Fog 6.8
It has gone up.
But I ate correctly yesterday.
However, I have just pulled an all nighter, adding more to the memories project.
And I was proofreading, and then more memories crept round the corner...
I made several back up copies because there was a possibility when working on these words all day in the potting shed with only a brief nap in the evening last night, and then solid work writing and remembering and proofreading for another 8 hours straight (with cups of caffeine tea to keep me going), there was a possibility my fingers might touch the wrong button...
I have just had my eye mask on to soothe my eyes for half an hour. I have the bedroom door open into the garden (I am under my warm blankets in bed!) despite it being 2 deg C. The cold air is lovely and fresh on my face and eyes. I believe it is going to rain, the humidity thingy is creeping up on my wall - good for my eyes.
The sparrows and female blackbird looked at me in horror initially, I have not had the bedroom door open early morning at dawn for a long time. But then they decided it might still be me in that bed, so came back, and Miss Blackbird (I might be able to call her Mrs soon), came right up to my open door and is taking out nesting material out of my coir doormats. She looks at me as if to say 'Don't be frightened, I am only getting nesting material for my eggs'. About 3 years ago, the then Mrs Blackbird would come in my bedroom on to my bed with a mouthful of worms. Then she flew back to the nesting area. Mr Blackbird won't have anything to do with me.
Now, a moment later, the beautiful ginger cat is here at 'Gennepher's Cat Diner', he (?) has just come to my open door, looked at me, and appeared to say 'Good, they have let you out of your cage...', and then walked away.
A moment later the ginger cat I call Biscuit has appeared for his breakfast, looked round the open door to say hi, patrolled round the garden, and left.
Mr Robin has just darted to the cat bowl, checked his surroundings, taken a biscuit and flown off.
Mrs Blackbird is on the high up (cat proof) on the bird table, ready to sound the alarm for all the birds. I am going to call her Mrs Blackbird now...she is very protective and maternally minded. Mr Blackbird is another matter, very chauvinistic and a bully to all other birds, but he was a wimp when the magpie appeared...
This is so relaxing for me...
Back to memoirs. I have come a long way from that silent deaf child who didn't start to learn to speak until she was seven, and that was a long struggle. Words I hated, horrible things. And I couldn't write to express my thoughts (obviously with hindsight I didn't have the words to do this), and even at the age of 10 and 11 years old I still did cartoon drawing strips (coloured in with pencils), to fully express what I wanted to say. It got me in trouble with the teachers who thought I was being lazy. At that time (1950's) no one thought to give this deaf child extra help with verbal language or construction of it. And so I have always struggled with this.
This was meant to be a short post. I think I have got verbal diarrhoea with writing all night. This memories project the grandchildren asked for, has turned out to be a cathartic process for me, helped me to understand, and laying many ghosts to rest.
I shall stop writing now.
My creative for today is actually my postcard sized sketches in a pile, photographed on my silly blue dippy sheep lap tray, put into a kaleidoscope app, played with in Snapseed using colour curves, and then popped into Procreate to create a pixelated Popeye, so tiny that it might be unseeable however much you can zoom in. The file is jpeg and is a lossy format, so the picture of Popeye might degrade beyond recognition...we'll see.
Time for coffee and a cooked breakfast...
Have the best day you possibly can!
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