St Birgitta Caps


Okay, I blame Morgan Donner for this. She started this mess, and I’m on a mission.

Good Morning all, after yesterday’s quiet day post, I thought I better give you the source for the St Birgitta cap I mentioned. St Birgitta Coif tutorial Morgan Donner in her video, she calls it a coif. I call it a cap. It covers the head.

I prefer to keep my scalp covered. I have thin hair, and I have been shaving my head for a couple of months now. I rock the buzz cut, and even can just run the clippers before a shower. However, certain folks in public go a little nutsy when they see a woman with a buzz cut.

This isn’t my first rodeo with this. I’ve done it many times over the years. I loved my long hair, but was shedding it at such an astronomical rate, that I was afraid of choking on a hair ball. Ugh. So, back to the cap.

I never wear velvet. Ever. However, with this gifted fabric, I think I can make the cap out of it. I’m going to have to line the fabric on the inside, because the inside is a little weird feeling. Also, I think that washing this is going to be a problem. So, with a mystery velvet I’m going to begin.

I could do a turban, but I don’t wear pins, and I don’t want to monkey with it much. So, before this post goes live, the goal is to have one done, with pictures. We will see. Perhaps for tomorrow’s post, I will get that work finished. It doesn’t take long, especially since I don’t use the woven piece in the center for my caps.

Please take care of yourselves. Hugs and huggage. -L

Fly strips, late nights, and velvet fabric


Morning all, just checking in a bit before I get busy again. The fellas are being copascetic, and I’m not complaining. There has been small things happening lately, nothing major.

I tried a different technique with my pathos, and it ended up getting very sick. So, the other day, I covered her with a garbage bag, taking a clipping, and taking the rest outside. She had become seriously infested with fruit flies. So, now, I have fly strips decorating the office. It would be quite festve, except for the fact that they are brown.

The secret to fly strips is to shine a light on them, and have that be the only source of light in the room over night. The critters are attracted to the light, and get sucked in by the voodoo of the fly strip.

Have been up late again lately. The big problem about being in a heat wave, is that it is much more pleasant to sleep the day away. Also, electricity is best used in off peak hours. So, we have been up late most nights.

Other than that, I was gifted some velvet fabric. It’s a shorter velvet, and I’m thinking on looking at it, that I need a couple of turbans or St Birgitta caps out of it. There’s not much more fabric available than that, so I’m going to get the work done soon.

I take my pain pills about 45 minutes before I start stitching. This gives me half an hour or so of work availability. Then, when I need to take the meds again, I get another half hour or so of work done. I have to be careful, because over doing the work will land me in the 9th level of hell.

Sighs.

That’s about it, not much else is going on. Hope you are well. -L

Row V Wade – trigger warning


Morning all, I’m still a bit pre-coffee in the chaos. Please bear with me. I’ve sat on this for awhile, and needed time to be ready to write about this.

I was raised in a home where beatings, rug sweeping, and rampant lies from one of the parents was the normal. I was raised by another parent who did not care that the person who they married made me suicidal by the age of 10.

When I was raped as a teenager, by the husband of one of my teachers that I babysat for, I was blessed by the fact that I did not get pregnant. It took over a decade to heal from that rape. Those are years I will never get back. That’s a life I will never get to live, that alternate life where I wasn’t raped.

Back in the 1990’s when I did get pregnant. I fought hard to make sure I carried my daughter to term. She was unplanned, and I gave her up for adoption at birth. I went over 20 years not knowing who she was, or how she was. It was hell on earth, and I would do it again in the blink of an eye. Before I left the hospital, I held her in my arms and promised her that I would never have another child out of wedlock again.

In the early oughts, I had to fight for the right to get birth control, then I had to fight to get my tubes tied. Over and over again, I had to say. “I gave my only child up for adoption at birth. I am mentally ill, I am an alcoholic and a drug addict. I do not want to raise a child, I SHOULD NOT BE RAISING A CHILD.” I got my tubes tied.

Everyone had an opinion on my getting my tubes tied. Everyone fought me on getting my tubes tied. Even the nurses before anesthesia fought me on getting my tubes tied.

When I went for my total hysterectomy, I had to fight for that. Thankfully, I was able to have it done, because bleeding down to your knees for a couple of weeks was deemed a little weird.

I started crying yesterday. I realized that if some cretin hurt my daughter, that it is possible she would be forced to raise that baby. I then started crying for all daughters in this country in the same boat.

There need to be more options. There has to be a valid and yet accessible way to prevent an unplanned pregnancy that does not involve dangerous hormones, coat hangers, and going under the knife and waking up dead.

There has got to be a better way. I have no answers, none. I will say, that the babies born to women who are forced to conceive them, and then are forced to raise them do not deserve to be treated the way I was. I am not political, never have been. I vote, and am just scared.

As an old fat woman in a wheelchair, who doesn’t contribute to society at large in any way, I suppose I don’t have the right to say anything. However, I do say this. Come up with something, anything, that makes life better for women, all women. Come up with something that gives a woman the protection from conception in any form. This chaos and madness just doesn’t make sense.-L

She ain’t pretty, but she works


Morning all. Am hiding in the air conditioning again today. Another pain day from hell, and it’s normal.

The last thing I made was a sweater. I have lots of that crazy blanket yarn that isn’t good for anything in my stash. I also have an assortment of crochet hooks. When I am watching an ad, or even youtube, I like to stitch while I wait.

I grabbed this yarn, the 4 largest hook I own, and started playing. The macrame stuff worked pretty good for what I needed it for, so I thought what the heck. I started with a round, and then decided to see if I could make a pouch. Holy crap! It worked well. So, once it got big enough for my personal blender cup, I stopped. I then made a lid for it.

I have a mug that a flower arrangement came in, and that helps to steady my coffee while it is in the sweater. It even fits one of my larger glasses. So, an odd, unshapen ugly yarn sweater for my iced coffee has been born. She lives in a santa mug with the words believe on it.

I’d take a picture, but the desk is so damned messy, I better not right now. Other than that, not much is going on. My hands are still throbbing, and I am hoping that I don’t have to mow again any time soon.

Hugs, my friends, huge ones. -L

Fugly
This showed up during the week.

The megrims


Morning all, a scorcher outside, no camping is being done. The fellas are sleeping like rocks in front of the a/c again. I haven’t taken my medicine yet, but need to catch the though while the muse is whipping me in the tail feathers.

My most famous last words used to be, “Hold my beer.” So much crazy stupid crap was accomplished and eventually filed away in my 1st and 4th steps. My 5th step was involved with lots of pain, anger, and fear.

Nowadays, my most famous last words are, “I don’t need to write that down, I will remember.” Horse feathers. If I don’t write it down, it’s gone, like a wil-o-the-wisp. PFFT… GONE.

Last night, I made such a mistake. Usually, I get up 1-4 times per sleep cycle. I know for a fact while sitting in the most used room of the house, I had the best thought. It was ffor the blog, and it was really really good. Normally, when this hits, I head to the desk, whack out the post, and get it done.

I was tired, bone tired, and I just couldn’t. Then I decided screw it, I will remember, and went back to bed. This morning, I’m still bone tired, but at least I am cognizant, a little… I can’t freaking remember my REALLY GOOD IDEA.

Damn it. I know better. I really know better. I’m grabbing a notebook and pen, and going to keep it in the necessary. The only other alternative, is to move the office in there, and there just isn’t enough room.

Hmm, if I got rid of the washer, dryer, and everything the beloved husband has in there….

No, I don’t want to wait to write for the husband unit to go potty. I’m going to grab the notebook and pen. Just keep them in the drawers. Besides, unless I get one of those seriously padded throne seats, it’s not going to work. I’d also need an iced coffee bar…

Sighs. Have a good one folks. I better go to the necessary before I forget the dratted notebook. Hugs. -L