Christmas at Phil and Becky's . . .

Isn't this the most luscious pie? Gary made it for tomorrow's get together at his brother Phil's. We're to meet his sister Beth, her husband Doug, and Beth's middle child, Jackie, there tomorrow. I think it'll be fun.

I can't go home to Tara anymore . . .

I'm finally over the sinus infection . . . just ripe for another, I'm sure. I've sold my Mother's family homeplace (at left) and the man who bought it has pushed the dirt around so that it looks like the Riata Ranch in the movie Giant . . . flat as a pancake, with not a tree in sight. I've suggested that my brother and I donate to charities rather than exchange gifts at Christmas. I'm sure that's a good thing to do, and actually more satisfying, but I feel like I've cut off the last tie to my own family. I keep reminding myself that I didn't start it, but that doesn't help a bit. So, the holiday season is off to a really good start.

On the up side. I spent a good Thanksgiving at Gary's homeplace and visited with Sally Jo Patton (one of my growing-up idols) and Lynette Turner (my roomy for my sophomore year). Had a really good evening with them in Louisa. The next day, Gary's brother, brother's wife and Gary's nephew came to dinner at Beth's. All-in-all a really good holiday.

Seriously Bent . . .

Gary and I were in hot pursuit of the elusive BRILLIANT leaf during the last three days. We DID find them in SE Ohio (in the Hocking Hills). I managed to become seriously bent out of shape with a sinus infection, however, and am not yet recovered. Nevertheless we had a good time and it took us away from our regular haunts. We felt as if we'd been away a month when we got back.

It's coming, it's coming . . .

Fall is on it's way. As proof I offer a picture of an oak tree right outside my front door. When I lived in Arkansas, I was surrounded by oak trees at the house on the lake . . . but they always turned paper-bag brown. Look at these! (As Gary points out there are different kinds of oaks).

Ewe and me . . .

I just bought my first piece of original art that cost more than a pittance. I really like it. In fact, I like all of her stuff. It's shown at the left and was painted by Diane Selby, a Kentucky painter. Her web site is dselby.com and I suggest you look through her online gallery. Some of her work is hanging at Barnes and Noble in Lexington.

A couple more quotes from the Jim Harrison book I just finished. " . . . when you are born and raised in the country neuroses are only minimally tolerated", and . . ."I was diverted by NPR when a disembodied male voice said that a mere teaspoon of a neutron star would weigh a billion tons. As a literature person I at first missed the point and wondered at the preposterous strength of the teaspoon."

Three Things . . .

I'm sitting pretty high in the cat-bird seat. Feeling pretty good. Probably due to the fact that I went to one helluva concert last night with my friend Lydia . . . to see guitarist Tommy Emmanuel. The show was here in Frankfort. I told Lydia it was like walking out my Father's door to go across the street to the High School. At the time, the High School was my whole world.

I've got lots to do. One of my projects is a remake of a blue sweatshirt (pictured above). I think it's going to be pretty neat AND pretty pretty.

Speaking of Dad (above--first paragraph), I have another quote from the Jim Harrison book I'm reading (The English Major). "It seems like my parents die in my mind several times a week." Somehow that's not sad . . . it's just thoughtful.

The Great Pumpkin!

I have moved the gorgeous geraniums I had on the front porch bench to the kitchen for over-wintering. This is their 4th year. I hung them upside down to dry out the first winter . . . and put them on a bench in the kitchen window thereafter. A little old lady I met in the Adirondacks told me to just move them inside and pinch them back . . . which is VERY effective.

Time for pumpkins!

I'm reading a book by Jim Harrison (he wrote Legends of the Fall). One sentence struck me as funny and familiar. He says his new principal wore "a PhD like a lei". I know several folks like that. They can't get over their credentialing. Thank goodness none of MY friends are like that (truly). Only friends of friends, I guess, which I seem to avoid like the plague.

I've spent a great deal of the afternoon looking for pictures of bluebirds, cardinals, tufted titmice, etc., so I will have something to "go by" for the "big-footed" birds I'm creating. I "rough carved" the bird shapes from styrofoam last night. I have big plans. I'm going to do 5. Marlaine Verhelst is mentoring this process online. I've taken an online class with her before. She's scheduled to conduct a class at the Museum of Art and Craft in Louisville next year. It may not make, though.

Gwendolyn

I took a knitting class a couple of weeks ago and have finished a pillow top for Gary's mother Gwen. It was great fun and no sweat because it didn't have to FIT anything.

Here's a picture with the material I've chosen for the back and a ruffle all around. I think I'll embroider her name across the front. She's in a nursing home now and I thought a pillow for her bed might be something I could give her for Christmas. Especially as it might not get "lost" because her name will be on it.

She really has no short term memory any more, but she's maintained her personality, which is gracious, funny, sweet, and all the things you would hope. She thinks she likes "this big place."

Mare's Tails and Pumpkins . . .

Unlike fog's "little cat feet", fall has come with "mare's tails" in the sky. Yesterday the temperature was in the 60s (after dropping from the low 80s). Today's the same. I need to get the pumpkins (artificial) out from under the house. Tomorrow will probably be brilliant in the low seventies. I'm more than ready. The leaves haven't turned yet, but I'm guessing any day now . . .

If I had a hammer . . .

Mary Travers is dead. Such a sweet, soaring, nasal nightingale. One of the voices of my youth.

My late husband (before he was my husband) did lights and sound for most of the shows (traveling as well as local) at Eastern Kentucky University. Peter, Paul, and Mary were in Richmond to perform at the new (then) Alumni Coliseum. . . probably before an election . . . they were quite political. The Little Theatre at Eastern provided volunteers for stagework. One of David's friends, Johnny, came huffing and puffing up to David asking to borrow his car keys to run an errand. David tossed him the keys and Johnny took off. Only later did David find out that Johnny had taken Mary Travers to the Colonel's to get something to eat. David was ticked at Johnny, of course, but he did manage to tell folks, as often as possible, that Mary Travers' rear end had been right there, RIGHT THERE, in the passenger seat of his little VW convertible.

Rip-snorting Fall lineup . . .

Have any of you ever wondered where the adjective "rip-snorting" (as in Dan Brown's (photo at right) new "rip-snorting adventure") came from?

It looks as if there's going to be a great fall for new books (Pat Conroy, Diana Gabaldon, John Irving, Dan Brown, John LeCarre, Jane Smiley, Denise Giardina, and Arturo Perez Reverte); new movies (The Lovely Bones, Where the Wild Things Are, The Informant, The Men Who Stare at Goats, 9 (which I saw yeeeaaars ago on Broadway), and a new Michael Moore movie; local events (the new Grand series, Kentucky Bourbon Festival, book signings at Joseph Beth --Diana Gabaldon, and the local library--Silas House, etc.). . . but, alas, I read through the most recent Entertainment magazine with great frustration regarding this fall's TV lineup. I saw ab-so-lute-ly NOTHING of interest. Thank goodness (as always) for PBS, and, for that matter, HBO, Showtime, C-Span, etc., for continuing to make the major networks irrelevant.

What does Downward Facing Dog have to do with wool . . .

This is the business card of the teacher I had last Saturday at the Woolery in downtown Frankfort. She was really good. I had tried some knitting before, but only had pictures and diagrams to go by. I wasn't too successful by myself. In nothing flat, this teacher simplified everything.

The Woolery has existed for some thirty years, but has only recently moved their headquarters to Frankfort. They teach knitting, spinning, weaving, felting, rug hooking; all sorts of fabric art. They also sell looms, yarn, books, and supplies. I am looking forward to a long relationship.

The business card above--isn't it bright and colorful--brought to mind the ab-so-lute cutest business card I've ever seen. It's for a Yoga teacher. I've included it below.

Rusticated into oblivion . . .

I have been to Mississippi to visit my friend Frieda, a former colleague at Delta State University. On my way to Cleveland, I remembered why visiting Mississippi in August is probably NOT a good idea. Here's a picture of Frieda as a student at Ol' Miss. My husband thinks she looks like a china doll (as in china doll, not Chinese Doll). She looks much the same still--for she's certainly trained this same expression on me many times--except NOW she wears clothes that don't touch her body ANYwhere.

Frieda's father was born in Canton in 1912. Frieda took a distinguished visitor to see him shortly after Russian tanks rolled into Ossetia in 2008. Frieda and the visitor hadn't watched any television or read any newspapers for days. In that awkward pause when people first meet, Frieda's Father said, "What do you think about the Russians invading Georgia". Startled, Frieda thought her father meant the Russians had invaded the U.S. As it was, he was the only one up-to-date.

We joined more of Frieda's old friends from Indianola Academy, and drove up to Memphis (actually Olive Branch, which is still in Mississippi), to stay at a "rustic retreat" hosted by a woman who announced she was a John Bircher and prayed her enemies into oblivion. Fortunately, or not, we shopped most of the time in Memphis proper and were too tired to worry about being killed in our beds when we "rusticated" in the evenings.

I was so tired when I started back to Kentucky I nearly fell asleep in the car. I'm still tired.

Jay Walking for Jesus!

I heard this on a Prairie Home Companion skit several days ago. It was a Dusty and Lefty 'Lives of the Cowboys' skit and they were in Oklahoma (the whole show was recorded in OK). It went something like this: "Don't let your government tell you when you can and can't cross the street! . . . Jay Walk for Jesus!"

Tulsa and Oklahoma were both part of a former life of mine, both when I lived in Texas AND when I lived in Arkansas. In fact Tulsa was closer to Fort Smith (where I lived) than was Little Rock. It was the preferred shopping destination.

1963 Revisited . . .

I have spent two days doing portraits. I haven't tried portraits since I took a class with Sternbergs at UK and he told me I
should ONLY work realistically . . . AND I should only do portraits. He also suggested I go to Europe to study because I would not learn what I needed in the U.S. He spent one whole afternoon talking with me and he was hardly social at all.

I argued with my Daddy all the way home from Summer School (1963) about REALLY studying art because Sternbergs said I was good, and Sternbergs was notorious for not being satisfied with anyone's work.

Dad said I needed to get a teaching degree first, THEN if I was still interested I could go study abroad.

I ran away from home the next March and got married on my brother's birthday. My brother may have forgotten that, but at the time he said he'd never forgive me. Somehow I'm sure Sternbergs, Daddy's decree, and running away were all related. How silly (now) are the things my life turned on.

YESTERDAY's teacher (Katie Burke) didn't say I could PAINT, necessarily, she said I could

really DRAW. She thought I got a likeness every time. I did not think so but was

awfully happy none-the-less.

Bicycling

My sister-in-law told me that one of the first things she and her now-husband did together . . . was go bicycling. She said it was the LAST thing she wanted to do, because she could imagine how she looked from behind on a bicycle seat. I just found this and immediately thought of her.

Blogs, Sara, and Jake

I've been remiss about this blogsite. I'm organizing another blog regarding my 50th(!!!) high school reunion--AND have been setting up a Facebook Group for them. It is taking a LOT of time. It's bringing back a lot of memories as well as a lot of blanks. I'm having to re-establish the links among my classmates that I had long forgotten.

Additionally I went to play with one of my oldest friends (since College Frosh times) grandchildren the other day. Cuuuuute kids. Schmart, too.

Tomorrow I begin a two day workshop in L'ville and am looking forward to it. Maybe it'll get

me started on the things I want to do . . . I have a list prioritized. So far, no can do, tho.

Or haven't.

Bogging Down

Even though I played with paper marbling yesterday with my friend Marty and her grandchildren, Sara and Jake, I haven't REALLY done anything creative in quite a while.  I'm both getting antsy AND less creative because of it.  I suppose I've been doing research, looking for folk art animals on the web and signing up for a web class.  I take a mini-workshop in portrait painting at the Kentucky Watercolor Society on this Friday and Saturday, maybe that will help.

One new quote and one old one . . .

I just read this on a review in the New York Times, from a new book coming out on August 4th from Knopf, titled The Slippery Year by Melanie Gideon.

"Marriage changes passion. Suddenly you're in bed with a relative."

Another quote that's been showing up in several things I've read lately is by Helena Rubenstein. "There are no ugly women, only lazy ones."

I should know better.

I pulled another "all nighter" . . . actually 2am again . . . doing high school reunion things. Then I go to bed and toss and turn for another hour or so. The moral of this story is that I should drink warm milk and eat crackers before sleeping (my Aunt Emily used to make me do that when I visited her as a little girl) and do nothing more exciting than read. I should know this, as old as I am, but I ignore it.

Dickie Damron

I stayed up until 2am setting up another blog for my 50th high school reunion which will occur in 2011. I did that and sent emails to some of my classmates' addresses. Consequently, I was wired when I went to bed. I heard the clock strike 3am before I wafted off to dreamland. I then wore myself out all day, checking the blog (louisahighschool61.blogspot.com) to see if anyone had replied. I know it was too early, but I did it anyway.

I finally heard from Dickie Damron (John R., as I'm sure he's known now)--one of my favorites in the class. Dickie and I were always together if the class was seated alphabetically (I was Vicki Cheek, he was Dickie Damron). We could never tell which of us the teacher was talking to . . . our names sounded alike.

I am quite scatter-brained today (love that idiom). I went on a "girl-trip" with two of my friends (I usually limit myself to one friend at a time). Four of us are thinking about getting together every so often and creating STUFF . . . (we refuse to call it art lest that make it too important) . . . and my mind has just been SCREAMING with ideas about what we might create. I've already thought of about 4 things which would be more than my share, undoubtedly. And then . . . along came jones and broke my garage door. The car is trapped. I'll be like Scarlet and think about that tomorrow. WHEW. Strange little day.

Aunt Lola . . .

I was just looking through some of the old fashioned embroidery on the Indigo Junction website and immediately thought of my Aunt Lola (Yoyo). For those of you who remember The Andy Griffith Show, she was much like Aunt Bee (didn't look like her, just used her mouth like her). She often did needlework since her husband sold thread. She taught me to embroider, wrap packages, make bows, and never corrected anyone who thought I was her daughter. I loved her

a great deal.

Wandering through word origins.

I'm reading a book about England just after Henry VIII closed church properties. That caused a problem with the "doles" that the church gave to the poor. Once the Catholic churches were gone, individuals with money began to distribute pittances to poor people. That set me to wondering just when doles started. I found one reference that said they began in ancient Rome and referred to the fixed amount of grain given to each Roman. Sooooooo, being "on the dole" is definitely not a new thing.

I also found out that the word "gerrymandering" comes from a former VP of the United States, Elbridge Gerry. Vice President under Madison, he was a former governor of Massachusetts and redrew congressional districts to suit himself.

Banbury

This is Banbury, from Ride a white horse to Banbury Cross. The old verse I found goes "with birds as her halo and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes." Her eyes look real . . . they are "oiled marbles" and I ordered them from a place on the web called Rainbow Turtle.

As you can see from the sketch at the right, I planned to have a bird halo and rings on her "toes" . . . but I never quite found anything that looked satisfactory. I loved the way her sculpted head turned out and couldn't bear to add something that didn't begin to match it.

Big Foot Bird

I've found an online class with Marlaine Verhelst that starts this fall. It's all about "Making a Bigfoot Bird".

That will be THIS fall. I'm already enrolled in a Dutch Touch class (taught by Marlaine and Ankie Daanen) at the Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft in Louisville, September 20-24th, NEXT fall. I made my Banbury Horse with an online Verhelst class in '07.

Frank McCourt

Frank McCourt died Sunday and, among other things, he must have been a helluva teacher according to the posts put up by former students. I read Angela's Ashes and 'tis, but never got around to Teacher Man. That's now on my list.

The Time Traveler's Wife

I'm trying to finish The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I'm on page 451 out of 536. Not much time left (no pun intended) for a plot twist that will make the effort worthwhile. This is only the second time I've read about time travel--(if you don't count H. G. Well's The Time Machine--which I probably SAW instead of read, anyway).

I was able to break a 3-year "reader's block" with time travel fiction after hearing Diana Gabaldon speak at a book fair in Edinburgh during the Festival (1999). I bought the first book of the Outlander series (published in Britain as Cross Stitch) while I was there. The book fit the atmosphere which was comprised of: the Military Tattoo; bag pipes playing day and night (we were housed at the University of Edinburgh during a bagpipe contest); Rizzio's blood on the floor at Holyrood House; and Scottish thistles grabbing my pant's legs as I climbed Arthur's Seat--from whence King Arthur will come whenever Britain needs him.

Worth Noting

Descriptive sentences from The Time Traveler's Wife. "A crow flies across the grass. Its shadow flies under it, and meets it as it lands under the window . . ."

Also a good phrase from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society loaned to me by my friend Lydia a few weeks ago. Something about feeling like a tuba among the flutes. Nice.

Colin's "postage stamp"

I stayed up really late making prototypical art for postage stamps. My subjects were two of my husband's (Gary's) great nephews.

This is Colin, who is seven years old and in second grade. You would assume he was at least nine or older. It's easy to forget he's so young when you talk with him. He, too, was an artist last summer. Unfortunately, he tells me he no longer has time for art.

Patrick

This "postage stamp"prototype is of Colin's oldest brother Patrick, who's a mean banjo picker, just like his grandpa (Gary's brother Phillip). Patrick's near sixteen and going to be a heartbreaker.

Dick Cavett and The Strange Report

I just watched a clip from an old Dick Cavett show and am thinking how very much I liked the show back in early ‘70s when we lived in base housing on Otis AFB on Cap Cod. The other TV show we watched religiously was The Strange Report with Anthony Quayle as Adam Strange. The latter had been in the can for a couple of years before it aired stateside so there was no chance of it showing for more than one season. I remember the leather Chesterfield couches in Strange’s home and that his girl assistant (Evlyn) was pronounced EVE LYNN.

Pat Conroy

I’ve reached the age where everything I DO reminds me of something I've already DONE. I just read an excerpt of Pat Conroy’s new book and remember my father regretfully saying . . . about EACH Conroy book he read . . . “I’ve just read the book about that crazy southern family”. It always surprised me, as it did him, that he liked them enough to continue. He read some good stuff but was also a great fan of Zane Grey westerns. I stayed in Zane Grey’s house on Santa Catalina Island with David in the year before David died. Santa Catalina itself was interesting and Grey was a great fisherman.

Reading about Pat Conroy's newest book (after a 14 year hiatus) makes me want to visit Beaufort, SC.