Pooky has recently taken up golf. It was bound to happen as ever since I've known him he watches golf on TV. A friend of his plays and finally took him out to the local course. Then we went to the local thrift shopts to find Pooky used clubs. He's found what he's needed for about 99¢ per club at the Visiting Nurses shop. At the Goodwill he has paid about $1.99 per club. Not bad consider how much clubs can cost.
His friend hasn't been able to join him for another round, and so Pooky look toward me as being a golfing companion. While I am not golf crazy, I wouldn't object to learning how to play. Only I present a significant problem.
I am left-handed when it comes to swinging a club.
(Sound effect of needle scratching across a record) Hey, wait a minute! You're right-handed, aren't you?
Yes, I am. It's this funny thing about me. I bat a baseball left-handed. I golf left-handed.
I thought I was some kind of freakish oddity until one afternoon my dad stopped by to deliver some keys when he saw the clubs. I explained about Pooky taking up golf, and how my entry into the country club is deterred by the need for ladies left-handed clubs. Something not very likely to be found at a thrift shop.
Turns out, my dad plays some sports left-handed, too, despite being right-handed. My mom bowls left-handed despite being right-handed.
I resumed breathing with this insightful genetic understanding. I wasn't the freakish oddity I thought I was. Yet another item I can add to the list of things I can blame on my parents.
For the record, I crochet right-handed.
If Pooky is really interested in me being his golfing partner, the cheapest putter I could find for sale is $19.95. There are plenty of them priced $100 or more. Hmmm...I wonder if I couldn't try to golf right-handed? It just doesn't feel right. It's like my eyes and body won't work that way.
My theory is that this gene that makes me do certain things lefty also is responsible for my crazy cat lady in training tendency. As I've gotten reacquainted with the Carlson side of my family, plenty of crazy cat people perch on the branches of my family tree. I recently saw my aunt who told me my cousin (a male) had up to 15 cats at one time. Now that's my style!
I've experienced this all too often. I can stay at home all day, no phone calls for weddings. I go to the grocery store for an hour to come back and find someone has called about a wedding. No more than an hour has passed when I return their call. When I reach them I am informed that they have already found someone else!
Why bother leaving a message if you can't wait a reasonable amount of time?
Then there are those people who won't even leave a message. It causes me to wonder why have an answering machine.
So finding this article today that we are an impatient society rings very true with me. I feel less delusional and validated in my observations.
Impatience leads to frustration, frustration leads to anger, and anger leads to violence. Patience leads to peace, and peace leads to love. I wonder when people will realize that they have lost something very important in their lives: their sanity.
Imagine for a moment a culture that isn't driven by the clock. The tick-tick-tick of time never enters into your thoughts. Each moment is spent in the here and now. Time is viewed on a grander scale, by the seasons, by the phases of the moon, by sunrise and sunset and midday.
Such cultures tend to be agricultural and according to our perspective "primitive". I'm starting to think that those cultures that lack cell phones and set their clocks to Nature's time is where I really belong.
How much faster can we get before we self-implode? It wasn't that long ago I was a child. Think back to the 1980s before ubiquitious answering machines and even before call waiting. If you got a busy signal you tried calling again in a couple of hours. You had a sense of when was an appropriate time to call a person at home, something I think we've forgotten.
I'm not against technology, just how we've decided to use abuse it. But we're not noted for giving much consideration about how we are affected by technology and changing our behavior. We're too impatient to stop and reflect on it.
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This is the second half of last week's list. See you next Thursday!
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Taken at Lady Bird Johnson Grove near Crescent City, California
This doily's name is Anna, and so is my Known Secret Pal from Crochetville! I made this doily double-extra special for her. First, it shares her name. Second, it is in purple, her favorite color, and third, it is made in size 30 thread. We both love working with tiny thread!
It is a Patricia Kristoffersen doily from Simple Elegance. It measures about 12" in diameter. The original if done in size 10 would have been about 21". The thread is a vintage DMC Cebelia. This color and thread size is made no more, but for awhile it once did exist. I wasn't able to capture the true purple-ness of the thread as my lighting sucks. It's a nice grape purple, but leaning more toward a royal purple. It's a very beautiful purple.
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Little Town on the Prairie
The Ingalls family headed into the unsettled territory of South Dakota as Pa had secured a job building the railroad. He moved his family into the Surveyor's house by the shores of Silver Lake. The house no longer rest on the shores of that lake. It was moved into the town of De Smet and made into a museum and gift shop. Inside of the house are many items from the time period Laura and her family called it home. It wasn't a very large house, and I recall in the book that eventually Ma took on borders who were coming into the area. It would have been very crowded to fit the Ingalls family into this home, let alone take in more tenants! The Original Homestead
Pa staked a claim outside of town and this is where he built a temporary home called a shanty. The original shanty no longer exists, but evidence of where it stood has been marked. The cottonwood trees that he planted with Laura's help as a wind break still stand.
On the homestead site is another museum with more interpretive displayed. There is a look out tower in which you can see off in the distance the Big Slough. As I stood at the historical marker of the homestead site, I tried to image the scene that Laura had described of Pa mowing the grass out in the Slough, or looking toward the direction of town and seeing Alamanzo's buggy come toward the homestead. After Laura Married
After Laura married Pa continued to work his homestead, but eventually his physical health declined and he built a house within the town of De Smet. The house is also another museum, this one filled with many of the remaining possessions of the Ingalls family, plus the upstairs has belongings that Rose Wilder owned.
Mary and Ma Ingalls lived in the home for many years following Pa's death. I believe they took in the occasional border to help pay for their living expenses. Some items on display that I wish I could have photographed (no photography was allowed) included an item that Mary had crocheted, plus a pattern book of thread crochet that had been owned by Carrie! I still wish I could get a copy of that pattern book Carrie owned! Next Week's StopOur journey through South Dakota was filled with more adventures. Next week we'll stop at Mitchell and visit the Corn Palace and end our day in Chamberlain with an overlook of the Missouri River.Links to other Monday Memories |
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The perfect accompaniment to a grilled steak is a fresh ear of corn. Ah, sweet, succulent, buttery-salty corn on the cob. The two ears I ate last night may as well have been served to me by the Grim Reaper. Me, thinking only of the deliciousness of the corn ate two seemingly innocent ears. I should have had just one and had the second the next day, but I thought otherwise as my brain had been misguided by my tastebuds.
About 10 o'clock last night all hell broke loose. Pain, excessive watery output, and then the nausea. Oh shit, I thought literally and figuratively, I've got a blockage! Why did I eat so much corn?
The nausea continued to surge until I brought up a good portion of my diner. I felt a type of sweet relief, but I was still plagued by a "trapped" feeling inside of my gut. I was hoping it would come out through my stoma and not take the top exit out.
As I lay in a partial sleep I could feel something shift inside and the pain and "stuck" feeling ended and I drifted off into a much needed restorative sleep. I awoke this morning with the remaining offensive corn discharged.
I informed Pooky that he is not to let me eat more than one ear of corn, and in fact, he should wrestle me to the ground and remove any corn that I might be holding in my hands.
Though I have to wonder if the rest stress I've been experiencing with school-related issues could have contributed to my temporary stopping up? I think I've eaten two ears of corn before and they went through without troubles, but stress can really upset the digestive process.
Last night's episode was a rapid way to lose some weight. I dropped 5 pounds in less than 12 hours. I think it was all water loss. I feel very parched and have decided to salt myself to death and drink as much water as possible.
I still love corn though. I'd eat some right now, as strange as that may sound.
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Why this list? I love words and as I was exploring through rare word dictionaries, I realized that our language contains descriptions for many peculiar sexual behaviors, which means that at some point in human history, people have engaged in all sorts of various practices. As I progress in my graduate studies of marriage and family therapy, human sexuality is a major theme that we address, as many couples have issues, needs, complaints, and desires around sex in their relationship. Who knows? I may even go into sex therapy! LOL!
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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My entry this year for the 12-24" doily class at the Puyallup Fair is Svanhild by Patricia Kristoffersen from Doilies With a Twist. It is made using size 10 white thread made by Hakelgarn (available from Handy Hands, Inc). I used a size 0 Clover Soft Touch hook. It measures 16 inches from point to point.
I am hoping that this doily will bring me first place. The competition is pretty stiff, so there are no guarantees. I figure I will at least place in the top 3 spots. I dare not dream of taking grand champion as there are a lot of entries to compete against for that.
Currently, I am working on another spiral doily for the 12" or less doily class. I'm making it in size 40 thread. I will post it when I am done. I am working carefully on it to make sure it is perfect. A labor of love to be sure!
My SP8 pal recently sent me my first surprise package of booty bought at Archie McPhee! She lives in the Seattle area making a stop to the world's greatest store not going too far out of her way.
Marvelous items include a stationery set, tape worm measuring tape, cat magnet, chocolate bar, Wienermobile postcard, Monkey with Fez band-aids, and more!
Thank you so much Anon E. Muss for the great package of truly loved goodies!
Overlook at Big Horn Mountains, Sheridan, Wyoming
(Not taken on the solstice, but a nice solar homage picture)
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Blue Earth, Minnesota
Before we took off on our cross-country adventure in May 2002, we looked at a few sight-seeing travel books to discover all of the weird roadside attractions off the beaten path. Visiting the statue of the Jolly Green Giant in Blue Earth, Minnesota, is a direct result of my findings.
My fascination with the Jolly Green Giant no doubt is steeped in my childhood memories of the TV commercials featuring little Sprout and the big giant always "Ho-ho-ho"-ing at the end in time with the famous jingle. Plus, by visiting the said statue of Mr. Jolly Green, I could discover what is underneath his tunic! Is he crotchless and smooth like a Ken doll, or did they make him anatomically correct? We arrived in Blue Earth in the late afternoon/early evening. We freshened up and then walked to see the Giant, as our hotel was within walking distance. I almost ran and skipped up to the Giant, I was that thrilled to be in the presence of his green majesty! To find out what is underneath the Giant's tunic, simply click on the image of him! Walnut Grove, Minnesota
From Blue Earth we made our way to Walnut Grove, Minnesota. Perhaps this is the most famous residence of Laura Ingalls Wilder because of the TV show.
The location that Laura and her family lived on the banks of Plum Creek in an earthen dug out is marked by a large sign. The creek has changed course over the last century and washed away the original dug out that the Ingalls family called home for awhile. Currently, the portion of Plum Creek that is identified as being historic is part of a private farm and residence. As for other remains of the Ingalls being in Walnut Grove, such as a house or building, do not exist. The city has a small but interesting museum containing photographs of some of the real people that Laura mentions in the book On the Banks of Plum Creek, including Rev. Alden and Nellie Oleson. There was an interesting display about locust plagues and how frequently a problem they were until modern chemicalization. (If you recall in the book the family lost a crop to a locust cloud.) The town of Walnut Grove is just a wide spot on the prairie road. The wind blew hard and strong during our visit to the town. I recall asking one of the local clerks if it is always so windy, and she replied, "Yes, that's the prairie for you!" I don't think I could tolerate living with wind that takes your breath away. Pipestone & Petroglyphs
Also in Minnesota we visited two different locations that had to do with rocks. Not just any kind of rock, but pipestone. Our first finding was at Jeffer's Petroglyphs. The location Native Americans would carve images on the exposed pipestone rock. It was a self-guided tour through an open field on the prairie. Thankfully there were displays that pointed out the carvings. Some of the images looked very interesting. I found the raging 20 mph wind to be too overwhelming to stay out in the open for very long, and since the visitor's center was closed and we both needed a restroom, we made our visit as quickly as possible.
The second site we found was Pipestone National Monument. Here the local Native Americans had quarries to extract the pipestone from the earth to carve pipes, animals, and other assorted items. The park contained paved trails that followed a small river and led us to a view of a very beautiful waterfall that wasn't very tall. The trail went to the top of the falls and you could peer down onto them. The pipestone quarries in the park are still functioning and local tribes dig out pieces of the rock to make pipes both for use in their ceremonies and to sell to tourists. What was interesting about the town of Pipestone is that many of the buildings were made from the abundant pipestone and so the main street had lots and lots of red and pink exteriors which was totally cool to see.  
Not Your Typical Dutch Windmill As we drove across Minnesota on our way to South Dakota, we came upon fields of windmills off in the distance. I expressed my curiosity at wondering how large the blades were. Well, shortly after I said this we came upon a roadside windmill maintenance station that had some spare blades resting on the ground. I had Pooky stand next to the blade to give a perspective of size. He stands 5'6" (1.70 meters). Next we headed into South Dakota which will be covered over the next two Monday Memories. Links to other Monday Memories |
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Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me--it can only be one word long. Then copy and paste this into your blog so that I may leave a comment about you.
This is not so much about fishing for compliments as it is an exercise showing how hard it is to use just one word to describe someone!
Give it a try & I'll do the same for you if you're so inclined.
Found at Lady Linoleum's site!
Please stop by and say hello to my newest blog renter, Dawn!
Here is what Dawn writes about herself:
My name is Dawn, I live in the Northeastern US, with my husband, two kids and various critters. Reflections is a personal journal/photoblog/hopefully someday an ‘online store’ for my crafts. This blog also gives me something to do with my time, which I am forced to share with Migraines. I am often awake late into the night, due to the meds that I am on, which has large amounts of caffine. I am happy that you have ‘clicked’, and I hope that you enjoy your visit to my site.
Reasons to visit Dawn's blog:
- Her kitty, Socks, looks like the cousin of Theodore Montague!
- She participates in Thursday 13!
- She crochets!
- She watches Medium and Mythbusters (the best shows on TV IMHO)
- She has Shrone potential!
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Close Encounters at Devil's Tower
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It's More Than Cornfields
On our travel across the country we stopped in Iowa to visit with my long-time pen pal who lives in the small town of Bedford. The nearest town to her with a hotel is Clarinda, which also happens to be the birthplace of Glen Miller.
On our way out of Iowa to Minnesota we decided to check out one of the points of interest on our map labeled "Roseman Covered Bridge". We both like covered bridges, waterfalls, and lighthouses and will stop to see one if it is labeled. Also nearby on the map the birthplace of John Wayne was noted. So we could experience two points of interest in almost one stop. As we traveled the arrow-straight roads between fields we passed a sign noting we were entering Madison County. I thought I'd be clever and make a joke: "Ha!" I said, "We're visiting the bridge of Madison County!" I didn't make any connections until we arrived at the Roseman Bridge and discovered that there was a gift shop. We had stumbled upon THE Bridges of Madison County! The friendly clerk at the shop sold us a map of the bridges we must see.      I hadn't read the book or seen the movie so I had no idea what the fuss was all about. All I knew was that I like historical structures and found that our unexpected adventure through the Iowa countryside was one of those special gifts that I will never forget!
The town of Winterset had a true town square and we drove around it looking for a place to have lunch. Being we had no idea I turned on my sense of locating a decent place to eat. I spied the Northside Cafe and thought to myself, "That will do just fine." We went inside and I realized I had made a good choice. During our meal we wondered why people were taking pictures of the exterior and then coming inside to snap more photos. So Pooky asked the waitiress and she gave us a look that said, "You don't know?" then proceeded to explain to us that this was the actual filming location used in the movie. Clint Eastwood himself sat at the bar and ate food! Oh, well not having seen the movie this was lost on us. Having filled our sense of adventure and wonderment, along with our stomachs, we resumed our travel north to Minnesota where we had plans to discover what is beneath the Golly Green Giant's tunic and discover Walnut Grove. Links to other Monday Memories |
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It Doesn't Make for Great Diner Conversation
I returned to classes on Saturday to hear the lecture once again about sex offenders. Maybe I have heard enough sick, strange stories about what humans do to each other to no longer feel the "shock" of hearing the twisted actions a person can commit. I have been fortunate in that I remain one of the three in the "one in four" statistic pertaining to women and sexual offense.I see the horrific damage it does to a person to have been sexually offended. It stays with them forever; they do survive it, but I don't know how to describe the healing that they achieve. I feel sad and powerless about their experience. I am mad that in our society, even though we have all of this "awareness" that little boys and girls are still being sexually offended by adults, and in some cases, other children/teens.
It's hard for me to understand how a person could break the barriers and sexually offended a child or another person. I think of it as trying to describe the color blue to a blind person who has never seen. Deep within me I have a sense of utmost respect and value for myself and other people. To abuse them in such a way is a foreign concept to me. I then use my perspective to shape my opinion of such people, that anyone who could commit such unthinkable acts must have checked their soul at the door, abdicated their humanity along with it.
Our guest speaker works in the state prison system providing treatment to those who want to go through it. I am skeptical that the treatment works. I struggle to remain open to a sexual offender ever acting differently—normally. I struggle to see the sexual offender as being anything other than a creepy monster.
Which made me realize that I have a growing edge. The guest speaker put out the invitation for us to put together a group to visit the prison and observe the treatment program in action. I will put my name on the list to attend.
Where having a conflict with your instructors is normal, and expected
After speaking with the systems consultant (the school's provided therapist for the students) she encouraged me to make appointments with the two faculty that I had a pinch with as it would be necessary to clean up our respective conversations.So I left a note in their mailboxes requesting time to make appointments. Both approached me with a much more respective and friendly attitude and we set up times to converse. I feel like I have passed the first part of the "test". The remaining parts will be determined during and after my conversations with them.
Time to Say Good-Bye
Whatever I felt like saying to my former classmates I never did tell them. So much has transpired and that we're heading off in different directions that the importance of it lessened. What became more important was to offer them my joy in their accomplishment, share in their sense of achievement and to wish them luck on their future journeys.Often we never fully know the why of something "inexplicable" happening. As much as I appreciate the awe and mysterious that comes into my life, a part of me wants to understand why, while the other part of me says that in order to retain the beauty of the unknown there is no need to understand why.
I will never know why my surgery from a year ago resulted in a complication that resulted in my taking a leave of absence from school. That very same complication resulted in my reuniting with family members that I longed to reconnect with. I can look at what happened as both a "good" and "bad" thing, but these are just labels to convey that I got what I wanted and didn't get what I wanted. I have been left with a sense that whatever happens to me I endure, and continue even when my heart and soul is weary from the journey. I feel propelled by some force greater than myself, that my life force is strong, determined. Whatever it is I need to do hasn't been done yet.
I can't technically say that I am making up Module 7 this week because last year when it happened I was between hospitalizations and didn't attend it.
It feels a twinge bit strange to return to school like this. I will be encountering my old classmates. I loathe already that they will all ask me how I am doing. I hate this question simply because if I were in fact doing poorly I wouldn't be at the module now, would I? Also, I'm still bitter about how things turned out. I'll get over it in time or just harbor a grudge (LOL!) and move on. The burning question is how will I be with the new set of classmates I'll be (hopefully) joining in September? (I still need to secure an internship)
Going away from Tuesday until Sunday is going to be rough. I already miss Smee and he's right here on the desk with me. He's my morning wake up call and bundle of purring love. I need that to start my day! Then in the evenings I'll miss my Pooky Tyme. How can I settle into a peaceful sleep without Pooky first sanding my back?
Well, I'll endure. I won't be near a computer either. That sucks. I have my WW and TT scheduled to post but I won't be able to read everyone else's or make comments. I hope folks won't mind if I am delayed in reviewing their postings for that.
About the only good thing is that I am not allowed to eat the hotel's buffet laid out for the students. Their food is nasty! And this is a quality hotel, too. Thankfully a Thai restaurant is just a quick walk across a parking lot!
Until Sunday evening then...
People who have commented about the graduate program I attend often remark how alien it feels when you first experience a module. I think it could best be described as those movies or books you read in which the apprentice seeks a teacher to learn the secrets, mysteries, and inner workings of reality. Only instead of the lessons being held in a primitive hut, they are held in a hotel conference room on uncomfortable chairs, the teachers don't speak in riddles but they do ask a lot of questions (the teachers are trained therapists, after all) and there are 40 other apprentices just like you.
It struck me as I drove home after class today, that a majority of the reason why I feel confused and stressed and disoriented about a misunderstanding I had with two faculty members is that in this program it is part of the package deal to work conflicts with your instructor, who very well might illicit such a heated exchange! I don't think they they deliberately created the situation to test my skills, because that would be a major violation of the authenticity rule, yet a part of me does think that "What if they chose to handle this situation in the poorest way they know how just to see how I'd react?"
Am I being tested? I think so. They want to see if I measure up—how I come out in the wash. I find it very hard to believe that both faculty who have been instructing and working as therapists for 20 years would suddenly have no skills whatsoever about how to convey and express to me that I've done something "wrong" or to their disliking. These are people who are slick, know their shit and have demonstrated their finesse and skills to us numerous times during class.
It could very well be that they are just being human, not conducting themselves as the high-and-mighty instructors and therapists they portray. Yet this leaves me wondering, what is their authentic self? I have no idea.
All I know is that within the past 48 hrs I've had two faculty who have the power to deny me to continue in the program have words with me for a decision that I made and they are ready to make me walk the plank and beneath that plank is a swarm of blood thirtsty sharks.
For the curious, I decided that the best thing to do was to come home and conduct a wedding that was scheduled since Pooky had a situation come up that prevented him from performing the ceremony. My faculty says that I had agreed to attend all of the module and should not have left to keep my commitment with the couple—that my committment was with them (the school). It matters not to them that I already made up that portion of the curriculum and already received an AC regarding it, so it was a repeat.
I know that a failing grade can be changed to a passing grade if the student demonstrates they have mastered the material. I've never heard of it going the other way. This is the power that they are intimating to me that they have, at least insofar as, they are saying that I will need to somehow make up this missed day of classes. I fail to understand why when I already attended them.
See how this program is like being on a different planet? It's very alien indeed!
My Smee-Ami
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I began my own wedding officiant business on March 1, 2004. Since then I have had the honor of joining over 60 couples in matrimony. This list is about some of the stuff I've experienced and learned about weddings and the whole process of conducting the ceremony. It's the month of June, the supposed biggest month for weddings, but based on my experience, I've performed more weddings in September and October than in the spring months.
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Road map of ulcerative colitis (taken in 2002)
Last night was the summer concert featuring soloists. My nerves got the best of me and my playing was not the best, but it sounded like no one else was playing their best, either. There was a section in the Beethoven that the cellos got lost, there were probably other spots in other songs as well, but that one sticks out the most.
What was interesting is we managed to perform the endings very well! During rehearsals we never ended together.
The soloists all performed brilliantly, so that's what matters most. The orchestra is just a background noise so that they don't play continuously alone.
Next season starts on the day before my birthday.
I'll be turning in my cello back to the violin shop as paying the rental fee over the summer doesn't make cents/sense.
Delightful
This is Delightful from Simply Delightful Doilies by Patricia Kristoffersen. It is made with Opera size 20 thread in sage and violet. I made it two colors instead of one solid. It measures 9 inches in diameter at the widest points. The hook used is a Clover Soft Touch size 4.
Other doilies I've made from this book of patterns includes: Memorable, Impressive, and Precious.
Alexa
Alexa is from the booklet Simple Elegance, also by Patricia Kristoffersen. It is made with DMC Traditions size 10 thread using a size 0 Clover Soft Touch hook. It measures 16 inches from point to point. This is the first doily I've made from this pattern book.
Additional pictures showing the detail of the stitches can be viewed at my crochet gallery.
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Rocky Ridge Farm
I believe I was about 8 years old when one boring weekend day I asked my sister what was something good to read, because I had tired of reading the same picture books in our book cabinet. She handed me the first book in the Little House series and told me I'd like reading it.
Within a matter of hours I was transported back in time, engrossed in Laura's story of the Big Woods. Making the story all the more exciting and appealing was the fact that Laura was a real person, not someone created by a clever mind. I read about how Ma made cheese, her own soap, how Pa built a smokehouse to cure the meat he had hunted himself. The fact that going to town was such an important life event that I started to reflect on my own life and ponder what living must have been like prior to modern industrial times. I watched the Little House show on TV, enjoying the entertainment value of it, but realized that Michael Landon took a lot of liberties with the Little House books. When I got into my teens, my admiration for the LIW stories didn't end. I found a biography of Laura and came upon the book On the Way Home which is a diary of Laura's recounting their journey from De Smet to their final home in Mansfield, Missouri. Turns out Laura took liberties with her own life as well, which is why her book are regarded as historical fiction and not autobiography.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to see the real places that Laura called home. It was a bit of a pipe dream to think I'd actually visit Walnut Grove, De Smet, and Mansfield. Then when we moved from Pennsylvania to Washington the chance to make these trips came about and I seized the chance! When the Wilders settle into Mansfield they bought a farm and built the white house known as Rocky Ridge Farm. When Rose, their daughter, grew up, she became a noted writer and with her earnings decided to built her parents a modern home. She bought the entire house from a Sears catalog! Photography inside either home wasn't permitted, and I wish I could have snapped some pictures of the crocheted doilies that Laura had made. Almanzo's woodworking talents were also displayed with the hand crafted furniture he created. It was with great excitement and antipication that we left the farm and journeyed to our next stop, the state of Iowa. Missouri is an interesting state. The winding state highways are lettered instead of numbered, so there were these interesting and confusing signs of "A" "BB" and "Z". Fireworks of all kinds are legal and they were openly sold at giant gas stations. We went inside one and not only could you buy bulk roman candles, but cartons of cigarettes as well as fuel. Yes, lighters and matches were everywhere to boot. Made me think it was all a major explosion waiting to happen! The Great Turtle Migration of Missouri And the morning we left Missouri to travel to the next state we kept encountering numerous box turtles crossing the country highways. I think we counted 3 dozen turtles that morning. It was very peculiar. None of them were dead. Most were on the shoulders of the road, some in the lane. All of them were simply travelling from one side to the next. Never was there a group or pair of turtles. Just single turtles. I finally had to stop and get a picture of one.
Next week the great adventure continues in Iowa where we discover the birth places of John Wayne, Glen Miller, and stumble upon the Bridges of Madison County Links to other Monday Memories |
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Who is he who knits, blogs and likes cats? Why Pooky of course! This post is a shameless Pooky plug. He's started a blog that mostly is of photos that we've taken from our crazy adventures across the country. His blog's title is Nearly Sane. He'll probably never post a rant, nor get politically incorrect with his entries, rather he'll dig up a funny or serious image and supply a caption to it.
Recently Pooky made his first felted item, a "ge-felted" fish as he calls it. (I think this play on gefilte fish comes from the fact he dated a Jewish girl in high school.) I loaned him some skeins of my Wool of the Andes yarn (Note to Pooky: You know how you can repay me *wink, wink*) for his felting experiment. Turns out that the front loader washing machine does an awesome felting job. I think he's developed felting madness now.
As for the cats...well, it's mighty peculiar but Theodore Montague, Pooky's baby and love slave, has taken to stalking me for his usual scrubbing! T. has become so affectionate seeking with me that I've nicknamed him my T-leaf. He still will sidle up to Pooky in bed and spent 20 minutes kneading, drooling, and purring loudly at Pooky, yet I'll awake in the morning to find T-leaf curled up at my feet.
I think Pooky needs to felt T. Montague something, maybe a fish or something else. I wonder if Pooky could come up with a potato since T. is fond of potato chips?
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This list came about because recently I learned (I've been out of the music loop since the mid 1990s) that my warbling hero of my adolescence, Morrissey, has revealed that he is no longer celibate. I regard this as just another sign of how the fabric of space-time has increasingly frayed, and I'm pretty certain that someone has grabbed on to one of these frayed edges and is pulling. It got me to thinking of noted people who died virgins. Isaac Newton is understandable—after all, he invented calculus—the least sexiest subject there is. As for Adolf Hitler being on the list...it figures. As the saying goes, "Celibacy is not hereditary."
Questions are arising in my comments about how is it known that these people died as virgins. It's a combination of them saying that they were, or by their known biographical history. Such as, Emily Dickinson may not have directly said she was a virgin but it is known that she lived a very reclusive life and no one has been linked to her romantically or sexually. As for Hitler and his late-life mistress Eva Braun, there is debate as to whether or not they consumated their relationship. What we do know is Hitler's sexual history as conveyed through a near-incestuous relationship he had with his niece, which may be indicative of his sexual habits/preferences in general. I had watched the tail-end of a show on the History Channel about Hitler's personal physician who claimed that Hitler had syphilis. Yet, nothing is conclusive because the test that the physician used can produce false positives and wasn't reliable or accurate. |
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