Rugs, mysterious night noises, freecycle, Suits, stitching, otherwise nothing happening

 This is the Rug's Progress

I don't know about abs of steel, I think steel shoulders are needed! But it grows fast.

And at the other end of the spectrum, stitching is happening

The color is a much warmer pink than here. The. camera evidently picked up the blue tones. Anyway it's blanket stitching reverse applique. Which is one of the mountain range of many hills I will die on.

Blanket stitch edges blankets with a smooth turn of the thread at the fabric edge. Buttonhole stitching is worked in the opposite direction, with a half knot at the edge.  They are different, because different functions. 

Blanket allows for a comfortable edge which doesn't irritate the sleeper. Buttonhole creates a tight row of knots to withstand the wear and tear of buttoning and unbuttoning. Another hill I will die on is whipping and the difference from whipstitching. But I'll climb that hill another day.

Meanwhile, Gary and freecycling continues. This was claimed almost before I'd finished posting it, pickup this morning.

And here's the latest from Josie George, a writer  I follow on social media and via her substack newsletters

She's well worth your attention.

As is Suits. I may need a long break after the two seasons I have in DVD from the library. It's intense. 

Speaking of which, suddenly late last night, my wall began to vibrate and emit a loud noise, including a slomo dinging noise. It also felt warm. Enter Gary, at an urgent call from me, after I established it wasn't smoke alarm, water, appliances.

One look and he said it's a short in the doorbell. Took off the wall-mounted  cover and disconnected a couple of wires. The noise and vibration stopped and he's going to do the next step today.

I'm guessing I need a new doorbell, gah.

Happy day everyone, free of things that go bzzzz in the night

Woodland friends and neighbors

Yesterday I was happy to see my next door neighbor and good friend home after yet another Florida trip, no doubt rehabbing a friend's house. Knowing he's back goes a long way to allaying my concerns about being alone and various health adventures. Having all three of my helpful neighbors either away or about to leave has been part of the anxiety I've been feeling.

I walked early yesterday, before it got too hot, meeting these shy woodland creatures, rabbit studying me at a distance - why do rabbits run away keeping right in front of you instead of dodging off the path?

And this new sighting, probably left by squirrels. I'm guessing some puppy is wondering where his toy went.

Speaking of squirrels moving things around, a while back one of my neighbors was complaining that his collection of miniature gourds decorating his picnic table were being swiped one by one. 

Which explained the gradual appearance of more and more miniature gourds chucked onto my patio. I saw a squirrel carrying one, illustrating it all. l restored the gourds to their rightful owner now I knew who it was, complete with bite marks. The gourds, not the owner.

Yesterday's movie, another big family fantasy, was

Which is the next chapter of the Cheaper by the Dozen family story. This one starts with the college graduation of the youngest. And pays respect to Lilian Gilbreth, who became a widowed mother of twelve at a young age and still pursued an engineering career.

Frank Gilbreth, the father, was a pioneer, for better or worse, of time and motion study, and ran his family more or less along the lines of efficiency theory. 

He didn't really raise them, though, since he died suddenly, when the eldest was still in college, and the family ranged down to very young. His widow raised them and lived to a great age. Tough stuff, that Lilian.

The movie is kind of a musical, breaks into song and dance now and then, but I wonder if they couldn't decide if it was a musical or straight comedy. I'm not a fan of musicals where the plot keeps going on hold while they sing about it. I tend to go put the kettle on when a song starts up. 

In opera it's the other way, the arias being to my mind the whole thing, the plot not so much, and the recitative, the bits where people half talk half sing, too actory for words. 

I'm missing so much being able to knit, but I really need to hold off till my shoulder feels better.  Movies and mysteries on the Kindle are just the ticket, nothing very serious or demanding right now. Hamish Macbeth mysteries, fantasy big families are about where I am this week.

That and drawing with marker.

Happy day everyone. Looking forward to seeing better soon. Like birds flying singly instead of in double formation, and words being legible again, without having to angle them just so. 

Hang in there, Brit blogistas, I hear about the stresses of all kinds you're dealing with, and hope for some relief for you, one way or another. You've got Janie Godley's voiceovers and Josie George's found poetry to help keep you afloat though, fortunately.

Miss Peregrine and other thoughts on defense and attack and being open

I just finished reading, well, galloping through, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, by Ransom Riggs, and was amazed to find that I, this nonlover of fantasy, sci-fi, at all, was totally engrossed in this story. Full of adventure and angst, and relationships, and mystery, and fear and you name it, including some of my personal water-related fears, which I managed to read through anyway, it was a day of adventure.  

There's an element of Cassandra in it, too, speaking the truth and not being believed.  And an element of heroism, undertaken by a hero who does not see himself as any such thing. And a righting of wrongs, to some extent. And shape shifting, that ancient trope, seen all the way back to Greek and preColumbian mythology, used for very much the same purposes, too. And time shifts, which I usually find very irritating, very superficial, are here treated by a writer with much greater ability than the ones I've previously encountered who wrote in this style.  

It's not just a gimmick, the kind that annoyed me in previous attempts at scifi using time travel, but a pivotal idea in the novel.  He doesn't set up each part of time to mock the others and make fun of their primitive ways, nor have the earlier travelers gaping in wonder at how marvelous modern people are.  He knows that to everyone, when they lived was just how life was. They didn't dress in costumes and look quaint with their cute hand tools.  They just got dressed and went to work.  He has respect, is what I think I'm trying to say.

And it reminded me to be open to just trying books I come across even if they're in a category I thought I wouldn't like.  Sometimes I find I've missed something good.  I'm pretty good at giving things a try, but this was a little departure.  I thought I didn't much like books with modern Asian settings until I read a few of them. Some excellent Korean and Japanese and Chinese writers enlightened me on that point.

This morning's sighting on a walk on a grey, cold, raw morning: well, not a sighting, more a hearing.  A Carolina wren in the tree right above me, calling, and being answered by another wren from across the street.  Aha.  Soon there may be nesting and young to feed, and the squirrels, even Butternut Boy,  will be driven from the feeders if they get anywhere near a nest with babies.  

I've seen a tiny pair of wrens completely rout a sturdy squirrel who ventured too close, one pecking his head, the other his tail, as he galloped away.  They didn't stop until he was completely vanquished and hiding in the trees down the street.  Then they figuratively dusted off their beaks and went back to providing dinner for the family. Squirrels have pretty long memories, and once handled roughly by a pair of wrens, they don't come back, and their friends don't either, until the young have fledged and the danger is past.

So there we are, still listening to Richard Rohr and learning to let go, bit by painful little bit.  And seeing Josie George on Instagram, a long interview about her new book A Still Life, out in the UK, not available in the US yet, in any form.  She's a transformational thinker, not setting herself up to be one, she just is one.  

I follow her on Twitter, and am daily struck by the casual wisdom she expresses.  A person acquainted lifelong with disability and pain and restriction and yet able to create a life within tiny boundaries for herself, her son, and her long distance partner.  And to do it with grace and fun and humor, it's amazing to witness.  And recently, she's discovered miniature making, and is very excited about it.

 Her blog Bimblings,  here  is well worth checking into. Go there, you'll like her.