Procrastination - It's not just for breakfast anymore

Two weeks until the big party at my house - the one for my mom's 70th birthday. Oh hell yes, it's total mayhem, so what else is new? But at least no one has the swine flu (currently) (knock on wood). also, nothing like having a two week deadline to get that damn kitchen painted! It's actually kind of peaceful painting - it's something I can control, unlike all the douchebags (did I say that outloud?) who have yet to RSVP my invitation. They aren't my friends, but apparently they aren't my mother's friends either - grrr, assholes do vex me! Kind of hard to know how much seafood to order when you still have 20 invitations outstanding. Can I just yell "ASSHOLES" once? Thanks, I feel better now.

Well, okay, maybe not.
I had a hormonal meltdown last week - didn't hurt that the husband was an ass on our anniversary weekend - he has that kind of timing - but I went mental. It was kind of scary, even to me. I was fingering sharp blades and thinking dark, dark thoughts, which is what not sleeping for three weeks will get you, my lads.

I talked to my sister and she thought I might need to get on board with some progesterone and hydroxy-triptifan (it makes serotonin, which makes you sleepy), since it sounded like I was knee-deep in the glamourous world of peri-menopause. Because it's such affirming thing to be a woman, as it is, right? She's probably right, and a little research confirmed it, so now I'm smearing progesterone cream on myself eery night and popping hydroxy-triptifan capsules before bedtime, and guess what? I still can't sleep at night. I think I might be hard-wired to be a vampire. I think I might also be stressing over getting this party off the ground - it's how I roll - I haven't hit the Jimmy Crack Corn portion of the program yet, but I'm sure I will soon.

Oh crap, and it's Halloween this Saturday. I love Halloween, but I just don't have time for it this year. I told Chanda that I wished we could just hide out at her house, watch movies and eat all the candy we're supposed to give out. She was jiggy with that, but I don't think the guys will be!

Ah well, I guess it's back to work now - I can only procrastinate for so long, right?

We Was Rotten Kids, Part I

We lived in the country, when I was little, right next to an old farm. I don't think I ever met Farmer Angle (yes, that's really his name) though I'm sure I saw him from a distance on occasion. We were sandwiched between him and another cantankerous blue-hair, Miss Bisson, which, when you're a household of four kids, means we were often under a disapproving scrutiny, and subsequently, frequently in trouble. (Actually, we were into trouble far more than we actually got caught for, which is why, my sister and I are convinced, my mother is insane now.)

Farmer Angle had cattle in the field behind our yard and an electrified barbed wire fence to keep them in. You could tell it was electrified - there were small porcelain knobs at intervals all along it. My older brother was fascinated with that fence. Once he dared me to go up and touch the wire, assuring me that it probably wasn't even turned on. We approached it together, cracking jokes about how chicken the other was and grasped the wire.

Have you ever touched an electric fence? They don't usually pack much of a charge, but it's still a pretty bizarre sensation. I remember the jiggly, buzzy sensation of electricity coursing through me. It seemed like my whole body was frozen in place, channeling current. I tried to pull my fingers off the fence but the electric impulse was stronger than my will, and they were reluctant to obey me. Forcing my other hand to pry my fingers off of the fence I was finally released from that paralyzing current, and my brother did the same. My mother never caught us, and we went back and did it a few more times, just for the sake of that bizarre sensation.

When I think back upon those times I marvel that we all made it into adulthood. I marvel even more that my sister didn't catch us and turn us in - she was always the better parent. (Sorry Mom)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On another note...
I am one of the un-named today over at PapaTV's Fug Friday. This is the final edition of a truly inspired series of posts. If you haven't see this or read Brian Papa, go check him out.

Just Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ringaling

Pictures by Bea

So we went to the Christmas In July art show this past weekend, and had more fun than people should be allowed to have, visiting their sister. This is because there was shopping involved, and it wasn't for the cheapest groceries, or socks and underwear. No, no, it was shopping for beautiful handmade things made by folks we know and love. Here I wave at Bea, because I forgot to even bring my camera with me. I felt naked all day long.Here are some of the dolls made by The Fairies Nest. The Crow Woman in the foreground is one of my all time favorites of hers. I want to have her come live at my house but I'm afraid it would mean her death - my many cats would delight in tearing the feathers off of this exquisite flight of fancy, and then I would have to mass exterminate and Geez! that's tough to explain to the kids! This was a brand new fairy - I'm ashamed to say I've forgotten her name (I think the wassail might have been spiked), something like Callie Ente, 'cause she's the Hot Sauce Fairy! I just love this doll, from her red pepper overdress and her little buttoned boots, to her tiny little bottle of Tabasco! This fairy is a cat guardian, by the name of Kit. Her cat's name is Thomas. Her pinafore is made from a fabric that has little cats all over it. The cat was my favorite part of this - I really want a trio of them in different colors, to put in a basket. Like Callie, Kit also has the new boot foot, which has bitty little beads sewn on as buttons. It's the details that make these dolls so incredible!This one is called The Autumn Harpist. He is a very groovy Cerunnos type of woodland deity, with his antlers on his forehead the incredible little lyre he's holding. I played around with arranging him when no one was looking. Oh alright - so I re-arranged all of them - hey, she's my sister - I can play with her dolls if I want!This mermaid is another of the bigger dolls and is really a one of a kind. She's hanging next to a display tree of okra ornaments. These things are wild - they twist and curl in all sorts of shapes! They are both bizarre and beautiful at the same time, and I've gotten hooked on collecting them.As you may know from previous posts, I have a pottery Jones. I rarely get to give in to it, but the hand painted flowers and designs on these pieces of Earthworks Pottery are so incredibly rendered, like little paintings on each piece, that they're irresistible. This is the one I want! Check out the okras - they are so funky and fun!There were other things for sale too; crocheted shawls and hats (I had my eye on a raspberry beret, and even modelled it, while singing the requisite Prince song. Oh, you know you would do it too!), handmade marbled paper and books, and jewelry. I don't know why Bea didn't take pictures of them - it could have been the wassail - but at least she remembered to bring her camera, so she was doing far better than I was!

So how was your weekend?

Much Ado About Stuff

It's quiet here lately at the Edge; too quiet, I think.

You would think that with two vacations under my belt already this summer I would have more to talk about, and yet, I've been struck dumb, trying to configure a post for week.

It's not that there's nothing happening around here, there's plentyof crapola hitting the rusty fan. But who really wants to hear our epic saga of tearing up carpet in the kids' room that has reached it's cat piddle limit, and how the Legos and Imaginext dudes are mounting an invasion in the living room right now? I annihilated an entire legion the other day, just by dropping a laundry basket on them, but I'm thinking I'm the only one who's going to do the headless chicken dance or whatever to celebrate.

Tomorrow we're headed to Ms. Q's for a pool party and cookout, so there's that. But that does entail swimsuit wearing by all of us. I'm not so sure I want my nekkid parts hanging out in the blogosphere, and I'm pretty sure Ms. Q is going to put up a fight as well, even with her trademark evening length swimsuit. So there might only be cookout shots to see, and now you're feeling like you just have to see those big, fat, dimply, white girls in their swimdresses, but it's a No Can Do. I have so little left to be vain about, you know, in the oh! so glamorous world of the aging woman; I'm keeping my thighs to myself, as much as possible.

The Fairies Nest is having her annual Christmas in July art show this Saturday and Sunday, July 19th and 20th. This is actually a show with several artists under one roof. Their work is all handmade and ranges from dolls and fiber art to pottery, jewelry, textiles, paper and books.
I have to admit: I go to buy my sister's dolls, but I always end up buying at least one Christmas present at these shows, and because this is a Christmas in July show, there will be Christmas carols and holiday refreshments to get you in the mood.



Admit it: you want to go, don't you? So now, all you have to do is pop over the Fairies Nest and ask her how to get there, or if that seems too forward or complicated, just leave me a comment with an email address and I'll tell you how to get there.

So now you know why the ole Blog is suffering: because I'm out having way too much fun!

Lunar Eclipse

Did you guys see the lunar eclipse last night? It was supposed to be the last one until 2010, according to Carl Sagan's illegitimate daughter, aka Bea. We went outside about 8 o'clock and saw a beautiful full moon, but it was fast being obscured by clouds. Because I am the proud owner of a new camera I HAD to go out and attempt to take pictures; without a tripod, AND without a clue. But I got a couple of decent shots, in spite of myself. It wasn't until later on, about 11 o'clock, that Bea and I saw the end of the eclipse, and of course, my camera had already gone to bed, because that's how professional I am, baby.
I know there is at least one other person in this world who will look at this picture (below) and think of a 1920s edition Grimm's Fairy Tales illustrated by Eleanor Abbott. Come on Cin, you know the one. The picture of the girl with the mask, running against the weirdly lit night sky. Doesn't this remind you of it? What the hell was the name of that story? It was the one where the stupid old king, kind of King Lear-esque, asks his daughters how much they love him, and the youngest and most honest daughter tells him, "I love you like salt, because without salt, life has no flavor", and then he kicks her out, yadda, yadda, running around the country-side, etc. (I just realized that maybe I like that story for more than its groovy picture - the girl is a Salt-Creature, like from Star Trek. And I'm a Salt-Creature, so like, we could be twins, right?Though I would SO give my old man a raft of shite for asking such a stupid and patently divisive question - goddamn troublemaker...!)
(Okay use your best german accent now, for this part) Yah, I vas tryink to mack the mun lokk like it vas hangink from ze tree, like it is ze froot of ze tree, yah? It iss zo expreszioniztic, yah?

Jesus, it's too hard to write like that, and my accent sucks, like you didn't notice. (But thank you for being polite enough not to point it out.)
Yes, I know, the depth here is just wayyyy the hell over everyone's head these days, ne c'est pas? And you know what? Jimmy Crack Corn, man! Three snaps in a circle, and kiss my grits. My mom's not here, and neither are you; I can do what I want!

The Work of Play

Note ~ I posted this late Tuesday, in anticipation of Julie's Hump Day Hmmmm. That still counts, doesn't it? You can find the other contributors here: http://theartfulflower.blogspot.com/2008/01/hump-day-hmm-for-january-30-2008-sweet.htmlI've talked about my sister before; how she makes such beautiful dolls and how she imbued the world for me with magic from early on, but not, I think, about another gift that she gave me.

As the oldest, my sister naturally went to school first. One of her favorite games during that time was to play School, where she was the teacher and my brothers and I were the students. Of course we were quite a naughty and disruptive class, my older brother invariably being sent to the principal for disciplinary measures, and my younger brother continually falling off the front seat of the old antique schoolhouse desk, but I think, for me, more than a little of what she was play-teaching actually sank in.

I don't remember ever actually learning how to read, as a child. When I went to kindergarten it was assumed that none of us could read, so the teacher started from scratch with the ABCs and the basic colors, etc. She must not have been a particularly perceptive teacher, because she told my parents that she thought I might be a little on the retarded side, because I was quiet and rarely talked during class. Honestly, all I remember of the woman was her massive thighs, tightly clad in support hose, so they had a distinctive swish when she walked or sat, which (I don't know why) fascinated me.

What she didn't know would most certainly fill a book; she certainly never discovered that the reason I said very little in class was due to being bored out of my mind. I wasn't interested in learning the ABCs because my sister had already taught me them, as well as how to read, and if you know me, then you know I was born knowing my colors, or at least acquired the knowledge shortly afterwards! I don't recall the teacher ever really teaching us much more than separate words in kindergarten, but when I went to first grade, I knew how to read, and not just a smattering, or laboriously. I can remember feeling extremely irritated when other kids were called on to read, because of how badly they would read! I was invariably somewhere else in the book, having lost all patience with listening to another kid stumble and grope through "See Dick. See Dick run. Run Dick, run. Oh, oh, oh. Dick runs fast." For crying out loud - it's a worse plot than a soap opera and just as predictable! How hard can it be to read the same three words?

In the past few years, with the struggle I've had with my youngest son's reading, I have turned to my first and best teacher many times, for advice and ideas of how to jump start his interest. When that breakthrough finally happened last week, she was there celebrating it as well, saying,

"It's so telling what book geeks you and I are that we get so excited over our kids reading...it's the BEST feeling when they finally get it!"

It is indeed the best feeling Cin! So if I never said it before, then I want to say to my first and best teacher, my sister, Thank You - it has made all the difference, for not only me, but for my kids as well!

A Tail And Two Bunnies

My sister gave me these adorable little bunnies she made for my birthday earlier this month. (I especially love the carrot pinafore!) I set them up to pose for a few shots and Scrawny had to get into the action (he loves small stuffed animals, don'tcha know?!). Right after I took this picture he absconded with the boy bunny, who I like to call Mr. James Parsnip. He was rescued and Scrawny left in high dudgeon. But it made for a good title!

Here, Miss Carotene Bunny poses in an introspective moment. I wonder how hard it must be for her, to live indoors, especially among the Furry Herd.
I knew it - she longs to be outside, to hop and scamper with the other bunnies. I think she may be pining just a bit. (But doesn't it show off the back of her nicely?!)
Ah, there's that sweet and winning smile I've grown to love! She really is a cutie! Afraid that Scrawny might come back and try for seconds, I put the bunnies under the protection of Morella, the mushroom-gathering woodland fairy who watches over my mantel. They seem to be getting along fine, though James was a bit leery at first.
To see more of the wonderful dolls my sister makes go check out her gallery over at
Etsy: The Fairies' Nest
She's been hard at work, making some really wonderful dolls for Valentine's Day!

Incriminating Evidence

The Turkey gets dropped in the fryer by my talented brother-in-law, who always shows a knack for accessories.

Vulcan finger gestures from my nephew:

The boys had fun and stayed out of the way with this groovy rope swing.

Our lovely hostess begins to crack under pressure (though she never blew, which really is amazing!)

Dinner is served!

Bea and me!

more of the motley crue - my nephews and my future niece-in-law

The Big Gorilla Man poses for the camera

Hope everyone had a great holiday, surrounded by loved ones.

Turkey Tapdance

Later this week we will all be assembling for one of these:

For some of us, this is the bi-yearly conflagration - where the idea of having to go home and co-mingle with the objects of our disfunction, is enough to produce a stomach ache, raging insomnia, and a self-introspection with our closest friends that amounts to either ranting about WHY we don't want to go home, or just the pre-game mantra of "I don't want to go".

That could all be said to be true of my own family (and maybe yours?), but in the past couple of years, we (the siblings) have undertaken to rotate the hosting of the dreaded Turkey Day, in an effort to keep the stress down, as well as eliminate those last minute phone calls from my mother (when it was at her house), asking you to pick up beer, soda, clementine tangerines, bakery-fresh bread, your grandmother from the airport; you name it - the more ludicrous, the more difficult it is to find, the more likely she would be to ask for it.

This year we're all going to my sister's house, so I am totally relaxed - YeeHaaa! There had been talk of a deep-fried turkey this year at her house, but the aforementioned High Maintenance Mom (HMM) threw a little (for her) tantrum about it. So now, its the roasted variant. My poor sister - she is a far nicer person than I am, although I suppose, we all take the hit in the different ways.

When we had Thanksgiving at my house, two years ago, my mother insisted on coming over early in the morning to prepare and put the turkey in the oven - evidently I am not to be trusted with the job of roasting a turkey - so she was in our Kool-aid bright and early that year. Nothing that can't be remedied with copious imbibing. Weird thing-I hardly ever drink more than a beer, or a margarita, except at family functions, (guess what kind of dysfunction we are!!!) where it is imperative to begin anesthesia upon arrival.

If this seems strange, you should watch the movie Home For The Holidays - other than the gay brother, they have us pegged. (Random random fact about me - I love movies and quoting them. Don't get me started, it can get ugly.)

Meet My Sister!

The greatest inspiration and source of support for me is my older sister. From the time we were kids and she would build little fairy huts under the oak trees in the park, then tell me she had found them there (and I still look under oak trees to this day, for those fairy huts), she has always been full of magic. Her children are almost all grown now, but they can all lay claim to having had an enchanted childhood, and it has been the inspiration for me to try and give my own children that sense of wonder and belief in magic and miracles.

She started as a doll maker, when her kids were small, making castle people for a castle her husband had made the kids for Christmas. The first queen she made looked so much like me in my wedding dress that she had to give it to me and make another one. Everyone who saw them wanted her to make them some, and so it began.



It wasn't long before she was branching out and away from the castle and dollhouse dolls and was giving free rein to her imagination. The ensuing dolls are more one-of-a-kind works of art. While she usually creates dolls that are from her own imagination, she also works with her clients to interpret their vision of a doll. As a fellow artist, I not only respect her work, I've watched it grow and mature into something truly amazing. I usually covet every doll she makes - as a little sister, I feel that they should all be mine, MINE! Unfortunately, that would not pay this year's tuition for my nephews, so off they go, my dolls, to the galleries, to be discovered, sold, and coveted by others.

I have put her website address here so if you are interested in seeing more of these fabulous dolls, you can go and peruse them, even get your hands on one for yourself, though I will be coveting whatever you might buy, just so you know.

http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5072731