Bedazzled!

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

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

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

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....

... 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

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....

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.)