Time For A Haircut

In the past three years nine different people have cut my hair.

The stylist I had for years didn't hear what I wanted once my hair was longer ~ she kept trying weird layers that I couldn't do anything with once I got home.  I had some luck at the Beauty School but students graduate so it was someone new each time, which meant I was taking my chances.  I got a good cut while I was in Keene, New Hampshire, but that's a four hour drive.  I tried three stylists recommended by friends, but each one tried a style that looked ragged and took forever to grow out.

I wanted someone who would listen to me about how my hair grows and how much trouble my cowlicks are and how I don't want my bangs too short.  It takes thirty minutes to cut my hair.  It's not complicated, but I couldn't find anyone who could do a simple haircut.

Then a year and a half ago Ken heard that there was a new barber in Richmond.  Technically we live in Bowdoinham, but shops in Richmond are closer and where we do most of our local errands.  Karen has been a barber for many years.  She set up shop in one of the old mill buildings, and I stopped in one day to see what her hours were.  I liked her and asked if she would cut my hair.  She said she doesn't do anything fancy, so I knew we'd get along fine.

Karen has been cutting my hair, and Ken's hair, ever since.  She has an easy-going way about her.  We talk about our families and what we've been up to.  Her room is only big enough for one at a time, so anyone waiting sits in a little room next door or returns in a half hour.  I like that it's just she and I for that amount of time.  I like that we will pick up where we left off next time I see her.

Her shop is located in a building on the Kennebec River ~

Complete with awning, sign, and barber pole ~

Her shop is cozy and warm, with a real safe in the corner left by a previous tenant ~

Down the street on the corner is Annabella's Bakery & Cafe, where I buy local eggs ~

Around the corner and up the hill is our favorite diner, the Railway Cafe Restaurant and Lounge ~

True Value Hardware and Main Street Fuel are across the street ~

Next door to Pierce's Grocery Store, where I buy milk ~

And home is just three and a half miles away.

Ruby's Cottage

My friend Ruby lives in a cozy cottage.  It is a converted garage, set up like a studio apartment.  She has a kitchen, bathroom, and living/bedroom/dining area that's comfortably heated with a wood stove.  She has a two-year supply of wood cut and stacked on her side deck.  Her front deck is for sitting a spell.  The back deck is her dog's domain, fenced in and safe for a dog who jumps several feet in the air when she's ready to come inside. 

Ruby shares eight acres with her daughter, who now lives in the farmhouse where the family of three children grew up.  Ruby and her dog Kelly have their independence and lots of outdoor space for walks, gardening, and soaking up the sunshine.

Ruby owns her home and has no debt.  She's very proud of that fact.  She had planned to always live in her cozy cottage.

The plan has changed.  Ruby's daughter is selling the farmhouse.  Ruby has every legal right to maintain her cottage and surrounding property per the agreement drawn up when she sold the farmhouse to her daughter; and in the beginning she was going to stay put.

Then the realtor explained that it would be difficult to sell the larger house with an independently owned cottage just across the driveway.  Upon consultation with her daughter, Ruby has decided to allow her cottage to be part of the total sale.

A future that was secure is now uncertain.

Ruby has no idea where she and Kelly will go.

Since I heard the news I have had several conversations with Ruby about what comes next.  Her cottage is a refuge for me, where we have had many long talks about life and living.  She gets out her 4-cup coffeemaker to brew the coffee she keeps for when I come to visit.  We share news of our families and tell each other our deepest joys and concerns.

At the end of our visit yesterday we said to each other that things will work out.

I pray that's true. 

Back In Harmony

The back of the Harmony Quilt came together in stages.  I had two dozen nine-patch squares I'd sewn together at the beginning of the project with no plan for how I might use them.  I was playing with colors and patterns and wasn't sure they'd even make their way into this quilt.  Luckily I was able to make them work with rectangles cut from larger pieces of fabric left once all the quilt pieces were cut.  The end result was a pleasant surprise ~

Nine individual squares came together

to make a nine-patch then bordered with blue

and alternated with rectangles of prints

to create larger rectangles that fit together in harmony

On The Radio

Ken asked me this weekend if I want to renew the subscription to satellite radio in my car.  Without a moment's hesitation I said yes.

I first experienced satellite radio two years ago in a rented car.  What a great invention!  I couldn't get over the number of stations and the variety available.  My go-to favorite station for those few days was Acoustic Coffeehouse. 

So I was delighted to find that a three-month trial subscription for Sirius XM came with the Subaru we bought in 2012.  Coffeehouse music all the time was my plan.  Then Ken got hold of the menu of stations and plugged in the three available NPR stations for me, for which I still thank him.  Then I found Oprah Radio and MSNBC.  When it was time to pay for a year-long subscription I was hooked, so Ken "gave" me satellite radio for Christmas.  I foresee that becoming a tradition..

Sometimes I plan my time in the car around what I can listen to on the radio.

Today I was running errands, in and out of the car, listening to a variety of news shows and interviews.  I often change channels and follow three or four story lines at a time.

Sometimes something grabs my attention.  Today that happened with an Oprah interview where the topic of forgiveness came up, which is a familiar theme in her interviews if you listen often enough.  She shared a definition that catches my attention every time I hear it:

Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.

Before, when I've heard Oprah say it, I thought about forgiveness in relation to forgiving other people.  I like the phrasing.  I like the positive implications of moving past what's over and done with.  The message is to let go of what might have been.

Today I remembered that I can forgive myself, too.  

Yarn Harlot

Last evening my daughter and I drove to Rockland, on the coast of Maine, to hear a talk by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee aka the Yarn Harlot.  Stephanie knits, writes books and blog posts about her life as a knitter, and travels the continent telling stories about her knitting life.  She is hilarious.  I haven't laughed that much in a very long time.

The topic of last night's talk was "Your Brain on Knitting."  There is a fair amount of research, carried out at Harvard and Princeton and MIT and Cambridge, about how repetitive visual-spacial tasks enhance brain function and aid the brain in repairing and building neuropathways.  While most of the research doesn't specifically list knitting as a repetitive visual-spatial task, the process of creating items out of yarn with needles meets all of the criteria.  I plan to track down the research because I want to know more.

I am a beginner knitter of the basic knit and purl variety.  Thirty years ago I made a few simple sweaters.  More recently I've knitted scarves and small cotton dishcloths.  While I was visiting Martha's Vineyard I bought yarn to make a scarf to ease my way back into the craft.  My daughter is encouraging me to pick up my knitting needles again.

She has good reason to ~ knitting helped her get through medical school.  I showed Kristen how to knit simple squares when she was in elementary school, and she made doll blankets.  Years later she picked up needles and yarn again because she said keeping her hands busy helped her concentrate when attending lectures in medical school.  I don't know how she knew to do it, but the research bears out what Kristen knew ten years ago, that knitting makes your brain work better.

And I'm all for more brain power ~  

First Saturday In November

The day started with a bang.  Literally.  Loud.  Close by.  Early.

It was the first day of deer season, and there are those who take hunting very seriously.  There have been trucks parked up and down our road for weeks, men with orange hats and guns [bird season comes in October] scoping out the area.  There are rules about starting after sunrise and ending by sunset.  Those times are sacred.  No matter the weather or how dark it is, it's the official start and end times that matter.

Ken used to hunt, as a kid in Maryland and later when we first moved to Maine.  Then we had children, and none of them wanted anything to do with hunting.  Ken lost interest in going out on cold and/or wet mornings on the off chance he might bag a deer.  The one year he got one we ate well all winter.  If you are fortunate enough to get a deer, you don't waste the meat. 

Now we live right in the middle of prime hunting territory.  There are rules about how far hunters have to stay from houses and roads.  Private property is a gray area; our land isn't officially "posted" though I put up No Trespassing signs.  I've not seen hunters near the house, but I wear a red hat when I'm outside.

It's hard for me to think about the fate of animals that eat our acorns and sleep in our leaves when the weather gets cold.  I like having deer in the yard, even if they do eat my hostas. 

We need to get through November.  Then we can all peacefully co-exist until next year. 

Again With The Needles

I had an acupuncture appointment today.  It's been three years since my last visit.  The woman I see, Brett, welcomes me back each time and starts from wherever I am.  I told her I had hoped to feel better before I came to see her.  She smiled.  Maybe that's not the first time she's heard that.

I told her about my clogged sinuses and dry eyes and the tightness in my chest.  She nodded.  All are connected to my liver...blood...chi...something...something.  I really don't understand all of the biology.  Basically my liver is gummed up and I need help to get things moving again.  She put needles in my hands, feet, ankles, and right ear.  Then she covered me with a metallic space age blanket, and I rested for a half hour.  I felt a bit better after that.  I have some herbs to take and will return to see her in three weeks.

It is time to feel better.

I have been sad this year.  I have given up on where I thought my life was going and given into my feelings of sadness.  I have taken a long hard look at where I am.  I needed time to come to terms with the reality of my life, a good life but not the life I was working toward.  

It is time to accept what is.

Two weeks ago Kira at kiwords wrote a post about her wish to know how to be happy.  She wrote that she used to blog to capture her kids' childhood.  She has decided to blog now to recapture her own adulthood.  Her words have stayed with me.

My daughter posted today at her blog for the first time in four years.  She reminded me that this is NaBloPoMo, a month where bloggers commit to publish a post daily for thirty days.  I haven't ever made such a commitment...until now.  I've never thought I had that much to say, or that people would be that interested that they would stop by more than a few times a month.  This year I've gone for long periods of time without posting for a myriad of reasons. 

It is time for a change.

I have lots of thoughts rattling around in my head.  It's time to get them out into the open so I can bring some order to the chaos and make a plan.

See you tomorrow ~