If you stay in one place, things may come back around.

I. Frog Patrol

Oh, who is this, perching in the break room at work?

Ever since the puffy Portland frogs came on the scene, I've been tucking little frogs around. 

Two other coworkers add toys or trinkets to their areas-- Sander (Hannukah candle-lighter--coming up soon, and I just found a small menorah!) and Book's Amina, who is a fan of anime and suchlike.

But--since Ass't Man left-- no one else adds decorations to the break room. 
I've hung framed art (donated) over the years. 
I just added a Virgin of Guadalupe--the Mexican apparition of Mary––in honor of our Catholic Hispanic coworkers (several from Mexico). 

II. What goes around, comes around (eventually, maybe), if you're there to see it

Ass't Man took up my invitation to help with end caps.
I was surprised. I thought I'd never see him again after he'd dropped in the week before. 

But he showed up this Monday, and I was delighted, and told him so. 
He has one hour on Mondays, he said, between getting off work (he's a special ed aide, like I was briefly) and picking up his daughter from some after-school activity--
enough time to decorate one end cap.

Great! I said. NO ONE does any decorating. 

And he whipped together this black-and-white display, below. 
He always mixed things from different departments--here, soccer shoes on the top shelf, and a speaker (?) on the bottom.
(I later added the Black rag-doll family in the basket. I know it throws off the color scheme.)

Ass't Man had left the store two years ago on a sour note--after I'd told him how uncomfortable I'd been with his drunken behavior toward me at a party at Emmler's. 

It had gone badly. I'd felt extremely uncomfortable, and he'd gotten defensive and turned on me:
"I have to walk on eggshells around you!"

And I'd gotten angry. "You sound like an alcoholic!"
Well, that was true
 . . . but said LOUDLY on the sales floor at work?
Not ideal.

That was pretty much our last conversation until four days ago, when he –– in passing (we were not even facing each other) ––mentioned that he's quit drinking.
He also let slip that he's been "sort of boycotting this place".

AND he said he'd be so much more effective as Assistant Manager now that he's worked in Special Ed.
I can totally imagine that!  

Before the thrift store, he'd worked in graphic design for twenty years, and never directly with people. 
He was terrible at people, but, granted, he was also inexperienced.
As anyone could see. 

(It's classic bad management that Big Boss made him manager. BB simply promotes the Last One Standing.  I'm only not a manager because I've refused it--and I doubt he'd offer it to me now.)

I am very happy––but cautious––about AM.
I had felt like I'd broken up with my store husband when he left.
But I know he has quit drinking before, and not been able to stay with it. So I'm not going to get my hopes up. 

It's great he's trying, anyway, and now we're not forced into proximity, maybe we can enjoy one hour a week.
I could take that time to work on another end cap.
But not at first.

We'll see if this even lasts, but I do feel a bit restored by even the brief chat. Him telling me he quit drinking feels like a reply to and acknowledgement of my distress two years ago.

THINGS TAKE TIME.

AND... talk about things going round--the same week AM dropped in, Manageress hired Emmler Ann back as cashier.
I'm thrilled!
She's the wild child artist who I'd made Alley Protectors with. She's also been gone two years.

 So that Monday AM helped up front, Emmler was at the cash register, and for a moment the three of us stood together, saying hi.

It's so interesting--it's by my own returning to the store that I am present for these people's. 
I am grateful.
_________________

III. Some stuff

It's cold outside. 26ºF / –3ºC this morning.
I added this record to a work display yesterday.

I miss my orange couch--the same color as the one above. I slightly regret having gotten rid of it, though it was the right thing to do when I moved into a room at HouseMate's. 
But I have my ugly brown couch  now, so I'm okay.

BELOW: 
An example of me taking advantage of my coworkers' ignorance: someone had priced a bag of these three skeins of yarn $4.99. 
I saw the malabrigo tag and snatched it up.

Malabrigo is a family-owned, hand-dyed yarn business in Uruguay, though this "Dos Tierras" blend of alpaca and merino is made in collaboration with a Peruvian place.
It's not the MOST expensive yarn--"only" $22/skein. (The Noro yarn of my stripey sweater is double that.)

Anyway, there's enough for a knitter to make something--it would be a shame to cut it up for God's eyes. So I offered it to J-shek, my writer friend who knits and had donated some leftover yarn to my eyes project. 
He was happy to accept.

BELOW: 
A new old tablecloth for Christmas Eve dinner! 
And a couple old hot pads crocheted to look like . . . brain coral. (I have a few already.) Can you see? Those wavy lines are open and elevated ridges. 

Found it! It's called Wiggle stitch, and it's enjoying a revival.
A free pattern here:
mooglyblog.com/wiggle-it-crochet-trivet-dishcloth-set

Now I've got my needlecrafters to help me, maybe I'll learn how to make these. They're so appealingly weird--and useful as trivets.

BELOW: Experimenting with technique...
My 2nd attempt to mimic the Diebenkorn painting. 
I wound a patch of asymmetrical blue and thicker lines of orange & red. 

The balance is not right. . . Needs to be chunkier.
 Will try, try again!
THINGS TAKE TIME.

New Happy Hour

I’m stopped for a happy hour beer and a yarn-ball rolling stint, a block from my house. Despite walking past it almost daily, I’ve avoided this deli and organic/local farms butcher & market because during Covid they instituted a 10% service fee. Lots of places started adding fees, but usually more like 4%—and most took them off after lockdown. 

I resented that this deli only removed theirs when the City passed a law saying places could not charge these (often hidden in small print) fees. I thought the deli was awfully snooty, catering to the Montessori trade. (There’s a Montessori school in the neighborhood. Like I’ve said, this neighborhood is on a social border. And so am I.)

But lately I’ve heard that they are strong, active supporters of immigrants—and I saw signs that they’re hosting a “What to Do in an ICE raid” training—the sort my workplace should hold. So this afternoon I decided to try it, and it’s very nice, though it smells of smoked meats… a mix of delicious and disgusting. They’re playing good music though. (Some acoustic alt-country blues kinda music?)

I despair of my workplace. I won’t go into it, but Manageress just decreed something so nonsensical, it’s like saying, “I want us to flounder in disorder.”

I absolutely am committing HERE & NOW to putting my energy into My Own Work, especially into art making & toy playing!

I’ve already started—God’s eyes, Christmas card prints, needlework group, postcards, Bear repair, reaching out to people… and gathering tiny musical instruments for the Girlettes’ Christmas parade—new this year!

And now I am going to wind up some of this beautiful yarn I just got in the mail from k. It’s wool carpet yarn—too scratchy to wear next to the skin but absolutely ideal for winding around sticks.

Why I love my job.

 I really needed a reminder and the thrift magic sent me one this morning – – I pulled these tiny, old, pipe-cleaner Christmas creatures  out of the trash at work. They were all bent and twisted, but savable. (My coworkers are criminal —the “church lady” ones, I mean.)

Color fields

 

From today: a God’s eye in colors from Richard Diebenkorn’s painting “Berkeley No. 52” (1955) —the postcard here. I continue trying to shake loose my color habits. 

MT dropped by with a book and joined me in wrapping yarn for a bit. She said she used to close her eyes and choose seven colored pencils out of the enormous number she had – – and then use only those in her next picture.

P.S. "managing sideways"

P.S. I confess to you, my brothers and sisters, 
that I have turned to ChatGPT for actual help. 

In the past, I've only talked to it about what it (AI) is, how it works, what its existence means, and the same questions applied to human beings (what are we, anyway?), and that sort of philosophical and computer-y stuff.

But now I find myself in a workplace situation I could use help with, and I thought that with its patchwork of patterns, Chat could put together something helpful.

And it did, right off the bat. It used the phrase "managing sideways" to describe what I am facing.
I won't go into it, but a coworker is not pulling their weight; I have not said anything to them because. . . among other things,
I resent management, who should do it, and never does.

I gave a brief overview, and Chat replied:

"In workplaces with weaker management, informal “managing sideways” often falls on conscientious employees. 
That doesn’t mean you have to take on more than is fair, but you can approach this in a way that’s low-conflict, professional, and safe."

I immediately felt better that what I face at work is so common (I knew it was), there's a phrase for it (one I'd never heard). It can be a good thing in a healthy workplace (mine is not).

And then it came up with a list of helpful ideas for strategizing with my coworker.  
Yay!

(Top: “Relativity” by Escher)

Flips & Tips

I. My Hair: From Caesar to Tintin
 

I got my hair buzzed short seven Saturdays ago--it's growing out. 
This week, Media Jeff (store volunteer) said it looked good–"like Caesar".

Caesar? I'd rather look like Tintin, I said, with a flip in the front.

Housewares volunteer Nina was standing nearby. She's a cosmetics enthusiast. "I'll bring you some product!" she said. 
She brought in three hair waxes and pastes for my very own. (I own zero cosmetics, not even a lipstick anymore.)
  
Yesterday I slicked back the sides and flipped up the front.
Much better!

I took this selfie in the bathroom of the French Café where Marz used to work. I went there yesterday after the Needlework meet-up at the library. (The needleworkers meet on the first and third Saturdays of the month. This was my second time.) 

II. Tips

There were about a dozen women--most of them knitters and crocheters, a couple cross-stitchers. 
Both crocheters were making amigurumi--one, a set of 12 wee figures from the Nutcracker Suite; the other, a topsy-turvy figure with a reversible flower-petal skirt. The knitters were making hats, scarves, or sweaters, from simple beginner's patterns to intricate Scandinavian ones.

I made several God's eyes (below).
I've realized that pencils (slippery and six-sided) don't hold yarn in a straight line, so you end up with a circle instead of a diamond. 
Now I realize that, I'll start using that feature on purpose. Flower colors with leaf-greens behind.
The center eye on pencils looks like a rose. 

The one on the far right looks kinda... fleshy, like labia, doesn't it? I'll try to play that up more.

I'm starting to take time to add decorations again, like the felt baubles on the blues-and-white Greek eye above.  (I'd stopped doing that when I'd wanted to make 100 eyes fast.)
I made this one at the French café. 

At the group, a knitter had asked me if she could have the Greek eye that I'd made there. She wants to hang it at her workplace-- in food service at a tough grade school. Since the school outlawed phone use this year, she said, there've been more student fights in the cafeteria.
I don't know if she feels the need for protection from school staff or the kids!

I'm happy when people want the eyes. Since she'd wanted one, I left the second Greek eye at the café as a tip, with a tiny note saying what it was.

You don't have to tip––it's bar service––but I usually do put something in the tip jar (though I know the mostly young women who work there earn more than I do). 

(Tipping is weird. The more upscale the place, the more servers make, while working in the grungiest food service--fast food--servers make NO tips.)

Anyway, lately I've started to cut back on tipping because prices are so high--and most places charge a dollar extra for non-dairy (plant) milk, oat, soy, or almond. 

I'd paid $7 for an oat-milk cappuccino.

I don't like that upcharge.
I think places should encourage dairy-free milk for health and sustainability reasons--and kindness to cows, too--and spread the expense out so everyone pays the same, no matter which milk they choose.

(Like, places don't charge more if a customer uses the bathroom...)

III. Choose Your Milk

Starbucks stopped upcharging for vegan milks last fall--as a sales incentive, and also because of pressure from animal rights groups. (per PETA). 
I'd hoped more places would follow their lead.

Some have. The manager at a café that did told me the milk industry makes dairy super cheap for them, and non-dairy milks cost a lot more. "But you don't have to pay for refrigeration." 

"And it's good for the cows", I said.

There's a coffee shop here that makes non-dairy milk the default--I love that!

I'd made an effort to eat less animal products a couple years ago, after I got some wonky kidney readings.
Now I'm just finding I don't want to eat them--especially flesh. 
Cheese, I still love. 

A wealthy friend of the thrift store (I don't know who) is hosting a thank-you dinner for staff next weekend. 
We were asked to choose an entrée from the menu ahead of time. Everyone was choosing salmon, and I was going to too--and then I thought about how salmon are farmed. It's disgusting. 

But--how nice––they offer vegan bolognese. So I chose that, and will bring a little baggie of Parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top.

IV. Postcard Exchange

One of the needleworkers, Juno, a trans-woman, brought a photo album of postcards she's received through an international postcard-swap, 
PostCrossing.com. (Also on IG.)

[Btw, I use pseudonyms or nicknames for most people on my blog.]

This online organization has facilitated people sending and receiving  80 million postcards since 2005. 
I thought it'd be boring to look at someone's postcard album, but a lot of the senders had put creative care into their mailings, with lots of fun stamps and some wild postcards.

Juno said that she'd listed LGBTQ+ in her profile, and that some people try to send stuff that matches profiles. So she gets a lot of fun queer-themed cards, including a card from Finland with that country's OFFICIAL Tom of Finland postage stamps

Another needleworker, Christine, had signed onto Postcrossings recently because of Juno.
And another woman passed around instructions she'd printed for knitting washcloths--"the easiest thing to learn to knit on".

I love all this physical sharing! 
I don't want to learn to knit, but this sort of thing is exactly what I wanted in a seeking out live get-togethers---the physical presence of other people leading to exchanges of collateral tidbits. 

And I do want to exchange postcards. I have lots sitting around, and some fun stamps. And some cool postcards get donated to the store too.
Christine and I exchanged addresses for a direct swap, and I think I'll sign up at postcrossings too.
________________________

V. "Better to do it"

For the time being, I'm giving up on visiting churches. 
Tooooo many things have to line up for me to fit with a church. Hardly anything has to line up for a crafting group to work.
Not even crafting itself!
Yesterday, one woman confessed that she doesn't really do needlework, she just brings something to work on so she can socialize.

No one has started a political discussion, though sometimes there's some mention... "He's a Trumper", said disparagingly. 
There's no group recital of a Land Acknowledgement. The library that hosts the group shares our county's Land & Water Acknowledgement, and it has active programs about/with indigenous people--with offerings this month, Native American Heritage Month.

You know I'm not a particular fan of Land Acknowledgements. 
I'm only mentioning it because I'd thought the church I visited was hypocritical in reciting a strongly worded one while doing nothing (so far as I could see).

OMG, here's a hilarious mock-up of these acknowledgements from Reservation Dogs--even our ancestors the Dinosaur Nation get acknowledged.
(I love that! But... WHAT ABOUT Conifers & Ferns?!)
The characters only tolerate it because they are getting gift cards for attending.


I'd loved that show but had forgotten that scene. 
I came across it in an NPR article from 2023, So you began your event with an Indigenous land acknowledgment. Now what?

 "Indigenous leaders and activists have mixed feelings about land acknowledgments. While some say they are a waste of time, others are working to make the well-meaning but often empty speeches more useful."

I have so many questions though. 
When this church, for instance, recited its strong statement about indigenous people, I wondered,
 . . . What about ALL the other people our ancestors oppressed?
And what about the oppression of those ancestors themselves?

Should the men stand and say, 
"Our ancestors have sexually and socially exploited women"? 

Should women say, "Throughout history, we've emotionally manipulated our children and partners"?

But... this is so specific.
 Ridiculously specific.
Our ancestors weren't all one sex or race or nation... or even species.
Dinosaur Nation!

In the end, I like the Catholic Confiteor (I acknowledge...).
It's a one-size-fits-all confession of personal [fill in the blank] failure. 
I acknowledge that the church has hurt many people, 
but to me, this is not a crushing statement, but an uplifting one:

I fuck up. We all fuck up. 
WE ARE IN THIS TOGETHER.
Let us help one another.

There are various translations--this is how I remember it:

"I confess to almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault, 
in my thoughts and in my deeds, 
in what I have done and what I have failed to do.

Therefore I ask you, my brothers and sisters, and all the angels and saints in heaven to pray for me to the lord our God."

I especially like that kicker, "What I have failed to do".
________________

Finally--did you see? This week the new pope, Leo, oversaw the Vatican's return of 62 indigenous artifacts to Canada. 
The previous pope, Francis, had supported the move.

"Francis said he was in favor of returning the items and others in the Vatican collection on a case-by-case basis, saying: 
'In the case where you can return things, where it's necessary to make a gesture, better to do it.'"

--npr.org/2025/11/15/nx-s1-5609835/vatican-pope-returns-indigenous-artifacts-canada

I like that.  Need to do it?  Want to do it?
Better to do it.

Oh! Ha, I just looked up from the kitchen table where I’m typing – – of course I like that– – Girlette Spike already said it—

“nothing for it but to do it”.

(I’ve posted this before—it (a gouache painting) is one of my favorite things I’ve made. It's from a photo Marz took of Spike sitting in an old truck's wheel-well on a goat farm in New Mexico.)

Keep going; Add more

Have you noticed, sometimes if an art/craft piece isn’t working out, it helps to keep going—to add more? More of some thing. If you don’t like it, you have nothing much to lose by trying.

I did not like this ^ God’s eye I made this morning. So on that theory, I added felt baubles that I’d gotten from the store – – and that bit of frivolry lightened it up. Plus, I realized it matches the autumn grasses and fading flowers in the city–planted boulevard outside my window.

With writing, however, it’s often the opposite – – it may help to take stuff out. Not as easy to edit yarn, which is more like writing by hand.

Tins

I nabbed these Carl Larsson cookie tins for MsChocolate (of Swedish descent). They are “vintage”— from the 1980s, which doesn’t seem old  to me. But to my coworker born in 2004, they must seem antique. 

They held pepparkakor—Swedish ginger thins. (More about those cookies.)

I love Carl Larsson’s art. I’d have priced these tins more than 99 cents each, but since I benefited from a coworker’s decision, I’m not complaining. Our prices are bizarre—someone will price cloudy old plastic containers $2.99, and then these lovely tins one-third of that. I try and catch such errors but lots gets by.

 I don’t mind people pricing things too low – –  then shoppers get a deal – – and sometimes that shopper is me – – it’s more a problem when people price stuff too high. Ah well, not that important. 

Big Boss said nothing about my email requesting shopping baskets. It’s entirely possible that he’ll go ahead and order them and simply never tell me – – and one day they’ll turn up. And it’s also possible he will ignore my request. Either way, I’ve decided that’s the last time I’m going to put myself out like that. I’m choosing not to set myself up to be disregarded—his usual m.o. (not just to me).

If I’m going to be annoyed or agitated, I’d rather it be for something more worthwhile! For instance, sharing my artwork more widely—like, making and selling prints, as Joanne, blogger of Cup on the Bus, had advised me to do last year. That means facing fears I have about being public with things I make.

 I’m not sure why that frightens me. If I did it, I’d probably find out! 

Fire & Eyes

Sometimes the best things are accidental. In this case--the top of my pine cone looks like the Hebrew letter Shin.
 Shaped like three tongues of flame, it is a letter of fire and transformation. 

And the winged seeds look like eyes-- like a on dragon kite.
Fire & Eyes!

I know the letter Shin because Leonard Nimoy used it for Mr. Spock's "live long and prosper" hand sign--from his growing up seeing it used as a priestly blessing in synagogue, to represent Shaddai (God) and Shalom (peace).

I need to buy some real linoleum. I've been using this soft-cut rubber stuff, and it's too pliable--you can't carve crisp, fine details. But I'll use up what I have.

Easy Day

An old friend took me to a new café in my neighborhood – – there hasn’t been one I’ve liked within walking distance – – until now!

Nice and sunny—good light for making little things from yarn. Not cheap, but nowhere is. A cup of brewed coffee is $4.25, but that includes tax & tip, so that’s not bad. Lattes are $7.25. 

Brewed it is!

Pastry prices? 

Best to eat at home first.

I spread out the God’s eyes I’d made to take their photo, and a young woman came over and asked me what they were. I told her, and I said she could have one if she wanted. 

She hesitated, so I said, “Please don’t feel you have to take one.” 

And she said, “No, I really want one! I was just deciding.”

(I always feel awkward offering people something – – I don’t want them to feel they have to accept out of politeness. A neurotic thing to worry about. 🙄😆)

Pine Cones, Crochet, Veteran's Day

I'm starting to design my Christmas card print... a mature seed pine cone. All my life I've seen pine cones and didn't realize they are always paired: cones that disperse pollen in the wind ('male') 
+ cones that produce (mostly winged) seeds ('female').
 Or maybe I just don't remember--I probably learned when I was a kid.

Also--they are older than dinosaurs (240ish million years ago):
"Conifers ['cone-bearers'] first appear in the fossil record over 300 million years ago." 
But not as old as ferns (360 million years ago).
(Wikipedia: conifers.)

Below, left: Linda Sue had posted this botanical diagram I'll use as my inspiration... 
Below right: Pine cone cross-section from Pacific Science Center

 I want to get back to printing FOR FUN. I haven't carved a lino print I've been happy with in a year--I kind of lost my confidence. Possibly this is too exacting? We shall see... 

More cool images: vintage pine cone botanical drawings

_______________

II. Another anecdote about the power of "making little things from yarn":

Back in the 1970s when Ram Dass was giving a far-out lecture to a bunch of young tripsters, he noticed an older woman in the audience wearing sturdy thick-heeled shoes, a skirt and jacket, and a hat with fruits around the brim. 

She sat there nodding to everything Ram Dass was saying. He was fascinated, wondering what she was doing in this crowd. At the end of the lecture he smiled to invite her to approach.

When she got to Ram Dass she said, “That was just marvelous, and I know exactly what you mean.” 

Ram Dass replied, "How do you know all that?” 

She said, “I crochet.”

~ Becoming Nobody: Everyone's busy being somebody, Ram Dass, documentary film by Jamie Catto, 2019

_______________

Do people crochet pine cones?
OF COURSE.  Instructions on youTube 

 

____________ 

It's Veteran's Day. 
NPR reposted an article about photographer Platon: 
"In 'Service,' A Celebrated Photographer Turns His Lens On U.S. Troops" (2016) 

ABOVE: (From left) Command Sgt. Maj. Gabriel Cervantes and Col. Burt Thompson of the 1st Stryker Brigade Combat Team, with Interpreter John Mardo. 2008. 
(Center) Pfc. Casey Long of the Tennessee Army National Guard. 2008. 
(Right) Sgt. Tim Johannsen and his wife, Jacquelyne Kay, at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where Johannsen spent 2 1/2 years after losing his legs on his second tour in Iraq. 2008.
Courtesy of Platon

"making little things from yarn"

Writer Andrew Solomon talks about what helps with depression, which varies hugely. He said...

"Depression is so exhausting. It takes up so much of your time and energy, and silence about it, it really does make the depression worse.

"My favorite of the letters that I got was from a woman who said that she had tried therapy, medication, she had tried pretty much everything, 
and she had found a solution and hoped I would tell the world, and that was 
making little things from yarn."

--From Solomon's TED Talk, Depression, The Secret We Share

I would add, Try a little tenderness (...to your inconvenient self).

BELOW: "The Scorpion"--from Stanley Spencer's 'Christ in the Wilderness' series of paintings, 1939

Last night's crop of God's eyes to add to the fence:

I keep thinking about these two versions of Doing Being-Human. 
(I posted this before--"'Craftivism' draws knitters, crocheters to Portland ICE protests...")

The Economist just wrote (11/1/25) about the inflatable frogs & friends:
"The serious reasons for wearing silly costumes to protests:
Making an impression on the streets is an art"
economist.com/culture/2025/10/24/the-serious-reasons-for-wearing-silly-costumes-to-protests

Tidying Up

Sunday morning, 6:30 a.m. I've been getting up early with the time change--because I've been falling asleep so early, since it's dark before 5 p.m.--by 8 p.m. I feel like it's midnight!

 I've set a pot of black beans to boil on the stove, to make some sort of chili. 
I've barely been to the grocery store in weeks. I'll go to the nearby Mexican grocery and get some veg. They sell wrapped bundles of chopped stew vegetables for $8---usually squash, carrots, zucchini, cabbage, corn on the cob, potato, jalapeño, a spray of cilantro, etc. I'll add a can of stewed tomatoes, a can of hominy (softened dried corn), and spices, which I have.

Nothing grand, obviously, but the first cooking I've done in almost a month. I got so TIRED of making food and have been living on cheese sandwiches and so forth--like, oatmeal, boiled eggs, sliced apples with peanut butter. 

The co-op has a machine that grinds plain peanuts (no salt or anything else)---it's so good fresh! It's on sale this month for $3.99/pound, which is decent, you don't eat that much. 

I don't mind eating like that, but my body has not seen a veg in a while...I 've been eating out a lot too, which costs too much--even the cheapest places cost near $10 for a little something.

And now that people's federal food benefits are being cut, I won't go to the food shelf for my coworkers' lunch, because children will be needing the food...
We adults can scavenge and scrounge up something, usually.

Why are we having to think in these terms––will children get enough to eat?––while we spend billions on AI and missiles???
Yes, I know why.
It's insane.

Ah, I just checked: happy to ssee that Minnesota has secured SNAP benefits after our AG Keith Ellison sues the Trump administration... [news article here]. 
(I didn't used to like Ellison, but he's been great since DT took office.) 
But still, I don't need it, and I am tired of making lunch for coworkers for now anyway.

Sometimes the daily tasks of taking care of myself feels like such a burden. I've been letting it slide, but yesterday I caught up on laundry and tidying--there were sticks and yarn on every surface, and dolls too--they are gathered up into small study groups now.

What are they studying? I don't know, but that's what they said, "study groups". 
I think this group, below, is planning a marching band parade for the holidays--can you see their little metal instruments up front? I brought those from the store last week.

Yesterday I also opened, de-stuffed, and washed two damaged stuffed bears--one that I've had for months to repair for an acquaintance. Her dog had chewed her childhood bear's eyes and nose off, leaving big holes, so I will repair its face, as well as clean and restuff it. 

And I got two grocery bags of stuff together to go back to the thrift store, and I put a grocery bag of books I've read (mostly from the store) into nearby Little Free Libraries. 

Having performed this life maintenance, I'm mostly restored to rights.

I have been neglecting my apartment mostly because I've been out socializing more than usual. A good trade off, but I'm tired of people-ing, and I am not going to a new church today, as I had planned.

I'm going out for coffee with bink instead, which we often do on a Sunday. (this doesn't count as 'people-ing' because bink is no work.)
She's been laid up the past three weeks though, healing from foot surgery to plane-off bone spurs. 
It's like carpentry work!

It's exciting that she'll be able to walk without pain again, but it's a long recuperation--a couple months--since of course they have to open your foot to get to the bone, and now it has to darn itself together again.
But it will, and then we can go on walks together again--me with my much improved knee ligament...

How is your space suit holding up?
A 73-y.o. friend calls these old-age discussions of health Organ Recitals. A good exchange of information, often. 

Life is grim. Make Art!

Another reason I am not going to the Congregational church I was going to check out today is because . . . every time I go to a Protestant church [or Anglican and its offshoots churches], I re-discover how Catholic I am (even if I can't stand to go to Mass). 

(Some of this has to do with social factors more than theological--the Anglican {i.e., Episcopalian} church near me is the Pearls & Martinis crowd.)

The pastor at the church I visited saying he wanted to get rid of the Cross was a perfect example of Tidying Up instead of Diving Into the full mess of being human.
I want to tidy my house but prefer to dive into the weirdness in the House of Gods. 

I just watched a 6-episode BBC show, Broken (2017), about a troubled priest in a troubled parish in Liverpool--played by the excellent Sean Bean (Boromir in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and Ned Stark in Game of Thrones).

I liked it a lot because it's grim and bitter, 
and so am I (sometimes). 
(I don't think it shows in my own art, does it? with the girlettes, for instance, though I suppose they are weird in their own sweet way.)

Review of Broken in the Guardian. I wouldn't have thought of It's a Wonderful Life, but that was the director's inspiration--and now I see it. 
It's really grim--I skipped an episode where a character kills herself (I read the synopsis, wanting to know)--but it ends in hope and love.

________________________ 

"Successful art changes our understanding of the conventions by altering our perceptions."

--Sol Lewitt

NOTE: 
Kinda gruesome image coming up of St. Bartholomew, flayed. 
(I say "kinda" cause there are worse!)

What I love most about the Catholicism is that,far from shying away from discomfort and mystery, it embraces it, the weird, is itself weird ---as weird as life is, can be.

Etymology of weird:

Old English wyrd ‘destiny’, of Germanic origin. The adjective (late Middle English) originally meant ‘having the power to control destiny’, and was used especially in the Weird Sisters, originally referring to the Fates, later the witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth ; the latter use gave rise to the sense ‘unearthly’ (early 19th century).

Big Problem: I hate the Catholic hierarchy, having seen it up close and personal.
But so much in the faith fits me well--including that the Mass centers around a ritual (the Eucharist, or communion) not one person's sermon.
It's impersonal in the best way. 

Catholic priests are, at root, mere functionaries. They are there to say the magic words that mysteriously transform the mundane into the divine.
 (Their personalities show through, of course, sometimes horribly, but they are not the point.)

The Church is full of stuff that makes the best weird art--as Greedy Peasant revels in--here (below, right) with his Halloween costume: 
The martyred St Bartholomew (one of the twelve apostles) carrying his own flayed skin. instagram.com/p/DPv6VnFgMGw

He modeled it on, among other depictions, Matteo di Giovanni's painting “Saint Bartholomew Flayed”, (1480, Italy, tempera and gold on wood), below left. 

More on the symbolism, etc., at the painting's home, the Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest.

And more depictions--including one by Michelangelo, a detail in the Sistine Chapel––"the artist portrays St. Bartholomew holding his own skin, like a rumpled dress"––here.

"...Like a rumpled dress." This is the religion/art for me.

"You just flayed the bears!" say the toys here. 
Well, no... it didn't hurt them.

And that reminds me, I'm eager to see the new Frankenstein by Guillermo del Toro, a very Catholic filmmaker. 
Lapsed Catholic, like some of the best, retaining the morbid monsters and the hope for redemption... 

Here is GDT with a many-eyed monster. He has lost 80 kg/176 lbs. --saying "You have to cut back on the tacos".

(Del Toro didn't say how he lost weight. Doesn't matter--I'm glad to see it, because I'd bet it was endangering his life, and I want him to live to make many more movies.)

On with the day... 
Have a rich one, everyone!

Treasure your trinkets!

Brrrr.... Overnite temperatures are dropping into the 20s F ( –7ºC), and it's dark at 4:50 PM.
Time to bring out the bright, spangly trinkets!

I made up a dozen dollar grab-bags of ornaments this week at the thrift store, and they almost sold-out in a day. 
(Making grab bags is a favorite of mine.)

And then, in service of the little darlings, I gave in. 
See, I intend not to give the store so much emotional/social energy, and it's GREAT that I'm starting to explore other social spaces... 
I can feel it working already to divert my attention:
I'm fuming about the lack of follow-through on Land Acknowledgements instead of fretting about poor business decisions.

(You know what they say in 12-steps: Progress, not perfection!)

But of course I do care (a lot) about my work and the people there, and one thing that drives me batty is Big Boss's decision not to buy anymore shopping baskets––though we are always running out of the five we have––
because, he said, people steal them.

People DO steal them--and the shopping carts too. It is frustrating.  But our cheap-o baskets cost like $10/each in bulk.

I'm sure--and the google-research I did agrees--that the increase in sales from shoppers having somewhere to put their selections (imagine that) would more than make up for the occasional theft of a basket.

So... I gave in and wrote Big Boss a female-gender-coded email this morning. That is, girly. I used cute emojis, and I kowtowed. I had written in a straightforward way requesting baskets in the past, and he'd turned me down.

Now I'm trying this way. I sucked up. He likes obeisance--it makes him feel powerful. I mean, duh, of course--that's the point of it. It's interesting to see it at work, and to think about how we need that sense of personal power--and the various ways we try to get it. 
Having underlings kowtow is a weak and unstable way. [See, President of the United States] 
 
It's so interesting to me that (almost all?) religions teach the wisdom of humility--
NOT because you should think you are a worthless worm, (worms are far from worthless!), but because when your Ego runs the show, you are being led around by your inner toddler.
The more you can let go of that need for worldly power, the FREER you are.

Anyway, if my email were a toy, it would be pink with curlicues.
I even pulled the string on the back of the toy and it giggled and twirled and suggested there might be a FOOTBALL metaphor (BB loves football) that explains how taking a small loss can lead to a bigger win.

All in service of ONE GOOD POINT:

Buy us some baskets, pretty please, Mr Big Boss! 

Invisible subtext: Don’t be stuck in your ego attachments.

I sometimes think BB is in the wrong job.*

But that's not my business, says Kermit the Frog.

It IS my business to display Christmas items. And, as I wrote to BB this morning, Xmas decorations are small, and people need carts and baskets to load up on them.

I actually wrote these words:
"Let's make this a successful holiday sales season."

Will it work?
I don't know. Maaaaaybe....
I'd give it a 50/50 chance. I will have tried anyway, and I can let go of the outcome. (Uh-huh. Watch this space for cries of outrage when it doesn't work.)

Anyway, gendered talk is like race code-switching, which BB says he's aware he does. When he's talking to the Black guys in the back, he speaks very differently--in the way he grew up--than if he's addressing the all-white Christian board. (He's effective talking to white folks (like me) because he's not race blaming.)

It's an option, sometimes effective. If it works, I'll be glad. 

BELOW: I hung the grab-bags on hooks along this holiday shelf (one of two).
 I started the display this week, after taking down Halloween. I think it's ridiculously early, but it's BB's call, and other stores have it out.
 People are buying it too. 

So, whatever, I genuinely don't care about the timing.
I enjoy the fooffing and faffing. I'll will line the shelves with red and green paper, etc.

Sadly there's almost no cool and unusual holiday stuff this year. It's almost all modern crap--ceramic Xmas village houses, resin Santas, cozy mugs that say "hot chocolate" on them, plastic bulbs, and five thousand tangled strings of lights.

 The little trinkets are where treasures are to be found, but there are fewer and fewer old, painted-wax choirboy candles from Giftco, for instance, fragile glass bulb ornaments, or teeny-tiny wood skiers and angels made in Taiwan... 
I have a bunch of those teenies--rocking horses and trumpeters, and the like for the Girlettes' wee Christmas tree. I was going to nab any that come in, but so far there've been, maybe four?

Treasure your trinkets!

And don't let your ego get in the way of other's shopping convenience. 🙄🤣🤣🤣

_____________

* BB may be in the wrong job, but if you look at it that way, so am I. 
If some inner spring in me weren't askew, I'd be more effective--and maybe I'd have been able to take on leadership roles without the inner resistance I have always experienced.

However, I don't regret it--it's a skewy path we walk. Our brokenness may be our guide to a true, good place.
That may sound woo-woo, but I mean it. If I can accept my bent springs and broken strings, I can work with--or around--them. 

My laziness and avoidance of leadership, for instance, has kept me out of some  thorny thickets--and that has left me free to do things like create toy tableaux, going in a direction that feel JUST RIGHT.
I want to keep going that way.

As I was walking to work yesterday, I saw the God's eyes on the fence from a block away. I felt such a sense of rightness that they are anonymous--even invisible to many people, including BB who  drives past and parks in the lot on the other side of the building.

I thought, this is right, to have made and hung these, and then to have stepped back, to have remained Unimportant, to let the eyes shine on their own for the handful of people who see them.

 It makes me feel shiny in myself, like antique lead Christmas tree tinsel.

Do It Yourself

“This is an adult world—

its problems are up to you!”

I believe this is a WPA poster, but I can't find info. Here's a similar one for Federal Adult Schools that ran between 1936–1941.
___________________________

Do-It-Yourself Reparations! 
It can be done.
Of course it can, and I’m not surprised it's a Catholic order of Franciscan nuns who recently did just that.* bink sent me this: 

"In act of reparation, Franciscan sisters return land to Chippewa Indians in Wisconsin", Nov. 3, 2025, National Catholic Reporter.

“"Sister Sue Ernster said this move allows the congregation to go beyond a land acknowledgement statement and live out their faith."

___________

And what about individuals? 
What about me?

I'll quote Noam Chomsky:
That's up to you to decide. You know what matters.

I saw this ^ graffiti at the bus stop yesterday:

If you pick a flower on Earth, 
You move the farthest star.

There's no formula for this, right? 
Guidance comes from what we care about, as we try to align our lives intellectually, spiritually, emotionally, biologically, financially  with our guiding stars.

I've written about my thought process around personal reparations for historic injustices before:
A few years ago when my sister found hard proof of what we've always suspected--that my mother's ancestors had owned slaves ("been enslavers," as modern usage goes)--I decided to give away the $18,000 I'd inherited from my mother. 
She'd never saved any money, so anything we, her kids, inherited when she died was money leftover from her inheritance.

I decided to give it to people who were already in my life––to be guided by grace, not race. I gave it mostly to individuals I knew through the store--coworkers and store-friends in dire straits, and they were of all races.

(Actually, no... My one indigenous coworker who was in a tight spot financially turned down my offer of help--not even wanting a loan--saying she only relied on herself. She'd been burned by "help" form social services when she was a child.)

 One was living with two dogs in a van; one needed new tires after a tire blew out on the highway; I've talked about BJ, who lived across the alley and was dying of lung cancer. Etc.

BJ said, "This will come back to you."
I rolled my eyes, but it's true that's the law of karma--not that our actions come back to us in the same coin, but they do create our lives and make up our world, as they swirl around with other people's actions... 

But that instance aside (inheriting money from enslavers--and no doubt from land-stealers too, my ancestors having crossed the Appalachians illegally in the 1700s), to me the most important reparations in my life are not historical/political but up-close and personal. 

I'm happy that this year a couple broken friendships have come back together. I can't claim that was by my intentions and actions--it happened more by chance... 
But "chance favors the prepared mind", and I think I have prepared by letting go of some old resentments and thus opened the way for  chances.

Speaking of broken relationships--yesterday, Ass't Man came into the store! 
He's barely been back since he left two years ago, but his son was looking for material to make a Comic Con outfit for this weekend... 

A.M. and I had parted on bad terms, but I was literally facing the door as he walked in, so we chatted politely for a few minutes.
(I was genuinely curious about his life--and I never got over being sad at our bad parting, fueled by his drunken behavior and my distress over it.)

It so happened it was Mr Jester Mushroom's birthday, and pizza had just been delivered. Ass't Man and Jester had been close at work, so I invited AM to join in.
He stayed around talking to other coworkers after lunch, and drifted back around to me. We got talking about art, and I invited him (as I had before) to come help decorate end caps. 
He was THE BEST at it.

He said that Big Boss had made him feel unwelcome after he quit.
 I let him know BB is not around the store much anymore--he offices in a different building now he is Exec Dir.
So... I don't know if AM will--I rather doubt it-- but it was a sincere offer plea for help on my part.
I'd still be wary of him because I've had some reinforcement of how troublesome alcohol abuse can be, but I'd be glad to chat--and glad of his help, if it's forthcoming.
__________________

Anyway ...
I figure if I end up in government housing (if that even exists when I'm old enough I can't work), I will have spiritual fruits I plant now, even if I'm otherwise impoverished.
Truly this motivates me to learn and practice skills to get over my judgmentalism and resentments...
It's like Spiritual P.T. 😁
___________________

* Of course the sisters are not the only ones doing piecemeal land reparations.
--this 2021 article is about the US Forest Service and wilderness protection groups returning land:
e360.yale.edu/features/how-returning-lands-to-native-tribes-is-helping-protect-nature

And here's one on churches, from 2023: "How churches can participate in the Indigenous Land Back movement and why they should"

The future is unwritten.

Above: Twelve years ago, tomorrow--Marz on the lake path.

On that blank page, so much was to be written. 
Yesterday I texted Marz about the city elections here, and she replied that she isn't following our city's politics.
 She has a new town! A new life. 
I'm so pleased! 
I feel like a parent whose child is making her way (more or less happily) across a river gorge on a rope bridge. 
Safe, but rickety... on to HER future.
(Though, eek! Herzog’s “vile and base” jungle is on the other side…)

Today is a blank page too...
What will happen?

If all goes to plan, it will be a social day for me. 
I prefer no more than one social engagement per day, but I have two--plus a couple volunteers at work.

I was going to reschedule one of the get-togethers, but decided to raise my energy to meet the day. It's nothing onerous, and I've said I want to be more social.
This is what that looks like.

The good, new volunteer who had disappeared has come back and will be working today. I like her. She's helpful, quirky and kind--she brought me hair gel to spike my hair! 

(Working with volunteers is an adjustment. I'd mostly worked alone in BOOKs for six+ years. Now I am (by default) managing nine volunteers. Some are self-starters, and others need a lot of guidance. That's a job in itself.)

This morning I'm meeting an old pal, Allegra--we'd worked together at a hippie whole-foods café in 1980! It was her relative who recently died of alcoholism. They weren't close, but I imagine it still sent shock waves through the system.

After work, I'm meeting former publishing-coworker Denise at the art institute--a great place to meet. Open late on Thursdays, the museum is (always) free, and you can bring food and drink from their café into their beautiful big atrium.  

The Past Is Written (badly?)

The store staff is being treated to dinner by a rich donor, the weekend before Thanksgiving. 
One of the managers made up an invitation.
Below is the cover.

Usually when people use this format--a word with its definition--they copy it straight out of the dictionary. The manager started that way but must have thought the entry needed help?

I kind of love their twisty addition, 'understanding the importance or difference that was made because of someone.'

It's the work of THE HUMANS!
We are so impressive--it took billions of years of evolution for me to be able to get up and pour myself a cup of coffee. 
And yet, one by one, we can be such idiots! 

My sister sent me a 23-page genealogy of our family, put together by a friend of hers. Tracing our mother's family back to CHARLEMAGNE looked bogus to me, and I barely looked at it. 

But bink was curious--she's done a ton of research on her family tree---and she's laid up after foot surgery and has the time.

She copied the written words into a tree. 
Twigs started to fall off right away. People born after their parents' deaths, that sort of thing.

 Below, bink notes, Reality breaks down around p. 16.
"1st False Step to Royalty". . . a couple who "married in 1597! Years after their deaths!" 
"Probably wishful thinking" she writes. 

The future is unwritten, but you can't rewrite the past.
Well, you can, if you don't care if it's correct.

And off I go, into the blank page of today!

Shine on!