Lizzie in the looking glass

Went into town early so I could 'do' the charity shops there before my appointment. Nine shops but lots of them don't sell children's clothes any more (not profitable enough) and those that do had a very poor selection. 

Caught a glimpse of myself in a shop mirror. Realised I should have looked in a mirror before I left the house. Mustard tights do not go with a red shirt.

Meanwhile, remember that jigsaw with its edges not on the picture? I persevered. 

Ice cream and a dog. All it needs to be perfect - apart from the whole picture - is a bag of Maltesers.

Highland cow on a diet

A nice bit of driftwood on the beach

And a mermaid's purse.

I've spent a lot of time this week going around charity shops looking for things to take to Italy. I have acquired a huge pile of books for children - and maybe some for me - but not many clothes. 

In between I took a lovely walk along the beach to Mumbles (and caught the bus back), and had a good chat with the pastor from church about stuff. He sympathised with my latest problem and said that, in his experience, it was never the people he was trying to help that were the problem but other Christians in ministry. Sad but true.

I'm currently not going out on Friday evenings to support working girls because I am 'disloyal', so that's sad. Maybe things will change but I'm not banking on it.

Had a lovely day yesterday with GrandDaughter2. We visited the Upside-down House in the morning, attacked some more charity shops, had KFC for lunch, and then, inspired by the recent workshop, I got us trying our hands at some artwork.

I forgot to take a photo from outside but I hope you can see that the floors are on a tilt. At the time I was amazed how weird it felt. It was dizzy-making. I couldn't understand but then worked out that my eyes and ears were experiencing different things and confusing my poor brain. Good fun anyway.

I think my eyes were still confused when I painted the thinnest highland cow in the world! GrandDaughter2's horse was very good though. She is into horses at the moment.

Off to the hairdresser's today - and more charity shops!

Try again

 Okay, so first/second attempt failed because the file was too big. 

So try, try again.

Remarkable Feasts

Today I've baked and iced a birthday cake for Zac's tonight and done a trawl of some charity shops for stuff to take to Italy. Got distracted and bought myself a book.

In my defence it was in with the children's books - sort of, though now I think of it there was another section altogether of children's books. Anyway, it looks like a lovely read as well as having interesting recipes.

Spent some time wandering around the garden never ceasing to be amazed that things I've planted and/or pruned are doing so well. One of the teapot plants opened its flowers today.

* * * * *

I have paid very little attention to the Artemis moon mission but there seems to be a lot of excitement about images of the dark side of the moon. Does this mean there is a bit of the moon we've never seen? Doesn't it rotate? I shall have to ask Husband who will take great pleasure - and time - in explaining to me.

For my age I am very ignorant of many things.

* * * * *

Now I've got the hang of recording - until the next time - here's my Palm Sunday reading that some of you very kindly asked about.

Sunny Monday afternoon

A lovely weekend weather-wise so I've been gardening.

You remember some time ago Husband had a phase of breaking teapot lids? Today I asked Husband for his drill so I could make holes in the pots and use them for planting.

It took no effort for Husband to break the lids but I thought my hand would drop off it took me so long to drill holes. Then one broke. But that's fine.

I only got into gardening a few years ago - probably during lockdown - so I still get excited when something I've planted grows, or even flourishes. And these are all plants I've rescued that were nearly dead, and they've blossomed again!

The heuchera on the right, the lime green one, was trodden on by dogs so often that it was losing its will to live. I put it in its own pot and it revived, and, now it's big enough I've planted it out - and in a less dog-friendly part of the garden

Similarly the hydrangea in the big tub on the left had been eaten to a stalk by snails/slugs so I moved it to its own pot and it's growing! I pruned the red-tipped bush on the right after it had dried out I think. Not sure how that happened but something brought it to death's door, and now it's looking great again. 

I feel like a parent whose child is growing up and getting ready for university. 

And the little hydrangea in the front is a cutting I took! (Admittedly all the books said hydrangeas are dead easy to propagate but this is me, the Great Plant Killer.)

* * * * *

While I believe that all writing is creative I have to acknowledge that some is more, hm, from the soul. During the service yesterday morning we went outside to dress the cross and before that some prayers were said. While I was listening I felt the words, "Did Mary weep at the foot of the cross?" come to me. So yesterday afternoon I wrote the poem in the previous post. 

It's the second piece of soul creative writing I've done in the last two weeks - the other one being the Palm Sunday meditation - after bemoaning the fact that I'd lost it. So I am very happy.

Did Mary weep?

Did Mary weep 
At the foot of the cross?
Was she the loudest
Of the wailing women?
Did she lose all sense of dignity?
Did she have to be held back?
I would have.

Or was she silent
Too stunned
By the betrayal, the injustice?
Surrounded by the women
Who loved him too,
Supported by the Magdalena,
Leaning on each other for strength.

Did she gaze dry-eyed
At her first-born on the cross?
And wordlessly question, why.
Did she remember the words
The old man spoke,
“A sword will pierce your heart”?

Did they walk along the shore
She and her beloved boy
Just days before
As the sun was setting 
And did the son prepare the mother?

Did he tell her what was to come,
Did she understand too clearly 
what his words meant?

Did she tell him it was too soon?
He should have many years ahead yet.
There was so much more he could do,
So much need he could meet.
Think of the sick, the dying, the insane.
Evil wouldn’t go away;
It could wait for him.
Did she cry, grab onto his arm,
Beg him, “Not yet”?
I would have.

Did he look tenderly 
Into eyes that were
As familiar as his own?
Did he hold her tight, 
Wishing there were a way
To keep her from suffering? 
Did he weep for what was to come?
For her and for himself?

Did she wonder
What it had all been for?
I would have.

And here's me reading it.

Keys to you

I've been very wishy-washy today so I decided to begin a new jigsaw. An hour later I'm considering giving up on it.

There's only been one jigsaw I stopped doing, and that was after three months and crying every time I sat down to it, so what's so bad about this one? 

Well, there must be about 2" top and bottom that aren't shown in the picture. Add to that the fact that pieces don't fit together very well, and the colours aren't true, and you may get an inkling.

I'll probably persevere.

I forgot to tell you that I went to visit Swansea Minster yesterday. (It used to be St. Mary's but it's got too big for her boots.) There was an art installation there I wanted to see: The Last Supper by Peter Barnes that used 50,000 keys from old keyboards to create the mosaic effect.

Sickening

Seeing a woman on the stage at a White House Easter dinner proclaiming that Trump is just like Jesus made me feel physically sick. I want to shout and scream.

What made it even worse was that there was a Catholic bishop, Robert Barron, standing on stage and applauding. He's since spoken out saying the Pope wasn't specifically referring to Iran when he made his anti-war comments.

Meanwhile in Israel members of the Knesset toast their victory with champagne, celebrating the passing of a law bringing in the death penalty for Palestinians convicted of terrorist attacks. Hanging within 90 days is mandatory and no pardons can be issued.

And Trump tweets about . . . Bruce Springsteen. Can't think why.

Why I eat Maltesers

A lady in Rebound this morning said she could tell I exercised because I had strong legs, muscular. I think that's a compliment.

Just tried and failed to do the NYT Connections puzzle. Apparently an apple polisher is someone who says nice things to curry favour. Not in this country I think. But possibly you can put me right.

Which didn't come from Connections but Tightrope now I think about it.

Watched the Peaky Blinders film, The Immortal Man, on Netflix the other night. Not as good as the television programmes but worth watching for redemption for Tommy Shelby. And for his eyes. Sad though. Also finished reading Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers as recommended by Daughter. Shouted at her for not warning me about the ending.

Tonight we're having the first barbecue of the year although it may be just the cooks who will be outside while the rest of us keep warm indoors.

In the library yesterday and felt sad to think of all the books in the world that I would like to read but never will, simply because there are too many. But also heard about the death of an author aged 68, which made me think about how many people are dead, and how I must make the most of my life.

So I am sitting here eating Maltesers. 

* * * * *

Thursday morning

We didn't barbecue. Elder Son, who was supposed to be coming and returning our gas canister, didn't show up till too late. And he'd forgotten the gas anyway. So Husband cooked everything in the kitchen, and very nice it was too. 

By the way, I did offer Husband a chance to write a post, to defend himself against all my accusations, but he said no.

Two steps forward

GrandDaughter2 was under the weather today so I offered to walk Louie. We had a lovely walk.

I learned from our holiday in Canada that these are called inuksuks and used to indicate tracks. Environmentalists around here object to them so I had to dismantle mine when I'd taken the photo.

The less photographed angle of Three Cliffs. Amazing to think that once upon a time these cliffs were lying flat and all sorts of creatures were walking on them. Or possibly swimming over them as they're limestone.

After seeing two women emerge from the hole under the cliffs I decided it must be passable - usually the stream comes right up to it. I discovered it was passable if I didn't mind doing a mountain goat impersonation. I had visions of me slipping on the seaweed-covered cliffside and getting my ankle caught and having to send Louie for help, Lassie style.

I was fine.

Then choosing the route back up the mountain - you can call it a hill if you want but I know what it is - I let Louie lead the way, which was a wise choice as he took me on a less-trodden path, allowing me to stop frequently to breathe without embarrassment. A good thing because as I reached the main path a woman came jogging - jogging! - past me. Bear in mind that the path is sand and we all know that it's two steps forward, one step back in sand.

Came home and iced a birthday cake for a man at Zac's who can be relied on to do things.

I forgot to tell you about two conversations from Rough Edges on Saturday. One was how a grandchild (not mine) had come home from school talking about the God Bunny, the Jesus Bunny, and the bad bunnies. When it was suggested to him that they might really have been people the young boy was most upset. "I don't mind the Easter Bunny coming to my house to bring eggs but I don't want a strange man coming in."

The other story was less about bunnies and more about squirrels and foxes and, in particular, the shooting of them. Seems it's quite a normal thing in some areas. One man had a squirrel who lived in their loft and kept them awake at night. When he was in bed, he used a heat tracker to locate its position and then shot it through the ceiling! (And missed it!)