Three Failures and Two Not-Failures

This 1st grade dork had no idea of the pitfalls and roadblocks ahead in life.

A pie.

About 40 years ago, I had a summer job as a baker, and the place was known for pies. A guy from church told me about a pie his mom used to make for him and asked if I would make it for him. I was willing to try, so he brought me the recipe. He called it “chocolate meringue” and the recipe called it “chocolate chiffon” —I call it “chocolate pie failure”.

I wrote this to a friend who inherited the baking job:

Everything was wrong: my Crisco had been in the fridge for probably 10 years and for some reason had oil all over the outside top of the lid. What?? And the stuff in the can looked dried out, so I put it in the trash and found a recipe for a pie crust with butter.

Why does EVERY pie dough recipe NEVER have enough water? “Add 1 T at a time, up to 1/4 cup” —useless, with tons of dry flour leftover in the bowl. But I persisted, and eventually was able to roll it out, using a spray bottle of water to get the cracks to glue together.

“Blind baking” is unfamiliar to me, but I lined the pan with foil on top of the dough and filled it with uncooked navy beans to hold it down. It worked well enough, but the butter melted and coated the crust with oil. Is this normal?

The pie filling used gelatin, and the envelopes I had were probably 2 or 3 decades old. So what? It’s gelatin, so I used it anyway.

It called for egg whites, beaten stiff. Kind of hard without an electric mixer or even a hand-crank egg beater, so I pulled out my immersion blender. Useless. Would NOT beat the egg whites stiff. Oh well, I added the called-for sugar despite the textural wrongness.

Then I thought that maybe I should give the egg whites another chance, so I started over with 3 more eggs. Nada. Zip. Zilch. No stiffness. 

So I just mixed everything together and poured it into the pie crust, and then was horrified to see that the filling, which contains 3 eggs, DOES NOT GET COOKED.

It sat in the fridge overnight, in the hopes it would solidify. Alas, it did not, and when I dipped a spoon into the extra filling to test it, it was very grainy because apparently the gelatin did NOT jell, in spite of following the directions.

In reading an updated version of the recipe (from a more current Better Homes & Gardens red and white checked cookbook), I learned that there are many important steps that my old recipe did not happen to mention. In theory, it could turn out in a second attempt with all the nuances and proper tools, but in reality, I’m done. Because of the raw eggs, all the time wasted spent, and the fact that it was chocolate, I baked it (raw eggs—no thanks). It is weird but edible (CHOCOLATE!).

A Shawl

I found some almost thread-weight cotton yarn at a yard sale many years ago and this winter, in an attempt to work through my yarn stash (still extensive in spite of my severe yarn diet of the past 3-4 years), decided to turn it into a shawl. This is the kind of pattern that starts with about 3 stitches, and every other row you add another 4 stitches to grow it into a triangle shape. The rows get longer and longer, ending with 366 stitches, and the lace pattern chart gets harder and harder to follow as the piece grows. My shawl looks as if there is no lace pattern, just a random mess of disorganized lace. I knew I was off many times, and decided that it didn’t matter. If a person is wearing a shawl, the pattern isn’t usually visible. I just kept plowing ahead, and the results are a dog’s breakfast. A lacy pink dog’s breakfast.

The angle of my inferior phone camera doesn’t show the triangular shape.

A Phone

An elderly friend bought a cordless phone and couldn’t make it work. I went to her house and did some troubleshooting, concluding that the phone was defective. I ordered another, and she meticulously followed each step to set it up. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. All I can figure out is that her “old” landline is not up to the current technological requirements of telephone behaviors. This is someone who has no internet or cell phone, and she is very determined to keep her life simple. Together we decided that this is just a time waster, so we’ll return both phones.

We both think that mail is a fine and reliable way to communicate.

Not a failure

I can draw.

I can help people write books and get them printed. The books that I have shepherded from idea to publication but that I don’t sell can be found on this new page: OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKS. This includes Tales of TB, Springville’s Hospital, The Crooked Cross of Diamond Lake, Only the Living, and Adventures in Boy Scouting.

The Hardest Part About Being an Artist (accompanied by a random selection of pencil drawings)

Anyone want to guess?

Guesses

Maybe you are thinking that it is difficult to paint according to people’s instructions (called “commissions” or “commissioned art”). That might be true for some artists, but I am not one of them. I’ve said for decades that I’d rather draw an ugly house than be a waitress.

Maybe you are thinking that it is the lack of a steady paycheck. That is probably true for artists without supportive spouses with a steady income and insurance, but that is not me.

Maybe you are thinking that it is having to approach galleries. There aren’t any for-profit galleries in Tulare County, and since Tulare County is my focus, I don’t have to approach galleries. A benefit of having stayed here my entire career, both in subject matter and in the flesh, is that galleries (all non-profit) approach me. Not boasting, just stating the facts. There is much to be said for continuity and presence and reliability and community.

What about selling? Not a problem for me, because I don’t try to “sell” to people. I help people who want my art figure out which piece or pieces will please them most. No tricky words, no persuasive speech, just helping people.

None of those things are anyone’s favorite part about being an artist. So what is the hardest part?

The answer

Pricing. All artists HATE to set prices.

Other artists tell me my prices are way too low. However, my customers gasp and have to think about whether or not to spend money on my art. (That deflates any tendencies of getting fat-headed about being known in my area.)

There is a push-and-pull between keeping prices affordable while allowing those who do the expensive and boring work of maintaining a gallery or gift shop to have a fair cut of the profits. And keeping prices affordable is a bit of smoke-and-mirrors, the old 99 or 95 trick. If keeping prices consistent, and a size comes out to the price of $225, the tendency is to call it $199 or $195. If I do that, I’ve chopped $25 off my profit, and also chopped the seller’s cut.

What if I just painted small so all the prices are under $200 in order to keep the visitors and gift shops flowing along? This is often what I do.

But if I only paint small, then my inventory will not be ready for someone who asks for a larger piece, or when a gallery approaches for a show.

Ethics

On top of all that indecisiveness, there is an important piece to pricing: no matter where someone finds my work, it must be priced the same. Website, shows, galleries, my studio, stores—no “it’s cheaper at. . .” or “I know the artist and can get her to cut me a deal.” Nope. We* keep it consistent** and ethical, and if you see my piece at a show and then think that after the show you can get it cheaper from me, go have yourself another think. Likewise, if you see a piece at a show and wait to buy it directly from me, I will write the gallery a check for their cut anyway.

Conclusion

Push-me-pull-you, that llama from Dr. Doolittle with two heads, each one pointing a different direction—that’s a good symbol of the mess in my head when setting prices.

I need some chocolate.

I painted this 5×7” oil in 2006, not too long after beginning to work in oil.

*The royal we, since it is just big Queen Me-Me around here in this little business.

**Except sometimes I mess up, especially when doing stressful pricing math.

Mural Dedicated

It was called an unveiling, but it was really a dedication, a symbolic presentation to the town of Ivanhoe, a “Here, this is for you and you are welcome, be proud!” (I wanted to add, “and don’t let it get egged!”)

Lots of hoorah, thank you to this personage, thank you to that personage, acknowledge how wonderful everyone is, pat ourselves on the back, (all present ignored the bureaucracy, indecision, delays, red tape and reluctance to let the mural painters have a key for access to the facilities while painting) take some photos and eat some cake.

There was a translator for the talks; it was kind of hard to keep interrupting myself to wait for her to repeat my words in Spanish. Too bad I didn’t have a formal speech written out in advance to help her. I don’t actually know how to do formal speeches—I just talk.

(I skipped the cake. Thank you for your concern. Please be impressed by my restraint.)

Jonny, my intern showed up! I made him stand by me when I talked about painting the mural. Then I said that he had a great work ethic and that he needs a job. Probably embarrassed him. I don’t care. He is a good worker and does need a job!

We probably talked too much during the county supervisor’s speech; the supervisor said something about “how eloquently” I talked about painting the mural. I told Jonny that he probably had written his speech before I did my little talk.

Jonny was explaining to me that holding up 2 fingers is a peace sign; I was explaining to him that I know what it is; he didn’t explain why he always does that in photos.

Two friends from high school came!

Then my friend Lauren (former drawing student) asked me how to get to Twin Buttes, and I said, “Follow me!” So we took a short detour before heading our separate ways home.

I really really really like this mural and was so touched by all the people showing up.

The Business of Art | Many words today

This might take more time to read than you want to spend. You also might not find it interesting. You can skip it today—I’ll still be your friend.

In thinking about all the distractions and how long it has been since I last painted, I realized several things, the most glaring that. . .

. . . I missed several important selling opportunities here in Three Rivers this spring.

What a Slacker

(1) The Studio Tour weekend: Did it include Three Rivers this year? This event alternates areas each year. It used to be an exclusive Three Rivers event, but I stopped after it grew to involve the entire county. It eats up an entire weekend and involves many strangers coming to my home. No thanks.

(2) First Saturday —haven’t participated in that for many years because I don’t like waiting in my studio all day, jumping up every time I hear a car go past to see if they are pulling into my driveway, helping tottery people up my steps, and then being squished with strangers in my little shed of a studio. No thanks.

(3) A busy Easter weekend in the local shops. Oops, didn’t have anything new to take.

(4) I’m skipping the Redbud Festival too. Lots of work to set up, poor attendance in the last handful of years I’ve been there, standing around on numb feet (because when a vendor sits, it appears as if he is disinterested) and not wanting to work on Sunday all add up to No Thanks to festivals, bazaars, boutiques and all such events.

These guys would HATE having strangers invade their space—my painting workshop doubles as their home.

Good grief, it’s a wonder that I can stay in business as a local artist.

After 33 years of full time artisting, arting, scratching out a living with paintbrushes and pencils, I seem to have developed enough ways of earning a living that I can be a little pickier.

But then again, when I had a solo show in Tulare last August, I thought I had it all figured out and almost didn’t bring any pencil drawings. Boy was I wrong—pencil drawings were all that sold!

Such is the business of art. The best I can do is return phone calls and emails, finish work on time, keep improving old skills and learning new ones.

What I do

Editing, proofreading, book design, drawing in pencil, oil painting, painting murals, teaching regular group and private drawing lessons, giving talks about drawing, publishing books (coloring, cabins, and wildflowers for me; a variety of topics for other people), printing and selling notecards and calendars, designing and painting signs, logo design, teaching drawing and oil painting workshops, an occasional solo show, accepting commissions, selling through local shops, selling from my website and to people who call or ask to visit my studio—it all provides great variety, and continues to hold my interest.

This is a fantastic place to teach drawing lessons and workshops.

What I don’t do

Notice that the above list doesn’t include the aforementioned boutiques/bazaars/festivals, or lending my work to places of business so that they don’t have to buy it but can pretend that it is actually going to sell while people are in their offices for other purposes. It doesn’t include giving art to fund raisers or annual beg-a-thons (hint: I will give many charities who ask a free Wilsonia book, or even a certificate for a free private drawing lesson). There’s nothing on the list about participating in shows with entry fees, joining in themed group shows, or schlepping my art to decorate someone’s annual banquet to give people something to do while they are waiting for dinner to begin. I have done all of these things in the past and am thankful to be able to decline such “opportunities for exposure”. The beginners and youngsters can do those things, but I learned that a person can die of exposure. (Yes, I do make exceptions from time to time.)

Why would I ever want to leave here if I didn’t have to?

What About The Internet?

I also don’t sell via Facebook, Instagram, or Etsy. These platforms require copious amounts of time online, building up a following, participating in discussions and commenting and “liking”, being visible, staying connected. I try to keep my connections real rather than virtual, and as much as I try to limit screen time, I’m still on the computer way more than I want to be: photos, communications, photo editing, blogging, more photos, book editing, book design, and even more photos for many reasons and uses, plus reading and commenting regularly on a handful of blogs, which have brought a handful of sales and new friendships.

This was a fun place to give a talk about earning a living with art and how I got to where I am, which really, isn’t anything to brag about. It came with lunch, which we all needed after a very stressful hour before the meeting began of trying to make the powerpoint projector work. (Next time I’ll bring my trusty laptop.)

P.S. Notice also that the list doesn’t include showing in galleries: this means for-profit galleries. There are none in Tulare County, only non-profits, run by volunteers, where I have had my solo shows.

Conclusion

Using pencils, oil paint, and murals, I make art that you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

P.S. I happily accept commissions, which means I make custom art for people. I hope you know that!

Tryna Paint | A Few Other Things First

So many parts to my little life: editing, gardening, doing stuff for church. . . but I was ‘posed to be painting.

Look! This crape myrtle tree isn’t dead after all!

Hey! Why are these iris hiding?

This sign will be repurposed, but first Trail Guy had to scrape off old lettering, and then I had to put forty-eleven coats of paint on it. Now we get to store it until the next volunteer does his part.

What? You want another sign? Okay, fast-horse quality

LOOK! The climbing roses are blooming, and they usually don’t appear until the end of April!

Wait! I’m ‘posed to be painting!

Remember this guy? I thought he looked weird. After studying him upside down with the photo, I made a few adjustments, added a bit more detail, signed it and set it aside. This ain’t no piano I’m building here. . . let’s not get paralyzed by perfectionism, because summer’s selling season approaches.

Moving on, there are 3 more Honeymoon Cabin paintings to complete.

That was quick and easy. Next!

Back and forth between the two, tryna be efficient with the colors on the brush so I didn’t waste either paint or time.

Still, I didn’t finish either one of these. Maybe the next time I can get these both finished and move on to some Three Rivers paintings. Shoulda coulda woulda had them done in time for Easter weekend/First Saturday in Three Rivers, but there were so many other distractions. As you witnessed by the beginning of this disjointed post.

Eleven Things Learned in March

  1. I’ve never heard of sous vide style cooking. Read about it here: A Beginner’s Guide to Sous Vide Cooking on a site called “Spruce Eats”. Pronounced “soo-VEED”. Not planning on trying it. I made it through the Insta-Pot and Keurig crazes without buying anything and will continue to keep my life and possessions simple wherever possible. But it is fun to learn about what other people are doing. If you want more info, Serious Eats is a great website for all sorts of cooking info.

2. Do NOT let piles of paper accumulate! I finally went through the stack of birthday and Christmas cards and in that stack I found THREE Very Important Items: 1. a letter I thought I had mailed in October (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??) 2. a gift certificate to Luis Nursery (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??) 3. An email and phone number for a dear old friend (HI CAREEN!! WE ACTUALLY TEXTED AND I ALWAYS THINK OF THINGS TO TELL YOU BUT DON’T WANT TO BE A WEIRDO AND A PEST.)

3. “Faff” can be both a verb and a noun, considered British English. (Great word, thank you, Elisabeth from Canada!) NOUN: An unnecessary or over-complicated task, especially one perceived as a waste of time. VERB: To waste time on an unproductive activity.

4. “Cruft” is similar to “faff”. It means redundant, old, inferior, especially as it relates to code (computer stuff).

No faff or cruft here.

5. Brushing scam is an entirely new term to me. It is yet another scam, this one a “fraudulent tactic where sellers send unsolicited packages to individuals to create fake “verified” reviews under their names, boosting the seller’s credibility without the recipient’s consent. This can expose personal information and lead to identity theft or other scams.” So, beware if you receive something you did not order! Keep it, donate it, bury it in your garden, but do NOT review it online or respond to the wicked “geniuses” who sent it.

6. Lone Oak Cemetery, still there in spite of neglect, still with poppies and a lone oak, right there in the orange groves of Ivanhoe as it was 60 years ago.

7. There are tollways in California. I thought there were only freeways, but I was wrong. It is a real privilege to live in a place where we say “the freeway” and everyone knows what is meant.

8. My cousin was a voracious reader and a list-maker. How did I not know this about him? Despite all our differences, we really and truly were related!

9. I went to an awards dinner (as a guest of a winner friend) and this tiny oval-ish citrus fruit was part of the centerpieces. I took a couple home to try and they were Very Sweet. No idea what they were! I should have taken more. . .

10. Wisdom from James Clear about unexpected forms of generosity: 

  • Not taking things personally can be a form of generosity. You give people the space to say things imperfectly.”
  • Leaving something unsaid can be a form of generosity. You don’t always need the last word. 
  • Being early can be a form of generosity. You wait, so they don’t have to. 
  • Delivering your work on time can be a form of generosity. You make life easier for everyone downstream. 

11. I learned how to make scrambled eggs that don’t stick to the pan. (But where did I learn this??) Put your fat in the pan and heat the pan hot enough that a drop of water dances, not sizzles. Then your eggs won’t stick! It actually works. ‘Bout time I figured this out.

And thus we conclude a month of many new pieces of information. I wonder how much I will retain.

Did you learn anything new in March?

About That Road Trip

Currently I am doing a final edit, photo edit, and formatting a book that has been a long time coming (about the TB hospital in Springville, here in Tulare County). Things are a bit urgent, so here is a post about my road trip 10 days ago, because this is my blog and I can write whatever I want. Any questions? (Besides how to comment; I KNOW commenting is a pain of signing in, user names, passwords, etc. I HATE that stuff and feel grateful to anyone willing to navigate it all.)

The drive was beautiful. It was green with wildflowers. I left at 6:30 a.m. and seemed to encounter cars coming up the hill about every 1/2 mile or so before getting to Highway 65, which caused me to ask, “Why all the traffic?”

This is just hilarious in view of heading to Southern California. I live in a place where we simply say “The Freeway”; everyone I went to visit has to refer to the many freeways in their lives by the numbers. Do they say “Five” or do they say “The Five”? And if they say “The Five”, do they also say “The Walmart” and “The Facebook”? I forgot to notice.

The photos never do justice to reality. Additionally, I was holding up my phone while watching the road (OF COURSE I WAS WATCHING THE ROAD!) and hoping to get lucky. (No film was wasted, but many photos were deleted after I arrived.) There were wildflowers on the hillsides, wildflowers in patches on the shoulders of the freeways. The hills over The Grapevine* were green, the hills in Southern California were green—just wonderful, looking the way i think it always should look. (God didn’t ask for my opinion when he designed the seasons in California so I’ll just trust that all is as it should be despite my attitude.)

The freeway system has changed since I was a frequent traveler along that route. Confusing stuff. I used the talking lady, until she told me to leave The Two-Ten and head west. Can’t remember. I just pantsed my arrogant way along, sure I could figure it out. Then The Fifteen became a tollway, not a freeway. WHAT?? So I took The Sixty west, and asked the talking lady to get me to Escondido again.

I ended up on The Two Fifteen (Hunh? What”s that one?) and eventually it fed back into The Fifteen (without my spending a dime other than burning gas that cost $5.99/gallon in Three Rivers), and things became familiar again.

I love this bridge, which we called “Dad’s Favorite Bridge” for awhile (Was he unaware of the Oak Grove Bridge on the Mineral King Road? Nope. “De gustibus non es diputandem” as he used to say.**) It is a beautifully minimalistic bridge, spanning a huge freeway, as you can see. It is south of Fallbrook, in case you are curious.

Driving home, I decided I didn’t need the talking lady, but I asked her to take me to Fresno, just for curiosity’s sake. Yeppers, once again, she tried to force me off The Fifteen (or was it The Two Ten?) and once again I ignored her. I didn’t encounter any tollways nor did I see The Two Fifteen. Boy oh boy, do I ever need an updated map.

I was reminded that in order to stay on The Two Ten, one must continually exit and then merge onto another freeway, each interchange a total constipation of too many cars. I didn’t like it, being much more comfortable on a one-lane unpaved curvy road without stripes or guard rails.

However, Momscar with its 6 cylinder engine was mighty fine in several instances. People say they hate all the shifting in traffic; I never did, but often wished for more ponies under my hood back in the olden days of driving 5-speeds.

This is the first time in my life that I remember seeing so many wildflowers on the Grapevine. It was beautiful! I also had a good audio book, The Tao of Martha by Jen Lancaster (Memoir read by the author is my favorite, but why do people have to cuss so much? Sigh.)

I did finally see why a Tesla “truck” calls itself a truck—I could actually see it has a bed like a real pickup. But the ugly factor just slays me.

I was very eager to get home, and in the second passing lane around the lake, I blew around someone poking along. After getting past, I quickly came to a traffic jam. What?? I could see that cars went all the way across the Horse Creek bridge, coming downhill. What?? Eventually we crawled back into action, passing a slightly wrinkled car sitting on the bed of a tow truck.

Dorothy was right—There’s no place like home (not The Home).

*The Grapevine is what Freeway 5 (“The Five”?) is called where it crosses the Tehachapi Mountains because even until I was a little kid, it was a country road that was very twisty. Now it is multiple lanes, high speed until you catch up to someone (who should keep right) crawling uphill in one of the faster lanes. The summit is closer to Bakersfield than to Southern California—Tejon Pass, 4144’. After the summit, it feels as if we still climb, but who knows? Not me.

** Latin for “it’s useless to argue over matters of taste”.

How Fast?

Walking Partner and I noticed something different a week or two ago here in Three Rivers: new speed limit signs on a private road.

This is one post. 15 mph heading upstream, 5 mph heading downstream. (This is along the river—could you guess that?)

Here’s another one: This time it was 15 mph going downstream and 5 mph going upstream.

And here is another on the same road: 5 mph both upstream and downstream, but this time there is an explanation for those heading up. “Slow blind curve ahead” could apply to the bulk of the road.

And at this intersection, it is 15 mph regardless of the direction you head.

Never mind. Let’s look at some wildflowers along the walk.

This is the kind of sign I’m used to. Custom. Interesting enough to perhaps cause someone to notice.

Walking Partner and I walk about 3.5 mph, in case you were wondering. We used to walk 4 mph, but we’ve never been this old before.

(Neither has my friend GE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GE!!)

Tempted Away From Painting

On a fabulously springlike day in February, Trail Guy tempted me away from painting: easy to do when there are wildflowers and it isn’t hot and I don’t have a tight deadline.

First, I noticed all the chemtrails. Yeah, yeah, I know, “contrails”, but I still think there are way more than we have passenger jets above. The general direction is usually south to north, or west to east. I believe something secretive and possibly nefarious is taking place. Yes, I am susceptible to conspiracy theories; often the distance between one of those theories and reality is about 6 months.

We drove down toward Kaweah Lake, parked at the upper end of the Slick Rock area and then meandered upstream along the river, with a wee bit of accidental trespassing behind the Lazy J Motel.

A great redbud in the parking lot!

We headed toward the river, went across someone’s former foundation and down these steps to the river trail.

In putting this post together, I remembered WAIT (Why Am I Talking?) and decided that the photos can do the talking today.

I also decided to start looking for a new camera.

Eight Things Learned in February

Way too many turkeys

1.The most fun thing I learned is that Reader Sharon had a heart-shaped potato.

2. My friends went to Jordan and Israel, and I recognized all but one of the places just from their photos. Actually, I recognized that they were in Petra, which I knew was in Jordan, but I don’t understand the Biblical connection, having never read about Petra in the Bible. I learned that it was Edom, which was where Esau and his people lived. It shows up by that name multiple times, and it reminds me of a canyon in Death Valley. Here, look at the canyon I’m thinking of:

Okay, not totally. The rock walls in Petra are much smoother and more colorful.

This was 5 years ago in Death Valley. Guess I remembered it as more colorful than it was.

3. I tried and didn’t finish three books: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, The Next Day by Melinda Gates and My Friends by Fredrick Backman. The first one was repetitive and tiresome with people making bad decisions over and over; I couldn’t relate to Melinda’s life; the third was just full of depressing details and foul language. Since I was listening to an audio version, I decided to not get all that embedded in my brain. Life’s too short to spend time reading (and listening to) books that are not enjoyable. This wasn’t really a new thing to learn, but I seem to have been a wee bit mentally idle in February, so it made the list.

4. I learned the name of a new weed: Hedge Bedstraw. Weird. It’s also called False Baby’s Breath, which causes me to wonder if I should just let it grow. It’s kind of hard to pull, because it is so low growing.

5. Have you ever heard of Chocolate Avocado Mousse? Me either, but I saved a recipe because it just looked so bizarre. Seems like it would be a waste of both avocados and chocolate.

6. Finally, I learned that the sturdier Crocs that have been working as hiking “boots” for me are no longer made: All Terrain and Off Road. I found some on Amazon. I also learned that just because they seem to be the same shape as the ones that I just walked a hole in the sole, they gave me a blister.

7. In addition to wearing a hole in the sole of my Crocs, a hole is developing in the sole of my slippers. Because I am frugal, I didn’t buy new yarn to make a replacement pair. Instead, I went to my yarn stash and chose 4 possible samples, knitted up swatches, and then washed them to see which felted best. It didn’t really matter if they looked great, so I did a tiny bit of mixing and matching to squeeze out enough yarn for two slippers. If one takes the same number of steps with each foot, why does one sole wear faster than the other? Hmmm, I might be walking a little bit funny since one foot is more numb than the other. So, what did I learn? Nothing, really. But the February Learned List was short, so I tossed this in. You’re welcome.

These knitted swatches got tossed before they became cruft.

8. Cruft is a great word that wraps up clutter, junk, stuff, and porkadelia all into one little package. Here is the definition from DuckDuckGo: “Cruft is a jargon word for anything that is left over, redundant and getting in the way. It is used particularly for defective, superseded, useless, superfluous, or dysfunctional elements in computer software” (but I don’t care about computer software).

Did you learn anything new in February?