New Year - New Journal

I've spent the last few weeks thinking about the new year. The time everyone starts thinking about New Year's resolutions. I had the idea that I'd start November 1st with the new journal I made. I think of the year changing on October 31st but that's another story. The idea got tossed on the back burner so I guess I'll wait for January 1st instead. The focus I want to put on the journals is not so much resolutions but goals. Not the "I will go to the gym 3 times a week and lose a gazillon pounds" stuff that you know you aren't going to do when you wrote it down.

Sometimes when I start mulling things over, I'll see the topic popping up all over the place. I generally take this as good sign. While I was thinking about the things I missed in my life and the things I value, several of the podcasts I listen to regularly talked about defining your values. I went to Violette's blog after listening to Ricë's interview with her and there it was again. Sometimes the Universe gives subtle hints, other times it whomps you up side the head.

I have in the recent past allowed myself to be swayed from what I want to do by other people. This baffles the crap out of me. Why the hell do I do that? Why now? For the whole of my life until now, I haven't given a flying fig what other people think about pretty much anything. And I'd always had an iron will. Iron clad in titanium. Getting so far off track isn't sitting well with me. I need to change this. Pronto. I need to redefine the things that are important to me, the things I value and focus on putting those things in the forefront of my activities.

So, what are some of the things I value, things that are important to me? Having an "online" life is one of them. I used to enjoy meeting and talking to other creative people all the time. I got away from it for all the wrong reasons. I met a girl here who told me she loved reading all the stuff I posted in some of the forums were were both on. It made me feel good. I tend to look at my ideas as being out in left field most of the time and it was nice to hear positive feedback from someone. And even better to learn that I had inspired them.

Making things is important to me and that didn't stop. It slowed down to a crawl for a while though. Making things to sell - well, that part did stop. It is important to me and I need to quit talking myself out of it. My head says stuff like "Your ideas aren't generic enough for mass appeal." Yeah, so what? Or "The type people who love your stuff don't have any money." Again, so what? As a used car salesman I know always said, "There's an ass for every seat."

Another thing I need to address is my health. My weight has yo-yo'd and it dramatically affects my ability to control my blood sugar. I was a vegetarian for most of my life and I was healthy. I am questioning why I decided to eat meat again. I say it was because I'm lazy. It's very hard to be a vegetarian around these parts if you don't cook. Everything has meat in it. Yeah those green beans look innocent and untainted but trust me, they ain't vegetarian. Don't believe me? Ask the cook. I have to control my blood sugar levels, it really is a matter of life and death. The weight is secondary. It would be nice to have all the clothes in my closet fit consistently. Going up and down all the time is annoying.

Making more time for friends is also important. One of the factors in moving back into the city was to be closer to friends. I have done a terrible job at making it a reality so far. Yes, I've had friends over but not like I'd like to do. And certainly haven't done it regularly. Part of the problem is some sort of distorted sense of perfection. I think that when the house is done, just so, then it'll all be great. That's ridiculous. I don't know anyone who's house is just as they'd like it. This house is monstrous huge and many projects are in various stages of completion. It'll be done years from now. No sense in hiding away until it's perfect. I think I need to hire someone to help me clean before I can entertain. First of all, my friends aren't the fussy type. If they were, they wouldn't be my friends. Secondly, even on my bad days, our house isn't that dirty.

There's plenty of other things but that's enough for now. I have aprons to make! And I just had an idea for a new one. And a purse.

New Traditions

We have no Christmas traditions. There's a long list of why this is; differing religious and spiritual standpoints, not living near family and not having much family to begin with, and just simply not being "traditional" people. Christmas evening I was sitting at my sewing machine while my Beloved played on the computer. Earlier in the evening, my daughter had said something about gnomes or elves or something. I don't remember exactly what she said but it made me remember something else.

Last Christmas my Beloved had just returned from a long and drudging job he'd been on. The cupboards were bare. The grocery store isn't my favorite place and if he's not home, I don't cook. Since it was Christmas, everything was closed. The only thing open was the restaurant at the truck stop. So we went in. They had one cook and one waitress and a motley group of patrons. We waited what seemed an eternity for our food. The waitress apologized several times but seriously, what else did we have to do? At the counter was a man dressed like a cross-cultural gnome. He had a pointy gnome hat, Osh Kosh overalls, an ornately carved staff, and a bone pipe choker. Some of the other patrons looked like extras for Deliverance. The part that amused me the most was that they kept looking at us like we were the weirdoes. We are, but that's beside the point. The food finally arrived and wow - it was absolutely delicious. I rarely eat everything on my plate but I didn't leave a scrap that time. I just couldn't stop myself.

So this Christmas evening I brought up the lack of Christmas traditions and that we should make our own. I asked if he remembered the gnome. He laughed and said he'd forgotten all about it. As I talked about it, he remembered how good the food was and the silly fun we had. I asked if he wanted to go. Now. That would be our new Christmas tradition. We'll go to the truck stop, eat like pigs, enjoy the cast of characters, and with any luck the Gnome will show up. So off we went.

The place looked exactly the same, cheesy Mardi Gras posters still lined the walls but they had more staff and customer this time around. And I really was the weirdest looking person in the place this time too. A group of seniors sitting at the table nearby were discussing which area casinos had the best buffets and whether or not they needed to protect the water pipes at home. The waitress came over to get our orders and I ordered the same thing I got last time. Once again, it was awesomely delicious and I cleaned my plate. They had gumbo on the soup and salad bar. It was pretty good but couldn't hold a candle to my friend Marsha's gumbo. She is truly the reigning Queen of the Gumbo. Customers came and went but there was no sight of the Gnome. I giggled all through dinner.

We told the waitress why we were there. She thought the story was a hoot but instantly recognized the Gnome in the story. She said he always dresses like that and was a regular. I'd decided that if he had shown up, I would try to strike up a conversation with him. I wanted to know why he dresses like a Gnome. What do those pieces mean to him? I don't know how he would take being quizzed by someone dressed like a Pirate but there was a chance he'd think it was funny too. Maybe next time. As we were leaving the waitress called out, "See you next year!" Yes, yes you will!

Yule Greetings

Happy Solstice and Merry Yule!

I tried to find a link somewhere out there in internet land of this years Solstice at Stonehenge but no one has posted anything yet. Still celebrating I guess. Maybe tomorrow some new ones will turn up.

Meantime, here's a video of The Dolmen. The sculpture at 1:32 is amazing. I would love to have something like that in my yard. Wow, just WOW!

Copycat, Copycat, Woe, Woe, Woe

A topic has been coming up a lot around here lately and that is copying. It's not so cut and dry as that really, more the whole Inspiration/Imitation versus copying/plagiarism ball of worms. A few instances of copying and outright theft have made me very reluctant to put too much of my stuff "out there" for all to see.

I used to post pictures of nearly everything I did and even instructions for some of the stuff. Then one day, one of my most popular designs comes walking in my store printed on a light blue t-shirt. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked the lady where she got it. The CVS on Canal. Ripped off at home this time. Did they think I wouldn't see it sooner or later? And what a big ball of worms it is trying to sue them. The part that irks me the most is that is was on a pastel color. I designed it to be printed on black. It looks like crap otherwise. Steal my work and butcher it too. Jeez Louise!

I have on occasion copied someone else's work as a learning exercise. Learning the techniques they used to achieve the finished product. I think this is fairly normal. There was debate about this way back in school as to some of the art world's masters. I won't get into all that but of course they were influenced by and copied others. The point is that learning is one thing. It can be seen as a step on the path of developing skills and your own personal style. Copying others because you're lazy or unoriginal is something else. Copying someone else's work and claiming it as your own and/or profiting from it is a criminal act.

A sense of personal style is important. Certain things I like have suddenly come into vogue. I'm not sure I like that entirely. On one hand, they're easier to find now. On the other hand, it cheapens it. I cringe when I see fad chasing girls wearing skulls and studded accessories with Paris Hilton butt-ugly sunglasses with Hello Kitty boots. Ugh. This is one of the reasons why I like to make my own clothing and accessories. No mass marketed-everyone has it. When I do buy things, I don't mind forking over extra for one of a kind items.

My family and friends tease me about how I behave when some people ask where I got things. If they have a similar style, are creative, or we "click", I will tell them. But if they're just interested because it's something they deem trendy, I don't. Information is different. I will gladly tell you HOW I did something, where to get supplies, and names of artistic people you might be interested in. I will even SHOW you how I did something. Learn it and make it your own. In my little world, that's the way it should be.

I don't feel flattered when I am imitated. I get annoyed. Except last Halloween. My daughter dressed up as me for Halloween. I thought it was funny. I am told at least once a day that I look "just like that girl on NCIS." Sure thing. Except that Abby is a fictional character, is much younger, doesn't wear glasses, and doesn't have dreadlocks. I don't have neck tattoos and I'm not that pretty. We both have bangs, wear a lot of eyeliner, and dress in black. Then they usually ask if I am trying to look like her. I've looked like this most of my life and that show has only been on for a few years. So, NO.

I find inspiration everywhere, from other artists to a streaky evening sky. I don't suffer from a lack of ideas - ever. I suffer from too damn many ideas. And never enough time to breathe life into them all. My Muse works overtime. I certainly have no problem inspiring others, I love it actually. Inspiration for you to make something that had YOU stamped all over it, no a carbon copy of something I did. Know what I mean, Vern?

Carts and No Horses

We have a strange variety of stuff at work and most of it is of no interest to me. No, I drag home all the stuff we throw away. After being off for a couple of days, I returned to find nifty looking clear cases for iPhones. My mind took off with all the possibilities of altering them. Reverse decoupage! My own artwork! Then I became flummoxed trying to open said case. My coworker figured it out in seconds. Yeah, just like having to get a kid to open your child-proof bottles for you.

My creative giddiness was quickly dashed on the sharp rocks of crushing reality. The case is for an iPhone. The iPhone home screen is printed on the little insert card. The iPhone doesn’t fit. Nope. Not even close. And I tried with the fervor of the wicked step-sister trying to shove her flat feet in those glass slippers. Damn.

My current case is cool so it’s all good. But an opportunity to have a super cool case would have rocked.

Turkeys and Pigs

I fairly well convinced myself that I have Swine Flu. I have the flu for certain, whether or not it's H1N1 is undetermined. Either way, I feel like poopy on a stick. And I am NOT going to the doctor to find out. That's a rant for some other time.

We didn't do anything special for Thanksgiving, but then we never do. I don't like turkey on the other 364 days of the year so I'm not cooking one on the 4th Thursday of November just because you're supposed to. I put up the Yule/Christmas tree and attempted to design a skirt for the tree. I came up with several ideas (as is usually the case) and finally settled on one only to discover I threw away the fabric I wanted to use. I use the word fabric loosely, it was some kind of laminated silvery plastic with a fuzzy backing. Like a disco tablecloth. Anyway, it's a moot point now because I tossed it out. I hate when I get all determined to clean up my hoarded supplies and then realize I really could have used whatever I got rid off. I try to simplify the rest of the house but I need to accept the the fact that my crafting room will ALWAYS be an overstuffed disaster area.

For the tree skirt, I decided I wanted a double skirt, a 5 pointed star over a circle. The points being purple and black crazy quilted and the circular skirt underneath the silver. I have some silver lame but it's too narrow and too thin. But I do have miles of it, so it could be swirled and draped. I don't know. I've decided to hold off for a bit, until I either get well or get more silver plasticy stuff. The tree is black. The ornaments are silver, stars mostly. I seem to have misplaced the purple lights I bought after Halloween specifically to use for the tree. So the poor tree tree is sitting in the parlor in limbo for the moment.

I made a book out of brown paper grocery bags. It looks kinda crappy but I like it. For some reason I simply cannot explain, I only had one sheet of the paper I wanted to cover the book with. I never buy just one sheet of anything. Did I use it somewhere and I just don't remember? So only the front of the book got covered in the lovely fall-ish leaf paper. I can always lie and say I meant to do it that way!

I painted a green man in the book. After I finished him, I forgot what I was going to write on the other page. When it ever comes back to me, I'll finish the page.

I called my darling friend Curtis yesterday for advice about doing my Beloved's hair. Curtis is a former hairstylist and cosmetology teacher. Me, forget it! I can cut paper, I can cut fabric, I can cut wood. I cannot cut hair. I've tried to think of it architecturally, like a pattern. How hard could this be, right? Nope. All of my attempts left my victims looking like they'd been attacked by brain eating mutant zombie weed whackers. My poor Beloved was a fork in the road with color too. He could only see the grey around his face, I got to see the 4 or 5 others he had swirling around the back. As I explained my intention to Curtis, he told me not to touch a thing, he'd be right over. This was a great relief to my Beloved, I'm sure!

Curtis and I walked to the beauty supply store since it was so close, a mere 5 blocks away. I forgot that walking when sick isn't such a nifty idea, I wished we'd drove instead. I thought to call my Beloved and have him come get us but it dawned on me that he was blocked in and wouldn't be able to. I had a hot flash in the store on top of everything else. Ugh! When we got back, I plopped myself by the open dining room window and managed to cool off. Curtis bleached my Beloved's hair and then but a toner on it. Then he gave him a short cut. I love it! It is WHITE! Not blonde, not grey - WHITE. Johnny and Edgar Winter WHITE. My Beloved is very tan so he doesn't look like he has a pigmentation disorder with the colorless hair. I'd love for my hair to be white but I'd probably be mistaken for an albino if I did it. I get teased enough as it is.

Pinturas

There's nursing home right behind where I work. Some of the residents are annoying but a few are adorable, happy despite their situations. I keep telling myself I need to stop getting attached to them, they're over there for a reason. Pieces of my heart die with them.

One of the newer residents is Vasco. He's from Spain and fancies himself as Picasso. He's wandered around the Quarter for years selling his painting for whatever he could get for them. He was pleased as could be to discover that I speak Spanish and has appointed me his new best friend.

Vasco asked me which I liked the most, buildings or flowers. Buildings. He brought me a painting he did of The Dumaine House. I can't say as I remember offhand what the house looks like so I'll have take his word for it.

The nutty thing was how almost started attacking the painting. Yes, it's not technical and looks kinda childish. BUT - I like outsider art. I like wild colors. I like suggested movement. And it was a gift. So there!












- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Patio Table Redux

When we moved in this house, the backyard was jumbled and junky but it had potential. We got the junk out of the way (except for the bathtub but that's another story). A previous tenet had dug up the bricks to the side of the patio in an attempt to steal cable. Like no one would notice the unsightly hump he made when he put the bricks back. Replacing the bricks wasn't an option as they are old and almost impossible to find, not to mention costly. My Beloved dug them up, chipped off the old mortar and reset them. It looks so much better and I have the added benefit of being able to walk across the area without fear of busting my ass.

Of the things left behind by others, there was the bar (which I have redone) and a plywood table with a hideous attempt at a Compass Rose painted on it. The base was awkward and unsightly. And too damn high. I wanted to keep the top and the glass cover. My Beloved sanded the top and sprayed it with primer. And then it sat. And sat some more. But I did get some veneer to cover the edges with in the meantime!

I was in the house knocking around and get a strange text message from my Beloved, "I need a good brushing. Remember me?" Say what? Then another, "I have great potential...all I need is a good coat." I head outside to see what in the world he's talking about. When I saw what he'd done with the table I had to laugh. He even left his phone there to make it seem like the table was messaging me. Okay, Okay! I get it. Paint the table.

Several designs had occurred to me at different points but since we'd more or less come to an agreement on what we wanted the space to be, I had to come up with something fitting. When I first laid eyes on the space I thought "English Garden." I meant wild, explosive, whimsical, riotously colorful English garden, not tightly manicured and geometric English garden. But as we discussed ideas more, we moved further and further away from it. Now it's Moroccan or as my Beloved called it, Arabian Nights. I busied myself with coming up with a design and set to work.

I ironed on the veneer to mask the cut edges of the plywood, transferred my design and got busy. I love it. Even though we knocked off the base it was originally on and added legs, it's still too high for my liking. When my Beloved gets home, he'll shorten the legs and it'll be perfect.

Oooh That Smell

We have a large Sweet Olive tree in the front yard that bathes the whole place with its wonderful scent. I knew where the scent was coming from but I sometimes forget my Beloved “ain’t from around here.” We were driving down Prytania one evening last week with the windows down. The air was heavy with the scent of the many Sweet Olives that line the street. My Beloved asked where the scent was coming from. The trees. When we got back home, I pointed out the one in our yard. He made the comment that they just don’t have  that up north. True, but they don’t have melt your face off heat and humidity either.

I thought of a place I used to live, the fences invisible under the drapery of honeysuckle, jasmine, and wisteria. Sweet Olives poked through the jungle and roses filled the flower beds. Moonflowers climbed the side of the windows to draw luna moths into view. We would sit outside in the evenings, weeding and laughing as my then 18 month old grandson chased “fey” aka fireflies around the property. The scent on the evening breeze was intoxicating. I thought if I could bottle that scent, I’d be a millionaire. My grandson will be nine this year and I can still remember the way the place smelled so vividly.

Now that the weather has cooled off, we have turned our attention the outdoor spaces of our home. The patio was a disaster area. Cast offs and ugly things left by the previous tenets littered the space. We moved, threw away, and cleaned. It’s become our favorite place to be. The previous tenets left a quarter circle bar on the patio. It was in an awkward place and hideous. I’m really bad at remembering to take photos of things before I decide to alter them so I have nothing to illustrate my point here. The trim was coming off and the front is textured like rock. Except they left it the color of the texturing product and slapped fluorescent lime green paint on it in random blobs. Like I said, it was hideous. My first thought was to drag it out to the street with a sign declaring “Please take this.” We do need some sort of storage for extra planters and barbeque stuff. So I nailed the trim back in place and painted the whole thing a dark grey. Then I mixed up some varying greys and smushed and sponged. When it was dry, I dry brushed the base grey on the high spots of the texture. I love it now. We have a place to stow stuff out of the way and I don’t want to bleach my eyeballs looking at it!

We have more planned for the area but it will have wait for now. I have sewing projects lined up and waiting for some attention.

I Brake for Fashion

There's a little shop on Magazine that always has the cutest little cargo dresses hanging outside. I always tell myself I should stop in and check them out but never did. I had to run some dinner to my daughter yesterday and spied something new hanging outside of the shop. It made me hit the brakes and pull over.



I went inside and discovered that she not only had on in my size, she had it in black. I didn't even have my purse with me but the lovely shop keeper agreed to hold it for me until I get off work today.

The shop is filled with such beautiful things, vintage dresses, and one of a kind garments. I think I have just found my new favorite place to shop!
-- Posted from my iPhone

Busy Busy Busy

I have seriously neglected posting anything anywhere of late. Since moving back into the city it’s been a constant stream of projects. Most of the interior painting is done. The patio is looking less like the set of Sanford and Son.

I went through a period of injuring myself with home improvement projects. My back was screaming at me. It seems that my back doesn’t like being up on ladders while painting. Probably because I was so tense as I am terrified of ladders. That’s not true, what terrifies me is falling off. Anyway, the hot tub and a large jug of Ibuprofen kept me from laying on the railroad tracks.

The formal entry is now two lovely shades of purple and the parlor is two shades of grey. Painting the upper part of the parlor was a nightmare and a half best left for another entry.

The dining room is a sort of non-color color. There’s a lot more to be done to the room and the non-color is just a backdrop. The best thing to happen in there was changing the butt-ugly ceiling fan to a much nicer chandelier. I still have to stencil the walls and paint a trompe l’oeil panel over the bar. I’ll get that done as soon as my Beloved scares me up some scaffolding because I am through with the ladders!

The main thing that has been taking up my time is glass. We don’t like how the front door dumps you into a massive, almost overwhelming space. We decided to make a three paneled room divider with a steel frame that would mimic the aquarium stand. But what to fill the panels with? We decided on stained glass. After browsing the internet for ideas, we came up with our own design since nothing we found was exactly what we were looking for. It’s been many a year since I did any glass work and need to bring my skill (and confidence) level up. I made a bunch of small projects and when I was sure I could make something large and outstanding, we went shopping for glass. A LOT of glass.

I know I complain about service in New Orleans way too much. Bad service is the norm here and you can always tell who isn’t from here – they’re the ones balking. We looked online for glass at first. The glass seemed cheap at first but then when you added shipping and all the other miscellaneous fees, it wasn’t such a bargain. Plus I have no faith in the mail service either. We’d most likely end up with big boxes of broken glass. I found a store in Metairie and drove over to look around. Not only did they have everything we were looking for, the service is absolutely outstanding! Truly fabulous people and a such a pleasure to do business with. So if you are in the New Orleans area and looking for stained glass, I highly recommend The Stained Glass Studio. Tell ‘em Miss Purple and Red sent you.

Swoon . . .

If you couldn’t already guess, I’m a huge Alice in Wonderland fan. And Johnny Depp fan. And Tim Burton, what can I say. If he’s involved, I’m there. I simply cannot wait for this movie to be released. But if it weren’t enough that all my Wonderland dreams are being born into reality, I just read that Johnny is going to play Barnabas Collins. Holy Cow! This is too much excitement for an old woman!

If I’m dreaming, please don’t wake me

We spent the night in the new house last night. I woke up at the usual time but had oodles of time for myself. I made coffee and got to have a cup. Before it was grab coffee, hope to get a few sips before rushing out the door chanting "I'm late." I took more than 2 seconds to pick out clothes for the day. I flattened my bangs even though with this humidity, it's an exercise in futility. I made notes for myself in my journal. Then I left for work. It took me a whole two and a half minutes to get to work. Holy cow. I can certainly deal with that!

While at work today, I received a very nice compliment. A couple of regulars are moving to North Carolina this week. One of them told me the other said the only thing he would miss about New Orleans was "the really nice lady who always wears black." I said I was glad to know someone would miss me and I would miss seeing them around too.

The exchange tickled me but made me kind of sad at the same time. I have a bunch of Thank You cards given to me by customers. In my eyes, I didn't do anything special. Just being nice. Just being a decent person. In their eyes, it was such a rarity, special enough to take the time to write a message in a card and send it to me. Whatever happened to being nice? Most people here are so rude. The bad part is they aren't aware that their behavior wouldn't be acceptable in the rest of the civilized world. Hold the door for others, help the person in the wheelchair by getting things from they can't reach, greet people with sincerity, make eye contact when they are speaking, and for chrissake - SMILE!! Your face won't break, I promise.

In our new home, the room that is to be my new crafting space was  wallpapered in something you just had to be on acid to have said, "Oh yes! That's what I want on my walls!" The horrific shade of teal painted under the chair rail was pretty ugly too. The room is now white above the chair rail and purple below it. When I get the black and white striped stuff in there it will be my own twisted slice of heaven. I love the tub in the master bath and looking up at the chandelier while soaking is silly fun!

But I have to get going and stop rambling. Load the truck and make another trip to our new house.

Home Sweet Home

It’s been awhile since I posted anything, lots of stuff going on. I have wanted to move back into the city for quite some time for many reasons. The absurd amount I was spending on gas every week, the lost 2 hours a day in commute time, and lack of a social life topped the list. Beloved was less than thrilled at the prospect of moving back into the city. Where we live is quiet and the crime rate is zero. We discussed moving back many times and he said it would have to be perfect. I thought perfect was something we’d never find. Form a mental picture of me sitting at the table, bib around my neck, knife and fork in hand with a large plate of crow.

We found perfect. We found beyond perfect. We both said that if we’d made a list of everything we wanted in our respective ideas of “perfect,” this place has all of them and many more. It’s a cavernous old Victorian with a detached garage. Finding anything here with a garage is quite a feat. Not only is the garage big enough for Beloved’s workshop, it has a home gym in the back end of it. It has a lovely and very private back yard and covered patio. It has a hot tub! The wrought iron fenced front yard is adorable. The kitchen has tons of cabinets, counter space, and a dishwasher. I won’t know how to act! And closets! Closets everywhere! BIG closets! And stained glass! And ornate fireplaces!

Needless to say, we signed the lease are in the process of moving. We are so excited. Since the new place is less than a mile from my work, my commute time and gas bill are negligible now. My friends can actually visit me now. Beloved has a place to grill even if it’s raining. We have sunny garden space. This is going to be so good!

If I were any Greener I’d be a damn Leprechaun

I have some friends, well more like acquaintances since we don’t actually “hang out” (and I’d probably end up smacking a few of them if we did), who have gone all out about Earth Day and being green. Please don’t lecture me. I made it all these long years just fine without a bunch of idealist minded twenty-somethings explaining life to me.

I was raised by my grandparents, two people who were seriously scarred by the Great Depression. They recycled EVERYTHING. Nothing was ever thrown away until every last drop of its usefulness was exhausted. We lived in a modest house built by my grandparents. We grew our own fruit and vegetables. We had bees for honey. Our food scraps went to the compost heap. We tore down old houses and barns to recycle the wood. Some of my best loved treasures came from the dump. We’d haul off our garbage and end up dragging someone else’s home. Being wasteful was a serious sin.

When I was 12 I got my first glimpse into our family’s finances. My grandparents were pretty much rolling in it. Filthy Stinking Rich. Their lifestyle was choice not necessity. Our life wasn’t all frugality. We never wanted for a thing. Christmas morning at our house was a jaw dropping experience. I got a full sized rail dune buggy for my 11th birthday. And I was certainly the only 16 year old riding around town on a new Harley Davidson.

My grandparent’s frugal ways became permanently etched into my being. I look at everything and ask myself how I could use it before passing it over or tossing it out. Even at work, my boss will ask me if I want an item before he takes it to the dumpster. My dress form (homemade at that) rolls around thanks to a recycled store display. A few of my mates, Beloved included, were initially horrified by my penchant for dumpster diving. Once they learn that I can make something really cool with whatever I drag home they come around. And it was FREE! That’s the best part! I save and repurpose everything.

Since my boss creeped into this rambling tale, I have to mention something amusing. Everyone is always asking me why my boss is so unfriendly and hardly ever talks. He’s just standoffish if he doesn’t know you very well. But if he likes you, he likes you. He tripped me out a bit this last week with my friend Teresa. He bullshits with her, laughs with us. When some of my other friends come in, he asks me questions about what’s going on with them after they leave. He doesn’t speak to them directly. For some reason, Teresa is different. He talks to her. She loves our ice cream and was let down when the machine locked up on me one afternoon. As soon as he got the machine fixed, he asked me to call her and let her know it was back on. Crazy.

Sam, my former co-worker got back from Algeria last Friday and came to hang out with us yesterday. He brought me back a darling hanging incense burner. Last time he went, he brought me back an awesome Moroccan lamp. My boss looked at the incense burner and said I needed the charcoal tablets to burn the incense on. I said I had plenty. He got all happy and asked where I got them. The voodoo shop. He laughed and said “The voodoo shop! You would say that.” Yup. Got the incense there too.

Immaculate Conception and Other Lunacy

I watched one of the most astounding programs on TV last night. Stories of women who gave birth without knowing they were pregnant in the first place. Some of the women had given birth before, some not. Most of the women were overweight but a couple were skinny. One of the doctors on the show kept reiterating that every pregnancy is different, even with the same woman. Yeah, I get that. Been there, done that. But still . . . it’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t know.

I understand that some babies move a lot, others not so much. We joked that my eldest would make a great soccer player since all she did was kick – visibly! My third child wouldn’t move for weeks sometimes. She was even two weeks overdue. It’s no great surprise to us that she turned out to be very lazy. I didn’t get very big with the first child until the 8th month. I wore regular clothes until I was 7 months pregnant. But still, the round little potbelly was a dead giveaway. With the second, I went from a size 4 to a size 12 by the time I was 5 months pregnant. I was huge! I waddled!

I’d heard comments most of my life about the “glowing” pregnant woman. I was never that woman. I was the miserable woman with the green face who looked like she was going to puke at any moment. I should have named my youngest daughter Mylanta because that’s all I could keep down for 5 months.

My first pregnancy was the easiest, probably due to a complete lack of stress. Labor lasted 24 hours but never became more painful than a bad case of gas. I even fell asleep. The doctor woke me up to tell me it was time to push. The second one was the exact opposite. I screamed, kicked, and bit. The pain was so intense I really started to believe I was going to die.

All of the thoughts on pregnancy and birth takes me back to Friday. That’s the day all the anti-abortion idiots descend on St. Charles Avenue. Most of the time they steer clear of us since their run in with my boss. They must have forgotten because they started coming in last Friday. I was less charitable than my boss was to them. I have one of their pamphlets around here. I need to scan it and post it. The only thing they left off was alien abduction. It’s such far-fetched conspiracy crap you just scratch your head and say “What?”

One of the protesting men tried to label me as feminist and insinuated that I was a lesbian. Feminist, maybe. Lesbian, not even a little. No, my bitch is that YOU – a MAN – have no place in the discussion. You cannot get pregnant. It’s not your CHOICE! He said something I didn’t catch all of but apparently he thought I didn’t have any kids. Whatever. I have a slew of kids. None of them were planned and I didn’t abort any of them – because it was my CHOICE! That’s the issue you retard – CHOICE!

A female police officer assigned to guard the protesters gave me a little tidbit about some of the protesters. Many of the males have recently been released from prison, two of them for RAPE! They were recruited through a “Christian” outreach program while in prison. WTF? Don’t even get me started about the Bible beating freaks in the South. Somewhere around here I have a cartoon I clipped out of an Arabic newspaper of Bin-Laden sitting in a cave reading the Holy Quran upside down. Southern fringe Christians are no different. 

Fell Off the Earth for a Bit but I’m Back

My tattoo is finally complete! Hooray! I went to see Mike last week to fill in the missing parts. I was going to post a picture of the finished work but after a conversation with Mike about original works, I decided not to. It’s mine. My artwork. If someone copied it, I might be induced into some Ed Gein-like behavior.

I'm still knee-deep in trying to get my craft room in order. I have way too much stuff and the bad part is that I've already taken some of it to storage. I did manage to get the magnetic panels hung on the walls (after my Beloved routed out a channel in the molding for me) and they look fantastic.

My boss bought a huge box of random items for next to nothing. None of the things are really what we ordinarily sell but what the hell. In the group were some photo albums that piqued my interest. My boss, being the generous person he is and knowing how I love to alter everything I come across, gave me one. The design on the box and album have a seashell design with little shells in the bump out window and the most tragically translated poem I've ever read. Anyway, it ain't me. So I took it home and took it apart. I recovered everything and spooked up the little window. I like it much better now.



I got another one for my daughter. I printed out little pictures of my Granddaughters with fairy wings and put them in the window with the caption, "The Princess Chronicles." The front inside page has "Once Upon a Time" and the back has "And They Lived Happily Ever After." I decided that I'd add some of the cool glitter I bought a long time ago and never used. I'm just not really a glitter person but the girls like it. I smear glue on the cover in an organic, marble like pattern and pour on the glitter. All was well until I stood the album up to tap off the excess glitter. Poof! This stuff is micro-fine and doesn't behave like normal glitter as I sadly learned. It flew off in a mushroom cloud spurred on by the ceiling fan. Was I in my craft room when I was doing this? Hell no. I was in the living room so now my entire house is sparkly. There's glitter in the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, computer room and all points in between. My pirate pajamas may never be the same. Beloved came home and asked me why there was glitter all over the house. Uh, because I'm a dumbass.


In other news, my neighborhood is flooding. My Beloved and I rode down to the river last night to see how much the river had risen. It was all the way across one lane of the road. The little creek next to our street was touching the street. When I left for work early this morning, they had the street blocked off. The creek was all the way across the road and 30 feet wide. Okies – take the long way around. Beloved called me later to say that they’d just closed down the exit off the interstate closest to the house. The river was all the way across both lanes and rising. And it rained again. And it’s supposed to rain some more. Lovely.

Back to Normal

Mardi Gras is over. I survived another one. There was a prize at the end of the torment – I’m back on days only now. That makes me very, very happy. It took me a few days to rest up and adjust to the new schedule. All better now and looking forward to “normal” life.

I took this picture of a tree draped with beads but the sky had clouded up and it didn’t turn out that great. I wanted to retake the picture the next day when it would be sunnier. While working the next day, I glanced out toward the tree. Horror! Workers were removing all the beads from the tree! Oh well. C’est la vie.

Hardly any of my pictures turned out like I’d like but what the heck, you can’t expect Ansel Adams results when you’re using a Blackjack cell phone instead of a real camera. I didn’t get much opportunity to run out to the street like I did last year.

King Arthur. Pretty cool float. I have no idea what their theme was this year.

The Jester from Rex.

Confetti and bubbles from Bacchus.

Bacchus.

It wasn’t a totally horrible Mardi Gras this year. The shootings certainly soured the city. No one peed in the cooler this year, so that’s a good thing. I did manage to catch some bling for the granddaughters. And I got them some silly hats for cheap by means of haggling with the Pikeys.

Thoughts on Creativity

The ever delightful Ricë has been running a new series of artist’s answers to the basic questions:

1. What is creativity?
2. Where does it come from?
3. What can people do to access it and make the most of it in their lives?

Since I have a little time before I have to return to the madness that is work during Mardi Gras, I thought I’d give answering those questions a shot.

1. What is creativity?
An innate desire to change our surroundings, to put our own stamp on things, to tell our stories. From our ancestors painting on cave walls to painting our walls something other than white, from fashioning rudimentary clothing from animal hides to dressing like Cyndi Lauper, from the first person to say "Hey, this weed smells pretty good, I think I'll throw some in the stewpot" to making smiley faces in pancakes, it's our desire to make our world our own.

2. Where does it come from?
It's a force inside of us, something we are born with. The desire, the force to create is stronger in some than others. Some just like to have small touches of creativity in their lives while others like to have it pour out as if a dam burst.

3. What can people do to access it and make the most of it in their lives? You just need to let go of perfection and fear of screwing up. Don't be afraid of the white page, the blank canvas, or to cut the fabric. It's not that special and if you screw it up, they'll make more. I promise. Even if that piece of fabric was woven with hairs from sacred goats by isolated monks in Tibet, honestly - it's just fabric. Experiment. Go outside your comfort zone. Try something safe and easy to build skills and confidence. Then try something you think you can't do. You'll be amazed. Sure, we all want our creative pursuits to turn out great but sometimes they don't. If you never mess up, you miss invaluable opportunities to learn. Think of how many wonderful discoveries have happened because of mistakes.
People also need to realize that creativity comes in many forms. It's not just the ability to make pretty marks on paper or canvas, sewing or stitching, making a form in clay, etc. Planning a garden, cooking, arranging your living space - creativity exists in all aspects of everyday life. A key to being happy with your creative pursuits and continue to grow creatively is to know yourself. What do YOU like? A you drawn to small and dainty or big and bold? What screams "This is ME!"? If you are trying things just because everyone else is doing it but it's not "you", change it until it is YOU.

Just my two cents worth.

Just shoot me

Only three more days. Only three more days. That's my new mantra. If I can just survive three more days of Mardi Hell, I'll be okay! My tolerance for the intoxicated is limited at best. Give me large groups of the snockered and I'm struggling with my homicidal urges.

The drunken college girls really amuse me. Not in a good way. I'm no militant feminist but these twits are undoing everything their foremother's worked hard for and suffered to get. No hon, batting your eyelashes and switching to one hip will not open doors for you, especially to the door with the sign "Restroom Out of Order." One of them even pushed her bottom lip out in a faux pout. Seriously, does that generally work on other females? Suck it up Barbie, I'm not even slightly gay. You're not cute, you're annoying.

I have to go back to bed now. Rest for the insanity that will be later today.

Parade of Idiots

I just love it when people come in the store during the parades and ask me if I’m enjoying my Mardi Gras. Sure, I love drunken morons and working 14 hour days. Doesn’t everyone?

Not everything was bad though, there were a some good or amusing moments. And some bad stuff too. First the good or funny things.

I pull up to work with the stereo on kinda loud. A regular customer says, “What are you listening to, fucking opera?” I smile sweetly and reply, “No. It’s just regular opera.” It wasn’t opera at all. I was listening to Ungrateful Girl by Mors Syphilitica. I go inside and a couple of minutes later, he comes in to tell me I was being sarcastic. Really? Kinda slow on the uptake there Buddy!

One of my favorite couples came in, Del and Beth. They are so fun. I wish I had more time – a normal life – so I could actually hang out with them some time. Del is looking for a seamstress to make pirate stuff. He met someone who does that sort of thing but she likes to do things authentically, very detailed. I like to “Frankenstein” my garments, mixing parts together for the look.

Teresa stopped by for a few minutes today. I never get to see her anymore and I miss her! I talked to her briefly about bleaching the tips of my hair and dying it purple. My boss is convinced I’ve lost my mind. Partially purple hair is nothing. At one point in my life I had a  blue Mohawk and wore safety pins in my ears.

My boss was wandering around outside and asked me who the grey car belonged to. I said it belonged to Denis. He asked, “Who’s Denis?” I point at the concession wagon in the parking lot. He still looks at me like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about. I say, “The Russian.” The light bulb flickered to life. We’ve both known Denis for five years – the last five Mardi Gras’. Crazy. And he tells me I can’t remember anything because I’m old!

And speaking of my boss, as the crowds gathered outside on Friday, he asked me if I wanted the 45 or the 9mm. For a moment I had one of those Ally McBeal fantasy moments and wanted a Gatlin gun. That was replaced with the thought, “I have a really rocking case of PMS – give me both.” I got my silly smirk and just said, “I’ll take the 9.” He handed me the pistol and told me not to let anyone mess with it. 

And now for the bad. I saw Keel and asked how Mike, my tattoo artist was doing. I’d spoken to Mike’s girlfriend Melissa and she said he was going to be okay, just sore. Keel said the hospital called him many days later to tell him he had a broken pelvis and leg. What??? I swear if I ever get injured or gravely ill –someone is driving me back to Florida so I can get some decent health care. This place is ridiculous! During the parades tonight, Mike’s friend Kevin and his wife came in. I can’t remember her name! Ugh! And I KNOW I know it! Damn old age sucks. Anyway, Kevin said the doctors are telling Mike he needs pins in his pelvis/hip. Horrible! Poor Mike. Damn.

My friend Pam back in Florida called me Friday night while the parade was rolling. She said she was heading to Orlando to visit her daughter and babysit her grandson. She sent me a Happy Valentine’s Day text message and I messaged her back. She called a few minutes later telling saying that her house burned to the ground. And she had a gorgeous house! She has been through so much in the last year. This truly sucks.

I have to leave for work even earlier in the morning so I better totter off to bed now.

Rockstars

Things around home and work have been busy. Today the first of the Mardi Gras parades roll down St. Charles Avenue. Fun, fun. And it’s Friday the 13th too.

I made this darling little apron last Monday. I’ve been telling myself for ages that I need some aprons to wear around the house, not because I’m messy, but because I need pockets! Most of the floppy dresses I like to wear at home have no pockets. But I can’t have an ordinary apron, that just wouldn’t be me.





I found some wild rubber gloves at Wal-Mart. I got the black ones with the zebra top. I can wear my black apron and goofy gloves and look like a twisted version of Dexter’s mother. Works for me.

My granddaughter Caitlin has amused me greatly this last week. They bought her a drum set when she was two and she took to it like a duck to water. Now she has a guitar. I showed pictures of her playing to a ton of people. I’m amused that only 2 people noticed immediately that she’s left- handed. One of them was my co-worker Mo, and the other was my friend Levi. Both of them play guitar themselves.

Caitlin drew the anarchy symbol on her sister Aleena’s face with a marker. She said it was because she wanted a tattoo. Her mother, my daughter, was not amused. I thought it was hilarious! I asked if she took a picture and she said “Uh NO!” Ah c’mon! That’s a scrapbook page Nanna would love to make!

Goodies in the Mail

Yay! The darling little journal Ricë sent me came in the mail today! And it came wrapped in lime green paper! I’ll have a giant smile on my face all day now! I had to open it immediately and let all my senses have their turns. I love the texture of the paper, I don’t know yet how it will work with my favorite pens but I think it’s going to work well with the watercolor pencils I love to use. Thank you Ricë!! Thank you, thank you!!!!

When I walked down to the mailbox, two Hispanic men were loading junk out of the crappy little house on the corner on a truck. Since the woman who had lived there was Hispanic, I wasn’t sure if they were sent by her or if the landlord had hired them to clean the place out. That crappy little house and the people the landlord rents to is a whole other rant. Anyway, I saw some chairs sitting near the truck that struck my fancy so I asked them who they were working for. They just stared at me. I kept talking. They kept staring. Finally one of them asked, “Are you Honduran?” No, I’m French. But I’ve been to Honduras. Once they got over the initial shock of the pasty white woman with unruly dreadlocks speaking fluent Spanish, they allowed me to inspect the stuff headed for the dump. On closer inspection, the chairs weren’t worth dragging home. Oh well. C’est la vie!

Eyecandy

My Beloved stumbled on to a site with gorgeous photography. The models, the settings, the clothing, and the colors are amazing. Take a stroll through the galleries and be wowed. I like this picture because the model reminds me of my niece. Click the pic! I’ve used altered books as journals before, nothing new there. I saw these little gems tonight and dang, they are so cute! I’ve been lusting for a Zutter Bind-it-All but can’t justify the purchase (even with a 40% off coupon) when what I really need is a camera. If I had one and found books with intriguing titles at yard sales and thrift store – ahh, more custom books of my own.

Music, Muses, and Motorcycles

Last night at work, Renee came in wearing the Medusa necklace I gave her. It looks stunning on her (probably better than it did on me!), she’s such a lovely girl! She said she wears it all the time and gets loads of comments on it. While we were chatting, she said to check out her boyfriend Jason’s videos on YouTube. I love them! It’s so funny watching people you know in “real life” on YouTube, don’t know why – it just is. But anyway, yay for Jason! Check him out.

I grabbed a couple more of the large sketchbooks from Borders since I had a 40% off coupon – and they were cheap to begin with. I grabbed a darling little journal too. I couldn’t help myself. It was PURPLE! Purple suede! I like that it has lines on one side and the left side is blank, leaving lots of room for drawings and what not. I think I’m going to like this little journal a lot. For the large sketchbooks, I decided that I wanted to paint Medusa on the front of the one I’m using. Then I thought it would be cool to paint a different woman from mythology on each of them. But then I thought I should try to keep some sort of uniformity in the room to keep it from looking like a riotous melee. Okay, how about painting the spines to make the theme of the room for a unified look and have the covers different. Hmm . . . that could work!

I’d been trying to call Mike but all I got was voicemail – and the mailbox was full so I couldn’t leave a message. I finally got through and spoke to Melissa. She told me Mike got hit by a car! He’s okay, just shaking off the bumps and bruises but not back into the full swing of things yet. He was riding along Louisiana Ave on his scooter and a car nailed him. People here seriously CANNOT drive. Turn signals? Who needs them! Rules of the road that apply to every other state in the Union? Not here! When I told my Beloved about Mike, he said “Mike who?” I started to be a smartass and say, “The only other guy who touches my skin.” But he quickly followed with, “The tattoo guy Mike?” Yes, and I forbid him to die – he’s not finished!

I’ve just started to get over my severe aversion to motorcycles, even remembering what it was like to have the wind in my hair as I sailed along astride rolling thunder. If I ever do decide to get back on the horse that threw me, it will not be in New Orleans!

Sleepyhead

I made this little sign a while back for the kitchen. Boy, some days it’s oh so true. I’m not overly grouchy this morning but I just can’t seem to defog my head. I’m on my third (huge) cup and I’m still a dolt. Maybe I’ll wake up before I have to go to work.

I was jotting some notes to myself yesterday afternoon in the journal thingy I always carry with me. Even when I decide that I’m not taking my purse – I carry my book! A customer commented that it was “me” if anything ever was. I can’t argue with that. The book I call “LIFE” started as a tally book. My Beloved works on oil rigs and tally books are everywhere. Most of them have vinyl covers in garish colors with company logos on them.

No problem, we just recover them! One day he came home with some new ones, they had clear covers with a removable insert. Unfortunately for me, he could only grab a few of them. Silly me, I thought he would be able to get more later so I gave two of mine away. And of course, there aren’t anymore to be had. I yanked out the company insert and printed my own. To section off the inside pages, I just in glued papers and tabs. I even made pocket pages to hold coupons, my ID, and my bank card. The inside front cover holds mini business cards with my phone number and email address. The pages have to do lists, reminders, important info I’d otherwise forget, ideas, hastily jotted sketches, my hours at work, you name – it’s probably in there! The other little book in the picture was a mini composition book given to me by the neighborhood crazy woman. She brought it to me saying, “I found this and I knew you’d want it.” The crazy thing is that she really doesn’t know me well enough to know that – but she was right! Chalk one up for the insane! It was pink and yellow, not my kinda colors so I covered it in black with silver stars, threw on some words and moon. Ahhh, now it’s me. I stamped random things on the inside pages, silly things to make me laugh. I showed the altered version to the lady who gave it to me. She smiled from ear to ear and said, “See! I knew!” Yes, yes you did.

Just found a new source for the clear covered tally books that doesn’t require you to buy 100 of them. I really love them but seriously, a hundred? And you can order them blank for a very reasonable price. Guess what I’m going to be doing soon?

I sat staring at my new sketchbook last night. The simple black cloth cover is okay but I can’t have that, can I? But what to do to it? Glue things on? Draw on it? Paint it? Yes! And I know what I want to paint!

Siblings and Upcycling

I’m slightly annoyed with my brother right now. He pestered me forever (even called me names) about writing him. So I did. Now he’s ignoring me. Why do we still act like we’re in grade school? I have a huge box of his drawings. He wanted me to scan them and said I could have the originals. Then he seemed to think I was Kinko’s and would stop what I was doing whenever he wanted to print elaborate lists of sizes and crap. Like I don’t have a job or a life. Maybe I just want to sit on the couch in my underwear and pick my nose. The point is that he’ll ask for an inch and take a mile. And I finally learned to just say no. The pictures on the left are some of pencil portraits. The weird line on the little girl is from the scanner and stitching the scans.

Now that I have a truck, I’m looking forward to cruising the Tulane/Loyola area for cast offs. Those crazy college students! When they graduate and move on, they toss everything out to the curb. I’ve found some great and very new stuff. But I never had room for the best stuff since I was driving an itty bitty car. But now – now I have room!

My Beloved wasn’t really on board with my dumpster diving habits at first. He thought it was embarrassing to have his woman picking through the trash. Then we went on a jaunt to the junk stores. There aren’t many here like there are back home. Which is odd when you think about it because the average New Orleanian is way broker than the average J’Viller.


Anyway, we picked up a hutch that was in dreadful condition for next to nothing and a Drexel Heritage buffet that had seen better days. I redid the buffet and my Darling did the hutch. He had the idea to paint it half black/half white. I suggested we skew the dividing line. I think it turned out fabulously.

I was talking to one of my regular customers and she asked if I would put all the content from my long abandoned website up here or somewhere. I’ll try. It will not be easy locating the files now so it will happen slowly. Be patient. I’m old. And tired!

Travel Advice and Goodies

Normally, tourists are a great source of amusement to me. They end up in my neighborhood and always seem to think the French Quarter is just around the corner. They look for intersections of parallel streets (drive all you want but you ain’t ever gonna run into Baronne if you stay on St. Charles). I send them on little tours of my own. Shopping on Magazine or Oak, Art at Big Top and Haiku, neckbones and rice at the Brown Derby. Many times they remark that they’ve heard such negative things about New Orleans and gush about how nice I was and informative. I never have the heart to tell them I’m not from New Orleans.

Today, my tolerance for ignorance wasn’t at its best. Seriously, if you are visiting a new city – BUY A MAP! You can always get a good map with points of interest for any city for under $10. And don’t argue with the residents- you know, the people who LIVE there! A lady asked me “How do I get to the Garden District?” Uh, is this a trick question? You’re in it. I ask what in particular was she looking for. “Oh just pretty stuff.” OPEN your eyes. I suggest that she walk down Prytania to the Cemetery. The walk is beautiful as is the cemetery. She was horrified and looked at me as if I suggested she eat monkey brains. “Why on earth would I want to go there?” Okay Lady, whatever. Next time you ask for suggestions, don’t ask the GOTH. What did you think I was going to say? Aunt Edna’s Tea Room & Inspirational Bookstore?










After work today I had to run over to National Art and Hobby. They didn’t have what I was looking for but I love driving down Magazine, potholes and all. Then I went to the new Borders. That’s a whole other post. I swore I’d NEVER go there. But my love of books overrode my outrage over the rape of a historic building.





Yes, I am ashamed of myself. Sort of. I didn’t find any of the books I was looking for but I found some other goodies. I lucked upon a large hardbound 250 page sketchbook – with 100% recycled paper no less. And for only $7.99. And I got the cutest little set of colored pencils EVER. They fit in a CD case. They had some of the most beautiful blank books I think I’ve ever seen. I didn’t buy one but boy, did I want to!

I headed home and to the grocery store. I always scan the floral case looking for black Calla lilies. They had some once. I didn’t buy them and of course, they’ve never had them again. Today huge roses jumped out at me. They were gigantic! I cupped one bloom in my hand and snapped a picture with my phone. They smelled divine too. And I didn’t buy them. I really piss myself off sometimes.