Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Saturday, July 31, 2004 Imagine 48 hours with nothing falling from the sky! Imagine floors that aren’t slippery, counters that don’t feel clammy, cabinet doors that shut - well, no, that’s not quite happening. But they sort of shut, as does the front door. Really - this is how your ancestors lived - swollen, sticky and probably crabby as hell. I never did get back to sleep yesterday, but I did get 3 loads of laundry washed, dried, and brought inside. The last is the most important, ‘cause if you don’t get the stuff in before twilight, the dew soaks the cloth and you need morning sunshine to dry everything - if the sky doesn’t decide to rain in the night. I had to take the last load into town and run it through the dryer - but that gave me a chance to spin a bit of the BFL on my little Bosworth spindle. La, that is a sweet tool. The SRC story tellers were adorable: a husband and wife team complete with puppets and music. We had a good crowd - which always sparks the energy in a performer, so they had fun, we had fun and the kids had fun. And we are done done done with the program yippee yea! We love the summer reading club but goodness we are glad when it’s over. The afternoon dragged interminably, though, as it always does when I wake up before 5. I spent it holed up at the cataloging computer, doing necessary but basically mindless work. I’ve always loved typing and that’s mostly what cataloging is - so much of the decision making has been done for us during publication that the actual apportionment part takes very little time. We make minor adjustments but mostly we copy stuff - when we have to catalog at all, since we actually buy the bulk of our books pre-processed. Still, when I have to be at work, but haven’t the energy to make decisions, I can still feel productive if I can whittle away at the backlog of odds and ends that accumulate in the workroom. There was another little treat waiting for me at work yesterday - it is a bit of an involved story but I have never shirked from prosing on and on about myself. When middle age attacked my eyesight and my focal length stretched beyond arm’s reach, I was sucked into a vicious cycle of ocular shedding whereby I would struggle with scratched bent glasses till I finally lost the pair, then I would rage about helplessly for 24 hours, then shell out another $40 on the cheapest discontinued frames and instant lenses, tenderly cased and guarded for a month or so, only to begin scattering them about as I vacillated between close vision needs and normal vision needs, guaranteeing they would torque, twist, and scratch, till I once again mindlessly set them down in some outlandish location, to be forever forgotten. The cycle has lengthened ever so gradually. At times there is a whole year between one purchase and the next. It’s an expense I’ve had to factor into the family budget. The rages have grown less violent. The sympathy of friends, family and staff has long since dried up. I no longer fret that there is some deeply buried subconscious denial going on in my psyche. It’s mostly a shruggable issue now. On Thursday, while having a manicure, I was reading the local paper, so I know I had my glasses with me. I got back to work and immediately noticed I no longer had them. I’d left one building, gotten in a car and returned to another building and in that space those glasses had vanished. Three times I retraced my steps, then asked LD, who was riding home from work with me, to do the same. No glasses. No where. On Friday morning I made a final trek along the road oft’ taken but still no glasses. Now - I can’t read at all without them, and I can’t do any work at all if I can’t read. The particularly nasty pair I keep for emergencies in my desk are just barely usable. There was nothing to do but order another pair. Thank goodness this is a small town - and I could be over at the eye doctors and back before the story tellers arrived. But on the way out the door I realized the trashcan needed to be put out on the sidewalk. I grabbed the lid to settle it and lo - sitting on top of the litter I’d scooped out of my car the day before were.... Really - sometimes I am so stupid. So. There lies before me a lovely day of my own, to make friends with my house again. I am sure it feels deeply neglected. There are several ugly stacks of clutter in (gasp)Public Spaces. There are some drawers of yarn who are whispering to me. There is a shameful kitchen disaster that still needs attention (I will say nothing more than that my treasured 1979 Fannie Farmer Cookbook has spent the last week in the oven, where a pilot light has valiantly sucked the dampness out of blessedly high rag content paper.). I am not exactly sure what I shall do today - or rather - I am not sure of all that I will do, but a fairly thorough housecleaning is in order, for we have guests coming. Tomorrow, BD and I shall drive up to Madison and gather Captain Nicky and First Mate Julia and bring them down to the river for a week of water fun. BD is cock a whoop with excitement, as he has always longed for daughters. They are both budding fiberistas, too, so it’s a good thing I have two spinning wheels. In fact - I had best clear off those bobbins on HeyBaby. posted by Bess | 6:38 AM |
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