Notes from Alexis: Being a potter, I am deep in “mud” a great deal of the time, and I love it. She is knee deep in creativeness – in so many ways – it is a delight to see.
Well, I hope this finds you knee-deep in mud, or all fired up or something.
I just wrote something creative for the first time in ages, and the sweetness of it makes me feel good. I feel sorry for all the folks who have never known such a thing.
I have enjoyed the ‘Guide’ so much. I mean that it has been fun, but it hasn’t been creative; just no ‘honey’ to it. I can see non-fiction is probably not my full line, I need some creative writing along for my sweet tooth.
You aren’t going to believe this, but good old Mom and Dad now have two beds in Studio II. Our neighbors, the preacher and his wife, are moving out. He quit the church, and they are going to California or Timbuktu. If they know where they are going they ain’t saying. They had a yard sale and had this neat trundle bed. It’s two twin beds, one beneath the other. You pull the bottom one out and it snaps up to the height of the other, and makes a Queen-size bed. Pretty neat
And are we coming up? Probably not. At least not right away. Dad can’t get any time off and I, of course, am in the middle of the ‘Guide’. I have such a feeling of urgency about it. Ten years from now when it is moldering away in the closet, you can remind me of this.
Now I’ve got a long story to tell you about the Wilhelmi spinning wheel. This is one of those stories that just fills up all the vacant spaces in storytelling, and just takes over. Unbelievable! It is also a neighbor story. Where I made my big mistake was not writing all the stories down as they came along. But who would have thought I would end up with a trunk full of them?
Well, meanwhile, back at the ranch, you remember me telling you about E. coming and taking the spinning wheel. I found myself suddenly feeling like I was drowning in E.; with her voice in this little-girl range, twisting her fingers and the overall helplessness. So I told her to take it home and work with it for a week, and then if she wanted to buy it, she could give me $50, and if not, she could bring it back. It is worth something, right?
That was six months ago and every now and again I would get in a froth about it. I called her and, Oh yes, she had to have the spinning wheel, but Mr. L. hadn’t paid her. What is this L. business?
It seems that four years ago when Mrs. L., our neighbor, was going for her treatments, they hired E. to babysit and then didn’t pay her. What else is new? Believe me if I had known the sale of the wheel depended on Mr. L. there would have been no sale. I got to the point where I was going to call and tell her to bring the wheel back pronto, if not sooner, and then I got a call from a gal saying she wanted to buy a cheap spinning wheel, so I said ‘okey-dokey’ I got one. You came to the right place, lady. I called E. and said I need the wheel back, because I have a gal who wants to buy it. E. called Mrs. L., Mrs. L. called me, and then Mrs. L. called Mr.L. Repeat the above, four or five times. The upshot was that Mr. L. came over and paid me for the time he owed E. Do you know what that asshole told us when he brought over the check? He said he never thought she’d catch up with him after all this time. That bum!
E. suddenly found her grown up voice, and just like Alice in Wonderland began to grow up. I called the other gal, and she turned out to be a whiner too. Deliver me from helpless types! They are murder on me. I have always been leery of instant friendships, and now I have to worry about instant enemy-ships.
Can you stand another long story? I just love writing letters because you can’t turn me off. The reason the gal called was because I had some fibers down at the art gallery. The weavers finally got it all together and had a show. They had to invite me, because there were just too many people who knew me, and insisted I be there, I guess. Jeez, it killed D.A.’s soul, but I got invited:
So I got together about $900 worth of fibers and books. It seemed like a neat thing to me because I had small bags of exotic and unusual fibers, and books that can’t be bought locally and some are out of print. I won’t make a dime, but at least the things will be out there where they can be seen.
Watching them set up the exhibit and the old interplay of wills and inter-tribal warfare, was most interesting. Of course, I’m outside the pale, totally untouchable and glad of it. Getting the fibers ready just about did me in though. Made me sick as a dog for three days, and I do believe it cured me altogether, totally and forever.
I’l1 take whatever they don’t sell (most I presume) and peddle it in Eugene or Bandon, or wherever.
I have another good book for you, a must read. ‘Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman’ by Feynman and Leighton. Good reading.
Well, got to run and get this in the mail before noon.