Welcome to AvantaLand

Yesterday, my mother, sister, and I went shopping. At estate sales.

We wandered through the houses of dead people, picking and choosing and coveting and wondering why on earth anyone would choose orange velour upholstery for a chair. It's kind of sad, really: a person's entire life as revealed by the possessions left behind after death. I know that's what will happen to me and spouse after we pass on -- I sincerely doubt our nieces or nephews will want our stuff.

Sis bought a large antique mirror to use in her bathroom (they're remodeling); and Mom bought an enormous Lane cedar chest and an antique vanity. Although I had brought the pickup just in case we found something that wouldn't fit in a car, we had to call my brother-in-law. He brought his truck and my nephew, and they did the heavy lifting: the cedar chest in the back of my pickup and the vanity in the back of his. While we were waiting for them to arrive, we had to fend off many many many other folks who tried to buy the cedar chest and vanity. In fact, one couple went out to the garage and actually PAID for the cedar chest after my mother had told the woman inside the house she would take it. They came into the house and started to carry the chest out when the inside sales lady stopped them. Finally, the woman running the sale brought little "SOLD" tags to put on the pieces so we could stop being so vigilant.

I bought stuff too, by the way.

( Santas, teapots, and a bowl )

( And the best thing... )

(Flickr is apparently being non-cooperative today. If the pics don't show up, please click through to their Flickr page.)

Spouse and I had a lovely day yesterday. I got up early and made a pumpkin pie. Then I made stuffing and seasoned the turkey; both went into the oven around 9:30. I grabbed the frozen cranberries and made cranberry sauce. Once the turkey was done (about 5 hours later), I quickly made the mashed potatoes, gravy, heated the corn and green beans and rolls. Spouse carved the turkey and we enjoyed our meal.

After the usual tryptophan-induced nap, we cleaned up the kitchen, carved the rest of the turkey, and put everything in containers. Some of the turkey went into the freezer, and the rest into the refrigerator. I'm thinking I'll have a turkey and cranberry sauce sandwich here shortly.

Throughout the day, we watched a couple of movies; I knitted and he played video games; we chatted about stuff. He said some really sweet things about how much he appreciates me. It's good to hear that sort of thing. I need to remind myself to tell him the same thing more often.

I spoke to my Dad yesterday morning, as well. He's feeling very well after the surgeries (he had a cataract removed last week, a few days after his prostate procedure). Mom wasn't home. She was on her way to Little Rock to pick up nephew J and his son to bring them back to Batesville for dinner with the family.

Today I stayed home and puttered. Spouse left for work in the wee hours of the morning. The store opened at 6:00 AM today, and he had to be there several hours before opening to finish getting displays and product ready for the public. It's nearly 7:00 PM and he's still not home. When he gets here, I think I'll fix him a turkey sandwich too, and then put him straight to bed. Poor guy.

It's "Get Fit" time at my agency. Every spring, the agency promotes an exercise campaign designed to get us cube farmers out of our chairs and into motion. This year I decided to actually participate. Two colleagues and I try to walk together on each of our breaks. If we can't manage to take our breaks together because one or another is stuck in an interview, we go by ourselves. This past week, I walked Thursday and Friday, 30 minutes each day in 15-minute intervals. Saturday I mowed the front yard. I was a couch potato today, however. I haven't weighed myself in the last few days. I've been afraid to. Although I've been a fairly good girl activity-wise, I've been a very bad girl food-wise. *sigh* Old habits die very hard.

Yesterday I also drove into Roseville. The original plan was to have lunch with a girlfriend, but she called when I was halfway there to beg off with a migraine. Instead, we'll meet tomorrow after my dental appointment. (Stitches come out! Yay!) Even though lunch was out, I continued on my merry way after all, and went to see an old friend at her bookstore, where I promptly dropped waaay too much money.

My family escaped being hit by the massive storms in Arkansas this past week. Although they caught some major rain, the tornados and high winds blew elsewhere. Mom informed me Sis and BIL made an offer on a house in Gadsden, which was accepted. Their escrow should close by the end of the month.

Escrow on my house in Arkansas is supposed to close next Monday. If it does, that means no house payment this month, and we can start banking the former mortgage money right away. Woot! Again, however, chickens are not being counted. It just ain't done until it's done. But I can keep my fingers crossed.

( Funeral )

( Drive )

( Storm )

The rain is back today, but so far without the wind. Spouse is at work; I'm enjoying a little solitude. There's laundry to be done (when isn't there laundry to be done?) and floors to sweep. Pillars of the Earth is calling my name; and I believe there's a can of Progresso New England Clam Chowder in the cupboard with my name on it.

The UPS man brought a box of memories yesterday. My mother sent me my late grandmother's stash of knitting and crochet supplies: yarn, needles, pattern books, and other accessories.



Included in the box were some finished crochet items, which are now family heirlooms. My grandmother did exquisite work.



You can see details of these doilies plus more of her work in the Flickr photo set, Grandma's work.

I remember when I was a little girl, watching my grandmother's needles and hooks flash as she diligently worked on her latest project. She made slippers and sweaters, hats and scarfs, pillows and doilies, all manner of yarn and thread work. As soon as my hands were dexterous enough to hold a crochet hook, Grandma taught me to use it. She and my mother also taught me to embroider and sew. Knitting, however, escaped me.

Last year I picked up a crochet hook again, after having abandoned the craft for some 20 years. And it was last year that I finally learned to knit. Although I have no hope of achieving my grandmother's skill with crochet (only coming back to the craft in the last year), I have aspirations, and Grandma's doilies as inspiration.

I will cherish these beautiful pieces forever.

Remember that afghan I spent a large part of last winter crocheting? It turned out really nice and cozy, and spouse and I shared many happy hours cuddled up beneath it, watching TV and saving on our heating bills. The cats liked it too, so much so that yesterday, with cooler weather approaching, I pulled the blanket off the foot of the bed where it had been residing and threw it in the washer.

When I pulled it out of the washer, I realized I had not used washable wool yarn. Yep, it felted. The blanket now has felted woolen squares interspersed with unaffected crocheted linen squares. Luckily, I had the presence of mind NOT to throw the thing in the dryer, thus compounding the felting and making the shrinkage worse. It's not so bad that the afghan is completely unusable, but still...I am a doofus.

In our ritual Sunday morning telephone call, Mom told me her right knee has gotten so much worse that the pain medication no longer provides any sustained relief. She needs knee replacement surgery in the very near future. Unfortunately, this is surgery that requires a three-day hospital stay, and then remaining off her feet for two solid weeks afterward. In other words, something completely impossible while she is the primary care provider to her ailing mother. My father's job requires him to travel several weeks at a time with only about a week at home between jaunts, and neither of my siblings hold jobs that accrue the kind of vacation time mine does. They're lucky if they get to take two weeks off in a whole year. So I told Mom that, if for some reason she can't put off taking care of herself until Grandma is gone, I'll take three weeks leave to come out there and take care of both of them. (Won't that just frost my manager's cookies. I feel soooo bad about it, too.)

As for planned activities today: Our bank's website is down for maintenance. *huff* So much for balancing the checkbook this morning. However, the week's menu is done, the larder is inspected, and the grocery list is made. Now I must make myself presentable for public view and do the shopping. The usual household maintenance tasks also await my attention: laundry, vacuuming, mopping, dishes, cleaning the soap scum and hard water marks from the glass shower enclosure. Naturally, all I really want to do is read. I'll make a concerted effort not to be a complete slug after the grocery store; I make no promises.

But I've added several new LJ user-pics in recent days! I'm still nowhere near filling all the slots I have available. Permanent account--I likes it. I'm a doofus and an LJ-nerd.

I'm gonna have to have a yard sale before we move.

We have surplus furniture we don't want to take with us, excess crap spouse acquired for eBay that isn't worth the trouble of listing, not to mention assorted odds and ends that I have no memory of acquiring in the first place and don't want now.

Somehow I must locate my inner organizer and get this stuff pulled together. We're aiming for the sale to be March 30. We move on April 7th.

Any volunteers to assist with either?

(I can pay any helpers with pizza and firewood. How's that for incentive?)

I had a stack of books, all either challenged themselves or by challenged authors, labeled and ready to go, and I didn't release a single one this week. Get up, go to work, come home. That's the routine. And I'm so worn out by the time I get home each evening, I can't bear to go back out to commit random acts of literature. Same thing happened last year. *sigh* Some day I'll get my act together.

It's been a lazy weekend here in the avanta7 household. I went to the laundrymat today (and forgot to take those books with me). Spouse cleaned his office yesterday and discovered carpet under all that junk. He mowed the yard today. I finished two books and started a third. Thus is the sum of our accomplishments.

Mom called this morning. Grandma has chronic leukemia, which is common in elderly folks, Mom says. Grandma's doctors won't be treating it, just monitoring. Her 97th birthday is coming up in three weeks. And my sister is having surgery in three weeks to remove some benign tumors on her thyroid. My youngest nephew's birthday is Wednesday. He'll be 12. I can't believe he's that old already. And his baby sister turned three last month. Time passes so quickly.

The weather today has been cool and overcast. I've had the windows open to catch the fresh breezes and air out the house. It's been lovely.

It never ceases to amaze me what people send out as e-mail to everyone they know, expecting the recipients to ooh and ahh and say "Wow! I never knew that!" and then send it on to everyone they know. I usually check on Snopes and send "reply to all" with the Snopes link debunking the latest urban legend to make the rounds.

This process has trained my sister to ask questions before sending anything out. Here's the latest thing she passed along:
~~~~
( The e-mail )

~~~~
( My response )

~~~~
Okay, faithful readers, if I've made any errors of fact, please let me know. If my sister is going to rely on me to do the debunking, I don't want to propagate any further errors. Opinions, however, are yours to keep.

I sat on the covered porch in the back yard today, warmed by the sun and sheltered from the breeze, and thought about flying a kite.

One of the harbingers of springtime in California is the March wind. When the winter rains stop and the beautiful spring days begin, the breezes blow swift and strong for several weeks. When I was a child, the first blue sky day of the year, a breezy day such as today, would prompt a visit to the local toy store, where my parents would allow my sister and me to choose our springtime kites.

I loved choosing a kite each year, and each year I tried something different. One year I would fly a traditional diamond; one year a bat-shaped flying wing; one year I even tried a box kite. Some years we would make our own kites with balsa wood and kraft paper, painted with watercolors or tempera, trailed by elaborate tails of string and rag bows. Some kites were more successful fliers than others: some soared high into the blue blue sky, others circled and dived and crashed into the ground.

We had a couple of places where we flew. One was the football field of the local junior high, but our favorite was the flat open space next to the lake that gave our subdivision its name. My sister and I would tromp through the reeds and the cattails, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a parent, carrying our kites and string and wearing warm sweaters with scarves wrapped around our heads. The sky above may have been blue, but the wind was sharp and hurt our ears.

My sister and I competed to see who get her kite up faster. We ran and played and shouted with pleasure at each successful launch, and sometimes sobbed in despair when all the effort in the world failed to send our beloved toy soaring heavenward. Sometimes, especially if Daddy were with us, we brought our fishing poles. After launching our kites, we'd anchor them to the bank, and fish and fly together.

Kite flying taught us resilience and patience and persistence. We learned determination and dexterity, and the simple joy of a job well done. And after an afternoon of running and playing and shouting and fishing, we'd reel our kites in and trudge home, exhausted and windburned and happy as larks.

Kite flying season arrived today. And today I wished for a child I could take kite flying.