going . . .

Not many smiles here . . . Poor Soul has to go to Kat Kamp (krazy name, huh?), along with Bear, who left on an earlier bus.

transportation

Feet allow for all kinds of transport to areas not accessible by any other means. At least once a year, I do polish my shoes, the ones I've been wearing a lot. I think it's important to keep my shoes in good repair. They are comfortable, and dependable; they deserve some TLC.


The polish in this apple basket is years and years old; it never seems to diminish in amount or lose it's ability to do the job. Mysterious.

quick dog update

Puglsey, now Stan, has had his manhood removed, and is alive and well, living with an adoptive mother in Virginia. There seems to be a vigorous network of dog-savers, many for specific breeds, but most will make an exception for just about anyone. There was apparently quite an e-mail thread amongst the savers (I'll meet you in Roanoke; Can you get him to . . .?). So he is safe, well, and most assuredly loved. Who could not love him?

I learned that pugs do NOT like being outdoors, and crave all manner of kindness (as we all do).

mixed bunch

Tasha Tudor died the other day at 92. I picked up a cookbook written and illustrated by her not too long ago, but I've loved her illustrations since I was a child. We used to live not too far from her, but I never saw her in person. A friend of a friend acquired a loom from her, but that is as close as I'd gotten. She had a love of corgi dogs, and lived an anachronistic life, according to her own pleasures and rules. She had two husbands, but divorced them both, I believe, saying one of them didn't like hard work (I'm sure she said it more wryly). I think I'm going to try to find my own inner path, and listen more closely. I try and rush through to "get it done" and don't think of the process. Oddly, I do get very zen about housework and cooking . . . I must channel my inner hausfrau rather than my inner artist . . .



I've also been thinking about dentists; Kimy mentioned the other day on my post about the dentist that she had suffered trauma as a child at the dentist, as did I (I think I've written somewhere about being chased around the office as a child, with the dentist wielding a syringe filled with Novocaine . . . frightened out of my wits ). Surely we types deserve a day (Dental Anguish Day) or a support group (Tooth Gnashers)??



Anyway, I'm working hard on yet another text, L is excited and nervous about college week in the city, and I'm excited as well, as I hope to meet up with another blogger . . . And I forgot to mention that the other evening at dusk, I went out onto the deck, to enjoy the cool after the hot day. What did I see in the back, near the edge of the woods but a young doe. She looked right at me, too, and stood nibbling at a few leaves, before silently disappearing into the gloom. Perhaps this sighting has some portent? I hadn't seen her before, nor have I since.


These photos are of some of blooms around my yard; we've got lots of butterfly-attracting plants. The milkweed is indeed a weed, and pops up in the middle of the lawn now. We've got butterfly bush, and butterfly weed. The caterpillars will enjoy the leaves, too.

Amusements, of a sort

A book may be very amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single abusurdity. —Oliver Goldsmith

Wiped out

Really. I spent the entire morning at the dentist (9:30 to 12), with my mouth held open by biting down on a wedge device. That whine of the drill! Shrill, then that dull, down-in-the-mines grinding. Mysterious requests: color B3? no. Fill it with the double zero? passed back and forth between the dentist and his assistant.

Asking me: Bite. And . . . OPEN. Bite again . . . and . . . OPEN.

I'm ground down, in more ways than one.

But I have two temporaries. So there's that. And no pain at the end of it all, so I love my dentist. I really do. He even gave me a little chit for a free milkshake, because I couldn't eat. (Although I hate to go to see him.)

Two more down; how many to go?

Today is

WWKIP Day! Yes, World Wide Knit in Public Day!

I wish I had some photos, but I don't . . . Our group had breakfast and then moved on to lunch at another venue.

Bridges . . .

Thanks to D. Chedwick Bryant and Mouse, there is a theme for Thursdays this summer, and maybe beyond. L and I went out the other day to photograph the bridges here (there are four). This is mostly her work; any wonky one is mine.




Sally, I've got some scaffolding for you, but no crane in this shot:




Frankly, this one below is my favorite, and of course L took it. She was trying to capture a low-flying heron, but he or she disappeared before she could take its picture.





Here's a little 360 degree spree:

It is

so very hot out, that I've taken shelter in the kitchen, in which I'm making something called on Onion Confit Quiche, plus roasting beets for a beet, walnut, and chevre (or, failing that, bleu cheese) salad with shallot vinaigrette. From this rather nice cookbook (borrowed from our great little library here):



Just in case you're interested . . .

I did not make it out to knitting, though I did appear at church to perform my altar guild duties; the sexton was there, nattering away while I attempted to follow the combination to open the safe. My partner was busy doing all the tedious things, such as setting the hymn boards and removing the spent votives. I cranked down the presence light, but she had already done so, so I heard a kind of glassy, tinkly, whoops! sound as it wound to meet the floor. Luckily, no breakage.

Almost but not quite finished with my more interesting editing, but another job has appeared, and so I will go to it with a heavy heart . . .

But at the end of the month, we're going to bring L to here pre-college program, lurking just across the river in case, well, just in case . . .

If you

know someone who needs a dog . . .




he's a lovely one

Dog . . .

But I'm a cat person, I tell you! And he has a face only a mother could love. And seems to have a body that was not meant for that face.

I'm going away at the end of June for over a week. Who would take care of him??

But someone left him off in my friend's neighborhood, and she has two dogs, and a cat . . .

He's staying on her back porch, just until his owner shows up (how likely is that? no collar) because she's canvassed the area with fliers and contacted the local TV lost dog/cat guy, who will announce it. In a down-turning housing market, many have to shift to no-animals-allowed apartments when they lose their houses . . .

But I have two cats! I'm just, well, I'm not sure . . . He doesn't even have a TAIL, for heaven's sake; just a little bit of a thing.

Update: D does not want a dog, and feels very strongly on this issue, so my friend is looking for someone else to adopt this stray (who, it seems, likes to chew on lots and lots of things . . .)