DMV

I've been preparing for this day since my driver's license renewal notice arrived a few weeks ago.  I put it on the top of my "to do" pile and kept shuffling it to the top.  Then I realized that my birthday is coming up soon and it was time to really do something about that notice.  So I gathered up my passport, my marriage certificate, a check for $40 and placed them carefully within the pages of my newest paperback.  I felt ready.  I was even mentally prepared.

It was difficult to get a parking place so I was patient.  I got into the line to get a number.  Then I got into the line to tell the clerk why I was there. He gave me my application so I found a place to sit down midst all the rest of the customers who were sitting, standing, milling around, taking tests, and otherwise waiting.  It was noisy and growing warmer every minute.  I used my best printing until I had to pause at the question that was about four lines long and had something to do with did I ever have a license in another name/state/planet and did I ever use it to identify myself or as a means to rent a car and did I remember my mother's maiden name or something like that.  I was stumped.  I asked the people around me if they thought the application had trick questions on it.  They all laughed and seemed to know what question I was on.  They helped me.  After that, I just didn't answer the questions I couldn't understand.

Then the real line waiting part started.  I waited in line to get my eyes tested.  I waited to figure out if I should  sit down and wait for my number to be called.  Then someone told me to wait in what was laughingly called the "express line."  My turn in that line and the sound of my number being called occurred at almost the same time.  Then I breezed through the actual process of having my license renewed by handing over the check and my documents.  She entered stuff into her computer, handed my papers back and then told me to put my application in the blue box at the end of the counter.  It was really easy to find the box because it had a bold sign on it that said "Blue Box."  Then I waited in line to get my picture taken.  I'd carefully fixed my hair for this part, put on fresh lip gloss and practiced my smile in my rear view mirror on the drive over. This was sure to be the best driver's license photo I'd ever had.  Wrong.  I look like my brother Bill on a bad fishing day.

Of course I'd had to go to the bathroom since I was waiting in the first line.  The DMV doesn't make it very clear, and I really don't think they want to, that there is a perfectly clean and serviceable restroom within the building.  But I asked and then wound my way through the even bigger and noisier crowd that now consisted not only of applicants but their babies, grandparents and biker dude uncles as well.  It was hot. It was loud.  And it smelled funny in there.  The restroom, however, was cool, clean and empty.  I half thought about spending an hour or so in its quiet confines but I was getting really hungry.  So I took a deep breath and then had the endless joy of walking out of the DMV building and working my way through the crowd that was now spilling out onto the sidewalk of the building. Someone waited patiently for my parking spot which I was happy to relinquish.

Clare's New Dress

I used to sew a lot.  Amy wore lots of homemade clothes when she was little and I completed plenty of  my own outfits along with crafts of all kinds. I particularly remember a Spiderman (or was it Superman?) blanket that I stayed up way late into the night to get finished for a gift for Brian.

Sewing wasn't easy for me.  It took years before I figured out that reading the pattern carefully went a long way toward completing a project without tedious time spent in ripping out. When I finally broke down and started basting things together before putting in the final seams, I truly realized the worth of doing things the long way.

But I haven't taken on a sewing project for a really long time.  It just isn't as practical to sew anymore.  Patterns and material and notions cost a lot of money.  Sewing things at home isn't as cost efficient as it used to be.  Maybe that's why the dress I just finished for Clare (the new American Girl doll) cost around $20.00 and two trips to the fabric store to make.  The dress fits an 18" doll but it might as well have been a ball gown for a real live Cinderella for all the sweat that went into it.  The thread on the machine kept breaking because I didn't recall the correct way to load the bobbin.  I ran out of thread and had to fill the bobbin and rethread the machine at least three times.  That's a real challenge since I can  barely, just BARELY see the eye of the needle.  I had to rip out and replace one sleeve and, remember, this is a doll dress so the sleeve consisted of only three inches of material to work with.  Still, imagine how tricky it is to get that eased in sleeve properly placed on the machine for stitching.  And it's not easy to press tiny seams open.  Thank goodness the velcro fastening the back of the bodice together didn't give me any problems.  I had this horror that I'd have to rip stitches out of velcro and that, I'm sure, is a seamstress's nightmare.

But a new dress awaits Clare who will be here along with the family tomorrow for a Labor Day weekend barbecue.  Now I just keep my fingers crossed that the ultra picky Alicia will like it. And it only took an hour flat on my back on the couch to straighten out the kinks in my neck and shoulders from leaning over  a hot sewing machine.

Sky Scarf

Exactly one year ago today I started my sky scarf.  It is finished today.  I spent a little time every day capturing the weather by knitting two rows of an approximation of the day's sky.  Colors included various shades of blue, gray and white, and even black for really stormy days.  If the day was sunny, I attached a little tassel of yellow on the side.  I used special hues for trips to Arizona, Hawaii and Black Butte.  I attached color appropriate tassels for holidays. When I study it, I can trace memories of August 25, 2011 through August 25 2012 just by "reading" the scarf.

It was an interesting project and I will use it as a valance over the double hung window in my craft room. It will never leave that room.  I will not take it to my knitting group to mingle with the other sky scarves and I will most certainly not let it go on display at the yarn shop on Main Street.  You will not see a picture of it here.  It is rudely crafted due to running out of yarn here and there and joining in colors of just enough weight difference to add width.  Somehow or another I added stitches so that the width became even wider and odder.  It is as ugly a project as I have ever undertaken and completed.  Ordinarily I would have quietly murdered such a bungled project but because it took so much time and I can easily trace such pleasant memories at the sight of it I could never do such a thing.  I did not play the role of Madame LaFarge who knitted all those horrid secrets into her project. My secrets are all pleasant personal memories, and I will cherish them and let the thing live forever in the solitary confinement of my craft room.

Beach I, II and III

August just wouldn't be August without a trip to the Oregon Coast but what about three trips?  That's what I'm doing.  Beach I trip was to Seaside where my sister and I reunited with a near total of 20 female relatives from our Dad's side of the family with two males thrown in just to keep us on our toes.  The women are all special personalities keeping the boredom level at rock bottom zero.  And speaking of zero boredom, I was fascinated with a little painted rock garden that Tracie, Bobbie and I found at the beach entrance at the end of Avenue W.  We learned about it from a little painted rock display at the yarn shop (we rate this a five star yarn shop, by the way) which featured some very nicely painted rocks and a well-written little description for how to get to the little garden. Beach goers are invited to paint rocks and contribute them to the garden and when we saw it, all three of us enjoyed exclaiming over the various rocks.  And we followed up that with a visit to the flower garden at a nearby motel (can't remember the name) that was spectacular.  So the weekend centered around these motley gardens of women, rocks and flowers.  I loved it.

Beach II was Lincoln City.  Just picture perfect weather at the Coast:   Blue, blue sky overhead, the calm blue ocean punctuated with whale spouts, a light tangy breeze and you have exactly what we experienced.  I have never seen such glorious weather at the beach. Pair that with the perfect ocean view from our comfortable room and top everything off with time spent with our oldest friends in the world who travel up from Arizona every year to spend time in cool, cool Oregon.  We laughed and strolled and played games and ate great food and remembered old times and places together and took pictures of each other in front of the gorgeous flowers at the Salishan Market Place.  Life was at its peak for us.

Tomorrow is Beach III.  Bobbie and I will go to Lincoln City to sign and sell books at Bob's Beach Books.  The weather seems to holding out so we will meet lots of interesting people and enjoy some time in the fresh air.  My new book is ready for the display table and I can't wait for readers to enjoy it.  Then I hope we'll get to enjoy a gorgeous drive back home through the farm land of the valley.  That drive has its own summer flavor and I enjoy it every time I drive it. As an old Oregonian, I've certainly made that trip plenty of times hoping to catch the magic of a sunny day at the Oregon Coast and that magic sparkled big time for I and II and we holding our breaths for III as well.

Ahhhhh Summer!

Here are the raspberries I bought last week at the Farmer's Market at Black Butte Ranch.  I can't think of a better way to capture the essence of summer.

The Boobs Return

You may remember Boobs Clea and her sister Boobs from last summer.  They are the Barbie doll sisters whose mother liked the name Boobs so much that she gave that name to both of her daughters.  Remember, too, that there's nothing disrespectful about the name in any way.  It's just a way that Mrs. Clea had of determining that her daughters would be athletic.  I know the meaning is somewhat cloudy but I think it has to do with my granddaughters' associating strong girls with large, well-endowed bodies along with a healthy dose of spirit.  Well, the Boobs girls are back and busy at being in charge of the entire Barbie population at my grandgirls household. (The population, by the way, is so large that the girls' mother doesn't really like to think or talk about it.)  When I asked about how these extraordinary dolls maintain control of the stylish, complicated clan, I was told that if one of the Barbies does something wrong, she gets tossed into the trash.  That's it.  Seems to be keeping everyone in the Bonus Room in line.

But maybe they've met their match. Way last summer I promised Alicia that I'd buy her an American Girl doll if she quit biting her fingernails.  I never thought she would and so I'd therefore be safe from the outrageous expenditure of this coveted doll.  I didn't factor in a sudden loss of many teeth that rendered the habit of nail biting impossible so the new doll arrived this morning.  She is truly a special doll and very well made but still not worth the bucks I put out.  She does, however, promise to have lots of doll power so maybe she'll put the Boobs girls in their places.  I do know for sure that the new doll will be coming to live at my house if Alicia grows enough nail biting teeth and starts up the practice again.  I hope a name has been chosen for her by then.  It's awkward to refer to Boobs Clea and the American Girl doll in the same sentence.  It just doesn't seem like a fit. She really needs a name soon.