Horsemanship - October 2, 2023

Our weekend road trip to watch Granddaughter #1 ride a horse was fun, certainly something outside of our regular routine.  

We were on the road by 4:45 Saturday morning.  It was a 4-hour drive.  We followed our daughter-in-law and Granddaughters 2, 3, and 4 to Bowling Green.  Granddaughter #1 came from college with her equestrian club.

Earlier in the week, #1 discovered that she needed chaps to dress properly for the event.  She ordered some online and they arrived in time but were a tad too small.  We stuffed her in them, anyway.  After Saturday's event was over, we learned that a strap - one that holds the chaps together - had broken.  Since it was a 2-day event and #1 would need the chaps again the next day, I decided that I would try to fix them.

We went to a hobby store and bought leather needles, hand-quilting thread, and a thimble.  The chaps are black; the store did not have black quilting thread, but I had a black Sharpie in my bag and figured I could disguise the repair with it.  It took a bit of elbow grease, but I sewed (and glued) the strap back on and colored the thread with the Sharpie so that the repair was invisible.  

The chaps held together for Sunday's event.  When it was #1's turn to ride, we stuffed her into them again, and she won her first ribbon for horsemanship.

We pulled in our driveway at 6 p.m. Sunday.  After having sat all weekend long, either in the truck or on the hard, dust-covered bleachers in the arena, and having climbed those bleachers multiple times in pursuit of an energetic 2-year-old, we both groaned in pain as we slid out of the truck.  

It was a fun and interesting weekend.  The Husband grew up with horses, and he knew a little bit about riding etiquette, but I did not, and so I learned something.  And getting to hang out with The Granddaughters all weekend was fun.

I think there's another event coming up this weekend, one that's maybe only 2 hours away.  We will probably go to that one, too, in case another strap breaks.  ;)

  

Weekend Getaway - September 29, 2023

You know you're getting old when you plan your weekend getaways around watching the grandchildren compete in sports.

Granddaughter #1, who went off to college six weeks ago, loves animals and wants to be a veterinarian.  Her college advisor told her that participating in some campus clubs could help her get in vet school when the time comes.  Loving horses, she chose to join an equestrian group.  This weekend, the club will be going to Bowling Green, KY for a riding event.  We are planning to drive up there tomorrow to watch her ride.  Her first event is at 10:30 a.m. tomorrow, so we have to get moving early to make it to Bowling Green in time for the event.  

I have a few things to do before we go.  Two weeks ago, #1 sent me a picture from her telephone and asked if I could put it on a sweatshirt for her (her roommate wants one, too).  From a local shop, I ordered two sweatshirts in the school color (a putrid orange).  From another shop, I ordered a heat-press transfer for the design.  The shirt shop ordered long-sleeved t-shirts instead of sweatshirts.  <sigh>  They have ordered the correct shirts, which MIGHT be here today.  If the shirts don't come in today, I will buy the t-shirts, use the transfers on them, take them to her tomorrow, and order more transfers for when the sweatshirts arrive.

Anything for a grandchild, right?

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A couple of months ago, I joined a Facebook group for watercolor artists.  In late August, the moderator issued a challenge:  sketch something - anything - every day during the month of September to improve skills and post the sketches in the forum.  I took on the challenge and am pleased to report that, so far, I have sketched every day.  Several of my sketches even turned into finished paintings that I might be able to use for my greeting card project (which is currently getting nowhere when it comes to actually printing the cards).  

Last night I discovered "Inktober."  Same deal as sketchtember, only with ink.  AND the Inktober challenge comes with daily prompt words, such as "dream," "wander," and "scratchy."  I will probably take on this challenge, too, because I can see that the sketchtember challenge improved my skills and self-discipline (a trait I lack).  

As I was reading through the list of prompts, I began to relate them to a drawing/painting I did yesterday, a picture of a raccoon, sitting up on his hind legs, holding a persimmon.  I decided to create a story around the drawing, using the words from the Inktober prompts.  

Talk about a rabbit hole.

Within minutes of the idea, I was searching Latin names for the critters in my story.  (My raccoon is a procyon lotor, in case you're interested.)  Link-hopping led me to creation stories involving all sorts of animals.  My brain is exploding with ideas, which is not necessarily a good thing, because it side-tracks me from my mission to . . . .

What is it I'm supposed to be doing?

 

Wednesday - blah - September 27, 2023

Yesterday did not turn out like I planned.  

I had gathered up my stuff for the painting class and was about to head out the door when my telephone rang.  It was my daughter-in-law, asking if I would take her to the doctor.  I dropped my art stuff on the table and headed to her house.  It was not a 5-alarm crisis (more like a 3), but we spent the biggest part of the day at the doctor's office as they worked her in.  

It was nearly suppertime when I got home.  I warmed up some leftovers and piddled around with pencils and papers until bedtime.

Today was office day.  I took an early lunch and went to the local agricultural extension office to get a soil test kit.  We have tilled so much stuff into the vegetable garden soil - cardboard, pine needles, compost - that there's no telling what the nutrient situation is like.  Tomorrow after work I will go dig dirt for the soil test and try to get it in the mail Friday.  

Tuesday, my favorite day - SEptember 26, 2023

Until further notice, Tuesday is my favorite day of the week.

The deciding factor is the painting class.

It lasts for two hours, 10 a.m. until noon.

It is full of old ladies, and it's kind of a cool story.

The instructor is 85.  In the early 1980s, she and a friend opened a craft/gift store and taught painting classes there at night.  I took a few of their classes - usually one-time classes in which we all went home with identical painting (except for style/skill).  Over the years, we did landscapes, portraits, and other subjects and learned to use a variety of media.  Over the years, the instructor created a following, a group of 8 - 10 ladies who are loyal class-takers and have become friends.

Fast forward 30 years.  The instructor is now in her 80s.  Walmart and Hobby Lobby have nudged the craft shop aside, and it's hard to make ends meet.  When the instructor decided to retire and close the shop, her loyal following revolted.  This resulted in a compromise: if the ladies would take enough classes to pay the electric bill, the instructor would hold a weekly 2-hour free-style class.  They could paint whatever they wanted to paint, using whatever media and subject, and the instructor would be on hand to advise.

I got in on this deal about two months ago.  Didn't know any of the ladies, except the instructor.  They are a nice group, and a couple of them are hilariously funny.  I would pay the $10 fee just to listen to their banter.  The technical assistance from the instructor is just a bonus.  ;)

I don't know what I'm going to paint today.  I have a sketchbook full of things that might be useful for the greeting card project, which has completely overwhelmed me at this point.  My printer has not yet reproduced a painting in its true colors, and I don't know why.  Could be the software, could be the ink, could be the paper, could be the paint.  Could be the operator/artist.  Having the cards "professionally" printed is out of the question, as I have already spent about a trillion dollars on supplies.  What seemed to be a simple project has turned into a monster.

To heck with it for now.  I think I'll go paint butterflies, or something.

Sunday visitors - September 25, 2023

A little over a week ago, I decided that I needed a graphics program to help with the greeting card project.  The programs I already have won't do - or at least I don't know how to make it do - a few of the things I want to do with my drawings, so I started shopping.

Dang, good software is expensive.  

Corel Paint Shop Pro that included Painter Essentials 8 was on sale somewhere.  I snapped it up for under $50, downloaded and installed it, and jumped right in, thinking I was in business.  

When I fired up the program, it presented me with a bunch of links to tutorials.  I skipped past them and tried to begin doing what I'd bought the program to do but hit a wall right off the bat.  

The Husband came out to the porch as I was grumbling.  He said, "Find a tutorial."  I kind of rolled my eyes and went on grumbling.  

After about a week of torture, I finally decided to find a tutorial.  I liked this guy:

Aaron's Painter Tutorials - YouTube

When I found the 8-part series on Painter Essentials, I did not have time to watch them all at one sitting.  We had a busy Saturday, but nothing on the agenda for Sunday.  I planned to devote the whole day, if necessary, to tutorials.

By 11 a.m. Sunday, I was halfway through the videos when my niece texted me that she was coming over to dig up some flowers.  A few minutes later, a cousin called to say that she was coming over.  I put the tutorials on hold for the afternoon, but managed to watch the rest of them before the day was over.  

Well, I've slept since then, and all that knowledge I crammed into my head yesterday is scrambled into a murky soup.  At this point, I can scarcely remember why I needed a graphics program in the first place.  :-\

Last Day of Summer 2023 - September 22, 2023

The weatherman said that today is the last day of summer.

It's a nice one, so far.  Sun is shining.  Birds are singing.  Bugs are buzzing.  Seventy degrees on the back porch.  

On top of all that, it's Friday, which means it's margarita night.  8-)

If I were any good, I'd get up off my butt and work in the yard on such a beautiful, pleasant day.  Just outside the porch, wispy grass and wild trumpet vine are trying to take over the world.  Out front, rose limbs are grabbing us on the sidewalk.  I should get up off my butt and go do something about the situation, but I probably won't.

I'd rather draw and paint.

This greeting card project is consuming my time.  It gets to the stage where everything is *almost* ready, and then something goes amiss.  More than a week ago, I thought I was ready to print the cards and be done with it, but what came out of the printer in testing was nowhere near as bright and colorful as the original.  I tweaked printer settings, which helped some, but the ink in the printer is cheap, off-brand stuff that might never render the color correctly, so I ordered "real" ink cartridges from the manufacturer.  Hopefully, that will help.

* * * * * * * * 

9/24/2023

Yesterday there was a bluegrass festival at a state park not far from here.  It was the 8th year for that festival, and I believe we have been to all but one of them.  They changed the schedule this year.  Instead of starting in the morning, as usual, this year's festival started at 2 p.m. and lasted until midnight.  Perhaps the reason for the change was that a fairly famous bluegrass artist was on the roster for 6 p.m.

I really wanted to see this performance, but there was a problem: we'd been invited - nay, nearly ORDERED - to attend a wedding that was also set to happen at 6 p.m.  

We considered skipping the wedding but knew it would hurt some feelings.  We eventually decided to go to the wedding and come back to the bluegrass festival.  

It was hard to decide how to dress.  The festival would occur in the middle of a hay field.  The afternoon temperature was expected to be (and was) near 90, which called for shorts and t-shirts, not quite appropriate for a formal wedding, but neither did we want to "dress up" and sweat in our nice clothes.    Considering that the festival did not start until 2 and we'd have to leave for the wedding by 5, we did not want to take time to come home and change clothes between events.  We opted for jeans and an extra shirt to change into after we'd sweated in our t-shirts.

We arrived at the festival, lawn chairs in hand, and paid our admission fees a little after 2 p.m., expecting to find lunch from a food truck.  Only 2 food trucks were there, and one of them was not yet open for business when we arrived.  Eventually, we were able to get a couple of hamburgers on Texas toast and some cheese fries.  ("That'll be $38.00, please.")  

We watched about three performances (with some clogging between acts), changed shirts in the truck, and went to the wedding.  

I was glad that we went to the wedding.  The Sister- and Brother-in-Law came to the wedding and brought Nanny; we 5 people were the only ones present from the groom's family.

At the wedding reception, which included a buffet dinner, an open bar, and loud music and dancing, I said to The Husband, "It would not upset me not to go back to the bluegrass festival."  He agreed, and we came straight home after the bride and groom departed.  

I put on my nightgown and came out to the back porch to listen to the night.  After an afternoon and evening of loud music, it was bliss.

Call me Dusty - September 17, 2023

We had a funeral to go to yesterday morning at 11, and a wedding yesterday afternoon at 4.  Had just enough time to change out of the funeral clothes and eat a bite before we had to put on the wedding clothes.  

On the way home from the wedding, I said to The Husband, "We should clean off the garden tomorrow."  

This started because I read "non-ethanol" on a gas station sign.  I only use non-ethanol gas in the big black tiller.  I filled the tank a few weeks ago and haven't used it much since then, so it's full of gas.  I was thinking that I ought to run it out of gas so it doesn't sit there all winter.  

Hence the suggestion about cleaning off the garden.  It was mighty weedy.  If I'd tried to run the tiller, the grass would probably have choked the tines.  So the garden needed mowing before I could start tilling to run the tiller out of gas.  Since the bush hog was already hooked to the tractor, mowing would not be a big deal, once we pulled up the tomato stakes.

I said, "We should do it while Nanny is at church."

The Husband agreed.

So this morning when I heard Nanny leave for church (she toots her horn when she goes by), The Husband and I suited up for battle with fire ants and headed to the garden.  He followed me down the tomato rows with the tractor while I pulled up the stakes and dropped them in the tractor bucket.  Then he mowed.  While he was mowing the garden, I mowed the rest of Nanny's yard with the lawnmower.  Land sakes, it was dusty!  I took to mowing giant circles of the whole yard, rather than sectioning it off like I usually do, so that the dust that was billowing behind me would blow away before I got back around.  That worked until it became a waste of gas, then I just had to hold my breath while I drove through the dust.

While I was mowing, I saw that there were big chunks of cardboard all over the garden.  By the time I finished mowing, The Husband had decided to hook up the tiller (the big one that goes on the tractor) and till the cardboard into the soil.  I was 100% for that idea.  So he made The Nephew help him with the unhitching and hitching, and we came back to the house for a sandwich.  We ate and went straight back to the garden.  The Husband tilled and tilled and tilled, and moved dirt around with the bucket, clouds of dust just a-flying behind him.  Nanny and I eventually suspected he was mostly joy-riding.  

While he was tilling, I remembered that in the trunk of my car were 5 pounds of mustard seeds that I've been riding around since last year.  When the tilling was done, I scattered more than half of them over the garden - probably it was enough mustard to plant an acre.  The birds and squirrels can have at it and there'll still be enough seeds to make a cover crop.  

Boy, were we dusty when all this was done.