Gunsmoke and Knitting

From The Art Newspaper, I found the following stories interesting:

Art Institute of Chicago open extension

Cleveland Museum of Art opens new east wing

New glass museum to open on Murano Island, Venice

Israel open mosaic museum on west bank

This weekend was jam weekend. The berries are ripe and juicy. The weather was amenable – not too hot, not too humid. Production included strawberry port wine jam which is self-explanatory, a concoction I am calling Blueberryport Massachusetts – a mixture of blueberries, tawny port wine, maple syrup, juice and rind of one lemon, and Cherryfield Maine Jam – Bing cherries, ruby port and tawny port wine, and juice and rind of one lemon.

These jams are beautiful. The kitchen (whole house) smells wonderful. It will take me a while to clean up all of the terrific stickiness that is a by product of the jam making process, but that is a small price to pay.

I am looking forward to opening these little jars of summer when the cold winds blow.

My friends are already putting in their requests for their favorites.

I was at a funeral the other day and the found the congregation was supported by a church nurse. I am sure this is common, I have just not encountered it in my experience. What I found enchanting was that she wore the white nurse’s uniform, complete with white stockings and shoes and – the best of all – a starched, white nurse’s cap.

I have told my friends who are nurses that I think they should have to wear the outfit – especially the cap. I remember reading – was it Cherry Ames? – a long time ago and the capping ceremony when the nursing graduates received their little white hats. Oh, and the capes. Nurses used to have navy blue capes. I would be a nurse, if I could wear a cape. Like a health care super hero.

Nuns, too. Nuns have not been the same since they gave up their habits. I remember being on vacation when I was a kid. In the crowded ladies room, the way to find out if a stall was occupied was to look under the door for feet. Well, I looked at one and saw feet. I also saw the hem of a black habit and white underpants. I was torn between fascination that nuns were so normal under their uniforms, and being afraid that I had committed some sin (and was going to HELL) by seeing her underpants. I’m not even Catholic.

My nurse friends, by the way, do not agree with me.

Here’s a little diversion for times when you cannot get to the range. Not like the real thing and yet I found it amusing.

I love yarns, fibers, colors, textures. I like to knit. It is an activity that can be performed that still allows conversation, movie watching, listening to music, etc. It is a social kind of solitary activity.

But I have a short attention span. So I am currently working on – a man’s sweater in midnight blue worsted wool on size 7 needles with a kangaroo pocket and a hood, a lace scarf in variegated rose colored lace weight wool on size 9 needles, and a pair of socks in a deep green self-striping wool fingering yarn on size 2 needles.

I cannot imagine working on just one project at a time. I have run into a number of people who have told me (with a smug expression on their faces) that they never start a new project until they complete the one they are working on. And they act as if that makes them virtuous, or morally superior.

What a load of crap. You want to work on one thing at a time – good for you and so what.

What I really have trouble with is the huge number of incredibly ugly, dorky patterns for handwork that are around. And people buy them. And make them. One at a time. Often in some kind of faux fiber that was manufactured in a laboratory. Talk about wasting our natural resources and gunging up the environment.

I left work a little early last week for an appointment.  My appointment was at the range.  It was ladies’ day with free range time.  This is something I don’t do often enough, and living in the suburbs makes plinking impractical.

I spent some time with a .45 M1911, a .45 M1917, and a .32 M1903.

I don’t want to shoot baby animals.  I don’t want to shoot up people with whom I disagree.  Target shooting, however, involves skills that take discipline and practice.  Invest enough time in a systematic way and I see improvement.

I like having and honing that skill set.  I like knowing how to load my gun, clear a jam, sight on a target and use feedback to improve my aim. I like the aroma of gun powder.  I like knowing how to break down and clean my gun. I like knowing how to handle it safely.

I especially like the blig blam of the .45