tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42714960955806067222024-03-05T18:54:03.944-06:00TellulahvilleKimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-89628986031695740782021-01-31T16:48:00.004-06:002021-01-31T16:50:20.265-06:0012 Easy Steps to Make a Delinquent <div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGFMnIIRKtOYRjIHE4Mn0k1CJ5AD3OhLNOrtcmasKbvJ-wrmhVFAzv7yDH7hh_u2wmHqMNbFZyL5NIAGw_1GCfO7f0vqGQwX2QvGwjZOMisUgC3nXiSNvLoOxXW_Wu-J_janfDKme1x0/s976/mad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="976" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGFMnIIRKtOYRjIHE4Mn0k1CJ5AD3OhLNOrtcmasKbvJ-wrmhVFAzv7yDH7hh_u2wmHqMNbFZyL5NIAGw_1GCfO7f0vqGQwX2QvGwjZOMisUgC3nXiSNvLoOxXW_Wu-J_janfDKme1x0/s320/mad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: left;">(Whoa...this place is covered in dust...how long HAS it been?)</div></div><div><p></p><p>I've decided to blog again...how GenX of me. Here's one from the vaults...a blog post I started 10 years ago and never published. I find it even MORE applicable in today's political and social climate. <br /></p><p> ===============================================<br />'From 01/12/2011...'<br /></p><p>I found this in the back of a book called "The Absolute Essentials of the Upbringing of Children" that I borrowed from my in-laws. It was put out by the Houston Texas police department<i> </i>in the 1950's after they had made a study of juvenile delinquency. Pay special attention to #5 & #7...that's NOW. <br />
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<i>1. Begin with infancy to give him everything he wants. In this way he will grow up thinking the world owes him a living.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>2. When he picks up "bad" or "dirty" words, laugh at him. That will make him think he is cute. He will run off and pick up some other words that will blow your mind.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>3. Never give him any spiritual training until he is 21, and then let him decide for himself. By the same logic, never teach him the English language. Maybe when he is old enough he may want to speak Bantu instead.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>4. Praise him in his presence to all the neighbors; show him how much smarter he is than the neighbors' children.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>5. Avoid the use of the word "wrong." It may develop in the child a "guilt complex." This will prepare him to believe that when he is punished later on for wrong-doing society is against him and he is being persecuted.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>6. Pick up everything after him" his shoes, his books, his clothes. Do everything for him so that he will have experience in throwing burdens on others. </i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>7. Let him read anything he wants. Have no concern whatsoever for what goes into his mind. Provide him with sterilized cups for his lips, but let his brain drink out of any dirty container for words and ideas. (2021 version is "Wear a mask, and watch CNN")</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>8. Quarrel frequently in the presence of your children. In that way they will be prepared for broken homes later on.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>9. Give him all the spending money he wants; never let him earn his own.</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>10. Satisfy every craving of the child for food, drinks, and everything that has to do with the sense of taste and touch, gratifying every sensual desire. </i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>11. Take his part against police, teachers, and neighbors. They are ALL prejudiced against your little child. (Summer of Love Riots 2020 edition)</i><br />
<i> </i></p><p><i>12. What he gets into real trouble, always defend yourself and say: "I never could do anything with him".</i><br />
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This reminds me of back in the "olden days" when I used to watch TV. During the daytime, I would watch all those talk shows where parents would bring their "child with attitude" to "give 'em a good talking to" and ended up exposing their bad parenting to the world! </p><p> At the time, I couldn't understand why a child would treat their parents so horribly or where they would get the audacity to speak to them like dogs. It never occurred to me that giving them everything could debilitate them. </p><p>But...as the Oompa Loompa's say..."</p><pre class="lyric-body wselect-cnt" dir="ltr" id="lyric-body-text">Who do you blame when your kid is a brat
Pampered and spoiled like a Siamese cat
Blaming the kids is a lie and a shame
You know exactly who's to blame
The mother and the father!!!</pre><p>
</p><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-61406171188771311382018-06-12T14:47:00.000-05:002018-06-12T14:54:49.871-05:00I love a good word list...A word and phrase list from my mom's journal...yes, I'm reading it. (Of course! She read mine when I was a teenager! Her excuse? "I was worried about you...")<br />
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Alas, Google demystified where the words were from, but even though I know she was reading Taylor Caldwell's "Lion of God: A Novel about Saint Paul", I still don't know what she was thinking about as she chose these words in particular. I can only imagine.<br />
<br />
Knowing her...if it was really a <i>secret</i>, she wouldn't have written it down at all, and definitely wouldn't have NOT burned it already!!<br />
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Knowing her...<br />
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Ironic, and not, that she lost her voice the last 2 years of life. Oh, the things she typed to me on that phone, and then promptly deleted. Oh, the things I learned, and things I will never learn.<br />
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As Laurie Anderson says, in "World without End"<i>...when my [mother] died...it was like a whole library burned down. </i><br />
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Onto the list:<br />
<i>Fascinating. Trivial. Frivolous. Boisterous. Impulsive. Circumstance. Ecstatic. Contentment. Apathy has seized. Rippling gently. Closed and peaceful. Radiant face. Declining. Contempt. Lenient. Refraining. Beyond bearing. Tedious. Turmoil. Tremendous. Scrupulous. Reviled. Authentic. Disheveled. Incoherent. Subdue. Resistance. Sorcerer. Preposterous. Shattered. Stupefaction. Enthusiasm. Exuberance. Inquisitive. Assertive. Condescendingly. Bafflement. Reluctance. Vivid. Glistening and translucent. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Gave himself up to grief and remorse. Rain came in long, gray spears of slashing water. Mysterious dreamlike peace. Passion made his spirit soar. The sweetest wind frolicked among new flowers. Whispering and singing life all about him. The pond was like a liquid sapphire. His heart was like a ready cymbal ready to be struck. The light was so incandescent it hurt the eye. Quivering with brilliance. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
That's all she wrote....<br />
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<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-37442096304640644462018-06-10T22:33:00.000-05:002018-06-12T14:57:46.799-05:00Life is for the Birds...And just like that, a year and a half whooshes by. A month after my last post, I lost my mom to ALS. Several times I've attempted to *blog* about it but I didn't know where to start.<br />
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Now, as I go through 72 years of memories, I'm finding jewels worth
sharing...the nostalgic bits that fill in the blanks. No need to start
at the beginning...let's start in the 70's, shall we?! <br />
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I found a little green notebook that appears to have been dipped in
oil. The words are fading but I managed to transpose them. <br />
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It contained a long "memoir" of sorts that my mom (Pinky) wrote back in 1975 when she and dad were done skating with the Ice Capades (my fault!) but were still with the show in technical positions. <br />
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It will make more sense to those of you who knew Pat and Bill, or Ed Krieg, or how the birds functioned in the Ice Capades finale.<br />
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(Some spelling has been corrected as well as a few bits of grammar...but most I left as she wrote it because it wouldn't be mom's writing without some good, long run-on sentences! :)<br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time in a Bottle</span></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">“My Life is for the Birds” </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Memoirs of Patricia “Pinky” Brenner (Forbes)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">1975</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"></span></span><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4727" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Traveling with a road show has its ups and downs. When most people find out that we travel eleven months out of the year they say things like; “What a rotten life that must be, no roots, someplace different each week, you have to find a new grocery store in each city, can't do your laundry at home, only see your relatives when you play your hometown, your children won't have playmates, can't go to school like the other kids, no excitement...”</span></span></span><span style="background-color: black;"></span><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"></span></span><br />
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4728">
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4731">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4732" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And we say, it's great! WE love it. No neighbors to have petty arguments with over a tree that's planted on your side and the limbs are growing over the fence to </span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4733" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">their</span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4734" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> side. Who's going to cut them down, you or us? It's cheaper to do your laundry at the laundromat. The initial cost of a washer and dryer takes six months to pay off or longer, then there's repairs, water, electric, baskets to put your clothes in, repairs...and repairs...</span></span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4738">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4739" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Relatives love to visit and talk, you know? “My niece is in show biz, bright lights, famous!” they say. Mother (Leah) doesn't get all excited anymore because we've been here since [“22”] and my daddy was in show biz, the <i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4740">real </i>show biz...”Vaudeville”, for 20 years.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4742" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4743" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4744">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4745" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As far as my daughter goes, she loves it. You ask any child if they'd like to travel or better yet, come backstage, and see costumes up close, people put on make-up? And even better than that be able to ice skate – free of charge every day?! She has seen more of this good old mother earth in her two years than some folks see their entire life time. When you stop and think about it, how many city kids do you know that have seen a cow close up? Or can read a map, and know which way is north – she can! What better education can she get? She sees all the sights from Atlantic City to as far West as Hawaii, as far North as Toronto, Canada to as far South as Atlanta, Georgia and Texas.</span></span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4746">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4747" /></span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4749">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4750" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As for school work, she's two and she already knows her alphabet and can count to twenty. And, there is always correspondence school. My sister took correspondence when we were on the road with daddy and she was a lot brighter in school than I was when we finally settled in Philadelphia. She had a very close teacher, my mother. Playmates are no problem. There are 3 families with our show with children and one family with one on the way. Living in a motorhome is the ideal way. And, as far as excitement goes, well, let me tell ya!</span></span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4755">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4756" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things were getting a little </span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4757" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">routine</span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4758" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for me after the birth of our baby girl, Kimberley Erna. But things always change, nothing stays the same. When we landed in L.A. From Hawaii, we went to the studio to say hello to everyone and show off our gorgeous tans, and Kimberley's fancy Hawaiian clothes. We were hit with some exciting news. Our Vice President said, “Bill and Pat, we have an extra job for you guys next year, and extra money. We'd like you to take care of 32 birds (pigeons)” </span></span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4762">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4763" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sure…” says Bill. But later, when we got home he says, “No way! You're taking care of the birds. I'm not going to even look at them!” But I don't know the first thing about pigeons. All I know is that they hang around statues and turn them white! I didn't want a single solitary thing to do with them and </span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4764" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made myself perfectly clear.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4767" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4769" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Summer vacation came and with our trip to Lake El Mirage to run our land sailer and ride our motorcycles, canoeing on the Colorado River, stopping at Carlsbad Caverns, White Sands National Park on our way back to Bill’s home in Kansas...we completely forgot about the birds until summer vacation was over and we were in Atlantic City again with a new show, new props, new costumes, new faces and a new project. “</span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4770" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Birds</span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4771" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">”.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4772">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4773" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4774" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4775">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4776" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After our first week there, we get on inner-office memo; “Re: pick up Mr. Ed Krieg at Philadelphia International Airport, United flight 426 at 5:17 pm.”</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4777">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4778" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4779" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4780">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4781" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, off we go in a rented station wagon to Philly. We took advantage of a little small side trip to visit my mother in town. Did you ever have the opportunity to pick someone up at the airport that you hadn't a clue as to what they look like? It's an experience in itself. All the way to the airport we tried to visualize what he might look like. By the time we got to the airport, he was; very, very tall, skinny, lanky, with long, jet black, straggly hair, sunken cheeks, bearded, milk bottom glasses, wearing a black suit...and all hunched over like a vulture!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4782">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4783" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4784" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4785">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4786" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What a surprise it was when this nice looking, short blond hair, pleasing glowing smile, nicely dressed man sat down in the front seat, turned to me in the back seat, shot out his hand for a hearty hello and said, “Hi! I'm Ed Krieg, you must be...” Stunned, I said...”Pat Brenner...and this is Kimberley our side kick” Thinking to myself while all this was going on...<i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4787">was</i> right about the glasses, not milk bottom, but glasses nonetheless! When his hand touched mine it was like instant friendship, such a warm, strong hand. Hands are the way through the years I've learned to judge people. The way they look, how they move and the way they feel when you shake to say hello project a lot about a person.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4788">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4789" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4790" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4791">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4792" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now the ball was rolling. Ed and his pigeons were there. We talked all the way from the airport to Atlantic City about each other, different experiences, places we've been while all the time Kimberley was tantalizing the birds! (Ahem, I need to step in here and say I was not tantalizing the birds, but merely...showing them affection!) Needless to say, as soon as I met Ed and his 32 foster children, I fell in love and from that moment I knew...this job was MINE!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4793">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4794" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4795" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4796">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4797" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We got the birds all set up in their new home, Ed in his hotel and when we finally got home ourselves, I couldn't sleep a wink from the excitement. The next day, we flew the birds in a closed room so they couldn't fly away. They had to get used to the box they have to land on during the show. When they flew for the first time it was the most breathtaking sight. I fell in love again. Every day after that first flight they got better and better till we took them onto the ice. Each day, we moved farther and farther down ice till we were right smack up to the front dash.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4798">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4799" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4800" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4801">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4802" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once we had a couple of birds fly away and we spent most of the day running up and down the steps of the auditorium trying to net them down. But suddenly, victory. Ed caught two in the net. That's a thrilling sight to see Ed catch a bird in flight with a net! And, I know from experience it's not an easy chore. </span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4803" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4804" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The final result was...<i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4805">sore legs</i>.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4806" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4807">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4808" /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4809" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4810">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4811" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The birds are quick, and very clever. We got them all back thanks to Ed and I thought to myself, “I'll never be able to get them back if they get away when Ed's not here” After a week, I got a little discouraged and I wanted to give up. It seemed like so much to learn in such a short time. Ed was only staying three weeks. Three weeks is a short time to teach someone all there is to know about birds. When I'm sure it took Ed years of trial and error and lots of experiences to gain his knowledge of raising and rearing birds.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4812">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4813" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4814" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4815">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4816" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each bird is like a person. They all have different personalities and I've named them to match the personalities of people I felt they portrayed. One is feisty, one a complainer, one is quiet, a couple like to be the center of attraction, one is elegant, some are prouder than other others and some just blend in. But when it comes to their job, and they know what there job is now, they are all the same...beautiful! None more beautiful than the other.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4817">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4818" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4819" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4820">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4821" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had so many questions to throw at Ed before he left for his home in Vegas. I'm sure it made his head spin - “What do I do if they don't eat? How do I know when they are sick? What about mites, lice? What if one lands on the ice and one of the kids skates over their foot?! What do I do when they lay eggs? What do I do when one flies away on the last show and we move out that night?” If <i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4822">his</i> head didn't spin, mine made up for his!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4823">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4824" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4825" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4826">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4827" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, the day came and Ed had to leave. He watched the show that night and it was all ours backstage. Up until that day, Ed was always there. We panicked, but with help from above, we did it. We got them in their flight boxes and backstage on time. The feed was put into the box they fly to, the lights on the box all worked, the nuts ready, the cover for the catch box...and the birds flew beautifully.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4828">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4829" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4830" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4831">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4832" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The day after Ed left was the worst. When I walked into the building and didn't see his face, a slight sadness came over me. Not only did I miss his knowledge about the birds, but I also missed the man. I never noticed while he was here, but when he was gone, I realized I had become quite attached to him. If I could save time in a bottle, I'd save those three short weeks in it, and put the bottle where everyone could see it. </span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4833">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4834" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4835" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4836">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4837" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another thing we noticed after Ed left was how everyone was suddenly an <i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4838">expert</i> on how to care for the birds! They'd say, "I had an Aunt who raised chickens..." or "We had a parakeet once and he.....well, he...."</span><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4839" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or "We used to feed the pigeons in the park?!" </span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4840" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4841">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4842" /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4843" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4844">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4845" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During one performance, one bird had no room on the catch box to land and he flew back out and circled around to make another try at it and when he got halfway there, the fireworks went off and that was all he needed. He split to the rafters. Not that I blame him. I'd split too if I thought my tail feathers would catch on fire. Such confusion you've never seen or heard.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4846" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4847">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4848" /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4849" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4850">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4851" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My first thought was to call Ed, he'll tell me what to do! Then I thought, "Don't call Ed...the bird will come down, we'll leave the catch box out with the lights on and he'll come back when he sees it." Well, I didn't listen to myself and called Ed! He told me what to do – you go to a dentist when you have a toothache, you don't mess around with home remedies, home remedies pacify for a while, but you go to the expert to solve the problem.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4852" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4853">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4855" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4856">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4857" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That night, before the show, we pulled their home they live on during the day out onto the open ice with a light over it. Sure enough, just like Ed said, down he came first to the balcony to look around, then to the light nearby and finally, right on top of the cage. Bill netted him and he was in the show that night!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4858">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4859" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4860" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4861">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4862" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With all the traumas that happened, like birds laying eggs and everyone wanting me to let them hatch them out (but you can't because of traveling every week), cleaning cages, picking up feathers, washing out bird droppings, getting beat to death with flapping wings while trying to catch them to put them in their flight boxes....and making sure they are fed good, fresh water, washing down rocks for the bottom of their cages, making sure people don't feel them popcorn, getting them an hour or more of sun and fresh air every day, as if it's raining...a sun lamp. Making sure they are healthy and happy. It sure sounds like a lot of work.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4863">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4864" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4865" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4866">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4867" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At times when I'm up to my eyeballs in feathers and droppings, I feel like walking out and forgetting all about them. Someone walks by and says, “Gee Pat, these birds are beautiful, and when they fly, it's breathtaking.” I melt inside and apologized to my friends in the cage, and make sure they're all bedded down for the night, say my good nights to them, and tell them I'm glad my life this year is<i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4868"> for the birds.</i></span></span></span></div>
<div data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1528682224374_4866">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo-dLkR3aLIk3oTYABB90hOUam4waXYOT2SnkzOITVT-n_fujWd3rEsZD3B3_Vyom9mptRTP1CWpaWq2nsxFF6jbxSgqCFDp5zTTYx8y-v63y90lpUGA7SqbB-LjYx047OvbhmXS8Y14/s1600/pinky+birds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="726" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo-dLkR3aLIk3oTYABB90hOUam4waXYOT2SnkzOITVT-n_fujWd3rEsZD3B3_Vyom9mptRTP1CWpaWq2nsxFF6jbxSgqCFDp5zTTYx8y-v63y90lpUGA7SqbB-LjYx047OvbhmXS8Y14/s400/pinky+birds.jpg" width="363" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><i> </i>Pat "Pinky" Brenner</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">1943-2016 </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Pictured here with...2 white pigeons, and her two show ducks, Merna and Clark.</span></span></span></div>
Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-13231161642190986352016-11-14T14:16:00.000-06:002016-11-14T16:34:23.209-06:00The Burnt Camaro...I've been decluttering again...and I have a tale to tell.<br />
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Today I encountered this picture:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zwa0l6aV91UEIk_qtKrKMIrz6Dp32YFrSxvgNwnJeoWjcCS5nK-nU9xWtwQg4FG1xSeshvtt2m2F1Ttjl3l3gidXrozWdHP481X_EeD9n0zH3mbAvuLEqutF5uwUfBPfdN_F7eeHIdo/s1600/burnt+camaro1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zwa0l6aV91UEIk_qtKrKMIrz6Dp32YFrSxvgNwnJeoWjcCS5nK-nU9xWtwQg4FG1xSeshvtt2m2F1Ttjl3l3gidXrozWdHP481X_EeD9n0zH3mbAvuLEqutF5uwUfBPfdN_F7eeHIdo/s400/burnt+camaro1.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
This is my dad harvesting parts off my Camaro that got stolen by teenagers one October 1993 evening. They took it for a joyride and then torched it. It was found abandoned in a grassy, vacant lot in the heart of Kansas City KS. While it sat there, the neighbors stole the mag wheels off it's charred remains. The kid that did this was caught, charged and then spent the next few years slipping in and out of juvenile detention, never paying for his crime. It took me a year to get a new car and the whole thing was traumatizing to say the least.<br />
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That Camaro was my "fun mobile'. I'd just used most of the money I'd
made on a job to get some repairs done, plus new shocks, tires and a
radio installed...I'd filled it up with gas and remember looking at it
as I went inside thinking, "I love my car". Anyone who's had a car
stolen knows that sick, empty feeling of walking out your door to see the
oil spot on the ground where your car once was!<br />
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The weird part is that
I'd had a startling dream that night that woke me up. I saw a faceless figure
standing in the doorway whipping flowy black fabric all about it, and it
disappeared into thin air. I wonder in retrospect if it was my Guardian Angel
saying, "Hurry! Get up! Look outside!" Or, it was Batman. Either way, I felt I was being warned...had I only known.<br />
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Nevertheless, every time I get the bug to declutter and start going through papers, I come across all the legal documents surrounding this incident and it rekindles dark feelings. I've always felt like I couldn't or shouldn't let it go, so I would tuck the papers away only to find them again the next time I decluttered for more emotional rekindling!<br />
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Usually they would stop me in my tracks and I would sit and read through each document...reminiscing and wondering what I could have done differently, always wishing I'd kept after this kid to <i>force</i> him to pay the court ordered restitution. <br />
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Today, I tore them up and threw them away. I didn't even shred them, just ripped them up with my hands. I'm ready to stop chasing my own tail and let it go. The answer to "why do some people pay their dues, and some seem to always escape?" is obvious...<i>they don't escape justice. </i> I just may never see it happen, but God evens things out in the end. <br />
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I scanned this picture of my dad to save because although it does remind me of the incident, it's more that it shows him doing one of the things he did best...recycling! Also, I'm reminded of how hard he would work for people and a cause dear to him.<br />
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When the car went missing, the police had no answers and obviously weren't looking too hard for the car. Three days after it was stolen I got a phone call saying it had been burned and was taken to an impound lot. My dad started making phone calls and found out where the car was retrieved from and went door-to-door in this little Kansas City Kansas neighborhood talking to people and getting names and eye witness accounts!<br />
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He discovered the name of the kids that stole the car and one neighbor told him that they knew these kids personally and that they were planning more "stolen car bonfires" that very evening. We passed all of this information to the police. The next day I got a call from an investigator confirming that the kids did it again, just as we told them, but this time they tracked them down and boy, were they in trouble!!<br />
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My dad should have worked for the police department, I'm tellin' ya! He was not going to let some "punks" do his daughter wrong, and even though he couldn't fix THIS car for me (ha!) he sure wasn't going to stand for what happened next. <br />
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Dad called the impound lot to inquire about the Camaro and the owner "copped an attitude" with him and tried to convince him that the car was a complete loss and that we should just leave it there. That didn't smell right to my dad at all, so he went down to look at it and saw that the engine was perfectly fine. We paid the nominal fee to get the car and he turned around and sold the engine for $500! And then he took the burnt shell to the scrap yard and made a little more.<br />
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Somehow, dad knew this guy was trying to deter us from getting the car because he knew how much the engine was worth. I'd bet on the "takes one to know one" two-of-a-kind concept...imagine two dueling, industrious men caressing their mustaches while contemplating the dollar value of the heap of junk that lies before them! <br />
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After selling the engine and confirming his suspicions about the impound lot guy, he then threw his head back and laughed with victory and said, "Can't fool a smart Indian!" That sort of victory always energized him.<br />
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A picture that I tore up and did not scan was one of me, covered head to toe in black stuff, sitting on my destroyed car doing the "Rosie the Riveter" pose...it was my way of trying to have a good attitude about dealing with the charred remains of my "fun mobile". <br />
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As I declutter these papers and pictures that tether my mind to this unpleasant event and are not beautiful or useful, I know that I'm freeing space up in head and heart for better things. And as I go about this task, I've found that it's necessary to take some friends with me...those who have done this before. Here are The Minimalists talking about <a href="http://www.theminimalists.com/011/">Sentimental items. </a><br />
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<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-27786547493780411962016-08-24T23:00:00.002-05:002016-08-24T23:06:17.483-05:00Being a Finisher...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
For as long as I've been a female, which is since birth, I've been a "starter". Ideas come to me like flies on roadkill...and while that may sound disgusting, it's appropriate. They arrive out of nowhere, are plentiful and persistent! </div>
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This relates to a <i>skill</i> of mine which I am proud of and simultaneously loathe...I can kill a fly, ANY fly, ANY where, ANY time...with my bare hands. If I want to. Sometimes I "miss" because I get grossed out and don't give it my all, but usually, I'm a sure shot. Yes, my family will attest, I'm a notorious and ruthlessly accurate fly killer. It's disturbing to feel so victorious and at the same time, repulsed.</div>
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Back to what I started talking about...see, I started and took a detour! </div>
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Starting projects (as long as they're inspired ideas and not "drudgery items") is my milieu. Thank you, spell check...I can <i>never</i> spell milieu without you. </div>
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The problem would arise when I'd hit some sort of catch point, like I needed a certain material...or life would get crazy...or I'd start something new that I was more interested in than the last project!<br />
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Well...I've not only turned over a new leaf, I've pulled the tree out of the ground and replaced it roots up! Finishing this piece made me feel so fantastic, it made me finish another...and then I've jumped on yet another long-standing project that needed completion. Let the dominoes fall.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6xFmZ_PVq59E1co0HU9ocPCaZvGht_EeHIk4kg80GbAHVcgvOKQjE59BdYj0Tul_UfO7ThpLrD1ooJpqQJKmf0EFBfMM_YD98kqnXJOrBWM1W8yZAfyeb-JOixNC1Jz32b1-wn10U8Y/s640/blogger-image-701757096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6xFmZ_PVq59E1co0HU9ocPCaZvGht_EeHIk4kg80GbAHVcgvOKQjE59BdYj0Tul_UfO7ThpLrD1ooJpqQJKmf0EFBfMM_YD98kqnXJOrBWM1W8yZAfyeb-JOixNC1Jz32b1-wn10U8Y/s400/blogger-image-701757096.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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This is a design challenge embroidery "sampler quilt" I started with a friend on
the first of January. Every square was worked off of a prompt chosen by
one of us and it was so much fun that we literally raced through and
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Then...some other projects came up...life got crazy...it got put on the back burner, same old scenario. It was hanging from a clothes line in my studio and I'd bump into it for a daily reminder of yet another incomplete project. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OxNNTLrvvlyPvcw1YztKgi70mgWoVpJtlfipY81fieE-mjpcvr70sfeYeRRVT2Fa8gwnvnX4Yr6SHtu8x1ZGl7vQoZ1mEWpPIcMkt2FJSPA1ifTo3fKVzacvDMV9R-UJjRQXimL_Gms/s640/blogger-image--1184777708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OxNNTLrvvlyPvcw1YztKgi70mgWoVpJtlfipY81fieE-mjpcvr70sfeYeRRVT2Fa8gwnvnX4Yr6SHtu8x1ZGl7vQoZ1mEWpPIcMkt2FJSPA1ifTo3fKVzacvDMV9R-UJjRQXimL_Gms/s400/blogger-image--1184777708.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The "how and why" of this happening is essentially a by-product of decluttering my house and being a "budding" minimalist. Freeing up my visual space from junk has made the important things shine. One day, out of the blue, I just grabbed it and finished it...totally on a whim. </div>
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The quilt is mostly about my obsession with the desert but is also a collection of many other tiny, personal loves. The leather straps are made from one of my dads' old belts...and the cholla cactus spine is from our New Mexico honeymoon nearly 8 years ago.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEczHLPhzJ62XZCwYKYaflWjhh6f9s5NqT_27p9-PX9WJcnMi6wklvsDj7y9xOBoTMuhVoAxi385HQQ5jHM9VBt19jFlc-qC3gOSGrAORhswTEOjuY9pgJrzn8DGA3PKc90P09Q6apupk/s640/blogger-image--559426137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEczHLPhzJ62XZCwYKYaflWjhh6f9s5NqT_27p9-PX9WJcnMi6wklvsDj7y9xOBoTMuhVoAxi385HQQ5jHM9VBt19jFlc-qC3gOSGrAORhswTEOjuY9pgJrzn8DGA3PKc90P09Q6apupk/s400/blogger-image--559426137.jpg" width="336" /></a></div>
A few days later, I finished this one...which has been sitting unfinished for a lot longer than the first. Yet another "desert love" embroidery of an ocotillo cactus alone in the desert. The fabrics were dyed with red cabbage and homemade walnut ink, and some were rusted with metal wires. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LBrYcPzr6n0pzN52b-tIrcRzMhPAzVF7_hUVODmBzWHCqoqmkLi3rlJq_f-2bhLZT8JxZg86gpsEdSDLXKS-LFT3bHf3Qrpq9UeziACmI1tKZdotHVDBbGFISJNyLjSauVi-hopijjQ/s1600/IMG_6799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LBrYcPzr6n0pzN52b-tIrcRzMhPAzVF7_hUVODmBzWHCqoqmkLi3rlJq_f-2bhLZT8JxZg86gpsEdSDLXKS-LFT3bHf3Qrpq9UeziACmI1tKZdotHVDBbGFISJNyLjSauVi-hopijjQ/s400/IMG_6799.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
It feel so good to finish. I've now switched to painting on 3 large crucifix bodies that have been waiting for me since March. They're due this weekend.<br />
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After that, I'll continue to search and destroy the <i>un-finished-ness</i> in my life so I can feel clear and ready to take on my next idea which came to me as I was falling asleep the other night. My best ideas sneak up on me when I least expect them... <br />
<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-32162226204913465752016-07-20T17:34:00.001-05:002016-07-20T18:37:42.832-05:00Don't trash my DREAMS...It's official...I posted my first Instructable today...a gallery "canvas" made from trash that I've lovingly called, "Don't trash my DREAMS".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sbYpynK4kiYPX7iQNmTI1sabHXsamRQfnLYSwm5b8-pSZFPmk821WJoi2FXI_U-FuUIHiX4SfaBufUnDIbNmONkYdnGBYQgIp4_ZqWWxe9afgS-GOz0mFaN3zP-F7Yf9k6WgdcucpH8/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sbYpynK4kiYPX7iQNmTI1sabHXsamRQfnLYSwm5b8-pSZFPmk821WJoi2FXI_U-FuUIHiX4SfaBufUnDIbNmONkYdnGBYQgIp4_ZqWWxe9afgS-GOz0mFaN3zP-F7Yf9k6WgdcucpH8/s400/IMG_0408.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I entered it into the <a href="http://www.instructables.com/id/Dont-Trash-My-DREAMS/">"Trash to Treasure" contest</a> and while it would be fun to win, I am just so pleased to have gotten it done! It was a learning experience and now I'm hooked. I've got 5 days to enter two more projects...better get busy!Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-79553205492803609672016-07-09T16:08:00.000-05:002016-07-10T19:16:13.183-05:00Getting back to art...Whew, June was a whirlwind month of decluttering! I've taken a slight break in the dejunking-fest to get back to art projects. My muse tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey...remember me??"<br />
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One thing I accomplished recently with the help of my darling dear...my Etsy shop is finally up and running. It will be a vintage shop for a while until I can stop purging junk long enough to rollout some art.<br />
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/Tellulah?ref=l2-shopheader-name">Tellulah's of Kansas City</a> </div>
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When it comes to art...I love a good challenge. That's why I was giddy when I saw this contest on Instructables.com. <a href="http://www.instructables.com/contest/trashtotreasure/">Trash to Treasure! </a> You know I'm ALL about a good dumpster dive! </div>
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No diving will be necessary given the sheer volume of "treasure" in my basement and attic. Materials are a mere flight of stairs away. </div>
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I'll report back here soon with my gloriously trashy entries! </div>
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Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-86207894900846178342016-06-28T15:14:00.001-05:002016-06-28T15:14:04.948-05:00Moths and rust...and ceramic dust...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We interrupt the Minimalism 30-day purging for a nostalgic roller coaster ride!</div>
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That's what I get for venturing into the attic to nonchalantly find something to get rid of! Papers. Pictures. Grade cards. Newspaper clippings. Letters to Santa...apparently I wanted a basketball?</div>
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As I dug through a box in the stuffy, 105 degree attic, I could feel the life being sucked out of me. The heat got to my brain and with decision fatigue setting in, I became overwhelmed and started ripping things to shreds. When it got too hot to breath, I brought as much as I could carry to the first floor where I continued the task.</div>
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As I mindlessly and ruthlessly tore up a paper I wrote in a college class called, "The Human Experience"...I saw the words, "Kim...you are a true romantic!" Oh, darn. (slump over) Do romantics destroy any part of their own history? Maybe I'm just tired of feeling buried under the weight of physical things. </div>
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This is where the nostalgia gets "really old". These are my grandmother's sea sponges that she used for her pottery. One was full of clay, the other with glaze. (Lord knows what sort of toxins they contained seeing as most of the compounds they used back in the late 60's are now considered poisonous and not used anymore). <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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They seemed old and crusty at first and I was about to toss them, but as I washed them out I realized they were fine...just full of material from the very last time my grandmother made pottery back in 1971 before she died from an aneurysm.</div>
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It occurred to me that even though I never met her, never got to see her make pottery or enjoy her company...I just got to do a chore for her by cleaning her sponges. </div>
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Even though I'm disposing of some of my own "now forgotten" past, I will keep her sponges and use them in my own art making. The best part of nostalgia is the part that lives inside of you that moths and rust can't destroy and thieves cannot steal. I believe that does make me a true romantic.</div>
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Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-77804397713238453682016-06-26T16:01:00.001-05:002016-06-26T16:01:54.334-05:00Purging in the studio...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Come and get it!!! (Actually, it's gone...things don't last long on the curb in our hood!)</div>
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Sometimes I just can't wait for Saturday to take donations to the thrift store...I open my own little shop right on the sidewalk. Everything on that curb was either given to me, or purchased at a thrift store. Easy come, easy go. </div>
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What hasn't been so easy is purging my art studio(s). There are 3.5 rooms in our house dedicated to my love of art...metals on the back porch, a sun room and adjoining "kitchen" are my main studio and supply "dump"...and then half of the bathroom we had slotted to be a huge walk-in shower, well....that's my sewing room! </div>
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As I go through things in these areas I've realized that where I once thought of myself as "multi-talented" (and I still may be...but...) I now see myself as scattered. I've never been able to decide on one or two genres of art, and my tools and supplies reflect that wildly. </div>
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I have, however, recently decided that I'm done with two departments....tiny beads...and magazine collage. I've spilled more beads than I've ever used, and although I will one day face the daunting task of sorting and deciding which beads to keep and which to hock, the tower of beads stands erect and abandoned in my studio beckoning my 2 year old to open each drawer and fish for treasure! </div>
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And magazine collage? I've decided to ONLY keep my grandmother's American Home magazines from the 40's and 50's...the rest of the paper bits waiting to be collaged are, well...a fire hazard at best! I'm over it...and the recyclers will get their arm workout on Monday because 90% of it is going curbside.<br />
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My studio might just hover off the ground this weekend from the unburdening! The downside I'm experiencing is...even though I've been purging like mad, it doesn't seem to make a huge dent? </div>
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Drastic deeds are in order...I might just have to...MAKE ART!!! That's really what I want to be doing with my time and materials. </div>
Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-20052807655599310342016-06-21T14:52:00.002-05:002016-06-21T14:54:50.237-05:00So many books...<div style="text-align: center;">
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I'm still purging like crazy for the <a href="http://www.theminimalists.com/game/">Minimalism Game</a>, as well as the <a href="http://www.becomingminimalist.com/">Joshua Becker</a> "Uncluttered" course. June 16-20, I discarded 90 items...37 of them were books from my studio about art forms I'm not really interested in anymore, or that I know well enough to NOT require a whole book on the subject...like glass bead making, bead weaving and <i>dough craft</i>? Not an appropriate genre for a gluten-free household!<br />
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I purged 15 blank reward certificates from when I taught 4th
grade back in 2007. They were as old as the kids were in my class at the time....those same kids graduated from High School this year. What a spiral.<br />
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Indeed, I've been "spiraling into the location" of minimalism. It's not a straight line by any means...the clutter moves and I chase it around the house, but I'm slowly getting down to essentials. Today I heard
an echo in my dining room!<br />
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The other challenge is avoiding garage sales, thrift stores...dumpsters. I'm discovering that "free" items often come with unseen costs. They require a manager and a cleaning lady too!<br />
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More purging has included blank journals with 4-5 pages used in the front of each. I've tossed at least 10, shredding those old pages or tearing them out and inserting them inside of a different journal. I need a program called "unScattered" for my artsy brain...something to help me gather thoughts and ideas into ONE journal instead of 4. <br />
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If I were to execute merely half of the ideas that actually survive the path from my brain to a piece of paper...I could open my very own curio shop!<br />
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Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-90700391592561636702016-06-16T15:52:00.001-05:002016-06-16T15:54:44.228-05:00Junk galore...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the past 5 days, I've been purging like a mad woman. I've placed a table right outside the back door of my kitchen and I dump items out there if I'm trying to see if I miss them. So far, nothing has been reclaimed. I'm so far beyond the 65 items I needed to purge for the Minimalism Game this week, I've completely lost count.</div>
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And besides this trash pile above, there really hasn't been anything worth photographing. I've tossed dried up paint, broken toys, old sheets, dried up markers, crunchy rolls of tape...seriously, JUNK! As I purge these things, I feel a great lightening of my visual space and my mind as well.</div>
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Many items I hold onto likewise hold memories. Lately, I've started to feel that memories, even good ones, are better when they're NOT attached to a physical item. 5 years painting for the Des Moines Metro Opera isn't upgraded by having a company mug! A jar of hot green chili sauce that expired in 2010 doesn't make or break our New Mexico honeymoon! And a heavy ceramic bowl made by a friend...feels too heavy now that that friendship has dissipated completely.</div>
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As for my wardrobe, which I'm also purging..I've got a strange problem. From what I've seen, most people have tons of unworn clothes jammed into closets...or they have a shopping addiction and continually add to their wardrobe. I have neither of those problems. What I have instead is...I have about 4 pieces of clothing I like, the rest I tolerate. </div>
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I'm also a clothing "under buyer" according to Gretchen Rubin. I will stock up on art supplies even though I have plenty, but when it comes to clothes...I'd rather trim the toenails of an angry wolverine than go to a mall or other such place. </div>
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And my kids? Well...they have holy socks. I've been taking so much stuff *back* to the thrift store lately, I finally "splurged" and went into the store and replaced some of our holy frocks. It took me an hour to spend $36...meanwhile, the kids happily played with every dirty little toy in the place! That's cheap fun.</div>
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<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-62809330809739535912016-06-10T14:48:00.001-05:002016-06-10T14:49:44.470-05:00Seven, Eight, Nine...and Ten...As the June days grow higher in number, it becomes more apparent that I have <i>too much stuff </i>because it's easy to find 8 of something, 9 of something 10 of something!<br />
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On the 7th day I did NOT rest. Instead, I trashed 6 vintage Ice Capades shirts from the 70's. They've been in a damp steamer trunk and even though they were sealed in plastic, there's mildew and rust stains on them. I've tried washing that sort of aroma out of clothing, it just doesn't come out, even with sunning. In the trash they went. That leaves a 1 item deficit for the 7th.<br />
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There's an art genre that I'm just not versed at, clay. It's in my bloodline, I appreciate the art form...I'm just not a clay person. We all know if we're "clay or not"! I'm not. Time to part with some tools and supplies like this vintage letter press mold. It's in the future Etsy sale bin.<br />
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Day 8...it was easy weeding through art books to find 8 "fantasy art self" books to part with. Beadweaving? Figure drawing? Not my usual art adventures nor ones I dream of. And parted with 1 of 3 papermaking books...I had two of the same book!<br />
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Day 9...9 glass supplement bottles I'd cleaned up with intentions of filling them with homemade walnut ink to sell at a Christmas Bazaar last year. Tired of keeping them, easy to replace. I thought of the <a href="http://www.theminimalists.com/jic/">Minimalist's "20/20" rule</a>. If you can get it for $20 or less in 20 minutes, kiss it goodbye. <br />
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Day 10...10 frames. Old ugly frames at that. The sheer "what if" supplies in my studio is overwhelming. It's definitely buried my creativity. The studio gets lighter and lighter as I purge, and a miracle has also occurred....there's now an AC unit IN my studio! This will <i>not</i> be my 10th summer of sweating like a pig (suffering for my art) as I try to make jewelry or paint in my hot-as-the-dickens studio. I can dejunk in comfort now...even though it <i>is</i> symbolic to sweat out toxins as I declutter my life!<br />
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Happy 111th birthday to our old house...it may have Google Fiber...but it's never had AC! <br />
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<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-88792506009313826732016-06-06T13:57:00.001-05:002016-06-06T14:12:09.164-05:00Three, Four, Five and Six...The Minimalism game continues, I'm trying to keep up so I can get my 30-Day decluttering badge of honor! <br />
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Today, I found 6 items in my studio to part with. It's a high clutter area because I save EVERYTHING. I parted with; Three journals with a few pages used in each, two mannequins that have been sitting in the window of my studio for years and a strange print that was given to me as a gift and I was told "If you don't like it, you can reuse the frame." Well, NO...I don't like it...and NO, I can't reuse the frame...it's hot glued together. BYE.<br />
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On June 5th I parted ways with 5 lbs. of marbles...you can find your marbles and still be out of your mind. <br />
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June 4th, we de-owned a giant wok and it's base. One could throw this over a firepit and make fajitas...for 20 people. Must go. It gives me a flashback to the time I was almost kidnapped by gypsies, but hey, hasn't everyone?? We also parted with 2 kid-sized folding chairs that got soaked in the rains last month. A friend at church
happily accepted them, squishy seats and all.<br />
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June 3rd, we decided to sell 3 wooden director's chairs that were in the basement collecting dust. We never use them. There are 6 chairs and a bench outside to sit on...plenty of seating especially since we aren't party people.</div>
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The catch on the chairs was that I washed the fabric parts to "freshen them up" before selling them. They were red, and I washed them (in hot) with my husband's faded jeans. Not only are the jeans skin tight now, but they're also PINK. He's such a good sport to think that it's funny and still be willing to wear them! <3</div>
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Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-24209264755853252682016-06-02T23:40:00.002-05:002016-06-02T23:40:49.555-05:00Two things...Day 2 of the 30-day Minimalism Game, and I've found two lovelies to part with.<br />
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Don't ask me why I have SO many dental tools...beyond "they were my dad's"...I don't have a good reason. Why did my dad have dental tools? He was a million things EXCEPT a dentist. Come to think of it, I once saw him file a sharp tooth down with a Dremel tool...his own tooth!<br />
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Well, in honor of spending 2.5 hours with a dental hygienist today getting my teeth "deep cleaned", I've decided on day 2 of the game, this just needs to go away. Where? I'm not sure! Recycle it? Slyly drop it to the bottom of the next thrift store donation box? <br />
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Some would say to use it as a clay tool, and I will show them some of the questionable pottery I made in middle school. I'm not sure how the pottery gene skipped me since there are many talented potters in my lineage. <br />
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Second, I believe this button doesn't "fit" me anymore! I used to think of myself as super low maintenance. Despite my INFJness and artistic intensity, my occasional sauciness and tendencies toward "wanderlust"...I think I'm pretty easy to get along with...right?!<br />
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Maybe "low maintenance" is how I ended up in the dentist's chair for 2.5 hours...yes?<br />
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Anyway, I plan to leave this someplace as a gift to a stranger...maybe in the bathroom of my chiropractor's office? Maybe I'll deposit it amongst the books at the library? Or in the make-up aisle at the grocery store?<br />
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Those are my discards for the day. Tomorrow I find a trio of something or other to go away...I feel like going BIG tomorrow...<br />
<br />Kimberleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11747991860837969706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-42448343157236847512016-06-01T21:59:00.001-05:002016-06-01T22:52:44.266-05:00One thing...It's been a mighty lonnnnnng time! Of all the things I could say about what has been going on in the past "<i>forever</i>" since I've blogged...I'm going to start at the beginning. Sometimes beginnings double as endings.<br />
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One. Today being June 1st, I've joined a little game instigated by <a href="http://www.theminimalists.com/" target="_blank">The Minimalists</a> called the <a href="http://www.theminimalists.com/game/" target="_blank">30-day Minimalism Game</a>. The first day you get rid of one thing, the second day two things, and so on until 30 things go on June 30th. That will be a total of 465 things. And yes, I used a calculator to tediously figure that out.<br />
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This large white one is a 2 foot tall, 3D 1st birthday prop I made for my kiddos. They're all past one now! So, I've symbolically made it my first discard for my "one thing on June 1st" and have posted it for free on the Kansas City <a href="https://groups.freecycle.org/group/kcfreecycle/posts/all" target="_blank">freecycle.org</a>. Tomorrow, I find two things to discard...<br />
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In addition to this game, I've been reading <a href="http://www.becomingminimalist.com/" target="_blank">Joshua Becker</a>'s <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/More-Less-Finding-Under-Everything/dp/1601427964/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1464836000&sr=8-1&keywords=the+more+of+less" target="_blank">"The More of Less"</a> and following an online course geared at decluttering your home one room at a time, and most importantly, finding your "WHY" for doing it.<br />
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I've been taking loads to the thrift store lately and NOT going inside to shop. I've been imagining that I'm buying a vintage Airstream (an idea I fantasize about often) and I have to take only what's necessary.<br />
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This beginning is an end to having more than I need and being buried alive under things that even if they hold a memory of a special time or person, are weighing down my life. I've been asking myself hard questions and trying to decide...<br />
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Why do I have all this stuff? What art forms do I love and what materials should I keep or get rid of? What would it take to have more time with my kids as opposed to standing over the sink doing dishes? How would we move should we need to? What do I really want........?<br />
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Big, deep stuff, you know?!<br />
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A short term "WHY" is...I'm decluttering to make room for art making. I'm clearing surfaces to work on, getting rid of materials I've kept for "just in case" or "maybe I could..." projects. Most of the stuff is simply recycling! Paper tubes, tin cans, cardboard...do I <i>really</i> want to work with trash? Not THAT kind.<br />
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I know what I like, I've liked it forever and I keep going back to it. It calls me from the sidewalk to "pick it up and cherish it". It catches my eye. It's here to stay...and sure it's a pretty color, but mostly I love it because it reminds me of how this world and the stuff in it is temporary and will disintegrate....will rust away...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-3582524531371080412015-08-18T13:21:00.001-05:002015-08-18T13:31:44.128-05:0012 years ago...One of the greatest tragedies in this world as I know it...is that my children never met their Grandpa Bill, and that he will never meet them. They would have SO enjoyed each other. My dad never lost his childlike playfulness. He loved acting silly and "performing" for random kids to make them laugh, and they would often get in trouble with their mommies for it!<br />
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But in his absence, there's a certain little chubby boy with a space between his teeth and a gleam in his eye...<i>genes don't lie</i>. And every time he's a little ornery, I can say I know where it's from.<br />
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I'm not fond of posting pictures of my children on the internet, facebook or any other such place...but this one is just too sweet. We went to the cemetery to visit dad yesterday and the first thing I noticed was the sea of dead, yet colorful, man-made flowers.<br />
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Have you ever seen a "fake flower graveyard" at a cemetery? On the
Triumph Bonneville in the picture below, my dad and I rode through a
cemetery and he took me back to see the "flower graveyard". It was a
mammoth mountain of disintegrating plastic and silk which has stuck in my
memory to this day. (Of course, I wanted to dig in it!) The idea tickles my artistic funny bone and makes me think deeply...(what else is
new?)<br />
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I see the
flowers as more of an offering to God with our prayers for the deceased and it seems more
fitting to offer something <i>God-made</i>. We brought colorful zinnias and a delicious edible
herb from our yard...and
they'll turn brown and fall over and perish, that's reality. <br />
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But unlike a plastic rose that will get tossed in the trash heap, real zinnias and dill will die and drop seeds into the ground. In the spring they will sprout up, and even though they will get mowed down before they get a chance, they're there nonetheless!<br />
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Maybe next time I visit I will transplant a MINT plant by dad's headstone, they'll never get rid of <i>that</i>! The gift that keeps on givin'...and such a lovely scent when you mow over it.<br />
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Miss you dad. <span class="st">Requiescat in pace.</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-4689270451915661772015-08-12T00:34:00.000-05:002015-08-12T00:38:14.163-05:00Work in Progress...When I was 15, I picked up a paint brush and went to work...and didn't stop for 18 years. Now and then I paint a little something here and there, but no longer do I sling gallons of paint at scenery each day and I hardly ever sit and watch miles of paint dry with a cup of coffee in my multi-colored, speckled hands. (I kept the coffee, the rest went bye bye)<br />
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With my new (but not surprising) love of rusted and dyed <i>fabrics</i>,
I now find myself in strange, uncharted territory. It's a place I've only seen in books, or on denim shirts back in the 1970's....it's Embroidery Land! <br />
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Where
I could paint in my sleep, (and have actually fallen asleep while
painting!) I can feel my brain starting to sizzle and smoke while
reading sewing directions and figuring out stitches. But I'm obsessed
with it, I love it...<br />
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I've dabbled in French knots before, but only once!!! I quickly ran back to my paintbrush. Sometimes we run back to what we know, but then at some point it becomes boring and exhausted. At least for a time...<br />
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I feel I've abandoned everything I know well in pursuit of something I know very little about. I feel like I can't "say what I want to say" with paint alone. And while my brain runs in complicated circles, my art likes to be simple and uncluttered. <br />
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It's widely known that I have a "thing" for the desert. After pondering what to do with all these dyed and rusted fabrics I've been crafting and piling up, it became obvious that I should take those desert scenes that float through my mind and make them "real". When I look out my window and see house, house, house, apartment,
squirrel eating my tomatoes......what I really want to see is the
desert, the sky, some mountains, end of list.<br />
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Who knows where this needle and thread will lead me? <br />
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Random Tellulahness:<br />
<i>So I downloaded this app for my fancy shmancy phone that is supposed to remind me to
drink water. It has alarms you can set that go off throughout the day.
Mine makes exotic bird noises when I'm supposed to sip water. It's broken...it doesn't work. I heard the birds and
picked up my coffee and took a sip. These apps are useless!</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-72312865107072603182015-06-23T17:05:00.002-05:002015-06-23T17:06:32.687-05:00Walnut Ink...and erosion bundle extracted...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Walnut Ink. So expensive at the art store, and so easy to make. These walnuts have been sitting in a bucket on my back porch since last year. They were moldy but that was no match for boiling water.<br />
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There was no complicated recipe or precise directions, I just boiled them like taters! But for much, much longer until the outside disintegrated off the nut. Then, I broke them apart and added more water and let it simmer for about 5 hours. Strained the juice, added some vodka and clove oil to deter bacterial growth, and now I'll use it to dye fabric and watercolor paper.<br />
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And then there's THIS. It took me a while to dig it up, and when I found it I didn't even recognize it...my compost bundle!<br />
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After giving it a quick hose down, I see that the fabric truly is eroded. It's worn, rusted and a bit slimy!<br />
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Poor centipedes will have to relocate.<br />
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I've suspended the treasure from the clothes line in hopes that it will dry out before I tear into it this Saturday. It's already rained on it, but I see some upper 90 degree days coming, that should do the trick.<br />
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It's like an alien cocoon...<br />
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I don't even remember what's inside...<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-66347086767710335292015-06-07T13:10:00.001-05:002015-06-07T13:11:33.397-05:00Life's a garden, dig it...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Here comes the heat....here comes the garden. The great healer, calendula....</div>
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Ant hill in the dill...<br />
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Egyptian walking onion...<br />
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It was bittersweet having to pull off the flowers from my blueberry bushes....but I know it will pay off next year when they're bigger and full of berries. Had to leave just a few though!!<br />
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Broccoli I started from seed...even if the little green caterpillars leave me just one head, it was worth it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-83180944598106939372015-05-23T20:04:00.004-05:002015-05-23T20:05:38.079-05:00A bundle unveiled...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Bundles of treasure are still h<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">iding out in various locations around my yard, but being an impatient sort, I had to rush-process one to satisfy my curiosity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This bundle was an embroidered, square linen tablecloth that I snagged at my favorite thrift store for a whopping 99 cents. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The rust was obviously from metal...wire and safety pins....but the black and green marks were made with red onion skins reacting to vinegar.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The pink and purple marks are from some fuchsia flowers from my mother's day plant...</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'll reuse the safety pins on another bundle...and use the fabric my book projects. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You just never know what you'll discover inside...</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-81546702839813783142015-05-14T13:42:00.004-05:002015-05-14T13:43:56.420-05:00Burying an"erosion bundle"...Before I get to my latest art experiment, let me just say that I had a wonderful Mother's Day. It was full of family, food, flowers, fun...and even though it doesn't start with an F...<i>dessert!</i> <br />
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There was <a href="http://mastbrothers.com/" target="_blank">Mast Brother's chocolate</a>, a delicious vegan cheesecake from <a href="http://cafegratitudekc.com/" target="_blank">Cafe Gratitude</a> (which I resisted the urge to sprinkle with candied bacon) and my favorite ice cream...David Lebovitz's "rum date pecan". It's actually called "<i>date</i>...rum pecan"....but we're supposed to list the most plentiful ingredient in a dish first, right? That would be rum. Ahem. <a href="http://www.browneyedbaker.com/date-rum-pecan-ice-cream-recipe/" target="_blank">Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum</a>!</div>
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Now, for the art. </div>
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A friend of mine stumbled upon an artist named <a href="http://carolynsaxby.blogspot.com/2012/04/erosion-bundle-project-2012.html" target="_blank">Carolyn Saxby</a> who does "erosion bundles". She collects odds and ends, stacks them up, wraps them in a cloth and deposits them in nature to let them age gracefully. Some go in trees, some get dumped into boxes of trash, and others get buried in the compost. Now, that's right up my alley for I believe that I have one of the gooiest, stinkiest, grub laden, worm infested compost heaps this side of Troost! Or so I hope.</div>
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So here's what I did. </div>
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I folded up muslin with bits of rusted metal and wire...tied it up with more wire, and trapped a piece of leather in there as well.</div>
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Around this bundle went a delicate cotton shrug that I found at a thrift store, and then more wire...more muslin, and a few sprinkles of black Assam tea. (...and then more wire!)<br />
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The larger bundle has watercolor papers with a little wire sculpture trapped inside, a stack of papers, xeroxes of vintage ladies, book pages and other bits all wired up with an odd, square quilted piece I found at the thrift store. The mini quilt was SO white...someone took great care of it...and then I wrapped it in steel, jumped up on down on it to make it flat and buried it in my garden! C'est la vie.</div>
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Don't know why...felt like dunking them in the rainwater bucket before their burial.<br />
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Bye bye...have fun in that rotten straw bale...see you on July 6th, happy birthday to me...</div>
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Later bundle...hope you like rotten onions, egg shells and avocado pits...sleep tight, don't let the grubs bite.<br />
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And now I wait as my bundle gestates under 5 feet of compost...the right side awaits a friend's bundle...because this was her idea in the first place! ;)</div>
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Poor ants...I put an extra project on their "to do list" today...<br />
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<i>1. Find safer place to keep 15,000 ant babies!</i></div>
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Mr. Nosy snail is watching them scramble...or maybe he's transporting victims of the earthquake...a friend in need is a friend indeed.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-21799915418572277162015-04-22T09:28:00.001-05:002015-04-22T10:18:02.092-05:00Rusted and Collaged...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Last night, I couldn't sleep...so I sat down and stitched up a little (a wee 3" tall) journal cover. It looks like it could double as a rosary pouch as well.<br />
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More rusted goodness handstitched. This is the journal cover open...now to decide on the pages...and what will it be?</div>
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Another project I've started is a black and white journal to collect all my scrappy bits. I'm an awkward collager, maybe because I'm particular...it takes me a long time to be pleased with a layout. </div>
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These pages will be sewn into another fabric journal yet to be made. I'm thinking of making it from fabric dyed with pear tree branches...they tend to leave cool black spots on fabric. Lovely!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-68224922743675996962015-04-20T17:01:00.001-05:002015-04-20T18:12:11.381-05:00Little handmade rusty book...<div>
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This tiny bookbinding project gave me fits. Why I decided to work this small is beyond me for <i><b>small and fragile</b></i> is not my forte...unless you're talking about humans. I can handle a tiny newborn, but this book lost two "body parts" in the making.<br />
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This was my first attempt at the sewn over tapes, exposed spine binding technique with kettle stitches on the ends. As I would tighten each thread, I would pull it too tightly and rip the signature from one hole to another.</div>
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What started out having 8 signatures...ending up having 6. And there were choice grumblings at each blunder. Good thing it's just a "blank" book with no real rhyme or reason, and that my children were outside and didn't hear their mom verbally berating this <i>petite livre!</i></div>
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Rusted pages...marks left by steel and thread. Why? Because it's purdy...</div>
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...or at least I think so. Next time, I'll work a little bigger. It's good to be reminded sometimes of what you're NOT good at!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-39031919240972581852015-04-16T09:38:00.001-05:002015-04-16T15:22:02.447-05:00Sewing, Rusting and Brick Laying...It's been a creative week so far with more in store. I've been sewing, dying, rusting...and laying bricks.<br>
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For years I've daydreamed about putting a rock or brick pathway from our back door to the driveway. When it rains, it's a mud hole. It's been on my ever growing "priority list of things to do later". And later finally came! It was not premeditated, I just started digging...</div>
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I spent a few hours digging the trench and setting the bricks, and of course they had to be set perfectly tight and level, as perfect as old bricks could perform! My two construction assistants brought gravel and drove the dumpers and loaders back and forth across the piles to simulate serious work going on. Then we "broke for lunch".</div>
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In contrast to bricklaying, this <a href="http://alabamachanin.com/" target="_blank">Alabama Chanin</a> wrap project has jumped to the top of the project list as well. (It's folded, only 1/4 of the thing shows here!)</div>
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It's 100% hand stitched, a technique she calls "random ruffle". She being <a href="http://alabamachanin.com/natalie-chanin" target="_blank">Natalie Chanin</a>, an artistic hero of mine. Her 100% organic, American handmade "Wal-mart antithesis" really speaks to me. I've bought all her books, and dream of sewing my own wardrobe based on her patterns and then taking my old clothes to Savers! (<i>Back</i>, to Savers...ha!)<br>
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This wrap was started a year ago. I've a tendency to start many projects at once, leave them for dead, and return to them one at a time...slowly! It seems that other projects always cut in line, like candle painting, birthday gifts, and toddler craft!</div>
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These are papers I rusted a while back that I was saving for "that perfect project". I realized that it's silly to roost on some rusted paper because I can make more easily, they're not gold or rare antique pieces! <i> So I cut them in half</i>. Now they're sitting on my work table as I stare at them, turn them this way and that, and try to learn what they want to become. <br>
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There's a time to just jump into things, and there's a time to wait. I'll move onto the <i>next</i> project until inspiration strikes!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271496095580606722.post-16453491079936490472015-04-13T12:05:00.001-05:002015-04-20T18:15:10.779-05:00Garden update...If you've ever read "Home for a Bunny" you know that the story starts..."Spring, spring, spring!!" Birds and flowers are bursting out, the frost is gone and here comes the rain. Soon we'll be mowing grass and swatting at mosquitoes but before that time comes....there's gardening to be done.<br />
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I've started broccoli, which I've never grown before. I've got enough cucumber plants to produce sour dills for the whole block! I'm turning our yard into a yarden in hopes of producing more food than we can handle. I like to share. Also, the flavorless "import organics" have become seriously tiresome! </div>
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Here are pots of mesclun lettuce that I'm trying to save from the squirrels. They think they might have hidden their walnuts in them so they dig and dig! Or it could be the pesky robins looking for worms. You should see them gather on the fence when I turn the compost..like I'm filling up the buffet and they're waiting for me to leave so they can feast!</div>
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A little sprout that I'm most proud if this Cherokee purple tomato. I saved the seeds by fermentation method, tried planting a few and they sprouted! I'm still gaining faith in my gardening skills...for the longest time, I killed every plant I touched.</div>
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This cardinal nest came from our 5' tall pine tree...the bird placed it in full toddler reach. First, an egg fell to curiosity...and in turn that scared the mama away from the other egg for good. She did make creative use of all the trash that blows into our yard. Our neighborhood produces high volumes of wandering trash from cigarettes and fast food. </div>
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Lovely.</div>
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"Line ups"...as Bashi calls them. They're waiting for a good mud puddle so excavation can begin again! As I was taking this picture, one of the bulldozers started making noise. When it rains on them they short circuit and make really creepy noises!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0