Comments Encouraged Here ... So I Know I'm Not Talking To Myself!

AH! It's a lonely world out here in blogger land sometimes. Thank you, Candace, for your comments. I appreciate knowing you're there. I know others read too - they tell me when they see me, so thanks to them, too.
Today the Mister and I went to Art in the Pearl in the North Park Blocks of Portland. He wanted to drive in, although I thought it would be hard to find a place to park. He found a spot one block away from all the action. Why do I even doubt him? He always finds a parking spot. He was born under the right stars, I guess.
Immediately I was down on my hands and knees - not in praise of the Mister, but to take a picture of this horsey tied up to the curb (or kerb, if you are from Across the Pond). It's a Portland thing. I think the horses are in a few places throughout town. And I ruined my pedicure, scraping my toenails on the pavement - but, oh well. We'll sacrifice all for the sake of art, won't we?
We took off to see the art and right away came upon my hero, Judy Wise, at her booth. I was not taking photos of the artists and their work, as it makes me feel a little like I am stealing. Judy's sweet husband, John, was sitting with her and keeping her company. It was good to meet the elegant country farmer and shake hands. Maybe some "green thumb" rubbed off on me - I hope. Judy's booth was full of her wonderful encaustics. They were great fun to see up close. I just wanted to touch them all - they looked like candy!
I also saw an artist named Amanda Blake (with a precious child on her lap) who I had just today found on someone else's blog. Maybe Candace's. And Diane Culhane, who is absolutely tremendous. I wanted one of her paintings, but did I mention the Mister was with me? It's hard to buy things with men around. (Well, for me anyway.)
One disappointment at this year's gathering was no Sara's Tamales. She comes up from Eugene each year and the tamales are sooooo good. But never fear. We had pad Thai noodles and chicken sate.
It was fun to be in the big town again. So much to see and the Mister was a good pal to go with me. He doesn't care much for the city life.
Ben and Jerry's shop was offering two-for-one coupons so we did walk up to 10th and I had a Cherry Garcia sugar cone and took a photo of a woman's ponytail holder. (I love dragonflies.) She was very accommodating to a stranger's request to take a picture of the back of her head.
All too soon it was goodbye to Portland. Later, baby! (I stuck the camera up through the sun roof of the car and shot this as we drove off. Turned out pretty good, huh?)
At home once more, with a slight hint of depression at the thought of getting back in the grind (this has been happening too much - the depression, I mean, and I'm sorry to be blurting my brains out, but just feeling a bit "lumpish") so I'm thinking I must get out and do more some fun things and increase my "art medication."
I am running on aren't I? Don't worry. Almost through.
Here is a page from my journal. Shows my interpretation of today's news about Gustav. Hope Candace and Southern Girl are OK.
Also, the article in the Sunday Oregonian had an article about Africa Trek - the honeymoon journey by Alexandre & Sonia Poussin. I hope our Public Television station in Portland shows it!
And tonight I baked zucchini bread - two pans of it for an artist reception on Wednesday. I am vindicated. It rose just fine with great texture. So much for my failure at the biscuits in an earlier blog. I guess I can still bake - and I know I can still eat. Hope all is well out there - femminismo

Historic Moments and Just Plain Fun.

ANOTHER historic moment in U.S. history, made while you were here. We have certainly seen our share in the last 50 years. Some of it horrific and some of it inspiring. Proud to see another woman selected as vice president. Can a "Madam President" be far away? Perhaps one day. Maybe my granddaughter!
It's been a day of off and on weather here in Oregon. There is talk by the Mister of having a fire in the fireplace. Maybe this evening. Yesterday we worked in the yard and then both did our own things. Here is one thing we did together. We did some swing dancing when I went to the garage to ask him a question. He had the radio on really, really, really loud. KMHD; the good stuff. The music was infectious. We did pretty darn good. It felt like we could dance up the walls of the garage like Gene Kelly.
Since I was dancing a jitterbug, I could not also take a picture. Here's the next best thing: My recollection in a drawing in my journal.
I simply must tell you, also, that every time I think it's too much of an indulgence to subscribe to The New Yorker, one comes in the mail and I'm blown away. I started reading this story - by Janet Frame, the New Zealand writer - and could not stop. The story, "Gorse is Not People," was found among her papers after her death in 2004. Find it at your library, buy your own copy, visit the doctor's waiting room - but not because you need to.

Just read the magazine and this magnificent story. (Jane Campion based her film "An Angel at My Table" on Frame's autobiographies.) Now I want to read more of her work. (Found The NewYorker link to Frame's story.)
The photograph by Michal Chelbin, "The Chapels, Untitled 01," (2002-03) certainly didn't hurt. It made me pause in the magazine and begin reading the story. I always wonder how these marvelous hook-ups between illustration and story happen. Was the photo commissioned? Did the magazine editors just google "dwarves"? Not for me to know, I guess, but it was a magnificent choice.
We went to see (finally) "The Dark Knight" last night. A very long movie. Very dark. Some have said great. I say too long. The Mister fell asleep once. I must wonder if Rachel is really dead???? Won't Maggie Gyllenhaal get the chance to reunite with Master Wayne?
Now onto what I have to do today, besides

contribute something to the blog world. I have a "dead" bottle of gesso and another of matte gel medium. So it's off to the craft store for me. And someone in our house absolutely needs to go grocery shopping. It cannot be put off any longer.
I'll let you talk amongst yourselves while I go off to find some of these very necessary supplies.
The blogger, "Urbandon," got my curiosity piqued by scanning slides. Didn't work for me but I hope to learn more about it - femminismo

Nuff said.

HERE'S the latest journal page and enuff said for now.
Jacquelyn Bond, Portland, said it all in one picture - femminismo

Remember Me.

MY COUSIN, John, in Canada e-mailed me this morning. It was good to hear from him. He told me he had recently been inspired to write a poem entitled "Remember Me." There is no way he could have known that I had found the picture you see here only a few days before. This is my Uncle Frank holding John, who's at the left. The other boy is my cousin, Sammy (it looks like he's keeping one eyes out for Santa).

My Uncle Frank, was the neatest guy I ever knew - next to my own father, of course.

John's birthday is today, so "Happy Birthday," dear cousin!

REMEMBER ME

Whisper my name.

Say it soft and clear.

Remember me.

For I am still here.

Touch my hand.

Feel my firm grasp.

Remember me.

And my memory will last.

Embrace my heart.

Feel its warmth and beat.

Remember me.

‘Til next we meet.

Keep me in your thoughts.

As you go through your day.

Remember me.

I am here to stay.

Isn't that a great poem? I think we sometimes all feel those we have loved near us, watching over us, encouraging us, reminding us that in everything we do, everything we think, everything we hold dear, there's a little bit of them still with us

Thank you, John, for sending this and reminding me that wherever I go and whenever I might feel lonesome, I have only to remember all of the wonderful people I have been lucky enough to know - femminismo

Coco Goes to Auntie JoAnn's.

SOME of you may remember Coco, my extraordinary dog. The dog who has traveled to Paris, Italy and Las Vegas and yet still remains down to earth and "real."
He also functions as an intermediary for me when the world gets a bit much and he is a lot of fun any place you take him.
He had a bit of a bad day a while back and Auntie JoAnn decided to take him home with her for an overnight visit. It's not every Mama who gets documentation that her offspring was on their best behavior.
Actually, JoAnn's camera caught Coco up to one no good trick: getting in the cat food! Shame, Coco, shame!
It looks like he had a good time however (getting a special manicure!), and that's what the trip was for. You see, the Mister doesn't care for Coco in quite the same way I do. If you search this blog you'll come upon another entry on Coco. So the two of them had words when he found Coco in the house and ordered him to go outside in the garage where he belonged. (As if this precious dog belonged in a dirty old garage?!) Oh, well. There's just no accounting for some people's taste, is there?
Or some cat's? I'm not sure if Chandler, Auntie JoAnn's cat, is actually pleased with their overnight visitor. Hmm. I guess things went OK, though. I didn't hear about any bad feelings ... on Coco's part, anyway.

At the end of the day my little dog read up on artful blogging. Now how will I keep up with him? Well, what do you know. Blogging is no longer underlined as a misspelled word! Isn't technology wonderful! (Most times.) I downloaded the latest upgrade from FireFox. Perhaps that's it, or maybe spell check just isn't working.

Oh, well. Enjoy the photos and thank you again, Auntie JoAnn!
Hope all is well. Now I must e-mail SouthernGirl so she can send me a postcard from Georgia - femminismo

Webbed Feet And All.

HELLO. It's me; webbed feet, shriveled fingers and all. We had our picnic and concert at the Portland Zoo Sunday night and believe you me, it didn't just sprinkle. It rained! We sat on our wet sand chairs - and that's an unexpected shock to the tush, even when you see it coming! We listened to good music under dripping umbrellas. We stood inside the red lines to keep the fire lanes open and the people in black rubber coats with white letters spelling S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y happy. Shawn Mullins (blurry photo; sorry) was good, we appreciated his guitar work, and when he finished ("House of the Rising Sun," last song) we tore into our picnic dinner. We ate our sandwiches as fast as we could before the bread got soaked. (Portland: average August precipitation - 1.1 inches) We tried to keep our brave faces on, but we agreed that we'd listen to one song by the Avett Brothers and then we'd scoot. Or, at least that's what three-fourths of our group agreed to. Note to self: Always make sure everyone's in agreement on "The Plan."
As soon as the Brothers took the stage three things happened: It got real crowded where we were down in front, it suddenly got darker and three of us got separated from the fourth person in our group.
Then there were only two of us - me and the Mister. Holding a small cooler and two umbrellas. In the dark. In the rain. We had come on the light rail train and didn't know where our friends had parked the car that would take us home.
Did I mention it was raining? Did I mention we were getting cold?
Voila! The trusty cell phone. We called both friends we'd lost in the crowd, the rain and the dark. All we got was the mechanical mistress of the cell phone: "Your call has been forwarded to an automatic ... etc."

No. We weren't having fun. We walked up the hill to the zoo's entry and tried our friends again. Finally we got a call back. The car arrived to pick us up but there was still one member unaccounted for. So we sat in the car listening to the radio and talking about this and that. After the concert was over our friend appeared. He thought we had all been grooving out to the music. He didn't have his cell phone on him so no wonder he didn't get our calls. But we had all learned a valuable lesson about communication. And outdoor concerts. Or anyway, I think so.
My last picture is what I'm doing tonight in my dry, cozy little house. Is there anything more fun that getting together scissors, paint and crayons? Don't think so - femminismo

Picnic Weather - Maybe!

YES, we're going to the Portland Zoo tonight: a concert to see the Avett Brothers and Shawn Mullins. The photograph shows the sky above that has been sprinkling for a while now. Not enough to soak the grass here, but don't know about the zoo. That's where we'll be sitting on the grass. Well, in our sand chairs that friends are bringing, since they will be driving a car and we are going to take our vaunted MAX train to the zoo and carry our dinner with us. You can not bring bottled drinks - even water - into the zoo, since they have their own concessions.
However, I made potato salad. Yes, be afraid - very afraid! I'm cooking again. So far the ingredients I've put in have been the ones I thought they were. I took olive oil and added two fresh-crushed cloves of garlic and then two tablespoons of mayo (real thing; none of the "light" stuff) and poured that over hot, cooked cubed red potatoes. It - smelled - so - good! (Yes, I licked the spoon.)

I decided to make sandwiches, too. Tuna, chopped black olives, chopped tomatoes (crossed my fingers that they're free of toxic disease causing bacteria), capers, Mrs. Dash's lemon pepper, and then more mayo and fat free sour cream with curry powder and squeeze of lemon. I thought about adding some Gorgonzola cheese, but what are your thoughts on an unopened package of cheese that says "use by March 5, 2008." Should I go ahead and use it? I ate a bit of it and it doesn't taste bad or look any worse than when I bought it. (It is supposed to have greenish-blue veins running through it, isn't it?)

I think I'll make peanut butter sandwiches for any wienies who can't handle tuna.
Before fixing our dinner/picnic I spent most of the day in the sunroom cleaning up. Outside the sunroom is this huge angel wing plant (begonia cousin). A friend gave me one stalk of a plant to try and it has absolutely loved our house. It likes summer even better when it can go outside and roam free.
Well, I wish you good weather if you have an outdoor dinner planned tonight - femminismo

Steak Dinner Around the Campfire.

TONIGHT the Mister and I drove up to the property for dinner. August is getting on and the days have been getting shorter since June 22. The sun hadn't set by 6:30 p.m., when we drove down the road, but the tall trees made it pretty shady. It was much darker down along the creek and our recent rains had dampened up the ground quite a bit.
We had planned to go camping tomorrow, spend the night and come home Sunday afternoon. Now there is rain in the forecast for Sunday. Will we wake up in camp to showers? Sheesh! It's August for crying out loud!
Anyway, we started a fire, got good coals going and cooked a couple of steaks with big slices of Walla Walla onions on top. Very, very good. Also had a green salad. Since we weren't staying overnight I packed real dishes, forks and steak knives. It was dark by the time we ate and the stars had come out. The campfire felt very good.
Now we are back home (sleepy but blogging) and still planning to get things together so we can go up camping tomorrow. The Mister has set up a table there again so I can do some altered book painting and journaling. I wrote in my book tonight as I sat around the campfire waiting for dinner.
He has also fixed up an older model Honda Aero motorbike (small engine; I forget how many cc's) that he's going to teach me to ride. By myself. Just me. Me turning the throttle and grabbing at the brakes on the handles. I think we should take a first aid kit with us tomorrow ... just in case. Better safe than sorry - and all those other overused idioms, too. Like, there's no fool like an old fool? Yeah, like that one - femminismo
p.s. I have an August 15th moon to show you. (I changed the size of the photo: This is per the agreements of my new upfront honesty policy.)

Ladies, Ladies, Ladies!

I DO FIND drawing ladies to be relaxing. These two appeared from blobs of red, blue and white paint smooshed together between two pages of the book I am altering. The paint sat there and like clouds in the sky the shapes revealed themselves.
The one lady, I do believe, is pregnant ... in about her fifth month. Or whatever trimester. Pregnancy in my day was measured in months; nowadays everything is much more technical and 3-D ultrasounds can almost show the dimples in the babies' butts.
As usual, you can see the detailed journal entries of my days: "heat wave breaks," "vino with dinner." (Yawn. Pardon me; I bore myself!) But the one large word, "frustration," is what I was feeling that day. That's how I feel when I do things like cook, clean house, watch television. I'm not doing what I really love to do ... and that is messing around with paint, stamps and other goopy things that ruin my clothes and stain my fingers.
In my real life job, I heavily edit funeral home and family-written obituaries for a twice-weekly newspaper. Sometimes the family sends a photo of an elderly relative in their younger days. I love these. I don't know what kind of fine or time in jail I could get (maybe just fired) by using these photos. Please don't tell anyone. But I had to save this young woman. She lived a good long life, but I'd like to immortalize her here and in my altered journal. I'll name her "Rose." I put several coats of matte gel over her Xeroxed photo and then dunked her in water and rubbed off the paper. I happened to find the music to "Simple Gifts."
'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free - it seemed to suit Rose the best and I glued it on the page first and then fixed her picture over it. Because of the matte gel and rubbing off the paper backing, you can see the words through her face.
Better get to doing something else. Thanks for stopping by. Sorry I'm so wordy - femminismo

I Thought It Felt Funny (like odd funny) ...

EVERY good story starts somewhere. Mine started with a colleague requesting my favorite biscuit recipe. He had decided to conquer biscuit making but the recipe he had turned out a doughy product.
His mother had said she would leave him with a good recipe, but after she passed away he found out he didn't have it. I thought I could help him because I had a good "receipt" for biscuits with the secret ingredient of cream of tartar. I traditionally made these for my family whenever I made stew. This was my apology for stretching the meat with a lot of vegetables they usually didn't care for. Biscuits and honey-butter can make up for a lot of sins.
So I got to looking for my favorite recipe. Nowhere to be found! Wouldn't you know? Julia Child was my backup. I got out her book on breads and found a great, simple recipe - filled with a lot of "don't worry if it's goopy" and "don't knead more than 10 times even if it's very tempting to do so" ... stuff like she'd say.
So I mixed up the flour, baking powder and salt and then worked in the shortening with my fingers. It felt so good! It had been a while since I'd worked with shortening and flour. I love the special magic these simple ingredients can concoct.
I poured in the cup of milk, mixed it just a little, dumped it onto the floured towel (with my hand, the way Julia said to) and kneaded it exactly 10 times - well, 11. I couldn't resist! It patted it out into a perfect circle. What a great mixture, I thought to myself. It was so satiny!
I cut 2-inch circles and laid them in the greased pan and slipped them into the warm oven. Yum! These would be great with butter and marmalade.
Fifteen minutes later the timer went off and I opened the oven. Tiny little flat circles; flat! What had happened? I blamed the oven immediately. I had made my share of biscuits over the years. I had never had them fail this badly before.
By the way, have any of you smarty pants noticed what I should have noticed before I mixed up the second batch according to Martha Stewart's recipe? (Yes, I'm fickle when faced with failure. I abandoned Julia after it was clearly my fault - if only my eyes had been a little more discerning.)
I laughed and laughed at myself. How could I be so blind? What a stupe! What a knothead! Good grief, I thought. It hasn't been that long since I baked something ... has it? Well, apparently so. I can no longer tell the difference between cornstarch and baking powder - although I thought it felt funny when I leveled off the tablespoon with my finger.
Here's the difference in the size of the batches. The second set tasted great but still weren't as high as my usual recipe. I blame Martha for that. She uses too much shortening in her recipe. I'll try Julia again and apologize.
I put apple crisp in the oven before I started typing this, and I think it's about time to go check that and see who I can blame if it hasn't turned out. A cup of tea sounds like "a good thing" right about now, too.
I hope your cooking disasters don't waste as much flour, shortening and time as mine did. Cheers - femminismo
p.s. When we can't laugh at ourselves we're really in trouble!

A Quick Note and Thanks.

MUST be here and gone quickly. I have been tired and not willing to sacrifice blogging for time spent on other things that task my energy.
I have been eating well, however. This photo shows the honeydew melon, mango and red and Yukon gold potatoes (with scallions and basil) that accompanied chicken last night.
I'm adding B-12, ferrous gluconate and my prescription potassium pills to my diet also - on a regular basis. Tests show I'm fighting some kind of virus so I guess that's why I've been so tired lately. It couldn't be staying up until 11 p.m. every night and getting up at 6 a.m.

I have one photo of a journal page and then I'm gone. I've got to thank my Southern girlfriends and fellow bloggers for introducing me to Derfwad Manor. (And Mrs. G turns out to be from the Northwest! What a surprise.) Thanks also to my regular visitors who make my day when they come by to visit. (You know who you are!) Happy altering books - femminismo

And p.s. - I took photos and interviewed a woman named Barbara Hertel today. She makes the most amazing Guardian Spirits and new figures called, "She Who Remembers" Check out her Web site here.

If You Don't Laugh at Mrs. G's Comments I Will Worry About You.

YES, it's true. If you go to Mrs. G's blogspot (Derfwad Manor) and don't find something to laugh at - or something you identify with - I will truly be worried. (Note to Mrs. G: I know your photo is copyrighted and I stole it from your site but at your request I will gladly take it off.)
I laughed my way through her post before she left for New York City and then throughout her trip to same. The repartee between the Mr. and Mrs. was funny and real. And, oh, my gosh! I thought I posted a lot of food pictures, but apparently - even though it's not a cooking/baking blog - I'm running way behind Mrs. G.
Check out her "retirement plan" on the right hand side of the blog. Womens Colony, heaven - call it what you will. What a time I had laughing my way through that! Go there right away. Do it! Err ... unless you are male and easily take offense at - well, almost anything men do that irritate women.

TICK TOCK ... It's later in the day now - nearly 9:30 p.m. The Mister and I went up on the property for a while. It was slow going on the drive up there, with Hwy. 26 clogged with everyone and their second cousin headed west - as far as you can go - to the Oregon coast. The temps there promised to be at least 20 degrees cooler, but for some it was a long, slow trip.
On the property, the Mister sprayed some weeds on the road and worked in the creek (rearranging the rocks - I'm not kidding). I read the newspaper - even the business section (the dollar is getting stronger!) - and nosed around with my camera, seeing what I could find on one of the hottest days of August.
I couldn't understand why I found so many frogs on dry land. They were on the paths in the woods, in the gravel, under piles of dry sticks. Why weren't they in the creek? Why wasn't I in the creek?
There were no blackberries. The wild ones have been gone for a while and the Chehalems haven't ripened yet. I tried to get a photo of the red berries on top of the Devil's Club plant, but in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt going through the nettles wasn't an option.

So I found red berries on the False Solomon's Seal. I didn't know it had berries, but I've been paying a lot of attention to the native plants and I've enjoyed seeing them in each stage of their life.
The Mister and I decided we enjoy doing things like this. For lunch we had hot dogs roasted with a propane torch (fires haven't been allowed in the woods for a couple of months now) wrapped in a slice of bread, with plenty of brown mustard, and honeydew melon, very ripe, for dessert.
It was a good day even though it was HOT!
I hope you were cool today. Maybe you were drinking a vodka and peach Fresca, like the Southern Girl - femminismo

It's A Dizzy Day ... But It Will End.

VERTIGO, thy name is "Irritating"!
Eye Candy (Candace) had a good question: Where am I going with those last two pages I posted? I didn't know until I came home from work today with an episode of vertigo. (The vertigo began at work around 2 p.m. I don't know what brought it on. I was fine earlier, but then I almost ran into a door frame. I was walking fairly straight, but it felt as if my body was veering left - a very odd sensation to walk in one direction but feel as if you're moving in another!)
So I came home and got out my altered book journal. Those little blobs of paint on my two gooped-up journal pages gave me something to concentrate on so as to ignore the whirling sensations.
As I started catching up on my journal entries and then came to the two pages of blobs, I just let doodling take over. Now I know how Eric Carle got his inspiration for "The Very Hungry Caterpillar." My little blobs looked more like space men - and a few bugs.
The next page I kept on with the free association wondering what would happen - what would come out of my brain.
Turned out if was pretty empty, so I wrote that down. (Grasping at straws here.)

The next pages I got more ambitious, but I didn't take photos of those. I first wanted to post something today before I forget and also let anyone who'd like to join me know that I'm taking a Nepalese batik painting workshop from Lark Brandt on Saturday, Sept. 27. We will use handmade Nepalese daphne paper and use wax, water-based paints and ink for "vivid effects." These works can be framed under glass or encased in fiberglass to make transparent weatherproof garden and window hangings or privacy screens. The workshop is 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. and costs $60 for Valley Art members; $75 non-members. You get most supplies. For beginning or advanced students - over 17 (that's me).
Here is an example of Lark's technique (painted by Sue Orlaske, a La Grande, Ore., artist).. It sounds like fun and it looks like the kind of art where mistakes can be part of the greatness of the work. Please let me know if you can join our class in Forest Grove - femminismo

It Doesn't Take Much to Make My Day!

I CAN'T TELL YOU how happy it makes me to see a comment left for me from a "reader." It's like a mini-present I didn't expect to get today. Thanks Southern Girl and Candace. Jen and Nikki: You are right up there too. When I see that someone visited and read two or three pages, I want to thank them for spending their time on my pages. I just hope you find something worth your while. I will try and "make it so."
The pictures are of two pages I painted this evening. Just before them, in my altered book, there are two pages I painted last night with only the light from the kitchen window shining into the sunroom and lighting up the table and book. Wouldn't you know? Those two pages may just be my favorites.
The two pages here were goopy with paint and I couldn't resist putting my fingers into it. This is the fun part of art when you feel like a kid and try new experiments. That's a leaf skeleton - magnolia leaf - that was sitting around near the art table. I think it will stick there just fine, and when the paint's dry I'll add some matte gel.
Well, that's all I have for today. Look for more pages tomorrow - and thank you to JoAnn for finding me an empty record album book to turn into an altered book for the next project. And Sylvia found me a four-paned window so I can get busy with that too!
Life's good with friends, unexpected presents and folks who comment on pages - femminismo

Lilies of the Field ... and Garden.

THESE lilies don't toil, but we surely do. The Mister and I have buzzed like bees all day long and it's hard to calm down now, at 8:30 p.m., and force myself to slow my mind and body. There is so much I want to do ... and so much we had to do earlier.
Tomorrow is another day, I know. It's just difficult to get everything done. Someday we will have all the time in the world to lay and do nothing, but this summer day we found plenty of something to occupy us.
I am posting flowers today since I want to remember the lilies of August. While working in the yard, the scent of the stargazer and calla lilies flowed through a section of the back yard and made every trip that way a pleasure - even though my knees were aching!

While I was googling sites for composting our fir tree's needles - don't know whether they would make good compost or not - I came on Blessed Gardens. The author of the site said in a section on lilies that the tiger lily is "powerful" and the orange color symbolizes power, too. Some people and pets are allergic to them, however. I didn't know that. Calla lilies symbolize "female magnificence" - I'd go along with that; they're pretty lush - and the pink lilies symbolize "female coquetry." Ooh la la!
These tiger lilies have company: shorter yellow daisies that come up in abundance.
I hope your day today has been a good one and that you got some ART accomplished in addition to any gardening chores you had. I had planned on doing art all day long, but that didn't happen. I painted a couple of pages in my journal and painted the cover for my Daddy Journal. I must find the "filling" for that book. I know what will go on one of the pages, and that's a reproduction of a love letter he sent my mother. A pretty innocent, but important letter: He told her he was coming home and asked if she was ready to get married! That will most assuredly have to go into the Daddy Journal - femminismo

Who's Watching Your Back?

I have to say, backing up my blog to my computer's hard drive has made me feel more secure that my daily and/or weekly entries will not disappear forever if the Internet should suddenly cease to exist.

(Go into blogger draft format first and then, in "settings," "basic," "blog tools" find "export blog" and save the file to your hard drive. All comments are saved too.) However, be sure to back up your hard drive also, on an external hard drive.

Heaven forbid that someday I would sit down at the computer and find myself "speechless." I sometimes use my blog as a tool to figure out what day something happened. So it only seemed sensible to back up my memories. These are the only one that I can back up. I'm still waiting for the external hard drive for my brain to come along.

Yesterday was a pretty decent day. I put in my hours at work, polished up some writing on an article about my sister (one of them), had lunch with friends at a Japanese restaurant (salmon with the "house" teriyake sauce, fish broth, rice, salad) then later in the evening, attended McMenamins' Grand Lodge Americana Music Festival in Forest Grove with the Mister and another couple we have been friends with for a long time. It was cool out, but dancing on the grass helped warm us up. The Freak Mountain Ramblers were playing and they are talented on many instruments, including the voice.

Saxophone, many, many different guitars - the clouds rolled by, the new moon hung in the southern sky and we enjoyed ourselves.
Half a Captain Neon burger and some Terminator beer (above) didn't hurt the evening either. What would life be without music, friends and food? Not as good, definitely - femminismo

p.s. We left to go to the local Saturday farmers market and took a tour of the new theater, bought green beans, got some breakfast and took this picture of a lovely young girl. She works in her family's flower booth.

Well, This Must Be Quick!

IT'S after 10 p.m. and I'm just getting around to blogging. I don't think I've officially broken my own "latest blogging ever" record, but I am pushing things.
The Mister and I had a lovely evening tonight. I went shopping - something I rarely do, but we needed a new hallway rug and some dishes that fit in our dishwasher. When I came home he was in the fir tree demolishing the limbs that needed trimming. (See yesterday's posting for more on this.)
Then we both cleaned up quickly, drove off, picked up a pizza and met our son/stepson and daughter-in-law at a local park for music with Marv and Rindy Ross of Quarterflash fame.
(Just for the record, there's not many things better than spending time with kids who grew up to be fun.)
The evening was perfect weather and I took my shoes off to enjoy the lush, cool, thick green grass. It felt so good. It's not often - as an adult - that we come into contact with the earth like this. So for a while tonight, I was a kid walking barefoot.
J., my daughter-in-law, is a whiz with beads. She made me a pair of dragonfly earrings, and when my doctor saw them, she wanted a pair too. J. had brought all these wonderful dragonfly earrings and I had to choose just one pair. I took pics for the doctor, though, so she can peruse them and see if there's another pair she'd like better. Here are a few samples above.
I thought of you all and took a photo of Marv and Rindy. They played "Harden My Heart" and brought back lots of memories. It's a song they said "has been very good to us." All those royalties; I imagine so!
It was getting dark, so I made a little video too. Probably illegal. If I get caught, please write me real letters while I serve time. In jail, you probably don't get to blog after 10 p.m. I'm pretty sure - femminismo
p.s. I've probably said this before, but isn't it funny that "blog" gets underlined as a misspelled word in a blog posting? Well, here's Marv and Rindy.

Would You Remind Me, Please ...

PLEASE remind me that when I start whining and feeling sorry for myself it's MY OWN FAULT! That's where I was yesterday.
Today, because I bypassed going home and exposed myself to some fun at the First Wednesday Farmers Market, I met up with a lot of friends I hadn't seen in a while and met some new ones.
Marbella and Ramona, above, are part of Adelante Mujeres. Some of the group's many goals are increasing opportunities for family and community and advocating ecological awareness and action for a sustainable economy and healthy community. Immigrant women and families face challenges and Adelante Mujeres supports many of their ambitions by providing educational opportunities. I only wish I had been smart enough to get pictures of Bridget Cooke, executive director, and Gina Bell, market manager, two of the powerhouse women behind this group! Wasn't thinking - was talking.
Check out their Web site. And wouldn't it be fun to gather our forces and produce one work of art each (painting, sewing, pottery, jewelry - whatever it is, I know there's something you'd do that's just great!) and donate it for one of their fund-raisers? What think you, gang? Let me know. I was inspired by this idea and would love to help them.
I also scored some enchiladas to take home for dinner tonight. Excellent! They were offering these tasty treats at the market as samples, so you see where I got my menu planning. (Sorry about the blurry photo. Must have had the setting wrong.)
MORE of the sidewalks in Forest Grove have been newly redone and inset with numbers. There are also very artistic pedestrian crossings.
This is exciting news for those of us who are planning for the Sidewalk Chalk Art Festival on September 20. Downtown Forest Grove will be literally crawling with artists on hands and knees creating colorful works of art on each numbered square. Check out the link for more. (Yes, I know I could use a pedicure. There's that curly "tall" toe - just like my sister's.)
WELL, what else do I have to show you? Oh! This one thing. As I was leaving I drove past the labyrinth dedicated to Dr. Faith Gabelnick, president emerita of Pacific University. The grasses planted around the labyrinth have grown and are now at least 6 feet tall. The tops were flowing in the slight breeze of the coming evening and I had to stop and take a photo. The sign at the labyrinth says the metaphor of walking it is that of life's journey. Taking it a step at a time shuts out the distractions of the outside world and makes you concentrate on your inner thoughts. It is a very peaceful place and the tall grasses isolate the pathway so you can truly feel alone with your thoughts. That's where I'll leave you now; alone with your thoughts - femminismo