Showing posts with label youtube. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youtube. Show all posts
Harry Bertoia
Harry Bertoia was a designer who made a most wondrous chair. The chair was so successful that he could then devote the rest of his life to sound sculptures. The sculptures, when touched, created haunting sounds.
Sometimes my blog here touches on the subject, "What is art?" This is definitely art.
Full vintage documentary here.
The Dahntahn Song
Pittsburghers (and Irwiners and the like) really do talk like this. I hope yunz like it. Gonna go git me a sammich.
You may recall that I have been to Pittsburgh. I have a lot of family back there.
Going around with visiting relatives from Pittsburgh, some stranger in a shop will invariable say,
"What is that accent?"
Pittsburgh.
Although, it's actually strongest in the weird little places like Saltzburgh, Irwin, or Paintertown. (Random fact: I'm related to nearly every person in Paintertown. Here's a shout out to all yunz folks in Paintertown! Represent! Random Fact #2 about Paintertown: most of the houses in Paintertown need painting. Badly.)
You may recall that I have been to Pittsburgh. I have a lot of family back there.
Going around with visiting relatives from Pittsburgh, some stranger in a shop will invariable say,
"What is that accent?"
Pittsburgh.
Although, it's actually strongest in the weird little places like Saltzburgh, Irwin, or Paintertown. (Random fact: I'm related to nearly every person in Paintertown. Here's a shout out to all yunz folks in Paintertown! Represent! Random Fact #2 about Paintertown: most of the houses in Paintertown need painting. Badly.)
For All of You Halloween Birthdays
Little Z on piano! Yours truly on vocals. I have dim memories of my Aunt Lou singing this when I was a child. That's pretty much all you need to know, right there.
The Singer Goes Mute
This rooster of ours (Rosie Junior) crows so much that I'm seriously considering making him for dinner. As soon as I turned the camera on, though, he stopped crowing. And so I tried crowing, so he would follow my example.
And now for something completely different...
The rabbits have been, um... going at it like rabbits. I hope they're really both female! It's difficult to tell, with bunnies, and we know Santa was worried about other things, that night. Here's a video:
Which 1% Is Untrue?
I made a video to answer this pressing question:
So, I hope this clears up everything. [When I say, "People always ask me what 1% isn't true," by "always," I mean the past two days. Because, you know, time pretty much began the day before yesterday.]
I was going to record this on a bus, but I was afraid I would get shy in front of all of the people on the bus. Also, is that even okay, to record people in the background without their consent? The sheep didn't care. That was the decider.
So, I hope this clears up everything. [When I say, "People always ask me what 1% isn't true," by "always," I mean the past two days. Because, you know, time pretty much began the day before yesterday.]
I was going to record this on a bus, but I was afraid I would get shy in front of all of the people on the bus. Also, is that even okay, to record people in the background without their consent? The sheep didn't care. That was the decider.
A Reason for Sheep
When we sheered Sevilla:
We tried putting Sevilla on her butt, and she kicked me in the face.
We tried tying Sevilla to the fence to keep her still, and she broke free.
We tried tying Sevilla to the other fence to keep her still, and she broke free.
We tried holding her really tightly, and that worked for awhile, but then we were in too much pain to continue.
With every attempt, though, I cut off more and more of her wool with the child safety scissors, until we had a heavy garbage bag full of wool.
It took about an hour and a half. Little Z came out while we were still holding Sevilla really tightly, but already had a bag of wool sitting next to us, and she said,
"Wow! Is that a whole bag of wool?"
"What? What? Holy-- Yeah, that's a whole bag of wool. Good lord! What the-- Hold still--"
"Can I carry it back to the house?"
I had horrific images of a big wind coming up and all of the hard earned wool being sacrificed to the god of careless but well meaning kindergarteners, so I said,
"No."
Little Z lurked for a bit longer, watching.
"Can I please carry the wool back to the house?"
"What? No! I already said no!"
I may have not had as much patience as usual, considering I was straddling a sheep and contorting myself sideways around some big horns to get at the wool on the side of Sevilla's neck.
Before I knew it, I could hear Little Z screaming and crying, echoing up the valley as she walked back home and yelling some incoherent babble about us being the worst parents ever and we never let her help and it was her job to carry the wool and did she mention we were the worst parents ever? Sobbing. Yelling. Echoing. Loud. I'm sure that Ian and Anne, who were having their wedding up the road (according to the signs) were extremely pleased to have that little glimpse into their possible future. We're glad to be of service, Ian and Anne. Congratulations.
When we finally "finished" (gave up), I went back to the house and found Little Z, who had stopped crying and was playing by herself.
"Do you want to carry the wool in?" I asked.
"Sure!"
So I walked with her, and she carried the wool in. Then she took a little bit of wool and made a heart "blanket".
No, that's not cat vomit. Nor is it a dead bat. It's a heart shaped dollhouse rug made from artisanal raw Jacobs sheep wool. My daughter is an artist.
And if that isn't enough reason to have sheep, well, I don't know what is. And then there's this:
I can only dream of aspiring to such heights.
We tried putting Sevilla on her butt, and she kicked me in the face.
We tried tying Sevilla to the fence to keep her still, and she broke free.
We tried tying Sevilla to the other fence to keep her still, and she broke free.
We tried holding her really tightly, and that worked for awhile, but then we were in too much pain to continue.
With every attempt, though, I cut off more and more of her wool with the child safety scissors, until we had a heavy garbage bag full of wool.
It took about an hour and a half. Little Z came out while we were still holding Sevilla really tightly, but already had a bag of wool sitting next to us, and she said,
"Wow! Is that a whole bag of wool?"
"What? What? Holy-- Yeah, that's a whole bag of wool. Good lord! What the-- Hold still--"
"Can I carry it back to the house?"
I had horrific images of a big wind coming up and all of the hard earned wool being sacrificed to the god of careless but well meaning kindergarteners, so I said,
"No."
Little Z lurked for a bit longer, watching.
"Can I please carry the wool back to the house?"
"What? No! I already said no!"
I may have not had as much patience as usual, considering I was straddling a sheep and contorting myself sideways around some big horns to get at the wool on the side of Sevilla's neck.
Before I knew it, I could hear Little Z screaming and crying, echoing up the valley as she walked back home and yelling some incoherent babble about us being the worst parents ever and we never let her help and it was her job to carry the wool and did she mention we were the worst parents ever? Sobbing. Yelling. Echoing. Loud. I'm sure that Ian and Anne, who were having their wedding up the road (according to the signs) were extremely pleased to have that little glimpse into their possible future. We're glad to be of service, Ian and Anne. Congratulations.
When we finally "finished" (gave up), I went back to the house and found Little Z, who had stopped crying and was playing by herself.
"Do you want to carry the wool in?" I asked.
"Sure!"
So I walked with her, and she carried the wool in. Then she took a little bit of wool and made a heart "blanket".
No, that's not cat vomit. Nor is it a dead bat. It's a heart shaped dollhouse rug made from artisanal raw Jacobs sheep wool. My daughter is an artist.
And if that isn't enough reason to have sheep, well, I don't know what is. And then there's this:
I can only dream of aspiring to such heights.
Meanwhile, in Russia...
... people are being kind.
The duck one is a common sight this time of year in this neck of the woods.
The duck one is a common sight this time of year in this neck of the woods.
More of the Time Capsule from Christmas 1984
I'm the girl on the bed, writing the letter to my dad in California.
This was only a slight exaggeration of the goofiness in our actual lives.
This was only a slight exaggeration of the goofiness in our actual lives.
Merry Christmas from Ten Year Old Me
So, it's not Christmas, you say? It's not 1984 any more, either, so chill out and watch this.
I think we didn't know how to have a still photo of me with music playing, so we decided I would just be perfectly still instead of having a still photo. I got tired of smiling.
Thank you, Aunt Laurie, for publishing this gem on youtube!
I think we didn't know how to have a still photo of me with music playing, so we decided I would just be perfectly still instead of having a still photo. I got tired of smiling.
Thank you, Aunt Laurie, for publishing this gem on youtube!
Little known fact: Mariah Carey and I were born on the same day...
... but only one of us is a natural blond. The kids really make this song worth while:
God jul!
God jul!
Solstice!
Happy solstice, everyone! Remember: the solstice is the reason for the season! No one really knows what time of year Jesus was born. The Christian holidays tend to coincide with the pagan holidays that came before them.
I don't care. I'll celebrate anything!
We do open some gifts on Solstice at our house. It's our tradition. But Santa comes on Christmas Eve at midnight, even if some people don't entirely understand that.
This little diddy is actually about pickles!
I don't care. I'll celebrate anything!
We do open some gifts on Solstice at our house. It's our tradition. But Santa comes on Christmas Eve at midnight, even if some people don't entirely understand that.
This little diddy is actually about pickles!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)