Some pictures of my one room trunk show

Back in the saddle

We got moved. I carved out a little studio space. Some unfinished business, like this wall in my office:

I call it Mondrian/Klimt.
It is paint and wallpaper samples.
Time is still very limited, so that's it for today.

There Goes the Piano

Stuffing two homes into one involves difficult choices. If I wanted a piano-shaped shelf, I would hollow out the inside and store things in there. But the piano has to go. We never play it, we never tune it, someone out there will love it more than I do.

The buffet has to go. Yes, it was probably my grandmother's and it is a "significant" piece. But I never liked dark wood, and it is a huge bulky thing. It's outta here as soon as the piano gets out of the way.

The junkmen in our neighborhood make two or three passes a day past our driveway, looking for goodies. They will be so happy today.

As some of you already know, my father, Tom Fineberg, died Sunday evening of a heart attack. He was 89 last week. His last day was pretty good, my sister Margie was here and they had shared some laughs. After dinner Dad lay down for a nap. He got up to get in his chair and apparently that was it. We found him on the floor, it was all over in seconds.

Our friend and neighbor Susan Power wrote the most amazing note to us:

As the honorable Tom Fineberg enters the Spirit World, you will find on one side of Tom's path, all past great chess players waiting with boards in hand, hoping for the "first" game to try and "beat Tom," while on the other side of his path, his ancestors smile, knowing their "Tom is home"! And what does your father say? "Bring 'em on, I'm ready for a game!"

His former student, Dr. Daaim Shabazz, wrote a magnificent column on his blog, The Chess Drum.

That's all I can write for now. So much to do. Steve and I will be moving downstairs to care for Mom and selling our unit, gotta clear out all our stuff. . .

A wise woman once told me, "A woman's power lies in her ability to create space." I am about to put that to the test.

Our Day at the Zoo

A cool clear day and happy animals made for a refreshing day at Brookfield Zoo. Some pics:

Snow Leopard

Isis

Zenda

Zenda puts on a show each day around closing time, pacing and roaring up close to the viewing window.

Amir Leopard

Sleepy serval

Black Footed Cat

This is the male of the pair, who had a kitten on Valentine's Day. The kitten is being hand raised by Zoo staff.

Meercats

nothing

I'm still here. Back to sewing and quilting this month. Cats are good.

Tickled

Last weekend I had a sudden flurry of orders for my Scallop Edge Beaded Necklace Pattern. Three in a row, all for women in the west and northwest suburbs. After the third order, I had to know what was going on. I e-mailed her, thinking maybe there was a class going on. She told me that a LYS in Glen Ellyn was doing a KAL, the second so far with this pattern.

I drove out there last night, Thursday being late night sit-and-knit, and me being kinda desperate for a place to do just that. And of course I had to see these people who were promoting my pattern so heartily. I found out from some of the other knitters that the place had been SRO on Sunday. They told me people had been knitting while sitting on the floor and there was a line out the door.

Well between that and the 425 completed necklaces on Ravelry to date, I am astounded. I feel like mini-EZ. I never was "popular," but my silly little pattern seems to be. Naches fun Moyekhkinder.

String Theory Yarn Company hosts a KAL/open knitting every Sunday. I hope to go back there soon.

UFOs*

*Unidentified Fiber Objects

Some of them are so old, I can't even remember what they were going to be when they grew up.

For the last few weeks I have been on a rampage to unearth and complete as many knitted beginnings as I can. Also recovering the yarn from the ones that are not ever going to amount to anything.

Why now? Loopy Yarns had a UFO party last Friday night. I didn't go -- but for the eight or nine days before the event and ever since, I've been working through dozens of projects mouldering in the bottoms of bags and plastic bins.

Tonight I made progress on a thing conceived in the 'eighties that was so pretty I never could give up on it. A couple of days ago I was working on The Thing. See that purple tweed right inside the diagonal edge? I ran out on one edge, and cannot for the life of me find what was left of the 100 grams I had when I started. In panic mode, I ordered five skeins in four shades of purple (two vintage). One of them should be close enough. Of course it is a scratchy yarn that I hate and was hoping to use it up in this thing, and now I will have way too much of it, and it is costing me a small fortune, but what the hay. Maybe I can resell the skeins least like my old one.

Have to Brag

435 Projects!! And each one more gorgeous than the last. Oh, Ravelers, you make me so happy!!!

Blizzard!

Mia Becomes a House Cat

Last summer Mia, my "baby Siamese," got locked in a garage for nine days. Very long story, but when she got out, I took her to my Dad's, in an attempt to keep her out of trouble. This displeased her. At the first opportunity, she was out the window, down the fire escape, and gone. (I did not know we had a window open with no screen.)

I have not written publicly about this because I was so ashamed of my tactical error and so worried about the cat.

On January 9, I spotted her in a vacant lot a few blocks from home. "Mia! You're NOT DEAD!" She remembered me and did not run away. After feeding her for a two weeks and receiving many happy purrs and cuddles, I was able to trap her last week and bring her home to my own apartment, the one with less traffic and more control of windows.

This time, Mia seems delighted to be indoors with a reliable food supply and cuddles on demand. What changed? Well, it's winter. And the other cats are nicer to her than the ones at Dad's. She is becoming good friends with Blackie. Rosebud hisses at her but is too old and fat to chase her. Pixel just ignores her.

I feel like a mountain has been removed from my shoulders.

The Saga of Mister Darcey

Yet another lost pet showed up in front of our building last night. What had me all sad and furious is that we have rescued this fellow before! Yes, you heard me. Loooooong story.

Tuesday September 7 I arrived home about 10 pm to find a cat in the front walkway. Having just gone through this with Missy (another story altogether), I scooped him up and brought him in, put out the food, and took the pictures for the Found Cat flyer. He immediately inspected all rooms and pretty much took over, hence the naming after the handsome, arrogant, romantic stranger (yes I know I spelled it wrong). Emma and the other girls were not amused.

Meanwhile, he was ravenous, unruly, rude, and tended to bite anyone who tried to cuddle him. He had very stinky goopy poops. I decided to get him to the vet ASAP, which was Monday September 13 due to my overwhelming prior commitments. We tested him for everything, treated him for three kinds of parasites, vaccinated him, and on Tuesday he was neutered and I took him home to recover.

Unlike Missy, whose people found her right away and were overjoyed to have her back, Darcey's people were harder to find. Wednesday I got a call from a woman who thought he was her lost cat, but it turned out he was not.

Thursday I got another call, this time from a woman who was certain he was her cat who she had "put out for a week" because she could not afford food or litter. I was aghast. I did not want to let her have him back, ever.

She persisted in calling and said that things had changed and she could afford to feed him now. I reluctantly invited her over to confirm that it was the correct cat, get to know her better, and see how the two interacted. Since Darcey was still getting medication we agreed that he would stay with me until that was done. She was to call in five days.

Some number of days beyond five (my memory is fuzzy here) she knocks on the door, saying she lost my number. Eventually she comes over with her young niece and they take the cat home. This was about a week ago. Next thing I know, the cat is back in the driveway, and runs to me.

DH tells me that the "owner" had come over earlier to ask us to take him back because she is allergic. He did not agree, and I guess her solution was to dump the cat here again.

Today she rang the bell and returned the carrier. Not one word about the cat. Unbelievable.

Missy

Hers is a far less dramatic tale. She came, she was loved, she was reunited with a little boy and a litter mate, happy ending. But you get pictures.