I was thinking of her earlier today. I was annoyed with HeWho fancies himself to be the Uber driver of drunks. I love that I can say anything I happen to be feeling to her and she will simply listen and be the voice of reason. She is the person I immediately turn to when I am overwhelmed, insanely angry, or heart broken. I vent it all with her. She soothes and calms and even tells me when I am wrong. I love her dearly and do not know what I would do without her and her understanding and wisdom.
Since I have hit a dry spot in blogging, have any of you been wondering if I was dead?? I am alive and well. The flu did not take me.
My fingers ache from pushing that toothbrush "needle" in and out of the rug that grows daily. It is addictive, the making of the rug. Watching as the "t-shirt" yarn winds slowly round and round in knots. It is nearly 3' in diameter. I mindlessly knot and weave, all the while planning the next one. I started out with the balls of t-shirt strips I had made a couple of years ago.
I had a beige and a couple of brown rolls to start with. The instructions indicated using one of each color, but after I established the circle shape I switched to the same color. That made it easier to add another color as I ran out. I went from brown to beige to .... red. It was what I already had on hand. From red I switched to hot pink and then orange. Now I am using some mustard yellow.
It is not as bad as it sounds and I would post a picture ........ if I could figure the stupid computer out. I keep forgetting to ask my son for help when we talk.
When I am not weaving rugs I am caulking the ceiling, getting ready to paint. We have finished the trimming of the boards on the ceiling. We ended up with sixteen 4' squares. I must say that it looks good. Much better than trying to replicate the swishy pattern on the old ceiling. I liked the pattern and would have been happy to have it, but I tried to patch a spot where we took a wall out. It was a disaster.
I know you are all wondering about my aggravation with HeWho drives for the alcohol impaired. I am waiting for him to finish some spots I just can't reach. Every day ends with him telling me he will finish it "tomorrow". To top it all off, he keeps building massive fires in the wood stove. Hot air rises. I am spending lots of time on the stepladder sanding the wood putty spots. Caulking decorates my hair and shoulders along with dust from sanding. I am stripped down to a tank top, as sweat runs in rivulets down my back and into my eyes. Eighty-two degrees. He builds the fire, cranks up the heat ....... and leaves.
4 comments:
How I remember the "off" season. I know the rug you are making and smile at your description of making it unique. Or easier, as the case may be. I hope it gets as big as you want; every row is further around!
I remember rag rugs! You are the most industrious woman I know. Glad you kicked the flu. And what drunks?
No, I didn't think you were dead, I thought you were busy. And I was right! I'm sure there's a story about HeWho, the Uber drunk driver, waiting to hit your pages. I'm just wondering if they are everyday drunks who need to be driven often, or Super Bowl drunks, but a lot of them.
Interesting you post this, because I was just thinking yesterday that nobody (aside from my family who I maid to) would notice if I just disappeared off the face of the Earth.
Anyway, I did wonder about you during your absence around Christmas, and was very glad when you appeared back into blogger world.
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