Cinderella Lucinda

Updates

2010-11-29T15:55:00.000-08:00

Our blog address has changed, but all previous entries are archived there, along with all current posts.

Please update your Bookmarks, Feeds, or other updating gadgets to: http://cinderellalucinda.blogspot.com/

Recent Posts:

Aaarrgg! (11/29/10)

Autmn Snow (11/23/10)
One Down, Four To Go (11/22/10)

Set-up Day at Holiday Market (11/19/10)

Time To Update

2010-11-22T13:21:00.000-08:00

Our blog address has changed, but all previous entries are archived there, along with all current posts.

Please update your Bookmarks, Feeds, or other updating gadgets to: http://cinderellalucinda.blogspot.com/

Recent Posts:
One Down, Four To Go (11/22/10)
Set-up Day at Holiday Market (11/19/10)
Welcome To Our New Blog Address (11/17/10)

Making The Move

2010-11-17T16:31:00.000-08:00

New posts are now at our new address:
cinderellalucinda.blogspot.com

Click the link and we'll see you there!

Stranded on the "Isle of Nothingness" or Why We Went To a UO Basketball Game

2010-11-13T10:48:00.000-08:00

While I didn’t drink the bleach water, the momentary, well, despair if I’m maximizing and disappointment if I minimize my emotional response to the news, made it awfully tempting.

If you’ve been reading the last few entries then you know (and if you haven’t, here’s a brief recap) that Groom and I are in the throes of being creative on demand. Yeah, that always works…

The clock is ticking for us to design half a dozen pieces of jewelry to be professionally photographed for the 2011 art show jurying season which opened November 1st. Each day that passes puts us further behind.

We had until Friday (yesterday) to complete the mini collection and present them to our East Coast consultant. I wrote here a few days ago, that if we were given the green light by this expert, the next step would be to ship the artwork to New York for their walk down the runway. If we were booed off the stage, I might drown my sorrows in bleach water.

Thumbs down was the review. We don’t pay the consultant to be nice or to tell us what we want to hear. We pay him to be brutal, to view our designs with a discerning and critical eye, to play judge and jury while there’s still room to make improvements rather than having the actual art jury exclude us from shows and by default, our income.

While he did not like the direction our created-in-a-pressure-cooker-work was taking, we sent him photographs of things we had made over the summer, which, surprisingly he liked. He even went as far as describing several of them as having that “wow factor,” and used adjectives such as rich, heraldic and imperial. A sharp contrast to a few other adjectives that he used about our initial jurying pieces.

The outcome of this consultation was that he advised using a couple of older pieces (circa June or July) and selecting elements from them to design the rest of the aggravation, er um, I mean aggregation.

I just finished a book called The Handmade Marketplace by Kari Chapin and she suggests that when “your creative flow has dried up, leaving you deserted on the Isle of Nothingness,” then go do something else unrelated for a little while.

We took her advice and nothing could have been as unrelated in our bruised brains as going to a basketball game last night. A friend of ours works in the steel industry and had donor tickets so he invited us to attend the tip off game for the final 11 played at the University of Oregon’s historic Mac Court before they move to the newly finished Matthew Knight Arena.

The last time I was in McArthur Court was way back when Groom and I were registering for our senior year, pre-computers. We had to rush around on the basketball court like athletes ourselves, running to sign up for classes needed for graduation before others filled them up. The sweat, fear and anticipation smelled the same.

However, watching a live basketball game was a completely different, and, a surprisingly wonderful experience. I never, ever thought I’d cheer, clap, whoop and holler for five guys running around in squeaky shoes throwing a ball, but I’m glad I can still discover new things about myself. Prevents getting bored being me.

While having a delicious pre-game dinner at The Vintage and then watching the exciting, close game with North Dakota State (tied 84-84 and then going into overtime to finally win 97-92), Groom and I completely let go of thoughts about forcing creation and have decided to play today, allowing the natural evolution of our ideas to emerge.

Elevenses

2010-11-11T10:51:00.000-08:00

“One and one are sometimes eleven.” – K. Miri

What? Two blog entries in two consecutive days? Must be the alignment of the date being 11/11. It is also Veteran’s Day; a National Holiday set aside to remember those who have served their country, thank you.

Groom and I spent all day yesterday developing our ideas for creating the jurying pieces for the 2011 (ah ha, there’s that number again) Art Fairs and Festival season. We have until tomorrow to complete them, so game on!

But first, we must sustain our strength by nibbling crumpets and sipping tea, also known as taking elevenses.

Cheerio

Creative Deadlines

2010-11-10T10:06:00.000-08:00

The response to our intention of changing the blog from the weekly posting schedule to a more random, spontaneous format is making me laugh. One person sighed with relief as she let slip, “Oh good, your entries are SO long,” while another lamented that she wanted them even longer.

So while the idea in the very near future is to have much shorter musings with a photograph or two posted every day or so, this meantime finds us in a pressure cooker. We have until Friday to come up with a concept for jurying; a theme and focus which ties our different pieces together that we will have professionally photographed and then made Zapplication ready for the purpose of applying to the 2011 Art Fairs and Festivals.

This brief timeline until Friday is not just for coming up with ideas, it is also the countdown until we have transformed these various possibilities into actual photogenic pieces of jewelry, camera ready for their close ups.

We have an appointment to send preliminary snapshots of these gestating objets d’art to a consultant on the East Coast for his judgment, hence the fierce deadline. If he gives us the green light, then the collection can be shipped to New York for their photo session.

If we are given the red light, booed off the stage so to speak, then we must go back to the drawing board. If that were to happen, you’ll probably find me drowning my sorrows in a bucket of bleach water, scrubbing the floors like Cinderella pre-ball, or Joan Crawford a la Mommy Dearest.

So cross your fingers gentle readers, that today and tomorrow (Wednesday and Thursday) bring inspiration and that time opens itself up and reveals hidden and secret caves to play in and that by Friday morning we’ll emerge victorious.

a plus tard (see ya later)

The Need for Bead

2010-11-07T15:39:00.000-08:00

“Keeping house is like stringing beads with no knot in the end of the thread.” – Unknown.

Oh, how true for us this week! We thought it would take two days (insert hysterical laughter here).

Groom and I consulted the oracle (our calendar), and although it was going to be a tight squeeze, we gambled the result would be worth it. So we set out on a two-day excavation of our basement which turned into a seven day rampage of spring cleaning. The weather here in Eugene this week has been stunning, giving us the much needed energy and motivation to see the project through to the finish line.

As you might notice, comparing le salon photo to the disaster zone in the previous posting, we managed to put Humpty Dumpty’s living quarters back together again.

No rest for the weary. Or is it the wicked? Regardless, with our claim ticket in hand to get our hour back from the Daylight Savings Time pawn shop, we spent our shiny new 60 minutes at the Piccadilly Flea Market (check out these groovy 1960’s flower power pins, booth #163), and then overspent at the Gem Faire. Groom and I felt hypnotized, drawn like magpies to the shiny pretty things.

Okay, time to continue working on updating our logo. See you soon.

TA DA! This is NOT our new look

2010-11-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

When I wrote last week, I had grandiose expectations of Groom and I updating the logo for our Cinderella Lucinda jewelry business and a funny (if not inspiring) tagline to go with our blog and website makeover. You see, we’re considering stepping into the 21st Century and start doing things in the current fashion. What does that mean? For starters, adding photos of our current work. The images on our website have been there from the beginning. Getting a little stale. Okay fine, a lot.

In order to take photos, one needs a light box. Don’t want to buy one? No problem, online sources say. Simply rig up one of your own using tissue paper and sticks nailed together. Groom tried that and it worked…okay, as far as tissue paper and wood scraps go. But the expert advice said nothing about cats.

What do cats have to do with anything? In our 750 square footish bungalow that doubles as our living and studio space, we set up the light box to take pictures. But then once constructed, there was no place to store it, so it had to live with us on the dining room table. When we came back from a walk, our adorable charming never-gets-into-mischief kitty cat had discovered himself a new toy! We came home to shredded tissue paper and a deconstructed light box. So we became disenchanted with the process of taking photos and posting them on the website. Staleness continued.

Then Kimmm calls us with exciting news that she has finally invested in a professional light box (and lights) from B&H Photo after a bunch of investigation and research. She invites us to look and are we ever impressed. Oh boy, it collapses! (On purpose, not because a cat sits on it…)

We ordered a smaller version of the light box (and lights) which are currently en route from New York. But where to put it so that A) it is functional and B) the cat does not decide to sleep in it? Scritchin’ our heads and looking around our already overloaded chateau, le sigh, the only place left is what we call my subterranean closet or “fortress of fashion.”

I took the plunge and descended into le sous sol (a fancier term for basement) and have spent the past two days sorting, hefting, toting and moving; willing to sacrifice hats, cloaks, capes, books and frippery for the greater purpose.

Currently our space is the living definition of chaos. The after effects are spread out everywhere. You know all the stuff you didn’t know what to do with in the first place? That’s what we’re stepping over and around right now. So, I need to continue organizing while Groom continues to work on the logo and updated blog banner.

We’ll be keeping you posted on this process. Thanks for tuning in.

100th Blog Episode!

2010-10-27T10:54:00.000-07:00

I’m having an episode of writer’s block, stuck for an opening line to begin this week’s entry. I’ve typed just as many words as I’ve deleted, the cursor sweeping up the unused words into a pile of nothing, the blank white screen staring back at me like a threatening ghost.

It’s because this is our 100th blog entry and I’m making it out to be super important in my head; a milestone which I’ve turned into a millstone, you know, the really bad kind of jewelry that gets fastened around the neck and causes drowning. Not my kind of necklace at all, thank you.

So I shall remove the self-imposed yoke from my shoulders and instead of mixing metaphors, mix up the blog routine.

For the past two years, every Wednesday, including when we’ve traveled as near as Corvallis or as far as Japan, we’ve met our deadline, which was the original challenge when we launched it back in 2008.

Having been under the spell of “wanting to be a writer” since I could hold a pen, I wondered if I could actually set a goal for myself and then keep it no matter what was going on in my business or personal life. The answer is happily yes.

I was under the misguided belief that designing jewelry was our temporary thing until I could become a writer full time and sadly, I must confess I’ve wasted an awful lot of energy resenting what I thought kept me from being a real writer. Guess what? That was me!

While I do enjoy splashing the page with words, I don’t love it enough to work at the business end of writing, which in this day and age, is the majority of it.

When I decided to create a blog, a venue where I could write about anything I wanted and to illustrate it with our photographs, I soon discovered the weekly experience more than scratched any chronic writing itch I may have had… and then some.

Creating the blog has required two days of work for me and one for Groom each week. Tuesdays have been set aside for writing the initial draft and selecting the photographs. I marinate the composition overnight and then spend Wednesdays editing while Groom sizes the images and formats the text. Phew, talk about time consuming.

Yet a funny thing happened on the way to the computer. As I committed to writing this blog, I discovered I no longer spent any energy resenting the jewelry and in fact, I fell head over heels in love with it, unearthing a growing passion for design and metal.

So I gratefully thank the blog platform for giving my writing an outlet and harnessing the creative power that we’re now channeling into our new line of bricolage jewelry. And I wholeheartedly appreciate all the followers, the long-term ones who have actually read all 100 and the new ones who pop in every now and again. Thank you.

Having said all that, the blog is changing. Into what, we don’t know yet, but the idea that is forming is taking shape in shorter, perhaps more frequent entries: Maybe a photo or two at a time with a paragraph ---but not on any rigid schedule, so you’ll get to check back anytime to see what’s new.

As for this week’s photographs, they were all taken last Sunday on our walk. It felt like we traversed all four seasons in the span of 45 minutes. Starting from the top, it seemed like spring with the blue sky and the tree still in possession of all its green hair.

We were thrilled to find flowers in bloom, their bright petals representing the transition from spring into summer.

And then we ran across this little vignette, an old-fashioned typewriter hanging out between a brightly colored beach ball and picnic table and a pile of pumpkins. This photo is a bridge between the joys of summer and the harvest of autumn.

These pictures are set up for you to click on them to enlarge. Just hit the back button to return to the blog.

The sand dollar paired with the leaf imports more seasonal changes, images of playing on the beach receding into happy memories as the falling leaves become more immediate, but all of it transient.

The progression of photos leads us into winter, but before all the trees are bare and we’re full force into Holiday Market, we must stroll along the calendar pages, stopping at Halloween for a little spooky fun.

For thousands of years, frogs have been associated with myths, folklore and magic. Looks like this poor little fellow escaped being the secret ingredient in a cauldron full of swamp punch, only to be struck down on a side street. RIP little froggie.

Of course the Halloween season, full of cats, jack o’lanterns, candy and costumes, falls just before All Saints Day, November 1st. So whether you party, pray or do both, please remember to clean up the rotting pumpkins!

So stay tuned as there could be a brief entry tomorrow, who knows?

Happy Halloween and an All Saints Day to you! Stay safe.

We The Jury

2010-10-20T15:40:00.000-07:00

The early years

For most of us, the word jury conjures up the official summons for civic duty, a mandatory “request” temporarily inviting us to join a group of our peers for the purpose of pronouncing guilt or innocence upon the accused.

For artists who’ve run away and joined the festival circuit, the term jury means almost the same thing.

A later incarnation

Many times over the years, while Groom and I have been in our jewelry booth, innocent customers have asked the question, “So did you guys just show up here and set up your tent?”

Yep, that’s exactly how it happened, except for NOT.

Let me tell you how it’s done. First, we have to cultivate a list of viable shows. This requires a lot of research and sometimes money, because a few smart people - after having discovered how much effort it takes to track down the names of art fairs and festivals, who the promoters are, the dates of the show, the application process, the jurying fee, the deadlines, the criteria and etc., ad infinitum - have decided to keep this information secret and sell it for a lofty price.

Just because a person now has possession of the coveted list does not necessarily mean all of the shows are practical or profitable. More research is required, picking the brains of other artisans who may or may not have previously participated.

So much of one’s success depends on weather, the economic status of the town (or state as we have recently learned on a trek to California), the location of the show (shady park or sizzling street), the length of time it has been operating, how much advertising the promoters are willing to do, well, you get the idea.

In the Pacific Northwest, climate dictates the relatively short show season, so as is often the case, several prime shows occur on the same weekend which quite frankly is heartbreaking. If only they would stagger themselves on the calendar for a more user friendly dance card. It seems as though they all get bunched up at once, having us travel from one corner of Washington to the mid-section of California within the span of a week, leaving no time for rest, stock infusion or petting the cat.

Once the list is in hand, the calendar looking like a drunken game of connect-the-dots, the application process begins.

When we first made our debut, back in ‘91, we were selling exclusively at the Eugene Saturday Market. One day, a promoter of a local show invited us to participate and we were given a lovely booth spot and some column inch space in the newspaper as an “invited artist.” Wow, that was easy.

A promoter of another show saw our work and invited us to apply to theirs up in the Portland area, but said we’d have to take photos and fill out a form. Well, okay. So I just rifled through our box of stock and selected a few pieces that seemed intent on becoming our “best sellers.” Holding them in one hand, I just went out into the front yard and took the photo myself with the other.

Yes, I had to take the film to the drugstore and have it developed, but that was it. I simply dropped five pictures and the application form into whatever envelope I had and mailed it. We got in. The early 90’s were like that.

Nice hair shadow!

In some cases, we actually had to drive to the host town, such as Bellevue, Washington, months prior to the show so that the promoters could take a look-see at our work. If they liked it, we were in, which they did and so we were. Of course, this was expensive as we had to spend money on gas, hotel and food, plus take the time out of our creating schedule to do it, but that’s how it was done so we did it.

After a few seasons applying for shows in that fashion, things began to change. Instead of print photographs, some shows were starting to demand slides, so we had to invest in double the film and developing. After a couple few years of that, most of the shows got on the same page and they all went to slides.

Instead of a local promoter simply looking at the photos included in the envelope and deciding upon which vendors to include, now a bunch of slide projectors had to be set up, all the multitudes of little slides had to be placed into the slide projectors right side up and time set aside to look at them all, one right after the other.

Photographs allowed the promoters time to think, as they could look at them one by one as the mail brought them in until the deadline. They could put them in different piles to mull it over and see what else showed up. We usually got in.

When they switched to slides, suddenly the promoter (and probably some friends or family) had to sit in the dark and see one image after the other, or perhaps all of one artist’s projected simultaneously. Whatever the case, it was overwhelming and after awhile, they all sort of ran together and they got tired and we started not to get in.

After panicking a bit, this is our living after all, we learned that a panel of professional artists had been hired to look at the slides and weed the good from the bad. This was called a jury. Yep, they would pronounce sentence on our artwork and we would be allowed in the show and make some money, or rejected and allowed to starve.

More panic and research ensued. Those who were getting in were paying professional photographers to take the slide shots. For those in the jury, the quality of the slide is what became noticeable and separated the chaff from the wheat.

Suddenly, we had to fork out hundreds of dollars for what we’d been doing ourselves. But the quality of our slides went up and we were getting into the better shows, so it all paid off. Phew!

But evolution marches on and the digital age encroached upon us. Now, it seemed, it was easy peasy to take digital shots of one’s own work. This opened up the field and more and more people started applying to shows, creating a shortage of spaces compared to the overwhelming number of applicants.

We still managed to get in, until… Until those with advanced computer skills raised the bar and now the quality of digital shots had to be flawless. Until a company called Zapplication became the standard by which we all have to apply. Until we started not getting into as many shows.

More panic and research. One now cannot just have flawless digital images. One must create a body of work that has theme and focus. A collection, if you will. We cannot submit work that the customers like, no, because what do they know; they’re just voting with their money.

Insert ominous music here. THE JURY. A panel of our superiors passing judgment on those who will live and those who will die.

Even if the craftsmanship is impeccable, the theme must pass muster. As the jury has between 5-6 seconds (seconds, not minutes) to make their decision, they have been given a point system to use. They judge on a scale of 1-5 with no three’s allowed, which means when they see an image they either give it a one or a two or a four or a five. No middle ground, they either like it or hate it. At the end, those artists with the highest scores are in and those with the lowest…must I say it?

I have since learned that many themes are passé, such as dragonflies and hummingbirds. Juries loathe cute. If it’s popular, fogetaboutit.

The work must be evocative, but not provocative. Any religious imagery is out, for one member of the panel might be very religious and think the work is sacrilege, while another might be an atheist and find it offensive.

One cannot pull from pop culture like Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz or Marilyn Monroe for they’ve been done to death. Or say familiar like the Eiffel tower, for one juror might have been engaged near the iconic structure and smile with passion at the reminder while another might have been jilted by a lover in Paris and seethe with anger and take it out on the applicant stupid enough to use it.

The secret unknowable list goes on, topics that are permissible and more that are not. The photographs also have to be composed in such a way that the first image points to the right so that the juror’s eyes follow naturally to the next, while the last image must point up and to the left so their attention does not wander. In the 5 seconds!

Also, all components must be handmade; no more commercial parts such as earwires, jumprings, chain, charms and beads.

And the background. Phew! One must know what the color du jour is a la mode before hand. One season it was all white, but now, any artist who has their work photographed in white does themselves and the artist following them in the lineup a disservice. Why? Because in the dark, a white background is so bright, that the jurors eyes don’t have time to adjust before the next set of slides appear and even if the next artist has done everything exactly right, they may still get penalized on the basis of pupil dilation.

Another year it was all black. Now the trend seems to be a gradient from white to black or some such thing. How to learn all of this before forking out the cash?

Even after the collection, or body of work has been artfully and creatively thought out, photographed by the best in the biz, the images must then be sent to another enterprising fellow for professional cropping, Photoshop magic and layout. Then those images must be sent to another consultant on the east coast for his opinion as to their merit.

It’s all so bloody time consuming and expensive.

And so, to answer that innocent question, “Did you guys just show up here and set up your tent?”

We wish.

Salley Forth

2010-10-13T19:00:00.000-07:00

I received an email this morning containing the following message:

This October is very special. It has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays all in 1 month. This happens once in 823 years. These are known as money bags. Pass this along to 8 good people and money will appear in 4 days based on the Chinese feng shui. No pass backs. Those who stop it will experience none.

Really? I opened my calendar and counted, and sure enough, five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. But I also happen to have my 2004 calendar open to October and guess what? Also five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. I did the math and came up with only five years since the special, lucky “money bags” month occurred, not the reported 823. Wanna know something else? If any of us are still breathing, it’s supposed to come ‘round again in 2021, a mere egg short of a dozen years from now.

Of course, I do love fun numbers and alignment and had one of my heart’s desires come true last Sunday, on 10-10-10.

Last year, I bumped into a photo of a necklace that made my heart skip a beat. For years, customers have been requesting that I design necklaces and all I could imagine was taking one of our finished postage stamp pieces and stringing beads and the thought made me queasy.

You see, I didn’t want to make matchy-matchy and got stuck in my own mind’s quagmire that that’s all I could do. But when I discovered this photo of Richard Salley’s art, it broke something loose in me and like a warm summer rain, washed the mud away. When the rain stopped, my internal atmosphere cleared and I found a path to my own designs.

The term “sally forth” means to begin an adventure and for those of you who have recently discovered our blog, Groom and I set out on a new adventure this year in designing our 2010 collection, taking metalsmithing classes and setting up a working studio in our basement.

In the jewelry world, Richard Salley is known as a rock star. In all the time of staring at his work published in books and magazines (I’ve been carrying around this particular photo in my purse for over a year), it never once occurred to me that I might meet him, much less take a class from the metal genius, or even, hold my breath, ever have the opportunity to own a piece of his original artwork.

All I knew, while meditating on his stunning artistry, is that I desired knowledge and felt if I stared long enough, I would summon it to me somehow.

About six months into our new journey, led by the brilliant star of Mr. Salley, it finally occurred to me to see if he had a website. Duh! The first thing I noticed was a tab for “workshops.” I clicked on that page first and was thrilled to learn that this Santa Fe jeweler would be teaching a class, “Skulls, Wings and Rusty Things” at Art & Soul in Portland, Oregon during October. Groom and I immediately signed up, postponing our trip to New York until February 2011.

The highly anticipated day finally arrived last Sunday and we couldn’t have been more delighted (except for the getting up at O’dark-thirty and driving two and a half hours in the rain), but Richard Salley’s teaching style was relaxed and my hunch that he’s a bit of a rogue cowboy proved true in my eyes.

Taking his inspiration from wrought-iron work, he has such a high level skill set and knows intimately the rules of design, that he can bend them at will with fantastic results.

Not only did we have a chance to meet him, but we learned several valuable techniques including the very specific one I had hoped for all year, and I had the opportunity to purchase a necklace from him directly. Jackpot!

While planting seeds in the pure fields of possibility, we also learned that Richard, and his brilliant wife, Jane Salley, are co-teaching a week long workshop in sunny Mexico in January of next year. Oh shazam, would Groom and I like to attend…

The magic continued. For our anniversary last August, a photographer friend of ours in Portland, Miss Bee Bugg as we affectionately call her, gifted us with an overnight stay at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, which included the $12 a night parking fee and a lovely complimentary breakfast. We decided to use it after the class Sunday evening.

So on 10-10-10, we stayed on the 10th floor in a beautiful suite with a sweeping view of the City of Roses.

The artist Tim Lord (that I wrote about on August 4, 2010), and his wife, Mary Gayle, on their way home to Spokane after another opening for his artwork, this time in Astoria, met up with us.

We had a chance to see a fresh print from his latest painting, Day of the Dead at the Deadwood Cemetery, a companion piece to his Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetary Alice in Wonderland themed painting.

We toodled up to Northwest’s Trendy-Third neighborhood and all agreed on the Chinese restaurant August Moon because of the red lanterns hanging in front. As you can see from his paintings (just click on them to enlarge), Tim Lord likes red lanterns.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, but it had to be done. Saying goodnight, Groom and I spent a lovely evening in our fancy digs and enjoyed breakfast the next morning in the Crowne Plaza’s restaurant. As we were leaving, the server brought us to-go cups and filled them with fresh coffee - what a thoughtful gesture.

What trip to Portland is complete without a stop at the famed Powell’s Bookstore in the Pearl District? Touted to be the largest new and used book store in the world, it’s always a thrill to saunter through the maze, drooling at the sheer volume of books, suddenly in need of titles one never knew existed.

We finished our mini-working vacation with a mango bubble tea from Boba Tea and a bit of a shopping spree at Dazzle and Galore before heading home.

To close this interesting week, Saturday, October 16th is Sweetest Day. The purpose of this holiday is to make other’s feel special. It is a time to acknowledge family and friends who make your life special. I want to take this opportunity and wish all of you the happiest of Sweetest Days.

Lost in Folsom

2010-10-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

Ignorance did not prove blissful this week. Groom and I just returned from a seven day trip participating in the Sacramento Arts Festival. Our best two shows this year were in Boise, Idaho’s capital city, and Salem, the governmental seat of Oregon. Our logic was that Sacramento, home to California’s beautiful capitol building, would round out the trifecta, making our last out-of-town show end with a big bang.

How about a less than impressive fizzle?

Fraught with tension just a few blocks away, Governor Schwarzenegger and legislative leaders were locked in a five-hour meeting spilling into Friday evening, October 1, 2010, attempting to end California’s record-long budget stalemate that has been continuing for more than 93 days.

Rumors of a hand-shake deal spread throughout the Sacramento Convention Center by 7:30pm. The show went until 9pm. In other words, a loooooooooong day.

Unbeknownst to us, government workers have been made to take Fridays off without pay, called “Furlough Fridays.” The trickle-down effect has been fast and furious.

In its 13th year, the Sacramento Arts Festival was unfortunately in the line of “friendly fire.” Without enough money to pay their bills, most people stayed home, choosing not to fork out the $15 per day parking lot charges and $7.50 entrance fees (and I thought parking in Eugene was an issue). As we were downtown four days in a row, we did not budget $60 to park our van so that stung a little. Blissless.

In its defense, the Sacramento Arts Festival is a beautiful show, one of the most diverse collections of artists and artworks under one roof that we’ve seen. With plenty of time to walk the show, it didn’t matter how many times we wandered about, there was always something new to see. The layout was great, the colors bright and the art complementary; but hardly a customer to be found.

The promoter, Warren Cook, is beloved. More artists told me that they do his shows simply because he’s Warren. He was a joy to work with and I can see why he’s so well liked and respected.

As happens at a slow show, there’s not much to do but visit with each other, so on a fonder note, we met some fun vendors. One couple from California boasted quite emphatically that Stanford was going to kick the University of Oregon’s, and therefore, our behinds during Saturday night’s big game. While he said it with humor and swagger, we kept checking the score. By 7 o’clock when the show closed for the evening, the game had not finished but Stanford was up 31-24, so the butt-kicking would have to wait until Sunday morning.

My cousin, who lives near Fresno, took a vacation day off from work and drove up to meet us. She booked a room next door in the same hotel, so we turned the weekend into a fun slumber party of sorts, staying up late, visiting and eating yummy food in our pajamas.

Perusing the Sacramento magazine in our hotel room, I noticed an ad for “the largest collection of antique shops in California.” So Cousin and I decided to play hooky from the show Sunday morning and go on the hunt for jewelry-making parts while Groom opened the booth.

What started out as a simple plan…

In spite of using her GPS, we still ended up lost, because the address given in the ad did not match the photo or the description. It was an empty building up for lease. I Googled the place on my handy dandy new Internet phone and we called the number listed. The message went to voicemail, a young girl wishing us a nice day.

While lost, we ended up in Historic Folsom, the city made famous by Johnny Cash and his 1956 trademark song, Folsom City Blues.

Early on Sunday morning, most shops were closed, but we did notice three different signs about karma, the Eastern philosophical concept of action and deed, cause and effect. Hmmmm….curious.

Walking back into the show, we encountered Mr. Stanford. As soon as he saw us, he covered his face with his hands. As the UO beat Stanford 52-31, he apologized for his arrogance and offered me a fabulous glass of wine to go with his humble pie. For you wine-bibbers out there, do I have a tip for you: Heringer Estates 2006 Petite Sirah. I finally understand descriptions like ambrosia or nectar of the gods. Aah, Bliss.

While the profits from the show were not what we were hoping for, we did get to visit with my cousin, see my parents and hang out with friends on the way home, so all was not lost.

Driving down I-5, we pulled into a rest area for a quick stop. Three nuns in full habit emerged from the vehicle next to us and proceed to amble toward the women’s room. Respectfully, I was not going to rush so that I could push ahead in line of three nuns, nope, wasn’t gonna do it. Turns out, there were four stalls, three of which had doors and the fourth one did not.

I giggled to myself, that here I was, the only other person in a room with nuns and my stall did not have a door on it. Whatever your belief, nun’s are a pretty significant symbol of religion and in the ongoing conversation with the Universe, it was not lost on me that I had an “open door.”

Hmmm, let’s quickly retrace. Getting lost in Folsom which is represented by a prison song, three signs of karma, a trinity of nuns and me with an open door. These things might make you nod off, but they certainly had the power to catch my attention, so while you’re looking at these photos, I’ll be a pondering.

A Peek in the Cupboard

2010-09-28T18:23:00.000-07:00

Last week, I warned you that instead of sweeping up the contents of my week and sorting through the dustbin for blog ideas, I might just clean out the refrigerator and serve leftovers, but Old Mrs. Hubbard’s cupboard is bare. Okay, maybe not exactly bare, but not exactly organized either. By Old Mrs. Hubbard, I mean me, and I got nothin’. My well is empty (chalk it up to exhaustion).

So, I’ve got no story to tell as we leave for Sacramento early Wednesday morning for our last show of 2010 or Z0L0 as we’ve been calling it. We still have at least one more Eugene Saturday Market to do for our October point and a riverside studio sale in Roseburg later in the month and of course, the Holiday Market, but that’s of future concern.

Right now, there are clothes to be packed, pendants to be finished and a scruzillion little details that require attending, so this week’s blog shall be brief.

Combing through the photos, I selected a few that amuse me, probably why we took them in the first place. I’ll give you a quick tour and then turn you loose to view and make your own interpretations.

This past weekend we participated in the Corvallis Fall Festival, home to the Oregon State Beavers. Here is a humorous necklace we made and sold in the first couple hours of the show. I knew there’d be an arty fun Beaver fan who would appreciate the intent as well as the content, and sure enough, a creative soul tried it on and didn’t take it off.

Here’s a pile of treasure we discovered, bits and pieces we’re turning into wearable art.

One of them is an Amelia Earhart necklace titled Traveling by Starlight, which two little girls were playing with on Sunday afternoon.

Another little girl came into our booth a few weeks ago and while her mother was shopping peeked around the counter. Upon seeing my wine colored John Fluevog shoes, she scooped them up into her arms and gave them a hug. I didn’t have the camera in my hand when she did that, but grabbed it immediately and snapped her holding them. It feels like I’ve already shared this with you, if so, consider it a leftover.

Speaking of wine, there are a few people out there who will know why this particular bottle was a delight to receive as a gift.

And I’m glad to know about the healing power of wine… “use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent illnesses,” 1Tim 5:23. Cheers St. Paul!

It’s my father’s birthday this week and as a train lover, thought I’d post this one in honor of him. Happy Birthday dad.

This butterfly necklace is one of my favorites. While I’m glad we design one of a kind pieces, I sometimes wish we could replicate.

Groom took this photo of a person taking a picture of a butterfly with their cell phone.

Still enamored with our new cell phone, here’s one I took of a coffee date the other day with friends.

Speaking of which, take a gander at the older dude texting on his. To view the details and see it better, simply click on that (or any other) photo and then hit the back button to return to the blog. Do you notice how the younger folks are actually waiting for their boat ride in Grants Pass by hanging out while he’s separated himself from the herd and playing with his phone?

Always a romantic, I’m reassured to know there’s a special Prenup guide for lovers.

I opened a jar of liver of sulfur (a patina for metal) while working in the studio the other day and was tickled to see this smiley face peering back at me. Ah, I’m a sucker for sweet.

Yeah, I’m not sure what was going on with these two cone-head dogs in a parked car. Are they cute? A little scary?

The last two pictures involve parking meters in downtown Eugene. What, pray tell, is oozing from the coin slot? How did it get in there and why is it coming back out? Did it drink too much, ingest something that made it sick, or was it simply embarrassed by having to wear a pole cozy?

Alright, I told you I was keeping this brief, so I’ll bid you adios and happy trails.

What a Doll!

2010-09-22T12:47:00.000-07:00

If I were to sweep up the remnants of my week into a pile, the debris would comprise a colorful mélange, full of odd toddies and beastly bits. Consider this week’s entry as my dustpan and let’s have a sort, shall we?

As my week unfolded, it did not lay dormant as the remains do now like a deflated rainbow but took up full residency and demanded attention. Nothing and everything was pressing. Probably the first thing on my mind is that today, September 22, is the first day of autumn (happy equinox!). It is also the third year since my dear friend Christine La Bean died and I miss her.

In other news, one friend moved to Albuquerque on Saturday for a new job (good luck!) and we were informed that two others have cancer; one with stomach and the other lymph although we were told “nymph.” Admittedly, it is shocking news, but the punch to the gut was momentarily delayed by our minds trying to process that our friend had nymph cancer. Oh the blessing and curse of possessing a dark sense of humor.

While we have expressed our love and support to them privately, we’ll not turn down any prayers, blessings or positive thoughts on their behalf you might have to spare. Thank you.

Okay, enough of the sadness. There are happy occasions, too. After a year and a half of toying with the idea, Groom and I finally made the leap and purchased an Internet phone. I’m not usually a gadgety-girl, but whoa, it’s a mini computer and I think I’m in love.

Groom is usually the technofile as I’m more interested in what other people enjoy reading and watching and eating as consumption appetites are windows to compatibility. You may not care a single whit what we’re temporarily infatuated by, but that won’t stop me from telling you.

Currently, I’m reading Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility while Groom concludes an Alan Gordon medieval mystery. Pausing in the general vicinity of the Middle Ages, we were both googly-eyed over Pillars of the Earth, the book and the recent Starz Original mini-series.

And while the language in Deadwood has the power to curl the hair on a bald head, the story line set in Dakota Territory along with brilliant acting bring the 1870’s, Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane and many other notable characters back to life.

God’s Minion turned us on to Infinite Possibilities by Mike Dooley this week. Following her suggestion, we found it on audible.com and are listening to the downloaded book while making jewelry. In order to design any, we made a trip to Salem last Thursday where a friend introduced us to a gentleman who bids on storage units for a living, so we rummaged around for potential upcycling and repurposing materials.

We played hooky from the Eugene Saturday Market, preferring to stay indoors and work instead of braving the rain. As long-timers, we’ve put in many a shivering day and it feels incredibly luxurious to have a choice in the matter.

Sunday was the semi-annual stamp show at the Masonic Lodge (March and September), and after rooting around for cool postage stamps we jetted over to the Fairgrounds for opening day of the Piccadilly Flea Market. Yep, you guessed it, coffee in one hand, camera in the other, our eyes in training for photo ops and cool jewelry parts.

From there, we hooked up with out-of-town friends and enjoyed Japanese, Italian and Salvadorian cuisine over the course of their visit.

I warned you the dustbin is full of this and that.

Now I’m turning to the topic of quotes. I adore and collect quotes because The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. – Mark Twain

A friend sent me a card a few days ago that says, Charm is the ability to make someone else think that both of you are pretty wonderful. – Kathleen Winsor

While we take photographs of whatever happens to grab our attention in the moment, over time we’ve shot enough images to present certain themes. Apparently our cameras gravitate toward dolls on occasion.

When applicable, we’ve tried to match a quote with a photo, but don’t strain yourself trying to figure it out, keeping in mind it’s a dustpan week.

Here are a couple more I really like.

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken. – Oscar Wilde

To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance. – Oscar Wilde

Thanks for sorting through my dustpan with me. Perhaps next week, I’ll clean out the refrigerator…

Art in the Park

2010-09-15T11:03:00.000-07:00

In the blink of a week, Groom and I added another thousand miles to our van going over the desert and through the woods to Boise’s Art in the Park, a fund-raising event for BAM, the Boise Art Museum. After setting up our booth in the lovely Julia Davis Park, we explored this boom town of the wild western 1860’s.

Of course, as the chronometer continues to spin through time, this capital city has adopted more of a modern metropolitan feel than its mining history, although some of the historic buildings still exist.

The first thing a person needs to know about the third largest city in the Pacific Northwest is that it is pronounced Boy-see, not Boy-zee. The locals tend to admonish ignorant pronunciation.

I don’t know if it’s the second thing anybody needs to know, but we found a restaurant serving “Trailer Park Cuisine.” Now who could pass up that opportunity? Groom and I were even offered the best seat in the house, a vintage car on blocks. You can see me leaning in toward it and then Groom ordering from their classy menu.

This was the luxury view from our window while we ate macaroni and cheese with sweet potato fries. It came with “trashy sauce,” which turned out to be sour cream and brown sugar plus a “secret ingredient.” Greasy and queasy.

As I’m typing this, I’m pondering our decision-making skills. Groom and I had just spent nine hours in van (interpret close quarters) and knowing we were going to spend more than 30 hours in our 8’ X 8’ booth over the next three days, we still chose to eat our white trash lunch cooped up in a car?!

In spite of the long hours required of us during the show, we’d drag our carcasses out of the comfy bed early each morning. Making certain our booth was business-ready, we’d procure a cup of caffeine from the artists’ hospitality booth and take a walk, meandering with coffee in one hand and camera in the other: A sweet way for us to start the day.

And you are now looking at some of the images we decided to put into our cameras.

Saturday was the anniversary of September 11th, so as we passed by these arches on a bridge, I peeked through one of the windows and noticed the flag, an appropriate symbol to memorialize. Speaking of American emblems, does anybody else see the irony in the next photograph? As the eagle represents freedom, it breaks my heart to see these poor birds behind bars looking so depressed. I really really hope this is not a sign of things to come…

Feeling momentarily sad, iconic Abe Lincoln made us feel a whole lot better with his generous hugs.

On a lighter note, Boise seemed to be filled with lots of color and personality this year. We stayed in the same hotel as KC and the Sunshine Band who played at the Taco Bell Arena on Wednesday, September 8, the same evening we arrived. We saw their limo and very colorful driver, “Rod.” Really, you must follow this link to his website page, where you can see a few more of his outfits. I spoke with this enterprising fellow and learned he has 365 outfits and wears one of them every time he leaves his house.

He is the most well-known and requested limo driver in the area and gives every customer the red carpet treatment (or blue or purple or…), regardless if it’s a trip to the airport or a night on the town. So, if you’re ever in Boise and need some entertaining transportation, you know where to find it.

The last shot is blurry, I know, but the lighting so early Monday morning as we got outta Dodge, heading east to go west, was too purty to pass up.

Of course, we’re happy to be home, but as Art in the Park was good (we sold all but two necklaces!), we must immediately gather and focus our creative powers for our last two shows coming up in rapid succession, the Corvallis Fall Festival and the Sacramento Arts Festival.

As Kimmmm asks, “How’s that hurry-up-and-be-creative-Now going?”

Alphabet Soup

2010-09-08T06:46:00.000-07:00

Og ,u fomgers fet pff bu ecem pme leeu. My father asked me the other day if I ever took a typing class in high school. Mom and I started laughing (hysterically? uproariously?), for she remembered, and I quote, “the typing test you failed was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

Let’s just say I channeled a lot of my teenage energy into schoolwork, so my parents never had to hound me about getting any of it done and my grades were no big deal. My A’s (of which there were many) were not particularly celebrated (other friends were taken out to dinner for their good report cards), nor were my failures penalized (ooh, I winced as other friends were chastised for anything less than an A).

Therefore, when I brought home an F on my typing test, I presented it to my mother without any fear of being in trouble. In fact, my mother saw the artistry in it, for not one typed sentence out of twenty ended up on the paper without catastrophe. I remember her laughing and laughing. Not at me, for she did not make me feel shame, but instead, showed me the humor in it.

She taught me to laugh at myself, a gift for which I am truly grateful. But I also share the wealth, and can laugh (good naturedly of course), at the humorous things other people say and do.

This week’s entry therefore, is dedicated to the fun quips and quotes by people I know (or have encountered), either spoken with conviction or slipping out unintentionally. Famous people are credited with most of the quotes we’re familiar with, but these were uttered by real folks and deserve their chance in the sun.

As for the photos, Groom and I saw a broken typewriter which inspired the question: What happens to all the spilled and discarded letters of the alphabet? Since then, we’ve been trying to collect them. While we haven’t found them all, here are some of the ones we’ve gathered so far.

I’d never wanna drive one of them inbreds - A farmer at a coffee shop in Burns, Oregon discussing a Prius with his friends. Uh, did he mean hybrid?

Speaking of… last Saturday while at the Eugene Saturday Market, a woman carrying a baby and pushing a toddler in a stroller walked past the booth and I heard her say, I don’t want to have another inbred. Oh, I hope she meant another Prius.

I’m morift of chagrin. Huh?

I love your decorum. (Commenting on our interior design).

Witherall. (perhaps wherewithal?) – V. Smith

You wore the Norma Kamali until it was a Betsey Johnson. – Julie Stoike commenting on one of my fashion moments.

I’m not gay but I want to look in your closet. – Link, a gentleman at the Eugene Saturday Market commenting on one of my fashion moments.

I look like a beer keg with material stretched over it. – Alicia, a vendor at the Eugene Saturday Market commenting about one of her fashion moments.

Her wings are broken, her tennis shoes are smokin’. – Vickie Getchell discussing her Guardian Angel.

I’m doing really, really great, but don’t worry, I’ll get better. – Christopher, a customer.

I am an overachiever plagued by underachievement. – D. Andrew Huffman

I love animals. They are delicious. - Amy from the Market.

If you could whine every five minutes, how many things could you whine about in an hour and a half? – A customer to his son who didn’t want to do his math homework when they got home.

$60 for that thing? No wonder nobody’s bought it yet. – A little girl looking at one of our pins.

Peacock: A goose with flowers. – A different little girl who stopped by the booth.

Do you ladies make these? – A customer asking if Groom (who is 6’5” and has a beard) and I make the jewelry in our booth.

I don’t know what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t either. – Everett Cade.

Endearing,

Annoying,

Tomato,

To-mah-to. – Donald Webb

By the time the old man decided that butterflies, dandelions and grandchildren were more interesting than dollar signs, his grandchildren had decided that dollar signs were more interesting than butterflies, dandelions and grandfather. - Sara Cade

The ways we respond reveal our soul. – Valerie Brooks

As the soul sows, so the spirit reaps. – Bradley Welch

And I’ll close with a couple of mine. During a difficult experience, I once asked, Um God, does this lesson come in a smaller size?

And afterwards, when I had survived it, I meant to say, “That which does not kill you, makes you better.” Instead, I came out with, That which does not kill you makes you bitter. Whoops!

And just to let you know, I’m very flexible as long as I don’t have to change.

Celebrating Eugene

2010-09-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

At the Saturday Market a few weeks ago, I overheard an older gentleman say to his companion (while shaking his head in bewilderment), “Oh, there must be something in the water here in Eugene.” Translation? Eugene has a reputation for being a little quirky, a bit different.

Why, whatever do you mean??

Yes, it’s true. Eugene embraces diversity, and by diversity we mostly mean fashion. Not style, nor culture, but counter-culture and its accompanying costumes. Eugene is home to many tribes and we can easily identify one another by what we wear.

But first, I must tell something on myself. Do you see the photo of me, one hand defiantly on my hip and coffee in the other? Look at the expression on my face. I am watching the parade during the Eugene Celebration last Saturday morning. That, apparently is my parade-watching face! Don’t you think it should be registering something like joy or delight?

Or what about this next photo I love so much? I have no idea what’s going on here but I’m standing with friends in Boise at the Capitol; le sigh, Christine La Bean, rest her soul, appears to be transforming into a robot while I look as though something smells verra verra bad. I laugh a deep belly laugh every time I gaze at it. But my point is this: I was spending time with friends I love dearly and my face does not show it.

Walking down the street, I’ll catch a glimpse of my face in a store window and it actually scares me! I often have such a stern expression that my own face startles me.

A few weeks ago, while in Sunriver, Groom and I decided to have lunch out. We chose a lovely looking bistro and ordered our food, and of course, a cup of coffee. Most of you know, I looooove coffee. I do most things with a cuppa including photography, designing jewelry and watching a parade.

In fact, Groom just snapped this next shot of me while I was propped up in bed reading this week. Whoa, did you catch a load of my schnoz? Rarely have I seen my face in profile, is that really what I look like?

But I digress. Back to the bistro in Sunriver. We paid for our food and coffee and sat outside at our tall table, waiting. And waiting. After an awfully long time, we checked on the status of our order. The proprietress acted shocked that we wanted the coffee that we paid for. She really didn’t feel like making a pot of coffee as the restaurant would be closing soon. I looked at my watch. It was 1:30pm. “What time do you close?” I asked.

“3 o’clock.”

What? An hour and a half before closing and she didn’t really feel like brewing a fresh pot as the old one was empty? Now it became our turn to express incredulity. She “explained” that we’d probably be the only ones to drink it and she really couldn’t afford to waste the rest, like times are tough, you know? Well, using her argument, we really didn’t feel like giving her money as a donation for coffee we weren’t going to receive. Is that even legal, charging for an item on the menu and then balking at having to serve it?

I admit it, I was ticked and Proprietress was in a dilemma. She didn’t want to refund our money nor did she want to brew beans. In a snit, she finally decided that money in her till was better than giving it back, so it was with a martyred sigh and a huff that she made us coffee. Well, by this point, I didn’t want it, so I did my own version of sulking. Then, a man walked up to his car parked in front of our table. He unlocked it with his key chain remote, making that horribly obnoxious beep.

That’s all it took. A fearful owner, too tight-fisted to make a pot of coffee, and a man unlocking his car without benefit of a key. My mood blossomed into a minor tropical storm. Now, I didn’t do anything except complain to Groom.

And then the scary part happened. For the very first time, I felt the particles of my spirit hardening and I felt alarmed. I knew in that moment, I could get stuck like that. In an instant, I had sudden compassion for the nasty next-door neighbor where I lived when I was little, or the wicked step-mother of my dear friend; two women, whose faces had frozen into eternal expressions of bitterness.

I called God’s Minion in a panic. I told her I was very afraid of hardening into a freeze-dried shrew, the life and joy leaking out of me until I was a shriveled husk. To my amazement, she laughed her deep, throaty southern laugh.

What? Here I was in the midst of a true mid-life panic and my dear friend was laughing at me. In the condensed version, she said she knew me too well and that I’d never get stuck that way. The fact that I could recognize it and was repulsed by the notion was all the proof she needed.

She compared my panic of angst to downhill skiing. Describing me all dressed up like a snow bunny (okay, I added that part) on a slope with a sign pointing downhill toward Getting Stuck in Bitterness. “You looked over the edge, saw the invitation, got a little spooked and skied on,” she told me, and then added, “You had an insight of compassion for those who do get stuck there. You now see how easy it is to simply point your skis down that hill and keep going.”

If your heads are still in the upright position, then please follow the lighted pathway to my next example. Right after Sunriver, we shared dinner with friends and they told of a similar experience. They had been invited to a restaurant with a guest Italian chef. He was in town for only one night, so the place was packed. They had to wait almost two hours for their food.

The man-half of the couple, whom I’ll call Victor, decided it was “unacceptable,” while the woman present, who shall be named Victoria, pronounced it “entirely acceptable.” They debated and Victoria said, “It’s a beautiful summer evening, we’re out with friends listening to music, anticipating the chef’s creation, of course it’s acceptable.”

I am now referring to this as the “Victor/Victoria” syndrome. Two people in attendance at the same dinner having completely different experiences. One went with the flow, charmed by the company, music, and warm summer weather, while the other found fault. I recognized myself as Victor.

My life is beautiful. So why then, do I tend to focus on the ridiculous instead of the sublime?

Right after the Eugene Celebration parade last Saturday, a friend stopped by the booth with her new great-grandson. I’d met him soon after he was born, but he’d been asleep in his buggy. This time, however, he was wide-awake and a few months older.

Let me just say right now, I had an attunement by a baby. You know how a piano tuner is able to get the instrument back in alignment, back in tune? Well, this magic baby did the same for me. As I squatted down to say hello, he grabbed my fingers with both of his little hands and smiled. Okay, that’s pretty normal so far.

But wait. He held onto them tightly, looked straight into my eyes and started singing to me. Well, no, he’s too little for lyrics, but there was definitely a tune. I’ve heard babies make gurgling sounds, tummy rumbles, or high-pitched squeals, but this was otherworldly.

The music this baby was creating was truly lovely and here’s what’s so cool, I felt my heart quicken. And then it happened. All the little crusty bits and scabs surrounding my heart melted. I felt like the Grinch when his heart grew two sizes that day. Yes, there was an actual physical sensation as the hardened shell around my heart gave way in the face of this tiny angel singing me his message. Bitterness is powerless in the presence of love.

Thank you Holden, for that amazing experience. Forget all those energetic healing sessions, a few moments in your beam of light and all’s right with the world.

As for the rest of this week’s photos, they are of the Eugene Celebration including our newest S.LU.G. Queen, Slugasana. Congratulations!

So I’ll close for now, leaving you to decide what is ridiculous and what is sublime.

Summer: Good To The Last Drop

2010-08-25T12:11:00.000-07:00

A seasonal shift is taking place, little signs popping up all over to reveal the impending change of the weather guards. Yep, it’s still hot, forecast in the 90’s, but Summer is packing her bags preparing for her notoriously quick getaway. She’s antsy, that one, always on the move ready to get the party started. Apparently she’s got things to do and people to see on the other side of the world, for she never stays very long in our neck of the woods.

Autumn, however, is a generous fellow, always showing up early and staying for a long time. Not as long as Winter, for he’s just plain greedy, feeding on the waning light of Oregonians, getting a few souls stuck in his teeth now and then.

A friend recently sent an email and I’m including a brief excerpt from his lament. “We’ve had a pretty low key summer. I wish summer would last for six months ... I love the heat and the water. I dread the thought of another long foggy winter ....”

Dread the thought.

But before the light scatters, the fog settles, the rain falls and mildew lines our bones like green, fuzzy insulation, there’s plenty of summer activities to enjoy. On Saturday, Kimmmm and I attended a Hawaii Five-0 party, hence the floral print dresses. Her red muumuu, authentically “made in Hawaii,” was the hit of the party, while my blue sundress purchased at the Oregon Shakespearean Festival’s costume sale a few weeks ago makes a good story. I think Ophelia might have worn it in a tropical version of Hamlet.

At the Cuthbert Amphitheater on Thursday, Celtic Woman is playing while music lovers (i.e. we) are invited to sit on the grass and picnic at the outdoor venue. In addition to concerts, there’s still time to attend a movie in the park, catch a baseball game, go swimming, look at art, walk on the beach, garden, dance, run through the sprinkler and eat fresh organic berries.

This week, our newly crowned S.L.U.G. Queen (an acronym: Society for the Legitimization of the Ubiquitous Gastropod), will be presented on Saturday at the parade during the annual Eugene Celebration, a three-day block party filled with music, a classic car show, a Health & Well Being fair, the Mayor’s Art Show and the Salon des Refuses (this year called “Salon du Peuple”).

There’s also time to peruse the Farmer’s Market for fresh produce as the clock rotates from the high noon of summer and its corresponding fire element to the harvest of the earth. Corn is growing, acorns are falling, and sunflowers are stretching their solar powered necks toward the brightest star.

As Groom and I investigated our neighborhood on Sunday with our cameras, I was struck by how two things could be true at the same time, which reminds me of a very lively and helpful conversation a few days ago with God’s Minion. She told me it’s quite natural to hold simultaneous contradictory beliefs as does our current season.

Our photos for this entry reflect the height of summer and the early signs of fall taken on the same day in the same neighborhood. To do your own investigating of details, simply click on any photo to enlarge and then hit the back button to return to the blog.

I noticed a double-seated lawn chair, its orange cushions bleached by the sun while Groom captured a very autumn moment with the lone Adirondack chair sitting in the shade, shedding its apple red paint.

It was a veritable flower fashion show, this season’s colors ranging from bold pinks and purples with sassy attitudes to the more subdued tones of silver dollars and prickly whites. The bees were busy collecting last minute pollen while mosquitoes were getting drunk, turning skin into polka-dotted tents of flesh.

Hpnotiq? Well, I think the last photo reminds us to girder ourselves, to grab every last bite of sunshine and soak up those rays, inhale the warmth and relish it all, because sigh… leaves are being tagged by Autumn, his graffiti style signature undeniable.

River of Sun

2010-08-18T18:13:00.000-07:00

I have a relationship with the edge of water. Not on it or in it, for I’m not crazy about boats, ships or how I look in a bathing suit. Plus, I almost drowned three times by the age of 10, so I prefer sitting by water, looking at it and soaking up its negative hydrogen ions.

Which is why I can travel as far away as Sisters, Oregon and still feel good while surrounded by the generous forest, but as soon as I get to Bend, I feel landlocked. By the time I’m in Burns, Ontario or Boise, I’m rocking back and forth in an effort to comfort myself. And Utah? Too far, too far.

Yes, we love to travel, but most of the places we’ve gone to like Hawaii, Costa Rica, Paris or Greece for example, are all next to water. Having lived no more than an hour or so from the ocean my entire life, I’m addicted to the nearness of water.

So I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to our trip to Sunriver – with all its high deserty heat and dryness, bleah. A friend offered the use of her lovely home while we were there (again, Thank You!) and it turns out we enjoyed ourselves very much.

The lighting was beautiful, the blueness of the sky more intense. Groom saw a fox trot through the back field and we woke up to a family of deer foraging breakfast outside our window and a bevy of quails searching for crumbs out on the deck. But the night sky. Oh gracious, being that far away from city lights the star show was spectacular, the way it was originally invented. Breathtaking, heartfelt awe.

The Sunriver Art Faire, a first year show, turned out to be a delight. The Sunriver Women’s Club, who sponsored it in conjunction with the Sunriver Music Festival, couldn’t have been more friendly and welcoming. This was a show that knew how to take care of the participating artists.

In support of breast cancer awareness, there was a bra decorating competition and for food, pizza that was cooked in fire for 90 seconds. On center stage the day was filled with a variety of music including a very humorous group called the Potlucks Airband. Playing songs such as Surfing USA, members of the group lip synced to the original music and played air guitar, air drums and the like. They really worked the crowd with their enthusiasm and energy.

The last photo was also taken in Sunriver by Groom when a leaf from our bouquet fainted from the heat and landed on our booth counter. He noticed the grains matched.

The reason this is posted later in the day is that as I was writing this, I could feel the attachment to my hair trying to get my attention. Getting up from the computer and staring into the mirror, I saw the wisps of hair I was clinging to, even though it was not flattering. Taking a break from writing, I made a spontaneous appointment and had my hair cut off.

Let go and Trust. Messages I continue to receive.

Funny thing, a friend of mine emailed me that she was in Portland getting her hair cut today and another friend asked me to cut her hair for this afternoon. As the moon is growing fuller, it seems like a good time for a new do.

Our Mad Cup Of Tea

2010-08-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

“Love goes toward love.” – William Shakespeare

Without looking it up, what represents the 19th year of marriage, you know, like paper for the first anniversary, silver for the 25th and gold for the 50th? I didn’t know either until I Googled it and discovered the answer is bronze.

Officially Groom and I entered the Bronze Age of our wedded bliss on, and I love this date, 8-9-10 at 11:12:13 am. Alignment!

I suppose this means we’ve matured since our Stone Age courtship when Groom (who was still Boyfriend at the time), conked me over the head with his club and dragged me back to his cave.

“A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.” – William Shakespeare

Speaking of alignment, I find it curiouser and curiouser that Groom and I are transitioning into metalsmithing during our bronze year, don’t you?

A couple of weeks ago I posted a photo of a daisy and a rose that had fused together and I mentioned that it represented Groom and me. The tree is this week’s romantic symbol of our fusion, but upon further reflection, the vine seems awfully clingy and is it really good for the tree? Hmmm. I’ll ponder that a bit more.

In the meantime, having just returned from a week in Spokane and Coeur d’Alene and immediately preparing for our upcoming show in Sun River, we were hesitant to make any more out of town plans to celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary and Groom’s birthday during our brief few days at the homestead.

The idea of sequestering ourselves for a couple of snuggling days sounded like bliss to us, so it was a bit of a surprise to answer the phone and hear King Z0L0 on the other end of the line throwing a monkey wrench into our low key weekend plans.

For you new readers, King Z0L0 is a friend of ours who mistook my handwriting of the current year, 2010, for Z0l0 and it’s what we’ve called him ever since.

He informed us that the Oregon Shakespearean Festival in Ashland was having their first costume warehouse sale in, gulp, seven years. Ooooh my. I love costumes and am thankful that our Holiday Market in Eugene is an ideal place to play dress up. Instantly, all sorts of fanciful images danced through my head like finding a Victorian bustle skirt or a stunning 1920’s style dress. Stretching things even further, what if Groom could finally find a tony top hat or a dapper jacket that fits?

In a flash, we contacted my parents who live in the area, Goat Mama and Papa (friends of ours in the Rogue Valley who are raising two kids) and the housesitter: Every one was game.

Up at 4am on Saturday, King Z0L0 arrived an hour later and we were on the road by 5:15am. Exactly three hours later, we were in Ashland waiting in line. The sale was advertised to begin at 9am so we had 45 minutes to wait. People were friendly and the time passed quickly.

Let me say that this week’s photo selections have more to do with illustrating the surreal sale than for pure artistic merit. I will narrate and you will click on each one for better detailing. To return to the blog, simply hit the back button.

While I held our place in line (and yes, by the time we got there, the line was already around the block) Groom took a few photos of the items up for sale. You’ll notice tables of hats and accessories and racks and racks of hanging costumes.

“Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.” – William Shakespeare

Oh boy. After the fact, friends and family asked how the sale went. The word “sale” does not suffice. Event or experience or maelstrom carries a more accurate tone. Tempest, whirlwind, uproar, madness…

I’m not saying we’ll ever do it again, BUT, if we did, we’d devise a much better method. We made the mistake of being polite, of thinking we could shop the racks and if we came to an item we were interested in, we could then pull it down for a closer look.

Ha! When the gates finally opened, there was a mad dash and the tables of hats and accessories were ravished before we even got in. The crowd from behind pushed forward and in a matter of a minutes everything was claimed. Except for the button jackets, but I’ll get back to that.

It was as if locusts had descended and ate everything in their path. People simply grabbed armloads at a time, not bothering to look through anything until everyone was in separate corners, hoarding and protecting. I think I might have even heard some people growling and witnessed gnashing of teeth.

The official hours were from 9am until 3pm, but the reality was that it began at 9am and ended at 9:19. It went from chaotic and crazy, frenzied and frantic, to calm in under twenty minutes. The tenth photo, the one that deceptively looks like a crowd shot is actually the line. In case you dozed off there, the few people that fit into our camera’s frame is a partial rendering of the looooooong line we had to stand in to pay and make our escape. It snaked back and forth, zig-zagging and curving what felt like forever.

We drove three hours, missed a Saturday Market sales day, stood in the pre-line for 45 minutes and stood in the post-line (in the hot sun, without water), for one hour and forty minutes for 19 minutes of madness. We had nothing better to do than to make friends with those waiting in line near us and discovered folks came from Portland, Northern California and San Francisco just to attend this sale.

You can read a newpaper article about it and see a photo of Groom (and a little bit of my hair) if you want to by following this link. DailyTidings

Yep, that’s me trying on the red corsety thing. In the next photo, do you notice the guy buried underneath the pile? From the little girl’s angle, I wonder if she’s wondering why the clothes are moving.

If you’re looking at the photos chronologically, next up is King Zolo posing with one of the undesirables, the button jackets. If you scroll back up to the 11th picture, one of the after shots where the racks of clothes are empty, you’ll observe the button jackets hanging there in the shame of their rejection.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.” – William Shakespeare

Alas, poor Yorick, it was finally time to say goodbye to newly minted friends. Parched and overheated, we ate a relaxing lunch upstairs at Alex’s Plaza Restaurant overlooking the Lithia Artisan's Market. After meandering a bit through the handmade marketplace and some downtown shops, we promenaded through Lithia Park and told King Z0L0 everyone who comes to Ashland must partake of Lithia water. He took a sip and promptly spit out the sulfur tasting liquid and although he groused about it the remainder of the weekend, he admitted he couldn’t wait to spring it on some other unsuspecting tourist.

We encountered a deer that allowed Groom to get quite close before it dashed off into the underbrush. Apparently the deer could not read that it wasn’t allowed in the park.

Leaving Ashland and heading toward the other end of the valley, we visited with my parents for a couple of hours, Dad giving King Z0L0 a tour of his extensive telephone and train collection.

After that it was a charming meal with friends at the Bella Union in Jacksonville, sitting outside beneath the vast shade of a 90-year old astounding wisteria and toasting Groom’s birthday. Oh why did we leave our cameras back at the hotel? Darn and blast!

The next morning, Sunday, we met back up again and followed sage recommendations to have a leisurely breakfast at our new favorite restaurant, the Taprock in Grants Pass overlooking the river. From there we went antiquing, always on the search for cool items to retrofit into our bricolage jewelry designs.

On the drive home to Eugene, King Z0L0 decided to stop at the Seven Feathers Casino and won some greenbacks at blackjack, a fun way to end the weekend. He dropped us off back at our cave.

Groom, I just want to publicly say thank you for the last nineteen years and

“My heart is ever at your service.” – William Shakespeare

Oh Lord!

2010-08-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

Last week, Snow White predicted that our early August sojourn to the Spokane- Coeur d’Alene area would be a memorable one. Hmmmm, those kinds of prognostications tend to make me a tad nervous. I prefer forecasts such as good, great or fantastic because memorable can go either way.

Right now we’re about 58 minutes into the nine-hour drive home to Oregon, so I have plenty of time to reflect upon the last few days. Let’s see…

Groom and I experienced a couple of lightning storms, were caught in a snarling traffic jam and I’m nursing an impressive spider bite. Currently, it kinda looks like a Dr. Seussian illustration for “red eggs and ham” but with a traditional yellow egg yolk center. Yep, I just lost my appetite, too.

Plus, somebody stole our credit card number and spent the weekend trying to spend our money. As we have the plastic charge-o-matics in our possession, we are perplexed as to how this could have happened. The bank’s fraud department immediately cancelled our account and promised those illegal charges would not find their way onto our bill, phew! It’s always fun to be out of town and have one’s credit card cancelled. What’s even more fun than that? Coming home to our in-box full of declined auto-pay bills stacked like a multiple-car pile-up because of the credit card cancellation. We’ll have to untangle that mess.

Memorable? Yes.

But it wasn’t all bug bites or bouchons (French for cork, stopper, traffic jam) electrical storms or theft (well, an acquaintance of ours at the show did have all her cash stolen by two men with a coughing fit distraction routine). There was also plenty of fun and beauty, conversation and celebrity encounters, networking and art, delicious dinners and boat rides on the lake during our 1,000+ mile journey.

As Kimmmmm says, my life vignettes always have a story-arc and this trip is no exception. Its theme could be titled “Progression.” In June, after Art Fest in Spokane, I wrote about spending time with – and I’m looking for an adjective here that doesn’t sound phony or overused like amazing, but means the same thing. Groom and I were invited to join a friendly, fabulous, fascinating group of artists for a fine meal. As the evening progressed and the vino flowed freely, we were invited to stay with them when we returned in August for Art on the Green.

After making certain their offer of generosity was not just from the glow of the grapes and still looked good in the harsh cold light of day, we accepted their invitation. To set the stage, I must ask you to board my time machine once again and travel back with me three, maybe four years to our first time participating in Spokane’s ArtFest. There, a charming couple wandered into the booth. I said it at the moment and I’m saying it here.

The instant I made their acquaintance the metal flap covering my heart, the one that protects me that I usually control by a hand-crank lever, just flew open. It did it of its own accord; I had nothing to do with it. I’m standing there in the presence of these two people, Mary Gayle and Tim Lord, with a completely naked open heart. Not usually how I operate. My heart tends to look more like a New York City apartment with lots of locks and bolts. But not this time. Boing! Open.

I introduced them to Groom and by the end of our chat it was pronounced that if we lived near each other, we’d be friends. The next year, they stopped by again and they suggested we have dinner. It finally happened last June and a date to stay with them was set.

The first time I walked into their enchanting home, I had a visceral reaction. First, I got all goose-bumpily, then I broke out into hives and then I started crying. Again, not my typical response to some one’s abode. When they asked me what was wrong, I told them Nothing! I felt like I had just fallen down the rabbit hole.

They started laughing because Tim Lord, a talented and accomplished artist, had just agreed to paint a picture for the Alice in Wonderland Invitational to be held at the TINMAN Gallery in the historic Garland District.

He spent the next 35 days (or 200 hours) in his studio, creating a colorful tea party story. When we arrived at what I’ve dubbed The Lord Manor, he was under the gun for the deadline. The opening was Friday, July 30th and he was down to the last 48 hours until the gallery doors were unlocked.

Traditionally, gallery owners prefer to have the artwork hung before a show. Traditionally, artists are known to be late.

And so it was, we arrived in Spokane at the perfect tension point. Would Tim Lord finish the Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetery in time for it to be hung or would he be carrying it in with him as the paint dried?

I mentioned earlier that the theme of this week is Progression. We had the rare opportunity to see the back-story of the painting. I can’t speak for you, but most of the time when we drool over art, it is already hung in a museum, presented in a gallery or nailed to the wall in someone’s home. This time, however, we were granted front row seats to the process.

Tim Lord’s transparent sketches were taped to the window for light allowance, photographs of the cemetery were freshly developed and taped to his drawing board from their trip to Deadwood, South Dakota, and I recognized the clock in the center of the painting as a real one designed by Chris Giffin.

Granted free access with our cameras, I noticed through my lens that his palette was still moist with usable paint, that a vast convention of brushes had assembled in one place and paint cans were stacked within easy reach. I smiled at the fun collection of toys, dolls, rabbits and Virgin Mary’s that served as visual inspirations for the characters in his painting.

And best of all, his painting was not quite done. This afforded us the luxury to watch his creative process unfold and measure time through his progress. Each evening, we’d say our goodnights and I’d wake up and the first thing I’d do in the morning was tip toe into his studio to A) see if he was still up after painting all night and B) see what magic had occurred overnight. We took photos and it was fun to meet each new character as they materialized on the canvas.

Tim Lord did finish the painting by Friday afternoon and Mary Gayle delivered it to the TINMAN Gallery in time for it to be hung.

Usually, when writing about crowds, it is normal to say “standing room only,” but as this gallery opening was a standing event to begin with I must turn up the volume on the description and toss in phrases like body pressed up against body, throngs, and shoulder- to-shoulder.

People were not shy about crowding into the alcove or announcing above the din that the Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetery was their favorite painting and best of show.

While a hearty congratulation is extended to The Lords for their success, a thank you for their hospitality is also proffered.

Meanwhile, at Art on the Green in Coeur d’Alene, management placed our booth location next to sand castle artist, Scott Dodson of Post Falls. While we set up our structure on Thursday, the sandman was already working on his, playing in a 16-ton sandbox. Spending three consecutive days next to him, we were able to watch his entire progression from dump truck loads of sand piled onto his four-story wooden platform to a finished castle by Sunday evening; forty hours of continuous creating.

Chakra Girl continues to impress upon me that “two makes a pattern.” One, we were invited to stay with a painting in progress and two, we were the only booth in the show set up next to a developing work of art, so we were able to witness both unfolding.

Within the peaks and valleys of this trip, the lesson seems to be about enjoying the moment where we are and accepting our place in the process. In a learning curve with our new metal jewelry, I am always in such a rush to complete things that the finish line tends to be the almighty goal. In the past seven days, I’ve been given life-size demonstrations of experts in their fields relishing the entire progression from start to finish.

I think one reason Tim Lord is so successful as an artist and why people buy his work before the paint has even dried is because he places himself right in the middle of his life and work while I tend to avoid total immersion in the name of efficiency. I gotta ask myself this question, “How’s that working out for me?”

We also had several other delightful encounters. One was with a woman named MaryEllen Garasky who writes a blog ilovecda.com (I Love Coeur d’Alene), who is writing about us because we were one of her four favorite finds of the show.

One visit I’ll have to share later. That’s because it’s a secret. A very famous actor and his wife are expecting a baby and I was introduced to a close relative. I know the gender of their unborn child, but my lips are sealed until they announce it publicly, but I’d be painting the nursery blue.

Groom and I also visited Stonehenge, what my cousins call their homestead on the lake in Nine Mile Falls. We had a blast catching up, being silly with their 15-year old boy, and taking a boat ride as the sun went down.

(As a brief aside, some of these photos are worth a closer look. Simply click on them for better detailing and then hit the back arrow to return to the blog).

Yes, Snow White, you are right. This weekend is memorable.

Summer's Arrived, But We're Leaving...Again

2010-07-28T07:16:00.000-07:00

Time is melting like wax on this fine summer day, as Groom and I pack for Art on the Green in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We recently returned home from a fabulous Salem Art Fair and having practically sold out (of stock, not our values), we have what a friend describes as “a better set of problems.” The good news about selling well at an art show is that the rent is paid for another month. The bad news about selling well at an art show is that, ahem, we don’t have any stock!

My nose requires a bandage and is scabbing over as it’s been forced to the grindstone this past week, but I’ll have to take a philosopher’s approach and say at this point, “It is what it is.”

Snow White recently asked me if I’d ever been introduced to the Green Fairy, otherwise known as Absinthe. I scrolled back through the archives to last year and sent a link to the blog when I wrote about my experience with the licorice tasting cough syrup. While rereading the entry, I realized I have been writing with the assumption that everyone has been with me from the beginning. According to our analytics software, this is not the case.

While it has been reported that leaving comments has proved difficult to impossible for most (Double Exposure and Lulu, my faithful friends, you rock!), the amount of “followers” and comments do not reflect the growing number of readers that check in on a weekly basis. It occurs to me, rather late in the game, that I haven’t necessarily been writing these weekly musings as entire stand-alones.

Oh, there’s the regular cast of characters such as Groom, Kimmmm, God’s Minion, King Zolo, Nanny Bee Bugg and the rest that I expect everyone to keep up with, rarely reminding people who they are. Sometimes I share very personal experiences, at other times it’s our photography with apt quotes, and still others are updates on our going-ons.

Right now, as my thoughts are trying to organize themselves in my brain, I am trying not to be overwhelmed by the laundry still on the line, the stuff that needs to be packed, and all the details that must be attended to before we roll out of town. In other words, I’m making believe that I’m an easy-going person. Uh-oh, Groom is laughing hysterically. Glad I could make his day.

As though this next sentence isn’t completely obvious, it’s the height of summer. I selected these pictures to illustrate the season. Summer to me shouts color! Vibrancy, energy and unabashed monkey love.

Speaking of which, it’s almost our anniversary. Oh, don’t worry, this probably won’t be the last mention of it, but looking through our recent pictures for selection purposes, the one with the rose and the daisy caught my eye. It reminds me of Groom and I: A co-dependent hybrid. We’ve still managed to maintain our own separate identities, but have fused into a single entity. As we approach almost two decades of legal binding, I understand the quote, “And the two shall become one.”

I bought a lottery ticket this morning at around 7am after discovering we ran out of milk, so while walking home from the corner store in the peaceful quiet of the morning, I imagined spending our winnings nurturing the animals of our planet.

While I fantasized about doing good, I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the look of pure joy upon this dog’s face while he was riding next to us on the freeway behind his motorcycle daddy. I missed the money shot. Our car windows were too smudgy, the sun was coming in at a sharp angle, but I did see the most perfect composition and dang! Imissed it. Oh well, it’s committed to memory and I’m easy-going, remember?

No matter how long I sit here, my clothes are not going to pack themselves. I have no idea if any of these random thoughts tie together, but I do wish all of you good health, a joyous week and we love to hear your charming comments. Thank you for tuning in.

The Word on the Street

2010-07-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

“The summer looks out from her brazen tower,
Through the flashing bars of July.” – Francis Thompson

“If people destroy something replaceable made by mankind, they are called vandals; if they destroy something irreplaceable made by God, they are called developers.” – Joseph Wood Krutch

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.” – Mother Teresa

“Never has there been a good war or a bad peace.” – Benjamin Franklin

“Believe and act as if it were impossible to fail.” – Charles F. Kettering

“Just become quiet, still, and solitary, and the world will offer itself to you to be unmasked; it has no choice. It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.” – Dana Hawksister

“Without love, life would be a mistake.” – Cindia Carrere

“Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.” – William Arthur Ward

“Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.” – Author Unknown

“The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure.” – Joseph Campbell

“Just as your car runs more smoothly and requires less energy to go faster and farther when the wheels are in perfect alignment, you perform better when your thoughts, feelings, emotions, goals, and values are in balance.” – Brian Tracy

Communal well-being is central to human life.” – Cat Stevens

“If you’re going to be thinking, you may as well think big.” – The Donald

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.” – Helen Keller

“Lenin could listen so intently that he exhausted the speaker.” – Isaiah Berlin

“The Lord loveth a cheerful giver. He also accepteth from a grouch.” – Catherine Hall

Getting Your Oompa-Loompa On…

2010-07-14T10:37:00.000-07:00

Forty-0ne.

Forty-five thousand.

Three.

Two-hundred and eighty.

Fifteen.

Nine millionish.

What’s your guess? Do you suppose these are random numbers or might there be a common theme bringing them all together under one leafy roof? Well, I’ll spare you the agonizing suspense. Ta da! The facts and figures revolve around the Oregon Country Fair.

The Oregon Country Fair turned forty-one this year, attracting approximately forty-five thousand people to the three day event, spread over 280 wooded acres fifteen miles west of Eugene along the Long Tom River and pumping nine million dollars or so into the local economy.

Now that you are familiar with the relevant statistics, what’s the Oregon Country Fair? Excellent question. It is many things to many people. Vague enough?

Back in ’69, the event began as a barter and trade fair with the invitation to “come in costume.” While it morphed into a Renaissance Fair during its childhood, it has grown to accommodate 350 vendor booths full of delicious food, fun clothes, crazy masks, outrageous art, face painting and too many other interesting things to list individually.

There are 18 official stages providing venues for all kinds of performances: musical, comedy, vaudeville, theatrical, juggling and many etceteras, while the dusty paths shapeshift into impromptu stages for parades, marching bands, stilt walkers, giant puppets, mud people, fire dancing, hoolahooping and the legendary drum circle at the Drum Tower.

Fair-goers can be categorized into three basic groups: Those who have never been yet, those who take a year or two off, and then those who are completely devoted and would never, ever miss a year.

They can further be organized into people who buy tickets and are only allowed in during official fair hours of 11am until The Sweep at 7pm. Groom and I fall under this category. Before you ask, we have never applied to sell our bricolage jewelry as vendors. This is the only show that we have ever heard of, that even if you are accepted and invited to display your wares, that there is no guarantee you’ll have a booth.

Which brings me to the other sub-category. Fair family. The booths are not the white, temporary Easy-Up 10 X 10’s that pop up to make a tent-city like at other shows. No. The booths at the Oregon Country Fair are permanent structures with a store front downstairs and lounging upstairs. We saw one artist’s private area which included a full-on living room sofa and a kitchen sink hooked up to their very own tank of water. Fancy! Most require carpenters and maintenance, and someone has to die and leave no heirs before a booth changes hands.

The whole point of the Fair is not necessarily to vend, but to obtain the much sought after camping pass and spend several days and nights in a row out in the wooded area. The real show, they say, happens after midnight. It’s about a five day and night party, and only those allowed in the inner sanctum get to participate.

Groom and I have another reason we’ve never applied to vend. It’s the only show of the year that we are not responsible for anything. We just get to go and have a great time for the day. We actually get to walk around together, visiting with friends, looking at the artwork and pleasuring our tastebuds with gastronomic delights. We call it our busman’s holiday and we look forward to it with all the tummy butterflies children get at Christmas.

Speaking of butterflies, this could be the theme of the Fair. “Come in Costume” still stands and many individuals shed their chrysalis and transform into beautiful, colorful butterflies for the day. While they may actually don a butterfly costume, try on wings or come as something equally imaginative, the essence is the same. Trading the old work-a-day costume for a playful one, people let go of their pent up frustrations with modern life and engage in old-fashioned play.

The three day affair seems to be good for the soul. Collectively, the group sets an intention for peace and those who come fall under its influence. People are kinder, smile often, laugh outloud, complement each other, stop for photo ops, spontaneously dance and exchange many friendly hugs. If only we could sustain this for a period longer than three days.

The dress code? No pubics in public, genitals must be covered. That’s about it. As you can see by our photos, color is the word of the day. Rich, vibrant tones spanning the rainbow. Groom and I took about 400 pictures and it was a difficult chore to reduce the number to share here. How to tell the story, especially to those of you who have not yet attended, in twenty-five or less? If a picture is worth a thousand words, then you’ll probably get the gist.

I always manage to fit in this commercial. To get a better gander at the goods, simply click on any photo to enlarge, then hit the back button to return to the blog.

Some of the details are worth noting. My favorite of the day is the photo below. During the hottest part of the day, we caught a father and daughter taking a nap, her little hand held lovingly and protectively in his. Sniff.

About mid-way through the photos, you can see Kimmmm’s response to one of Lil Bo Peep’s new hats.

Groom and I appear two and a half times here today. Can you spot us? I’ll give you a clue. The “half” is the last visual aid. Aaaah, at the end of a fair day, ‘taint nuthin better than a sweet, cool shower. No, those are not sun tan lines on our feet. Those are dust lines.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and the Oregon Country Fair concluded on Sunday. I did note, however, the auspicious dates for next year. July 8-10. Written out, it looks like this. 7-8-9-10-11. If you haven’t gone yet, maybe next year is the time to do it.

Until then, adieu my dear peeps.

Yankee Doodle Zombies

2010-07-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

What mumbles Independence Day and enthusiastic celebrants more than Zombies? Groom and I were confronted with this question last Sunday on the Fourth of July. You know how we all have life lessons to master? Well, one of these fine summer days, perhaps I’ll figure mine out. Don’t hold your breath, though.

Some people walk their talk, but I need to mind my talk. As I’ve been discovering over the past few years, one of the languages the Universe speaks fluently is symbolic. When a person asks a question, places a request or makes a statement, the reflective qualities of the answer comes quickly… if we’re paying attention.

Let me provide a most recent example. As most of you know, Groom and I travel around the Pacific Northwest with our booth - what we affectionately call our “mobile gallery” – and sell our bricolage jewelry.

Yep, discovered a new word: Bricolage. Comes from the French and means a piece of art that was created from whatever resources were at hand: An impromptu construction from diverse materials. Hey, this describes exactly what we do.

It’s root word, collage, is mainly (but not limited to) paper, ephemera and glue, dominating the two-dimensional realm while bricolage is often three-dimensional and incorporates both created and found objects. The people who do this type of artwork are called bricoleurs.

So, as bricoleurs, while displaying at art fairs and festivals, it is impossible not to people watch. On the other hand, we sometimes feel like monkeys in a zoo as the crowd ambles past, staring at the creatures (us) in our boxy cage (the booth). They often point, laugh and make comments to each other and I want to say, “I can hear you,” but it’s mostly good-natured banter they toss back and forth. The crowd is there for entertainment purposes after all, and our jewelry provides many opportunities for just that.

“Oh, these earrings would be perfect for my sister-in-law… if I liked her,” one might say, with fits of laughter following, a private joke of family dynamics at play. Or maybe, “I’ve got stamps in a drawer at home, I could make these.” Or even, “Who would wear these?!” (I can heeeaaar you). At this point, I want to pull out a Mc-sign that says, “Over 100,000 served.”

But as much as we are stared at or commented upon, the procession of people flowing past our booth, week after week, provides equal entertainment for us, as we are a bit of a captive audience. But what’s worse than being stared at and overhearing customer jibber jabber at our expense? Being ignored!!!! Eek, not good at all.

This is why vendors sometimes report back to each other that a crowd at a particular show “walked by like Zombies.” Which translates into meaning the hordes of people that could have been looking and buying art, stared straight ahead without looking to the left or right as though under the influence of a lower power with no will of their own. There’s a certain dazed look that crawls into their eyes and they begin to breathe with their mouths hanging open. Kinda spooky. It’s like they’re under a spell.

Speaking of spells, we all cast them every day with the words we speak. Since our words create our reality, we weave our future experiences by making declarations and reinforcing patterns such as “I’m always forgetting to (fill in the blank)” instead of “I’m remembering to (again, fill blank).”

The speed at which my words are being reflected back to me by the symbolic language of the Universe is uncanny. On Sunday, while in our booth at a 4th of July celebration in central Oregon, I noticed the crowd just walking by without even glancing in our direction. Eeek, not good at all! “They’re like Zombies,” I said, setting down my words like traps to ensnare me later.

Later came sooner than expected as you’ll note in the photographs toward the end of this entry. Here, I’d like to pause for a station identification and suggest that the photos will be more enjoyable when you enlarge them because there are details I’ll point out momentarily. In the meantime, simply click on the picture I’m describing and then hit the back button to return to the blog.

In the first photo of “Uncle Sam,” ha ha, please note his footwear. Is the personification of our country wearing governmental issued flip-flops? In photo number two, you can see the “purple mountain’s majesty” taking on more patriotic hues for the day.

As important as it is to make certain enough fresh stock has been created for a show, that our booth is in tip-top condition, that we’ve gotten enough rest and are ready to interact with a crowd, it is also vital that we understand the ambiance and context of the event where we have contracted to sell. Just because there are people out and about does not mean they are in the mood to shop for arty jewelry.

Lesson number one: If there is a pet parade and your neighbor is selling doggie visors, be advised.

Lesson number two: If there is a Freedom Ride with approximately 1,500 bicyclists yelling and whooping, be advised.

Lesson number three: If there are activities for families such as a watermelon eating contest, be advised.

Lesson number four: If the wind kicks up and is knocking over booths, be advised.

Lesson number five: If you set up a booth, you might as well enjoy the show. And there was certainly a lot to behold, such as painted doggies (photo #11) and painted peoples, kids in their cars and kids with their pets. In the 15th picture, note the goldfish the boy is holding up in a rubbermaidish type of container. While it is certainly a creative parade entry, I wonder if the sun heated the water transforming the square bowl into a hot tub?

Sidebar. The day before, on Saturday at the Market, Kimmm and I coordinated our psychic fashion network and decided to dress up a little to pay homage to the great Frida Kahlo for her 103rd birthday which was July 6th. Instead of going whole hog and filling in the unibrow, I simply added a heavier brow and a single flower to my pulled back hair.

While I was attempting a simple nod to the Frida style, it wasn’t until I got home and looked in the mirror that I realized I need to either fully commit and do the entire Frida ensemble or avoid it entirely. Why? Because the look I inadvertently created was far more Bride of Frankenstein than Frida. Oi! Don’t I have any friends? No wonder I got a few raised (single) brows and am hanging out with blueberries.

I tell you this as a warning that I am certainly not one to talk, but I can’t help but note the other colorful people out there and what they choose to wear. In public. Yes, I am a hypocrite.

Okay, the 4th has come and gone, Frida would have turned 103 and I’ll close this week’s ramblings with a delightful experience I had yesterday. Z0L0 King stopped in Albany to search through a metal graveyard for wire to turn into our spiral necklaces (I’m wearing one in the Bride of Fridastein/blueberry photo). He called me from his cell phone while climbing into a barrel full of sharp remnants and even though he scraped his elbow in the process, he read me a poem. While I thoroughly enjoyed this thought-provoking piece from Arnold Bennett

You wake up in the morning, and lo! your purse if magically filled with twenty-four hours of the magic tissue of the universe of your life. No one can take it from you. No one receives either more or less than you receive. Waste your infinitely precious commodity as much as you will, and the supply will never be withheld from you. Moreover, you cannot draw on the future. Impossible to get into debt. You can only waste the passing moment. You cannot waste tomorrow; it is kept for you.

I was equally impressed that Z0L0 King read me a poem from a scrap yard. A scrap yard. He didn’t need a cooperative, lovely backdrop to create beauty, he brought it in with him. Who carries a poetry book under one arm while looking through shards of metal? Z0L0 King is simply who he is no matter where he happens to be and the delightful energy and beauty goes with him. He cast a beautiful spell with his words.

Comparing that experience with mine over the weekend, I am humbled. Here I was, in the most beautiful lush green park, facing a pond laced with weeping willows, a brilliant blue sky, and I say outloud, casting a spell of my own, “The crowd is walking by like Zombies.” Sure enough, the Universe answered me. A group of the undead passed by and I see how I created an experience filled with barely animated corpses in search of human flesh to devour.

And in the other scene, a friend was not deterred by the metal cemetery, but breathed life and beauty into his words and into my world.

When will I learn?

Sole Mates

2010-06-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

“A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.” – Mark Twain

“Is it time to go home yet? I keep clicking these d@m* shoes, but nothing happens.” Robin Hecht

“A man hasn’t got a corner on virtue just because his shoes are shined.” – Ann Petry

“I never put on a pair of shoes until I’ve worn them at least five years.” – Samuel Goldwyn

“I was sad because I had no shoes, and then I met a man who had no feet. So I said, ‘Got any shoes you’re not using?’” – Steven Wright

“Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes.” Jack Handey

“I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes.” Oprah Winfrey

“The time has come,” the walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes and ships – and sealing wax – of cabbages and kings.” Lewis Carroll

“What becomes of the broken hearted? They buy shoes.” – Mimi Pond

“If the shoe fits – buy it in every color.” – popular saying

“Cinderella is proof that a pair of shoes can change your life.” – T-shirt Wisdom

“Two things you can never have too many of. Good friends and good shoes.” – common women’s knowledge

“I did not have three thousand pair of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty.” - Imelda Marcos (Yes, but did she have that many friends?)

“All God’s children need traveling shoes.” – Maya Angelou

“Good shoes take you good places.” – Seo Min Hyun

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who’ll decide where you’ll go.” – Dr. Suess

A Cup of Steaming Camera

2010-06-23T11:04:00.000-07:00

We’ve recently discovered a new feature on our Netflix account which offers internet radio. To our delight, we can select various genres of music we enjoy and voila! the music piped into our home is to our taste. As an added bonus, there are no commercials or distracting talk and the name of the artist, song and album appears on our television screen at the touch of a button, allowing us to add more music to our playlist.

No, this is not an ad for Netflix. The reason I mention it is because a new song came on and the lyrics were oddly familiar while the tune was one we’d never heard before. Something about a girl “being a drama queen and only seventeen.” Flashbacks of Abba circa 1976 “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen.”

My how times have changed. While disco fever raged “back in the day,” songs were written about dancing queens. Now they are written about “drama queens.” There is a lot of talk about people being drama queens and kings these days, but Kimmmm recently echoed my mother and described my story-arc as a sitcom rather than a melodrama and this week was no exception.

But first, I must follow up on last week’s entry. Thank you for all your feedback. If I was running my life as a democracy, then the votes are in and the proposed trip to the South in August has been nixed. Can’t say for sure, but plans are afoot right now for spending our air miles getting to New York in the fall.

The idea is for Groom and me to meet up with King Zolo, the moniker given to our friend who mistook my handwritten date of 2010 for Z0L0. He’s originally from upstate New York and hasn’t been to Manhattan for quite some time. The idea of wandering about The City in autumn, poking around antique stores and flea markets, giving our cameras a hearty workout and attending a Broadway show tickles all of our fancies.

As a trial run, to see how the three of us handle spending long hours together, we took a road trip to Portland last Thursday and did a mini-version of our ideal day. We stopped in Aurora, a small town filled with antique stores (24 miles south of Portland on Highway 99), then meandered through the Sellwood neighborhood in Portland, ate a fantastic dinner on the waterfront and capped the evening with, guess what? A Broadway Musical, The Lion King.

Apparently the trip was successful because we received a phone call the next day from King Zolo suggesting that we “go for it!” Details forthcoming as they get clearer and nearer.

But how does this scenario tie into my sitcom story-arc, you ask? I’m getting to that. But first, what is it with beards this week? As you’ll notice from some of the photos, I’ve been surrounded by them in the last few days.

Take a look at the fellow in the red pin-striped suit. He appeared at the booth long enough for a fun photo-op and then poof! Disappeared. To get a closer look at the photos, which I know you’ll want to do, simply click on them to enlarge and then hit the back button to return to the blog. Don’t our outfits complement each other fairly well, as though it was planned? I don’t even know the guy.

Then there’s Zolo with his white beard. Depending on his chapeau du jour, he can resemble a salty sea cap’n, a mountain man or Santy Claus.

Have cameras will travel is our motto, so naturally we had our dueling shooting apparatuses ablazin. Here are some of the pictures we took while roaming about. It never ceases to amuse us that what we see is both so similar and yet different.

For example, we both took aim at mannequin heads with dark beards, were drawn to horsie heads, hands, feet, numbers and letters.

After browsing for a bit, it was coffee time. We asked the advice of a local where to get “a good cup of coffee,” and we were confidently pointed in the right direction. Peshaw! It was a weak and bitter cup, so nasty that I could not drink it. “Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble;” a handy quote from MacBeth to mumble under one’s breath instead of swearing when one is disappointed. And “one” would be me.

I left bereft. Okay, I admit, that’s overstating things a bit (not really). And so, because of the sad, sad, sad, sad coffee affair, I was primed and ready to notice the man carrying a large and sturdy cup of coffee high over his head at the next antique store. He was holding it like it was something very precious and valuable, which I understood deeply and profoundly. I almost stopped him as we passed on the steep staircase to ask where he’d found his cuppa God’s blessing, but he seemed intent on a mission.

A few moments later, we heard bursts of laughter and went to the front of the store to suss out the source of amusement. Oh my, it turns out the owners had been punked by a professional actress and a man with a hidden camera, can you guess where? Inside his “coffee” cup. I knew that dude was protecting it like it was liquid gold, but I never guessed there was a camera inside and that he was holding it up high to film the store. There’s probably images of me on the cutting room floor drooling.

The practical joke was sponsored by Dodge, a commercial in the making about “cars and freedom.” I’ve added a link here so you can watch a 60 second clip and get the gist of their Challenger campaign. http://lybio.net/dodge-challenger-2010-cars-and-freedom/autos-vehicles/

The tag line is “Here is a couple things America got right, cars and freedom.” In the clip, it’s a battle scene with the Red Coats. In comes the cavalry to save the day with George Washington at the wheel.

In the upcoming Dodge commercial, the premise is to have the professional actress (you can see her and the coffee cup filmographer caught on digital by moi in the throes of caffeine withdrawal) act like a woman who is trying to sell her family’s heirloom pictures. She claims that her relatives knew George Washington and has documentation to prove it. Of course, this intrigues the antique dealer and when she has him hooked, she pulls out beautifully rendered aged and sepia-toned photographs with supposed family members, all in period clothing, standing next to George Washington. Next to a 2010 Dodge Challenger. Yeah….right.

The appraiser instantly knows this is impossible and tries gently to inform the “old lady” that they did not have cameras or cars in the 1770’s. Oh, but this actress can act! She is insulted, swears those are her relations, etc. etc., making the job of refusing to buy her “valuable” photographs more difficult by the minute.

Meanwhile, all of this is being secretly filmed for the commercial including the moment when the shopkeeper knows he’s the happy victim of a practical joke. Hence all the laughter and ruckus. I took a photo of the souvenir the Dodge folks left on the counter. While it is a promotional shot of George and the car, it is not the one with all the ancestors in it, but you can still get the idea. This commercial is not finished yet, so shhhh, you heard about it here first.

I think this is what Kimmmm meant by my story-arc being more comical than dramatical. I’m just wandering about, minding my own business, hanging out with friends, shopping, taking photos, trying to sip coffee and we run across a delightful practical joke/commercial in the making.

A fun afternoon, a wonderful evening and hopefully, an impending trip to the Big Apple.

Oh, and speaking of ads, our jewelry and my mug is featured in this week’s Saturday Market ad for the Eugene Weekly and the Register-Guard and the upcoming Bach Festival. Here is a close-up of the rotary phone dial plate necklace I’m wearing in the ad that I designed out of the beautiful piece my father sent me. How about that? It was Father’s Day and my dad sends me a unique item to create with. Thank You!

Eye'm in the Mood for Summer (and Sales)

2010-06-16T11:02:00.000-07:00

As I sit down to write this, I hear automobile tires make rolling contact with the wet street in front of our house. The ebb and flow of traffic on this rainy Wednesday morning is like the waves of the Pacific washing on shore with a little car stereo thrown in to rattle the living room windows.

Calendar wise, this week brings us the first day of summer also known as Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year according to equi-portions of light. Body wise, I am not convinced. Clad in fleece socks, leopard print slippers and long fuzzy pants, I almost warmed my lavender scented heat pack and slipped it under the covers earlier this morning to warm my tootsies as I sipped coffee and read. In other words, brrr.

Having just returned from Spokane last week fits perfectly into a couple of things on my mind. One is Father’s Day next Sunday, June 20th. This holiday – honoring our male parental units – began in Spokane, Washington in June of 1910. How convenient! That’s exactly 100 years ago, so Happy Birthday Father’s Day! I’d like to give a shout out to my dad, a very fine man, and publicly thank him for sticking around.

I’d also like to acknowledge that occasions like these can bring pain. Many have lost their fathers, maybe never knew them at all, or wish they hadn’t. There are also men separated from their children, who have lost them from tragedy, or who are going through intense personal struggles, so we also honor your experience.

Respectfully, shifting to a lighter note and a remnant from Spokane, the good thing about selling most of our necklaces at ArtFest is, well, the financial aspect and the confidence booster. The not-so-good thing about selling most of our necklaces is that we have to start over.

“Well just get yourselves into the studio and make some more,” you might sagely and sarcastically advise. I certainly would, but we are at the beginning stages of collecting interesting and old things from which to create.

Having been introduced to a phenomenal artist in Spokane (the woman I mentioned last week from Oregon’s ArtBeat), she opened the doors of her studio to us last Friday and we had the incredible opportunity to behold her magic space. If I felt like I fell down the rabbit hole before, I was uplifted on the wings of cruel angels this time, transported to a designer’s Utopia. Purchasing a church outright in a small town in Oregon, she turned the former place of worship into a studio that caused me to sin.

I admit it openly; I turned various shades of green. Taught not to covet, I must confess a la Jimmy Carter that I experienced lust in my heart. For there, in her high-ceilinged workshop, she had every imaginable and unimaginable item at her disposal to play with, floor to ceiling shelves of organized goodies. Where I might have three vintage tins, she had cases of them arranged in alphabetical color.

As I hunt and peck for old skeleton and typewriter keys, domino and Scrabble tiles, watch parts and clock gears, she has amassed piles of these interesting pieces, stacking them in beautiful containers, boxes and bowls. Not only is her workshop outfitted with every possible contingency, but it is like the best antique shop you’ve ever seen, tableau after tableau of curiosities positioned to stimulate one’s imagination.

I asked her if I had died and gone to heaven. She snorted. For her, after 30 years of collecting, it felt like purgatory. Funny how one person’s heaven can feel like hell to another.

I also asked her advice on starting at this late date in the game, collecting pieces for myself, when online auction sites have turned trash into treasure, closing down antique places, vintage stores and junk shops all around the country.

She told me to continue hunting yard sales and through what shops remain open. Her best luck has been in Texas flea markets and areas to the south. This has spurred Groom and I to think of how we can go hunting and gathering somewhere different than Lane County. We have collected enough airline miles to go on a domestic flight, but discovered they are about to expire. So we need to plan something ASAP or lose them.

Talking to my parents, they suggested contacting those in the biz and asking where in the country is the best place to shop for “orphans,” odd bits of broken jewelry, bobs of colored optical lenses, vintage tins, bisque dolls (tiny, could even be chipped or broken as a head, an arm or a leg could be worked into a quirky piece), old metal measuring spoons, cloth measuring tapes; fun weird stuff in basements, attics or collecting dust in junk drawers.

A friend who went AWOL (that’s another story, she’s been missing since April), told us about the world’s largest yard sale spanning four states for four days. I Googled it and online information varies. Alabama says it starts there and ends in Ohio. Tennessee claims center point and that it starts in Michigan and ends in Alabama. One site refers to 450 miles of continuous sales while another boasts 650, so details are a bit blurry. It’s known as the 127 Corridor Sale or Route 127. At least they agree on that number.

The idea would be to cash in our airline miles and fly to Birmingham, rent a vehicle and drive an hour until we hit the first sale. From there it would be shop until we drop for four days. In the heat, in the humidity, in August, in the South. We’re trying to picture how this would go. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, crawling at a snail’s pace, vying for parking and the best deals. No disrespect meant, but serious thrifters are not always the friendliest.

Groom and I spent Sunday going to Estate and yard sales, happy to be outside during our lone day of sunshine. We had smiles upon our faces, just happy to be together rummaging for creative materials. But howdy let me tell you, the other shoppers were grim. No smiles, all business, just “how much is this and can I have it for less?” If I accidentally bumped into somebody or vice versa (we were all crowded into a garage), I’d say “excuse me,” but instead of a polite response, I’d be faced by a stern looking Early Bird or Bargain Man glaring me down. I even had one Hardcore ask if he could buy what I had in my hand for fifty cents. It was marked $2.50. Sheesh.

So I’m trying to imagine multiplying that experience by about a billion percent, throwing in muggy heat to boot, unfamiliar territory, gas, lodging (where on earth would we sleep?) and then figure out how to get our booty home once we’re at the airport. Still sounds kinda fun.

We’re looking for old math tools, metal protractors, wooden rulers, interesting chain, vintage clasps, watch fobs, cool beads, anything with small moving parts, rusty metal schwag, old-fashioned microscope mounts, broken musical instruments with keys, old telephone dial plates, small glass bottles, sentimental frippery, period embellishments, vintage ornamentation, elegant geegaws, classic trinkets, stylish baubles, random collectibles and nostalgic inspiration.

We create crazy fun whimsically elegant steampunky tastefully odd jewelry from old pieces, using our newly acquired metalsmithing skills to transform bits of history into present day adornment. Just yesterday I was soldering old glass fuses and mini-light bulbs, turning potential landfill into charms to play with.

Shifting gears (oh yeah, we’re on the lookout for gears, dials, compasses…), June also is a month to celebrate emancipation. It’s called Juneteenth, the oldest known holiday to celebrate the end of slavery in 1865. Happy Freedom Day to everyone!

Last, but certainly NOT least, today is a very special day in our household. Our precious kitty kat is having his Golden birthday. He is turning 16 today on the 16th! Happy Birthday, sweetheart, we love you and are so grateful you found your way into our hearts. You’re still a young thing and we pray for many happy returns.

As for the photo selections, they do not illustrate the text this time, but are random shots we strung together. For better detail viewing, simply click on the picture you’d like to enlarge and then hit the back button to return to the blog.

Thanks for tuning in and have a wonderful, celebratory week.