Just Catching Up
Mon., May 12, 10:12 AM
There’s really not a lot to write just now, but I realize I haven’t posted anything for more than a week. (Oh, yes, I have some stuff brewing in the back of my brain, but they’re not ready for the light of day.) Just a little catching up, then, as I mention a little of “what’s going on.”
Last week Husband demanded that I “stop running his life.” Whatever — I left him to his own devices for a few days, and it wasn’t pretty. Then he revised his requirements; he would do things my way for “school days” (the days he goes to day care), but I have to let him alone the rest of the time. He’s making his own problems now.
We had nice enough weather last week that I was able to go out on the trike three times. I don’t go far, at least not yet. However, my immediate goal is to ride for twenty minutes each time, and that’s what I did. It takes me two miles, more or less, and I see more than I would if I walked.
I did a lot more work on the yard too. In just a couple of weeks, the vines that my son cleared out had begun to sprout. I followed some of the other vines, trying to find a root…and discovered they were growing from what looked like dead stumps. Maybe they should be called “Lazarus plants.” I tried to find a picture of the blossoming brambles, and I did. Their Latin name is Rosa multiflora, and they are one of the most invasive plants in North America. (So you can tell how nasty those grape vines are; they strangle the brambles.) 
This picture, as it happens, was taken in my home town — surprise, surprise! I don’t want to cut back too much bramble before they bloom (’cause I like the blossoms!), but when a new branch suddenly hangs over the places where I walk — and I cleaned there just last week — it’s snip, snip, snip.
Son was here this weekend to cut grass, as well as to bring Mother’s Day greetings and gift. Mostly, I think, he wanted to mow the lawn before he and Ms. P. go away for what may be the last vacation of this type that they will get for a while. (I wonder whether they realize this; babies are not that portable.) Son cut enough grass to fill the three bags I had started and three more. Of course, those untaught garbage collectors picked up the potential compost along with the household trash; so much for recycling.
U.D. bought me new gardening gloves, with thorn-resistant surfaces, since I had pretty well mutilated the cotton ones she bought me last year. M.D. and her husband brought me shrimp saag, with rice and chutney. That Man of Hers also had some “expert” advice about containing the weeds; maybe he can find work as a groundskeeper. Or maybe as a greenskeeper; that would make him happy, I’m sure.
Let’s see. I read a lot of Space, by James Michener. I read it about twenty-five years ago and remembered liking it very much, but I couldn’t believe how much I had forgotten. My perspective has changed so much, from the exhilaration of the first ventures into space (our teachers said it would never happen) through the moon landings to the international space station. Consider that I was a senior in high school when the first Sputnik went up. It has been a long time.
Finally, I have been crocheting. After a few false starts, I remembered how to do granny squares and made an ample supply for a baby blanket. Then I started putting them together, and I hated it. I was almost halfway through the assembly when I realized what I was doing wrong and ripped out a dozen or more seams. It looks better now; it will be fine.
A lady who saw me working asked if I made them to sell. “I have a new grandchild,” she said, “and I can’t make anything.” Y’know, that is a thought. These baby blankets can be very important to kids. I made one when my cousin D had a little girl — a ripple blanket in pink, white, and blue. When D had a boy, I made one for him in yellow, white, and blue. The message to the older child is, your brother gets one too, but it’s not the same as yours.
The little girl was so attached to her blanket that she couldn’t sleep without it. She took it with her on a school trip and forgot it in the hotel. Since she couldn’t sleep well without it (she was an adolescent by then), D asked if I could make another. I had enough yarn left to make about half a blanket, but that was good enough. I have to hope she manages without one now; her husband might not like it.
But I shall think about whether I want to get into making blankets regularly, either to donate or to sell. As you know, I have plenty of time to think.
