I made a fool of myself tonight and it might be on 11 at 9 and 9 at 10.
We released a screech owl in BELL tonight. Darlene at Forever Wild gave us the owl. Amy from my book club brokered the deal. Anna and Kurt are the chairs of BELL. What do I have to do with it? Squat. Look at these jokers. Either of them know twice what I know and Anna looked beautiful tonight. GLUG!
Film to come. Double GLUG!
Populist Pugilist just started a poetry blog. He promises an entry a week with his first being a partial glimpse at a collection titled Grace Poems. Here’s what he has to say about it:
Grace Poems is a cycle of individual pieces unified by the character of Grace. Hopefully each poem can stand on its own, but they also hopefully all compliment one another and form a whole greater than the sum.
Grace herself is partly inspired by certain real people and is my tribute to them and to what (in my mind) they stand for. I also model Grace on poetic figures that may be a bit obvious (Dante’s Beatrice and Yeats’s Cathleen, Crazy Jane, etc.). My intent was to create in Grace a symbol of ideas, values, beliefs, emotions and myths. But I also wanted to give Grace a certain reality and personality.
I’m not saying that these poems have anything to do with me, but let’s face it, I’m nothing if not graceful. Irregardlessivity, this is my blog where everything is about me and therefore I’m telling you I am “certain real people” and also the woman Dante had in mind for Beatrice. What? We were close. Ask Shirley McClain.
Populist knows I am not smart enough for poetry. I hate that because I don’t wish to lend my idiocy to the built-in snobbery of the literary world where novels are marginalized for spelling things out for the women who read them. I do offer my mother and mother-in-law (Yeats is one of her faves) as women who can appreciate and interpret poetry. For my part, I will continue to presume I’m Grace. In fact, I will presume all Populist’s good poetry is about me and all the bad poetry is about my antagonists because they are the way most evil.
Guess what else is also about me? Tracy’s cool new stuff. She’s shared with me her current inspiration. Anyone would be privileged to own one of her fans. Perhaps she won’t hate me forever if I let you in on her current work. I’m very excited about it.
Don’t you just ADORE that pop of teal (blue, turquoise – as with poetry, so am I with color). These here feathers are causing Tracy quite some tortured artist feelings in terms of involuntary bodily tingles, urges, and so forth. I think she enjoys the physical symptoms of longing and waiting while mulling over the possibilities. On the other hand, so much of her is in her craft that she says, “I feel like I am putting children on the orphan train headed west every time I mail a fan off.”
Tracy is just good with words like that. Here’s what Tracy says about this photo, “These are the sticks I use to violate the quills for my fans.” Hee hee. Sometimes I’m overly in touch with my inner 8 YO boy. That may be another reason for my stunted poetic understandings and also why Tracy is the artist and I am the friend.
My cool buddies are doing cool things that the world views as “art” while I muddle away with shrinkey dinks and kids’ paint and this blog. I’ll update you when Tracy’s next fan comes up for sale (if she manages to convince herself to orphan another), but you should really sign up to follow Populist.
I don’t think I believed that Jesse was going to abandon me until he called from the plane. I overhear the flight attendant say it’s time to buckle up for safety. I’ve just finished a lesson on voting and my mind can’t wrap around my husband’s leaving. “I ate your chocolate,” he says and then the phone goes dead. This is the last coffee scribbling I’ll get until his return and I’m feeling very sorry for myself.
How could he do this to me? I’m sick! I have children! My computer buddy is coming to save my behiney at work by fixing the website and database and I have to have a clear head for that. The house is a mess. Most of all, I’m completely emotionally fragile – like that cracked old rib bone in the photo. I need Jesse to glue me back together. (In case you are some freak who doesn’t know me and think this is your opportunity to come visit while the hubster is away, think again. He left his gun in my care. BANG! BANG! “I like you America.” Get it?) And the worst part, the darkest chasm, the void he left can’t even be filled with chocolate. The horror!
See the lovely little thank you note from Mz. Molly for helping with the Borton Community Garden’s chicken coop? Some people may question my contribution, and Mz. Molly may have regretted my contribution, but I got the punk rock pink and black ribbon anyway. A la la la.
And lastly, on a wholly unrelated note, Max, who should totally start a blog of his poetry but doesn’t just to hurt my feelings, was sighted at the intersection of Speedway and Alvernon. George would like to know when he started wearing glasses. And Max, thanks again for the three volume “mixed tape” CD collection of 80’s “alternative” music. It’s come in handy over the years.
I’ve been thinking forever and a day that I wanted to try to do some freezer paper rescue for all those coffee stained t-shirts I have laying around the house. I’m too lazy to remove the stains and I’m too cheap to ditch the shirts. Maybe I’ll dye them, or tie dye them, or cut them up and make new shirts, or, whatever. Let’s face it. They are just as likely to clutter up my world as be transformed. That doesn’t even take into account that it would take less time to attack the shirts with a bleach pen as it would to do the amazing work I’m about to share with you.
Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles. I did freezer paper stencil paint two whole shirts. It’s not like the idea about freezer paper just fell into my lap. Nay. I read about it. Obviously. PANJO! Isn’t that an awesome word? PANJO! My stencils don’t hold a candle to Panjo. Seriously, you should check, check, check, check her out.
Briefly, here’s the low down.
Step 1. Cut your freezer paper (old school butcher paper available wherever plastic and aluminum wrap is sold) to 8.5 x11 inches (standard paper size) and run your design off your printer from the beautiful clip art you’ve poached from someone else. My letters and numbers, I did manage to type myself and choose an accompanying font. Did I mention that you should print on the matte side? Consider yourself told. Graphic images are good. Or draw your design on the paper. I don’t care.
Step 2. Cut it out. AH! See now! See? I told you to pick a graphic image. Fewer cuts. Each of my letters were like freaking nesting dolls. I had to keep cutting and cutting and cutting. But I got it done. I kept all my cut paper from certain elements together so I could keep track. I know, very Virgo.
Step 3. I know I didn’t rotate the photo. Turn your monitor sideways if you have to. This is the part where you carefully place your stencil on your shirt and cook it up with your pathetic old iron. Of course, that’s the only sort of iron I have, but some people have good scissors and good irons and all that. If you are some people, then it’s probably a good idea to use your grody iron. Why? Well, there are tiny pieces and you need to make sure that you iron the shiny side to the shirt and not to the iron like I did part of my 8. Did I mention you get a better seal if you put freezer paper on the inside of the shirt too. Yeah, I didn’t do that on my Obama shirt, but I learned.
Step 4. I’m sure you are supposed to use some fancy fabric paint, but I just used acrylics. They were a green variety though. Some name brand. Find your own. I thought maybe I’d water them down like I did for the pillowcase. What a DUMB idea. Don’t do that. It will blur your Obam”a”. I also caught onto the tip to paint from paper to fabric instead of fabric to paper for crisper edges.
Step 5. Call in your ever willing assistant to make a sparkling purple (this time not environmentally friendly paint, but some passed on by GrammaN) “Grow your own” t-shirt for the fabulous Mz. Molly who has since been in the Green Times (which is only available in print – huh, what?) and Arizona Daily Star (check out the sidebar) and is about to be in TUSD Focus. I modified this stencil. The wheelbarrow had cinder blocks in it. I changed it to veggies.
Step 6. RIP OFF THAT FREEZER PAPER! Oh, how wonderful an experience it is. Until you see that you screwed up by not having freezer paper under the design and not having ironed the freezer paper on well enough and watering down your paint. My son said if I had eliminated one of these oversights, the shirt would have been more than 30% better.
My dazzling assistant proves his case as this shirt came out worthy of its intended.
And now a word about the “political” nature of this blog. I made the Obama shirt for my husband to wear around town after he retired from 20 years of service to his country. Not that it should matter. Every citizen gets a chance to select an electorate to represent him/her in the presidential elections. Every citizen except those in Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, Virgin Islands, or Federated States of Micronesia (did I miss a territory?). Anyway, we reside in a state, so we get representation. That should be good enough. The point is, this is a blog about freezer paper not politics. IF you think you might like to be inspired by politics in crafting, might I perhaps suggest Crafting for Change.
Do you ever get hit upside the head by a reality of yourself that you didn’t recognize? I’ve been studying issues of culture in one form or another since pretty early and formally beginning in high school. I know all the dimensions of communication. Okay, some. The field has advanced since 1999 when I buried my head under a rock contrary to the way I tote out my intercultural background when writing grants. Anyway, I am SO polychronic when I thought I was entirely monochronic.
What else do I not recognize about myself? I like to try new ideas on for size, but, guess what, I have a low risk tolerance. Honestly, I have no clue who I am and it’s causing uncertainty in my interpersonal interactions. I’m having some major communication huh-whats as of late and I think it’s because I’m being all high context when I should hang low for a while.
And so now my attempt at being more low context while holding true to my need for a great deal of field dependence, face-saving, and conflict resolution. How do I say this without offending the offensive? By that, I mean how can I say this without having to deal with these actual people anymore ever? Person 1, quit taking money from hungry people because you want fancy drapes. Person 2, is it possible that you could put your offense/defense in your pocket for a second and look at the community surrounding you? You are loved, but your targets can sometimes get hurt. Persons 3 and 4, maybe YOUR children need therapy because you’ve closed their minds. Oh, and look up jingoistic. I think you are using it incorrectly.
This is what helped me sleep this past week. It’s so wrong, it’s right.
This was the second place winner in craftster.org’s ironic cozy contest.
Oh, okay. Well, does this AP story bother anyone else? Makes you want to know your farmer. If you think you might like, you can read the FDA draft and then make public comments for the next couple of months.
And as a refresher, you can read labels on your produce too to see if you are consuming genetically engineered food.
Just so you know how this came to my brain, I was reading Nature Moms Blog and this item was mentioned in one of the comments. I followed the story to get to an “unbiased” news source.
Pssst. I joined the PTA this year after three years of bitter derision of said group and their conviction that a marque will solve the problems faced by the public schools. Actually I joined the PTO, which is code for “we don’t want to pay national dues.” My story is that I was at registration when I spilled coffee all over my t-shirt, which was my favorite summertime activity. I have at least four coffee splattered shirts. Make that three since I freezer paper stencil painted one for Mz. Molly, on whom I and and others have a girl crush. She is so way cute, but I think it’s her juiced up bike that makes me feel all tingly inside.
Back to PTO/registration day – I was a hot mess (not the Paris Hilton kind but the kind involving a splashy mess of hot liquid) when I noticed the t-shirt table staffed by the PTO president. She told me I could get a discount on school t-shirts if I joined the PTO, so, well, there you have it. Had I known Alex was planning on being the secretary, I would have joined just so I could make faces at her as she attempted all things secretarial. OH, but that’s the best part. The PTO prez said I would only be as involved as I wanted to be. Therefore, if I couldn’t attend the meetings, she wouldn’t make me! YAY! No commitment beyond the cash donation.
Membership has its privileges. For example, doing nothing and discounts on shirts. I also got into movie night for free. It was there that I went in cahoots with my favorite partner in crime, whose name I will not mention, but Anna knows who she is, to break into my son’s 3rd grade classroom to install screen maps of the US and the world. Anna is going to get me into serious trouble one day. She already got me into a clay building class when I didn’t take the prerequisite – a fact that didn’t pass unnoticed by a biddy or two.
Oh, but anyway. I just thought that I would say it loud and proud; I am Sarah Palin. Except that I don’t shoot wolves from helicopters and I don’t wear lipstick and I’m not all that fond of pitt bulls and it’s a well known fact I came in last place in the only beauty contest I ever entered. Come to think on it, except for my PTO membership, Tina Fey glasses, and vagina, I’m really not much like Palin at all. And that will make it very easy for me to join Wampus Against Sarah Palin. Sadly, WASP membership indicates obvious social climbing on my part.
One last note: Do not counterfeit this membership card for if you so choose to do so choose, then you will find yourself embroiled in major discussions about the relative benefits of nothing and every freaking thing and are also committing to spam out the ying yang.
Oh, how my head aches as I write this.
I had big plans for the day, but they were sidelined for multiple “right now” needs. I decided to go with it. Besides the only thing I MUST do today has been stalled by YELLOW HIGHLIGHTER. Point is, I found myself at the grocery store because the cupboard was bare and I happened to be driving past. I needed gasoline too.
So I do my grocery shopping child-free. That NEVER happens. It was nice. I bought less junk and didn’t have to say “no” a single time. I am a bring-my-own-bags gal and for the first time ever they noticed that one was insulated and put all my cold stuff in it (it’s still hot in the desert). I didn’t even have to repack. YAY, lady sacker! The guy after me had a single jar of salsa. The sacker asked if he wanted a bag. “Yes,” he replied, “double it.” Asswipe. I had four bags, he should have quadrupled it. Such inspiration am I.
Then I went to get my gasoline. The tanks were being filled and I know that I don’t want all that stirred up crap in my tank. I also know that the light is on in the van signaling I have no gas and if I don’t use my coupon, it will expire. So I fill up. I fill up so much that I just pour it all over the ground. The little automatic lever, which I put on the first divit for a slow fill, didn’t click off. Gas on the ground, gas on the car, gas on my shoe.
Anyway, I’m an ecological disaster with a headache.
Get past the Border Patrol Ad, okay?
This was my son’s teacher last year! This was her! Teachers are so way cool. Molly is so way cool. Molly can teach AND double dutch. And guess what, she’s going to have a community garden WITH CHICKENS at the school. I miss Molly.
I’ve been concerned about my son’s teacher this year. She’s more traditional and worksheet oriented. As it turns out, she is also empathetic and her students like her. She also lets us parents come in and knock around whenever we want. She’s letting me teach the students about current events. This week the 3rd graders READ THE CONSTITUTION as it pertains to the presidency. Can you imagine? All that language? But they did it and they know what qualifies a candidate for the presidency and what the duties are. Of course they were mostly interested in the part about forgiving their buddies and throwing parties for foreign dignitaries. Toward the end of the lesson, we touched on the electoral collage (S + R = E, did you know that? The presidency is not just a history/civics thang, it’s also math/geography). Next week are going to go into campaigns and eventually we will look at the current candidates. I’ll keep you posted, because I’m sure you are on the edge of your seats to know what the kids are saying.
On Friday, another parent is coming in with her bassoon to help the kids with their sound studies. Yet another parent has made tons of homemade playdough to help the students better conceptualize city, state, country, etc. And yet another parent is bringing in tons of related texts and may start an art project. So, it’s still cool this year, though it’s hard to top Molly. I wish every child could experience a classroom where the teacher and a large number of parents frequently indulge in active learning and engaging children.
One thing I should learn is how to post a video that doesn’t immediately start playing every time the website opens. Sorry about that. I hope next time you visit, you won’t mind hitting the pause button.
Last night I spent a couple of hours trying to put together a clever, well-narrated, and inspirational slide show together to express on my blog how much freaking fun we had with this freaking glue batik project. (Tomorrow is “F***ing Friday”, so even at this late hour, it’s just “Freaking Thursday”.) Long story short, it didn’t work and you’re stuck with this.
Credit where due. Please visit That Artist Woman to see the the real deal tutorial on easy kid friendly batik. OH! Her latest post is batik for grown-ups. It’s pretty cool too.
So, here goes….
Step 1: Find a beautifully lash-ed, juice mustache-ed girl of six to agree to model and volunteer her family for a nutty mom project. Give everyone some gel school glue to make designs on some cheap old pillowcase. I put cardboard inside the pillowcase to prevent soak through issues, but then I got stuck to issues. That’s okay, because it all comes off; next time I’ll cover the cardboard or use a plastic cutting board or one of those rubber place mats or something. Anyway, let dry.
Step 2: Use watered-down acrylic paint and, you know, cover the dried glue designed fabric as you please. Initially I watered down with a 4:1 ratio of paint to water, but I think a 1:1 makes for more of a watercolor effect. My fear was dissolving the glue with the paint, but as it turns out I needn’t have worried. I thought I was genius for using the cracked ice tray as the whachamacallit for the paint. The cup of blue liquid is leftover Kool-aid from the yard sale Kool-aid stand and isn’t paint. The Cortaid was required after the yard sale too. I’m still bitchy – ITCHY. I totally meant itchy. Anyway, let dry.
Step 3: Once the glue and paint have dried, DUNK THAT PUPPY! That Artist Woman suggests using your tub and after taking her up on her advice, I totally concur. I wasn’t patient enough to let the glue slowly dissolve. I agitated it. My kids taught me the fine art of agitation, so I was really good at it. It’s better than picking scabs and popping zits! Oh, my so satisfying. Anyway, let dry and call maid service. WAIT! I am the maid! Grrr. I hate contingencies.
We agreed that the family member with the crappiest day gets to sleep with the pillowcase. My sincere hope is that the kids will adore having the pillowcase in their bed and so won’t come into mine. I’m tired of knees and elbows in my back and up my nose. But he’s my husband and I knew that went with the territory. The kids have their own beds and should use them.