Busy June

 Realize that I'm sort of posting out of order here.  June has been a bit busy.

First - still reading.  Finished the Michael Pollan's "Second Nature" and the sheep history book.  Still doing the slow reads of "Witches and Pagans," "Dracula,"  and "Rumi."  Read two books (well, reread - I read and enjoyed both several years ago) which are novel-length developments of fairy tales:  "Daughter of the Forest" (based on the six swans) and "A Curse as Dark as Gold" (based on Rumplestiltskin).  Also re-reading Adam Savage's "Every Tool's a Hammer" which at least inspired me to go clean up Chez Wicca some today.  And listening to the audiobook of "The Hobbit" read by Andy Serkis (aka Gollum).

I had written about making the little dragon puppet for Zeke.  Rob and Zeke came up for the Infinity Con on June 4.  It was fun, but there didn't seem to be as much going on as there was last year.  Possibly that's because they got here early and a lot of people don't show up until later.  As it gets closer to the costume contest more people tend to come in (mainly because the better the costume, the more uncomfortable it is).  We got there at 11 and the contest wasn't until after 4 but we didn't stay that long.  But there were Robot Wars going on all day, so we watched a lot of that.  It was mini-robots, but even a couple of 3-pound robots can tear the heck out themselves and the arena.   And, of course, both dragons were a hit.

I've already written about making another deep dive into Bob's room - that was the week after the con.  I found out that a friend of ours has gotten into model making, so I invited him to come over and pick up any models and supplies he thought he could use, so figured I'd better make them accessible.  It was good to see Thomas again - I've known him since he was 17 (he's 34 now) and there's that lovely comfort level you can get with a long-term friend.  And he knew and liked Bob (I don't know anyone who didn't) and he said it was an honor to have and use some of his tools and models.

Even had a lunch date this week with one of my co-volunteers.  For some reason, Nolan and I have really hit it off.  We only are in on the same day once a week, but we try to get assigned together.  He's totally cute, totally sweet, and just fun to be around.  After we finished work last Tuesday we went to lunch together and talked about his plans (he wants to take advantage of opportunities to work in other countires - I'm sort of envious of the opportunities available now that weren't possible in my youth).  Alas - he will be going on his adventures, and therefore leaving Tallahassee soon, but I've enjoyed his company.

I even got some spinning and weaving samples done.  These are just samples to tell me what this particular wool can do (it was a fleece I got for free last year - free, but lovely.  Sometimes I score).  Eventually I'll actually make something out of it.

And after I posted a picture of the green tunnel that is the entrance to my driveway, Amanda said that it looks pretty but scrapes the car when they come visit (they drive a SUV the size of my first apartment.   I did get out a couple of mornings and got some of the driveway cleared (and even cut down three small trees with a handsaw).  But it order to do that I have to get up and out quite early because we're hitting the hot time of year (heat index up to 111) and somehow it's hard to discipline myself.  I'm sort of in the mood to let the woods take over and deal with it in the winter.

Finally, I have a new little friend.  The museum acquired a couple of baby opossums.  We only need one for an education animal, so I brought the other one home to raise and release.  He was 250 grams when I got him on the 13th and 400 now (almost 2 weeks later) so he's coming along nicely.  Hard to get a good picture because he's so active.  He's at the adorable stage where he hasn't caught up with his ears and looks like a cartoon.

Even had a cooking disaster last night.  Well, not much of a disaster - and it wasn't cooked.  More of a cooking mess.  I had roasted some acorn squash and turned some of it into gnocchi.  After I had them shaped, I cooked some for dinner and put the rest on a rack to dry a bit before I packed them for the freezer.  So that the cats wouldn't mess with them, I put the rack in the oven.  Normally what would happen at this point is that I would have turned the oven on to preheat for something else, forgetting they were in there.  This did not happen this time.  What happened is that I discovered that I hadn't worked quite enough flour into the mixture, so they softly oozed through the rack and I ended up with raw gnocchi blobs all over the floor of the oven.  Bit of a mess.

So despite the fact that I feel that I still spend way too much time looking at random stuff on the computer, and somehow just sitting and realizing that another day has gone by, at least I'm getting some stuff done.  Hope I can keep it up.

Building By Myself

 I was going to write about something different today - about what I've been doing the last two weeks.  And I likely will.  But then something welled up in me that I have to get out.

It started simply enough.  I want to do some weaving samples, so I was down in Chez Wicca, measuring the warp.  I'm going to use the smaller loom that I have down there (there's less yarn wasted on it than my big loom.  When you're threading a warp onto a loom, it helps if you have something to hold all the yarns steady.  My big loom has a commercial holder - that doesn't fit the little one.  But I dug around my stash (ahem.  I keep talking about Bob being a hoarder, while I have "stash").  I found some narrow lathing strips and some scrap wood that I ran out to the chop saw to cut to length and then used my own drill to make a few needed holes and found my own box of screw and put the thing together.  Simple, but satisfying.

There's just a satisfaction when you need something, and then make it.  No matter how simple.  It just took me a while to get here.  Growing up in the mid 1900's (doesn't that sound like a long time ago?  It was) boys took shop and made cool things.  Girls took home ec and learned how to sew an apron and make cinnamon toast.  I was so jealous of my brother for the things he got to do.  And if he wanted to try something at home, he and Dad would work together - Dad lending expertise if Mike got stuck.  I often wonder if Dad and I would have gotten along better if he had treated me the same way.  As it was, I would want something, and try to figure out how to do it, and he would say he would do it for me and then work on it while I stood around and watched until I got bored with watching and went to ride my bike. Then, often, I wouldn't be that interested in the final project because I hadn't had any input into it.  And, once again, Dad would be angry because the spoiled brat me was unappreciative.

And that just went down a different path, didn't it?

Anyway, I've always been in touch with my little kid self who stomps her tiny feet and says "I want to do it myself."

For the most part, Bob appreciated it.  After all, we met when I was the lone female (in the entire United States) pledging the Pershing Rifles in ROTC.    But still, being so much bigger and stronger, he would often do stuff for me.  On one hand, really nice.  On the other - I don't like being made to feel small and helpless.

So that was the flashback today, while down in my cottage, doing a small build.  Remembering many years ago - there was some change I wanted to make to the cottage - and now I can't remember even what it was.  Whatever, it was something either too heavy or too awkward for me to do by myself.  I told Bob what I wanted.  He thought about it, and then got enthusiastic, and started making some plans, and thinking it would be better if . . . .      and I broke in a few time with what I had in mind, and it got brushed aside and the plan fixed in his head and he was pretty sure that he had what was needed - and about that time my temper flared and I yelled "Never mind!  It doesn't matter!  It's fine the way it is!" and stomped off.

He, of course, stood there with his "what did I do?" look on his face.  After I calmed down a little, I tried to explain.  That he didn't know what it was like to be too small and too weak to do something, and therefore couldn't do it the way you wanted it done.  That I was yelling out of frustration at myself.  That if I needed his help, then I had to do it his way - and as long as I couldn't have it the way I wanted, why bother to change it in the first place?

And now I can't even remember what it was - but it eventually was done to my plan.

Sometimes that attitude backfired on me.  I was the one who ripped  out the ugly artificial grass in the screened in front porch (was was the original owner thinking:?) and laid the Mexican tile.  I plastered the kitchen walls.  I put the tile down in the bathroom.  I painted the back deck (we couldn't get it done when the rest of the house was being professionally painted because wrens had a nest on the deck and we had to wait for the babies to fledge).  But, in general.  I was happier.  And when I needed help, he was always there.  And he loved doing stuff for me, to make me happy (after he learned to ask me first for what I really wanted).  And sometimes he even needed my help with stuff.

I guess that "I can do it myself" attitude has paid off - it means I get to keep my home and land.   But while I never wanted anyone to do stuff *for* me, I do miss working *with* him.  We were a good team.

Putting Away The Hope

 I talked myself into a couple days of tackling more Bob stuff.  I seem to have fallen into a pattern, both in his room and the barn - I can clean like mad for a day or two, and then I'm overwhelmed, and I can hear his voice saying "would you PLEASE quit throwing my stuff away!!!"

When you successfully live with someone, you live with their quirks - or turn a blind eye to their quirks.  Bob couldn't have enough of things.  Like those propane tanks I wrote about.  Or his 5-gallon military Jerry cans.  We were at a flea market a few years ago and he spotted one.  "Oooo - those are getting harder to find."  I pointed out that we had about 40 of them in the barn.  "But they're getting harder to find."  So #41 came home.

He often complained that he needed to somehow find more storage space in his room (but bristled if I suggested maybe he could cull some stuff).  So I'm finding stuff like plastic sprue.  When you buy a model kit, all the parts come on a plastic frame called sprue.  And there's usually extra parts - maybe you want wheels on this kit, or maybe treads.  You use the parts you need - and keep the rest in case you need it for a future model.  You also keep the sprue.  You might need it to make a shovel handle, or warm it up and stretch it to make an antenna.  So he saved it.  All of it.  And he's been making models for decades.  I threw away 3 tall bags of sprue and spare parts.  He saved plastic - old credit cards, the plasticized labels that came with garden plants.  He saved Popsicle sticks and corn dog sticks.  He might be able to use one or two someday - but dozens?

So I've tossed another 8 bags of stuff in the last two days.  But the one that hurt, the one that twisted my heart every time I saw it, was the neatly packed kit that was eventually supposed to go to Gainesville.  After he got his bone marrow transplant he was supposed to have stayed at the Hope House for three months.  He thought he'd be bored out of his mind.  He knew he couldn't take his usual model making stuff, but he thought maybe he could hone his skills at painting figures.  So he had a neatly packed kit of his various paints, brushes, third hand holder - anything necessary to work on figures.  We had left it at home - the idea was that when I came home for a bit after he was in the Hope House (his friend Kim and I were going to trade off Bob-sitting duties) I would bring it up to him.

Of course, it never left Tallahassee.  It would have taken him a long time to even attempt it, even he he had it.  A friend had brought him a small laser cut trebuchet kit - the kind meant for ages 8+.  During the time that we were out of the hospital and in the hotel (the Hope House didn't work out), he tried working on it.  I remember him crying in frustration when he couldn't focus and couldn't get his hands to work (his medication made them tremble).

That neatly packed kit represented our hopes, our expectations.  The transplant would have been successful, he would have been bored, and set up on the little table in the room and worked on painting figures.  And eventually he would have come home.

So today I unpacked it, put all the brushes and paints and figures away, and wept with frustration.  This is not how it should have been. 

Deck Finished!

 Well, that was a long term project.

It started in late 2020.  The front deck was getting pretty funky.  From time to time over the years we replaced some of the boards - but like everything else it fell into arrears after Hurricane Michael and Bob's treatments.

Seriously into arrears.  Like when I put up a ladder to clean out the gutters, did my usual trial "step and bounce" to be sure the ladder was secure - and it punched through the deck.  I knew where the bad spots were in front of the door and not to step on them.  We had long learned not to lean on the railings.

I finally admitted that it was pretty darned unsafe.  I really didn't want to do a misstep and punch myself through the deck.  I was getting some work done on the roof, and one of the roofers knew a guy . . . 

You know how that usually goes.  In this case, it went brilliantly.  The guy and his team were amazing - in one day they had the old one torn out and hauled off, and the new one in place.  At a suggestion from Jeff, I only had railings put up by the steps; the rest of the deck was at ground level anyway, and I like the open look.  Besides, at that point in the Covid lockdowns it was hard to get wood and it was becoming astronomically expensive.

Must note that Amanda didn't like it.  For almost 30 years when they came to visit, she would see Bob on that deck, hand on the rail (but not leaning), calling out "Hey, Mandy."  

At the time I asked the contractor if I should put water seal on it, but he said it wasn't necessary as it was pressure treated wood.  And I figured the raw wood look would age down over time.  Well it did - it aged, and, this being Florida, mildewed, and was starting to get a bit slippery.  People often wonder (or worry) at my living alone out here, but, honestly, if I sense something unsafe I do something about it.  Last April I pressure washed the deck.  Finally, a couple of weeks ago I put the water seal down.  I had bought it last year sometime, after I pressure washed the decks at Chez Wicca, but didn't get around to doing those.  Looking at the coverage listed on the can, that gallon should have been enough.

Getting started was a little slow.  Step one - sweep off the deck.  Easy.  Step two - shake can.  No problem.  Step 3 - open can.  Ahem.  "Push down cap and twist" translates into "grip can firmly between feet, get channel lock pliers clamped down on cap, push down with one hand and twist with the other."  Step 4 - remove inner cap (which means get a screwdriver and pry all around the edges of the thing until it finally pops off.  Step 5 - wipe brow, and remember when Steps 1-4 would have consisted of "hand can to Bob."

Side trip - I knew that we had a Wagner spray gun that we had used when we stained the surround of the chicken coop.  Spraying is faster and uses less stain than brushing.  It was "somewhere in the barn."  I located it, put it together, tested it, poured in the stain, and started.  It sprayed, sort of.  It also sputtered and dripped so I had to keep going over the area with the paintbrush.  The heck with it.  I dumped the stain into a paint cup, cleaned up the sprayer and DID NOT return it to the barn.  It went into the car to be dropped off at the donation site.  Fortunately we did have some brushes.

By now the resident raccoon was hanging around on the deck, just in case I had the urge to feed something and maybe might drop some food while doing so.  I shooed her off, with the firm admonishment to "AND KEEP YOUR PAWS OFF MY DECK!!"  Only to get met with this attitude.

Got her chased off (well, bribed with the food she wanted) and spent the next three hours painting.  And ran out of stain.

So instead of being able to cross "stain deck" off my things to do list, I had to clean the paint cup and brush and write "go to Lowe's for more stain" on the list.  I did not go that day - I was hot, sweaty, sore, and bug chewed and there wouldn't have been enough time to paint that night anyway - and it was due to rain the next afternoon.

So two days later I go to Lowes to get more stain.  I went after work, so I was a little tired, and I wrote about my depressing lunch on my last post, so I was absolutely in the proper mood to find out that not only did Lowe's not have that color stain, but that the manufacturer doesn't make that color anymore.  I got one that I thought might work and came home.  After reconsidering, I realized that it would look really patchy, went back to Lowe's, got two gallons of a slightly darker stain in a solid rather than semi-transparent and eventually spent another four hours painting the deck but at least it's done.  And I don't go skidding across it when it rains.

Oh - didn't have to chase the raccoon off this time but my lone remaining peacock showed up for a snack. 

And people wonder what I do with my time.

Rat and Dragonette

 My creative mojo has been missing lately.  I'm happiest when I'm making something, but I've let myself be dragged into the "things that must be done" mode - things that, honestly, I spend more mental time on that physical.  I'm still only about halfway finished going through Bob's room.  And that's just the first round of tossing or donating stuff that obviously has to go.  I still need to decide what to do with the rest (like his hundreds of models).  It's just so hard - seems so disrespectful.  Which is why it has dragged on for two years.

There's also the barn - I've dragged loads of stuff out, but that's just a drop in the proverbial bucket.  And I keep getting knocked down by this feeling of immense foolish love and loss.  I saw a large storage bin, wondered what was inside, and opened it.  Filled with empty plastic jars.  In case he ever needed an empty plastic jar to put things in.  This is in addition to trash bags filled with empty plastic jars, and the random empty plastic jars laying around.   They went away.

Can't remember if I ever wrote about the propane tanks.  I use one for the flame thrower.  They are refillable.  There were two more full ones.  And nine empty ones, some so old that they can't be refilled.  Why were they kept?  They're gone now.  So is the chain saw that couldn't be repaired.  The 12 extra extension cords (small household ones).   When I was hunting for the paint sprayer (more on that later) I found a small tool box labeled "mini motor tool."  I remembered that - it had been on sale at Harbor Freight for $5.  I thought it might be convenient for small jobs (and I'm a sucker for a sale).  But it turned out to have so little torque that you could almost stop it with your fingers.  As soon as you pressed it to something, it stalled.  My thought it that oops - off to Goodwill with it.  But Bob said that it worked on Styrofoam. I pointed out that so did his full-sized Dremel.  But there it was, years later. (it's gone now)

But I digress.  I was talking about creativity, and making, and how I haven't been doing it.  But the Infinity Con is coming up this weekend, and as I haven't made anything new, I'm taking my Dragon puppet again (it was a big hit last year).  Rob decided to bring Zeke up for it, and asked if I could "make him something to carry."  I've been wanting to try needle felting wool locks to make faux fur, so I made what was supposed to be a "little woodlands fae creature" and ended up being a rat.  Cute enough, but no "wow" factor, and the needle felting stiffened it enough that there is very little head movement (it's mounted on a glove - the forefinger of the glove is stuffed while the person's real finger goes into the head).

But at least it got the gears grinding.  I had a bit of the fabric from my dragon left over so I made a "mini me" dragonette.  I had a tub of self-hardening foam clay that I bought in The Before Times and I tried my hand at sculpting a head.

All in all, it turned out pretty good.  Enough that I'm a little sad that I have to give it away.  But I hope that Zeke will have fun with it.  And then Amanda will make sure that it's kept forever (I found out that she still has the jester marionette that I made her when she was 3 years old, despite having moved many time, including Europe, and losing almost everything in a hurricane.)  And, hopefully, I'm getting a little of my mojo back.

(I'm looking positively grim in this video.  The best lighting and background were outdoors, and the biting flies were chewing me up)