For those of you who get here via the blogspot address, well, I've packed it in and moved over here.
It was just easier to deal with all my blogs in one place.
See you there!
Snarfed from Eden
Because a little ltopicality and lightness is needed...
1. Who is your man? Manthing
2. How long have you been together? 12 years and some months
3. How long dated? Are you still dating if you never get married?
4. How old is your man? Same age as me.
5. Who eats more? Depends on the food, who cooked it and the temperature.
6. Who said “I love you” first? I don't remember.
7. Who is taller? Me.
8. Who sings better? Me which ain't sayin' much because he doesn't sing at all.
9. Who is smarter? Neither. We are both brighter, clever and smart.
10. Whose temper is worse? Mine. Though Manthing's fuse is just longer.
11. Who does the laundry? I do. I want to make sure things still fit and remain the right color.
12. Who takes out the garbage? I carry the bags as far as the porch. The rest is his job.
13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? I do. It's closer to the john.
14. Who pays the bills? He pays more than I do but I pay some.
15. Who is better with the computer? Manthing is. He is good with the hardware. I am better with the software.
16. Who mows the lawn? Manthing is supposed to but he hates it so he pays someone to cut the grass.
17. Who cooks dinner? I do unless I am hurting or have made a casserole which can be reheated without fear of being to a crisp.
18. Who drives when you are together? He does. I am under doctor's orders not to drive.
19. Who pays when you go out? Often Manthing. Sometimes me. It depends on his male pride.
20. Who is most stubborn? We are both really pigheaded.
21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? We just don't get into those kinds of discussions. This way neither one of us has to admit anything. Heh.
22. Whose parents do you see the most? Manthing's. They live close by. He's never met my mother.
23. Who kissed who first? He kissed me on our second date. I was done for.
24. Who asked who out? Surprisingly, he did. I was trying out a new thing.
25. Who proposed? Neither. We decided not to be married.
26. Who is more sensitive? Me.
27. Who has more friends? We are about even.
28. Who has more siblings? He has more.
Because a little ltopicality and lightness is needed...
1. Who is your man? Manthing
2. How long have you been together? 12 years and some months
3. How long dated? Are you still dating if you never get married?
4. How old is your man? Same age as me.
5. Who eats more? Depends on the food, who cooked it and the temperature.
6. Who said “I love you” first? I don't remember.
7. Who is taller? Me.
8. Who sings better? Me which ain't sayin' much because he doesn't sing at all.
9. Who is smarter? Neither. We are both brighter, clever and smart.
10. Whose temper is worse? Mine. Though Manthing's fuse is just longer.
11. Who does the laundry? I do. I want to make sure things still fit and remain the right color.
12. Who takes out the garbage? I carry the bags as far as the porch. The rest is his job.
13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? I do. It's closer to the john.
14. Who pays the bills? He pays more than I do but I pay some.
15. Who is better with the computer? Manthing is. He is good with the hardware. I am better with the software.
16. Who mows the lawn? Manthing is supposed to but he hates it so he pays someone to cut the grass.
17. Who cooks dinner? I do unless I am hurting or have made a casserole which can be reheated without fear of being to a crisp.
18. Who drives when you are together? He does. I am under doctor's orders not to drive.
19. Who pays when you go out? Often Manthing. Sometimes me. It depends on his male pride.
20. Who is most stubborn? We are both really pigheaded.
21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? We just don't get into those kinds of discussions. This way neither one of us has to admit anything. Heh.
22. Whose parents do you see the most? Manthing's. They live close by. He's never met my mother.
23. Who kissed who first? He kissed me on our second date. I was done for.
24. Who asked who out? Surprisingly, he did. I was trying out a new thing.
25. Who proposed? Neither. We decided not to be married.
26. Who is more sensitive? Me.
27. Who has more friends? We are about even.
28. Who has more siblings? He has more.
On Thursday my throat was scratchy from post-nasal drip and my nose was running like a faucet with a worn out rubber gasket. I had a cough. I felt crappy. I was hopefully optimistic that my usual medicinal herbal teas and homemade turkey soup and mass quantities of Vitamin C would frighten the cooties away.On Friday, crappy had given way to shitty. The scratchy throat was gone but the nose was still running, switching sides every few hours and clogged ears to double the fun. The cough was still hanging in there and faint wheeze began to accompany the ensemble somewhere during the late afternoon and early evening. I followed up dinner with a dose of Guaifenesin and more tea. By 7 PM Friday night, the nose had clogged and I was searching the every junk drawer, nook and hidey-hole for wayward inhalers to stop the incessant wheeze that had settled in my trachea and was threatening to cut off what was left of my shallow air supply. I spent the night half-sitting up in bed, waking every few hours to cough or pee, often both with a chaser of more medicine and hits off the inhalers.
By 6 AM Saturday morning, I had retreated to my trusty recliner, that bit of upholstered magic that eases pain and most things that ail me. I had given up on the teas, the vitamins, and the medicine. It wasn't helping. The only thing that seemed to work were the inhalers. It hurt to cough- everywhere. By 9 AM, Manthing's sister called to let us know they were going to his Dad's house to clean it while he is away on a vacation. It was my idea and I did feel well-enough so off we went.
At several intervals during the morning, Manthing asked me if we needed to make a trip to the local Doc-in-the-Box. I was wheezing full-time now and using the inhaler more often than I should. Still, I couldn't make up my mind. I hoped I could get through it without being all inconvenient and burden-like. I continued cleaning the family room and decided to holler a silent "Uncle", when my chest tightened and hurt while finishing up with the vacuum. I laid down on the floor to rest. If could just rest awhile, I'd be able to continue and do my share. Manthing looked at me skeptically and asked, "Doc-in-the-Box?" to which I responded, "I can wait".
By this time I could not hide my labored breathing and the wheeze was probably audible in the next county, not mention the deep, bellowing, hacking cough that made me sound like a emphysemic elephant seal. He disappeared for a minute and when he returned he looked down at me and delivered his edict.
"Okay. Let's go. We did this your way. Now we're going to do this my way. We are going to go get rid of this shit".
"Why is it when I say stuff like that to you when you're sick, you me blow me off"?, I asked with all the feigned indignation I could muster as we got into the truck.
"I don't blow you off. You worry enough without my adding to it. Besides, my way is better".
"OH. Sorry. I must not be getting enough oxygen. I forgot THAT," I said not unsarcastically.
"I'm glad to see the lack of oxygen hasn't cut off your ability to be a smartass".
I merely stuck my tongue out at him in response.
If you want to get in to see an urgent care doctor quickly, just go in winded from the trip from your vehicle parked in the disabled parking less than 200 feet away and ask them how soon you will be seen because you have chest tightness and pain and cannot breathe.The receptionist looked at me critically and told me she'd get a nurse to evaluate. The nurse took one look at me and led me to an empty exam room. The receptionist followed and checked me in while a medical assistant checked my temperature and blood pressure. Next she asked me for my height and weight and the following series of questions:
"Are you still menstruating, sweetie"?
"Yes."
"What was the date of your last period"?
"Uhmmmmm (wheezewheeze)...the middle of last month; the 15th?(cough;wheeze;wheeze)"
"Was it normal"? she asked helpfully.
"As normal as it gets at my age (wheezewheezewheeze).
She found this very amusing and laughing she patted my shoulder.
The doctor whisked in breathlessly, looking rather concerned and asked me why I was there.
"Uh. I have a cold and cannot breathe. (wheezewheezewheeze) The inhalers are not working". Without answering, she placed her stethoscope on my chest and asked me when it started, calling me "hon". As I attempted to answer her, she predictably asked me to be quiet so she could hear my lungs, "I need you to be quiet so I can hear, sugar". Once she was done and had ordered the nebulizer for the breathing treatment, she asked me what I was trying to tell her when she was listening to my lungs. I looked at her blankly, trying to grasp what it was I was saying only moments before and I couldn't remember. "Uhhhhmm, I can't remember," I offered helpfully.
In all honesty, it was all I could do to breathe and keep track of the activity going on around me. Between the doctor, the nurse, the medical assistant and the receptionist, I was having a hard determining who was doing what and why. I know I must have been in distress because none of this nonsense was even remotely annoying to me at the time.
10 minutes later with a plastic nozzle stuck in my piehole and the nebulizer's hum to meditate to, I was
leaning back against the wall in a chair, enjoying the ability to breathe nearly effortlessly and amusing myself with the chorus of a song about crack addiction called "Devil's Johnson" by a now defunct local L.A. band called Ethyl Meatplow. The chorus went something like: "Smokin' on the devil's johnson, smokin' on the devil's johnson, smokin' on the devil's johnson and he's gonna suck you dry..." Okay so it's a bit odd and uh..colorful... but this shouldn't surprise you coming from me. Besides, I was about 4 years sober and was a fan, saw them live, etc etc. Anyway, I heard a light knock on the door jam and in walked a worried-looking Manthing."I thought you were going to come back to the waiting room".
I shook my head as I pulled the nozzle away from my mouth for a second. "Evidently they felt that the waiting room was not where I needed to be. Did you get worried"?
"Kind of but not really". Master of understatement and machismo is my Manthing.
"Well now we know the best way to get immediate attention at the Doc-In-The Box. I wasn't expecting them to shoo me into an exam room so quickly".
"Me, either".
Being the electronics and techno-wonk that he is, Manthing proceeded to investigate the nebulizer to figure out how it worked. I followed his eyes travel along the hose to the nozzle in my mouth and medication dispenser back down to the machine itself where the sterile water and liquid albueterol rested.
"Ah. I see. It's basically an air compressor that pushes air into that thing", he pointed to the nozzle in my mouth and the small, green plastic vaporizer in my hand.
I nodded and took the nozzle out of my mouth and said "Yeah. The stuff in the pink plastic vials is sterile water and the stuff in the bottle is liquid albuterol... you know the stuff in my inhaler".
It was Manthing's turn to nod. "Put that back in your mouth and keep breathing. Don't waste the medicine".
"Yes, mein furor", I said dryly, rolling my eyes for which I received a raised eyebrow and Manthing's nearly trademarked hairy eyeball.
A few minutes later the nebulizer nozzle gurgled, sputtered and ran out of vapor. The doctor came in and listened to my lungs and told me she wanted me to hang out for a few minutes.
"I feel like could sleep for 100 years", I said to Manthing. He reached over from the footstool he was sitting on and squeezed my knee in reply.
So there we sat listening to the footfalls beyond the drawn curtain trying to determine which ones would signal an entrance. When the doctor re-entered she wanted to see my inhalers and had my orders. A prednisone shot in the butt, scripts for a new inhaler, a course of prednisone in tablet form and rest.
Yay, me. Not so much.
Off to the drug store we went, where I picked up not only the two new medicines but the 3 waiting for me to bring them home which made me feel like a full-fledged geezer. Manthing made sure I was properly ensconced (trapped) in bed with water, medicines, remote control and cough drops before going back to his father's to finish helping his sisters and nieces clean house. I fell asleep watching The Big Country (1958; Gregory Peck, Jean Simmons, Charleton Heston, Chuck Connors & Burl Ives) on TCM. When I woke a few hours later, the movie was ending, I was breathing much easier and I was hungry. When you have to choose between eating and breathing, oxygen trumphs food.So we ordered pizza when Manthing got home and it was good.
Now today I am wondering:
Why did the medical assistant ask me if I was still having my period? Did I somehow look, I don't know, TWENTY years older than I am? At 43 the length and intensity of my "Auntie's" visits are a bit unpredictable but by no means gone. Dammit.
Why do they all call you "sweetie" or "sugar" or "hon"?
Why the hell do they ask you questions and then tell you to shut up, rather than give the opportunity to answer? If they can do it on ER, it can be done at Doc-In-The-Box. Right?
How pathetic is it that it takes cooties and an asthma attack to update this blog properly?
Captured on film by: Manthing
As we were coming out of our local Costco this weekend and climbing into the truck, we heard a strange honking. I thought to myself, "That sounds like an indignant goose. But we're in the Costco parking lot.." As it is the time of the year when the Canadian geese migrate, I looked up. Meanwhile Manthing, being better at noise direction than I am, looked down thinking there might be a goose in the lot getting ready to be flattened. Then we both looked at the Volvo parked directly across from our truck and this is what we saw (click on the pic for a larger view).Since we use the disabled parking we found this quite amusing.
Luckily Manthing had his trusty camera with him and I asked him to shoot some pics for you all because I know you'd never believe me. Though he couldn't get a shot of Ms. Goose in mid-honk, initially I think she was honking because she was miffed at being left alone in the car. Her indignation changed to annoyance though when Manthing started snapping her picture and people who were arriving for their own Costco shopping experience got out of their vehicles and began bringing their kids over to see the goose in the car. People even stopped traffic in their cars to crane their necks to look at the goose. We thought there was going to be an accident.It wasn't a hot morning so the windows were down and she had goose
refreshments: a salad to munch and a glass of water. She was even sitting in her very own plastic box. And believe me, if you know anything about geese, NO ONE was going to attempt to steal her or the car in which she was sitting. I've been bitten by dogs and cats. Cat bites are painful but they really have nothing on a goose bite. As a teenager, I worked for a woman who had tortoises, rabbits, chickens and geese and it was my job to feed them all. Her male gander, Henry Asshole, bit me on the ass so many times I bet I still have the scars. I doubt my ass was so tasty he had to bite it every time I turned my back on him. Geese are just extremely territorial.So as we got into the truck, we wondered :
Service Goose? Guard Goose? Or Companion Goose?What are y'all's thoughts?
1. The Misanthtropic: Name something about humanity you absolutely hate.
Wanton Stupidity
Here are the two links I found with the complete transcript of the event:
Arizona Daily Star Online and Zionation
The Washington Post published only Ahmadinejad's speech.
2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad; not that he needed me to expose him as any of these things.
US News & World Report found 10 Things about him I didn't know.
Here's a new interview with Charlie Rose as published by the International Herald Tribune.
BBC News did this piece on him last year.
And if you need extra-special proof, here's his "blog". Be sure to check the "English" option to eyeball his blather.
3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
Lee Bollinger, President, Columbia University
4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.
Here are some good pieces regarding the Columbia debaucle:
New York Times: Middle East, New York Times: CityRoom Blog , The Independent (UK) , BBC News and The Jerusalem Post
5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it
Authentic
6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
Now it’s your turn.
Wanton Stupidity
I'm thinking of Columbia University here. I'm thinking that if I were parent with a Freshman or maybe even a sophomore at Columbia, I'd have to at least consider paying tuition to another University next year. I am mot interested in supporting the the kind of bullshit that went on there over the last few weeks.
With tuition costs at Columbia University ranging from $17,000 to $34,000 per year, I think I could support an educational institution elsewhere that wasn't headed up by a board of dumbasses and a complete idiot at the School of International & Public Affairs at Columbia . Another thing to keep in mind is that most speakers and lecturers are paid by the institution that invite their lecturers. I don't know if they paid him to speak but I would not be at all surprised if they had.
Remember, a committee had to approve giving Mahmoud Ahmadinejad a platform in which to try and pull the wool over everyone's eyes, use the opportunity to further blast and impune the US in Iran and the Arab world by giving him a forum in which to share to his insanity.
With tuition costs at Columbia University ranging from $17,000 to $34,000 per year, I think I could support an educational institution elsewhere that wasn't headed up by a board of dumbasses and a complete idiot at the School of International & Public Affairs at Columbia . Another thing to keep in mind is that most speakers and lecturers are paid by the institution that invite their lecturers. I don't know if they paid him to speak but I would not be at all surprised if they had.
Remember, a committee had to approve giving Mahmoud Ahmadinejad a platform in which to try and pull the wool over everyone's eyes, use the opportunity to further blast and impune the US in Iran and the Arab world by giving him a forum in which to share to his insanity.
Here are the two links I found with the complete transcript of the event:
Arizona Daily Star Online and Zionation
The Washington Post published only Ahmadinejad's speech.
2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad; not that he needed me to expose him as any of these things.
US News & World Report found 10 Things about him I didn't know.
Here's a new interview with Charlie Rose as published by the International Herald Tribune.
BBC News did this piece on him last year.
And if you need extra-special proof, here's his "blog". Be sure to check the "English" option to eyeball his blather.
3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
Lee Bollinger, President, Columbia University
If you read his introduction, he makes it pretty clear that disagreed with John Coatsworth's (Acting Dean of the School of International & Public Affairs) decision to invite Ahmadinejad but it was not an especially bright or effective strategy to invite him and then insult him especially if the goal is to persuade Iran, Syria or the world of the case against him.
4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.
Here are some good pieces regarding the Columbia debaucle:
New York Times: Middle East, New York Times: CityRoom Blog , The Independent (UK) , BBC News and The Jerusalem Post
5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it
Authentic
6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
I wish people would think for themselves instead of blindly swallowing the rhetoric and bullshit the media throws at the public at large about most everything.
Now it’s your turn.
You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.
I hope y'all having been having a good month! I had hoped once I got the shows hung and out of the way, I'd have more time to sit around and blog however that was not to be. Once the shows got hung, I had to edit all the photos and upload, organize and caption them so you all could see what has kept me so far astray.
Solo Art Exhibitions
I opened two exhibitions of all new work simultaneously. Each opened August 23rd and each will close on September 24th.
Snapshots of the exhibitions are housed on my artblog, for those of you interested:
artspace gallery has Fearless Girls, Wise Women and Bewitching Sirens, which is the first exhibition comprised entirely of my assemblage work.
Blog Updates
One of the things that has been sitting on my to do list for months was not only to write on my blog but also update my blog with new links and such and as you can see I've done that. See? I haven't really been slacking. I have added some nifty new links I've found helpful for awhile new blogs and other assorted stuff to waste time, if you are so inclined.
The site is now updated so it can be added to feeds for you feeder readers. I am still not enthralled with feeds because I like making the rounds and visiting blogs. But, the feeds to help me manage daily time better and I can always click through to visit.
More, more more...
Of course there's WAY more to fill you in on and I will but honestly, I am in the throes of packing for a week's vacation with the in-laws. Uh-huh.. there's more to tell you about...stay tuned, dear readers...
Stinkerbelle
Schmoo
Tchotchke
Birdwatching: Schmoo, Fred, Barney
Mr. Stubbs on Manthing's knee
Chessie & Fred
1. Manthing ("Get up! There's a fire Grab a kitty and get moving!!")
2. The critters (Ow! Ow! OW! I know you don't like being shoved in a box but we don't want Kitty Flambe'!)
3. Flashlight (Light is always good)
4. Survival bag & supplies (To survive is good)
5. Cell phone & charger (For obvious reasons)
6. Camera (To document the heroism of firefighters)
7. Meds (For reasons too numerous to mention)
8. Purse (Need to have something to carry all the aforementioned shit in)
9. Laptop & power supply (Information is power)
10. Important papers file (To prove we are who we are)
I guess these things are kind of unglamorous and uninteresting but we're talking survival here. I'd rather be alive than die beautiful. Heh.
2. The critters (Ow! Ow! OW! I know you don't like being shoved in a box but we don't want Kitty Flambe'!)
3. Flashlight (Light is always good)
4. Survival bag & supplies (To survive is good)
5. Cell phone & charger (For obvious reasons)
6. Camera (To document the heroism of firefighters)
7. Meds (For reasons too numerous to mention)
8. Purse (Need to have something to carry all the aforementioned shit in)
9. Laptop & power supply (Information is power)
10. Important papers file (To prove we are who we are)
I guess these things are kind of unglamorous and uninteresting but we're talking survival here. I'd rather be alive than die beautiful. Heh.
I don't often discuss or talk about my spiritual leanings on my blogs because for the most part, think people make too much of it. I don't care much for people who shove their spiritual or religious bent in my face and so I don't do it to others. Even in passing. I am past the years where I need to wear my beliefs on my sleeve and past the time in my life where I feel the need to explain, justify or even label what my spirituality is. When I think of God or a Higher Power, I think of something feminine, distinctly womanly. Sometimes it is nature, sometimes it life, sometimes it is a specific goddess, almost always referred to as the "Goddess". It is, for me, what it is. And it is not static. It is fluid and evolves as I evolve.However, many years ago, when I was searching for a power greater than myself, I was not so sure. It was then when I found the Goddess. It was comforting and empowering to know the spirit/energy/power that was out there running the show wasn't a wizened old, man with a long white beard or young man whipped and nailed violently to a cross to die.
workbook for students of the Goddess, it a book chock full of information about goddesslore and exercises to open up your mind and inspire creativity. I learned about the phases of a woman's life and it here that I first read about cronehood. Ariadne's Thread helped to change my world and shape my spirituality.Many years later, when I was a contributing co-editor of a women's spirituality journal, I was able to spend time working with Shekhinah doing an interview and a piece about her altar. I was honored to work with this wise woman and grateful for the opportunity. I lost personal touch with her in 2000 when I resigned from the magazine and underwent my last spine surgery. However, I kept tabs on her through her discussion list and sent periodic notes.
When Shekhinah was diagnosed with cancer in 2005, I sent her a note and we kept in touch sporadically. I watched as she struggled valiantly to keep a positive attitude and share her real self with those on her discussion list.
This morning I opened my e-mail to find Shekhinah had crossed over on Saturday. I was sad and elated: sad for us and and elated that Shekhinah was now on the the other side, perhaps beginning a new journey.
And so today I have spent time today remembering what I learned from Shekhinah; from her wisdom; from her knowledge. I thank her for her willingness to share her knowledge, strength and humanity with the world. Without her contributions, women's spirituality would not be as diverse or lush.
Shekhinah Mountainwater
October 24, 1939 – August 11, 2007
"She changes everything she touches, and
everything she touches, changes".
~ Starhawk
October 24, 1939 – August 11, 2007
"She changes everything she touches, and
everything she touches, changes".
~ Starhawk
*photo credit: Angie Miranda
| Your Personality is Very Rare (INTP) |
 Your personality type is goofy, imaginative, relaxed, and brilliant. Only about 4% of all people have your personality, including 2% of all women and 6% of all men You are Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Perceiving. |
| You Are 24% Girly |
 You are a pretty hardcore tomboy, and a very free spirit. Gender roles be dammed, you like to do things your way. |
Who needs two legs when you have wings to fly?
"Girl" is made of an antique box, doll parts and wooden toy blocks, hand-painted paper mache torso, aluminum mesh, paint, spiral paper clips, copper wire and a small basket of mini sewing notions.
Her dimensions have yet to be determined as she hasn't yet been measured.As usual, click on the image for a larger version.
Thoughts? Feedback? Comments?
When the screen went black and silent on Sunday, June 10, Manthing and I looked at each other and said in unison, "Please tell me the cable didn't freaking go out!" because it does in our neighborhood. Frequently. So we did what we always do. We waited. Then the credits began rolling and we again looked at each other and started laughing.
"That bastard.."
"Oh man. There are going to be some pissed off people on the web tomorrow."
"What do you mean TOMORROW? Check it in an hour."
"I wonder how many people will get it?"
"Get what?"
"The ending."
"What's to get? Life goes on; business as usual."
"You think?"
"Yep. What else is left?"
The Sopranos has never been your typical mafia show where someone gets whacked or busted and everything is tied up in a neat little bow at the end of each of episode. It's been messy and dysfunctional, punctuated with moments of joy, warmth, compassion and love.
I have been a dedicated Sopranos watcher since the first season. That's a LONG time. Manthing finally quit fighting a good thing and began watching the second season. We laughed because, well, it was a perfect ending.
That the series final it didn't make sense initially made perfect sense.
Life doesn't always make sense. Life catches you by surprise. Life pisses you off. Life still goes on. Hope springs eternal.
Since I've been busy in the studio, I thought I'd give you a mini-tour so you can see where I create my art. Some of you have been asking for awhile now so here you go. As usual click on the images to see a larger version.
As you enter the studio, this is the first view. In the center is my main workbench. This is where I journal, work on altered books, paper collages and do the preliminary building of my assemblages. To the left are the carts where my unmounted rubber stamps, papers, ephemera and scraps are stored. To the right, my drill press, tool and hardware drawers, and supply storage.
If you look further to the left as you stand in the front door you'll see the soldering and metalworking station (hidden behind works in progress) and an antique letter sorter I use to store bits and pieces. On top of the sorter is my collection of dolls, otters and other odd stuffed toys.
From the front door to the right, you'll see a storage rack filled with plastic tubs and bins filled with papers, ephemera, odd and ends and junk I saved for assemblages and sculptures. There's the supply shelves and cabinet as well.
Here's a front shot of the letter sorter filled with various and sundry goodies with the dolls and stuffed toys on top. They live in my studio because they creep Manthing out.
This is the encaustic station. The old crock pot holds my encaustic medium and the peg board keeps my metal working tools handy. Directly to the right of the encaustic station is the soldering and metalworking station (not pictured).
And finally, here's a close up of my workbench. The top shelf serves as a bit of an altar. The middle shelf holds reference and idea books, supplies, materials and tools. The workspace also hold not only the latest project (which were altered cabinet cards that day) but more supplies and tools.
Now you have an idea of what my studio looks like! Whatja think?
*Note: You'll also find an album of these photos on my artblog.
If you look further to the left as you stand in the front door you'll see the soldering and metalworking station (hidden behind works in progress) and an antique letter sorter I use to store bits and pieces. On top of the sorter is my collection of dolls, otters and other odd stuffed toys.
From the front door to the right, you'll see a storage rack filled with plastic tubs and bins filled with papers, ephemera, odd and ends and junk I saved for assemblages and sculptures. There's the supply shelves and cabinet as well.
Here's a front shot of the letter sorter filled with various and sundry goodies with the dolls and stuffed toys on top. They live in my studio because they creep Manthing out.
This is the encaustic station. The old crock pot holds my encaustic medium and the peg board keeps my metal working tools handy. Directly to the right of the encaustic station is the soldering and metalworking station (not pictured).
And finally, here's a close up of my workbench. The top shelf serves as a bit of an altar. The middle shelf holds reference and idea books, supplies, materials and tools. The workspace also hold not only the latest project (which were altered cabinet cards that day) but more supplies and tools. Now you have an idea of what my studio looks like! Whatja think?
*Note: You'll also find an album of these photos on my artblog.
Paris was "reassigned" yet again. She never was "released", you know. So it's back to the klink. Apparently she is very traumatized by her "ordeal".According to TMZ.com Hilton left the courtroom in tears, screaming, "Mom, Mom, Mom." Hilton was also heard saying "It's not right."
Poor, dear. Jail is tougher on some than others. I have not a doubt that this is tough for her. 23 hours a day alone in cell with only yourself and your issues to keep you company can be somewhat difficult. Perhaps, dear Paris, you might consider paying attention to your probation requirements to avoid boring us in the future. God knows the media, won't spare us.
Her attorneys are burning the midnight oil writing an appeal to filed Monday. But until then she is in the hoosgau longing for the days when she was free to grab her crotch on the French Riviera.
YAWN.
At least Robert Downey Jr. was entertaining.
And many thanks, Attie, for your shout out! You crack me up too!
I've been busy. My brain has been busy. I am doing real life important things.Busy with adjusting to the summer pain level I learn to readjust to and tolerate every year. Busy with getting work done for the two art shows in August. Busy cleaning up the studio so I can be photographed at work.Busy with writing. Busy with the search for a new job. Busy stressing and obsessing about money stuff. Busy with Outside the Lines stuff. Busy attempting not to beat myself up for whatever I feel like I am not doing as well as I should be doing it.
I mean, I am busy with important shit here.
And PERHAPS it is because I am busy that I have found myself the last few weeks talking back to the television a lot more lately.
Do I care that Paris Hilton is in the clink? Or that Nicole Ritchie is knocked-up? Is it really necessary for me to have an opinion about David Hasselhoff's custody issues? Why do I care that Alec Baldwin and screamed at his child inappropriately? Do I need to be subjected to the toddler fights on the View AND not only pick a side but also have an opinion? I won't choose a side. My opinion is simply this: both sides are equally obnoxious and that there is some middle ground that they can meet on, if only they'd get their asses down from around their ears.
Why are any of these things NEWSWORTHY?
And what about this Andrew Speaker, Mr. TB Guy? Okay, it was enough when he got up on morning television and blubbered his apology while adamantly complaining about being unfairly cast as inconsiderate, irresponsible, thoughtless, and clearly self-absorbed. So you're a newlywed who can't kiss or bone your new bride for the next 6 months. I feel for you, buddy. I'd suggest using some the next six months determining if procreating is something you really need to do. I hope the honeymoon was fucking worth it, bonehead. Maybe you'll think twice next time when your medical team tells you they'd "prefer" that you not go anywhere until after you've been treated for a dangerous airborne disease.
Everyone now knows what dick he is and that he isn't coping well with being held accountable for his own actions and choices. I was done hearing about his stupid-ass. He wasn't contagious and no one will probably get sick because of his poor decision making skills. And if someone does, I hope he gets what with surely be coming to him. But, really couldn't we just move on?
Hell no.
I turned on my television the morning after his weepy, crocodile tear-filled interview and was subjected to his family STICKING UP for the guy. I was amazed at how outraged THEY were that everyone in the world was ticked off because TB Guy was jet-setting all over Europe. What the hell? He may not have meant to put anyone in harm's way and he may be a nice guy. But he still made really, really, fucking stupid decision and you all supported him on doing it. Intent doesn't make the what he chose to do different. Just because he "didn't mean" to hurt or upset anyone doesn't change the outcome.
It's a real brain trust there, I'll tell you. It's no wonder the guy can't make reality-based decisions. Clearly his parents and in-laws are from another reality far, far away from the one most of us live in.
Just shut the fuck up, Andrew, and take your medicine like a big boy.
