Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
|
|
| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
|
0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Tuesday, May 15, 2007 This vacation stuff is addictive. Or - it will be - when I finally get the house in a state where I can sink down and relax. I’m almost there. Sunday I spent ridding it of dog fluff - which in May is substantial. Socks seems to have grown 3 winter coats for I’ve been brushing mounds of undercoat out of her since March. All my dogs hate to be brushed - I suspect I’m too intense with them - with one exception. Jack loves it. Jack, of the short hair that sheds out quickly in early March. Jack, who snuggles up close to you whenever he sees the dog combs and tries to nudge between any other doggie victim and that instrument of torture whenever I start grooming. And yes. I have saved their fur in years past and I have spun it and I thank you very much but I have Enough Fiber right now. For, in the mail, yesterday, were two enormous boxes full of Llama Fleece. My sister in Alaska - she of the looms and wheels - sent them to me. She’s in the process of clearing some land and building a house and a furniture shop and just couldn’t see her way to doing anything with them for eons. So, when she asked if I would like them, although my first thought was "how dirty are they?", my second thought was - Hey - sure - I can send them to the processors and if they are really really awful well - there you have it. I know how to move that sort of thing out softly. Besides, llama is not usually dirty in the same way wool is. I suspect it’s because they have long legs that lift the fleece a little further from their, er, um, poop. I pulled out a bit from one of the bags and it does have a lot of straw in it - but it’s very very soft and spinnable. And brown. Oh glorious llama brown. Bess brown. Soft fluffy warm pretty silky crimpless brown. A brown llama shawl in lace, hmmm? Another weirdly unvactioney thing going on around here is the Great Migration of Winter Clothes. They are supposed to head north in the summertime - up into the arctic - I mean attic. Alas, there has been a serious population explosion over the past decade and the territory can’t support such large herds without disease and starvation setting in. And so, as a good, if lazy, shepherdess, it was my duty to cull out the weak and the sick. What a collection of shoes and t-shirts and olive green shorts in every size from 1980’s tee-tiny 11/12 Juniors all the way up to 16’s!! Nobody should have that many green shorts. There were 6 pair of sandals. Not the strappy dressy kicky little numbers, either but Earth Shoe walking sandals. I kept 2 pair and am giving the rest to the Goodwill - along with some of those green shorts, t-shirts and 2 old coats. What is not going are the three vintage 1980's wool suits with BIG shoulders and wide skirts. Not because I ever expect to wear them again, but because the skirts are so big I am thinking they could be cut up and made into braided rugs. Well. The crafter’s soul never lies down quietly. They all have little pin sized moth holes in them so they won’t ever be worn again if they do come back in style. They weren’t packed away properly and the fabric suffered for it. * * * * * Huh. The above is yesterday’s attempt at a post. It is now Wednesday and I am back from the trip to the city. There is an evening wedding - a fancy evening wedding we will be attending on Saturday and in spite of the enormous quantity of clothing stored in the attic, there was nothing up there formal enough for an evening wedding along the banks of the Mattaponi in Tidewater Virginia that fit me. I knew I would have to go shopping sometime this week and I have a preference for Tuesday shopping under any circumstance. Stores are empty. New selections are out on the floors. There may not be as much staff, but what is there has nobody else to wait on but you, so you can get help fast. I had a list of about 10 City things to get and 4 bags of Goodwill donations to make and 2 elderly parents to visit. It all happened just the way it was supposed to. I did my shopping at the closest mega-mall. I’m not much of a boutique shopper. Those places are always full of tiny clothes at gigantic prices and I just don’t have the tiny body for them. Also, though I like to look nice, even very nice, I’m beyond wanting to stand out in a fashion crowd anymore. A big mall with 2 or 3 department stores suits me just fine. The first dress I tried on was the dress I wanted. Great color, a very pretty jacket to go over it, just the look I wanted. Alas, it was too small. Well, it was a Jessica McClintock dress, whose styles always suit my taste but that are cut on top for a smaller woman than me. I’m all shoulders and ribcage with no hips at all. [T]he[i]r dresses are cut on a sloper designed for small shoulders & bust but wide hips. I keep telling myself, "in my next life." The clerk checked her computer and called the other stores in town to see if the next size up lurked on any racks anywhere else. The answer was - yes - there was a bigger size right in her very own store. She swore she’d unpacked that box just the night before and knew it wasn’t in the shop so I looked around the rest of the mall. With deep reluctance and significant compromise I found another outfit that was nice enough but cost a good bit more and prepared to depart. But I had parked right outside first store’s front door and as I was walking back to my car I went through the petite department and what do you know. There was that same suit in petite sizes. I’m not exactly short, but I have a very short body and if a petite is cut wide enough, the body length is actually a much better fit. And what do you know - there was the missing size *! The long and short of it is that I got the dress I want, I already have shoes and bag to go with it, might even have a hat (have to try it out today) and went away contented, saying "Now I’m the grandest tiger in the jungle." But really. I ought to get on the WW stick. I don’t want to go through the summer all hot and sticky and rubbing skin against skin. There was time to get in a good visit with both parents. Mama is fine. She’d like us to come more often and stay longer, but she has lots of budding friendships and her contentment rests entirely within herself. Dad is physically much better. He’s got his little dog and she’s looking pretty good too. Certainly, everyone loves her and pets her and he can bask in that glory. I’m amazed at how willing he is to let sister and me make his decisions for him. Skill is still required, and tact, to set it up so that he feels he has some choice, but no choices can be offered to him that we are not prepared to live with. We had a talk about selling his house. He knows it has to be done and he’s pretty much willing to let us do that job. He is in assisted living. Right next door is a "retirement community" which is an assisted living place without any nursing staff. We took a little stroll down the hill, me pushing him in his wheel chair, and had a look around. He liked it. Best of all, he felt he’d "found" it. It is also about $1k a month less than where he is staying. So. The wheel turned another notch. Things look good. I see light up ahead. Today I don’t plan to do anything. Pushing Dad back up the hill in his wheel chair put some strain on the ankle I turned 2 weeks ago. I’m going to stay off it, read books, knit and nap. Yep. Sounds like a perfect vacation day. posted by Bess | 8:47 AM |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
||||
|
|||||
40
