I’ve been painting new doll faces today with my other dolls looking on. The slugs seem the most curious and eager to see what I’m up to. I need some shelving, maybe stadium seating.
I was making good progress until I had to take allergy medication for a bad insect bite I have on my foot. Nothing else seems to control the awful itching and the swelling, but then I nearly nodded off right in the middle of my faces. I kept going, but one or two didn’t come out the way I planned. I hate doing “negative work”, a phrase a friend uses for creating more work for yourself by making mistakes. I cut one up just to stop myself from continuing to try to fix it. I always feel compelled to try to fix everything, but sometimes it is just better to start over. Besides, most of them came out quite well. I’ve always been a perfectionist in regard to what I make, and that can make things unpleasant for me sometimes. I’ve been told that by the time I reached my current age, lots of things that bothered me before wouldn’t bother me so much anymore. In some ways that is true, but I haven’t shaken the perfectionist drive.
How did I miss Dr Horrible’s Sing-along Blog? I had read that it was going to streamed online but I didn’t write down the dates. Oh well. If I had written them down, the note would have been lost in the cascading pile of notes I leave for myself anyway. This is why I try to take care of everything right here and now, or at least as things come up. Except for cleaning up the pile of notes. Who wants to do that?! Snore.
Update: Dr Horrible seems to be on again here. Did I miss that too?
While I was in town the other day, I stopped to pick up some thread and more fat quarters of quilting fabric for my toys. As I said yesterday, I’ve been feeling kind of down, and so I hope this doesn’t come across as too morbid or too much to share. Believe me, I hope and plan to be around a good long time, knock on wood…But anyway, many years ago it struck me that when my time has come, that I don’t want one of those dreary, depressing headstones that you see. I want mine to have a bunny on top.
Yes, I actually mean that. I’ve shared that with a couple of people in my life that I hoped might be around, but sadly, people come and people go. So, I might as well say it here. I hope you don’t mind. The first question has always been, “What kind of rabbit?” I usually say one sort of like Maurice Sendak’s Mr Rabbit in Mr Rabbit and the Lovely Present, but I want him to be his own bunny, unique, someone’s own invention, maybe even mine.
Well, as I was paying for my thread and fabric, I looked up from the checkout and thought, “Like that!”
I know he’s not one-of-a-kind, but he struck a cord I guess and I took him home. Kind of like that. Maybe some day, someone will make a bunny for me, but I’d still like him to be his own bunny.
Why a rabbit? I’m not sure. Maybe I think rabbits represent me on some level, or maybe it’s just my love of animals. They are guileless, loyal, sweet, and capable of unconditional love. I’ve never been convinced that people are superior to them. Some are certainly just as great, but we all have our flaws. One time, my mom and I were sitting at a stadium when a bus emptied out from a group home for people with special needs. We were listening to one conversation in particular that stayed with me because it was so poignant. It was a simple dialogue, but it said a lot to me. Two women who seemed to be developmentally disabled were talking about how much they liked animals. “I like animals.” “Me too!” “Animals are much nicer than people.” “Yeah, people are meaner than animals.” “Yeah, they are! Animals are much nicer!” I thought that was the sweetest and the saddest thing at the same time, because you couldn’t deny that that had to have been true for them.
Back where I grew up, there was a sweet elderly woman with Alzheimer’s who always remembered to tell you one thing, “Don’t trust anyone who doesn’t love animals.” You might not think much of her remembering that over anything else, but I do. She was dependent on others at that point in her life, and I believe it was a fundamental belief she held as necessary to well-being and survival. It told her who was kind and caring, and she was frail as a little bird.
A friend of mine sent this video to me to cheer me up. I’m sure it has been already seen by millions, but it is still remarkable…
One of our duck friends, the mama duck above, came to visit us with a badly swollen foot and leg two days ago. I couldn’t get close enough until evening to see that the swelling was caused by what turned out to be fishing line wrapped very tightly around her leg. I didn’t know how I could catch her or get it off since it was embedded in the swollen leg. We called everyone we could think of yesterday for advice, and found an avian vet who could see her if we could catch her.
She didn’t come up from the pond until after the vet’s closing time, and I could see her dragging the line. We took what advice we had and grabbed a sheet. It took some running around and a couple of failed attempts, but we finally got the sheet over her. I picked her up and tucked her under my arm. She was very upset about the sheet being over her head, but once I gently pulled it off, she just looked at me as if she were saying, “Oh, it’s you.” She was so good and well-behaved and sweet, we couldn’t believe it.
I petted her head and talked to her while my mom and dad put my kitty assistant in the house (he was ready and willing to help, but unfortunately we didn’t think he’d add to the calm), and found my little sewing scissors. I handed the duck over to my dad while my mom held the sheet ends out of the way, and I snipped away, a tiny bit at a time, at the tops of the knot heads. There were two knotted areas, with multiple knots very tight against the leg. I kept the scissors pointing at an angle away from her leg, trying to avoid pinching her with them. I managed to get the line free without nicking her, and we were all very relieved. She seemed somewhat disoriented, and so we followed her at a distance to her pond, where she got back in the water with her friends.
This morning, they all came back for some cracked corn. She was determined to come, even though she is still limping. Her friends were going to go back for her, since she was trailing behind, but she limp-marched past them up the hill. She sat right next to me while she had her corn. Her foot and leg are not as swollen, and hopefully they will go back to normal soon. We’ll keep an eye on her.
So, please, if you fish, make sure you leave with everything you came with, and everyone, please take a moment when throwing out dangerous items, to dispose of them carefully. It only takes an extra minute before you throw something into the trash to wad up string/twine/fishing line/yarn/thread/ribbon/etc and tape it into a ball with some duct tape or sports tape, or put it all in a jar/prescription bottle/coffee can/etc. Cut those plastic loops that hold six packs together into little pieces, cut up plastic packaging bands, and knot the ends of the plastic bags you throw out, or cut them all the way open. Just please take a moment to think about all the suffering you can prevent by making some extra, small, conscientious gestures part of your routine. There are lots of little feet, legs, heads, and necks that get caught in those things every day. And if you see this kind of dangerous litter, please take a minute to pick it up and dispose of it properly. It only takes a moment, but you might just save a life.
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I’ve been painting new doll faces today with my other dolls looking on. The slugs seem the most curious and eager to see what I’m up to. I need some shelving, maybe stadium seating.
