To All of Youz Wishing For a White Christmas...

WELL, AT LEAST YOU GOT THE WHITE!!!

The Christmas part was pretty much canceled around here due to the wondrous blizzard-like conditions-- getting your frozen face sanded off with nice little speckles sharp and fine as salt! (As you can tell, I am all in favor of a green Christmas--green as in grass, not pines.)

It did no good to shovel walks, driveways, or paths on Thursday, Friday, or even Saturday morning (though some did try--more than once--I'm rolling my eyes here--why bother?!). Luckily I'd walked downtown and had gotten the truck back from the shop before the winter storm moved in...and since the city had dozed IN everyone's vehicle with a nice moat of glacial boulders, it was still pretty powdery and you could move the mountain aside if you kept your eyes shut. Once 1 vehicle was out, we chained and pulled out another truck. Mine hasn't been touched yet and it is Sunday, though I might try after I pull on some boots. Later during Christmas Day, I saw the 97 year old neighbor step out with his shovel so I ran out quickly to help--though by the time we got both his doorway stoops cleared, they were already drifting shut again--he's nearly totally deaf--it did no good to tell him it was a useless task, but I was afraid he might have a heart-attack...

My dinosaur cell phone went to hell in a hand-basket too; nice timing for the Christmas Holidays and not even a different charger or different batteries would rejuvenate it--I lost MANY phone numbers that I didn't have written down on paper (my fault). Finally we located Brig's old phone (on vibrate--rrrrrr) wedged between a truck seat, so at least I can call a few people, yippee! But I am keeping a wary eye on email communication also: my laptop is ready to break in half and that would really sever my touches with reality. I mean humanity.

One good thing: I had plenty of time to sew and sew and sew and sew. So the weekend was just so so.

Merry Christmas!

How to turn 15$ into 100$...

Yes, baby! I won a hundred bucks with my homemade Halloween costume--homemade is the BEST kind and the most funnest! I only spent money on the wig and light face paint. The rest was created from some leathery black pants/2 black tops, 22 odd black belts, nuts/bolts, wingnuts, heavy duty black thread, black electrical wire, chains, keyrings, old paint/makeup, foamcore, etc.
I had my picture taken numerous times and only frightened one small child.
See why I can't throw anything away? I KNOW I will always use it later!

Yellow-Bellied!

My Edward (recycled trash costume) Scissorhands outfit left me with several random black-leather belts laying around the house…I was hoping when I got home from work tonight, I would find one still thrown down across the floor—hopefully moving in a stealthy S-shaped pattern! No such luck.

I brought a 3’ blue-racer home last night and it managed to escape from its container. I have no idea where it could be—I suppose I will eventually find it curled up in the back of a closet or inside a boot or (eek!!) a pot or pan. This one had a much deeper colored, buttery belly than the last one I caught in the Flint Hills. Poor thing—my brothers are back this week and we had an exciting time fishing some snakes out of mom’s well and she is absolutely horrified at the thought of any type of wildlife lurking around the watery depths that humans might consume. She’s having the well tested and re-cemented at this time—when my brother passed around beers at supper last night and sneakily placed a glass of water in front of her, she literally shrieked out loud when she saw it, which caused the rest of us to bust up laughing to tears! (She’s terrified of snakes!)

We’ve had a fun weekend, restacking firewood and trimming/moving brush and trees off some land where a pathway winds through a woodsy area. The guys grilled some elk and beef that came from my cool Uncle Darrell’s Hunter Friend (not the one that killed the Clutter family in Holcomb KS). It was all really good— we were starved from the excitement of treble-hooking snakes and bringing them up from the damp depths of hell as mom wringed her hands and screeched from across the yard!

Here is Edward, nearly completed--just have to fix neckline, more buckles, better face-painting, and trim the wig!

Note to Self:

When creating an "Edward Scissorhands" costume, don't scissor your OWN hand with a scissor.
I might also add, don't lock yourself out of the house and try to reach up in the pre-dawn hours (hoisting your body with a bad back) clamboring through your bedroom window via the use of a FOLDING chair.

Trash: Joys and Junkheaps.

All the outbuildings around the Homer Hobbit House are packed with a plethora of abandoned articles. Numerous boxes of old jars and bottles were the first thing to go... I can't imagine why is it was all saved (brewing some homemade alcohol would of been fun!), yet it seems rather sad... Here are some pics of just a few items. But amidst trash are treasures such as these pastel-lined black cups and the collectible metal hedgehogs. Feel free to inform us what the cups are!
And you'd better wear a mask around all the dust.

It Looks Like a Big White Spider Just Crawled on Your Head and Died.

When I came back from downtown after getting 'a few blond streaks to cover the grays', Brigham's disgusted statement caused me to do a double-take in the mirror.
Peas and Rice! I am NOT Marilyn Monroe! I'm not a blonde!

A new person totally crisped the top of my hair with overprocessing and now it's not hardly curly anymore (stomping my foot). Frown. Curls are ruined. Although I rushed right back down to have more brown put back in, it's not 'ME'.

'Me', if I had MY way, should look like this:

Or that lady that sells real estate if she were a brunette:

Speaking of which----If I won a few million, this is the pet I would own:

Rock and Roll Backpack

This really jangles a LOT and LOUDLY when you move, so I recommend wearing it to someplace noisy or people will stare.
Bottom and side of the Heavy Metal Trasht Bag:

Trash Dress

Recycling Kick!
Earlier this summer (June) I found a couple old dresses and 'remade' them for the Country Stampede--in case I needed some type of sundress... The black one was a ladies size 18 tanktop dress, which i cut off the skirt and changed around. Yeah, a FREEBIE and it did look cute on...
But then I got the idea to take one of my son's extra large gray t-shirts (his baggy phase) and cut it up into a dress. I added scraps (Bailey's prom) and odds and ends, then countless shell buttons all over the entire thing. (I love shell buttons--obsessive, like Joan Crawford's 'no wire hangers' thing--yikes!)
I ended up with a scrap crap cool dress-- will take a final pic when I can locate my camera recharger!

CAUTION!

Heh, heh, heh!
A couple years ago I happened to find a nice roll of yellow plastic tape. Since I suffer from OCD and can't toss out junk, naturally I could not leave this laying in the street useless and wasting away; I had to give it a home with the multitudes of other crap that I drag here to make my place appear even more 'white trash' than a Jeff Foxworthy skit.

At 6:30am, 'Cowboy B not D' and I joined forces at Copfriend's house (he's an officer in a nighboring county) and proceeded to stake off his yard with waist-high slats of wood. After we taped off the yard, we moved to the porch and tacked it off more caution strips and with huge yellow X's. The front door was sealed off with an X and a humongous "DO NOT ENTER" "NOTICE OF POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS BIOLOGICAL HAZARD" Etc. sign taped up too. (Thank you FEDEX Kinko's!)
Heh, heh, heh!
I received a phone call from Copfriend in the afternoon--he'd come home and saw all this yellow tape--he immediately wanted to rescue his little dog from inside the house, plus his 85yr old neighbor lady was freaking out and had called the Pott County Hazardous Waste Department wanting soil samples done on the neighborhood--and the police were there. So he tells me.
Yikes! I had some misgivings about the neighbor lady, but I knew his story to me was a false one--because I had already told the police department what I was doing (just in case!) AND even the mailman cooperated by rubberbanding his mail and tossing it onto his porch!
However, one of the cops were there...just to take a picture...and laugh!

Payback will be hell--so I hear!

PING!

Ping. Ping. Ping is a Chinese name and this corresponds with the sound of a dozen or more Chinese guns and pellets that my brother carted over to grandma's this weekend. He had some good ones mixed in too and brought some of his knife creations--when I get those pics, I'll post. Perhaps I'm stretching it here, but we'll say shooting is an art form!
Targets: Paintballs set on golf tees or long darts. (Shhh. and birds. junk birds.)

Trial and Error?

Every once in a while, when I get in the mood to try something 'new', I have a trial go at it. This week I printed out a 6-valued, posterized image and painted right on top of it with every bright, glitzy, and glittery color I could find. Uhhh. Errr. Hmmm. Kitschy Klimt. I'm not sure what to think. I did sell a kitschy painting for $650.00 though... and people seem to like this one!
People actually do this and sell their 'work'. Isn't that cheating? It's just like 'paint-by-number', except the underlying printer's ink bleeds up and discolors everything and not in a good way!
Makes me want to finish an oil painting that I started of Bailey a long time ago...or do the whole thing over only with REAL paint this time....

That's Not a Monkey on My Back....

Well. I've griped about my hip/back pain--3 different doctors, a shot, etc. for months, all to no avail.

But by God, when my back was so scarily tender in a NEW spot on Sunday I implored my son 3 times throughout the day to mark the area EXACTLY with a Sharpie...

"Right here! Right where my finger is touching. Make an X!"
"I didn't feel anything. Mark it!"
"Make an X right here!"

I went to the chiro at 7:30 am Monday morning.
There was no "X".

There was a penis on my back.
A PENIS.
Very funny.

Slumville

Found the pics of my tiny trash buildings. The 'Jail Cell' has real recycled bones and the 'tar' roof is black paint with coffee grounds.
Ed Gein's Tool Shed does not contain anything, but is does have a piece of tanned 'skin' stretched out on its side. You know, in case he wants to make a lampshade.
"Gluttony" is based on one of my fav movies, Se7en--I started gluing down images and words and will someday 'antique' it. (The green word 'Pride' is a sin on another page.)

Sea Circus Card Pieces

Watercolored some bits of tubeworms and coral and coated it with gloss medium...here I'm trying to decide whether to put Bail on the right or the left....hmmm. I'm glad a digital camera and PhotoShop can help me make these excruciatingly tough life decisions. Nate wasn't even really in this pic earlier!

Cobain Circus

Bloogling again,(blog + google searching) I found a really cool 3'D card site and it also had some circus boats--shoulda bookmark't it!
Rats! I lost my Corona and it's after 10 at night and I just tried to go for a jog and Bailey and Nate haven't called in 2 days..... Focus!
I made this trashcrapft this morning but will have to add more glitz.Anyway...here is my Circus Card Creation.

Renovation

Spring Break was an awesome week--spending time with my daughter before she moves; it was fun to hang out here and at their 'barn'.
I also managed to creep around one room of my basement, clearing cobwebs and debris, and sacking up a truckload of mildewy art and assorted costumes and $hit. I was down there thinking, rather bleary-eyed--not from the mold (Bail leaves tomorrow); just thinking of how cleaning wastes one's time when there are millions of other things to do. I threw out some old lace, old boards, metal junk, a broken table...I rearranged some low shelves, boxed up some dishes, swept a shattered black china panther (where did THAT come from?!) and found a tiny mirror. AHA! Enough 'work'--I decided to make....

A METH HOUSE! Yes, a crack house! I couldn't wait to get started on my new project so I threw down the broom and raced outside. I worked for a while, gathering together some supplies and tools and began to carefully contemplate proper procedure of steps.... I even googled "how to make crank" and so far the LAW hasn't shown up yet!

Later, careful not to cut my fingers up on a razor I was using or jab myself with some rusty metal, Bail sat outside on the porch and began working on her own project. Soon Brig and a few friends parked their asses in my truck bed to watch our progress...
"I'm gonna have a crack house!" I announced proudly. (Friend Jesse was still leery of the ratdoll site I'd visited yesterday--"Your moms a freak.") They all rolled their eyes, but seems rather interested in the detail... while Bail said, "Oh, mom-- you make us so proud!" (snicker!)

So here it is, without the future doll, Miz Meth:

Old suitcase, paper-mached/painted...
Rusty nails/screws/hooks/chain/wire...
Metal strips for bent bed legs...
Wire-screen windows...
Rusty woven wire for a cot bottom...
Stained, moldy linen for mattress/pillow...
Torn lace curtains...
Heavy metal 'cd's...

MORE DETAILS TO COME!
(You can see a 'brick' corner of the "Rathaus Hostel" that still sits on the porch from last summer--it stores by odds and ends.)

"Valentine's Day made me think of it..."

(above) a line by Hannibal Lector to Agent Starling...
"I can make you very happy on Valentine's Day..."

I was thinking about Raspail’s car and heads in jars when I was meandering Google today (wouldn’t THAT make a quaint love poem!)…I can smell the old oil, mouse droppings & dust emitting from that neglected mini-storage facility… and the mannequin with its fly open and a book of Valentines….Next Saturday I must work in the a.m., but that’s ok—I’ve never been one to get all fired up over flowers, candy, Valentine’s Day or my birthday—how ironic I was born on a day associated with a ‘saint’, as irreverent about religion as I am. On Wikipedia (hmmmf), one random story says “Saint Valentine upon rejection by his mistress was so heartbroken that he took a knife to his chest and sent her his still-beating heart as a token of his undying love… Hence heart-shaped cards are now sent as tribute for overwhelming passion and suffering…” Ha! How odd that John Q. is on TV at this very moment--a doctor has jabbed his finger into the open chest cavity of a young boy, poking his heart into action. ba-bump. ba-bump. Also strange this 'asian' antique postcard reiterates John Q., proclaiming ‘New Hearts for Old’ –one of the first examples that popped up when I was looking for some on Google. (Postcards, not hearts.) Ah, coincidences abound.

Never one that enjoys red roses (ick—I like pink varieties), I once received a huge bouquet of flowers with ferns & babies breath (from an awesome friend who was pretty much as relationship-wary as me). Soon, mysteriously, all that remained were lonely green stems as bare as the bones on a skeleton’s hand. I was left with mere sticks—my toddler had eaten every single delectable petal and I had to call the Poison Control hotline. Happy Birthday to me.I often receive combo Birthday/V-Day Victorian cards with cute little cherubs, cupids, large-eyed children, vintage floral, lace and beribboned designs and I think they’re all quite lovely… probably quite similar to Clarice’s find on the backseat of Benjamin's old Packard.

Again searching...how peculiar! Behold ‘Cupid the Cook’ Valentine: I find it extremely disturbing... reverberates with cannibalistic recipe terror much like this Silence of the Lambs youtube of the Man himself...

How would you like a nice warm heart with orange blossoms???
[or sauteed brains]

and now I give you your vivid portrait of sociopathic single-mindedness (with which copfriend will say...leave it to B to tie in holiday love & romance with brilliant serial killers):
I know if you click, you'll shudder!!!

Happy Valentine's Day.

Polamalu

Ahhhh. Long hair.

You don't even have to see his face to know he's cute....
but I'll post it anyway......

Ducky's Not a Cat, He's an Ass!

Jesse brought Brigg home Saturday after they’d hauled back his load of wood from the Petersons’—and they happened to see a cat leap onto the sidewalk out of the trailer. Brigg warned me that our cat population may have possibly increased—much to my dismay!

Home alone (usual for my Saturday night), I had just wiped my teary eyes as I flipped the TV channel away from one of Sarah McLachlan’s miserable ‘Arms of an Angel’ Pet commercials—you know, those piteously forlorn animals that invoke immense feelings of guilt as they peer sad-eyed and frightened on the screen… I can’t watch them (never mind that genuine HUMAN children undergo the same deprivation, torture, and neglect—take a look at last week’s prize father that impregnated his poor 13 year old daughter 4 times, killing and burying each baby [except the last] in beer coolers in the yard just over the state line…).

Sadly lacking entertainment I find myself blogging about the loud meows that began right after I’d settled in to watch The DaVinci Code, so I jumped up (oh poor, poor kitty!) and coaxed the scared little thing into my arms and into the house where it promptly released its hugging, fuzzy paws from around my neck and bolted under the couch. I could tell right away it was a ‘Peterson Cat’ because they are about ½ the size of real cats and have somewhat shorter tails—many years of intense barnyard inbreeding—their miniature size is quite delightful and a fluke of nature when you think about it.

Quite proud that I’d caught kitty with little effort—it seemed like it desperately adored me on the porch; I made a quick phone call and soon discovered that this was a beige SATAN. I described its short golden hair, white bib and socks and was asked if its eyes looked reddish-brown. As it peeked at me, I saw indeed, they were a strange color…. “That’s Ducky…and he’s a horrible horrible cat. Mean. Terrible. Tries to rip out eyes. Tears up the other cats. Hoping the coyotes would get him. Ugh. Too bad he didn’t jump into the river. Maybe he’ll run away….”

Oh. This certainly put a new light on the situation as I carefully scooped up the feline psychopath and doubtfully dumped him into the elements. Still feeling chivalrous though, I poured a bowl of food and saw firsthand Ducky fly into a manic rage as Ursula, and then an unknown small black and white cat ventured around the corner (“2 Peterson Cats?” I thought incredulously).
Deranged Ducky swiped and yowled and growled at anything and everything and I had even placed food in 3 different locations around the yard so they didn’t have to share. Ah. Enlightenment. Talk about ‘biting the hand that feeds it’. He’s still showing up this evening and ripping into everything that crosses his path despite his diminutive size. Where does this scene proceed?? It seems he's a little jerk!

Homeless

Once, trying to get an idea for a "Man in a Box" drawing (about the only AliceinChains song that doesn't 'grate' on me), I used pencil (blah) to sketch this failure of an idea. The 'box' isn't right, the composition is horrid, the man's too small--he should be tortorously crammed in there...very unpleasantly. and look forlorn or something.