Saturday, February 3, 2018

basket bald boy bear blues


The antique shop around the corner from the studio is sometimes  a good way to spend a dreary afternoon . There are also sometimes affordable oddities that one can not resist, though, really, who needs more irresistible objects, especially when one's house is overflowing? Apparently I do.
This little herb basket from Lombok, is just too perfect to pass by. 
So solid, must have caused hand damage to the weaver! PLUS, baskets are always useful...for holding un- needed irresistible objects....or small snakes.


The bald boy, a Nora Welling creation, has a perfect round head. I appreciate the shape so much, I have always been jealous of nice round heads. Mine is sort of flat because of crib days, lying likely for hours in one position while my skull was trying to shape. 
The little knit bear had to come along for company, they seem to be very fond of one another.

Nothing much else happening up here in the dark damp- fire is barely smoldering. I understand anti depressants, I understand more- taking a trip to the sun! That would be good! This little light o' mine has flickered it's last flicker, Palm Springs is not that far away...hmmmm, thinking...


Thursday, February 1, 2018

#50 on the list of undesirables

The list judges for, weather, opportunities, education,  transportation, cost of living, rent and purchase of houses, crime, homelessness, community, entertainment....etc.
Not too terrible to be fiftieth on the list, Bellingham- but I liked it better when it was cooler- when creativity  ruled, when the rent was next to nothing, when we grew our own , and did not turn everything into a serious , acceptable color having  to have a city permit for anything and everything even remotely cool. The reasons I decided to live  here have all gone, it is not the same town at all.
The downtown is ghostly, there are few good places to dine, the cost of living and living - disproportionate, the sidewalks are rolled up at 10:00 P.M. In the winter,  it is colorless , bland, and the rain  every day  dampens spirits, shoes and everything else. It is dark. It is PANTS!!



So, you may remember the granery across from my studio and how cool it was with its patina, weathered wood, delicious old character. Well, the city managed to save the building ...but, 

none of the character, This is what is happening  out my studio window this afternoon,
Not what we might have expected. Just looks like any old  white building wearing a pointy hat.
The owner of the studio building , the one painted blue, in the top shot, has now painted it  beige, dear GAWD!
- shoved into beige obscurity.
 like a bad sci-fi, where everything is homogenized, predictable and (yawn) ZZZzzzzzz snoozing into the next dimension.



It is nice to be back in the studio anyway , haven't started anything yet because ...I am as inspired as  oatmeal. The glow from travel  obfuscated , rained out, drowned, by  blandness, shoved down into an old dingy soggy sock.

I did find a surprise  waiting for me that put a smile on my pasty, dull, boring  old beige face- A cow doll body, left by my friend who was using the studio when I was gone.
Cows are generally  inspiring!
I will give this one a think. 
I sent helper money to our Emily, and that cheered me up a little. It is going to be a difficult time for her.
I still would like some OPIUM please, because I am a cry baby.
 really, though, I must share the blame - dim witted circumstance, As I always told the children when they were little and moaning about being bored- "Only a boring person is bored, fix your problem."
I must take this good advice ...  (send Opium anyway, please) and snap out of it. I think I will paint the house YELLOW.


Tuesday, January 30, 2018

death is a bastard


Our girl Emily, I  have taken care of her off and on since she was a toddler, she and Erik were like siblings. Erik ran away from home and made it all the way to the end of the street before he thought better of the idea, reason for runaway was because I gave Emily the last pudding cup...They have been close friends  since toddler days. 
Emily , going to school in Flagstaff , living with her fiance, Keith , an archaeologist. She graduates this spring.
All of a sudden on face book I saw a weird post, I thought was a prank. A goodbye to Keith. 
Then Emily began posting her  photos of Keith and someone mentioned that he went doing what he loved most.
Well into the day ,Emily's dad finally called, they had been to the airport to send her mom to Flag to help Emily. 
Keith was hiking with a friend, and just died! Heart attack! Em went to the trailhead to meet him , saw emergency vehicles...and that was that. No Keith ever again.
BOOM, lights out, just like that *snap*. 
Can't quite grasp this turn of events for our Emily,  she has an army of support to be sure. 
Death is a bastard!


I did receive happy dots in the post sent from my  friend who visited Japan while I was in London.
She sent three panels of kimono pallets , vibrant color dots on silk that look like something fruity yummy to eat  with your eyes , to chase sadness into a corner.
Wonderful pallets!
And how that fits in with such devastating news I do not know other than that is what has happened . 




Suicide weather, cold tea, tobacco collectables


 Dark, cold ,non stop raining
Putting fairy lights on all of the plants, my tea goes cold as I take it for a walk across the room from kettle to chair. 
January , February, March are the three hellish months of darkness and wet. The cranky months. Opium, I need Opium, please...


While in Brixton I visited the charity shop close by frequently, rarely did I come away with anything but I did get two cigar boxes full of labels that are little works of art in themselves.
The boxes are sweet as well. I had a fascination for cigars when I was thirteen, went to the cigar shop and bought a Mississippi crook, soaked in rum and cured in red wine, I was hoping to get drunk, I think. That did not work out so well and I have not touched a cigar since






I also bought a little collectors booklet of cigarette cards. Cigarettes also rejected me at an early age, Lucky that tobacco had no hold on me, in fact, it hated me.


Entertainers of long ago. 


this is a small sampling of the cigar bands, there must be a zillion crammed in the boxes. They are all pretty cool.


Monday, January 29, 2018

pan panic



I have a favorite skillet, got it from my Aunt Marge when I was twenty, she got it as a wedding present in 1929. I have hauled it around with me for fifty years through trash and rough living, through cabins and tents and camping, through parenthood and all shenanigans, it makes food taste better even if the cook does not know what she is doing.  I love this pan, skillet, I guess is the real description. 

Mr. Man has one nearly identical without history, his is just a really good pan , like mine with the same "Griswold" markings and number, but not like mine because mine is older and tells stories...I use both at the same time for tortillas and for big dinners cooking everything at once, but my pan is far superior...because I say so. See her there, the one NOT by the kettle, don't you agree!


Imagine my distress to find my pan missing upon return from England! Mr. Man thought it superfluous to have two so he did put mine somewhere, but could not remember where. Searched high and low, in mystery piles above the garage , in the trash, in the bathroom...could not find it , could not remember .
He went out to buy a new one as I searched the Internet to replace-I found one, same vintage,  for $220.00 !!
He found one at the sporting goods store which was no where near the same, made in America "LODGE".
This will not do! (but if you ever need to buy a cast iron skillet made in America, it seems a pretty good brand.)
I screwed on my determination- fuck this- hat and searched the cupboards once again and, Lo, in the dark recesses wrapped up in towels , THERE IT WAS! 
Day saved, skillet back on the cooker, all is well.
Used them last night to make tortillas, everyone happy.
The spirit of Aunt Marge is with me! And I feel $220.00 richer for some reason.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

three of the clock A.M.


Jet lag, what to do when three A.M. is get up time, it is dark and cold and you do not want to make noise disturbing others. Make a bear out of an old shrunken jumper, good idea. I did not have a pattern so just eye balled what a bear might look like,  stuffed him with wool roving,dressed him in old doll jammies. I hand stitched every stitch , my fingers, by the end, felt like they had been hammered repeatedly, His joints are too loose and will need tightening one day...but, what I was really going for was....

THIS adorable king bear which I bought in Brixton just before I left . He is an exceptional bear ! He keeps a pet bee, made by Sarah, the maker of all things wonderful, I swear I have never known such a creative person as she. Looking at objects in fancy shops, Sarah thinks, " I can make that" , goes home and DOES! 


Mr. Man has retired...still going into the office frequently to check on things and pick up the slack. His office is a house built in the late 1800's, charming! The hearth was falling apart, old hand made tiles of the softest patina and coolness factor. The hearth had to be replaced so I saved some of the tiles for I don't know what.

most still are stuck to the ancient concrete that they were nestled in , Challenge to save them.


Erik came home for the week end with his arm in a sling and a pretty scar across his shoulder. He is working so much , doing the job of four people , getting paid for one. Burn out! 
He is the puppet, the director and producer of Stickbots,  learning videos for kids to learn animation. It's a big deal. But not big pay.


Sneaked a photo, arm in sling, in two more months he may be able to start PT. Get his arm back, and start doing what he loves best, animation.


This is a box full of crusty tiles to be set free, there are three boxes.


air quality, babies in the yard, cowboy grand dad

Looking out over the bay the smoke is thicker than yesterday and will be even more so tomorrow.  Getting my London cough back, shallo...