Sisterhood 1 Scarves 2

Seesta Eva and Me ... having a Photoshop moment.

Do you enjoy scarves and hats like we do?

Once you go Tweezerman ...

You really would be nuts to ever go back.

I'm upset. My favorite tweezers are somewhere in Nashville, Indiana. Lost Man's Lane?? More like Lost Woman's Favorite Tweezers of All Time. Twenty-two dollar tweezers at that!

I went to CVS after work and they were plumb out of the kind I needed. Superfine tip? The ultimate in precision? All out? You've got to be kidding me. That should be the only kind on the shelf if you ask me. I feel like gift wrapping 20 million of them and sending them out this year as presents to all of my hair-plucking cohorts. A girl has not experienced the true pleasure of plucking until she has utilized Tweezerman technology. I never knew there was a true difference, until I bought a cheapo La Cross tweezer tonight. And I almost threw it in the toilet I was so offended. I couldn't grasp a hold of even the two more prominent stray eyebrow hairs. WHY?? They were not doing their job. That's what.

Let me just say that to pluck with Tweezerman ... well hell, I wish I was one of those hairy circus ladies (no offense to the Sicilian blood in me). I don't get to tweeze enough! It's a fine thing in life. I light candles, pour myself some wine. I don't do it often, I have to wait patiently for the opportunity. So when I see hairs where they shouldn't be I celebrate!

Thanks for now realizing with me that we need to support Tweezerman products only, when it comes to our eyebrows. Unless you're into that THREADING thing...I won't even mention waxing. Do people still do that??

The pros use 'point' tweezers vs. 'slant' for a reason. Tweezerman makes both, but I say, GO POINT! Don't be afraid. Just don't stand in front of a door mirror and pluck. You don't want someone to cause the door to hit you and possibly pierce your head!

What Do Johnny Cash, Melissa Etheridge, and Bob Dylan Have in Common?

Besides having "A's" in their names.

They're all lesbians.

NO. But seriously. They are Sunspot shoppers!

My mother sold Martinelli's sparkling cider to Cash's roadie years back. He wanted it brought to his tour bus nice and refreshing cold in a fluted crystal glass...

Not really. He probably drank it from the bottle.

My sister waited on Ms. Etheridge not that long ago. She was totally diggin' our bulk section. Bought lots of granola. HIPPY!

And Bob Dylan is a celiac. We provided him a selection of gluten-free pasta and his rodie left very pleased.

"The Sunspot...Fueling the Stars since 1977"

or something like that :)

Raisins Not Included

At work today I found some raisins in our produce section, they were attached to a bundle of organic grapes. I was tempted to hang a sign saying, "Organic Raisins Not Included - 50 Cents Each" I pulled them off and set them up for a little photo shoot in the meeting room. And everyone thought I cleared off the table just because I'm a good employee .... haaaa



Ohhh the fruits of my labor

This Post Is for Bob

I miss my cat Bob terribly tonight. Little bunny nose mister. I miss you ... and will always love you more than worlds and universes multiplied. I wish I could be with you, wherever you are. Here is a story. I can't seem to comprehend how writing this helped me stop crying, but somehow...



Tale of a Cat

Junior stood in front of the cupboards. It was 3 a.m. and he wanted some crackers. The sky was deep navy and the kitchen was a soft blue with light from the moon reflected snow. He lifted his left arm to reach for the cupboard edge. If he pulled it open slowly enough he might not make a sound. As his short fingers felt for the handle and pulled it open, a small bag of mints tumbled onto the counter top. The plastic wrapping of the candies roused the dog in the other room and almost as soon as he heard the dog, he heard his mother turn in bed.

....................................................................................................

"Darling, what are you doing?"
He heard her groggy voice. She sounded concerned, but he could sense an undercurrent of frustration. Junior pushed the candies toward the back of the breadbox. He didn't want her mints, he was going for the crackers.
"I wanted some crackers." The dog Wayne heavily laid back down, this time by Juniors stocking feet.
"And you can't wait til breakfast? Junior it's God knows how early."
"It's only 3. I know. I couldn't sleep."
"Can you please explain to me why you left your karate Gi in the truck last night? Sweetheart I didn't have a chance to wash it."
"I told you I have another Gi in my closet."
"You don't fit into that one anymore Junior. I really wish you'd just ... be more aware."
"I will!" Junior was feeling tired now. He didn't feel up for defending himself. He was upset and he wanted her to understand that.
His mother rubbed her eyes and felt around for the stool's edge. She didn't turn on the kitchen light. She and Junior just stood there, just enough light to make each other out by their movements.

"I miss Biscuit." Junior lowered his head. He felt heavier than usual. His eyes began to close shut as he swept the loose part of his sock over Wayne's paws.
"I know sweetheart. I know." His mother had said this so many times before, that it had almost negative resonance to him.
"No, you don't." He thought about those crackers again. He tried to sense where his mother's hands were. What she was doing in the dark.
"Oh Junior, baby. Don't say that. Why would you say that?"
"You didn't know Biscuit like I did. That's why. Dad didn't either. But he understood her more than you ever did. You didn't even like her. You never liked cats and I can't believe I ever trusted you." Junior was terrified suddenly. Of everything around him. His house felt cold and he didn't like the kitchen and how it smelled. He felt alone, even with his mother right there.
"Biscuit ran away, Junior. That's all. No one can do anything to bring her back."
"I hate the way you talk." He always knew his mother didn't know how to grieve. "I don't even like you anymore."
"But listen honey, we can talk about this tomorrow. Okay? You and I need r ..."

Junior interrupts her here. He tells his mother that he doesn't want to rest, and that he is and always was the only one that truly cared about Biscuit. How if she ever returned, he would be there for her and his life would be just like it was before, as if she'd never been away from him. He told his mother about Biscuit's favorite hideaway place, and how he checked there every day since the day she turned up missing. How, even in the fresh snow, he'd go to her hiding spot to leave cat food, or pancake batter if on a Sunday morning. His mother stood there in the dark leaning against the kitchen counter, motionless as far as he could tell. He could hear her breathing shallow breaths, every now and again.

Junior began to cry ...

Da Nile Ain't Just a River In Egypt

It's a restaurant! The Blue Nile in West Lafayette, IN on Purdue Campus. Sister Eva and I used to eat here after or in between classes, or to study for torturous exams. It was nice to see the place again. Today Eva and I enjoyed the Moroccan Tagine and Arabic Salad. My father Marc got Tabouli. We each indulged in a cup of Sage Tea. No, those are not worms in the mug.

P. Yellow Daily State Park - Indiana -

Simon's A Nut !

Meet Ferlin Husky's alter ego : Simon Crum



I have to name my son Ferlin ... Ferlin Charleton Allister III

And you know ??

There's something about Ferlin that makes me think Danny Kaye. They look the same, am I wrong?
...... Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to post this video! ......

Time For Some Monday Night Honky Tonk !!

Carl Smith, Marty Robbins and Webb Pierce Singing "Why Baby Why"

Carl is the tallest one. Robbins is in the middle.

Virginia Tears and Lucia In the Rockies

I tried to call my friend Vicki this afternoon, but it seems her number has changed. I wanted to get together with her to shop for fabrics and quilt. We had a blast together years back; we'd make a day of stopping by various fabric shops in Indianapolis and then head to her place to cut all the necessary pieces. The next night we'd quilt, listen to music, drink tea or coffee...maybe gossip ...?? :) She's a lot older than I am, so you could say I learned some life-lessons through the stories she shared.
So far in my life I've completed one quilt. I'm prepared to start in on another, by constructing one from a pattern I've already created. When I lived in Virginia back in 2003 I made a quilt block one winter afternoon and named it Virginia Tears. I think I was crying as I made it. It measures 9" x 9" and contains 100 tiny squares within the center as you can see in the photograph above. The fabrics used are all Civil War era reproductions. I look at ol' Virginia Tears now and recall those long and lonely nights ... thinking of my family and friends back in Hoosier land...while trying to create a life for myself deep within the womb of Shenandoah. I miss that place dearly now, but at the time I was quite claustrophobic in the mountains. As I remember it, I survived my time there by discovering the land around me. Going out on my own, getting lost, finding abandon farm houses, taking pictures. Listening to music in between getting out of my car and walking old civil war trails, or attending service in some tiny church on a hill, knowing it was the first and last time I'd ever sit on the smooth hand carved benches inside.
The train rides from Staunton, VA to Lafayette, IN could take up to 18 hours one way. On one of the trips the train was so cold that my skin was turning purple by the time we pulled into the Hoosier station. The heater had broken in my train car, and even with two shirts, two sweaters and a blanket, I was chattering my teeth to the point of an aching jaw. Which reminds me ...

I recall having read a story once about a Rocky Mountain train crash back in the 1800's. Aboard the train was the circus spectacle and primordial dwarf Lucia Zarate, also known as "The Puppet-Woman". She was all of 50 centimeters tall...and weighed less than a cat. Zarate was the smallest woman ever recorded and it was said that she was fully grown by the age of one year. There are few surviving pictures of her today, and her life was tragically cut short at the age of 26 while aboard the derailed circus train in the Rockies. She died of hypothermia. If only a fellow passenger could have held her underneath a garment or shawl, or against their skin. She was too small to properly regulate her temperature even in "room temp" conditions, let alone in a snow-bath of blustery mountain madness.

I'm such a sissy for complaining about Amtrak's broken heater.

Here's beautiful Lucia. I would have held you little darling dollie!

I love flames

I only took two pictures during Thanksgiving meal at my mom's house. She usually has to say, "Katie! Eat!"

shed n' snow

Windowsill Welcome

I fell asleep knitting last night...correction...early this morning, and woke up to a snowy wonderland outside my window. I sat up in bed and faced the brightness with mixed feelings. I felt instantly inspired to knit and begin a new quilt and make new teddy bears...and then I remembered that my car was stuck in the drive. But that's how winter runs his business.

I inserted my newest music purchase, a CD called Jubilee (compilation of country gospel) and found track # 16. Merle Haggard singing J.B. Wright's "Precious Memories"


"As I wander on life's pathway
Know not what the future holds
As I ponder hope grows fonder
Precious sacred seems unfold.
Precious mem'ries how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold.
--- Instrumental ---
Precious mem'ries how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold.
Precious mem'ries how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold..."

Thanksgiving and Candles

We lit candles to toast the bird we roasted. The table was set, ready for us to gather in gratefulness. We all sat and bit into the meal that so nourished us for that day. My sister showed us breathing exercises, to fill our grateful lungs with three versions of an inhale. My hands grasped my mother's, my brother's, my father's, a kindred family of everything. Those flames danced around us in celebration of another unbelievable year of togetherness.

"You killled my faddar...prepara to die"

Mandy Patinkin! Happy 56th!