Endeavor's Flight Home....

Among the many shiny things of this world that I love, airplanes are my favorites.  I love to fly, of course, but more than that, I am fascinated with the science of flight and the giant machines that make it possible for me to sit in a "speeding chair" at 30,000 feet.  I love airplanes...Jets...Rockets..all of them. And I can't even imagine being a pilot, having all that power at your fingertips.

So naturally when NASA announced that the Space Shuttle Endeavor would make it's final flight to a museum in Los Angeles via a fly-by over Sacramento, I am NOT going to miss it.

It's a historical moment, and not one I will ever see in my lifetime again, so we hop in the pickup and drive to the West Sacramento Ikea parking lot, set up our lookout spot and wait.

Now that's not something you see every day. WOW!



Simply amazing...nuf said.

 

Laurel.  "honey, you're drooling.."

The Dance...

 

Magpie Tales

 

Mag 135

Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali

 

Whirling, swirling,

lost in a sea of dance;

he wooed

she cooed

the dance of lovers

engulfed in a stare down

of one upsmanship;

Her dress flew off

he ditched his shoes

his tango dip

engulfed in pain

as he caught her mid flight;

his siren, his muse

her captive, her prey

but for tonight

just dance...

 



Laurel.  Does this outfit make my butt look big?

 

Too busy to write??

In case you're thinking I've lost my writing mojo, you would be partially right.  While I haven't been inspired to blog for the last few weeks, the "rest of the story" is that I've been busy. And it's Fall, and all I really want to do is walk in the country, smell the dead leaves and earth, go to the pumpkin patch...

But I'm busy. My brain is consumed these days by dressmaking...

I am making the mother of the groom's ensemble...I had to bring back the fine art of basting for this fabric: the sheerest silk organza...butter soft...slippery as *(!&^#%!

Rolled hems by hand...another lost art.

I must admit that the task has been daunting...but you know I am a Project Runway fanatic, and when I watch those would be designers with their sloppy sewing skills (the Russian guy says "I AM NOT A SEAMSTRESS...I AM A DESIGNER!!) I just keep repeating to myself as the fabric slides around on my machine "I AM Project Runway!"

And I have been my usual Fall "social" self...more lunches and dinners...spent an entire day with girlfriends celebrating her birthday. We started with brunch in the country...

And then there's boating, of course...there's nothing like an evening on the lake, putting around with "Mini Kota", the electric trolling motor...so quiet...so peaceful

And watching this giant weed grow in my garden...WHAT IS THIS THING????

And wishing I was back here on a vacation...

Alas, alas. Someday.

 

 Laurel. I can be all things to all people...Yea, right.

 

Sharing on This or That Thursday, Rural Journal

Black Tie...

Magpie Tales

Mag #132

It hung at the back of his closet behind the polyester body shirt and bell bottoms.  He hadn't thought about it for years, this remnant from his former self.  He loved his jeans with the "skosh more room" and his Carhart tee's, symbols of the man's man he'd become in years.

"It's Black Tie", she ventured softly. He thought he saw her wince.

She could see his chest heave quietly. And though he remained silent, she could sense that he did not hold the same enthusiasm for a champagne and swirling around the room in a chiffon ball gown night. She pouted for a moment and he relented.

The dust engulfed his head as the black "straight jacket" escaped from it's plastic coffin.

"Was I twelve when I last worn this thing?" he muttered to himself.

He caught a sideways glance of his stomach in the mirror as he slipped on the jacket. He thought he heard the telltale snap of some ancient thread, but he pressed on. Gazing at the starched white ruffles and the noose like black tie on the bed, he again gave a heavy sigh.

"I'm gonna need some Jack before I try that."

Join me at Magpie Tales Today!

Laurel. Love Black Tie.  He doesn't.

Head, Heart, Hands, Health

I was reading the recent issue Cowboys and Indians and came across an article about 4-H.  At the very moment I saw the young girl with her green felt hat, the words ran through my mind:

 I pledge
My head to clear thinking
My heart to greater loyalty
My hands to larger service
My health to better living
For my club, my community, and my country...

 

When you recite a pledge once a month for over 7 years, you tend to remember it well into your 60's. Today, the pledge has been revised somewhat to include the "world", as it is a more diverse organization with a wider reach.

 

In the rural foothills where I grew up, neighbors were miles away, we rode a bus to a three room school house and every boy and girl joined the local 4-H club.  The boys usually raised a sheep or steer, learned about electricity and other manly stuff, and the girls gravitated to the more homey endeavors.

 

I learned to sew in 4-H.  My Mom was  the sewing leader and under her direction, me and my friends learned how to make the trademark 4-H sailor collar and an apron in our first year.

 

I learned how to speak in front of people in 4-H.  Members were required to give demonstrations at least once a year in front of the entire club.  Nerve racking as it was, it gave us all our first taste of public speaking.

 

I learned about serving in 4-H, but most of all, I had fun. The opportunities to meet other kids even outside our own club were endless. I think I had my first crush on a boy from a club some 40 miles away...I only got to see him around the camp fire at the annual regional camp in the mountains.

 

I learned the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat in the competitive exhibitions at the county fair.  Blue ribbons were coveted, and I can only remember getting a couple...mine were reds and even some whites. I was not the seamstress that I am today, but by high school I was making many of my own clothes. That experience led to the designing and making of wedding gowns, selling hippie dresses in Berkeley, sewing the dozens of prom dresses for my daughter and evening dresses, suits, and every form of clothing for myself today.

 

My daughter-in-law recently told me that my granddaughter expressed an interest in learning to sew. I was 10 when I first joined 4-H and she has a year to go.  But it made me wonder if I shouldn't perhaps share my craft with a small group of young girls...perhaps even get involved in the 4-H program...yes, they even have clubs here in suburbia!

Woudn't Collette be proud?

 

Laurel.  Still sewing after all these years.

 

Sharing with

Think I'll "Labor" today...

Happy Labor Day, friends! Dave's gone fishing today with a friend and I am hoping for a nice land-lock salmon dinner tonight! But in case he strikes out, I'm thinking we'll be doing leftovers.  After all, it's Labor day (holidays are still special even when you're retired:) and I don't feel much like cooking.  Besides, tonight around dinner time is THE fantasy football draft...so my chief BBQ er will be tied to this computer to pick out his winning team.

In the meantime, check out what I've been doing this morning...

We picked all the figs off the tree yesterday , threw the split ones out and I still had enough to make three jars of freezer jam and give some to my neighbor.  I use this jam to make my fig, onion and goat cheese tarts.  It's a great appetizer with a glass of wine.

And I worked on a new knitting project for the Fall.  The yarn is a rust colored chunky wool and will be  poncho to wear with my jeans as the days get cooler.  I am ready to start on the "lace" pattern that flows along the bottom half of the poncho.

Yesterday I was up at my Mom's for Sunday dinner (fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans with bacon and onions --YUM) and she showed me some parsley that she had dried in the OVEN!! It retained it's green color and smelled delightful.  Thought I would try drying some of my fresh oregano this morning....so far, it's not looking too good...think I had the oven too hot.  We'll see.

Happy Labor Day everyone..."what chu workin' on??"

 

Sharing with Creative Monday

 

 

Laurel. I don't have to go to work tomorrow.  Tee Hee.

"Fantasy" football?



 

Dream on, little Cowboy, of a better team and a better America...

 

 

Dave, in Cowboy Stadium.

America's team?

Of this I'm sure

we'll probably lose

another year.

 

With Jerry and Barrack

we're drowning fast

we need new leaders

let's change the cast

 

We can't oust Jones

He owns the team
But we can change
our country's dream

Perhaps a Tebow

on some sacred grass

Will change our future

  and we'll kick ***!
 

 Laurel.  And So it Begins...Cowboy Football and Presidential Elections.



"I am NOT a Type A"

...this I have vehemently denied from the first time I ever read about personality types. Type A people are intense, over analytical, obsessed with busyness, obsessed with everything and probably weird.  We always point to "those" people and mutter behind our palms "she's SO Type A!"

Myself, I am not a Type A, but rather an overachieving artist, I'd like to think.  That is, unless you look closely at the things that I have a penchant for tackling. What idiot would agree to making a soccer banner, creating a bride's necklace and designing the groom's mom's wedding attire? Hmmm...sounds like a duck, acts like a duck....

Here's the deal...the real problem is that these creative opportunities come in cycles. By cycles, I mean all at once. Before I know it, I'm in over my head, even though I am ever confident of my capabilities.  And, I want to do them all! If it weren't for the other projects that seem to beckon me, whispering softly "here Laurel, work on me this morning" I would be fine.

For instance...that beautiful, maddening lace scarf that I mentioned a few posts ago? I finished it.  I was obsessed with working on it when I should have been working on the bride's necklace.

Done. (Check that one off the list).  Wait, it wasn't on the list...

Type A? Heaven's no! Challenging yourself is important.  I get impatient (that's not a Type A trait, is it?) with people who claim they can't do this or they can't do that, and I just ask "Have ever tried?  Challenge yourself...you might be surprised!"

When the Coach asks for a soccer banner and the Coach is your favorite daughter-in-law, what can you say? So let's go for the most elaborate design you can find, Laurel...it's your normal M.O. Forgot to take a picture but it looks something like this image...The letters were murder...thank God my daughter helped with this one.  Done in time for team pictures!!

 



I also finished the bride's necklace and earrings this week, but I can't show you the whole thing (Bride's like to keep these things under wraps. The pearls are exquisite.

In case you're wondering, I haven't touched the art quilt for a couple of weeks, but at least I have started on the free motion quilting...I had to put it aside while I worked on the banner.  And Colette is waiting rather impatiently for attention as well. Come to think of it, I believe that she is definitely Type A - why else would she be in my face all the time???

 

Laurel. I heard that! I am NOT weird.

 

Born to run...

I never did any competitive sports in school, other than a few recreational softball games and tennis matches.  Even those were connected with my P.E. class.  In other words, I was never on a team competing with other schools for a medal, letter or trophy.  Consequently, I really have never personally known "the thrill of victory" or the "agony of defeat" from any sports perspective.  As I watched the Olympics this year, the media focused in on parents who watched their progeny either win or lose. I could feel their elation and their disappointment as the years of training and sacrifice was culminated in a split second or a single goal.

Team sports are great. You have the entire group to rely on, and if each person does her best, the team may share the victory together. To me, the hardest fought victories are those of the individual contestants - those who compete alone and have no one to blame but themselves should they fail.  And if they win, the victory is theirs alone.

Running has to be lonely sport...and though I have never run a race, I can at least appreciate the agony and/or ecstasy of coming across the finish line.  It takes courage to run by yourself - it's hard on your knees, feet and shins.  You have to love it. Some runners struggle their whole lives just to run a grueling marathon and say they finished. But some, like Eric Lidell, the devout Christian runner who won the 400 meter race in the 1924 Olympics, are born to run.

My beautiful granddaughter may never win a gold medal, or ever compete on the national or world stage, but she is a natural runner. Though it takes everything she's got to mentally gather herself before a race, she runs anyway.

 

 

 

She is courageous. She is fierce...it's how I want all my granddaughters to be...unafraid to try.

Laurel.  I can't run...can't jump either.

Is it "FGF" or just Fall?

Though my Mom lives in the city limits of a small town, her heart remains in the country where I grew up.  Some 87 years young, she still "farms" her small backyard.  A haven for birds, butterflies and all manner of plants and flowers, her garden reflects an amazing green thumb that unfortunately must have skipped a generation.

Either it's just the nature of the Fall season, or I am having FGF...Farm Girl Failure. Granted, I'm not much into gardening, but I want all the trappings of the country at my city hacienda. It's starts off so lush and green in the early summer, with tomato blossoms promising luscious fruit and strawberry vines flourishing in the morning sun.  But by this time of year, the heat seems to have gotten the best of things and I am thinking I'm a pretty crappy gardener.

 A case in point...Why are my figs splitting???????????  I've been waiting to make a fig and goat cheese tart for months and now all I have is fig grenades that have already exploded.

 

If I pick them before they explode, I guess they are edible...but they aren't as sweet and juicy.

 



And what the heck is this? Looks like something from The Little Shop of Horrors".  I have already chopped it down once and it keeps coming back. It's HUGE. "Feed me, Seymour..."

I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself.  The tomatoes have been wonderful and I have enough basil to have Caprese salad every night.  You can not beat a fresh garden tomato.

 

And who doesn't love a late summer rose, picked early in the morning?

 

FGF not withstanding, I guess it only matters that you try...

 

Even though it's Friday, I'm sharing today on Rural Thursdays and Floral Fridays.

 

 

Laurel. Coveting a nice garden. Or a gardener...