Started off last friday with news covering the BIG SaddleRidge fire in the Porter Ranch area of northwest San Fernando Valley. We lived in Porter Ranch from 1964 to 1976 (on Celtic … which was pronounced seltic then and is now being pronounced correctly with a hard c … keltic). We had bought one of the brand new houses west of I5 a few blocks south of what is now the Reagan Freeway. At that time the area was semi-rural, not upscale as it appears to be now. I doubt I’d recognize it today.
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Last week was spinning week … and I was left behind … sort of.
During these spinning weeks in the past, even last year, I was able to concentrate on spinning … but not this year. I’m not sure what the difference was but I managed only 2,636 yards or just about a mile and a half.
Though it wasn’t a lot of yardage, I did manage to finish a combination of ebony merino with a fiber the mixer called “Glitzy”. The glitz was on an eggplant coloured base. I mixed two threads of the black with one of the glitz and, to my surprise, the eggplant came through dominate. It is a dark yarn, but will make a nice lacy vest to wear over a lavender blouse I have.
As a side effect … I had been aware of the “you have to have done the work during spin week” rule. But I got bored with the dark colours and plied some singles I had spun earlier. When reporting my yardage, I counted only the plying and said so. It set off a storm. Competitive spinners were outraged. Art spinners were surprised that their use of a commercial core made them ineligible (I don’t understand “art” yarn anyhow). I wound up feeling sorry for the poor organizers. I will read the rules more closely next year to see what changes there will be.
Even when I’m bit trying, I seem to make trouble. Had I not been honest, no one would have known any of the minor violations. And this doesn’t make sense to most of you anyhow.
Oh well …
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My friend Neera and I went to see “Turandot” in HD last Saturday (part of the time I was to have been spinning). I’ve seen the Zeferilli production before and it is indeed spectacular. This time the male lead was sung by a tenor from Azerbaijan. He has a nice voice, but he seemed to spend most of his time watching the Maestro rather than those on stage with him. I had heard a very knowledgeable conductor say it is the job of the conductor of opera to follow the singers, not for the singers to follow the conductor. It was distracting to see the tenor looking into the pit when he was supposed to be addressing another character on stage. Maybe he will gain confidence. If not …
”Turandot” is not one of my favorites, although there is some great music. I think the “hero” is an idiot. He passes up a woman who adores him, but is a servant, for a warped Princess. As a result, Liu and his father (for whom she had been caring) both die.
Stupid …
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Weather is changing … again. Moving toward winter. The woodshed is almost full. Last night there was wind in the tops of the evergreens. This morning it has reached ground level. The maple is moving as in a breeze. The catalpa is waving leaves and branches. The birches are scintillating. And the evergreens are nodding down low and whipping around up top. All very intriguing.
Yesterday I noticed the small Japanese maple in the courtyard is a very bright scarlet.
I do enjoy autumn colours.
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The last Tailgate giveaway party of fresh produce for this year was yesterday. Lots of fruit … big plums, bags of oranges and apples, and small but tasty pears … plus luscious ears of corn (we had those for dinner last night), red and green bell peppers, broccoli, a wide assortment of greens, and packs of frozen breakfast sausage patties.
There are now two live-ins at the local fire company stationhouse. They get room, utilities, and training by responding to calls and we get more complete coverage. Because they are students on limited incomes, we told them about the Tailgate event. They both showed up and they will be eating good for a couple of weeks.
Next volunteer event will be packing Thanksgiving boxes.
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And so it goes. I still miss George … mostly the hugs. I read that a hug lasting at least 20 seconds is good for your health.
Mark and his family aren’t touchers and it is a little weird to offer hugs or touches to strangers. I’ve seen posts of folks who stand on the street with signs saying “Free Hugs” who get a good number of takers. I was reminded yesterday by one of the “guests” at the food party that I had hugged him when his mother died. That made me feel good.
Maybe when the ache gets too bad I’ll go to Yreka where fewer people know me and try the sign thing. Or maybe in town for my next birthday?
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Here to end the week is “The Allegory of the Long Spoons”.
Legend has it that a man of Lituania, an itinerant preacher, was granted permission to visit both Heaven and Hell.
With an angel for his guide, he was first ushered through the gates of Hell which, he was surprised to find, were made of finely wrought gold. The gates were exquisitely lovely, as was the lush green landscape that lay beyond them. He looked at his angelic guide in disbelief. “It’s all so beautiful,” he said. “The sight of the meadows and mountains … the sounds of the birds singing in the trees … the scent of thousands of flowers … ” And then the tantalizing aroma of a gourmet meal caught his attention.
Entering a large dining hall, he saw row after row of tables laden with platters of sumptuous food yet the people seated around the tables were pale and emaciated, moaning in hunger. Coming closer, he saw that each man was holding a long spoon but that both his arms were splinted with wooden slats so that he could not bend either elbow to bring the food to his mouth.
The angel then took him to Heaven, where he encountered the same beauty he had witnessed in Hell. Entering the dining hall there he saw the same scene, except in contrast to Hell the people seated at the tables who had their arms splinted with wooden slates were sitting contentedly, cheerfully talking with each other, as they enjoyed their sumptuous meal.
As he came closer, he was amazed to watch how each person would feed the person sitting across from him. The recipient of this kindness would express gratitude and then return the favor by leaning across the table to feed his benefactor.
The man urged his angel to take him back to Hell so he could share this solution with the poor souls trapped there. Racing into the dining hall, he shouted to the first starving man he saw, “You do not have to go hungry. Use your spoon to feed your neighbor, and he will surely return the favor and feed you.”
“‘You expect me to feed the detestable man sitting across the table?’ the man said angrily. ‘I would rather starve than give him the pleasure of eating!”
It was then that the man understood. Heaven and Hell offer the same circumstances and conditions. The only difference is in the way people treat each other.
So … ‘til next week …