My long awaited (thanks to PayPal) Sugar dog pattern has arrived! I was surprised at how simple it looks, Sugar does NOT look simple made up. Even the instructions are pretty, Lisa has put in some very cute art work. I love the bear threading the needle, with his little tongue stuck out The instructions look very specific and there are lots of them (I love detailed instructions) I notice some tricks and tips I haven't thought of before which is going to make it a lot easier! I got a fantastic deal on EBAY on this pattern, now I won't hesitate just to buy full price. The Pay's were super nice about everything, especially the fact it took them awhile to get their money, which had me in fits. But it's all worked out, and now I will be giving reviews on this pattern as I go.
I also got a couple of thread bear patterns off the internet, so I guess I'm set for awhile!
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Day 2, I have created a monster
I didn't sleep much last night. Seemed like I was hearing a voice. I'd started on the head and mussel of my creature. Nose seemed rather...large. Poky, poky, still too big. Took the scissors to it. Poky, poky, give up and work more tomorrow.
The voice said "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING????!!! LOOK AT THAT NOSE! FIX THAT THING RIGHT NOW!! Look, dummy, do it this way..."
I still don't know what the beast is, but it's loud, fussy and bossy. That looks like a bear nose to me. I was planning on poking it some more until it got smaller. The other way DOES seem better though.
I woke up tired, and annoyed I had to interrupt felting to go to a job interview. Plus I'm too tired to think. But...the nose. I....just....don't.....know....
I think it wants a whole new head. Pushy, pushy, pushy.
Watch out buddy. As soon as I score some orange roving, I have an idea. You're only my first creation. You could become obsolete really quickly if you turn out ugly.
DAY SOMETIME LATER
The good news...I have yet to draw blood. The bad news. I need more colors. I need some black, some pink. Blue. COLORS darn it!
So, thinking of getting some black wool, I took apart one of the expensive wool coats Bethany bought me. I was thinking, it's a black tweed with tiny white threads and touches of pink, but the main color is black, lets see how it felts up.
Well, the second I cut into it, I realized that unraveling it was no problem. The entire coat has a iron on lining. Now I know why, it self destructs. So I take a few threads, they seem to fray nicely...a few stabs with the needle, and I know it's not wool. Cotton with acrylic bits is my bet. It has black leather rills over the shoulder, and makes a big deal out of being made in the USA out of imported fabric. Doesn't mention it's mystery fabric. It will make a cute dog coat with a full lining, and I can use the leather strips for making bear or puppy noses.
Then I thought, I have some Homespun yarn just sitting there. On the knitting boards, it has a bad reputation. On the felting boards, they say acrylic is too slick. It certainly unravels easily, which is what gave me the idea. So I wad it up, do exactly what I do with the wool. Yes, it feels completely different. It does felt slightly better and is a much prettier color than the black gunk. So now I know how it's NOT supposed to feel.
The creature is coming along. I made more tummy and it's eye patch color is down. I'm still working on it's nose. I suspect it's a much younger creature than I originally thought. But I need wire, some eyes, and maybe some thread before I go any further. And, as mentioned, some colors. One of the ladies on the Teddy Talkers board lives close by, so I think I'm going to ask her to go shopping with me. I have no idea where to go, and it will be fun to see another artist, especially one that has some experience in this.
Felting, a blood sport
Some things are just meant to be. My 9:30 job interview turned out to be tomorrow. Not my fault, so I don't care. I did however, take the opportunity of dragging K to the Mission Mill in hopes of finding fiber artists who could set me on the right track. No local leads, but had a great time. Then we went to Have You Any Wool, who on the phone had admitted to having needles, but no felting animal kits and sounded totally lost.
Well, oddly enough, the lady I talked to yesterday was the same one as today, she still had the needles out. No, she had never heard of needle felting sculpture, but it turned out they did have kits for design, the same as I'd seen on-line. So, needles, sponge, mohair package in hand I returned home. I could hardly wait to begin.
Then, typically, I chickened out. I have no patterns, no instructions. So I spent the whole day at Teddy Talk. I think I love everyone there! Here it is 2 am, and I am finally ready to begin. I think. I hear I will lose blood to this. OK, no problem. Did I mention I have a 9:30 job interview to go to later today? Oh, just get ON with it!
If I don't write anything after this, some one come check on me. I will be slumped over my keyboard, passed out from blood loss. (OMG, what a DRAMA QUEEN this woman is!)
OK, which is the fattest needle, got it, poky, poky, poky, stabby, stabby, stabby, nothing is happening! How much of this stuff do I use? How long before something happens? Wrap wool around stick, got it, but how much? I want minute directions! Which direction do I wind? Windershins? How many times do I stab? At what angle and speed?
Hubby comes in kisses me goodnight, with that resigned, I know I won't see her until morning look. And yet, he bought this for me, what a sweety! On the good side, if I get good at this, it's something I can do in bed on my bad days. Did I mention we have a waterbed? Poky, poky, sploosh! Hey, if Tarly's Mandarian length razor sharp claws didn't do it, nuthin' will. That cat was all softness except when she didn't want to be picked up. Then those hooks sunk into what ever she was on and never let go. Our poor air mattress became her first victim. Dang I miss her! This mohair is almost the right color, sigh. No patterns out there for mini Birmans.
Cool! It's starting to stick together! Now check size against pattern...PATTERN! WHAT PATTERN! THEY SAID YOU DIDN'T NEED A PATTERN WITH NEEDLE FELTING! I only have instructions, thanks to Carrie Attwood of Little Bloomers, who kindly published instructions for free. OK, look, there's a ruler, body about 2", good. Carrie, you have SO much good karma coming your way from this!
My roving is from New Zealand. My wool is better traveled than I am. A slight crackling, yep, they are right KEEP YOUR EYES ON YOUR WORK! No blood though. Pip is trying to pull the packaging into her cage. No, you silly glider, it's not edible. And yes, NZ is close to Australia where sugargliders come from, but you are a native Oregonian, you silly little marsupial. Have a niblet and settle down, if I get good at this I'll felt you a friend.
After an hour, I now have a wad of wool that looks like a mutant silk worm cocoon. Ah, progress! How firm is firm? No blood yet.
I am now adding bits of wool to "build the body up". Don't know if I'm being successful, but it's less painful than the rare occasion when I've tried to build my own body up. My cocoon, um, body has shrunk so I am adding wool at both ends to make it very solid and back out to two inches.
Well, the mutant silk worm hasn't started talking to me yet. Probably because it doesn't have a head. I've never made the body first, I don't think I will again. It's
unerving not knowing who you are making. I don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet Usually by now I'm starting on it's family history going back generations. I thought this was such an organic, hands on thing, I would be naturally carried away. Hmm. It's a mystery guest so far. I don't even know what kind of creature it will be.
Wet down the outside of it slightly, then rubbed it on Moosie for luck. His fur ends up in everything anyway. He liked that a lot, until he sniffed what I was holding. There will be no mistakes in this house, anything that doesn't work will become a cat toy. He REALLY liked the cocoon! Must begin on face, this is bugging me.
It's 4:40 am, I have to get up pretty soon, so I guess I'd better hit the sack. It's a creature, that's all that I've got so far. It may be Siamese.
Well, oddly enough, the lady I talked to yesterday was the same one as today, she still had the needles out. No, she had never heard of needle felting sculpture, but it turned out they did have kits for design, the same as I'd seen on-line. So, needles, sponge, mohair package in hand I returned home. I could hardly wait to begin.
Then, typically, I chickened out. I have no patterns, no instructions. So I spent the whole day at Teddy Talk. I think I love everyone there! Here it is 2 am, and I am finally ready to begin. I think. I hear I will lose blood to this. OK, no problem. Did I mention I have a 9:30 job interview to go to later today? Oh, just get ON with it!
If I don't write anything after this, some one come check on me. I will be slumped over my keyboard, passed out from blood loss. (OMG, what a DRAMA QUEEN this woman is!)
OK, which is the fattest needle, got it, poky, poky, poky, stabby, stabby, stabby, nothing is happening! How much of this stuff do I use? How long before something happens? Wrap wool around stick, got it, but how much? I want minute directions! Which direction do I wind? Windershins? How many times do I stab? At what angle and speed?
Hubby comes in kisses me goodnight, with that resigned, I know I won't see her until morning look. And yet, he bought this for me, what a sweety! On the good side, if I get good at this, it's something I can do in bed on my bad days. Did I mention we have a waterbed? Poky, poky, sploosh! Hey, if Tarly's Mandarian length razor sharp claws didn't do it, nuthin' will. That cat was all softness except when she didn't want to be picked up. Then those hooks sunk into what ever she was on and never let go. Our poor air mattress became her first victim. Dang I miss her! This mohair is almost the right color, sigh. No patterns out there for mini Birmans.
Cool! It's starting to stick together! Now check size against pattern...PATTERN! WHAT PATTERN! THEY SAID YOU DIDN'T NEED A PATTERN WITH NEEDLE FELTING! I only have instructions, thanks to Carrie Attwood of Little Bloomers, who kindly published instructions for free. OK, look, there's a ruler, body about 2", good. Carrie, you have SO much good karma coming your way from this!
My roving is from New Zealand. My wool is better traveled than I am. A slight crackling, yep, they are right KEEP YOUR EYES ON YOUR WORK! No blood though. Pip is trying to pull the packaging into her cage. No, you silly glider, it's not edible. And yes, NZ is close to Australia where sugargliders come from, but you are a native Oregonian, you silly little marsupial. Have a niblet and settle down, if I get good at this I'll felt you a friend.
After an hour, I now have a wad of wool that looks like a mutant silk worm cocoon. Ah, progress! How firm is firm? No blood yet.
I am now adding bits of wool to "build the body up". Don't know if I'm being successful, but it's less painful than the rare occasion when I've tried to build my own body up. My cocoon, um, body has shrunk so I am adding wool at both ends to make it very solid and back out to two inches.
Well, the mutant silk worm hasn't started talking to me yet. Probably because it doesn't have a head. I've never made the body first, I don't think I will again. It's
unerving not knowing who you are making. I don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet Usually by now I'm starting on it's family history going back generations. I thought this was such an organic, hands on thing, I would be naturally carried away. Hmm. It's a mystery guest so far. I don't even know what kind of creature it will be.Wet down the outside of it slightly, then rubbed it on Moosie for luck. His fur ends up in everything anyway. He liked that a lot, until he sniffed what I was holding. There will be no mistakes in this house, anything that doesn't work will become a cat toy. He REALLY liked the cocoon! Must begin on face, this is bugging me.
It's 4:40 am, I have to get up pretty soon, so I guess I'd better hit the sack. It's a creature, that's all that I've got so far. It may be Siamese.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Bearly collecting
I don't collect bears. I enjoy other people's collections, but I've never really been a teddy bear person. However, hanging around EBAY trying to pick up patterns and learning about needle felting, I may just start collecting bear artists.
Dolls, that's a world I'm much more familiar with. When I create a doll, it takes on it's own life. Saved that beautiful ombre blue ribbon for her hair? Too bad, she doesn't like blue, she wants ORANGE! OK, "she" is inanimate materials, but that doesn't seem to have much to do with it. It's the same way when I write, my characters often want to complicate the plot. Like the time I wanted Mary to get up early to go painting in the meadow with Jo, but she insisted on making love to her husband first. C'mon, I'm thinking, lets get to the meadow and find the necklace! But no, Mary was too busy smooching. I just could not write the next scene without doing a discrete fade to black. Jo was really pissed that Mary was so late too!
So, my creations have their own lives. I've come to terms with that, as my artwork benefits from it, if my sanity doesn't. Doll artists are great because a lot of them have the same skewed inner life. But then you get to bear artists.
Dolls can be fantasy, but most look like people. Not so much any more, but it started that way and really has only been evolving much since my lifetime. Bear artists, they don't seem to have that problem. Their inner lives are even wilder and less restricted. Their creations may or may not look like an animal, but they can give you it's personality benefits and defects. How they started out making a little fox to steal an egg from the hen house, but she was too innocent, so she ended up with a jump rope instead. How the tiny Yorkie was supposed to be a shy, timid little girl, but turned out to be The Queen of Everything (just like a real Yorkie). What's more, they will share their inner worlds on their web sites, in detailed pictures. Worlds in which I feel right at home, especially the needle felters.
And when you talk to these people, they are NICE. They are happy to share their world with you. You don't buy their creations, you adopt them. I'm still mostly lusting after non-bears, but there are some I've seen that I would love to have. And I'm getting a Yorkie finally. I'll make her myself, but I will have one. I have a few photos of Whimsy around here somewhere, and she shall rise again in mohair and glass. At least this time, she'll be housebroken.
Tomorrow, the great needle hunt begins. After that, no sheep, long haired goat, rabbit or camelid is safe from me.
Dolls, that's a world I'm much more familiar with. When I create a doll, it takes on it's own life. Saved that beautiful ombre blue ribbon for her hair? Too bad, she doesn't like blue, she wants ORANGE! OK, "she" is inanimate materials, but that doesn't seem to have much to do with it. It's the same way when I write, my characters often want to complicate the plot. Like the time I wanted Mary to get up early to go painting in the meadow with Jo, but she insisted on making love to her husband first. C'mon, I'm thinking, lets get to the meadow and find the necklace! But no, Mary was too busy smooching. I just could not write the next scene without doing a discrete fade to black. Jo was really pissed that Mary was so late too!
So, my creations have their own lives. I've come to terms with that, as my artwork benefits from it, if my sanity doesn't. Doll artists are great because a lot of them have the same skewed inner life. But then you get to bear artists.
Dolls can be fantasy, but most look like people. Not so much any more, but it started that way and really has only been evolving much since my lifetime. Bear artists, they don't seem to have that problem. Their inner lives are even wilder and less restricted. Their creations may or may not look like an animal, but they can give you it's personality benefits and defects. How they started out making a little fox to steal an egg from the hen house, but she was too innocent, so she ended up with a jump rope instead. How the tiny Yorkie was supposed to be a shy, timid little girl, but turned out to be The Queen of Everything (just like a real Yorkie). What's more, they will share their inner worlds on their web sites, in detailed pictures. Worlds in which I feel right at home, especially the needle felters.
And when you talk to these people, they are NICE. They are happy to share their world with you. You don't buy their creations, you adopt them. I'm still mostly lusting after non-bears, but there are some I've seen that I would love to have. And I'm getting a Yorkie finally. I'll make her myself, but I will have one. I have a few photos of Whimsy around here somewhere, and she shall rise again in mohair and glass. At least this time, she'll be housebroken.
Tomorrow, the great needle hunt begins. After that, no sheep, long haired goat, rabbit or camelid is safe from me.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Alien eyeball purse
Ok, what can I say. There was this heinous purse on You Knit What.com. Several of the ladies suggested that the um, bobbles, looked like alien eyes. The other suggestions weren't that clean, but were highly appropriate. Anyway, then I start seeing this purse like it could be. Artists are highly visual you see. And just weird enough to spend some quicky time in Photoshop to share the...joy. Or...whatever. I give you, the Fugly Alien Eye Purse. And now, I apologize. But I'm still snickering under my breath!
link to YouKnitWhat
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Oh boy! Another hobby!
Reading and snickering through another day's worth of "You Knit What", someone put in this lovely link.
http://www3.interhop.net/~sturgess/jamiesons/ffb06kit.htm
Um hum. It's a dead swan bag. Wonder how much that sucker weighs without anything in it? Look around that site a bit. Hmmm.
Well, I really, really want to take up needle felting. You can make tiny little animals that look real. I'm all totally gung ho on it. But somehow, I don't think life size swan bags are in my future.
Right now, I'm just trying to find directions. I'd love to buy a kit to make a Yorkie off of EBAY, but I just can't afford it. Must be a local group here somewhere in alpaca, mohair land. I know some sheep I can plunder. Nigel will be happy to donate his winter coat, and he's a BIG camel now. What is this compulsion to take up a new craft every week, without ever finishing anything. Well, that's not quite true. I do finish things, then I give them away. I have two rugs I made and that's about it. I like making more than keeping. But I do love tiny little animals, so I could make quite a few and still not take up much space, right? Sure. This cold is making me light headed!
http://www3.interhop.net/~sturgess/jamiesons/ffb06kit.htm
Um hum. It's a dead swan bag. Wonder how much that sucker weighs without anything in it? Look around that site a bit. Hmmm.
Well, I really, really want to take up needle felting. You can make tiny little animals that look real. I'm all totally gung ho on it. But somehow, I don't think life size swan bags are in my future.
Right now, I'm just trying to find directions. I'd love to buy a kit to make a Yorkie off of EBAY, but I just can't afford it. Must be a local group here somewhere in alpaca, mohair land. I know some sheep I can plunder. Nigel will be happy to donate his winter coat, and he's a BIG camel now. What is this compulsion to take up a new craft every week, without ever finishing anything. Well, that's not quite true. I do finish things, then I give them away. I have two rugs I made and that's about it. I like making more than keeping. But I do love tiny little animals, so I could make quite a few and still not take up much space, right? Sure. This cold is making me light headed!
Monday, March 13, 2006
EBAY Addiction #42
Yippee! I won the dog pattern! This is Sugar, by 
Lisa Pay.
Somehow I don't think my version is going to look nearly as pretty. So far, she hasn't made a Powder Puff pattern, although she did do an original Chinese Crested I saw. I want to make my own version of Ti'an. Ti'an is actually Jewels Iced Latte Above The Clouds Aom
http://www.chinesecrested.no/registry/52943/Jewels+Iced+Latte+Above+The+Clouds+Aom.html
If you go to her site, there are some beautiful photos of her there. I met her briefly at the first dog show we did, and fell in love. Not something you can explain, just she is a sweet, sweet animal that is so pretty she looks unreal. If fairy's had dogs, this is what they would look like. I evidently have fairly good taste in dogs, as she is a winner in the ring too. Her owner was very sweet to me and let me hold Ti'an and take lots of photos, which due to the lighting, didn't turn out nearly as well as I would have liked. Still, if I get good at dog sculpting, I would like to try to get some of Ti'an's personality.
First, I'd better get my tush in gear and finish the St. Patrick's Day dress before the holiday is over!
Lisa Pay.Somehow I don't think my version is going to look nearly as pretty. So far, she hasn't made a Powder Puff pattern, although she did do an original Chinese Crested I saw. I want to make my own version of Ti'an. Ti'an is actually Jewels Iced Latte Above The Clouds Aom
http://www.chinesecrested.no/registry/52943/Jewels+Iced+Latte+Above+The+Clouds+Aom.htmlIf you go to her site, there are some beautiful photos of her there. I met her briefly at the first dog show we did, and fell in love. Not something you can explain, just she is a sweet, sweet animal that is so pretty she looks unreal. If fairy's had dogs, this is what they would look like. I evidently have fairly good taste in dogs, as she is a winner in the ring too. Her owner was very sweet to me and let me hold Ti'an and take lots of photos, which due to the lighting, didn't turn out nearly as well as I would have liked. Still, if I get good at dog sculpting, I would like to try to get some of Ti'an's personality.
First, I'd better get my tush in gear and finish the St. Patrick's Day dress before the holiday is over!
Soooo Dullllll
I'm having much more fun in my sleep. I live in a nicer house and get to reject Ben Affleck. Yep, man of my dreams evidently and only my dreams. We'd watched a movie with him in it, and in my dream movie it was kind of a cross between Friends and...well, I don't know what. Anyway, Affleck's character made a pass at my character, which I nobly rejected (yes, I would in real life too. Waaaaay too young for me for starters) and the whole group split up taking sides, some on Ben's, most on my side. Oddly, most on my side were guys, giving the "no means NO!' speech, while the girls on his side just seemed to be miffed he hadn't made a pass at them! I hardly ever dream about movie stars, so this one seemed pretty funny. Kind of being stuck in a reality show unawares. Oh my god! You mean you had a camera running on me in the bathroom? When Cindy and Joe and I and the duck were going at it? Oh, I'm so shocked! I totally forgot I was on a reality show and being filmed 24/7, even though it mentioned that 2,334 times in the contract I signed.
I have to go make frou-frou dog clothes now. So far I am on EBAY winning a frou-frou dog pattern. I'm getting a poodle, since Velma has poodles. I really want to make a Yorkie, Pom, chi and Pappilion too. To begin with. Also, Lisa Pay, the artist has a really neat Schnauser pattern named Tramp. I mainly want to make that one because it looks so real. If I had the money, I would buy her Pomeranian toy all made up. I could buy several real Poms for the price, but then I would have to feed them and walk them. At any rate, she is one of my favorite new artists.
http://www.pedigreesroyal.com.
I also have been doing a lot of reading up on needle felting. Think I will have to try that. You can make itsy bitsy animals doing that. God, another hobby! I'd better get to work so I can afford a roof over my head!
I have to go make frou-frou dog clothes now. So far I am on EBAY winning a frou-frou dog pattern. I'm getting a poodle, since Velma has poodles. I really want to make a Yorkie, Pom, chi and Pappilion too. To begin with. Also, Lisa Pay, the artist has a really neat Schnauser pattern named Tramp. I mainly want to make that one because it looks so real. If I had the money, I would buy her Pomeranian toy all made up. I could buy several real Poms for the price, but then I would have to feed them and walk them. At any rate, she is one of my favorite new artists.
http://www.pedigreesroyal.com.
I also have been doing a lot of reading up on needle felting. Think I will have to try that. You can make itsy bitsy animals doing that. God, another hobby! I'd better get to work so I can afford a roof over my head!
Friday, March 10, 2006
It's a purse, no, it's an organ!
As mentioned below, my newest addiction is www.youknitwhat.com This was today's offering. I guess that Lion brand yarns came out with a uterus pattern but this, um, item is much more graphic.
The ladies and gents making comments there are always good, but this is classic. I'm hoping to get permission to put it on my site, since the comments disappear once the fugly is off the main page. So I will just try for now to link, the comment is the second one down, by molly. Although the rest are excellent too.
http://www.haloscan.com/comments/ykwykw/114202216518879625/
Matie Trewe even knitted an intestinal track. http://www.strangebuttrewe.com/knitGI.htm
It, however, is not nearly as gruesome as the thing posing as a purse. Look around at that site too, there are some really (intentionally) funny things. My favorite one is the squid hat! But as a combo, click on the squid hat. At the bottom of the page there is a link to Squid VS GI. Yeah, I could give the link here, but it's funnier when you build up to it. Also take a closer look at the hobo gloves.
I found a chenille boob http://www.straw.com/cpy/patterns/cot_chenille_boob.html and a knited womb. Such talent! But I can guarantee my ovaries never looked that good! Of course, ex-rays aren't exactly Technicolor.
A friend in nursing school took me through the med. library on the way to somewhere else. I happened to glance at a screen a student was watching, and there, in all it's glory, was a beating heart. Surrounded by fat, I may add. Yes, I did catch all that in the split second I saw the screen. Now, it's one thing to be at home, watching the tube and seeing a documentary. You can choose whether to see it or not, and at least you know it's coming. Much to my surprise, my legs suddenly went rubbery. Keeping my usual cool (yeah, right) I continued on, keeping my eyes focused on my guide's back.
Since then, life has taken a few weird turns. I watched them do the surgery on my beloved serval, Moosie, and when the intestines came out my reaction was "Oh good, they look healthy!" I've cut up beef, zebra and antelope for the big cats. (Before any one gets their panties in a wad, they had all died of natural causes and why waste them?) And while I admit, I sometimes had to run for fresh air, that purse thing is waaaaay uglier than anything I ever saw.
It looks malignant. (shudder)
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Life got you down, pooky?
Got the drabs? The mean reds? The bottomless blues? I can't help you, but the folks at You Knit What? can. I don't even knit, but luckily some very witty people do, and they make wonderful comments on the "fashions" the yarn companies put out to lure us unthinking sheep into buying their weird yarns.
http://youknitwhat.blogspot.com/
I actually did buy some to make a hairy boa. A friend had sold a few and they were lovely. I got a good deal on the yarn and thought, I can crochet a little, how hard can a straight boa scarf be? Heck, I've even crocheted a duck (toy), a sweater for my then small daughter (started before she was born, finished by the time she was three and could actually wear it) and a purple-shiny shrug for her which was a weekend project that took me most of a year. So I bought a BIG crochet hook and started in. I had eyelash and fun fur, planning to make a few alternating rows of each. The first try looked like blue roadkill. I carefully and with great difficulty unraveled it. The second attempt looked like the poor thing had curled up to die a miserable death. It took an hour to crochet and about three hours to unravel. The next attempt made the roadkill look good. Fortunately, my friend Judy gave me a lovely pink knit boa for Christmas and told me to stop whining! It's every bit as warm and soft as I hoped it would be, plus I get to think of Judy instead of all the hell I went through trying to get the stupid furry yarn to work.
I'm finally going into the pet clothes business instead of just thinking about it. Yep, Renaessance designs for Loving Paws Boutique, where the discriminating dog shops. Actually, where the elite pet shops, I'll make clothes for anything. Just don't ask me for anything hand knit. Well, you can ask, but someone else would have to make it, not me!
So I still have some lovely soft beautiful novelty yarns. I'm thinking, put them in a bowl, take them out and snuggle them for a bit, like a woman trying on jewels, then put them back until I need another creative fix. Really, like I needed ANOTHER craft anyway.
http://youknitwhat.blogspot.com/
I actually did buy some to make a hairy boa. A friend had sold a few and they were lovely. I got a good deal on the yarn and thought, I can crochet a little, how hard can a straight boa scarf be? Heck, I've even crocheted a duck (toy), a sweater for my then small daughter (started before she was born, finished by the time she was three and could actually wear it) and a purple-shiny shrug for her which was a weekend project that took me most of a year. So I bought a BIG crochet hook and started in. I had eyelash and fun fur, planning to make a few alternating rows of each. The first try looked like blue roadkill. I carefully and with great difficulty unraveled it. The second attempt looked like the poor thing had curled up to die a miserable death. It took an hour to crochet and about three hours to unravel. The next attempt made the roadkill look good. Fortunately, my friend Judy gave me a lovely pink knit boa for Christmas and told me to stop whining! It's every bit as warm and soft as I hoped it would be, plus I get to think of Judy instead of all the hell I went through trying to get the stupid furry yarn to work.
I'm finally going into the pet clothes business instead of just thinking about it. Yep, Renaessance designs for Loving Paws Boutique, where the discriminating dog shops. Actually, where the elite pet shops, I'll make clothes for anything. Just don't ask me for anything hand knit. Well, you can ask, but someone else would have to make it, not me!
So I still have some lovely soft beautiful novelty yarns. I'm thinking, put them in a bowl, take them out and snuggle them for a bit, like a woman trying on jewels, then put them back until I need another creative fix. Really, like I needed ANOTHER craft anyway.
Monday, November 21, 2005
15 seconds of fame
I was cruising the net, when I typed in my own name and did a search. There are very few out there with the same name and one is Australia. Much to my surprise, I actually found one of the few times I got credit for art in a book!
http://lola.plymouth.edu:2082/search/aBaker,+Dylan/abaker+dylan/-2%2C-1%2C0%2CB/frameset&FF=abaker+dorothee&1%2C1%2C
1988, wow! I'd actually forgotten that. Carol Atherly, who was the main artist, was a fantastic person along with being one of the nicest. I learned more from working with her than I did in all of college. Dormac, the publisher, was really nice to work for. In fact, that book came up in another library too. Wonder how many of "my" books are still wandering around out there. Most were from a different publisher, who didn't allow our names to be used, even when we wrote the books. Little difficult to prove you are a published artist and writer in that case. I did love being in publishing.
The 19 year old by the same name arrested in Iowa is NOT me, LOL!
I then searched my tiny home town in Washington state. It was listed by CNN as having the best tasting water in the states! Only the locals know how hysterically funny that is. Someone made a mistake a few years back, and dumped enough of something, I think chlorine, into the water and made it toxic. Toxic to the point of not being able to shower or wash your dishes in it.
http://archives.cnn.com/2002/ALLPOLITICS/04/23/water.winner/ Evidently, this major disaster brought on the drilling of some wells, which earned them the "best water" title. This article http://www.ecy.wa.gov/news/1999news/99-214.html doesn't exactly point out that the drinking water from Buck Creek, dear old clear Buck Creek, was contaminated by, yep, humans. Now they can pollute poor old Buck Creek without fear of poisoning off the human population, who cares about the wildlife? Luckily, the fish hatcheries and a lot of conservationists do. Buck Creek is home to me, one of the good memories of my former life. Hope there are still some watery residents left. Sad we have to go underground for the same water now days. Nice we still can reach it though. And yes, I do believe it probably is the best water in the US. The water here is great too, the only other place the water is almost as good. I'm taking gallons with me when I move!
When I was a kid, drinking from the creek was always the best refreshment around. Even a fussy kid like me would slurp directly from the creek, even if a periwinkle WAS two inches from my nose. Glacier run off, it was cold even in the hottest part of summer. My dad took care of the drinking water then. Once in awhile we would have to head up the mountain to adjust something. I called it the rollercoaster road, if Dad was in a really good mood, you could get him to speed up the old truck enough to get a bit of a "lift" when going over the many hills. Some were pretty much straight up, and it was always exciting to see if the pickup would actually make it or not. It was a "barely there" track, used once or twice a year, and sometimes we went back home until Dad could get some equipment out there to remake it where it had crumbled or washed out during the winter. We always took the chain saw too, invariably trees were across the road. On other portions we took it slow, you could see quail, deer, porcupines and other interesting inhabitants. Way out there, they weren't used to humans and not very frightened. That track was so bad that only a crazy man like my Dad would drive it. Going to the water main was always a scary delight. I have no recollection at all of the main, or what Dad did there, but I can remember vividly the smell of the old truck (clean, silky dust and fresh crushed leaves), the thrill of the occasional "lift" and one little dip where we got out and watched the deer for about 15 minutes before they decided to move off. There was wild lilac which would sort of foam if you used it to wash your hands in the creek. There also were wild strawberries, which taste nothing at all like hydroponic ones we get today. Wild strawberries usually were the size of a pea, the vines ran flat across the ground. They sprouted white flowers and the sweetest berries you can imagine. It's pretty nigh impossible to get enough wild strawberries, you are in contention with the birds, the bugs and even the bear, although how a bear can taste something that small is amazing.
We have wild strawberries here, in the flower garden. To date, I have managed to snag two. The birds get up much earlier than I do. That's OK, I just like knowing they are there. Blackberries, well those we have maybe a bit too many. A few years ago I got out in the spring and cut back all the new growth. The berries were so good that year. This year I didn't want to contend with the drug traffic and someone else hacked them back so they could use the road. We have blackberries on both sides of the road and along almost all the fields. It's my only hope for our wild bunnies, after the feral cat invasion this summer. Hopefully the bunnies and the quail will move back in once they are gone. We have tiny brown bunnies with a little white spot on their head. Before the invasion you could look out during the day and see them playing. Even the birds have forsaken the immediate area, maybe they don't like the smell of cars and druggies any more than I do. I'm sure they will be back in force, although I will supplement their diet this year, the field usually filled with plants going to seed is flat mud now. Not that they would starve out here, but I love watching them out the window. There is one pair of robins that nest close by each year, the food supply is so handy when the chicks hatch out. One year they nested where I could see the babies.
The towhee couple by the back road is gone. The male would always come out and keep an eye on me when I was digging through the junk pile. He would even do the "I'm injured, come follow me." bit when I walked too close to the nest. The last few years, they both just hopped up to watch me, having figured out I wasn't going to bother them and that I occasionally left treats.
Maybe I'll plant sunflowers to make up a little for what the humans have managed to trash in just 4 months.
http://lola.plymouth.edu:2082/search/aBaker,+Dylan/abaker+dylan/-2%2C-1%2C0%2CB/frameset&FF=abaker+dorothee&1%2C1%2C
1988, wow! I'd actually forgotten that. Carol Atherly, who was the main artist, was a fantastic person along with being one of the nicest. I learned more from working with her than I did in all of college. Dormac, the publisher, was really nice to work for. In fact, that book came up in another library too. Wonder how many of "my" books are still wandering around out there. Most were from a different publisher, who didn't allow our names to be used, even when we wrote the books. Little difficult to prove you are a published artist and writer in that case. I did love being in publishing.
The 19 year old by the same name arrested in Iowa is NOT me, LOL!
I then searched my tiny home town in Washington state. It was listed by CNN as having the best tasting water in the states! Only the locals know how hysterically funny that is. Someone made a mistake a few years back, and dumped enough of something, I think chlorine, into the water and made it toxic. Toxic to the point of not being able to shower or wash your dishes in it.
http://archives.cnn.com/2002/ALLPOLITICS/04/23/water.winner/ Evidently, this major disaster brought on the drilling of some wells, which earned them the "best water" title. This article http://www.ecy.wa.gov/news/1999news/99-214.html doesn't exactly point out that the drinking water from Buck Creek, dear old clear Buck Creek, was contaminated by, yep, humans. Now they can pollute poor old Buck Creek without fear of poisoning off the human population, who cares about the wildlife? Luckily, the fish hatcheries and a lot of conservationists do. Buck Creek is home to me, one of the good memories of my former life. Hope there are still some watery residents left. Sad we have to go underground for the same water now days. Nice we still can reach it though. And yes, I do believe it probably is the best water in the US. The water here is great too, the only other place the water is almost as good. I'm taking gallons with me when I move!
When I was a kid, drinking from the creek was always the best refreshment around. Even a fussy kid like me would slurp directly from the creek, even if a periwinkle WAS two inches from my nose. Glacier run off, it was cold even in the hottest part of summer. My dad took care of the drinking water then. Once in awhile we would have to head up the mountain to adjust something. I called it the rollercoaster road, if Dad was in a really good mood, you could get him to speed up the old truck enough to get a bit of a "lift" when going over the many hills. Some were pretty much straight up, and it was always exciting to see if the pickup would actually make it or not. It was a "barely there" track, used once or twice a year, and sometimes we went back home until Dad could get some equipment out there to remake it where it had crumbled or washed out during the winter. We always took the chain saw too, invariably trees were across the road. On other portions we took it slow, you could see quail, deer, porcupines and other interesting inhabitants. Way out there, they weren't used to humans and not very frightened. That track was so bad that only a crazy man like my Dad would drive it. Going to the water main was always a scary delight. I have no recollection at all of the main, or what Dad did there, but I can remember vividly the smell of the old truck (clean, silky dust and fresh crushed leaves), the thrill of the occasional "lift" and one little dip where we got out and watched the deer for about 15 minutes before they decided to move off. There was wild lilac which would sort of foam if you used it to wash your hands in the creek. There also were wild strawberries, which taste nothing at all like hydroponic ones we get today. Wild strawberries usually were the size of a pea, the vines ran flat across the ground. They sprouted white flowers and the sweetest berries you can imagine. It's pretty nigh impossible to get enough wild strawberries, you are in contention with the birds, the bugs and even the bear, although how a bear can taste something that small is amazing.
We have wild strawberries here, in the flower garden. To date, I have managed to snag two. The birds get up much earlier than I do. That's OK, I just like knowing they are there. Blackberries, well those we have maybe a bit too many. A few years ago I got out in the spring and cut back all the new growth. The berries were so good that year. This year I didn't want to contend with the drug traffic and someone else hacked them back so they could use the road. We have blackberries on both sides of the road and along almost all the fields. It's my only hope for our wild bunnies, after the feral cat invasion this summer. Hopefully the bunnies and the quail will move back in once they are gone. We have tiny brown bunnies with a little white spot on their head. Before the invasion you could look out during the day and see them playing. Even the birds have forsaken the immediate area, maybe they don't like the smell of cars and druggies any more than I do. I'm sure they will be back in force, although I will supplement their diet this year, the field usually filled with plants going to seed is flat mud now. Not that they would starve out here, but I love watching them out the window. There is one pair of robins that nest close by each year, the food supply is so handy when the chicks hatch out. One year they nested where I could see the babies.
The towhee couple by the back road is gone. The male would always come out and keep an eye on me when I was digging through the junk pile. He would even do the "I'm injured, come follow me." bit when I walked too close to the nest. The last few years, they both just hopped up to watch me, having figured out I wasn't going to bother them and that I occasionally left treats.
Maybe I'll plant sunflowers to make up a little for what the humans have managed to trash in just 4 months.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Help! I'm in the wrong life!
Yet another sleepless night.
Sometimes I think I am in the wrong life. In reality, I am in pretty good shape for a middle aged woman, still active and with a great memory. I live in a nice, clean house, nothing fancy, but nice. I even have some one who comes in once a week to help out. I'm an artist and a writer, not world known maybe, but enough to make a living, along with teaching art lessons. I have a large array of animals, and succesful breeding programs, and vet students love to intern here. Oh, and here is way out in the country, lots of water, lots of trees, lots of nature. Our house has lots of windows and light, and my studio is mostly windows. Same sweetheart, only he works at home as a writer and artist too. Sometimes we write books together. Same daughter, only healthy and happily married and settled down to a comfortable life. Or maybe single and a comfortable life. Grandkids or just grandrats and grandcats, I don't care, so long as she is happy. She is probably an artist and writer too, although her artwork is nothing like mine.
Instead, I find myself living in a decrepit single wide ancient trailer. The main culture in here is mold. I'm broke and awake at 6:14 am because I haven't slept all night. K and Moosie are on the waterbed, totally sacked out. I wish I was. I suspect raging hormones are the culpret, since I started crying for no reason. I miss my friends from high school. It's odd, because I don't miss being a kid at all, but I miss them, and I regret letting life take me away from that. And I'm too much of a coward to track them down and find out who they are now. I dream of them most nights. What would I say? How would I explain what kept me from getting in touch all these years?
I know what my life looks like from the outside. I know people think I'm an old hippie, long hair, over weight, out of shape, no make-up most of the time. Ironic, I never was a young hippie, I was busy trying to do the married with children, two cars, a house and a husband thing. I often wonder if I would have better at it if I'd married someone else. I certainly thought that is what I wanted for most of my life, even if I wasn't particularly good at it.
I hate how I live, I hate the dirt and the mold. I hate being sick all the time. I hate being broke. 98% of the time I'm happy though. I have romance, a great kid, good friends and animals. Money would cure almost all my evils, except health and that would probably be better sans mold and worry about bills. I keep thinking somehow I will make the money, and then I will have pretty much everything. It sure doesn't work the other way around. But I sure could use a little more health so I could get this place cleaned up!
Well, life happens. I miss Gary. I miss L and DJ and Miki. I don't miss that life at all though. If I had that life I wouldn't know what it was like to see Emily curl up and suck her paw. I wouldn't know I could go back to bed, shove over Moosie, wake K up and he would listen to me moan and groan and never complain. That alone is worth millions!
Maybe I'll still be an artist and writer when I grow up. Maybe I'll get that house some day, or at least a dishwasher. Maybe I will get my hormone prescription changed and get some sleep.
Sometimes I think I am in the wrong life. In reality, I am in pretty good shape for a middle aged woman, still active and with a great memory. I live in a nice, clean house, nothing fancy, but nice. I even have some one who comes in once a week to help out. I'm an artist and a writer, not world known maybe, but enough to make a living, along with teaching art lessons. I have a large array of animals, and succesful breeding programs, and vet students love to intern here. Oh, and here is way out in the country, lots of water, lots of trees, lots of nature. Our house has lots of windows and light, and my studio is mostly windows. Same sweetheart, only he works at home as a writer and artist too. Sometimes we write books together. Same daughter, only healthy and happily married and settled down to a comfortable life. Or maybe single and a comfortable life. Grandkids or just grandrats and grandcats, I don't care, so long as she is happy. She is probably an artist and writer too, although her artwork is nothing like mine.
Instead, I find myself living in a decrepit single wide ancient trailer. The main culture in here is mold. I'm broke and awake at 6:14 am because I haven't slept all night. K and Moosie are on the waterbed, totally sacked out. I wish I was. I suspect raging hormones are the culpret, since I started crying for no reason. I miss my friends from high school. It's odd, because I don't miss being a kid at all, but I miss them, and I regret letting life take me away from that. And I'm too much of a coward to track them down and find out who they are now. I dream of them most nights. What would I say? How would I explain what kept me from getting in touch all these years?
I know what my life looks like from the outside. I know people think I'm an old hippie, long hair, over weight, out of shape, no make-up most of the time. Ironic, I never was a young hippie, I was busy trying to do the married with children, two cars, a house and a husband thing. I often wonder if I would have better at it if I'd married someone else. I certainly thought that is what I wanted for most of my life, even if I wasn't particularly good at it.
I hate how I live, I hate the dirt and the mold. I hate being sick all the time. I hate being broke. 98% of the time I'm happy though. I have romance, a great kid, good friends and animals. Money would cure almost all my evils, except health and that would probably be better sans mold and worry about bills. I keep thinking somehow I will make the money, and then I will have pretty much everything. It sure doesn't work the other way around. But I sure could use a little more health so I could get this place cleaned up!
Well, life happens. I miss Gary. I miss L and DJ and Miki. I don't miss that life at all though. If I had that life I wouldn't know what it was like to see Emily curl up and suck her paw. I wouldn't know I could go back to bed, shove over Moosie, wake K up and he would listen to me moan and groan and never complain. That alone is worth millions!
Maybe I'll still be an artist and writer when I grow up. Maybe I'll get that house some day, or at least a dishwasher. Maybe I will get my hormone prescription changed and get some sleep.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Hi ho, hi ho...
It's off to work I go. Yet another week of covering for M. The cougar cub is still there! R must be going crazy, but RG was injured and couldn't take the cub down to her. So another day of trying to get him to take the bottle. Because he is weaning himself, he flips the nipple and gets milk all over me. While I sit there in my milk bath grinning like an idiot.
Pray for sunshine and warmth. If it was like last week, M is going to be a girlcycle. Dang, it was cold! The frost was so heavy it looked like it had snowed. I've been dreaming about snow ever since. Snow like when I was a kid, fat fluffy flakes slooowly drifting down out of an almost clear blue sky. The kind of snow that when you are a kid, you have to be out in. The kind of snow that when you are an adult, you curl up nice and warm by the window with a cup of cocoa with marshhmallow in it and watch the snow drift. Most any age, you have to go out at least once to catch a snowflake on your tongue.
We used to make chocolate snow ice cream. It was just powdered Quick stirred in, but it was wonderful. I'm not sure it was the taste that was so wonderful, it was actually pretty wimpy. But snow tastes like nothing else. It tastes of freedom and wind and sky.
It doesn't snow like that here, ever. I'm not sure it ever snows like that in a city either. It certainly never did while we lived in one. Maybe the snow is too tired by the time it has battled all that polution to get to the ground.
I hope it snows once this winter. I wish for fluffy compound flakes that drift like feathers, and stay soft for days. I want a few days of pristine snow, except for rabbit tracks and little bird prints. I want to drag my old bones out and make snow angels, even if I have to be helped up! I want to see the cats go crazy, trying to catch all the snowflakes that hit the window panes. I want a bright blue sky. I want to snuggle with my sweetheart and feel smug.
I don't want to be a child again, I never do. Sometimes however, I want the things I loved from childhood. I think I would enjoy them even more now.
Pray for sunshine and warmth. If it was like last week, M is going to be a girlcycle. Dang, it was cold! The frost was so heavy it looked like it had snowed. I've been dreaming about snow ever since. Snow like when I was a kid, fat fluffy flakes slooowly drifting down out of an almost clear blue sky. The kind of snow that when you are a kid, you have to be out in. The kind of snow that when you are an adult, you curl up nice and warm by the window with a cup of cocoa with marshhmallow in it and watch the snow drift. Most any age, you have to go out at least once to catch a snowflake on your tongue.
We used to make chocolate snow ice cream. It was just powdered Quick stirred in, but it was wonderful. I'm not sure it was the taste that was so wonderful, it was actually pretty wimpy. But snow tastes like nothing else. It tastes of freedom and wind and sky.
It doesn't snow like that here, ever. I'm not sure it ever snows like that in a city either. It certainly never did while we lived in one. Maybe the snow is too tired by the time it has battled all that polution to get to the ground.
I hope it snows once this winter. I wish for fluffy compound flakes that drift like feathers, and stay soft for days. I want a few days of pristine snow, except for rabbit tracks and little bird prints. I want to drag my old bones out and make snow angels, even if I have to be helped up! I want to see the cats go crazy, trying to catch all the snowflakes that hit the window panes. I want a bright blue sky. I want to snuggle with my sweetheart and feel smug.
I don't want to be a child again, I never do. Sometimes however, I want the things I loved from childhood. I think I would enjoy them even more now.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Miracles and Angels
I've always believed in the power of prayer, I should know better than most that it works. Angels, no problem, sometimes even when they are human.
But not too long ago, the best friend of my friend M had an aneursym in her brain. K had just turned 40, and except for smoking and the stress of losing her oldest son this last year lived a healthy lifestyle. But she also was on the pill.
The combination proved fatal. Only life support was keeping her alive, the doctors held out no help at all. Even if she lived, they said, she would be a vegetable.
K is one of those people who even if you just meet them, make you feel special. She loves everyone. I don't know her well, but I love her. She's just like that, her dad too. He has already lost two grandchildren, to lose his daughter and his best friend... She's worked beside him since she was eight years old. When she was in a coma he told M "That's my whole world lying there."
K has a 14 year old son, who watched his beloved older brother bleed to death last year. Now he was going to lose his mother barely over a year later. K had a heart attack and a stroke while they were operating.
No hope. No hope at all. Flat line in the brain activity department. Time to pull the plug.
Except. Except we NEED K here. We need her sweetness and her smile. We need her love. I personally could not bear to think of her father and her teenage son. Especially her teen age son.
Sometimes you just have to trust that what happens is just right. But it didn't feel right, not at all. Those closest to her were sure they could feel her. I felt her, and I don't even know her that well. The doctors didn't want to keep working on her. So we prayed. I sent an email to everyone I know to pray for her. Several of them sent her out on a prayer circle. I signed on a prayer circle on the internet, worldwide. And...K moved a finger. Just barely, but a nurse caught it and talked the doctors into working with her.
One day I couldn't feel K any more. I thought perhaps she had gone on to be with her son, and I was so disappointed, because I really felt she would pull through. What happened was, K woke up! Still unconcious, but not in a coma. The doctors are still giving a no-hope prognosis, that she is too brain damaged to ever be anything but a vegetable. We kept praying. All of us, all around the world.
How many times have I prayed for people I've never even heard of, never would meet? Oddly enough, one of the people in the prayer line wrote me personally, not knowing who I was. Last year I had been praying for the recovery of her daughter from cancer. It also was a no chance situation. Ruthie mentioned she had been blessed with her own miracle last year, so I guess it worked!
K can now sit up with assistance. She can motion with her eyes and squeeze your hand to signal what she wants. She can let you know if she wants the pink or purple socks. She can follow her son around the room with her eyes. She can feel and move at least slightly, all of her limbs. She can pet the toy lab dog M brought her, until she can go home to pet her own beloved dog. M is beside herself, thinking of things she can do for K. M is covering for K at her job, but it's really too much for her, and I am covering for M. Actually, I like that, but I'm exhausted for the rest of the week. But the only help I can really give is to babysit so M can go visit. It's a very long drive. I figure the only way I can help K is by letting M spend more time with her. I keep trying to think up things though, that she would like.
When I sent out my update tonight to the prayer groups, I looked for an angel to send with it. I didn't find what I wanted, but I did find some wonderful artwork that inspired me. I think I will make an angel for K. It will be an angel of plenty, with lots of fruit and maybe a few little animals. A laughing, bright angel, like K is to us every day.
One of the ladies wrote me to ask if she could send a card to K. She is from Australia! I've gotten a lot of personal responses from people from the prayer groups, it's so sweet.
And K, well, K is going to recover fully. The doctors don't know that yet, but we do. M and I do, and so do all those wonderful people out there praying for her. All of Karen's angels...Thank you.
But not too long ago, the best friend of my friend M had an aneursym in her brain. K had just turned 40, and except for smoking and the stress of losing her oldest son this last year lived a healthy lifestyle. But she also was on the pill.
The combination proved fatal. Only life support was keeping her alive, the doctors held out no help at all. Even if she lived, they said, she would be a vegetable.
K is one of those people who even if you just meet them, make you feel special. She loves everyone. I don't know her well, but I love her. She's just like that, her dad too. He has already lost two grandchildren, to lose his daughter and his best friend... She's worked beside him since she was eight years old. When she was in a coma he told M "That's my whole world lying there."
K has a 14 year old son, who watched his beloved older brother bleed to death last year. Now he was going to lose his mother barely over a year later. K had a heart attack and a stroke while they were operating.
No hope. No hope at all. Flat line in the brain activity department. Time to pull the plug.
Except. Except we NEED K here. We need her sweetness and her smile. We need her love. I personally could not bear to think of her father and her teenage son. Especially her teen age son.
Sometimes you just have to trust that what happens is just right. But it didn't feel right, not at all. Those closest to her were sure they could feel her. I felt her, and I don't even know her that well. The doctors didn't want to keep working on her. So we prayed. I sent an email to everyone I know to pray for her. Several of them sent her out on a prayer circle. I signed on a prayer circle on the internet, worldwide. And...K moved a finger. Just barely, but a nurse caught it and talked the doctors into working with her.
One day I couldn't feel K any more. I thought perhaps she had gone on to be with her son, and I was so disappointed, because I really felt she would pull through. What happened was, K woke up! Still unconcious, but not in a coma. The doctors are still giving a no-hope prognosis, that she is too brain damaged to ever be anything but a vegetable. We kept praying. All of us, all around the world.
How many times have I prayed for people I've never even heard of, never would meet? Oddly enough, one of the people in the prayer line wrote me personally, not knowing who I was. Last year I had been praying for the recovery of her daughter from cancer. It also was a no chance situation. Ruthie mentioned she had been blessed with her own miracle last year, so I guess it worked!
K can now sit up with assistance. She can motion with her eyes and squeeze your hand to signal what she wants. She can let you know if she wants the pink or purple socks. She can follow her son around the room with her eyes. She can feel and move at least slightly, all of her limbs. She can pet the toy lab dog M brought her, until she can go home to pet her own beloved dog. M is beside herself, thinking of things she can do for K. M is covering for K at her job, but it's really too much for her, and I am covering for M. Actually, I like that, but I'm exhausted for the rest of the week. But the only help I can really give is to babysit so M can go visit. It's a very long drive. I figure the only way I can help K is by letting M spend more time with her. I keep trying to think up things though, that she would like.
When I sent out my update tonight to the prayer groups, I looked for an angel to send with it. I didn't find what I wanted, but I did find some wonderful artwork that inspired me. I think I will make an angel for K. It will be an angel of plenty, with lots of fruit and maybe a few little animals. A laughing, bright angel, like K is to us every day.
One of the ladies wrote me to ask if she could send a card to K. She is from Australia! I've gotten a lot of personal responses from people from the prayer groups, it's so sweet.
And K, well, K is going to recover fully. The doctors don't know that yet, but we do. M and I do, and so do all those wonderful people out there praying for her. All of Karen's angels...Thank you.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Shopping frenzy
We went shopping today. We bought some floral Simple Green, a furry leopard printed trash bag for my car, a new mouse for K, and a curtain rod. I fulfilled my shopping needs. How pathetic.
I used to be a marathon shopper. I used to stop almost every day at one store or another, expecially if I was waiting for something I wanted to come down in price. I dressed pretty well in hand-me-downs and bargain, bargain basements (that's when the prices are marked lower than bargain basement.) It fufilled a primative need, like hunting does for men. Must be my female urge to gather fruit and berries. Now I rarely go out, I get so tired when I do I can't be out for long. Takes the fun out of it. Being broke doesn't help either because I don't get to shop for fun things. My big whoop nowadays is going to the dollar store and buying $2 of something.
I think our cricket colony may be getting out of hand. There is a cricket crawling on top of the cage that is as big as the gecko. I guess he is the "all you can eat" meal. Wish I knew where Sparky went to, he's our golden gecko. Once in a while he shows up, but is too fast for us to catch. That's OK in the summer, but winters we would feel better if he would rest nicely in a nice warm cage, crickets supplied. Hope he's still alive and kicking, he weathered through last winter when we thought he was long gone.
I spend most of my time updating my other blog. That's because it has tons of pictures I have to redo before I can post them. Also because I have a very dull life to write about, except for the animals. In fact, it's so dull I think I'll go take a nap until dinner's ready. Bleah
I used to be a marathon shopper. I used to stop almost every day at one store or another, expecially if I was waiting for something I wanted to come down in price. I dressed pretty well in hand-me-downs and bargain, bargain basements (that's when the prices are marked lower than bargain basement.) It fufilled a primative need, like hunting does for men. Must be my female urge to gather fruit and berries. Now I rarely go out, I get so tired when I do I can't be out for long. Takes the fun out of it. Being broke doesn't help either because I don't get to shop for fun things. My big whoop nowadays is going to the dollar store and buying $2 of something.
I think our cricket colony may be getting out of hand. There is a cricket crawling on top of the cage that is as big as the gecko. I guess he is the "all you can eat" meal. Wish I knew where Sparky went to, he's our golden gecko. Once in a while he shows up, but is too fast for us to catch. That's OK in the summer, but winters we would feel better if he would rest nicely in a nice warm cage, crickets supplied. Hope he's still alive and kicking, he weathered through last winter when we thought he was long gone.
I spend most of my time updating my other blog. That's because it has tons of pictures I have to redo before I can post them. Also because I have a very dull life to write about, except for the animals. In fact, it's so dull I think I'll go take a nap until dinner's ready. Bleah
Sunday, November 06, 2005
True Crime--ewwwww!
I have never been a true crime fan. I like my mysteries to be solved and not too gory. I don't even get TV. Since I've got anxiety disorder, this has turned out to be a good thing.
But I do always look at the missing children boards in the stores. I'm an artist, I notice things, maybe I would notice a child that resembled one of the pictures. Plus, there was a billboard up about a missing local girl, every time I drove by it, I said a prayer that she would be found alive. After a year, they did find her and her murderer. But I keep thinking how awful it would be not to know.
So, I started checking the amber alerts. I started reading about Duncan. I got hooked on Planet Huff. http://www.planethuff.com/darkside/ Steve Huff is an excellent writer, which got me locked in to reading his postings when they started on the Taylor Behl murder. Now I get my nightmares daily via internet. But I don't stop.
A strange side effect for me was finding myself wanting to rabidly defend the young people involved. It annoyed me beyond belief that people would attack them for simply having had the misfortune to know this killer, however briefly. These are the very same group, especially his ex girlfriend Erin, and his ex-roommate, Mike, who helped the police find Taylor's body. I would think it would be bad enough just knowing one of your friends could do something like that, without all the crap people fling at them. Ben Frawly had already put Erin through hell simply because she was smart enough to dump him the first time he got violent. The jerk even buried Taylor not far from where Erin had lived. He tried to frame her for the murder by saying she'd had him kidnapped. He tried to make out she was this nasty porn queen, when all he did was prove he was a nut job. Besides, the pictures I did see of her, she had less skin showing than I usually see at a public beach. Yeah, they were suggestive. Some people consider the Venus de Milo suggestive too. A lot of girls work their way through college working at topless clubs. I would think being a model would be safer, probably get your bottom pinched less.
I started reading their blogs, and I was surprised at how mature this people are. They are probably even younger than my daughter, but they are bright, funny and articulate. I see a closeness, that maybe this tragedy has made them even better friends, since they seem to be supporting each other to get through this. I've started reading one of their blogs on a regular basis, just because she is a good writer and I enjoy her outlook. She's an artist, but if she ever decides to write, I think she would be succesfull at that too.
Today I happened to surf in accidently to another LJ blog, another young person with a life changing problem. Another articulate, funny and intelligent girl (and she turns to to be an art student. Hmmm) Another life I'm going to worry about! But aside from all the "well I wore pink toenail polish and decided it looked gruesome" type blogs, there is an amazing amount of really good reading out there, mostly written on LJ by young people. Probably a side which their parents never see and other people never bother to look for. I was like these kids once, and it's like going back into the good side of that world, the belief that what we say and do really matters. It's so easy to slip away from that enthusiasm as you get into the everyday grind of trying to keep food on the table, the laundry washed and the cats fed. Apathy is a hazard of adulthood. Probably just exhaustion. Seeing too many crooks in public office. Or as fuzzigigi said, an asshead for every occasion.
I'm lucky. I have things I'm still passionate about, and people who feel the same way. But we are locked in our endless circles, mostly talking just to each other. College, there was some one new all the time. Sometimes you loved them, some you hated, and others just bored you stiff. But each made you react in some way, made you think. Perhaps that's why I'm enjoying the blogs so much. I don't get out much, I'm pretty much stuck at home with no outside stimulation. College cuts across the age lines too, now I guess I'm supposed to act middle aged. I have no idea how middle aged acts. I know how my mom acted, and I'm sure as heck not going to behave like that. I don't think I have ever "acted my age" and it's too late to start now.
So, the blog thing is really interesting. I know that there are gripes that it is cutting people off even more than television already is, but I think that is just the normal the-sky-is-falling-the-sky-is-falling crap I've been hearing all my life. I know I write better than I talk, I'm much more likely to express what I really mean when I'm having to type it. Reading these other blogs, people are really sharing what is going on inside them. Because they are writing on-line, they know there is a chance somebody is going to read them, so isn't that a way of reaching out? People used to write long, long letters, it was considered a cultured art. What's the difference between emailing and paper? Besides the obvious ones I mean. I have friends, people I truly care about all over the world. I care if something happens in Bangladesh because Leia lives there. I'll never meet Joy in person, but I get pretty antsy if I don't hear from her every few days and she hasn't warned me she'll be off-line. I never would have gotten to know Judy as well, in fact, I'm still a little shy with her in person and not at all when emailing. Would I know how funny she is? How Pattie drives her insane?
So, forums and blogs are today's meeting places. At least we are meeting. So I get my news in bite sized chunks instead of sound bites. I get to choose which bite to take. And while I'm a bit appalled at myself for having this really morbid side, maybe I'll some day match up a missing face with a living child.
But I do always look at the missing children boards in the stores. I'm an artist, I notice things, maybe I would notice a child that resembled one of the pictures. Plus, there was a billboard up about a missing local girl, every time I drove by it, I said a prayer that she would be found alive. After a year, they did find her and her murderer. But I keep thinking how awful it would be not to know.
So, I started checking the amber alerts. I started reading about Duncan. I got hooked on Planet Huff. http://www.planethuff.com/darkside/ Steve Huff is an excellent writer, which got me locked in to reading his postings when they started on the Taylor Behl murder. Now I get my nightmares daily via internet. But I don't stop.
A strange side effect for me was finding myself wanting to rabidly defend the young people involved. It annoyed me beyond belief that people would attack them for simply having had the misfortune to know this killer, however briefly. These are the very same group, especially his ex girlfriend Erin, and his ex-roommate, Mike, who helped the police find Taylor's body. I would think it would be bad enough just knowing one of your friends could do something like that, without all the crap people fling at them. Ben Frawly had already put Erin through hell simply because she was smart enough to dump him the first time he got violent. The jerk even buried Taylor not far from where Erin had lived. He tried to frame her for the murder by saying she'd had him kidnapped. He tried to make out she was this nasty porn queen, when all he did was prove he was a nut job. Besides, the pictures I did see of her, she had less skin showing than I usually see at a public beach. Yeah, they were suggestive. Some people consider the Venus de Milo suggestive too. A lot of girls work their way through college working at topless clubs. I would think being a model would be safer, probably get your bottom pinched less.
I started reading their blogs, and I was surprised at how mature this people are. They are probably even younger than my daughter, but they are bright, funny and articulate. I see a closeness, that maybe this tragedy has made them even better friends, since they seem to be supporting each other to get through this. I've started reading one of their blogs on a regular basis, just because she is a good writer and I enjoy her outlook. She's an artist, but if she ever decides to write, I think she would be succesfull at that too.
Today I happened to surf in accidently to another LJ blog, another young person with a life changing problem. Another articulate, funny and intelligent girl (and she turns to to be an art student. Hmmm) Another life I'm going to worry about! But aside from all the "well I wore pink toenail polish and decided it looked gruesome" type blogs, there is an amazing amount of really good reading out there, mostly written on LJ by young people. Probably a side which their parents never see and other people never bother to look for. I was like these kids once, and it's like going back into the good side of that world, the belief that what we say and do really matters. It's so easy to slip away from that enthusiasm as you get into the everyday grind of trying to keep food on the table, the laundry washed and the cats fed. Apathy is a hazard of adulthood. Probably just exhaustion. Seeing too many crooks in public office. Or as fuzzigigi said, an asshead for every occasion.
I'm lucky. I have things I'm still passionate about, and people who feel the same way. But we are locked in our endless circles, mostly talking just to each other. College, there was some one new all the time. Sometimes you loved them, some you hated, and others just bored you stiff. But each made you react in some way, made you think. Perhaps that's why I'm enjoying the blogs so much. I don't get out much, I'm pretty much stuck at home with no outside stimulation. College cuts across the age lines too, now I guess I'm supposed to act middle aged. I have no idea how middle aged acts. I know how my mom acted, and I'm sure as heck not going to behave like that. I don't think I have ever "acted my age" and it's too late to start now.
So, the blog thing is really interesting. I know that there are gripes that it is cutting people off even more than television already is, but I think that is just the normal the-sky-is-falling-the-sky-is-falling crap I've been hearing all my life. I know I write better than I talk, I'm much more likely to express what I really mean when I'm having to type it. Reading these other blogs, people are really sharing what is going on inside them. Because they are writing on-line, they know there is a chance somebody is going to read them, so isn't that a way of reaching out? People used to write long, long letters, it was considered a cultured art. What's the difference between emailing and paper? Besides the obvious ones I mean. I have friends, people I truly care about all over the world. I care if something happens in Bangladesh because Leia lives there. I'll never meet Joy in person, but I get pretty antsy if I don't hear from her every few days and she hasn't warned me she'll be off-line. I never would have gotten to know Judy as well, in fact, I'm still a little shy with her in person and not at all when emailing. Would I know how funny she is? How Pattie drives her insane?
So, forums and blogs are today's meeting places. At least we are meeting. So I get my news in bite sized chunks instead of sound bites. I get to choose which bite to take. And while I'm a bit appalled at myself for having this really morbid side, maybe I'll some day match up a missing face with a living child.
Musing...
When I’m working (or playing Spider Solitaire) my brain just keeps clicking away these stories and scraps of conversation. Once in awhile, I write them down. Occasionally I inflict them on my family and friends. I have decided to blog them here, in case someone else wishes to be inflicted also. This is going to be just a stream of consciousness (or in my case unconsciousness). Which is my way of saying be warned. I write a lot of gobbledeegook, and I’m posting it here.
Blogs are such nice, neat little ego trips. Maybe no one reads them, or maybe they take on a life of their own like Planet Huff. Well, I will let my daughter know where I’ve started this. She’s a great audience and she should be, I’ve been carefully brainwashing to her be since she was born. Babies can learn to clap before they learn to walk or talk. This makes them perfect audiences. They can’t leave or critique your performance, and they are still at that age where they think every thing you do is wonderful. Hey, look, Mom can dance across the floor! I can’t do that, wow, that must be wonderful! What talent! (clap, clap clap) Maybe that’s the real reason actors have kids.
I was happily webbing around yesterday, when suddenly my internet connection died. Oh, it lied and said it was still on line, but nothing came through. We have been trying to hook up DSL, but haven’t managed it yet, still, that is no reason for my internet connection to quit in the middle of a session. I’m not that crazy about my local company, which may change after I get on DLS, since most of my gripes are connection related. However, their techies keep my signed up. They are available 24/7 (well, maybe not holidays, don’t know about that) and as far as I can figure out, all computer geniuses with the patience of saints. I call them up, explain the problem, and they cheerfully rattle off "Well, it sounds like your cable isn’t hooked into your Land port and your modem needs to be reconfigured to accept 64 ram and 400 rom…
OK, I just heard what the Peanuts characters heard when their parents talk...squawk squawk squuaawk. Isn’t a ram to do with a male sheep? Isn’t rom a character on Star Trek? So I ask the guy on the phone to speak in non-techie. Now, I have just enough computer knowledge to be dangerous, but with the change rate on computers, most of my tech language is way out of date.
So the guy on the other end smiles (yeah, I can hear him smile) and says in his best, let’s not panic voice "See the little red light on your PC?"
Me: Um, yeah?
Technoguy: Is it lit?
Me: Yep.
Technoguy: Sorry, but I had to ask. You’d be amazed at how many people call in because their computer is unplugged.
Me: Nope, made sure it was on, the monitor too. And I know the CD player isn’t a cup holder.
Technoguy: Ah, you’ve been through this before.
I nod. Even though Technoguy can’t see me, he knows I nodded, the same way I know he smiled.
Technoguy: Well, lets give it a run-down. See that long skinny black thing, with a connector on each end? That’s a cable.
Me: Oh good, I thought one of my snakes had escaped.
Technoguy: Not unless it is wiggling on it’s own. OK, now, take the end with the shiny little pins and plug it into the back of the computer where there is a socket just the same size. OK?
Me: OK, that’s done.
Technoguy: Now open your Windows…
Me: What? But it’s raining!
Technoguy: (who has heard that joke a million times but still is remaining polite, although I can tell his teeth are grinding) OK, now see that little icon that says "My Computer"? Double click on that and…
He guides me through all the steps, occasionally back tracking if something doesn’t work to try something different. Sometimes he has to go confer with the other techies. In real life, he may be rolling his eyes and cursing me under his breath, but he sounds like my problem is fascinating and new and his whole happiness depends on helping with my problem.
Technoguy: Is everything working now?
Me: Yes, thanks! But what do I do with this last cable?
Technoguy: Describe it to me.
Me: Well, it’s black with a yellow stripe down it, about as big around as a pencil and it has these little toothy things at one end. Where do I plug that in?
Technoguy: Excuse me, Ma’am? I think that’s your snake…
Blogs are such nice, neat little ego trips. Maybe no one reads them, or maybe they take on a life of their own like Planet Huff. Well, I will let my daughter know where I’ve started this. She’s a great audience and she should be, I’ve been carefully brainwashing to her be since she was born. Babies can learn to clap before they learn to walk or talk. This makes them perfect audiences. They can’t leave or critique your performance, and they are still at that age where they think every thing you do is wonderful. Hey, look, Mom can dance across the floor! I can’t do that, wow, that must be wonderful! What talent! (clap, clap clap) Maybe that’s the real reason actors have kids.
I was happily webbing around yesterday, when suddenly my internet connection died. Oh, it lied and said it was still on line, but nothing came through. We have been trying to hook up DSL, but haven’t managed it yet, still, that is no reason for my internet connection to quit in the middle of a session. I’m not that crazy about my local company, which may change after I get on DLS, since most of my gripes are connection related. However, their techies keep my signed up. They are available 24/7 (well, maybe not holidays, don’t know about that) and as far as I can figure out, all computer geniuses with the patience of saints. I call them up, explain the problem, and they cheerfully rattle off "Well, it sounds like your cable isn’t hooked into your Land port and your modem needs to be reconfigured to accept 64 ram and 400 rom…
OK, I just heard what the Peanuts characters heard when their parents talk...squawk squawk squuaawk. Isn’t a ram to do with a male sheep? Isn’t rom a character on Star Trek? So I ask the guy on the phone to speak in non-techie. Now, I have just enough computer knowledge to be dangerous, but with the change rate on computers, most of my tech language is way out of date.
So the guy on the other end smiles (yeah, I can hear him smile) and says in his best, let’s not panic voice "See the little red light on your PC?"
Me: Um, yeah?
Technoguy: Is it lit?
Me: Yep.
Technoguy: Sorry, but I had to ask. You’d be amazed at how many people call in because their computer is unplugged.
Me: Nope, made sure it was on, the monitor too. And I know the CD player isn’t a cup holder.
Technoguy: Ah, you’ve been through this before.
I nod. Even though Technoguy can’t see me, he knows I nodded, the same way I know he smiled.
Technoguy: Well, lets give it a run-down. See that long skinny black thing, with a connector on each end? That’s a cable.
Me: Oh good, I thought one of my snakes had escaped.
Technoguy: Not unless it is wiggling on it’s own. OK, now, take the end with the shiny little pins and plug it into the back of the computer where there is a socket just the same size. OK?
Me: OK, that’s done.
Technoguy: Now open your Windows…
Me: What? But it’s raining!
Technoguy: (who has heard that joke a million times but still is remaining polite, although I can tell his teeth are grinding) OK, now see that little icon that says "My Computer"? Double click on that and…
He guides me through all the steps, occasionally back tracking if something doesn’t work to try something different. Sometimes he has to go confer with the other techies. In real life, he may be rolling his eyes and cursing me under his breath, but he sounds like my problem is fascinating and new and his whole happiness depends on helping with my problem.
Technoguy: Is everything working now?
Me: Yes, thanks! But what do I do with this last cable?
Technoguy: Describe it to me.
Me: Well, it’s black with a yellow stripe down it, about as big around as a pencil and it has these little toothy things at one end. Where do I plug that in?
Technoguy: Excuse me, Ma’am? I think that’s your snake…
(Music. Lights up)
Dan: Aaand we’re back from our commercial announcement. Joe, who do we have as our next contestant?
Joe: Meet NJ Lestra, from Toledo, Dan.
Dan: NJ Lestra from Toledo, cooommmme ooooon out!
(Cheering, crowd noises. Man walks from behind curtain, goes behind lectern facing Dan)
Dan: Well, NJ, what do you do for a living?
NJ: I’m in sales, Dan.
Dan: Ha, ha, aren’t we all, in one way or another? Well, NJ, you know how the game works. Now here’s the first question. If you were an aardvark, a great anteater, which would you prefer, ants or termites?
NJ: (thinks) I’d ah…um, I’d prefer termites Dan.
Dan: Are you sure that’s your answer?
NJ: Yes, termites.
Dan: Yes! Hey, sure could use one of those under my house, hey! This state has termites as big as kittens! Now, the next question, if you were a Catholic nun, would you ever wear a wedding ring? If you were a Catholic nun, would you ever wear a wedding ring? Think carefully.
(music with loud clock noise ticking over it while NJ thinks)
Dan: NJ, we need an answer…
NJ: No, I know they wear rosaries, but I don’t think they ever wear rings, and they aren’t allowed to marry, so I’d say no, Dan.
Dan: Are you sure?
NJ: Yeah. Yeah, that’s my answer. No, a nun would never wear a wedding ring.
(Buzzer goes off)
Dan: (gleefully) Wrong! Catholic nun’s wear wedding rings to symbolize their marriage to Christ! How about that folks, Jesus finally gets to get married and they’re all virgin brides, and he can’t touch ‘em. This Son of God thing may not be all it’s cracked up to be!
(Crowd laughs, groans. Drum riff)
Dan: Well, NJ, you’re one up and one down. If you get the next question right, you take home the big money, so think carefully, this is the big one.
NJ: I’m ready Dan, bring it on.
Dan: OK, NJ, here’s the question. You have 30 seconds to answer. If you had the choice, would you rather snort cocaine, or shoot meth? Snort cocaine or shoot meth, that is the question.
NJ: I, I, huh?
(clock ticking)
Dan: I need an answer NJ. This is for the top money…
NJ: (starting to sweat) I, I, uh…
Dan: Two seconds, NJ.
NJ: Ah, shoot meth.
Dan: And that’s your final answer?
NJ: (sweating) Uh, yes, uh, that’s my final answer.
Dan: Are you sure that’s your final answer?
NJ: Yeah, yeah, that’s my final answer.
(Buzzzzz!)
Dan: Wrong! The correct answer is…."I don’t use drugs, Dan."
NJ: Huh? But, but…
Dan: I believe you said you were in sales, NJ?
NJ: Yeah, but what…?
Dan: Well, NJ, here we are with our back stage camera, showing you making a deal. (Film rolls, showing NJ handing over a baggy in exchange for money) Never stop selling, huh, NJ?
NJ: But, but…
(Drum riff, while crowd cheers, boos, etc.)
Dan: (laughing a special game show host hearty laugh) I just love that hidden camera trick! Well, NJ, I’m afraid you don’t win the big prize. What do we have for a consolation prize for NJ, Joe?
Joe: I’m afraid it’s policy not to give prizes to scum sucking drug dealers, Dan.
Dan: (Heartily) HEY! I think that’s a great policy, Joe! (NJ looks stunned)
Joe: I like it, Dan.
(Crowd cheers)
Dan: Well, NJ, (he pulls out an envelope, tears it open, pulls out a strip of paper and reads) Instead the prize money goes to Mrs. P Newly, to help pay expenses for her little girl, Janey, who was crippled in a drug related shooting. (Very sincerely into the camera) Mrs. Newly, we hope this well help your poor little daughter some day walk again.
Crowd: Ahhhhhhhh (claps, cheers. Camera pulls back to contribution bowl with a Help Janey Walk sign. People begin coming up and dropping money in.)
Dan:(Back to NJ, cheerfully) Well, NJ Lestra, I bet you never guessed this would happen when you chose to be a low-life, blood sucking leech on society! That’s what happens when you play Truth or Consequences!
(NJ stares wildly around as audience starts throwing paper airplanes at him and booing)
Joe: Well, Dan, I’m afraid we are out of time.
Dan: Yes, but it was a great show, Joe.
Joe: It certainly was Dan.
(Music up. Camera pulls back from stage, showing Dan shaking hands with the audience, while a uniformed police person with a large snarling dog escorts NJ from the stage.)
Joe: (voice over music) Join us tomorrow for another exciting game of…TRUTH OR CONSEQENCES!
(fade to commercial)
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