Gastropods

Here at the Calcondo,

in addition to ants,

we have snails.

When Tech Guy was a little guy--

and before the tech part--

he found them fascinating.

He took some home to Connecticut

to keep as pets.

But they were slightly out of their element,

and they didn't care much for cat food.

Or snow.

So whenever I see a snail crossing a sidewalk

or climbing up a wall,

I take a picture and email it to Tech Guy--

for old time's sake.

Remember my old friend, Sara Dipity?

I ran into her again.

It was just after I photographed the snail.

I had stopped at the craft store for embroidery thread,

and I found a book with a pattern for this:

A stuffed fabric snail.

I'm going to make one--

right after I get my gazillion other projects finished.

The book is Crafting Tilda's Friends

by Tone Finnanger.

I think I'll name him Snail Male.

Will exercise for yarn

Yesterday Mr. Gadget and I took a walk around the neighborhood as we often do when we're at the Calcondo. There are lots of good places to walk with a minimum of hills....which is my kind of walk. We took a new route this time and set off down a street with wide sidewalks, lots of shade trees, and big expensive condo developments on both sides.

We were just a short ways down the street when something caught my eye and I slowed to a stop.

"What's that up ahead?" I asked Mr. G. "Is that a mirage?"

"We must check this out," I told him in no uncertain terms.

"Would you like me to take your picture by the sign?" he asked. Somehow, Mr. G. has gotten the mistaken impression that I like having my picture taken. I kept my camera safely in my pocket until the next photo op.

We were making progress.

Once inside the small garage that was part of a collection of commercial buildings that clearly seemed out of place among the condos, I discovered a lady surrounded by tables full of yarn, all marked down 50 and 60%.

I bought some festive hand-dyed cotton boucle. I had no choice really. When the yarn gods accost you on the sidewalk during a pleasant Saturday morning walk, there's no alternative.

After we returned home, I made sure Mr. G was comfortably settled on the couch with a beer and a car show on TV, and I returned to the sale for some leisurely shopping, you know, the kind you can only do without a man-in-tow.
This time I had doll embellishments in mind. As I was checking out, the lady told me she'd be there again in a couple of weeks with more and different yarn. I'm sorry I'll have to miss it. We'll be driving north that weekend. I guess it's just as well. Mr. G graciously offers me crafty space in his suitcase, and it's likely he might be considering charging me rent.

AWOL

I'm a bad blogger. I've been playing hooky. Although I did do a blog post a few days ago....only to have half of it deleted before I could publish. In an attempt to fix the wonky spacing issue, I ventured into the land of HTML. I should never have crossed its borders. I don't even have a passport to go there.

I've been very busy during my hookiness. My first priority has been to finish the contest doll so I can deliver it in a timely manner to the people who will judge. Here's a little more info about the contest. It's not really a contest. Art Doll Quarterly magazine has issued a challenge to its readers to create a doll using a bottle, and all entries deemed worthy will be published in the Spring 2012 issue.

I brought my doll along with me to California because the PWWJ are located not too far from the Calcondo and saving the one-way mailing fee seemed like a good idea. I emailed the folks at the magazine to see if they were agreeable to my hand-delivering the doll and they responded that yes, that would certainly be fine, and if schedules permitted someone would give me a tour of their offices. This sounded like a fine offer because these are the people who produce all of the Somerset magazines and I can only imagine the amazing craftiness that is housed there.

My bottle-doll creation is more of an assembly than just a doll. It has some parts that need to be affixed with glue--the proper kind of glue for non-failing stickability. I've selected tomorrow as gluing day and I've instructed Mr. Gadget to have Margueritas at-the-ready in case there's a disaster.

Here is one of the assembly components.


It's a carrot. I don't know if you've ever tried to paint a carrot, but it's not easy. It must be done in stages because there's no way to hang it up to dry.

And while I wait for the paint to dry I've been cutting out felt hearts. I still had red felt left over from the ladybug project and the recent strawberry harvest. I'm probably going a little overboard on all the crafty projects lately, but I gotta say......I've hardly noticed the ants.

The birthday edition

It's party time here at the Calcondo. Just Mr. Gadget, the ants and me celebrating my birthday. The day's festivities got off to a rousing start with a breakfast burrito at Denny's. Later, we'll go to our favorite sushi restaurant where between 5 and 6 p.m. they have half-price rolls. I'm a cheap date.

Actually, I won't officially be a year older till later this evening. I was hopeful that maybe the clock would go backwards just this once and I would no longer be a senior citizen, but that's not happening and I'm plodding one year further into elderhood.

So have you heard about Carmageddon? Most certainly if you live on the west coast--especially around the L.A. area. Those highway people are closing the 405 freeway (between west L.A. and the San Fernando valley) for the weekend for bridge work. This is one of the most-traveled freeways in the country, so it's bound to be a real cartastrophe. JetBlue will be helping out with $4 flights ($5 for extra leg room) from Long Beach to Burbank--flight time 20 minutes. All seats have now sold out. Mr. Gadget and I plan to stay put and enjoy the action on TV from the comfort of our sofa.

I'm still working on my contest doll, although mostly I've been brainstorming on how to finish it. I decided to change a couple of things--to add more whimsy. In the meantime I've been doing some crochet.

This is a miniature version of the pattern I used for the felted flowers. I couldn't find a good green thread for the leaves, so I crocheted them out of off-white and painted them. I added a few beads and sewed them to a small barrette backing. I might also use them for doll embellishments. Grandma would be proud to see how well I navigate with my tiny metal crochet hook.

So now I'm thinking I should do a little preparing for Carmageddon. I'll pack in some bottled water, a few blankets and a kerosene lamp....just in case. And a few Twinkies.

Garden magic

Was I ever surprised when I went outside this morning and discovered strawberries growing on my fig tree. Maybe with some luck, or a little green-thumb magic, I'll be able to get my sad little lemon tree to produce avocados. Or better yet, twenty-dollar bills.

There's not much new here at the Calcondo. Mr. Gadget and I went for a long walk on the beach yesterday morning. That's one of those favorite activities of dating couples.......long, romantic walks on the beach. Mr. G and I remember those days. Yesterday, when we got back to the car I was sweaty and had a strained big toe. So much for romance.

I've been having trouble getting my blogging mojo going. Maybe it's the feng shui. Maybe it's the misalignment of my planets. Or maybe it's because I'm a right-handed person trying to function on the left coast. Whatever the matter is, I'm sure it will all be resolved soon. Maybe I'll try some stewed prunes.

Cali-craftiness

Mr. Gadget and I arrived at the Calcondo on Sunday and have been settling in. He's been checking out the electronic gadgets to make sure they're all up and running, and I've been recuperating from jet lag. It's a tough job.

Soon after arriving we took a walk around the complex to stretch our legs and see what's new, and I found this bit of craftiness parked at the curb. So clever, don't you think? My grandma could have crocheted this in a jiffy with her eyes closed. Not me. I'd need a pattern and plenty of tutoring.

Another thing we like to do is catch up on the condo news. This is done by collecting 4 months worth of weekly newsletters from the floor in front of the front-door mail slot and putting them in date order. We hate to get ahead of ourselves. We're always amused by the antics of the folks who runs our homeowners association.

These folks are much like a pot of homemade soup. You throw all of the ingredients in the pot, heat it and stir it for a while, and then put it in the fridge for a cooling off period after which you use your skimming tool to remove most of the top layer--the one that causes clogged arteries and high blood pressure. I find this recipe very unappealing. Maybe I'll donate my soup pot to the thrift shop just to be safe.

One newsletter tidbit that did catch my eye was the notice for a newly-formed knit and crochet group. This sounds more like my cup o' tea. Maybe someone there will have the pattern for the crocheted seat cover. I wonder if it could be tweaked to fit my beach chair?

A little story

Once upon a time there was a family--mama, papa, sonny and daughter--who gathered one pleasant Sunday afternoon on the back deck for a BBQ. It was quite hot that day, so papa used his remote control to extend the awning. It was just one of many remote controls he used to maintain control of the various things in his life.

Even the family tortoise sought out some shade.

Things were going along quite pleasantly when all of a sudden mama had a wild idea for something silly to do. Silliness was often what she resorted to when papa got a little bit out of control with his control issues.

She was thinking of the rock-wall-building crew who worked every day from sun-up till sun-down erecting beautiful stone walls around the condo complex.

She thought it might be fun to bring a little fun and entertainment into their daily grind of cutting and chiseling and hefting those heavy rocks. So she summoned sonny to help her hatch the plan.

"Sonny," she said, pointing to a nearby pile of rocks, "go over there and draw a funny face on one of those big rocks with this black permanent marker."

So sonny, who occasionally minds his mama, set to work.

He drew a face that would surely brighten the day of the rock-wall-building guys.A few days went by and mama noticed that several of the rocks had disappeared from the pile, including the one with the face. She had no idea where it had ended up, and was pretty sure it would never be seen again.

But she was wrong.

And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

Where's the shortcake?

It wasn't long ago that
I was addicted to bird-making
and feared I might have to sign myself into
The Betty Bird Clinic.
Now I find myself hopelessly addicted to
making strawberries.
If I don't find some way to stop myself soon
I'll be checking into the Betty Berry Clinic.
I know for a fact that it's located in California.
It's out there in the desert near Palm Springs.
They call that state the land of fruits and nuts you know.
Since I'll be in California soon
I could get there lickety-split.
I could work on my addiction while
Mr. Gadget takes a few golf lessons.
The walls were starting to close in on me this morning.
I had to hurry down to Joann's as soon as they opened
to replenish my stash
of beads and beading needles.
Now I'm running low on red felt.
But I know there's lots of red felt in the Calcondo--
leftovers from ladybug production
and Valentine hearts.
I hope I can hold out till then.
If I can just make a few more strawberries
I'll have a whole bowlful to share
with the Calcondo curmudgeons
at the 4th of July picnic.
It's important to be neighborly.
I hope someone brings ice cream.

Crafty sweetness

I'll admit, I've been short on blog fodder lately, so I made a strawberry just to have something to blog about. I've been so busy working on the contest doll--the one that must be kept under wraps for now--that I've had little time for anything else. It seemed like a good time for a little break, though, because I was starting to walk that fine line between he's just fine the way he is, and overworking him into ridiculousness. I'm happy with him now that I was able to find a better skin tone. Here's a little peek:

Yep. Just a little glimpse for now. If he wins any accolades, you will be the first to know--after Mr. Gadget. In the meantime, I'll be thinking up some other whimsical stuff to involve myself with just to keep you entertained.

So back to the strawberry. It's made with felt and beads. The pattern is here on the very talented Abby's blog. I think a dozen or so of these would look nice in a large glass bowl...with a big dollop of whipped cream. I put a hanging string on it so it qualifies as an ornament. You could even hang one from your rearview mirror with some sweet-smelling goodness inside---so much more pleasant than those little pine-tree thingies. People will no doubt leave little notes on your windshield asking where you got yours. Just tell them it was made by a crazy lady who was suffering from blog-fodderlessness.

So Mr. Gadget and I are starting to gear up for our summer trip out west. We've been doing this long enough now that we have it down to an almost-exact science. The suitcases come out a few days ahead of our departure. Mr. Gadget puts a couple of books and an extra pair of shoes in his suitcase.....since he already has a west-coast supply of clothes and toiletries. Since I never know what size I'll be from trip to trip, I must pack clothes. And then I use the vast amount of excess space in Mr. G's suitcase for my craft supplies and whatever else I think I might need. He never complains. What's my secret for this matrimonial harmony, you ask? The man loves apple pie. When he starts getting cranky, I bake. I wonder if he'd like strawberry pie for a change? I should have a good crop soon...

Bawdy beautiful

Here's The Bawdy One in her nearly-done preposterousness. I've been working on her while I sit here at a disappointing road block that's impeding my progress on the contest doll. More on that later.

She's been a hoot to work on, not to mention a nice diversion from the road trip I was not sure I was up for in the first place. The original plan for Miss Bawdy was to give her a witch hat and an unusual witch costume, but that plan morphed into a fluffy little woman with some joie de vivre. She needs some finishing touches, and then she will reappear with a suitable, and maybe even lustful, limerick.

Meanwhile, as the contest doll sits in the corner, I'm considering alternate routes. The problem stems from my inappropriate use of paint. I thought the manufacturer of the craft paint was true to his word when he labeled the bottle Flesh. Not so. It's flesh alright, but more the skin tone one might expect from a malfunctioning tanning salon. So I added white to the flesh and painted him again. Not much better. Then I got smart and added flesh to the white, and now he looks like he's ready for a ride to the morgue. I will be contemplating this dilemma today, and I'm sure the frustrating barricades will be removed soon.

In other news, I'm excited about two new activities I'll be spearheading in the fall. So unlike me. I'm usually one to go places, sit in the back, and keep my mouth shut. I'm not sure what's come over me. One of these activities is actually a joint effort that I'm planning with another condo resident. She and I will be starting up a weekly craft group. The other is a writing group I've volunteered to lead at the local senior center. I believe all of us elders have wonderful stories to tell, and they should be documented for future family members. Early response has been positive for both.

Looks like the traffic is starting to move, so I'd best get back on the road. I'll check in at the next rest stop. I hope there's coffee.

Birds of a feather

You probably don't know this but I keep a flock of sheep here in the Treehouse. They're great for keeping the weeds under control. I only wish they'd graze on fabric scraps.

Well, maybe they aren't actual sheep. They're sheepskins. And maybe they can't be considered a flock. Maybe just a pair. There's a story about these sheepskins.

I purchased them many years ago--it was the early 70's as I recall--on a trip to New Zealand. In the early days of my travels I was not averse to buying big souvenirs and carting them across the world. That was back in the day when one could roll up two bulky sheepskins and check them through with one's luggage at no extra cost. Imagine.

I knew my apartment would look really cool with these sheepskins on the floor. It was so very important to look cool in those days. They would complement my macrame wallhangings and the striped madras bedspread that covered the twin bed in my living room that served as a couch....not to mention, my shag haircut.

So now I'm a little sick of them actually. They've lost their coolness. But I hate to get rid of them. They feel like old friends. So I think I might just put them in a large plastic tote and label it doll hair. Maybe if I get rid of them little-by-little it will be less traumatic.

Here, though, is an authentic flock.

I got out a small Christmas tree to see how they'd look and I'm quite pleased. Very colorful. I've made a little more than two dozen so far. At some point I thought I might be addicted to making birds, and I often wondered just how far the compulsion would take me. Then one day I realized I hadn't birded in almost a week. Boy, was I relieved. I had begun to think I might have to check myself in to the Betty Bird Clinic...

Handy

I don't enjoy making doll hands. They're kinda fiddly.

They look like big fat mittens after I've sewn and turned them right side out. But they really come alive once I've done the hand-stitching between the fingers. If I'm in a hand-making mood, I make as many as I can so I don't have to do them too often. For the witches I give them a watered-down coat of celery green paint--or as I call it, ghastly green. Sometimes I'll embroider a spider on a witch hand. That usually gets a fun comment or two from shoppers at a craft fair. No so much on a nun...
Clay hands aren't quite as challenging. Once I've got the mitten shape, I take the slicing tool and pretend it's a loaf of bread. I cut 4 nice slices--enough for 2 sandwiches. This clay hand is going to be glued to something, so I didn't slice it all the way through. I need a nice flat surface so the glue will adhere. The most difficult part of making clay hands is knowing where to place the thumb. Once that's mastered it's a piece of cake.

My hands, on the other hand, don't look very good.

It's probably because I spend so much time in the Treehouse glueing and painting and working with clay....and occasionally trying to stick a needle through my finger when I mistake it for a doll part. Or maybe it's just from all the pretend cooking and cleaning I do...

Hail as big as hamburgers

We had quite a storm here in Macaroniville yesterday afternoon. At one point I considered going down to the cellar, especially when that hamburger hail started pelting the windows, but then I remembered we don't have a cellar. We have a basement, and I don't think they're the same thing. Basements are for storing all the stuff your kids don't want but might want someday, and cellars are for storing wine. If we were buying this condo again, there's little doubt which one of the two I'd vote for.

So I got my shovel fixed, and while I'm waiting for the clay to dry I decided to dig a little deeper in my closet.

I found these placemats I embroidered long ago. I only did 3, but I have fabric for a 4th.

Apparently I ran out of steam before I finished the project, and I really don't have much steam for it now. I'll put one away and just use 2 for Mr. Gadget and me. It's about time to retire the ugly red plastic woven ones I bought at the dollar store.

Maybe I'll use them for dinner tonight. We'll be eating leftover Chinese. That's because last night I pretended we lost power. I told Mr. Gadget that I was only going to do pretend-cooking, and it wasn't long before he very graciously offered to go for Chinese take-out.

Possibilities

Mr. Gadget is always supportive of my clay work. Sometimes he'll offer me an empty bottle, and on occasion an empty medicine bottle, if he sees potential for a whimsical character. Whatever springs forth will definitely be one with broad shoulders, but it's highly doubtful he or she will be able to pass a breathalyzer test.

There's more clay work happening in the Treehouse today. It's mostly some fine-tuning on the face of the armature guy. Facial features are challenging for me. I've pretty well figured out where everything goes on a face. I'm hopeful the rest will come with practice.

I also printed up some bands for the knitted dishcloths.

I'm fairly happy with the result, but I think I will change the paper color to an off-white or a who-knows?

Today I found these bunny pins in the depths of my closet. I'd forgotten all about them.

There may be even more treasures in my closet, but further searches will have to wait. I was only able to dig down as far as the Mesozoic Era before my shovel broke...

Now trending in the Treehouse

Today it's all about clay. I've shoved the sewing machine out of the way and spread old newspapers on my work table. It's messy and sometimes frustrating--like when I forget to wash my tools and then find the one I need covered with dried clay.

The mummified armature now has a head, although a bit crude, I'll admit. It's amazing what a little sandpaper, paint and hair will do--not to mention properly-fitting clothes. I'm not so confident about that last part. This is going to require me to be a costume designer. And I'm still falling short in the forehead department, probably because I'm still falling short in the fore-thought department. I may have to add more clay up on top. But part of the beauty of paper clay is that wet clay can be applied to dry clay. It's oh-so-forgiving, and I like that in a craft medium.

And since the clay was out and at my messy, sticky fingertips, I thought I'd do a little work on the bawdy one.
She, too, is rather rustic at this point, but I'm counting on the magic of sandpaper, paint and costuming. I've given her a bikini top made from two clay triangles and I'm considering a tu-tu. She's an elder gal who loves to let it all--well, almost all--hang out.

But first and foremost, she likes to be comfortable. Nothing beats an old pair of bunny slippers.

Mummified

The mummification process is almost complete.
This is the doll I'm making for the contest I wrote about earlier. It will be a cloth and clay doll, with the head, hands and feet constructed of clay, and the outfit made from cloth.
Here's his backside. It's not very pretty I know, but he'll be fully dressed and all evidence of mummification will be hidden.

I'm quite pleased with his torso shaping. That just happened by accident. I have no idea what I'm doing. Remember, I'm just out for a pleasant Sunday drive. Soon I will be sculpting the head and face, so there could very well be a four-car pile-up just ahead.

Now back to the mouse-and-cookie story I told a few days ago. There's more.

The young woman had the MRI--which, by the way, she found not to be unpleasant except for that little needle stick or two---and soon afterwards she went back to her ear doc for a follow-up visit.

"No problem with your ear," said the doc reassuringly, "but we did find another little problem. This sometimes happens when a person has a test like this," he added. "But it's absolutely nothing to worry about."

So the young woman, who was now feeling very much like an old woman--especially after the doc's final comment that it might be a good idea if she came in for a hearing aid consultation--left the office deep in thought. Maybe, just maybe, some of these things were just normal signs of aging and not things needing special medical attention. And she vowed to not only eat more cookies, but to make sure she always has a goodly supply of chocolate in the house...

You're building a what?

I mentioned in an earlier post my plan to make a doll for a contest. There's no actual prize being offered other than having pictures of the dolls-deemed-worthy published in a magazine. Most of the dolls that have previously appeared in this magazine have been wonderful works of art, so I'm a little bit embarrassed to even admit that I could possibly rub shoulders with real dollmakers.

I've decided to treat this whole project like a Sunday joy ride. I'll head out and if I hit road construction on the four-lane highway, or it funnels down to a two-lane dirt road with major ruts, I'll turn back and be happy I had a little chutzpah.

The project I have in mind requires me to make an armature-skeleton-thingie. I thought about getting out one of my dollmaking books to read up on the proper way to do this, but I've never been one to waste time reading directions, so I skipped this part.

I'm guessing it doesn't need to be anything fancy. Just two arms, two legs, and a neck that will hold a head.Here I've started to wrap him up. He needs a little meat on his bones. His arms are a little long, but I'll keep my wire cutters handy and snip off whatever he doesn't need once I figure out exactly how he'll use them.

He seems pretty flexible. In fact, he looks like someone who might be fun at a party. I wonder if his crotch is too low? He'll eventually be wearing pants, so it's probably not a big deal. He's certainly not very handsome at this point. Think of him dressed in his underwear--underwear you might put on in the morning if you weren't planning to be in an accident later in the day.

For now I'll continue along on my Sunday ride. I didn't count on all this traffic though. Is this a holiday weekend?

Memorial Day

Uncle Sam has stopped by for a visit today,

because, well of course, it's Memorial Day.

If you're not one for grilling,

or drinking and carousing,

take the family to a Chinese buffet.

Perks

Mr. Gadget and I have been very pleased with some of the benefits we've received since moving into the 'hood (senior-citizenhood.) There are cheap movies, cheap train tickets, and lots of early-bird dinner specials--just to name a few.

Just the other day we learned of a new one. My computer monitor died, and Mr. Gadget graciously offered to dispose of it. I really love a man who can open jar lids, reach things on high shelves, and who doesn't flinch when faced with having to dispose of dead things.

He called the public works department and was surprised to learn that senior citizens do not have to buy a permit to use the local dump. It's absolutely free. So Mr. G. loaded the expired monitor in his trunk and prepared to leave, although he was a bit apprehensive. This was because of his experience with having to satisfy the aesthetics of the garbage man who refuses to accept garbage that is too smelly, too heavy, too wide, or too loosely tied.
After he got home, I decided to ask him a few questions.

"How was your dump experience?"

"I know people our age generally start having some problems with elimination," he said, "but I had absolutely no problem at all."

"Were the employees dumper-friendly?" I asked.

"Yes." he said. "They directed me right to the e-cycling trailer and told me to lay out my dead monitor in line behind the others."

"Sounds like it was pretty well organized," I said.

"Not only that," he said, "but there was an old guy sitting on a folding chair right next to the trailer. I figure he was there to help the dump babes."

"How would you rate your dump experience?" I asked.

"You mean with 5 being a very satisfying dump experience, and 1 being I'd never do a dump there again?" he asked.

"That seems like a good rating system," I told him.

"I'd give it a 5," he said. "It was an excellent experience and I felt greatly relieved when I left."

Mousetrap

Have you ever read the children's book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? It starts out like this: If you give a mouse a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk. Then he'll ask for a straw. Then a napkin. And on and on and on. My recent dealings with the medical community have reinforced a view I've had for some time--that the medical world is a world of mice and cookies. Here's a story to illustrate.

A young woman--well maybe she was a well-preserved senior--happened to mention to her primary care doc that she had some ringing in her ears.

"How would you describe it?" asked the doc.

"It sounds like it's just in my left ear," she replied. "Though I can't be sure."

"Ringing in both ears is pretty common," said the doc. "But ringing in one ear could be a problem." And she wrote down the name of an ear, nose and throat doc and suggested the woman make an appointment to get it checked.

So an appointment was made for a hearing test.

"You've lost some hearing," said the young whippersnapper of an ear doc.

"Eh?" said the woman. I guess he'd heard that one before because he didn't acknowledge the humor.

"I want you to have another test to see how your brain is receiving sound impulses," he said. "It won't hurt."

So the dutiful young woman scheduled the second test and listened to beeping and buzzing while an auditory technician pounded away on a computer.

"Your right ear is questionable," the ear doc told her at her third visit, "but it's nothing to worry about. I'm going to order an MRI just to rule out a couple of things."

The young woman scheduled the MRI without delay because she knew she shouldn't question the decision of a young upstart who thinks he's old enough to practice medicine even though he can't possibly be old enough to shave.

In the meantime, the young woman sensed the sharp pain of newly-discovered arthritis in her finger. She decided this would be her little secret. She also decided--just in case the end of the world is nigh--to eat more cookies.