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I often dream in first and third person; its like watching a movie and playing the lead at the same time. Sometimes I’m controlling the dream and pushing it the direction I want it to go, but obviously not last night. Otherwise that little man wouldn’t have run in with Binaca just as I was going to finally kiss Matthew. For the record, the Binaca was for Matthew.
The internet can be a great resource but sometimes you need a little help from real people. In preparation for our November 1960’s Mobster party I’m trying to gather together the bits and pieces that make a costume great. I’ll end up getting most of it off of ebay, but thought it might be worthwhile to check with you fine folks ‘cause there’s no telling what you have in your basements – no, do not send me the dust buffalo bunnies. So, here are the odds n ends that we need:
- an old violin case
- a plastic Tommy Gun
- a felt fedora
- a restaurant name tag, preferably from a relatively unknown restaurant.
- Nurses shoes 8.5 (I’ll be hitting Good Will for these, but just in case I thought I’d ask)
- Bright, solid colored neck tie, narrow
- Martha Stewarts Halloween magazine – ok so that’s not for the costume, I just wanted to make sure you were still reading – heh.
Let me know if you have any of these things that we might buy or borrow. In case you are curious here is the waitress uniform I’m thinking of buying (I couldn’t sew it for $20), and the suit I’ll be making for D and I’m trying to convince him to let me give him a comb over by super-gluing long strands of hair to his head. He’s still holding out, but just the thought of it sends me into wild gales of laughter! Many thanks!
Yesterday’s post was a condensed version of the one I initially planned to share. Work managed to explode before I posted it, and then my computer exploded as well. Ok, it didn’t explode but it did loose a tax file while I was working on payroll which would cause folks not to get paid so it may as well have exploded because they darn well would have. While that was being sorted out three other things derailed and a fairly normal day twisted itself into a huge knot about thirty minutes to five, hence yesterday’s late post from home. Wow this work stuff really interferes with my blogging, I really should talk to someone about that.
Kim has posted some photos of her daughter in the costume I made. I know it’s rather conceited of me, but I’m just so tickled to know that I helped put that big grin on her face. Go visit, and leave a comment for H, I know she’d love it.
Finally, and on a totally different topic, heres a meme I lifted from somewhere in the blogosphere … I though it was funny … well, some more than others 
1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) -
Dandy Forerunner
2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) -
Butterfinger Crinkle
3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) -
S-Vic (but my friends call me S’Diddy)
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) -
Garnet Mackenzie (I know, but Garnet Dog sounded dumb – heh)
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) -
Alise Springfield
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) -
Vicsh (how the hell do you pronounce that – like ‘fish’?)
7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink) -
The Red Cuba Libra
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) -
Harley Daniel – or grandma’s – Charlotte Charlynn (really)
9. STRIPPER NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) -
Cashmere Chocolate
10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ) -
Beth Stephen
11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) -
Martin Memphis
12. SPY NAME/BOND GIRL: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) -
Fall Stargazer
13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”) -
Apple Shoie
14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) -
Heart (to Heart –cereal) Birch
15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”) -
The Sewing Rain Tour
My plans for a busy weekend flew out the window with D’s ‘lets do something fun’ comment. We didn’t exactly paint the town red but we did have a very pleasant weekend. No house work, no laundry, no working on the bathroom. We wandered the big mall, lunched out, watched rental movies and one in the theater, gamed together on the computer. In fact my only accomplishments for the weekend were to finish two long promised totes:
and landing this gorgeous fabric ...2.5 yards for under $6 - yay me!
As D said in his comment on the last post, we had a fine time!
...whispers...and they can keep him.
This morning, about nine minutes after sunrise, I was standing in the driveway, bike leaned against my hip, entering the code that puts the garage door down. As the door neared closed it stopped, went up a few inches, down a few inches and then began to rise again. I was looking for an obstruction when I realized that D was standing there grinning at his own cleverness. After wishing me a good morning we had the following conversation:
D “Do you have plans today?”
S “I was going to start the back-splash in the bathroom.”
There pause and he looked disappointed.
S “Is there something you wanted to do?”
D “Yeah, I kinda wanted to do something fun.”
S “Ok, like what?”
D “We could go down to that new mall. They have that huge JoAnns (fabric store)”.
While 911 wasn’t called, smelling-salts were employed.
At work this week I’ve been floating back and forth between moving my old PC into a new one and defrocking* a service van. I’ve enjoyed the different work but am now sadly behind on the things that I normally do. To make matters worse I was advised this morning that they have started to convert our data base for the new server so between now and its delivery (about six weeks) we have to keep track of every change we make in the old system so we can do it again in the new one. In a word, ACK…ok, that isn’t the word but I do try to maintain my PG13 rating … well, around here, elsewhere sailors are blushing.
D’s week has also been pretty demanding. He’s been doing an installation on an island that requires him to meet a ferry at 6:30am and again at 5:30pm. Since that gives him 40 hours already, and he’s salary, he decided to take today off. Last night he was thinking aloud and said, “Hmmm, if I clean the house tomorrow, then we could go to a movie Saturday”. My first guffaw escaped around the word tomorrow and I clamped my hands over my mouth to try to contain the ones that followed. He gave me a hard look and then sighed and said “Yeah, I started to laugh too when I said that”. At least he’s not deluded about his house keeping abilities – hah.
I haven’t been very productive in the evenings this week so the weekend will be extra busy catching up. I’m always amazed at how quickly we fall behind on the little things. The bathroom project only needs about six hours of work and a good cleaning to be declared finished, and yet there it sits. It’s this point that I am most likely to run out of steam and let a project languish just yards from the finish line. I’m sure that says something about me as a person but I’m not sure what … it probably isn’t nice in any case. I won’t finish the bathroom this weekend but it would be nice to set the majority of the tile backsplash and get myself moved back in – all my stuff is still in the bedroom floor or the guest bath. Next week I can grout and clean and then we can be on to the next project: painting the exterior of the house. We’re going to handle it like the bathroom; do a little every weekend until it’s done. We’re hoping to finish it before our next vacation, the second week of November, that way we could actually take a week off.
Speaking of that vacation, the reason I took that specific week in November is that I’m ‘catering’ a friend’s party. The party is like a ‘mystery dinner’ where everyone is playing a particular character. The setting is a 1960’s gangster wedding and I’m doing lasagna, sides, and a wedding cake….for 50. I’m not assigned a character, but I’m thinking 1960’s lunch-room lady...heee! This is an annual event for D and the first time I’m attending anything other than the traditional Saturday evening feast (the ‘wedding’ is Friday night). I’m looking forward to it, especially because it’s the most likely time I’ll ‘get out of the house’ before then – heh. If you have ideas for proper early 60’s attire I’d love to hear them.
*My term for removing the stripes and badging … aren’t I funny?
It isn’t all that unusual for me to post about the weather this time of year. Normally the post would have something to do with the mad rush to hang shutters and procure water and canned tuna before the stores run out. Our weather has been strange lately but not due to a hurricane steaming its way towards us, instead there is a ‘disturbance’ off the other coast that has hovered there since Sunday and is having an unusual effect on our weather here. Each evening since Sunday there has been a tornado or waterspout in the late afternoon and on Sunday a tornado touched down a few miles south of our house on the same street. To say that our weathermen are giddy with excitement would be an understatement … you’d think they were reporting the second coming.
Somewhere over a hundred homes were damaged and the Lieutenant Governor is coming today to survey the destruction – yippee! (Tongue firmly in cheek). Don’t misunderstand; I’m sorry there are folks dealing with damaged homes and cars, but no one was injured, no one died and the sensationalistic attitude of the news and weather forecasters is rubbing me raw. The reported tornado has been declared an F0 where it touched down at the beach and an F1 near our house. This is such a far cry from the F4 –F5 monsters that blast through the Midwest each year that I’m offended that they’ve made the comparison. Sure, it’s an oddity for our area and I suppose that’s enough to make it news but c’mon it’s nothing when compared to the destruction of an entire town. It’s a really pissed off whirlwind and should be reported as such.
My disgust with talking heads isn’t new and probably isn’t going to decline anytime soon especially as they all seem to be turning into Jerry Springer. Even public radio has a hard time ignoring the allure of a ‘big’ news story, but they will, at least, offer both sides, something network news has forgotten all about. When news starts sounding like an ad for a used car lot its time for me to turn it off.
I’m told that when she’s happy she gets very quiet .... she was silent last night!
I had hoped to post a big smile on Saturday afternoon, but in my zeal to get the costume to its new home I managed to post it ‘signature required’ and the mailman showed up when the ‘signer’ was in the shower (smack self on forehead). So it was not delivered. I do know that the package did arrive safely this morning and is waiting patiently for Miss H to get home from school for the big reveal (she hasn’t seen the finished item yet). I’ve been promised photos (my usual fee for costume production) and I should know this very soon if it’s a success or not.
In other news I had my annual visit with my Rheumatologist today. Evidently he’s learned a thing or two in the last couple of years or he’s made a note on my chart that says “pain in the ass … recheck in 12 months”. I’ve seen him for three years now and I can’t say I like him. Each year we have the same conversation, and each year he calls for the same damn tests that prove ‘yep, you still got it’ and ‘yep, I still can’t do anything for it’. Until this year, that is. This year he failed to provide me with a prescription for a pulmonary functions test, which surprised me because he has insisted on it in the previous years. I went in prepared to pin him down once and for all over the value of this $1300 out-of-pocket test and he actually looked surprised when I asked ‘No PF test this year?’. His response, ‘You’ve had one? Was it normal?’ (smack self on forehead, again). He even left the exam room to double check my ‘yep, normal’ response with computer records, and when he returned said, “They’ve been normal, I don’t see any reason for you to have that test unless you are experiencing problems” (I considered smacking him on the forehead). Instead he ordered so many blood tests I may as well donate a pint and let them take what they need from there … seriously, the script is three pages long!
Other than that he looked at my fingers, and pressed on my ankles. The latter of which made me laugh because he said he was checking for lividity … like you could see anything through the opaque-super-socks I’m wearing (smack). I really have no idea how I’m going to manage my health care when my faculties go, it’s painfully clear that the doctors aren’t going to. Sad, I think, for the folks that are already lost in the system and simply because they don’t know any better just go along with what the doc’s order without ever asking why. I don’t think I’m smarter than a doctor, but I think I know myself better than they do and I certainly do a better job of remember what’s been done in the past than they do reading the chart.
Yeah, I’m cranky today…I guess I should put my soap-box away and look forward to this afternoon’s costume reveal. As long as it fits I think I’m good.
Believe it or not I did exactly what I said I was going to do last night; I made a good dinner and put my feet up. Dinner couldn’t have been easier, was darn tasty and looked pretty on the plate.
Here’s what I did:
6 small red potatoes, quartered
2 plum tomatoes, diced
2 carrots, large dice
1 T fresh rosemary
2 tsp fresh thyme
Salt and pepper
Drizzle of EVOO (1 T ish)
½ jar kalamata olives
2 T olive ‘juice’
3 skinless, bone-in, chicken breast halves
Preheat oven to 425. Grease a covered casserole (I used a quick spray of Pam) and arrange chicken in bottom (dish should be just big enough to accommodate the chicken so pieces are touching) and season with salt and pepper. Toss in veggies, herbs and season with a little more salt and pepper. Drizzle in olive oil and olive ‘juice’ and mix. Move the chicken to the top of the casserole so it is resting on the veggies, cover and pop into the over for 45 minutes or until an instant read thermometer reads 180 at thickest part of chicken breast.
All my measurements are approximates as I tend to do everything by ‘eye’ … change it to match your taste.
Costume finished! Now for 48 hours of fretting that it won’t fit. You know me; I’m not having fun unless I’m keyed up about something. I’m so worried that I shipped it ‘express’, only to find that it will still take two days, oh well. So, here is what it is supposed to look like:
And here is how it turned out:
I realize that showing you a costume on a hanger doesn’t tell you much, but I had no luck getting my step-mom to try it on for the camera … and I quote “one of my thighs wouldn’t fit in that thing”. Yeah … she’s 110 lbs soaking wet – grr. Anyway, the soon to be recipient of the costume assures me that there will be tons of photos, and I’m hopeful that she’ll let me share one online. If not, I’ll just give her the old black bar over the eyes treatment –heh.
After stressing so much over this article it feels odd not to have something pressing waiting for me when I get home. I could clean up the mess from this undertaking but if I did that before starting the next project the sky would crack, the sun would fall into the ocean and D would require oxygen. There are two promised totes, and two promised smocks that I could start a pile of laundry wanting for attention and a barely started book wasting away on the bed side table. I’m not exactly short of things to do. Am I ever? The greatest likelihood is that I’ll cook a good dinner (I’m thinking roasted chicken with potatoes, tomatoes and olives) and put my feet up and let the waiting, wanting and wasting things sit until the weekend…now wouldn’t that be odd?
-I may have lost a few battles with my current costume project, but with a total overhaul last night I may have turned a corner that will win the war. With luck I’ll finish tonight, and have photos tomorrow.
-When I let the dog out for the last time last night I found this guy soaking in the little bird bath by the front door … cute, no?
-I want one of these and I don’t know why. I dabble in embroidery & crewel and for some reason I think this would make me great at it – hee. The reality is it would probably just gather dust in the craft room.
-Godiva really needs to stop sending me emails. The ad I got for these made me want to stop by the mall and pick up a case or ten … dark chocolate and mint, is there anything finer?
-Yesterday morning while the dog was eating her breakfast D opened her jar of ‘cookies’. She stopped what she was doing, opened her mouth to let all the food fall out and clatter on the floor and went to wait patiently for him to hand her the cookie. It took him a few minutes he was laughing so hard.
-At work we are just beginning the process of changing out our entire computer system. If the 3417 item list I received Monday to correct errors on is any indication … this isn’t going to be fun.
-A few morning’s ago I was on the lanai putting on my shoes when I noticed the faint trace of ‘cool’ in the air. I was about to be excited about the arrival of fall when I realized that it was the a/c pouring out of the sliding door I’d left open.
-I’m no fan of skanky ole Brittany Spears and I’m not surprised that her ‘come back’ performance sucked. But if you are one of the people that thought she looked fat … you can go away now…sheesh!
There have been times in my life when the simplest of words, uttered almost casually have brought about a huge shift in my perception. For example, while relaxing at a friend’s house many years back she and I were talking while her ‘tween’ aged boys were playing in the other room. More correctly: we were shouting at each other over the din. There was a bang as a chair went over, a thud as a child hit the floor thrown martial arts style by his slightly older brother. Then an overly loud ‘ouch’ followed by laughter before it started over. My blood pressure was rising even as furniture toppled and just as I was about to say something glib she said, almost wistfully, “I love the sound of their laughter I will miss it most when they are grown and gone”. Every time since, when I’ve been around rowdy kids and on the verge of asking myself: “Where are their parents?” I have instead stopped and listened to the simple pure joy of their play.
Six years ago today the entire nation shared in an event that shifted perceptions, and for six months we were what we have always claimed to be: the UNITED states. We flew flags, plastered patriotic bumper stickers on our cars and wore our country’s colors. We celebrated, even as we mourned, the great nation we believed we were –and oh how that must have stuck in Osama’s craw. But here we are, six years later, desensitized to the images of rubble and black smoke. The names of the locals killed in the 9/11 attacks were mentioned in passing on the morning news, but no photos. We are war weary and more gun-shy but the only lasting change seems to be longer security lines in the airports. We say ‘we will never forget’. We could never forget the events that day, but the lessons learned about patriotism, family, and never taking life for granted now belong solely to the families of those lost. They are the true heroes because, unlike most of us, they can never return to life before the towers fell. They move forward, changed and wounded, but they move forward because they cannot go back.
I wish I knew the words that would remind us, not of the dead, but of the living. The words that would lend a spark to tinder dry lessons nearly forgotten. The words that, casually uttered, would remind a nation what we should celebrate most: our freedom.
Saturday morning, after my bike ride and shower, I threw on my sweats (not a pretty picture, but darn comfy) and descended upon my craft room. My intent was to put everything back to rights … read: make the piles in the corners higher … and, once finished, attack my costume project with renewed verve. Late last week I inserted one of the panels in the dress backwards, was unable to pick-it out, and was forced to start over. My thoughts were if the room were clean, I could concentrate better on the task and knock it out of the park. What did I do? I sewed that damn panel in backwards A-freakin-GAIN! At which point D dropped a peck on my cheek and retreated to his computer room not to be seen till supper … supper he had to cook (frozen pizza) as I was still in my room ripping my hair out.
Yesterday, I rode, washed the truck and cut the grass before returning to the project … dress done at this point, and started constructing the fur trim. By the time I went to visit my friend Theresa (whose computer I keep failing to fix) and went to the grocery store I was covered in white fur. You know the spot in the house where the cat always sleeps; the one that if you rubbed your hand over it you could make a new cat with the resulting hair ball? Well, the whole craft room looks like that, the black dog is white, and fur is creeping out into the living room. I started with a two foot by five foot piece of fur and have managed to cover 4oo square feet of it. Its talent I tell you.
Sunday evening I had progressed to the point of putting the emblem on the chest. My plan was to use fabric paint with a freezer paper stencil. I tested it on scrap fabric … perfect and carefully applied it to the garment. Disaster! Where it didn’t run on the test piece it bled everywhere on the garment. Ok, maybe not everywhere, but trust me, it won’t do.
So here I am contemplating a quick fix vs. a complete replacement of the front panel. I am loath to waste the time trying the quickie, but if it works I’ll gain so much back. Truly though I can’t make it any worse so it’s worth a try.
Have you ever had a project that thwarted you at every turn? What was it and did you win or is it living somewhere as a dreaded UFO?
I’ve always had a problem with the word artist. My dabbling in Swap-Bot has rattled that word back to the surface and at risk of repeating a previous post I feel inclined to discuss it again. In many of the personal profiles on Swap-Bot (and many blogs for that matter) people describe themselves as ‘artists’. “I am an artist working in upstate New York” or “I am a fiber artist” or “I am a paper artist who enjoys making ATC’s”. Is there a government line that you stand in to get your artist license or can you just laud yourself with this title? Is a kid with a box of crayons the same as a guy with a welder and a bunch of auto parts; a street corner caricaturist the same as a woman with a chisel and a block of marble? They are all creating something, but is it enough to make them artists?
Since art is subjective I’m sure the title ‘artist’ is too, but for me the fire is an important factor. The desire to create something is fine but the need to do so is an altogether different thing. Often I feel the desire to create something or maybe its indigestion. It is something I enjoy, something that I crave doing, and something I can easily skip. I believe there are people that for good or bad must create; rather like me needing to breathe.
Some would argue that painters like Pollock and Picasso aren’t artists: “My three year-old could have done a better picture”. But I say, like them or not, they are, if for no other reason than they were the first to see the world as they did. Once again, it’s all subjective. You have to have talent to be an artist, but just because you are talented doesn’t make you one. Perhaps there needs to be ‘artists’, ‘Artists’, and ‘ARTISTS’; with clear definitions for each. ‘artists’: talented folks that enjoy their craft, sell a few pieces but still make their living schlumping along with the rest of us. Artists: really talented folks who have had the title bestowed upon them by others, live for time in the studio and frequent galleries. ARTISTS: see the world differently than the average Joe and are able to share that vision…borderline crazy.
For the record I have the same problem with the word ‘chef’; being the head cook at Ruby Tuesday’s doesn’t make you one … so quit calling me and telling me that’s who you are!
*Artist Trading Cards