Saturday, January 31, 2009

Nest



mmmm...nest. Which I just rolled out of- and it being noon on a Saturday, that is quite decadent. What makes it even more so is that I went to bed at 5 last night...... so that is how many kabillion hours of sleep? suppose I needed it, suppose I would of kept on happily dreaming away except the new cat attacked my head. (Curly hair = cat toy apparently)

I don't know why I was so very exhausted after school yesterday- I had good intentions of going home, watching buffy and making art (am working on an exciting project- sculpture- haven't done sculpture in ages!) but *wham* I could barely feed the doggs then crawl into bed. This morning I let them out, crawled right back into bed. Instant Dreams.

In order for the nest to be a proper nest, it must be possessed of extra pillows- mine are ancient feather pillows from granny wrye, they are all still marked 'Wrye' on the casings- and many, many, many layers of quilts. Melissa gave me a beautiful dark blue down comforter for Christmas that 'somehow' ended up in Savannah with Grendel (hummm?) but that's ok cause I have all the quilts in the world on my bed. And usually a dog or two.

Thing is, if I'm cold, I can't sleep. When I am tired I get very, very, very cold- bundle up in sleep pants, long sleeves, socks (which always escape then hide at the bottom of the bed until sheet-washing day)...I was still cold this morning when I let the doggs out so I know I really did need to rest more. I am a sleep-pants person, nightgowns end up strangling you and nudity is out of the question (not only is it cold, but I dream that I am naked-in-public which is not pleasant. not pleasant at all)

I do dream. always. In full color, full feel, full smell- vivid dreams that I usually remember. I'm lucky that way. Only very rarely am I sleepless, and I usually don't have a problem sleeping at other peoples homes or in motels.... I love being at the top of a motel in a city, opening the blinds and being able to look at the lights. Here it is very, very dark at night.... the only thing that keeps me up and annoyed is trying to sleep with a tv on. Can't do it. (funny, most guys relish falling asleep with the tv. annoys the crap out of me). Not much for sleeping in public either- on planes and the like- but have learned how to sleep in my office chair, and love the futon in LC's room.... naps are marvelous things!

Friday, January 30, 2009

Rope, and the end thereof.


This is my rope, wherein I am rapidly reaching the end thereof. Actually, the rope itself is quite nice- it is made of seagrass, smells like sun on the meadows and horses. It is tough and smooth, not very flexible, but a lovely color. I bought it in Asheville with the intents of making a basket- I actually started making the basket using hemp as a weft.... then Kyle, in a misguided attempt to give me a birthday present, cut the weft in order to make me a bracelet, which Bear ate before he could give it to me. Tis ok, cause I just like the rope as it is.
The end of the rope is thus- I know that leaving a relationship is hard, but over is over. Some people just won't let things go, and are more tenacious than a burr. I know that I wished for love, and the rule to be careful for what you wish for is just reinforced by this whole situation. Over is over, pal- and when I reach the end of my rope, I just cut it off and spin me a new one.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Kabillion

Kabillion is my favorite number- I use it allot. As in "I have 26 kabillion things to do" which pretty much describes today. Oh, let's see - I've got school, and that means getting the examples from the house for crafts class, magicking up a power point for AP art history (least. favorite. class. ever.) Attendance, which I forgot to do yesterday.... then I have to meet someone at Barnes and Nobels because I gave them a microwave on freecycle, then another meeting at the connection cafe (ghost hunters from tv! cool!) and in between all of this I have to run home let dogs in or out (debating on should I put them out or not this morning? It might rain, but as usual the forecast is unresolved... but they like out rather than in). plus homework, plus the essay for the fellowship application (fingers crossed), plus regular mum-type chores.... and there is art I want to do, books I want to read, things to watch... 26 kabillion.

The photo has basically *nothing* to do with the title, or what I have to do today- It is just a picture of the shelves over the big desk in the studio. Full of friendly, interesting stuff. A kabillion tons of stuff.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Abalone


Abalone- this is a red abalone, one of the huge type from California. This one is a bought shell- it has been cleaned, rosined- we have had these forever, just about. When- if- you are lucky enough to find a whole one on the beach the back is likely encrusted with barnacles and corals, the inside beautiful with opalescence. But a whole one on the beach is a rare treasure- more likely bits and pieces of one, but that is rare to.
I like the beaches here- the warm water, smooth sand, whelks and Sargasso, but I've always loved the California beaches best. My earliest memories are of them, and some of the best times in my life. The sea is rough and cold, huge piles of kelp washed up, beds of rocks- washed smooth and round as eggs, some with holes (wish stones), the occasional lump of jade or amber. Jagged outcroppings that are teaming with sea life- barnacles, muscles, crabs, starfish, periwinkles and turbans, the anemones that look like flowers. Tiny fish in tide pools. Places that I would explore for hours, collecting, taking home to name them and draw them. I would climb all over the rocks looking- the cliffs at Hazard canyon, the sea wall at Morro Bay, but my favorite was the rocks at Caycous between that pier and the one at Atascadero. I've walked that before- it's a few miles- and you have to time it right because some of it is covered by the tide. Of course it has been over 25 years now- so long, so very long ago.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Tired Tiger


I acquired this tiger thing (cats seem to be a theme lately, eh?) at the auction a few weeks ago. I am not sure where it originated- the statue that was with it is a lovely Virgin Mary from Mexico, but this seems more like India to me- or it could be South American- but we have stripes not spots so I'm thinking tiger. And the eyes are painted like the other things from India that I have.

Don't you just love the expression? She (the tiger is decidedly a she. check out the 'lipstick') looks like she could be saying "uh, Yuck! I caught this thing, it tastes nasty, but it is trying to bite me, and is wrapped around my middle...what to do? what to do?" She will definitely win- at least in my world.

My friend at school, Shelby, was in India this fall- she taught in an orphanage and did workshops for teachers there. She highly recommends "Slumdog Millionaire" as an accurate portrayal of what it is like... will catch it on Netflix.

I would love to someday go to India... along with Japan, Ireland, Africa, Mexico, Haiti... just about anywhere. Someday I will.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Blue Bottles



Blue bottles, gray day spent grading, cleaning the school studio, talking~ what I did not get done is the heaps and tons of paperwork for tomorrow morning, so am doing that now. (well, not *now* now, but after a bit of writing and a cup of tea)

I never oversleep, and this morning I did by a hour- which put me up at 6:30, no time to write- rushing about for school, then my garbage sticker was expired so I had to deal with that- one thing and then the next. That kind of day. But the room is clean and centered, and I have planning first block, so that gives me xerox time...and it's not like I haven't taught the crafts course for the past zabillion years. I just get antsy the night before a new semester.

The blue bottles are in my studio window- a bit of bright color against the grey sky. They are water bottles from Wales, found them at world market, one long ago and indulged in the other one on Saturday. Actually, they are not much more than American water in plastic bottles- on the rare occasion that I treat myself to a bought drink, I might as well go for an attractive bottle. Bonus, Bonus!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Luna!



This is Luna-cat! She is about 4 mths old, just a tabby cat- she is friendly and will probably be staying with us.... the doggs (who are not especially bright) didn't realise we had a cat until last night, then max started sitting outside the guest room door listening.... the light is slowly dawning. I'll take time, try to introduce them one at a time today while the others are outside, hopefully everyone will eventually settle down.

Never thought I'd have a cat again. I'm not a cat person much, and all of my cats have lived mainly outside. But Luna will at least be mainly inside right now- the mice are her job and the mice are inside... hopefully they will just smell her, pack their mouse-bags and move out.

Anyhoo, it's back to litterboxes (ew...can't stand them. necessary evil tho) and cat cuddles (which are nice) and hopefully a minimum of cat-dog drama. All the dogs are good doggs- Max and Belle have been around cats before- but Ursula is a tank and plays rough. I think this house is big enough and has enough climbing/hiding spaces that everything will turn out copacetic once they get over the initial meetings... for now, Luna has the guest room and stays in there when the doggs are inside. She is a pretty little thing....

Saturday, January 24, 2009

luna-cat



I have had these little metal kitties forever- I think they originally were in the cupboard in Auntie Lou's dining room. I suspect they are tin, or more likely, lead. I suspect that at one time they were colored...but now only a bit of red paint clings to the collar. Once upon a time I played with them by watching- this is a unique talent of mine.

As a child, everyone knows the rule 'look-don't-touch'. For Grendel, I would say 'art show rules' and he put his hands in his pockets. ( in breakable places- nothing much in house was off limits to him unless the paint was wet).... I respected the objects of others, but that doesn't mean that I didn't want to play with them. So I invented playing-by-watching. PBW is done by intently studying something, and imaging vividly what you would do with it if you *could* play with it. Kinda like photoshop for the mind. As an adult, I still do it all the time- it's a great entertainment when stuck in places that are dull but you have to stay there and be mannerly. Redecorate the room in your head. Figure out how the waiting room could be warmer, more comfortable, fun for kids. Make up stories about people. Inhabit the room with imaginary creatures or conversations that happen when humans aren't around. (I had a recent chance to practice this during 'teacher torture'. Teacher torture is the state-mandated proctoring of tests. What that means is you spend THREE HOURS doing NOTHING but watching the kids take bubble-sheet tests. You have to stay on your feet, circle the room like a silent shark. No reading, no drawing, no paperwork, nada but observation. And your not allowed to even LOOK at the test.)

Anyway, this post has meandered off into associations- I meant to write about luna-cat who I brought home to practice with for the weekend. As in practicing do-I-want-a-cat? I'm not really a cat person, I love my big goofy doggs, but these mice have got to go. And cats can be nice.....

Friday, January 23, 2009

Cherry Thieves



I have always loved these dishes- they are the 'winter' dishes on my hutch, along with others in brown, blue, cream. The birds fit with them, and the glass cherries- I wish I could remember where I found the glass cherries- Charleston or Texas... anyway, the cherry thieves remind me of Pennsylvania, Mum, Granny Wrye (she had a brown coo coo clock - the bird always had a red plastic cherry in its mouth. The clock is long gone, but somehow I ended up with the bird...)

What is it that makes me love these so? I love the colors, an unusual but subtle combination. The pattern- the flowers look like embroidery, the birds like distlefinks. It's calm and interesting all at once, old fashioned but not dressy or cute.

Most of them are gone- I have a few remaining pieces- the big teapot (minus lid), a creamer with a broken handle, the salt and peppers, 3 large plates, a broken small one and a billion bowls. Bowls seem to be indestructible. I don't use patterned dishes for food- I use the plain white sturdy corel ware that was Mums... food does look nice on white dishes, they are hard to break, and there is a certain satisfaction when they are all sparkling clean and stacked neatly..... but I do love to look at patterned work, and these the best of all.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Curiousity





I am *seriously* thinking about getting a cat- will be trying out a 'practice cat' this weekend to see if it works out with the doggs, scares off the mice. (Or eats a few mice. That would be ok to-)

America


"This is my ambition for AMERICA; that wherever an American citizen may go upon the earth he will be honored and loved, because he represents a nation that has nothing but justice and kindness for all races of men."
I meant to put this up Tuesday, but was distracted by snow and bread. As always, Maslow's basic needs win out over abstract thoughts, then I was sleepy and didn't think about it.
Politically, I call myself an anarchist. Freedom without rules means ultimate personal responsibility- which is why anarchy doesn't work. People aren't responsible. What it means to me is that I try to be responsible for myself, solve my own problems, work as hard as I can as cheerfully as possible, be a nice person. I help others because I *want* to, not because I *have* to. At the same time, I occasionally happily break rules- but at my choice and discretion with full acceptance of the consequences.......
Other people call me 'really really really liberal', and I am. I believe in freedom, personal responsibility, that everyone is equal regardless. Just regardless. Different isn't better or worse, just different, and that is ok. To me, the new administration brings a time of hope- not that all the problems will be solved, or even addressed correctly, or that a new choice will right old wrongs- but hopefully a return to a bit of kindness, a bit of joy. Right now we could all do with some joy.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Snow on the Witch-Ball


Yep, another photo of snow- it's a novelty here! It is still solid on the ground this morning, and school is cancelled again, but it will be gone by this afternoon. Bear has decided that she likes snow after all, and is outside playing in it.... I took a bazillion pictures yesterday of snow on stuff outside, but I think this is my favorite.
This is my new mercury-glass witchball that is hanging from the dogwood tree on the back patio. Witchballs date back to- forever- and are found in different forms in most cultures.. the term 'witchball' is English and was used in the American colonies as well. African-Americans call them 'Jackballs' and while they have a different form, and sometimes additional purposes, the basic idea is the same.
Witchballs are protective charms- they are made to be interesting enough to distract bad luck (bad vibes, bad magic) so that it is diverted from your home. The reflective/glassy kind bounce it back at the sender. Witchbottles and Jackballs are more like puzzles- the outside is a bottle or wrapped solid in string, the inside is made of nails and sharp things. The idea behind it is that the puzzle is attractive enough that it must be solved, but when the inside is reached the sharp things destroy all the bad intent. Interesting!
Story about my previous witchball- which was heavy glass, peacock colored all purply blue and green. It hung in the same tree since I moved in here- through hurricanes, storms etc. It shattered without reason one morning- it was just everywhere. There had been no wind, or cold or disturbance in the night, except that the ex-boyfriend was being all dramatic. That witchball had served it's purpose, absorbing all the negativity until it was full enough to explode.
Grendel and I went into town for something unrelated and I found this one... on sale. REALLY on sale. Under $5.00 on sale. I love the silvery gold color, the simplicity of it. Beautiful, magic, safe.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Snow Belle has the right idea for winter days!


Max-Million Hilton in his Resort Wear


Polar Bear


Snow Day!



A Snow Day! With real snow! I admit to being dubious at first- yesterday wasn't cold and when I woke up this morning it was just raining... but now the snow is falling fast, big thick flakes that are busy covering up everything. I put the bread in to rise last night, and this morning there is hot coffee, hot fresh baked bread and snow. What could be better?

I remember snow at Headacher especially- how the windows would get the beautiful frost patterns on it, the clink-hush of snowplows. Chains and snow tires, Daddy trying to make it up the mountain home after work. Headacher was always warm in the winter, there was always an oil lamp or candle on the table burning bright at dinner time.

Mum would bake bread, set it on the radiator board to rise covered with a tea towel. I loved watching the towel move slowly up. Asa the cat would try to nest on it, walk on it, get scolded and shushed away. Our home would smell lovely though- hot yeasty bread, tea with milk and sugar, safe and warm tucked away in the mountains.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Comfy-Cozy



There is a promise of afternoon snow, and it being MLK day we haven't any school. I'm feeling better, and it's nice to know that I have another long day to read and study, drink coffee and huddle under my comfy-cozy to watch yet another disk of Buffy....

Mum made this. All the time I was growing up she always had a project going, would be working on something during the evening while watching tv. Usually crochet or embroidery, neat balls of yarn, tightly stretched hoops. I caught on to the embroidery right off, and I still love it. She patiently tried to teach me how to crochet, but I never got much beyond a stripe or two of chain/ single/double... to this day I am an impatient artist who wants results now! My friend Karen took to it though, and was soon churning out Afghans and scarves... I was so jealous. Melissa has tried again to nudge me into crochet or knitting, but I remain impatient, addicted to results.

I wonder how many Afghans mum made all together. All of us kids have at least one that was intended for us, the grandkids all have one, she made them for Daddy, Jack, Granny Wrye, everyone. I have this one, the two fisherman styles, Grendel's that has beautiful colored squares, several small ones that I think were Granny's and Jacks. My big grey and burgundy one was lost in a fire (minor fire- it fell on a space heater and melted. The heater shorted out, so the house didn't catch on fire, it could be said that that Afghan saved my life)

This is my favorite. I like the way the colors pop against the blue, the pattern that looks like millifleur beads in paperweights. That odds and ends are put together but somehow they match up. That it is so well crafted that it has lasted all these years, all the moves across country, the kids, the pets, endless spills and washings and it is still beautiful.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Rain


This is one of the windows in the studio- looking out to the front porch. It's not really dark outside, just one of those cold rainy days that is winter here, feels like spring to everyone else. This morning I just sat in my comfy chair, drinking coffee and studying, watching the rain fall- beauty.
I love the little panes, I love my odd stuff hanging. I've never liked curtains or blinds much, they make me feel trapped and locked in. I've never cared if other people could see in- I'm not in the habit of walking about naked (and the whole world thanks me for that) and I always liked passing houses at nights with the lights on and the drapes open. Everything looks cozy and small, safe and warm and happy. Here at least, it is.
Hanging things is another habit I have always had. I blame it on all the trips to historical homesteads when I was a kid- the herbs, neat rows of copper pots, hand dipped candles and most beautiful of all, the dyed yarns. Beauty and safety and order, hearth and home. However, in my crazy gypsy way, I hang teacups and stones, shells, keys, scissors, a Japanese spoon. Old chandelier crystals hang on the porch, the herbs are hollies, bearberry, rosemary and silverleaf nightshade collected on the winter solstice. When they are dry, I shall bottle them, label them neatly, tuck them away.
Today I'm in love with my house.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Cure-All



So, late post today as I have been in a Nyqil induced slumber- have a bad cold. Nothing serious, just a drippy, sneezy, coughing, icky icky cold. bleah.

Only cure when it gets to this point is homemade chicken soup- easy enough, chicken + crockpot, a few noodle things I had around, turnips, carrots, peas, lots and lots of garlic, ginger, top off with lemon. Serve with bread from Mexican bakery (where they think you are beautiful even if you have a cold, feel fat and are wearing pajamas) chase down with a whiskey-and-honey. Watch a little Buffy, crawl into bed.

See you all tomorrow!

Friday, January 16, 2009

NewShoes!


Yesterday I woke out of my NyQil induced coma (I have the flu. it sucks- and I *have* to go to school today, which sucks worserer)... anyhoo, tap tap tapping on my door was the UPS man with my school books and NEW RAINBOWS! I have lusted after rainbows for years- but have been two stingy to buy them for myself.... Melissa gave me a pair of green ones this past summer and it is foot-heaven...and now I have the long-coveted sand color.
I know, I know, the majority of the country is in single digits, birds are flying into planes, and it's just not sandal weather but ..... it's *always* rainbow weather down south. They are the shoes you wear with everything, at any time... the only ones that don't kill my feet. I'm not a shoe person, besides the rainbows I have a pair of chucks (second-hand) my Chinese flats (ancient) and heels-for-funerals-and-graduation. Thing is, I can wear real shoes maybe a day at a time, then the feet hurt and demand their freedom. Rainbows never hurt, they are perfect and I am in love.
Funny thing is, LC and I were talking about shoe stores when we were kids, how they were different from the stores of today. Back then, the shoe stores- mainly Thom McAn- had wooden floors, those wonderful black metal foot-measuring slider things (or, in my case, the much scarier foot-xray machine), smelt of shoe polish and leather and were run by older men who look like Orville Redebacher. Suspenders and bow-ties. White shirts, gray trousers, dress shoes. They had the foot rest stools that looked like little slides, kept wooden shoetrees in the ladies pumps, had the wooden fake legs for inside snowboots. Kiwi polish in cordovan red and Buster Brown (I always thought the Buster Brown dog was the same dog as the Coppertone dog...) Shoe strings and brushes, narrow rows of neatly stacked boxes. Absolutely no bling, and orthopedic shoes were the thing! Yowsza!

Thursday, January 15, 2009

house mouse


Cute, isn't it? Well, I didn't take the picture- I *did* take a picture of our capture-of-the-day, but it was all blurry, so I found this one on the net. I have mouse issues. We live in the country, our house is old and tumble-down, and I have doggs to feed.... therefore mice. What to do? I don't kill things, so snappy traps are out, as is poison which would hurt the doggs as well. I catch them in mice cubes- the no-kill traps that work really well- then I take them down the road to the woods and release them. Imagine being happy house mouse, warm and eating your fill of pilfered ramen noodles and dog food, to be suddenly scooped up and dumped in the wild. It's the whole mortgage crisis on a rodent scale.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Mug O'Joe


Coffee = lifeblood. What would I do without it? What would most of us do without it? I can see the world slowly grinding to a cranky halt while everyone takes a nap.... I am particular about coffee- the morning brew must be the extra-strength, kick-ass Mexican espresso that gets in your system and slaps you awake. Marvelous. Couple of cups of this and I am ready for most anything- even on mornings like today.
Today is cold...for coastal NC. (yes, I know, other people are sub zero and have snow to the roof- but here, below 40 is cause for huddling around the thermostat and breaking out real shoes instead of flip flops.) and not only is it cold, but I woke up sneezing (again!) about 2:30 am with the choice of 1. do I take a cold pill, stop sneezing, go back to bed and be sleepy-comatose for the next twelve hours or 2. sneeze, suffer, no sleep and be cranky and comatose for the next twelve hours? I took the pill, which required extra compensation via Mexican coffee, so am now in the pleasant state of kinda awake, kinda calm, and not sneezing-but drippy.
The cup is my current morning mug-of-choice, Crews at school gave it to me last year- it came with a glaze pen to decorate it with. All you do is draw and bake in the oven! So it has swirls and stars and skulls, my favorite quote "I keep mixing art and science and ending up with Magic" (Joe Strummer said that)...."Life is short, Art is Long"....."Pbin2Au" (Lead into Gold. I believe in Alchemy).... "Why ask Why? Why not Try?" and is my daily dose of liquid inspiration.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Happy Birthday Mum!


Roadrunner! When I was a kid, I was amazed that roadrunners actually existed- they were part of the world outside of cartoons, and though they were unlike the brightly colored giant roadrunner, they had a dusty charm all their own. This was Mother's roadrunner pin- she gave it to me years ago- it is copper and turquoise, now patinaed around the edges. The color of roadrunners and the scrub land they frequent.
We got it years ago, on a trip out west, in commemoration of the sighting of the bird. Our family always knew their birds- one thing that I am grateful for is the natural lessons of naming the world. I know we had a HUGE hardbound Birds of America, with beautifully painted plates, but it was much to cumbersome to be a useful field guide- everyone just seemed to know what bird was which without need of a reference. We would sit at the table at Headacher or wherever and watch the birds on the feeder: sparrows, flashy cardinals, grosbeaks. We would throw seed in Jack's driveway so the lovely California Quails could come down. Marvel in the evenings at the orderly flights of pelicans along the beach. During drives we would keep our 'eyes peeled' to spot hawks and falcons, tiny bluebirds in hedges, graceful herons and the occasional roadrunner.
Just this past Sunday I spoke with Mum, and she talked about the great blue heron and the white egret outside of her window- and another bird, unidentified- a new puzzle. Thank-you mum, for the gift of being able to look at the world and really see it- to question and wonder 'what is that? what is that?' to appreciate the good things, the small things, the sun, the sea, the sky, the wind and the rain, the birds of the air.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Unexpected Visitor


Last night Ursula found this fellow (photo right) crawling along the bedroom rug- she had no idea what it was, and with a combination of snorts-n-woofs dutifully alerted me.
I was expecting a mouse- we have mouse issues- but I had no idea what this thing was. Initially I thought it was just some odd fluff, then it started moving.....
It's a caterpillar. A ninja caterpillar that magically made its way into my bedroom. I carefully tucked it into a jar, looked it up and have identified it as a giant leopard moth. (photo on left) Lovely, large- has a huge wingspan like a Luna or an Io.... I would like to take care of it until it metamorphs. Maybe Melissa's friend Eric Smith can tell me how to-
When I was little, I had a decidedly passive aggressive relationship with caterpillars- I was either gleefully squishing them under the wheels of my tricycle, or imprisoning them in jars full of leaves. I don't remember being successful- either I lost interest, didn't do it correctly or someone else took pity on them and set them free. Now I love butterflies and moths, I don't kill them but if I find one that is dead and unsquished, I keep it. Not in a display case, but resting on a shelf or in an art work that I made years ago. Eventually they turn into powder, blow away, but for a little while they are tokens of things transformed.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Torquemada



That is *not* blood on the desk by the clippers, it's coffee. And I am *not* really Torquemada, though the dogs would have you think so. Just because Max put one needy paw to many on my lap while I was typing, just because the nails on said paw are like razors and tore my sleep pants, evil evil dog-mum (aka Torquemada) decided that it was nail clipping day.

Max squirms. His nails are black and white and sensitive, and I must confess there have been previous cut short bloody paw incidents. But not for a while- I'm getting better. After one brief escape, he is cornered and clipped, then slinks off to recover under the bed. poor, poor, poor max.

Bear's nails don't seem to grow- they cauterized them at the vet last time and they haven't grown much since. That is a good thing, because she causes such a fuss that it sounds like she is being slowly killed- nothing quite like the very loud shrieking of a bloodhound voice and all the other animals at the vet freak out.... they said they were not doing it again without sedation.

Jezebelle, to give her credit, is fairly good during the process. (key word: during) her nails are super thick, grow fast and take forever to cut. She mostly stands still like a horse and endures...until it is over. Then she bulled over bear when I was letting bear out- Jezebelle took off at full Belle-speed into the tree farm, in the rain. Followed by me with the leash, in flipflops and (thanks max) torn sleep pants. Over the river and through the wood, she's got a scent and she is not stopping for god, mum or dog treats. Finally got her cornered in a deep ditch, was scaling back up the sides when torn sleep-pants caught on a brier and riiiiiiiiipppppppp . Can you say "full moon in Pender county?" Awesome.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Kleenex Flower


Ok, so I just had to make one of these. I still have the skills, but it doesn't look as nice with the one-ply Kleenexes of today.... old Kleenex had layers which made the whole thing look less dense and more whispy. They really are quite effective on a car....
Directions:
1. lay sheets of Kleenex on top of each other
2. fold up like a fan
3. tie center with twist tie
4. begin at top layer, separate and pull towards middle, fluffing as you go.

Mixed Blessings



Although not of artifact status, where would we be without Kleenex? I have the first cold of 2009, and it is one of those sneezy, drippy, wet colds that require a constant supply of Kleenex. Thursday was horrible- I was trapped at school with no Kleenex (public schools absolutely DO NOT provide such luxuries) and had to make do with a choice of: school toilet paper which is one-ply and instantly dissolves into nothing, thereby doing no good, school paper towels which are the brown scratchy kind or my sleeve, which requires ninja-like stealth, the ability to with stand the inside of the sleeve being damp and the 'ew' factor. I was quite Rudolph by the time I got home.

Yesterday I treated myself to real Kleenex (in the pretty box!) TWO whole boxes, one for home and one for school. I wanted the Vick's kind, but it was not to be found. (Along with a craving for buffalo chicken after school. Last month it was everywhere, this month everyone discontinued it. so it was hot-n-sour soup which works equally as well) Anywoo, while cruising through the day I was remembering Mums Rules of Kleenex Use: 1) Never blow your nose. It will mess up your ears. 2) Daub, don't wipe. 3) When having a cold, it is ok to be seen in your own home with a home-made cold mask made of Kleenex stuffed up your nose so it absorbs and shields at the same time. 4) the reason for long sleeves is so that you can hide wads of Kleenex in them when out in public without pockets of a purse. Of course, being at school I wear a skirt (no pockets) and have no purse, so you can always find Ms. King by following the trail of shed Kleenex and hair pins. 5) colored Kleenex is hedonistic and bad for you. It is only to be used when making flowers for wedding cars. (to this day, I remember making suzy's blue wedding car Kleenex flowers. I must of been very little, but it is the first craft I remember consciously learning- can see it plain as day. It was like the rose-parade, but Kleenex) Mum kept her Kleenex in metal Kleenex-box-holders (white with flowers or black and gold) and I remember the shiny big foil boxes of Kleenex- the coppery one has always been my favorite. And they still make them- it's good some things never change!

Friday, January 9, 2009

Poppet



I made this poppet on Sunday, out of sculpy and Spanish moss, just for fun. She is only 3-4 inches tall, but her little arms and legs move, and her dress has stripes/apron....I haven't made a poppet in forever! She is all nested in the hanging stuff on one of the windows in the studio, surrounded by sea whips, dried okra pods, cotton bolls and other such stuff. I love tangley clusters of things`

As a little girl, I loved my dolls. Big Jenny, who had strange grey hair and could (kinda) walk, the baby with the soft body, raggedy Ann/Ollie, my Barbies, Dawns and Jane West, the 'little people' of the metal doll house. Mum would let me tip the rocking chair in the living room over to make a house boat thing ( it was like a cave and had a spinner on the bottom like a ships wheel) and I would dress up in this white communion dress with my strawberry apron, a blond curly wig and a hat, play house for hours. With the smaller dolls- like the Barbies- I was much more into making stuff for them than the doll itself- Mum and I made a huge house out of a giant cardboard box, furnished it with funky furniture made of spray caps, margarine tubs... it had a shag rug and curtains and was quite hip. I *loved* that house.... I liked making clothing for them, but never did sew well, so it was always crooked and odd, but I had some excellent clothes made by the Rigos (my sister's friends, who were always A++ at home ec stuff) , left overs from Suzy and Barbie, some little things Mum made, and these beautiful hand crocheted things made by a friend of my Auntie Lou. I kept them all in a dark brown plaid cloth satchel- it had lots of little compartments- and I remember carefully packing it and playing with them in the back seat of the car on the long trips to California. I always was losing the shoes, 'piercing' their ears with straight pins (the kind with the round colored tops) and there were quite a few haircuts along the way.... When I was older I went through a major crafty stage of making endless Little-House-on the Prairie inspired clothespin dolls, with buttons for hair buns and dresses made out of hem binding. Tiny faces drawn on with flair pens.

Now I still work with dolls, embroidered fertility babies (that work!) the keepsafe baby I made for class, the Santas that I sold for so long... but I haven't made a little toy in a long time, and this was such fun! Some days, it's ok to play.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Frayed


Pinking Shears. Do you know that the pinking shears are named after a flower because the zaggedy edges look like the petals of a 'pink'? (Max's favorite!) The purpose of the edges is to cut woven cloth- because the cuts are not straight, when the weave frays- and it will- it frays in little bits rather than long tangley threads. Less damage, so they say.
These were Mothers, I ended up with them along with the heavy black sewing machine. I remember when these were bright and clean silver, sharp and capable of their purpose with a satisfying snick. I remember sneaking them to cut paper, which dulls the blades horribly.... but I still don't separate my scissors into paper/cloth/wire as I should. Am much to impatient to do whatever I am doing with whatever is at hand. Lesson of the story: I have the right tools, but I don't use them unless it is convenient. Easy at first, problems down the road.
Anyhoo, these are no longer sharp at all, and have acquired rusty bits, but they are still heavy and interesting. I suppose I could get them sharpened somewhere- surely somebody sharpens scissors (oooo alliteration!). I like having them around though, they are my only pair of pinking shears in all my clutter of scissors.... I am wondering what percentage of this blog will end up being about scissors as I have a decided thing for them- I have scissors like bag ladies have cats.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Gumdrop Unicorn


Sometimes I just have to make things- no particular reason, just a creative sneeze. Yesterday I sneezed-out this Gumdrop Unicorn... in about 5 minutes during ArtBlock. Some junk, a broken gourd, a bit of hot glue and *poof* unicorn goodness. Jordan promptly broke the legs off it in 4th block- every one wanted to play with it- so they are reattached, this time with E-6000 (best. glue. ever.) Art room has a new mascot.
I use the term 'gumdrop unicorn' in class to discourage the makers of glittery, sugary, images of tinkerbell and tweety bird riding pretty ponies over the rainbow into a sunset bright with pooh-bear. Not that they can't make that in their own time (and have a grand future designing really-bad Walmart t-shirts, like the current Hannah Monstrosities that are on sale...what kind of grown woman- plus size grown woman- like me- would want to parade Hannah Montana on her front and Tweety bird on her butt?) Anyhoo- I am trying to get the kids to expand their aesthetics beyond Disney World and Grand Theft Auto sensibilities. I'm down with the Manga- at least that is multicultural and they have to be smart enough to read backwards to get it.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Air-Head



Ok, so this isn't actually something I own, it's a photo of a box taken at the auction. BUT I do remember this aqua hard-shell hair dryer that Sue and Barbie used to use- and the curlers with holes in them- pink, aqua and some nasty bristly ones that I didn't like to play with. (The other ones made awesome tunnels for matchbox cars, or set on their sides you could thread a stick through the holes and make horse jumps).

Bobby pins, dipity-doo (again, pink/blue/aqua with tiny bubbles in it) various brushes and rattail combs.

I never quite got the hang of beauty treatments. At 45, I still don't shave my legs or pluck my eyebrows (thanks brooke shields)- actually, sometimes I do go get the brows waxed (it's nice, doesn't hurt), never remember how to do makeup and my hair just does what it does. I've tried 'cut-n-style' and learned a few things: 1) when I had short hair, all the women in the family loved it but men hated it. no dates, no attention, no nada. am vain enough that I like the attention, and I would dream about it constantly (the missing hair) so have decided that short hair and I are not pals. 2) My hair is curly. Never does the same thing twice, and it's hard to find people who know how to cut curly hair. Best cuts come from black-ladies who understand the curl- but they are hard to find at the cheapie places I frequent. 3) I like it long, even though it's a mess. Usually I pull it up into 'waitress' 'princess' or 'chibi knots/ teddybear hair' ... mother has her hair long and wears it up, granny wrye had her hair long and wore it up... suppose it's destiny.

Sometimes I wonder where I missed out on all the beauty knowledge that everyone else seems to be born with- all my students have perfect hair, precise makeup (even if it's odd, it's well done).... in comparison with other 'adults' I am fair hopeless. I don't wear jewelry, or grown up shoes, my clothes come from walmart and thrift stores. Old Navy if I'm feeling flush. It's not a bad thing, it's a me thing- when I dress like other people I feel very fake and can't function normally- I am self conscious as hell. I am comfortable in my own skin, but still- I wonder why...

Monday, January 5, 2009

Evidence!



The house is absurdly quiet without the boy~ the worlds-largest-computer is missing from the studio, no sleeping to the sounds of explosions, no eaves dropping on warcraft conversations. With the absence of my boy comes the absence of his friends- I am used to them just walking in and out of the house at all hours, the smell of pizza and mcdonalds, stepping on those annoying little airsoft bbs that get all up in the vacuum.

With them all back to college, it is like break never happened- until I am reminded of their presence by the umbiquitious stray Q-tip.

What *is* it with men-and-Qtips? Every man I have ever known- from senior age to child- has a passion for them. (what is the purpose of Qtips anyway? it says on the package not to stick them in your ear...) Boys use them for ears and noses, cleaning keyboards and other electronics, and just love to play with them apparently. All of that is not so bad- though kinda gross- but they NEVER MAKE IT INTO THE TRASH. They end up *beside* the trash if your lucky, or in potted plants, on desks, in pockets, on the floor. Just left around like a Hansel-and-Gretal trail through the woods. Follow the Q-tips!

When all the boys are here, there is the occasional query- 'hey, got any Q-tips?'- whispered in hushed tones. I can't remember actually purchasing them, but we always seem to have them in abundance regardless of their constant consumption. Maybe they regenerate. I know that boy makes sure to pack them, and it is crisis of infinite proportions if the supply ever would run out- one of the enduring mysteries of man-world.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Never Forget



Elephants never forget, but that doesn't mean that sometimes they are forgotten. This elephant obviously doesn't belong to me (though I would give her a home if I could- if I had a truck and a crane and could take all of her 'friends' along) ... but as I was coming home from taking Grendel to college I decided to do a bit of exploring. First up was the "Family Fun" motel at SOB, abandoned for years, spent about an hour photographing there- someone had thieved all the little rocket ships.

Stopped by White Lake on the way home- these Elephants used to stand proudly in the woods (a mama and baby, along with a mama/baby giraffe, a pissed off rhino and a killer whale with a boy rider). I always wanted to photograph them, but the light wasn't right, or I was in a rush. Just the splendid weirdness of jungle animals roaming the North Carolina woods.

When I stopped this time- the animals were piled at the back of a field. The babies were standing- and the whale was propped up carefully, but the mama's had toppled over and the poor whale rider had suffered several bullet holes (making for some *very* disturbing photos). I feel absurdly sorry for these creatures- I would like to rescue them, paint them in bright designs, put them somewhere amusing. But I lack a crane-and-a-truck.

As for elephants, they never forget- and when their trunk is up it is good luck. Mother collects elephants, Barbie cries over Dumbo (I do to- so much so that I *won't* watch it. ever. again.) I am like the elephant- I have a good memory, and I never forget though it can take me a light-year to forgive things. Which is why (the good memory part) that I can't spell or do math well- I *remembered* my way past tests, but never *learned* the information. Thank-god for spellcheck-

Saturday, January 3, 2009

"Big enough to serve you, small enough to care"



The relics from Slovenian Savings and Loan (it still exists! check it out at http://www.sloveniansavings.com/about.asp) but I doubt they give away free kitchen gadets anymore... these lovely examples of turquoise and tan where long-term residents of Daddy's kitchen. One is a funnel, one an egg seperator and I remember learning how to cook, using these, getting them mixed up- even though the funnel works ok as a seperator as well.

Who seperates eggs anymore? Or bakes anything from scratch? (except Melissa, who makes kick-butt scones) When I do seperate eggs- mainly for class demonstrations- I just break the egg into my hand and let the whites run out through my fingers. The yolk stays round and firm, and we play 'pass the yolk' from student to student until someone breaks it. Good, messy fun.

Grendel goes back to college today- I wanted to write some clever analogy about seperating eggs being like seperating boy-from-home. Home runs off as the yolk travels from place to place, changes into something else. Eggs being the kitchen magic that holds everything together, a universal binder. Once the shell is cracked and the egg escapes and is seperated, everything is still 'egg' but with it's own unique properties, ready to do it's own unique thing. Whites can be whipped into foam, or used as a varnish. Yolks hold the nutritiants, the ability to thicken and bind paint, turn into deviled goodness. The shell is empty, clean, ready to be broken into tiny bits for moasics or painted or filled or composted or satisfyingly crushed.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Devil's in the Details



Sometimes I get caught up in the details of things- for instance, yesterday. I started cleaning the studio, decided that it would be keen to sort all the papers I use for collaging, ended up with drifts-of-crap all over the kitchen and studio. Some of it actually got sorted, but the major box ended up just being transferred into the largest two picnic baskets without any sorting... just a chore to lurk around the back of my head for another day.

And I have 3 days left of break- cleaning the house was supposed to take one day but I am now on day 3, haven't touched school work (which doesn't mean I don't worry about it) and have to get Grendel back to college, which involves more packing and washing and nagging. Hopefully his dad can meet me halfway so I don't have to do the 10 hours on an iffy tire... but his dad is sick so I probably will have to do it. I'll figure it out somehow.

It's harder this time to send him back- didn't realize how much I missed him until he came home for break. But back he goes (he is being a bit of a reluctant dragon) and I will soon settle back down into the routines of school.

This little metal devil came from the market in San Antonio- years ago, Mum, Grendel and I went down for a few days vacation. It was wonderful, we walked everywhere- Grendel was on a rib-kick and ate ribs everywhere we went, Mother and I discovered candied pumpkin which is splendid stuff. We had one of the best vacations ever-

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Old Cup, New Year


Yesterday I cleaned the kitchen, redding up and weeding out for the New Year. This cup went out of the cupboard and into the thrift-box...and was the inspiration for starting this blog. I hold on to things for a long time, despite that they are chipped or broken or leak (this cup is all three) because of the histories, the sentiment attached to the object. So I am trying to be tough on myself and rid myself of these things, but at the same time I cannot bear to let them go. Maybe through pictures and stories, sharing them in this way I can both hold on and let go~ life is a hard thing, sometimes.
This cup, large, white with a design of raised fruit-the pear being my favorite part- is just an old cup that Mother bought at Pier One long ago during her endless search for the perfect cup. For Mother the perfect cup must be large enough to hold something plus have a handle that is comfortable, fits the hand. And at the time, it also had to be white- she has a love of pure white dishes. She used this cup for many years- and I am not sure why she turned it over to me- either redding up/weeding out or perhaps I admired it, or another cup came along and stole her heart. Anyway, it became mine and I loved it for reminding me of her, and because it was the perfect cup.
Every morning for years I used that cup. All during the time we lived on Oak Island, every early school morning I would drink coffee out of it, listen to the same cd and write in my journal. After every summer morning doggwalk, during heartbreak and happiness, it was a touchstone for my day. I am such a creature of habit~
When we moved to the cottage it got chipped. Then it cracked. Then I noticed it leaking a little and it was retired to the back of the cupboard for all-the-dishes-are-dirty emergency use. I started my own quest for the perfect cup, and now it's time for it to go.
Isn't it odd how the heartbreaks a little when we give up beloved objects? And that is why it is in the thrift-store box- I could not bear to put it in the trash, but I know I can't keep everything forever. Bless the cup and the morning of each new day.

Greetings friends, and welcome!

Have you ever thought about all of the stuff that you have? Why do you have it? What story does it tell? What part of you does it reflect? How about the things that attract you, that catch your eye- that you *just have to have*? It doesn't matter if they are free- like stones and bones, or acquired- begged, borrowed, bought or stolen, or recorded through images. All of the small things are what helps to define our conception of who we are, what we are. Like to like.

What about objects passed on through families? Not just the 'valuable antiques', but the seemingly mundane. What do they tell us about our families, our values and views of history? Why are some things so important that we doggedly hold on to them long after their time has passed? What enchantment do they have on our hearts?

I intend to play with these questions, investigate the small things that I hold on to. Every day for a year, I am going to photograph one of my small things, post it and tell it's story. Think of it as an exploration, an excavation, a meditation on a life as told through the history of objects. I invite you to share your memories or experiences, and you are welcome to send me your photos and stories as well. Vivant!