Looks like it's time for a new topic.
In our paper the other day they had one of those "man in the street" columns where the question was "What is the best thing that happened to you this week". Some people had some serious entries, like getting a new job, or whatever. The last one was my favorite. It ended with "and the dead mouse in the wall stopped stinking".
Does this inspire any thoughts in you?
My best thing was a meeting of some of the people on my Sonoma quilt show committee yesterday. We always enjoy each other's company, and learn from each other. A sewing topic led to my remembering that a client of mine had told me that when he was young, he was raised in one of the colder parts of the country - Minnesota or something. He remembered that as a kid he was sewn into his underwear as it got cold. When it was warm enough, a few months later, he and his brother were unsewn. (I guess part of the idea was that this was the best way for the underwear to keep the kids warm.) As I mentioned this, one of the women looked a bit appalled, until I mentioned that there was, after all, a trap door. And a fly.
My client had also mentioned that the process kept them from dipping into the creek for a swim before their parents thought it was warm enough. "And that's when I learned to sew" he told me.
This reminded someone of the well-known (but not to me) note Napoleon had sent to Josephine when he was on a campaign somewhere. We all had different takes on his reason for it, but the message definitely told her not to bathe, because he was coming home!
All committees should be this much fun!
A gathering place for Kulkas and those who were once Kulkas but due to unfortunate circumstances have had to accept life's curve ball and begin going by some other name.
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My week so far was pretty run of the mill. But then I went for my bike ride this morning. It was 60 degrees out when I started, probably 70 when I finished; a beautiful Carolina blue sky with nary a cloud to be seen; a slight breeze -- just enough to be a pleasure at my back, but not an annoyance as a headwind. The weather was perfect.
As I was riding up this country road between a horse stable and some house construction, an opossum appeared at the nearside shoulder of the road. He looked up at me with the same sort of understanding you'd see in a cat's eyes. "I see the speed you're moving, I hope you're not going to speed up or dodge, and my brain may only be the size of a walnut, but my calculations say I think I can make it in front of you." I slowed a little to make sure, and he scooted across in front of me. But there were two cars coming from the other direction. As I watched, the opossum hesitated at the dotted line, then moved into the next lane. He hesitated again, then spun backwards a few steps, and the minivan's tires blasted by mere inches away, but fortunately missed him. The truck behind apparently saw him. It slowed, and the opossum skittered across the lane. I've seen the result of opossums who didn't make it plenty of times, but rarely do I see one that's still moving, and it was fun. They're not nearly as ugly when they're alive. They're almost cute when they're looking right into your eyes.
The rest of the ride was great. The bee that landed on my leg didn't sting me before I brushed him off. I ran out of water, but I side-tripped to a park I knew of, and the fountain was working (and the water was nice and cool). And even though one of my legs had a sore muscle, I was able to do a nice long ride and it ended up not bothering me.
All in all, it was a good end to a mediocre week.
Good story. It was nice to see you were rooting for the opossum.
Just one question, did you bathe after your ride? Or ask Bev not to? (I guess that's two questions.)
Okay, I was going to leave this out of the story, because I was just trying to put in the positive stuff. But since you asked...
I get back from my ride about 12:30. I plod upstairs in my sweaty bike-riding clothes. I get to the bedroom where Bev is reclining under the ceiling fan in her pajamas. She asks me how far I rode. Now, this was several hours of aerobic exercise -- not bad for a old guy running on three cylinders. So normally I would feel like I was boasting to say. But since she asked, I tell her how far. And she responds with "after you shower, I need you to clean the bathtub."
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