This is my kind of gardening. No dirty fingernails. No sweating. No bending over. I realize I don't have a big variety of flowering things in my garden. I probably should branch out but I really prefer mystery plantings that I make up in my head. Sometimes I even add a few beads. Seed beads...
I find this activity very relaxing in light of the fact that everything outside of my Treehouse gardening shed is one giant compost pile.
So, Mr. Gadget and I live in a very nice condo complex that sits right on a state road. There was lots of traffic when we moved in, but a bypass was in the works that soon diverted most of it. For some reason the weekend motorcyclists prefer the old road. I guess they like to mosey. Although they do occasionally take the bypass to see how many decibels they can crank up when the police are on a coffee break. Either way the noise can ruin a good nap.
Then there are the chickens. They belong to the residents of a small house just to the south side of our development. We're on the north side--which is fine with me because I like to sleep till 7:30. That's long after the rooster begins his cockadoodles. There are also ducks and a small flock of turkeys. Sometimes they all join in song. We've wondered if there'll soon be goats, but so far so good. Although I don't mind admitting I like to watch baby goats when they jump and prance. I'd have to take my lawn chair down there in that case.
Yesterday we noticed two porta-potties and a tent in their barnyard. Immediately I thought maybe the circus was coming to town. Then I considered other possibilities: a party, a wedding, or a good old- fashioned revival. I think I'll stay on the lookout for elephants just in case...
Here's my grumpy old lady doll in progress. She looks like I feel, except she needs an angrier face. I can fix that. Haven't we all just had enough? We need a fairy godmother. Or maybe a fairy dogmother. I saw that on the side of a truck this morning. I don't care which. One or the other. Someone who can wave a magic wand and make our current depressing state of affairs go away.
This is one of two dolls from a pattern by Sweet Meadow Farm. I bought it a long time ago with the idea of making the pair to sit in my grandma's old rocking chair. And now that I have no plans or deadlines....or cruises.....I have plenty of time to make these ladies. And, hopefully, I'll get them finished before I am one of them. Oh, wait a minute....
This one kinda reminds me of my grandma--the mother of dear ol' dad. She lived up the street from us during my growing-up years. She had two friends who lived with her--one who she'd known since childhood--and they had the babysitting monopoly in town. When they got so busy they couldn't accommodate their regulars, grandma would tell them, "but I have a granddaughter..." That's how I amassed my impressive record collection.
Grandma always wore a flowered dress and little old lady shoes (size 4-1/2). At one time those shoes were quite the thing among young women and she donated a couple of pair to my sister. How she was able to fit into them I don't remember, but they did have open toes. Grandma always carried a handbag with a ball of crochet thread and a hook. She never went anywhere without her handwork. Rarely do I either. We were alike in many ways, well, except for the flowered dresses.
After Grandma was widowed she learned to drive. The job of teaching her fell to my dad--bless his heart! Grandpa had left her with a big old Plymouth sedan with a stick shift, and a skinny driveway with two hills. Eventually she mastered the task--at least well enough to pass her driving test and to drive all of her friends to the senior citizens center once a week. I don't remember ever riding with her. After all, I had records to listen to.
A few years ago I was sitting around reminiscing with some of my relatives. My dad's cousin happened to mention that my grandma had a reputation in the family for being a little ditzy. I certainly don't remember that about her. She was just Grandma who gave nice hugs, had a big toy box in her hall closet, and baked chocolate chip cookies. Who knows what they'll say about me after I'm gone. Is ditziness genetic I wonder?
Back when I was making dolls, I had a character for almost every holiday. They all started with the same basic doll pattern and then I accessorized to suit the character. I got lots of mileage out of that pattern. In fact, I had to duplicate it several times because it got tattered and worn. It's one of the reasons I save paper grocery bags. They work well when I need to make a pattern because they hold up well to lots of pinning.
Sometimes I'd get a request for a different sort of character. I made a lion once. Then there was a teddy bear and a gingerbread man, and a pilgrim couple. One of my favorites was a red hat lady.
I accumulated quite a collection. Several are pictured in my blog banner.
I eventually ran out of gas for making these dolls--which I referred to as the beanbags for their weighted bottoms and chubby appearance. But I still have all of my patterns and I could jump back in whenever the mood strikes me.
So Mr. Gadget and I have decided to skip our annual summer trip to the Calcondo. With the virus being under control here in Connecticut, and threatening to run amok in California, it seemed like a wise decision We've alerted our neighbors and made arrangements for our car to be exercised. I'm sure the spiders will be settling in. If they decide to have a party, we're hoping they'll leave the wine alone.
And now, as if the virus wasn't enough, we're hunkering down for Tropical Storm Faye. She's making her way north. Mr. Gadget thinks only of the potential for a power outage and the likelihood of being without his gadgets. I, on the other hand, think of it as an opportunity to sit in my recliner, read my Kindle, enjoy some snack meals, and crank up the camp lantern. "Think of it as an adventure!" I enthusiastically suggest.
He's gone off to the man cave to sulk.
