Quartier Francais

Imagine yourself in New Orleans, perhaps walking along Esplanade Street, the air heavy with heat and the hum of bees. The sweet and spicy scent of magnolia mingles with the musky odor of pinks. The trees are thick and shady and dripping in Spanish moss.You turn a corner and find yourself in a perdido jardin, a sanctuaire...




My lost garden, my sanctuary. I have a secluded spot that seems worlds away from the reality of suburban living. This little enclave has quickly become eveyone's favorite place to be. Evenings are heaven. The backyard and patio are just to wide open. Exposed. No one came come out without the dogs raising a fuss. Here we have a bit of privacy.











After 2 summers of waiting, my little New Orleans courtyard has at last begun to take shape. As much as the fence initially made me feel claustrophobic, it is now the buffer between me and the construction going on outside.Construction on our block, the closing out of the development, has made life miserable throughout the spring and shows no sign of abatement as we reach the heat of summer. The noise. The mud. Workers from 7am until sometimes 1am. The cars and construction vehicles making driving nearly impossible...



To walk through the iron gate and find yourself in this unexpected quiet spot; to sit and relax to the singing of the water in the fountain, and the tinkle of wind chimes makes life a bit more bearable...





These are photos of the courtyard as it appears now. The fence is still not finished or painted, but it is on the summer's work list. The fence will be painted the same dark green as the house. The pergola top will shade things a bit more and bring down the endless open sky feeling that it has now, making it yet even more enclosed.

Cool and green and shady....












The ferns hanging from the front porch have the same effect. The feeling is one of security and peace. There was so much more I wanted to do, but money only stretches so far. Next year more urns, and perhaps baskets hanging from the pergola?
It is a work in progress....




The dogs love to lay with their bellies resting on the cool paving stones and be lulled to sleep by the fountain. The bullies think standing in the fountain spray trying to catch water droplets, the best game ever.


The gate provides them with just enough of a window on the world to keep track of dogs out for walks or the squeal of the UPS truck tires.


Here's Forrest doing just that...






Life has slowed to summer rhythm with no classes and few train trips. I caught the scent of freshly mown grass this morning after dropping Beth off. I don't mean the suburban "Dad just cut the lawn smell, " that blend of Kentucky bluegrass and gasoline mower. I mean the fresh cut hay kind of grass smell that evokes memories of country roads, fields and farms. The vortex of childhood opens and visions of roadside farm stands on an early summer morning materialize...

The farmer already beaded in sweat bringing in bushel baskets brimming with sweet corn. Cucumbers still cold, damp and dappled with damp earth from their hiding place under the vine leaves. The old lean two of boards with the "fresh picked" signs are gone, replaced by what I call hydrogen peroxide farmers markets. Here in Highlands Ranch, the farmers market is nothing more than an outdoor Whole Foods store, with gourmet vinegars and fancy pastries, ostrich jerky and fruit smoothies.

I want dirt, and the smell of plants that have been growing in the sun. And, despite my being absolutely terrified of bugs, I even want the occasional worm on my corn. My children have grown up devoid of the aroma of earth on their food, with hydroponic tomatoes and cellophane bagged lettuce mixes. We have planted two small roma tomato plants and some white pumpkins in one of our large pots. We have blossoms, will we have tomatoes?



The Renaissance Faire season is upon us again and opening weekend weather could not have been more perfect. Just warm enough, just breezy enough, not too crowded. Faire always comes around before I'm quite ready. My new corset still unfinished, and unable to even contemplate wearing the leather one, I went without. I wore my new Scottish costume that I had finished too late for last season.

The girls and I posed in a quiet spot for photos.



This year Beth wasn't the only one who got to have her hair braided. My hair was gorgeous from the back, but when I saw myself from the front I looked quite bald. If possible, it was even worse without the hat. UGH. That's $20 I would like to have back....




It was good to see familiar faces, and so many people in costume. Our friend Captain Jack Sparrow was there and recognized Elisabeth right away...



We never get through a fair season without some kind of adventure, and Elisabeth had one that will go down in the annuls of family history. While shopping, Elisabeth and Gretchen stopped to watch the giant swing. Since they had no riders, the men who work the swing had cranked it as high as it would go and were surfing it as it swung. One young rogue wearing a kilt kept calling the crowds to come and see his kilt fly up.

Elisabeth stood watching, and said, "Your going to have to crank that swing back higher than that, because I didn't see a thing." With a sly grin our kilt wearing Scotsman pulled a William Wallace, and Elisabeth saw everything!

Without batting an eyelash our regal Queen reached into her bag and pulled out a gold ribbon. With great flourish she presented it to him.

"I've been carrying this around a long time and I think you should have it."


Gathering up her skirts, she turned and walked away with great dignity. A bit further down the path who should she meet but Captn' Jack carrying a very large pink ice cream sundae.

"What happened love, you look a bit pink?" asked Jack. After hearing the tale of billowing kilts, a brief flash of amazement crossed his face, and then without missing a beat or stepping out of character he said, "I've got whipped cream!"



Can you find the pink ice cream sundae?



The cavalier in this photo had his hat stolen by Jack, and it ended up on Beth's head. She wore it for over an hour before the owner found her and lifted it from her head to reclaim it.

"If my hat was to be stolen, I am thrilled to find such a lovely thing lay beneath it." And with that he fell to kissing her wrist.

Upon arrival home, Beth's first thought was a hot bath...






So endeth this tale of ribaldry.

-Tigerlily

Lightness of Being

At long last I have finally found time to sit down in the mermaid chair and do some writing. Life in my end of the tide pool has been crazy, but crazy good. Just lots of things keeping me busy and away from the keyboard. No time for waxing poetic or any kind of theme for this entry, best to just jump in and get wet.

After months of waiting, Blogsource finally fixed the compatibility problem with internet explorer 7.0. During the interim Tigerlily was forced to blog her thoughts elsewhere (here on blogger.com) as what was the point in writing them there when no one could see them? In the end, the fix is just too little too late. I'm settled here in this new cove to stay. Remember though, the old blog is readable now, so if you want to revisit you can. There is no longer a need for a separate browser, IE works fine now. http://themermaidschair.blogsource.com/ or click on the link titled Mermaids Chair I in my links box. (Gretchen, you can show your mom the photos of the patio now)

Topping todays news: Score one for Al Gore and Mother Earth. We bought a new car. A hybrid. My Toyota Prius in lovely Seaside Blue is one month old and averaging between 48 and 52 mpg. No kidding. Makes for a bit less of a blow at the pumps with prices edging closer and closer to $4 a gallon. Yesterday, while stuck in bumper to bumper traffic I got 70 miles to the gallon, because I was running on battery while sitting there not moving.

Here is the new family member from every angle, even her rear. Certainly is a whole new look for me. Very spacey. The P.T. Cruiser was much more me with its vintage design. If only I could combine the outside appearance of one and the hybrid mechanics of the other...




I love this car. Driving it is like being in some sort of space shuttle. If you ever wondered what it would be like to drive Luke's land speeder in Star Wars, this is probably as close as you can get. It feels as though it is floating. Quiet. Makes no more than a bit of a high pitched hum. No ignition. No key. No shift lever. Push button turn on. Small lever to put it in gear. Responds with the lightest touch. It is like nothing you've ever driven before, unless you are an airline pilot. It's "wire" system is exactly the same as what is used in jets. No, I don't have to plug it in! Geesh. Get that all the time. The battery is always charging itself with left over energy produced by the gas powered engine. Even the ABS feeds into the battery. If you are at all considering a new car, consider a Toyota hybrid. And for those of you driving SUV's (and I really wish you'dgive them up), gas must be killing you right now. If you really need a bigger car, and it must be an SUV, Toyota also makes the hybrid Highlander. For anyone out there driving a Hummer, I don't feel sorry for you at all, and I'm laughing my ass off all the way to the pump.

The P.T Cruiser is taking a much needed break, having been reassigned to 3rd car for the girls to use.

So, for the last month, I've been zipping around in my new car, mostly between home and my new best friends. Dr. Aaron Cassleman. No, I'm not having an affair, he is my new chiropractor. Three times each week I visit for adjustments and traction. Yes, traction. My neck is one messed up piece of equipment. I have considerable degeneration, including loss of disc in my neck vertebrae. Have also developed bone spurs on the damaged vertebrae along with a wonderful reverse curve in my neck. Very swan-like, but in the wrong direction. With all the crunching and smooshing and general crookedness no wonder I have been experiencing such pain and headaches. My life has done a 360 when it comes to how I am feeling. I'm not pain free and I still have bad days, but so many less and much less severe. Instead of headaches every day, I've only had 4 in the last month.

The fibromyalgia is still around, and it aggravates the neck or the neck sets the fibro off, but still, how wonderful to feel this much better. I do neck exercises to strengthen the muscles, the traction is pulling my neck back in the right direction, and the adjustments keep me sane and relatively, very nearly, completely HEADACHE and PAIN FREE! Life is bliss compared to a month ago.

I am celebrating a very palpable lightness of being.

Of course this walking above ground feeling is not without its problems. It is costing a small fortune at $45 a visit times 3 days a week and no insurance benefit. This on top of the car payment is eating all our extra cash. My dream of a New Orleans courtyard will have to wait another summer, and I don't know if we'll get the fence finished, but my health is worth more to me than a few pots of flowers. I actually feel like sewing again. I can turn my head without vertigo or nausea. True, I come home from Dr. C and feel like I have a rubber chicken neck, and traction makes me want to cry, but my head seems to be sitting a bit more firmly. If you've ever looked inside a Barbie doll, you would find their head sitting over a round ball, thus allowing Barbie to move her head a bit more realistically. Well, my head feels like it has popped off the ball and has been riding around on the top, spinning wildly around making me dizzy and sick to my stomach. Dr. Cassleman seems to be gradually working my vinyl head back onto its ball, and we both hope that with stronger muscles it will remain there permanently.

And one more medical plug... Cripes, I'm sounding like a 75 year old grandma chatting with her friends and sharing ailments. Distinctly unappealing...

Nordic Naturals Fish Oil. /We're taking the Ultimate Omega. http://www.nordicnaturals.com/direct/Retailproducts.asp

You can buy Nordic Naturals products online, or at Vitamin Cottage and Whole Foods. Fish oil has been talked about for a very long time. It has been shown to not only be great for your heart, but your brain--memory loss and alzeimers. Also depression, digestive health and as a cancer preventative. They have no taste or nasty sad effects. Promise. It is all about what kind of fish is used and where it comes from. Go read about Nordic Naturals and how they are made compared to the typical off the shelf stuff from Walmart. You do get what you pay for when it comes to vitamins. While I'm on the vitamin subject, the doctor said my blood work came back significantly low in iron. In other words, anemic. I swapped my multiple vitamin for one made from REAL food with extra iron. No artificial anything and lots of anti-oxidents. We're using Rainbow Lite once a day for women, but there are several combos. I'm a pretty bad vitamin consumer, so for me to have actually noticed a difference in the way I feel is a very big deal.

Mike has begun a new position at the P.D. He left Community Resource to head up the cities citizen volunteer program. Has to oversee lots of people and handle a department budget. After a horrendous first week he was ready to resign. Yesterday he actually used the words, "take this job and shove it" but despite repeated attempts to quit, he is still employed. He was fighting stress before and apparently has jumped from one burning ship to another. He did get the police chief to admit they more or less played him to get him to take the position. Lied. Covered up. I was right, they knew that to put Mike in a job was to guarantee success or he'd die trying. Yes, and that's why he and I are where we are after 27 years of marriage. He is a work-a-holic and is eaten alive by work left undone. He can't ever leave it behind. He has two cell phones and they tried to give him a Blackberry and an ear piece for phone #2. Nope. No Borg ear. No Blackberry. He has no intention of answering emails at 3am like the chief of police.

The Denver P.D. is a sinking political nightmare of a ship. Actually, I'd say the city of Denver itself needs a trip to Dr. Cassleman for readjustment. Dear Mayor Hickenlooper. Consider yourself owned. (new slang term learned from kids)

Stress level probably won't drop but Mike is still hopeful (?) it will look all good on a resume for FEMA someday. That elusive golden ring, the ultimate job. Does it exist? The only positive to the new job is a take home car. Free gas from the city, plus the great mileage from the prius, should equal a significant drop in the monthly gas bill. Now if I can just learn how to build a wind collector to power my homes electrical needs....

Still struggling to reduce my carbon footprint. Goal is to have a green home. Am slowly changing out all our light bulbs for the new long life florescent type. The suckers are expensive, so have to buy a few each week. Did you know they don't have to be that sick blue color? They come in "warm" for that traditional incandescent look. There are 3 ways and can light bulbs too. Learned that the clothes dryer uses the most electricity of any household appliance, so have severely reduced use. Now have mom's old clothes rack, plus a new one set up permanently in the living room. Dry everything possible by "air." When I must use the dryer I do several loads one after the other. The unit is hot and dries faster, using less energy. Drying racks are not exactly an attractive part of the decor but it is chic to be green. Have decided my new fight will be to bring back clotheslines. What dumb ass person decided they were unattractive anyway? I love clothes blowing on a line.

My friend Tami and were talking recently (Hi Tami :o) about our beach themed houses. She says mine is different. That we both do the same things but they don't come out the same. "My stuff looks like it just came in from the beach, yours looks...umm...manicured." She wants me to come to her house and "manicure" it. Could I have a future as the interior decorator who manicures your home? Makes it you but better?

All these careers I could have had but never did. I'm just this clump of unrefined things. I'm something and nothing all at the same time. I would love it if someone would pay me to do anything. Especially now, when money is tight. Have lost count how many times I've applied to Hobby Lobby, Michaels, and several scrapbooking stores. No one wants me. Have posted fliers for knitting lessons to no response. I entered a scrapbook page in a contest on Martha Stewart and I didn't win. I'm not surprised I didn't win, what does burn me, is how crap the winning pages were. OK, not crap, but average, a couple were downright dorky. No mind blowing originality there, or fantastic photo work. Thank you Martha for making me feel even less worthy if that is possible.

I did sort of get paid to kind of help a couple people knit, but they really knew what they were doing from the beginning. Was really more of a knitter sitter. I sit and watch and am available when they have questions, or to pick them up, apply a band aid and send them back out to the playground. And speaking of knitting and crafting....The Icelandic Lopi sweater knit-a-long fizzled, so I trudged on alone. Here's how it looks so far.

Once the second sleeve reaches the right length, the whole thing goes on the needles and I knit the bodice, which is where the majority of the colored pattern work shows up. I could have finished the sweater, it was that easy, but decided to concentrate on the Wing of Moth shawl. Yes, it's finished!


The wind was against me while trying to photograph her loveliness, blowing her completely out of the tree instead of creating the billows I was hoping for. I am so proud of this work. My only disappointment, is the moth did not come out with the wingspan she should have. Have nearly 2 balls of yarn left over. Hmm..mm...I used a size smaller needle to get the correct gauge, perhaps after I became more comfortable with the yarn I began to knit tighter?


This does not help my perfectionist problems one bit. I've ordered more yarn to start Moth II, determined to get her right the second time around.

Having agonized for two weeks over what I wanted, I finally placed several orders for yarn, which should fill plenty of hours by the fountain with summer knitting... The scrapbooking is moving along too. Completed several more pages in the pet album. Now I have to take a break and switch to sewing. Thank goodness for less neck pain, I'm actually looking forward to sitting down at the machine. Both Comic Con and the Renaissance Faire are coming up, so there are costumes to work on. Lara Croft got new shorts and a new British flag top that need altering, and Queen Gorgo from 300 will be making an appearance, so there is a whole new look to develop. Here's a hint:


This is the best story of the last couple months. We met Carlos. It all started with Sarah needing help altering her leather Underworld corset for Selene. Ended up downtown in a little off Broadway leather shop. This place is the best kept secret in Denver. The place is filled with leather codpieces and gladiator skirts and strange bits of apparel for men that my wide innocent eyes had never come in contact with before. The shop is run by the sweetest, nicest guy you could ever imagine. A design school grad who once upon a time worked on a TV show called Sonny and Cher for a man named Bob Mackie...cross my heart. He may be hip deep in leather designs for the Village People on regular days, but get on his good side and he might help you discover a whole new you.

to be continued....

-Tigerlilly

The Egg and I

Egg

From Old Norse egg, from Germanic *ajja-, from Proto-Indo-European *oh₂ujom (stem *oh₂ujo-).

Pronunciation

• ĕg, /eg/

Noun

Singular egg

Plural eggs

egg (plural eggs)

1. (Zoology, countable) An approximately spherical or ellipsoidal body produced by birds, snakes, insects and other animals housing the embryo during its development.
2. (countable) The egg of a domestic fowl as an item of food.
3. (uncountable) The contents of one or more (hen's usually) eggs as a culinary ingredient, etc.

   I also determine the minimal amount of egg required to make good mayonnaise.

4. (Biology, countable) The female primary cell, the ovum.

Verb

Infinitive to egg

Third person singular eggs

Simple past egged

Past participle egged

Present participle egging

to egg (third-person singular simple present eggs, present participle egging, simple past egged, past participle egged)

1. To throw eggs at.
2. (with "on"): To encourage.
3. To add beaten egg (cooking).

Related terms

bad egg boiled egg cuckoo’s egg curate’s egg don't put all your eggs in one basket Easter egg egg and spoon race egg beaters egg cup egg flip egg-nog, eggnog egg on

egg-shell, eggshell egg white egg yolk fried egg golden egg good egg have egg on one’s face nest egg over-egg power-egg scrambled egg, scrambled eggs

Egg or Eggs may refer to:

In Biology:

• Egg (biology), the ovum of animals together with protective layers and nutrients for the developing embryo.
• Egg cell or ovum, the female sex cell in animals and plants.

• Egg (food) Edible eggs normally come from birds, but they can also come from reptiles, amphibians and fish.
• Easter egg decorated eggs in the Christian tradition
• List of egg dishes

In geography:

• Egg Island, Bahamas
• Egg, Switzerland, a Swiss municipality
• Little Egg Harbor

In gaming:

• Easter egg (media), hidden message or feature in an object such as a movie, book, CD, DVD, computer program, or video game

In other fields:

• Egg Banking plc, an online bank in the United Kingdom
• Eggs (film), a film by Norwegian director Bent Hamer
• Egg (geometry), any curve resembling an ellipse
• Egg tooth, an anatomical feature
• EGG, the Arts Show, a former program on PBS
• The Egg (building), a part of the Empire State Plaza
• Augustus Egg, a Victorian artist
• Curate's egg, an expression meaning something that is partly good and partly bad.
• Darning egg, a sewing tool
• World egg (or cosmic egg) is a mythological motif
• Fabergé eggs, a collection of priceless jewelery easter eggs.
• The Egg War an 1863 conflict between rival Farallon Islands' egging companies

Who knew there was so much to learn about one little three letter word like egg? My mind swims with the multitude of ways the word egg is used in daily life found on wikipedia.com. My affair with the egg. I love eggs. I love the very word, EGG. Love the shape, the texture, the feel. Heavy and bulbous on one end, narrow and pointed on the other. It floats. The way it feels in your hand. Love all the colors and speckles. Fried, scrambled, poached, boiled...nope, not really. Eating and eggs do not really fit together well for me. I'm more inclined to eat things that have eggs in them, like cookies, or cake. Bread. Deviled eggs have their place in summer picnics, and I do like egg salad sandwiches on occasion, but generally eggs and I have a more aesthetic relationship.

I have however, always longed to own chickens. The thought of reaching under a warm feather pillow body to gather eggs has always attracted me, though I have a very real fear of those sharp eyes and beaks. And the sounds they make, that kind of cooing chuckle as they busy themselves. Rather a comforting coo of a sound.



The very idea of having a box of fluffy peeps delivered in a box by post gives me an undeniable thrill. I read a description of bantam chicks being the size of bumblebees and I've been besotted with the idea ever since. This box of black beady eyed fellows is likely to be as close as I'll ever come to the real thing....


Spring. Renewal. Rebirth. Resurrection. Easter. The season of the egg. Eggs have been viewed as symbols of new life and fertility through the ages. The egg is nature's perfect package. It has, during the span of history, represented mystery, magic, medicine, food and omen. It is the universal symbol of Easter celebrations throughout the world and has been dyed, painted, adorned and embellished in the celebration of its special symbolism.

Long before the egg became closely entwined with the Christian Easter, it was honored during many rite-of-Spring festivals. The Romans, Gauls, Chinese, Egyptians and Persians all cherished the egg as a symbol of the universe. From ancient times eggs were dyed, exchanged and shown reverence. In Pagan times the egg represented the rebirth of the earth. The long, hard winter was over; the earth burst forth and was reborn just as the egg miraculously burst forth with life.

With the advent of Christianity the symbolism of the egg changed to represent, not nature's rebirth, but the rebirth of man. Christians embraced the egg symbol and likened it to the tomb from which Christ rose.

I may not own any chickens, but I have quite a collection of real eggs. Blown ones, fragile as icing and light as air. Blue Cayuga duck eggs. Araucana chicken eggs in tones of olive and blue. Quail eggs, blue-green with brown speckles. I have the occasional brown and cream and unusual speckled egg. I heap them in Nantucket baskets, beach buckets and French bread pans. Blue, brown, white...chocolate eggs and bon bon eggs...how does that go??

On Easter morn at early dawn before the cocks were crowing,
I met a bob-tail bunnykin and asked where he was going,
" 'Tis in the house and out the house a tipsy, tipsy-toeing,
'Tis round the house and 'bout the house a-lightly I am going."
"But what is that of every hue you carry in your basket?"
"'Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue; I wonder that you ask it.
'Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs and eggs of red and gray,
For every child in every house on bonny Easter day"
He perked his ears and winked his eye and twitched his little nose;
He shook his tail - what tail he had - and stood up on his toes.
"I must be gone before the sun; the East is growing gray;
'Tis almost time for bells to chime." So he hippity-hopped away.
~Rowena Bastin Bennett, 1937

If I love eggs, I love nests even more. A nest is a place of refuge. Soft and down filled, the perfect place for babies to sleep. Or perhaps fairies, like Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Memories of brushing Maverick's golden hair outside and watching the birds come to collect the creamy tufts of fluff and carry them off for their nests. What wonderful soft beds those babies must have had. Once found a nest woven in and out with the perforated strips from computer paper. Birds are ingenious recyclers. Have laid the dining table with gi-normous grapevine and twig nest lined with feathers. Giant nests to tiny nests, each carrying precious eggy cargo.

Beach buckets with raffia nests of blue goose eggs. Grapevine wreath nests with speckled quail eggs, Nantucket baskets filled to the brim with blue and green eggs. I even managed to find a wreath made up of eggs in nothing but shades of Martha Stewart green.

Best of all are the chocolate nests filled with Cadbury chocolate eggs. My favorites are the ones with all blue eggs, of course.

Among the orchard weeds, from every search,
Snugly and sure, the old hen’s nest is made,
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid;

Bright sun greets me nearly every morning now, and the doggies are enjoying life with an open door most days. Sunlight floods across the hardwood floor and they lay in lumps soaking it up. Pink buds are swelling on the chanitcleer pear tree and flowering crab. It is still too early to call, but it appears most of the new trees survived the winter. Three of the five clumps of Forester Reed Grass are sending up new shoots. Good signs.



In just four short weeks a house grew in next door. Three more are quickly sprouting next to it. My view to the north has shrank to include shingles out the upper level windows, and walls on the lower. Depressing. Never imagined it to be so close. Never imagined how claustrophobic I would feel. To my mind, the family room, my favorite room in the whole house is ruined.


Hope I like the people who will come to live there...perhaps we can exchange cups of sugar across the fence? At Thanksgiving we can just set up a table across the entire expanse and pass the food from one house to the other. Not sure what I hate more. Suburbia or the embarrassing fact that I am part of it.


We have workers rear ends in our faces 8 am-7:30 pm Monday through Saturday. The dogs are quickly losing their minds and voices. Worry that a summer on the new patio is now lost to the sound of nail guns. Shite. Here's Elliot watching the work in progress. I can count six wrinkles down his back. (He prefers to be called Ellios the Spartan since seeing 300).


Have begun teaching knitting one day a week to a friend and her daughter. It's going well so far and gives me a bit of extra money. Would like more students but hesitate advertising for fear of the "Highlands Ranch" type it might attract. Work continues on the moth shawl. After ripping out 15 rows and beginning the second section again, I am now 1/2 way through the second design band.


Worked up a booga bag with my students as a first project. Love the color, Noro kureyon #40. The whole world must love that color as it almost impossible to find.

I've got 3 books worth of Icelandic sweater patterns but all I can do with them is drool as the Alafoss yarn still has not arrived. Canadian shipping must be by mounty. Waiting for the delivery is as hard as waiting for that first trip to the amusement park each summer.

Stocked up on paper and cardstock and did manage to scrap 4 pages. Have gathered up Alexanders photos but haven't occomplished anything but another pile on my desk. Endless errands and household needs always seem to come before my own. So March endeth soft as a lambkin in a green meadow and April begineth. Long live the season of the egg.

-Tigerlily

That Patch of Green

Evenings are slowly becoming lighter but the air still breathes a chill. Spring is biding her time, gaining strength. Warm chinooks have already begun to blow and seemingly overnight the snow shrank away and ran like a river to the sea. The yard is a sodden mess, the snow having laid upon it so long it is like a seeping sponge. What a thrill to see green grass again. Alas, the excitement was short lived, as the ground was soon covered in snow again. The wild winds of March have begun blustering. Soon, days of unrelenting hurricaine gale force winds will drive out the lingering brown, dead, winter air and suck the excess moisture from the earth. I've had enough winter. Had enough cold. Had enough ice. In desperation, (and inspiration for this blog) I snapped photos of anything green or spring like to make me feel better. Like my clump of fiber optic grass I've been wintering in the house. AKA bird's nest grass. It can't take the cold, so I've had a bit of beach in the house with me all winter. I do have two little miniature African violets triumphantly thumbing their noses, err..leaves at Old Man Winter.


Valentines Day has come and gone, and my lovely dozen of red roses has gone to compost, but my gift from Mike looks at me with a rather pucker faced expression from the glass fronted cupboard constantly. I got a fishbowl. A bowl that is a fish. Get it? Funny. Came from the Great Indoors. Too cute.

Concentrating all my efforts on making my house green. Reduce, reuse and recycle. Kermit the frog was wrong. Being green is easier than you think.


"Sea green," or "see green" depending on how you look at it...

Ordered up additional bins for recycling. Was pleasantly surprised to discover Hefty one zip bags are recyclable, as are most plastic boats my meat comes in. The Little Cesar dog food and Yoplait yogurt cups are as well. Pledge duster handles can be recycled. Cool. Was very disappointed to discover several "organic" products came in packaging completely devoid of that earth friendly triangle. Since I had to empty the kitchen sink cupboard for the faucet repair, I went through all my products and even got rid of some. Trying to use cloth instead of paper towels for cleaning. Now that's hard. Is so much more preferable to wipe down the toilet and imagine all those nasty things being tossed away in the trash rather than having to handle it in the laundry. Blech. Caldrea products are on my counter now and they work far better than their grocery story equivalents. Have become devoted user of Lush products. Both are all natural, vegetarian, vegan and in no way ever used on animals. My skin has never looked better. At the age of 47 I have finally found something to shrink my pores. (if you desire more info on either of these product lines LMK)

I have always been an obsessive light turner outer, but now have added shutting down all computers and other electronic devices when not in use. TV, DVD player, stereo, etc. to save additional pounds of carbon dioxide from escaping into the air. One tree can absorb one ton of CO2 over its lifetime. If all mine survive the winter, and we added six, that's six tons of CO2 removed from the air over the next several years. My contribution to the earth may be small, but if everyone does their best, the quantity of good would be significant. AND, thank you to everyone who responded to my email and sent postcards to Washington for the upcoming hearings on global warming.


Feel the green. Celebrate spring and St. Patrick's day. Drink green koolaide and eat fish and chips. Fish and chips are way better than corn beef and cabbage, and anyway, no one in Ireland really eats that stuff. Yuk. Go rent The Quiet Man, Far and Away, The Devils Own, The Matchmaker or Father Ted. Add a lilt to your voice and a shamrock to your button hole. This is the melting pot, America. Everyone has a bit of the green in them somewhere. My mother said the Scottish and Irish she had in her was what made her interesting. Well, it certainly made her a firecracker. It may have been diluted to a weak Irish tea by the time I got it, but I cling to it nonetheless.

Just returned from seeing Mike off at the sky ride for the airport. He is off to Alabama for a hazardous materials course. Will be exposed to several toxic substances. Am trying not to think he could be at any kind of real risk. Suppose he could come back as some kind of radioactive super hero with a spandex suit and start glowing in the dark, but rather doubt it. The girls and I are on our own, and right out of the box my car is dead as a doornail. Must call a tow truck to haul its carcass to the mechanic in the morning. I think the car is getting back at me for thinking about shopping for a hybrid.

Days continue to be eaten by the house monster. Gobble gobble and still the scrapbook pile gathers dust and the sewing remains undone. Did get a handyman to come in and get several jobs done. Shade has been hung over the kitchen sink just in time, as the morning sun is growing stronger each day. Will no longer need to wear sunglasses and grope blindly for the coffeemaker each morning. The kitchen faucet having gone completely wonky, traveling at will around the sink is once again grounded. How nice to have a husband for hire! Simply hand over "honey do" list and credit card.

Watched the Oscars. Dresses were lovely, event boring, but Inconvenient Truth one best documentary and song. And Happy Feet best animated film. Excellent! Brings global warming to even more people's attention. Can't help wondering how much Bush must be seething over all this...bad Julie, it is wrong to wish bad juju on others, karma will come back and smack you on the side of the head. Oh hell, it already did, with a $800 + car bill! Barely survived the week driving Mike's Ford Focus. Shifting, shifting, tippy toe trying to get clutch in. If someone offered me a car free, I would refuse it if it was a stick. Darling PT Cruiser was finally back in the bosom of family on Thursday.

Submerged myself in the office and completed a scrapbook page for the pet book. Had to wear a face mask because of the accumulated dust. This is quite a breakthrough after months of staring at the piles and wondering what would topple first. Rather momentous event as it was becoming dangerous in there. This will be Dusty's entry. Sobbed my way through writing his bio. How will I ever get through this album? Have decided I must set aside time to scrap each day like I set aside time to knit.


And, speaking of knitting, Beth and I are
embarking on the great Icelandic sweater knit-a-long.
Ok, there are only three of us on the trip,
the guide and two trekkers, but we've ordered our Lopi yarn, and are hoping for something resembling this when we finish.


For those friends who have followed the Loincloth Butler story, the movie 300 opens at last this Friday, March 9th. Have bought my tickets in advance for the IMAX screening. If I'm going to see the Loincloth Butler nude, I want it to be on the big screen. Have never managed to sit through any IMAX film without getting nauseous from motion sickness. Since this film doesn't involve planes flying through canyons or stampeding herds of wildebeasts on the African plains, maybe I'll be ok. Here's hoping all those six pack toting Spartans keep my brain distracted and I can keep my popcorn down. -Tigerlily

In The Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,

earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

The days are long, cold and dark. At this dullest and brownest and bleakest time of year there is little to perk interest. Not work inducing weather. Find myself more desirious of sitting swathed in blankets clutching a cup of something hot than doing anything constructive. Knitting is always appropriate while storms rage. Have made a great start on the Wing of Moth shawl and am also cabling my heart out on Teampal Breachain hat. Got a ball winder and umbrella swift for Christmas and find winding hanks into balls great fun.


Here is the Moth laying in my Boston fern, trying to look moth-like. Below is a closeup of the fir cone design of the first shawl segment.



Movement equals warmth, so I began the new year with cleaning out closets and cupboards. Clothing, books, cd's, etc. were boxed and sent off to Goodwill. Next, I set myself the task of washing all the plantation shutters. Washing the shutters involved getting out the ladder, which in turn led to vacuuming up insect corpses and wiping up the windowsills, and after all that I figured I might as well go for broke and wash the windows too. Limited myself to one room or 3 windows or so a day. Sounds rather pathetic until one takes in the 10 foot ceilings and the size and number of windows. After three days the main floor is finished. Had thought that by keeping things bite size I wouldn't send the fibromyalgia screaming and would still have part of each day to do something easy like scrapbook. Failed right away. Daily duties became herculean. Kept dinners simple and hobbled to couch to sit and atrophy in pain each evening. I feel very old and rather crisp. Something always goes crunch when I move. Next week: upstairs.

Five weeks of Friday snowstorms. Temperatures dropped to zero and below, and hung about in the single digits for a week. Then things warmed up to the twenties, a virtual heatwave. Was able to shed two layers of clothing and actually wear only one shirt at a time. Douglas County took advantage of every clear day to work on streets and sidewalks. A very large plow broke its blade on the ice lake in front of our house. Didn't feel one pang of guilt as it was Shea's fault for creating the blockage by pushing all the model home snow up against the fence on the opppsite side. With nowhere to go, water from melting snow all the way up the hill backed up at our house. Two days later Shea Homes was out clearing the sidewalk. When yelling at the HOA and Shea Homes sales office does not bring results try and have a large and very expensive piece of county equipment break in front of your house. It works wonders.



This week Mother Nature decided to change things up a bit and send the storm on Saturday. Poor Mike was out in the cold again all day Sunday. He snowblowed past the empty lot to the mailboxes in hope of keeping the walk open now that Shea finally plowed the 4 feet of old frozen snow off of it



Mike flew to Portland, Oregon for a three day seminar, and while he was there he rented a car and drove down the coast to Astoria, just for all us Gooney's. This film marked Elisabeth and Sarah's childhood memories. Mine as well. Who hasn't wanted to find pirate treasure? For the fans among you, it is all there. Mikey's house and Data's, right next door. Cannon Beach, the three rocks, Astoria Museum...everything just as you remember. Please visit Beth's blog to read her entry and see the pictures. http://ringbright.blogspot.com/2007/01/goondocks.html

Just in case you haven't had enough pictures of the bleakness and cold, here is one more.