Happy thanksgiving, if it applies. Or Thursday.

 Yesterday we had a lovely afternoon, the food was simple: precooked turkey slices, tender and very good, heated up with baby preroasted tricolor potatoes, with peas and corn, steamed, cranberry sauce. Cheese and crackers. Pumpkin pie, baked at the store, whipped cream fired from a can. All easy, still with leftovers, low labor. 

He asked after Pink Rabbit (predictive text thinks that should be Floyd), and went up to my bedroom to see her on the baby rocker with the bears. While he was there he kindly adjusted my shower stools, two, one in each bathroom, which I use outside the shower. 

They were both a bit low, different height from the ADA -compliant toilet and the bathtub sides, but right for Handsome Partner, for whom I installed them. I think this is a safety issue, so he raised both to match the fittings. 

This involved wrestling with pliers to pop the leg-adjusting buttons which had been in place for years and were beyond my strength to press hard enough. I suggested silicone dabbed on with a qtip, and that and brute force did the trick.  Much easier to rise from now.

So I'm thankful for a  good son who doesn't mind doing a safety job on a holiday. 

After he'd left, I finished my socks

Which are much redder and less purple than the camera thinks.

While I knitted I listened to the rest of an old favorite in a new recording on YouTube

 I like this because it has a couple of my favorite female characters, the Sharpes, mother and daughter, the wrongly accused, very independent, and nonconformist. They're not unlike my other favorite, Catherine Oliphant from Less than Angels, for similar reasons.

Now the knitting is done, I think, after a day off to rest my neck, just in case, I might make a few comfort pocket dolls for children. I've made many of these in the past and I think there's even one on the needles somewhere. I'll keep you updated. 

So while Handsome Son was here, we planned for him to visit mid December and cook me lunch for my birthday,  then get out my small bag of Christmas decorations to set up. Lunch is  going to be garlicky chicken breast and mozzarella on toasted long rolls whose name escapes me, a special request from me. It's my birthday present.

And I did a selfie, complete with the official Good Pearls, to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving, or happy Thursday, whichever applies. Rayez ce qui est inutile. One of my favorite French bureaucratic commands -- delete that which is inapplicable!

But do have a happy day. I plan to. 

Textiles and Tea, Freecycle and toes

Textiles and Tea this week introduced weaver, painter, clothing designer, Chickasaw member 

her family can be traced back to the thirteenth century in Mississippi.  Her fourth great grandmother was a child left behind after a battle, collected and cared for by Chickasaw people, grew up with them, and married into the Chickasaw people.

She has produced authentically styled Chickasaw costumes for historical productions, on a Smithsonian fellowship, has had work shown in the New York Met, and has costumed a production planned for 2024 with a symphony orchestra, at Carnegie Hall.

She's also been a production weaver of wearable art. Her painter training and eye shows up as you study her work. She's taught many Guild workshops over the years, and has recently cut back on her projects for health reasons. Not that you'd notice!

It seems appropriate to honor a native American's talents this week, instead of the fake history we've been taught around Thanksgiving.  Where I live was the home of the Lenni Lenape, and I  thank them when I go out walking daily on what was literally their home territory. The six lane Route One, a mile away,  was before the seventeenth century advent of the Dutch, an Indian walking path between waterways. 

Back home, in the process of laying a simple table

 for our Thanksgiving, I found I could part with a couple of things. These linen napkins I turmeric-dyed and stamped using my hand carved stamps were nice,  but not needed

And this six cup porcelain teapot is a bit too heavy for my wrists now. I put them on free cycle and they were literally gone in half an hour to a very happy  lady.

Thanksgiving celebration this year is less work for me than usual. But first,  I have a footnote (!) about fitness and aging. 

I've been working on that toe raising exercise to maintain my walking, the one I showed you  recently on YouTube. Yesterday I found I can raise my toes, i.e. stand on my heels,  without support. First time evah. I've always been able to raise my toes, but never without support. Just shows! 

I still don't have the core strength any more, since I turned 80+, to get up from the floor without supports. Back in my 70s I could do that, and various other things. Now, though I'm fitter than most, in fact I've outlived almost everyone I knew in my age group, there are still things an octo can't manage that a septo can. Enjoy what you can do while you can!

Happy day, everyone, I hope your plans are good this week, with or without Thanksgiving.

Misfits and a Shilling for Candles

Yesterday's misfits included a wild extravaganza of berries -- out of season raspberries and the usual blueberries. The raspberries are wonderful with good honey and homemade yogurt 

I always marvel at the beauty of brown eggs, and these are so fresh, they rest right at the bottom of the pot when you boil them. I often have a boiled egg and whole grain toast for tea. Or pita bread filled with spinach and egg salad.

And the cranberries are already sauce. I make this very simply, berries, sugar and lemon juice.

And I've been serving it for years in the glass container my sister gave me many years ago, one of the few things she gave me, and treasured accordingly.

While I knit, I've been listening to this old, a bit dated, but still good, Tey. I like all her work, particularly Daughter of Time, which rehabilitated Richard III using actual research, not the wildly inaccurate pop version by Shakespeare.

 

And when I need to read words, because I can't knit endlessly, poor me, I'm doing a weird alternation on Kindle between the Jane Seymour book by Alison Weir and Crampton Hodnet by Barbara Pym. 

The second one is an in-joke, Crampton being part of Pym's family name. And it's one of the best of her novels, with marvelous comic scenes, very movie-like. The Weir, with its social rules and expectations in dress, deportment and food references, has a lot more in common than you might think, with the humor absent. Also no violent death in Pym. At least not physical death. Social death is another issue.

A lot of interesting observations on friendship and falling lately,  thank you all. I learn from you all the time.

Happy day, everyone, I'm off to throw the Thanksgiving red cloth over the incomplete puzzle on the table, then set it up, but simply this year. Tomorrow we celebrate, on Handsome Son's day off.

In Thursday I'll be alone, neighbors mostly away to relatives for the week, but I'll be taking part in Spoutible online high jinks for other people alone on the day.  Or maybe medium jinks, we'll see. It's all good.

Pixilated squirrel, Thanksgiving cactus, goodbye Rosalynn

Yesterday's picture through the screen door was a pixilated version, of a squirrel sitting thoughtfully for a while, near the foot of the Japanese maple.

I really like it when trees you plant start to be part of the habitat, birds and bees and squirrels leaping about in them. When my ficus is out in summer, the birds perch in her and I think it's good for her mental health. Likewise rain and wind and sun.

Indoors the cactus is proving to be a Thanksgiving timer, really coming along now.

And the coleus seems happy among the various transplants and cuttings growing in water.

Yesterday I was involved elsewhere in a discussion about falling, well, about the various YouTube variations on what to do about it. The main advice seems to be don't fall, but if you really have to, then be sure to fall where there are pillows to back onto at various heights near a sturdy chair. Or crawl on hands and knees (!) to a support to haul yourself up by.  Or, my favorite, fall in a circle! Followed by a maybe fortyish physical therapy lady demonstrating a graceful downward spiral. 

Mostly these unlikely ideas are demonstrated by young therapists, prompting shouts from viewers of "I could do that at your age, too!" And realistic comments about just be sure you have your phone or alert on, and call for help, never mind struggling like this.

The good therapists, like Will, the one I've referred to before, are much better than this, with actual step by step programs to maintain strength and realistic skills about getting up. But the others are largely comic relief. 

So when you're lying on the floor, be sure to watch their helpful videos about why you should have fallen near pillows. And how you should never walk in the park, because you'll never make it home again. Noted.

No food pictures recently, because it's been dull food, chocolate pudding, mac and tom -- macaroni in spicy tomato sauce -- potato spinach soup. Good stuff, just not exciting cooking. Also tuna melt, an old favorite.

The final note about the honest freecycler, she emailed to say she'll be happy to use the beads in her jewelry, yay. 

And a little thank you to Rosalynn Carter, for a long life well lived, and her lifelong push for attention to mental health. And her work throughout, with everything Jimmy did, from the presidency to Habitat for Humanity. 

Happy day, everyone, and if you fall down, just shout for help!

Gettysburg Address and a beaded find

Today is the anniversary of the Gettysburg Address, a few sentences long, and one of the most moving speeches ever. The struggle still goes on, to test whether democracy can survive against fascism.

Some days I am close to despair, with the mainstream media stacked against a great President, refusing to cover his significant successes. And people downplaying his candidacy -- old? Could you carry his current workload? -- because they're terrified a competent black woman might become a great President.  But the fight is still on, still doing my tiny bit. 

On much smaller issues, but my life seems to consist of small issues, a free cycler who received bags from me, found this in one

It looks like a little test piece from when I was beadweaving, maybe when I did the big tapestry piece as a residency at the library.

Anyway, such honesty! She wanted to know did I want it back! I know she works with jewelry making, so I suggested she could maybe use the beads. Judy,  the blue ones  are some of the bag o' beads you gave me ages ago, I think wooden, maybe from your basket making days. Yet another new home.

So ethics still apply in the world of freecycling, even though they're barely recognized in SCOTUS. Supreme Court of the United States, for people to whom the initials aren't familiar. I once had an American friend ask me what was this scotus thing people kept talking about!

Happy day, everyone, here's a bluebird of happiness puzzle in progress for you

Photo AC

More winnowing, friendships

In the  course of looking for other things, I came across more winnowing fodder -- fabrics. This includes the rest of those donated sheets I didn't use because they're mauve, which I don't like, though I did make skirts and a robe from the rest, and a bunch of sari and other fabrics, some with bling,  left over from projects.

Due to be picked up today. I hope it works out for this taker, because earlier their schedule fell apart and they missed the art bag, but were very courteous about keeping me informed.

I'm trying to be realistic about how much I can use these days and what  items can go to better hands. It's not easy, to be honest. It's not about the stuff, it's about saying goodbye to the plans for it. Well, that's why parting with things is hard, not exactly breaking news. It's easier when it goes to nice people.

And having finished all my other reading, I'm now kindling this

I do like Weir's narrative style, and I think her historical settings are pretty accurate. Seymour's the Queen who died after giving birth, just to situate her in the Henry story. 

It's possible that kindling is why I'm not getting on with stitching, hence the freecycled fabric remnants..

I've been thinking about kinds of friendship lately, largely because a rl friend is going through some sad times with family illness, and experiencing some of what I did in a similar situations.

There are people who will drop you, heck, Andy's nurses used to tell me of partners who were abandoned when they got sick, but even friends might do that. They can't handle it even at second hand. 

Then there are people who hang in, very kind and helpful. Then when things start to look up for you, they go away. They're better equipped at having the upper hand, I think, and don't know how to navigate a more even relationship. 

And there are what I call activity friends, who want to share a group or activity, but not want any contact outside of it. 

All this is just part of the tapestry of life, nothing bad about it. But it took me so long to grasp this, that I've been disappointed quite a bit,  expecting to buy eggs at the hardware store, so to speak.

I do think it's a mistake to think your real friends are the people who support you in hard times. I think your real friends are those who are supportive and happy for you when things are going well. That's not easy, considering how fast envy can get into the picture.

Anyway, a few musing thoughts, and I'd welcome yours, too. I learn a lot from your comments, thank you.

Happy day, everyone, oh, I just found out we're doing Thanksgiving on Wednesday next week, Handsome Son's day off. He usually works Thanksgiving. This is the nearest we've come in recent years to the official day.

So enjoy your day, even if it's not on the national schedule.

Small stuff, but vital

Yesterday was a day of small, but important, things. You know how some of us are always nagging on about voting, usually to people who always do, quoting instances of close elections?

Here's one from this year

This is a North Jersey affluent region, where Mofos for Liberty have been trying to get onto school boards, and local councils, though that wasn't an issue here. What is an issue is that we are all the more anxious to prevent a Republican clean sweep. And here you see one single vote did that.

No doubt there'll be a recount, as there was locally several years ago, when a school board member lost by four votes. He demanded a recount, got it, and now lost by eight votes!

And this week's Misfits was a small box

Seen here with the freecycle bag of bags, later picked up by a happy freecycler.

Nice artisanal cheddar cheese to go with the havarti for the Thanksgiving cheese and cracker appetizer.

And I have had ongoing struggles to get shoes that fit, my longtime style having changed its manufacturer, become heavy, clunky and twice as expensive.  Local stores have almost nothing in size wide, and usually only a couple of pairs in my size at all nowadays.  So for a while it's been online. 

 There are no athletic shoes  I've found and can afford,  that don't have a seam right across the toe box, right where I can't tolerate it. So that's a whole area taken care of.

After trying and having to send back two lots of nice looking walking shoes, with seams where I can wear them, supposedly sized wide but in fact not, I came across a note on a shoe fitting site that suggested buying a size larger. Hm. I'd already tried a man's canvas shoe in the size equivalent to mine, with only fair success, so why not.

So when Zappos had a great clearance offer of Tretorns, the shoe cut the way that works for me, I thought why not, very much marked down, worth a try. Success! These I can walk in, yay. Here's me modeling them this morning, still in night gear.

Those seams are in the right place for my bumpy old feet. 

I have a long history with Tretorns, back to the seventies,  when I could buy them easily, very cheap considering, reliable, nice looking. 

Then they were bought out by Puma. Then they vanished from the market. Then they reappeared but only in sizes they had,  I supposed, lying around the warehouse, twos and elevens. 

Then they reappeared in the whole range at four times the price I used to pay, now way out of my budget.  So these, though they're faux leather, not canvas, are like a stroll down memory lane.

Small things sometimes matter quite a bit. Happy day everyone, and I hope today's small things for you are welcome.

Freecycling, boundaries and pumpkin soup

Yesterday was a good free cycling day. While I was looking in the coat closet for yarn, I realized I could free cycle a bunch of the bags and purses hanging in there,  and this group is leaving today.

Several of them I handmade and they can move on, served their purpose with me, handspun and woven, Tunisian crochet, beaded knitting. Others are nice, like the Indian embroidered tote,of which I have others. So all the bags are in a bag (!) on the step awaiting their happy taker.

The big painted art bag was picked up yesterday, as it turned out by a longtime art acquaintance who has been trying to get a closer connection for years. A bit shovy, which I've handled politely but not with fervor. I didn't know the identity of this taker, just the free cycle screen name, until she rang the doorbell, most unusual, instead of just picking up. 

Turns out she also received a stack of art books, back when I winnowed the collection, and is pleased with them.

She was wearing a fedora, very stylish, she can wear hats, and wanted to come in and visit. Um. I explained I wasn't free, and she was quite graceful about it. 

I'm very picky about who comes in , no sudden irruptions, except Gary, who's basically family,  and not  uninvited ones. We did chat on the step.  She messaged me later to say she loves the bag. So I felt I did a bit of kind boundary management on the spur of the moment. Clever me. It didn't hurt that I was giving her something nice at the time!

And yogurt has happened again, also the sugar pumpkin from the front step is now soup, as planned

And, tidings of great joy, I didn't have to go in person to the dreaded snarling Motor Vehicle office to renew my driver's license.

At my age, and I noticed they'd changed the expiration to my birthday, oh-oh, I wondered if they'd want a retest or new photo or something. Their website was very cagey about who could and couldn't renew by mail, though they did say there's no age requirement for a retest. So I waited, and they sent me the form to mail in. So now I think if your license is clean, they don't make you do anything special.

 I renewed by mail, and they just recopied the old photo, now looking worse even than before. I'd hate to be recognized from it. But yay, four more years of legality. At which point I'll be amazed if I'm still driving anyway.

Happy day, everyone, enjoy whatever good thing happens, and there will be at least one. You might have to look closely.