Bridge's Up

We won't be going anywhere for a while. This is the drawbridge near my house- the one that leads to the mainland. The small bridge to the left is a pedestrian bridge. Kind of makes you think about things.

Chicken Adventure

Wow! There's an inside to the outside! Where's that lady with the corn? I'll just walk on up to these steps to the kitchen....

Father's Day

This would, on a normal person's blog, be a nice warm post about the lovely day spent with the father of her children ( which did happen) and the fond memories of childhood with their own father. The second bit never happened. My father ran away one day, and never really came back. Through some stupid twist of fate, I chased after him for a while, living under his roof for two of the most frightening, demeaning, and ill cared for years of my life. There's no point detailing what a wreck of a human being he was, you all have newspapers and Internet, and know how to use them. Suffice to say that if I were to discover that he were sick, or hurt, or needed help in anyway well, I piss on him. Really.

I was, actually, quite surprised at all that a father could do for children, watching my husband and my children over the years. Just tonight, they were all guiltily discovered playing Tetris ( a video game) on the computer, and it was the sweetest thing, ever, seeing them all huddled together. I think that fathers who do show up, and do so sober and sane, are a odd thing. But, that said, I do not like Father's Day.

Lots of people don't have one, have never had one, and will never have one. Same for Mother's Day. Presumably, people who have a Father, as opposed to having a sperm donor, know what they have, and all the cakes with shirt and ties made out of frosting in the world is not going to do anything to increase their knowledge of this fact. Those of us without fathers.....

Sumer Tiii-iime

Here are the two storm doors, converted to screen doors. I had to sand, paint, pick out broken glass, make screens and hang. I could have never done this pre Humeria. I hope it lasts.

Need to make a screen for the windo to the right of the door, and I will have a screened in porch! Pretty cool, huh?

The tree is one I planted, seven years ago. It is wonderful beyond all expectation.

The custom here is to paint the front steps. I am not so sure about this. They are currently peeling grey, and a little more paint comes off every time I sweep. I think red would be pretty, but I notice that the people who have really nice painted front steps seem to paint them every spring. I will have to confirm this with the nice guys at the paint store. I may just let the paint finish peeling, and live with the fact that they are concrete.

Kids are off school. As relaxed as I think I am, being with kids all day makes me realize that I expect a lot of zipping around in my life. It took us three hours to walk/scooter a mile to the library, pick out three books, drink a soda at the library cafe, and scooter home. Huh. Three calm, enjoyable hours, but three hours none the less. Alone, I would have allotted an hour, and that is mostly for the walking. I need to adjust and enjoy. Tomorrow, we leave for two nights of camping. We shall see how I do sleeping on an air mattress. Details to follow.

Singer, How I love Thee

A mere $15US in a junk store. Works. Works well, even. Spent a happy day oiling the machine and polishing the cabinet. I think it is my pinnacle of junk shop shopping. Of course, I have no where to put it- I live in a doll house. I am eying all the other furniture, trying to decide who will get thrown off the island to make room.

I notice in all these old machines- both the ones I buy and the ones I do not- that it never looks like the owner intended to stop sewing. The bobbin is wound. The machine is threaded. The drawers are full of notions and buttons. In a way, this comforts me. When I am too old, or too arthritic to sew, I won't know when the last day of sewing is. I'll just leave my bobbin full.