technical difficulties on my phone

Last night I had countless texts on my phone: political ads, buying-related, etc.  I had intended to trash a chunk of them, but I accidentally pushed "Junk."

So if you should text me and I don't answer, please give me a call or an email until I get a chance to call AT&T and figure out how to fix it.

Progress Report and Somewhere South

Pam has been telling me about Somewhere South on PBS for a long time.  I finally found it last night and it's delightful, whether you're fromThe South proper or elsewhere.  I started watching it last night in my casita bedroom and I'm hooked.  I learned that the town of Clarkston, Georgia, is the most diverse in the nation, in terms of different nationalities living there!  Who knew?

The first episode is about greens, farmers markets, a Native American homecoming feast, and the different ways that people cook greens.  While it focuses on collards,  I never knew there were so many edible greens. All nationalities plants their own greens in gardens that replicate the cooking styles of their homelands and teach the host of the show how they cook them. What we call "Southern cooking" is actually a mix of Native American and Black cultures' cuisine.

When I can travel again, I want to visit so many of the places covered in this delightful show, each episode an hour.  If you're a passport member of PBS, and perhaps even if you're not, you can watch it online.

My bathroom is completely bare and smells of concrete, so I am about to take my first shower in years.  I'm a tub soaker, and the new bathtub in my driveway is being installed this morning.  At the moment, I have a yard ornament of the old toilet in my front yard--because the people who bought the vanity also want it and are coming, I hope, to pick it up today.

Otherwise, Jan may do what she did years ago when the old toilet was the new toilet--bring flowers to  "plant" in the old one then on the porch!

A recommendation for anyone buying tile in San Antonio

I was so lucky to find The Tile Shop on de Zavala Road and the designer there, Trish Merrill!

She helped me choose exactly the tiles I need to go around my Mexican tile focal point and my bathroom floor--and I'm all set and ready to go!  They won't be here until next Thursday, but I'm willing to wait in order to work with someone who actually draws a plan out on paper and answers my questions so thoroughly.

In contrast to the place where I bought the focal point tiles, Trisha is an artist with color and we chose a rich blue Talavera for the tub and a blue for the floors with pre-sealed white grout.

The tub demolition begins late afternoon, so I'm going to get my book and "assume the position," as Betty says--for a reading/napping afternoon!

Vanity of Vanities

Carlos said I should sell my vanity on Facebook.  While I'd sold a couple of pieces of furniture on Next Door, I'd never tried Facebook, so I figured why not?

It's just a black vanity with a sink and faucets, so I took a picture and posted it, easy peasy.

I had over a hundred requests to buy it.  I messaged  the first person to say that it was hers, then I went about my business. When I got back from bathtub buying, I had over 100 requests to buy it, but Person #1 never came. So I went to Person #2 who promises he's coming today.

To the remaining potential buyers, I wrote "Somebody said she was coming to buy it, but if she doesn't show up, I'll change it back to Available."  I copied and pasted it 99 times!

By then, more offers were rolling in and one man begged me to sell it to him, he "really needed it and could come right away and get it" and he'd pay me twice the asking price. I texted back that I'd already promised it to somebody.

About half the requests were in Spanish.  "¿Sigue disponible?" and one added, "Me puede mandar la direccion estoy interezada."

One said, "I gotta have it right now and I will be at your house as soon as you tell me where." Another described her bathroom in detail and said how perfect it would look in there.

The first one, the one who didn't come,  later wrote me long message telling me how sorry she was for not coming but that her husband had told her the phone bill "had just came" and they couldn't afford it anymore. I'd have given it to her, but by then I'd promised it to the next person.

One was upset when I wrote that it had sold.  "I messaged you every five minute on Saturday but you didn't write me back."--as if I'd be right there on Facebook waiting all day.

Another said, " I already got up and dressed and got the truck ready to go get it LOL but that's okay."

Thus ends my foray into sales.

Next time I'll go back to my usual way of letting something go:ask around, see if anybody wants it, then put it on the curb and whoever finds it finds it.

Markers of a day--second post of the morning

My Saturday was filled with tubs and tiles and towels.  First I went to Lowe's and spent an hour talking bathtubs with Gary--though we mostly talked about our shared perspectives on political disaster and hopes for a change in November.  Since I wanted cast iron, not acrylic, I had to drive to another Lowe's on 1604 to get the one I wanted.

Then Sebastien and Makken delivered me a yummy piece of chocolate birthday cake from Sebastien's 12th birthday.  Makken demonstrated his new skill of twirling a baton--oh how I wish I had taken pictures!  They celebrated an early morning "breakfast with the giraffes" at the zoo--which sounds so delightful I want to do it myself.  (One of my favorite folk art pieces in my house is a large wooden pink giraffe I brought home from one of my trips years ago.)

My Sunday began with a chat with Jan and a trip to Whataburger for my morning coke and visit with Andy and Persephone.  You have to get up really early to be friends with these two wonderful people as they work the night shift.

Then I watched Galia's art class which led to other good videos on her website, Art is Magic.  And a podcast link to an interview on "On Being With Krista Tippet."

https://onbeing.org/programs/jonathan-rowson-integrating-our-souls-systems-and-society/

Then I sent a Happy Birthday email to Frank, remembering the day we met when he and my then-husband were tossing frisbees into Medina Lake for Tony to retrieve over and over.  Tony never tired of going into the lake after frisbees and those two men never tired of throwing them.  The two men in this story were twenty five and I was 18--so we go way back.  I have so many good memories with Frank and Joy!

Galia Alena, Art is Magic

For the past three weeks, I've been feeling a little guilty: I haven't touched my luscious art supplies or my camera--except for the one on the iPhone to take pictures of tubs and tiles.  It seems like I should be using what I have to make things! (I can hear Kate saying, "Don't should all over yourself!")

For two years, I've been watching weekly art classes by different teachers on Wanderlust.  Sometimes I actually attempt something similar to what's being taught, sometimes I just enjoy watching.

Some classes I've liked a lot, others not so much, but on the whole, it's been a good introduction to different materials, techniques, and teaching styles. I preferred Wanderlust 2019 to the one in 2020 on the whole, though both have given me valuable nudges and ideas.

As this week's teacher, Galia Alena, says, "Nothing is wasted."

What I'm loving about her class is a kind of authenticity and intimacy that feels so right for these months we're all living through.  She opens with short videos of nature, then she talks about her year of tragedies: the Australian bush fires that caused her to have to move out of her home several times, the unexpected death of her mother, and the stresses we all share during Covid 19.

She speaks quietly and slowly--which calms me and grounds me, in  contrast to the hyper-energetic voices on the news.  Her class opens with images of nature, the leaves and flowers around her house in Australia, her fluffy cat.  We never see her face, only her hands on the table with paints and papers and inks.

She admits to having a creative block during Covid, but she prefers to call it a "creative cycle,"--a time of just being in the moments, not feeling stressed about production.  Each morning, she plays music and makes marks that express her response to the music.  "This is not art, this is not for show, this is for me," she says.

And so, in the spirit of Galia, on the last day inside my house before the demolition of the bathroom tomorrow, and happy with the hope of rain, I'm turning off my ringer and relaxing in my bed, with three equally good books to read, a chapter in one, then the other, sleeping and waking and feeling no pressure to do anything but what I choose in each moment.

I made a roast in my little purple crock pot, so all I need to do now is cook some potatoes and squash to round out my lunch when the time comes.

The Four Seasons Lodge

The extraordinary documentary on Amazon called The Four Seasons Lodge follows a group of Holocaust survivors who have come together every summer for 26 years in the Catskills of New York.  As children, they were all left without any family or homes.  They kept in touch and remained close their entire lives and returned to the colony to tell stories, celebrate, "eat cake with passion," and dance.

I'd planned to just watch a few minutes and go to bed early because tomorrow is my watering day, and here it is, 2:00 in the morning.

My Pen Pal

Recently, Elena said, "I know Nana and Granddaddy, but I never have seen pictures of Granddaddy Mark and Grandmama."

So I found some pictures and sent them to her--one taken at my wedding in 1967, the other on my 40th birthday.

These few words (along with a little gem she included stapled inside a green index card) thrilled me!
This was Elena's first letter.  She asked her parents every day if I had gotten it, and when I let them know it had arrived, she smiled her big Elena smile and asked if we could be pen pals.

Elena's letter and Jackson's phone call were the gems of the week.  Jackson called to tell me he'd gotten a job at Auto Zone and a scholarship for his first two years of college at NOVA.  Since most of his classes will be online, he's chosen to live at home and go to a junior college the first two years, then transfer to UVA starting his junior year.

Today I bought a tub, a toilet, bathroom fixtures.  Tomorrow I will decide on the color of tiles to surround the blue ones.  Saturday, the old tub comes out and the new one goes in.

It's been a happy and productive day!

Wrong answer, Universe!

Some people say you just have to wish or visualize--and voila, "your wish is my command" and all......

In my case, the wrong wish got cast into the wind by mistake--or maybe (she said hopefully) it just got garbled a bit on the first run.

When I got back from my window visit with Andy and Persephone at the Whataburger at 4 a.m., always a bright spot in my midnight forays, I arrived  to two furry creatures on my front deck, neither of which was remotely canine and for neither could I tick the box for lap-sitting, not in this lifetime.

Skunk was just poking around while Raccoon was trying to conjure the sweet scent left on the stones to rise up and be cake again.  (Yesterday, I'd tossed some cake into the yard for the birds and one big clump had fallen on the deck.)

I sat in the car for a while listening to NPR, opened and closed my car door to make noise, turned the headlights on and off, and finally, Raccoon scampered off.

Skunk scampered off as well, but she went under the car, stupid skunk, and when I got out of the car and ran to the front door, she ran right along with me, a blur of black and white.  I couldn't bear to look.

At least she didn't choose to spray me, though her scent lingers outside by the washing machine.

The Yellow House, by Sarah Broom, Part 1

I found a sample of this memoir on my Kindle.  I don't recall ordering it.  Maybe I heard Sarah Broom interviewed on NPR and ordered it.  Maybe someone suggested it.  Anyway, today, as I await the plumber, this is where I'm spending this Wednesday.

The best thing about books on paper is that they are present and visible before and during and after reading them.  You can touch them and write in them and flip back and forth with ease.  If I order a sample and like the book, I try to get it on paper instead of reading on the Kindle, so this is definitely one I'm going to get.

It starts "after the Waters" in New Orleans.  It starts when Sarah, the youngest child of a dozen, looks at the remains of the house in which she grew up, The Yellow House.

July 22 Puppy Fever

I've been having fantasies about puppies and reading dog posts on Craigslist.
Yesterday I broached the subject with my dog-sponsor, Kate--who has always tried to distract me when I start talking dogs.

Then she showed me a picture of an adorable caramel colored Llaso Apso she used to have and it totally worked against her message and fluffed up my desire for a cutey like Thunder.

So I started doing research.  When I'm in the throes of a project, I typically go on tangents like this, a multitasking researcher.   I'd be a hard woman to live with, all over the map as I am, but so far nobody's asked to move in.

Interesting fact: during the pandemic, dogs are hard to find.  Lots of people, like me, must be wanting a furry companion.

I bought a mutt from a pet shop a few days before Day was born.  Cutest little bundle of joy I'd ever seen.  Black (his name) didn't just wag his tail, he wagged his whole curly black self.  The pet shop people said he was probably a mix of poodle and collie--but this was long before designer dogs and he only cost $15.  Unfortunately, Black didn't live but a short time--as our then-landlord ran over him.  I was too heavy to pick him up, so somebody said, "I'll get him," but either that somebody didn't, or Black wriggled out of the car unseen on that terrible dark night.

Before that, we sold wedding silver to buy an adorable German Shepherd puppy.  We named him Tony after our new city, San Antonio.  This dog was so smart, handsome, and strong.  Nobody would even consider messing with me if Tony was around. He had a fierce growl and was very protective of me.  He lived for 11 years and finally met his end by under the wheels of a car.  But during his long happy life, I used to say that he shed so much that I swept up the equivalent of a puppy every single day.

When I was pregnant with Will, my parents bought me a Siberian Husky puppy, Sasha--a gorgeous blue-eyed hyperactive puppy who also met his end under a car.

The last dog we had was Ivan, a blue heeler--but I left Helotes before he did.  A spirited rather ugly dog, I loved him to pieces!  He, like all the others, went everywhere with me in the car.  True to his breed, he tried to herd everything he saw, even cars, but remarkably he lived almost 19 years and died of natural causes.

In those days, we rarely went looking for a dog--except Tony, Sasha, and Black.

Cookie and Pollo, two identical white terriers, a decade apart, Ivan, and countless others came to our door uninvited and stayed for years. In the country, people would drop off unwanted dogs at our driveway and they'd wander up the long driveway to our house.

It's totally impractical for me to get a dog--but just for fun, I'm making up the one I want:

1. She's intelligent and affectionate.
2. Not too rambunctious, not a chewer of toes and furniture, and not too hyper.
3. He likes to sleep with or near me, but doesn't wake me in the middle of the night.
4. She (or he)  mostly likes to sit in my lap and be petted.
5. He has the joyous spirit like Black and a protectiveness like Tony and Ivan.
6. Midsize, my dog won't shed too much, preferably not at all, and will smell good.

Kate said, "Linda, what you really need is a stuffed animal!"

So be it.

But if the just-right dog should show up on my porch, what could I do but invite him in so we could check each other out?

July 21

It's hard to know what to say anymore about the state of the country.  Today's episode of terrorism by president includes secret armed federal police wearing camouflage uniforms are grabbing peaceful protestors and shoving them into unmarked cars.

Mary Trump said that the country is playing out the pathology of the Trump family, a family who will do anything, even to each other, for money. Since there is little we can do about any of it besides voting, I'm willing to stand in line as long as it takes to cast my vote for Democrats, and I'm counting the days.

In the meanwhile, in and out of the blues, I'm choosing blue Talavera tiles to turn my bathroom into what Linda Kot calls "Midnight in the Oasis." Sometimes, I feel like I'm fiddling while America burns.

Even in the madness, however, there are moments of beauty and friendship and love--and that's what I'm trying to focus on.

Today is the 23rd anniversary of the death of my adorable grandmother, Mimi.  Here she is in her nineties. I loved spending a week each summer with her.  Besides watching her cook, watching Lawrence Walk with her and Papa, and helping her hang clothes on the line, we'd have a shopping day in Macon and eat lunch at the S&S Cafeteria.  I don't actually recall her buying anything, but she'd patiently walk with me through several stores as I chose souvenirs with my dollar saved for the occasion.  (If you played it right, a dollar could get you two or three things, including a book.)

Tile report

Projects are rolling along.
Today I went to Reeso's Mexican Tile, Floor and Decor, The Tile Shop, and Casa Linda (Bonnie's dad's shop in Helotes), then back to Reeso's, then home.

I've decided on Mexican tile for the shower.  Turns out, Carlos' plumber is my plumber, Tony--both referrals from Kate--and he's ready to demolish the old tub and bring in the new one.  All I have to do tomorrow is go choose a tub.

At Reeso's, the clerk said, "I can't wait for the election!  My husband and I will go rent a hotel room on election night, our favorite date night!"

"I can't wait either," I said.

"Maybe when Trump gets elected we can stop wearing these ridiculous masks!"

Life is like a box of tiles.  You never know what you're going to get!

This is either where I'll land or someplace close.  So far, a band of this on an off-white solid cream is my favorite, but I'm going back to the Tile Shop tomorrow for another look-see.

July 16th

When this pandemic is over, I hope to return to sleeping at night and being awake during the day.  In spite of the constancy of terrible news, I find a bit of balancing pleasure in seeing my news-bringers  in their homes.  I like scrutinizing their book shelves to see what they are reading. I like seeing what they have around them, the colors, the art, the kitchens. People somehow seem more humanized in their natural environments.

John Heilemann is a frequent guest on MSNBC.  He always talks from an immaculate white kitchen, and there's always a fresh pineapple or a bowl of pineapples on his bar.  Yesterday, as he spoke, his two enormous furry dogs were there, one on each side.  When he leaned down to kiss one of them, I thought, "This must be the sweetest moment I've ever seen on cable news."  When he signs off, he puts his hands together in the gesture of Namaste.

I'm betting these experienced journalists never dreamed they would spend so much air time on a man like the current resident of the White House (110 days til voting might bring a turn in the tides!).

In the meanwhile, I'm profiling the news bringers based on their decor and books.  It's amazing how little it takes to amuse me right now!

July 14th

Few things are more invigorating than a project, and I've landed myself a new one, remodeling my bathroom.

I started by calling Kate to find out who she's hiring to refinish her antique bathtub.  Mine's not an antique, just a standard cast iron one of the Fifties, original to this house, but it needs refinishing and painting every few years.

The first time I had it painted, I asked Hudson--my then-neighbor and handyman--if I could just buy a new tub.

"No," he said.  "Nobody can get that big cast iron tub out the door. And you can't change the tiles either.  The back of the tub is the wall of your living room.  If you take out that tub, it will ruin the whole wall."

At that time, twenty or so years ago, I knew next to nothing about walls and tiles and pipes, but his words stuck in my mind.  I never again considered it. (What men mean when they say "it can't be done" is often "I don't know how to do it"--but I didn't know that at the time.)  

Kate sent me Carlos, her long-time handyman.

"Will he wear a mask?" I asked.

"Sure he will.  He's a Democrat!" she said.

Carlos is not only a Democrat and a mask wearer, he blew right past the Hudson obstacle. "Sure, we can change the tub and the tile, no problem."

So I proceeded to make plans: new vanity, new floor, new tiles, and I was up til 4 in the morning planning and online shopping.  While nobody but me is likely to see it for a long time, I'm going to enjoy the process and the fresh new bathroom.

The lesson of the day is: Always get a second opinion.

Friday, July 10

It was kind of surreal, men and women in masks standing in line to vote, some leaning against the Lion's Club building.   My car thermometer read 100.

I parked right next to a woman canvassing for a "Conservative Christian" candidate.  She smiled at me and held her banner a little higher.

"If you're a conservative...."

"No way," I said, moving toward the line.

When I went back to my car, she was ready:   "I used to believe like you, but I lost my hand."  She held up where a hand should be, covered with a big sock.  "And a finger on this hand," she added.

I couldn't figure out what her missing hand had to do with my beliefs, or hers, so I just said, "I'm so sorry."

She walked toward me, close, too close.  Even after I closed the door, she continued talking through the open window:

"It's because I used to eat non-organic food," she said.  "Like Bill Miller's and McDonald's.  I can always tell who's Democrat or Republican because Republicans look healthier. We conservatives are much more educated about nutrition and we know that the food most people eat is poisonous, filled with DTD and pesticides and Agent Orange."

Agent Orange???

"Also we pray a lot...."

July 9. (116 days left until election)

Scott and Bailey are my imaginary friends this week of bingeing.  I love the way they solve the murders, but even more the behind-the-scenes of two women who are both work partners and best friends.  They both make their share of mistakes, but what I like is that they tell each other their own mistakes and move on.  Except for one incident that lingered for a few episodes, they always make up.

Sometimes getting lost in a long series is exactly what the doctor might order--but right now, I'm pretty much my own doc.

The worse the news gets, the less I want to go anywhere at all.  But I can go to England or Denmark or wherever Amazon or Netflix takes me.

Being absolutely alone for 17 weeks can wreak havoc on mental health if you let it, so I'm finding respite in paint, a puzzle and plots--those and the saving grace of the telephone.

Betty told me about this puzzle.  I now have the circumference done and the horse and rider in the middle.  I like it a lot

July 8th

July 8th--must be a Wednesday cause the recycling bins were out this morning.

A line I just snagged from Scott and Bailey:

Bailey to Scott: "I know I'm talking bollocks!"

Scott: "No you're not, you're telling some great big truth here.  And when you tell a great big truth, it sometimes sounds like...."

Scott and Bailey in unison:  "Bollocks."

July 1st

I notice on my computer screen that it's July already.  We're now almost four months in to wearing masks when we go out.

I slept from about midnight to 2 a.m. and was awakened by a yucky dream.  Instead of going back to sleep, I watched Lyn Belisle's class again, Postcards to Myself.  It was the best online class I've taken, even more so after  making eight postcards. In it,  Lyn gives so many lessons that are applicable to larger and different projects.

The idea is to make a large intuitive collage on an 11 x 14 mat board, then place 5 x 7 mat openings over sections of the large one to choose the portion you want to cut to size.   For a novice like me, this is such a good way to go.  For $18, this course covers composition, encaustics, and so much more I needed to know.

By the time I'd watched it all, I decided to go ahead and go get my morning coke and then go back to bed.  On the car news, I heard someone say, "Everybody is miserable right now...."

I'd agree that all of us are miserable sometimes, but on the whole, as long as I'm learning and working on new projects, I'm rarely miserable.  In fact, I can get so absorbed in a collage or watercolor that the day flies by.

Creativity, in all its myriad forms, is the way, I think, to enjoy solitude--whether it's enjoying other people's books and music and paintings, or making a stab at doing your own.

We are limited in going out--which can be hard. (I really would love to take a road trip or have a delicious meal in a restaurant or invite some friends over for a game of cards.)  But as I've learned from some of my teachers and my own experience, sometimes limitations open up interesting possibilities.  I hope you're all having a creative day!