystals and tiny pearls scattered on the skirts and arranged on the bodice. In spite of the heat, she looked stunning!

The text was fairly traditional (I wrote a framework, they polished it to perfection) and following the exchange of rings, my DIL had a paragraph to read to her new husband, so I handed her the book to read from. He had NO idea it was coming - and during her loving, heartfelt reading, I admit it, I wept a bit -- but I was in good company, for she wept a bit and so did he.
(And, I imagine, not a few of the assembled company.)

"By the power vested in me...." Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of those Proud Moments that we simple human beings are given from time to time. Because this moment united two of the people dearest to my heart in the world, securing in the mundane world that which was secure in our hearts already.

And following the ceremony, their musician played a specially-arranged song, his wedding gift to them:

There followed a fine afternoon. The pot-luck was an absolutely stellar repast (perfect fare: soft little buns, turkey and ham, yummy macaroni salad, fresh potato salad, cole slaw....and the Lovely Daughter's sweet-and-sour meatballs, by special request -- her brothers LOVE 'em!). Some clever souls put the meatballs in the buns, VERY nice. Here, then, just a couple of other pictures - because I am unabashedly, unashamedly PROUD of my family!

How's this for a collection of breathtaking daughters? And each is "as they appear" - good-hearted, loving, clever young women.

The entirety of the Family of Son Number One (may I brag on those BOYS? Aren't you glad I don't have the capability of unrolling one of those long accordion-fold picture things SOME grammaws carry around?)

Here is the Family of Son Number Two: may I say, in all humility, that they too are as brilliant, clever and good-hearted as the other bunch? And although they're (strikingly) outnumbered, Son #2 and Grandson manage very well.

And in closing, you can now clearly see why I am so pleased and proud. I'd have to say, during all those days of my children's "trying times" (you know, the Terrible Twos through the Terrifying Teens) I never gave up hope that all would turn out just like this. Mostly. But it's all so much better than I could have hoped. I am a Happy Old Lady, confident in the Future of the World (and secure in my Advanced Age ahead!)

Happy Birthday, America!!

2010-07-04T10:54:00.006-05:00

I wanted a proper image for Independence Day. Something that meant something to ME....and this is it. This is the medal of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR). It was a sort of fraternal organization for the Veterans of the Union forces following the Civil War. One of the main purposes of it was to advocate for the wounded veterans - and as such, the local branch, headed by our own Lucius Fairchild, became very active here in Madison, and in Wisconsin.

Now - as a (former?) Hippie and Peacenik and all that good stuff (sure, I DO hug trees, ya wanna make some'n of it?) there are those who think I don't care a rat's....a pound of....don't care very much for Independence Day. "My kind" has not been known as Flag Wavers, &c. And Those of Us who experienced Viet Nam (and came away believing that we'd learned, and THAT nightmare was laid to rest) are not the ones you might expect to see at the parades.

Well - WRONG ANSWER, CLIVE! (with apologies to anyone who is named...or related to anyone named..."Clive"). This time of year I always get downright verklempt. I think memories have something to do with it -- that and Realizations.

Memories? Guests at my mother's beautiful dinner parties with numbers tattooed on their arms. Seeing President Eisenhower (sitting on the back of an open convertible) in Minneapolis. Reading books about the Holocaust. Sitting in the ballet studio and listening to our Hungarian refugees talk about seeing the Russian tanks -- and one fellow described seeing his sister shot down as he fled with his family toward the Austrian border. And then -- seeing Willie, that handsome man whose face I see now in his son and his grandsons, in the uniform of the United States Army, with such a look of pride on his face.

Realizations? I can say that I think George Bush was an idiot and was responsible for some pretty bad horseapples....and no one will drag me out of my bed, pull me into the street and shoot me. I am SAFE in my little home. Because of my birth, and my lot in life (about which I had considerable choice) I am now 67 years old and have virtually everything my heart desires. Furthermore, I have Aspirations. I write silly kiddy stuff - and I might could just get it published! I can dance (don't worry, I won't SING) and I can go stand in front of my beautiful State Capitol and break the law by drinking raw milk....and complain because I don't like the way the whole thing fell out. (See "drag out of bed", above.)

So - forgive an old woman for getting all over sentimental. It's not lost on me that I have a life unimagined by women all over the world, and although we share sadnesses, we Americans (I can no longer watch much footage of oil-soaked wildlife) our blessings and privileges are endless.
The forecast is for thunderstorms tonight - so I expect that we'll vary our usual routine: instead of taking cream-cheese-and-olive finger sandwiches and lemonade to Black Hawk for fireworks - we'll stay home and watch televised fireworks while eating leftovers (barbecued ribs slathered in Lovely Daughter's singular sauce, cole slaw with Rudolph's singular dressing -- and probably Kitty Mommy's homemade strawberry jam, which really DOES taste like fresh strawberries....maybe ON something other than a spoon. Which is the way I've eaten some of it. NEVERMIND.)

So Happy 4th of July, fellow Americans! A salute to our young men and women in uniform - especially my own fine Marine grandson, he of his grandfather's handsome face. May the day come when all the parades in all the towns and cities have rank after rank of our soldiers and sailors marching behind the flag.......here at home. Safe.

Hurrying, Scurrying - and Delight!

2010-06-26T09:58:00.005-05:00

Today is the happy wedding day of my #1 son and his dear bride. I am only using this photograph (circa 1908) because I do not have a picture of my beloved Daughter-in-Love in her wedding gown - yet. Suffice it to say that she's much sweeter of face than this austere young woman!

But I do have a ton of things to do (as you might imagine). Not only will I be a proud witness to this union, but I am officiating - (yes, I can, legally; I have a certificate from the State....) Being allowed to participate in this joy pleases me so much!

Now - we're spared a lot of the anxiety of many families on their children's wedding days, as this dear girl and my son have been united in heart for ten years, and have two of the funniest, brightest (and dare I say HANDSOMEST) lads you could ever hope to meet. Much as I would love to take full credit for their extraordinary brains, amazing personalities, cleverness and good looks - well, their mom contributed heavily too. (I won't go all verklempt on you here about bloodlines Willie's bloodlines and their heritage and ancestry &c &c - probably until tomorrow.)

So I'm off to rush around, as I am wont to do, but suffice it to say that I feel wrapped in such warm affection and happiness that I can hardly stand it - and a full report will follow. With pictures.

OBSERVATION: It is said that things truly precious are worth waiting for; I think it can now be said that I have, at this stage of my life, two sons and three daughters into whose hands I pass the legacy of my family, with pride.

Magic!

2010-06-23T20:40:00.009-05:00

A Blessing!

I am MORE than delighted to report that, after three days of separated quarantine ("SHE made me fall outta the window!" "No, SHE pushed me and then fell out!") my beloved kitties have made what passes for peace - and to my great astonishment, sat side-by-side in the very Window of Doom* and gazed out at the bird feeder and the site of their recent Bad Day.

* Mr. Dearling brought in the frame, replaced the screening, then put it back into the frame and affixed it to the house with brass clips top, bottom and both sides. The window will not be falling out again. ONCE was enough! (Furthermore - all other windows were examined, and appear to be entirely sound.

Saturday we went to a rededication of a stone marker placed at the site of a major Wisconsin event, The Battle of Wisconsin Heights, which is known as The Black Hawk War. It was a conflct between the American militia and Black Hawk, chief of the Sauk people; Black Hawk's actions are described as heroic (I'm not wise about military history, but by all accounts, Black Hawk befit himself nobly).

The dedication was presented by a local chapter of the D.A.R. (which was responsible for replacing the original stone placed by their members in 1923) and included some speeches and a presentation by Colonel Henry Dodge himself (VERY respectable interpreter).

Following that, we joined a small party and traversed the battle site, guided by Col. Dodge, who showed the irregular terrain and described the incident. I found it very interesting -- it was still another case of my going to places where I can weep into the earth.

NOTE: some time later, the militia chased Black Hawk to the Mississippi River, where almost all of his band - including women and children - were slaughtered as they tried to flee across the river in what is now known as "The Massacre at Bad Axe".

If anyone should be interested, there is a description of Bad Axe as told by Black Hawk himself, here . I tell the children at the Museum that one reason it's good to study history is "because we LEARN from History"......and then I add that there are lessons we never seem to quite get aholt on. Seems there's no shortage of places for me to go weep into the earth.

While I don't understand about "movements" and "ambushes" and so on, I CERTAINLY understand things like:

The Witness Tree. This tree was standing, as the Sauk warriors ran past it; it towered over the conflict, it was, in fact, a witness to history. In the last 180 years the people passing by, the changing landscape - all around the base of this tree. (At the time, it was savannah; now there is thick underbrush, making it harder to imagine the movement of large numbers of men going through.

Rather than the quiet of the lovely vista, instead of the bird song we heard - there was gunfire, cries, shouting. While we were enjoying a balmy afternoon, it was quite a different scene those long years ago.....Have I mentioned that a Vivid and Overactive Imagination is not always a gift? 'Cause if I haven't, consider it mentioned.

We, the Interested, also had time to pause along the way to enjoy some fat, sweet black raspberries which were growing in abundance - an irony, since both Black Hawk's warriors and the American soldiers were near to starving; the battles were also not in the balmy warmth of spring. Quite a perspective of history.

We ended the afternoon with a visit to a Civil War reenactment; we were hoping that there might be sutlers, as Mr. Dearling would like a proper 19th century shirt. It was a small event, however, it was interesting. There was a great demonstration of cannon - during which (I cannot tell a lie) I took the opportunity to enjoy a little afternoon nap. What's that? Napping during cannon fire? Sure, you get to a Certain Age you can nap no matter what when the time comes.

As I rested (shading myself, of course, to avoid Dreaded Freckles), Mr. Dearling attended the Surgeon's Quarters, where (he told me with delight) there was a foot amputation....rendered realistic by the judicious use of a pig leg. Mr. Dearling observed: "You can't really fake the sound of sawing through bone". The good doctor also apparently dug a musket ball out of the leg of a willing little girl, with a great deal of spurting "blood". While such things often interest me, I'm glad I napped.

All in all, a very pleasant week-end day, and Mr. Dearling succeeded in securing the names of both the surgeon and Col. Dodge as possible speakers for our Tuesday lunchtime programs at the Museum next year!

VERY glad to report that things have largely been returned to what passes for normal in our little house (wars, cannon, amputation --- and both cats snuggled safely into our little nest.

Blind Terror!

2010-06-17T14:19:00.008-05:00

It's no surprise to anyone here how I feel about kitties in general - and my kitties in particular. What's the first word in the name of this blog? CATS! What're the first sites I visit when I log on? Cute Overload. Next? Itty Bitty Kitty Committee.

You all have met my kitties here:

My darling, my cherished Evangeline, and

our precious LITTLE kitty, Lilliane.

They're INDOOR cats. Evangeline came from our excellent Shelter; she had come in as a foundling with her sister and some kittens, but she was only about a year old; since coming home to her Forever Home she has NEVER been outside, other than in the carrier to go visit the Kind and Friendly Dr. Smith. (Her terminology for her varies....she is, after all, the vet.)

Lilliane was born to a foundling kitty in Dr. Smith's office. She came home to her Forever Home in a carrier and has never experienced Life Outdoors.

New Scene :

Mr. Dearling and I left home this morning at 7:30 AM, clad in our 18th c. clothing and with a carful of furs and trade goods. We went downtown and presented a History of the Fur Trade for a group of Senior Citizens at the Senior Summer School. After finishing and repacking the car, it was 11:00 AM. Mr. Dearling had to be at a meeting at the Arboretum at 1:00 -- so we stopped at a Senior Center Ginormous Resale and poked around some. We did find wine glasses ($2 for 4) but not really anything else, so we left and I dropped him off at the Arboretum and came home to change into normal human clothes.

WARNING: Graphic description of Sad and Fear ahead.

I parked in the drive, as always, and gathered the bag with the glasses, my purse and Mr Dearling's muzzleloader trade gun, (rather than leave it in the car).

When I opened the door - the usual Welcoming Committee did not appear. I put the gun away, -- and started looking for the girls. Lilli was not sleeping on the bed; Evangeline was not sleeping in the cat tree. I was puzzled....but it's quite warm, so I thought perhaps they had gone down the basement where it's cooler.

I went down there, turning on all the lights and calling - and then I heard Evangeline miaowing...I couldn't see her, and couldn't figure out where she was, but she sounded distressed. I thought she might have gotten caught somewhere in the basement behind some shelving........

....and then I saw -- her silhouette against the window.

OUTSIDE.

NOTE: I can now report: all's well that ends well.

I took a bowl of food out - Evangeline was along the side of the house, in the foliage. I tried to reach her but she danced away from me, and she was miaowing and miaowing. I just sat down with the bowl of food and waited and talked to her -- and eventually, she let me come a little closer and put the bowl down and she did come to eat, then allowed me to pick her up. I managed to get her and the bowl into the house. I gave her a little more food and some treats - then put her in the basement (with a bowl of water, her bowl of dry food and some more treats), then went out to find Lilliane.

I called and called, went around the house a few times (I'd seen her nearby when I was trying to get Evangeline). I didn't see her anywhere - but then followed a hunch and looked under the parked car. Lilli WAS there........and when I held out my hands toward her she came straight to me and let me pick her up and bring her inside.

SO!

I report, with delight and blessed relief, that both of my kitties are once again where they belong (albeit separated; they're having their "I've been traumatized and it's YOUR FAULT" snit going on though I'm sure it won't last long). Mr Dearling is going to replace the screen and then literally affix the frame to the house from the outside by nailing it to the windowframe of the house. Peace reigns at Chez CATS (the sticks and books tend to take care of themselves). There will be knitting tonight - and friend Donna will be coming over with her fabulous seafood salad in hand. I believe that 4-5 hours of "Housewives of New York/New Jersey" coupled with fresh seafood salad, iced tea and conversation will reset the gyro of my life.

Dear Fates: thanks for the excitement; you may resume normal programming now. I'm too old for this chazerai.

Recent Shenanigans

2010-06-11T10:05:00.000-05:00

NOTE: How embarrassing is this: I thought I'd posted this; I went to start a new posting and thought I might check for comments -- oy vey iz mere. Hadn't posted it. Chalk it up to Advancing Age (or what will you) and accept my profound ~~embarrassment~~ apology!

Not that someone as ~~old~~ distinguished as I would ever commit a shenanigan. But you know, some of the last few days were captured on film. (NOTE: there are VERY good reasons I haven't been contacted to do a Reality Teevee show. 'Nuff said.)

First, there was Bratfest. This is the annual event (biannual? Two-annual? there are two in a year) where I and my fellow Madisonians gird our loins, hitch up our overalls and really DIG IN for a major fundraiser. We're very good at fundraisers around here, might I add, and this one? Well, every time it's better than the one before.

In a nutshell: it's an opportunity to buy beautifully-grilled brats from local celebrities (on my first visit we bought ours from Mayor Cjis...Czels...Mayor Dave). Then we go to the "Condiments Island", dress 'em up as we see fit, and find a spot at a table and eat said brats. They've done it often enough that there are now 1) plenty of condiments with volunteers refilling often; 2) several different kinds of mustard for every taste (I'll take honey mustard, thanks); 3) lots of tables (though more in the shade would be nice); 4) bazillions and gerjillions of NAPKINS; 5) a corps of TRULY SPLENDIFEROUS volunteers who empty out the multitudinous gobbitch cans often. Imagine 84,562 people (give or take) each eating 35 -- 18 -- between two and 10 brats each. That's a LOT o' gobbitch of the paper-wrapper-used-napkin variety...and the grounds are CLEAN.

The first day, we went with "the children" from the Museum. These are the college youngsters who work at the Museum doing tours for 4th graders with us (and may I add, clean tables, move furniture, do schedules - all that stuff that no one thinks about, but permits the whole thing to work). NOTE: WE in Madison always have the super-cool Weinermobile at our events, neener neener. You haven't lived if you haven't seen the Weinie-inna-Bun rolling down the street.

I'll thank you to overlook the wrinkles. Those are "laugh lines" and "gettin' big food in the mouth" lines. For the record (which is why the picture in the first place) I ate, over two visits, FOUR brats. I did my part. And for the Curious, I have mine with about four tablespoons of honey mustard under 3" of sauerkraut.

Now, I recently found a product, little capsules which you take "at the first bite", to minimize the ~~terrible gas and bloating~~ possible effects of sauerkraut and mustard and brats. In its first experimental use I can simply note that I am still here; I have not ~~blown up~~ had any problems.

Here are a few more pictures from the event:

Brittany was there, drinking (WATER!)

Here are Tim, Buck and Liz enjoying the day....

Here are Cristina and Kate holding up their end of the table;

The youngest member of the crowd, my pal Blake -- NO, he didn't eat brats. He's LITTLE! (However, his Da, seen behind, was in a competition with:

Tim, tucking into #6!

There's nothing like a heart-stopping, breath-holding competition to really get.....well, wait. This was NOTHING like a heart-stopping, breath-holding competition. It wasn't a speed thing -- WHOOAH! I felt a rant coming on (about those revolting speed-eating-65-hot-dogs-in-40-second thingies) but squelched it. No - Tim and Ryan were just going on quantity. When we left, I think the score was: 7 - Ryan; 6.5 - Tim....but Tim was taking has last half-brat home to finish. They each had their own classic techniques - Ryan is a Purist. Bratwurst in a bun. No relish, no ketchup (there are those say that should be illegal anyway), no mustard, no onions, no sauerkraut..........whereas Tim's technique involved veggie brats in a bun with a delicate enhancement of mustard (and maybe something else...dare I admit, I wasn't paying very close attention.

NOTE: Lovely Daughter and I went the next day too, and Did Our Part. Last year's goal was indeed surpassed.

Bedazzled!

2010-06-05T15:30:00.017-05:00

No, no - I haven't thrown over knitting in favor of pounding glittery fake jewels on everything I own. (Remember that? What was it, the '80s? I remember thinking "Oooh, showy!" Now I just shudder.) But that has nothing to do with my bedazzlement.

Last week Wednesday we visited Ten Chimneys (visible to the left, slightly - through the trees of the beautiful approach). Ten Chimneys is the elegant little compound built for - and by - Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, who were THE premier couple of The Theatre in the early 20th century. They are credited with improving the techique of acting, and were close friends with any actor of stage or screen. Ten Chimneys was their retreat from the public life of Broadway, and they were happy there, they entertained with elegance, and really loved the place.

We had WON free tickets via an offer on Facebook..."first 100 people to call". We got wonderful big buttons with "WINNER" ribbons on them to wear. I might add that this was not random; it was "Ten Chimneys Day", as declared a few years ago by our Governor (a nice gesture, but raw milk is still illegal). Oooh, sorry, did I say that out loud? Nevermind!

Photos are not allowed inside; suffice it to say that it's furnished in a comfortable and homey fashion. It was decorated beautifully (many of the walls have classical designs like cherubs on them, and the ceilings are lovely). Alfred Lunt did much of the painted decorations himself, and a lot of it was done by a fellow famed for his wonderful stage sets. But the furniture is comfortable - the sofas look as though someone had been curled up there moments ago, reading.

There is a very nice Visitors' Center where we met the other winners for a little reception at 8:30 AM. There was to be a Champagne and Cake reception, in fact -- darling. (In the old days everyone in theatre said "Darling" or "Dah-ling" all the time; on the gates at Ten Chimneys there are instructions for contacting the house if they're closed when you arrive, and at the bottom it says "Thank you, Darling!" I LOVE IT!)

Some of the Docents dress for the occasion. I was THAT jealous, I can tell you. I almost went to ask her where she found that DAH-LING frock, but didn't. Yes, I regret not having done so. Bitterly. Crap. (Hmmmm....I bet if I write or email I can find out if they outfit their staff or wossname.) Of course, the hat makes the outfit -- I do sometimes think fondly of the old days when ladies wore hats, and usually gloves. Yes, I'm the generation whose mothers told us "NEVER go out in public without a proper hat and clean white gloves." That's a digression, nevermind.

Back to the Champagne and Cake....it really WAS champagne. Now, I don't usually like champagne, truth to tell. It tastes like bubbly vinegar to me and ~~gives me gas~~ doesn't agree with me. But this - this was actually very light and pleasant. That MAY mean that cheaper stuff is better....or that this was the really good stuff. (This is sort of a museum; I'm voting for the former.) Check out that photo over the table of flutes. THAT, Darlings, is Lunt and Fontanne, and from what I've read of them typifies their character. They were personable, friendly, outgoing (well, they WERE actors) and hospitable. It must have been splendid to be their friends, and to visit them here.

I haven't even GOTTEN to the tour yet. I'm going to synopsize. Besides the wonderful house, there are two other buildings on the property - a "cottage", which was (among other things) where guests often stayed while visiting, and the "studio", which is a tiny little log cabin which mimics a Swedish peasant cottage. The studio is also furnished in comfy sofas and ottomans and so on, and was where they rehearsed, Alfred and Lynn. We're told they would sit knee-to-knee and rehearse for hours. Side note: they performed on stage to wide acclaim in America and London; they made one movie ("The Guardsman", 1931) and hated it. They never made another movie, but they did sign a contract which forever guaranteed: that they would only act on stage, and that they would always act together ! They never appeared separately. They were brilliant actors, devoted spouses, good friends.....

OK, enough digression. Suffice it to say that I not only enjoyed their home, I came home and studied up on them, and find it refreshing to read about the likes of them. Oh - when in London, during the War, they also helped out in soup kitchens and stuff. Sort of a Pitt-Jolie couple, but in simpler times and...with flair.

OK! I did get some nice pictures outside, which I will place, but first -- while in the Visitors' Center, before the tour, I decided to ~~go to the bif~~ visit the Ladies', Darling. And it was photo-worthy, and the photos are blogworthy. So for your delight, I present:

THIS is a proper boudoir!

Very like a dressing room...

Elegant, Darling, perfectly elegant!

And last - we WERE, after all, tourist-types, if the truth be told. So in the Visitors' Center we went to the pretend stage and looked at the costumes and props and so on, and nothing for it, but we asked some other visitor to take the following....admittedly cheesy....photo. What can I say?

Scene from ancient Greek Drama: Applausius and Dontberidiculous. In Athens.

Delicious Anticipation

2010-05-23T10:28:00.017-05:00

This looks to me like it's going to be a white peony blossom. A big one. And there are a LOT of buds on the single plant. I planted two peonies years ago, one for me, one for my Lovely Daughter. I think mine fizzled and hers throve. Year by year it differs in height, number of blooms and so on. I always put a wire cage around it, as it gets pretty tall, and this is a bumper year. It's literally as tall as I am (I hear that snickering in the back, neveryoumind) and has many fat rich buds.

I like using terms like "grotto" and "grove" in my stories, and I have a pretty good image of what I mean -- and this is pretty close to the mark. I can't always spend much time in my own little grotto (when the State Bird makes its appearance one needs netting and gear, hard to read through) but this year I'm going to put some seating around my little firebowl and if necessary hang a citronella candle from my shepherd hook. You can SORT of see it, on the right, if you "biggify".

But that's not all I'm anticipating. No, I prowled around at the back and I've discovered that there's quite the thicket of what discovered to be black raspberries. You might remember my query from last year, which several wise folks identified....and I brought a few of the ripe berries inside to examine. Mr Dearling promptly popped some into his mouth and declared them very "mmmmmmmm"; he is still Among the Living so they were determined to be what I thought. I didn't get a great many last year, but there are a LOT of these this year:

In truth, there are a LOT more canes, and all of them (including some small short ones) are loaded with these little clusters of Future Noms. Some of them, behind the garage, are going to take protective gear and thick gloves to get to, but I mean to do it. I'm sure there are about a gazillion lovely recipes for black raspberries around - my plan, what I'm anticipating, is buying some genuine cream and splashing it over them. There are things about which I'm a purist.

Further Anticipation: I am waiting for the Lovely Daughter, and we're heading out to the WORT Block Party. That's our indie community radio station, and one of the only two radio stations I listen to regularly (the other is the public radio). The block party is always raucous, fun, crowded - and my Favorite Food Cart will be there. I've been jonesin' for a bowl of Black Bean Chili these many days, and today is the day. So I'm off to fill that particular anticipation and will resume upon my return.

NOTE: it's a finorkin' 120 degrees outside (ok, so I exaggerate)!
NOTE: just exactly what DOES "jonesin'" mean, and where did it come from?

OK! So it's the next day (truth in advertising). Here's the front door of our super-cool radio station. It's called "Back Porch Radio", and it's listener-sponsored. Most of the DJs are volunteers and it's eclectic to say the least. On Sunday morning they have a program of medieval music that is perfect for tea-and-newspaper time; there's a show hosted by Bill Malone, our local bluegrass &c expert; there are shows in Spanish and shows in Chinese. I love WORT -- DISCLAIMER: (and this is NOT a plug, just a fact).

But only guess what? It was HOT! Perfect weather for a block party, but NOT good weather for the black-bean chili. No way, Jose'.

So Lovely Daughter and I made a beeline for the Santa Fe trailer and had -- their home-made, fresh icy-cold, fresh gazpacho! And it did the trick, hit the mark, filled the void, &c &c. In honor of the occasion (anything would do) we also shared an order of Chips and Guacamole - better of which you can't hardly find nowhere. I'm lucky in having raised my daughter to be pretty much immune to embarrassment where her Maternal Unit is concerned, because I shamelessly wiped every last molecule of guacamole out of the container with my index finger. (I also raised a lady - she offered to get me a spoon. I declined.)

I took a picture of it. I really-o, truly-o did. But I ate it.

So last night was the first truly hot night of the season, and it is a little early. So when I got home, I turned on the fan (which Mr Dearling, who also ANTICIPATES, had brought up), pointed it at the sofa, and stretched out for a wee nap. I've said it before, I'll say it again - now: when they make Napping an Olympic event I am SO bringing home the Gold for America.

THIS HOT! Stretch-out-long cat hot. It's like my mother always said (and you've heard it before): "When it's hot out, arrange your limbs so they're not touching." It works.

And as I'm writing this Monday I can report that it's very hot today too, and I have turned on the "cool" in my writing room. I had it on for about 45 minutes; I've turned it off because I'm about to climb into my air-conditioned car and run a few errands: drop off a S***load of magazines in the Trade Bin at the air-conditioned library, drive through the bank (so I can stay in my air-conditioned car). Then I think I'm going to stop at (air-conditioned) Joann Fabrics. I need a thimble, I can't find any of my utilitarian ones. And shopping for thimbles is almost as bad as shopping for underpants. They think grown-ups have bigger fingers, and little children only use thimbles for fun or show or poking their brothers or wossname.

I can see that the heat is making me cranky, so I'll stop here....but with a close-up of Mistress Evangeline in the Heat.

'Nother DISCLAIMER: the light behind her is our ever-burning lamp. It's a very non-bright compact-fluorescent, therefore puts out no additional heat. I are green.

Symmetry

2010-05-20T15:01:00.007-05:00

I am finally Off my Duff. I am finally back, finally reviving my poor little blog. I've been keeping my little black blogbook all along, jotting notes for things to include. If I had a buck for every time I've thought "Oooh, that is SO going in the blog" ....well, I probably wouldn't be here because I'd be sipping absinthe in a garret in Paris and writing The Novel. So I've been waiting for the First Day of the Month or the First Day of the Week or some such.

Well, it's the fifth day of the week and the 20th day of the month - "Dr. Phil" is just beginning, does that count? But the TIME is RIGHT. Now....in the past, when I've had a Momentary Lapse, I try to stuff in everything that's happened in the intervening, resulting in overly-long posts. GOOD NEWS, I'm not gonna do that. I'm going to start NOW, put in a couple highlights - and continue putting one foot (finger? keystroke?) in front of the next.

Last Wednesday I went to the Raw Milk Rally on the Square. The law to make the sale of raw milk LEGAL had passed through both Houses and was on the Governor's desk. I won't even discuss the ridiculousness of the NEED for such action; it sticks on my craw on several levels. A kindly dairyman brought a great cold milk can full and was serving it out. This is me, PUBLICLY defying the law and drinking a full glass of rich, sweet, creamy FRESH milk, in Defiance of the Law.

Well - the Guv vetoed it!! So what that means is, it is now illegal for a family dairy farm to sell the fresh milk from their herd. The Guv said some BS about how he's "protecting the health" of the citizenry.

WARNING: small soapbox. Given MY choice, I would rather have milk from cattle who are cared for by the farmer and his family; who spend their days socially grazing outdoors on grass; who are milked by very clean milking machines into sterile holding tanks....&c &c. The alternative is milk from factory farms where the cows do NOT go outdoors but live in concrete barns or holding pens. Their feed is prescribed, and full of additives like hormones to keep the cows producing LOTS of milk a lot longer than they would naturally. They also get antibiotics to keep them healthy, vitamin D is added to the milk (they don't get any sunshine).

The thought of multigenerational family farms being forced to close breaks my heart. The fact that the top prize-winning cheeses were made from raw milk is not lost on me. Furthermore, I resent being told that the guvmint is safeguarding my health. I'm 67 and I KNOW there is a potential for illness from raw milk. I KNOW smoking is bad for my health. I KNOW I can get disease from hangerbers from icky places. I KNOW I can get splurged crossing the street.

Having had the opportunity to enjoy raw milk a few times in the last few weeks, I was bitterly disappointed that my chance to buy it if I so choose has been removed from me. I mean to try to find a way to obtain some now and again; now it's the principle of the thing. And I HOPE those In the Know can figure out a way to try this again.

The other thing I've done recently was attend Costume-Con 28 in Milwaukee with my dear friend Jen. In a word it was five days of great fun at a nice hotel. I "dressed" now and then, and LOVED seeing the incredible variety of costumes made by Those Who Sew. I have to admit, I got lost driving to Milwaukee (missed a turn shown on my mapquest and wound up in Whitefish Bay) but in this 21st century I just whup out my cellphone, called Mr Dearling and managed to get there. I may expound at greater length in future because I do have some splendid pictures; at this point, suffice it to say there was some truly brilliant....

STEAMPUNK!

Talk about cool glasses! I mean, this is really top-of-the-line stuff. And my fascination with all things Steampunk was revived and energized, and I'll keep y'all up on where I go with that. In the meantime, I have...

Turned 67, given loads of museum tours, spent some time in the 19th century, given a few programs "in character" for senior centers, enjoyed the end of winter, enjoyed the start of spring, enjoyed my cats, enjoyed Mr. Dearling, seen "The Lion King"!! and most recently reconnected with my first-born grandson, who hasn't fallen far from the tree. I'm going to go collect him even as we speak........

But I am BACK and mean to stay that way.

Cats....Sticks...you know the drill

2010-01-23T11:33:00.013-06:00

Cats. Our poor Lilliane (shown here exhibiting one of her highly-developed skills) had a Little Problem. You always hear that the goggies exhibit their pain, and whine and whimper and basically let you know if they don't feel good. But such behavior is not in the make-up of the Pampered Daughters of Bast. So the other evening, when my friend Donna and I were enjoying our weekly "Knit and Giggle", Lilli came to join us on the couch. But....it seemed to me she couldn't quite get comfortable. And later, when Evangeline came along, Lilli growled and hissed! She has never....and I do mean NE-VAR...done that. Oh, she hissed a tad at the boykitty here temporarily once. But not the rest of all this.

Nothing for it, we took her to the Kind and Friendly Dr. Smith.

Oh - I might add that she has been throwing up too - but it seemed more like the result of eating too fast.

Well! The visit to the K&F Dr Smith revealed something else. WARNING: those of delicate constitutions might skip down a ways, though *I* have a delicate constitution and will not dwell on details.

Lilliane apparently had overful anal glands. (Who knew?) Seems that, in the wild, when cats are being chased and terrorized, they spray from those glands, and so have no such problems. Well, Lilliane was born in the vet's office,and the closest she's ever been to "the wild" is if we're watching National Geographic.

So they did rude things to her, out of our kenning (fortunately); we have a choice of how to prevent this in future: a)chase her around the house until she's terrorized enough to spray; b) feed her Metamucil. GUESS OUR CHOICE!?!?!

So, after another trying period of Mutual Hostility when she came home, the "Cats" portion of this blog seems to be back to normal. And if Mr Dearling and I ever need Metamucil (I'm not sure what people take it for but a lot of beautiful models on teevee seem to enjoy it) we'll have plenty. It comes in huge drums.

STICKS! Now tell me, doesn't this look like an old pioneer-y basket full o' old-timey pioneer-y knittin' up? Well,regardless of your opinion, yes, it does. And it's going with me, dressed in my best old-timey (OK, I heard that - "old-timER) way, for this afternoon's hijinks.

In case you're somewhere else, or hadn't heard, "Little House on the Prairie: the Musical" is playing here in Madison at our wonderful Overture Center. And between the matinee and evening performances, we (in this case "we" means Mr Dearling, myself, and two fellow museum colleagues) are participating in something called a "hootnanny". In this case, "hootnanny" means: a variety of child-friendly activities about pioneer life for the amusement and edification of children and their Big Folks who are either just finished seeing -- or are waiting to see -- the show.

So I'm going to wear my prairie-style dress (which I often just wear day-by-day) with an apron and sun bonnet; I'll have my beautiful handspun (thanks, Otter-Dottir, for the spinning!) which I've begun knitting into a shawl, on one set of (genuine antique wooden) needles, and a scarf on another set of the same.

Now, I WILL say (unashamedly)that I think this whole bit looks marvelously authentic. The yarn is natural colors (still "in the grease", which I love) and the needles really ARE old...I haven't the provenance, but they're perfect in appearance. And the basket? One of my all-time favorites of all -- and it was barter payment for a toque, which renders it more precious. I may tuck in a darning egg and drop spindle for further "dressing".

Lest anyone think there's no "real" knitting going on, I'm near done with this toque (several have preceded this one) and it will be on its way before too long. It's unique, black stripe and all, but so it was requested, so will it be done.In fact, it's already on the decreasing needles.

And last, if I were keeping strictly to my title, would be BOOKS. Oh, I'm reading, like a madwoman. (Yeah, I know, "whyn't you brush your hair?" NEVERMIND!) However, I will here illustrate not the reading of books, nor yet the writing thereof, though there is some of that going on too. No - I will here address the rearranging of books and other things, otherwise: what passes for Redecoration at Chez Catssticksandbooks! Yes, near 30 years in this house, and I've made some Changes! So here are my improvements:

I got a new switchplate for my Writing Room. Small change, I admit it, but this is beautiful. The picture looks awfully yellow-y (although the wall color's pretty accurate) but if this isn't stunning nothing is. And it seems to me that some culture somewhere says that dragonflies carry ideas from the gods or some such thing; in any event, she does look like a muse, n'est-ce pas?

Now, truth to tell, neither Mr Dearling nor I notice things like kitchen curtains so much. Oh, we move them in the spring when the morning sun shines in and we're trying to sit at the table; I close them TIGHT if there's another cat outside to prevent Evangeline turning into a Wild Killer Territorial Hunter (and attacks Lilliane, poor thing). Otherwise....meh! But the other ones (and no, I'm not going to find a picture of them) were really just about disintegrating, and these caught my eye. Now I see them up? Ooooh yeah. Really smartens up the place, and they're denser than the otherswere, too. I DO have a touch of Martha Stewart!

And last, the most major change: new teevee and new teevee stand!Mr Dearling much admired to have a new teevee, and the plan is, we're going to get rid of the cable (most of my favorite shows are on CBS anyway) - but this new teevee, with some newly acquired cords*, can be attached to the laptop and we can see anything on line.....ON THE TEEVEE! Imagine Cute Overload on a 32" screen! And what with Hulu and some freebies from Netflix, &c &c. we are SO in business!

*Mr Dearling, in spite of protestations to the contrary, loves fooling around with cords and lines and wires and stuff - this truly IS a boy thang.

I LOVES me my new "teevee stand". In a previous life, it was a handsome sideboard in a formal dining room. (There was another piece that sat on top with a mirror and a leaded-glass lighted curio cabinet -- we "re-donated" that and left it.)

So now, instead of holding fine table linens and sterling silver - it holds DVDs and tapes; my soprano recorders and music; my candles and incense...and there's a drawer for Mr Dearling's cords and wires and stuff! I like the way it looks - and I think it's a Happy Piece of Furniture (which may have had some nervous moments sitting in the St. Vincent's furniture department).

And "a fine": I posted my other entertainment center on Craigslist and had an immediate response - it was picked up within the hour to replace a piece that had been stolen from a single mom by an ex when he moved out, taking her furniture along! How cool is that?

Soooo....what's new wit' you?

The Human Heart....

2010-01-13T10:31:00.008-06:00

... is a vessel, and it can hold limitless quantities. Most hearts hold a variety of things - ranging from the adoring tenderness for a child to the bitter wrath of disappointment. My belief is that most hearts are chambers of pleasantness, although we all know of some whose hearts are bleak,desolate wastelands.

Two days ago, a woman passed away. She was 100 years old, and when you think about the things that any 100-year-old person has seen and experienced, you can imagine that their hearts must be very full.

This woman was named Miep Gies. She was unremarkable in many ways, and most of what I know of her I've read in the last 24 hours since hearing of her death.

It was she who hid Anne Frank and his family -- and in fact, apparently it was she who saved the little girl's diary. These two acts make her,in my mind, one of the most remarkable human beings ever to walk upon this earth.

By simply providing shelter to her boss (she was Otto Frank's secretary, apparently) she performed an act of heroism equal to any performed anywhere, at any time of human history. The personal danger she risked ... well, one can only imagine.

Here is a quote, which I think illuminates the chambers of Miep Gies' heart:

Miep Gies stated in her autobiography, and on her own website:

I stand at the end of the long, long line of good Dutch people who did what I did or more – much more - during those dark and terrible times years ago, but always like yesterday in the hearts of those of us who bear witness. Never a day goes by that I do not think of what happened then.

By the saving of a simple little book, which she did with the intent of returning it to Anne, "afterward", she has given the world a gift. WE, those of us of this world, have some exceptional treasures. The Book of Kells, the Lindisfarne Gospels, various priceless paintings, works of literature....in fact, I view potsherds dug up from archaelogical sites "treasures".

But this humble piece of ephemera, the writing of a little girl in a dark loft at one of the darkest periods of human history -- this is the equal of any other.

This is Miep and Jan Gies, standing (as I believe) in the very space in which they concealed the Anne and her family and the others. The link from which I took it is an article worth reading; find it here: Global Voices.

The people responsible for our "innerwebs" were grandchildren - or great-grandchildren - of people not yet born when Miep made her world-altering decision, and now, in 2010, I can share this story with you.

When I die, I mean to look up Miep Gies; there is nothing of value I can say to her, but I would welcome the opportunity to simple kiss her gentle hand.

Revolutions

2010-01-10T11:19:00.001-06:00

These are my favorite figures from Mr Dearling's creche - the grandfather tenderly cradling the lamb and his granddaughter stands by, spinning with her drop spindle. OK, so I like arranging the figures. Oh, all right: I like playing with the dolls. I can spend a LONG TIME arranging them. Be quiet.

But the New Year has begun, and I'd have to say, it's off to a good start. So far, no worries. Now, let's just see if it can keep the pace.

As far as last year - I stood in the doorway waving: "Don't let the gate hit your arse on the way...." That's not to say that good things didn't happen; they did. As far as New Year's revolutions, I figure a couple spins around the house will do it.

WHAT? It's reSolutions??? Oh well, that's something different. I may address that subject at the end, but no promises. Instead, a Retrospective, which is to say "How I spent my 2009."

There was an Inauguration, unlike any other. I wrote a note to Willie again here, although I'm sure he knows. That's one for the History Books.

It was a year of twos: we went to two weddings; we welcomed two new babies into the world; we lost two very dear long-time friends. I got to see two fabulous world-famous knitters. I went to two exciting writers' events. My Second-Born Son married (wife #2) and I inherited two adorable new granddaughters.

We went to a lovely party to celebrate my sister's 50th wedding anniversary (!). It was a lot of fun, and I remember her wedding day....I'm the rebel, the beatnik, the hippie - but she and her husband did something just short of outrageous: when they changed after the wedding to head off for their honeymoon, they were not dressed in the expected style, which was a suit and tie and fedora for him, a smart travelling suit with hat and gloves for her. (Remember those days?) NO! Not for them -- they were wearing matching outfits: black Bermuda shorts and white shirts with black polka dots. There were gasps! It was sort of a nod to the fact that they were going to Bermuda. I thought it was DARLING, and I got a bit misty, my big sister an Old Married Woman. Remember up there where I said "rebel", "beatnik" "hippie"? For her wedding I wore a waltz-length pink gown and I had my hair done.

They had their wedding album at the anniversary party, and I'd have to say, for a short, rather bosom-y Jewish girl, I looked pretty good. I was her Maid of Honor. There were other "unconventionalities" -- her gown was palest pink and had a little jacket; underneath it was a strapless top. NOTE: my mother, a master seamstress, made the beautiful gown! And the top layer on their wedding cake? The one you save in the freezer for the first annniversary? It was chocolate cake. Yes, my wonderful traditional sister had a little wild streak.

'Nother NOTE: she's led a lovely, wonderful and somewhat traditional life, and I've been proud of her all along. She inherited - and USED - some gifts from our mother. She decorates her homes with a real gift; she entertains beautifully, and my nieces and nephew are terrific people. They've always had beautiful homes and the opportunity to travel all over the world - and I remember something she said to me once when I went to visit for a couple of days. She looked around at her elegant surroundings, and said, "Every morning when I wake up I feel like I've won the lottery!" Well no, Sister, you didn't -- your life is the result of your skill and eye. And I'm absolutely tickled!

One more NOTE: she truly met her soulmate at the University of Michigan; she and her husband are about the most compatible people I've ever seen, still romantical after fifty years, and although we haven't spent much of our lives "together", I know the truth of that because all of their friends at the anniversary party, who have been with them about from the start, said the same thing. She's a shining example.

And a final NOTE: I'm fond of saying that the only thing we have in common is parents; even that's only partly true, because when she was born, our parents had been married a couple of years and had been children of the Depression; when I was born they'd been married longer, were more established, and we were a Wartime family. I truly went a very different path from my sister's, and that's why we weren't close so much "in between".

But believe me when I say that today I find myself equal to her in so many ways. Affluent? Well, I have to admit, when I look around at my cozy little nest, packed full of books and yarn and cats and stuff ("decor"? not so much) I feel a tad sorry for Donald Trump - he couldn't even hire anyone to make him as comfy a home. Well-married? It took me three times, but I finally do have it absolutely right. And children? Well....I have to say, you'd have to go some to find anyone as proud as I am. Mine are -- well, they're MINE. Each is an individual, and each has given me every experience a human being can have....and today I see in them solid, clear-thinking people with good values and fascinating minds; they're kind and loving and solid, and they make the best of whatever situtation surrounds them.

So I guess now, more than ever before, my parents' children are more alike than ever before and I'd like to think they'd be proud of us equally. (Although I'm sure Mom would stand in my living room, look around, and with arms akimbo say, "I don't know, Dale Harriet*, if you don't learn to clean your room you'll never get a husband.") She said that a lot, bless her heart.

*I added the hyphen, "Dale-Harriet" to make it obvious that I'm a female girlie-type person. Mostly it doesn't work, but it's proven an advantage in a lot of other ways.

Among my accomplishments of last year: I developed a first-person character to do programs for the Museum: Mary Hayes Chynoweth was an exciting spiritualist and psychic healer in the late 19th century, and the Museum had a stunning 1895 walking suit and hat made for my portrayal. I'd have to say, (and it's still very much a work-in-progress) I love standing up before a group of people and "being" Mrs Hayes Chynoweth. I hope I do her justice.

I also wrote a 50,000 word novel, Daughter of Lotus, Daughter of Wheat. You'll see that I said "wrote" and not "finished". I haven't finished it yet - but I DID pass the 50k-word count necessary to win the NaNoWriMo challenge. It's about.....well, it's about 53,000 words. I wouldn't look for it on your bookstore shelves any time soon, although I am going to finish it -- and edit it in the bargain. No one will be surprised when I say I have NO trouble writing with a lot of words. I only hope that my skill with quantity might be at least equal to my skill with quality.

We again had the incredible pleasure of a few days at our friends' cabin in the Upper Peninsula, where - along with much reading and knitting, I actually put together some quilt squares (by hand) for a baby quilt for one of the aforementioned babies. My strip of squares looked quite nice and I had a great deal of satisfaction from sewing it. SO much, in fact, that it took some effort to set aside all thoughts of taking up piecework by hand. I'd love to do that, but I'm relegating hand quilting and spinning to my next life. I'm dilettante enough without expanding!

As an overview, not a bad year at all. But there were those two losses. My dear friend Sunawa (of blessed memory) was a wild hippie with me and we both found our ideal partners and became nice old ladies; her sudden death in May diminished my world considerably. She had been "family" in the truest sense of the world. And our friend Joe was a reenactor and "family" in another sense, as I'd been friends with members of his actual family long before I met him. Both of these dear souls were my age - that is to say, not that old, and only now, these months later, have I given over being angry that they were taken from me. I'll never not be sad, I'll never not wish they were with me, I'll probably never quit thinking "Oh MAN that was funny....I have to call Sunawa to tell her...." But oh ladies and gentlemen, both of these people enriched my life, and I love turning over in my mind moments we shared.

Then there's the whole money thing. As in: there ISN'T any. Oh, we're ok, being pretty much retired, (although Mr Dearling makes sure we always have plenty of canned cat food in case the day comes when we need to share with the girls) [snerk] but if the movie rights to my novel are picked up I'll make my children's lives easier.

And there have been treasured kitties who have crossed the Rainbow Bridge from families dear to me, and my grandkitty had a bit of a scare and my Evvie had that dental cleaning -- oh, I know, that's not much, but I still have far-reaching phobias about any kind o' dental thing. (I'll spare y'all the Dentures Have Given Me A New Lease on Life speech, but if you want it just e-mail me.)

In conclusion: The end of 2009 gave me a bit of a spiritual jolt; I've even dug out my old tarot cards and I feel like I've found an old friend. Because of that - and because it's just pretty much how I roll - I feel an optimism about this shiny new 2010. My observation...from the pinnacle of my Advancing Age...is that the country has awakened to a realization that you can have a lot of OUTRAGEOUS fun without spending any money at all! I think that bodes extraordinarily well for our country - and for the world, because that kind of knowledge is contagious.

So - my wish for 2010 is that it holds a return to values and delights and pleasures perhaps forgotten; that everyone relish their new-found wealth WITHOUT money; that such thinking spreads and can begin to effect every corner of our global village too.

And I hope that the anger and fear and hatred that is promulgating war diminishes in the face of this. Having a Marine in the family gives it a personal connection that I share with altogether too many other of my countrymen - I wish there were NO grandparents or parents, siblings or spouses or children, who had the little pool of sadness and fear beneath our glowing pride.

Now then. Where's my knitting?

Innerwebs, thy name is....

2009-12-29T12:11:00.002-06:00

Oh, MAN, but that's clever!

I have a new post started -- then I came upon this on Twitter, and frankly, it is hands-down one of the cleverest things I've ever seen. I've put the rest on hold (watch this space) but for now, I admit that this is lifted from another blog...no WAY I'm clever enough for this), and if you haven't seen it before, I give you what I'm guessing is the most fun you've had since -- the last Inauguration:

http://bookshop.livejournal.com/1010612.html

(If you can't click on it, do yourself a favor and paste it into your browser.)

Holiday Greetings (or not)!

2009-12-25T10:18:00.007-06:00

To All My Democrat Friends:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or explicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2010, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

To My Republican Friends:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

(This was shamelessly stolen from a favorite blog, kmkat, who says it was "Shamelessly stolen from an email from a friend in California".)

I contend that bloggers "glean"; we do not steal The sentiments, however, are also my own.

Blame it on......

2009-12-22T10:25:00.001-06:00

....the bossa nova. No-h0-ho-h0......my little joke. Blame it on the lemmings. NO....another little joke. If there is blame to be placed (besides acknowledging my dismal lack of self-discipline) it is to be placed squarely on "The Holidays". If "The Holidays" are ever personified, it's going to be a crowd of little dark creatures slinking away looking furtively over their shoulders, dragging their long dark robes (probably navy-blue; black is too grim for Holidays) and hauling menorahs and wreaths. Consider how much difficulty is blamed on "The Holidays."

ENOUGH! Settle in, make some tea; I'm going to bravely make an effort to Catch Up. (It's a wonder my blog doesn't come up under "condiments" considering how much catchup I've tossed around.) Snippets, that's what I'm going for here. Snippets.

Thanksgiving was wonderful! Everyone was on time! That, ladies and gentlemen, was an absolute FIRST. Two regulars were not present (my dearest friend Sunawa passed away in May and her partner spent the day with her own family and an elderly uncle) but we had my new daughter-in-law and her absolutely enchanting nine-year-old daughter with us. The food was traditional and delicious - we had an unusual treat - one I was a little dubious about, which wound up being fan-TAB-ulous: the new daughter-in-law brought barbecued ribs ! Well! I've made it clear before on this page that I ADORE barbecued ribs (I've an arrangement with God about them - it's fine.) And to tell you the truth, the combination of delicious turkey and the rich ribs made for a meal better than it had been before! Might we have a new tradition here?

There followed busy days - lots of tours at the Museum, general preparations, that sort of thing. Suddenly it was December. It started here, as the whole country heard, with a blizzard-snowstorm of "epic proportions". Oh, come now, national newscasters. "EPIC PROPORTIONS" in Wisconsin would have to be 42' of snow in three hours. THAT would be "epic". As it was, it was just a good, hearty, midwestern snowfall, and the complaints around here were few - especially because the Governor closed ALL branches of the UW! So our student population, never one to pass up an opportunity, lined one street with big snowmen, causing trouble for the plows; they also made an enormous snowball, some ten feet across, I heard - also a problem for the plows. May that be the worst problem we have for the next twelve months.

A few days backI took myself to see "The Princess and the Frog", the new Disney adaptation of the old fairy tale. I enjoyed it a lot - it's set in New Orleans (cute!) I won't spoil anything by saying more, but there was one aspect I found peculiar. The show that I went to was ~~poorly-attended~~ -- erhmmm -- ~~a bit quiet~~ .... that is, I WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN THE THEATRE. I DID turn off my cell phone, I refrained from commenting out loud (!) but it was kind of creepy. If I'd known I was going to be the only one there I'd have brought in my own snacks. So there.

The next day was a Red-Letter day (in spite of a bit of baneful "freezing rain" which made walking on a parking lot challenging): thanks to the fact that I read Franklin Habit's notes on Facebook (and you can keep your comments about 66-year-old short bubbehs BEING on "FB" to yourselves, thenk yew) I became aware that he had been invited to SPEAK at the meeting of the Madison Knitters' Guild. I scour the papers (Isthmus, anyway, and "77 Square") for the word "KNIT" and hadn't seen a thing, but it was an easy decision. It was Monday night and even if THAT were the night that "Real Housewives" was on, I'd have gone to hear Franklin. (If you haven't had the delight, go here.)

I'm sure you're all familiar - if you're not, do I have a treat for you! Go make a cuppa and go back to the beginning and read his blog from the start. You'll thank me for it.

If you want the best description possible of the event, go to Molly Bee's Attic and check out "Finally Face to Face..." NOTE: you may wind up starting at the beginning there too, and you'll thank me for that as well, straight up.

Other entertainments that filled the time 'twixt then and now (remember, "catchup") included a holiday pot-luck at Museum (my tomatilla salsa was a hit; Mr Dearling's taco meat a bigger one); Late-Night Knit; two examples of customer service: one was a not-Sow's-Ear LYS which I will never darken again with my footsteps (think diminishing stock and very unpleasant experience with proprietor) and the other a fabulous experience at Chipotle's, where they gave us an order of chips and guacamole gratis because I had to wait for fresh carnitas....the "wait" was a couple of minutes. THEY will see my dark footprints again.

We also went to a Solstice celebration at dawn on Saturday (so it was two days early; made me no nevermind) which turned out to be a perfect ritual in a stunning place followed by a day of fascinating company and incredible food. We'd known only our host upon our arrival at dawn; we left with a new bunch of the most delightful and intriguing friends. We were literally there "dark to dark" - and think on it! The actual Solstice was Monday so the days are getting longer! And I can tell, those extra milleseconds of daylight make a HUGE difference!

Now preparing for the more traditional holiday which promises some real excitement about which, more later. With pictures, I 'spect.

And because I'm cantankerous - I close with a new but keenly-felt Pet Peeve (I do love pets):

People who self-publish books, on line or otherwise, but NEVER have any sort of proofreader look over their manuscripts, drive me bonkers. I've seen four books (three to review and one on sale that I glanced at) and they were each one a tragedy of errors, both in punctuation and spelling (typos, one can hope). One of them had a word on the COVER that was missing a letter. Oh, people -- even if the stories are brilliant, I won't be recommending them. Is this a new plague? OY VEY!!

Well-Baby Visits, and Miscellany

2009-11-20T10:19:00.007-06:00

They took her away from me!

How's that for a phrase fraught with distress? I'm telling you, that would be a start for a novel. (Make note of that, Dale-Harriet; there's always next year's NaNoWriMo.)

Here's what happened, and it wasn't as fraught as all that. We took Evangeline for her annual well-baby visit to the vet. She needed one shot, and they took her temperature. You know... took her temperature . If anyone thinks animals can't manage a Baleful Stare, I'm here to dispel that myth right HERE. OOH yeah they can.

But the vet thought it might be good for her to come in for a teeth-cleaning, and being the difficulty we in this family have with dental issues, Mr Dearling thought it would be a good idea too. So they were going to draw blood in preparation - it'll be sometime this month - so they can arrange the anesthesia, &c. Now, the whole exam had been right there in the office, with my face buried her neck, stroking her and whispering....well, let's call it "soothing words".

But to draw the blood - they took her away from me. Through the door and down a hallway. I couldn't go in there, it's a Doctor Place. And I couldn't see through the tiny narrow window such as you see in mental hospitals on the teevee for the Rough Cases. Furthermore, I did see a merry-faced child-assistant (she's probably 35, but they all look 12) chase a kitty who had gotten out of arms, scoop her up and go back.

Evangeline doesn't like other cats. If she sees one outside she turns around and beats the tar out of Lilliane ("Redirected Aggression".)

They were gone for four hours. What? ME? Hyperbole? Well ok, shut up. It was maybe five minutes. But that was five minutes when they had my cat, and I couldn't see what they were doing.

When they brought her back she was fine - although see baleful stare above. The upshot is that the clinic called and all is fine, so we'll be scheduling her for her dental cleaning on a day when her own vet can do it and I'm home all day with no reason to leave, because when she comes home I want to stay with her to be sure she's ok from it all. (Lilliane will be in the bedroom a good part of that time, I think, because I have a feeling Ev won't be feeling like playing.)

The next day (yesterday, in actual time) we took Lilliane in for her well-baby visit. We have decided it's time to buy a second carrier so that we can take them at the same time. But it was not much less traumatic; she was more fearful than Ev had been. There's a small bench in the room and she dashed under there behind my skirts, behavior VERY unlike her. But she got through it too, and is all-the-way-around fine. I didn't mention her eccentricities, because there may BE a cat-shrink, but there are things I won't pay for. I'm a Jewish mother, I can analyze my cats myself. I have her figured out. Here's an example:

One of her Bestest Favoritest things (besides impersonating a dinner role) is drinking water. Out of a human drinking glass. On the table. Her eyes actually light UP if I put a full glass of water - a plastic tumbler, not too tall - on the table. She stands there and for a full minute, she scratches on each side of it with a dreamy look on her face. Then she drinks out of it, visibly lowering the water level. Repeat from start.

Now see, that might qualify as neurotic feline behavior, but I have her number. (OH, and it's harmless, so I set this up for her periodically). Here's what's up with that:

As we all know (imagine professorial voice here), cats enjoyed divine status in Ancient Egypt. And Ancient Egypt had....anyone? Anyone? YES! A lotta deserts. Also, a side tidbit of information, for which I get extra credit: the brown tabby configuration is thought to be the closest coloring to that of the divine cats of Ancient Egypt. (Surely you've noticed that Lilliane is Classical Elegant Brown Tabby.)

Back to the table-scratching-human-cup-drinking behavior. It's elemental (my dear Watson). When she does that she is permitting herself the ancient memory of being on the golden sands of the desert, scratching through to the clear, bubbling fresh water beneath. For that brief period she is actually back in ancient Egypt, and when she has refreshed herself, surely four huge Nubian bearers will appear with her jewelled litter swathed in shimmering silk from China and she will be borne back to her palace where doting slaves will carefully dust the remnants of the sand from her paws...before feeding her succulent peeled fishbits and .....

No? That's NOT what's going on?

Well, there IS one other possible explanation. It may be that she just likes to drink from a cup, but actually thinks the whole thing is a lot of shit that should be covered up like anything else in her litterbox.

I like Version One better.

Now the Miscellany. The Novel is moving right along. This very minute I am earning another sticker for my netbook: the Procrastination Badge. (I have a day off and could have been novelling all this time.) Actually I'm procrastinating from procrastinating: I have to wash my hair, clean the cat fountain and sort out my winter t-shirts before joining the other WriMos to work at the local coffee shop.

HOWEVER! Miscellany.

1. I got an email the other day; the subject line said "Settle Warriors In Your Fly." Believe it or not, I deleted it unread. Maybe I was too hasty???

2. I asked my tour group if they'd been to the Capitol (they had) and if they'd been able to "rub the Badger's Nose". NOTE: there's a very large, beautiful, brass badger outside one of the legislative chambers, and legend has it that it's good luck to rub its nose (which is shiny gold at this point).

They had. With their elbows!! Seems with the H1N1 flu scare, they can't all be touching the nose with their potentially-disease-ridden little fingers. (!)

3. In the same vein....heard on NPR: A guy at a Department Store Santa School cheerfully announced that they're incorporating a fun way to make sanitizing their hands a "fun part of the Santa Claus Visit experience".

I will now give you a moment to meditate on #s 2 and 3. Come back when you're done.

4. I browsed through a book of wonderful expressions and insults while at B&N last night, and got an insult that I am going to be downright lying in WAIT to work into a conversation:

"She is all fur coat and no knickers."

If you have suggestions for working that in I'd be obliged to hear them because I want to use it at least once a week. And yes, I'll likely be going back for the book with the rest of 'em.

In closing: Today's Required Word Count for NaNoWriMo = 33,340
MY word count as of today: 36,122. Gee but it's fun.

THIS is a Day Worth Noting.

2009-11-10T07:53:00.003-06:00

OK, PEOPLE -- pay attention!

Today is the 40th birthday of Sesame Street. Programs come and go (don't we just know it, and if they ever bring "Firefly" back I'll watch) but Television is like that little girl: "There was a little girl, who had a tiny curl, right in the middle of her forehead." (If you're Of An Age, say the rest with me now...)

"When she was good, she was very VERY good,

And when she was bad, she was...HORRID!"

(Love writing that, for the nostalgia - my mother said it a lot - and for the chance to use the much-underused word "horrid".)

Now, I agree with Mr Dearling to a great degree when he says that television has wrought more woe than good in all these years. Mark you, I have HAD television in my home most of my adult life. There was a time there when I got rid of ours in a fit of Hippie-ness, and we all managed very well. Then we got a card in the mail saying we should go to Sears to collect a present from my generous sister,which proved to be a brand-new color television. I had to agree, it was pretty nice. Made the Shakespeare plays on public teevee fabulous.

But back to Sesame Street: I allowed my children to watch it. I encouraged my children to watch it, and in fact often watched it with them. I'll say it right here in public: I propped my Youngest up in his babyseat in front of it.

I think it was a brilliant and wonderful show, and I'd forgotten about it pretty much for the last few years, other than knowing it was still with us. There was also "Electric Company", which took my youngsters a little forward in their learning. I just remembered that I have a DVD somewhere with some Electric Company episodes on it - I want to get it out for my grandsons.

I'm going to tape me some Sesame Street this week to see how it's aged, but I still APPROVE. And call me an old curmudgeon (I won't argue) but I do NOT like that stoopid square sponge thing, which I find poorly-drawn, unattractive and abrasive, and unfortunately my youngest grandson has toted up many hours of his infancy planted in front of it. I would NEVER describe one of my own darlings as "slack-jawed" but I don't care for his demeanor when he's watching that. I do not fear permanent damaage, his parents are bright and clever and besides Mr Dearling and I are his grandkin. But that sponge is no Big Bird.

So - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Sesame Street! Long may you wave........oh, and thanks for a lot of hours of laughter and fun and learning you brought my children (and the quiet time for ME, o bless yer little red hearts).

Home Again!

2009-11-08T23:33:00.004-06:00

Had a truly WONDERFUL time at NAVC. There's much to be said for seeing friends, especially ones you only see once...maybe twice a year. Much to be said for friends who have disturbed imaginations and live considerable blocks of time in the 18th or early 19th centuries.

After some 2-3 hours of TRULY panicked attempts to organize my notes, fill in some blanks and improve my talk, it was delivered at 3:00 pm on Saturday. Pretty good-sized crowd, actually (OY VEY IZ MEER!). I felt inadequate; thought it was choppy, not sequential, lame and feeble. Stood amazed, watching myself from "outta the body" and thinking "Who is this moron, and why does she know nothing?"

HOWEVER. Several people came up and said they'd enjoyed it, and there was one lady who said my theory of human beings requiring aesthetics was GENIUS! That did much for my feelings, I am here to tell you.

Briefly (in case anyone's interested) here's that theory, inspired by stuff I thought about during some 4th-grader tours at the Museum. Goes like this:

Everyone needs food, clothing, shelter, air and water, to sustain our bodies and maintain our very lives. No arguments there.

But I postulate (am I using that right?) that there is a sixth Human Need; while a lack of it might not actually cause the life to flow out of us, leaving us a little pile of empty clay like no food or water will, it must be a very basic thing indeed: this is "the need for lovely (or ornamental, decorative, aesthetically-pleasing) things. I base this on an inspiration that came to me looking at a many-hundreds-of-years-old clay pot made by the paleo-Indians who lived here in Wisconsin.

It's decorated. Very SIMPLY-decorated, but decorated nonetheless. SO I says to myself, "Self? I postulate that the decorated pot proves up my theory." To the kids I says, says I: "Does the food cooked in this pot taste better than it would if the pot were plain? (Insert chorus of young voices saying "Noooooo" here.) "Would the water in the clay pot be more refreshing if it were plain?" (See above.) "BUT!" says I, "wouldn't the woman who made it and all her family and friends take more pleasure in looking at it than if it were plain?"

And then they get it, and I'm usually satisfied to note that the adults along are looking like they get it too, all smiling and nodding and stuff.

Furthermore, in a true "mouths-of-babes" moment, one of the little tykes observed, "Couldn't it also show WHOSE pot it was?" I would've gladly taken the kid out for pizza then and there. "YES!" says I, overcome with the Sharp Degree of Getting-It-ness the kid showed.

That theory was what wowed my Mrs.-Non-Reenactor-at-the-Program. That, coupled with the statement (true) that the whole long extensive fascinating, earth-and-life-changing Fur Trade was initiated because of FASHION really tripped her trigger.

Going into Tour Guide Teacher mode: the beaver hats that were SO desired in France and England....the hats that inspired explorers and traders and hunters to come to the New World to find them in abundance -- those hats were NOT wanted because of any of their virtues other than STYLE. Add to that the fact that 60% of the trade items were of like aesthetic value primarily (cloth, silk ribbon, trade silver brooches, glass beads) and you have the universality of human beings, red AND white, to look cool. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So my lecture was poorly-delivered and scatty all over the place, but inspirational to one attendee and apparently (to my great relief) at least interesting to the others, and it seems to have been successful in some regard.

And it's DONE! Delivered, presented, lecturized and PAST TENSE! Therefore, I will now resume regular programming, and I am about to hunker down and WRITE. I have a few thousand NaNoWriMo words to get under my belt........and a few pages of my "real novel", as my Writing Group meets tomorrow. So no new word count to post tonight, but watch this space!

See that Wire?

2009-11-06T10:52:00.004-06:00

Well, I do. I'm down to it. It's nearly 11:00 am and I'm off to my conference. It will only take me about 45 minutes to get there. I can settle my things in our room (Mr Dearling tells me it's quite comfy...albeit "dormitory style" and he told me where the extra earplugs are; seems we're sharing quarters with a herd of buffalo.)

Then I will have some time to finish up and polish my lecture-presentation which is scheduled for 3:00 pm tomorrow. OH -- for those of you who may not be familiar with my peculiar North Dakota accent, a translation:

"finish up" = start looking through the material I have and making notes which must then be arranged into a cohesive order;

"polish" = START WORKING ON IT!!

Now...srsly, it's not quite that bad. I have an outline and some stuff to plug into it. But it suddenly appears to me that I may a great DEAL of very neat stuff that I may not have time to plug in. You know, the material that could've been really useful if I had been working on this all along, as I should have.

It's not that bad though, really. I am ~~stupidly~~ -- uhm... ~~denying the fact that~~ .... confident that I will have an interesting presentation, and that my friends will be entertained and pleased.

And now I have to go feed the unicorn and make sure there are new leaf slippers for the faeries.......

On the OTHER hand: Word Count to date: 11085 .

PLENTY to do!

2009-11-04T18:33:00.004-06:00

The minutes are ticking by -- on account of, that's what they do. And I have finished everything I need to do this evening EXCEPT packing for NAVC (easy, actually...quick) and finishing polishing up the den for our overnight guest. That's going to be quick too (it's called "shove it in the rubbermaid bin and take it down the basement"). VERY efficient. Run the vacuum around, pull down the futon and fit it with bedding -- done. (Insert big grin here.)

I'm looking forward to spending a LITTLE time with our guest, anyway - we're leaving tomorrow for the camp, but I imagine we'll have a nice conversation and cup of tea tonight. He's coming from Alaska (!) and I think that's two hours earlier so although his body arrives at 8:00 pm, his MIND will be arriving at 6:00 pm.

My presentation is going to be good. I still have a lot I want to do to polish it up but I think I have at least a little handle on it, and I'm fairly confident that it'll be interesting and entertaining, at least. Now - being as there ARE going to be people using PowerPoints I don't feel bad about taking Hermione with me ("Hermione" = eeepc netbook) so that when the 18th century folks have gone to bed I can whup her out and write on my novel.

Lest ye think that all this activity has led me to ignore my NaNo novel.......get this: at the funerary ceremony to bury the person who died before? My main character has just discovered that it may be....that it will be necessary to bury her baby (remember the birth?) WITH HER!! {{time allowed for great intake of gasping breath}} I KNOW!! I had no idea either!

I'm confident in my main character, though, he strikes me as the type to Do the Right Thing (after all, did he not take all his clothes off already?). We'll just have to see what happens next......and remember, I have no better idea than you do.

So - final count this evening: 8,020 words.

It's all in the PICTURES!

2009-11-03T20:41:00.003-06:00

I just figured out the biggest stumbling block preventing me from being a better Blogger (say THAT three times fast!). It's pictures......it's that I feel like I should have a few pictures in here to make it visually interesting, more attractive, &c. The problem is, it really does take me a while to get the pictures downloaded to Daisy and then resized and renamed and cropped and automatic-brightened-ified, and then put into the blog and repositioned and..........

Get the picture? (No pun intended...no wait, yes it was. Nevermind.) SO! For the next while, anyway, I'm going to write more and put in pictures less or not at all. I'm a little pressed for time for the next week on the one hand, and month on the other hand, so the pictures are going to be eschewed. BOY have I looked for an excuse to use that word.

Now then -- in the last month I have experienced the births of TWO babies to museum colleagues. Both were boys, both were first babies - and both are, if their pictures are indicative, just powerful handsome lads. The first was apparently born purple and then promptly turned red; he was born just before the Packer-Vikings game, and was determined to be an equal-opportunity fan. I have knitted him three caps: one was Badger red-and-white; one was Packer green-and-gold; the third was Viking purple-and-white. (I consulted with his Da, who approved the plan.)

TONIGHT, as a matter o' fact, I mean to knit a Badger cap and Packer cap for the other new boy. My friend Donna is coming over for our weekly "knit" (she crochets) and I 1) need a respite from my current project (see below); and 2) can finish both while we watch my few taped episodes of "Real Housewives of Wherever it Was". (I know, "I'm not the proper demographic for those shows." Nevermind.) The pattern, found by googling (I can't write or say that without chuckling) is called something like "Shower's in an Hour". Takes a tiny bit longer than that, but not much.

Also, in the last month, I lost a particularly dear friend, one whose extended family I consider my OWN extended family. He was a reenactor (medieval, fur trade, Civil War) and a renaissance man in the best way. He was artistic (he made laser-cut portraits in wood among MANY other things in many other ways). He had been a fireman and policeman (I learned this at the memorial; Joe was a lot of things but NEVER braggart). He had a radio show and was a proud, skillful and dedicated HAM radio operator, too. He did some writing, made MIGHTY-FINE barbecue and it seems to me I had some exceptional chili out by his place one time.

Joe had cancer; it's not like we didn't know this was coming -- of course, we ALL know it's coming, but that didn't make the loss any easier. I was struck by the symmetry, though - one of the babies mentioned above was born either the same day or the next day of his death.

So goes the Sacred Hoop, and I know that. Interesting when sorrow and joy pile up on each other like that.

OTHERWISE, here's what I'm doing right this very minute: preparing for a program to be delivered at NAVC this coming weekend. "NAVC" is the North American Voyageurs' Council - it's a weekend-long gathering of Fur Trade reenactors, some local and some from far away, and rather than a reenactment it's actually a series of programs and lectures, workshops and socializing. Some years it's been held at Fort William in Ontario, and it's been at Mr Sayer's Post (Pine City, MN) and this year it's down a bit south of home, so it's a short commute.

We're staying over, of course, because like many of our reenactments, they are true rendezvous in that we see friends who come together only once.........or perhaps twice.... a year. We don't want to go home at night and miss the opportunity for a good chinwag.

Now, the participants and presenters are "armchair historians" -- and let me tell you, they're MUCH better informed than anyone who comes by their knowledge under the aegis of Academia (another fine expression, wouldn't you say?). These folks are EXPERTS, and far better informed than most folks with their diplomas and certificates.

OK, so last year I volunteered to present a program on "Marriage in the Fur Trade" -- one aspect of the business was that cultures were exchanged along with the furs and axes and beads; the French and French-Canadians married native girls and had Metis children. "Metis" is defined as "mixed blood, of combined French or French-Canadian and Native American ancestry." Fascinating topic, one I think about a lot (portraying as I do the native wife of a voyageur) and one about which I have some very fine books in my library.

Remember I said I volunteered to prepare this program, at NAVC last year? Yeah well, all year while at weddings and so on, I've been blithely telling myself "No worries, darn thing isn't until November." Ladies and gennulmens, I draw your attention to that calendar on your wall, the one hanging right there above your computer. See what it says? If you haven't looked at it in a couple of days it might say "OCTOBER". (Operative words: couple of days). If you HAVE, why then it says -- all together now:

NOVEMBER

So the time to complete the presentation is -- last April. But....seems I didn't do it. So I'm doing it NOW. THIS MINUTE. (Ooops....wait...right now I'm blogging. But you know what I mean.) So I have a matter of HOURS (interspersed with stuff like going to the Museum, sleeping, going to the bif....) to lay out, study, practice and polish this presentation. And might I add, when I'm NOT actually working on it, these minutes, I assure it's foremost in my mind, standing hand-in-hand with blind panic.

There is a Saving Grace: I realized, in the throes of sweaty terror last night, while I was trying to sort out some facts, that: a) my audience are people whom I know, friends, fellow reenactors; b) they're not there to be educated, to get the PhD-level information; they're there to be informed, entertained, and to share thoughts and ideas; c) I'll get a lot further in these last hours of preparation by pulling out the bits I find fascinating, interesting -- and by ENJOYING the process. I had an epiphany: if I don't have fun preparing this, I won't have fun presenting it....and my friends sure as HECK won't have any fun listening to it. That went a LONG way toward my having a good talk ready when the time comes.

And the other thing I'm doing now is: the aforementioned NaNoWriMo. In case you missed it (I can wait while you go follow the link, if you like....) it's an annual Challenge to write a 50,000-word novel between 120:01 AM on November 1 through midnight on November 30. In order to achieve this, one must write 1,667 words a day; of course, if you write more than that one day you can write fewer the next -- that's the average . Mind you, it's QUANTITY you're after, NOT QUALITY.

You might think that ANYone who would sign on for such a thing is ~~totally screwed~~ .... ~~severely demented~~ .....a tad unusual. But it's huge fun, and a great exercise, and is actually a thrilling and fascinating thing to do.

Unless one is preparing an hour-long program on a topic with which one has only the thinnest information at the start. What I have in my head: the French and French-Canadian traders and trappers married native girls, which resulted in the rich exchange of culture amid the furs and kettles, the axes and silk ribbons.

That won't take an hour to say. Hence, the above-mentioned labor.

Having said that, I am now going to return to my studies...but with the intention (and boy oh BOY am I going to have an easy slide to Hell) of blogging here now and again, albeit devoid of any photos , for which I beg your indulgence.

Now then, hand me my copy of Many Tender Ties , which is a pleasurable read as well as being a rich source of the very information I need.

Oh -- and I'll post my word counts at the end of each post, even if not daily.

Current word count: 5,426

And still it turns....

2009-10-26T13:01:00.013-05:00

...the Wheel of Life. If I put in everything I've been up to, doing, seeing, hearing and eating since I last posted you would a) be here until NEXT Monday; and b) give up and go make a sandwich. So what you're going to have here is oddments, bits, reflections and observations. And my intention to settle in and keep up better than I have been. I attribute it to Summer with all its vagaries of activity, travel and so on. Now it is, surely as I sit here, AUTUMN. My favorite season, it's the time when I gather my stuff around me and prepare to hunker down for the winter.

"Hunkering down" involves vast amounts of hot tea, piles of delicious books, hours of knitting - often accompanied by movie-watching, and generally being inside because of snow, for which I am most earnestly wishing. Don't get me wrong, I don't like driving in winter much, but if we really have to go somewhere Mr. Dearling ("Fearless Driver") takes care of it. For my part (and I've said this before) I drive through town in the winter rather than on our Beltline, as I adhere to the thought that, if I slide off the road, I mean for it to land me in someone's yard who will make me a cup of hot tea and say "Tsk Tsk" a lot after calling Mr. Dearling and AAA. If I'm lucky they'll have cats and a big afghan too. Just sayin'.

Now then - first things first.

This stunning portrait is Le Papa, typifying the elegance that is Steam Punk. As it turns out, he's fine-looking in any historical period, but this is "what it is."

Here we see L'Oncle (on the left), La Maman in the center, and on the right, Le Papa again. They were in one of the myriad little out-of-the-way nooks and crannies in the mysterious site of the wedding, and all was lantern-lit and dim, adding to the wonderful ambience. The googles on L'Oncle are almost du rigeur for Steam Punk, and my friend J. was resplendent in her turn-of-the-century stylish frock and hat. As for M. - well, some men can wear hats and some cannot. Of those who CAN, some are restricted to only one type. (Mr. Dearling looks fabulous in his toque!) But M.? The top hat speaks for itself and he sports a tricorn with every bit as much fashion.

And here you see....

...my darling girls. On the right, L., who played American Girls with me (she'll ever be remembered fondly for that, probably to her frustration); on the left her "flip side", her mirror image, her counterpart from over the sea. They look "of a type", and just as their taste in style and hair color match, so too do their notions and ideas, their interests and skills, and they look to me quite an ideal match, and their actions seemed to bear it out.

One more:

Some traditions remain in spite of all other factors. The girls cut their cake(s) - three of them! They were DELICIOUS (remember I said I tasted both?) and we were lucky enough to be given some to take away with us. Dare I say, it didn't make it home to Madison. NOTE: see the beautiful roses? Well! They looked very realistic indeed...and they were made out of marzipan! Yes, you heard me, ALMOND PASTE. Some people view that as purely decorative and keep the little marzipan fruits that appear around Christmas on display. I might have said this before, but I. EAT. MARZIPAN.

Whether or not I said it before I'll say it again (and hopefully ne'er repeat it in public nevermore). Oh - and if you're of a delicate constitution you might wish to skip these lines. I've been known to buy a cellophane tube of Odense brand marzipan...and peel off the cellophane and eat it like a banana.

OK - the rest of you can look again. By the way, do NOT try this at home; there are 40 calories in one almond. Forget the sugar and all the rest of those almonds.

And so you've finally seen just a glimpse of the wonderful delight that was our celebration with dear friends AND our introduction to something fun that we hadn't heard of before.

I will now resume your regular programming.

In which we attend the Second Wedding....

2009-09-18T10:57:00.003-05:00

The dictionary definition of "Wedding" is: "the marriage ceremony with its attendant festivities." Pretty broad. (Or - I suppose one could say that's sometimes a feature of a wedding, a "pretty broad"; sorry, there's no excuse for that. I'm going to sit in time-out now, one minute for every year of my age. See you tomorrow.)

But the second wedding has turned into more than a lovely collection of memories, more than thinking back on a nice event and time spent with good friends. The second wedding has opened a window, allowed a glimpse, and then opened a previously-unknown door behind which I've found a new delight. Let me explain:

First - it was in Columbus, Ohio, home of a beautiful replica of Columbus' Santa Maria and the home of our longt-time good friends, J and M. They're reenactors too - for the most part, their era is a good century before ours: the 17th century. Think Plimoth Plantation. M works very much in the 21st century and is probably the most computer-literate person I know. J works for a company that publishes darling and very popular little cookbooks.

Furthermore, M looks as perfect in his 17th century garb as one can. He has long hair, a neat little pointed beard, and is the very image of one of Columbus' men as I can picture. J is one of those merry little women whose skill with a needle would vie with any of her sisters of the earlier century, and when "decked out" they present a most admirable picture. I met them years ago (perhaps 18?) on line, in a realtime chat room on Compuserve, and to this day I "meet" J once a week for an hour's gab. (We're joined by at least one of the other original members too, and even though it's only one hour out of my busy life I look forward to it eagerly and miss it when I have to miss.)

OK - these people have a daughter, L. Years ago when we occasionally got together "F2F" L and I would play together with our American Girl dollies. She was a child then, and I was.....well, me. Anyway let me say that the child of these creative, historical, talented and artistic people (did I mention that M plays with a Celtic band and is a self-taught brilliant fiddler?) is herself a unique girl and always has been. In her young adult life her personal style has been what might be called "artistic punk" -- she's an individual and I love her style.

Well! She attended college and emerged with credentials in things like "Computer-Generated Images" and that sort of thing (all beyond my 66-year-old comprehension but VERY 21st century artistic). She loves anime, manga - that sort of thing.

During the last couple of years, it seems she met a girl living in London (online) and they became fast friends - and then more. C came from London to spend some time in Columbus....I think over Christmas, perhaps...and they discovered that their connection was real and true - and they became engaged. My reaction? Couldn't deny the truth: L wasn't a little girl any more and I'd have to find another girlie to play dolls with. Also I was delighted because I love this girl, and knowing that she had truly found a soulmate was very satisfying. The whole online thing? It's the 21st century and MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE has been that everyone I've ever met has been "exactly as advertised" and I've enjoyed meeting people and becoming friends with no preconceived ideas about them based on prejudices of appearance. I believe - I know - that you can come to know someone really well without ever laying actual eyes on them.......and I'd have to say I don't think I know anyone whose feelings of friendship would be changed at the sight of the person "F2F".

OK, I'll set aside my soapbox - but as I do, I'll comment that I really think eventually these innerwebs will allow for friendships across geographic and time lines and prejudices about physical attributes will diminish and there will be peace. Not in my lifetime, but you know - I think it's out there.

Back to the second wedding. As it turns out, it really WAS a "second wedding"; not only the second we attended this summer, but the second for the Darling Girls. You see, they were married in Britain (if memory serves, they had a lovely site in Ireland) with C's family present - and because we're still behind the Motherland in some ways here in the Colonies, their union is recognized there. But they - and WE (L's family and friends) were delighted when plans were made for them to have a wedding here so that WE could witness and share their joy.

The wedding was held at the Center for Science and Industry (COSI) in Columbus; we didn't get to explore the whole place, but the portion reserved for the wedding is a large hands-on area sort of like a set for Indiana Jones -- all rocky mazes and a stone castle tower and so on.

Now ... there was another element to this wedding, which was absolutely NEW to Mr Dearling and me. We were told to wear our 19th century apparel, because the theme, the flavor, the soul of this wedding was to be -- STEAM PUNK! We had no idea what that meant; we had never heard those two words together in a context. We dressed, we went to the COSI, we found the site -- and discovered that almost everyone (elder relatives excused) were in costume, and we were introduced to this "Steam Punk". We saw Victorian clothing, we saw leather helmets (think aviator). We saw corsets and frills and lace.

The wedding itself was brief and lovely - the officiant was well-spoken, the vows clear and the mood merry and reverent and FUN! When the ceremony was over there were pictures and we were allowed to examine the fabulous environs. We then repaired to the nearby Spaghetti Warehouse (apparently a chain; wonder how we could lobby for one here?) where we all sat down to an absolutely DELICIOUS dinner! There was cake (two kinds, and yes I tried both - in spite of being VERY full I couldn't resist and didn't regret it).

To summarize the Wedding portion of our trip, it was as different from the Montana wedding as it could be in pretty much every way. And yet - it was every bit as wonderful, romantic, delightful and endearing in every way. I LOVED meeting C, who strikes me as the other part of the puzzle piece that is L; seeing the girls together was such fun. Born on opposite sides of the ocean, but of an age, they complement each other. They're MODERN, they're now, they're the 21st century where technology and romance are blended. It was a revelation.

Mr Dearling was absolutely INTRIGUED with the whole concept of Steam Punk and could hardly wait to get home and talk about it to the Lovely Daughter - I think her only surprise was that we'd never encountered it before. She's really a 20th century girl, but entered the 21st young enough to "get with it".

And me? Well let me tell YOU, ladies and gennulmens. If I had were 20 years old now I would SO be there. Everything about Steam Punk appeals - I've been listening to the music on Pandora since we got home. I would LOVE to dress that way -- although I have no delusions and will continue the Happy Hippie that I am (I can hear the Lovely Daughter's sigh of relief from here). But from my perspective, the introduction to this Steam Punk thing has been like a little gift -- and of course, once you discover something you recognize that it's been there all along. "Wild, Wild West" can be nothing else (what a great movie) and I'd have to say, so is "Stardust", one of my favorites. I think one reason I like the whole ... what does Wiki call it? Subculture ... is because it's PRETTY. The clothing styles are colorful and interesting and fun. The whole punk-torn-jeans-dirty-shirts deal didn't do it for me.

The rest of the visit, by the way, included meeting for the first time another longtime online friend, a fellow reenactor too but of the Civil War persuasion -- she picked me up at our motel at 11:00 pm the night before the wedding and we found an all-night eatery and stayed up knitting and gabbing and enjoying until she brought me back about 4:30 am! (Lucky I have no Circadian rhythm; had no ill effects at all.)

And the day after the wedding M and J took us to the (really truly) world-famous Columbus Zoo, where we saw for ourselves the darling wee baby elephant from Zooborns playing with his blue beachball and a LOT of other things; the enclosures for the animals are absolutely grand. Every animal we saw looked relaxed and content - and the huge bears told me (I can communicate with bears, you know) that the food's great, the accommodations perfection - and they have a great health care plan.

You've no doubt noticed the absence of pictures -- well, there ARE some, and I WILL post them, with minimal text (having said it all here). But right now I'm going to put on "Abney Park" on You Tube.

In which we attend the First Wedding....

2009-09-02T19:46:00.015-05:00

Now that I've decided to just reminisce about "My Summer Vacation" and not be bound by chronology, &c, I want to describe two entirely happy events I enjoyed, the first in July, the second in August.

I'm a fan of weddings; Mr Dearling is fond of saying we both really appreciate them; after all, between us we've had five of 'em. (Arf arf, it is to larf.) The adventure with Willie wasn't your typical failed marriage, of course - and had the Fates rearranged their strands I expect we'd be together yet. But they did rearrange the strands. Hmm...entrelac, perhaps? No - clearly Fair Isle. Oh bosh.

My second marriage was a hippie experience, and I did learn from it. And had that not occurred I wouldn't have my Youngest, my #2 Son, my Descendant of Vikings, and he's reward beyond any unpleasantness.

And regarding Mr Dearling? Well, I'm a believer in Karma, and all's I can say is, I must have plucked the toddler Jesus out of the path of a Roman chariot and returned Him to His mother absolutely unharmed - and my reward is that Mr Dearling happened along in the perfect place at the perfect time. (I know how she must've felt; we Jewish Mothers are all alike.)

SO! Two weddings. Both were, as described, the joining of two loving souls, in exceptional surroundings, amidst groups of very diverse people who shared but one thing in common: a sincere love for the youngsters and an appreciation of the privilege of being called upon to act as witness.

The first was in Montana, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains. This was taken between our hotel and the site of the ceremony. (OK, so there were sheep there too; enhanced the whole scene for me.) It was in the afternoon, in a little area next to a small restaurant. There was a stage area and a barbecue area....chairs had been set up and behind them tables were set beneath canopies. Following the ceremony a dinner was served from the barbecue, and one of the choices was a grilled salmon. It was heavenly. Heavenly.

The bride is the daughter of dear friends. She's a college graduate and has been happily employed working in the parks doing things like clearing and improving the paths, maintaining the trails, &c. Her parents and "our side" tend toward the academic and Madisonian - and her sister is a professor in Nebraska. The groom is her fellow worker and his people come from Missouri, as I gather it. I'm not sure what their daily lives are like, as Mr Dearling and I had never before seen any of them at all. In fact, we had only met the young husband on one other occasion.
NOTE: we'd been invited to an alleged engagement party to meet him - which was actually a surprise 40th Wedding Anniversary party for our friends, engineered by their daughters.

As I took my seat, I realized that the two groups of people would likely never have crossed paths, conversed or met -- but the Darling Children of each family had met and fallen love, thus drawing together this gathering of diverse people.

As you can see, the dress was casual and the company congenial. A friend of the couple played beautiful music, and the officiant was also their friend - there had been a question about whether he would be able to perform the ceremony, as he was awaiting a call to go join his fellow firefighters at a site in the mountains.

The youngsters had sent out a request by email, in advance: following a lovely tradition, they had selected seven people to write a prayer for their wedding, to be read aloud during the ceremony.

WE had been honored with the privilege of writing a prayer. I've had a variety of honors through my life, but I have to say, I was deeply moved by the request.

As the wedding began, the prayers were read. The first was from the bride's grandmother, Charlotte. Charlotte is a fantastic and beautiful "New York Jew" - she lived all her life in the city but now, in her 90s (you'd never believe it to see her) she lives in Madison. She wasn't able to travel to the wedding, but recorded her message, and it was loving and strong and thoughtful. I love Charlotte - we see her when we celebrate Chanukah and Passover with her family. Hearing her voice was NEXT-BEST to having her there. The other prayers were delivered by members of his family and her family (her sister's was particularly endearing) - and last, Mr Dearling read our prayer. It was a joint effort - I wrote it, he read it (in his superb storyteller's voice).

This is The Moment.

They are now married, and live in Livingston among the mountains, working in the beauty of the mountains. At this moment one could feel the affection and delight flowing toward them from every person there. Many of their dear and close friends and colleagues who live there make up their circle, and will provide the security and network on behalf of all who love them.

The weather was lovely - it was a bit overcast but warm, and there were a bunch of dogs dancing and chasing around the crowd, adding to the general air of festivity.

The meal was delicious and the company terrific! We enjoyed with a lot of the lad's family and enjoyed watching the little children running and playing, and listening to the extraordinary music - and admiring the newlyweds.

We've learned something in our own 23 years of a blissful, companionable and close marriage: couples who are married , truly joined, lean together to speak, and touch one another from time to time - just a pat on the arm or a brushing of hands. We've observed this in many couples we know to be "well-married" (and had the same between us pointed out by friends). And we saw these youngsters doing the same. This is not the hand-holding and hugging and embracing of courting couples or NEW newlyweds; these are the tender connections...almost unconscious...of the truly-married.

The next morning there was a lovely breakfast at the hotel we stayed at, and we got another opportunity to share in the fine company of all of these people and the young couple one more time before we all - and they - resumed the gentle flow of their daily lives with all of its components.

For our part -- our adventure continued with a few days of car repair (enjoyed in Livingston), my first-ever visit to Yellowstone (including knitting at Old Faithful and a very close viewing of a handsome young grizzly...details will follow) and then our journey back through Dakota (including a visit to Wall Drug; oh come ON, you can't drive through South Dakota and not get your free drink of cold water at Wall Drug!!). That's a story for another time, as it deserves a few lines.

Here are a few more pictures of the lovely, friendly and totally wonderful mountain wedding; I will then describe the SECOND wedding in ITS separate post, in order to do it equal justice:

The First Dance

The son dances with his mother....

The daughter dances with her father.

A wonderful time was had by all - and a new household is born. And they are creative, clever, good-humored stewards of the lands around them, for the benefit of us all.

Good News, Bad News - Oddments

2009-08-26T11:18:00.006-05:00

Yes, yes, it's been a (long) while. You know how, when you're doing something suspect, you look around, and if other people are doing it too you don't feel so bad? Well, some of my favorite bloggers haven't been keeping up very well either. I've decided it's a summer thing, when those of us, especially in this Midwestern climate, make the most of being able to go outdoors without which we're wearing an entire 19th century immigrant's wardrobe. (That's what I wear to BED in the winter, but nevermind.)

So I'm going piecemeal here, bear with me.

Bad news: common wisdom says that people with false teeth can't eat corn on the cob.

This would be an ear of very fresh Wisconsin sweet corn. It is sitting on my favorite fresh-ear-of-sweet-corn-eating plate. It has been buttered with a proper butterknife (seen behind it to the right). It has JUST been buttered, because if you enlarge the picture you can see the butter JUST beginning to seep in between those fragrant, sweet kernels in there.

Good news: Neener neener, people with false teeth (that would be MOI) not only can eat corn-on-the-cob, they (or in this case, MOI) can eat about four ears, clean as a whistle {note to self: look that expression up} in an embarrassingly SHORT period of time. Those ads you see for denture adhesive? TRUE!!

Bad news: It's not possible to take pictures of hummingbirds unless you're a famous fancy photog with a bazillion dollars' worth of fancy-schmancy cameras and a lot of luck.

Good news: Neener neener, yes you CAN, even if you're an aging hippie with a (admittedly very nice) digital camera with anti-tremor feature....and a lot of luck. See him there, on the left? Not a great picture, perhaps, but this was only my second viewing of actual hummingbirds EVAR!

NOTE: We'd gone for a bit of a jaunt and stopped at a place in Nelson, Wisconsin to eat (one of those terrific places that locals frequent, with someone's granny in the kitchen - if they knew about her she would SO be on America's Top Chef or wossname).

Bad news: I've been a pretty rotten blogger, but one with The Very Best Intentions; Good news: I've sorted things out, and realize that the adventures of the past month or so would've been detailed in amazing detail, if you know what I mean, had I written as I intended, at the time. And ladies and gennulmens, I think a good deal of it would qualify as "T. M. I!"

Now that everything's been filtered out, I can cheerfully write about what remains in my mind: the high points, the cool things, the good stuff. So that's what I'm going to do.

Stories to come: Our trip to Livingston, Montana (with stops en route, including a visit to Minot, North Dakota, where I got pictures of the house my parents lived in when my sister was born - AND the house they lived, having come up in the world a bit, I think, where I was born. )

That trip included a Grand Enlightening of Yours Truly - involving my surprise at a certain hotel room...followed by the realization that I was being petty and petulant and really DREADFUL - followed by the realization that I'd learned a valuable lesson.

That same trip included the nicest, sweetest wedding I believe I've had the pleasure to attend (there will be pictures) and it was our privilege to have been included.

There was a silver-lined mishap which I enjoyed more than Mr Dearling, but he didn't mind, and enjoyed my enjoyment. There was also my first ever experience in Yellowstone (there IS a picture of me knitting at Old Faithful - I ain't no slacker) and a truly (I mean truly) deeply-spiritual experience with a grizzly. There are pictures of that too - Mr Dearling's show the bear grazing along nice as you please; my pictures show a brown smear against a green backdrop. The camera's anti-tremor feature can only do so much.

As we got home just two days before having to leave for our favorite historical reenactment at Grand Portage -- I didn't go. Mr Dearling did, carrying my affectionate hugs for everyone. I need more nesting time between far trips, I can't be away from my little house, little stash, (!) little kitties for such a short time before leaving again.

But! We're off again (I'm re-oriented and ready to go) to a wonderful wedding this coming weekend which will involve merriment, a ceremony, a reception in a fabulous museum-y-type place, and the chance to hang with a very favorite re-enacting (and otherwise) couple whose company we relish but usually only share online. I'll bring back pictures of that too, and I expect it'll be as wonderful as the Montana wedding, though very, very different. We've been asked to wear our 1857 togs, and I always have a bit of extra fun flouncing about in me hoops and furbelows!

It'll be the first time my friend will see me actually wearing that gown - and she made it for me. I'm ALWAYS proud to wear it (which is why I work at lining up programs for the museum requiring it) so it'll be fun to show her how grand it is.

Otherwise all's generally well. There HAS been knitting. I did NOT get the afghan for this wedding couple finished (well....or you know, started ) but I whomped out a few warshrags of simple design, three bowls to felt (results shown later), finished the day-glo toque and started a pair of socks. Oh - and I made a couple Calorimetries. And I've made two little knit amulet bags to tuck in with the wedding present this weekend. AND there are two ladies in my circle (my boss and the wife of a colleague) who are either expecting or have been hitting the pizza WAAAAY too much. No...they're really preggers, I'm sure. Anyway, as SOON as the little tykes are born I'm going to brave widdle sweaters, I think -- and/OR widdle blankies. But I've seen one (a sweater) which was made by Crazy Aunt Purl that she insists is easy (in spite of her protestations to the contrary the woman is a KNITTER!!) and I may give it a shot. I think it's called something like "Five-Hour Sweater", which translates to "Five-Week" for me, but that's OK, and I have managed to make the "Shower-in-an-Hour" preemie cap in an afternoon. NOTE: I have a Baby Surprise sweater on the needles somewhere; I don't believe it'll ever again see the light of day.

For those who may not remember: my Yiddish upbringing prevents my even casting ON a baby garment until the little copy of Winston Churchill is present and pooping. Superstition - or, in the words of Tevye, who was clearly patterned after my great-grandfather (whom I never knew but nevermind) "TRADITION!!" And yes, I hope songs from "Fiddler on the Roof" are stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

So -- watch this space for Recollections and Photographs. I've seen the geeese.

So Far, So TERRIFIC!

2009-07-28T21:25:00.008-05:00

OK, so all my thinking I was going to have a lot of time in these motels and could write every night and all like that? Hmph! Like THAT could happen. Now, there ARE pictures, lots - I'm emptying the camera every day to keep up, but as I said, I can't figure out how to get the software that I have at home, and so can't seem to edit them (as in, make them the right size, crop, &c - I have a good program on Daisy but nothing here....)

THEREFORE! No pictures here, I'll do some kind o' album affair when I get home. For now - just the synopsis-slash-story.

Any idea how FRUSTRATI NG it is to not be able to post the pictures with this??? I am SO chewing on my knuckes!

Had a nice enough time in Minot. A trip to the library scoredmy parents' address in 1938, probably their first home there - and the home they lived in in 1945, which meant MY first home too. (I just thought of that!) We also went to the newspaper. Although none of the old-timers who knew my father or had worked with him was still there, when we said I was DaleHarriet GOLDISH, the WHOLE STAFF came running out to meet the daughter of SIDNEY S. GOLDISH!!

OK. I made that up. It was more like pleasant smiles and nods - but Mr Dearling thought to ask if they had anything like maybe a coffee cup reading "Minot Daily News" and the Pleasant Young Lady found the publicity guy who showered us with pens, keychains, two datebooks with "Minot Daily News" in gold on the covers (ok, so they were for 2009; they're MEMENTOS, people, they're FINE). He also gave us one of those neat small fleece blankets, with "Minot Daily News" embroidered on the corner! No one else in Madison has one of those! (Or....hmmm - if you do, drop me a line, eh?)

After all that excitement, we decided to head out toward Glendive, MT, where we had reservations for the night. Mr Dearling realized he'd forgotten his eyeshade, so we stopped at a Walmart to find one. And came out with:

A peach; a pear; a tube of my favorite dental adhesive (see, it has this mint....nevermind); a pair of Susan Bates #8 long single-points (OK, so I started the Calorimetry on too-short needles, you wanna make something of it?); THREE balls of "Peaches & Cream" (figured I might knit up a couple dishrags if I got tired of the other stuff); half-a-dozen chicken tenders; half-a-pound of potato wedges (Mr Dearling LOVES him some Walmart wedges); --- oh, and a SLEEP MASK! HAH, you thought I was gonna say we forgot that, didn't you? Well we DID-unt.

We found our Super-8 in Glendive. It didn't look too promising, there was a video rental in the lobby....but the good-natured clerk assured me that the wifi was really good - the router was in the ceiling of the first floor, just under the floor of OUR ROOM (which was the best one in the whole place)and besides that, "the bunch of seismologists just down the hall have all KIND o' computer stuff, and they haven't complained even ONCE!" We found our digs, very adequate, I turned on ol'Hermione and.....YES! FABULOUS innerwebs connection. Faith restored. -- and last blog entry achieved.

Unremarkable breakfast ("continental breakfast" can mean anything from storebought dry doughnuts to make-your-own waffles - this was the former)and we continued on toward Livingston, about six hours.

We ARE in cow country - beautiful rolling hills a-crawl (a-graze?) with beefycows, many with calvies at their sides. Next stop, Billings, and we decide to stop at the Visitors' Center to get the lay of the land (as in, "any yarn shops around here?")

There was a lovely big statue, a cowboy on horseback and two longhorns...nothing for it but a photo opportunity (watch this space). We had the good luck to visit the Visitors'Center on Doughnut Day! The very nice fellow at the desk gave us all sorts of information -- INCLUDING the address of a yarn shop!

AS I don't want any single post to be too long, (and I'm feeling rather cliff-hangerish) I'm closing here and will pick up the adventure after knittin' a few rows. After all, this IS at least theoretically a knittin' blog, and I feel obligated to pick up the needles now and then.

On the needles: a Calorimetry, a sock, the day-glo toque {{blink blink}}and a dishcloth.

The Journey Begins -- and continues!

2009-07-24T02:21:00.007-05:00

NOTE: Remember I said I'd be bloggin' from the road? Well - I did. Tuesday night we stayed at a Super 8, which as we all know ALL have "free high-speed internet". And it did, but the signal was "low" and "very low" and dicey. Still, I carried on. I wrote a wonderful, clever, humorous, insightful and entertaining blog. Easily the best blog I've ever written; perhaps the best that ANYone has ever written.

And it disappeared. Gone. PPFFFTTT!! I didn't believe it - I rebooted, checked, rebooted again, checked again, and OH YES, ladeeeeez and gennulmens, there was the title (lawsy it was clever...can't bring it to mind just here, but do take my word for it) and the first line. Only. Sooooo....this is the first of my travelblogs. Again. (I don't delude myself, I'll never again attain that original brilliance - just {{sniff}} carry on.

Although this has NEVER happened before, we got out of our Outreach program Tuesday a little later than we'd intended. {koff koff} We hurried home to feed the cats before leaving town - ignore the verklempt lady behind the curtain - and headed out. First stop: REI to return some shoes (Mr Dearling) and then a quick run into Target for the monthly Rx refill (me). THEN we were actually On Our Way. EN ROUTE. Travellin'.

We drove to the Twin Cities where we stayed overnight with my darlin' sister-in-law, and Wednesday morning, we turned our noses west and headed out. Oh....I discovered that I had apparently forgotten my cordless mouse which I much enjoy, so before leaving St Paul we stopped at Target (there're lots of them there) and I got a wonderful new small mouse for Hermione with my gift card from the last birthday.

NOTE: I actually DID manage to sort, pack, find patterns, find needles, pack, remember clean underwear, find yarns and highlighters and so on -- although I did seem to pass over the mouse. Nevermind.

There was scenery-admiring, dozing and knitting happening on my side of the car and driving happening on Mr Dearling's side of the car. We got to Moorehead, MN and stopped for lunch at a Burger King. Mr Dearling hoped they had the same "Double Whopper for $1.39" special we had to home, but they did not. So he appeased himself with two "Whopper-Junior-for-a-Dollarses" and for MY part, I had a pair of "burger shots". These would be teetiny hamburgers of the approximate dimensions of the White Castles in days of yore. We used to say "they hide the patty under the pickle". Doesn't matter, the teetiny burgers were tasty, and with the rather superior fries, were a fine meal.

NOTE: This is NOT a food critic blog; however it may appear to be on acccount of I sometimes ~~obsess~~ think about food and eateries and so on, and I have been known to comment that an event can succeed or fail, depending entirely on the nosh.

Our first Planned Destination was the Red River Zoo in Fargo, NorthDakota. That was my fault: I showed Mr Dearling pictures on line of newborn triplet RED PANDAS at that zoo. Those are his favorite cutest-ever animals; nothing for it, being as we were going to be in the area ("area" in this case being "North Dakota") we went there.

Well - there WERE triplet Red Pandas...but they're not going to be on exhibit until the end of August. HOWEVER! The trip was way worth it anyway because they have all kind o' unusual and rare and endangered animals there and they are a link in this worldwide chain of zoos who have breeding programs to try to prevent the entirely-disapearingness of some of these animals. Also, they had a married pair of peafowl strutting around on the paths amongst the people....and they had a tiny peewee peachick with them.

NOTE: there ARE pictures; however, I can't figure out how come I can't "edit" them to fix their size, brightness &c on Hermione so will have to do something of an albumoid deal when I get home.

We then continued toward Minot, and saw a sign indicating two towns coming up: WHEATland and CHAFFee. How cool is that?

By the way.....Interesting Observation: the speed limit in North Dakota on the highway is 75 mph !! This means that one can actually - and legally - drive about 80-85 mph. We did notice, though, that at speeds higher than THAT, we began hearing this really weird noise......coming from the passenger seat.

NOTE: it is difficult driving west in the late afternoon, especially when there is a haze of tiny bugs beset by bad karma, and some pollen-oid matter. Mr Dearling, who Prepares for Contingencies, stopped and cleaned off the windscreen with Windex.

Upon arriving in Minot we had the good fortune of finding ourselves right next to the railroad tracks at the depot just as the Empire Builder was pulling out for its journey west. It was really exciting seeing the train, and because there were a few lights on in the people cars (as opposed to cattle cars) I could see in, where folks both upstairs and down were settling in for their trip. I would LOVE to take a train trip across country, even half-way, and be able to sleep in a pullman car and eat in the dining car, &c. I hear, however, that it is FRIGHTFULLY spendy, but a girl can dream.

Also...car travel with one's Best Beloved (who does all the driving while one knits, reads, writes, &c, see above) is a very fine way to travel indeed.

As the hour is now late (although not as late as it used to be, being as we're now in Mountain Time) I will leave the Minot Experience to relate tomorrow evening (allowing as how the place we're staying THERE....for the three days around the wedding....says it has GOOD WiFi in the attractive lobby, which will suit me (and Hermione) just fine.

So ends this day's travel. (NOTE: the free WiFi at this Super 8 is.....SUPER! And it's in Glendive, MT, if you happen to be passing this way.)

Preparing for Panic Mode...

2009-07-20T16:01:00.009-05:00

It is Time. Officially. Monday-before-we-leave-on-Tuesday-evening. Which means that I should be efficiently starting to pack the things I'll need for about twelve days' journey away from home. I believe I may have commented before, how I feel about travelling. My sister was in the womb before me (she's six years older) and she took ALL the Wanderlust Genes. She and her husband have lived in Paris and Florence, have visited Africa and India and in South America. It's been perfect as they've been able to afford it - and my brother-in-law is an accomplished photographer, so he's taken advantage of their perambulations.

I, on the other hand, have a Taproot. I like my little nest. My Home. I like being able to get up in the middle of the night, go into the kitchen and grab a nosh out of the fridge, meander to the bathroom petting cats on the way and then going back to bed -- all without opening my eyes.

This is not to say that I dislike travel. We've been some wonderful places, Mr Dearling and I and I relish each and every day and experience. But it's finite. I think the longest time I can be from home is probably three weeks. As we turned onto our street after our amazing three-week trip to Nova Scotia (and I wouldn't have missed an instant of it) I said, "Isn't it grand, coming back to our own digs?" and HE said "I could've gone right past Seminole and kept going."

That was a Learning Moment - one which has not affected our relationship one jot. Sometimes he goes off on a walkabout (or more accurately "motorcycle-about" or "drive-about") for a few days or a couple of weeks. While he's gone, he throws his sleeping bag down where he is, sometimes not even bothering with a tent. He lives on peanut butter or cheese sandwiches and he hikes and walks -- sometimes skis -- and has delicious and halcyon days.

For my part, while he's gone, I keep odd hours, spend most of the time on the couch watching endless teevee and eating things he's not fond of: shrimp, frozen dinners, stuff like that. And I read, and knit, and doze with the cats....in short, I have delicious and halcyon days.

But when things like this come up, I'm excited. The purpose of this jaunt is because we've been honored with an invitation to the wedding of the darling daughter of dear friends. She's a very outdoorsy girl, marrying an equally-outdoorsy guy, amidst the beauty of the mountains which they both adore. They live there, too, for quite some time, so it's also THEIR mountains. The bride asked if I'd write a Wedding Prayer - they're having pretty much a secular ceremony, but asked seven friends to write prayers for them. (Where there is love, the ceremony is spiritual anyway -- intimately spiritual.)

So we're leaving tomorrow after a museum program. And I'm packing. Now, as a largely non-travelling type, I'm inexperienced here. But I'm taking a pair of sweatpants in case I NEED something of a pant-y type. And I'm taking four dresses (plus the one I'll wear) and three aprons, as that's my Daily Dress (a couple of my dresses will serve nicely for the mountain wedding, too). I've made lists: pills, dental stuff, earrings, brush/comb and so forth. I'm pretty confident about all that.

BUT!! See, this is a GRAND knitterly opportunity. Mr Dearling loves to drive, and he had a very fine GPS unit. It's between his ears. He reads maps like some people read novels. Which means, all the windshield time is KNITTING TIME!!

So the TRICKY PACKING will be determining 1) what yarns, needles and projects to take; which (photocopied) patterns to tuck in; being sure all necessary tools are present. 2) All current books being read, some for study and some for pleasure -- and which magazines as well....and of course the Guidebook of Yarn Shops all over the country. (Mr Dearling is not averse to my shouting "OVER THERE!! IT SAYS 'YARN'!!") 3) Writing tools. I have stories in the hopper, I have the beginnings of a novel which my Writers' Group said MUST BE DONE. SO that means notebooks, sticky notes, highlighters, pencils....and hard copies of some WIPs.

I've gotten a slightly-bigger notebook for writing things down outside of my blogosphere book, too. And of course.....of COURSE!!...I'm taking Hermione. I thought about taking Daisy, too, but Hermione's the man for the job,and Lovely Daughter can take Daisy while we're gone.

NOTE: In case you missed earlier posts: Daisy is my beloved Dell laptop, large of screen and wondrous. I love her. She is my cherished one. Aaah, but then there's Hermione. She's a teetiny netbook, notebook -- itty bitty laptop. Mr Dearling tells me that she's as gutsy as Daisy, though. She has USB ports but no disk drives or anything, so of course I'll be bringing Ygraine. Ygraine's the flashdrive. In fact, I have a new flashdrive JUST for my fiction, my stories, my ideas....she'll be coming along too.

Which means, when I find myself in the presence of the Almighty WiFi, I'll be able to blog from the road, keep up with e-mail, look in on Facebook and Twitter, and I won't miss my daily dose of Cute Overload (my first online check) and the LOLCats. And....these (and you MAUST DOINGK EET!): the Itty Bitty Kitties followed by Pitter-patting Baby Cats. You won't regret it - I start every day with these.

Why Dale-Harriet, whenever do you have time to BLOG??? (Ooops)

So what I'm saying is, in this the 21st century, I'll still have access to the electronic comforts of home. Admittedly, I may have to seek out a library or MacDonalds to get them, but there you are. We'll be staying in motels occasionally - certainly while we're at the wedding and festivities. But otherwise, we're going CAMPING ! Like, you know, MODERN normal ordinary human being camping!

In place of my canvas wedge with no floor and my deerskins and feather tick and candle lanterns (NOTE: I dearly love those, and enjoy our days spent in the 18th century) it's going to be LUXURIOUS to have a poptent with a floor and, you know, windows! With SCREENS! Sleeping bags. Battery lanterns. WEINIES!!

So let me reiterate. I need to pack for: Clothing and personal hygiene and stuff. Underwear. Socks. Petticoats. Brush and comb. That's one big suitcase.

And I need to pack for Knitting. One basket to keep up front with me with current projects, and one bag for yarn, extra patterns, extra needles, extra tools - and the Yarn Store guidebook (see above).

And Writing: blogosphere book, small travel journal, flashdrives, ideas notebook, pens, pencils, erasers, highlighters...those can be in the tote bag with the books for reading. It's time I begin browsing books about the Metis women in the Fur Trade, being as I'm slated to give a program about them in November. Now, that seems like months and MONTHS away, but I know how this sh** works; before I know it, it'll be day-after-next.

Then there's the music - a few tapes, a few CDs (I have an adapter for playing the portable CD player in the car which is Pre-CD-Players-in-Cars-Thenk-Yew.)

OK. The. Time. Has. Come.

WATCH THIS SPACE!

Art, Pastry, Fruit and Knitting.

2009-07-12T09:29:00.007-05:00

I am in the Half-Hour. It's Sunday, you see....around here, we call that "Fosamax Sunday". Now, that's not a plug or product placement or anything, because the truth is that it's "Alendronate Sodium" Sunday. Admit it, doesn't have the same ring. But what that means is this: 1) I apparently have...or am teetering on the brink of...osteoporosis; 2) I therefore take a pill once a week to shore up me creaky bones; 3) When you take one of these, you must "remain in an upright position" for a half-hour.

Which makes me, unrepentant hippie passive-aggressive that I am, want to: 1) lie down; 2) stand on my head; 3) ask "WHY??" However, I am also an Old-and-Therefore-WISE old lady, so I will: 1) stay upright; 2) throw over the headstand anyway, as it would be: 2a) uncomfortable; 2b) undignified; {and I hear that cackling over there, NEVERMIND! } and 2c) whaddya, think I'm outta my mind? (Which question is RHETORICAL, Peanut Gallery.)

But wait, there's more. ALSO during the half-hour post-pill period, I cannot drink anything but water, nor eat ANYTHING. That includes the rest of my morning regimen of pills (think: I'm tempted to just toss the lot in a bowl with milk and sugar....) AND it includes....

DIPLES!

These are delicate scrolls of pastry, Greek in origin, which are made by some arcane method - and then drizzled in a thin syrup of honey. The honey permeates the layers without making them soggy. When they're finished, the bakers (in this case, some nuns at a convent, I'm told) lean over and whisper "Cinnamon" over them. It's not so much a flavoring as a scent in the throat.

I learned about Diples as part of my college education. There was a place called The St. Clair Broiler (over on St. Clair Avenue, as it coincidentally happens) which served, along with decent burgers and the usual college chazerai - very large, perfect Diples. They were also open late, for the benefit of we Macalester scholars who were unencumbered by stuff like dating and so wandered over there from the "Libe" in an intellectually-superior knot for something to eat.

"So, Dale-Harriet, where then have you obtained another example of this ambrosia, all these ~~long, vast, centuries~~ months later?"

At the Art Fair on the Square! This is an annual event, huge as you can see. The weather was fine and we met another couple and strolled around together.

NOTE: Since I began writing, the half-hour has expired, I have taken my cereal-bowl of pills and.........eaten two of the diples. I will now return to the scheduled blogpost.

There were many fine things to see at the Art Fair: some beautiful, ethereal paintings (waaaaaaay to spendy for me) and some wonderful wooden bowls, artsy baskets -- one might say "the usual". We also trailed throught the Art Fair OFF the Square, sort of an adjunct show but only Wisconsin artists. The things are no less showy but are somewhat less spendy -- but I saw nothing to complement my Early Salvation Army - Mid-Student Housing decor, so we didn't buy anything. (I must say, though, the High School Pottery Group, displaying delicious bowls and cups and things made by students from all the schools in town - I'd have come away from that with something, had anything truly caught my fancy.)

As we wound up our stroll and were JUST about to walk down to The King of Falafel for a fine repast, I saw it: GREEK PASTRIES!! Trays and trays of all manner of diples, baklava, those things that look like shredded wheat but are filled with chopped walnuts and are positively DRENCHED in honey.....'scuse me, I have to go get a napkin.....OK, I'm back. ANYway, I bought some. Nine. Six diples, three of the shreddy-wheaty things. For the record, since ending my Half-Hour I have eaten two of each. Nevermind.

After you've spent a couple hours walking up and down and back and forth and examining Fine Art, it can sort of alter your perception of things. For example, I noticed this reflection of our beautiful capitol dome:

Or maybe it's just that all the artsy-fartsy vibes got to me -- but you know, I bet if I print this as an 8x10 on glossy paper and make up some clever caption in German, I can sell it NEXT year at the Fair! From what I saw, it should bring me about Eleventy-thirty hundred dollars. Hmmmmmm.

Some other things that have occupied me these last few days: BERRYING! Yes, since identifying my lovely berries as really-truly Black Raspberries I've been going out every day or so and plucking them as they ripen. Like regular rasps, you can tell they're ripe when you touch them and they fall into your hand. I didn't drop any, and I'm glad, because I'd have been down there amongst the thorns trying to find it. However, we have a few mosquitoes around here, and I was delighted when Mr Dearling provided me with a relic from his Outdoorsy Past:

OK, OK!! I'm not looking to win any aesthetic awards here! You may laugh and jest (in fact, if you're NOT laughing and jesting you're a more serious soul than I) but I have to tell you, the dorky thing works! I managed, this last time, to get my berries with both of my eyes OPEN the whole time. However.........I have to tell you, the sound of thousands of mosquitoes buzzing and buzzing around trying to get to you to suck out your blood and eye juice and spit and soul -- that's pretty unpleasant too. I've just e-mailed and rescinded my application for Chief Entymologist in the Rain Forests of Borneo. But at least I did emerge victorious, with THIS:

Now, to be truthful, this is ALL the berries I've gathered; I've been putting them in this bowl each day and keeping them in the fridge. But ladies and gentlemen, these berries' hours are numbered. SOME time today, Mr Dearling and I are going to have small bowls of rich French Vanilla ice cream, spangled with our very own organic Black Raspberries. I will write a proper Food Critic commentary on the experience in the next few days. I am frightful tickled with these, and with the canes, and I'm VERY grateful to whichever birds out there ate someone else's black raspberries and managed to hold it together until they got into MY back yard to.....eeeeeew. Nevermind. Suffice it to say, I'm glad Mother Nature gave'em to me, and I'll think about something other than Her methods. Thenk yew.

OK - I've managed to write a whole LONG post (that's what happens when I leave off for a few days) without once mentioning cats, sticks or books!! The books are going to have to wait for another day (but believe me, it's not for a dearth of material on either one) but I. HAVE. BEEN. KNITTING! I finished two Calorimetry head bands, a fine toque (replacing the goofy one I made before), and I have begun another requested toque:

Yes, ladies and gentlemens. You ARE seeng right. If your computer has "tru-tone" or some kinda thing that gives you the full and authentic color on your screen, I must apologize for failing to warn you. That IS a toque on the needles, it WILL be a perfectly-authentic (in design) French-Canadian toque of the voyageurs-wore-them variety. But NO! This is NOT a color which would probably have appeared in ANY 18th century palate. No....this toque is for a gentleman (a fellow-reenactor, true enough) who, recognizing a very decent style of cap useful in our Wisconsin winters, has asked for one, NOT for his reenacting, but for his time-honored Wisconsin tradition, The Autumn Deer Hunt.

I think the law states that if you're out there you must wear blaze orange ALL OVER; that's so that you can't be mistaken for a deer by even the drunkest, most inexperienced bleary-eyed hunter in the forest. (They're NOT from Wisconsin, by the way...hunters come here from far and wide because we have ~~a veritable scourge of woods rats~~ ....errrhm....a vigorous deer population. The females are so CUTE (rumor has it that the original drawing of Bambi's mother was taken from a Wisconsin doe) but there are NO (I repeat NO) blaze orange deer here or anywhere else. So the decision to have such a safety-conscious and warm head covering is not only wise but sensible and forward-thinking, and although I find I have an after-image for about three hours after knitting on this, it: 1) IS "knitting"; 2) is a laudable request; 3) is kinda fun in a perverse way; 4) may provide some comments when I take it to Late-Night Knit next week.

And in closing (you're on your own about the "books") I present to you Mistress Evangeline, Priestess of Bast, Grand Dame of the Household, Precious Feline Fuzzydaughter, looking her most ~~snooty~~ -- mildly-disapproving. Her mood improves in direct proportion to the number of Green Crunchies I am dropping into her bowl.

You're going to post this, aren't you?

MEH.

The Road to Hell, and fruit!

2009-07-08T09:58:00.009-05:00

Yes, we all know about "the road". But guess what, I figured it out! I've been trying to sort through my notes going back to my last post, so as to catch up with all good bits intact. As some of my favorite webbers say, "REDONKULOUS!" So rather than trying to catch up by writing about Things Past, I'm going to PICK UP instead, and pepper the conversation with recollections where applicable. Deal?

Identify the Mystic Berries. These appeared in my back yard, growing on thick stems which curve over and are armed with Very Serious Thornage. I took a few pictures, because these are not something I planted; I know they're NOT ordinary raspberries because I know what those leaves look like.

And it's NOT this. I'm figuring these berries were carried about in the craw (sounds better than the alternative) of some birds who were enjoying the chaotic jungle that I think of as "my natural garden", and were ultimately deposited, where they began to grow. I think I've seen them before, but I've pulled them out or broken them down. This year, however, my ~~indolence~~ ...erhhm...Busy Schedule has prevented my doing much in the back yard, and you can imagine my surprise when I found these berries!

This is what they looked like a few days later, "redding up" as they say. They look very much like ordinary raspberries, which happen to be a great favorite of mine -- but which I cannot bring myself to pay eleventyfour dollars an ounce for. HOWEVER! Owing to my ~~indolence~~ extreme busyness at the Museum (see above), I wasn't able to get out to look at them very often.

NOTE: In order to get the previous photographs, I had to move VERY fast, and only the fact that my clothing caught on the thorns prevented my being carried off in the clutches of an Oscenity of Mosquitos; laughingly called "The State Bird of Wisconsin" I am here to state that there is NOTHING humorous about them, and only the fact that our neighbors are vampires and had a few quarts of Type O (I think it's a Pepsi product) in their fridge... and the knowledge of transfusing ... prevented that last from being my Final Blog post.

UNDAUNTED, however, as I am never, ever daunted at my age, I went out last night to examine them again, and found this:

NOTE: I went out wearing sweatpants (it was in my own backyard, not a soul around to see me) and a hooded sweatshirt with the hood tied tightly around my neck. Did they attack my hands? NO they did not. Fortunately I managed to protect my face....mostly.....

Now, I found this entirely beautiful, and there were several clusters identical to this on the other curving, thorny arms of the plants. Mr Dearling had thought they might be thimbleberries; someone else suggested blackberries. I had no idea - oh, and did it occur to me to (duuuuuuhh) look them up ON LINE? It did not. Lay it at the feet of above-mentioned Busyness.

So what I did instead was go back inside for a bowl, and at great expense to life and blood, I gathered up the ones that were actually like this and therefore, I thought, probably ripe:

I found it interesting that the berries AROUND the central one were still red, but I'm guessing that they're just unripe and will darken. I brought in the eleven ripe berries that I found, and brought them in, where they look like this:
They DO look so edible, and there's some rhyme about white berries being dangerous but red or black being fine....with the exception of Deadly Nightshade, which has bright cherry red berries and are also known as Bella Donna, the poison of choice in Renaissance Italy.....nevermind.

I put them in a pretty ceramic bowl,and showed them to Mr Dearling to see if he might be able to recognize what they were.

NOTE: Mr Dearling was born in da Bronx. Grew up on Longk Islandt. And I'm asking him to identify a wild berry found growing in the wilds of the back yard. Plus - he's a boy. So of course, being a New York boy with all those man genes and a healthy sense of scientific curiosity.......

He ate one.

And of COURSE (you saw this coming) immediately clutched his throat, made hairball hacking noises and slumped against the counter. Unconvincing -- but what could I do? I read "Romeo and Juliet". I immediately popped one into my mouth too.

And thus arrived at the following verdict, since corroborated by examination of information on line, might I add :

BLACK RASPBERRIES!

They're in the fridge, waiting for some of their fellows to ripen, and then they have an appointment with a splash of cream. There won't be many of them, I think, but we'll each have a small bowl...and then I'll read up to see what I can do to guarantee their future health and welfare, and I'll mark them out for Protection and Further Care.

Unless we were wrong, in which case we might be dead before you finish reading this. Lovely Daughter gets the stash.

"Ouvert"

2009-06-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

"Ouvert" is the French word for "open". Windows open, doors open - opportunities open. It's been a very long time since I've been here, time in which I was enclosed, snug, protected. I took the full proscribed period of mourning for my friend....because (as often seems to heppen to me) what began as my keenly feeling the loss of my friend became my feelings of loss for everyone I've lost in my life up to this point: my parents, beloved in-laws, some friends, Willie....and cats, who are little furry people. (Yes, so are doggies; all you pupfans have my agreement with you too!)

But the seasons change, and change again, and a New Season is beginning. The school year is over (no more tours of 4th graders at the Museum for a few months); the winter is over (said in a whisper...Wisconsin weather can be fickle); my period of high mourning is over.

What is ahead? Summer. Some exciting Outreach programs at senior centers. Travel - next week to a long weekend in the 18th century - an invitational event with especially good friends, the wedding of a darling girl who is the daughter of especially good friends (a *modern* trip, to Montana), our annual journey to Grand Portage....perhaps a few other jaunts.

Study! When I was a kid, I always felt a huge rush of Intellectual Freedom as the last bell of the school year rang. I could hardly wait to get to the library to delve deeply into what I wanted to study. And this summer is no exception. Without the daily tours, I can really dig into my study of Mary Hayes Chynoweth (it's a good thing - my first presentation is coming up this week!)

I am going to rework my Hattie Fairchild program. That's one I do in my hoopskirts about a lady's lot in life during the mid-19th century. I call it "Manners, Mending and Morals" - it has a Power Point show with it, but I'm going to prepare a version without the visual aid of slides, so that I can do it even if there's no projector equipment available. (I KNOW, a computer slide show about the 19th century, in costume, no less -- is ODD.)

I'm also scheduled to do a program in November on the Metis women in the Fur Trade, and I haven't yet cracked a book about that one yet. The Metis were the children born of native women and French or French-Canadian traders and trappers and voyageurs, and they had a rich culture as a group; I've long been interested in those folks with "a foot in each world", as it were.

And KNITTING!! Well, believe it or not I have a couple of commissions for toques, but it's been a while and I'm looking forward to them. I've also decided I'm going to knit me some socks and I have TWO (count 'em, 2) afghans planned. Each is for a bridal couple, one the end of July (yeahright like THAT's possible) and the other is for the end of August (see above). But I AM going to knit them, and they're going to have cables and bobbles and noobles and dingdongs and so forth. They may not be delivered at the weddings, but they WILL be given. You saw it here first.

There will also be some babyknitting in the future, but as you may recall, I won't be selecting a pattern, buying yarn or casting on until the little tyke is already happily cooing in its cradle. (That's not to say I may not idly flip through the occasional pattern book or grope and stroke the errant skein here and there. Just sayin'.)

Now then - I intend to write an actual blogpost, catching up at least in overview format, in the next day or so, but I had to flex the old catssticksandbooks fingers here.

I'm back, I'm fine, all's well (erhm....except the Serious Lack of Moneys is making life difficult to the left of me and the right of me, but seasons turn, right?)

A Passing....

2009-05-09T14:33:00.003-05:00

I've lost a friend. It was yesterday (ten seconds ago? a hundred years ago?). Because it is her wish, her partner (and I) are arranging a Jewish burial. She was a Believer; her understanding was that her mother (long dead) was discovered to have had a Jewish birth mother.....and so, in recent years, she felt herself to be Jewish, all of her spiritual leanings were much in alignment with Judaic thought, and she loved studying about Judaism.

As a result, we're proceeding accordingly. Although she did not live with me, her home (and her partner's) is not a place where visitors could come.....two dogs and four cats are much of the explanation. Therefore, such "shiva" as will be observed, will be observed in my home. Especially the last few years people who saw us together, or who met me while I was with her, assumed without exception that we were sisters. By birth? No. Otherwise? As much as loving sisters leading separate lives can be, so we always chuckled and "Yes, good as."

Note: Shiva (from sheva, "seven") is the second stage of mourning; the first is the period immediately following the loss when the mourners maintain solitude for the deep outpouring of grief that naturally occurs. The third stage, Shloshim ("30") is the next 23 days, when one begins....slowly....to restore daily routine; the degree of these depends on the closeness of the relationship.)

Hers was a life of experiences. We met in the occult shop I worked in. It was the spring of 1971, and I was very pregnant. She "made eyes" at me, and we laughed, and I said that I figured, as it seemed I was probably straight, that ours would be a relative love: the love of a relative for another relative. Sisters.

We were very different in many ways. Her life had been difficult, before we met. And about seven years later, we discovered that my husband and her partner were cut from the same cloth - FEH! In time, she found her partner, L., and I found Mr. Dearling. We've all been together around 23 years, and we agreed we finally "got it right".

She never went to college....and never quit studying. She loved music - generally different from my taste. We hung out, occasionally; we talked often, even when we didn't see much of each other. She lived not far from me. She and L. and I are devout and devoted catpeople. She and L. have had a series of funny ol' cats (one was rescued as a kitten--from the warm engine block of their car!). They've generally also usually had a dog, from the Shelter, and it's been a series of gangly, mutt-y, rambunctious dogs.

In the early days, she was much a part of my children's lives. My Lovely Daughter called her Mom. She saved my older boy from a life of crime by coming up behind him in a grocery one day and whispering "Planning to pay for that, are you?" as she saw him pocket a candy bar. He put it back and never repeated anything like that. (She told me about it later......much later. Years later.)

She had children too, in a different life a thousand years earlier, and when her circumstances changed she recognized that she wasn't in a position to care for children as they should be, and found a foster home where they could remain together. For many years they were out of touch; in the last few years she's heard from them and her grandchildren, and her eldest - a dear girl about Lovely Daughter's age, has been a happy part of her life these last years. (On her part - that was an act of clear-thinking, unrestricted love for her children, and was an act of strength.)

She and L. were at my Thanksgiving table every year. And she worked for years for the Madison Metro bus company, on the phones providing information, &c. She just retired last year, and her time was her own.....although her health was somewhat fragile.

Recently, she was on dialysis, three times a week. I went often to sit and knit and chat with her; sometimes I'd collect her after and we'd "go play", which involved things like a meander to the bookstore often - and a nice lunch somewhere always. In recent weeks she'd taken to volunteering at the Senior Center, and even before that on a couple of occasions I met her there and we'd enjoy the free lunch and following movie. She really liked being there.

She heard of a program yesterday at the Senior Center that interested her a great deal: there was a Holocaust Survivor going to speak, and then sign copies of his book. She was looking forward to it a LOT, and hoped I'd be able to go with her to it...and I was fascinated too and would have loved to, but had to work at the Museum. She called Thursday and left me a message saying that she'd been able to rearrange her dialysis for Friday morning and would be going to hear the speaker - and hoped I'd somehow be able to negotiate around and join her.

I really couldn't, but I called her in the evening and said she should remember what was said so she could tell me all about it. Instead, yesterday afternoon, I got a message on my cellphone from L. saying to call right away. I did. And L. said she was at the hospital emergency room - and that our dear one had collapsed and died. I think I shouted "You're not telling me the truth!"

But she was, of course.

She did go to hear the speaker, and she was in line with her book, waiting to get it signed, when she collapsed. I hope I go that way, when the time comes -- but I just really wasn't quite ready to lose her. I wanted to hear about the program. And so much more......

The next days I mean to observe "shiva", the formal mourning period. It begins after the service (Monday afternoon is the present plan, although it needs to be finalized). I don't know if I'll be writing here during that time. If so -- you'll see it. If not --watch this space.

I'm very, very sad.

A Day of May to Celebrate!

2009-05-03T15:52:00.013-05:00

We are all affected by people, from the instant of our births. Some people inspire us, some entertain. Some nurture and love us; some live only to torment us. Hundreds of thousands of people walk past us in our lives, people with whom we share this day, this town, this state - country - continent.

There are people we encounter "in the ether" only: on the teevee, over the phone, walking around on the innerwebs. There are people who might be in our lives only briefly - and yet whose connection changes us in some profound way for all of our lives. Teachers, neighbors, friends, sweethearts. Clerks, salespeople, medical staff. We remember kindnesses, and we remember slights. The former may make US better, and we may "pay it forward"; the latter may make us angry or bitter - and hopefully we then encounter another kindness and carry on.

One of those people who has touched my life in a deep way is havin' hisself a birthday today. May 3, mark the date. May 3. I mean to honor him every year on May 3 for the rest of my life. He has given me courage when I needed it; he has delighted me every SINGLE time I've encountered him....either his image or his voice, since I first encountered him. I admired him from my initial awareness, and that admiration has deepened ever since and is now a true and abiding love. He's made me laugh, he's made me cry (with sadness, with tenderness, with joy), he's done something very few others have done in the whole of my life -- he's made me sing. Loud. In public.

Did I mention that he and I share space on this planet...on this continent...but I have never been in the same room or auditorium or open field with him?

This precious, darling, strong, brave, inspiring, poetic, gawky, homely lovely man whom I cherish so?

PETE SEEGER!

And thank you for every single moment I've had the pleasure and privilege of hearing you sing, or speak -- for your courage during the "blacklisting" period, for the strength you gave me and all the others during the Civil Rights movement. Thank you for saving the Hudson, for speaking out when needed, for standing tall when those of us around you needed someone to look up to. Thank you for your songs and your heart, your words and your philosophy. Thank you for writing on your banjo: "This machine surrounds hate -- and forces it to surrender"

Will I have you forever? No, not in life - I hope you sing at your 100th birthday, provided your health is good, but you will be with me until the end of MY life, in tapes and DVDs and CDs and songbooks - and in my heart. And Pete? When my time comes, the first thing I'm going to do when I stroll through that great woodland archway to the Other Side -- is find out where you're playing and singing, and I'm going to join the throngs and I'll sing along with you at the top of my lungs. (And probably - over there - I'll sound pretty good! )

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PETE!

HAPPY 90th BIRTHDAY, PETE SEEGER!

"What a Piece of Work is Man....

2009-04-23T07:34:00.004-05:00

...........how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how likea god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals..."

This is one of my favorite quotes by Will Shakespeare. Did you know he sometimes spelled his name "SHAXPER"? Spelling wasn't standardized so much in the 16th century.

Today, 23 April, marks the day accepted as William Shakespeare's birthday; therefore, I say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, BARD!

However.......today, 23 April, marks also the day known to be the one on which Our Noble Bard "shuffled off this mortal coil". Therefore, I say Woe betide us, for have we not lost the fairest flower e'er to sculpt the humble symbols we know as words?

Coming on the heels of my heightened awareness of literacy (and the lack thereof) I'd have to say that I'm guessing the number of people who revere, relish and enjoy Shakespeare's works - compared to the number of people in the world who DO read - is probably relatively small. There are many educated, cultured, literate people who either haven't ever read Shakespeare (except, perhaps, a wee mite under severe duress in a classroom). But there are some of us who DO read Shakespeare for pleasure, the plays, the sonnets....and some of us occasionally curl up with annotated works or discussions of Shakespeare's work or life or biographies.

When my first two babies were little....Lovely Daughter was two years old and Son #1 was just a couple of months old....I sat between their cribs for a while every afternoon to read them to sleep for their naps. And I read Shakespeare. One day my sister was coming over to visit; I told her when I buzzed her in that she should just come up and come in, I'd be with her shortly. (Had to finish the act - I think I was reading "Midsummer Night's Dream".)

When I closed the door and tiptoed out of the nursery, she said "What were you doing?" I said I was reading to the kidlets before their naps. Her eyes widened and she said "WHAT were you reading????" all aghast-like.

I told her, and she whuffed (you know, the sniff-with-shoulder-wiggle) and said "That's ridiculous, they don't understand that." I pointed out to her that they wouldn't understand "Hop on Pop" either, at that point, and I wanted them to hear the richest phrases their language possessed.

Now - before any Seuss-o-philes get up in arms, fear not. I ADORE Seuss and all of my children and any who come within reading distance are Seussed within an inch of their lives. Just sayin'.

Part of my adoration of Shakespeare may have come from my 11th grade English teacher (I'm blanking on his name, of course). He made us memorize long passages, he read aloud to us every day, and I can't speak for my classmates but he imbued my heart with a real passion for Shakespeare and his works.

Oh! Just remembered this. One day we got into class and he pulled the movie shades down, rendering the room almost totally dark. He then lit a big fat candle on his desk (no doubt against the rules) and told us to put our heads on our desks or cover our eyes. "NO PEEKING!" he said. He then read the Witches' Scene from Macbeth: "Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. "

He read the entire scene. I cannot lie: I peeked. Because he read it in three distinct voices, and I had to be SURE two other people hadn't slipped into the room to join him. One voice was dry, cracking and high; one was very throaty and evil-sounding; and the other dreamy and querelous. There were long pauses.....I would've sworn I heard some thick fluid bubbling.

Well, let's just say, he had me at: "Thrice the cat hath mew'd." I have a very special copy of Shakespeare's complete works, a gift from a former neighbor, and to this day it is NOT uncommon for me to pick it up and read a whole play, part of a sonnet.....

Now, for all of it, neither of my sons are big readers. Son #1 has a very analytical mind and is more likely to study a language on his own than read a novel; Son #2 really doesn't have much time to read anything.

But my daughter, my Lovely Daughter -- also reads Shakespeare for pleasure now and then, and enjoys the plays as much as I do.

Will Shaxper, you have my forever gratitude and deep affection. On this day I mourn your loss, I also celebrate - CELEBRATE!! your birth and every day of your life. For your gift, thank you.

What if You Couldn't Read?

2009-04-19T13:39:00.015-05:00

Illiteracy . Definition: "The condition of being unable to read and write . When I was a little kid, after supper was reading time. Dad sat down with his newspaper or a book; Mom had her Ladies' Home Journal, and my big sister always had a book going. At one point I decided that if I just stared really HARD at a book, the words in it would begin to make sense. (I may have told you this before....I'm old, cut me some slack.) I remember taking a book out the bookcase next to the fireplace, lying on the floor and staring at it. It didn't work. In later years I discovered that the book I had taken down was on Public Opinion and American Marketing...bleecch.

Of course I did learn to read - I think it was second grade, and they didn't have all those rewards, &c in those days but I learned FAST and always read "ahead of level."

My father sometimes reviewed books for the paper and often brought me review copies of kid books, and we always had lots and lots of fabulous books to read. "Illiteracy"? I thought it meant reading without pleasure, reading slowly.

I know I've told this before (but I'm not going back to look - if you've heard it skip on). When Willie and I were preparing to marry he had to get permission from his mother, and when it came it had a big black X on it surrounded by the words "Ella Mae Carter, her mark." She WAS illiterate (and that was, recall, 1965.)

Yesterday was an annual event at Border's, the Reading Marathon fundraiser for the local Literacy Network. In past years it was a 24-hour period; you could sign up for a stint and collect pledges. During the day they have Celebrity Readers on the hour, reading either from their own books or something else. I always liked taking something like 11:00 pm - 5:00 am. But this year it was just 9:00 am to 9:00 pm. I didn't get the email announcing it until Thursday, either. So I determined to just go, make a donation, and tuck into a corner to read for a few hours.

When I got there at 5:00 (having decided to read until 9) the Celebrity Reader was a veterinarian, Dr. Patricia McConnell. She's written DOZENS of books on dog training and understanding and grooming....and she has a program on NPR called "Calling All Pets" in which discusses qustions pertaining to ANY pets, it's a phone-in show. She's CHARMING!

She has voices....one for "dog talk" -- "Ooh, I'm so glad to see you, I'm going to wag my tail right off"....and another "dog-training voice"..."GUH-BOY, GUH-BOY!!" So I sat and listened to her until about 6:00. She's delightful. The whole audience sat and stayed during the entire reading.

I also noticed that they had a rather nice spread of munchies, so I staked out my little corner in the Children's Department and got a plateful.

By the way, I didn't read my dream book by Robert Moss; I actually decided to finally give myself a long interrupted read of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which I've been reading in wee hunks for some time. It's an "I CAN put it down to do something else but I'd rather not" sort of book. I made a little table for myself out of one of the stools for reaching books high up...there are a lot of those in the Children's Department for some reason...and settled in. The nosh? There was pita bread with a very smooth hummus, some of those (terrific) cup-shaped chips and some lovely rather sweet salsa and some tiny squares on crackers from a fancy restaurant. They seemed to have sundried tomatoes on a cracker with some mild sauce and teensy blobs of really good roquefort (which is, see earlier post, endangered).

These were beyond delicious! It was all I could do to not fill up my little plate from the silver tray of 'em. I even practiced saying "These should be fine for us all" before loading up and dodging back into my little corner -- but in the end I was good and only went back ~~once~~ -- uhm...~~twice~~...OK! I went THREE TIMES, but they were out-o'-sight. Oh. Well, when Mr Dearling stopped in for a visit I had him go get some for me too. Twice. So I could keep reading and shaddup about it.

I was there to read after all, not eat. Mostly. The upshot was that I made real progress on my book, enjoyed some very yummy treats - and I got a VERY NICE travel cup, gleaming metallic green with the Literacy Network logo on one side and all the corporate sponsors on the back. That was for my donation. It was a very nice evening - think of the luxury of tucking into a little corner with your only obligation being to READ - while enjoying some free munchies. My idea of a Great Evening, if I do say so myself.

And then, after all was said and done, books were packed away, paper plates discarded and I trundled happily home, feeling well-content and rather satisfied. And when I got home...

To sleep. We're good at that, too, in our house.

Too (two) Good Not to Share

2009-04-16T19:42:00.009-05:00

Can you believe THIS? Two posts in as many days? I guess it comes from not being able to talk. But there really ARE two things I have to share. Neither is probably new to you, but on the outside chance you've missed either one, here you go.

"You can't judge a book by its cover." We all know that. And of course, it's not ever wise to judge people based on their appearance. On the other hand, we all do that to a greater or lesser degree. I would never be taken for last season's winner on "America's Top Model." (OK, in the name of Full Disclosure, I wasn't actually last season's winner. I think I might have been but it's the height thing again.) Ballet, modeling, basketball....not good goals for 4'11" women even before they become 66 years old.

So let me show you my my new Inspiration . I'll wait here - if you haven't seen this yet (hard to imagine) then I'll wait while you a) watch it; b) go get a tissue; c) watch it again (twice); d) mop your eyes. I am SO loving this dear, sweet girl. I consider it a privilege to live in a time where technology affords me the opportunity to see her.

You know - here's sweet Susan, and before her was Paul Potts, the cell-phone salesman, remember? Singing opera? And you know, that pleasant-looking welfare mom. The one with the tablet and pen in the coffee shop? Wrote a little book - or seven...let's see, "Harry" something?

Yep, I consider it a privilege to be alive and have access to these plain, simple, dear folks who have clearly been touched by the Creator. It's a global village, and BOY am I proud of my neighbors living across the lake.

OK - the second bit I MUST share was something I wrote about here , having heard about it on NPR. This is a book that appears on every writers' bookshelves (or should) and it's been around roughly forever. And a day. But there was something about it I missed, which was generously linked for me by my friend kittymommy (whose darling children I adore, but that's beside the point). And this something about which you have to go read. Only don't wait because it would be a shame to miss it's humor, and, anyway, everyone can use, you know, a chuckle. Before long. So if you no how to use this computer thingie, then, right away, go here: at this place , and readify it!!!! You will wonder how on earth up with it you did not put up untill this time right now!!!! It has, among other things, which I consider important, some things, of a kind of, you know, importance to know if your going to be a writer, and its always a good life. Unless your nogood at it and like that!!! And then you'll thank me, in case, thought its hard to imagine, somehow you maybe didn't know all that. Or have your own copy. Like I do, I have my own. Go get one. And a cupcake to celebrate, now that Passover is over. Happy Birthday, Book. (Yesterday.)

Silence of the.....

2009-04-16T09:48:00.009-05:00

...blogger. I have no voice. Laryngitis. If I tried forming words on Sunday - I could barely whisper. Much better today - I'm croaking. Mostly. DARN, I was supposed to sing the solo in Handel's "Messiah" Friday night! (Oh, I am SO making that up - I may have mentioned that I'm on the Federal No-Sing list.) I haven't even had the luxury of feeling really sick - just low on energy, sleeping a lot, listless. The medical term is bleeccchh. I've missed work all week {sigh}.

HOWEVER! Over the last few days, I've noticed some wonderful GOOD, some wretched BAD - and nothing ugly, actually unless you count my voice. Which you can't hear anyway. Therefore, here are a few observations in no particular order.

BAD: there's a flap going on in a small town nearby; they had a referendum about whether or not to withdraw adding fluoride to the water. the Village Board was against it (I don't know how many ist on the board.) Well...it was on the ballot, and passed (to add the fluoride) by a vote of two-to-one . Last night on the news they talked to one of the Board Members. He said, in essence, that he felt not enough of the population had voted; the fact that those who DID were strongly in favor of replacing the fluoride was irrelevant. Therefore the Board struck it down. SAY WHAT?? (May I add - he was an older gentleman clearly missing most of his bottom teeth. Probably should've had...say it all together now: FLUORIDE! Twilight Zone moment. Oh yeah.)

GOOD: Same news show: in Logan, North Dakota, many of the fields are flooding (that's not the "good") -- there was a lovely community effort, and 100 pregnant ewes were successfully put into big flat-bottom boats and successfully moved to some fine fields on high ground! They're due to lamb in about a month. HOORAY FOR ALL THAT LOVELY YARN SAVED! (Not to mention, saving sheepy mommies, that's a big mitzvah.) A round of applause for Loganites. I'll wait. In fact...stand up. Standing ovation. Yeah.

BAD: A big memo went around to all the businesses, &C around the Capital Square. I'll paraphrase: "To whomsoever has been carpeting the Capitol grounds with peanuts (that's close to literal), please cease and desist. The squirrels are, of course, loving it - but lots of schoolchildren visit the Capitol every day in the spring, and (are you ready for this?) a lot of children have serious peanut allergies and might be affected."

I am NOT downplaying allergies, and I know that there is a sensitivity that's literally life-threatening. But.....hasn't there always been? And most of the children touring the Capitol tour our Museum too...they're 4th graders. I just am of the mind that children in elementary school recognize peanuts and KNOW if they're allergic, and children too small to recognize them are in charge of mommies who DO know.

Now - apparently whoever was feeding the fat little rodents (and we all know at least ONE knitter and maybe two who have a serious problem with individual squirrels), were only trying to be nice. I also agree that CARPETING the lawn with peanuts is overdoing it. I mean, those things are good protein but they're also loaded with salt and can't be good for the squirrels. The memo should have said "Use only a FEW raw boiled peanuts in the shell". OK, 'nuff said.

GOOD: I'm writing now at noon, and it's 61 degrees out.

This is Lucy, my Mother's Day lilac. She stood naked all winter and I was VERY tempted to wrap little knit stemwarmers around her, but didn't have any on hand. She is, after all, a Wisconsin child.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are clearly LEAVES! I believe, therefore, that Lucy has given me permission to tempt the Fates, risk the sneaky foul old Frost Giants, and boldly declare:

It is SPRING!! HAPPY SPRING!

A Warm Sunny Day...

2009-04-12T09:35:00.011-05:00

To the celebrants of Easter: Happy Easter! The concept "He is Risen!" is one of hope, of a belief in an aferlife. Friends have explained to me that it's the basis of their faith, that when they die they'll abide and be reunited with beloved family and bask in Heavenly Glory. The idea of getting to meet those who have Passed Beyond is very appealing to me. I'd love to see my dad again, and mom too, I suppose. I've lost friends through the years and I'd very much like to hang out and have a beer with them (assuming a) there's beer Over There; and b) that my allergy to carbonation will disappear Over There)

And laugh if you will, but I have a List of folks I mean to look up when I get there (assuming a) that I do get there, which seems questionable; and b) that they're there too, which may depend on whether or not there IS an Over There, which begins getting into a theological discussion and we're not going there. Right now.)

So who's on your list, Dale-Harriet? Well - Shakespeare. Harriet Tubman. Queen Elizabeth I. Edgar Allen Poe. Jean Nicolet. Anna Pavlova. Truth is? The list changes, but I like thinking about it. And it might be interesting finding out what my ancestors think of me. Or not.

When I was little I had a best friend (BFF, you know) who was Catholic; she always gave up candy for Lent and sought out ways to collect it. Then, after Easter, she'd lay out this huge spread and all the kids in the neighborhood would get to share it. Now I think on it, what a neat thing to do! But I remember lying on the grass in our front yard and asking her what bunnies and chocolate eggs (and bunnies who LAY chocolate eggs, apparently) had to do with Jesus. She didn't know. We agreed that it didn't matter, and it made for lovely Easter baskets from Nana.

Since then I've read up on Oestre, the Celtic dawn goddess, who was accompanied by symbols of birth, rebirth, springtime, burgeoning nature...... I also learned that the very smart early priests figured that if they nudged Christian ideas and ideals in WITH the popular pagan celebrations, the lovely country folk would be more accepting. So many good o' mainstream Christian holidays maintain charming bits of earlier beliefs, which I think enhance them in a pleasing way. (Think mistletoe, and holly and ivy, for example.)

And of course it's Passover. Pesach. Coincidence that it always falls around Easter? Nope; Passover is on the lunar calendar. In fact, Jesus (who was, after all, a Jew) celebrated Passover himself. Of course, if you continue thinking along these lines, there is instant realization that human beings have celebrated the earliest signs of spring from the beginnings of time. At the end of winter, particularly in the early agrarian communities, not only is there the optimism of a new food supply, but the whole return of mild weather, the musical birds, the delightful foliage...being able to go out without eighteen layers of clothing and heavy boots - is very welcome. Of course, we may not be able to wear our heaviest hand-knits for a while, but it's still worth it. There are always fancy-schmancy scarves and lace shawls.

When I was kid we always celebrated Passover with relatives (my upbringing was a very traditional Conservative Judaism). My father presided over the seder; generally my uncles and male cousins sat down at dad's end of the table and read the service, and my sister and I, Mom, and the aunts and girl cousins sat at the other end. Dad read the whole Haggadah, stopping now and then to frown over his glasses at our end of the table, where there was an active conversation about styles or gossip. I was the youngest, so I got to open the door for Elijah and I will defy ANYONE, to this day, who questions that I felt a breeze pass me when he entered or saw the level of wine in his glass go down. (One of the cool parts of the seder is when the door is opened for the Prophet Elijah, who allegedly comes in and sips from a special glass of wine reserved for him. ) Judaism is nothing if not bound by tradition; every year there were comments about the state Elijah must be in when he gets home, after visiting ever single Jewish home in the world and having a sip of wine.

Since my own children were born, we've pretty much just celebrated Chanukah and Passover. Chanukah's blended in with Christmas (birthday of a Jewish kid with a Mexican name, after all) and there were no seders when the kids were little. But they always talked about their holidays at school and brought menorahs to show and that sort of thing. I never complained about their singing carols with their schoolmates or anything - I think one can sing carols with a love of music, of the beautiful melodies, without casting off thousands of years of religious heritage. (I LOVE me some Christmas carols.)

Nowadays - and since the kids were a little older - I clean out and get rid of all tref (foods not allowed during Passover) and I separate meat and milk with each meal. There are "Meat" shelves and "Milk" shelves in the fridge. (My mother had two very separate sets of dishes and silverware; Orthodox Jews sometimes have separate stoves and refrigerators, &c.) I don't buy kosher meat or replace all my tea or buy kosher dish soap, but there's only matzoh and I make noodle kugels and chicken soup (with very superior matzoh balls, you don't mind my saying).

Might I add - every year I have to get out my Jewish Housekeeping book to see what IS tref; I can never keep it straight.

Mr Dearling, raised in a much more Jewish area than I (LonG IslanDt) is very patient with it. He's missed a fine Easter dinner with delicious ham and trimmings every year -- one year Easter actually fell AFTER Passover, but we didn't have an Easter dinner that year either, as I recall. Also - he LOVES matzoh! But it's like turkey at Thanksgiving; we never think of having it during the year, although it's available.

Lilliane loves matzoh too. REALLY loves it!

Loves it enough to help herself....

So......to one and all, Happy Easter! Happy Passover! Springtime is nigh and there's an abundance of delicious foods around.......are we not blessed?

A Nod to the Big Time....

2009-04-07T00:58:00.014-05:00

This won't be a surprise to any of US, of course, but there was a piece on the morning news the other day about the advantages of knitting! It was a pretty cute piece, actually, and the reporter lady went to a LYS there in New York to learn how. The visit was apparently some weeks before the spot aired, because she presented her colleagues with very neatly done garter-stitch scarves!

NOTE: these pictures are off of the teevee; hence, not great quality - and embarrassingly, I can't remember the reporter's name. But she is very elegant...and she sat right down and asked to learn to knit while asking the reporter-y questions. The thrust of the spot was that knitting is in and hip, "not your grandmother's skill anymore", and is very relaxing.

NOTE: there is nothing wrong with grandmas' knitting. Nor 4'11" bubbehs either. Deal.

'Nother note: the caption reads "Can you crochet your cares away?" but the images were all of knitters. Still, that's correct too - my friend Donna crochets (masterfully, might I add) and is clearly reaping the same benefits that I find in knitting. I did think it was interesting that they said that, though, and then mentioned crochet only once and perhaps not even that!

She seems to have caught on pretty well, and there were shots that I thought brought out the atmosphere of the LYS, too. NOTE again: you can see, from the time block, that these aren't in order, but you know, that's fine.

There were a couple of fellows in the shop, and they let that speak for itself,none of this "Oh gee, looky there, even boys knit!" I'm guessing that this fellow had been at it a while, judging from the really fine scarf he's wearing. It's some nice variegated yarn too - I'm tempted to say "Clearly it's a Noro Kureyon in the purple-and-teal colourway"........but I couldn't tell from the quick shot on the teevee, I'm not that good at idenifying yarns.

As this is a segment in the "how to improve your life in these stressful times" series on the show, there were Dramatic Statistics interspersed with the yarn shop scenes....and might I add - I intended to post these the same day they aired, but the truth is I forgot . I must be the Rule-Proving Exception. *Heh*

Is this a boy studying the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah? NO! He is a devout Knitter examining the pattern with the trusty Second Opinion - a scene familiar to us all. "So....it says repeat the pattern three times - do I have to frog ALL the way back?"

Of course, it read "strengthens IMMUNE SYSTEMS".....I took the picture before it had loaded. For some reason, I found myself moved to holler "YER PREACHIN' TO THE CHOIR HERE, FOLKS!" It was spontaneous, just burst right out of me. I sometimes forget that there are people who are NOT watching the morning news show while they finish up a preemie cap or weave in some ends or are casting on for something. (I KNOW, can you even BELIEVE it???)

As you can see, Harry Smith put on his new muffler immediately; I wish I'd recorded this instead of just photographed it. For all of it, the comments were positive, the narration and dialogue at the yarn shop sincere and interesting, and I felt proud to be a member of The Community. There was not one snide reference to Grandmaw, and all in all it was a very nice bit.

Of course, while watching I was knitting. I was working on a cotton preemie cap (Debbie Bliss "Pure Cotton", deliciously soft, from The Sow's Ear ). I've been using a "cat safe", an idea I saw at the Knit-In (believe it or not, SOME of what I saw walking around with the Yarn Harlot DID register). The wonderful ceramicist had little bowls, upside down, with a hole in the center of the bottom. You thread your yarn through the hole and knit away, and the skein is under the bowl and safe! The ones there were darling, with happy sheeps dancing on them....but helas! a bit out of my budget. So I went to the nearby garden shop and bought a flower pot with a hole in the bottom to use instead. NOTE: it works brilliantly - but you DO have to find one glazed inside AND out, because otherwise the hole has rough edges that will shred the yarn. I thought to get a plain terra cotta pot and decorate it myself, but the holes in those are downright SHARP.

Hard to tell in the picture - but the little cap MATCHES the flower pot cat-safe! Absolute coincidence...well, unless you realize that I'm drawn to sage greens and french blues and that sort of thing. Here's a little brighter shot:

This idea is fanTAStic...and if I see that ceramicist again, I WILL buy one of her pots, because I've wished I had ever since. Something about dancing sheepies, I must say.

OH - and better yet: I find that I can wind off a ball of yarn onto my winder on the kitchen table with this easily; otherwise Lilliane goes NUTSO trying to chase the dancing ball all over the table. By and large, my kitties DO remember the Household Law: "You are a KNITTER'S CAT and you do NOT play with, chase or chew on yarn." But a dancing, skittering yarn ball attached to the spinning winder is more than Lilli can keep her claws off of. Hooray for Cat-Safes!

Now I'm off to clean out my cupboards in preparation for Passover - I'll do my shopping later this evening. Have I mentioned that I tape the freezer shut and write "TREF" in big letters on the masking tape? I can hear de Lawd chuckling as he peers down on me....

So where's the PRUFREEDER?

2009-04-03T10:04:00.008-05:00

Those who know me, know I have am very particular about The English. I seem to have a gift when it comes to spotting typographical errors, misspellings, &c. I think I came by it honestly, and attribute it to the Journalism Gene inherited from my Newspaperman Father. I can glance at a page and spot errors instantly. Once, on a car trip, we drove past a historical marker in Arizona, on the highway. Dad said, "There was an error on that sign." Mom said, "Oh, come ON, Sid, you couldn't have seen it driving by this fast. Turn around." He laughed...but did, and you guessed it: there WAS an error on it. I inherited that.

Now, let me say that I'm not stuffy about it; I know that some people have as much trouble with The English as I do with Wicked Maths. But I do feel that standards should be upheld in print . Books, newspapers, SIGNS -- they should be examined and tidied up and should be guaranteed to be 100% free of typos, spelling errors and so on.

Yesterday we went to vote, and on the way back to the Museum to get our stuff, passed a fabulous shop, Fromagination,which sells all manner of wonderful cheese from all over the world. Right outside there was a chalkboard:

Mr Dearling said, "No more ROQUERFORT??" I said "Wait a minute -- roqueRfort??" He said, "Gee, I wonder why no more?" and I said, "I don't think that second "r" should be there." As you see, though, it's spelled that way three times...and the sign's handwritten. My first inclination was to hurry in and report it so they could fix it. I must admit, though, I had a moment of uncertainty - until we looked up and saw this, the front of the shop:

See the banner? "ROQUEFORT". So we did go in, and mentioned it -- the proprietor thanked us and said he was going to go get it when finished with his customer (there were, as usual, quite a few). So we headed out.....(by the way, it has something to do with some tariffs or wossname - if you want good roquefort cheese, get it now!)

Next we stopped at Hilldale Shopping Center on our way home. I really like it there, it's a very nice small mall. I was looking for a pair of black dress gloves to wear with Mary Hayes Chynoweth's walking suit. I looked at Macy's and a couple of boutiques - without luck. (Seems that ladies don't wear gloves any more.) (Small silent sigh of regret.)

So we stopped at the Directory to see if there might be a shop I hadn't thought of as a possibility. This is a good director, because it's clear, the diagram is straightforward and the shops are listed by type. I had stood there ONE MILLESECOND...and then I saw it:

TWICE!! I could hear my little in-brain teacher chanting "If it's not moving, it's stationAry; if it's going in an Envelope, it's stationEry...."E" for "ENVELOPE".

I shuddered. I almost gagged. This was a professional sign, probably made on a computer. Of course, this wouldn't be caught by Spell-Check, because "stationary" IS spelled right, but only -- it's the wrong word. (I've said it more than once: I'm very glad I was born speaking English because it must be a son-of-a-gun to learn.)

Well....that's pretty bad. I'm guessing that Sarah B. never looked at this, because surely she would have caught it. I enjoyed my moment of Righteous Indignation. (I'm old, allow me a foible.)

Then -- I SAW IT! Are you ready? I mean...really ready? OK ---

Chinese food, anyone?

OY. VEY.

So How Old ARE You.....

2009-04-01T18:45:00.011-05:00

We have a 1948 Nash in the Museum. (It was made in Wisconsin.) The driver's door is off (in storage) to reveal the interior of the front seat, and it's right inside the door on third floor, where I start my tours. As the kids come through the door, invariably at least one kid shouts "Suuuuu-WEEET!" I show off the car, asking the youngsters what they would expect to see if the car were new...they guess "seatbelts", and I tell them that "We learn from history". Then I tell them about bringing my baby daughter home in a laundry basket on the back seat of the car. (It was a Volkswagon and she was snuggled into a lot of cozy blankets.) Of course they're horrified.....

Well, today a girl asked, "How old are you? What was it like when you were a little kid?" I started thinking back, and when I got home I was hit by a real bout of Nostalgic Reminiscence. And I remembered one day in particular especially vividly for some reason. Now - if you're training for theatre you learn about something called "Sensory recollection" - seeing something can bring back a stark memory including all the senses...it might be the memory of standing in the kitchen, JUST tall enough to see over the edge of the table, and looking at and smelling those cinnamon cookies as Grandma took them out of the oven.

Well - I remember one time getting to go along when my family started preparing for a really big family dinner over at my aunt's house --I think it was a Passover Seder, or perhaps Thanksgiving. I apologize for the quality of the pictures....I think my big sister took the pictures because she had to stay by me. I wasn't allowed to be too close; I was only about three and would have gotten in the way:

Looking at this, I remember how excited Mom was when the guy from the meat market delivered the roasts. Of course, in those days she had to do a lot more work - I even remember her cutting the legs off chickens and putting them in the soup. Anyway, everyone used to get together to cook for the big holidays. You can see my Bubbeh here, she always said the meat around the ankles was the tenderest of all.

Uncle Izzy used to always get the job of peeling the food...bananas, oranges, mammoths. The bigger pieces he could get off the better because Mom could make clothes out of it and stuff. You can see my cousin Billy over on the left with Aunt Lucille and Uncle Bertram. He was a real brat back then but they were the rich branch of the family and Aunt Lucille always had to make a special meal for him because he always said he didn't like whatever everyone else was having. Even when Grandma saved him the bobbles to play with. He was spoiled.

See now, my sister took this picture because you can see Mom hurrying away with the tenderloin there. That was her speciality. Yeah, I think this must have been for Passover because we usually ate that part by the front leg instead of that beautiful tenderloin.

Well....I have to say, I was glad I found these pictures -- although you know how I said "sensory recollection"? I sort of wish I hadn't thought of this because I have to tell you.....I think I've spent the last 3,412 years trying to forget that smell. What was it like?

Don't ask. You don't want to know.

Anyone got any mints?

SQUEE potential and a QQ

2009-03-30T21:36:00.012-05:00

I should 'splain , as Ricky Ricardo would say. (If you don't get it - you're young, it's one of those In Jokes of the Elderly.) "Squee" is blog language (blanguage?) indicating that wheezy, gasp-y breathless scream issued in awe and delight. Example: you answer a knock at the door and it's Daniel Day-Lewis; he says "Terribly sorry to bother, but might I please come in for a cup of tea and a chinwag?" Response: SQUEE!! Get it?

Well, I've had a few *squee* moments of late. Sitting and contentedly chatting with Stephanie , that's superior to having an actor at the door (by bunches); getting to have my picture taken with our dear Midwestern Franklin --Oooh yeah, WAY superior to having DD-L at the door. (Yes, Franklin, I do prefer you to Daniel Day-Lewis on a LOT of levels, plus as far as I know he can't knit a stitch!) NOTE: if you have information to the contrary, feel free to pass it along, but it won't change my opinions. Daniel Day-Lewis may have actually galloped through the forest and loaded a muzzle-loader, including using the ramrod, but ladies and gentlemen, he doesn't even KNOW Dolores, and I'm sure about that.

Thing is, those two people count among their downright-innumerable other virtues, the fact that they are both writers . And I? I am also a Writer!

This is pictorial proof, obtained during last November's NaNoWriMo competition, and is an authentic Writer in Situ shot. Please to overlook the sportsman jammies; that was NOT a Good Hair Day; block out the clutter - and yes, that is a skeptical look on Evangeline's face. She's my greatest ~~skeptic~~ ....uhm... ~~critic~~ ...erhm...FAN. Yeah. Fan.

I'll have you know, however, that I DO have a truly gifted author among my close personal friends:

This is David Sakrison, skillful poet (he was my personal Bard in our SCA days) he's been a magazine editor, and his latest book, Chasing the Ghost Birds, is now available at Barnes & Noble! Ffurthermore, he'll be presenting a talk and book signing at the Smithsonian!! (The book is about the International Crane Foundation , which is working, successfully, to salvage wild cranes from extinction. At one point there were 14 in the wild. In the WORLD in the wild. Now there are several hundred. Information from book cited above. My point is, David is a writer.

Now, when I say "I am a writer", I don't place myself in the same category as these authors or knitters , but there is a similarity. I enjoy being on the same spectrum with those folks, though. I AM a card-carrying member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators . What I lack in accomplishment I make up for with enthusiasm and potential! But here's the deal, ladies and gentlemen:

Saturday I was at the State History Day competition, to judge. We do that every year, first for the regionals and then, in May, for the state finals. And this year, as I came in, I saw my friend KB, former colleague at American Girl and now the main Editor of the Wisconsin State Historical Society Press. (They publish books. Bet you surmised....) I mentioned my research about Mary Hayes Chynoweth, and my wonderful tailor-made 1895 walking suit, and my invitation to speak at the Spiritualist Camp, and how I got my own copy of her biography, and how I think she's such a super-cool neat-o lady....and KB, Editor of Wisconsin State Historical Press, said to me:

"You should think about writing about her for our Badger Biography series."

S Q U E E !!

Here's an opportunity, a goal, a project-worth-considering! The effect on me is this: I'm going to organize my research notes in such a way as to be available for me to write; I'm familiar with these books and their format - and better, I think I'm up to the job! "Watch this space"........

And now for the QQ . In transcription for the hard-of-hearing, that indicates a question mark, as in: Would you like to order a pizza QQ

Twitter. Have you twittered? (Or is the correct term "tweet"...do you tweet?) Do you read anyone's twitters? (Tweets?) Anyone really love twittering? (Tweeting?)

I ask because I'm a tiny bit interested. I have no curiosity about Facebook or MySpace or any of those there, but I'm intrigued by this Twitter deal. And heck, some mighty well-known people twitter. Tweet. (OK, even though it's true, I feel ridiculous writing "I understand President Obama twitters." Or worse: "Did you know President Obama tweets ?) OY!

Any thoughts, experiences, guffaws,suggestions, recommendations or raspberries welcome.

Go for it, Mom, I have faith in you. Also - look deep into my eyes, you want to put some crunchy green treats in my bowl, you know you do....

Big Day Out -- "Good Things Come in Small Packages"

2009-03-28T01:33:00.016-05:00

I knew it - in spite of his many fine qualities, my Mr Dearling is (ALSO!) a masher ! (Oh, come on, you had to have seen that coming.) I showed off my wonderful new potato masher previously; as I mentioned, we boiled up some potatoes straight up. Now, with a beautiful, primitive kitchen tool like this, you just don't put the potatoes into Tupperware. I shudder at the thought. But I venture to say that every single reenactor home - up to....say....World War II reenactors (there ARE! I KNOW!) contains at least one enormous wooden bowl. So we got it down, and Mr Dearling mashed potatoes.

It was as we thought. It really IS superior to our regular mashers. It's heavy enough and wide enough to quickly mash the potatoes - and we found that it's very natural to stir the potato down into the middle of the bowl and keep mashing. Truth to tell - the potatoes were smoother and evenly mashed MUCH faster than with anything else I've ever used.

Hmmmmm.....wonder if I could find a butter churn somewhere....or a washboard!

Fear not, friends. As much as I relish spending a few days in the 18th century, I feel no qualms at all using my microwave, indoor plumbing, teevee -- you know, COMPUTER . But I am very well aware that some "old-timey stuff" really is superior to the "improvements". Thus ends my soapbox.

We went to our tours on Wednesday, as usual. I had one at 11:00 (they're each roughly an hour) and Mr Dearling's was at noon. Our boss-lady, knowing our plans to go to LaCrosse, told us we could leave when his tour was over, rather than staying until 3:00. I tucked in for some research after my group left -- and at nearly 1:00, the coordinator radioed me saying that the volunteer slated to give the 1:00 tour hadn't shown up , so "Could you take the 1:00 tour?".

Now - it's a little less than three hours to LaCrosse; the Knit-in-Public was scheduled from noon to 8:00 pm. Whipping out my paper and pencil, I did some figuring, and realized if we left a little later we'd still be there in time to make Franklin's program at 6:30.

OK - I lied. I didn't really do any math. Furthermore, I wouldn't let a group miss a guided tour except in really dire circumstances. But you know, that was one of those It Figures moments.

Anyway, we did actually get out around 3:00, and Mr Dearling put the pedal to the metal (legally, of course) and we found a parking place RIGHT IN FRONT of the library (I generally have good parking karma, but these last few weeks? Uncanny!).

As a result, we were in plenty of time to enjoy some shameless Knitting in Public in the library. There's something so wonderfully companionable about settling into a little knot of knitters. Instantly everyone is exchanging tips, admiring work, asking about needles, &c. It's as if you live in a place where you're fluent in the language but it's not your native tongue - and then you go to a gathering of countrymen and everyone is speaking the same language and when you say "It's just K2, YO, K4 all the way" everyone knows exactly what you mean, can see it in their mind's eye - and is remembering something in the stash at home that would work perfectly.

Besides that, two things happened immediately I arrived. 1) Friend Ann, whom I had never met but we'd exchanged emails about toques, came up and introduced herself; [see photo, right] and 2) a lady came over, said the Yarn Swap was underway, and gave me 6 tickets with which to "buy" some of the yarn! She'd brought a whole bunch, she said, (you got a ticket for each skein you brought) and she didn't want anything else! Now, I'd forgotten my bag of yarn to bring (NOTE: I'm going to ship it up to Abigail at the library, for her kidknit group) so it was very generous, and I did avail myself of a few skeins of acrylic for my preemie caps (I'm slowing down a bit but still hackin' on 'em pretty good) and two of those big CONES of yarn, one cotton, one a lace-weight. I've never used those and I'm curious.

I'd call that a pretty fine "welcome to LaCrosse" moment, wouldn't you?

After a while of friendly knitting, the announcement was made that we could repair to the auditorium for Franklin's program.

NOTE: may I say, it occurred to me frequently during the evening - it was awfully nice of Mr Dearling to drive me there - and help out by taking pictures and keeping me company, and then, on the way home, getting us hangerbers ("Checkers" mushroom and swiss burger and some really fine seasoned fries) and driving us home in the dark. For all of that, and everything else (you know what it is) THANK YOU, Mr Dearling. Baby - you're the best!)

So we went down and Ann and I found some good seats. They were ALL good seats, matter o' fact, and sufficient to the crowd. As we came in, I did see Julie, a Sow's Ear colleague and Cathy-Cate, -- we'd been in contact about meeting there.

There were some presentations of perfectly beautiful community-knit afghans to worthy recipients, and then, Franklin Habit was presented.

I imagine anyone reading this is a fan (probably long-time) of Franklin's blog The Panopticon , and therefore knows him to be a brilliant cartoonist, master knitter, and the hilarious ~~keeper~~ companion of Dolores, the "two pounds of Romney fleece" he ordered (eventually). Franklin talked about his knitting projects, read some passages from his book, and was entirely delightful. At the end, he displayed some of his knitting, to the wide-eyed admiration of us all.

NOTE: when displaying his ethereal shawl, the 1840 Gentleman's Cap and the 19th century Infant Hood (think "angry baby") he tossed them, flipped them, swirled them - resulting in very blurry pictures. I apologize.

While this is fuzzy, it still shows the lightness of this beautiful lace. which floated like cobwebs. He had said it was "easy"....although there are some of us for whom that may not be entirely true. (ME - that would be ME.)

The tassel on the Gentleman's Cap was spinning like a pinwheel on his hand......

Well, we listened, we laughed, we knitted - and it was an absolutely splendid evening. I was SO pleased I'd seen the mention if it in time to actually get there! I'll end with a couple of more pictures of a terrific evening (then I do need to start to get ready for State History Day - we have to report in just over three hours!)

"EASY" he says....yeah, talk's cheap! However...maybe not impossible .......

Here's Cathy-Cate, resplendent. The shawl she's wearing is one of the most beautiful examples I've seen; the delicacy of the pattern and the perfection of the blending colors is unbelievable! I'd say that the shawl with the simple black frock is the definition of "elegance". Also - the piece she's working on is stunning, and do you see that? She's knitting from the SKEIN! I've heard of that, but now I'ves seen it. And the grace of the shimmering loop of yarn on her arm, leading into the fine lacework, is at once a delight for the eyes and an inspiration.

In conclusion, do you notice - standing next to Franklin (allow me a "SQUEE!") I feel like a regular-sized person! There are very few people of a height with me ~~over the age of nine~~ . Can't speak for myself, but I'd have to say that he MORE than proves up my mother's old adage: In this case, "Good things (clearly) DO come in small packages!"

Maybe....just maybe...being next to all this knitterly greatness this month may rub off on me. Now...where's that lace shawl pattern??

(Under the preemie caps, the toque, the dishcloths...........)

Oh yeah.

Wowser Wednesday!

2009-03-25T07:48:00.006-05:00

I've been thinking about redoing the kitchen, and I think I'll replace the counters with this marble, whaddya think? Isn't it beautiful? I know good marble can be expensive, but gee, isn't the kitchen the heart of the home? (Wait...no, no, that's HEARTH of the home, and actually it isn't anymore because nowadays everyone has stoves. Well, you know what I mean.

FOOLED YOU! This isn't marble! (I'm sure you believed I'd be putting marble counters in my kitchen....that is SO not where I am!) Anyway, "what is it then, Dale-Harriet?" It's Lake Monona! It's the thinning ice on the lake, as seen last week when we were on the Terrace. But oh, it is beautiful. Here's another dramatic shot:

I call this "The Crack of Spring". While it isn't an actual fissure, this is one of the signs that clearly say "No more ice fishing, lads!" I saw these often when I worked on campus, as we had windows overlooking the other lake, Mendota, and we saw these every year. If you happen to be outdoors when these happen you can hear them, because there's a very loud report like a shotgun.

In the fall, when the days begin to grow chill, there's a day when the entire lake looks like it's boiling and heavy mist rises from it; that's dramatic too. I think one thing I love about Madison is the lakes - Minneapolis has lakes too, so I grew up with them, and I think I've referred to my spiritual connection with Lake Superior. I understand those who live near the oceans and are so connected.....around here we're pulled by the Inland Seas and our little lakes.

OK - now then. IT CAME!! We have an item in our teaching collection at the Museum that I much admire, and to my delight I found a place where I could order a new one of my very own! The site which has them is Tasha Tudor's family's website , which has a modest (but wonderful) shop. Want to see??

Is this not stunning? Can you guess what it is? (I hear your collective groan; everyone knows what it is - but the 4th graders at the Museum haven't a clue.) It's a Potato Masher. We tried it out and I have to say that from MY viewpoint it works MUCH better - yes, you heard me right, much BETTER - than any of those wire-squiggle models or the flat-disc-with-holes models. Now ... I have pictures of it in use. As is our wont, Mr Dearling and I boiled us up a mess o' 'tatoes and put it to the test. But that'll have to wait because I have to go to the Museum.......

...because when we're finished, Mr Dearling is going to pack me and my knitting into the car and he's going to whisk me away to the LaCrosse Public Library (no time for links here) where they are celebrating their "Third Annual Knit-in-Public Day" --- and this evening to cap off the event, Franklin Habit of "Panopticon" fame (google it, again - no time to link) is going to be speaking and signing his fabulous book!!

So I'll report back later on tonight...now I have to quickly grab some knitting to take along (OY)...oh, and I suppose I should get dressed. Watch this space!

In Which the Weather Improves

2009-03-22T23:29:00.015-05:00

I refuse to say winter is over. The minute I do, the Frost Giants' gnarly icy heads will spin around, fixing us with their blank gaze, and (because it IS March) we'll be in for that Worst of All Weathers: "Wintry Mix". Oh no, I won't say it. I may do a lot of goofy things, but tempt the Frost Giants? I'm not your girl for that.

Last week our friends D & J came to our program at a senior center (it was on Wisconsin Authors and I forgot my Elizabeth Zimmerman books, but I mentioned her anyway). Afterward, as it was quite a mild day, we went out with them for coffee (tea -- I had tea, "the Silent Partner of Cats, Sticks and Books") and then went for a stroll around Monona Terrace. That's a convention center sort of affair designed (for the most part) by Frank Lloyd Wright. There was a lot of controversy about it over the years - it's right on Lake Monona and gobbling up a length of shoreline was dicey. Lots of folks enjoyed fishing along the shore there. I was pretty much prepared to hate it, but I don't. I love it - there, I've said it.

Honestly? I didn't see that guy when I took the picture. He is not dead; if he were, they would've called CSI, and I'd have noticed Jim Brass or Nick Stokes if they'd been there. (Oh for petessakes it's good they weren't there; I'm sure I'd have behaved in a most unbecoming way...think the girls in the audience when the Beetles appeared with Ed Sullivan. Unbecoming.)

However, you can see the stylized lamps. The lower levels, might I add, have walking and bike paths, and there's even a special elevator so you can go up or down the levels with your bike. And it's really a beautiful view of Lake Monona from there.

This is "Wisconsin", the golden lady atop the capital, seen "full front" - she's facing Lake Monona. "Is that a badger on your head - or are you just happy to see me?" You can't really tell from here, of course, but that pointy bit on the center of her head IS a badger. I just love that. Now, the discerning among us point out that it's a rather long, skinny badger who appears to be doing his best otter impersonation, but facts is facts. Is it wrong to feel smug about living in a city with the Only Live-Badger-Wearing Golden Lady on top of the capitol? 'Cause I do, and I'm sticking to it.

There are some other Historical Points of Interest at this site. It's next door to a massive State Office Building, completed in 1932. It's very dense and office-y and official.....and they tore down the beautiful Fairchild home to build it. Just a couple of years ago they finally put up a brass plaque; I'd like to say I was responsible, but all I did was mutter into my oatmeal that there should be a plaque there. Still, I'm glad they finally did:

Mr Dearling gets a lot of mileage asking the kids at the Museum if they've ever gone down there to see the human arm buried there. BIG reaction. I'll put a quick version of the story in my own "Comments" rather than here - the arm isn't there anymore.

How's this for a witness to history? The "men and women" sure the heck wouldn't recognize the place today. This is really understated - and yet, I imagine that those people stopped, and if the weather was nice, enjoyed resting on the hill and watering their teams in the lake, enjoying the forests and game in the area. There were Ho-Chungk people living around the lakes, but they pretty much kept to themselves. I imagine it was a pretty idyllic spot - James Doty certainly admired it when he arrived to map out his "paper city".

I needed my shawl, but NOT a parka, muffler, cap, mittens and boots. The "boots" is a big deal, I'm much happier just wearing my dear old shoes.

Look, Ma, no parkabootsmittensscarfcap, just a good ol' Homespun shawl! Might I add, this is the newest of my Many Identical Dresses, and I really like the color and the cut of its jib. One of my oldest ones, a woven check, is nigh on to disintegrating...I'm going to see if someone can trim off the bad bits and maybe make it into a jumper or pinafore or even a skirt.

There's one other event memorialized on the deck at Monona Terrace, an event with which everyone's familiar but some of you may not realize that it was RIGHT HERE, in good old Madison, Wisconsin! Get this:

Yep! It was Lake Monona, right there, right in the Dock of the Bay. Sad day...and Wisconsin, atop the Capitol, badger on her head, witnessed the whole thing....

And lastly, on the Knitting Front - I'm nearly half-done with the current toque and I'm taking a respite from counting preemie caps. But the addiction is no less - last Friday was our Late Night Knit and in honor of St. Paddy all yarns of green or containing green were 20% off. So I bought four skeins of lovely, soft Debbie Bliss cotton for more little caps. HEY! TWO of them were even green! I'll count and photograph the lot for the next post, how's that?