DebR's post du jour with all the oldies put me in a way-back frame of mind and when you don't have anything to post about what art you are up to, resorting to pet and old baby pictures is always a safe bet.
Yep, the big one is me, six or seven, the Ringleader and if sh*t happened.. it was all my fault. To my left, Kitty. How do you like them prison haircuts? I think it was the following year that Mom took Kitty and I to Macy's in White Plains (Where Santa Claus lived in the off season!) to a so-called specialist in children's haircuts. I will never forget how he sawed our braids off at the root without even undoing them. Mine, fat and stubby, Kitty's long and thin. My mother cried as she picked them up and wrapped rubber bands around the cut ends. The fiend gave us the popular Pixie haircut. My hair grew straight out from my head. With those giant teeth I looked more like a half-grown lion cub than a Pixie.
These days Kitty is still the dashing professional. How many of you can say you have a following? Next to her is baby sister Patty, a single, two-job working Mom to a teenage daughter, but don't pity her, she's so good at it all. Martha Stewart could eat off her floors.
On my right, baby brother Robbie, my charge, which is why he grew up wild. I have one of those half-baked memories that no one will admit to. We all had harnesses with zippers in the front and leashes hooked to the back and I seem to recall being hitched like a sled dog to Robbie's stroller. Why not? We were a powerful troika. I would have done the same thing with four kids.
Rob became a father for the first time two years ago this April - twin boys! He lives to see Ryder and Reno conquer the world, all the while living with my parents and being their main care-giver - not that they would ever admit to needing one. The babies light up their lives.
Right now my Mom is in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests before surgery. She has been in poor health most of her life and has outlived all of her friends, three of whom passed just last year, and most of her family.
Eight hundred miles away, I am holding my breath too often these days.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
The Sibs
DebR's post du jour with all the oldies put me in a way-back frame of mind and when you don't have anything to post about what art you are up to, resorting to pet and old baby pictures is always a safe bet.
Yep, the big one is me, six or seven, the Ringleader and if sh*t happened.. it was all my fault. To my left, Kitty. How do you like them prison haircuts? I think it was the following year that Mom took Kitty and I to Macy's in White Plains (Where Santa Claus lived in the off season!) to a so-called specialist in children's haircuts. I will never forget how he sawed our braids off at the root without even undoing them. Mine, fat and stubby, Kitty's long and thin. My mother cried as she picked them up and wrapped rubber bands around the cut ends. The fiend gave us the popular Pixie haircut. My hair grew straight out from my head. With those giant teeth I looked more like a half-grown lion cub than a Pixie.
These days Kitty is still the dashing professional. How many of you can say you have a following? Next to her is baby sister Patty, a single, two-job working Mom to a teenage daughter, but don't pity her, she's so good at it all. Martha Stewart could eat off her floors.
On my right, baby brother Robbie, my charge, which is why he grew up wild. I have one of those half-baked memories that no one will admit to. We all had harnesses with zippers in the front and leashes hooked to the back and I seem to recall being hitched like a sled dog to Robbie's stroller. Why not? We were a powerful troika. I would have done the same thing with four kids.
Rob became a father for the first time two years ago this April - twin boys! He lives to see Ryder and Reno conquer the world, all the while living with my parents and being their main care-giver - not that they would ever admit to needing one. The babies light up their lives.
Right now my Mom is in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests before surgery. She has been in poor health most of her life and has outlived all of her friends, three of whom passed just last year, and most of her family.
Eight hundred miles away, I am holding my breath too often these days.
Friday, January 27, 2006
the Zombies efforts
"E's not dead, just stunned" -Monty Python
Here's evidence that I have not shuffled off this mortal coil - about one tenth of my stash folded and sorted by color...and then adorned with Cat Ass. Still no shelves to contain them so these stacks will probably go into right back into the plastic boxes.Deep in the night for the past week, I might have wished for that shuffle in my coma-dreams. There was little sleep. I injured my back last week in a very stupid manner.
For those of you who know about Yoga, I actually fell asleep in a fat woman's variation of the Child's Pose. You know, knees a-spraddle, belly dragging on the mattress and head cradled on folded arms as I listened to the music from the "Breathe" yoga show on TV. 
The Dr. heckled me for stretching my sciatic nerve (let's hope she's right) and then went on to prescribe some Hillbilly Heroin for me. I took one dose, spent two hours scratching madly, giggled inappropriately at the TV, goaded the sleeping cats into play, and to frost the cake, took out markers and started coloring in the dark. About two in the morning, my GoodMan rolled over and told me he was planning on smothering me with a pillow if I didn't settle down. The pain never left, I just didn't care. No more O. for me.
When not feeling too totally crappy, I have resumed machine quilting this un-named project I started last summer at Elizabeth Barton's studio. And no jokes about a dildo farm. This piece is quite large and I really didn't notice all things being at arm's length and all.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Head cold Redux
If boogers were gold, I could really retire.
Did this cold ever really go away? My head feels like it's full of wet cement.
I'm down to Alka-Selter for Colds mixed in Gallo Hearty Burgundy. Nasty but effective. In the meantime, all I can muster in the studio are more of these. I probably shouldn't be allowed to use the rotary cutter much less operate a Janome.
Friday, January 13, 2006
When in doubt, go Shopping!
Well, not doubt, just a wandering mind kind of mental inefficiency that goes along with a nagging back injury. I went to IKEA today, the big shiny new one in downtown Atlanta, a stones throw from Atlantic Station where my GoodMan is overseeing the construction of a new restaurant. I got there quite by accident - took a right instead of a left after dropping Colin off at the jobsite. The only thing I had in mind was a mini trash can for my desk at work. I came away with a whole huge bag of fun.Big enough to tote your average three year old in, they sell them for 99 cents. 
This silly business hangs up for drying one's unmentionables only I visualized pieces of hand dyed fabric flapping in the breeze. For 3.99, I can imagine anything I want.
These are rubbery plastic ice cube trays but I could see them flipped over with paint on their cute little backsides all ready to pounce all over some fabric.
And here's what IKEA is really famous for: stuff that you have to put together yourself. It took me about an hour to "build" this. Like most American households, the proper tools are never where you left them so I made this with the screwdriver on my grandmother's Boy Scout knife (it was in her sewing basket) and the wrong end of a staple hammer. I thought about glue but that would have been too much committment.
Just the thing for all the miscellaneous crapola swarming all over my sewing table. Now to teach that drunken service monkey to put things away once I have finished with them. I'm sad that the second one came without it's bloody damn screws so I will have to visit the hardware store tomorrow to finish it off. I will have to mix up some sort of stain for these. Very theraputic.
This silly business hangs up for drying one's unmentionables only I visualized pieces of hand dyed fabric flapping in the breeze. For 3.99, I can imagine anything I want.
These are rubbery plastic ice cube trays but I could see them flipped over with paint on their cute little backsides all ready to pounce all over some fabric.
And here's what IKEA is really famous for: stuff that you have to put together yourself. It took me about an hour to "build" this. Like most American households, the proper tools are never where you left them so I made this with the screwdriver on my grandmother's Boy Scout knife (it was in her sewing basket) and the wrong end of a staple hammer. I thought about glue but that would have been too much committment.
Just the thing for all the miscellaneous crapola swarming all over my sewing table. Now to teach that drunken service monkey to put things away once I have finished with them. I'm sad that the second one came without it's bloody damn screws so I will have to visit the hardware store tomorrow to finish it off. I will have to mix up some sort of stain for these. Very theraputic.
Monday, January 09, 2006
contest
Prizes if you can guess the city/town/village that match my former locations:
Four Places You've Lived:
122 Commercial Street
10 Bank Street
15 Baker Steet
25 1/2 Dykeman Road
and here's another detail shot of my CQ06 entry:
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