Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Tapdancing in the Town Square in Christchurch, New Zealand

I felt so good, I just wanted to do a tap dance in the center of town on the Square.  Now it's full of rubble and sadness.  sigh.

This is the steeple on the cathedral in Christchurch, New Zealand.  I just heard on the news that it fell in the earthquake.  Can this really be true?

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

How To Make A Pretty Pot Out Of A Thrift Store Vest and An Ordinary Clay Pot--Lynn Style

 First buy an interesting vest from a thrift store.
I liked this one because of the tapestry-like pattern.
I also liked the red trim on the bottom.
 It is always a good idea to seal your clay pot if you plan to alter it in any way.  They make clay pot sealer for things like this.  Imagine that!
 Next cut the vest apart.  Most people will have a plan before they begin this step.  I leave that up to you.  It might be a good idea to make a pattern out of a newspaper page.  I, however just began cutting with reckless abandon because that's the kind of person I am.
Oh, and cut the lining off (out?) at this time.
 Now slather Mod Podge on one side of your pot.  Slather is one of my favorite words.  Apply material one side at a time.  It will be easier that way.
I left the top for the front section of the vest because the vest had that interesting front part.  Your design will need to be contingent upon the material (vest) you find.
 If  you were organized enough to make a pattern, you will not encounter this problem.  I had to cut and patch in the middle of the project.  Remember the "reckless abandon" part? It's a personality flaw that I just have to live with.  I blame this problem on the red trim that I wanted on the bottom of the pot but it kept crawling up as I went around. Jeez.  What was I thinking?
 Once you get the lower part of the pot covered, you will be able to cover the top part.  Due to the "reckless abandon" flaw in your personality, (if you have this affliction), you will need to apply patches of material here and there.  Don't worry about perfection.  It is a planter.  You will be putting Dirt in it for god's sake.
 Hey!  There are trimmy strings left over!  Make a bow.
Now for the dirt.

Friday, February 4, 2011

The Types of Dreams I Dream

I am having people over.  I have a huge indoor pool and there are many children and a few adults swimming in it.  I have a friend with three children under 17 months old, all single births.  (I know, she must be magic.)  The oldest is a boy, then a girl, and then another boy.  The oldest one’s name is Dean, and he can swim.  As we chat, he swims across the pool. 
We continue to visit.  Suddenly, Dean is on the bottom of the pool and his mother dives into the pool in her long white flannel nightgown.  While she is pulling Dean up from the bottom, I send another person inside to call 911.
  When we get Dean out of the water, he has shrunk to about a foot long.  I begin performing CPR on him, watching his little chest fill with my air and fall back down.  I am remembering that he doesn’t need as much air as an adult, and try to keep my puffs tiny, even though I am in panic mode and my breathing is awkward.  We keep watching for signs of life, and at one point I feel him move a bit, but he’s not really responding.
When a policeman, (not firemen or paramedics) arrives, he just takes the baby from me, who has now shrunk to about 2 inches long, and puts him in an envelope.  He asks who called 911, because she gave him the wrong directions and it took him a long time to get here.  He is dressed in a tux and has his date with him, who is dressed in a long, sparkly, green dress.  She sits on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water while she waits for him to finish his work.
I feel that we need to discuss the baby, but he seems more concerned with the stupid broad who gave him bogus directions.  He says the baby, being only two inches tall, wont take up any space and he’ll just toss it.
The baby’s mother is in shock or something, because she just takes her two remaining children, and goes home to tell her husband, who is a DEA agent.
The policeman decides that she is the reason her child is dead, because when you have three little kids like that it’s too much trouble, and if you only have two hands and all, then what are you going hold on to that third kid with, your teeth?
Another woman at poolside who works with Dean’s mother, begins to tell the cop that she probably did let him drown.  I try to tell the cop, who is now in the water conducting tests, that Dean's mother loved him and that other woman  just didn’t like anyone there because no one would go to lunch with her. Then, thank heavens, my dog woke me up.

It’s a wonder I can carry on!  I’m exhausted.