Set Sail!

The Spousal Unit and I have settled into a repetitive pattern of travel, family for the 4th every July up in my Yooper territory, and trips to see our son wherever he happens to be stationed at the moment.  So we decided now that we're approaching that precipice known as "retirement" that we should try a bit of adventure. The reservations are made, money paid for a trip that won't happen until the fall of 2016, but we're committed and excited that I'll finally see the land of my birth as an adult.  Hint:  The Sound of Music was filmed there.

This week has been an exploration in covered jars for me, as I've sought to make one big enough to store cookies.  With arthritis in my fingers, the strength isn't there for great height and the stiff recycled clay I tried to use, but persistence is my middle name (or stubbornness as my husband and son claim) and eventually I managed to get one the right dimensions.  Getting a pot from lump of clay to thrown vessel, to the first bisque firing, to glazing and final firing is a many week process.  To get one pot I have to make a minimum of three and hope one is suitable.  Making oil bottles last week was a process of six and a comic struggle with the wall mounted extruder.  You really need 4 hands to push clay into the holder, pull the extruder handle, and grab the clay emerging so it doesn't twist.  Mine twisted.  See above comment on stubbornness and insisting on doing things in the moment instead of waiting for an assistant.

I think most people have a creative streak, it manifests itself in many forms be it decorating the house, cooking, gardening, knitting, quilting, glass work, woodworking or pottery just to name a few.  Judging by the popularity of Pinterest, an artist lives in the souls of millions of people.  The Spousal Unit is getting his woodworker badge by making a Bean Bag Toss game in double quick time to bring Up North this weekend.  Judging by the photos online one must hold a beer in the hand not tossing a bean bag.  Can he do it in three days?  Will I get the bags sewn, stuffed and completed?

Can I organize breakfast and lunch for at least twelve in an environment with no electricity, running water or refrigeration and pack tent, cots, folding chairs, clothing, food, clothes and gear for a weekend in the woods?  All those years of getting Scouts ready for camping trips, and years of family camping vacations have us organized and ready to load within a few hours.  Are you truly surprised that I have a spreadsheet of supplies needed and merely check them off one by one as I pack?  Stand safely on the sidelines less you be caught up in the whirlwind that is the Ruthless House Dictator!  I'm considering having t-shirts made, just message me should you want to order.

Namaste

P.S. - A lovely woman at the sale a week ago had a sweet young Sheltie with her, and as she bowed and said Namaste to me, her dog went into a lovely perfect yoga pose.  Downward Dog of course.

Summer in Bloom

My son found this particularly hilarious.  

The ClayBuddies who were the gracious hosts this past weekend are made up of a rotating group who participate in a twice a year sale.  This garden event was hosted by Francie, who lives with her art in a lovely bungalow.  She makes fabulous garden art, wind chimes, faerie houses, driftwood hung with colored glass and metal charms, containers for holding things, and small plaques that make you laugh out loud or ponder their universal truths.  Apparently I have the above syndrome, obsession, disorder - but in all honesty I do crave order and tidiness.  And I am fond of putting things in alphabetical order, as they should be.  It was a necessity for working in the book store and library.  

I made a little flower pillow to hold short stemmed blooms

This time of summer is such a joy, daily walks always have something new to reveal.  There were five loons on our lake this morning, gliding and diving quietly without their characteristic calls.  No babies were with them, and I think our lake is not hospitable to their young with the voracious snapping turtles that lurk in the water.  A few brave neighbors paddle board on the water, I prefer a canoe as a buffer.  I've had an irritable snapper attack paddles, and seen large ducks pulled under like a scene from Jaws.

There's a lovely park with paved trails around our chain of lakes for walkers, runners, bikers and parents with children to enjoy the playground or soccer on the grass, or volleyball court.  Sometimes there is music as someone has a celebration at the pavilion, usually it's quite good and enjoyable to hear.

My lovely neighbor's flowering vine

 The park was filled with flowers this morning, night herons with their funny orange feet resting on logs in the water, white egrets, the loons and a blue heron.  My goal is to let go of the fast walking that is my custom and engage in mindfulness.  To for a time, set aside those CDOs that fill my To Do Lists and for an hour, just be in the moment.

Namaste friends

The Good, The Bad and the Fuzzy

The Good - I have a mountain of soaps, balms, shaving mugs, and raku cup candles all set up and ready to pack for the weekend Art in the Garden.  Of course, thunderstorms are predicted for most of Saturday.  Pottery is impervious to water, simply empty it out and go on with life.  We all know what happens when water is added to soap.  Appropriate in the bath or sink, but not exposed to a storm.  I may have to be inside the house, at least for one day.

The Bad - on one of my walking routes there is a home with stunningly ugly "garden art" in their front yard.  It is the Epitome of Tacky.  A water feature which by itself would be quite nice, but the water spurts from the mouth of a plastic hippo (tacky), there is a wishing well (tacky), a large plastic tortoise (tacky) and today I had to stop in my tracks, whip out my phone and capture this Hideous Monstrosity.  They have added a huge nasty rattlesnake.  It is the first time in my life I've been tempted to consider an act of vandalism.  If I am arrested I hope one of my Gentle Readers will come with bail money .  I've never liked snakes, in any shape or location, and after recent events I'm even less toleratant of them as garden decor.


The Fuzzy - Little Mr. Rocky has had a week of stomach upset, perhaps caused by his unwillingness to leave the cat's wet food to the cats.  After multiple episodes of digestive disgrace, one of which soiled the man of the house who was most unhappy about said soiling, the decision was made to put the wet food out of Rocky's reach.  The solution was high altitude dining, most creative in our opinion and well executed by the wood working talents of our son.  The cat tower now boasts seating with a window view, inaccessible to wee dogs with a delicate tummy.

Namaste

Back to Work

You know, when an adult son calls, and the first words out of his mouth are "Mom, don't freak out" - nothing good is going to follow that prelude.  So you all know he was bitten by a rattlesnake, right through his boot into his inner left ankle.  A few days in the ICU, doses of anti venom, and a week of bed rest before being released to go home for two weeks of recuperation before his next assignment.  It was such a weird period of time and left me most unsettled.

So this week I decided it was best to plunge back into soap and pottery making, a garden art show that I was invited to participate in as a guest is this coming weekend, and there were 10 batches of soap that needed to be wrapped and labeled to display their beautiful fragrant selves.  On the very rare occasion, a soap goes funky for one reason or another.  It might develop the dreaded orange spots which indicate that one of the oils was off, or an unsightly blemish like stearic acid spots - which are harmless but do detract from the appearance.  And even less common but still possible is that those white spots might be undissolved lye.  We all know that through the miracle of chemistry and saponification, once the lye water is introduced to the oils and thoroughly brought to trace, put to bed to heat, and left for 4 weeks to cure, that there isn't any active lye left.  It has converted to soap and lovely nourishing glycerine.

So, I was a bit stumped with this lilac soap mystery.  The easiest way to determine if there's any active lye is to simply lick it - if the tongue gets zapped, then yes there is lye! And ouch!  Still it is a mere moment of unpleasantness and nothing that will sear your tongue off or cause permanent damage.  Being the intrepid entrepreneur I took a suspect bar and dutifully scooped out a suspect white spot and put the minuscule dot on my tongue.  Nothing - but I like to be absolutely 100% sure, especially before selling to a litigious public.  So I asked The Spousal Unit to give his opinion.

Him:  You want me to what?
Me:  Just lick the white spot and tell me what happens to your tongue.
Him:  Why on earth would I want to do that?  What's going to happen?
Me:  Probably nothing - just do it.
Him:  No thanks.

I'm sure all the great scientific discoveries of our time also had to run the gamut of reluctant spouses.  Sigh.  Neither of us would have had to resort to licking soap if the pH test strips hadn't gone missing.

So I decided it isn't lye active,  just fugly.  So, into the box where I store the end pieces and others deemed not ready for prime time.  Several times a year I do a massive gifting to friends and relatives who don't seem to mind in the least.  The soaps still accomplish their primary function of cleaning, and the fragrance is still lovely - it just pinches to have to write off a large batch for aesthetic reasons.

The lovely hostess of this coming garden art sale is a vegetarian, and I have the perfect dish to bring for the communal pot luck while we set up.  A lemon vinaigrette is poured over quickly steamed asparagus and halved cherry tomatoes.  Of course, being potters, it is a requirement that one bring the offering in a handmade dish.  Mmmmm.

 Namaste Gentle Readers

P.S.  As a disclaimer I would like to state for the record that I do not lick each and every bar of soap, nor do I ever sell a bar that has been licked.  That would be tacky.  And unhygienic.  And lead to foaming of the mouth and being suspected of rabies.

It's Been 71 Years Today

Today is the anniversary of D-Day - 71 years ago.  My dad was a man of 32 years when the invasion of Normandy took place - a lifetime ago.  As our veterans pass on, I think it's important to consider the type of sacrifices they made, as we pass the baton to another generation and ask them to step up to meet our world's sacrifices.

This was penned by a beloved uncle, my father's last surviving sibling.

D-DAY JUNE 6, 1944
This day has a special meaning to me, my oldest brother, Jim, took part in that invasion. After the war when he came home he told me of his part in it. He was in a special group that left Plymouth the night of June 4th to go to the Omaha Beach before sunrise on June 5th. They were already at sea and ready to land when a British Navy speed boat caught up with them and advised that the Invasion had been postponed until the 6th, they turned around and went back to port but were not permitted to get off the ship. He said the ship stunk from all the vomit and feces from the men that got seasick in that terrible storm on June 4.

The next night, June 5th, they went back out and before dawn on June 6 they launched off the ship and landed in the predawn darkness on the beach. Their job was to defuse the shoe mines attached to the "Dragons Teeth" that were set to blow up our landing craft (LC) when they landed on the beach. The understanding was that the Americans would land at high tide when the Dragons Teeth  would tear open the hull of the LC and the bombs attached would blow up the craft and kill all the passengers. He was a second lieutenant trained in demolitions and land mines and his partner was also a lieutenant. Brother Jim said that they were in the water defusing the mines on the when his partner was blown up from one that was booby trapped.

Lest we forget, the 2000 men who died on Omaha beach

His death  was unfortunate because after dawn the tide went out and the LCI's dropped the men out in the waist-neck deep water, the German dragon teeth were high and dry on the beach and the LCIs were blown up by shell fire from the German positions above the beach.

Jim told me a "funny" story that when they moved inland they heard fire coming from a little farm inland from the beach. When they came to the spot where it was coming from they found a paratrooper with a broken leg leaning against a hay rick. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a submachine gun in the in the other, he would take a swig of wine and the fire off a few rounds to attract attention from the US troops that were coming up from the beach.

In a nod to a previous blog - That's all for Now.  Carry On.