This is the first time I’ve ever broken a bone and there have been some major surprises involved. The first is that the break itself didn’t hurt that much. I remember being in pain right after I fell, but after a couple of minutes I was convinced it was just a bad sprain. I didn’t go get it x-rayed for more than a day, until the swelling became truly alarming. Even after it was set and casted (“casted?” is that right?) there still wasn’t much pain and I never took anything stronger than Advil.

What did astound me was how quickly my muscle strength deteriorated and especially how painful the immobilized joints became. After three weeks I was convinced that I had really bad arthritis in my fingers; the joints swelled and it hurt to try to move. My fingers became essentially useless. After another week or so, they started hurting even when I didn’t move them. Advil became my constant friend, leading (naturally) to stomach inflammation and pain.

I have fibro. I live with pain. This should not have poleaxed me like it did.

The good news from this morning, however, is that all of this is normal and to be expected. As I exercise and stretch the ligaments, the flexibility should return and the pain should eventually go away. It will still, says the ortho guy, take months before everything is back to normal, so patience is called for.

The other good news? As a dual result of not being able to cook and not being able to eat, I’ve lost about five pounds in the last six weeks. On the whole, however, I do not recommend breaking your hand as a weight-loss mechanism.

April was extremely busy. My sister and I spent two weeks in Houston at the M D Anderson Cancer Center (she has a rare type of thyroid cancer). I worked on a new website which should be launching in the next few weeks.

Oh, yeah, and I fell and broke my hand. My right hand.

I never before realized just how right-handed I am.

Cooking, everyday chores, and gardening are all extremely difficult with only one hand available (and that the weaker hand). But it’s getting easier with practice and my left hand and arm are growing stronger. I’ve learned to chop vegetables backwards and discovered that ragged trapezoids taste just as good as perfectly neat little dice, even if they don’t look as good. Yesterday, with the help of my son, I transplanted another four tomatos and six pepper plants. I got one potato barrel started. I’d planted a few of my seed potatoes into small clay flower pots when it became apparent that I was going to be out of commission for a while, and the vines were coming up strong and sturdy. They needed room! And dirt! There are still two more barrels to prepare and more vines to transplant, but I am feeling fairly good about what I’ve been able to accomplish.

I go back to the orthopedist Thursday for a follow-up. If everything is healing well I may graduate from the cast into a removable splint, which will be delightful because it’s driving me nuts not being able to wash.

Next goal: get back into the studio and figure out how to create without doing any more harm. (Left-handed rotary cutting? Um, no.)

Today we went back. At the grand opening they’d had outdoor tables of herbs and vegetable plants from one of my favorite suppliers, The Tasteful Garden. I wanted to see if they still had them, and Dear Husband was looking for natural peanut butter. And chocolate chip cookies, but we won’t mention those.

Yes, the tables of plants were still there! We browsed outside a bit and picked up a couple of pots of flowers as well as some lime basil, some lettuce, and some fine sturdy Rutgers tomato plants. Placing these in the basket, we entered the store.

He leaned over to me and said in a low voice: “Do you get the feeling that everybody in here earns $100,000 more than we do?”

Me: “Makes me want to run right out and buy a Volvo.”

Him (snorting): “Makes me want to go buy a NASCAR t-shirt.”

Mars, 8-28-2003
Monoprint on cotton fabric
© 2003 Carol Logan Newbill

I’ve been thinking of my father, who died four years and a month ago. I’ve been thinking of my Aunt Min, my grandmother’s sister, who was peppery and outspoken and completely delightful; I wish I’d had more time to know her and to write down her stories. I’ve been thinking of people dear to me, people I’ve never met but whose lives I am privileged to share in some small part. I’ve been thinking of the ending of the year, the perfectly beautiful weather again today, coming home in the crisp early evening darkness with Venus and Mars brighter than anything else in the sky. I’ve been thinking about my blessings and I’ve been thinking about my complaints of the past week.

The light always returns, no matter how dark it gets. The blessings always win.

Blessings on you and your family, on those who have gone before, and on those you remember.

(Some of my family photographs on the flipside.)

Dad and me. This is just about my favorite picture of him. :)

This is my grandfather (Dad’s father) in his spiffy new roadster: Hood’s Run, Kentucky, undated. (Late 1920s?)

And this is my precious Aunt Min and her beloved husband, my Uncle Dwight. Late 1940s?

I am not happy. It sounds like the door has been painted the wrong color and they are trying to camouflage the mistake instead of repainting it the right color. I have already informed my dear husband that on Friday, or Monday or whenever they tell me that it’s ready, he is coming with me. We will ask them to pull it outside into the sunshine and we will inspect it with a fine-tooth comb. If the paint job is not satisfactory, I won’t accept it. Period.

On Monday, The Elephant’s Child had a birthday. It’s now one year old. Also, I had a birthday a week ago today, but I am considerably more than one year old. Since everyone in my family ( including me) forgot both events, I think that perhaps tomorrow I’ll go buy us both a birthday present. Maybe even cake.

So there.

On the outside, you ask? Well, yes. This summer has been one of the most humid ever, even in an area of the country known for summer humidity. I’ve seen dew points of 78 and 79 this year, and that’s something I have never seen in my half-century in this same valley in Alabama. Not even during hurricanes.

This much moisture in the air means that it condenses on any surface cooler than the dewpoint. Even though we have double-hung storm windows and keep the air conditioner somewhere around 75°, the windows will fog over on the outside when dew points are higher than the temperature of the glass, so I’ve lived inside a sweaty glass of iced tea all summer. I’ve had to buy a second dehumidifier for the upstairs area, and the two are sucking approximately 15 gallons of water out of the air every day. With the AC running 24/7!

But this morning the windows were unfogged. For some unexplained reason, the dewpoint has dropped to 66 and we even have a bit of a breeze. Stepping outside on the deck was actually bearable — even pleasant.

And I was reminded that it’s almost Killer Acorn Season again.

We have an ancient chestnut oak right behind the house, with many spreading limbs that extend over the roof. We moved into this house in September, 11 years ago, and the first night we thought we were in the midst of an artillery barrage. We’ve gotten used to it over the years and the dropping acorns no longer keep us awake (although there are a couple of “Huh? What was that?” moments late each summer when it begins again).

So this morning, the weather is a tiny bit more pleasant and the acorns are ripening; both are hopeful signs that perhaps there will be an end sometime soon to the sticky misery that is summer in the South.

The storm should start moving in here tomorrow, with the high wind and rain nasties really starting after midnight tomorrow night and continuing into Monday. I expect that we will lose power for some period of time, because this whole area is a solid mass of old trees. Every time the wind blows, branches and sometimes whole trees come down across power lines.

At the moment, it’s partly cloudy, in the mid-80s, and very humid. Typical summer day.

We’re as well prepared for this as I can manage at the moment, although I plan to buy a couple more flashlights and check on the battery stock today. As long as the natural gas lines are intact, and they are underground so it shouldn’t be a problem, we can cook. Our grill is plumbed in — just turn the gas on, light it, and go. (I love so many things about this house.) Thanks to Debra for suggesting peanut butter; I don’t normally keep that around because DH readily admits he has no self-control around it. (Jar, spoon, yummy in his tummy, not stopping til it’s all gone.)

Canned meat: #1 son mentioned Spam last night. I asked him, incredulously, if he would actually eat Spam, even in an emergency. He considered this and answered with a twinkle, “Well… post-apocalypse, maybe.” I think I will pass on buying Spam. :D

In other news, I have hit That Wall again with Fibonacci Fandango. I’ve got the piecing and some of the embellishment done and am at the point where I need to appliqué the figure in place. And I can’t find the right fabric, and now I am thinking that I really dislike the pose as well.

Three versions, with different cutouts pinned to the base:

Bleah – no life.

Too orange.Color’s okay, but hate the pose.

I need a curvy pose, one that echoes the Fibonacci spiral, but this isn’t working. Looks too much like high school gym class.

Back to the drawing board, as we wait for whatever Dennis the Menace brings tomorrow.

Special weather statement for central Alabama from the National Weather Service:

I missed Hurricane Ivan last September. I was in Taos, teaching, but my husband and son were home. Looks like I get the summer reruns this year…

If I disappear from view for a day or two, we will probably be without power and/or Internet. I’ll check back in as soon as I can.

(Note to self: check on batteries and drinking water today. Also be sure to have a handwork project ready to do. Or a good book.)

It’s highly amusing grocery shopping at Costco with my daughter. She’s 26, rather on the skinny side, teaches Tae-Kwon-Do so she’s very much in shape, and she goes through the store like a voracious Hoover, scooping up food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. We had to stop at each and every sample station in that whole enormous place.

She tried: vegetable lasagna, teriyaki chicken, spiced meatballs, Margaritaville Island Lime Shrimp, garlic pita chips, microwavable cheeseburgers, strawberry cheesecake, an exotic cheese, and some kind of vile green “energy drink” that strongly resembled baby spit-up. My husband, when I told him about all the various foods, turned a delicate shade of pale green from the very thought and reached for the Pepto-Bismol.

So today is less busy than a usual Friday. And this morning Sonji Says “Cut yourself some slack, then I won’t feel bad about doing it for myself.” (Don’t you just love how cleverly I snuck the self-referential name in there?) Embracing that position gladly, I won’t apologize for not finishing the quilt yesterday. I’ll just get to work and get it done today.

Vintage fabrics. (There are at least two more boxes this size, and this box is the icky stuff that no one is gonna want. I’ve got a four-drawer bureau full of feed sacks and 1940s prints too.)

Tons of quilt books.

Vintage quilt blocks.

Bunches of old quilt tops that I’ve accumulated. (Not ones I made — old ones I’ve collected.)

Vintage table linens, some from the 1950s.

Calendars purchased just for the pictures and never marked in.

Thirty years or more accumulation of quilt magazines, including some of the very early Quilters’ Newsletters.

I’ve even got a one-owner Bernina 1230 in perfect condition that I am about ready to part with, for a suitable price.

Oh yeah… I almost forgot the antique Singer sewing machines back in the corner. No Featherweights, but at least two of them are in good running order and sew a beautiful straight stitch. I think I have a Model 128 and a couple of 202s, though I’d have to go look.

I must be getting old. I don’t feel comforted by having all this stuff anymore — I am almost claustrophobic with the clutter, and I have a big studio space.

Time to clean out and unload. Wish you could all come over!