Back To the Drawing Board

Yesterday I finally gave up and pitched the Hallowe'en swap project into the trash and started over. But it's now going fast, and it's going to be tres jolie. I keep learning this lesson over and over: Short-cuts waste time instead of saving it.

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The deadline to file for the IRS stimulus check is October 15. I've been reluctant to file, for fear the govt. would have to borrow another 300 bucks from China. But on the principle that, as far as the national debt is concerned, "returning were as tedious as go o'er," I'll probably put in for my pittance.

My sewing machine hates me...

At this point, the feeling is mutual. I've been working on my swap project for days. I thought it would be done in no more than 3 days, but woe am I! The more I measure, the more off it gets. It's probably going to turn out looking primitive instead of nice. At least it was fun planning and cutting out.

You were good at everything, Butch.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

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A star has winked out. I'll miss his laughing blue eyes.

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2:40 p.m.: I just finished the newsletter for book club, and I'm hungry but too tired to cook. I think I deserve a pizza--but then, after today, it's strictly a no-fat diet as far as I'm able. Yesterday I discovered that the packaged roast turkey slices I've been eating are half fat calories. Am also going to add the 8-lb. weights to my exercise routine.

Wish I had some candy corn...

I did have some boiled corn-on-the-cob for dinner, and a bowl of spinach with melted cheddar on top. Ate the last of my Friday soup (really, a thick leftover stew) Sunday, and wish I had some more.
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Here are my Hallowe'en project materials. Already had more than I could use, but I had to go to Wal-Mart today, so of course I bought some more. Tomorrow I expect it to be at least half finished.
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I saw Bonnie Ann at Wal-Mart. She had just got back from a vacation. What is a vacation? I went to the Oxford convention in D.C., I think it was 2005; maybe that was a vacation. But I really can't think of any place I'd rather be than here. Come to think of it, Jed and I discussed going to Mexico, last time he was here. We might possibly do that. But we'll have to do it in October, because I'm going to write another novel in November. This time, I'm going to take my time, ignore the deadline, and make it complete enough that I can submit it somewhere without spending a year trying to make myself rewrite it.

In the Groove

I don't know much of anything to write about today.
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I signed up for Susan's Hallowe'en swap project, have received the name and address of the person my project will go to, and have selected a whole pile of fabrics to work with for the main gift. The whole pile won't be used, just the ones that fit my design.
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The picture has nothing to do with anything, except that it's one of the most attractive things in the house. It makes me want to write a poem. It makes me want to paint a picture. I may try to paint something like it, once I get into the groove. The standing Indian reminds me of Daddy, and the kneeling one of Henry Whitner.
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I wish I had a recording of that old Tommy or Jimmy Dorsey tune (In the Groove). Can probably find it online.

A Very Good Book

Finished reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle today, but I'll save my appreciative comments about it until next month's book club meeting. I will say that I was nearly halfway through it before I realized what I was reading!

What I missed by reading: Today I meant to finish mucking out the stables (a.k.a., the basement), wash all my dirty clothes, and preliminarily (word?) sketch the Whitman painting. I have started the painting; the canvas is clamped onto the easel, with placement lines penciled all over it. I think I'll unclamp it and sketch in the basic form.

Lazy Friday

Last week I re-covered the seats of these two chairs. I love toile.

Book club meets this afternoon at the library.

I would start the Walt Whitman painting this afternoon, but Maw Maw always said, if you start something on a Friday, you won't finish it.

It's been a long time...

since I stayed up all night to finish reading a book (Nineteen Minutes). But I couldn't help it. Now I've read two books by Jody Picoult, and know that she's a great writer and has a great hairdo. But I'm giving everybody fair warning: I'm not reading any more books built around children or animals getting killed or otherwise traumatized. And there's still The Story of Edgar Sawtelle in front of me before I can totally swear off of them. Just don't hand me any more.

And now I've got to go to the store and the post office early so I can come back soon, feed Mo some more, and sleep.

Any black holes in your basement?

Well, children, they did it. I'm not going to try to explain what they did in the Geneva, Switzerland area a little while ago, because everybody seems to understand it better than I do. But it's done, and I think the house is still standing on semi-solid ground. Stephen Hawking grinned, so it must be OK.

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In a strange way, scientists seem to operate on a vast system of faith. "If you push that button, chances are 50-50 that the world will go up in smoke." Oh, boy! another button to push! Let's just hide behind this little sand dune where we can see what happens.

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In another strange way, it seems they're all around three years old.

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Added 3:33 p.m.: Received most gratifying feedback from one of my Amazon customers:

5 out of 5:
"Fantastic seller. Best service I have ever received on Amazon Marketplace. Exceptional person. Thank you very much." Date: 9/10/2008 Rated by Buyer XXXXX

Sourwood Mountain

Under the Music Link, I've added an old lady, a long time ago, singing her version of "Sourwood Mountain." I've never seen or heard two versions of it that were alike. This one has just a bar or two of the tune I know, but it's all messed up. Here's my version of the words:

Roosters crow on the Sourwood Mountain,
"Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!
So many pretty girls, I can't count 'em!
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!"
Old man, old man, I want your daughter--
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!
To cook my bread and tote my water,
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day! **

I've got a girl, lives up in the fletcher-- **
She won't come, and I won't fetch her! **
I've got a girl, lives down in the holler-- **
She won't wait, and I won't foller! **

I've got a girl who's a brown-eyed daisy-- **
But she won't work, and I'm too lazy. **
Big dog barks and little dog bites you-- **
Big girl sparks and little girl spites you. **

My true love's a blue-eyed daisy, **
If I don't get her, I'll go crazy, **
My true love lives up the river, **
A few more jumps and I'll be with her, **

Roosters crow on the Sourwood Mountain,
"Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!
So many pretty girls, I can't count 'em!
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!"
Old man, old man, I want your daughter--
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!
I'll chop her wood and tote her water,
Hi de ho, dee deedle-um day!

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For those innocents who don't know, "sparking" was the same as "courting." Men used to clean up to go "sparking."

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I've sort of learned how to make videos with sound, with my camera. If I ever learn how to get one onto the blog, I'll treat y'all to one verse with the tune. I remember Paw Paw singing snatches of this. The actor James Cromwell reminds me so much of him, if only J.C. were not so cool, clean and white! Paw Paw wasn't dirty, but he was burnt-copper colored and warm.

Nice Labor Day Weekend

Jed came over on Sunday and stayed until late Monday afternoon. We ate lunch at Chili's on Monday, then shopped at Target and Michael's. I bought myself a bunch of oils and acrylics.

Jed brought me a new memory card for my camera, also a couple of stretched canvases that he said he'd had "lying around." I didn't ask any questions. He also brought three of his books: the Derek Robinson that I want to read; Beethoven by Edmund Morris, and the book about Cicero, both of which I want to re-read. Sarum has about worn me out; if I don't finish it before the weekend, I'm going to abandon it. Too many words.

Books read in September 1998:

The Rest of Us (column), by Jacquelyn Mitchard (Very good.)
The Best Laid Plans, by Sidney Sheldon (Good story, indifferent writing.)
Poetic Meter and Poetic Form, by Paul Fussell, Jr. (Worth re-reading.)