A New Tea for Me

My darling niece brought me this tea. I am funny about tea. I can drink one type of tea for a very long time. I have a favorite and it will be hard for me to change. That is why I had never tried a white tea. A friend of my niece's had visited China. When she came back, she extolled the benefits of White Tea. She said that it calms the mind and clarifies the thoughts. Just what I needed. The unique part of this tea is that it is brewed only for 30 to 60 seconds. The second time that I had it, I let it stay in the pot and it got a little bitter. The first time it was made by my niece and it was so amazing and pleasant that I knew I had brewed it too long. Well, finally I read the container and now I follow the directions. I do not have it everyday because I do not want to get bored by it. It has a lovely delicate aroma that reminds me of a orange orchard. When I am stressed, all I have to do is lift the lid off of the container and inhale. Boy, just the fragrance is wonderful. It is delightful!! And I have it only on Sundays as a special treat!

Found Treasure

Somewhere along the way, I acquired this beautiful clutch bag. I think I know from where it came from but I can't say for sure. I have never used it. It is new but it is old. But here I am vague again, I don't know how old. I believe that this was a gift or re-gift to my Mother. It could have been a garage sale acquisition. Anyway, I don't use purses that I haven't made. Doesn't that sound stuffy but it is how it is. I have been making my own purses for the last 20 years and I do enjoy using my own creation. Even when I was still learning to sew, I was never embarrassed about my sewing because it was always the best I could do at that time. And when put that way, I did not see the flaws. Also, this little purse is just too small to put a check book, wallet, make-up bag etc. into it.

The colors are just as fresh as the day it came off the loom. I did consider ripping it apart and incorporating it into one of my purses but that seems sort of sacrilegious. I feel that all artists or artisans are proud of their work and I should respect that. So, that said, what do I do with this lovely purse. As you can see from the box that it was in, the Fred Harvey Hotels must have sponsored it. And it is hand loomed. Maybe Ebay? I don't know anyone that could use it and it does seem like a waste. Oh, what to do, what to do?

My "Dancing Mama"

Toward the end of my Mother's life, a woman came into her life who had made her living being a dancer. They became friendly and my Mother found out that this woman tapped danced. For the exchange of a lunch on Saturdays, this woman would teach my Mother to tap dance. This went very well. My Mother was thrilled to learn something that she had wanted to learn all her life. The other woman (who had no family) enjoyed the encounter with my Mother's. I always worked on Saturday and sometimes my son would be with me. So, this woman experienced the multi-generation of a family.

Other friends heard of the lessons and wanted to learn as well. There were too many woman, so they moved the lessons to the Senior Citizens Center. From there, these woman decided to entertain the retirement homes around town. All of these woman blossomed with the experience.

My Mother got to sing and dance. The last years of her life were full and enjoyable. And I was very happy for her.

When my granddaughter saw pictures of my Mother, she wanted to meet her. My son explained that she had died. And my granddaughter, seeing the pain in my son's eyes, said "That's alright Papa. My Dancing Grandma is in my heart"

My Mother is the little one on the right in the photo.

Annie and I

I try not to look at this photo. Yet, when I do, I remember how sweet life always was when I knew that my sister was in this world. And that is why I do not look at this photo.

The photo on the right was taken by a neighbor in her backyard. We, her children and my sister and I, had created a garden in our backyard. I had read a book about a little girl and her flower garden but I thought wouldn't it be fun to have a vegetable garden. We were nine and eleven and knew nothing about the art of vegetable growing. But we all went ahead. Their father came over and dug a small plot for us. And we put in the seeds. I don't remember what we planted other than zucchini and pumpkins. And this pumpkin (see above) maybe the only product of that garden. Yet it was instructive and a lot of fun for all of us.

The photo on the left was taken years later. You can still see the rapport that we still had and the joy in each other's company. When I received this photo in the mail from my sister, I couldn't place why it looked so familiar. Then it clicked and I went through my mother's photos and found the little snapshot. I had both brought up to the same size and mounted them together as a small Christmas gift.

When she passed away, I asked for this rememborance back, yet I don't look at it very often, as I can't.

Silk Purse

I made this purse for my Daughter-in-Law's birthday. It is completely silk. And I really enjoyed working with the fabrics. Both fabrics have a story. All be it a short story but a story. The green Silk was given to me by my darling niece. A very nice friend who is a sales rep for high end fabrics, saves the samples for herself and my niece. The woman did an art show with my niece and another artist. But her day job is selling fabric. I love beautiful fabrics and so I squirrel the really good stuff away. I took this piece out for my Daughter-in-Law. She is a very lovely, giving woman and I think deserves the best of my talent. Now, the inside lining is the most treasured and rare of the fabrics. It came from India and was part of a woman's sari. The red is absolutely wonderful. It was very hard to cut into it but I still have a little left. I purchased the silk on ebay and one never knows if you are going to get quality . But it all came together. I will get it out tomorrow and I hope it will accompany her to many elegant dinners.

P.S. As far as ebay in concerned, sometimes I feel I should join a support group. I try very hard not to open that site.

My Tormentors

The "kittens" are not in the kitchen anymore at night. They have been allowed free roam of the house. And for the most part, they are good little kitties. The "cat town races" have been moderate and I really can live with that. I can live with a little of playing on the bed. If they keep the activity down to a moderate level, I will not take action. I have a very high level of "put-up-withness". But last night they went well, well, well beyond the pale(I once looked upped that word because it seemed such an odd word. It means to go beyond the proscribed boundary. Ever since I looked the word up, I have felt I owned it. silly, huh?) Anyway, they went beyond the pale. One of them, played for a long time. Maybe both of them played hard. I can't say for sure, as I was pretending or trying to sleep. It finally came to the point of me waking up enough to say out loud, "That is enough". It turned out to be that Penelope had just dropped the "toy" on my neck. I picked it up and started to carry it out when it moved and tried to crawl on my hand. After many yelps, because of all the bugs I have run into in this life, the water bug is the most hated. I can stand most bugs but the water bug sends chills up my spine and revulsion to my stomach. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Sorry, but the thought of them creates havoc. And don't give me the God's creatures bit either! Anyway, I got the cats, along with the bug out of my room. I went back to bed and in the morning, I actually quizzed myself to see if one of those bugs was really on my neck or was it a dream?
This is what I found in the hallway:

The "kittens" are not in the kitchen anymore at night. They have been allowed free roam of the house. And for the most part, they are good little kitties. The "cat town races" have been moderate and I really can live with that. I can live with a little of playing on the bed. If they keep the activity down to a moderate level, I will not take action. I have a very high level of "put-up-withness". But last night they went well, well, well beyond the pale(I once looked upped that word because it seemed such an odd word. It means to go beyond the proscribed boundary. Ever since I looked the word up, I have felt I owned it. silly, huh?) Anyway, they went beyond the pale. One of them, played for a long time. Maybe both of them played hard. I can't say for sure, as I was pretending or trying to sleep. It finally came to the point of me waking up enough to say outloud, "That is enough". It turned out to be that Penelope had just dropped the "toy" on my neck. I picked it up and started to carry it out when it moved and tried to crawl on my hand. After many yelps, because of all the bugs I have run into in this life, the water bug is the most hated. I can stand most bugs but the water bug sends chills up my spine and revulsion to my stomach. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Sorry, but the thought of them creates havoc. And don't give me the God's creatures bit either! Anyway, I got the cats, along with the bug out of my room. I went back to bed and in the morning, I actually quizzed myself to see if one of those bugs was really on my neck or was it a dream?

This is what I found in the hallway:

Kitty Came Home

I will tell you straight out, I do not like representations of cats. No paintings, note cards, sculpture, wind socks, anything that looks like a cat and isn't. I really like the real thing. I like the living, breathing, purring, talking, moving cat. I think that I have offended more than one of my friends when I didn't go into ecstasy over some sculpture or windsock. It is just how I am.

Well, that said, I was at a friend of mine's house about ten years ago and I saw this carving. I flipped over it. I started heavy breathing ( a bit of an exaggeration but you get the idea). She told me that she had found it at a yard sale. Lucky her. Then she said that she paid .50 for it. Lucky her. I complimented her on her taste and her luck. Sometime later this friend came to my door carefully carrying this little bundle. In her arms was this carving. My friend told me that the kitten needed a better home. I opened up my arms and took the little baby and she has been treasured ever since.

I don't know how old she is or who carved her. But to me, it is obvious someone "channeled" cat spirit because I look at this baby and I see the essence of cat.

Kitty measures 6" x 6" x 3 1/2". She is made out of wood. Probably Fir.

The Doll Show

There I am, the one in the middle of the bottom row. I look at the clipping now and I can see all those smiling faces and wonder what has happened to all the hopeful little girls. They all look so carefully dressed. At that point in my life, I had chosen my clothes my self because my mother was "away" getting well from tuberculosis and my sister and I were cared for by my father. At the time it seemed like a "forever" deal but really it was only four months.

I remember seeing the sign on the school fence about the "Doll Show". The show was being held down in the basement of the school. I went down there and looked at the entries. There was a spot for doll's made by a child and that spot was empty. My heart skipped a little beat. It was calling to me and Buggy-too-Little. I ran home and looked for that little girl and (naturally) she was naked. So, I scouted around and found a set of overalls that my mother and sister had made and then to complete the outfit, I found a little knitted hat. The overalls were red and yellow plaid with a few lines of black and the hat was white and pink. Great color combinations but, hey, I was only nine and in a fit to get my doll in a doll show. I don't know if I told anyone about it. The only one that was there to tell was my sister and so, yes, I probably told her. I remember that my name came over the intercom at school and I was so excited to be called down to the basement and then we were all told that on the next day the city newspaper photographer would come and photograph us. Then, I must have told my grandmother because I actually looked fairly well dressed in the photo. It is one of my "highlight" moments of childhood. I am awfully glad that I found this clipping. What fun!!!

Challenges of Light and Perception

For the first time in my life, I have become serious about the camera. I did take pictures of my son. Some (about 3) were decent and one was good. I think that I was very intimidated by my father and uncle who were at the Art Institute in S.F. while Edward Weston was there teaching. All I knew while I was growing up was the light meter, "hold this light", "get out of the light" and looking at terrific photos taken by the above people. When I was very young, my father had a photo developing lab in the kitchen (sectioned off) and the odors of the chemicals are burned into my brain (I don't know if that is a literal fact or not). Anyway, I could not apply my consciousness to anything that was "already conquered or climbed or done". Totally intimidated. So as a result, I never did anything but point and shoot.

Now I have a problem of photographing this mobile. I get shadows and blurs and it does not look anything like the real thing. Don't know what to do? Maybe I am dealing with a dream and it actually looks this dull. I must be objective about this or I won't solve the problem of the rotten photographs. One of the problems that I must deal with is that when I made this mobile, I was remembering, and still do recall, the time when I collected these beach objects. It was a wonderful Sunday with a boyfriend. We went to Stinson Beach in Northern California. We walked the whole beach. It was a wonderful day. And that might be the problem of capturing the photo. I am capturing the day, and the shadow of the day.

Just My Luck

This image is from the brochure from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. They are currently having a show on "Pompeii and the Roman Villa: Art and Culture around the Bay of Naples". It is an exhibition documenting the flourishing artistic center in Pompeii.

I remember that in the sixth grade I had my first exposure to Pompeii. That whole year we study ancient history and while I was very interested by ancient cultures, the idea of the abrupt ending of a whole city really captivated me. I still remember the thrill that went down my spine.

I am a member of the Museum or LACMA (as it is called in Los Angeles). Every once in a while they have these fabulous exhibits and I get to attend to special times for members. It is worth the cost of membership to go to an exhibit and not have to bump shoulders with so many people and listen to their comments. Not that their comments may not be important but sometimes they are distracting.

So, I have my tickets in my hot little hand and I am anxiously waiting for the date to come up. I will drop myself into the show and immerse myself into the Pompeii culture, trying to imagine what life was like 79 AD.

The exhibit is there until October 4, 2009. But I am going in about 2 weeks. I am totally thrilled to be able to attend.

Neglected ?

Since I feel that my house would be much more what I consider wonderful. if I had art on every single surface, I feel that the ceiling is the most neglected area. Since I do not have a scaffolding to paint the ceiling like Michael Angelo, I make do with hanging objects.

This lovely lady is Balinese. She was brought to me by my darling niece . I have her hanging over my resting spot (bed) to symbolize the swimming that the mind does in sleep.

The reason that everything is a little fuzzy is because I am balancing on my bed and that is a trick, that being "grown-up", I have forgotten. Remember the days when standing or jumping on your bed was part of the fun of the day? I almost caught that feeling. Maybe I should try it again?

The Problem of Fabric

This bureau was my daughter-in-law's. She received it from her Grandmother, who I think, got it from a Bekin's unclaimed stored furniture sale. The " kids' " were living in an old house and the bathroom had no storage of any sort. They used this dresser and it was placed opposite the commode. Well, when I used the facilities, I looked at the dresser. It was painted white (I think by the grandmother). I liked it immensely. I liked the grape drawer pulls and the height. All I heard was how the drawers stuck and how it was falling apart. When they were moving to their new place, I received a phone call and was asked if I wanted it. My immediate answer was "Yes!". So, I took my little truck up there and hauled it back. It is solid and heavy but by taking the drawers out, I was able to put the shell on a hand truck and bring it into my shop. There it stood until I was able to examine it and decide what to do. I had my friend, the handy man, come over and he helped align the drawers and re-laminated the wood that was de-laminating in one corner. Then he sanded it down for me. I did not want to strip it because it was light wood and that is not a favorite of mine. So, I decided to do something bold. I painted it red and then "antiqued" it and glazed it. I am tickled with how it turned out. When the "kids' " saw it they said "can we have it back?".

I wanted this dresser for my excess fabric . Well, it obviously does not do the trick. This is becoming like getting one male and one female rabbit. I seem to accumulate fabric like they have bunnies.

Happy Making

Somehow, if you give roses enough water, they are forgiving of the care or lack of care they get. These are "Queen Elizabeth", a very gentle and beautiful rose.

And my "Babies" are now 8 months old. I guess, in cat language, they are considered full grown but boy, are these big cats. They eat five times a day, and not because I spoil them. It must be the 1/2 & 1/2 I give them. Or the chicken and sometimes tuna. No I don't spoil them, I don't even get made at them in the middle of the night, when they rampage across the bed. I am very forgiving of my sweet babies.

My Silk Tie Vest

Once, while my father was still alive, we were watching a performance at Tanglewood with Wynton Marsalis. I enjoyed the performance but what really got me going was his vest. He had this wonderful vest on that was made with recycled silk ties. I had then knew I had to make a silk "Tie" vest for myself. While my father was alive, I had no time to do this feat. But the following Christmas, as a tribute to my father, I made this vest. I have hardly worn it as it is very fragile. I did re-enforced the delicate, old silk with a backing but even so, it is still fragile.A while back, I was reading mendofluer, and she had posted a very lovely vest. It reminded me that I, too, had made a vest. I pulled it out of the closet and found all the memories still intact. Funny, with men, the ties are significant rather than the dresses. I guess that this was because it was the only way men were able to show their personalities.

I made the vest as a Christmas gift to myself and I wore it the whole season. Maybe that was all I needed to do and that is why I had forgotten it.

Red Tweed Purse

I have always been drawn to Tweed. I don't think because it is Celtic but who knows what residual memory the soul has. Anyway, in church, I would think about how fabric was woven. This was when women wore scarves or hats to church. And I fell in love with the intermixing of threads.

When I saw this fabric I knew that I would have to make it into a purse. I didn't have a choice. I just have to do it. So, I set about to figure it out. I found some really choice navy blue Velvet that volunteered to be the lining.

And this is as far as I have gotten. I am waiting for the weekend to pick up the pieces and keep going on. But waiting is so hard!

If I Don't Stand Straight, I'll Fall

The Glass Castle by Jeannete Walls

The Carcass of the the Dreaded Mouse

It has been one of those times in life when vulnerability is foremost. Everything seems to point that humanity is indeed what we are made of! Bad sentence formation, but hopefully the idea comes across. If I don't stand "tall", I'll break. I have a birthday coming up, I read other blogs and everyone seems to hold up their birthdays as wonderful and good. And, I know I should but "Golly Gee!! I don't think it is so wonderful". As I trip down life's alleys and byways, I am now noticing all the flotsam and jetsam of life.

For instance, last night. Last night, right before I turned off the life, I finished "The Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls. I enjoyed the book immensely but that girl had a hard, hard life and still stood straight. Although, maybe that is the one failing in the book. The reader does not see her vulnerability. That provoke all my crazy dreams. Plus the little creatures that live with me decided that it was time to re-acquaint me with "mousy", on the bed. I was only vaguely aware of what was going on because I was in my crazy dreams.

This morning I got up to start the day by making my chai and I turned on the wrong burning on the stove. I am here to tell you that the smoke alarms do work. While I was in the bathroom doing my "ablutions", the smoke alarm went off. On inspection (after ripping out the smoke alarm), I found the problem.

Boy, do I feel vulnerable.

I am human.

A Meditation

When I look out my living room window, this is what I see. I see the leaves of the Grape Ivy and blended with the leaves, I see the "Church Window". This is what I call my stained glass. When I was a child in church and the sermon got to wordy for me, I would look at the stained glass windows. I did not really enjoy the "allegory" windows depicting scenes from the Bible but the ones I loved were the simple designs. I would wonder off into my imagination, trying to figure out the pattern and manner of construction. And I still have that habit, even though I understand how stained glass is constructed.

A friend of mine, Kenny Dingman, made this. He was a very sensitive artist. One of the few men of my generation that accepts people (meaning men and women) as equals. He was a precursor of the Hippies; he was a "Beatnik". Years older than me, he was married to a very good friend of mine. It was so easy to be in his presence. He would churn out these amazing windows as if it was a natural thing to do. He never sold them and maybe for that reason, they are all the more cherished. After he died, I received this window. It needed framing and stabilizing, as these objects are very fragile. I did the necessaries, and then walked about my house, seeing where I could hang it. Then it became apparent. And here it is. Everyday I get to enjoy it.