My Train of Thought Rides A Twisty Rail

I have finally regained access to my keyboard!!!

I have had to completely rearrange this back room-and I had just gotten through my yearly bout of "cleaning" (which admittedly left it looking far worse than it had beforehand).

We got a call from my uncle a week ago all worried as only he can be-my grandma was insisting she wanted to move. We've since found out she is also is not taking her meds or eating or leaving her house. Then says "I don't know why I am getting such terrific headaches". Frick. Her doctor has told mama that she's giving herself CVA related dementia from not takeing the blood pressure meds. Double frick.
It is obvious her independent days are over and we have decided to bring her down here where of course she will move into the back room for now. While I thought I might put her in my room and move back here, I think that may have required even more work. Though my dresser was built for the closet back here...feh.

While mama went to get her I got to stay home with Estupido dog, and change the room around. I guess I could say I've made several discoveries as I moved all the stuff:

Damn I have a lot of fabric. I mean day-mn! It didn't seem that bad when I was organizing it a month or so ago, only six drawers full...Well one was full of UFO's. But now that I am trying to find some other place for six drawers worth of fabric-well, damn.

I have like ten years worth of VK's. Huh. And probably ten years worth of yarn to go with them. I forgot how beautiful some of the yarn is, or what I bought it for, for that matter. I petted the yarn for awhile, that was nice. I think I might hoard silk like Fafnir hordes gold. Death before relinquishment of the silk-not necessarily mine either.

I found the dirt I stole from PEI!

I hope whoever put the house breaker box in the wall of this huge closet so we could never make it smaller or change it has long since been choked with electrical wire.

Also that whoever painted my little sideboard bright blue died as a result of the paint being lead based. Why did I tell old Fridolf that I had one of the doors for that? He refused to make two new ones because "that one is perfectly good". And I knew darn well he'd do that. Now I have one nice one and one covered with the wicked vestiges of the electric blue paint of death.

Of course maybe it would matter if I could find the hinges I bought and actually put them on.

My dad had quite the doorknob/hinge collection. None of which fit the new door I had to put on the room...I ended getting annoyed and attacking it with my angle grinder when it wouldn't fit. It does now!

He also had a nice door collection in the shed, but I knew that. He used to rebuild the doors for sound, and the one I took off was substantially heavier than the one I replaced it with.

Also many were reconstructed after another round of hurricane Richard. One was "fixed" (I use the term loosely) by Phil trying to disguise the fact that he had smashed the front door in with a golf club. If he was your brother you'd lock him out of the house too.

The pantry door is still in one piece out there! No reconstructions.

I had to use my lino cutter on the door because if I can't see something I can't find it, and the chisel got pushed under a bag of garbage and ceased to exist for awhile.

Dad also had a ski wax set in the Ugly Metal Thing (a cabinet of sorts in our porch). It, along with the sideboard came from our camper and when we got rid of it, we brought them home. they were both covered in green, orange and yellow flowered mac-tac. Think of the fugliest patterns the 70's could conceive, that is this mac-tac. "Assault on the eyes" is simply not enough to convey it's hideousness. The Ugly Metal Thing still has it.

Also in the Ugly Metal Thing was the adaptor Mr Korfman gave us when he converted Richard's fisher price tape player to AC. Mr. Korfman could fix anything, especially electronics or bikes that you had wrecked while trying to pop-a-wheelie or something. I had a Micheal Jackson radio that never worked until he fixed it. It's probably a given, but that was back when a Michael Jackson radio was cool enough to be worth fixing. It was red and black of course. I saw Mr Korfman when I was on my practicum as he had returned to town for a visit. I wonder if he still fixes kids' bikes and radios.

I found an adaptor in with all the wires from the computer, with no corresponding thing to be adapted. No idea where it came from.

My idiot brother has kept issues of Run from 1986 because he thinks they will be worth money someday. They are full of things to do with your commodore 64. I wonder whatever happened to the commodore 64. I remember one time my auntie was coding a game on it and she was almost done when one of Phil's friends accidentally turned the power off. Hours of work -for naught! Haha.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to remember how to put that quilt hoop together again.

Happy now I did not buy a spinning wheel!!

I've had too many years of owning that back room, I had crap EVERYWHERE. And now I am not particularly sure what I am going to do with all of it, especially the books that had been in the side of the closet I converted into bookshelves and now is a closet again. I have to do something with this computer too.

Wow that is very rambley-well now you have a little look into the little hamster wheels of my mind's workings.

ETA-with all of that, I forgot to mention it is Athanasius Day. Have a happy belated fight to the death for the truth!

Some Instructive Use of Time

As someone who's greatest skill happens to be time wastagement, I thought I should take up the old adage "misery loves company" and show off some of best time wasting sites I have found recently. Mostly while looking for California bungalows and the Glasgow style, as I do with probably improper regularity.

Unified Vision-Prairie architecture in Minnesota. I have spent two days looking at this! The tour of the Purcell-Cutts house is worth the time taken (the glass in the fireplace is just about the coolest idea ever). Easy to get lost in and with great attention to detail, this is what Arts and Crafts concepts applied to web design would look like I think-very fitting.

Nocloo-children's Book Illustrations-This site features illustrations from Arthur Rackham, Maxfield Parrish, Kay Nielson, and Glasgow girl Jessie M King (this is how I found it) among others.
From there I found Art Passions-more fabulous illustrations!
I must say I find it entertaining that there are many versions of the Arabian Nights and other Near Eastern stories, and in the bulk of them the women seem to have an invariable dislike toward clothing. Sure they're drawn replete with necklaces, bracelets, anklets, hair ornaments or turbans, just no actual clothes. Having said that, I do particularly like Dulac's version-a notable exception.

What a great job they had.

Hunterian Gallery A great collection of the Glasgow style (just click on Mackintosh and spend some time engrossed in the world of The Four)-This is the first website that I've seen feature solo works of J Herbert Macnair. It also features a tour of the Rebuilt interior of the Mackintoshes house in Glasgow. One of these days I am going to get myself to Glasgow and take in everything.

...Of course I will have to find a way to inoculate myself from the artschoolitis I am prone to first, as I know that if I spend much time at/near the Glasgow School of Art, I will be making plans about going to art school again. Such is the nature of the disease-I can't get within 20 feet of an art school without deciding yet again that I should totally go to art school-the ultimate time waster.

Now I need to find a really comprehensive gallery of Archibald Knox. I would be happy to find some more work of the likes of this.

Ramblings

So I have been continuing to organize the wild jungle of memoorebilia we call a bookshelf. Look at how nice and *comparatively* neat it has become! (Don't look at the floor.)



I told you not to look at the floor.

Notice that the books in the lower centre shelf happen to be holding up the shelf above them. Unsurprisingly, those books had to stay where they were.

I maxed out my free membership on librarything at 202, I got one and a half shelves of this set in! Dad actually had more than one edition of many of his books I have discovered. Clearly I will need to break down and buy a membership to do the collection justice.
Mama also thinks this is a good idea-and therefore not a complete waste of time as my usual pursuits like sitting around and sleeping are-as we will have an actual catalogue of books just in case her fervent and often loudly vocalized wish to have the house burn down is ever realized.



Look what I found as I perused the shelves! It was fun to look at and see all the old guys, Bobby Jurasin-I still have our "Rider Sun" bandannas in the cedar chest, Ray Elgaard-I still can't believe they didn't retire 81-bastards!, Roger Aldag-whose nearly life sized cut-out Richard used to sleep next to heheh, Don Narcisse, and all the guys from the days when we actually managed to win a cup for the whole second time in the last hundred years. Back then, we kids had season tickets in the cheap seats but always sneaked into section 28-especially if those dirty cheating Bombers were there-so we could yell along with the drunk college students at the opposing players bench directly in front. And the flame was still there!

Ah good times....sniff.

I am hoping I can teach Avery to bleed green as he was very interested in my Gainer key chain when we were there for Easter (yes yes never mind that it just looked like a little stuffed toy to him). I don't know what I'll do if he ends up a lamo stamps fan.

Anyway, back the book; as good as the memories may be, I cannot believe this page existed in my house for all these years without having me deface it:


My family used to laugh at my undying hatred for Kent Austin. They of course would bait me by mentioning that Kent thought our recent loss of say 65 to 3 was still a good game because he felt he played well. AUUUGGGG! Kent Austin YOU SUUUUUUKKKK! Ahem. Sorry, flashback. (I come by this honestly, BTW, as my Grandma hated Ron Lancaster with an equal fury. Forever locked in my memory is "Look Ronnie is going to start crying...")

I have ALWAYS regretted not being at the game the 13th man won against BC the first year after Kent Austin was traded to them, which I think was only a season or two after this. That was unfortunately the first year we didn't get season tickets. It also happened to be like the only game we won of the season, and one of the few BC lost. If time travel were ever made possible, forget all the "big" events of history, I would sign up to go to that game.

I so would have harangued the crap out of him with the drunks in section 28.

Speaking of which, I bet this page could still make good bog roll...

Every so often I get past planning stages...

Not often enough though. I have way too many projects half done-Al 2.3 and 2.7 are staring at me as I write. I should have never given them faces. I know I have been kind of lazy and scattered for the last few years, I keep planning on rectifying that...well a vicious cycle ensues.

I just found a new and interesting site-mail me art. Buddy is amassing a pretty cool collection-I wouldn't want to sell them off. This just makes my mind start formulating yet more new plans for something to send-a box large enough to hold WMRC perhaps.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I remember thinking how actively my dad embodied the command of this famous poem as he lay in his hospital bed. It's powerful refrain played in my mind as he fought for every slow breath that he could gasp, as his heart sluggishly pushed blood through his veins just one more time... If there ever was one to fight the dying of the light, he was the one. He lived for almost two years though his prognosis was for a few months. He just stubbornly held on.

My dad used to think he would die of a heart attack; "the Moores all have weak hearts" he'd say. His father and uncles all died when their weak hearts gave out on them. But he had a Smith heart, a strong one that fought like hell to continue beating. He was always more like his mother anyway. We told him as much as he lay there battling for another minute, another second. Obstinacy comes from the Smith side too.

It has been a year, and that strong Smith heart is probably worm food by now. However sad I may continue to be for existing in a world that does not include him, there is yet joy. Not just in knowing he is with Christ, finally knowing what it really is like to be perfect (and humble! I can't wait to see what that's like, heh) but his heart will one day beat strong again in a new body, in a new world. One that has been redeemed and freed from death, as surely as our foolish and darkened hearts have been.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Bookdom of Moores

Amazingly I'm not working (of course I did work until 7:30 this morning, but that was then...)

I found a new toy. Actually I found it awhile ago and circumspectly avoided it as I knew my rabid cataloguing tendencies would make themselves known and I'd be sitting for hours putting my collection in there. I saw it again and I think the tiredness made me forget that I didn't want to start this...You see my dad's collection is now my collection, and it probably numbers high in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. Don't believe?

I started cataloguing the small bookshelves in my computer/craft room, which are the easy part. They are here. But I still have:



The one on the left is mostly mama's books so not too much of a problem there as I won't add many of them. The one on the right contains largely father's books (and just look at how many more there are and how fat they are and how many of them have something to do with Winston Churchill. My dad used to do a pretty good Winston Churchill when he got to WWII with his grade 11s-We will nevah...surrender!...but I digress.)



This one is the really deceptive killer. It's like the community chest of bookdom, a hodge-podge. Floor to ceiling books of all types double shelved. Pull out a book and you find...another layer of books. It is wider than it looks also.

Notice the two Gage Canadian dictionaries? There is another one somewhere. This goes to show the extent of our bibliolatry. Only in the Moore household do we fill every available nook with books. And there are roughly five boxes of them out in the shed as well. My brother wanted to take some of them, but I denied that request as I knew he'd probably just sell them. He took away the ten-volume set of children's stories we used to have, insisting he should have it "because I have kids". Never mind that they live closer to me than to him. Though rest assured that if I am trolling on ebay one day and happen to see them, he will die.

Anyway, I probably won't get them all on there or even close to all on there, though it would be nice to have a catalogue of them all. I'll see how far I get before I get tired of it. I wonder if I should add dad's copy of Mein Kampf? Will that get me put on a "list"?

You cannot put straight in others what is warped in yourself.

When the madness of idolatry and irreligion filled the world and the knowledge of God was hidden, whose part was it to teach the world about the Father? Man's, would you say? But men cannot run everywhere over the world, nor would their words carry sufficient weight if they did, nor would they be, unaided, a match for the evil spirits. Moreover, since even the best of men were confused and blinded by evil, how could they convert the souls and minds of others? You cannot put straight in others what is warped in yourself.

Perhaps you will say, then, that creation was enough to teach men about the Father. But if that had been so, such great evils would never have occurred. Creation was there all the time, but it did not prevent men from wallowing in error.

Once more, then, it was the Word of God, Who sees all that is in man and moves all things in creation, Who alone could meet the needs of the situation. It was His part and His alone, Whose ordering of the universe reveals the Father, to renew the same teaching.

But how was He to do it? By the same means as before, perhaps you will say, that is, through the works of creation. But this was proven insufficient. Men had neglected to consider the heavens before, and now they were looking in the opposite direction.

Wherefore, in all naturalness and fitness, desiring to do good to men, as Man He dwells, taking to Himself a body like the rest; and through His actions done in that body, as it were on their own level, He teaches those who would not learn by other means to know Himself, the Word of God, and through Him the Father.

On the Incarnation, book 3

While I had always particularly favoured the section directly preceding this part, as I read this bit again I was struck by the power of it. Ah the Word.

It was the Christian teaching of man's sinfulness and total inability that convinced me Christianity was true all those years ago (and as I continue to feel the warping of such a nature, it still does). Man can't discover the knowledge of God, nor can he find God in creation. Rather, God found us in revealing to us his Word-and the Word made flesh.
And people wonder why I would be perfectly willing to name a child Athanasius :)

It's Le Suck

When you have to work two shifts in one day and neither is overtime because they happen to be exactly 8 hours apart! *grumble grumble* Now I have to go sleep so I can be up for the next one. Bah!

If it hadn't been pieday friday, someone might have had to be hurt.

I have a secret...

A favorite lyric of mine! Of course Petra would give us the proper interpretation of Ro 7!
Jekyll and Hyde; Acrylic

ETA: I have ran the scan through some filters so it looks a little smoother. Not as much detail, but it's a bit more reminiscent of the actual piece.

This is technically one of the older designs I planned, originally designed as a "masquerade" deco a while before I started the project. I would love to see that deco again!! Still hoping it makes it's way home one day-though if it hits a bunch of people like me it will take quite awhile...

After stabbing myself for the nineteenth time working on the crappy lino for The Coloring Song, I took a break and decided to move on to the painless though messy layers of this. I had to really kick up the contrast to get the image to show in the scan. It is very dark and murky in reality. Of course this also makes the brush lines very apparent, as well as the colour layers beneath. I attempted a pseudo-mische technique with transparent acrylics and gel medium. It worked to a certain degree as some of the layers lifted (so it looks particularly blue in places), so I guess true mische is the way to go for those of us who do not have WMRC in our homes to knock the piece to the floor in the week each layer takes to dry.

Anyway, between this one, The Colouring Song, and Stand I have my "quota" for the month. Heh.

And Having Done All, to Stand.

Stand; acrylic, opaque white, felt tip pen and really foul india ink.

That's right. What else did you expect to see for this song? Didn't you expect me to worm my man Athanasius in to the project somehow? If not then all I can say is you're dumb. *sticking tongue out like petulant child*

I threw all the trad elements in there, the checkered floor, the creed and the heretic. You can think of it as Arius or Eusebius if you like. Personally I like the idea of it being Asenius with Athanasius thinking 'how's that hand now, sucka!?' HA!

Stupidity aside, my ideas seem to be all for revisiting the shield of the trinity right now. I have another piece sketched using it, which I'm thinking is going to look a little freakier. This one does have a medieaval look to it though that is fitting for the shield, doesn't it? Especially since perspective is completely irrelevant in medieaval art. BTW I scanned this before putting the letters in (except the ests I see), but Athanasius is facing the F as he is presenting his creed against the world to the Son. How deep is that!

I discovered with this piece that apparently india ink can go bad as mine smelled as rank as the dead fish my dog used to roll in at the beach. It also did not wash over the floor as well as I would have liked (which is only one of the reasons Asenius/heretic's foot looks all crazy and floaty). All in all there are some things that could be better, but I think it turned out not too bad. As always as long as the thing is in my house, I reserve the right to fiddle with it.

Shoe Blues...

I only have 27 pairs of shoes and none of them are blue. This led me to the realization about a year ago that I absolutely needed a pair of blue shoes-not navy and not turquoise mind you but a cobalt blue-and set out to look for them. I didn't count on them being particularly difficult to find-though I probably should have as I am impossibly picky about such things.

After scouring shoe stores across the county (such a difficult job!) and having to put up with my mother showing me disgusting crocs and saying "well they're blue, heheh"-to which my reply is should hideous crocs really be honoured with the title of "shoe"? Isn't this a fairly apt comparison to Finney as a theologian? Shouldn't they rather be called " unsightly blobs of pure evil, only to be destroyed at the second coming along with death and hades"? Sure less catchy but I'm all for truth in advertising. They are probably manufactured by the minions of Satan, otherwise known as Monsanto.

Anyway, after the stench of so many crocs, I finally found them.

Blue shoes!!! So perdy. Patent is kind of meh, but I could live with that. They are T-straps, that makes up for just about anything. And for our colour blind friends, did I mention they are blue!

Then I find out that the only places that carry them are in the US and will not ship out of country. Discriminators! Don't they realize how much I need the blue shoes!? Just because I could only wear them three months of the year does not mean I wouldn't rock them during those three months. Because I would.

WAAAAA I want my blue shoes.

Failing miserably-Glad for Penal Substitution!

I know I am meant to be avoiding the internet. But I find more fun things all the time-like online quizzes. This one was particularly cool, even though I can never make up my mind on the questions, as I think "well if you were to take it this way..."

the thought of me being a theologian is entertaining in itself, but for added interest, my results:

You scored as Anselm. Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man's primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read 'Cur Deus Homo?' Anselm 93% Karl Barth 80% Jonathan Edwards 80% John Calvin 73% Martin Luther 67% Friedrich Schleiermacher 47% Charles Finney 33% Jürgen Moltmann 20% Augustine 20% Paul Tillich 7% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Once I finished this quiz and saw the results, I realized I had taken it once before a year or two ago-and scored as Anselm. Heh. The Mediaeval period had some interesting artistic feats to it's credit, so that's cool. :)
I do find the fact that Finney is not sitting at negative 300% disturbing (and yes even more than some others). Especially since he is above Augustine. Hoping against hope that is due to my equivocating...Semper reformanda indeed.

The Webernet Feeds Laziness.

I have decided I need to cut down on reading interesting useless things on the www for a while. I have been rather neglecting things like art and leaving the house (though I do that every winter so nothing new)-I figure I am going to give myself a certain amount of time per day on the crackernet-uh I mean internet, and then go find other things to do. I refuse to do a complete self-imposed exile however, since cold turkey just doesn't work. For example, look at The Pyromaniacs' so called hiatus.

A good quarter of the comments are from Frank Turk and Dan Phillips-and he may not be commenting, but you know Phil Johnson is trolling on the blog practically EVERY day, reading comments and/or fiddling with the chalkboard.

Worst.
Blog hiatus.
EVER.

Yet more proof that the pyros need to work on their sanctification (I am aware that makes no sense-but don't I sound like the other haterz?).

And yes, I was looking at a blog with nothing but a chalkboard-hence the realization I need to quit wasting time trolling. I need to work on my own sanctification, obviously-my OCD is showing again.

You too are a Mighty Sinner

If you are a preacher of grace, then preach a true and not a fictitious grace; if grace is true, you must bear a true and not a fictitious sin. God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly, for he is victorious over sin, death, and the world. As long as we are here we have to sin. This life is not the dwelling place of righteousness but, as Peter says, we look for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. It is enough that by the riches of God's glory we have come to know the Lamb that takes away the sin of the world. No sin will separate us from the Lamb, even though we commit fornication and murder a thousand times a day. Do you think that the purchase price that was paid for the redemption of our sins by so great a Lamb is too small? Pray boldly--you too are a mighty sinner.

Letter From Luther to Melanchthon

Must remember to believe and to pray-boldly. A comment I left elsewhere reminded me of this-again-then Of course I had to go looking for it to read again-such a great quote.
Don't you just wish sometimes you had a little of Luther's, what's the word, bombast? Blurgh.

Maybe I need to join a liturgical church....

While searching for non-cheesy lace beading I found the coolest site-vestment fabrics!!! How drool worthy are they? I could stare at this fabric until I went blind, however this one I could actually afford.

Where the heck is this Global Warming they keep promising us?!

Crap it's cold outside. I wouldn't've gone out but I had to get my final immunization for work.

Anyway, since I haven't worked in the last few days and I don't want to go anywhere, I was able to return to the corset I started a few weeks ago yesterday. I made the laughing moon silverado, as I read some good reviews of it on the net, and I figured since I am not the most accurate sewer I had better go with something relatively easy.
It was indeed easy, the only problems being it is a little large at the bottom (I can actually lace it closed) and well, my corset looks nothing like the one in the picture...it's supposed to be a rather long corset, and even though I added nearly an inch to the length, mine just doesn't look that long. Or really that shape. I think my waist is too low. Ah well no matter. I was actually worried it was going to be too small at first-good thing I went with a size smaller than the chart.

I decided to wear it for awhile yesterday as my back had been bothering me. Since I can't bend at the waist I also can't curve my back in an impossibly severe and contorted arch as I am wont to, so it does help. Well it did until my mom said "let me see", and proceeded to choke the life out of me because she wanted to see how tight she could get the bloody thing. I'm surprised she didn't put her knee in my back for leverage she was tugging at it so hard (and I think the only reason she didn't is because she's too short to do so). This was when I discovered it does close up at the bottom. And that mama is a sadist-no I guess I always knew that..

I still need to bind it and pick up some lace beading (that isn't too precious that is) for a trim. I decided to do some embroidery on it-and now I'm not sure I didn't prefer it without it. Mama likes the embroidery, but it just doesn't look as good as I expected I guess.

Anyway, here is the front with the embroidery-yes I hate it when people cut their heads off in photos-but it's only this once-the photo rendered my hair a truly hideous orange.



And here is the back-closed at the bottom as you can see-I should have made a 10 with an 8 bottom I guess. Well I'll know that if I ever make another. As for the weird curve in the chest part; I think that is because of the way I'm standing, though I did cut it a little less than straight and I had to take all the seams out there as my back is so broad. My brother and I have exactly the same build and I can say it looks better on a man.

Someone Else Like Me

...doesn't exist, thank God! That would cause quite the spike in the rapture index-rivaled perhaps only by the legging revival. (Now I must go puke because I have thought about leggings).

Self-depreciation aside, I managed to save this from the clutches of WMRC and it turned out more or less okay;


If I Had to Die for Someone; Mohair spun on drop spindle and knitted in lace pattern on 2.5 needles.

I figured it's going to be tiny and I'll do a most simple pattern so it shouldn't take too long and started working...two months or so ago. I forgot that using 2.5 needles means that you will need 2 million rows or so to get the length. I also decided to leave the mohair as a single, which caused problems with breakage when WMRC shooed it through the ENTIRE house. Twice. Fortunately she never got the work off the needle (the ball was the fun part anyway). Also lucky was that hellion 2 didn't see it-he particularly enjoyed the zippy sound of tearing out some knitting of mama's row by row by row by row. Ad infinitium.

I did the spinning with the mohair I got from "Al" (I discovered that is the goat's name) last summer-it was actually the first thing I spun after getting the lace weight spindle and wonderful fibre combs, so it has been laying around waiting for me to start this piece so that it might tickle and itch me all over again. It's rather uneven, but that just made it interesting. Yeah, interesting. I meant it to be that way. Yeah.

I can only say as to inspiration, that I think the line I played off of here is one of their most absurd. How does one get "too old" for keeping warm? Is this caused by middle age spare tire? Hot flashes?

You are NEVER to old to avoid hypothermia, Bob.

:P

The WMRC and Other Highlights

I can't believe It's 2007. I say that every year though...I told one of my coworkers that time must seem to go faster when you reach adulthood as you are no longer waiting for the milestones and events that make one "grown up" that take so long to come when you are that age.
She told me not to worry, as time slows down again once you are old enough to start counting down to the milestone of retirement. Hah!

For some reason I feel like doing the obligatory "look back", even though as usual I spent most of the time thinking "I gotta quit being so lazy-tomorrow! Or next year!" Ah as someone who lives by the power of inertia, I have to confess that I avoid change like the plague. Of course this year change has forced it's way into my life, like it or not. The year has been bookended with life altered and lost, my dad's death in March and now my aunt's terminal prognosis. With the death of my dad, I know nothing can be picked up and put back the way it was again. Well such changes are irrevocable so I am forced into learning to live with them.


In May, I finally finished my certification as a CCA (and I think the redesignation of the term from SCA is stupid but I need to make a New Year's Resolution to rant less about stupidity) after a year and a half of on and off classes, first by correspondence and then in a classroom setting. I discovered that I still hate school, though I admit I do miss many of the people I trained with.

My training did prove invaluable at the end of my dad's life as I was able to do all of his personal care, and my teacher was very helpful. That was especially appreciated as my entire family was next to useless through the last few months.


Then of course it was left to actually get a job (well in the public system rather than the crummy private facilities that is-I already had one of those). When I did my practicum at the lodge in February I hated it and was dreading having to work there. I have since gotten over it and am slowly improving, even at the 6 am shift. I managed through my first death and only sobbed like a baby about it for a day or two...I just finished my probationary period in December-now I am in with the union and they will never be rid of me! Bwahahahaha!


Mama and I also decided to take a trip out to the Maritime region. She and my Dad were going to go out there on their honeymoon and never got any farther than Montreal. They said they'd go one day-eventually (now you know where I get it from). Dad especially wanted to see the Confederation bridge after it had been built. This of course never happened, so we decided to go out there "for" him so to speak. It was lovely, as we went in the fall. Some regions of the country actually have seasons other than winter, summer and transitional week.


This has not been a particularly prolific year for me artistically. I have spent most of it obsessing over Athanasius and yet getting sidetracked continually, so all is normal in my own special world where one can exhibit traits of both ADHD and OCD at once. Now that I am actually getting somewhere on the project I am beginning to feel a little better, provided the World's Most Retarded Cat leaves it alone.

As mentioned I had a quilt published in a national magazine and tour across the US before being returned in November. I won't beat that horse anymore. Other than that, I did a few baby quilts-the one for my newest nephew/hellion James is of the most ugly fabric, but it has dragons and flames on it so I knew my brother would like it. It turned out much nicer than I expected, fabric notwithstanding. And I thought about the gospel as I made it.

I kept somewhat busy with decos and such, not as many as I would have liked though. I have also been keeping a "visual journal of mundanity" which has provoked some bemused expressions from others who come into contact with it. Still...trying...to force...self...to use...sketchbooks!

I finished numbers 44 to 66 of CIP . Yeah not a ragingly high number of pieces, but I am steadily working on it, if The World's Most Retarded Cat doesn't manage to destroy any more pieces (she is particularly fond of carrying the work for If I Had to Die For Someone up and down the house-hiding it does no good-I am convinced she must seek it out specially).

Speaking of The WMRC, when we went on vacation we asked someone to check on Morgana-which they did not do, so she disappeared. We live in a trailer, and with winter approaching, one does not go without a cat unless one is a magnanimouse person who has decided the little rabid hanta-virus spreading critters of the field need love too. At your house.
We are not those ones, so we got a new cat. She has turned out to be an idiot savant. She lays in her litter box, the friggin dumbbunny. However she displays an amazing capacity for getting at small things and playing with them to their destruction. And despite her abject stupidity, she is pretty cute.
WMRC is her official title, but her name is Marty. She's black and white, and my brother the catnamer picked the name as his son is obsessed with Madagascar. Usually we call her in the manner of the slow motion scene from the film; Maaarrrrttttyyyy.. oh sugarhoneyicetea-uh yeah the hellions were also enamored of the show and we have all seen it enough times to have memorized ninety percent of the dialogue.

Oh and the Hellions have been a town away from us since March or so. This has wreaked some interesting havoc with our lives, but we are finding ourselves adjusting accordingly. Not without complaining, as Moores are wont to do.

We are adjusting to all the changes we hate so much. Life in a state of flux has almost become routine over the past few years (if that's possible). Maybe I will even learn embrace change and make necessary ones myself. Tomorrow though. Or next year.

Isn't this Asenius?

Athanasius proved to be a rock of intolerance to the Arian position. If he would not move, his enemies would dislodge him from his seat of power by other methods. An absurd smear campaign ensued. Athanasius was even accused of murdering a certain Asenius to obtain his hand for magic. The problem was Asenius was still very much alive and with both hands intact. No matter. the Arian Eusebius had the emperor's ear, and continued to put a bug in it until Athanasius was forced into exile in the west, where he remained until Constantine's death. Out of exile for a short time, but Eusebius and his new best friend Constantius weren't finished yet.


Updated: (click on the picture for a nice large version with reasonable detail) I have finished the painting for the most part, so I cut the fabric down and took this pic. Now I just have to wait a few days for it to dry so I can work on stitching. Not entirely sure what I will do, I am afraid I'll wreck it! I am also abit wary of the gold leaf I intend to apply-I've never worked with it before, and I imagine fabric to be a less than easy ground for it.
I think I will be conservative in embellishment-much more so than I had originally planned. I do hope to give it more definition, as I can't do much more with the paint. This is also about how dark the piece actually is-the fabric continually darkened for weeks after that iron bath!


I have been awake for 25 hours. I woke up far too early and finally transferred the design for Athanasius onto the silk. After coming home from work, I went right back to it. I smell like oil paint, a good feeling. At the moment the piece is too low contrast (the strength of my method is it's subtlety) I don't want it quite that subtle however. I have lightened all of these photos for better readability.

This is the first rendering of the face-I particularly liked the way it looked-less smirky than the drawing. However it was so dark it was almost unreadable in the photo. More layers of light had to be added. It doesn't look as well now though.

This one is the top laying on the floor as I was working it, paintstiks, brushes and my coat surround it. Yes I got home, took my coat off and worked at it! This is also the first time I have used sticks rather than tube oil paint (They were the thing that took months to arrive!). I like the dryness of them as they go onto my brush much more lightly, reducing the need to brush as much off.
I continually took photos to get an appreciation for how it was reading.


This is how it looks right now. He looks a bit more cranky in this picture (less so in life), perhaps he is thinking of the Eusebii (I don't know if that is actually a word...). the coptic textile design has been rendered in gold to the left. the first attempt gave me a much more readable design, but oh well.
There is still much work to do, but I feel better to have finally started work on the actual piece after all these months of stalling. I designed this just before my practicum-almost a year ago! I kind of wish I could leave it dark and low contrast; it looks very cool that way, dark and moody.

I hate writing titles, mine are always lame.

I have just returned from Saskatoon, where I found some nice fabric for my Calvin hat. I didn't have enough of any red fabric for it, and though I considered making it white instead, once I get an idea it has to be done that way or I hate it. So I went looking for red. I found some beautiful scarlet wool that would have been perfect-unfortunately it was 46 dollars per metre of beautiful scarlet wool. So I bought some red corduroy with satin backed crepe to line it.

I decided to make a normal renaissance style bonnet and just add the earflaps. I'll need to do some kind of a band for it to hide the seams, not sure how I'll do that just yet.

The first go at it yielded a hat that is much too large for my head. Given my lack of abilities in math, one can guess that is where I went wrong. However I think I also should have measured higher on my head, as the earflaps would need to be quite high to accommodate the lack of largeness of my noggin.

It did work out nicely, however, even the crepe behaved reasonably well-it just would fit someone with a massive head. Germans would like it, they all have big heads. Maybe that rendition can be my Luther hat.

I bought some red and black silk brocade at the same time and I am tempted to make Calvin hat part deux out of that. Mama thinks that would be wasteful because no matter how I do it, it will be an ugly hat. Bah!