The fun of making up words!

Notes from Alexis: We both have a tendency to create our own words. It was always a toss up of who was better at it. But it is all good for a laugh!

3-15-84

Dearest Lex,

I laughed all through your last letter and I needed a laugh. Dad had taken some time off (home 5 days) and I was about ready to scream. However some good came of it. We hauled 50 to 60 bales of rotten alfalfa (gold) for the garden, and another limb for a bird house. Those limbs from the Laurel Street house make a lovely place for birds, the quail love them.

I have been drafted to help Dad with building a canoe, and then I remembered another long forgotten wish. When I was in high school I dreamed, plotted and planned, of building a boat. I was obsessed with the whole idea, but reality reared its ugly head and I gave up the idea. So here we go, 35 years later! I’m being more or less forced to build it or at least help Dad, because nobody else will. Ponder that one over for a minute.

I’ve made another step forward with the Frameworks art project. You know how I have been having second thoughts, and all more or less centered around ‘worth’ but of course worth is entirely out of my hands, isn’t it. Value is something so intangible that it can only be measured by time, maybe. But any-hoo, I decided to go full steam ahead, but by golly to do it in as professional a manner as possible. I am really amazed at what ONE person has conceived and executed (meaning myself). Many other large art shows are generally a multiple-person show, or a life-time collection. But I haven’t seen or heard of the kind of thing that I have with my Frameworks. That encourages me.

My body has said it wants two months down-time, and is going to get two months, come hell or high water. I have been trapped here in the ‘Sargasso Sea’ by the Doldrums. Of course I have been writing steadily (minus 5 days) thank God! So at least the mind is free but the body is set on no-go. And I get such a kick out of the byways that my writing takes me down.

I agree with you about the book ‘Blue Highways.’ The poor man was so caught up with his troubles–wife, job, drinking, pain–that he drove all those miles inside his own head, and never left home. I would love to go somewhere and do something, but am anxiously awaiting teleportation, so I can stay home while traveling. There are folks out on the road right now in motor homes who think they are doing just that, but I don’t agree. Being home means the view doesn’t change, but thank God neither does the bed!

I bought the wife of the book I sent you. It is called Quilted Clothing by Jean Ray Laury and is just ‘droolable.’ (droolable is a first cousin to grossity). She and her husband, Stan Bitters must be the most interesting people I have ever heard of (excluding thee and me, of course).

I plan to make a summer covering for patio out of woven willow branches. Dad says B. has 40 acres of willows and he will help me get a load, or a ton, whichever comes first. I will build a loom on the patio with a frame and weave it in place.

Just heard and saw the first Meadow Lark, love them dearly. The Killdeer came last week. Our spring is marked by birds not buds, and Dad, of course, wanting to plant the garden. He has planted mucho in the green house and their little ears are sticking up. We ate lunch out there one day when it rained. Nice.

Well, I’ll clean the house today and maybe I’ll become inspired to do something ‘figment-ly.’ (Don’t you just love it!)

Love,
Mom

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