Diana's Basket Enhanced

I was able to make a lid for her basket.

Flowers from my Husband

Every Saturday, after going to tennis drills in Clinton, Bill does the week's food shopping. He prefers to go alone, leaving me home, because I like to dawdle and he usually goes through the market at a dead run. It's OK with me. Elaine and I usually go mid-week and take our time reading all the labels. One of the nice things that Bill does, is that he brings me flowers each week. Here are some of the highlights of the year.

Good Eats!

This past Saturday, it was my girlfriend, Rochelle’s birthday. She turned 52. About 2 years ago, she had a stroke that left her paralyzed on her right side. Rochelle was my adventure buddy before her stroke. She lived out in the country on a beautiful lake with 40 acres of wilderness. We used to take her 4-wheeler out on the trails and had many a-venture, with me bouncing around on the back of the vehicle, hanging on for dear life. In the spring, there were thousands of Daffodils that bloomed in one of the fields. We picked wild garlic that was everywhere, and the wildlife was plentiful. On one part of the property was an old barn that you could climb up in the hayloft, and watch the deer graze, just below you. We would sit silently on an old couch that faced the upper open barn door. It was a refuge for her that she often visited, and I was grateful that she shared it with me.

Anyway, on Saturday, we ventured down to Lorman, where there was a country store restaurant that claimed to make the best fried chicken in the state. Rochelle’s mother and her husband accompanied us. The old country store was built in the 1890’s, and still had the ladders on each side of the large room that allowed access to shelves way up high. When we entered the store, there was everything you could imagine, packed on the shelves. The restaurant’s main fare was the buffet, and although the majority of the food was fairly good southern style cooking, the fried chicken truly lived up to its reputation. It was heavenly. The outside was crisp, and the inside was moist and tender, all the way down to the bone. To top things off, we were then serenaded by the very man who made this fabulous fried chicken. He had a microphone, and sang to the customers in a wonderful baritone blues voice. He sang, “My mama, was the corn bread queen.”  He then sang Happy Birthday to Rochelle as well. She was thrilled and laughed aloud. I applauded enthusiastically. This was better than dessert, which none of us could eat because we all over-ate on the fried chicken.

Here a some photos from our adventure. And, oh, by the way, even though she can’t talk as well as she used to, she can clearly still say shit, hell, god damn it, and no! I miss that part of her that went away, but she is still able to make herself perfectly understood.

Older Ladies

My husband found this delightful song/video the other day, and I thought it might be fun to share. It certainly made me laugh. Hope it does the same for you!

http://www.sunnyskyz.com/happy-videos/736/The-Older-Ladies-Anthem-I-LOVE-This-

Punjab, India

Last night, I found myself in Punjab, India. It was a very intense, and realistic dream. I have no idea why I would dream of Punjab, since I have never been there, and have never had much interest to travel there. In fact, when I started the dream, I had to ask someone where I was. It was rather hot and the streets I walked down were overcrowded with people, animals, and vendors of all sorts.  I stopped to look at what was for sale, and some of the things were beautiful, yet disturbing. At some point, I found myself in a restaurant, which had pealing paint on the walls of an old house, but the food was remarkably good and I found myself enjoying the vegetarian fare. I spent quite a bit of time, tasting all the unusual dishes. Each time I looked away from the food, however, the waiter would snatch my plate, and I had to track him down so he would bring it back to me. I was especially interested in the white stuff that was served with the meal.

At 6:45 AM, Bill woke me up, and I told him about my dream. I told him it was so real, I felt like I was really in Punjab. I asked him about the white stuff I ate, and he told me it was curd. Bill went to India some years ago. As I got out of bed, I felt a tug, and discovered that my hair had been braided down my back. I never go to sleep with my hair braided, and can only conclude that someone else braided my hair in my dream. It certainly wasn’t me. It made me pause and wonder, did I really go there?

The Goddess Durga

She is the goddess of power and strength, is perhaps the most important goddess of the Hindus. She is a multi-dimensional Goddess, with many names, many personas, and many facets. This basket is dedicated to her. The stitch is a variation of the wheat stitch, and the center of the lid of the basket came from India.

Rain Again

It has rained so much in the past week and a half, that everything is overwhelmingly saturated. The Day Lilies in my back yard bravely faced the pounding rain, but the Geraniums succumbed, losing all their blooms. My cat, SeeKitty, endured the water, sitting on top of her box, under the back door awning. Her ears were flat most of the time, showing how weary she was from the weather. No cat likes to walk through so much water.  Being stuck indoors, I worked on my Green Goddess project, and finally finished it today. To my surprise, I found that she has two very different aspects of herself. The bright side, and the wild side. Here are some photos of what transpired through the deluge.

Some things flourished under the rain.