slowly she turned

My front porch oasis

August 20, 2023

I feel so spoiled when I watch what much of the rest of the world is going through. We’re forecast to get some of that high heat this week but in this part of central North Carolina the heat is mainly tolerable. Now, that’s from someone who lives and works in air conditioning, but when I look at places like Boise, Idaho and Portland, Oregon with highs over 100, I realize how much worse it could be.

When we first bought this house, the front yard was a tiny patch of grass with white azaleas and “monkey grass” as yard trim. The heat coming into the house in the afternoon was brutal. We planted two yoshina cherry trees that grew to twice the size they were supposed to (lucky for us, actually) and four crepe myrtle in the strip between the sidewalk and the street. Now it is always shady on our front porch and I hear the people walking through sigh with relief as they leave the sun for our brief oasis.

Anyway, I’ve been enjoying my tolerably warm front porch while I can, with my tapestry loom out here under the ceiling fan and a box fan as needed. In the evenings I can sit out here with a book on my Kindle and early in the evenings I hear music from Oden Brewing’s outdoor stage a block away just on the other side of the railroad.

On the railings on my screened front porch are a display of mostly natural gleaning from various trips I’ve taken, which I occasionally have to clean the cobwebs from. I’m looking at fossils I’ve collected from North Carolina beaches, a barnacle from a North Ireland beach, shells from southern Portugal. A small cobblestone from Lisbon. A piece of broken tile and a purchased amethyst from Queretaro, Mexico. River teeth and driftwood from the shores of Lake Waccamaw. Many, many stones from all over. Worn shells with holes in them, my favorites. A cast iron snail from Trerice, Cornwall, which I thought was a candle lantern but turns out to be a thread ball holder. Anyway, it bears feathers from my walks now. One day I’ll make a flying snail in some format.

The furniture is unpretentious. An old wicker chair and stool that I bought for ten bucks at a yard sale that has a back repaired with jute twine. A weird old plant stand from my grandfather’s house that I rest my coffee on. Two small wicker tables from an antique store at Lake Waccamaw. An old folding “gravity” chair that no longer defies gravity replaced the wicker rocking chair from my mother’s front porch that finally collapsed beyond repair. That was the chair that I bought these matching tables for. I was very sad when I put it out on the curb, and I hope someone more talented at repair than me rescued it.

The cat tree is in the corner where English ivy creeps up outside. There is a string of solar lights that turns on at dusk. A wool tapestry throw rug in on the broken tile floor. A tall table from my neighbor’s yard sale across the street, covered with a box fan, candles, a bowl of shells, a basket of driftwood sticks, and my mother’s struggling Christmas cactus that I’m trying to root babies from before it gives up the ghost. At least I bought this table…I’ve been known to trash pick at his curb, which can be a bit embarrassing when he visits.

I need to take down these Christmas light balls that hang from the traditional “haint” blue ceiling. They stopped working two years ago but last Christmas we weren’t in the mood for decorations anyway. I could wrap new lights around them. Mardi Gras beads hang from the ceiling fan pulls, and the light has needed to be changed for several years, but we dread it because of the pain in the ass factor so we get along with our solar lights and a lamp on the table between the chairs. I keep a field guide to birds beside the lamp. There are old newspapers piled up on the footstool that I’ll take in for Bernie and Frida’s cage lining.

Sounds: we long ago stopped noticing the trains going by at the top of the street. They rarely blow their horns. Loud cars and cycles revving their engines at the other end of the street, especially at night. Yesterday afternoon, somebody rapped a lot of loud foul language as he walked down the street with headphones and a red hoodie on that made me think he was in a superhero costume at first. Occasionally we hear a musician of some kind playing on their own in the little park at the end of our street – it could be blues, it could be classical. Fireworks from the baseball stadium downtown. Cicadas are in full blast. All is not paradise here but right now it feels that way.

Lots of birds: Carolina wrens, song sparrows, American goldfinches, house finches, Carolina chickadees, Northern cardinals, Eastern towhees, gray catbirds, mourning doves, American robins, and an occasional small woodpecker of various species. Yesterday I watched and heard a skirmish between the crows and the red shouldered hawks. Our neighbors are pretty quiet. Yesterday seemed to be lawn mowing day. Now the church bells are letting me know that it is one o’clock and I suppose it is time for lunch, although I’m not hungry.

Time to weave, too. Amazing, but I could have kept on writing just about being on this porch.
Gettin’ wid it

August 12, 2023
On the quest to getting our shit together after a long period of depression and ill health, we went to the Greensboro Farmers’ Curb Market late this morning. Many vendors were not there, and a few were sold out of what I wanted, but that’s the trade-off of sleeping late. I’m fine with that trade-off, because if I don’t feel the anxiety at night of having to get up by a certain time in the morning, I sleep so much better. One of those paradoxes, I guess.

Back when I was a huge advocate of the Greensboro Farmers’ Curb Market and wrote about it frequently, I posted lists of what I bought. Here’s what I bought this morning:
- Chorizo from Providence Farm
- Soap from Mimi’s Soaps
- Wheat bread from Piedmont International Bakery
- Bicolor corn, shelled butterbeans, yellow bell pepper, and a huge tomato from Smith Farms
- Yellow squash, okra, and broccoli from Crouse Farms
Most of the vendors take credit cards, and some will charge less for cash. I considered buying peaches to dry in the dehydrator because I love adding the dried slices to my cereal in winter, but I figured I had enough to keep me busy today if I was also to get some artwork done.

I also need to transfer the fig concoction that I cooked this week to small glass containers and find a place for them in the freezer. Unfortunately I seem to have given away most of my small canning jars but I found a few that will work. I don’t have a recipe, but I cooked a four quart pot full of whole figs and about a half cup of orange juice down, added probably a quarter to half cup of honey, then blended it with an immersion blender.

We went to a cookout picnic at Barber Park hosted by my co-workers on Thursday evening and then a get-together for the new graduate students at Oden Brewing yesterday afternoon, so my social energy meter is low and I won’t mind hanging out here at home in the air conditioning on a very hot weather. Several people mentioned how good Sandy looks – I think that he looks healthier too.

My focus these days, after my experience learning with Bryant Holsenbeck and reading her book, is to turn my attention back to my use of throw “away” plastic. And boy, it is tough not to buy it. Bread wrappers. Plastic bags for the chorizo, okra, beans, and corn. I don’t know how you can avoid it for meats, so that wrap still goes in the garbage. I’m washing out the plastic that wraps bread and the bags that hold fruits and veggies and grains and saving for use in the recycled sculptures that she taught us, but the quantity of saved plastic wrap has already outpaced my uses for it.

A few years ago I taped up used bubble wrap between the storm windows and my old double hung windows in my bedroom, and that’s been a huge help in insulating against the heat and cold. I can’t put it on the insides though, because my cats love to eat plastic. I have to hide it or keep it in the car.

The figs are close to done, since the Japanese beetles have now discovered them. I’ll get a few more, but I’m okay with giving the rest up to the bugs and birds. A catbird fusses at me every time I pick, so she must have a nest in either the fig tree or the blueberry bush, which is covered in vines, unfortunately for us, but great cover for her babies. I hope to have a small fall harvest of peppers and cucumbers. We keep a pitcher of filtered water with cucumber slices and fresh mint leaves in the refrigerator these days.

We got the latest Covid-19 boosters on Wednesday afternoon, and I am convinced that we are at the beginning of a new surge. No side effects, other than the usual sore arm for me.

Book that will be finished by the end of the weekend: “July’s People” by Nadine Gordimer.
Saturday coffee pot post

August 5, 2023

Actually, the coffee pot is empty now. I spent part of the morning sleeping late after staying up WAY TOO LATE looking at social media, and part of it reading “The Last Straw” by Bryant Holsenbeck on the front porch. My neighbor, Mike, came over and is excited about the possibility of transforming some of the many broken pieces of African sculpture he has from his former African import shop into folk art pieces based on looking at Gertie the Gator. I’m almost afraid to go look in his storage – it’s going to be overwhelming with cool finds and ideas.

I’m overwhelmed anyway. The inspiration I got from my John C. Campbell Folk School experience and the wealth of the Internet and social media has nearly exploded my brain, which normally makes me shut down instead of moving forward. Today I plan to finish Woodrow the Pileated Woodpecker and weave tapestry, as well as continue picking the bumper crop of figs in the Back Forty. Chicken chili is on the menu.

Any recipes and ideas for figs would be welcome. A couple of years ago Sandy and I came up with a concoction of cooked figs, honey, and orange juice and zest for a filling for homemade fig newtons. I couldn’t tell you the proportions because we were playing with it. When you have this many figs, you can experiment. If I figure out proportions, I’ll post. It seems to me that the honey may have been a bit of overkill because figs are so sugary anyway, but maybe it was a small amount for the flavor and texture.

When I look at all the opportunities to apply for residencies and such after I retire, I can see that I need to jump start redesigning this website. I feel impatient, because it is not totally a sure thing that I’ll be able to retire next June. I’ll probably have to get some kind of temp work anyway. I can’t really apply for residencies until I know for sure, and I’ll have to decide on a retirement date at least four months before I put in the paperwork.

I finished “The Underground Railroad” by Colson Whitehead and “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven” by Sherman Alexie this week, which shows you what I’ve been doing instead of making art. We are still finishing up “Better Call Saul” slowly and I’m watching “Party Down” on Hulu before it is canceled tomorrow. It’s quite filthy and twisted cringy humor but really funny.

Reading “The Last Straw,” which is taken from Bryant Holsenbeck’s former blog about the year she attempted to live without using single-use plastic, made me remember how serious I was about ethical consumerism at one point and how much I’ve lightened up. I could do much better without a lot of effort now with Deep Roots Market and the Greensboro Farmers’ Curb Market nearby. So much plastic was added to food packaging during the pandemic. I’ve been to mainstream grocery stores several times in the last few years and even the fresh produce is often wrapped individually in plastic wrap. While I understood the reasons at one time when everyone was panicking, there’s no logical basis for it. Just wash your produce and it will be fine. Buy organic if you can afford it. Deep Roots Market was making steps toward Zero Waste before the pandemic and that effort was set back, but they are moving forward again and you are encouraged to take your own containers and bags. They will happily weigh your empty containers at the front and mark them so that they can subtract their weight from your bulk items when you check out. I reuse a lot of containers and coffee bags, but I need to train my brain to remember to take them every time I go.

We can do better. We don’t have to be perfect, but we can do better than we do now. That’s something, and something is always better than nothing. Lots of somethings add up.

Wildlife: this little feller wanted to come into the house with me yesterday. I nearly stepped on him on the steps in front of our front porch door. We identified him as a Dekay’s brown snake. He was a courageous dude and struck at us as we moved him down the steps. Probably about a foot long. I checked my ankles because he had such a wee mouth I figured I might not have felt a bite. Sandy named him Freddie Prince (sic) but I think we should name him Fang if we see him again. Look at those big eyes. Hopefully he is eating slugs in my front container garden. Which, by the way, I finally added compost to, so hopefully it will revive my suffering tomatoes and peppers.

Update: a friend says that Dekay’s snakes don’t have fangs, so Fang would need to be his performance name.
John C. Campbell Folk School, part 3

August 1, 2023

Spending a week at John C. Campbell is healing for my spirit. From the time I walk into that weathered door in Keith House to check in, I feel the calm begin to take hold of my stressed out body. This time I was in a room with only one roommate, and she and I hit it off immediately. It was on the second floor of Keith House at the back of the building, shaded by the tall trees around it.

Here’s the path I walked several times a day from Keith House and the dining hall and my classroom in the Fiber Arts building.

I spent a couple of evenings after class in my room, catching up on my rest and recharging my introvert battery after the previous high stress week. I started reading “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven,” short stories by Sherman Alexie that was his first published book. I looked up images of alligators on my Kindle to reference for my first animal.

On Tuesday evening after dinner, I walked through the meadow on an overgrown path down to Brasstown Creek. A storm was brewing and it was close to sunset. I had heard that there was a swimming hole down there but I didn’t stay long enough to find it. As I plucked the stones that called out to me on the pebble beach, it occurred to me that maybe hanging out alone on a creek in bear territory at dusk wasn’t a good choice. So I filled my pockets and walked back to the studio to my alligator. I saw a rabbit and a red-winged blackbird.

I think it was Thursday after dinner when I walked back to my room from the studio through the school’s gardens. The natural dye class hung out its fabrics and garments dyed from the dye garden. I saw another rabbit, which made me consider switching my last animal I had started that evening, a squirrel, to a rabbit. I ended up sticking with the squirrel, but there’s probably a rabbit on the way.

You can see our class work on display in my previous post, but there were many other activities and classes during this peaceful week. My roommate was in a class that wove chair and stool seats out of alternative materials, such as leather belts and neck ties. The wood carving class was focused on caricatures – I loved the one of Lurch. The patch beside this forged iron hanger reads “The strongest steel is forged in the fire of a dumpster.”

Bryant read a poem to our class every day; often from one of my favorite poets, William Stafford. I photographed one that she had left on the table, which has special meaning to me after the last three years of particularly bad news and grief. I am following my thread.

Near the beginning of the class when we were talking about the artwork that we did and enjoyed, I repeated something that I’ve often said in the past – that I am a dilettante, a dabbler, skipping from medium to medium but always returning to tapestry. By the end of the week I saw that this is only partially true: I am not a “dilettante.” I am living the creative life as best I can under my changing circumstances, and I am actually living the life that I visualized long ago. A comfortable place to live, an income that provides me with security if not wealth, time to travel and pursue art. How lucky I am!

I may not be focused, but why take the time to become an expert in one thing that life offers when there is so much to tap into? I’ve made good choices. I saw in my heart the negative energy that “dilettante” self-denigrating attitude brought to my life, and now I’m ready to embrace that creative search for the wonder and the blessing that it is.
“Wrapping Wild” at John C. Campbell Folk School, part 2

July 30, 2023

Our class created a huge diversity of animals, including some that came into new existence. Some photos are not great – I had planned to take better ones but time got away from me and there was a crowd at our display and the end-of-week show-and-tell.

I’ll go around the room in my memory – first up is Willow Daniels, a work-study student at JCCFS. She made a squirrel, a turtle, a mouse, and a parrot.

Since you can see Anne Woodward’s bee up there, she’s next. It is an endangered species of bee and I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember the name. Next to it is a red kangaroo that became a monster, and she was working on a Medusa hat/footed bowl with snakes, of course. Her work table is below.

Geri Forkner’s table was next. Her favorite, and one of my favorites in the class, was a simple ball on bird feet. She made a huge chameleon with eyes that lit up, a bird with bark wings, and a blingy chicken.

Claire Dunaway Cyr made a honey badger, a bison, and was working on a female cardinal before she had to leave early.

Next to me was Diane Arthur, who worked on getting this elegant rabbit just right most of the time we were there. There were so many oohs and ahhs over it at the display. Her unfinished project was a robin.

On the other side of me was Pat Younger, who focused on making her possum, and was working on a baby possum when we ran out of time. She and her husband drove all the way from Colorado to take classes here! This possum was big and she worked on it meticulously.

Katrina Stone spent most of the week making a spectacular flying pig, who she named Esther in honor of Esther the Wonder Pig. (Google her.) She is a feltmaker so she felted the wings while she was there. The first animal she made was a darling little hedgehog who is lying on its back under Esther. Unfortunately I didn’t get a good photo of it.

There was another Laurie in the class – Laurie Ballard. She made a beaver and her possum in progress was on display as well. She was the one who suggested I find a Barbie leg with a high-heeled shoe to go in Gertie Gator’s mouth, as well as the person who suggested the strand of beads for the teeth. A great problem solver and I loved her sense of humor!

Karen Bills was an inspiration to us all, I think. A truly positive force in the class. She began with a skunk, then a huge paper wasp, and ended with an exhausted sparkle bird. The underside of the wasp was as lovely as the top. You can see Katrina’s little hedgehog and Willow’s turtle in the second photo with the “Last Bird.”

And those were our classes’ animals, made by a talented and creative group of women. See the previous post for my alligator, woodpecker, and the start of a squirrel.
“Wrapping Wild” at John C. Campbell Folk School

July 29, 2023

Hello friends! I am back from a rejuvenating six days (including travel) at John C. Campbell Folk School, where I finally snagged a spot in a class I’ve wanted to take for a long, long time – “Wrapping Wild: Making Animals Out of Recycled Materials,” taught by the amazing Bryant Holsenbeck. First, the photos of my work, then more class photos on the next post, then more photos on a third post, because these posts are going to be extremely photo heavy!

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go to this much-anticipated workshop at all after my husband had a stroke last week, but y’all, those clot-busting meds are miracles and he was declared fully recovered. My nerves were still a bit shot but after two nights I was relaxed and feeling wonderful with my tribe. Such is the experience of John C. Campbell Folk School.

Bryant is an environmental sculptor and mixed media artist who began her art career as a basketeer. (Yes, that’s the best word for it.) She lives near me so I’ve seen her work in Greensboro and a good friend of mine learned random weave basketry from her about thirtyish years ago, then got me hooked on the technique. I made a lot of random weave baskets and wreathes for a while out of the jungle of vines on the edges of our urban lot, as well as foraged materials. I’ve always been interested in moving from natural materials to recycled materials and incorporated found objects in my work, so Bryant’s work has fascinated me for years.

I started out by making an alligator and by the second day my brain was racing with all the possibilities. We made sketches and researched the body structures of the animals we chose. This really turned out to be important – when you draw, even from a photo or another drawing, you are forced to pay attention to the proportions of the animal’s body. It usually turns out to be a little different than you thought. Materials used here: wire, plastic grocery bags, old clothing, a couple of different belt scraps from the chair seats class courtesy of my roomie, Merideth, buttons, thread, yarn, and bead strand. We all helped each other problem solve every day. The beads were the perfect tooth solution from the other Laurie in the class. I present to you: the evolution of Gertie Gator.

I wanted to do a bird and a mammal – so next I made my favorite bird, a pileated woodpecker. This was in keeping with my tendency to mine inspiration from Lake Waccamaw, since I’ve seen a pileated woodpecker there, but there are pileated woodpeckers at JCCFS as well. So here’s the progress on Woodrow. He’s not totally finished because I wanted to start the structure of a squirrel while I had the expertise of Bryant at hand. Materials, wire, plastic bags, fabric, thread, yarn, trim, driftwood stick.

And here’s the beginning of my squirrel. I’ll name him Archie and pretend that my little rescued baby squirrel is alive and well out in an oak tree somewhere.
What a week.

July 21, 2023

I copied this post from my personal Facebook page from yesterday morning below:

“I’d hesitated to post this, but in the spirit of a public service announcement – if you have any symptoms of having a stroke, it’s SO IMPORTANT to call 911 or get yer butt to an ER right away. Better safe than sorry! Don’t even think about laying down and seeing if you feel better later, or after a nap. There are amazing clot-busting meds available that will most likely fix you but you gotta get them within four hours of your first symptom. If you don’t make that time frame, your recovery may be long and hard and possibly permanent.

“That being said, Mr. Sandy should be getting out of ICU and maybe coming home today (or tomorrow) after having a stroke around midnight on Tuesday. His motor skills are fine, no numbness, and his language was affected a little bit, but that injection, hoo boy, was the ticket to wellness for him. The physical therapist said that he doesn’t even need PT services. The doctors say it is because he got that injection so fast.”

He came home yesterday afternoon, less than 48 hours after his small stroke. The clot was near the language center of his brain. It could have been much, much worse, since he was losing feeling on his right side also.

Here’s what happened – sometime around midnight as I was settling down in bed, I heard something hit the floor in Sandy’s man cave, and when I checked, he was trying to get off the floor. Now, Sandy often falls asleep in this rolling office chair, and because he wouldn’t tell me what happened, I figured that was what happened and he was embarrassed. He finally said something about his hands getting in an awkward position and wouldn’t let me help him up, so I put a chair near him for him to support himself getting up, and went to bed.

He then watched TV in another room for a few minutes, and then took a shower, and fell in the bathroom. He got up and came into my room and said that he might need to go to the hospital, that he suspected that maybe he was having a stroke. I looked at him carefully and he didn’t show any of the physical signs and he was speaking normally, but he told me that suddenly his hand had raised up in front of his face before his first fall and he didn’t know why. So that was enough to get in the car and go to the ER, although I wanted to call 911, it seemed like a better safe than sorry trip. Fortunately, our main hospital is 10-15 minutes away.

We didn’t say much on the way, but when I got to the parking lot I was confused because of construction, and took a wrong turn. Sandy tried to tell me where to turn, and he couldn’t. He kept saying “cross, cross.” When we got to the door, I was starting to panic and he was trying to get out of the car and walk by himself while I was struggling with what I thought was a wheelchair. I told a passerby that I needed help and he ignored me. There was a police officer sitting in a car in the line of sight who also ignored us. I found a wheelchair, got him inside, told the ER staff he was having a stroke and that he needed to be seen right away. (Other than what happened outside the door, the staff was great, but that door needs to be attended by somebody.)

I had to move the car, which I had left in front of the door with both doors open, and by the time I got back he had been moved to a room in triage. He was losing his language ability rapidly and couldn’t feel the nurses scratching his right foot and leg. They got him to the CT scan room and came back to get me because he couldn’t answer the neurosurgeon’s questions.

At this point, I was very wobbly. An employee had gotten me some water and I was beginning to do breathing exercises. I had thought that I was handling everything with more than an appropriate amount of calmness, but my vasovagal syncope response nearly got the better of me. After I gave the neurosurgeon permission to give Sandy the TNK clot-busting injection, I was tottering, so the nurse got me out of there and then I got some medical attention in Sandy’s bed. I explained that I had been a fainter all my life with an overactive vasovagal response and they said that stress can set it off. By the time Sandy was back in the room, I was sitting in a chair, still a bit sweaty but well enough to deal with everything and he never knew. The nurses and I joked that I did it on purpose because I was jealous of the attention that he was getting.

The injection worked within seconds. (The doctor laughed and told me he said “Son of a bitch!!!”) He was taken to get an MRI to confirm the stroke and blockage. He was able to communicate, although not well, and after a few hours his skin sensitivity and motion was back to normal. His language skills improved more slowly, but he is 99% back to normal with that now. He was required to stay in ICU for 24 hours due to the power of that medicine – there were risks involved and he wasn’t allowed out of bed. By the time he walked with the physical therapist, they said he didn’t need PT at all.

Less than 48 hours after having a stroke, Sandy is home and the doctors said that he has no restrictions other than they told him to take it easy for a few days. He is mostly fatigued from the experience.

Once again, everybody said that it was because he got that injection so fast after his first symptoms that the neurosurgeon declared him fully recovered Thursday morning after having a stroke at midnight on Tuesday.

Now the focus in on his heart and why he had the stroke.

Get to an ER as quickly as possible if you suspect a stroke. Just do it.
Weave Every Day Challenge July 15

July 15, 2023

I cannot truthfully say that I have woven every day this week, but I’ve enjoyed some good sessions weaving the tapestry of Rascal and Sissy. My intention was to make this more of a graphic geometric abstract, but just look at Miss Sissy’s ear. It just yells out for attention to detail. I decided that after the tapestry is off the loom I’ll add stitching for the hairs across those lovely peachy pink insides of her ears and for her whiskers. Can you tell that I love Miss Sissy? I love Miss Sissy.
Saturday noon coffee pot post

July 15, 2023

I’m still trying to get back to a normal sleep schedule after my steroid shot on Wednesday. Wow, I’ve never had such side effects before. Last night I got a full deep sleep finally after I took a melatonin, so I’ll going to do that earlier in the evening tonight. I haven’t had this much energy in a long time, but my ankle still hurts, I guess because I keep jumping up to do stuff. Hopefully it will calm down this week before I head to John C. Campbell Folk School next Sunday.

Because I LOVE x-rays, here’s two photos of the culprit. See that little hook on the back of my heel? Uh-huh. It sits right on my Achilles tendon.

Anyhow, my brain has started shifting toward anticipation of taking Bryant Holsenbeck‘s fiber recycled material animal sculpture class at John C. Campbell. It’s been a while since I’ve been to JCCFS and I am so looking forward to it! I hope it won’t be terribly hot, but so far we’ve been luckier in North Carolina than in other places. The heat index is still over 100 degrees because of the heavy humidity, but I have friends (hi, JQ) in places where the pavement melts.

I’ve been a Bryant Holsenbeck fan for years, ever since a good friend studied under her back in the early 90s. So when I saw that she was offering this class – Wrapping Wild: Making Animals Out of Recycled Materials (https://folkschool.configio.com/pd/1414/wrapping-wild-making-animals-out-of-recycled?txt=wrapping&cid=2527&returncom=productlist&source=search)- I jumped on it right away. Hmmm, what will I make? I like the idea of making an alligator, and that should be relatively simple for something to begin with. A fox would be nice. Of course I want to do birds but she doesn’t start us out with those because the balance issues of two legs. I do not lack for materials at all.

I still don’t understand why WP will let me embed some links but not others. Oh well.

I have a massage scheduled in a couple of hours, and my brain is much better since I’ve gotten a steady dose of vitamin D in my system now. And of course I’m weaving tapestry (next post). So all in all, I’m doing okay.
Saturday Morning Coffee Pot Post

July 8, 2023

In which I’m thinking about how I “should” go to the farmers’ market, but I’m drinking coffee on the front porch and writing this instead. I wish I had more self-discipline when it comes to doing things in the mornings. Or evenings. Or during the day. Speaking of which, I’m heading back to my therapist on Monday afternoon, because depression has clearly crawled its way back into my life. It could be that it might be fixed with more vitamin D because I let that go after running out for a while. This week I’ve had little energy for anything. I’m getting a steroid shot in my foot for my Achilles tendinitis/bone spur in the middle of this week so I should be able to get some more exercise without pain again. I can walk to work and back, but much more than that and I start getting stabbing pains.

Victor came to give me estimates on the work we need done to the house. I’m only having the jobs done that I see as necessary, which is replacing and moving the dryer vent ductwork to exit well away from the outside air conditioning unit and repairing the back door frame, which was damaged in a storm and neither Sandy or Victor could quite figure out what the problem is. As it stands, the screen door won’t shut, and he’s not sure how long it will take to fix it, but it needs to be done. The jobs that I’d like done but are too expensive or too complicated for me to deal with at this time is the perennial front door replacement and bricking in a wooden access door to the basement that isn’t needed and sits where water tends to flow down in big rain storms. I sandbagged it years ago. There are a hundred more projects for a 101 year old house but all things that can wait.

My neighbor is again sending me photos of park model RVs and lots for sale in the RV resort they bought into next to Stone Mountain State Park. Honestly, I am so tempted and if I didn’t have to give up travel to buy one I’d go check it out. It would be nice to have a place to live in that area and neighbors that I know and like. It’s on a mountaintop between Elkin and Sparta, NC. Maybe not a place you’d want to be stuck during a winter storm, though.

So far this morning I’ve enjoyed listening to the birds and I’ve put a load of laundry in, which will have to be dried on racks on the front porch until we are able to get this dryer vent problem resolved. That’s not so bad. I grew up without a clothes dryer, and although I don’t want to go without one again if I can help it, it’s doable. It saves electricity, for sure.

Tapestry time this weekend. I’ve been choosing colors, and now I’m grateful that I chose to buy this huge palette of coned yarns and skeins from ePic yarns when it closed down almost ten years ago. I like to mix single strands to make more complex colors, and it appeals to the former painter in me.