Warm Wools for the Long Watch

I have joined a knitting group called the Irvington Fiberistas. We meet twice a month at the neighborhood library. It's quite interesting to see what everyone is knitting and there's always lots of helpful advice.

One night someone dropped off several boxes of knitting books and patterns that had belonged to an aunt. Ah, just what I love! I spent most of the evening digging through the boxes and found some treasures.

Here is a Minerva knitting booklet dated 1942 - during World War II. I couldn't photograph all the pictures, but here are a couple of the dashingly handsome men from 1942.

Here is another one "Knit for Victory!" Warm wools for the long watch.

This book is Copyright 1943.

Love these, but I doubt I will attempt to knit any of them!

St. Patrick's Day Parade 2012

After picking A up from Kindergarten on Friday, we headed downtown to the St. Patrick's Day parade. A's daddy was going to be in the parade, driving the fire truck for the police and fire chiefs. We stopped at McD's for a quick lunch and found a place to park close to the parade route. Then we sat on the curb and watched the parade go by. I love this picture of A's pretty hair with the Irish streamers.
It was very exciting when the fire truck came by with A's daddy driving!

Several roller derby girl groups rolled by doing tricks and dressed in outlandish costumes.

I got a kick out of this vintage fire truck with all the people hanging on.

And this was one scary-looking clown. I think she was a he.

Couldn't have a parade without kilts and bagpipes!

This picture was taken after the parade of A and her handsome daddy - so cute.

It was a lovely St. Paddy's Day in Indy - over 80 degrees in March! Crazy!

Cloudy

I was driving home the other day when a pattern in the clouds caught my eye. I grabbed my camera and shot these pictures out of the window. I'm not sure the computer does them justice, but it was quite dramatic!
And ever since, I can't get the Simon and Garfunkel song "Cloudy" out of my head, and it's 1969 all over again.

Cloudy

The sky is grey and white and cloudy

Sometimes I think it’s hanging down on me

And it’s hitchhike a hundred miles

I’m a ragamuffin child

Pointed finger-painted smile

I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while

Cloudy

My thoughts are scattered and they’re cloudy

They have no borders, no boundaries

They echo and they swell

From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell

Down from Berkeley to Carmel

Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill

Hey, sunshine

I haven’t seen you in a longtime

Why don’t you show your face and bend my mind?

These clouds stick to the sky

Like a floating question--why?

They linger there to die

They don’t know where they’re going, and, my friend, neither do I

Cloudy

Cloudy

Sweet Heart Songs

The other night I was browsing at the kind-of-scary Goodwill Store, where you sort through the jumble on the tables (lots of people wear gloves), and you pay by the pound, when I came across this old songbook.

Here is the front cover. Here is the back cover.
And in between are age-stained pages of old love songs, such as "Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes", "Silver Threads Among The Gold", and "I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen".
Every once in awhile there are ads for

Sweet Heart Toilet Soap.
There is no copyright date and it's not in the greatest shape, but I'm so glad someone saved it all these years, just for me to find.
Love it!

The Shoebox

THE TIME

There is a time for some things,

and a time for all things;

A time for great things

And a time for small things.

Cervantes

I have been picking Avery up from Kindergarten a couple of times a week since her Mom got a new job.

Today I brought a shoebox full of old pictures - pictures of her daddy and her uncle as little boys, pictures of her brothers as babies, a few of her own baby pictures.










The pictures were thoroughly examined and many questions were asked.

I snapped these photos and she didn't even notice. These pictures will make a nice memory some day, too.

What's In My Journal?

WHAT'S IN MY JOURNAL

Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean

Things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.

But marbles,too. A genius for being agreeable.

Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous

Discards. Space for knicknacks, and for

Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beatify.

Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected

Anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind

That takes genius. Chasms in character.

Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above

A new grave. Pages you know exist

But you can't find them. Somebody's terribly

Inevitable life story, maybe mine.

William Stafford, from "Crossing Unmarked Snow".

Super Bowl 2012!

I do not like sports. I do not follow football, basketball, baseball or soccer. But this year my hometown hosted the Super Bowl, and I have to admit it was quite exciting.

Here is a picture of Lucas Oil Stadium taken on Sunday night just as the game was starting. A shot of Indianapolis' skyline at sunset the same evening.
Super Bowl Village in downtown Indianapolis began 10 days before the Super Bowl. There was so much hoopla about it, I couldn't wait to see what was going on, so one day I took the bus downtown, which was an adventure in itself!

On Monument Circle, giant letters XLVI were erected. Here I am in front of them.

One of the highlights of Super Bowl Village was the zipline. It was something to see! It only cost $10, but there was at least a three-hour wait each day. It only lasted 30 seconds, but it was thrilling just watching.

Here I am with one of my favorite firefighters.

Here is a picture I copied from Facebook of the crowd one night.

On Saturday I volunteered at the Bart Star Breakfast of Champions. My cousin went with me. I was hoping to see celebrities, and was excited when Colts' Jeff Saturday walked through the area we were working.

Look at me!

And last but not least, Jimmy Fallon was in town and taped his show from the Circle Theater. I am a big fan of Jimmy Fallon!

The Girl Scouts

I dug out my old scrapbook and found a picture of me as a Girl Scout. It says I was the President of our Troop, but I sure don't remember that.

All of the talk on Facebook about Girl Scout cookies for sale made me think about my days as a Girl Scout. Cookies cost 50 cents a box, and I went door-to-door after school to sell them. I remember walking through the snow (and cold and ice) and going across Washington Street to neighboring streets where we really weren't supposed to go.

Did anyone else want to look like the perfect Girl Scouts on the box of cookies?These are pictures of my Girl Scout sash and badges. I was so proud of my badges.

And I loved being in the Girl Scouts.

I was in Troop 291 and my leader was Mrs. Tilford. Her daughter, Mary Ann Tilford, was in my class and was also a Girl Scout. Mrs. Tilford had been in the WACs, and sometimes on Saturdays I would go to their house and she taught us to shoot bows and arrows in the backyard, and to march together up and down the street. And Mr. Tilford would be in the kitchen in a white apron, baking bread. I didn't know any other man who baked bread, or any other mother who shot bows and arrows and marched in the street.

At our meetings, I remember taking turns reading Hiawatha, and we made Indian wigs out of black fabric.

And we would sing. Mrs. Tilford played the piano and we sang and sang. I still know all the words to "Make New Friends", and "Our Chalet Song".

High, high up on the moun-tain

We founded our Chalet ....

How much do Girl Scout cookies cost now, anyway? Those mint ones have always been my favorites.

What Do The Simple Folk Do?

January blues. What Do The Simple Folk Do?

GUENEVERE
What do the simple folk do
To help them escape when they're blue?
The shepherd who is ailing, the milkmaid who is glum
The cobbler who is wailing from nailing his thumb
When they're beset and besieged
The folk not noblessly obliged
However do they manage to shed their weary lot?
Oh, what do simple folk do we do not?

ARTHUR
I have been informed by those who know them well
They find relief in quite a clever way
When they're sorely pressed, they whistle for a spell
And whistling seems to brighten up their day
And that's what simple folk do
So they say

GUENEVERE
They whistle?

ARTHUR
So they say.

For me, pretty flowers help.

And old farts in overalls.
And summer memories of folk festivals.

And pillowslip dresses.

A backyard tableau.

Dulcimer music and my favorite dulcimer guy.

My Tennessee girlfriends.

The Red Stick Ramblers - always.

Log cabins.

Babies having a tea party.

Being silly.

And sunflowers - always!