I Am This Woman

(27 of 50) (not to be confused with Greta Thragnusdottir’s magnum opus - a much later but fragmented text which is considered to be the first Icelandic historical romance)

I suppose it is time to begin the story about how I discovered these Icelandic texts. I had always meant to reveal them in appropriate academic channels, but since I am no longer an academic, I can perhaps allow myself a little leeway. The problem is, however, the only other person in the Universe who ever expressed any interest in these important works was my father, and he has now passed on. In fact, if you look at the Moultrie (Georgia) High School Library check-out card for 1935-36, you will see only his signature (and one overdue fine).

Thragnussen was lesser known. Ok, he was unknown until his eddas were discovered in the 19th C. by a sheepherder, and documented by a fellow from the British Museum who had traveled to Iceland for the hákari, which he believed to be a cure for toe fungus.

(I’m sorry. I’ve run out of time tonight to finish this truly fascinating and little known story from literary history. More soon.)

Memorial Day Weekend, originally uploaded by tigerwillow.

(26 of 50)
Some days, you have to work. Some days, you need to play with Sculpey. And sometimes you just have to ride the rollercoaster.

(25 of 50)

June is my favorite month of all. Not just because my birthday is in the middle of the month, but because it’s usually the beginning of summer holiday, it’s warm and sunny (or stormy) but never cold. Rarely is it cold. (I know it’s cold int he mountains and elsewhere in June, even snowy at elevation, but that’s not where I live.) I do NOT like cold, esp. not in June.

June tastes like fresh peach ice cream. Like key lime pie. Like hot dogs with relish and mustard.

June smells like green lawns, sweat and sunscreen. June sounds like the South, bugs buzzing, birds and squirrels chittering.

June has soft, short nights with quiet clouds blowing around the sky while the moon peeks down.

For me, June is all too short but oh so sweet.

(24 of 50)

It’s been a week on the new system for sp*m removal, and it seems to be working. I have missed several days of blogging, but then again, one strives for quality not quantity, right?

Although, I am reminded of something a very good friend says (and maybe he’s quoting someone?): “There’s a certain quality to quantity.”

New developments:

• I rode a rollercoaster! Look for actual photo evidence soon!

• Graceful Crow Media has acquired a digital audio recorder with a very easy interface for transferring files into the computer. Expect plenty of nonsense audio soon.
• Yardwork is nearly complete. I will take one more set of interim photos, then the plants go in tomorrow. After that, I hope to have some nice pix with loads of “curb appeal.”
• I had pancakes/syrup for breakfast - a break from my usual high-protein yoghurt, fish or chicken, or chaste bowl of cereal. And I think the pancake coma is about to do me in, complete with catnap and really horrible dream about a friend who rejected me years ago. In the dream, she returned and silently gave me back some knitting I’d done for her. Knife to the heart. Made the pain of losing her friendship fresh again.
• Stupid dreams.
• I’ve received EIGHT (8) CARDS already! SQUEEEEEEEE!

pretty in pink biscornu 05-08, originally uploaded by tmcg61.

(23 of 50)

This is a “biscornu” done by my dear friend Terri. It’s possibly the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen! A little pillow (way way too pretty for pins) on its own pedestal!

Even if it is a kit, there is an essential pleasure one gets from making something so pretty from bits and bobs of string and buttons and wood. Everyone who sees it can enjoy that pleasure, but only the maker gets to experience the transformation from ordinary kit to EFO (extraordinary finished object).

Actually, I believe this is the lounging cushion for a petite and lovely faerie.

(22 of 50)

My dear friends, family, readers and listmates,

I will be 50 on my next birthday, which is JUNE 15. That is less than a month away, so get ready for some fun.

This birthday is very momentous for me. Not just because it’s one of those decade-milestone birthdays, but also because of the recent major life events that all seemed to cluster up in my late 40s. Deaths and endings of several kinds, with some new beginnings seeded and now beginning to bloom. I thought about hiding my head in the sand, lying about my age but I’d rather hit it head-on and redefine my life.

I will be starting a new business venture in a few weeks, I have some travel planned on the order of “a trip of a lifetime,” and there are other tectonic plate shifts happening below the surface, which may (with all due diligence and hard work) produce some new writing.

But enough about me. For my 50th birthday, I wanted to give everyone a present. But I really (truly) cannot afford that. (more…)

(19 of 50)

This video is really amazing and wonderful, and slightly creepy (too much Twilight Zone).

I love how the marriage of technique, art and performance work to bring life to this girl, and then the video is a lovely little vigniette with the music and editing. Golf claps to the little girl and her footmen!

I also love how a group of creative people can get together and find cool stuff like this. I ganked this link from the lovely and talented LMNOP on Ravelry. (Not her real name or spelling of her username as I don’t exactly have permission to name her here.)

(18 of 50)

I am a knitter. I learned from my mother when I was probably about six or seven. I am backdating that to the house I remember knitting in. I can see the bedroom where she had her sewing stuff. There was a little Singer sewing machine for kids there too, and I made little Barbie clothes and horse blankets on the machine that sounded like a mini-tank clanking away.

I did not have a Barbie. I had a Midge. She was Barbie’s darker, more athletic friend. I liked her better. I don’t know if it was an accident or that is what was on sale at the BX, but I had Midge and liked her just fine. And she needed clothes too. So about the same time I remember knitting, I also learned to sew.

Back to knitting: I learned to cast-on but it was so difficult that I knitted one thing and didn’t knit again. That first thing? a doll scarf for Midge. I cast on with some itchy fingering yarn on some red #10 Boye needles. I still have those needles.

There was a summer when Aunt Ella came to us for a few weeks, and that’s when I learned to crochet. We made rag rugs together, and she showed me how to rip and sew the rags together, then how to make the rug. I have several of these rugs which she made and one that she started and I will finish. Eventually.

Early learning in handwork - especially with fibers and textiles - is beneficial for brain development. It really doesn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to figure this out… teaching children anything has the potential to make a lasting impression. But there definitely is something to stimulating fine motor control and intellectual development.

And perhaps this explains the grey-haired old granny stereotype for knitting. Grandma knew best that one of the best ways to keep the kids busy and out of Mom’s hair was to teach them knitting, crochet, tatting. And she was the one available to do this, so that is a possible origin of the stereotype. Children see old people and their grandparents as impossibly old, and since she was the one available for these influential moments of knitting and handwork instruction, the image stuck in the child’s mind. And I guess it doesn’t help that knitting needles are good for putting up your hair into a bun.

We’ve lost a generation or two of knitting Grandmas who were available to mind the kids and teach knitting. Grandma went back to work and expanded her horizons, and didn’t have as much time to knit much less watch the kids. Luckily, knitting and needlework are enjoying a rennaissance, and knitters are as likely to have purple hair, dreads or a shaved head (yes, I’m looking at you Franklin!).

Maybe in 20 years, the stereotype will have shifted to include eye patches, dreads, earrings… and grey hair.

Lap Dog, originally uploaded by tigerwillow.

(17 of 50)
My 40 lb. lap dog, Miss Lucy. She is not allowed on the couch unless in a lap, so it works out for her. Tonight, I held her and scratched her chest until she fell asleep. Then she started snoring and did so for about 15 minutes. She missed most of House.

(16 of 50)

I lost my mama in 2003. So for her, I will try to remember the good times, even though there was thousands of bad times to try and forget. As I sit here today, I think I would withstand some bad times just to have her back for a few hours, to chat with, to giggle over stupid things with. I miss her voice and her encyclopedic knowledge of film. I would probably have to ask her about “Now, Voyager” (which I saw again yesterday, which makes me laugh and cry because it is probably the highest form of camp art EVER).

The missing her never ends. It just gets easier to live with, and even becomes comfortable after a while. My gift to her today is to remember her with love and fondness, something that was more complicated when she was alive. Something that I know was/is just as difficult for my brothers to do.

My dear child is 12, and knows full well it’s Mother’s Day… and is enjoying cartoons and getting himself breakfast.

We are ok with what our day holds, if we don’t listen to the world. In our little world, a loving gift for Mother’s Day is a hug, a joke, a plan to go see a movie together. But the world out there is screaming at us that flowers, cards, breakfast in bed, chocolates, resentment, duty, coercion and guilt are part of the day (spend money! make her blow her diet! she’ll get mad if you don’t!).

I hope I never ever become a mother who has to nag remind her son, or whine to be recognized. I can understand how it happens. But since I get a year-round appreciation, today is really just a pretty spring day which we will enjoy together. That right there is a pretty nice gift.

Happy Mother’s Day to the moms, anyone with a mom and especially those without!