HIGH BUTTON SHOE

HIGH BUTTON SHOE

High Button Shoe

the farm update

August Ranting Raven

the Tilda Collection

August 1, 2007

...I know you have been waiting with baited breath, slumped over your computer in a heap, since I last wrote waiting for that promised letter, which is now something like 10 days later..or more. And here it is ALREADY August 1st! My theory is that once the 4th of July arrives, that if you turn in a circle 3 times, that you come out of your dizzy state and it is Labor Day! Most of my days lately are in the dizzy state. Or perhaps it is not my days, just me. While we have our household furniture, my crocks, bowls, treenware, quilts, books, OLD country living and country home magazines moved to the farmhouse, what remains in piles of mess and dust, and with no rhyme or reason as to WHY I kept that stuff is still there in the old house in each room to be dealt with. I had the living room and dining room all emptied, but continue to pile boxes in them to bring here. That would indicate that I have a plan and purpose for those boxes, which is a complete misconception. At this point I am beginning to think just a big dumpster or bonfire in the garden would be a quicker remedy.

My brain is in slow mode. However, I am prodded on by the fact that Beulah is coming to paint next Monday, the living room, dining room, hall, into the bathroom and part of the kitchen. The new stove and refrigerator come on the 7th, I believe. And they move into the house on the 25th. Nothing like deadlines to get your motivation moving along again!

Today, it is 90+ degrees. I could tell you precisely what the temperature is, however, we removed our expensive and hard to find digital inside/outside thermometer from the old house to put up at the farmhouse, when we were first moving, and have not seen it since. No clue. So my only method of seeing why I am so miserable in this heat, my fingers are sticking to the keys, my hair hangs in wet ringlets down my neck, and I do believe I probably am a tad irritable (perhaps)...is to go sit in my truck and turn on the ignition which indicates on my rear view mirror how hot it is. Shortly I have to run to town to buy groceries, so I will find out indeed how hot it is.The local saying of "frying an egg on the pavement" comes to mind however.

I promised last time to tell you about my weight loss and my painting technique. That will have to come in a day or so, as I still have to make that drated trip to town. But I will mention that I have now lost 66 pounds. And must tell you what happened. I told you about the deaths of our son's best friend and my beloved Mrs Seeley. Facing funeral home visitation and funerals is never a happy situation. Usually in addition to that, is what on earth will I wear. Working like crazy, it appears I have not found appropriate time set aside to shave my legs. First mistake. I have weekly gone thru my wardrobe, which is a very generous term for my clothes, which ranged in 4-5 different sizes.NOT to be confused with size 4-5, but 4-5 different sizes! Having given away all my small sizes last December thinking I would never lose weight again...all I have left is some bigger things. And for the most part I had given them away too. So I am left with little funeral attire. But I had gone to a garage sale in June and found a really nice longer (mid calf) thin rayon skirt for $.50. I had a nice white dressy T-shirt, and a really lovely linen short thin tan jacket that once again fit me. It was too expensive so I never gave it away, even though I haven't been able to get into it for years. I know, don't ask. That left the problem of my unshaved legs, which don't tan well. I use tanner out of the bottle for my tans, but in hot weather, I find my tan often is melted down around my ankles, so to avoid that dilemma, I decided on knee high panty hose. 66 pounds ago, full panty house required jumping off the roof into them and legs contorted into agonizing positions, only to find that the crotch probably wasn't where it should be in the end, after all that work, and there I was, not only contorted and in pain, BUT was now very overheated. And in a hateful mood.

So I found my underwear box under the bed (didn't I tell you this house has NO storage), and found a pair of brand new in the holder pair of black knee highs. Perfect. I also rummaged around and found a slip of probably 25 years ago, but I bought expensive underwear then, and it still fit me. Will wonders never cease? The day of the funeral it is HOT. I mean HOT! It starts at 1PM at the biggest church in town. Knowing there will be hundreds of people there, we arrive conservatively early, only to find ourselves seated way in the very back of the luncheon room where chairs are put up and just in front of all the people who will have to stand for the funeral. We sit for 35 minutes back there, when the funeral director (who we know well, as I mentioned before..) and says he, there is room just behind the immediate family and they have 2-3 empty pews and he wants us to move up there, and give our chairs to others who can then sit down. So we walk thru the aisle of people, thru the aisle of pews to almost the front of the church. It is cooler, but the funeral is 2-1/2 hours long. We are up and down in the pews. My clothes are sticking to me. Poor Ron is in a full suit, with vest and long sleeved shirt. I am thankful I have on knee highs but wish I had shaved my legs instead and wore sandals. That of course, requires me to wash my feet good (as I am barefooted most of the time, this is a major wash job often requiring bleach water, and who wants to go to a funeral smelling like bleach?) and redo my nail polish. No time. So the funeral ends (by the way, it was a wonderful funeral, so appropriate to the life of this young man who died way too early), and we march out behind the family infront of all the mourners IN the church, in front of all the people in the back where we had been, down the long sidewalk, across the grass, and across the road to the Baptist Church and to the back of their parking lot where we had parked the truck. Ron is removing clothes from the time we cross the grass, but I being the more 'dignified' and besides I could only remove my jacket... wait until I am about to get into the truck to take off my jacket and put it neatly into the seat, when I look down to see that my black knee high panty hose are in several layers around my white hairy ankles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know, like the little old ladies at the supermarket who have knee highs on with their shoes and shorts and they just scrunch them on their ankles. Un-huh. That's what it looked like, except mine are black. Godfrey! This is what happens when you lose 66 pounds. I suppose now I will have to dig back in the cardboard box under the bed that houses the rest of my underwear and check out those panty hose. The black knee highs went into the trash.

Ranting Raven was released this afternoon. We can be found at www.rantingraven.com/Exhibit95.php

and are showing witch makedo's and fall things. I know, IN this heat. Also check out Miss Wendy (Elspeth) at www.rantingraven.com/Exhibit165.php Els is showing her itty-bitty's, of which I am the proud owner of 2 of them. Love those things! Also check out good friend and talented artist Bittersweet Susan while there.

We will have some new photos of the farmhouse www.highbuttonshoe.net/farm.htm up soon. I sent some to Beulah to upload. And we have a few new things on the Tilda Collections. In between, tackling those piles at the old house, I am taking pictures of my collections and will be previewing them for the Tilda Collection.

For those of you in Michigan, I am doing a show in Cadillac on August 18th and am planning to do the Keepsake Collection show in Cadillac on Sept 29 & 30th. More on that later.

Okay, I must get to town. I have sat here long enough in front of the fan that my fingers aren't so sticky and my hair has dried some, so perhaps it is time to make the mad dash to the grocery store. And you KNOW how I dearly LOVE doing that!

Thanks for asking to be a part of our farm!

In fondest regard,

Tilda, fashion challenged (btw..I hate that term challenged..)

weary of moving

too long a pack rat