Sunday, October 4, 2009
Lancaster PA
Lori, Ian, Cullen and I took a day trip to Lancaster PA while I was visiting with them. We had a wonderful trip to Amish country. I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but I had a few surprises.
We left Maryland in the morning with Cole (Lori's dog) a little upset with us for leaving him yet again to his own devices. Cole is a black lab and truly a lover, not a fighter. He knows exactly the looks he needs to give to his family - just the proper amount of "sad-eye"- to get what he wants. It took all of 15 minutes to for him to get Auntie Deb figured out. Yeah...it's true. I'm a sucker for "sad-eye". anyway, I digress. We made our way to Pennsylvania. Then we drove to Intercourse. Yes. Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Don't ask me why its named that. I don't want to speculate.
We drove around the back roads and looked at the wonderful farms in the area. It appeared to me that the Amish must believe that order and cleanliness are next to godliness, because each place had that well put together look. Well kept and clearly the result of hard work. The yards were especially beautiful and full of color. On the clotheslines next to the drab clothes, hung beautiful and colorful quilts.
We stopped at one farm that had a hand-painted sign "home-made root beer for sale". We asked the lady in the yard if we could buy some and she agreed. She looked to be about my age, but without a bit of make-up or vanity with her hair and clothing. I felt almost clown-like in comparison wearing my eyeshadow and colorful clothes. We also asked if it would be ok for us to take a picture of the barn with its rows and rows of hanging, drying tobacco. She said it would be fine, but not to take any pictures of the family. All during the exchange a young man had been standing by the door of the barn watching us. As soon as we pulled out our cameras he disappeared, as did his grandmother. She reappeared when we put our cameras away. We said goodbye and thank you and left. As we continued our drive around the countryside we saw horses pulling farm implements through the fields, sometime large teams of horses. I got a kick out of the traditional Amish horse carts that the people use to travel on errands. They actually share the road with the cars and the carts have turn signals! They follow all the rules of the road that cars do. The speed limit isn't a big issue for them though. The horses are beautiful and clearly well trained. They have a little trot that they do - kind of a high stepping trot - that results in the clop clop clop clop sound.
We stopped at a shopping area that sold all sorts of things and was probably 99.9% tourists - but it was fun and we got some awesome ice cream ("made from the milk of our own cows..."). Then we stopped at a family farm "store" that an enterprising Amish family had set up. The wares were mostly hand-made items or dried flowers, but some of them appeared to be garage sale items. The two little daughters of the family were manning the store, since mom was out in the field helping dad with the harvest. The little girls appeared to be about 4 and 9 years old. I couldn't help myself from winking at the 4-year-old and was rewarded with a new BFF. They were both adorable and tried very hard to serve our every need.
It was a full day and we were tired. As we traveled back to Maryland we decided to stop at a Cracker Barrel for dinner. We knew we had passed one on our ways TO Pennsylvania so we watched for the signs. I think Lori was getting hungry at this point because she kept saying "there it is!" when we would come across a similarly colored sign. Finally we were rewarded with the correct sign and pulled off . It was on the other side of the freeway and down a winding road, but we found it. I won't mention how Lori made the turn on two wheels when it looked like we might miss it. The boys and I were very happy when we parked. (I have to harass Lori a little...it's my job.) We had a hardy meal and some fun shopping, then headed back to the freeway. Cole was very glad to see us when we returned home.
I'm having some trouble posting pictures so I'll do that separately.
We left Maryland in the morning with Cole (Lori's dog) a little upset with us for leaving him yet again to his own devices. Cole is a black lab and truly a lover, not a fighter. He knows exactly the looks he needs to give to his family - just the proper amount of "sad-eye"- to get what he wants. It took all of 15 minutes to for him to get Auntie Deb figured out. Yeah...it's true. I'm a sucker for "sad-eye". anyway, I digress. We made our way to Pennsylvania. Then we drove to Intercourse. Yes. Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Don't ask me why its named that. I don't want to speculate.
We drove around the back roads and looked at the wonderful farms in the area. It appeared to me that the Amish must believe that order and cleanliness are next to godliness, because each place had that well put together look. Well kept and clearly the result of hard work. The yards were especially beautiful and full of color. On the clotheslines next to the drab clothes, hung beautiful and colorful quilts.
We stopped at one farm that had a hand-painted sign "home-made root beer for sale". We asked the lady in the yard if we could buy some and she agreed. She looked to be about my age, but without a bit of make-up or vanity with her hair and clothing. I felt almost clown-like in comparison wearing my eyeshadow and colorful clothes. We also asked if it would be ok for us to take a picture of the barn with its rows and rows of hanging, drying tobacco. She said it would be fine, but not to take any pictures of the family. All during the exchange a young man had been standing by the door of the barn watching us. As soon as we pulled out our cameras he disappeared, as did his grandmother. She reappeared when we put our cameras away. We said goodbye and thank you and left. As we continued our drive around the countryside we saw horses pulling farm implements through the fields, sometime large teams of horses. I got a kick out of the traditional Amish horse carts that the people use to travel on errands. They actually share the road with the cars and the carts have turn signals! They follow all the rules of the road that cars do. The speed limit isn't a big issue for them though. The horses are beautiful and clearly well trained. They have a little trot that they do - kind of a high stepping trot - that results in the clop clop clop clop sound.
We stopped at a shopping area that sold all sorts of things and was probably 99.9% tourists - but it was fun and we got some awesome ice cream ("made from the milk of our own cows..."). Then we stopped at a family farm "store" that an enterprising Amish family had set up. The wares were mostly hand-made items or dried flowers, but some of them appeared to be garage sale items. The two little daughters of the family were manning the store, since mom was out in the field helping dad with the harvest. The little girls appeared to be about 4 and 9 years old. I couldn't help myself from winking at the 4-year-old and was rewarded with a new BFF. They were both adorable and tried very hard to serve our every need.
It was a full day and we were tired. As we traveled back to Maryland we decided to stop at a Cracker Barrel for dinner. We knew we had passed one on our ways TO Pennsylvania so we watched for the signs. I think Lori was getting hungry at this point because she kept saying "there it is!" when we would come across a similarly colored sign. Finally we were rewarded with the correct sign and pulled off . It was on the other side of the freeway and down a winding road, but we found it. I won't mention how Lori made the turn on two wheels when it looked like we might miss it. The boys and I were very happy when we parked. (I have to harass Lori a little...it's my job.) We had a hardy meal and some fun shopping, then headed back to the freeway. Cole was very glad to see us when we returned home.
I'm having some trouble posting pictures so I'll do that separately.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Art Is Subjective...
I've been staring at my painting desk for a day and a half now trying to get up the gumption to get busy. I have so many different pictures in my mind. I also have a half dozen unfinished pictures next to the table.
Sigh.
One of the paintings is of a building in Pittsburgh where my son went to school. It has turned out to be a thorn in my side. How many freaking windows can one building have??? I just realized while looking at it is that I never determined where the sun (light) was coming from. That is very important when you are painting to help make the flat painting (whatever your subject is) look dimensional.
Another painting is one I started as a study in shape. The idea is to use an item you are unfamiliar with that has a lot of dimension and work it into a painting. This particular one is of a clarinet on a table. It is sitting on top of several sheets of music. The entire painting has a golden glow, but somehow it just doesn't look right. It's as if I'm missing a lot of the story. Technically speaking, it is probably one of my best paintings, but something just isn't right. I can tell it's not right but I can't seem to fix it. My frustration is great. When I get frustrated I get angry. When I get angry I tend to do dumb things. This one may end up in the trash. I suppose that's dumb but I don't see any way out of it. It will just never look right to me.
The other option with these paintings that don't work for me is to start something new on the back side of the paper. That idea is looking better and better each day.
Maybe I should stick with making jewelry....
Sigh.
One of the paintings is of a building in Pittsburgh where my son went to school. It has turned out to be a thorn in my side. How many freaking windows can one building have??? I just realized while looking at it is that I never determined where the sun (light) was coming from. That is very important when you are painting to help make the flat painting (whatever your subject is) look dimensional.
Another painting is one I started as a study in shape. The idea is to use an item you are unfamiliar with that has a lot of dimension and work it into a painting. This particular one is of a clarinet on a table. It is sitting on top of several sheets of music. The entire painting has a golden glow, but somehow it just doesn't look right. It's as if I'm missing a lot of the story. Technically speaking, it is probably one of my best paintings, but something just isn't right. I can tell it's not right but I can't seem to fix it. My frustration is great. When I get frustrated I get angry. When I get angry I tend to do dumb things. This one may end up in the trash. I suppose that's dumb but I don't see any way out of it. It will just never look right to me.
The other option with these paintings that don't work for me is to start something new on the back side of the paper. That idea is looking better and better each day.
Maybe I should stick with making jewelry....
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The National Cathedral
On Friday September 18 Lori, Ian, Cullen and I drove to Washington DC and picked up Judy. We had lunch at a wonderful French restaurant (Now what did I do with that business card?) in Georgetown. Judy was in town on business, but had concluded that earlier in the day. Our goal for the day was to see the National Cathedral. I had heard about the wonderful stained glass windows and seen it on TV when events had taken place there. We opted to take a 'behind the scenes" tour and it was truly the right choice for us. We were shown a few of the key windows in the main cathedral and then we started to climb. We climbed up and up. Our tour guide took us through back doors, corridors and attic spaces. To top off the tour (literally) we went up on the roof. Wow. What an amazing site.We managed to avoid most of the afternoon traffic and went back to Lori's house. We had a wonderful dinner, then played games. Judy, the boys and I played a new game we made up from another game. We made up the rules as we went. At one point I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to bust a gut. (that's my euphemism for wet my pants.) We had a great time. It was sad to drop Judy off at the airport the next day, but we had made some great memories.
I'm not in this picture of the gang outside the cathedral because I was taking it. What fun we had together.
More to come...
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
One if by land, two if by...river?
I spent Sunday in Boston on a tour bus. I talked Bruce into it (he usually likes to work solo) and I'm glad we did. We saw so much of Boston and the historical sites there. Bunker Hill, the U.S.S. Constitution (ship a.k.a. as "Old Ironsides"), the Old North Church, Fenway Park. Ok so Fenway wasn't so much historical as fun, but there you are.
The thing I learned that will stick with me most is the fact that the history I remember being taught as a child was somewhat skewed. Its amazing the number of historical "truths" I thought I knew turned out to be slightly off-kilter. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow took some significant license when he wrote his poem of Paul Revere's ride. The 'sea' referred to was actually the Charles river...not the Atlantic Ocean as I always thought. Plus there were several other riders besides Paul Revere who made the historical ride. The riders fanned out in many directions.
The site of the famous "Boston Tea Party" is nothing more than a plaque about 500 feet from the actual site of the uprising. The area has been filled in and a bank sits there now.
Old Ironsides isn't made of iron at all. (OK so maybe I was 10 years old and took things a bit to literally.) It got it's nic-name from a dying British soldier who said as he was dying in the river after a fierce battle (and I paraphrase here...) "Oy! Is that thing made of iron????" His remark founded on the fact that cannon balls had little effect on the hull of the ship. The actual hull is about 18 inch thick oak. Its a beautiful old vessel and the oldest still commissioned battle ship in the U.S. Navy.
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of activities and sites. I hope to write about many of them soon. Mostly to keep my memory which tends to get a little skewed (just like the history I learned) clear and as true as a few days can make it.
The thing I learned that will stick with me most is the fact that the history I remember being taught as a child was somewhat skewed. Its amazing the number of historical "truths" I thought I knew turned out to be slightly off-kilter. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow took some significant license when he wrote his poem of Paul Revere's ride. The 'sea' referred to was actually the Charles river...not the Atlantic Ocean as I always thought. Plus there were several other riders besides Paul Revere who made the historical ride. The riders fanned out in many directions.
The site of the famous "Boston Tea Party" is nothing more than a plaque about 500 feet from the actual site of the uprising. The area has been filled in and a bank sits there now.
Old Ironsides isn't made of iron at all. (OK so maybe I was 10 years old and took things a bit to literally.) It got it's nic-name from a dying British soldier who said as he was dying in the river after a fierce battle (and I paraphrase here...) "Oy! Is that thing made of iron????" His remark founded on the fact that cannon balls had little effect on the hull of the ship. The actual hull is about 18 inch thick oak. Its a beautiful old vessel and the oldest still commissioned battle ship in the U.S. Navy.
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of activities and sites. I hope to write about many of them soon. Mostly to keep my memory which tends to get a little skewed (just like the history I learned) clear and as true as a few days can make it.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Hostess with the Mostess
I've been visiting my niece Lori and her family near Annapolis, Maryland for almost a week now. I'm sure they are getting anxious to return to 'family normal' mode. I don't think that because I haven't felt welcome - certainly just the opposite - but only because I understand what it is to have something or someone new in the family dynamic to throw off your rhythm. And what a wonderful family they are...
Dad Ken is retired Navy (Lt. Commander) and now works in the weapons industry. He is a broad-shouldered man of Scot/Irish descent with a quick wit and strong political opinions. Born in Delaware, he has that northeastern accent that is difficult for westerners to place. It is clear to anyone observing that his family is of utmost importance to him.
Niece Lori Jean is the one that probably would have been voted "nicest cousin" among her Stewart cousins. She has inherited her mother's gift for making people feel loved and welcome in a manner that seems effortless - but of course is not. If you have a mental picture of Lori, it would be with a great big smile. She wants to be sure her guests have every opportunity to see/do everything they can in the time they have with her. She is tenderhearted with people and animals. She loves her family and the friends they have made over the years. She home teaches her sons in order to give them the best possible opportunities.
Ian is nearly 14 and getting taller every day. He is already much taller than his auntie (me). He has many interests that include swimming, sports, scouts and tae kwon do. Already in his short life he has lived in places many people only dream of. He is polite and handsome. He has an innate grace and confidence that only a few people are lucky enough to possess. I expect great things from him.
Cullen is 12. He and his brother get along very well. He enjoys scouts and sports, as well as reading. He is very creative and inventive. This week he carefully crafted a blow-gun from some sticks so he could shoot small objects. He worked very hard on it and it was successful. Cullin has a quick and funny wit. He has a twinkle in his eye that lets you know he is always thinking. He has a big heart and loves animals.
I've spent time with Lori and her family before, but every time I do I'm reminded how very special they are. The boys will grow up with all sorts of options and opportunities before them. They will chose wisely. I can't wait to see what happens next.
Dad Ken is retired Navy (Lt. Commander) and now works in the weapons industry. He is a broad-shouldered man of Scot/Irish descent with a quick wit and strong political opinions. Born in Delaware, he has that northeastern accent that is difficult for westerners to place. It is clear to anyone observing that his family is of utmost importance to him.
Niece Lori Jean is the one that probably would have been voted "nicest cousin" among her Stewart cousins. She has inherited her mother's gift for making people feel loved and welcome in a manner that seems effortless - but of course is not. If you have a mental picture of Lori, it would be with a great big smile. She wants to be sure her guests have every opportunity to see/do everything they can in the time they have with her. She is tenderhearted with people and animals. She loves her family and the friends they have made over the years. She home teaches her sons in order to give them the best possible opportunities.
Ian is nearly 14 and getting taller every day. He is already much taller than his auntie (me). He has many interests that include swimming, sports, scouts and tae kwon do. Already in his short life he has lived in places many people only dream of. He is polite and handsome. He has an innate grace and confidence that only a few people are lucky enough to possess. I expect great things from him.
Cullen is 12. He and his brother get along very well. He enjoys scouts and sports, as well as reading. He is very creative and inventive. This week he carefully crafted a blow-gun from some sticks so he could shoot small objects. He worked very hard on it and it was successful. Cullin has a quick and funny wit. He has a twinkle in his eye that lets you know he is always thinking. He has a big heart and loves animals.
I've spent time with Lori and her family before, but every time I do I'm reminded how very special they are. The boys will grow up with all sorts of options and opportunities before them. They will chose wisely. I can't wait to see what happens next.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Kayaks and the old south
My daughter Kerry and I spent most of the weekend together out at the beach. We both enjoy a little adventure, so we decided to rent a kayak and tootle around on Devil's lake. We found we could really get moving when we syncronized our paddles and actually were able to show a respectible wake in the process. Some of the time we just floated and looked at the variety of houses around the lake, other times we tried to see how fast we could go. We were both happy that our nearly 4 hours on the lake only netted a small sunburn and gently sore shoulders.
When we first arrived at the boat rental shop, the owner was helping another group so we wandered around looking at the various boats. We found a beautiful black and white dog that appeared to be part cocker and part lab. I fell in love and began to pet and coo at the beautiful, friendly animal. Kerry began wondering about her name and came up with a few options one being Wesley. We looked and decided she didn't look like a Wesley then Kerry said..."Scout! She's Scout I'll bet...". The dog looked at us and wagged her tail. I said "hello Scout...is that your name?" She smiled at me as only a dog can.
When it was our turn to go into the boathouse and get signed up, I asked the owner first off what the dog's name was. He said "oh, that's Scout!" Kerry and I looked at each other and our eyes kind of bugged. Wow.
As we were moving about the lake I couldn't help but think back to other times and other places. Many years ago Bruce and I paddled a canoe down a river in Georgia near Stone Mountain. I remember how it looked like such a foreign place to me having lived all my life in California. Mom and dad were visiting at that time and they were on some sort of paddle boat and had Steve with them. They all waved as they passed Bruce and me in our little canoe. I can still see my chubby little boy in his white t-shirt and blue shorts waving from the back of the boat with my parents on either side, beaming at him.
This brought other memories back. We lived near the air force base in an apartment. My next door neighbor was a black woman named Anita. She had a little boy about the same age as Steve and the boys often played together. Her husband was also in the Air Force but was stationed overseas. One time Anita became very sick. He little boy was sick as well. She couldn't take him to the doctor so I volunteered to do it. As I sat in the waiting room with this adorable little black boy, it occured to me that the people around me assumed he was mine. Then I tuned into the comments they were making. They were rude and crude. I had never experienced anything like the cruelness I saw that day toward myself and this adorable child. I ignored the comments, but they stayed with me.
I've just finished a book centered around the south. I hate to make generalizations normally, but from my own experience there is an underlying cruelness in those people. I'm not sure if its bred into them, or if its the old 'nature or nurture" thing. I haven't spent much time there in recent years, but the little bit I have I'd have to say the cruelness is still there. I hope someone can prove me wrong.
Just a thought.
When we first arrived at the boat rental shop, the owner was helping another group so we wandered around looking at the various boats. We found a beautiful black and white dog that appeared to be part cocker and part lab. I fell in love and began to pet and coo at the beautiful, friendly animal. Kerry began wondering about her name and came up with a few options one being Wesley. We looked and decided she didn't look like a Wesley then Kerry said..."Scout! She's Scout I'll bet...". The dog looked at us and wagged her tail. I said "hello Scout...is that your name?" She smiled at me as only a dog can.
When it was our turn to go into the boathouse and get signed up, I asked the owner first off what the dog's name was. He said "oh, that's Scout!" Kerry and I looked at each other and our eyes kind of bugged. Wow.
As we were moving about the lake I couldn't help but think back to other times and other places. Many years ago Bruce and I paddled a canoe down a river in Georgia near Stone Mountain. I remember how it looked like such a foreign place to me having lived all my life in California. Mom and dad were visiting at that time and they were on some sort of paddle boat and had Steve with them. They all waved as they passed Bruce and me in our little canoe. I can still see my chubby little boy in his white t-shirt and blue shorts waving from the back of the boat with my parents on either side, beaming at him.
This brought other memories back. We lived near the air force base in an apartment. My next door neighbor was a black woman named Anita. She had a little boy about the same age as Steve and the boys often played together. Her husband was also in the Air Force but was stationed overseas. One time Anita became very sick. He little boy was sick as well. She couldn't take him to the doctor so I volunteered to do it. As I sat in the waiting room with this adorable little black boy, it occured to me that the people around me assumed he was mine. Then I tuned into the comments they were making. They were rude and crude. I had never experienced anything like the cruelness I saw that day toward myself and this adorable child. I ignored the comments, but they stayed with me.
I've just finished a book centered around the south. I hate to make generalizations normally, but from my own experience there is an underlying cruelness in those people. I'm not sure if its bred into them, or if its the old 'nature or nurture" thing. I haven't spent much time there in recent years, but the little bit I have I'd have to say the cruelness is still there. I hope someone can prove me wrong.
Just a thought.
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