flower and wasp

Painting

Been alone with the kids for a bit now, throwing out clutter, installing under-the-cupboard lights, tripping over kittens, rescuing injured chicks, dealing with flat tires - the usual things that happen when there's nobody to complain to. But finally, for the first time since mid-December, school schedules reasserted themselves and I had all of Monday to paint again. I laid down another wilted hibiscus from my garden, and then got on my tiptoes to take down my box of horrors - an old Altoids tin filled with dead bees and wasps I’ve been collecting while cleaning windowsills. It’s hidden on the top of a cabinet where the kids can't accidentally discover it and traumatize themselves, thinking it's candy.

Wasps fall under the category of That Shit is Haunted, like broken dolls and old televisions. I have an early, dreamlike memory of walking through very green woods and entering an old overgrown house filled with tall windows that pulled open from the tops, like hinged oven doors. The windows were dusty, the light was heavy, and on every surface - across the floor, along all the windowsills, filling the partially-opened window frames - were dead wasps. An impossible number of wasps, like they had filled the inside of the house and then fallen dead at the same moment. I have asked my mother about this memory, and she gets a faraway look on her face and says, "That sounds about right." Very helpful.


Knitting 

Waiting rooms are knitting rooms. Gavin is flying into snow with his robotics team this winter, and he needs a hat.

CO 146 stitches; chart from Japanese Knitting Stitch Bible

The stitch pattern looks like angry cats. He wants me to put pointy ears on the top instead of a pom-pom. Kid, I will knit you a full onesie if you ask me to.


and a very minor accomplishment

When the electricians re-wired the house, they didn't put a switch on the dining room side of the kitchen, so I've been slapping the wall where it ought to be for 4 years now. Instead of walking across the dark kitchen to get to the light switch, I've been performing a blindfold act with the coffee pot every morning. This week I finally installed a motion-activated light, and it has saved my early-rising life.

(boomerang gif, no actual strobing happening)

I have dreams of living in a cozy cottage with oil lamps and candles, but I also have dreams of not burning my house down, so this is where we are. The coziness factor improves if you say Lumos when you enter the kitchen.