Miscellaneous Monday

Hello, hello! I hope you all had a fabulous weekend. Me? I can't even remember. It's like when The EGE comes home after subbing all day and asks me, "What did you do today?" and I look at him with what must surely be that deer-on-the-side-of-the-road-in-the-headlights look: "Huh?" You know, when you drive past them at night and they're standing over there grazing and look up at you as you drive past with this look on their faces like the headlights have caused every thought to drain out of their heads? I always imagine them thinking (well, I imagine it when I'm not terrorized by the whole ordeal of driving where there's the likelihood that some animal will dash out into the path of the vehicle, and don't you DARE tell me any sad animal-on-the-highway stories because I will have to go lie down. My deer on the highway story is the only one I want to hear unless you also have a happy one: Back in The Day when The EGE was coaching basketball, I'd drive to the out-of-town games while he rode the bus, and then, after the game, he'd drive home with me. San Angelo was the worst, because you have to drive through seriously deer-infested territory (and, yes, I know how destructive deer can be: about 1/10 of 1% as destructive as humans). The EGE always drove because it doesn't make him lose his mind. We were in a notoriously deer-y stretch, and he was going about 40 mph (in a 65-mph zone), and this little fawn skittered right out in front of us, long legs going every which way, hooves clattering. The EGE skidded to a stop right in front of it, and it stood in our headlights and looked at us. I was completely petrified, terrified it was going to skitter away and into on-coming traffic, but it didn't. It clattered off into the field, and I like to imagine what it was thinking: "Wow! Hey, Mom! I saw moons on the ground!")

Where was I? Oh, yeah: I don't remember what I did this weekend. Yesterday we cleaned off the front porch. As in swept, then vacuumed, then washed. It took forever. Do not laugh about the vacuuming part. It works, OK?

This morning I'm supposed to be working on an article but have been blogging over at CreateMixedMedia.com instead. Go on over and read even MORE about copy + right. You know I have things to say. Snort. When do I NOT have things to say? I'm still waiting for the concept to sink in: Ricë, you do not have to have an opinion about everything. About much of anything, in fact.

Also, I've got These Ideas in my head. Here's one thing I did this morning--this is how I transfer images to light-colored fabric. I drew out what I wanted on cheapo paper, clipped the tea-dyed muslin (yes, I'm actually using that fabric I dyed on, what was it? Saturday?) to it, and then taped them to the storm door.

 When I was doing that, I saw the sign on the door and thought I'd show you that, yes, I really do have that sign on the door still. The one day I took it down (it got torn and wrinkled in some wind-related door-opening), the landlord of the house next door came and stood on the front steps and yelled for me to come out. So I put another copy (I have a bunch printed out, ready to go) up. The UPS guy doesn't even knock--just sets the packages down and leaves.

Then there's John Henry.

 

 We found him in an antique store on Congress Street in Austin a couple years ago, wearing a nightgown, and I had to rescue him. The EGE bought him and named him, and my friend Keith made him the khaki trousers. He was going to make him a shirt, but we lost touch, so I bought the sweater at Michael's. It is, I think, sadly, for a teddy bear. Yikes. 

I kept thinking that if I fixed him up, John Henry wouldn't look so fierce. Or terrified. I'm not sure which. I think he looks really angry, personally. I mean, wouldn't you? If you'd had to sit on shelf between a GI Joe with one arm and a naked knock-off Barbie, wearing a long, stained white lacy nightgown? For YEARS?

I'd be pretty pissed, too.

But no matter what I've given him, it hasn't appeared to help. And suddenly, just yesterday, I realized why: he doesn't want to wear these clothes and try to live this life I've imagined for him. He's voodoo, and he's voodoo all the way. He wants an outfit befitting his status--I don't know what that is, but I'm guessing he'll let me know once I get that sweater off him--and some appropriate accoutrements.

So that's what I'm working on today. Mostly another blog post. Then the article, which I'd better get done here soon. Then some more images transferred onto fabric. Then dealing with the still-very-angry John Henry. I wonder what his other name is? And, and spending time with Moe, who doesn't feel good today. Any day that starts with puking isn't a good day, and Moe, who was sick a lot as a kitten, hates even more than most cats. He's looking pretty sad and pathetic, so I need to go sympathize with him. And then back to work.

Hope your Monday is very un-Monday-ish~~

XO