windthread

Beth asks about this little pouch.    Liz made it.    

an oh so soft moss grey green botanically marked thin thin silk.  The inside a mushroom ivory.  The sewing,  impeccable,  exquisite,  SO delicate     The tiny things you see as beads, Beth….are just the tiniest of stitches…I can easily imagine it in a glass display case in a museum .  really.    But it lives here,  among all these other things.   It's contents change now and then.  It holds very private thoughts and feelings,  loves,    sometimes I ask it to hold a fear

Maybe Liz can tell us more.

there  was        S U N     so Minnow and I went to B Garden    ON leash so she could be OFF  leash for a while and it's too soon to begin again so I just squatted here and there and in the lower left 5 x 5 ft corner…..These.    the profusion which must be every where but I don't see because they are browsed as they  fall     but….this Gift….. I filled my pockets.            Acorn Flour       

all those library books she borrowed….    she doesn't read one at a time,  but moves around among them.   Overheard her say to her mother…I need bookmarks.   I said…I'll make you some and then didn't.  Why?   like things are lately,  just didn't but today,  out of nowhere,   I did.   It felt good.   I made a bookmark.   I can say that.   

rooting through Evac basket looking for AAA batteries….way at bottom,    They're so soft

Lake Oroville rose over 4 ft.  in 24 hours.    10:34 pm   Puppy's   in.

nothing to see.     R A I N     

non stop.   Priority is Goats.   Minnow.   was difficult,   both.    it's the forecast ahead.   maybe some days there will be nothing here.   Trying to figure out a      plan       .

it arrived!   Beauty Full.   a work of art.   a work of      Love.    Everything about it….its  size,  its  format,  its  cover that looks and feels like a table cloth from the past….when those things mattered.   She loves.   She loves what she is writing about,  what she wants to tell us,  what she wants us to know.

we'll play it by ear.      

got there  by 8.   Was called to pick her up 1:45  .  This is about it.  it's   7 something.   I had to lift her out of the vehicle.  NO jumping of any kind.  Help her get in the one step inside here.    Her pile of stuff is just inside the door,  well,  everything is just inside the door…as,  inside    is just  inside.   She lay down.    I helped her up and out door and we walked,  one single step at a time  to the Curry House to feed Goats at 5.   On leash.   She stood ,   took a few steps  into the corridor,   came back and stood.   Finished,  we walked back one single step at a time,  helped her in and she's been as above since.    They sent her home with medication to keep her like this.    2 or 3 times a day as needed.   The playing by ear….  This is probably also part due to the anesthetic of surgery and also,  she is in pain.   And,  so we go.        Oh, Minnow….I wish we didn't need to do this……..

not about the surgery,  but about how we work it days following.   Her need to be   uhhhh, subdued.   Not anything she might ever imagine happening….what about her tennis ball?????????   Why won't I throw it?????????     There are at least several days ahead tho of 100%  rain…. when she'd be stuck inside anyway.   We'll do the best we can.  

this little pad.  She called it a tablet.  Looking for the instructions of the space heater…there it was…bottom back of the drawer.  I haven't seen it since New Mex.    Thought for sure it'd gotten lost in the shuffle.    

was my grandmother's.   My father,  grand father and a man named Mr. Curtis built the house we moved to,  from the apartment in Detroit,  when I was probably 6.   It was two story but the first was built into the hill,  it's front half,  only the windows above ground.  Back,  open.  Half of that downstairs was like an apartment where my grandparents lived.  My  father's parents.   Other half  garage,  work shop / laundry room.  In order to get there,  you had to walk through their living room and kitchen area.  In the narrow space of the kitchen there was a large ornate brass free standing bird cage.  It did have a dome cage cover but that was rarely in place.  It was just a  circle platform with a large perch.   Where Polly hung out.   My grandfather had worked on the Panama Canal as an electrician in the early years of their marriage.  Brought him back as a gift for my grandmother.  He was big.    Now and then when I was going through,  she would stop me.   Show me how if she gave him a pencil he would take it with his foot,  lift it and snap it in two with his beak.   On the way back through she'd stop me again and ask me if I wanted to shake hands with Polly.  The answer had to be yes.  So as instructed i'd extend my index finger and she would take hold of my hand,  lift it up and Polly would take it in his foot,  lean his head down,  the pupils of his eyes dilating/contracting rapidly …hesitate and then shake my hand ,  his crazy cackle  and say Hello.    My finger was the size of the pencil.   This same walk through area,  a drop leaf table with a drawer.   Where this pad and a few pencils were kept,  she sharpened the pencil with a pocket knife,  it's point was square and blunt.  When she'd write on the  little pad,  she'd first touch the point of the pencil to the tip of her tongue.  Was for her grocery list.  I always loved it.  Something about it.   I love it now.  same something about it.   3×5  an unrefined paper,  kinda the color of unbleached coffee filters,  and come to think of it,  the paper is kinda like that too.   Do these pads still exist?  Does anyone know?   Maybe it's the last one in the world.