Awe.....

I know... I know.. this is like the Christmas card and other pictures of my kitty... but every time she puts all her little feet out to warm them it just makes me feel good... she's so awesome!

so enjoy...

Solace...

I need to blog about peaceful things today.. I'll get back to the outfits and sewing at another time. This picture was taken when I was traveling with a motor home, which was great fun when I finally got settled in a campground. It also made carrying some of my excess stuff easier... like the Hammered Dulcimer.

I like this picture because it speaks of peace... solace, if you will. There's my little house on wheels, my fire to keep me warm, and my music... all together. This dulcimer was made for me. It's completely chromatic from one end to the other, with no missed notes, which means I can play just about anything I want... if I practice. Most of them are missing the 'non essential' notes (??)... I could never figure out which ones I didn't want (grin).

I often take the hammered dulcimer with me when I travel, as I seem to have trouble practicing at home. On the road I have no other things to interfere and interrupt, so by the end of any trip I am playing much better than when I start.

It's also a great way to meet people in a campground...

and I'm so shy...

The Little Red Coat...

This is for bonho, who said she liked my mother's fashion sense (grin). My mother made this coat; hence the pride in her attitude and demeanor. She gave GREAT sewing...

My mother made a goodly number of my and my sister's clothes. She was responsible for practically every dress we wore, and the fact that we often dressed alike when we were younger. She could really sew. She passed this ability, very patiently, to my sister and I, and even to the grandkids... I have video. My sister, being the patient(er) one, did quite a bit of sewing over the years, especially after she had children. I, being the A.D.D. child, sewed when I wanted to, and never followed all the rules. I hated the measure/pin/baste/ check/ recheck thing, and often just put things together and hoped for the best. Often times my lack of attention to detail and hard work was rewarded... Just as often it was not. Because I didn't follow protocol, I was rarely disappointed when what i wanted to happen, didn't.

I'm not finished with this... I'll be back after I see Mom..

I'm back. I'm looking for a picture of me and my sister in one of the outfits my mother made for us, but I can't seem to find it yet... maybe tomorrow. Ever since I changed my house around, I can't find anything!

Roadkill to the Rescue....

Just when I needed a chuckle, Roadkill filled the bill...

One of C.J.’s favorite toys is a T.P. roll with just a little TP still stuck to it. She shreds and rolls and baps it until it’s mush. This morning, as she was delighting herself and me, I started dropping long pieces of TP over her... she would grab them, roll about and mash them into the carpet, or sit until they covered her face and then, as if suddenly discovering this horrible attack, pounce and destroy. As I said, a much needed laugh.

I went off about my chores and seeing Mom, and when I got home tired and dragging and ...

There was Roadkill, exactly in the middle of the pile, dropped by his mentor to do...

what...?

I’ll never know if his job is to hold a place or make certain that the pile of paper doesn’t get away?? Did she drag him in and say,” LOOK NOW! This is the MOST fun we’ve had in a long time!” and leave him there to play all day long?

Doesn’t matter..

His job, I think, is to make me happy to see him every new place he lands...

and he’s really good at it...

Locked and Loaded....

Emboldened by bonho’s nice review of me and my art, I’m going to ‘expose you’ to my big art piece. I got this in my little Joseph town. I saw her two years ago and fell in love with her. Her official title is “Locked and Loaded”, and she is ready to spring. It seems that she wasn’t the most popular piece by this artist, who has an incredible way with eagles. This was to my advantage, as he was willing to make such a deal that I could give her a home...

mine..

I love every line of her, from the question mark tail to the ever changing face, different from every angle. I will never be surprised if, one day, she actually leaps from her spot... she has so much energy.

As I may have mentioned, Joseph is a town known for it’s bronze factories and pieces. The main (only) street was transformed several years ago, and one of the really cool things that they did was incorporate these pieces into the design. On almost every corner there is a huge work by a different artist. Everything from wolves to cowboys... beautiful, creative bronze.

One of my favorites is this lady... she is walking through a field of flowers and has a blue dress over her bronze body. She is the epitome of grace. If I can find a ready picture of her I will add it to the end of this. Someday I want her on my lawn at my house on the lake, walking forever towards the water, flowers in hand... someday....

An Angry Ocean...

First of all things, thank you for your warm wishes... I'm better. Not HEALED THANK THE GODDESS HEALED, but better... I haven't had a lot of impetus to go and get some pictures in spite of a phone call from my first real love. I'll tell that story at another time, when I have the proper picture to attend. For now I'm keeping it mellow.

I, in my lifetime, have collected only a few things that I consider art. My tastes are eclectic, and my money is tight, so these things are both inexpensive and decidedly my taste.

This is one of the better things I've collected. It's my pier on an angry ocean day. You have to see it like this to realized that the color of the water is pretty spot on. I love this for the crispness of the pier and the absolute abandon of the ocean. It's kind of an Oscar/Felix love affair. I bought it when I had no money, and no place to put it. I was living in an apartment that was wrapped around a garage. My main living space was like... 8x 13 feet, or some such nonsense. It was an L shaped apartment. In one branch I had my grandparents double bed and my piano. That took up the entire wall, as they were 'end to end' There used to be a hot water heater across from my piano, but that was removed and it was my only closet space. I used to have to sit in the closet to play the piano, as the room narrowed considerably at that point. When it widened, near the bed, I had a triangle shaped corner piece for my TV and my stereo. My bed was under the stairs that went up to the top apartment.

The other L of the room had the kitchen. My grandparents table which, miraculously, closed down to 25 inches wide. It opens (the sides almost reached the floor when it was closed) to seat.. well... a lot of people. I still have that table... solid mahogany. Along that wall was the stove, sink and a small refrigerator. At the end of that L was the teeny tiny bathroom... a shower. a sink. a commode and I squeezed my grandparents dresser in there. As you might have noticed, I had no furniture other than stuff left by my family after they went through my grandparents house when my Aunt died...

I thought it was a great apartment. Talk about sere! Talk about austere! I was cozy as a bug in a rug... except for the alley outside, which drew all the drunks from the bars in the area... yeah, weekends were fun... ... ...

So, at a time when I had little, I wrangled this painting from the local art store. The artist is David Drake, a local boy...

I have it still in my HOUSE...

and I love it none the less..

yuck....

I've been under the weather (why do we say that?... what does that come from?... under the weather.. does it mean that we're under the storm and being rained on? what the hell does that mean?) so I haven't blogged lately..

soon, for all of you who just can't wait (grin)

soon...

soon as this cloud passes...

The Missionary and the Mercenary

I've told you the story of my Great Grandmother and Great Grandfather, it's back in the WAI GONG blog from November 22, 2005. She was the 'missionary', having graduated from Medical school in 1877, and he was the 'mercenary', working for an exporting company in China.

I don't know how they met. She did NOT want to get married, and I can only assume that part of it was because her mother's life was harsh... and filled with dead children. She was older than he by 6 years, and very determined to be what she wanted to be. I can only think that he was very persuasive... or charming... or cute (grin).

The married in 1884. This was their wedding picture. She was 31 years old, and he a remarkable 25! Maybe this was his charm, for he must have been something to be that successful at that age. I believe they came back to the Chicago area to be married, as both their families were in the general area at that time.

My grandfather was their only child. He was born when my GGrandmother was 35, which was somewhat unusual for that time... at least for a first child. As far as I know they lived happily; I find no evidence to the contrary. She died in 1920 and he died in 1927.


This picture was taken in 1904, 20 years after they were married. I am struck by how little he seems to have changed, and how much she has. I love the strength in her face. What a beautiful woman she was... proud, strong and determined. I don't know about the flowers, though... I would have liked to have known her. I have a picture of him taken sometime in the 1920's... he looks a great deal like Teddy Roosevelt...

In My Easter... um... Valentine's... um.. Spring Bonnet...

Another old photograph. I love these not only for the subject matter, but the look of early color photography... and you have to appreciate my mother’s hat... and the nifty little suits. OMG! and the shoes!!

The lady to the right of my mother is my cousin. She’s the wife of the gentleman in the picture of my father (the bottle of booze and football picture). I have no idea where they were headed that day, but I can only figure it was a SERIOUS meeting of some like couture’d ladies.

Her sons were the only cousins with whom we had any real contact. I still see one of them fairly freguently, and the fact that he’s a cousin still suprises me, I don’t know why.

but I do know I like that hat!

Sisters, Sisters, there were never such devoted sisters...

My mother and her sister were very close for many reasons. They were born 11 months apart, and thus were close in age. As you can see in the picture, they were alike in appearance at that age. Mom is on the right, and may have been responsible for her sister's remarkable haircut.

They were children of the second (but not last) wife of their father. They came equipped with two older brothers, but they were much younger, so they had their sisterhood in common. I think my Mom idolized her brothers... they were both Coast Guardsmen later in life, but she and her sister had this bond.

When they were in their teens, my grandmother and grandfather got a divorce. They never told the girls what was happening, but put them in a boarding school at the beginning of the troubles, so their bond intensified. Mom was ever the older sister. The boarding school continued even though my grandmother remarried as her new husband, while he thought the girls were great, didn't want them around. And the bond continued to grow.

The sisters, at 15? or so... Mom is on the left. This was a very tiny photo, and the quality is not great... sorry!

The good news about this apparent abandonment was that my mother met my father while at Mabel Scott Rancho. I have a wonderful bit of video of Mom and Dad and her sister and her husband taken in 1940. They were both such cute girls. Mom was pregnant with my brother at the time. The sweetness of their happy marriages was so evident. Both of them remained happily married until their husbands died.

They were separated for years, as my Mother's sister married yet another Coast Guard man, and she was all over the country with him. When they finally settled, it was no where near where we lived... ultimately in Seattle.

My cousin brought my Aunt to see Mom sometime after one or more of her strokes. He had gone up to Seattle to pick up his mom, who had become almost as ... impaired as Mom, but without the attendant strokes. He drove a great deal out of his way so that the sisters could have one more visit. I was struck by how they laughed and giggled together... they seemed almost as young as the first picture in many ways, and I was pleased that neither one thought the other old or strange...

Sisters... such sweet sisters...

What a Marvelous Day for a Clam Dance...

My father would have been 94 today. He would not have been in good health... in his honor, I'm going to talk about a fish (he loved to fish)... and a very special dance (and you already know he loved to dance)...

This fish is, pardon me, was in Oregon, along route 101. It was after the Oregon dunes, and sat, for what seemed like forever, in a huge pile of driftwood. I cannot imagine what forces pushed all that wood (you can see it in the picture) up at the end of the field near the road. I don't know if there was water around this pile at any given time (high tide) or if it was the result of... the earthquake of '64? or some other calamity.

Someone, sometime before I ever drove up there, trudged out in that mass of wood and build a fish. It was a rather large fish, with a tire for an eye, which will give you perspective. There were other smaller structures around it, but it was unmistakable from the road. I think what helped it last as long as it did was, besides construction,was unavailability. I drove by it for years before I parked a ways from it and walked out along the highway to get this picture. It was difficult for vandals to get to, which probably helped it's survival.

It's gone now. I noticed it failing a few years ago, and last year it was gone. Someone has built some smaller things in it's honor, but it's gone... I'm glad I took this picture when I did...

I miss it...

Now... for the clam dance we have to move to another state; Washington. Joe (you remember Joe) and I traveled around the United States in 1976, the bicentennial year. We were out for more than 4 months, in a VW camper, looking for somewhere we could get along. Learned one of life's great lessons out there. Are you ready? "If you can't get along here, you can't get along anywhere". That's it. But, along with the arguments in every state, we had some really fun times. One of those was up in Long Beach, Washington.

You can drive on the beach in Long Beach. It's a dicey proposition if you don't know what you're doing, because the tide can eat your car in a very short time, and you will never see it again... no joke. There is a narrow strip of drivable beach, made more narrow by the clam beds. Long Beach is (or at least was) a GREAT clamming beach.

We were up there in Late April. We had friends up there so we didn't have to do the driving on the beach, and were able to get farther up the beach to do our clamming. The first day it was a breeze... we had the tools (a clamming shovel and a bucket) and the ambition. It was a Friday, and there weren't a lot of people out, so it was an excellent adventure. We took the clams back to the campground and let them sit and shit (that's what clams have to do before you can eat them... and they won't do it on command, so you have to be patient). We cleaned them, bagged them and put them on ice. We actually made clam chowder when we were in Wyoming, several days later!

Back to the beach... it rained that night. The next day dawned cold and drizzly, and there were a lot of people on the beach, as the season was coming to a close. When the weather gets foul, the clams go deeper into the sand, and are no longer easily visible by the tiny little holes that show their hideouts. We were shown how to stamp our feet around to make the holes bubble water, so we could find the little suckers... It was definitely a more difficult task than it had been the day before. At one point I stopped to rest and looked down the beach....

Oh... my.... gawd..

The beach is miles long, and there were... I don't know... at least a thousand people there. Maybe more... maybe a LOT more. And there they were. Dressed in colorful wet weather gear..

doing the clam dance...

Each person had a distinct style of bringing the clams to notice. Stamping, jumping, arm waving, one footed two footed, often accompanied by joyous singing or barely discernible grunts. Bursts of color and sound, as far as the eye could see (which was actually a great distance) and unlike anything I have ever seen again. If I had only had a camera...

I'll never forget it...

It makes me smile to this day...