SEAWEED AND GARDENIAS

Canvas for Ciera - Progress

2010-11-10T05:47:00.000-08:00

Lights Out

2009-08-17T14:15:00.001-07:00

Seaweed and Gardenias has officially turned off its lights.

Going Out Honestly

2009-08-16T09:38:00.001-07:00

I've been at The Ranch with my bros (all three of 'em) and my Ciera Beara and My Lovely Mother since Friday evening, which is why I was able to post yesterday, and again now.

I read all the comments and I feel humble and also ashamed. I pretty much lied a lot (to myself, to you) in my farewell post. The truth is that I feel embarrassed to say that hell no, I wouldn't stop blogging totally if I had the money to run right out and replace my laptop. This (bloglandia) is where my only friendships exist outside of my mom, my family. It's taken me all my lifetime to feel a part of something I always wanted: A GROUP OF DIVERSE, CREATIVE, INSPIRING WOMEN ... and not only that, but a group of women who enjoy ME as much as I enjoy them.

Then my laptop takes a shite and I get drop-kicked out of my soul community. I can barely stand it. It's like all the times my Dad moved us, just when I'd finally settled into some friendships and a sense of belonging. I'm heartbroken. I'm in dire financial straits. I'm completely shamed by that and didn't want to say it out loud because I'm not looking for sympathy or rescue but had hoped to be in different circumstances by this time in my life.

And I just emailed Holly that the biggest blow of all, out of this, is that I've been quietly maneuvering myself toward actualizing my own dream, at the encouragement of so so many of you, to 'write a novel'. Only it was going to be a new blog called The Weight of Me, to be a home to my creative writing: poetry, prose, thoughtflows, journal entries, in my very own unique TRUE style ...

so I can't honestly accept the 'hero' kudos because they aren't deserved, although I intended to back off Seaweed and Gardenias and edge over to The Weight of Me much much more ... but I do accept the love and wanted to return it by telling the true story -- how I feel about this, how much it feels like an amputation, how damn angry I am, how afraid I am of becoming, for the umpteenth time in my life, The Outsider. Again. Of being forgotten because I've had to forcibly move on.

Thank you to all of you for what you've said, in comments and privately. I will definitely be in touch via email.

What I Did on my 2nd Blog Anniversary

2009-08-15T08:09:00.000-07:00

I awoke to rain rain rain ... sweet good morning. This inspired me to take my Daddy-O Cam to work with me and take puddle pictures.

At home, after work, my youngest male child enlisted MOM to help him make tacos -- meaning he wanted to go buy the fixins and have ME do it, but I wasn't in enabler mode ... I stood close and gave instructions in my best Julia Child voice, and also took photos of him chopping onion, greasing the shell pan, stirring in the taco sauce ...

after, he and I sat to do some on-line work related to his financial aid (first class is the 19th) ...

and then we received ....

WAIT FOR IT ...

THE FATAL BLUE SCREEN ERROR!!!

and the laptop happily shut itself down, with an 'in your face' whistle.

My male child and I looked at each other, eyebrows knit together, both of us clearly thinking our individual versions of WTF?

So I booted it back up AND had a message waiting for me: SYSTEM HAS EXPERIENCED A FATAL DISC ERROR. And the damn thing blue-screened and shut down again.

I have not paid the IT guy fully, yet, for the last go-round to repair the sucker. Best Buy can replace the hard drive but you know? I've already paid MORE to try to fix the thang than I originally paid to purchase it. Given our current home repair and Two Sons In College situation, and the fact that I got no raise for going into my 3rd year ... I'm not feeling a laptop replacement as a priority. At all.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
What that means, though, is that my blog anniversary was also my blog farewell. I have, in the past, managed the occasional covert blog post from work, but relying on posting from the office is a truly BAD idea, completely unrealistic. Anyway, I can't download the driver for my Daddy-O Cam or any other software without alerting my boss, who is adamantly opposed to anything extraneous (or personal) by way of programs on the company server.

Truth is, for the last year I've been straddling the fence on whether to continue blogging or not. I love it, yet I resent it (time suckage). I've become more and more BORED with myself -- i.e. posting journal backgrounds ... and I've wanted more time to read, to hang with my boys and watch movies, to get OUT of the studio more, to start walking and weight training with my Double BB, to approach a personal creative writing project I've been piecing together in a goal book/dedicated journal for over a decade.

I've been talking to the Universe for 3 months about all this, unable to reach a decision. When in England, I was LOVING not having any laptop, no email, no blog posting at all, no reason whatsoever to be on 'Laptop Lockdown' ... just to realize I had been referring to it that way ... pretty indicative. So ... I'm taking this as the Universe's answer to my querying and pleading and ranting and agonizing and vacillating. A dead laptop and financial lockdown are a pretty non-negotiable lockdown of their own.

Those of you lovely people out there who want to stay in touch ... even though I'm on Facebook, I hate that venue so don't visit much at all. Emailing me is still the most direct way to contact me. Feel free to do so! antoniafufu@yahoo.com

Lights out. True story. Love to all.

Two Scoops & No Skimpin' on the Whipped Cream

2009-08-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

I'm fiddling with my blog -- colors, fonts, borders, 'About Me', banner, EVERYTHANG! -- because tomorrow is my two year blogging anniversary and I wanted to do something perky in honor of that. I want to open it up in the morning and be 'blinked' (as my bro, the Bobfather, says when something sooprises him -- 'hey that blinked me!') I like this EXCEPT that I can't get the cream background color of the posts to change to a soft lilac. Oh well, at least I got my chocolate pawlet girl in the banner ... YES!!!! I took several shots of her and she chose the one above. She did, true story -- she chewed on the corner; that's how I knew. Plus she said she looked cute all mellowed out like that. (Personally, I think it looks like she's been hitting my Coors Light, but hey, it was her call!) You probably recognize Ian's marigold (my heart), although my ink cartridge is down to 'sputter and maybe', so it's not that gorgeous shimmering GOLD in this print out. [One of Zoe's shots that didn't make the cut, but which I happen to really like. Neener, Pawlets!]

All the bits in the banner (not including photos) came from my darling Beth! She gives GOOOOOOD care packages, that woman! She even somehow sent me the red flocked vintage wallpaper in the banner -- Patty at The Tuscan Rose sent me a supply of that a LONG time ago, and I used it up a LONG time ago, too!

Happy two years to my blog, if I do say so myself! Think Javier will join me for ice cream and ... and whipped cream? I'm sending out an S.O.S.!

Dead Slow Hoot

2009-08-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

[All photos mine, from Chatsworth]

Playing catch-up at work so sharing images today and nothing else. Ms. Holly, you are welcome to the Buddha image(s) if you like them.

Don't ask, cuz I have NO idea!

Salt Spring Island

2009-08-11T09:32:00.000-07:00

This post's title was borrowed from River Garden Studio, the incredible Roxanne's most recent post. I just recognized it when I read it, because everything today has made me cry. Everything! I'm home sick for the second day, some wicked combination of migraine and a virus, ache ache ache and shivery. Blind in my right eye from the migraine. I tried to ward it off yesterday by mad cleaning, but this morning I awakened to a sink full of dishes (from the lovely dinner I found the energy to prepare last night), and yet another stack of laundry (after I washed, dried, folded & put away 11 loads yesterday). And now I can't figure out how to make the DVD player work on this stoopid new TV my bro-in-law gave us. Hysterical crying out on my patio roost (which, by the way, does absolutely NOTHING to help alleviate a migraine). It's all due to lack of energy and feeling so flattened. I know that, in my head. My heart? I don't know. We bought this (our first) house 11 years ago, in fix-er-up condition because it's all we could afford. And we've done a gynormous amount of fixing up, but it seems it's multiplied exponentially. Fix one thing, 5 more appear. And you know what the economy is like. And you know I've now got TWO boys in college. And you know what that does to money for things like starting, let alone finishing, projects. I'm so sensitive to my environment, too, it doesn't help matters. I like serenity and order with just a LITTLE chaos thrown in. Relatively clean rooms, relatively MOST of the time. A little light gleaming off a pretty (clean) table vignette ... but not the kitchen table living in the living room, and kitchen shelves & cabinet doors lined up against a wall and all over the patio, forever it seems, and our roof project still undone after three years and KNOWING how pressed for time Double BB is. I want a wand, so I can wave it and have a home that's 'done', that isn't an embarrassment or a financial burden anymore. Not saying fancy, not saying stainless steel appliances, not saying walk-in closets or three kinds of molding on the ceilings. Just FINISHED. Our way. But today I'll just cry at how little Ciera is in her kindergarten picture, her backpack almost as big as she is, and at Roxanne's gentle painting and the picture of the grasses on her post, and at the dirty dishes in the sink (that I can't muster myself to wash, just yet), but especially out of gratefulness to my little feline, Zoe, because even though the door to my studio is open, she has elected instead of 'freedom' to curl up in my lap, blinking at me with contented emerald eyes, purring so loud and hard my belly is vibrating, and making chocolate pawlet dough on my left leg while pushing her head against my left arm for more pets and chin-scratching. [Photos from Gallivant Saturday]

Third Grade

2009-08-11T08:09:00.001-07:00

This in from my bro, Chris, yesterday: "Ciera is OFF to school! Wow. 3rd Grade already.

She is half-excited and half-scared.

I made sure she got a good night's sleep and a big breakfast."

'Come On Baby, Let's Get Away!'

2009-08-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

'I wanna take you on aBe ... Dream ... Play ... inspired escapade.' loosely quoted Janet Jackson lyric!

This is a tribute post to Ms. Elizabeth Bunson, to whom I shall very soon propose marriage, if for no other reason than to have her photographs and journal pages in the family! I spent all weekend reading her blog, start to finish, not once, but twice. So I'm modeling this post, this once, after her way of posting (photos, a little chatting, close-ups of pages, then the pages themselves) -- with a huge thank you and confessions of true love. Ian's marigold, Ian's photo, which kick-started this entire day/attitude for me. Here she comes, my partner in gallivanting! Tootsie huddle. Zen shimmer. No way, too hot for yard work! But aren't rakes photogenic? especially these wooden-tined babies! Like a vintage post card.
Been a long time since I rock and rolled THIS stuff. Tempting, I must say -- but I'm today's designated driver. Sassy gloves for suds-diving. Lemons, the current theme of my kitchen. Gleaming copper ... mmmmm (or pot tails?)
Eye candy everywhere! Really got us working up an appetite. Oops! How did THAT get in here? MOTHER?!!!! Waiting for the doors to open. Waiting to order. No waiting HERE! Key lime cheesecake for My Lovely Mother; Kahlua Cocoa Coffee cheesecake for moi. (Julie, please note that ALL the whipped cream ended up on my saucer, and down my hatch. Ahhhhh ... whipped cream - not just for the bedroom or the cafe latte!) A feathered friend, table top. Swirly wine-bottle tops in a rainbow of colors. Golden shimmers in clear vases.

Evidence of Escapades

2009-08-08T18:17:00.000-07:00

In this morning's post, you saw one of these backgrounds bare. In the style of Elizabeth Bunson ...
I have 'Be ... Dream ... Play' 'd my way over top of the backgrounds with ephemera and photos from My Lovely Mother's and my escapade today. Wish you all could've been there!

'Ya Don't Tug on Superman's Cape ...'

2009-08-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

'ya don't spit into the wind
ya don't pull the mask off the Ole Lone Ranger,
& ya don't mess around with Jim'.
**Jim Croce, of course**

Heard this song coming home from work last night, wrote it in my journal, then dreamed it, so while it has veritably nothing to do with this post, I wanted to share. Do you all have it in your brain now? (Hey, it could be worse, I coulda done like Double BB does to me, waking me up with TV theme songs, especially Green Acres -- then I go about humming the thing all day!!)

Yes, of COURSE I've been journaling since I got back -- started a brand new journal, in fact, upon my return -- talk about grand timing there! What will all the England picture posting (and I'm not done yet), journal backgrounds kinda got pushed to the side. I've missed posting them, though, and since I'm under an entire barrage of new ideas/influences/techniques, I decided to make them my focus this morning. Later this morning, My Lovely Mother and I are going gallivanting - our first escapade since our return -- moseying through such as Pottery Barn and Borders, lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, and much much kvetching about jobs (mine AND hers). We've both 'had a week' and she called a lunch forum. From Anthropologie -- this photo kicked off my call for kitchen pics - just wanted to share. Many many pages done like this in the last few weeks, under the 'England' influence, using my own photos as the basis and accents. Does everyone else already know about this blog? Be ... Dream ... Play ... because I didn't, until I saw it linked on Beth's sidebar and went exploring. Elizabeth Bunsen is her name, EB; she is my new journal page inspiration of all inspirations -- she does exactly what I have been trying trying trying to do -- a delicious, colorful, exuberant melding of visuals with words, and photographs to make my CRY!!! with response ... all I can say is GO LOOK: here. and here. and here. So last night I did a serious attempt at modeling my layout after her pages. Side 2. Long way to go, but I GET it, how a single word or phrase is enough, just like in my travel journal from England. All images from an Anthropologie catalog. Glue down images, sand entire page, then Bombay ink color washes. Love the etched, aged feeling I get doing that. My new obsession: color blocks, with an image peeking through. This is an exercise designed by Juliana Coles, to use 'repetition' in images (sizes, the image itself), to create visual journal pages reflective of somethin' goin' on in me. I used a few images of myself, and several others I already had punched out. Side 2, larger images but still repetitive in size. I did this exercise in my current journal, but I think I'll separate them into another book going forward.

I'm off to peruse EB's blog a WHOLE lot more/longer ... it's a place in which to get lost, true story!

Rapture in Bloom

2009-08-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

In my opinion, this photograph is my personal Best of Trip. Taken in the garden at The Mount, Thursday, July 9, 2009.

Micky's Garden (The Mount)

2009-08-07T07:44:00.000-07:00

Klaus' ex-wife (& cherished friend), Micky, is nearly single-handedly responsible for the design, arrangement, and management of this garden. Luke, Kate, My Lovely Mother (photo by Klaus). My Lovely Mother. Photo by Klaus.

Call for Kitchen Pics!

2009-08-05T19:28:00.000-07:00

[Ian and Traudel's kitchen, before the extension was added.]

Just wrote this in my journal and decided to DO IT:"I think I'm going to do a shout-out for kitchen pictures, ones that people don't mind me downloading and using in this book, privately. Maybe because my kitchen is, and has been, so wrecked! and I'm NOT a woman who is totally right with a discombobulated kitchen. Detail pictures -- not just 'the room' but cool vignettes (staged or real), favorite dishes, remains of a hearty meal! Decor themes, steaming mugs of tea or java, cutlery in drawers, serving utensil containers. Where does everyone keep her Tupperware? What does the inside of her dishwasher hold right now? I want that kind of intimate thing: what color are her tea towels? How about her dish washing liquid, what kind? Pot scrapers? Tea kettles, coffee makers? Hardware on cabinet doors and drawers? And dirty dishes -- let me see 'em! Give me hope!'

Thank you. Thank you very much. Please email me any you'd rather not post: antoniafufu@yahoo.com. I excel at keeping secrets, just ask Veronica. Drives her nuts! [And the new layout, IN the extension. With a view like that out of the window, who would ever gripe about doing dishes? I certainly didn't.] [Especially when wandering out to enjoy the garden distractions was not only welcomed, but encouraged! -- with a very handy escape door!] [And wandering shoes provided, at the ready. Ian loaned me his green ones. And THIS, by the way, is my favorite photo from our entire trip.]

Editor's Note: I don't mean anyone has to do a post -- just email me some pics, pretty pretty pretty please!

Near Glass Casualties - the Fixins Plates

2009-08-05T17:45:00.000-07:00

The day before the Glass Catastrophe, I cleaned out a lower cabinet as the initial phase of a kitchen purge. Inside that cabinet, behind a bunch of (you guessed it) CRAP we had hastily moved off counters in order to plaster and paint, I recovered some family tradition glass items. I like a pretty table, especially when I'm having folks over for noshing ... thankfully, I had safely stored these lovelies and they went unharmed, uncracked, unmolested and otherwise INTACT! See this stack of plates and saucers? This is 'the fixins' stack, used at every buffet, family gathering, friend nosh fest, or whenever Toni Cooks Mexican Food (which is pretty often!). To lose these would have been beyond catastrophic!! The white coats with the straight jackets would need to have been summoned! Kiss Me! This little vessel has been moved onto my studio desk top, to hold my calligraphy pen nibs. It's one of the treasures I found while purging in, on, and around it! This leaf plate is home to my tiny serving forks, and on the plate with the cut-out edge, I sometimes crisscross a stack of pretty cocktail napkins. Most often, though, this largest plate holds assorted olives. My male children and I SCARF us some serious olives -- but Double BB won't touch the thangs. Rings of red onion are served on the iridescent plate to the left. Usually, I lay sliced avocado on this small plate in front, as only two of us like that. The colors of my soul, I guess ... roses, creams, some glimmer and sheen, touches of green ... and blooming!

The thing about being the only woman in a house of men is NOT to lose those gentle touches. I doubt my guys notice the dishes, but they notice the FEELING of the dishes, a meal somehow elevated, a sense of occasion, a special touch. This is a woman's hand. And I've been obsessing the last 5 days about my hands, but that's another post for another day.

Wishcast Wednesday

2009-08-05T08:27:00.000-07:00

What do you wish to make room for? - the question posed by Ms. Jamie, at her new digs HERE. [one of the dozens of such bookcases at Chatsworth. A sight which makes Toni drool buckets.]

I wish to make room for reading. I have 57 books, in 3 stacks, of titles I either chose myself or which others I trust have recommended. I miss sitting in the corner of the couch with the curtains open, a cup o'java or tea on the ottoman in front of me, a blankie tucked around my knees, Zoe upside down in my lap or draped around my neck somehow. I want to wear my days of the week socks, too -- get OUT of my studio into the sunny welcome of my living room, and get lost, again, in the magic of books.

[photo from the Chatsworth garden]

B&B - The Mount - Keswick

2009-08-05T07:05:00.000-07:00

You didn't think I was done with my England photos yet, did you? Ha! When we visited the Lake Country, and the homes of Beatrix Potter, we stayed here, at The Mount. This is an old home converted to a B&B, and run by friends of Klaus -- our host, Tony, met us with humor, enthusiasm, and warmth. All the items which furnish the B&B belong to Tony and his partner, from a former residence. Astonishing and varied collection, all of which compose a sense of home and retreat and welcome. The landing, just outside our door. Banisters, landings, love them! This leads upstairs, to Klaus' third floor hideaway. Our guardian angel. Inviting slumber, nestled deeply in, cozy beside My Lovely Mother. Draperies - PM. Draperies - AM, with butterfly. A welcome sight after our long walk back from Keswick, then the beer I had with those fish and chips! Lighting in our room. View. She lived atop the dresser (with the blue china plate, below), but I offered her a glimpse out the window and snapped this photo when she turned to thank me. I loved the blue china plate, but it didn't turn out well in the photo. Peter Rabbit and other Potter stories were the pillow themes (also the box of tissue). Toni. Photo by Klaus, from his third floor room. Next I'll show you the garden treasures -- oh! my!

Design Gig Opening

2009-08-04T07:41:00.001-07:00

'scuse my recent quiet over here. Have been dealing with laptop problemos at home and turbo-busy-ness at work.

Meanwhile: is anyone interested in taking on a flyer design gig? My Dad's office needs someone to set up flyers for the 'Salons' (workshops) they host on a fairly regular basis. All can be done via email; this gig is not paid but is simple, straightforward, and provides great exposure in the Southwest, as the flyer is distributed to a huge number of groups. If you don't already own software, the group will provide it.

As well, the contact point is seeking someone to design a website; this gig would be paid but that would have to be negotiated between any of you and her.

I was attempting to do the flyer design myself, but my meager operating systems on my laptop, sufficient for my art and blogging, won't support the software. Eesh, blimey, and shite! My laptop is here at work with me today, getting ready to see the IT doctor, as it's been locked up pretty much non-stop since I loaded the software. sigh.

Anyway, time is rather of the essence, as I've left poor Dad and his group in an awkward lurch ... please email me if you're interested, and I'll put you in direct contact with the right person. antoniafufu@yahoo.com

THANKS!!

Cool Hand Luke

2009-08-03T07:43:00.001-07:00

This just in from Ian: "Today Kate didn't have time to get your little man dressed before she dropped him off at our house for the morning. He still had on his PJ's under his jacket but insisted that he had the cool look before going out. What a cool dude he is."What a PERFECT WAY to start a Monday!

Glass Encounters of the Breakage Kind

2009-08-02T10:17:00.000-07:00

[Monday, August 3, Editor's Note: I'm fine. ... had to extract a long pointy piece out of my ankle, then dig out the tip (which had broken off) ... it hit a small vein which is why all the bleeding. No stitches. The rest are just pricks, like from Zoe's claws when she forgets herself and plays too rough.]

... or Toni's Purge Intentions go Mightily Awry ...

OK. So I go in the kitchen to pull some stuff off a top shelf for purging, for a haul away to Good Will. The shelf just below it has all our glassware (drinking glasses) on it. I don't touch the thing, brush against it, nothing, and suddenly the entire shelf just collapses ... glasses flying, then GLASS flying ... everywhere, into the Paris (back) room, the living room, the hallway to the laundry room, and RAINING all over the kitchen. I'm standing there gasping, my feet and the floor around them covered an inch deep in shards ...

and I realize I have bits of glass sticking out all over my legs, both of them, and one piece in my left ankle, which is gushing blood.

So I yell like three times for Kevin and simultaneously I've started to cry -- he comes running (he'd been sound asleep; must've been something of Major Panic in my voice). He takes a look, dashes to find shoes, grabs a broom and dust pan but first helps me to the bathroom so I can pull these shards out of my legs, sitting on the edge of the tub bleeding, with my little tweezers, and bawling just cuz it scared me so bad, not cuz I hurt at all! ...

all this time later (about 45 minutes) and we have a trash can full of glass; I've washed the bowls that were under that shelf of glass dust, salvaged a whopping 8 glasses (from about 50) ... I mean, I wanted to purge but not our GOOD stuff that we use every day. And the top shelf I'd just taken everything down from proceeded to drop, but somehow I had my arms right there and caught it. Time for REAL CUPBOARDS I'D SAY!!!!

And my ankle has not stopped bleeding, tho' it's slowed. I'm wondering stitches? It IS kinda serious. But I want to wait for BB to get home.

And now I still have to go figure out how to use Double BB's big vacuum thingie [the one that he details cars with] to sweep the kitchen ... there is glass all over, still, after four times being swept: shards, dust, bits. Goodbye to my morning. And my best purge intentions along with it.

Anybody got any whiskey? I need a shot! and a hug!!! And a winch to pry Zoe out from under my studio table -- poor furry beastie had been taking a snooze nearby on the tile when all this glass hell broke loose!

Rainy Day Rose

2009-08-02T09:09:00.001-07:00

My host and dear friend, Ian, is himself a writer/poet/journaler. He writes for his wife, for his daughters, his grandchildren, his friends; he maintains a notebook to contain his writings for them. This morning, he sent me these photos of the blooms in their garden, so I could see how everything has grown in this short time since I left, and sent me these words. I love them. I love him. I had to share. 'Words mean so much even though we don’t perceive the meaning on the first reading. Take time to read and analyse the rendering of the heart and the reaching out that is sought. Remember also that when the heart is touched be guided by your instinct so that you may not be hurt by future events, be strong but above all be true to yourself. Treat each day as a gift, that is why we call it the present, for one never knows what is waiting around the corner. Be compassionate to your fellow man for whoever is placed on the lowest spoke of the wheel they are entitled to our unselfishness and regard. Let common sense and experience be your guide through your life for that can be fulfilling on its own. A kind word can be the essence of feeling good with yourself for it may help someone to overcome their difficulties in life. Take heed of your surroundings, sit back and contemplate what this life has given you with all the pro’s and con’s and I will guarantee a smile will cross your face. Be loved for what you are; don’t alter that because if you do you are not being true to yourself or your loved ones. Above all live a good and complete life with love and happiness for that in itself is enough.'

Perspective, Mom-ing, & I Know What I Know

2009-08-01T08:10:00.000-07:00

Journal Entry, July 28, 2009

Recently, some loved blog friends have had to go their separate ways, from each other, but not from me. The odd flow of connection & disconnection. Painful. I feel it over & over with time passages, all the times I've had to move (states, homes, jobs). It's just NECESSARY for me to remember that the whole of life, all aspects, is transient. Easier and easier as I age; hellish when I was young, and younger. I just wrote to one of these loved friends, "I don't feel like I know more than these younger women; and yet I KNOW I 'know' more than they do by the simple virtues of exposure, weathering, blisters on my feet and heart -- weight, warp & woof of experience, maturity." Said with a puzzled surety, not arrogance at all. It doesn't mean chasms or preclude commonalities. It just IS. It comes with me, no matter what, can't be denied or diminished. It's a grand exchange for all of us, even amid the kind of emotional confrontation that my blogging posse recently navigated. If these two lovelies had met in person, it may be their archetypes or spirits or physical chemistry would have spoken immediately about a less-than-perfect connection, and the relationship would never have progressed based on those signals, that intuition. The bloglandia environment buffers so much of that immediacy of response, delays its revelation, its impact. Anyway, I was thinking mainly in terms of my boys that I CANNOT take a 20-30 year old and 'lord' my wisdom over them. Mainly because they don't think I necessarily have any wisdom that's of relevance to them in their path of discovery. Certainly I, as an 'elder', challenge that, assert what I know based on what I've experienced. Youngsters [and testosterone-filled men-children especially (?)] think it's different for them [it both is, & isn't]; that THEY are different [they both are, & aren't]. Their adventures, curiosity, fresh approach & attunement, rattle me out of my presumptions, my stereotypes, my habits of thought. I love that! What I give them? I have NO idea, except usually a most unwelcome reality check, the caution and perspective of LOOKING BACK (20-20? perhaps) vision, which is mainly useless because it falls on deaf ears. I'm down with that because I'm the only 'me' that is and ever has been, and my path can never be exactly replicated. So someone else, someone younger, my sons specifically, truly CAN anticipate & achieve an utterly altered outcome. With David and Kevin, I have become the one who only gets loud and assertive when I think they're endangering themselves, their futures ... OR infringing on my right to think, choose, BE as an individual ... OR when I'm downright sure they're taking advantage of me, of Double BB, of gifts they're given but behave as if they're entitled to. That's when the can of whoop ass gets taken off my mental pantry shelf and emptied. In it's entirety. I'm Mom -- as such, I have certain inalienable rights to vocalize, to revoke or adjust privileges, to expect behavior modifications and to effect consequences if those go AWOL. An uneasy, NOT easy balance between me and two 'men' who are also my sons. Much as they may seem to chafe & eye-roll when it occurs, it's not an interaction I see myself dropping -- EVER -- just tweaking, constantly modifying to embody nuances. But they do what I did to my parents for so long, which is to see me ONLY as "MOM" [which contains such a plethora of presumed, sometimes paralyzing, parameters] -- and forget I'm a woman, a stand-alone individual, also. The older they become, the more I find I'm emphasizing my individuality, ON PURPOSE, because they need to separate from me (as Mom) but still have "ME". And me is not the sum total of my car to borrow, and clean folded laundry, and combs to swipe in one hand and deodorant in the other, dinners to eat. Those are functions that anyone could conceivably provide, not characteristics of my PERSON, my SELF. David, now 22, is seeming to perceive me, sometimes, the way I'm now able to see My Lovely Mother, My Daddy-O: as 3-4-5-6-7 dimensional beings who (in essential, intriguing ways) have absolutely nothing to do with me. SEPARATE -- the parent-child dynamic is no longer ever-present, though it's still of course a constant beneath our exchanges as adults, as individuals. My boys aren't there yet, clearly, and I don't have any desire to rush that. Even another decade won't bring it, I doubt. Maybe when they're in their 30s, with perhaps a child of their own. THAT event, singularly, altered every perspective I ever had of my own parents. Immutable, overwhelming realization, awareness! Have a child, cross a threshold in my own estimation of myself, who I was/am, and of my parents, who they ARE, who they WERE. BAM. I'm talking BAM - squared. Well, it was that for me -- total shock, even amid the joy & welcome & excitement. Oh! My! Gawd! I now have this David, this Kevin, to tend, to nurture, FOREVER. Can I do that? Well, of course I could, one minute at a time. And now they're 22 and 18, and I'm still asking if I can do this, this Mom thing! It doesn't get worse, easier, better. It just changes, minute by minute, as it has done since they were born. I guess I feel that so long as I'm still testing myself, strenuously, open-mindedly, with the question [which is one of my most HUGE and VALUABLE and ONGOING], then my eyes/heart/soul/love/intellect are able to receive what I need to help us all make it through each minute.

[On Friday, July 10th, I walked around Ian and Traudel's Durlstone Close neighborhood in Sheffield, and shot all these photos.]

Oh, Fridays!!! PuhLEASE with the Fridays!

2009-07-31T07:04:00.000-07:00

I'm at work. It's Friday. Everything is done for me to start the mess except 3 sheets of paper someone has to review ... 3 sheets of paper that require less than a minute, each, to look over. So -- now comes the weekly wait-for-it segment of my day. Either I shaddup and wait, or I gently say, 'Hey, I'm waiting', or I work myself into a lather, call My Lovely Mother when the tears of frustration start rising and listen as she plays the same encouragement tape she has to play for me every Friday ...

No. NO! Instead, this morning, I 'Q' up the music that soothes and mellows me, mostly jazz and soundtrack stuff [Melody Gardot [thanks, Ian], Jaime Paul [thanks, Holly], Romeo & Juliet, Bed of Roses, Little Women, Havana, How to Make an American Quilt). I slowly read my favorite blogs; I check "The Week in Pictures" on MSN (love that -- great shots from around the world submitted, and you get to view them, then vote for your favorite). I re-read the wonderful email Ian sent me LAST Friday and which I've saved to refer to whenever I need it. I think of Sam's invitation to come sit, have a beer, & talk down-&-dirty 'bout men -- see me rubbing my palms & grinning cheekily? [Although the 'man' I most want to talk about presently is my youngest male child, who is killing my equipoise on an hourly basis. Eesh.]

I say hello to you all and leave you with this picture of My Wee Lad, Luke, and Uncle Klaus, that Dear Man (taken by Kate).

Double-Dippin'

2009-07-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

[Tracy's Smart Car, which Dave absconds with on every possible occasion -- is it because the car matches his Thursday socks?]

Journal Entry from my patio roost, this morning:
and hark! It's morning, the crews are hard at work on the 2-story frame-up one block over, bangin' and bammin'. I dreamed of having to pee, so I finally got up (4 a.m.) and did so, then I dreamed ------? I couldn't find my car, but I was looking for my old Aveo and not the Impala. It's TODAY, by golly! Do I really feel this perky? Jeans to work, for the third day in a row. I like it. I like it a lot. Not feeling any bright ideas this morning. Still thinking of WAY narrowing down my blog-surfing list and spending my 'free' time at work somehow differently. Writing? I dunno -- more focused as I'm working, anyway. Like, WHY do I read some of these? Like, Judy Wise' journal pages kick my keister & inspire me, so that makes sense. Stuff like that goes through my mind. YOU know. I got onto somebody's blog or Flickr or some such yesterday, about 20 layers deep so I can't remember who or where, and in looking at her photos I thought -- mine are this good without all the photo doctoring. Straight Out of The Camera 'good' pictures don't seem to have any credibility OR (most significantly) MARKETABILITY anymore. People like 'prettified.' Heck, I like prettified. But what? Now no one is going to be able to distinguish a solid S.O.T.C. shot because we've raised everybody up on photoshopped photography? Digitized, airbrushed, fixed, layered, filtered, color-enhanced, textured, brushed, effected ... not always a sign of a good picture under it all. (This artist's photos were awesome, by the way, and had obviously started out that way before the prettifying.) ANYWAY ... Getty now sponsors this woman's photos (not sure what that means, but I DO know what 'GETTY' is/means). Is that because a) she's got them on Flickr where many more people can view them (such as Getty scouts?) or b) because they're prettified? She's been blogging only 3 years, if I remember correctly, and was enumerating all that blogging has brought into her life, cool things like Getty, and publication, and article writing by invite, etc.

And I think -- ok -- why her and not me? I admit it. That's what I thought. My level of writing, at least, is surely as good as anything I've seen on any blog. But no invites to write articles have come my way. My answer to myself comes in the face and voice of one Ms. SuziBlu, who so sagely reminded us on a video post on her blog that we don't NEED any of that to make it happen; we can do it all ourselves now. If I have an article to write, I can plainly write it and post it. Or a poem, or a story, or an anecdote, or a travel tale, or a photograph, or a novel, or a hello a thank you an up yours a kiss my pert heinie. I am my OWN credibility, AMEN variable, acceptance letter, final say.

So nothing in my range of ideas or creativity has to wait on anything or anyone external == all of THAT whining becomes an excuse for sitting on my own hands and feeling overlooked and pitiful (in the self-pitying way). Blecch. Much as I love my own big paws, but I prefer them in front of me making art, pushing a pen, typing a blog entry, folding towels, petting my Zoe-Toes. Alive. I'm already alive and viable in every way. Why does that sometimes get so lost? So diluted? Nobody can know how well I write unless I put it out there, anyway, & the technological age I live in gives me endless venues to do just that. AMEN! I think I'll start with this page, as a happy reminder to everyone out there that he or she really is the only necessary factor in the exposure equation, the expression effect. Eesh blimey and rock 'n' roll! I AM A WRITER. Period. A Toni factoid. I'm also a pretty damn decent photographer, and a steadily growing artist. DEAL WID IT. [I'm not talking to YOU. I'm not talking to 'them'. I'm talking to ME!] Own it, do the Snoopy Dance to a Stevie Ray Vaughan riff, and share the love, Woman! Maybe I don't get a paycheck for it but is that really the same thing as a reward? A sense of accomplishment or satisfaction? Is publication ACTUALLY any indication of personal growth or any measure of ability? If my goal [MY goal] is to be published and that happens, certainly. If my goal is to express myself and I've done so, haven't I achieved the same thing?

====== IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL AN AHA MOMENT? ======

I like it. I like it a lot. I'm definitely posting this. I'm liking that wearing jeans during the week means I can procrastinate on shaving my legs, too, so this is a two-for-one AHA moment.

[all bloom photos from Ian and Traudel's garden - an AHA of an entirely different sort!]

Patchy's Summer Schedule

2009-07-28T11:28:00.000-07:00

This just in from my bro', Chris: "Ciera likes playing on Word, just typing junk.

I thought this was cute ---- she did what she called a "summer schedule" for Patchy:

wake up at 9:00 or 10:00

9:00 or 10:00 breakfast

11:30 nap

12:00 pm lunch

12:00 bone

at 1:00 play with Ciera

3:00 poop

walk at 3:00

diner at 5:00

get readey for bed at 8:00 or 9:00

story and bed time 8:00 or 9:00"

* * * * * * * * * * *

A career in time management, huh? I'm so loving the scheduled 'bone' and 'poop' times!

The Surprise of Shadows (for Veronica)

2009-07-28T06:58:00.000-07:00

[all photos mine, from Fawe Park, the Beatrix Potter family summer vacation home for many years during her childhood] Sometimes even when I'm looking directly at it, I can't (don't) see what I'm meant to see. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I'm resisting. Maybe I know it means I have to look even further inward, under the moss and mess and creepy crawlies that have important things to whisper to me (when I'm willing to listen). Maybe I know it means I have to let go of my pride. I'm always rushing to try to put my thumbprint on change, growth ... trying to own it before I'm ready for it, before I've thought about it and let it own ME, shape ME! Even though I know the latter is the better way! Procrastinating on the need for grooming, weeding, admitting, revealing, letting go or taking in ... because I feel lazy and comfortable and lulled -- or scared & inadequate & too small for the task. It's only fear that makes me unyielding, that closes my eyes and emits eerie shivers throughout my skeletal structure. Why are the walls in my way sometimes so much more intriguing, more beloved, more sought after, than the path past them, around them, even through them? God, the looming, imposing, shadow-casting mental structures, facades, moods, self-delusions, ominous speculations ... there are windows, but somehow they are seeing, looking at, ME, and not showing me anything clearly, not providing illumination. Views are sometimes backwards, peering in at me, taunting, distorted. Walls, a tangle of mental plants, with the desired vista in the distance but so much in the way to overcome. This is what finally moves me to surrender, to open my SELF, to take the risk, to imagine 'what's the worst that can happen?', to feel THAT and tremble through the pain of it so that I can take action to prevent it (the worst, I mean, not the pain), to free myself of anything stopping me in order to at least do SOMETHING toward my objective ... once I've done that? I can see more clearly what's beyond, what's possible, and what's needed from me to effect it.

My V-Luv and I, you see, had become/have been kind of distant, not a lot of interaction or exchange, not much communication. It was so gradual that by the time I realized it, it took my breath literally away, and a big hole opened up inside. And the longer I waited, without breathing, to just ask, 'Hey, wazzup!', the bigger the hole, the more colorful my dread, and the more powerful, the louder and more insistent, the voices saying, "She doesn't love you anymore!" You know, Veronica and I have never met, in person. I thought, in the twisted way fear creates, that maybe she'd moved on to newer, more interesting bloglandia friendships, that the electronic magic had gone!

For the second time in the years that we've known each other, I had to say, "Veronica, I'm jealous." And then 'splain myself. Allow myself to be hurt and confused and needy and emotional and scared and just plain vulnerable. But this time, Veronica said it first! I've been shocked a few times in my life, but never like hearing her say that to me. Suddenly, fears and creepy crawlies and walls and distortions and neediness and big huge playground-bawly-sized tears morphed, for us both, into the mode of transportation we needed to cross, and to close, the distance. And just that easily (well, not 'easily', but you know what I mean), all my ducks (or geese, in this case) were swiftly in a row again. And once again shadows give way to internal panoramas, light, air, blue skies, and lush green connection, communication, and reiterated, joyful, jubilant LOVE!!! Hello, breath! Hello, whole internal self! Hello, happiness! Hello, New Attitude! Hello, my Soul Sister, V-Luv, Cabbage Girl!!

Gotcha!!! (Got ME, in this case!)

2009-07-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

Dave and Tracy recently let me know to expect a parcel with a CD containing Dave's photos of their recent journey to the D-Day celebration/memorial. So I wasn't surprised when I saw this package on the mail table when I got home from work tonight. But -- uh, er -- then I picked it up and started perusing it for which 'bits' I would be saving for my journal. Look. Look again. Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Yea, it says small packet. And there, under customs declarations, it says CD. But do you see that other word? That little seemingly innocent word, right there, above CD? SOCKS! Eesh! [Interruption while Toni dashes for the Daddy-O Cam!] hahahahahahahaha. Cackle, grin, hohohohohoho!!! [I knew I'd pay for posting that picture of Dave's tootsies in his Thursday socks!!] Holy ohmyGAWD!!! HAHAHAHAHA. HO HO HO HO. GUFFAW, WOOT, HEE HEE HEE !!!!! Blimey! A case of actually LOVING 'payback'! The perfect gift for a wench whose bare feet look (and I've said it before) "like hamburgers with everything on 'em!"

TRACY AND DAVE, at the risk of further repeating myself: YOU GUYS ROCK!!!!

Bath Time at #7

2009-07-27T07:24:00.000-07:00

This just in from Ian: "Bath time at #7.

Followed by bedtime with Green Eggs and Ham ... ... and finally asleep with Mr Jeremy Fisher. Rainy Sunday morning after the walk to the paper shop but just couldn't get him to smile. Mr Buzzy Bee."

Walking to Keswick

2009-07-26T10:11:00.001-07:00

OH. CRIKEY. A bridge. A bridge over water. This is my number one fear of all fears, more so even than snakes. Doesn't matter that this bridge was maybe 10 feet high and 15 feet long, over a river at most two feet deep. Oh, gawd! No no no, please not this!!! My legs started clattering. [I get so ANNOYED with myself -- such a stupid, inexplicable, illogical fear, but yet so real to me.] One step at a time, worse if I look down. (dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb) Am I across yet? Is it over? Don't look down, then, Silly Wench! Pick up camera, point straight out, see beautiful photo op, shoot!! Meanwhile, keep the feet moving, and breathe! And safely across, a few yards beyond? Here. This. I'm glad I made it. Here is where Klaus found me the 'whirlygigs' [seeds] from the tree that Holly 'splained me is a maple. Worth the trauma. Another river view. In Phoenix, there is rarely such a thing as water IN the rivers. What a heavenly, natural, normal, healing yet still SHOCKING sight. Water. In a river. Wow. I had to travel all the way to England for it! And stone! -- But you knew that was coming! This is a drystone wall, again, but it's been built with mortar. And nearby, a 'kissing gate', but my photo didn't turn out at all! Sad. You push open the swing mechanism and pass into one side of the rectangular, fenced area. Then you have to close the mechanism again in order to pass out the other side. Prevents animal escapees. One person on one side, though, can lean over and steal a kiss from the individual waiting on the other side. I tried to steal a Luke kiss but was soundly rebuffed. Shucks. And then? A one-mile walk through fields that look like this [& yes, that is Keswick off in the distance] -- white sheep with an occasional black marking, and (separately), younger, black sheep that will ultimately turn white (Klaus said -- I admit to wondering about that). They aren't branded but rather spray painted in bright tags of color. And cattle, too, in yet another pasture, most of them laying down for an afternoon snooze, chewing with their eyes closed, blissed out! Pretty and clean animals, all. A mile walk that feels like a hop, skip and jump because the scenery is so distractingly luscious. Blooms, everywhere. I need to do a post strictly for 'blooms', I do. Why bend over when you have a sheep-crazed tourist to feed you hands full of the fresh green stuff just beyond the fence? [Toni collected lots of sheeps' wool off the barbs on the fence, too, yes she did, now residing in a glassine envelope in my travel journal.] [And, by the way, Toni did not once, ever, require the use of the lovely macintosh she toted about everywhere. I finally left it in the boot of the car and looped a small umbrella about my wrist - living dangerously!] My helper, Luke. Wee Lad, Luke, was beside himself. Sheep? Who cares about sheep, man! "An Aeroplane! An Aeroplane!" Indeed! My bros, and Dave, tell me (now) that this is a C-31 (or was it a C-130) transport plane, and that it's unusual for such to fly this low. I knew because of Klaus' attentiveness that pictures would du rigeur. (I also knew it might be 'something' and my bros would kill me if I let the photo op pass.] Very distinct engine growl, as yummy as a Harley engine snarl! Have I said 'green' lately? GREEN. Green green green. And green. Back near our B&B, we found this lodge, and HERE is where I had fish & chips. After all that yammering on the subject before I left (also while I was there, I confess), do you think I was smart enough to take a photo before diving in? Eesh. But BLIMEY was it ever good!! I ate it ALL, and it was a whole fish, fileted and battered and fried, and made-on-the-spot chips, perfectly salted and malt vinegar'd. However, I gave the mushy peas to My Lovely Mother - can't stand the thangs. My bros have yet to forgive us for coming home with no cans of mushy peas for them amid our assorted bags. True story.

Hubble Space Telescope - First Image!!!

2009-07-26T08:35:00.000-07:00

This just in from my cousin Jackie, the Wide Field Camera Instrument Manager for the Hubble Space Telescope Program: "The first science image from the Hubble Space Telescope's Wide Field Camera 3 (WFC3 -- the instrument that I spent the last 5 years building) has been released -- two months ahead of schedule!!

As you may have heard, an amateur astronomer noticed a new feature on Jupiter late last week that may be evidence of a recent impact. Such an impact event is quite rare, so many telescopes shuffled observation schedules to image this phenomenon, and the Hubble Space Telescope decided to join the fun.

Thursday, WFC3, was used to observe Jupiter, and the image is available HERE !

Go check out one of our nearest celestial neighbors recovering from a black eye. :-)

The instrument hasn't even finished calibration, but this rare opportunity couldn't be missed. So, I get the chance to tell my friends and family that my camera really works a bit earlier than expected!! Following this early release image, the Hubble program will resume its clandestine calibration activities and is scheduled to release the first "planned" observation images some time around Labor Day.

So, as cool as this image is . . . the best is yet to come!!

Thanks for listening (to this and to all my crazy stories over the years in getting here!)

Cheers,

-Jackie"

*****************************

I find this all so mind-blowing -- to have a cherished cousin working so intimately with, so directly and knowledgeably for, such a significant scientific advancement ... and to reap this kind of reward. I LOVE this kind of thing and I'm so proud of Jackie!

This Post for Mel and her Nanna

2009-07-24T07:13:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, Mel left me a comment and told me her Nanna was born in Keswick -- wistfully wondering if perhaps I'd walked by her Nanna's home. I wonder, too. All photos below are from Keswick. You could stay here if you wished -- it's one of Kate's favorite buildings, just the look of it. Inviting walkways. Signs with personality, huh? James Bond Museum? Not so much ... but the pencil museum, that would've been FUN! My love, Ciera, has a box of pencils from here. I love light fixtures and sconces almost as much as I love stone. Window border like lace! Isn't this a photogenic little facade? My Lovely Mother took a photo of this very building on her trip last year - I was happy to meet it in person! Looking over a gate between two buildings -- ever since traveling to Italy, I seek out laundry shots! The only place I saw any of these: WELLIES, BABEEE!!! Red poste boxes ... Kate, holding Luke, heads up the street.

Reading List

2009-07-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

I found this post over at Sparkle Blue Faery ... I LOVE this sort of list, helps me preen my stack of books waiting to be read!

The BBC says most people will only read 6 of these 100 Books. I've read:

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (yes)
2 The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte (yes)
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee (yes, 1,200 times)
6 The Bible - (yes)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte - (yes)
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell - (yes)
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens - (tried it 3 times, never finished)
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott - (lawsie yes!!)
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy - (yes)
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller - (yes)
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare - (almost)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier - (over & over)
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien - (yes)
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger - (yes)
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell - (yes)
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald - (yes)
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens - (yes, 10th Grade English)
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy - (1/2 way thru, twice, can I count that as whole?)
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams

26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck - (yes)
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy - (yes)
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens - (yes)
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis - (ooh yes)
34 Emma - Jane Austen - (yes)
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen - (yes)
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - (#33 above, yes)
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres - (yes)
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden - (yes)
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne - (yes)
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell - (yes)
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown - (yes)
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez - (yes)
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery - (yes)
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy - (yes)
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding - (yes)
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan - (yes)

51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert - (yes)
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen - (yes)
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens - (yes)
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley - (yes)
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez - (yes, wonderful!)
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck - (yes)
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov - (yes)
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold - (yes)
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac - (yes)
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding - (yes)
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville - (tried & tried)
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens - (yes)
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker - (yes)
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett - (love it)
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce - (tried & tried)

76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath - (yes)
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens - (yes)
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker - (yes)
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro - (yes)
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert - (yes, in English and French)
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White - (yes)
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - (yes)
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery - (yes, in English and French)
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams - (yes)
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute - (yes)
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas - (yes)
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare - (yes)
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl - (yes)
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo - (yes)

My Total Read = 60
(not counting "tried & tried" or '1/2 & 1/2") ... wowza.

Instructions:
Cut and Copy the list into your notes... then...
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read. (remove other persons X's)
2) Tally your total at the bottom.

[Is anyone else of the opinion that there are numerous equally worthy classic titles MISSING from this list?]

Hopelessly Devoted to You

2009-07-23T07:05:00.000-07:00

On the walk back from Keswick to our B&B, we let Luke just SOAR across this field ... it was completely fenced in, and the sheep were separated into the pasture next to this field -- ultimately, though, Kate had to go fetch him -- that sense of freedom went to his head (not to mention his very FAST little toddler feet!). Click on this picture to see Luke (center right) and Mum On The Approach! (Kate later said there may not have been any actual sheep, but there were plenty of sheep bombs everywhere!] "Take a picture of my bus [boos], Auntie Toni." VW Boos compliments of Auntie Molly, My Lovely Mother - we didn't find any doubledecker buses until we reached the airport going home - BUMMER! [This and the next 5 photos taken in the gardens at our B&B, The Mount.] I had Luke in absolute giggle-stitches, driving his bus about then making it 'fly' into the bird bath, where it washed its wheels, then said, 'Hello, Birdie' and snuggled the bird before flying off. Very soon, Luke began adding small gravel from the walkway to the birdbath for bubbles for the bus bath! Then Auntie Toni got the giggle-stitches because I made the bus roll and ooh and ahh and then rear up on its back tires and say, 'Oh, Luke, more bubbles please!' which made LUKE giggle-stitch some more. GAH!!! All that is 3-dimensional for me, with sound, in this photograph. "Take a picture of my mountains, Auntie Toni." No, these are NOT rocks; they are mountains. Luke said. That Klaus! He's like Double BB -- always meddling with a photo op! My woman, Kate, on the other hand, has a face that rocks the camera! This day, the ONLY way Luke would allow me photograph him was in the guise of shooting his new golf set. "Take a picture of my cup [coop], Auntie Toni!" "Take a picture of my club [cloob], Auntie Toni!" At this point, My Luv figured out he was being conned into being photographed! He turned his back to me and got serious, golfing with Gramps. Luke on the green. Actually, he was better at bashing the ball (baseball style with the club) into the hedges. True story. Version 2 of a prior posted photo. Kate, I'm coming back in my next life and marrying this young'un of yours, if for no other reason than to have these EDIBLE CHEEKS in the family!! I MEAN IT!!!

Bird Watch - Robin

2009-07-22T09:40:00.001-07:00

This just in from Ian-Across-the-Pond: "Remember seeing this little fellow? Cheeky devil flew down to my feet when I was putting out new seeds then flew up to the feeder. Can't believe he came that close. I had to walk very slowly for the second photo -- pity when you blow them up they are not pin sharp. Took these without the aid of the telephoto lens. You at least know where the feeders hang now." "We do take so much pleasure from watching the birds in the garden and I know you did also."

Informal, Please

2009-07-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

Keswick.

Journal Entry, Sunday, July 19, 2009
Here is what I am realizing about my own behavior. Because of the history between our families, I took for granted the in-place, warm, 'already there' status of my "relationship" with Ian, Traudel, and Kurt, Alison and Dave, even though I'd only met Ian and Traudel in person once, and Kurt, Alison and Dave - never. Maybe that makes me assume a level of intimacy or ease or just 'familiarity' that isn't necessarily appropriate OR reciprocated. Still, I loved them already because they loved/cared for my brothers, and then my mother on her trip last year, and because of their relationship to Klaus, who has been a cherished presence in my life and a part of every overseas trip I've been on. Kate, Luke, Klaus, & My Lovely Mother. At the same time, the relaxation I'm exuding may help to set a tone, to put others at ease, to establish ---- connection? I do surely hope. Greenhouse (glass house at Chatsworth). I suck at formality. SUCK AT IT. To the point that when I do encounter it, I freeze completely, turn 100% inward, and become totally quiet. [I don't see the point of it, true story.] The kind of people who rock my world [i.e. Luke, above] are not, EVER, formal, so I don't even want to attract them to me. I mean, I can behave with grace, manners - I can put forth the minimum required to endure a formal occasion, but inside I'm screaming for escape (& usually do, as early as I possibly can manage to!). Maybe that's why I assert myself by asking NOT to be treated as a guest -- please LET me do the dishes, play with the little lad, make the pot of coffee, go along to shop for dinner groceries, set the table. It made Ian and Traudel uncomfortable but only at first! The people that I feel close to or want to establish closeness with? I want to cut straight to the truth of who I am, so they can more easily shift back into who they really are. I think when Dave initially met us, he felt that from Mom and me both, and it's the reason why he came back with Tracy, and then again to share his WW II items. Mom and I weren't stuffy or stand-offish; we didn't give a rat's heinie about his pierced ear or burly biker facade (**& we LIKED his Thursday socks!**) -- we leaned in, we teased him, we engaged! I'm proud of us for that -- my whole family is this way, no b.s., let's get real and stay that way. And about formality, it extends to physical environments, not just people. I much preferred the gardens at Chatsworth [above] to the interior, which made me feel hot and claustrophobic (same way I reacted to Versailles' interior). Same difficulty I have viewing art in museums, as opposed to in someone's home or on the crumbling walls of buildings. (Then again, I consider crumbling walls of buildings to BE art!) Formality alters my receptors because it raises an odd block of defenses. I love the open, wild field of grasses up the way from Ian and Traudel's [above] even more than the part of the Chatsworth gardens I saw, and that's consistent. And the cottage-y, rambling, friendly garden at Hilltop Farms [above] - GORGEOUS. Even the deeply layered profusion [above] at The Mount. I love the wildness I sensed, the flowers' freedom, the unkept sense of artistry. Irresistible Luke.

Sawrey House - Thursday, July 13, 2009

2009-07-20T18:07:00.000-07:00

I can't post in order -- just can't. Certain days, places, photos, are insisting on their own presentation. Earlier, I posted a page from my travel journal -- a photo from a brochure, showing Sawrey House. Impressive, but I want you to SEE it, really SEE it. See it and then enter it. BE there, with me. Sawrey House is a small walk from Hilltop Farm, in Near Sawrey (there is also a Far Sawrey). Beatrix Potter regularly walked the streets, farms, pastures, barns, buildings, fells of both, sketched them, put many locations and characters into her children's books, memorized them, inhaled them -- you will surely see why now. Sawrey House. What do YOU feel, seeing this? Coming around the corner from the car park, turn, point, shoot. Ahhhhhhh .... Close. Imagine, can you? Sitting in such a turreted room, surely on a deeply-cushioned window bench (something velvety and floral, yes?), gazing through the green ivy glow at the view? Would you be transformed? Closer. Closest. [Ivy photos are mandatory - Double BB LOVES the stuff!] 'Scuse me, but is that a MERMAN I see? Put in new roll of film and scurry down stone terraced steps muy pronto for introductions! Oh my! Nice -- er -- abs, huh? Sirena (aka Toni) felt her tail twitching, true story! [Thank you, Kate, for this photo -- it's one of my favorites from the trip!] Refreshment. Jeeves (aka Klaus) and My Lovely Mother kindly butlered for us. Speaking of My Lovely Mother ... Cherry jam, clotted cream, scones, and I had Moroccan mint tea. Center table tile.
Can anyone say view? Panning to the far left of my chair. View directly in front of me, with chair. And just slightly to the right, and then as far as the eye can see. Deep exhalation. A moment of silence. Say 'ello to Dugan, a friendly Westie visiting from Cornwall, with his human. This was as close as I got to seeing any terriers, so I took Dugan's picture for Holly! He told me he'd had a close encounter with a goose that put him off fowl for life! Our terrace neighbors -- heavenly spot for tea! The dining room inside the extension. We opted to sit just outside, on the terrace, facing the view. Given the temperatures most days in Phoenix, eating outdoors has not been something I normally, or willingly, participate in -- but this was incredible! A mixed media piece on the INSIDE of the bathroom [oops! toilet!!] stall. I love the idea of it - want to try one of my own! Evidence of Beatrix Potter everywhere - a Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle statue. The night before we arrived, Ian spotted a hedgehog in his garden, and I stayed up late most nights looking for the wee critter but with no luck! Ian said such sightings are most rare. Hedgehogs have a particular sentimental relevance for me, a 'thang' between my Daddy-O and me. It would have been spectacular to see a real one! Repeat after me: "I have to go to the toilet." If you're American, doesn't that feel -- er -- RAW? No mistaking the signs, though!

Today at Lunch, I Fell in Love

2009-07-20T12:07:00.000-07:00

My Lovely Mother visited yesterday morning and delivered to me the latest Pottery Barn catalog. I brought it along to peruse during lunch today ... lookey what I found: Wine bottle lamp. Is this not ingenious? Surely this could also be done for way less than their asking price of $399, right? Anyway I love it. I want it. NOW. No no no, not the bed -- too bulky and I will NEVER allow footboards on my beds, my feet must be FREE!!! I'm talking the overhead line, strung with favorite images, inspiration, using vintage clothespins. Dig, dig, diggin' that!!!

Travel Journal - Peep Show II

2009-07-20T07:38:00.000-07:00

Sketches: still life from Ian and Traudel's dining room table; Traudel watching TV. This sketch resembles Traudel MUCH more so than my sketch of Ian (following). But he was a good sport about that! Yorkshire tea label from Traudel (that woman is an ACE at collecting bits -- I swear I'm going to take her on every one of my journeys!); list of birds seen in Ian & Traudel's garden: goldfinch, siskine, blackbird (male & female), sparrow, dove, robin, pigeon (clean and plump, NOT like the detestable Phoenix pigeons), blue tit; sketch of Ian's wooden shed and bird feeder (preferred by the doves). Toni sketches: Ian in his Ian chair; and the gorgeous extension Ian built onto their house, as seen from my garden roost. Where the cat sticker already was, in the book, there actually live tomato plants in front of the brick, under the window. Ian had to go visit his doctor to treat a sinus infection that was causing him enormous dizziness (drainage to his ear) ... I snagged the pharmacy bag (ha!) Ian found a job op for me! And a page of notes. Teabag label from tea at Sawrey House; brochure image I love (winged creatures!), flour bag bit from the recycle bin at our B&B, The Mount. Calling card from Derwent Lodge Hotel, where I had fish and chips!! Ticket found in the parking lot; stickers from the Hilltop Farm gift shop, tissue from our room at The Mount, near Hilltop. Sticky letters from the car park for Hilltop Farm. We had tea, here, on the back terrace of Sawrey House, sitting at black wrought iron tables over to the right, in front of the glass extension ... Wallpaper bit from Sawrey House; paper treasures from brochures. From our walks in Keswick (said Kezzick) ... Klaus found me the whirlygigs (from what, an oak tree?) I hadn't seen those since leaving Maryland -- we used to trap them between our thumbs and whistle through them.

Simple Perfections I

2009-07-19T08:11:00.000-07:00

The sweet cozy bed where I slept at Ian and Traudel's, with windows I kept open at night, and a view out to their garden. Bliss, bliss, bliss, bliss, bliss. Shabby Rose Chic, from the garden at Hilltop, home of Beatrix Potter. The grave of Little John (yes, of Robin Hood fame, the very same!) -- at Heathersage. His home was here, and his stompin' grounds ... the original headstone is to the left, there, the other is a much more legible marker. The cottage where he lived is no longer in existence, but evidently one used to be able to see that as well. Me and stone, it's a love thang! This was taken at Fawe Park, which is ON a lake and used to be the summer home for Beatrix Potter and her family during her childhood. It's currently occupied, and quite fenced off, but I was able to peep thru holes in the fence and take a few photos. I'm a paparazzi for stone, Baby! A Classic. Also an escapee -- was wandering with his Mama, outside the fence, in the car park where we parked to go to a surprise view ... after I'd taken this photo and put my camera away, this fella moseyed over to a nearby bench and discovered a bottle of beer on the ground, which he then proceeded to lick, nuzzle, suck and fondle with great gusto, while I struggled to untangle my camera strap to get THAT photo. Didn't happen. Eesh. Classic, Too. Photographed in Castleton. Chatsworth, viewed from one of the myriad garden paths.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm moving slowly, deliberately, with these posts. I learned from my trips to France and Italy that if I don't allow myself time to first review, assimilate, ponder, reflect, re-live, and then WRITE TO MYSELF, I lose much of what I felt and saw, thoughts, inspirations, etc. So if it takes me until my next trip to post what I want to share from this one, so be it. Patience, my lovelies, patience!

England - A Familiar

2009-07-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

Journal Entry, Evening, July 17, 2009

England didn't surprise me -- that's what it is. So different to Italy, to France, those landscapes where I surged wholly OUT of myself. England tilled the earth of me and presented upturned memory, re-imprinted the sense of place I inhaled and took possession of in Maryland. Towering old trees, deep with leaves, and vast blooming meadows tinseled with Queen Anne's Lace and yellow-red-orange-blue blooms I couldn't (then) and still can't name, stone facades - sooty, aged, rough, but mainly unpainted or hidden beneath their ivy finery. Every window a new story I wanted to hear, every doorway as individual as the occupant, 2-lane roads devilish with twists and riddled with echoes. My tales of England are my own history - how odd, how unexpected!

Yes, the green initially startled me, overwhelmed my breathing -- after 30 years in this sun-bleached desert, of course it did! But very soon I recalled the green of my growing up, the parks & fields & lawns & prairies. There is where I started; that is what I left behind (& agonized for) when I got to the moonscape of Phoenix. In all these years, I thought I had learned to 'let go', when in fact I took it inward and kept it close, like an inner layer of skin I mentally wore without realizing it. The rural dynamic of England, though different to the faces of Nebraska and Maryland, still kept true to that feel -- the way my eyes opened as my breathing slowed and deepened -- familiar amid the foreign. Home, with a twist, at once near and far.

Low-slung stone-riddled mountains, rivers with water actually IN them, hedges, smaller scaled everything, movements more regularly paced. Rain. Skies that changed every few moments, altering the light absolutely and begging me to photograph, again, the very subjects I'd just used a roll of film on. That sense of AGE, the ever-present companion of history permeating the 'now' -- this, too, I always felt in Maryland, and in the constancy of my own genealogy in Nebraska.

I've been so worried that the tales I'd have to tell would seem small -- no glitz, no glamour, blue jeans, the same jewelry every day, minimal makeup, a blister on my heel -- but instead I see their reflections internally, and I hear myself resonate. I photographed what I always photograph, what I always respond to: lamps, stone, windows & doors, where I was, a room, a bed, a beautiful tile or carpet -- and I realize I was adding to my personal library of images -- from old Eastern plantation houses to crumbling headstones, to the beckon of a home, a face, a plate of fruit or scones.

What I see is that England showed me more of what and who I am, where I began, my roots. Nothing is ever lost, or abandoned, just submerged, overlaid by the realities, patterns, infusions of the day-to-day present. How fecund I am -- all I've seen and known, touched and met, the travel, the dialogues, the food & flavors, the airports & alleys, the dreams, the walks, the dusks and dawns, the cups of tea & coffee, the glasses of wine or mugs of beer, the dogs I've petted and the cats I've said "meow" to in multiple languages!

How immense! To recognize that I am a constant -- that I am THE constant. It really is subjective, travel -- what goes in, how it's filtered, or consumed (RAW). No discos or wild cavorting or scaling of peaks, no 'big deal adventures', but this is who I am -- quietly taking it all in and still making SOMETHING of it. I'm not interested in others' ideas of a great travel experience. I forge my own way, find experience even in a rose that buds pink but blooms white with pink speckles, or a miniature-sized jug of milk, a piece of wallpaper, a parking ticket stub, a friendly white Westie named Dugan, a hand in mine on the sofa as we watch Cash in the Attic, laughter in a room full of newly-met but somehow always-known people, driving on the wrong side (to me) of the road, roundabouts, days of the week socks, salmon with hollandaise for lunch.

It all opens me to more -- it all reiterates "ME", it all stays MY tale, this green English one.

England - Day 1

2009-07-17T18:38:00.000-07:00

Klaus 'collected' us from the Manchester airport, then turbo-whisked us away, and through town. On the way to take me to Sheffield ... ... he pulled over and parked, still in Manchester. Lovely lamp post, I thought, looking up at it and not paying attention to anything ahead. I walked forward a little, past a bench ... And then I saw THIS! St. Michael and All Angels Church. My photo didn't turn out, but the view from here? Gah. I've realized my shooting style is in three's: same subject, three different angles, and ESPECIALLY doors and windows. Part 1 of this Trio. Part 2 of the Trio. Part 3 of the Trio.
Clearly someone special - this grave was set off on a separate side of the lawns, and enclosed with this beautifully weathered, almost crusty, wrought iron. Approaching the church from the car park, past the ancient parish building (foreground). Trying to shoot the worn engraving - quite difficult! You can see the date: 1697 ... and this was one of the 'newer' headstones. Dates were SO hard to make out, but I did see one that said 12?8 (I couldn't read the 3rd number). And so so many children - heart wrenching! Because these headstones are so old, no one remains living to tend them. When they remained upright, they drooped, sagged, tilted, and so ultimately they were laid flat. Such an odd feeling, that, to approach a graveyard of this age and see this. Close-up of the engraving on one of the lowered markers. Most of the very old ones have worn away almost completely. Someone watching me, watching him. A little eerie. Goodness knows how old this stone is but such a patina! Pointing the camera UP, at the tall tall narrow windows.

England Travel Journal - Peep Show - Scene 1

2009-07-16T15:36:00.000-07:00

Drawings in the airport, en route to Chicago from Phoenix, and to Manchester from Chicago. Fuchsia blossom from Ian and Traudel's garden, and a sheet of etchings from gravestones, including the name EYRE. Ephemera items found on our walk to the 'surprise view', and the calling card from the cafe where I had my first scone with clotted cream! Various items from a day spent in Derbyshire with Ian and Traudel. Woman image from a brochure for an upcoming art event in Manchester. Ian saw this and said the woman's 'smarties' are showing -- can you figure out what that means? Butterflies to remind me of the two red and black winged lovelies that Traudel found, one of which let her catch it, then sashayed up her palm onto my finger, where it posed for a solid 30 seconds before flitting away. The swirly black stamps here are the re-entry stamps for Chatsworth. Calling card and bread stick wrappers from San Rocco, where we enjoyed a sumptuous Italian meal one evening, before going to meet Kurt, Alison and their family. Chatsworth receipts, ticket, sugar packet, calling card from our lunch spot in Derbyshire, receipt from post office where I bought Air Mail stickers and postcard stamps! Top and bottom: images from Chatsworth brochures which evoke the sensations and moods I felt there. Blue and gold foils are from the candies Traudel handed around in the car as we drove!

Fish & Chips Take Second

2009-07-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

I'm at lunch, eating the first Mexican food I've had in just over 3 weeks. Bliss. Chile relleno with carnitas, rice, beans, chips, 3 kinds of salsa, guacomole. Did I say bliss? The fish & chips were outta sight, but nothing will ever surpass Mexican food for me, I guess. BIG shout out to Greg for going to pick it up for me today!

I'm blog surfing as I nosh, and have come upon some other sources for/of bliss:
Rachel Lake Holt Great photos and just a cool, chatty, welcoming vibe. I read almost all the way back to the start of her blog and feel SO relaxed, now, cheery!
A Field Journal - gah. I wish I wish I wish my journal pages would ever once be this clean, this simple ... and gorgeous photography here, also.

Folks - Bonus

2009-07-16T10:30:00.000-07:00

Holly is third from left. Hannah is second from right and Alison (their mom) is on the far right.

Occasion: Midnight Wander
The two young ladies between Holly and Hannah lost their mother, age 46, to a brain tumor 2 months ago. The walk was meant to raise money for the Hospice which assisted her/them. Per Klaus, who sent me this photo, the event raised a total of £165,000.

The Folks

2009-07-15T16:42:00.001-07:00

Twenty odd years ago, my bros Cam and Chris joined their friend Patrick and flew off across the pond to open and run a Mexican food restaurant. Kate, Ian and Traudel's daughter, was married to Patrick. Cam and Chris stayed with my hosts, Kate's folks, Ian and Traudel, before finding their own digs (across the street!) Hence was born my family's connection with our UK folks. Ian. One of my hosts in Sheffield. He of the world's most perfect "Oh Crikey"! He who turned me on to the American jazz singer Melody Gardot (RUN to check HER out!!), he who forced me to say, in true British style, "I have to go to the toilet!" instead of using all the American euphemisms (restroom, bathroom, ladies room, etc.) Traudel. Mutti, the quiet center, Ian's wife, she who allowed me to take over her sink and wash dishes and NOT be a 'guest' (eeewwww), she who both gives and accepts oodles of hugs, she who gave me a gorgeous blond-braided doll I've christened Liesl. Klaus. My Lovely Mother's host in Manchester, and Traudel's brother. He who has met us in Paris, and twice in Italy, he who KNOWS about wines, he of the continuous hand gestures and goofy jokes. Kate. Ian and Traudel's youngest daughter. She who joined us on the night of our arrival to share champagne, and she who so graciously shared her son, Luke, with Toni-the-Colonial. Luke and his Daddy, Keith. The young lad for whom I'm leaving Double BB, and his handsome father, Keith, who does (in fact) have an entire head. Chalk this photo up to jet lag! Dave. Ian's brother, first met on this trip and instantly befriended, he who has days-of-the-week socks (proof to follow), he who drives a cool Prius hybrid but LOVES his wife's red Smart Car, he who bestowed upon me numerous WWII-related gifties for my WWII-crazed bros. See? True story. My Lovely Mother. Isn't she, though? Lovely, I mean! Yours truly. Enthroned in a plush red leather chair [such as I covet for our living room] at Chatsworth, surreptitiously photographed by My Lovely Mother. Blame this photo on her!

Not pictured (chalk lack of photos up to camera being in wrong place at wrong time):

Karen, Mick and Sarah: Ian and Traudel's eldest daughter, her husband, and their daughter.

Tracy: Dave's wife, who looks like I want to in my next life: beautiful, voluptuous brunette with brown doe-eyes and one of the warmest, most accessible personalities in the UK, I suspect! She who woke up early after 3 days traveling for work in order to accompany Dave and Ian in taking me to the airport, after only having met me one evening, earlier in the week.

Kurt, Alison, Hannah, Holly, Johnny and Jamie: Klaus' eldest son, his wife, their daughters, the daughters' boyfriends, who welcomed us into their home and LUSCIOUS garden one evening for chatter, laughter, and conversational exchange of a deeper level. Alison told me, as we were leaving, "I feel like I've known you forever!" The most meaningful and reciprocated compliment I've received in a long time!

Luke - My New Not Secret At All Crush ... because it's a heart-melting picture and because I CAN! I taught him how to 'give me some fist' and Ian has promised to maintain the tradition!

Calling all Cards

2009-07-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

Will everyone who got her postcard from me leave me a comment or shoot me an email, pretty please? I'm curious to know if any made it, and if any arrived before I actually got back to Phoenix. THANKS!

Hushed & Slowly Coming To

2009-07-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

She feels her feet beneath her, but
lilting above the return,
still in the clouds' own landscape,
soft, so soft.
Below, the steady flare & flash of duty,
normalcy, usual, routine,
but dulled, still,
by the veil of transition, a mere whisper denied by the thrilling
melody of memory, impression,
sound, fantasy, all at once &
everywhere. Experience flows through her,
a clear pure outpouring,
cascades without shape but cool,
passing one hand to the other,
circling again, resounding, drowning out the summons,
rinsing off (for a rare few moments more)
the palms and voices pulling her down,
seeking her. Far away is she, yet,
where the road loops & loops again,
the hedges caping every turn, throwing
leafy promises, glistening with
the past, the present, and the imagined.
Away she is, where accents transport her
inward, backward, & call forth
someone inside who has been waiting. The stories can't be told while she is still listening within.
Her heart beats, breaks, bursts,
then again, too full, so fine, fervent with response, and she can only yearn to who and where she was
until her voice returns.

[all photos mine, taken at Chatsworth, Monday, July 6, 2009]

The Woman is Back in Town!

2009-07-13T07:00:00.001-07:00

And here I am again, back for the hottest weekend Phoenix has had yet this summer (114 degrees expected today)! These photos are compliments of my host, Ian. This is Luke, Ian's grandson and my LOVE -- I've already told Double BB I'm going to be forced to leave him for a 2 year old British lad. What a darling!!! In the garden at Ian and Traudel's. This spot became my patio roost while I visited, far superior in terms of scenery than my own roost at home, too, I must say! The green clogs are Ian's, on loan to me whenever I went outdoors! I'm sentimentally attached to those shoes now!

I'm doing laundry and still unpacking, sorting everything. My own film (18 rolls) won't be ready until 3 p.m. today. I cannot WAIT to see the photos. I'm already speaking in my newly-acquired British accent, complete with phrases and terminology I noted in my little travel journal, making my guys laugh and doing a pretty good job of it!

Oh, have I got tales to tell, tales to tell!!! ... soon.

Uber Airport Cool, & Adios for Now!

2009-07-01T13:55:00.001-07:00

Going ...
Going ...
will be gone Friday, July 3rd thru Monday, July 13th ... This is how good Tonia's gonna look gallivanting over the pond. I've got all these fashion elements, just not precisely the same [except the trench/rain coat - mine is London Fog, not Burberry]. Step back, Sienna Miller!!

Meanwhile, since I've been having a continuous Friday here at work since LAST Friday, and it's a short week (holiday) and I'm going to be gone a week and then when I get back my BOSS is going to be gone a week, tomorrow I'm not going to have the time Dorothy gave the wicked witch to melt in order to give you all a Ta Ta For Now Shout Out ... so this is it. Parting is such sweet sorrow -- sorta!

Kiss Kiss, Maties & Chums & Wenches alike -- talk to you soon!

Wishcast Wednesday

2009-07-01T06:47:00.000-07:00

Our question today, from Ms. Jamie: "What do you wish to nurture?" See this? This, seriously, is what my head has felt like the last three weeks -- an explosion of colorful, wonderful, exciting, vivid, and vast ideas --- with flight potential. (& I have a pair o'shorts like that, too, love me some cargos!) My journal is bursting with scribbles going every which-way, trying to jot down, AND FAST, this geyser of goodness for when I return from England.

I wish to nurture creativity -- my OWN. My fledgling creativity brought me to blogging (along with Miss V's endless nagging -- hee!). That creativity connected me with some of the most meaningful people I've met in life's journey so far. And it's also given me myself in ways I hadn't known, prior ... or anticipated. And now what seems to be occurring is that it is, and I am, growing exponentially, the circle is enlarging, my ability to express it is keeping UP with the growth ... Each idea is, and each of you are, one of these happy soaring brilliant balloon faces!

I wish to nurture it all. The creativity, the growth, the circle, the friendships.

[all images compliments of Google]

Double BB Dreams

2009-06-30T07:20:00.000-07:00

My anticipation of "soap date night" has even entered my dreamscape!! That IS a Denzel pic, yes, but it's meant to be Double BB [who won't pose for me like that].

She's Bad! They're Bad! Ciera's Sleepover ...

2009-06-29T11:39:00.000-07:00

This just in from my bro, Chris: "Ciera's sleepover with Liam and Audra is over. They were all really good and we had fun. Attached are some crappy cell phone pics." Liam and Audra are Ciera's 'cousins', who just entertained her for a week in San Diego! Chris kept them so their folks could have a cool, adult anniversary evening! Whatta guy! What a cool a** shot!!

Monday

2009-06-29T09:02:00.001-07:00

I have nothing to show for myself, for the weekend. I managed to get all my piles of maybe-this-will-go-to-England laid out on the bed Saturday morning, organized, checked off or added to the master checklist, laundered, considered, and then the first go at packing done. Too much stuff, but I always just start out with everything then edit from there!

Then I just collapsed into a lump on the bed, under my blankies. My throat had already been sore for 4½ days, rusty and clogged-feeling and painful just enough to keep the teapot going. Saturday morning, it hurt enough (along with my head), to shut me down. I watched HGTV until 10 p.m., floating in and out of naps.

Sunday? Throat was way better -- I sweat everything out overnight, I guess, cuz I woke up drenched and with a much clearer head. Showered, wrote outside for a while on my patio roost, then decided another day of 'just chillin' was exactly what I needed. But I lay on the couch, instead, and watched a few new-to-me DVDs, wrote in my journal, snoozed with Zoe on my feet ...

and I'm ALMOST DONE with the Beatrix Potter bio ... maybe 20 more pages. What an incredible book!!! I recommend it to anyone with more than a passing interest in her or in the life/times of her era. What a mind-blowing, deeply intelligent, multi-faceted, more-energetic-than-God (or so it seemed) woman!!! Peter Rabbit and the small books she wrote actually amount to about 1/8th of her contribution to art, science, and the environment.

REMINDER TO ALL: My Lovely Mother and I leave for England Friday ... I won't be on the wires, again, until July 14th at the earliest!

Lightly on LaBelle

2009-06-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

Sunlight & Blue Shade. Images from Toast Catalog. I drew the man, another five-minute, 'Southpaw' drawing challenge, but wanted to paint him more realistically this time. He flips open for journaling, and so does the stairway image. Mosaic Tea. Two lovely photos from a Toast catalog and watercolor paint. The Landowner's Daughter. Magazine image, clip art senorita, my photo of the trees.

When We Meet

2009-06-25T07:18:00.000-07:00

When We Meet
[all photos by Sam]

Here I am!
skipped by a dreamer's hand
across the ocean, a
heart-shaped stone
veined in rose,
clattering onto your front stoop.
Never mind your sidelong glance at once ironic & pithy --
HERE I AM!
I've come to torture your
electric toaster,
slobber on your guest pillow,
run my mouth whenever you attempt to read,
but mainly?
I've come to meet your meadow!
Pull on your dungarees, Cupcake,
& lead the way,
past stone doorways & plant-pot
people poised on garden benches, through familiar turns,
you, me, and
a small tiger
clammering instead for a tractor transport.

We'll trespass, won't we?
Clang open the rusty metal
gate, tipping on its hinges from
a stalwart, wood and weathered post?
Chin-high nettles,
suddenly friendly, raise a prickly-chorus to your name,
& the trees beyond
dip their heads in a home-girl nod
to your presence.
We'll stroll, arms linked &
trailed by the tiny beastie
(eyeing ME warily but
watching US curiously), and in
a meadow opening, shaded just-so
in dappled rays, fanned by the
tree posse, we'll sit
cross-legged, facing each other,
& join together that third eye
in the center of our foreheads --
heart-sourced & pulsating,
the sweet connecting of souls.
We'll remember, quietly,
& learn, calmly, but our
interlaced knuckles will
whiten with discovery:
You! Me! Us! We!
[& just behind your right shoulder,
the tiny tiger observes,
his curls lit like autumn.]

Joy & joining catapult us upward,
a high SPRING to
our enlightened feet --
& we'll take
the tiger's pawlets,
one in each of our hands, &
fashion a run to match
all our tempos,
the grasses & nettles & trees parting,
[and grinning],
snapping their own versions of our
Kodak Moment -- to recall us,
later, among themselves
beneath the moonlight --
leaning toward each other,
whispering, "Did we dream it?
Were they real?"

You spin off, & the little one,
trusting your trust in me,
trusting his own momentum &
the moment, gives me
his free hand & we twirl,
3 together ...

& the ants march &
the clouds blush for having
even considered rain
& the leaves twinkle

& the nettles preen their thorns,
anticipating your selection (soon)
of those to accompany us home,
those to become our tea.

Here I am!
One of you,
one with you,
heart-shaped & honed, released
to & revealed of
just these pumping rosy veins
tracking our dance, our walk,
our tiger companion asleep in
your lap, our hands
knitted together,

& OUR meadow (now). And later, we'll drink the
nettle tea, and it is the
day in liquid perfection,
delivering again
You! Me! Us! We!

found
found
found

for Sam and Ruben
June 25, 2009

Shout Out

2009-06-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

Today, my oldest male child is 22 -- not OFFICIALLY (mind you), until 3:16 p.m. Oooh do I love this guy!

Wishcast Wednesday

2009-06-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

Jamie's question today is, "What do you wish to savour?"

I wish to savor anticipation ... anticipation of the green, saturated green, everywhere green, deeply lush green landscapes My Lovely Mother and I are soon to see in England. I wish to savor the anticipation of all that will be quenched in me, the places parched from my desert habitat -- parched in a way that is so natural and normal to me now, after 3 decades here, that I don't realize they're thirsty anymore, until I land in GREEN, somewhere, anywhere. I wish to savor the anticipation of seeing cherished friends, dear as family. I wish to savor the anticipation of discovering new sights, of RAIN, of ancient fences, homes, streets, wharves, whatever I'm introduced to, all of it. I wish to savor the anticipated promise of noshin' on REAL HONEST-TO-GOODNESS BRITISH FISH & CHIPS, and possibly tea with scones. I wish to savor the anticipation of the emotions, observations, words, poetry, which will fill my tiny travel journal.

What I Didn't Dream

2009-06-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

Neda. I happened accidentally on the video of Neda Agha-Soltan bleeding to death, day before yesterday, and haven't stopped thinking about it, or her, since.

And on the front page of MSN today? The really important stuff.
'A Perfect Swimsuit for Every Body'
'Blockbuster or Box Office Bust' (Transformers)
'Spector Wants TV, iPod in his Prison Cell'
'Jon and Kate Lived Apart for Two Years'

Wild Rain Journey

2009-06-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

I dreamed you,
brown-eyed girl,
playing tag with Buddha-belly clouds --
one touch of your hand &
they bloomed into their colors,
bright flim-flam tones,
cheeky with rain-smeared smiles so
like those Kool-aid grins on our sons.
I dreamed you,
on the corner of
"meadow" & "pier",
hailing daisies for umbrella-taxis
& twirling a-la-Mary Poppins thru
the edges of rainbows draped like
swagged sheers at the sky's edge ...
lifted & lulled by the currents
of your own wild delight --
I dreamed you, dreamed you,
opening your palm to
scoop hands full
of cloud confetti &
drizzle it down
on me,
looking up at you, looking
suddenly through a kaleidoscope
of color,
& love.

June 22, 2009 Dreamscape
poem for Cam LaBelle, as I dreamed it

On a LaBelle Wave

2009-06-22T07:21:00.000-07:00

Pandora's Box. Doesn't this ROCK?!!! Now let me 'splain why ... I did a creativity exercise to make this -- 5 minutes allowed to draw from an inspiration photo, using my NON DOMINANT (left) hand! FIVE MINUTES!! Then five more minutes to color or paint it, and not allowed to use a 'realistic' palette. Ten minutes and this is what came out of me!!! [[Seriously, I rarely seem to do anything this free, this abstract or cool, with my right hand!]] Ciera Leads the Way My fave picture, ever, of Ciera ... the rest of the background just followed. Vintage postcard (1909!) from my collection, papers, etc. Lots of flaps and hidden inserts for journaling. Bergen. This photo turns up a lot on Cam's blog(s), so I figured it must be one she loves. I copped it, true story, and printed it off to use on a page. Altitude. I made a photo copy of Bergen's photo, then used a Copic marker to transfer it so you see it in reverse. Then I did some paper-piecing to re-colorize his cap, t-shirt, shorts, and the soaring blanket! Fireflies. A long-cherished image from a Focus magazine, shot by Keith Carter, 1992. Papers, vintage wallpaper, decoupage tissue paper. Summer Skin. Photo from a Focus magazine - background paper came in my latest Somerset Studio magazine, deco tape, bird photo by Elliot Porter, image folds back for journaling beneath. She Wanted to Go In. Inspired wholly by Cam's blog post, here. All the 'waves' open for journaling. Nature's Herbal Remedies. Paper scrap I doodled on to create a 'villa', image from Ten Two Studios, a little 'journal' created out of the catalog cover, acrylic paint.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - Ciera Meets Broadway

2009-06-22T07:19:00.000-07:00

This just in from my bro', Chris: "Cell phone picture of Ciera at Gammage right before Chitty Chitty Bang Bang started .... She loved it. You can see the blue sky up on the stage -- Chitty Chitty (the car) actually FLEW! It was very cool. Big time Broadway stuff... What was cool is they had a lot of kids in the production, and even 5 or 6 DOGS! Including ... 3 Jack Russells!!! Ciera was enthralled."

Groovin' on LaBelle

2009-06-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

Dreaming to the Moon. A Julification page that Cam liked, with just a few Toni touches. LaBelle Parasol. Paint and rubber stamps. The parasol pulls out for journaling on the back. Ticket to Ride. Cam? Dearest? This is NOT meant to be you, except in escapade and attitude, 'k? & possibly hair color. Meanwhile, hands - eesh! Proportions - blimey! FACES - SHITE!! But you know, I sat down and just straight-up painted this, no sketches first, no erasing of any sort, just did it, looking at a magazine photo. And the 'gist' is there, the feeling. There will be more of these.

Trying to Inhale

2009-06-19T07:02:00.000-07:00

I headed out to work with my folder stuffed, 3 backgrounds for the LaBelle journal ... listening to some music, moseying along, looking forward to checking emails, posting the backgrounds, then hitting my Friday. Same ole', same ole', but with a good attitude.

Then, on the freeway, 1/2 mile from my exit for work, and directly (and I mean DIRECTLY) in front of me, a blue car swerved from the HOV lane into the white car in the middle lane just beside me, but also in front of me ... both cars crossed in front of me (in the right lane), hit the masonry wall ... the white car spun around, the blue car rebounded off the wall and flipped three times that I counted and landed upside down in the center lane. The white car spun to a stop in the right lane, where I had just been. I had, meanwhile, slowed and then stopped in the emergency lane and immediately dialed 911. As I was on the phone with them, the driver of the blue car actually EMERGED ... a young guy, 21 if a day, in shorts, a loose t-shirt, Vans, bleeding all down his right side, his head bloodied, STAGGERING toward the concrete wall. Another car had stopped and those two people instantly went to him, guided him to a sitting position over near his vehicle, took his cell phone away (he was even trying to use THAT, although obviously disoriented and badly injured). I finished talking to DPS and then drove on.

As soon as I was past the crumpled vehicles and could no longer see that kid, I burst into sobs. Flashed on my oldest male child (his accident was 2 years ago, the 17th of this month) ...

I had wanted to get out of my car and go to that boy, but I didn't want to create yet another hazard, and I was blocking the only useable passing area (the emergency lane). I called 911, told them, they patched me thru to DPS, and you wanna know what the first question was out of both of those operators' mouths? "HOW MANY LANES IS IT BLOCKING?" Excuse me? I said, loudly, 'Look, you've got a kid here with obvious serious injuries! Talk to me about sending an ambulance and then we'll talk about lane blockage.' What the FUCK?!

I got to the office, crying like the Still Scared Mom I am and still wanting to hug that kid, not to mention my OWN sons ...

so maybe later I'll post my perky LaBelle backgrounds ... right now I am trying to clear my head of the vision of that young guy bloodied and staggering like he was, and being thankful he was alive and the other driver was alive and I was alive cuz it was 2 feet from my front bumper, all of it ... and that my son is alive,

and that's just plain enough.

Speechless

2009-06-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

My blogging friend, Cinner, recently went to visit her Mom and Dad, to be handy and helpful while her Dad was in the hospital awaiting hip surgery. Things took a huge turn for the heartbreaking and her dad passed away! I couldn't STAND it when I received the message -- what?! And I just wanted to do something for My Woman, C. Somehow, my mind and heart rebelled against making a card, with some 'stock' sentiment no matter how true ... so I wrote a letter, with my real feelings, and sent it off. Today, Cinner directed me to her blog, where I found this. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let her words say why there has been a Toni Award invented -- I am so touched I can't open my mouth - my heart is in my throat! It's just that -- everything Cindy says about me is what I feel about her, how strongly I connected to her from reading her blog. This blog thing, I mean -- it's helping me find FAMILY! "Most of us know Toni from Seaweed and Gardenias. If you have not been to her blog...please drop by for a visit. She ia an amazing artist. I made this award for her as she definately deserves it....

Yesterday I recieved the most beautiful envelope sent first class in the mail. I knew it was Toni's work before I even opened the envelope. My sister in law has borrowed my camera to go to her sons grad or I would be showing you pictures of the envelope and the letter. So I opened the letter and held in my hand the most beautiful page with a face of a lady in the corner, words fragile handle with care, some green and brown trees. On it also was the most beautiful writing. I know my Grandma would say what beautiful penmanship she has...the words of the letter were the best part of all. Here was a lady that I have known briefly and she took the time out of her day to offer her support and her shoulder to lean on if I needed her in any way at all to help me get through the loss of my father. She signed the letter, With great sorrow and affection, Toni....

I believe that there are angels among us that we sometimes come accross. She must be one. Toni I will cherish this letter more than I ever can express in words and more importantly I will cherish you, your heart and your kindness!"

Wishcast Wednesday (On Thursday)

2009-06-18T11:27:00.000-07:00

Today (yesterday!) Jamie asks: "Who or what do you wish to play with?" I wish to play with my Bloglandia Posse, my homewimmenz, my friends and soul sistahs!! ROLL CALL (drum roll, please): Veronica! SamX! Cam! Alison! Beth! Lee! Patty M, my poetry WOMAN! Holly, AKA My Queen! Julification 'Layer Love' Julie, aka J to the P! Cindy, aka Cinner, aka "C"!

LET'S GO, WOMEN!!!! WE'LL START WITH FURNITURE JUMPING IN MY FURNITURE GARDEN.

===========
P.S. You all thought I was gonna say him, dincha? DINCHA?!!!

No Woman No Cry

2009-06-18T08:31:00.000-07:00

I listened to Bob Marley in my studio last evening, and I was playing with creating paisley prints out of my leftover paints on the palette. Anyway, this is an ORGANIZED assembly of the images I can remember from my dreams. Dreams, PLURAL -- they were all over the place and all I could do on my patio roost is scribble, quickly, into my journal the items and sensations I remembered. Most notable/immediate were the vintage camera and the turquoise guitar. The actual 'soundtrack' I can recall wasn't reggae/Bob at all -- it was Simon and Garfunkel's song, The Boxer ... ???

England Travel Journal

2009-06-18T07:36:00.001-07:00

My journal for my trip across the pond is a 3½ x 5½ moleskin, filled with maps especially for London. We're not actually GOING to London but it was the only English city journal I could find here at Jenni Bick. [I dream of having one of these for a few of my favorite cities, and creating a 'character' who journals in each one. But that's another story.] Below, a sampling of a few of the pages in my England journal -- I've been quietly, slowly, casually working on this for 3 months now. Perfectly compact, sturdy, ready to go! Two weeks and a "wake-up" to take-off! I've put in a glassine envelope for each day we are actually THERE (excluding travel), to collect receipts, ephemera, found objects. Also in the envelope is a small tag to make notes about the items. Envelope for Day 4. Umbrella and Wellies!! (grin) In anticipation of old buildings, walls, graveyards, statuary, gardens. In honor of Beatrix Potter, of course! ARE WE THERE YET?

My Farewell Julification Page

2009-06-18T06:58:00.000-07:00

The Julification class is OVER!!! WAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! The last videos were posted a while ago -- I waited. I let the anticipation simmer. Then I watched the videos but made myself wait, again, before going to paint and paper. And as it turns out, this is, hands down, my favorite Julification page of any I've done.

The groovy thing is that Julie is leaving the videos up, the group OPEN, for a year. Who does THAT, I ask you?! So when I get back from England, I can pretend to be a newbie and start the class all over again. I'm aiming to come to friendly terms, a truce, with crackle paint, I am!

Julie, Julie, Julie ... sigh ... you are the Soopreme Layer Love goddess, Woman! I would (will) take a class from you anywhere, any time.

Mike's Hard Lemonade & Dreamscapes

2009-06-17T10:10:00.000-07:00

Beth did it! It's Beth's fault! [woot! giggle!]

She recommended (no, not just 'recommended' -- HIGHLY recommended! And more than once! Matter o'fact, it's come up quite a LOT!) that I try the pomegranate-flavored Mike's Hard Lemonade. This is what Toni dreamed after two (or was it 3?) chilled pomegranate Mike's Hard Lemonades, served iced, in lime-salt-rimmed glasses. On the patio, after journal backgrounds, to the sound of Rickie Lee Jones on my boombox. Mmmm HMMMMM!! They go down like Kool-Aid in, oh, 2nd gear, just mellow & sweet & so so easy.

"... some people call me the space cowboy
yea
some call me the gangstuh of love ... "

(in jester tights, true story!)

LaBelle-icious!

2009-06-17T07:03:00.000-07:00

I am SO getting my LaBelle journal background groove on -- last night, I listened to a new (to me) Rickie Lee Jones CD THREE TIMES IN A ROW (it's that good, see bottom of post) and just played & played & played. I wrote in my journal this morning, after eyeballing the pages again -- I must work entirely in my right brain when I'm my zone, because when I look at the pages, later, it's like seeing them for the first time with my cognitive brain. I remember the FEELING of the pages but don't remember all the images used until I see them again -- they're that, um, melded into my creative process. Pier 5. Paint, rubber stamp images, deco tape, vintage postcard from my collection, little paper image. Meep Meep! The LaBelle Love Bug visits Toni in the desert. Can ya dig it? VW is a copy machine transfer with copic marker, then painted. Meep! Gifts From and To The Sea. Inspired by the colors of the shells on the tag. A soothing page, to me. This is on a piece of manila folder, and I've already aged/distressed the other side - can't wait to see what I do with that. I never know 'til I get there and get started. Pears. [ya think?] anyway I was trying to get the colors of bosc and regular pears, with the greens and browny-golds ... the right edge made me think of a garden trellis. Reclining. Vintage wallpaper background, vellum envelopes with wee sooprises inside, old button, velvet ribbon, vintage photo from a collection. I could really see this wallpaper in the room our reclining heroine is in, here! I chose her because her dress looks like a mermaid tail, doesn't it? Designed and Produced. Those words are from a fabric swatch ... various paper bits, little folder. This is one of my Julification backgrounds that had the dark strip up the center. Looks better now. Cat's Eye. Leftover paint from my palette (cool!), swirly stamps, tag, twine, cat's eye circle on a big brad!
**********************
Rickie Lee Jones, Evening of My Best Day
And for anyone who buys used from Amazon, the seller GOHASTINGS rocks my world -- turbo mailing, items are ALWAYS as they describe them, they take care with how they package their stuff ... I always look for them, now, and will pay more for something if they have it.

An Award and a Sisterhood I Claim!

2009-06-16T07:34:00.000-07:00

Holly explained on her blog, "The award was created by a blogger named Jenn of Barefoot In The Sand. And, I don't know her that well, although I have visited her blog for a lurky a time or two. I love what she has to say about why she created this award: "You can never extinguish the Light that Shines brightly within all of us. If there is Hope, there is Light, if there is a Dream, that same Light will lead the way, and this Award I created this evening reflects that Creative Spark, that Light we all hold within us, but there are certain people who come to mind that Shine So Brightly that you can't help notice the Warmth that illuminates in all they do, and in what they represent and just who they are."

I'm always frustrated because a) these awards are blooms to me; I believe in them completely; I'm touched and heart-burst when I receive one. But the majority of those I want to forward them to 'don't do awards', which I understand completely, but that means I end up being the Stop Cog in the award wheel. Sigh. And Holly already awarded Beth, and she was my first thought when it came to illumination.

But here I go anyway, doggone it:

1. Patty Mooney, at A Diary Left Open, because she does what Beth does so well -- words and pictures that both (separately and together) tend to leave me gasping with delight and introspection. I love Patty's poetry, mainly, and her cheeky humor!

2. Cam, at Journey Wildly, for doing just that and carrying me along with her, letting me ride shotgun, jump on furniture, careen about in golf carts, swing and slide, and just generally be the Thinking Wild Woman that I am, in her grand company. I love you SO, Cam!

3. And Sam, at The Everyday Witch, who is one of my cornerstones and how did I EVER EVER draw breath without you, Woman?! Brilliance, humor, vision, and (yes) a BEWITCHING way of writing. Although she could be my daughter, by virtue of our age difference, it's NOT that -- she is my peer and my homey and my most-definite sidekick.

4. Veronica? too dadgum bad you don't want awards anymore, my little cabbage, cuz honey you are my internal light at all times. DEAL WIDDIT!! (kiss, kiss!) Created by Mel, and here is what both she and Holly said about this award: Holly: "But, every once in awhile, I'm struck by the premise that a certain group stands for, and hopes for others. To that end, Mel, has created a new badge: The Sisterhood of The Purple Bicycle. Now, I know you think I joined because of the color...not true. Although, I can't think of another color that is better suited. And, I know you'd like me to award it to you, but I can't do that. The Sisterhood can't be awarded. Nope. You have to decide to be part of it for yourself. You have to want it and make it happen."

And Mel herself, "It occurs to me," explains Mel, "That we are all on a similar sort of journey. Naturally, what we do and where we go and how we choose to get there is different, but in essence, our destination looks much the same. We are reclaiming, we are celebrating, we are rediscovering. We chafe against our boundaries, we are challenging our restrictions - some self-imposed, some societal, we seek to take back what was lost or taken from us along the way. We explore with our words, with our art, with our spiritual path - we take on 'challenges' and projects to stretch and push ourselves further toward that destination. And we share it all with each other. The triumphs, the doubts, the disappointments, the memories, the revelations and the Joy. We gather the bones and, together, are singing them to life in a glorious song of celebration.

"And because of this, I think we should be shouting it from the highest rooftops, yodelling from the loftiest peaks that we, in all our strivings, in all our efforts to define and re-define Who We Are - are part of a bigger picture, we are all interconnected; a community of women whose spirits may have been battered and bruised, but are intact and gaining strength with every step. We are still casting about in the Shadows, unearthing and bringing to Light long-forgotten things, but we take strength from each other as we move forward, as beautiful works-in-progress. I, for one, feel Blessed to be journeying alongside you all; to be hacking my way through the forest, knowing that somewhere, just off to my left and right and slightly ahead or behind, is another warrior soul doing the same."

What else can I say but OH YEA I'M IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grandma Lydia (June 15, 2009 Dreamscape)

2009-06-16T07:10:00.000-07:00

Before bed, I cleaned some in my studio, including dusting my 'flock', so I know that's why there were so many birds in my dream. But I also dreamed of my Grandma Lydia, which is a rare thing for me -- how our mind does recall details - the way she moved in her garden, her hands in their rubber gloves weeding and snipping, her efficient no-nonsense gestures in the kitchen and oh! the meals she prepared! Her giggle, when we got her going ... My Lovely Mother's eyes crinkle just like HER mother's did, when she giggles. I always remember Grandma Lydia with flowers.

June 14, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-15T08:16:00.000-07:00

I had the Toni Version Dream of Bo Derek running on the beach ... all soft focus and hazy and Anthropologie'd out and ... well ... it was LOVELY, in a dream, running thru sand, lollipops in a rainbow of colors, picnic baskets, a soundtrack of laughter, waves, and wind thru dune grass, sand pipers helping themselves to the croissants, pears so ripe the juice ran down my chin. I'd love to have a picnic with an assortment of birds, wouldn't you?

Gettin' Busy with LaBelle

2009-06-15T07:42:00.000-07:00

Love Is a Verb. Magazine image, wallpaper scrap, acrylic paint, rubber stamps. The artist Angela Cartwright does a LOT of painting onto photographs, imprinting rubber stamp images, etc., and I love that technique! Wish Whisper. Images from Mary Mata and Tuscan Rose, scraps, journal stickers, tags. Sheer. Photo by Steve Diet Goedde from a collection I have. Background papers and paints, glass paint on photo. Kind of a dreamy image ... Samurai. Postage stamps, odd papers, rubber stamps. The green/blue vellum sheet opens for journaling, and the bottom strip is actually a pocket for -- whatever! Beautiful. One of my Julification pages which I didn't initially like much. Pink, and all. Add painting and words, though ... what a difference!

Revelation (followed closely by dismay)

2009-06-12T18:49:00.000-07:00

Blog reading is good for me. Generally, it's just up building; it bonds me to others; it's artistically/creatively inspiring. Then, every once in a while (or back-to-back, like this week), I run across a post that gets all kinds of red flags waving in my brain. Today, the matter involved dreadlocks. [Googled image] Of course you recognize Bob Marley, reggae God, hottie beyond hotness, musical angel, and (heretofore, in my mind) the epitome of Those Who Wear Dreadlocks.

Now this [Googled image, runway model, dreadlock-coiffed]: What I read today was someone's innocent, simple declaration of her lifelong desire, and new found intent, to have dreads. Someone who is a white woman. I read, and found my face screwing itself into a pretzel. And my brain trying to launch a fur ball of some sort. ????????????????????? And BAM FLASH KAZAM, Batwomen!! This image then blasted into my brain. Since its introduction into media history, I have DETESTED this photo. It's not the swimsuit, the bouncety-bouncety-breasts-on-the-loose beach jog, the chiseled body and cheek bones. IT'S THE HAIR!!! I have categorically (and for, what, DECADES, now?) despised the hair. Inauthentic! Poseur! White Woman Wanna Be!!! Why should Bo Derek launch beaded tresses into the main stream? Bo Derek, a white woman?

oh. eesh. oh. blimey. oh shite shite shite!

Today, my friends, Toni tripped ALL DAMN OVER an internal prejudice. SPLAT. It was NOT pretty! Toni's prejudice: white women, by virtue of being white, are somehow disallowed from braids and dreads. As if I have felt, without realizing it until today, that they are ethnically challenged, inadequate, and otherwise lacking in credentials to do so. And (especially, I soon realized), BLOND white women, who are of course the farthest removed from my, Toni's, Epitome Of Those Who Wear Dreadlocks, Mr. Marley himself.

I never knew. I never knew I felt that way. And in examining it, earlier, in my journal, I discovered a deep, relentless FEAR at the bottom of it -- fear of being ACCUSED of being a wanna-be, an impostor, a poseur, especially by those my mind has deemed ethnically 'allowed' (qualified) to wear the dos. Fear of what other people in general think, would think, have thought, of a blond white woman walking through life with a head full of dreads. Or braids. Ridiculous! Outrageous! Arrogant! Doesn't know who she is or where she's from! ... oh the weird, revealing daggers my brain threw!!!

I'm dismayed, & dagger-shredded & quite bloody!!! Me, who just two days wrote this: 'We've fought to rise from under it, to declare ourselves WOMAN in whatever way WE define, for so many decades.' And yet I've been carrying around this discriminatory, close-minded, shrunken, absurd opinion all this time?!!!

So ... what happens, I guess, is that I'm looking at a white blond woman in dreads or braids and WORRYING (for her, but actually for ME) that fingers are pointing and tongues are wagging about how she's being inauthentic, that she's illegitimate in that style, that she's appropriated something she 'has no right to'.

I'm so ashamed. I've got some major internal housekeeping to do. I know I won't be growing dreads as atonement because ... because ... I'D BE SCARED!!! [I don't, actually, like them, not for me -- I don't like ANY 'do' I have to actually take care of, spend time on .... ] but the REAL REASON is that I'd be scared!!! of external opinions! ME!!!!

I gotta reckon with that. splat, splat, splat.

Oh, thank god for blogs and others with more enlightened viewpoints -- I LIKE being busted hard across my chops when I need a wake-up call.

ROCK ON, BLONDS WITH DREADS, BLONDS WITH BRAIDS!!! I have new eyes and a new heart, now, with which to see you!

June 11, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-12T07:54:00.000-07:00

Ocean dreams, over and over. Beth and Veronica? Except for the labrador, I am holding youse twos directly responsible for this OCEANIC ACHE ... but thanks for the great dreamscapes. Oofda.

ZING!

2009-06-12T06:49:00.000-07:00

My message from the Universe today: "Very simply, Antonia, the more that you accept responsibility for, the more power you have. Doesn't that rock?

Love,
The Universe

Though I would like to take credit for Fridays, Antonia. You know, generally speaking."

A. Due to a situation at work, I've been sputtering, frustrated, raging, & mainly depressed all week, like somebody has had a mongo cast iron lid over me, sitting on it, trying to suppress me. And I've been doing a whole BUNCH of finger pointing & kvetching & yammering & whining in my journal, instead of 'seeing what I need to see' [about ME] in all of it.

B. That said, when I read this post, I just wanted to reach out and slap the Universe, ya know? And holler, "SHADDUP, already, self pity is SO much more dramatic!"

C. As for Fridays, mine anyway, wouldn't be offering to take NO credit for those.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So? How's everyone?

Reality Check (Testing, 1-2-3, Testing!)

2009-06-10T17:28:00.000-07:00

Ok, world. I'm feeling combative, distressed, ruffled. A post on a blog I follow started this -- photos she took of a friend, photos her friend took of her. Glamour Artist photos. Been seeing more and more of those. Lovely, the photos, the subjects.

Lovely, but ...
a) why must we be Glamour Artists, and not just real women making art?
b) who can possibly afford such a photo shoot without sacrificing her art supply budget for two years?
c) Why do I feel like it's becoming not just sort of a competition of art, now, but of blog, of studio, and of self?

It's like Cosmopolitan Meets the Blog World -- our SELVES, bare bones, stripped, are not enough -- we have to have these photogenic & staged studios, these photogenic & staged blogs, these photogenic & staged selves -- make-up, ethereal dresses, fetching angles & almost-visible nipples-- some of it verges on soft porn, for cryin out loud! And I'm -- frustrated by it! This is women between women, perpetuating this -- er -- what is it? This MYTH, this stereotype, this hype! Everything, every one of our aspects physical, environmental, personal, always requiring a buff and a polish. Eesh, blimey, & shite!

Who is looking at these photos but other women artists, other women bloggers (predominantly)? Does anyone else get ruffled by this? Lovely as it is (and it IS), something just doesn't sit right in my gut about it.

And it's not enough that I totally GET this is these photographers' business, and that the ones I follow/read via their blogs are utterly sincere, genuine, real women, in and of themselves, even when unbuffed and unpolished. And yet -- AND YET -- ai! Lay me down in the tall grass, with a wispy, wizened bouquet and an Anthropologie Direct wardrobe and THEN take my picture? Why can't we just leave this behind? We've fought to rise from under it, to declare ourselves WOMAN in whatever way WE define, for so many decades. But no matter what, it seems, as women we yet must be alluring, too. Harkens back to an extension of that myth, another outdated belief structure: beautiful is better. Beautiful artist makes better art. Beautiful studio produces better art. Beautiful means more credible, more valuable, more intellectually capable, more able, more viable.

CRINGE!!

If I didn't know what any of my blogging posse looked like (& many I don't) or what their studios look like (the majority I don't), it wouldn't alter my impressions of them one iota. And I know this to be true of these particular photographers, shooting other artists in Glamour Artist shots. They're trying to capture the internal nuances of their subjects. I GET it! I do! and I want to accept it, as is, plain & straightforward ... but darnit, hard as I try, I still get ruffled.

Same reaction to the Where Women Create magazines all over the place, now. Who women? What women? Where women? Where are the studios like mine, with scabby hole-pucked walls, clogged, mismatched, unpainted, raw, tinseled with dust and pet hair, boxes, stuff stuff stuff -- organized but in makeshift, doable, affordable ways? Does the condition of my studio, my cleavage, my lack of a bouquet, make me a lesser artist, woman, presence? I gotta glam up to go in the studio now? Lipstick, & pumps, and Miss Congeniality sash all over again. NOOOOOOOO!!! I never ever want my own face in soft focus!

I stopped participating in the self portrait group because, and I quote myself here, "I always look like shite!" No technology or software in my possession to make myself over. OhmyGAWD I bought into it, didn't I? All of this is some kind of gimmick to put an appetite in women for the 'pretty' (the improved, the made over, the enhanced), when function serves us all so well -- and don't we all pretty up and personalize in our own ways, always, anyway? It's a marketing ploy -- spend spend spend -- on the magazine(s) at the very LEAST -- feel BADLY when you don't measure up in your crusty paint-smeared skort in your 'poor' studio. I want no part of it.

BUT!!! I'm aiming for shaking myself like a mangy dog when I project my own doubt and ruffly attitude on those who I know, without a doubt, don't deserve it. I trust these photographers, their talent, and their intentions, and when the bottom line is that I would trust any one of them to shoot photos of me, I know they don't deserve this rant at all.

But I'm also getting ready to show you WHERE THIS WOMAN CREATES -- my version of a reality check, cuz this is the most stunning, dream-filled place I have access to on a daily basis, and I'm the most stunning version I ever GET close to of myself when I'm in here. Do come in. The view upon opening my studio door. Looks like heaven on earth to ME! Shelves to the left of my studio desk. Home to eyelets, brads, all decorative papers, foamie rubber stamps, and my cherished magazines. Beth said she NEVER looks at old issues, but me? I'm in them ALL THE TIME!! CD player atop, with current most-listened to CDs and also books on CD. Stack of magazines currently getting my mojo a'slobbering! I have a color-system of tabs -- green ones mean inspiration for backgrounds for the LaBelle journal! My world -- the studio desk. Pens in a white metal picnic tin, embossing powders and Jacquard paints above, glue sticks, clothespins for drying, idea board presently pinned with Julification instructions, pattern-edged scissors, essential tools and glues in the back center, blotter paper in the middle, and to the right the stack of scrap copy paper I use for gluing, blobbing, heat gunning, 'processing'. I use the plates for palettes. Work horses: brushes and scissors. I got two of these white tin picnic thingies (meant for silverware) at Pottery Barn for $4.99 each ... score, Babee, score!!! Close up of the 'Julification tin' -- all the major ingredients of/for my Julification class housed there, vintage index card file (metal). LOVE that thang! The overflow fridge, which I want to drop kick outta here every minute of every day, except that at least the diet coke with lime and beer are handy. Pfft. I could USE that space, I'm tellin ya! Atop: shoe boxes holding sorted, cherished letters from family, envelope boxes full of gifts sent from overseas, my GBC binder, and a 1-31 monthly sorter personalized to hold stickers, words, rub ons, die cuts, alphabets, overlays. You know, stuff! Facing the center of the closet -- Zoe's personal magic carpet, the rolling red tool box. Stamp pad inks and goops behind, markers and spray inks atop. The plastic bins hold tools, stencils, bits left over from backgrounds, spare brushes and scissors ... you know, stuff! The ceiling fan (which, oddly, is working today -- normally it never wants to do that!), the peeling plaster from major leakage 3 years ago, the vent that has to be replaced. Homey, ain't it? The drying table ... also Business Central (home of bills, stamps, etc.). Also usually covered over with all the magazines I'm perusing for inspiration, stuff I bring home from work and drop to the surface, my purse, business filing I don't wanna deal with, you know ... STUFF! But I have to leave a trail for Zoe to get up in her window basket or up on the window ledge. My treasured filing cabinet, a gift from My Lovely Mother 4 years ago ... organized to the Nth degree, folders by subject, filled with the images I use on my journal backgrounds. Also houses my various printer papers, and blank journals. A beautiful beautiful thing, my filing cabinet! Atop, my flock collection, along with a favorite elephant and a frog from my Beloved Aunt Judy. DUSTY!!! (I'm so proud!) Letting the outdoors in, I yam! In the right closet corner: scanner and cords, binders full of rubber stamp sets, box of 11 x 17 'blotter' paper, air compressor in 'visa' bag which my oldest bro' hasn't had time to teach me how to use yet. Box o'stuff that used to be on the walls in the kitchen, currently undergoing replastering. Soiled stuff, including Zoe bombs, on the left. Recycle on the right. It's a fairly 'green' studio, yup. Still with me? Or did I SCARE ya?!! Litter box essentials. Under my studio (working) desk. Map drawers house the majority of my rubber stamps. Deco tapes. Basket o'necessaries like paper towels. Zoe trying to dodge out of the picture, lower left. Under the drying table behind my studio desk. Magazines I use for images, words, patterns -- I've foregone the rip-n-tear-then-file system for now. I've also stopped adding magazines to the pile. My old wallpaper books also live here. And Zoe's food dish and water bowl and launched litter. She IS a litter launcher, that furry wench, regardless of the huge blue storage container I made into her litter box! Books to be read, atop. Completed journals, vintage envelope collection (in white seagull box); vintage black & white photo collection in blue cigar box. Accumulated cardboard, which yes, I use. Dark recesses of a closet corner. Luggage for England trip buried back yonder, oh noooOOOo. Massive ... music ... collection! That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Peace out.

June 9, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-10T08:01:00.001-07:00

I slept all of 12 and a half minutes last night, but when I did, at least I had a fun, from-my-childhood dream. Except I came into ownership of the red, high top Cons in my mid-30's, thanks to My Lovely Mother! Is anyone else as nuts about swinging as I am?

4 Wheelin', & Vintage Moomoo

2009-06-10T07:26:00.000-07:00

My buddy, the exuberant Ms. Beth, recently sent me a gigantic box o'goodies -- including numerous cabinet cards and old photos (some in vintage albums) ... I've been slowly scanning them, and just HAD to share these two.

Feel free to download and enjoy them as you wish.

LaBelle? or Beara?

2009-06-10T07:21:00.000-07:00

This is a direct rip-off of the fun fun fun child's art work I saw in a doctor's office. I can't credit the young artist except to say what a GREAT piece you did! At first, this seemed bent on going in the LaBelle journal, but this morning when I was sitting on my patio roost eyeballin' it, I thought: oooh, what a cool a** thing to turn into a gynormous post card and send to My Love, Ciera Beara! So now I'm torn. I may have to do another. Can you imagine, as an 8 year old, receiving a post card of THIS size? hee! (shhh, Daddy Chris and Unk Cam, don't tell her about this!)

In the Pink

2009-06-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

Julification, Lesson 7 - how to take the Over the Top Girly-Girl outta pink ... I had to channel my love, Ciera (whose favorite color is pink!) in order to even come at this assignment. I chose collage elements that are too dark -- even with all the over layering and dripping, they don't recede enough -- feel too stark, but I truly like the woman-fairy anyway. I added the green stenciling cuz, I admit it, I couldn't stand all that pink. I used a coffee wash on this to tone it down, but it's really not visible in the least. The light shape in the background reminds me of a hot air balloon, so something on that theme might happen when I get around to journaling on this page. And I could only muster myself to do ONE pink page ... me and pink, we never have had a thang. True story.

Adding Color - Purposefully

2009-06-09T12:28:00.000-07:00

I didn't want to post these earlier, as I was waiting for permission to use the inspiration photo, and to link back to this blog, as it's new to me. But permission has been generously granted ... My color inspiration, found HERE. [Copyright by Photographer Hanne Stoyer.] Take 1 - I would wholeheartedly like this one except the collage element, dead center, is TOO dark! Take 2 - I like it but too much drippage! Take 3 - My personal favorite.

Crazy 'Bout Color Play - Saturday Fun!

2009-06-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

Spent part of Saturday doing "Adding Color" Julification pages ... can't stop! Scooter. This page makes me want to skip! All images from an Anthropologie catalog. Took the collage pieces and gel texture thru a path up the middle ... was thinking about lava and how it burns its way through ... the collage bits are from Beth. Piece of an old letter, from Beth. One sentence on it reads: 'There is only two people I want you to love, the first is me ...' I love that! The paper itself inspired the colors of the page.

LaBelle Journal ... movin' slowly

2009-06-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

This is the new journal I'm working on -- slowly, as my Julification class is Priority 1, and now the England trip is only a little over 3 weeks away. Staccato. Flash cards (from Beth) with tags on the backs of those, tucked in the pocket. Patterns. The red patterned piece lifts for journaling beneath. Delta. These were copy machine images transferred with a copic marker. Overlaid a clear sheet on the right for journaling atop ... this is Bobby Gentry on the Tallahatchee Bridge, from the song ... I love the song.

Sea Bear

2009-06-05T08:43:00.001-07:00

Can you say GREEN? My Love, Ciera Beara, has been in San Diego all week, with her 'Aunt' Diane and 'cousins' Liam and Audra ... here she is, looking for whales. Aunt Toni is jealous ... most most jealous!

June 4, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-05T07:10:00.000-07:00

Oh BLIMEY but this was a grand dream!! I was sitting on a quiet early morning at this lovely dressing table, with French doors open to a herringbone brick-patterned, very shabby and loved garden/patio. The birds kept coming in to perch on top of the mirror, singing and singing but there was something different about their melodies and the intense way they gazed at me. Finally, the blue jay and these two cardinals flew off and came back holding the edges of this 3-dimensional translucent sheet of hands, which they draped over the mirror in front of me. Then, as they took turns singing, the hands began to interpret for them, signing their invitation to me to come out on the patio, into the serene morning. The blue jay wanted me to see her nest, her perfect tiny round eggs (4 of them). The cardinals wanted to show off doing an air show, just a frolic of speed and current carousing. Now, I don't actually know sign language, just the alphabet, but in my dream I could speak it and yes! I joined the winged patio and sky adventures!!

Man! I so so so want to go back INTO that DREAM!!! I wanted to be Dr. Doolittle when I was a kid, really speak to animals and birds ... last night, in this dream, it happened! COME BACK!!! I want to play again, more, longer, forever!

Crackle in the Left Corner, Toni in the Right

2009-06-05T06:48:00.000-07:00

Instructions for Lesson #6 included spreading a very thin layer of crackle paint in different areas on the paper. I used a color called Milled Lavender ... out of a semi-used bottle from long ago. Nary a crackle, man, nary a crackle. So I went wayward and did my own thing. Pffft. Inspired by/copied from the artist Marilyn Stevens' series: Patterns of Life. This feels like vintage Paris to me, like some of the old postcards for sale in Montmartre. The thing about crackle paint is that it has a definite shelf life. I've had this little jar of milled lavender for at least 7 months. Advice: use your crackle paint muy pronto, or be prepared for a) zero crackle, followed by b) crackle paint jar launching into the trash can! This reminds me of the rainy Parisian day when My Lovely Mother and I visited the Eiffel Tower, floated up to the 3rd level ... all of Paris, in every direction, bathed in a misty, violet-gray light ... it was something!

June 3, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-04T08:59:00.000-07:00

This dream was entirely inspired by Ms. Patty's post, here at A Diary Left Open. Since I also have had a recurring/continuation dream about a white jaguar, it all works together. The pendulums? not sure ... I was looking at homemade jewelry on ETSY late yesterday afternoon, but none of it looked like this. I'm CERTAIN, though, that I'm the human kneeling before the approach of the jaguar.

Speaking of that jewelry, look at THIS!!! The ETSY shop is called StudioSeven20 ... I like every piece posted there. I sent this photo to my family -- we're always tossing around Tiffany ads for kicks? So I said THIS beats the bejeezuz outta Tiffany's, and at an affordable $89, too? Cool cool cool!

Julification with a Toni Twist

2009-06-04T08:37:00.000-07:00

Used collage images loose on my desk, all from The Tuscan Rose ... love this page. I sanded the edges, here, before darkening. All edges are watercolor crayon with gel used to move it around, then texture added. Texture tool with aqua paint on it to create the spikey corner 'drips'. My color inspiration was seeing an aqua/teal colored belt of mine up against a dark green dress and a pair of cream capris. I wanted to try a retro-feeling page ... collage images are from The Tuscan Rose. I love to take bottle tops and make paint rings on my stuff - that may replace drips, for me. I also sanded the edges of the paper after a layer of polymer gloss gel, before I darkened them. Slide mount image/word is from one of my word play sessions. Phone book scrap, license plates image from The Tuscan Rose.

June 2, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-03T07:28:00.000-07:00

For the last two weeks, I've been pregnant in many of my dreams, but never given birth. My brain must be germinating some brilliant new idea!
Metronomes represent balance to me, pacing myself.

Colorized Julification

2009-06-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Take 1. ooh how I love this. I didn't have any photo of my Klimt color inspiration at home, so just decided to ad-lib in the general color palette as I remembered it. I added some rubber stamp images to this -- saw it on several samples by other of Julie's students and completely gravitated to it! It adds texture without being an overpowering visual element - easy to journal over. Take 2. An experiment with layering crackle paint colors. I wanted the darker colors underneath to hopefully crackle up thru the 'worn lipstick' color on top. Kind of worked. Take 3. Added paper scraps were from some of my homemade paper. Chinese script stamped on in Staz-On red and copper for texture. This is the only page I did drips on, using a purple watercolor crayon and wiping MOST of the drips off. I'm itching to journal on this page.

June 1, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-02T08:40:00.000-07:00

Corridors. Corridors and cellars and wide, heavy wooden-planked doors, like barn doors. I know why -- whenever I've spent time in an empty living space, I have corridor dreams. Rooms seem elongated, echoey, extra roomy, when they're empty. My dream corridors aren't scary; they're 'come look, come see' corridors. As for the fish? Don't know, but I like it. And Toni categorically does NOT do karaoke, so not sure about that. The seed/string? Planting, arranging -- a new house? Surely. Salt dishes ... I was reading about those in a new Romantic Homes mag ...

Fumed into a Stupor

2009-06-02T08:15:00.000-07:00

Ok. So we move the Bobfather, we have a nice leisurely lunch, we go back to his apartment to clean. What does Toni do? She chooses the living room as her target cleaning area. Dust/clean venetian blinds, Windex the insides of the windows, take long-handled scrub brush and clean out the window casings.

She also commences to spray the tile with a Clorox bleach over-the-counter spray, to loosen up the worst of the stains, thinking all the while it was the Mop&Shine tile cleaner bottle.

She then mixes her normal cleaning cocktail into the mop bucket: ammonia, dish washing liquid, a little white vinegar. Then she begins to mop.

Wait 10 minutes, and she can't breathe. She opens the front door, steps outside, inhales 20 times, returns to mopping.

Breathing worsens. Repeat outdoor breathing break.

Finish mopping the entire house, following above procedure.

She goes home, cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough GAG WRETCH cough cough. Along with excruciating headache. She sleeps propped up to alleviate (not eliminate) coughing. She spends all day yesterday hoarse, headachey, and coughing every time she breaths in. She goes home with The Almighty Mutha of a Headache and goes directly to bed.

Can Toni Now Say: never mix bleach with ammonia? (I knew that; it just didn't register that I was spraying the floor with bleach and not the Mop/Shine stuff. I was tired.)

But it's a new day, my headache is gone, I'm only coughing a VERY little ... and now tonight I can go home and enjoy working on my new Julification process.

May 31, 2009 Dreamscape

2009-06-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

One More Crackle Attempt

2009-06-01T07:30:00.000-07:00

Take 1, using the colors Julie used in the demo video. For drips, I used the watercolor crayon around the edges for darkening, then misted them with a little water bottle until they dripped. Sealed with a layer of gloss gel medium. Take 2, also with watercolor crayon drippages and sealed with a top layer of gloss gel medium.