Here There Be Dragons;

Today was a bit discombobulated (which raises the question - am I ever combobulated?)  I didn't have any clear plans for today besides tidying up a bit (the trunk that I use for a coffee table is piled up and sliding to the floor.)  And I just felt unmotivated - more on that later.

So spent a couple of hours during/after breakfast chatting with Ebaida - covering things like the current political situation here to the American Civil war to slavery to some cute music videos.  I love that woman.

But I finally got up and On With My Day.  I'm almost out of my seedy bread, so I got that started (it's the kind of bread that you mix up and then let sit and do it's thing for a few hours before baking)  Then I remembered that I needed to do the trash run - the dump won't be open again until Friday and I'm out of space in the trash can for empty cat food tins.  There is no "putting trash in an outside can" around here - I can bungee a can to try to keep raccoons out, but that's less that successful with bears.

But trash days are also "clean the squirrel cage day" so did that first.  Then I remembered that I still had 50 pound bags of chicken feed and cat litter in the car that had to be dispensed into buckets.  Somewhere around this time I got a call from a friend because he hadn't talked to me for awhile (in Greg's case, this means "talk at you" but he's pretty interesting and with the joy of speaker phones I got a basket of laundry put away).  By then I needed lunch.  Trash run finally done.

Back home, I got another "talk at me" call from Rob, because they had given Zeke his birthday present of taking a flying lesson (pretty cool, right?)  Got more stuff done during that call.

Noticed that my bread wasn't rising at all.  Wondered for a moment if my yeast was dead.  Realized that I had forgotten to put it in.  I mixed it with a little water and squished it in as well as possible; it's rising now (amazing how that works)

But on to Dragons!  Our library had a Cosmic Con - a fun event with all kinds of tables and games and a costume contest.  It's a way to get families into the library.  The theme was "Here There Be Dragons" so of course I had to take my dragon puppet.

It was, of course, a hit.  People (adults as well as kids) love interacting with a puppet.  And, honestly, I love being the center of attention when it's not actually me who's getting it.

To make it more fun, I went up to a woman to admire her costume (a swamp witch with an opossum on her shoulder) and before I could say anything she goes "I know you!!"  She used to work at the museum 7 or 8 years ago.  So the two swamp witches hung out with each other, and we even joined in the costume parade that was wending it's way around all the library shelves.  It was silly and fun.

But today?   A little rough - because it isn't.  August 25th is our 51st wedding anniversary.  Last year I stressed for the week approaching it.  Lots of tears.  Made a special meal.  Opened the 50 year old bottle of wine.  Bought myself a cake. Cried some more.

But 51 seems anticlimactic.  Almost, but not quite, just another day.  I hadn't even planned anything special (I was more involved with getting ready for the library thing - I was altering last week's medieval dress to hold the fake arm and use the puppet.)  

But this picture popped up in my FaceBook memories.

I had posted this picture 6 years ago, in 2018, with the glib caption of "45 years.  So far, so good."

Yeah.  The innocence of that twists me up.  We didn't know that by our 46th anniversary we would be spending most of our time either in the oncology clinic, or going back and forth to Shands.  We didn't know that I would celebrate our 47th, and every one after that, alone.

The hardest years for me to think about are 2018 and the first half of 2019.  I look at pictures and memories and the word "innocence" keeps coming back to me.  We lived, and loved, and raised baby squirrels and opossums, went kayaking, took afternoon naps, had coffee together, played Jeopardy.  We just didn't know how little time we had left together.

I think I said it best on a post that I made in a previous anniversary:

I miss you.
I love you.

Thank you.

Empty Spaces; Going Medieval

 And yet another dozen days go by with no urge to write.  2025 self is going to be annoyed if I keep this up.

Hit with another unexpected trigger.  I got an email from Honda about my Fit. It read, in part "Five years ago you brought home your Fit and opened the door to adventures around every bend."  To which I yelled, "Well, SCREW YOU!!"

Buying that car was an attempt to grasp at a little bit of control after the world got jerked out from under us.  Five years ago was when we started making numerous trips back and forth to Gainesville.  And, if things had gone according to plan, while he was in recovery I would have been makes numerous trips back and forth by myself.  Although we both loved our 20-year-old Honda, and it was still running fine, we thought that maybe we should get something a little newer and safer, so we traded in Dad's Infinity and got the Fit.

The "adventures" were not what I had in mind.  In fact, after I came home I went back to driving the old Honda and merely glared at the new one for six months.

The other hit was FaceBook memories - this one from 6 years ago, where I talked about how Bob and I went to a tiny local theater to watch MST3K and eat huge buckets of popcorn.  Now it seems so innocent.  We had no idea that a year after that we'd be driving back and forth to Gainesville instead.

Last post I mentioned that I had a medieval event (SCA - Society for Creative Anachronism) to go to.  I had the date off by a week - so that gave me time to finish the costume.  The event wasn't quite what I expected; I knew there would be some sword fighting, but I also thought there would be other stuff - like singing, or dancing, or carousing at the feast table.  But it was held in a gym on the basketball court - sort of lacking in ambience.  And no singing, dancing, or feasting.  I did have someone show me how to make a Roman style safety pin.

(and no,no pictures of me in my new costume.  Somehow the basketball court wasn't inspiring)

I've found myself thinking about spaces - or gaps.  Empty areas.  There is often the human need to fill a space (the old "nature abhors a vacuum") but I have been exploring - or at least thinking about - empty spaces.  Of course, there is that large emptiness that used to be filled by Bob - there are still times that I sleep on the couch because I can't handling the yawning chasm of his side of the bed.  There are spaces that demand to be filled - like the rather small but really annoying one in my mouth.  I had been having a lot of problems with one of my molars for years (OK, a decade or two).  It was getting to the point that it really couldn't be recrowned - and the old crown would come off periodically.  Then came the point when we were getting ready to go stay in Gainesville for Bob's treatment, and it came off again, and I went to my dentist and said "I can't be having with this - pull the damned thing."  He didn't want to - he tried to tell me if the crown came off in Gainesville I could find a dentist to put it back on.  Nope - I wanted to focus on Bob, so the tooth went.  My plan was to get the bridge in before we left but the timing wasn't right - and when I came back it was Covid time so no having someone hanging around in my mouth.  I know many people who have lost a tooth and the gap doesn't bother them; my dentist told me there was no danger to having a hole that far back.  But I hated that damned gap and *finally* got my bridge in a year later.

How's that for meandering?  I wrote awhile back about giving away a loom that was in the cottage.

My plan was to move an empty bookshelf (used to hold Bob's hundreds of T-shirts in milk crates) from the bedroom to that spot.  But even though the loom wasn't that big (30" x 30", 55" tall) the room seems somehow so much more open having that bit of unfilled space (I did put my bench there)

I don't really need more storage (but if I put shelves there, they would certainly fill up) so I'll just leave it as is.

The other gap is where the missile picture was (the one I sent to the missile guy).  Rather than having pictures on the wall, Bob had built me a couple of picture rails where I can just put up (and overlap, and rearrange) pictures at will.  We did that 7 or 8 years ago, so the picture has been there since then.  Now there's a gap.

I have other pieces hanging out in a closet, and something will go there.  But that picture had been in the family for 60 years, and I didn't want to fill up its space too quickly and thoughtlessly.

Time for a few less philosophical thoughts.  One was the celebration - one of my new chicks laid her first egg!

I've had chickens for over 30 years, yet "first egg" is still a thrill.

The other was just an opportunity to look closely at something.  I've written before about how most people just glance at life and move on, rather than stopping and really looking.  When I read a book about owls earlier this year, it mentioned how their feather structure allows for silent flight: the front edge of the feather has a very fine, stiff, comb-like structure that breaks up the air, while the back side is soft and wispy to prevent any air vortices.  Well, the museum's barred owl, Mabel, dropped a wing feather, so I was able to study it.  Amazing.

Whew!  That was a ramble.  And I feel like I've missed stuff.  Must stop going two weeks between posts.

Short Random Thought

 Sitting down to my dinner of Massaman curried chickpeas on quinoa.  Quite delicious, BTW.

But suddenly remembering when Saturday night could have meant hot doggities (his dipped in mustard, mine in a mixture of ketchup and barbeque sauce) and a bag of Voodoo spicy chips.

And someone to eat with.

Where did I go wrong?

Catching Up

 And there goes another 2 1/2 weeks.  What can I say.  I survived July, but it's still hot and sticky (heat index 110 today).

Day to day it seems like I'm not doing anything - and then I realized that there is still quite a bit going on.  Reading, for one, as usual.  I was between books, and waiting for Jeff who was thinking about one, so I opened up one of my book collections at random and realized that I had never actually read one of the seminal works of American Literature, Uncle Tom's Cabin.  Meanwhile, as I was getting into it, Jeff did want to read House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski.  So I'm reading both simultaneously.  It's working out, because House is a very strange, very convoluted book (there are three stories happening simultaneously, about a fourth story) which is like trying to read a maze.  Some parts are blank, some upside down, some partially blanked out.  There are three pages of nonsense words that can only be read by taking the first letter of each word.  I find I can only read it when my mind is fairly sharp and I can puzzle it through.  So that's daytime reading, with Uncle Tom being before-bed.

I'm surprised I can walk today.  Hazards of the volunteer job: I got kneecapped by the big goat yesterday.  I went down and he was coming at me again, so all I could do was grab his horns and straight-arm him to keep him from hitting me again.  I didn't want to try to stand because he's very strong and I'd be wrestling him and at the moment I didn't know the condition of my knee.  So - still hanging on to him, I went backwards on my knees until I could shove him aside and roll out the gate.  Surprisingly, when I gingerly stood up, there seemed to be no damage and it's fine today.

Also at the museum I had a good laugh at the owl I posted about last time.  This time Topaz was in her little shelter, too small to spread her wings.  So while I was cleaning, I misted her just for a minute or so.  When I turned to walk away, I heard a soft thud behind me.  I turned, and there she was at my feet, wings spread, glaring at me with a look of "HEY!!  YOU!  Get your ass back here and finish my shower!"  So I did.  Silly bird.

I think in a previous post I mentioned that I was working on a dress to wear to a medieval event "sometime in August."  I just sort of putzed away at it.  I also wanted to weave a belt to go with it, and I need some sort of veil or head cover.  Then it occurred to me that "sometime in August" is the day after tomorrow.  Oops.  Been hustling a bit on that.

I got some business work done sometime in the last 2.5 weeks.  Between the two of us, Bob and I had 5 retirement investment accounts.  His got transferred over to my name.  I was talking to our counselor (because I thought I had to start taking money out of one when I hit 72, which is this year) and they thought it would be more efficient to combine them rather than having separate ones.  That makes sense, and we did it - but it did feel oddly like I was erasing a bit more of Bob.

So I chose not to erase him on another occasion.  Recently, every time I've gone to share something from my phone, the first person to pop up in the "do you want to send it to this person?" list is a guy I haven't heard from in years.  He used to do the haunted trail with us, and he house-sat when we went to Italy 9 years ago.  After this happened a few times, I figured it was a sign to say "hi" so I dropped him a message and did.  We did the usual thing of a few notes back and forth.  I mentioned that Rob and Jeff had moved to another state - but I didn't mention Bob.  Somehow, I liked the idea that in Donny's world Bob was still alive, and I didn't want to take that away.

What else?  Oh, yeah  - a near miss from Hurricane Debby.  It ended up hitting about 40 miles east of me (that would have been this past Monday, the 5th), and it's done some tremendous damage farther up the coast, but I just got some wind and rain. I still need to empty all my jugs of flushing water out of the bathtub (but I've been busy working on the dress, belt, and veil)

In the larger world, I never take an interest in politics and just live with whatever happens (I do at least vote) but I have to say I have spent far too many hours watching news clips.  Suddenly I (like so many people) have gone from a feeling of doom and despair over what the next four years could be to having a bit of hope.  And it's fun to make a bowl of popcorn and just watch the bread and circuses.

 And now for the strange and fun thing.  Mike got an email from a guy  -  Gary Baker - who tracked him down.  Gary is a specialist in (let's say obsessed by) the ICBM missile of the cold war era.  He's working on trying to fill in some gaps in the Atlas F missile program.  These were huge (80 ft. tall, 250,000) pound missiles designed to be stored in underground silos.  Unfortunately, they were rushed to completion . . . and there were design errors.  In a series of silos and missiles (designed to carry nuclear warheads, although thank God they weren't armed) that cost several billion dollars.  The design flaw caused the missiles to explode while they were in the silos (and there are people in there as well).  One blew up in the summer of 1963 - so the obvious solution was to fire the commander and bring in a new one.  The next missile exploded in February 1964, and one after that in March.  At that point, the commander was dragged before a Senate investigation committee for negligence (or maybe even sabotage).  Because who wants to admit to a multi-billion boo-boo?  Eventually he was exonerated, but the whole things was an embarrassment and the commander was sort of shuffle off from post to post an the whole things quietly hushed up and the program discontinued.

So why contact Mike?  Simple - that missile commander had a couple of kids, Mike and his little sister Ann.  We were there.  We remember seeing the mushroom cloud and waiting for hours with Mom to see if Dad had survived (he did, as did his crew).

So Gary is all kinds of excited, because we were there, and he's been peppering us with all kinds of detailed questions.  Alas, I don't know if we're being much help.  My answers largely consist of "Dude - I was 11 years old."  What I know of Dad's work was that he was in the Air Force and he went to work in the morning and come home in the evening.  Gary asked me about a next door neighbor - what unit was he with, and what was his job field. "Uh - he had a dog.  A black lab."  

He's tracing the rest of Dad's career, so he wanted exact dates of when we moved, an what Dad was doing each time.  Well - by the time I was 14 we had moved 9 times, so we're a little fuzzy on the dates.

I was able to do one nice thing.  I had a large framed photograph of one of Dad's missiles (before it blew up), signed by his crew and friends (probably a going away gift).  It seems strange to take a family heirloom and send it to a stranger - but I did.  Mike's OK with it.  My thought for the last several years, since I've been doing serious downsizing, was that someday it would probably end up in Goodwill or a yard sale, being sold for the frame.

So now it's joined his personal museum, and I'm glad that it has a home.  His plan is to digitize it so he can try to analyze the signatures.

He's invited us to some see him and go over the records (he apparently has interviews from people who knew our parents) to see what we can remember.  Normally, I might be a bit "meh" about that.  But here's the kicker:  He's in Roswell, New Mexico (where we lived - and it might be fun to see the old stomping grounds) and he has an Air BnB - in one of the missile silos!

Go  stay in a converted missile silo?  Oh hell yes.  We're going to wait a couple of months so hopefully it won't be a hundred degrees, then we'll go.  How often do you get a chance like that?

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/46711243?source_impression_id=p3_1722740718_P3Waz_8gHVyF16tN

So, year - a busy couple of weeks (and yet the heat still knocks me on my butt most days, and concern about the hurricane took up a couple of days)

Stay tuned.

July Ramblings

 Almost two weeks from the last post.  What can I say?  It's July.  Hot, sticky, humid (100% in the mornings). And the rain it raineth every day.   July is just here to be endured.  Time for randomness.

I took this picture the other night, trying out the night mode on my phone.  Mundanely, I was just going out to put up the chickens for the night.  But the view has such a lovely fae magical quality to it.

My favorite picture of Bob, in the water with the ray, popped up in my FaceBook memories.  Seven years ago.

And, of course, a dozen people or so hit the "like" button.  But when I looked at the list of names, it hit me that half of them have never met him - they're FB friends, or people that I met after I lost him.  They're just being nice to me (which, indeed, is nice) but it sort of underscores that I now have a Life Without Bob.  I'm just Ann.

I got another hit yesterday.  Rob, Amanda, and Zeke came over for a visit; Amanda wanted to eat at the Volcano Hot Pot.  Zeke has recently gotten interested in the idea of remote control planes, so we were going to go look at some afterwards - the hobby shop is in the same strip center as the restaurant.  Except that it was permanently closed, and my first thought was "where will Bob get his paint and supplies now??"

I do sometimes still get out for a bit of yardwork in the morning (if I wake up early enough).  A few mornings ago I was clearing the driveway and thought, as I have a few times for the last couple of years, that there was a pine tree that really should come down if I ever got anyone out.  I looked at it - it was full, and maybe 15-20 feet high, but the trunk was only 4 or 5 inches in diameter.  What the heck - went and got my chainsaw and took it down.  Of course, then I realized that I had a rather full pine tree lying in my driveway that needed to be cut up and dragged off.  It still feels sometimes like there's a stranger living in my skin; 5 years ago I would never have thought that I would just grab a chainsaw and do something like that.

Infinity Con.  In the previous three July blogs I have talked about going to our local Infinity Con. Not this year, because I didn't go.  I've written a bit about doing a lot of other stuff - cleaning out the barn, downsizing, yard work - but I'm in a creative slump.  A puppet did not get made this year.  The real reason I go is to put myself out there - to walk around with a puppet, get noticed, talk to people.  I look at my post last year and saw that I mentioned that I could pretty much see everything there in an hour.  The tickets are $30.  So if I'm only just another face in the crowd wandering around for an hour, well, it's not worth it.  I think that in previous years I thought something would come of it, more than a "how cute!  Can I take a picture with it?"  That maybe someone would want to talk about making, or what they make.  Maybe we would sit down and have a Coke and talk.  In three years, that didn't happen.  I don't think I was in the proper "make believe" mindset for this year.

Not that I mind "short connections."  Those are important too.  The smile you see one someone's face when they see a dragon puppet (or an owl if I'm at the museum) and want to talk for a couple of minutes.  I have a couple of the cashiers at Publix that recognize me now - I get in their line if I see them.  A couple of weeks ago when I took my trash to the dump, I saw that the beekeeper down the road had set up his table.  I had just gotten some honey (his - the feed store carries it) earlier that week, so I didn't need any more.  But honey keeps, so I pulled in, got out, and had a nice chat for a few minutes and got another jar.  He's a sweet man, and when I left he said "I hope you have a wonderful day, because you certainly made mine."

I had another connection with the writer of a blog that I follow.  She writes of fiber and weaving and life and illustrates it with little watercolor. I've mentioned earlier that she wrote about the garbanzo beans that are grown where she lives (an area of Washington State called the Palouse), and also that another person I know wrote about Palouse garbanzo beans, and I tried some, and they're really good.  So I put a comment in one of her posts about "garbanzo terroir" and she got a kick out of the phrase.  But I must have made her think about them, because the next week's post had this painting.

In some of my spring yardwork I spent some time clearing underbrush and vines from a small fig tree out front.  I thought about cutting it down, but it looked like it was still alive.  Last week I walked past it, and lo and behold - figs!  Just a handful of small ones, but there they were.  And they have been appreciated.   While I am a person who thinks that pineapple on a pizza is an anathema, I believe that roasted figs on a pizza (white sauce, proscuitto, and goat cheese) is pure bliss.

Closing these ramblings with the cute video of the week.  As usual, it's from the museum.  On these hot days, when we clean the aviaries, we sometimes aim a spray of water at the birds.  The hawks are neutral.  The eagles don't particularly like it.  Most of the owls sort of like it - they'll sit there and puff up their feather a bit.  But one owl, Topaz, really gets into her showers.

And that's my ramblings for now.  Next post may be in August.

Almost July 9

 Last post, a week ago, I said I hadn't done much for four days.  I still haven't.  But that's where the blog comes in handy - I look back at past years about this time, and every time the first few weeks of heat really knocks me out.  I think it's because Florida doesn't ease into it.  You go from the highs being in the 70's to the highs being in the 90's and the humidity being insane and it just takes time to adjust.  I've also had a couple of days of almost being sick - little bit of a sore throat, glands swollen, aching all over - and now it's easing off.

I did one bit of cleaning which unexpectedly kicked up a lot of memories.  In the kitchen, there was a gap between the refrigerator and the wall - only about 18 inches so not big enough to do anything useful.  We got a heavy wire shelf, put casters on the bottom, and made a roll-out pantry, big enough to hold a dozen baskets.  I had visions of something like on TV, baskets with supplies neatly lined up and easily grabbed.  But Bob - - - well, he did have that need that if there was space, something had to go in it.  So the baskets soon were filled to overflowing with jumbled stuff.  I did put my foot down when he was thinking that he could put a narrow shelves on the wall, wide enough to hold one can in depth (because the rolling was only about 14 inches wide, so that left a few inches.  I pointed out that we would probably knock whatever was on those narrow shelves off every time we pulled out the rolling shelf, and that we wouldn't be able to access those shelves without pulling the rolling rack completely.  He then started eyeballing the bit of blank wall over the telephone and thinking we could put shelves and canned goods there - and I nixed that idea as well.

He contented himself with putting hooks along one side of the rolling rack to hang water bottles on straps, lunch bags (why did two people need 6 lunch bags?) and whatever else.

So those were memories as I took off all the baskets, emptied and washed them, wiped down the rack, and replaced everything, organized and one layer deep.

Neater, more organized, easier to grab whatever I want . . . and so damned empty.

While I had the rack out I thought I'd check the overhead cabinet - I couldn't remember if I had anything in there - and if I did, it was something that I hadn't used in years and could probably go away.  There was a vacuum sealer and a plastic food mill - yep, they could leave.  But also - YUCK!!  it was apparently the ancestral home of many generations of cockroaches.  Disgusting.  So much for a quick job.  I got that scrubbed out and the roach goop put in.  That left me to deal with the two pieces of equipment.  I really just wanted to throw them in the trash, but there's that big part of me that can't toss something that's still in perfect working order, merely covered in roach . . . . detritus.  But I couldn't bring myself to just take them to the donation site in that condition, so it was another hour with soap and water and Lysol and the steam cleaner, and *then* they could be donated.

I took advantage of my few days of not feeling well and wanting to rest by working some more on my medieval dress.  In addition to all the hand stitching I did on the edges, I needed to make a couple dozen eyelets up the front to lace it shut - more handstitching.  And in a grand moment of "it seemed like a good idea at the time" I decided to lace the sleeves on instead of sewing them into place.  My logic was that I might want to make this dress part of a costume to wear with one of my puppets, which would mean I would need to have a shoulder seam open to free up my working arm.  But needing the lacing holes mean another 74 stitched eyelets.  Oh, my.

Mostly, I've just been dreading tomorrow.  June was bad enough, with the memories of having the first inkling that something wasn't quite right with Bob's bloodwork, to our first trips to the oncology clinic and a bone marrow biopsy and trips to Shands.  In the background of all this was noticing that Fiona, now 20 years old, wasn't doing well.  She had kidney troubles for a few years, but usually if she was having a bad day we could do a sub-q fluid infusion and perk her up.  But it wasn't working.  We got up the morning of July 9 and she was bloated and couldn't eat or drink and we knew the time had come.  But we also had Bob's appointment to get the test results that morning.  We had to take her in as soon as the vet opened, say our farewells, and then, still numb with grief, looked blankly at the doctor when he said I'm sorry, but it is leukemia.

So July 9 is a damned hard day for me.  I thought about calling out from work (I haven't worked a July 9 yet) but I'm seeing if I can handle it tomorrow.  But I'll be thinking about them.  It had been a comfort to him (and me) when I suggested that I could put their ashes together.  He had softly said "Yes.  I would like to have Fiona with me."

So they're still together.  But I'm left behind.

Half Year Summing Up

 Well, I've made it halfway through 2024.  I wonder at what point I will get over the mind set of "making it through"?

I have written of the strange calm I've felt this year.  I wonder if it's partially because when I first came home and wasn't sure if I could manage out here by myself, and wondering how long I could make it, and I thought maybe 5 years?  Well, five years later - I'm maintaining things, and I've survived whatever has been thrown at me; I'm healthier and physically stronger.  So I don't have to give up my home just yet.

So how's 2024 going so far?  Not bad.
For someone who said she was going to quit pushing, and just be a hermit if she felt like it - I've gone out quite a bit, and peopled at lot. I went to the Highland Games, and to the Royal Hanneford Circus, the FSU circus (with friends), to the Broadway Shows singing at the community center, to two gatherings at the museum, and to a play at the School of Theatre.  I did the Tree to Tree course with two co-workers.  Jeff has visited three times.  Suzie and Ashlyn came over to help with the chicken coop and we went to lunch afterwards.   I went to Crawfordville for lunch with Judy. I've been going to visit Gill after my monthly chiropractor visit.  I went to Thomasville with Adrianne.

I've dealt with stuff - like my hubcaps falling off, and the fender-bender accident.  I replaced a circuit breaker in Chez Wicca.  I did extra shifts at the museum during the post-tornado time.  I finally rebuilt the ceiling panels and repaired the bedroom ceiling.

I did the massive barn clean out, and an equally massive amount of brush clearing (although the latter is hard to tell because it keeps growing back).  I tore down a rotting fence, and repaired the chicken coop.  I repaired and painted my mailbox.  I rebuilt my front swing.   I was able to give away the small loom that I don't use.  I've raised 5 new chicks.

I'm still in search of my creative mojo.  I did the swing, and I made a skirt to wear to the highland games (I don't especially like it and might recycle the cloth) and I'm still slowly making the medieval dress.  About the only other thing I've made is a hairpin - simple, but I'm pleased with it.  I have a collection of hair sticks for when I wear my hair French twist style, but for when I'm wearing a hat at the museum I wear my hair in a low bun, and for that I needed a short stick, not fancy, preferably a little wavy to hold better.  So I made it.  I had some heavy copper wire from a earlier project so all I had to do was cut, file, bend a twist at one end and put in a couple of waves.  Simple, but satisfying.  Then I had to do it again because while I was doing yardwork a stray azalea branch caught it, pulled it out, and flung it somewhere.

I've logged over 550 miles in my walking challenges.

I've read 26 books (#27 is A Brief History of Time, which Ebaida wanted to read)

That's it so far.

OK, I feel better.  I'm glad I wrote this.  For the last four days I have done virtually nothing.  I've been getting that stressed feeling of an animal seeing a trap closing with the change of weather.  For the last week it's gotten over 100 degrees in the heat index, with the high humidity making it difficult to breath (especially in the mornings, when it's not particularly hot yet but the humidity is 100%).  So maybe it's OK to take a few days off to switch gears and think about inside projects.