|Sometimes the road less travelled is the Trans-Canada Highway.|
Quiet has come to my house. My mom, who is about as spry as it gets for 89 years old, is a talker. As soon as she heard me stirring in the morning, she would pop out of her room and start talking. The conversational flow would continue until we went to bed, unless of course you count when we both went silent while watching the first season of Downton Abbey. As the last person on Earth who had never watched it, I had my reservations. Of course, I am totally hooked now. Between the storyline and the amazing clothes and Maggie Smith's most excellent snide comments, one would have to be semi-conscious half-wit not to be sucked in. And so I am (sucked in, not a semi-conscious half wit).
But watching Downton Abbey is not daytime work. No, it is doled out like slices of delicious cake in the evening when the sun sort of goes down. The list of daytime work is getting longer each day but, while my mother was here, it looked a lot like this:
I showed my mom how to paint fleece with acid dyes. She has rather a reputation when it comes to painting based on the way she uses as little paint as possible when she works on her canvas boards. Perhaps as a child of the Depression she has scarcity issues but for whatever reasons, her paintings always look like studies in how to create a picture with as little paint as possible. As a conceptual framework for an art piece, this is not the worst idea but I am pretty sure that is not her motivation. In any case, I was quite curious how she would react to pouring dye onto fleece and to the general chaos of the whole endeavor, which is the high point for some of us more wasteful kinds of people. Turns out she had no problem with color. Witness above. The brightest ones are her's.
This daytime work allowed me to put my Downton Abbey time to good use and spin up some of the painted fleece as quickly as possible so that she could take the yarn home with her.