Another Mini-Cation

Can't believe that Bob and I took our third trip out of town since May!  We're getting into the mini-vacations--meaning one night away.  The occasion for this was our 38th anniversary (!). For the last couple of weeks Bob has been asking what I wanted to do for our anniversary.  At the time I was arse-deep in summer camp and didn't have two brain cells to rub together, so my usual response was "oh, we can just go have dinner somewhere."  He said that we should do something--and he would plan it and take care of everything.

So what resulted was a plan to go to Pensacola for an overnighter--go to Ft. Pickens, the Naval Air Museum, and a couple of hobby shops that carry scale models.  Did I see a Bob-slant to this trip?  That's what I get for not participating in the process.

It's about a three hour drive there, and we spent a couple of hours at Ft. Pickens.  It would be easy to spend more--it really is an interesting place, some part of it 200 years old, and a lot of outlying batteries to explore.  But it's still running 100 degrees and it was bloody hot.  Maybe we'll go back for Bob's birthday--in January.

 The bricks in the older section were mortared with a limestone mixture.  Over the decades water has leached out the lime and created little stalactites.  Of course, this means that there's no longer anything holding the bricks together except for the arch construction that has them leaning on each other.  Walk softly.

So, hot and sweaty, we found a place to have ice cream, and then decided that getting to our hotel for a shower seemed like a good idea.  That's when I discovered the Ann-side to this trip.

Bob had booked a room at a beachside Hilton--with a double size jacuzzi tub in the room (that's right--not in the bathroom but in the bedroom).  We had a quick shower, went for a swim and then a walk on the beach, and out for a very nice seafood dinner.  Later that evening we toasted our anniversary with champagne and wonderful little wafer cookies that Amanda had sent us from Belgium--while sitting in the jacuzzi and watching "Project Runway."  The next morning we went out to the beach to watch the sunrise, and--what the heck--had room service deliver French toast for breakfast.

That Bob--he's a keeper.

Why My New Job Scares Me

Well, I'm starting my new job this term--curator of the historic clothing collection in my department. 

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

The collection was started in 1952 (the year of my birth--I hope I'm not in this big of a mess).  The focus of the collection apparently was "everything we can get our hands on" and that has remained the focus for almost 60 years.  I don't know if there has ever been a person whose primary assignment was to curate the collection (I know there hasn't been for at least 10 years).

 See those boxes in the second picture?  those are on top of stacks of drawers (which I can't get into because the racks are in the way, and there's no place to push the racks--all of which are crammed with stuff.  There are more cases under the boxes on the back wall, and to the left of the racks on the top picture.

In the bottom picture (the "office" area) every drawer and cabinet is crammed with stuff.  There is also stuff on shelves behind the curtains on the right (much of which I can't get to unless I move the desk).  Clothes, jewelry, and textiles are just lying around.

A rough estimate is that there are about 3000 garments, plus several hundred pairs of shoes and hats, a large number of quilts, a thousand textile samples, and who knows how much oddments (jewelry, vintage textile equipment, old tools, crochet hooks).  Tons of old pictures, magazines, and sewing patterns.  Newspaper clippings.  Boxes of stuff labeled "from anthropology department."

Each piece was suposed to have its own inventory form--and I keep finding those here and there, scattered around.  Many of the pieces are unlabeled and unidentified.

This is going to be interesting.  Isn't there a Chinese curse that goes "may you live in interesting times"?

Whew!!

Every year I swear that I'm not going to do summer camps at the museum.  And then, every year, I fold.  Just for the last two weeks.  Until then, the museum is usually able to hire elementary and middle school teachers.  But they all have to go back for teacher training before the school year starts--and that's before camp is over.  And then I'm faced with the "Ann, is there any way . . . .?"   I could, in theory, say no.  But I'm aware that Jennifer (my boss) would then be working the camps--and then doing her other work afterwards. 

Of course, considering camp to be a bit of an ordeal, I never think to bring a camera, so this will be a mostly photo-free blog.  Mostly I'm a spare driver at the camps--we take the kids to places like Alligator Point or the Marine lab, and then to Wakulla Spring to swim.  One day we took them to Gainesville to the teaching zoo and then to a bat conservancy--both fascinating places but a total of about 350 miles of driving.  The Goddess of Summer Camps was with me--there were three vans for the 14 campers.  10 of them should have been drowned at birth, and 4 of them were pretty good kids.  I got all four of the good ones . . .

There were some highlights--going canoeing and having manatees be inches away from the boats.  Going to the pet store to see wee baby snakes coming out of their eggs.  On very disturbing incident--we were swimming in the springs in Marianna, and a boy (not one of ours) tried to swim under the dock and nearly drowned.  Our kids were right there when the body was pulled out--already blue.  By the grace of God, one of the people who spotted him was a former medical corpsman, and knew what to do--but it wasn't pretty. 

But Goddess of Summer Camps or no, spending all day with kids, and much of it outside (heat index usually over 100) had me dragging my arse home at the end of the day.

When I wasn't at camp, I was at Chris's (Florida Wild Mammal Association) trying to help out with a deer.  Poor guy got hit by a car and hurt his back (and was left at the side of the road for three days).  Chris never gives up on an animal, and he's doing better.  She wanted a way to be able to hold him up, so Bob built a stantion and I made a sling.  First sling he jumped right out.  So I spent another full day there fitting him with a jacket (I took my sewing room with me in the car).  Almost got it right.  My third day there I finally made one that he can't get out of, and that can be buckled onto him while he's laying down.  And did I think to take the camera that third day???  Must go down there again.

And so that this post is not entirely bereft of pictures, here's Pookha being the Wild Jungle Cat of the loom (her new favorite perch).   And while I understand that it's been freakin' hot outside, I really wish Timmy the Squirrel wouldn't sleep like this (fuzzy picture--had to take it through the window).

A Tale of Two Socks

Some projects fight you all the way through.  Others go well from start to end (those make me nervous because I keep wondering when they'll go wrong).  Some start out with problems, then give up and give in and go well.  Some go well from the start and then turn on you. 

Mom's socks were in the last category.

Many years ago I knit her a fancy pair of wool and silk lace socks.  And they finally got a bit holey, so I figured it was time for another pair.

The spinning went well.  My post last December showed my setup of spinning wheel, book stand, and warm fire.  Knitting the first sock went well--despite the fact that my main knitting time is in the car when Bob and I are carpooling, which may not be the best time to try to knit lace with wee tiny size 0 needles.

The problem with knitting socks is that when you finish one, you have to turn right around and make another one.  Some people get around this by knitting both socks at the same time, either with two sets of needles or a weird convolution with both socks on a long circular needle.  One friend simply never bothers to make matching socks and just wears whatever two socks strikes her fancy at a time.

But I hoof it old school--finished one sock, cast on and started the next.  Everything was going well until I was about halfway through the foot and realized that I was knitting the lace all around instead of just the top of the foot.  Oops.  Nothing for it but to rip it out and start over--in a few weeks.  Guilt finally overcame annoyance and I started the second sock.  It went well--through the foot, over the heel, and halfway up the leg.  That ball of yarn ran out and I spliced in my second ball.  After three rows I realized that the second ball was spun much finer than the first, and the difference was obvious.  I laboriously unpicked the three rows and then eyeballed the too-skinny yarn--and decided that I could use it if I doubled it.  So I ran it through the wheel and got back to knitting.  It worked--because I know there's a difference, I can tell where the new yarn is, but I don't think anyone else could if I didn't point it out. 

But now there was another problem--by doubling the yarn, I had halved it's length.  As I knit along, the sock grew slowly and the wee ball of yarn shrank quickly.  I found myself doing marathon knitting, thinking that if I knit fast enough I would finish the sock before I ran out of yarn.  I *almost* made it--there's not quite as much ribbing on the second sock.

So I didn't quite get them finished by Christmas . . . . .   Mom will get them today.

Love ya, Mom.  Wear them in good health.

Border's Bookstore

Border's Bookstore is closing.

My first reaction was "but where will we go?"  For us, Border's is not so much a store as it is a place--our place.  For the past decade and some, our idea of a "hot date" has been to go to Border's for a cup of coffee and a wander through the books.  Every errand trip into town has included a stop at Border's.  We have our prescriptions done at the CVS next to Border's, so we can take a browse while waiting for them to be filled.

If we're running errands and end up with time to kill before the next appointment, we go to Border's.  We go there to reward ourselves after a trip to the dentist or doctor.  I've spent hours there knitting with my friends.  If Bob wants to go to a gun show, Border's will baby-sit me until he is through.  If I'm feeling down, I can have a steamer (warm milk with flavoring).  If it's a weekend, then we go for the latte with the flavorings and whipped cream and sprinkles on top.

We're not alone in mourning the loss.  I've overheard people in the store saying that it's like going to a funeral, or losing a friend.  Today was the last day that the cafe was open--the last day I get a coffee there and wander through the books.  The store itself will be closing soon.  I hear things like "where will I study for finals"?  "Where will I play chess?"  "Where will I spend my lunch breaks?"  It has been a haven for so many.

It's hard to accept that it's not our place, or a community center, or a haven.  It's a store.  And what I haven't heard is "where will I buy books and magazines?"

We've seen a lot of abuse of the store.  People who bring in food and drink from somewhere else and settle at the tables to enjoy the air conditioning and free internet connection.  People who look over the books, decide what they want, and then go home to do an internet search to buy it cheaper online.  People who sit comfortably and read a magazine cover-to-cover and then put it down and walk away.

Being a haven doesn't pay the bills.  The store is closing.

But where will I go?

Summertime

Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion often says that "heat makes you stupid."  As a Southerner living in a hot clime, I should be insulted--or at least protest.  But I can't, in any honesty.  I can add that it also makes you lazy.

It's just that as the temps climb into the 90's and nudge the three digits, you really just don't feel like doing anything, including thinking.  Yes--air conditioning exists.  But for the most part, to save the environment  (that's the noble excuse--the real reason is to avoid sticker shock when the power bill comes in) the thermostats are set high.  So you're not exactly comfortable cool inside (except for those places who get too carried away with the AC and you find yourself shivering).

For the past six weeks I've been teaching in the mornings--I teach, do any grading or prep for the next day, have lunch with Bob, and was usually home by 2:00.  In theory, this gave me my afternoons to do anything I wanted--I could spin, weave, sew, read, whatever.

What I did was take a nap.  I was usually in a stumbling stupid, walk-into-walls state by the time I got home and just wanted to get flat on my face for awhile.

Hence--not much to blog about.

About the only good thing about summer is the fresh tomatoes.  Bob's done a great job with the garden, and before I've fallen on my face with I get home I usually stumble out to water the plants.  We've been gorging on tomatoes as much as possible--sliced, on pizza, the famous BLT salad (the components of a BLT sandwich in salad form--croutons, bacon (with the bacon grease poured on the croutons), tomatoes (some of them fried briefly in the bacon fat to bring out the juices), chopped romaine, and a bit of vinagrette.  Despite all of this, I've had to make one batch of roasted tomato sauce, and will make another batch this weekend.

So that's about it for the last couple of weeks.  I've spent a couple of days at the farm at the museum, spinning cotton, have started winding the warp so that I can weave the cotton, done a bit of knitting on Mom's sock (I had finished one, and then got halfway through the next before realizing tha I made a bad mistake and had to rip it all out.  Just threw it aside for awhile but it's back on the needles again.  School is out and I'm doing programs for the musuem.   The little opposums are out in the release cage--they're be on their on soon.  But mostly it's been tomatoes and naps.



Mini Vacation

Bob wanted to go to a scale model convention at Warner Robbins AFB today.  It's about a four hour drive away.  In theory we could have hit the road about 5 this morning, been there when it opened at nine. spent a few hours there, and then driven the four hours home.

The heck with that.  We scooted out of work early yesterday, drove up, and found a motel about five minutes from the convention.  Which was at the Air Force museum--which was on the Air Force base.  We both felt a little nostalgic driving past the base--we both spent our formative years behind those chain-link fences.

I waited in the car while Bob checked into the motel--it took awhile, because he came out and said he had to chat up the Filipina desk clerk.  Bob, with his love of the Philippines, manages to find his homeys everywhere (side note: "homey" dates to the time of the Underground Railroad.  Escaped slaves who had left everything they had ever known were always so happy if they ever found anyone who had lived in the same town and knew the same people--someone from home). Gladys pointed us out to a Filipino restaurant--more homeys for Bob and an excellent dinner for both.  I had a pork kare kare--a soup with a peanut broth (rather like a pad Thai sauce), pork, eggplant and bok choy.  Delicious.  Bob enjoyed his pork ribs and fried rice, but kept stealing my soup as well.

We went to the convention this morning.  About a dozen vendors--small compared to the 200+ vendors at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival last month, but enough to please Bob and empty his wallet a bit.  There was also a model contest--Bob scoped out the competition this year and might enter something next year.  We (of course) had to wander around the museum and the static display of aircraft outside.  Bob took some pictures for Dad.

 Lunch after all this was at a Vietnamese restaurant.  I have heard of pho, but never tried it before--it's a soup.  The important part is the broth--then there are add-ins.  Now I know what people are talking about--I'm not sure what was in the broth, but it was amazing.  Bob had beef pho and I had seafood.  A nice touch is that you're given a plate of fresh herbage (cilantro, thai basil, bean sprouts, and a lime wedge) to add to the soup after your served, so they don't cook, just add perfume and crunch.      

                                                                 

And then home.  We were only gone about 30 hours, but it felt like a vacation.  We saw some new things, had a couple of good ethnic meals, and Bob even managed to get a few goodies to play with.