The strange ruggy thing starts to develop, and fitness Boud style. Late: a great man has left us

 I'm glad the bird stories amused you, so much more, but that was enough to pack into one post. My posts sometimes make me think of an overstuffed suitcase with all kinds of unrelated items sticking out. Which is pretty much a description of my mind, come to think of it.

Anyway I've been doing something or other with the Granny square project, which is getting big enough to warm my legs while I work.

I've tried various ways of incorporating the small squares, and keep having better ideas. It will eventually look like something. That's my story anyway. 

I also report that the dodgy hip might be healing finally. I quit the stretches when I suspected that they were irritating the tissue rather than healing, and I've felt better since. I'm still moving, out walking today in an amazingly mild temperature, in the 60s f. 

There were multiple skeins  of Canada geese wheeling about, all making a right angle turn right over me and heading to the next town. They claim this is migration, big fibbers.

Back home I did some walking backwards in the kitchen, beside the counter, nine steps along its length. This is supposed to rebalance your muscles and tendons or something, after the forward motion of walking.  It did help the hip, so maybe there's something in it.

And while I'm waiting for something in the microwave, I do the standing on one foot exercise. I used to do the tree pose, as near as I can get to it, but now I do two in one -- balance on one leg while doing the upper body thing. 

You hold up your hands shoulder high, palms forward, elbows out to the side,  and shoulders pressed back. This is great for unkinking your neck. I do this to reverse the effect of all the forward positions of crochet. You can also do this in a doorway, hands on the frame,then leaning forward. 

Most of my exercise is brief and focused, short attention span, variety required, no surprise there. 

Despite my plans I wasn't feeling like cooking today, maybe tomorrow. I plan on Tofu Masala, for which I have pretty much all the ingredients, from Yeung Man Cooking. 

And a new recipe for little crisp cheese biscuits to try, from Marion's  World. She uploaded it a year ago and I found it today. 

Also I'm making mayo, maybe this time I'll try chickpea mayo, from Yeung Man, just to see what it's like.  Such ambition.

Happy day everyone, when in doubt do everything. Then you have no regrets.

Late addition:

I just heard Jimmy Carter has died. There's someone who always walked the walk. RIP.

The GS goes on, shrimp happens and bird memories

Today, I think it's Saturday, I broke away from holiday leftovers and decided on the shrimp. Also found a frozen container of cooked rice and black beans. Cool. A couple of spoonsful of red chili oil livened up the rice

I cooked the shrimp in butter and olive oil, while I heated the rice separately. Then removed the salad shrimp and added rice to what was still in the pan.

The sprinkling of curry leaves suggests a stitch design, bonus. This is about a third of the rice and shrimp, one third for another dish like this tomorrow, and the rest of the shrimp set aside for a shrimp salad once I make some mayo. 

This morning I realized that when I ran the car yesterday,  I seem to have knocked the wipers into action, then switched off the engine. Last time I did a thing like this, I left the engine in drive and switched off. It drained the battery completely. So I hoped this didn't apply to wipers and went out nervously to check.

Two guys coming out of Gary's house with some huge piece of furniture wanted to let me by and I said no, no, figuring they'd got it balanced, it was heavy, they should keep the momentum. 

One said, wait, that's an Irish voice! Nope, English. But my grandmother was Irish. Whereupon he went off into praise of the UK, especially London and most especially Petticoat Lane.  Lovely chat, nice guy, checked if I wanted to leave he'd move the van, no, no, all good. Then we  all wished each other a happy New Year and they left.

Then finally I got in the car and no problem, it leapt into life. Tire pressure low because of cold snap, Gary, who also thought I was blocked, promised to inflate them.  So that was in the end a happy start in both senses.

I sorted the colors for the GS -- granny square, and decided this warm grey would be a good divider between sections, and I'll join all the various little squares with it, to unify the piece.

Like this.

About birds!

I had a series of birds, all rescues, from situations ranging from abusive to fairly neglectful. I didn't take parrots because they're too noisy for condo living. It drives the neighbors mad when they do their dawn and dusk flock calling. Screams, really.

But parakeets and my dear Emily the lutino cockatiel were resident chez Boud. 

Often people buy pairs of parakeets as presents, terrible idea, unless someone really wants them, so I ended up accepting them through various means, to give them a good home.

Now, parakeets in pet stores are often represented as young birds, when in fact very often they're old failed breeders. The females have not developed ovulation, probably from over breeding the line, and males are sterile, similar reason, or unable to mount the female. Many reasons for these situations, but careless breeding may be a big one.

So when I had them at home, no concerns about accidental reproduction, I only caged them at night for safety, and they flew about freely otherwise. Unless I had guests who were afraid of them, and it's surprising how many people are.

So when green Harriet,  the self appointed flock leader, such an intelligent bird, egged, I figured they were sterile eggs. She was the widow of Peter, hence the name, never egged before.

Until she and Opal, her beautiful turquoise and cobalt young boytoy, evidently not a failed breeder at all, produced a clutch of babies which Harriet cared for and kept jealous Opal away from.  I handfed her while she was caring for them until they fledged and joined the flock, now up to nine.

They were jewel-like babies, easy to find trustworthy homes for.  So I was back to three pairs. I thought I'd kept Harriet and Opal apart but bird mating can happen in seconds, even when one bird is free, one caged. It looks like a couple of little pushes, very pragmatic.

And so they had another clutch, and I found homes for them, too, with friends who owned a pet supply store and were very picky about who took their birds. 

Harriet was an artist, too, always ready to improve my work. Here's a detail of a large handmade paper piece I'd created as a final in my paper making course 

See all the bits pecked off the top edge? Harriet, her work.

Then Harriet died, she was maybe eight or nine, birds with poor beginnings don't usually live a normal lifetime. 

Poor Opal moped about his lost partner, but was soon very active on his perch. Innocent visitors would ask if he was okay, what was he doing so intently. Then wished they hadn't asked!

And there was Emily the lutino cockatiel, this is not her but you get the idea 

I found Emily in blazing sun, July, no water, caged at a garage sale. I asked the owners about her, found she was three years old, caged all that time, in a back bedroom, no toys, fed cheap wild bird food, and never made a  sound. 

I was so angry I said she's coming with me, offered them $20 for her, cage, any toys. They had no food nor toys for her, but after I made noises about reporting, looking at their other -- cared for -- animals, they accepted my offer. They must have been scared, because they could easily have got $50 for the cage alone. 

I made them give me a sheet to throw over the cage to protect her from the sun in the car, and water for her bowl. Then I left full of determination to give her a real life. 

On the way home I talked quietly to her -- birds tend to respond to women's voices -- and after a few minutes I heard that little conversational sound cockatiels make, sounds like "how're you?" So we talked all the way home. She knew.

I had to devise ways to teach her to fly, because her wings were weak from caging, and as she strengthened, she eventually bravely tried a flight off my hand, bit by bit, eventually making it across the room in one try. 

She would eat literally anything I offered, though lutinos can be very cautious. She trusted that I could deliver a decent seed, fruit and veggie menu. 

And she and kitty Boud, from whom I took my screen name, were friends. Emily would nibble Boud's nose gently, both on the floor, while Boud purred. For a bird to even be on the floor is a great trust action. Birds fly upward for safety at any threat. But Boud was no threat to her friend.

I had two other cats at that time, Annabelle, found in a dumpster and living like a queen now, and Vico, Boud's sister and twice her size. 

Annabelle took charge of notifying me of lost or stuck birds. Because they were out flying freely,  there were times a bird vanished. If a bird's in trouble,they go totally silent and still. Which doesn't help you find them. 

Annabelle used to come get me and indicate there's someone  stuck. One time I had to turn over a sofabed and found Mary, I think it was, widow of William, jammed into the spring underneath. She was fine once rescued, if a bit dishevelled. Annabelle earned her keep(!) as a Feline Birdkeeper.

Emily the cockatiel egged a lot once she was properly fed, and of course the eggs, in the absence of a male, were infertile. A visitor once said, but you could hatch all these eggs and sell the baby birds easily. 

I explained that a solo female can't generate fertilized eggs so no hatching, no birds. She insisted that every egg always had a baby bird to hatch, because you couldn't have eggs that didn't. 

When I explained the process of fertilizing, and how it needed a male,  she got a bit flustered. Especially when I pointed out that she and I could also ovulate without resulting in pregnancy. That finished her off, so uncouth to compare birds to humans. She concluded "You don't know much about birds!"

I saved Emily's final clutch, painted them, and they're part of my Easter display, here in a miniature teacup

Another time a friend and I were in the living room watching a couple of finches on a branch near the window, mating up a storm. I mentioned it was mating season, and she, evidently unaware of the show she was getting, said she'd seen birds touching beaks, was that how they mated. Well, just look.  She was a library director, with Ph.D.  Not in biology, I guess.

I think the birds are smarter than certain bird brained humans!

Happy day, everyone, keep warm, cool, dry whatever applies, rayez ce qui est inutile, and carry on.

Chop wood, carry water, finish yarn

Natural art happened early this morning. It's that time of year when early sun reflects off east facing windows across the street then back across to my west facing kitchen window and through to the living room.

So I get morning sun from the west, which amuses me every year. Here it's lighting up, among other things, some hand stitched ornaments Handsome Partner used to put on his little tree. A colleague of his made them. 

Today was chop wood, meaning peel and steam that big haul of carrots, carry water meaning realize I needed clean clothes and doing a load of laundry, also wash a sinkful of  dishes,  start engine, meaning run car a few minutes, she started lovely, and take out garbage. 

Also walk a bit, sniffing lovely cold wake you up air.  

Then home to a pot of tea with bread sticks and havarti cheese, courtesy of Handsome Son.

I caught up on podcasts while I finished that yarn, I think. I believe it was one skein.

But I think I'll continue the giant granny square a bit, because it's fun to do and I have colors that will work with it. 

I also have a stack of granny squares and pinloom woven squares which will work. 

I had a dream that one of my sisters gave birth to quintuplets. All dressed differently, she told me their names, and seemingly already toddlers! I was very worried in case I had to take over their care. Quite glad to wake up. Dreams are brain circuits criss -crossing I suppose.  

And I had a hilarious online exchange about avian reproduction, and what people don't understand about it. Which I'll expand on if you would like. It's pretty funny to anyone who's bred birds, as I have, though inadvertently. That's also funny. Lemme know if it's something you'd like to read, rather than tldr.

Happy day everyone, don't count your chickens..

And look who sent me Christmas greetings, the last of a wonderful presidency 

Misfits, curry leaf plant and new fiber work

Misfits arrived promptly this morning, and I just had time to put out the returnable packaging.

Limes for a limey, long time since I had any, but I love the flavor. It's a citrus fruit I'm not allergic to, unlike all the orange family.

The cauliflower is for an upcoming cheese cauliflower, plenty of cheeses available for the sauce, and a sturdy Western meal, contrasting to the Asian type of cooking I've been doing. 

Carrots to be steamed and added to the black bean rice dish, and as salad makings. Orzo because I haven't had any for ages and they're fast for quick meals and in soup.  Cannellini beans because I use them all the time, versatile things. 

High end pop tarts, all organic ingredients because it's soon going to be my birthday.  I've made these from scratch in the past. Home baked junk food!

Speaking of birthdays, in the Gratitude book by Oliver Sacks, he talks about, in his eighties, feeling detached from the world. He still cared, but was ready to leave everything to the next generation. 

I'm far from detached, in fact still very actively involved in political action, so we differ greatly there. Soon I'll be in the second half of my eighties, an age Oliver didn't reach. But he was writing after a terminal diagnosis, and I'm in a very different position there.

Anyway I think pop tarts are in order.

The other present I'm giving myself is a set of Tunisian crochet hooks, because I've been making everything on the one big hook available, which is a bit hard on my hands, also limiting. Anyway it belongs to the library, so I can return it to their collection. 

In regular crochet, I'm doing the occasional granny squares in a range of blues and greens, maybe ending as a throw.

Just a handy thing to pick up at odd times.

In celebratory Sag mode, I'll ask Handsome Son to come over on whatever day we are both free, and make me lunch, our usual procedure. It's a visit and a present in one. Then he'll bring down the box of Christmas stuff and we'll set it up. Not much, just a gesture to the festive season.

Meanwhile life goes on in the plant world, see the curry leaf plant has started two groups of baby plants. 

It's so satisfying to grow your own flavoring ingredients. I use curry leaves quite a bit.

Happy day everyone, try not to detach before you need to.

Fractals, granny squares and Misfits

Since I am soon supposed to be helping a group of beginners learn the granny square, I thought I'd better review how it's done, long time since I did any.

A couple of false starts, then I began to remember how to go. The YouTube channel I used, after trying a couple that weren't very helpful, is Bella Coco. She's a very good teacher, doesn't cover the work with her hands and has a great production style.

And Misfits arrived 

The dish in the foreground is hot pepper seeds drying for future use over pasta 

And here's a few cranberries, mushrooms and peas for Thanksgiving. That organic ketchup is much better than any I've had, no metallic aftertaste like some. Beans and tomatoes because they're a staple around here, likewise yogurt.

There was a surprise textiles presentation by GWU,  which I'd forgotten I'd signed up for, good thing they send reminders.

About fractals, the iteration of shapes, and textile designs, the presenters showed examples of historic and traditional African textiles and paired them with the corresponding mathematical findings and proofs. 

 

It occurred to me that granny squares, starting with a circle then expanding spirally, repeating the motifs, can be understood as fractals.  

One riveting point the presenters made was that the embroidery and weaving designs are recorded in song. As women stitch, they sing, to preserve the design and the knowledge of it. The same is true of painting designs on  pottery, like the large container you see back a few slides.  They sing the design as they work it.

That was a surprise, and yet another great GWU  presentation. I get such an education from these programs, which largely came about because of the pandemic and resulting lockdown, and are, thankfully, being continued.

It would help to look at the items I carefully put on my calendar. Today also was Ruth and Laura cleaning and filter replacement day, vital!

Happy day everyone! In our upcoming dark time, we could try to remember art will always be with us. Whether making or enjoying or both, it will be there, one way or another.

Winnowing wins

Today being so boring, way too hazardous to be out in temps that felt like well over 100° f, and just not in the mood for ANYTHING,  I ended up listening to an old Christie audiobook and  sorting a few drawers near where I was sitting. 

This became interesting as I happily chucked papers and miscellany into the recycle and the thriftie pile. 

It also unearthed some bits of crochet that might go well in something or other with the mini Tunisian squares. These were from my granny square period. Using up  superfluous embroidery thread. 

Suggestions would be warmly entertained.

And even more exciting, I unearthed two Cross pen and propelling pencil sets. One engraved with my name, leaving gift from a long ago job, the other was Handsome Partner's work award for something. 

In the box to the right, the supply of graphite sticks that are stored in the barrel of the pencil, while I explore the pencil to see if I can get it to work. See the parts there? There's a built-in pink eraser, even. It plugs the container for the leads, and disappears when the pencil's assembled.

Both needed a little something, one pen needed a refill which I also found and installed, this is amazing.  One pencil needs repair, I think,  because, though it's loaded with the little graphite sticks, I can't get the lead to advance. I have a very nice pen and pencil set, one from each original set.

I've sent away for a refill for the other pen, and I find it's worth sending the nonfunctional pencil to the makers for repair. So it's parceled up ready to go in the mail when weather permits.

I looked them up and found people get all excited about this age of set. It's considered desirable! Vintage! Not sure how thrilled I am that my leaving present from midway in my work life is now vintage, but oh well. 

They're both from the late 70s, early 80s, 10k gold filled, made in the USA.  And they'll save me from shopping for pens and pencils for the foreseeable future. This is good.

I'll offer handsome Partner's set to Handsome Son first, once it's functional, because he does like what he considers antiques from a quaint era, namely his parents' youth.

I went to YouTube to learn more and found there's an entire community of vintage pen enthusiasts, with a Cross pen subsection. 

Such reverence, and technical know how,  it's like stumbling over a group of old watchmakers at their benches lovingly restoring old timepieces, same devotion.

It's taken seriously, and the comments on the videos are so technical I'm not sure what they're saying. This is multiracial and age mixed, however, it definitely seems to be a man's clubby thing, full of arcane jargon and in jokes. 

You can just see them at home holed up in their little workspaces, task lights on, happy as clams. I bet they've done fine with lockdown. 

Anyway that was a surprising afternoon's learning. I tried a few ideas to fix the pencil before concluding that it needed an Expert With Tiny Tools And Knowledge. It was fun trying before I arrived at that decision.

I also watched a great Textiles and Tea presentation, Jessica Pinsky. I'll blog about that tomorrow, needs its own space and mood.