Weavers' convention

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It’s over and I survived!! I took a 6-day trip to New Mexico with my daughter, whose interest in a weavers’ convention being held in Albuquerque was the main reason for making the trip.

What can one say about a 600-mile drive through West Texas? I will report that the scenery around Sweetwater has changed since my last trip to that area. Now wind farms line the skyline, the blades slowly turning, creating a bit more energy for our rapidity increasing demands.

New Mexico has an abundant supply of talented artisans and we visited several galleries showing the work of a few before moving on to the convention center. There, venders booths were filled with colorful displays of more yarn than one would expect to see in their entire lifetime. Various items made from these yarns tempted the lookers. Scarves of every color and every weave imaginable were displayed. Silky ones with beautiful dyed patterns filled some booths. Hand bags and hats and many small items were for sale Jewelry lovers could browse and wish, and makers of jewelry had a huge variety of supplies from which to choose. Tools for the weavers use and looms of different sizes were on display and the weaving in progress always had watchers.

It was not all about buying. To become aware of the types of materials and techniques used was educational for the scores of us who know nothing of the weaving craft. The final viewing of the day, the exhibit of chosen examples of weavers' work, emphasized strongly these very things. All that was woven was not of yarn. Copper wire was used to make an impressive hanging, Wood, yarn, barbed wire...you name it...were combined in many pieces. Clothing and even portraits, all woven, proved the weaver's skill. All together, it was tremendously impressiveto view these displays.Perhaps more can be found later at my daughter's site at Sherri Woodard Coffey

The following day, while she attended her class of choice, we toured the nuclear museum, a sobering experience. Then a visit to Albuquerque's old town and a very pleasant time sitting on a bench in the shady plaza. The feet appreciated the rest if they were to survive for the next day's activities.

A gallery necklace>

Flowers of July and August

We are approaching the last of July; gardening season is far behind us, and here I am browsing the flower sections of Home Depot and others, trying to control the urge to get one of each variety. I would classify myself as having a serious problem except for the dozens of other shoppers also loading their carts.

My yard consists of a shallow layer of top soil over a gravel base. That's the best part. There is a large amount of solid rock between the house and the road. I continue to have hopes for the part with the layer of soil; the rock, proven to be at least 40' thick, as proven by a core taken 45 years ago, will remain "as is. "

Many plants have met their doom in my planting areas. Cactus and Yucca are prolific in the untouched part of the acreage. Roses are not happy here. Even the newer variety of knock Out, developed for our difficult Texas growing area, is needing special attention.

I have hope that this coneflower, recently planted, will approve of it's location and become permanent. We once had some growing wild down the side of our hill but that was before we had a lot of underbrush cleared because of fire danger. Most of the wild flowers were drastically rearranged.

Some wild flowers look rather straggly when not in bloom...in other words, they look like weeds! There is one that I now have in a flower bed, transplanted from another part of this gravely hill. It is in it's second year in a flower bed and I hope that after it's many years in the wild This is a Liatris, budding now for late August or early September spikes of lavender flowers. It's flowers are long-lasting, even providing filler in floral arrangements after it has become dry. After years of seeing it growing wild, I was surprised to see it at the florists.

For years I have wanted what is called a Butterfly weed. A member of the milkweed family, it does not spread as some do, but I have seen the same clump appear year after year...at least 15 or 20 years, in the same location by the side of a country road. It's blossom head is a cluster of small orange flowers, each plant cluster having six or seven heads or clusters, making a striking display. It may be bought from wildflower speciality stores for a rather hefty price, but I definitely must have one. If it can thrive unattended by the side of the road, surely it can survive my care.

Here in the south, one of the showiest, most dependable flowering shrubs is the Crepe Myrtle, and it is so

tough that once established it withstands the Texas heat. Different plants seem to have different timetables, making their gorgeous displays last for weeks. The colors range from white to light pink and lavender, to a deep rose and almost red color. Plenty of sun and water will create a mass of color.

Joining the crepe myrtle at about this time in July, is the Purple Sage. I have seen one of these shrubs, in a totally neglected location, be completely covered in lavender blossoms for almost 40 years. It appears to be dying now, and I wish someone would give it first aid. Like the Crepe Myrtle, all plants do not bloom at the same time. I'm waiting for mine, and hope it has enough sun to put on a show.

It's not only a July or August bloomer: it brings color from it's very first bud. Let it have plenty of light but shield it from the hottest sun in the afternoon for that will cause the blossoms to close. It has

several names: Moss Rose is the most common. Portulaca is most likely the name on it's tag. Growing wild is a much less showy plant, it's blossoms are usually small, quarter inch size, but with the same colorful variety as the larger Portulaca: yellow, orange and shades of rose.

It's succulent leaves look the same as those of its larger showier cousin. The wild variety is usually called purslane and is loaded with healthful additions to one's diet. Don't use me as an authority..read about it before you dump it into your next salad!

The days remain hot and the lawn is becoming brittle. Our lowering water table is enough of a concern that I will water only enough to keep the roots alive. The flower beds will get their share and we will be rewarded with their blossoms. The day will seem cooler because of their bright colors.

Cats and More Cats

Cats: they’re fun, they’re pests, they are useful…. and their numbers increase faster than you can give them away.

Three years ago, a stray, perhaps alerted by a cat style hobo mark, stopped by, ready for her handout. Skinny and obviously carrying kittens, she received her expected daily handout of table scraps.

These were placed in a worn-out birdbath, and if you have never heard of a birdbath being worn out, let me assure you that it can happen! Not from the flapping and fluttering of wings, however, but from a flaw in the concrete, which caused it to deteriorate until huge holes appeared, and it could no longer hold water.

Now that it had become a convenient feeder for the cat, other wildlife took notice. There were four crows, jays and cardinals, and one evening we glanced out the window and spied a fox crouched n the birdbath, happily enjoying the remains of our evening meal.

At about this time, the cat with no name, retired to have her kittens. Happily, there were only two; identical black and white ones, a male and a female. They were a joy to watch as they jumped and wrestled in the late evening twilight. As half grown cats they seemed not to notice that their no-name mama had deserted them (and us), and one night the male also decided to roam and like his mama, never returned.

The little female grew tall and leggy, but remained as wild as her mother and no amount of food put any fat on her lean frame, but her fur was jet black and glossy so she officially became Pretty Cat, as we are not imaginative folks. Soon I renamed her Mighty Cat, after watching her frighten the fox away from her dinner table. Occasionally, she would deliberately lengthen her meal time, while the fox waited patiently a short distance away.

Once the fox must have been extremely hungry, for he got to the feed early, and established himself firmly over the goodies before Mighty Cat arrived. It was a standoff. He ate, She watched. She even swatted that long bushy tail hanging over the edge of the feeder, with no results.

Naturally, when putting food out it was not always entirely eaten and other animals sense that the welcome mat is out. We were not surprised to see a huge coon appear for his share of the free , easy to get, food. He soon established his position as boss over the other animals and left not a crumb if he was hungry. He never seemed very disturbed by my yelling and stick waving.

Late one evening, we were startled to see two foxes enjoying the bounty that the birdbath held.. Cantaloupe rinds, overripe fruit, left over veggies from the dinner table…they cleared their dish. They did not eat broccoli. One night, the old coon also brought his mate along . There were more to come. The evening the entire fox family arrived, I could not tear myself away from the window. The pair of fox were both in the birdbath, chowing down, but constantly watchful for danger.The almost grown young ones were playful, wrestling and snapping at each other. Occasionally, they would snatch a bit of food, which bothered their parents not at all.

Not to be out done, the old coon brought his family up for a free meal. In the coon family, the rules were different. The he-coon first had his leisurely meal while his family waited impatiently. His mate or one of the three young, would sometimes reach a tentative paw toward the edge of the bird bath, only to be swatted away. After observing the foxes’ congenial behavior, I was shocked by this old fellow’s selfishness. In fact, I was so annoyed that I chased the entire family away.

There may be a moral here about freebies, because from the first give-away to one cat, we now were feeding a cat, a fox family of five, and a coon (the entire family never appeared again.)

In the naturally progression of cat life, Mighty Cat soon presented us with her own litter of five kittens, a beautifully marked brindle, a grey and white, and three ugly tortoise ones because of their strangely marked faces. Following in the footsteps of her mama, she also disappeared, returning occasionally to swat her brood away from the feed pan. By this time, we were buying cat food in 15 lb. bags. The foxes had left, deciding they could feed elsewhere with less hassle.

Of the five kittens, all females), we managed to catch two and sent them to a new home in a barn reported to have an over abundance of mice and rats. Their yowls of protest as they were placed in a carrier were impressive and the remaining three cats became even more leery of a human touch and strange vehicles sent them streaking for shelter. Their appetites were never diminished by their nervousness.

Suggestions about what to do with three female cats were plentiful. Suggestions don’t tame cats and the wild gene remains strong in this group of cats and continues in a new, fourth generation of eight darling blue eyed kittens. A direct look sends them under the nearest bush. A movement of a single hand sends them streaking for distant safety. Regardless, now that there are eight new, wild little critters creeping up to join their mamas at the feed pan, somehow, a cat-snatching must be arranged..

Any one want a kitten?

The Call of the Road

I read once that we, as a nation, are fascinated with the names of places, as used in songs, more than any other people in the world. True or not, it started me thinking about songs of this type…..and there are different types.

Early ballads provide a musical history of the longing for home, and songs of the Civil War period also sang of home and of a lost way of life.

Our modern day “On the Road” type of songs could have their roots in the old Route 66 highway that crossed 2448 miles of the nation, reaching from Chicago to LA. Migrants traveled this route during the dustbowl days, their ordeals immortalized in john Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Although travel was exceedingly tedious in the days following the opening of Route 66, in 1926, other daring travelers began to undertake the trip.

Route 66 saw every kind of traveler: The more affluent, traveling to see the sights, and worn-out vehicles and trucks such as this museum item,piled high with household goods, their owners hoping to find a better life.

Perhaps it was Bobby Troup’s lyrics to Get Your Kicks on Route 66, that first captured the spirit of traveling through the cities and states along this legendary highway. Written soon after WWll, it quickly became a hit, and as Route 66 became improved and other highways were built, cross country travel became more common.

There is a bit of loneliness as well as excitement in the multitude of trucking songs such as Six Days on the Road and 500 Hundred Miles Away From Home. Then there is Kansas City, a rollicking piece that quickly filled many dance floors with it’s first notes.

Songs about Alabama, California, Oklahoma, and Texas appear to be in the majority, and cities such as San Antonia, Tulsa, New York, and San Francisco head a long list of many more. The names seem to hold a special mystic … one of the excitement of the wild west, or being on a mountain top, looking down on a misty valley, smelling the scent of the pines the ocean on a damp breeze.

In retrospect, it seems that it has been our highway system that has spawned so many songs about being on the road.

A Question

A question occurred to me while writing the Rationing blog: What would be the reaction today to such a restriction? A reader commented along the same line.

There are great differences in the generations of the 1940's and that of today's generation lifestyle and expectations. The “Silent Generation” of those years had endured the difficulties of the depression years; in fact, the nation was not fully recovered making the citizens accustomed to continued hardships.

1932-getting ready for work >

In President Roosevelt’s efforts to remedy the problems that created the depression, had passed laws that were extremely controlling, and although there was grumbling and even a few Supreme Court reversals, there was no widespread coverage and discussions of the pros and cons. At that time, there was not a continuous media coverage of each day’s happenings, nor were our leaders' qualification continually under scrutiny.

Today, we have a society used to many comfort: Running water, light at the flip of a switch, refrigerated food, and cars that purr instead of chug. We also have almost continuous TV coverage of events and issues, compared to the meager radio and newspaper coverage of 68 years ago.

What would create such a necessity? How would we react? How would we cope? What other restrictions would be necessary under such conditions? Would someone start a “Bread Party” in protest, or would we tighten our belts and show the grit that built this nation?

Wow!!!

Like Scarlet O’Hara, in Gone With the Wind, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

^

1928 swimming party in water storage tank

Learning experiences

When you close your eyes and the image of a computer screen appears against the lids and when your dreams are demanding a password, it’s time to find another fun thing to do.

First, before I take a break to go on an extended shopping spree, I’ve been asked to explain to several readers why their efforts to leave a comment on either of my blogs have failed.

Me? Explain anything about computers? I do think, that from my very limited experience (1) you need to have a Google account which is free, (2) check that you are a follower (3) go to” leave a comment”. If this doesn’t work, consider the source of this information and ask someone who knows!

Naturally, I enjoy sharing a few thoughts here on Rocking_Chair and all my stored information on The_Aluminist but it’s even more fun to get your comments about your memories of fun things, and your information about your aluminum collection.

Go ahead and see what happens! I do have an email address for another kind of contact: aluminist@sbcglobal.net>

If in this sharing process you’re tempted to take a hatchet to your computer, or like the soldier in Afghanistan who became so frustrated over his attempts to get help with his printer (was being charged for assistance) that he shot the darn thing, just hang on. I’ve read that this type of thing is excellent exercise for the brain!

Wartime Rationing

Wartime Rationing

I am wondering how many of you reading this remembers those ‘good ole days’? Every thing necessary to our way of life was rationed. We accepted it. We knew it was necessary because we were at war---a different kind of war from that of today.

We had been attacked and there was no questioning who was responsible so the American people became a hornet’s nest of angry people intent on one thing: to show our enemies that no one could do this without extreme retaliation.

The American troops were in desperate straits. Our boys were drafted by the thousands and they had no supplies. Censorship kept us from knowing how desperate the situation really was, but because we were an angry and determined nation, we accepted without question, all that was necessary to support our armed forces: Censorship, shortages, and rationing.

Besides our troops’ priority on certain food items, they had to have uniforms and shoes. There were some commonplace items needed in the manufacture of munitions and guns. The list was endless.

The rationing of gasoline caused the worst inconvenience. No unnecessary cruising down Main Street, very few trips of any distance, rides were shared, and sources for black market gas were in demand and kerosene was added to the gas tanks.

Tires were also rationed. There were also places to get black market tires. There was a rationing board to take applications for new tires and if a person changed cars and needed new tires for it, the rationing board had to approve. My sailor husband traded cars so often, appearing before the board so often that they were positive he was reselling the tires. He almost didn’t talk his way out of that.

The next most critically needed items on the rationed list were sugar and meat. Recipes using tuna, salmon and a minimum amount of ground meat mixed with crackers or bread crumbs abounded. Some were even tasty enough to be used today. Cooking was definitely a challenge; even shortening and butter were rationed.

As I recall, there was a rationing book for food items and another for clothing. I don’t remember whether each family member was issued an individual book or whether family books based upon the size of the family were issued. Each book contained stamps for the allotted amount of items. It was a rather complicated system of points and time limitations.

Two pairs of shoes per year were allowed….leather for our troops’ shoes

quickly curtailed the amount available for civilians. Other clothing was rationed but I remember only one instance: That of the arrival of a shipment of white batiste, a fabric used in making baby clothes. In a town filled with sailors and their wives, most of whom were expectant mothers, the rumor of the fabric’s arrival caused a minor stampede to get the allowed amount. Remember that this was 65 years ago when baby clothes, by choice, were completely handmade and traditionally babyish.

Those are my memories of rationing. What are yours? If you have any, it definitely places you in a certain age bracket: One with lots of unique memories!

Independence Day

The Fourth of July is a time to turn our thoughts back to those forefathers who had so few of the comforts of today, but were fighting for what they had left their homes for, what they were willing to die for ---their FREEDOM.

On July 4, we celebrate the signing of the document declaring the colonies independence from England; we all know that---or should! It was a momentous step for a small group of people who wanted above all else, their freedom. This Declaration of Independence is the foundation of the most important and possibly most taken for granted part of our lives.

It was later, after winning the hard-fought war, that a group of very wise men met and created the Constitution, an amazing document that has successfully guided our country throughout the years. Amendments have been added; their rules have been argued about and tested time and time again, yet the United States Constitution that these wise forefathers established exists today as the oldest written constitution still in use by any nation in the world.

We have prospered under the form of government they established and fought for. Not since the Civil War has any battle been fought on our soil, but thousands of lives have been lost in other lands by our sons and daughters, who fought in the past, and are fighting today, to keep our nation free from those who would like to control or destroy us.

Celebrate the Fourth of July as a day deserving the explosion of fireworks as a symbol of our gratefulness for this freedom

Scams

How many millions of dollars have you been offered in letters from Chad or Angola or some other far away country? Some of these spoke of the desperate need to get a fortune out of the country and begged for help (in form of cash) to expedite this complicated process. Another was notifying you of your fabulous luck in winning their national lottery. Of course, the taxes were your responsibility but once the money was received to cover the tax bite, the winnings were all yours. You don’t remember entering this country’s lottery? With that much free money waiting for you, does it really matter?

This week’s scheme arrived in the form of an eight page letter personalized by my name, relating my very unique abilities and charms had been discovered by some highly placed person. That there were any rare and hidden traits was a total surprise to me, as was the fact that knowledge of these traits had popped up in some stranger’s possession.

The writer was so excited for me. He had once been destitute but now was wealthy beyond description. The eight-pages continued to tell of how he had been discovered as a person like myself, with all these yet to be developed traits that created such success. After he was given a dusty old book containing the secrets to success in all ventures, all things had become possible to him. Now he was extending an offer of a reprinted copy of this book of secrets that made all these wonders possible. Free! Instructions couldn’t have been simpler. Place a check mark by your name on a form stating that you had been made aware of your possession of special and rare traits and were willing to accept a free membership in this exclusive secret association and receive a free copy of the book of secrets. There was a 3-day deadline for responding and a warning that there would be no future offers.

I read every word, hunting for the hook and line that was going to allow me to be reeled into something costly. The warning we hear often “If it sounds too good to be true, it is” was upper most in my mind.

The good ole Internet was near at hand; the book’s name was typed into Google. A long list of messages from others who had received identical letters appeared with various remarks describing their reactions and their hopes for the sender’s future.

Of course, it was “a come-on”. The information in the 68-page booklet gave no wonderful instruction. Complainants were told that the message was there but could only be absorbed by the sub-conscience. Another book to help interpret this first one could be purchased for less than $200 dollars. The hook!

Ignore these schemes. Keep your money. Toss the offers in the trash or read them to admire the various techniques used but don’t believe a word and DO NOT SEND MONEY!

THE END OF THE ROPE

When WWII was still raging, a day off from duty was still a day to relax and putter at what ever you choose. Our best friends lived across the street in La Armada, our navy-housing complex. My sailor boy and the one across the street, were in the same squadron and had the same duty hours so on their days off they were often together tinkering on some old car.

Our friend, who was nicknamed Boob, a name that seems rather fitting according to this day’s events, was almost recovered from a broken leg, the result of a football accident, and was still under the doctor’s care.

On this day, he had a motorcycle he was trying to tune up and unfortunately; he was unable to get it started. The natural thing to do was to call upon his buddy across the street to pull him and his motor until he could get it to fire up.

So, the guys hooked the motor to whatever old jalopy we owned that time and they maneuvered their way out to some wide-open space. Then away they went until the motor fired and began to purr and then to pick up speed. That’s when the rider realized he had no brakes. His immediate thought was that he was approaching the rear end of his buddy’s car at an undesirable speed so he quickly swerved and roared pass the tow car. At that moment, their eyes met, and they both realized the unavoidable was only seconds away. 

One hit the end of the rope; the other hit his brakes.

Explaining to his fiery Creole wife why there was gravel embedded in the numerous scrapes on the not quiet healed broken leg took considerable creativity and managing to present an open honest face the next day as he told the doctor that he had fallen down the stairs fazed him not at all.

His wife, an excellent housekeeper, was a bit miffed that he had indicated her waxed and polished floor could have held such filth. Boob’s assurances that the doctor could not have believed such an absurd tale, cooled her temper only slightly.

He was in the doghouse for weeks.