On one of my walks, I found this feather. Looks like a blue jay.
Birds just amaze me, so I treasure this.
Lois and I did the Beekman Street Fair last Sunday. The weather was stellar. The crowd was never ending. The sales were shocking.
It was a good show.
We sold so many möbius shawls, now we have to get weaving to restock. More shows coming.
My youngest daughter came with her two little ones. A vendor down the street from me was selling handmade baby (doll) carriers, so as soon as my granddaughter got there, we went and got one for her and for "baby".
She had also been to the craft tent, where she felt right at home.
This lady rocked this möbi. I was sure she was going to buy it, but it wasn't in her budget.
Finally home, and unpacked, it was time for a rest. Shows can be exhausting.
Coming home to this old house is always a comfort. I still pinch myself some days. When I was younger, I always dreamed of owning an old house like this, full of character and history.
I am still stunned that it's mine for this space of time on earth.
Occasionally, my three girls badger me about moving closer to them. They are only an hour away, but they think it would be nice to have me within a few miles.
It will never happen, I'm afraid. I know the deal.
They are busy now, they would be just as busy if I lived down the road.
And I could never leave this house that I love, where I feel at home, where friends stop in unannounced, to live in a place that I don't love, and don't know. A place, where I know I would probably not see them any more than I do now.
I see the little ones the most, because that daughter doesn't work outside the home....she has her hands full already.
My older grandchildren are busy: school, jobs, sports, friends. I miss the days when Mimi was at the center of their lives. But I accept that life happens, times change. There is no point wishing it were otherwise.
So I take every opportunity to soak up being Mimi to these two.
Look at those faces. Makes my heart ache, I love them so much.
I am grateful, beyond explanation, for the chance to get to know them, and for them to know me. I don't know how much they will remember when they grow up. I just hope that they remember that they had a Mimi, and her love for them was boundless.
My kids don't like to talk about it, but me..........well, I have no illusions.
I am pretty sure I will not live to be as old as my parents. I am painfully (pun intended) aware of what was done to the back of my head. My experience as a nurse, and my time in the OR, makes it quite clear to me that hands and instruments and mayhem resided inside the back of my head, not for one surgery, no, but for three.
A couple of weeks ago, I was weaving, yes, for too long. I had a searing pain in the back of my neck. Now my neck, being fused, is always somewhat painful. But this was different. It got my attention. The onset of a fierce headache behind my eyes told me to stop what I was doing. So I did.
I immediately became cold, all over cold. I was so cold, that I was shivering, on a perfectly nice day.
Then my fingers, all but my thumbs, became numb at the finger tips.
All this lasted for about 20 minutes. Since then, my headaches have rumbled around my head with abandon. At times, it is a throbbing pain, at others it feels like something is impaling my eye.
Damage was done inside my head. I know it, personally. I'm not crying about it. Just stating a fact. We are all going to die, even while we try not to think about it. Denial doesn't work. Everyone has their time on this earth, and it has an end date. But most of us feel, without reason, that we have forever.
Then there are some of us, who intimately know better, at some gut level, the truth has become quite real to us.
We don't have unlimited time, like we used to think.
So everything becomes more precious. Every observation, every connection, every feeling.
I know my girls and my grands will be fine without me someday, they are strong and independent.
This girl? Not so much.
I am a little stressed that if I am correct about my assumption that my life span is not going to be long, what will happen to her?
She is so sweet, and dependent, and needy. My knowledge that you can't have any control when you're gone, battles with my deep desire to know that she will be ok, and loved.
Aren't we the maudlin one this morning????
Don't we all get that way occasionally? or is it a taboo subject???
On a brighter note, I read about the "remoska"..........which I can't buy because it won't work on US voltage. They seem to be popular in England.
So I found this one, by Emeril....much bigger than the traditional Czechoslovakian remoska, but otherwise the same.
The heating element is in the lid....it cooks like an oven at 375 degrees, and I love it.
Makes amazing roast potatoes, rhubarb crisp......corn on the cob wrapped in foil.......baked potatoes..
uses way less energy than your oven........bottom can go on the stove top to brown things first, or just use it in the stand that it's in.
The bottom washes like a breeze. And it doesn't heat up your kitchen.
I bought it on Amazon for $29.99........you have to look around for that price........
I've been dyeing again........ first DIE is the subject matter......but stay with me........now it's DYE.
I have it down to a science, and it always feels amazing and uplifting, creating all the combinations of color that are possible.
The loom dog watches our every move as we warp the loom with some of my hand dyed cotton.
Two warps in one day....??? Yep, we were on a roll........
A natural warp is a lovely background for some of the colors I am coming up with. I want to try them all.
A little navy abaca to start.........which is a fiber made from banana trees.......
And measuring picks so I can compute how much weft to dye for my next project.
Yes, I know that it is not likely that I will live a long life.
But it's the life I'm living today that matters. This day. The one I have. That belongs to me.
This day, is going to be a good one.
And then, I'll take just one day at a time.
Because in the end, isn't that really all we can do?????