Making progress

Dad was here Sunday-Thursday to help me. We cut all kinds of old glass from frames I am either recycling or obtained at thrift shop. Old glass is notoriously hard to cut. Dad said he had never done such a nerve-wracking job. I had intended to take some pictures of him working on the glass, but didn’t do it. I was too wrapped up in what we were doing to remember to take pictures. This whole process has been nerve-wracking. I had thought the cedar picture would be a fairly simple process. It fit so well in the old pie safe door that is it’s frame that I had no need to mat it. Just cut the glass, cut the backer board, put spacers on glass to keep separate it from picture, place picture between them and clamp them to back of frame. I should have known better. I was using glass from a frame I had bought at a garage sale sometime ago. I have never had such difficulty cleaning glass in my life. I estimate I spent two hours cleaning it. By the time I put the “picture sandwich” onto the frame, I had had enough. I went upstairs and figured we would be able to quickly finish framing it in the morning. I should have known better. When I awakened the next morning, I realized I had forgotten to sign the photo. Sigh. I undid the sandwich, signed it and put it back together. Dad and I clamped it down. When I turned it over, he said, “The glass has cracked.” I shrieked. We searched for the source that caused the crack and found that the door was warped. We didn't know what to do. Door matched the picture so perfectly. No other alternative was acceptable. After some discussion, Dad said, “Do you have any silicone caulk?“ No. But that gave me an idea. I got my glue gun and filled the spaces with hot silicone glue. Problem solved. We put the sandwich back together. Whew. I should have known better. Dad said, “The picture has a fold in it.” I wanted to cry. After all that trouble, the picture dares to have a crinkle? I Googled the problem, but got no definitive answer. In a similar situation to mine, the person was jokingly advised to iron the photo. What have I got to lose? With my heart in my throat, I turned the iron to the lowest setting, covered the ironing board with a press cloth and the picture with another press cloth. Both these press cloths were more of a screen than a cloth. I put water on my fingertip and dabbed it onto the offending crack, then gently, ever so gently, pressed it. When I turned it over with shaking hands, I found the fold much diminished, but the screen had left a slight imprint. I tried to remove it with the same process, less the bottom press cloth, and got some of it to smooth out. But not all. Dad said, “Let’s just put this back together and hope no one notices the slight imperfection!“ So we did. I put it in bags to protect it and put it on the table with the rest of the finished pictures.

I wondered why God had sent me through this awful process. Then I realized what a valuable experience it had been. I had learned how to correct warping and folded pictures. But I’d rather not go through such an ordeal again.

Signing day

Framing pictures requires many steps, most of which I’ve done over and over. But one is very new to me and I find it hard to remember. Previously, I framed my pictures for display in our house or for gifts to friends and family. I don’t generally sign these; I just note on the back that I had taken it and the occasion for the gift.

Since this batch of pictures is for show and sell, I’m signing them. I feel rather strange each time I put pen to picture, but that action also makes this whole idea of being an artist a bit more real to me.

I’m still pinching myself, though. Sometimes dreams really do come true.

Getting supplies

Patty shows Steve the pictures I will be showing.

Hubby and I went to the Front Range Monday and Tuesday to buy framing supplies for my show. Matboard and foam core and frames! Oh my! I felt rather overwhelmed. We spread out our stuff all over the store’s counter, pretty much taking it over. People walked around the counter looking at the pictures. They paid me numerous compliments. How I wish I would have brought business cards, but I had never thought of that. I was blown away. Stores were having sales on many of the items we needed and we found coupons for others. I had asked for God’s provision and He is granting it.

I check a frame Patty gave me for stray glazier’s points.

I had hoped to avoid cutting mats. I have never cut mats before, but I know it’s not a job to undertake lightly. I hope to cut mine in the high school’s art room. They have a professional-grade cutter. Matting with an Xacto knife does not bring good results. Feb. 27, my deadline for getting these to the art gallery, doesn’t seem far enough away for all the work I have to do. Dad will be here Sunday to help me for a few days. Without my team, I’d be sunk. But, by God’s grace, we’ll get ’er done!

Fork twister

For Christmas, I crafted photo holders from forks. I picked forks out of a large bin of silverware at local antique mall. Every one came from a different place setting.

Every one of them bent differently. Most difficult part was curling the tines in front. I wrapped duct tape around my Vise-Grip’s jaws to avoid scratching, but I still left scratches. I wish I could figure out how to totally eliminate those annoying scratches. Hubby said he likes the tortured silverware projects I’ve been doing, but I shouldn’t start torturing toys. He doesn’t have to worry. I lack an inner Sid the Toy Torturer. Silverware, however, is entirely another story.

January tree

Di at Mamma B’s Attic bemoaned the dreariness of January after the beauty of the Christmas season.

Hubby and I resolved that problem a few years ago. We were tired of a dull, dreary home after our gorgeous Christmas decorations were put away. The bare house was depressing.

Then Hubby brought home a lighted snowman and woman he’d purchased at a post-Christmas sale. We knew what to do in January. January’s dècor is all about snow. Snowmen and snowflakes bedeck the house.

When we began doing this, we transferred any Christmas decoration that was a straight winter theme into the winter boxes. We even decorate our little tree with snow-themed ornaments. Our Christmas village goes onto a coffee table and an end table. I place it on towels my sister-in-love embroidered for me.

Our snow theme and the “January tree” have one large disadvantage: People visiting us for the first time often think we haven’t gotten around to taking down Christmas decorations. Oh well. Maybe we’ll inspire someone else to decorate for January.

Rub-a-dub-dub, I want to grab this tub!

I found a tub like I was looking for in this post. But how I’m going to pull it out of this basement is a mystery.

I want a fountain like this one, which has been shut off to overwinter. It’s an outstanding example of repurposing, which I love to do. Keeping objects away from the landfill makes me feel virtuous.

This is a closer view of the entire fountain piping.

Here are a pair of views of the piping outside the tub.

This pump and tubing recycles the water back through the fountain. I can envision this fountain in my yard. I want it near our lawn chairs so we can listen to that peaceful sound while we’re sitting by our outdoor fireplace. Someday my tub will come…

A rare sight

Usually, my workbench is covered with projects in various stages of completion. But since my show outweighs all other projects, I completely cleaned off my workbench last night. I threw out some projects that I realize I’ll never do and put more things in designated places. Since I am interested in a wide variety of projects, keeping track of all those various pieces is difficult. I may never see this workbench this clean again.

This chest of drawers I saved from destruction years ago looks more like usual, a project in progress sitting on it. This door I’m gluing came off an old pie safe. I have two of them. I intend to frame an old church in one and the steeple from that same church in the other. I can hardly wait for these pictures to show up! Once they do, workbench and chest will return to their usual cluttered state. And I will be in Heaven. Or as close to Heaven as I can get on earth.

I've been framed

Frames, frames everywhere

Frames are stacking up in my basement. I’ve placed my biggest order of pictures ever. Since I have to do this show on the most minimal budget, I’m recycling frames of pictures we no longer use and have purchased quite a few at the thrift store for rock-bottom prices. I will throw away the picture and reuse the frame and whatever glass, mat and backer board come with it.

I have also collected old barn boards and hope to frame photos with them — if they don’t split and splinter. For one picture, a picnic bench, I intend to chop up a broken “early dorm room” couch that’s been clogging up our storage area for years.

I could not do this without help. Donna, Kathy, Marilyn and Martha helped me choose the final pictures and gave me ideas for matching frames with picture and mat. Patty will help me choose the mats once all the prints have arrived. To cut frames, Kathy has loaned me her miter saw and Dad will bring his router. I’ve never touched a router and don’t want to practice on this project. I don’t have time — or the boards — for that.

You’ll be hearing a lot about my progress in the next few weeks. My nose will be firmly to the grindstone. I hope I still have a nose left when I reach Feb. 27, my deadline to take pictures to the gallery.

"No cat is sleeping with me!"

No, I am not the Bearded Lady. I took Boo’s picture with my new webcam on the day after Christmas 2007.

I could not have my cat with me in the months before Hubby and I got married. My parents kept Midnight. When we returned from our honeymoon, we brought Midnight home.

Hubby said that he did not want to sleep with a cat. He thought he was allergic to kitties and didn’t want one in bed with him. I said nothing. Midnight had slept with me ever since the day I got her as a tiny kitten. She wouldn’t agree with Hubby’s idea of the way things ought to be. And I knew very well that she was not going to be kept away from her mistress without stating her opinion.

When we crawled into bed the night we returned from our honeymoon, Hubby shut the bedroom door in Midnight’s face. She was not amused. She started the most pathetic, piercing howl I’d ever heard her emit. And it went on and on and on. I buried my face in my pillow and bit it to keep from laughing.

Hubby mumbled and grumbled about the awful wailing that came from the other side of our bedroom door. Finally, after about 20 minutes of this ghastly noise, he jumped out of bed and said, “That’s it! She can sleep with us; I can’t stand this noise for one more second!”

He threw open the door.

Midnight immediately ceased her horrendous caterwauling and strutted into the bedroom. Her body was stiff as if she were in a full-dress parade. Her tail was straight up in the air and every step was precise and deliberate. ”I showed you!” She jumped onto my side of the bed and made her bed in my pillow. She looked at Hubby with what can only be described as a triumphant glare, as if to say, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing in my bed, but you WILL NOT separate me from my mistress!”

Sadly, we lost our Midnight 10 years ago and Boo came to us.

Hubby again announced that we would have a catless bed. Boo had never slept with me, so he thought he could keep out the new kitty.

Boo also had a different opinion. He sat outside the door making a horrible racket. This time, Hubby didn’t last 20 minutes. After about five minutes, he sighed and opened the door. Boo didn’t act as if he were on parade; he just jumped into bed and curled up between us. He looked positively smug. “I knew no human soft-hearted enough to adopt a stray kitty could resist my caterwauling!”

Does the howling cat always get the bed?

Hay field under moon

I love to look at the moon. It’s beautiful. But usually the sunset outshines moonrise. Not this night. Sunset was beautiful, but there was something about the moon in those clouds over the hay field. To me, it has the feeling of a painting.

I tried it in black and white, but unlike the pictures in yesterday’s post, the color seems to be the better picture. Tell me what you think.

Wheat stubble at sunset

Last night, I went looking for some boards to frame pictures for my upcoming show at the local arts center. I nearly didn’t take my camera, but, at the last second, grabbed it. I’m so glad I did. The light was beautiful. And I got my boards, too.

I have always wondered how I could photograph the beauty of the light playing on fields. I don’t have a wide-angle lens. But last night was so beautiful that I had to try. I felt as if God had painted a beautiful light show just for me and I wanted to capture the beauty.

This morning I started playing with this image in Photoshop. I thought it might be a good black-and-white photo. As I slid around the sliders in the black-and-white adjustment panel, the clouds became more ominous as if a storm were approaching. Our storms usually come from the west or southwest. I was facing east for this picture. Any storm that comes uphill from the east is usually a severe one, so the ominousness fits. Amazing what Photoshop can do.

Midnight the middle hitter

I looked through Marilyn’s previous book Bits of Splashes of Rainbows and Feathers to see if she had stories that should also be told in the one we’re working on, Splashes of Rainbows and Feathers.

In previous book, she said that her son’s kitty Scooter liked to chase images on the TV screen.

Our previous cat Midnight was a very sedate, rather prim cat. Her main source of exercise was to flee to the top of the refrigerator any time I touched the vacuum. I had caught her tail in it once when she was hiding underneath the couch. She wanted to be well clear of that wicked, cat-sucking machine. I lived in a tiny house at this time and the vacuum was stored in the bathroom. Nearly every time I went into the bathroom, I touched the vacuum’s handle. Midnight instantly ran for the fridge top.

My TV was perched on an old two-drawer file cabinet on one end of my battered couch. I propped up my head on the couch arm on the other end to watch my little $35 black-and-white TV.

I was hardly ever home, so the TV was rarely on. When I did watch the tube, Midnight usually sat right on my chest, just below my chin. That night, I was very tired and had only enough energy to flop onto the couch to watch the tube. Nebraska volleyball came on. As we watched the action, Midnight’s tail started twitching. She crept toward the TV. I realized that she was stalking it. She inched her way down toward my feet and the TV screen until she was right in front of it. Every time the ball was set, Midnight swatted at the ball. She had a near-perfect hitting percentage. I couldn’t see the game, but I didn’t care. What was happening live was much funnier than what was on screen.

I wanted to roll off the couch with laughter, but I didn’t dare. If I laughed, I feared I’d break the spell. After a hard day, I needed all the entertainment I could find. I was choking on laughter. When I did expel a laugh, I had suppressed it so hard that it sounded more like a sob. Midnight kept turning to see what was wrong with Mistress. Was Mistress distressed? I smiled at her and she turned back to stalking volleyballs.

Finally, I could suppress the guffaws no longer. I started howling with laughter, rolling onto my side and doubling up. Midnight looked back at me reproachfully. I had disturbed her stalking pattern! At this, I laughed so hard I fell off the couch and started rolling on the floor.

Midnight walked over to me, stuck her nose in my face and mewed loudly, as if to say, “Mistress, how am I supposed to catch anything when you make such a commotion!” I howled even louder and she stalked away in disgust. I could just hear her thoughts: “Humans are SO WEIRD!”

Chili

When buying a used cookbook, I always like to try recipes that are covered with notes on well-used pages. Those are tested and proven recipes. Such is my chili recipe.

Hubby is the chef in this household. But he won’t make two dishes: chili and beef stew. Those dishes are my specialties, or so he says.

Original recipe came from my old standby, Kitchen-Klatter Cookbook, but my recipe adds quite a few ingredients. Perfecting this recipe has required years of tinkering, so I hope you enjoy it. This is not a fire-alarm chili, but it is very thick.

Chili

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Ingredients:
2 lbs. lean ground beef
1 medium white onion, chopped fine
1 Bell pepper, chopped fine
2 t. salt
1 t. paprika
1 t. chili powder
2 bay leaves
1 t. turmeric
2 cloves garlic
6 stalks celery
1 small can tomato paste
1 qt. canned tomatoes
2 15 oz. cans chili beans (we prefer Kuner’s)
½ C. fresh mushrooms, thinly sliced
1 C. shredded cheese

Method:
Sauté meat, onion and pepper until vegetables are cooked. Add spices while meat finishes browning. When meat is cooked through, add the remaining ingredients. Stir together. Let simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally, then refrigerate overnight for best flavor. If necessary, add water while reheating for desired consistency. Serve with cornbread.

I'm not Lisa

Albert Speer

Both as a student and now as a teacher, I’ve seen many group projects assigned. But I’d never heard of taking tests together until just recently. My friend Cali has to take tests with a partner. She’s a diligent student; others in her class aren’t so diligent. It’s not fair to couple her grade with someone who hasn’t done the work she has done.

But my daddy always told me that life isn’t fair.

When I was assigned a group project, I usually figured much of the work would fall on me. Whenever I had a project to do, whether alone or in a group, I always intended to outshine anyone else’s project, no matter how hard I had to work. My friends in our major always tried to work together. Together we outshone any competition. We could trust each other to jointly carry the load.

In one class, we had to reenact the Nuremberg Trials that convicted top Nazis after World War II. Knowing well that no other combination could compete with Eric, George, Kelly and Roxie on the same team, he split us.

Kelly and I were assigned to defend Albert Speer, Hitler’s architect and later munitions minister. Prof named me Chief Defense Counsel. Kelly was Chief of Staff. Three other girls were assigned to our team. One played the defendant and the other two were to be co-counsels. One was named Lisa. The third girl was her best friend.

Fortunately for us, George and Eric were assigned to separate teams on a different case.

I was familiar with Speer’s actions during the war. The evidence of war crimes was so massive and indisputable that we seemed to have no choice but to admit these things had happened. I knew that our only hope of avoiding the death sentence was to pin the blame for the concentration camps and slave labor on Speer’s underling, Fritz Sauckel, the head of Nazi Germany’s “Labor Deployment Program”; and on the heads of German industry, such as major armaments manufacturer Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach. I carefully explained this strategy to my team. They all said they understood.

I pored over every book I could find on the topic, including Speer’s memoirs, and I carefully examined all Speer’s and Sauckel’s trial transcripts and supporting documents.

As I was required to do, I assigned various aspects of the case to my team members. Lisa and friend were assigned to research conditions at the Krupp factory. I had already read William Manchester’s The Arms of Krupp and knew how appalling those conditions were. I told Lisa and friend to research Krupp and even gave her my annotated book.

Our night class met once a week. Two weeks later, Lisa returned with a paper I would have been ashamed of. It was full of typos, grammatical and syntax errors. But, worst of all, it was not at all what I wanted. She said conditions at Krupp were wonderful. They even had maid service. Yeah, right. I asked if she had even opened my book. She admitted that she had not done so. I asked if she had understood our strategy. She told me accurately what it was. “Then why did you write this?” She had no answer for that. I told her to rewrite it using proper English. She was not pleased, but I didn’t care.

The night of our presentation, Kelly, “Albert” and I were sitting in a lounge area outside our classroom doing last-minute preparation when Lisa and friend appeared. “We’re not going to participate tonight,” Friend said. Lisa nodded.

The three of us were livid, but had no choice but to go on with the show.

We were well enough prepared that the opposition could not answer some of our points. They hadn’t heard of some of the information we had.

Speer went to jail for 30 years, 20 more than his actual sentence, but I felt we’d pulled out a great victory.

Eighty percent of our grade came from this presentation and I was not about to let Lisa and her friend piggyback on our success. I told the prof the sad story and let him decide.

The rest of our team aced the class. I don’t know what the prof gave them, but at least we had received what we had earned.

After that, I always tried to pick my own team. The life lesson here: Work with those you can trust.

Lighting the night

But, much as I enjoy the neighbors’ lights, I enjoy this house even more. I love that star on their chimney and all those decked-out trees.

I’m just grateful I don’t have to go to all that work. But these lights pale compared to some people’s light shows. Most of us don’t have the cash to pay for thousands of lights and the sound/sequencing equipment necessary to do Griswold lights bumped up numerous notches. So we just enjoy looking at them on YouTube:

Our neighbors’ Christmas lights put ours in the shade. I so enjoy looking out the window at theirs, especially since we won’t have to pay the light bill. Neighbors decorate for most holidays, but they pull out the stops for Christmas.