Meet Betsy and Sharon

**Disclaimer- Grandchildren of my mother!  Read this post at your own peril!!**

***Don't say I didn't warn you!!***

Our mother was quite a woman.

She had many skills and talents, from frying 'a crispy on the outside, tender on the inside' chicken that I cannot duplicate, and have given up trying, to recreating a garment after viewing it fairly casually on the wearer, using brown paper grocery bags as pattern pieces.

Mom was an amateur photographer, a budding pilot in the early 40’s, and was a highly successful hobbyist gardener, teaming up with DSis and selling iris rhizomes at the local farmer’s market.

She was also highly independent, and at the assisted living facility where she spent the last few years of her life, and where the women outnumbered the men about 6 to 1, this independence seemed to catch the eye of the menfolk far more readily than those women that set their caps for male attention

It would appear this tendency exists in some no matter their age!

So. One trip back to see the fam, DSis and I stopped by to visit Mom, right before her dinnertime. And it seemed that perhaps she had just awakened from a late afternoon nap. She was coming out of her bathroom, the lights were dim, and she seemed a bit…scattered.

Oh, she was glad to see us. She always was. Her kids were her pride and joy. One of her best things (before assisted living) was when we would go to church with her and Mom got to stand up and introduce ‘her visitors’.

But, thinking we had caught her less than awake, and maybe a bit confused, we thought to leave and said we would come and visit another time, when our mother stopped us and said, ‘well, let me make some introductions..’

And then we saw that we are not alone in the room. Mom had a gentleman caller.

Who had been laying on her bed.

Her unmade bed…fully clothed (thank the good lawd for tender mercies!)…but still! On the unmade bed.

Mom says “Robbie, I would like you to meet my girls, Becky and Jan.”

Now. Robbie was the name of a fellow that our mother kept company with when DSis and I were back in high school. And lest I state the obvious, we have not been in high school for a very long time, and Robbie? No longer with us.

But ‘Robbie’ rises up, extends his hand, shakes our very stunned hands, and says,

“Nice to meet you, Betsy and Sharon!”

I looked over at DSis, who had her very best ‘I can handle whatever you tell me-HR manager face’ (Myself -I am trying to not laugh...or...choke...or pass out.) She makes some small talk with our mother about ‘being obviously busy, just wanted to show off a new haircut, be back tomorrow, blah blah blah…’

And we got the hell out of dodge just as fast as we could.

Walking down the hall to the door of the building, we looked at each other. And I said.

“Well, Sharon?”  And she said...

“Well, Betsy?”

“Well, I don’t think that was Robbie…”

Meet Sharon (Dearest Sister) over here.  And see Betsy and Sharon's (our!) foray into eCommerce at Atomic Sisters.

Winnings and Gifts and Prizes, oh my!

Will they invite me back next month? I played Bunko (Bunco?) again this past week, stepping in for our just recently moved next door neighbor who has moved to an assisted living facility. Which is sad for the Guy and me. We love our neighborhood, and mostly because of our neighbors. A rare thing in today’s world, I think, to actually know one’s neighbors.

But I digress. Not only did I play, but I won the really big money this time! Most buncos (bunkos?) (with a roll off even!) and the ‘Traveler’ (don’t ask, I can’t explain, except to say...extra dollars!) So I have won the Pretty Big, the Big, and the Really Big money now four months in a row (I think). Will they invite me back? More importantly, if they do, can I continue this streak?

Perhaps some perspective is in order. There is a $4 buy-in, and the ‘really big’ money that I won last night? $19. Plus the fun. And the laughs. And the food.

Some time back, I won a contest over at Noodleroux. Recently I received my booty from ChaCha, in the form of a gift certificate from Tumblefish Studio on Etsy. She thought something to hang on my freshly painted walls and in my newly redone rooms might be a nice thing. Well, haven’t I been having a ball shopping over there? Why, yes, I have! And I think I might just have narrowed it done to my choice. I will show it off once I have it all squared away.

Then, more recently, I had the chance to meet with some friends from my college days. Since our meeting, one has been kind enough to send me some of her artwork. This sort of gift is so meaningful to me on many levels. I think it is very generous, first, and second, having no talent in this regard, I am awestruck by those that can put what they see into this sort of medium. I am working to get these two pieces framed and find a special place to put them in my home.

So as I write this, what is it I see? Some very special and fun things, certainly. But what stands out vividly and starkly are the relationships.

Between good neighbors.

Between new friends found through blogging and communicating through the internet.

Between old friends renewed.

Now that blows me away.

My BFF evah! (Dearest Sister) and I are still tag blogging, and selling our goodes at our Etsy shoppe, Atomic Sisters (powerful, explosive, also mid-century!).  Check out both!  They're swell!

Ghenghis Khan, Museum Souvenirs, and Crafts

So we went to the museum and mainly I wanted to see the Ghenghis Khan exhibit. It was very informative and well done and I enjoyed it very much. Every where else in the museum was so crowded by the munchkin types that over ran the place that day. (Do I sound like a crotchety old lady? Why, I believe I do!)

One of the displays talked about the ger, or yurt, those roving marauders (and present day herders) used as their living abodes. A ger is essentially a felted tent. The museum volunteers proceeded to explain how the wool was felted (using ‘mother felt’ from falling apart clothing) with the lanolin retained in the wool to preserve the water proofing. Made sense to me, even though I hadn't heard of 'mother felt' before.

Some of their hygiene habits…ick! They really did wear their clothes til they fell apart and off.

Other interesting textilian pieces of the exhibit included two silk garments and a leather coat found on the mummified remains of what is imagined to be a wealthy woman from the 11-12th century. On the silk dresses? I could still see the woven patterns. And I could still see they were beautiful. Isn’t that something?

So. We see what we want to see and go where we want to go and eat a bit and see the movie and before we get ready to leave, Wonderful Guy suggests we stop in the museum gift shop. We used to buy souvenirs regularly, but not so much now. Why, heck! They hardly ever sell yarn in those places!

But this time, in honor of the Mongolian artifacts, and the time honored tradition of living in gers, the gift shop offered a selection of how-to-felt kits, and some books on felting, which..caught my eye.

Yes. It’s true. In the tradition of Ghengis Khan, scourge of Asia, fearsome ruler of the largest empire of history to that date, legendary law maker and innovative leader, I could have memorialized my viewing of the Mongolian artifacts with a book showing me how to felt little wool eggs, and catnip balls.

Awesome.

DSis has suggested I could do something with this year harvest of catnip for Atomic Sisters.  Hmmm...Khan's Catnip Kitty Teasers?

On the Needles

With all of our coming and going of the past long weekend, I found time for knitting on some projects that have sitting on the back burner, because of all the spinning going on in preparation for the opening of Atomic Sisters. (Be sure to check out the new Etsy store Dsis and I have opened.)

This little BSJ (Baby Surprise Jacket, by E. Zimmermann) is almost complete. I have run out of yarn, though, without enough for cuffs and collar. So I am percolating on how to finish. With a contrasty color? Will it look too odd? Is there enough of the main color left for edge accents to tie it in? Who knows? The big news is that I made it past my previous nemesis of the 20th ridge, and I think I have the hang of this pattern!

So there is this second BSJ which is half complete. I am attempting stripe-i-ness on this one. Will I have enough for collar and cuffs (which I think finishes out the garment)? Will the stripes look too kewl? Or will they make the sweater look like a varsity jacket for some pre-school? Where will I find the best buttons ever without breaking the button bank? These are hard questions!

I am also rummaging through the stash for appropriate materials for a third. Grandbebe Girl’s lovely BSJ found it’s way into the dryer. Gasp! Grandmama made it out of wonderful but terribly persnickety stuff. And now Grandbebe Two has a lovely felted BSJ, and Grandbebe Girl needs another. Which, of course, I will be glad to provide.

All the while, spinning this great black alpaca. I have 9 oz of roving, all spun into singles, and one spool plied into 3-ply. And I think this will be lovely. And I don’t know if this will go to the shop. Oh, sure it will.  But it won't be too bad if it doesn't sell.

This weekend is an alpaca event at The Ranch, between Loveland and Fort C. Planning on heading over for a look-see. Hoping to pick up the roving I ‘ordered’ at the ‘Alpacas on the Rocks’ event first of September. And maybe I will find something else wonderful, as well.

Also I am making pumpkin pies for a neighborhood get-together tomorrow night.  I make some delish pumpkin pies from an old family recipe.  I have made these from home-canned pumpkin, but I am not so much the over achiever anymore.


Well, in that arena, at least.

In other news, Dearest Sister and I are continuing our tag team blogging efforts, so remember to check out Just-A-Mere to see what she's up to.  I do!

V is for Violets

As in African Violets.

The only thing of color I have growing right now. And I do so appreciate them.

My violets have come from many sources, all given to me by friends and acquaintances, except for a couple of minis that I bought at the Philly Flower Show with Eldest Daughter.

The first one of those has croaked. In fact, every violet I have purchased for myself has not lasted.

But for many years, these hardy girls survived. And that is all. I had them in a vast array of pots, and left them there, unfed and unattended, almost ignored. Survived they have, in spite of me.

I just didn’t know anything about violets and supposed doing nothing was better than…well, I don’t know what nothing was better than. One of the gifters had mentioned that I wasn’t suppose to touch the leaves. He probably said ‘with my bare hands’, but what I heard was ‘leave them alone’. Mr. Jack White was very knowledgeable about most things with chlorophyll, and so his advice stuck with me. It also limited me as to what I could do. So. Nothing. Poor violets. It’s Mr. Whites’s fault.

Some were born in Kentucky, and moved to the Front Range of Colorado after a sojourn in Missouri. A few found their way to my home while in Missouri. Some of them maybe 20 years old.  Maybe older!

One came from a Colorado friend, who, after visiting my home, told me my violets looked so good! She had one that was just hanging on. Could she bring it to live at my house?

That was pretty funny to me. My violets? Looking good? Well, now they sort of do.

See. Here I have Windows! And few, well...reall...no trees for shade, but Windows! And I decided that these poor girls needed something more than nothing. Even if it meant touching them. I eventually figured that made no sense, and smacked of an old wives tale. Kentucky was rampant with those! So I repotted a few, and I occasionally feed them.

Not regularly. But on occasion.

But it’s the Windows! mostly, of which I am convinced. I have blooms on one or the other or all almost year round. Bright little faces, with little yellow eyes.

Special gifts from hardy girls who have hung in there with me, making some pretty good trips, dealing with some pretty dry soil, and some long time between drinks.