Changes?

There is a small crack in my brain beginning to open in front of the idea of moving.  Ideally, into a Tiny House.  Small house, small crack.  When I think about that, with calm and cool reason, I can say that I don't have any strong attachment to this house.

(Don't know why I scribbled the address out;  most of you know it.)  At any rate, when I think about leaving, nothing powerful holds me.  Yes, my husband died here, but obviously I can and have stayed here after that.  It could just be time for me to go.

Or not.  The housing market right now?  🤷‍♀️  I'm also having a difficult time finding a Tiny House Community kind of nearby.  I can't afford to buy land and have one built or moved there.  A move-in-ready one is my best bet.

My typing this here is the first time I've "talked" about it to anyone but my therapist and my two children.  In order, one "Yes," one uncommitted, one vehement "No."  

It's up in the air.

There are changes here with eyes toward living elsewhere.  The term "downsizing" bothers me;  it seems final and hopeless.  Besides, it's a bit twee* when the plan is to move into a tiny house.  Long-time readers will recognize this wall in my den:

Dear, dear Riley.  She never got on furniture, so this photo is something.  Anyway, I've been taking down some things there and moving things in from other rooms.  There's practically nothing left on the walls in my bedroom.  In the downstairs hall, evidence of my sudden infatuation with animals on couches:

Unsurprisingly, the fever began with the horse.  The cow was too cute to pass by.  There are others on order;  I'll keep you updated.

Artemis II has launched as I'm typing this.  It's going 15,000 mph.  I love this stuff.  "Yeah, we're just gonna swing around the moon.  Check ya later."

*I see you, Twinnie.  😉

Tuesday

Today would have been my husband's 78th birthday.  I believe it --- the math checks out and everything, the harder thing to get my head around is that he's been gone 28 years.  That's one of those "It seems like yesterday / It feels like ancient history" situations. 

No Tiny Needle work to show.  I did finish the Subversive CrossStitch piece.  I decided not to do the border around the words, because it really is painful to stitch.

This little guy has been hanging out above my master bathroom sink for a couple of days.  This seems to be the favorite spot, though he has moved back and forth across the moulding.

There are three round bulbs above the sink;  maybe he's trying to be fair and give each one attention.

Monday

 Whopping headache today.  Out of nowhere.

And I need more craft paper, don't you think?

That box is half-empty!  My unnamed Highland heifer is appalled.  Cutting things with scissors is the only craft "thing" I can do.  It was maddening for a while, now it's depressing.

Saturday, I got Tap a new bed.

IIt works, some of the time.  Mostly he makes his usual sleep route: against my feet, then under the coffee table, then against the recliner, then back to my feet.  He's at the under-the-coffee-table stop at the moment.

Of Dining

Their Last Suppers is bound for being recorded on Goodreads.  With all of the interesting things this book taught me, this is one passage I shall remember:

It took a concentrated effort for me to read "Groucher" instead of "Groucho."  "General specific" is one of those nice phrases that self-contradicts.  And if you made the neighing sound on reading General Blucher, we share a friend wavelength.

I may not have mentioned that the book also includes recipes for preparing all the suppers.  So, if you ever need to know how to grill eel, I'm your girl.  Your adventure might begin like this:

Food and Footsteps

 One of the people featured in Their Last Suppers was Elvis.  According to the book, his favorite meal was breakfast.  Breakfast was available to him at any time.  Except mornings.

What I found most interesting, though, was that the famous Fool's Gold sandwich holds 8000 calories.  I guess if you're gonna fire up your private plane to go get one, it better deliver.

On sandwiches: why are Publix subs so much better than anyone else's?  Seriously.

Today has been a puttery day.  Spackled holes in various walls.  (My uncle always preached, "Paint will never fill a nail hole.")

Oh, and the No Kings protest.

Best sign of the day.

Emergency?

 Are y'all watching "The Pitt"?  Things are so tense, and characters are right.  On.  The.  Edge.  I'm nervous for everyone.

For the last couple of days, I have felt so odd.  Sluggish.  Heavy.  Not like I'm getting sick, just peculiar.

 

Shoulda Waited

 In my haste to provide photographic evidence of The Pollen yesterday, all that was needed was patience and a breezy night.

Pushed up against one of the rugs on the front porch, courtesy of breezes that brought in season-appropriate temperatures, your sneeze and headache inducers, folks.

The Yellow Returns

Before moving to here, I'd never given much thought to pollen.  I don't suffer with hay fever, and hadn't even seen pollen that I knew of.  In Georgia, though, it lets you know IT'S HERE.

A better picture would have been of my neighbor's car, but getting it would have looked weird.  This has all just started, but there's enough to make footprints.

That's the book I'm currently reading.  It's fascinating.  If I had written a dissertation, it would have been either on the Sociology of knitting (we learn from one another) or on the last meals of inmates (what we eat has social and cultural roots.)

Some Art

This is stunning.

This is familiar to many of us.

 

No, You Can't Have Any

Because glorious Twinnie sent all these fabric remnants to me.*  All this and nowhere to buy patterns for Barbie clothes. . .

My mother could stretch fabric (or as we called it, "material") extremely far.  I was lucky if there was a piece big enough for even a vest.  She would make garments, self belts, cover buttons, then cut quilt pieces.  Seriously --- a very thin strip is all I had to work with sometimes.  My Barbies had lots of tie belts and scarves.

*Remnant House was a store where we bought lots of material.  Fabric.   Whichever.

How Wonderfully Sweet is This?

You know that house is neat as a pin inside.  Oh, just to have a cup of tea with her...

We're still in the cold snap, I think.  Mornings have been --- and I believe will be for a bit --- quite cold, but the days are nice.  Sweatshirt weather, which delights me to no end.