hand eye crafts

This is sort of a case of hiding in plain sight.  Also, a case of "How Have I Not Seen This?" Cleaning the bathroom today, this turned up.  Daddy knew how much I love snow, and he said with this ring, I could have a snowflake any time I wanted one.  It's a little grungy, but should clean up nice. It turns out I've made 28 bookmarks so far.  I've begun ModPodging them.  These are my favorites: Sorry about the poor photo --- wax paper and the overhead kitchen light conspired against me.

Tap and I are both cloggy today.  ("Claggy," if you're British, I guess.)  He's very stopped-up, there in his snout.  His snore is extra dampish, and he clearly doesn't feel well.  I'm wearing my  Pekka Rinne  sweatshirt, hood up*, because I feel chilly and my throat hurts and anything that can be congested in my head is.  Thank goodness for Greta Garbo films, good books, and YouTube videos of people reacting to Chris Stapleton's music.  Also, handknit blankets. Ice cream helps, too.  Even if it's pricey and  has to be shipped in from Portland. A new life motto, maybe? This is the actual book.  I'm finding it funny and helpful. *Not recommended if you put your glasses on and off your head frequently.

Grief, that is.  All the canned cat food and bags of treats that were left after Madeleine and Riley died were packed up and taken to Hannah on Sunday.  I picked up the bag of dry food to take it, too, and had to put it back down immediately.  Couldn't do it.  A wave of sadness washed over me.  Utterly unexpected. Then last night, I made myself a little bowl of pasta, reached into the refrigerator for Colby Jack cheese to sprinkle on it, and burst right into tears.  Colby Jack was Riley's favorite.  When she wouldn't eat it, I knew it was time. Wednesdays are therapy days, of course.  We're  doubling up, as the waters are super choppy and deep right now.  My therapist and her daughter are going to the  Stray Kids  concert in a couple of weeks, and they both have the fever BAD.  Hey, I get it.  Backstreet Boys, anyone? This is my latest bookmark: I'm going to spell out "READ" in fancy sticker letters on the back. This ...

 Tap expressed consternation that the photo of his curls wasn't posted yesterday.  For the sake of peace here at the Chez:

Mr. Tap just had a bath, and he is pressed against me on the couch, snoring and showing off his very-curly-when-wet coat.  He fights like the devil against being in the tub, but then conks all the way out when it's done. I've spent time today trying to find a knitting project, but there was either not enough yarn for what interested me, or I didn't have the right size needles.  How can someone have knitted this long and still be short a pair of needles?

I spent the day in Atlanta with Hannah.  We had some intense, overdue conversations, had  Schlotsky's  delivered, and watched "Jurassic Park."  It remains one of my Top Ten Favorite Movies. Today was the first time Tap had been left alone this long since Riley died.  He seems to have done fine.  He was on my mind all day. Today is the day my Daddy died.  Twenty-five years ago.  It's one of those times that seems SO long ago, and somehow also just like yesterday. Last July (the 12th specifically --- I can't get the code to transfer), I posted a picture of my Lincoln books in their new cabinet home.  After going through all the boxes in the garage, this is what the cabinet looks like now: Practically full.  And there are at least half a dozen I have but haven't read that will need space. No idea what the new knitting project will be.  Still.

For the longest time, when I've said to Tap, "Do you want to go outside?," if his response is not a move to the door, I've said, "Do you want to build a snowman?" He has yet to show any appreciation at all for either the reference or the humor.

On a recent walk with Tap, we came upon a small boneyard.  It was off the major road that runs by our house, which is a main thoroughfare for, not only vehicles, but deer.  My assumption, therefore, is that the bones are cervid. Now, how effective Samson would have been with this jawbone could be up for debate, I suppose.  Personally, ass seems a solid choice to me.

Tap and I aren't having an especially good day.  He doesn't feel well, and my day has been unpleasant due to several little things, plus a left-eye-headache.  We have stayed silently in our own spaces, hoping not to rankle one another. Psychiatrist visit today.  Blah, blah, blah, another new medicine.  He has an aquarium in his waiting room, and today it looked completely empty, which happens every now and then.  Then I saw a single catfish feeding at the bottom, and it seemed happy and energetic and enjoying the space.  The longer I watched, though, the sadder I got.  Because, well, of the space.  All alone in there.  Honestly --- I had to look away. The Big Yarn Cowl is done.  I turned it into a moebius affair, as you can see.  It's distressing that a project from super bulky yarn on size 19 needles took this long to finish.  Still, I get to start something new now, huh?

Another hockey documentary today:  "Becoming Wild" , about Marc-Andre Fleury.  As far as hockey goes, I'm a goalie fan.  I probably can't name a dozen NHL players who don't play in net.  I don't remember ever not loving goalies. For the record, I like linebackers in football and, when I watched baseball, I was most interested in shortstops. (Hello, my friend who understood the Caps/Lundqvist situation.  When I heard Hank was going there, I ordered a t-shirt, which might have become something of a collectible.  You know who you are.) (Also, friend who crushed on Harpo, you are seen.  You also know who you are.) Kind of a lazy day here.  I'm trying to Mod Podge all the bookmarks I've made, even as I make more.  No idea in the world what to do with all of them, by the way.

Spent part of today watching  "Open Heart" , a documentary about Henrik Lundqvist's career-ending heart condition.  If you aren't sure who Henrik is: There you go. I worked on my Big-A^^-Yarn cowl while watching.  It's a testament to my I-don't-care-ness of late that it isn't finished.  A friend of Hannah's asked for me to make some cat toys for her, and I've been working on those.  Of course, looking for my patterns for them, I saw about half a dozen other things that looked fun.  That always happens, huh?

 I've come to loathe the term "aggressive cancer."  My husband (pancreatic), my favorite uncle (Daddy's big brother --- bone), Daddy (brain).  It's been sad to hear it today. Harpo Marx is a hero of mine, and absolutely one of my Ideal Dinner Party guests.*  I have only very recently found out that his wife wrote a book, which I began today, and it is utterly delightful. Lately, cereal has been my go-to for almost every meal.  Why, I do not know.  I've also been golfing these down: I am not a pretzel person.  Now, I did have a soft  street one when we were in New York, but that was a tourist obligation kind of thing.  These I found on a Publix BOGO, and they just sounded like they might be good.  I can scarcely stop eating them. *I often used that question as a Final, having students put together their lists and draw sociological conclusions from them.  It usually got me in trouble with the administration, but, meh.

 Here are all the boxes that were emptied in my garage clean-out.   There is a box of books there in the front that needs to be moved over to  these ten who survived the winnowing.  (If you'd like a charming conversation using "winnowing," check  this  out.) You can see boxes to the left there that are holding things for a future yard sale.  I am still surprised at how many things I was able to let go.  Is that a function of age, do you think?

 So, headaches.  Me.  Synonymous, to some degree. Yesterday, I had a knife-like pain through my left eye.  Maybe ice-pick-like.  You get the idea.  Today, it's into/through my right eye.  The diagrams all say: Frankly, that's pretty much it except for the teary and/or red eyes.  And, nothing can touch it.  Since it's sort of in the sinus-y area, you can take sinus "stuff" but that doesn't help. What does help, what makes me feel seen, is this graphic: Upper right.  Fellow moms, can I get an amen?

There's a little bakery here called  Bee's Knees , and I decided I'd treat myself today. Strawberry and peanut butter gooey bars in the back, vanilla (my favorite) in front, and look --- I got a corner one!!!  It is often the smaller things that keep us humming along, huh? Along the "smaller things" line --- it's weird making a grocery list and not put anything for a cat on it.  I'm looking through coupons, and I catch myself.  Don't need that/those anymore. I'm about to finish Season 3 of "Yellowjackets";  I'll watch the last episode tomorrow.  They've all been out for a while, and I have somehow managed to avoid spoilers.  Do any of you watch it?  That and  "The Last of Us" are my want-to-keep-up-with shows.  Both my children played the video games, so I pretty well know the story beats.  This season, though, the absolutely remarkable Kaitlyn Dever is on the cast.  She is a wonderful actor.

Tap and I are on the back porch, watching it rain and hearing it thunder.  This was Maddie and Riley's favorite place, and I'm sad that Riley never made a path for herself once her eyesight started going.  He's sniffing around, finding dropped treats and, I'm sure, picking up on both cats' scents. I still think I hear them padding into the kitchen.  There are a few things of theirs I haven't put away yet.  So many of you understand, I know.

That book that you get* when you have a baby?  It failed to have a single page about how to handle your child not getting in touch with you on Mother's Day.  Or on your birthday.^ *Just kidding.  You don't get a book.  You do get helpful coupons, though. ^That happened years ago.  Plainly, I've gotten over it.

Long-time readers know that one of My Deals is being slammed by major headaches after Things Happen.  Since my phone/TV/Internet issues came just after Riley died, and weren't completely settled until yesterday:  Then, add in the coming rain: What a life.

Were the hours without Internet, without a phone, used productively?   * Not a single stitch crossed, not a single loop knit.  I did read quite a bit, and dipped a toe back into collage by making several bookmarks.  Fortunately, offline games on my old phone were working, so a played a lot of them. The new phone is a Galaxy 24.  It's purple, so I got a clear case.  The old phone was a Galaxy 8 (sixteen models since I've changed phones?)  Getting a shiny new phone sounds like it would be really cool, but it's just my same stuff in a different place. *A solid truth in my life is that Hank Azaria there is very sexy in person.  We met him in NYC, and he was nice and clever and, again, really sexy.

This is what you've got for me, life? HUH? My phone isn't dependable.  The charging cord is wobbly.  It has stopped and started five times just typing here this far, but I can go online for a few minutes at a time.  This makes no sense, because nothing else will connect.  New phone on order --- because WHY SHOULD ANYTHING BE EASY/AFFORDABLE RIGHT NOW. Last night, the TV kind of kaput-ed, but it was late and I wanted to go to bed, and I assumed everything would reset overnight.   NOPE. I've tried every restart I know.  The router just will not come on.  Phone and TV are with the same company, so I'll take the router in when I pick up my phone. This is not a good time to be unable to distract myself.

Riley being gone is really hitting me hard.  I haven't lived without a cat for forty years.  Yes, I have Tap, and he is a gem, and I'd be in a more hellacious place if it weren't for him.  Cats be entirely different, though, right? The night before last, Riley started pacing around like she was lost.  She strayed from the paths she'd made and memorized.  Tap would find her in odd places and would start "alarm" barking.  (I'm watching him for signs of grief.)  Things were clear. So I took her to UGA, which is where I went with Madeleine.  Same faces at the front desk.  Same couch I sat on with Madeleine, with Riley wrapped in the same pink sheet Maddie was.  Same procedure, same Comfort Room, same outcome. Maybe it was the sameness of it that's gut-punched me.  Maybe it is thinking about Riley having been Mama's. It's just hard.