Gooseberry Pie

I remember picking gooseberries with my cousins. My aunt and uncle lived near a creek that was lined with gooseberries. Five of us could pick the gooseberries for what seemed to be infinity, but in reality was probably an hour. It was well-suited for our favorite make-believe game of Little House on the Prairie. Then we'd go back to my aunt's kitchen, wash the berries (which usually amounted to two cups), and make gooseberry pie. The pie is pretty tart, and the standard 1/2 cup of sugar that I add to fruit pies isn't nearly enough to cut the tartness of the gooseberry. It takes at least 2 cups of sugar. The pie should definitely be served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream -- just in case it is still too tart.

On the subject of pies, Kitty Pi is finished! The Pi dough is loose and stretchy. My assistant tested it by biting it, kicking it, and pouncing on it. He indicated his approval by crossing his paws. I cooked it in hot water for 45 minutes and stretched it over a plate to dry.

Oscar and Norah have both slept in it. Norah hops out when she sees me. She must be too cool to be seen snuggling with something woolly.

The divorce is really bothering me this week. At first, I kept going because of shock and anxiety. I've seen other women go through this, and (please forgive me) I wondered how could it take months and months to realize this person to whom you are committed and whom you still trust is not considering your best interests at all. Of course, he's not going to tell you that. Of course, it hurts him to see you hurt. But you aren't a team anymore. He doesn't have your back.

When I went to visit Atticus last week, I pulled up in front of the Hot Water Closet's (HWC) house. Her yard has never been particularly tidy, but I noticed that it had been trimmed and edged. That was the Ex's job at our house. Inside, her carpets were vacuumed and the tile freshly mopped -- another thing he did at our house. HWC never seemed to care about that before. The divorce seemed so real at that moment. I almost left because I was starting to cry.

Atticus was happy to see me. He meowed, let me hold him and pet him. The Ex wanted me to take the kitty downstairs. HWC wasn't supposed to be home for this visit, but the first floor looked suspiciously as if she had abandoned her drink and tv watching in a hurry. I took the kitty downstairs. He freaked out and howled, which makes sense. These days, whenever someone picks him up, they put him in a cat carrier and he ends up in a new house. Then I sat on the couch, put him on my lap, and he squatted and peed on my lap. He's only peed on me one other time -- the day his brother died. I felt so bad for Atticus. He wants normal as much as I do, and normal will never be the way it was even though the Ex and HWC obviously treat him like the spoiled, princely cat he is. Cat toys are strewn throughout the house.

I really cried then. Everything is so different. I'm tired of coping and I'm tired of handling it. I know I will get a second wind. I know my friends will cheer me up and work will distract me. That evening was just too much. I left.

The Ex sent an email to apologize for the cat having peed on me. The funny thing is, that incident didn't bother me. The cat was stressed out. I got his point. I belong to him. He wanted me to stay, but I didn't belong there.

The apology really stuck in my craw. He apologies for all of the inconsequential stuff. I would like some apologies for real things. While I realize it will be a cold day in hell before I get any apologies, the beginning of my suggested apology list:

1. I'm sorry I ended an eleven year marriage with a note and without discussing it

2. I'm sorry I lied to you for all of these years

3. I'm sorry I ruined your trust

4. I'm sorry I didn't stick up for you with my family

5. I'm sorry I made you wait eleven years for a child and then left (see #1)

I'm not so different from those women who continue to trust their Ex. I thought he still had loyalty to me and to what we had shared for all of those years. Imagine my surprise to have a very personal, very intimate detail about myself mentioned in casual conversation to me by a friend. Thank goodness it was Jill because I almost crawled under the table from embarrassment as in I-liked-to-died kind of moment. She understood my horror when I explained to her that to my way of thinking only two people had known that: the Ex and me. Clearly that is not the case. I thought about calling him and telling him to just shut up, but that would be silly. It would probably hurt his feelings, and he'd tell more people in the process of working through his feelings.

There are still so many wonderful things in my life that delight me, and I'm so lucky. Right after Jill's revelation woke me from my stupor, we went down to Twist. Becca, Sugar Bunny and I had decided that Saturdays were good days for spinning. Fortunately Shelly agrees. My wheel started to take up yarn again, magically. Becca's proximity does really good things for my wheel. It always works better in her presence. (She won't take any credit for it either. She's sitting so modestly in this picture; but, she's always modest.) She brought the elegant Victoria.

The lovely Jackie took time to spin. She wears the cutest clothes. They look like they'd be comfortable to wear, don't inhibit activity, and they are fetching. If we were the same size, I'd be truly jealous of her closet. She brought Sage, the cheerful spinning elf. Sage doesn't mind kneeling on the floor to work the treadle on bit. She even looked happy about it. Who needs an electric wheel when you can have an assistant like that?

All in all, it was a lovely Saturday spent with friends. Just the sort of thing a girl needs to snap her out of the doldrums.