About Barbie and Frankenstein and Giant Chickens
I'm sorry. I have not been keeping up with the blogging. Life has been getting in the way.
I just listed a couple of paintings on eBay today. I had fun with the description of the Frankenstein paining,
"This is a reimagined thrift store painting. This was originally just a landscape painting, just a hill, which I purchased at a local thrift store. I added Frankenstein. I remember, when I read Frankenstein, how most of the book was really just Frank wandering the hills, feeling lonely. Poor guy.
"The picture with frame is 8.5" wide and 6.5" tall. Discounting the frame, the actual painting is 6.5" wide by 4.5" tall. It's a nice painting for a small space. An RV. A dorm room. A desk in a crowded office. A studio apartment. Or you could put it in the middle of a giant wall, just this one little painting, and thus accentuate his amazing loneliness. You could put it in a cage, to accentuate his tortured soul, trapped in this artificial body. You could put it in your Barbie Dream House, and show that Barbie really did have taste and depth; we just never knew before. You could mount it in your car, and have a nice conversation starter for you and the hitchhikers you pick up on your next road trip to Durango. The possibilities are there. They really are."
I wonder if it's a thing now to get really into your descriptions on eBay? Does anyone else have fun doing this? Is there a club somewhere? Or am I all alone, like usual?
I just listed a couple of paintings on eBay today. I had fun with the description of the Frankenstein paining,
"The picture with frame is 8.5" wide and 6.5" tall. Discounting the frame, the actual painting is 6.5" wide by 4.5" tall. It's a nice painting for a small space. An RV. A dorm room. A desk in a crowded office. A studio apartment. Or you could put it in the middle of a giant wall, just this one little painting, and thus accentuate his amazing loneliness. You could put it in a cage, to accentuate his tortured soul, trapped in this artificial body. You could put it in your Barbie Dream House, and show that Barbie really did have taste and depth; we just never knew before. You could mount it in your car, and have a nice conversation starter for you and the hitchhikers you pick up on your next road trip to Durango. The possibilities are there. They really are."
I wonder if it's a thing now to get really into your descriptions on eBay? Does anyone else have fun doing this? Is there a club somewhere? Or am I all alone, like usual?
The actual ebay listing is right here. I've also listed a giant chicken painting.
King
King is the only survivor of Viola's triplets-the very first lambs. Z named him "King" because she said that kings usually have their two brothers die. I did not take the opportunity to lecture her on exactly why so many princely siblings often have met a young demise. I just said,
"Yeah. He's been through a lot."
He sure is pretty for a King. Can you see his little horns growing?
Duck Wednesday
No Wanda Wednesday today, but I do have a silly duck story.
The ducks and geese always quack at me. I don't understand what they are saying, but they seem hostile.
Last night, I went out to put the ducks in their little house. If the ducks don't go inside for the night, they are literally sitting ducks. They can't fly. We have coyotes and raccoons who would eat them right up. Sitting ducks! They're just sitting ducks.
When I want out to shut the door to their little house last night, the ducks (and two geese) were in this little marsh area, a little ways off. I was tired. I was beat. I did not want to coax them into the house from the marsh. Marshes are really not for people, you know. They are icky. But ducks and geese love them! They were having a grand time. It was a dangerous hour, getting dark. I really didn't want to chase after them.
Then, in a moment of inspiration, I yelled out,
"Hey you ducks! It's time to come inside!" And I swear by the Flying Spaghetti Monster, they came! They came in a row, single file, quacking all the while.
A little perimeter check, walk around the house, and they went inside. All I had to do was ask.
And here I thought they didn't like me.
Ruby the Rabbit
Today, we picked up a new fiber producer: Ruby the Angora Rabbit.
Ruby is six weeks old and comes from Portage, Wisconsin. Her hobbies include hiding in a corner. For her talent, today Ruby will demonstrate growing soft hair.
Ruby's birthday is April fourth, which makes her an Aries.
"Those born on this birthday 4th April are highly imaginative and own a sharp business mindset. However, Ruby is soft-spoken but direct and honest.
"Ruby can also be a little bossy and impatient. Roll all these qualities up and you have a rabbit that is ambitious and logical… one that is able to make choices based on fairness and equality.
"As the April 4 birthdate personality traits show, being Ruby's friend has its drawbacks as well at its positive side. Ruby tries to remain positive but gets easily agitated when someone disagrees with her.
"In love, 4 April birthday horoscope predicts Ruby can be a playful and joyful partner. Sometimes, Ruby can be mischievous in her dealings with others.
"Ruby, you could have anything if only you set your sights on it. Those born on this day may have to go out of your comfort zone to reach fully your goals and aspirations. When you worry, Arians tend to suffer from headaches and wakefulness. Get your feelings out in the open so you will feel better."
- Sunsigns.org
The Amazing True Story of a Rabbit Named Daisy (or Perhaps Tree)
Big Z, age 7, had four bunnies. Her friend D had one bunny. And her friend L (age 8, but small for her age) had zero bunnies. This was a source of much sadness for L, who begged and begged and begged her parents for a bunny. So, finally, Big Z (my daughter) decided that she would give one of her four bunnies to L. I told her that was okay, as long as L got permission from her parents to have a bunny. And she did get permission. So, one day last week, L came over with her mommy and her two little siblings, and they took Tree away to live in town and be a house bunny.
We decided to give her the bunny named Tree because, in spite of both arriving on Santa's sleigh, Tree and Jingle didn't really get along very well. Also, Tree is quite sweet, and would make a good house bunny.
So, the next day at school, Z asked L how Tree was doing. The first thing L said was that she renamed Tree "Daisy." And "Daisy," she said, "left through the dog door." And then this is what happened:
Having escaped the house through the dog door, Daisy hopped onto a tricycle parked in the driveway. The tricycle then went, by its own power, down the driveway, with Daisy on it! L at this point had noticed Daisy was missing, and saw Daisy though the window, riding a tricycle down the driveway! L raced out and caught her! And brought her back inside.
Since then, Daisy has been doing great, and by all accounts very much enjoys being an only rabbit and a house pet.
We decided to give her the bunny named Tree because, in spite of both arriving on Santa's sleigh, Tree and Jingle didn't really get along very well. Also, Tree is quite sweet, and would make a good house bunny.
So, the next day at school, Z asked L how Tree was doing. The first thing L said was that she renamed Tree "Daisy." And "Daisy," she said, "left through the dog door." And then this is what happened:
Having escaped the house through the dog door, Daisy hopped onto a tricycle parked in the driveway. The tricycle then went, by its own power, down the driveway, with Daisy on it! L at this point had noticed Daisy was missing, and saw Daisy though the window, riding a tricycle down the driveway! L raced out and caught her! And brought her back inside.
 |
| Re-enactment done by professionals. Do not try this at home. |
Since then, Daisy has been doing great, and by all accounts very much enjoys being an only rabbit and a house pet.
Wanda Wednesdays: The Rhythm of the Universe
Excerpt from Wanda Gág's Growing Pains:
"Sometimes all I hear and feel, the whole universe, seems to swing to the above rhythm. I mean concrete things too, like the tickings of a clock or the rumbling of street cars, and people's conversations. I remember the first time I noticed this I must have been about eight years old. I was down at grandmama's and the rustling of the trees, and the whirring of insects, and the very vibration of the air swayed with that same rhythm. It is always the same metre too." (p. 227)
I'm walking around today, trying to sense the rhythm. Can you hear it?
"Sometimes all I hear and feel, the whole universe, seems to swing to the above rhythm. I mean concrete things too, like the tickings of a clock or the rumbling of street cars, and people's conversations. I remember the first time I noticed this I must have been about eight years old. I was down at grandmama's and the rustling of the trees, and the whirring of insects, and the very vibration of the air swayed with that same rhythm. It is always the same metre too." (p. 227)
I'm walking around today, trying to sense the rhythm. Can you hear it?
3 babies
I've finally figured out how to feed all three of them at once!
It was disturbing me, before, when I fed them and I only had two hands, two at once. They all fought to be fed! But now they are happy. No one has to be patient. None of them are patient, anyway.
Three bottles in a bucket with three holes.
Here's looking at you, lamb.
My Daughter's Garden
My daughter is seven. She's been begging me and hounding me to till part of the lawn so that she could have her "very own vegetable garden." I didn't really think about it until just now, but the only vegetables she really eats are seaweed and cucumbers. We don't live by the seashore, so the seaweed is imported. And now she's planted her garden. This is her garden:
The sign is an old one. "Cucumber," it says. One lovely cucumber plant. (Her piano teacher gave it to her.) May it be fruitful.
Wanda Wednesday: "There is more than one kind of hunger in the world." & 'Was der Papa nicht thun konnt', muss die Wanda halt fertig machen.'
Everyone has pivotal moments in their lives, moments where a course is chosen, and all the rest is changed forever. In the introduction to Wanda Gág's Growing Pains, Gág explains how her father was an accomplished artist who always dreamed of studying art seriously, but his obligations to his family prevented him from doing so. Then she goes on to tell how it is that she became an artist, and not a store clerk,
"When I began my diary in October, 1908, I was fifteen years old and there were eight in our family- my mother and seven children. My father had died in May of that year. Our savings depleted by his long illness, our mother sick and weak from a year's nursing and anxiety, we felt dazed and helpless. Besides our home, there was left to us some twelve hundred dollars insurance money which, with the addition of eight dollars a month from the county, was made to stretch over the next six years.
"Through all this, my schooling had suffered several setbacks. In the fall of 1907 I had entered high school but, because of much extra work and home, I was able to attend afternoon sessions only. As my father's illness became critical I was needed at home all day, and at his death my school days seemed to be at an end forever. Along with the small county relief allowance, along with the personal charity of many kindly neighbors, came the community advice, almost an ultimatum: education was a fine thing if one could afford it... to have a talent for drawing was very nice but art didn't pay... therefore, Wanda as the oldest child had better forget about school, stop drawing, and clerk in a local store to help support the family.
"These suggestions were well meant, I knew, but there is more than one kind of hunger in the world, and the question 'What is to become of us?' assumed in my mind proportions far beyond our immediate material future. Were we all to be satisfied with a grammar school education, with jobs as clerks, bookkeepers or hired girls? And then as to myself- suppose I could stop drawing, had I a right to do so? Only Mama and I knew what had happened that day in May when Papa, calling me to his bedside and taking my hand, had said faintly, 'Was der Papa nicht thun konnt', muss die Wanda halt fertig machen.' (What papa couldn't do, Wanda will have to finish.) I nodded my head, speechless with the sudden realization that he was dying, and overwhelmed by the trust which had been placed in my keeping.
"Here was a justification for the ideas which were dimly but surely taking form in my mind; and in its wake came the youthful, rebellious resolve: 'I have a right to go on drawing. I will not be a clerk. And we are all going through high school!' Mama understood perfectly, and had no objection to this course if a way could be found to accomplish it. I had no definite plan of action but I made a start. I drew postcards and place cards, and instead of writing and illustrating stories and poems for pleasure, I now did so with the purpose of turning them into cash."
- (Wanda Gág, Growing Pains, xxxii)
And you know the ending, of course: she did it. They did it. They did all of it. They all graduated high school. And Wanda went to art school. And then some. Anton would have been very, very proud.
She had me at, "there is more than one kind of hunger in the world."
 |
| Wanda Gág's father, Anton Gág |
"Through all this, my schooling had suffered several setbacks. In the fall of 1907 I had entered high school but, because of much extra work and home, I was able to attend afternoon sessions only. As my father's illness became critical I was needed at home all day, and at his death my school days seemed to be at an end forever. Along with the small county relief allowance, along with the personal charity of many kindly neighbors, came the community advice, almost an ultimatum: education was a fine thing if one could afford it... to have a talent for drawing was very nice but art didn't pay... therefore, Wanda as the oldest child had better forget about school, stop drawing, and clerk in a local store to help support the family.
"These suggestions were well meant, I knew, but there is more than one kind of hunger in the world, and the question 'What is to become of us?' assumed in my mind proportions far beyond our immediate material future. Were we all to be satisfied with a grammar school education, with jobs as clerks, bookkeepers or hired girls? And then as to myself- suppose I could stop drawing, had I a right to do so? Only Mama and I knew what had happened that day in May when Papa, calling me to his bedside and taking my hand, had said faintly, 'Was der Papa nicht thun konnt', muss die Wanda halt fertig machen.' (What papa couldn't do, Wanda will have to finish.) I nodded my head, speechless with the sudden realization that he was dying, and overwhelmed by the trust which had been placed in my keeping.
"Here was a justification for the ideas which were dimly but surely taking form in my mind; and in its wake came the youthful, rebellious resolve: 'I have a right to go on drawing. I will not be a clerk. And we are all going through high school!' Mama understood perfectly, and had no objection to this course if a way could be found to accomplish it. I had no definite plan of action but I made a start. I drew postcards and place cards, and instead of writing and illustrating stories and poems for pleasure, I now did so with the purpose of turning them into cash."
- (Wanda Gág, Growing Pains, xxxii)
And you know the ending, of course: she did it. They did it. They did all of it. They all graduated high school. And Wanda went to art school. And then some. Anton would have been very, very proud.
She had me at, "there is more than one kind of hunger in the world."
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
I have not been keeping up with my regular postings here due mostly to some large fluffy beasts in my life and their small, hungry children.
Little Lamb took some coaxing to be a mother, and now she's a possessive psychopath. We all have different parenting styles, I guess. Other sheep wander near her, eating grass (as sheep will do) and she head butts them.
But she only accepted one of her twins, and now we have another bottle baby. So that makes three! I only have two hands and two bottles, but the third one is already learning to be patient.
We had some friends over to see the lambs. Big Z said about the new bottle lamb,
"Let's name him Cloudy."
"But he's a boy," I cautioned. "So we might eat him. Are you sure you want to name him?"
"Yes," she said. "I want to name him Coudy."
"How about, 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs'?" Said our friend Marca, "and that way, if you eat him..."
"Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs! That's perfect."
And thus it came to pass...
It seems pretty unlikely, the chance of meatballs part, but you just never know.
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