Our Summer in the City

While most of the country has been ensconced in a heat wave, the Pacific Northwest has been under a cool spell; apparently our corner of the map is where spring likes to summer. I’m not complaining, mind you, as Groom and I have spent day after day down in the dungeon, I mean basement studio making jewelry.

With the festival in Park City, Utah just around the corner of next week, we’ve had to remain focused on our work and been happy the weather has not lured us astray. 

Wednesday, however, produced the kind of evening that is so beautiful it hurts a little. A friend came over for dinner and then we all walked downtown to participate in our community’s “Summer in the City” program. You know, concerts, outdoor movies, dodge ball and the like on the Ken Kesey Plaza.

This week’s activity was an art marathon. Fully clothed models posed while a bunch of us sketched with live jazz in the background. The poses were held for one, five or ten impossible minutes. Don’t know how they held their positions, but it was certainly fun for us.

All ages participated as well as all skill levels. It was a relaxed, charming event and we’d love to do it again.

Running out of Gas

I suppose it will come as no great surprise to any frequent fliers out there that our plane was delayed in San Francisco due to "weather" which put our return to Eugene into the wee hours of Saturday morning -- but we were surprised to have our flight routed the looooong way round from JFK to SFO to avoid major turbulence. When the pilot announced that we would be flying over Amarillo, Texas to reach California, the flight attendant's smiles all turned upside down. What was a five hour flight heading East became an eight hour flight coming back. Oiy! That's a long time in a small space...

We had intended to take the day off to get some rest, but continuing our love of theater we headed out immediately for Cirque de la Symphonie with Daniel Meyer as the Guest Conductor. This should have been easy, especially compared to taking the subway back to Brooklyn at midnight on the weekend schedule after seeing Billy Elliot at the Imperial Theater on Broadway.

We even laughed about it at the time. Standing there in the frenetic, craziness that is Times Square, trying to figure out the best way to get back to our night's lodging, we commented on the ease of attending events at the Hult Center. We can easily walk home or if it's cold and too late at night, friends drop us off.

But not this time. As four of us climbed the steps to watch acrobatics set to music, we realized that two of the tickets were missing. Our friend immediately grabbed his date's hand and jumped back into the car to race home and look for them. Meanwhile, Groom and I headed for the box office to see if there was any chance of ticket replacements. Yes! For a $4.00 surcharge they would reissue the misplaced ones.

Thankfully our friend answered his cell phone and immediately turned the car around. As it didn't take long, we figured they'd be back within minutes, enough time to enjoy the show.

Tick tock.  

Finally, they popped back into the center for the performing arts at the last minute. Guess what? They had run out of gas and had to walk! 

After two hours of listening to the Eugene Symphony play well known songs from Carmen, Swan Lake and Masquerade while a juggler juggled, a girl hoola-hooped and a bare-chested man in tight, white pants flew over the audience by hanging onto two white curtainy lengths of white fabric, we headed over to a local restaurant for dinner.

There, Triple AAA was called and they sent a man to put gas in the tank while we ate. All's well that ends well.

The running out of gas metaphor is incredibly accurate and reflective. We had an adventure, were entertained, ate good food, ran out of gas and managed to get back home unscathed. So, while it might seem odd that we need a vacation from our vacations, it really is time to refuel. I'm off to catch some much needed Zzzzzz's.    

The Need for Bead

“Keeping house is like stringing beads with no knot in the end of the thread.” – Unknown.

Oh, how true for us this week! We thought it would take two days (insert hysterical laughter here).

Groom and I consulted the oracle (our calendar), and although it was going to be a tight squeeze, we gambled the result would be worth it. So we set out on a two-day excavation of our basement which turned into a seven day rampage of spring cleaning. The weather here in Eugene this week has been stunning, giving us the much needed energy and motivation to see the project through to the finish line.

As you might notice, comparing le salon photo to the disaster zone in the previous posting, we managed to put Humpty Dumpty’s living quarters back together again.

No rest for the weary. Or is it the wicked? Regardless, with our claim ticket in hand to get our hour back from the Daylight Savings Time pawn shop, we spent our shiny new 60 minutes at the Piccadilly Flea Market (check out these groovy 1960’s flower power pins, booth #163), and then overspent at the Gem Faire. Groom and I felt hypnotized, drawn like magpies to the shiny pretty things.

Okay, time to continue working on updating our logo. See you soon.

Getting Your Oompa-Loompa On…

Forty-0ne.

Forty-five thousand.

Three.

Two-hundred and eighty.

Fifteen.

Nine millionish.

What’s your guess? Do you suppose these are random numbers or might there be a common theme bringing them all together under one leafy roof? Well, I’ll spare you the agonizing suspense. Ta da! The facts and figures revolve around the Oregon Country Fair.

The Oregon Country Fair turned forty-one this year, attracting approximately forty-five thousand people to the three day event, spread over 280 wooded acres fifteen miles west of Eugene along the Long Tom River and pumping nine million dollars or so into the local economy.

Now that you are familiar with the relevant statistics, what’s the Oregon Country Fair? Excellent question. It is many things to many people. Vague enough?

Back in ’69, the event began as a barter and trade fair with the invitation to “come in costume.” While it morphed into a Renaissance Fair during its childhood, it has grown to accommodate 350 vendor booths full of delicious food, fun clothes, crazy masks, outrageous art, face painting and too many other interesting things to list individually.

There are 18 official stages providing venues for all kinds of performances: musical, comedy, vaudeville, theatrical, juggling and many etceteras, while the dusty paths shapeshift into impromptu stages for parades, marching bands, stilt walkers, giant puppets, mud people, fire dancing, hoolahooping and the legendary drum circle at the Drum Tower.

Fair-goers can be categorized into three basic groups: Those who have never been yet, those who take a year or two off, and then those who are completely devoted and would never, ever miss a year.

They can further be organized into people who buy tickets and are only allowed in during official fair hours of 11am until The Sweep at 7pm. Groom and I fall under this category. Before you ask, we have never applied to sell our bricolage jewelry as vendors. This is the only show that we have ever heard of, that even if you are accepted and invited to display your wares, that there is no guarantee you’ll have a booth.

Which brings me to the other sub-category. Fair family. The booths are not the white, temporary Easy-Up 10 X 10’s that pop up to make a tent-city like at other shows. No. The booths at the Oregon Country Fair are permanent structures with a store front downstairs and lounging upstairs. We saw one artist’s private area which included a full-on living room sofa and a kitchen sink hooked up to their very own tank of water. Fancy! Most require carpenters and maintenance, and someone has to die and leave no heirs before a booth changes hands.

The whole point of the Fair is not necessarily to vend, but to obtain the much sought after camping pass and spend several days and nights in a row out in the wooded area. The real show, they say, happens after midnight. It’s about a five day and night party, and only those allowed in the inner sanctum get to participate.

Groom and I have another reason we’ve never applied to vend. It’s the only show of the year that we are not responsible for anything. We just get to go and have a great time for the day. We actually get to walk around together, visiting with friends, looking at the artwork and pleasuring our tastebuds with gastronomic delights. We call it our busman’s holiday and we look forward to it with all the tummy butterflies children get at Christmas.

Speaking of butterflies, this could be the theme of the Fair. “Come in Costume” still stands and many individuals shed their chrysalis and transform into beautiful, colorful butterflies for the day. While they may actually don a butterfly costume, try on wings or come as something equally imaginative, the essence is the same. Trading the old work-a-day costume for a playful one, people let go of their pent up frustrations with modern life and engage in old-fashioned play.

The three day affair seems to be good for the soul. Collectively, the group sets an intention for peace and those who come fall under its influence. People are kinder, smile often, laugh outloud, complement each other, stop for photo ops, spontaneously dance and exchange many friendly hugs. If only we could sustain this for a period longer than three days.

The dress code? No pubics in public, genitals must be covered. That’s about it. As you can see by our photos, color is the word of the day. Rich, vibrant tones spanning the rainbow. Groom and I took about 400 pictures and it was a difficult chore to reduce the number to share here. How to tell the story, especially to those of you who have not yet attended, in twenty-five or less? If a picture is worth a thousand words, then you’ll probably get the gist.

I always manage to fit in this commercial. To get a better gander at the goods, simply click on any photo to enlarge, then hit the back button to return to the blog.

Some of the details are worth noting. My favorite of the day is the photo below. During the hottest part of the day, we caught a father and daughter taking a nap, her little hand held lovingly and protectively in his. Sniff.

About mid-way through the photos, you can see Kimmmm’s response to one of Lil Bo Peep’s new hats.

Groom and I appear two and a half times here today. Can you spot us? I’ll give you a clue. The “half” is the last visual aid. Aaaah, at the end of a fair day, ‘taint nuthin better than a sweet, cool shower. No, those are not sun tan lines on our feet. Those are dust lines.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and the Oregon Country Fair concluded on Sunday. I did note, however, the auspicious dates for next year. July 8-10. Written out, it looks like this. 7-8-9-10-11. If you haven’t gone yet, maybe next year is the time to do it.

Until then, adieu my dear peeps.

52

Ah, the Thanksgiving blog. It’s tempting to wax poetic about Pilgrims, pumpkin pies and Project Runway, or to make fun of those daring dolts who deep fat fry their turkeys in spite of newsworthy hazard warnings. Seriously, after numerous explosions involving boiling oil, trips to the E.R. - if not the morgue - and house calls from the fire department, year after year, dinglehoofers still insist on dropping 20lb birds into vats of bubbling lard? God Bless America.

Or I could give culinary advice. If you’re having menu issues, how about serving Turducken? I think that’s a chicken wrapped in a duck stuffed inside a turkey. Yep, an American tradition since 1621. On the other hand, if you don’t like to eat anything with a face, tofurkey is an option. That would be a poultry alternative constructed out of tofu, or curdling soy milk. Yummy.

The other way I could approach this week’s entry is to give a sermonette on giving thanks, but most of us already know we should do that. So instead, Inspiration is the word of the day. And Anniversary. Hey, I’m allowed more than one.

Happy Anniversary to this blog, it is officially one year old today! We have managed to post photos and text for 52 continuous weeks. That makes a year, right? I’m thankful we made a commitment and have followed through regardless of our schedule, travels, triumphs and travails.

We intended to debut our new photoblog, The Language of Light, at the one year mark, but as today rapidly approached, it did not quite happen. Instead of pouting, we are pretending flexibility and just going with it.

Which leads me back to inspiration and gratitude. Question. If a sermonette is a mini-sermon, what is a mini-sermonette called, un poca sermonito? Without fear of repetition, I am advocating, stumping, soapboxing for you to enlarge some of these photos by clicking on them and then hitting the back arrow to return to the blog. I humbly insist you do this at least for the photo of the dew drop on the branch. Amen and gracias.

Now what do these photos have in common with Inspiration and Gratitude? To make sure we’re on the same page, I looked up the definitions in the dictionary and here is the gist: It’s like breathing. Wait a sec, as soon as I typed that I took a pause and looked up the etymology of the word. Inspire comes from the Latin inspirare and means “to breathe.” Ah-hah, I’m on to something.

The pearl is that inspiration is a Divine gift; a breath of life, animation, and ideas pressed upon the mind or soul of man (and by man I mean hu-man). If inspiration is done on the inhale, then gratitude is done on the exhale. It is a continuous cycle: Breathing inspiration, exhaling gratitude. I guess that would be considered, Thanks-Living.

Plucking from the opening sentence, I am returning to the topic of Project Runway, a television show for competing clothing designers to debut their talents. The three contestants still standing by the end of the season are rewarded with a fashion show in New York to announce the winner. Along the way, they are challenged to create outfits within certain parameters such as time, choice of materials, and budget. For instance, the designers could be taken to a hardware store and given 30 minutes to select materials to create with for under $75.00 and provided only 8 hours to finish their look. Crazy fun!

One of my favorite challenges is the “look of inspiration.” The producers of Project Runway might drop the budding designers in the middle of Manhattan, a zoo or a museum and give them a few moments to discover their inspiration. By show’s end, they must reveal the origin of their idea as well as its manifestation and the judges will pronounce whose garment came the closest. It’s exciting.

After watching that particular episode, I realize that I already create that way. I was recently interviewed by the local paper about how I stay true to myself and yet design on trend. I told the journalist that I do not pay particular attention to what others are doing, but continue to design jewelry based on my feelings and my feelings are related to my surroundings.

I fill up my well, so to speak, by taking walks and capturing images wherever I happen to be. Here are some of the images that both inspire and gratitude us.

The first picture is of the Grande Dame, the Black Tartarian Cherry tree located in the Owen Memorial Rose Garden here in Eugene. It is said to be the largest cherry tree in Oregon and is at least 150 years old. I curtsy in her presence. Equally magnificent is the magical world inside the fairy tree at the Buxton Corrie House in Corvallis, Oregon.

Images three and four were taken at Cape Perpetua on the Oregon Coast and in Napflion, Greece. Five and six were snapped in Athens and at Eugene’s First Christian Church. I find the beauty of Oregon equal to the staggering riches of world-wide travel. Gratitude!

Buildings inspire texture as you can see from the ones shot in Eugene and New York. If you paid attention to the poca sermonito and clicked to enlarge, you’ll see a reflection in both the building and the dew drop. Architecture reflects architecture and nature reflects nature and then spin your partner do-si-do. Mirror images everywhere.

To quote Julie Andrews from The Sound of Music, here are a few of my favorite things. I’m grateful for the iconic tower Gustav Eiffel designed for the World’s Exposition of 1889. I’m thrilled with Steampunk fashion (did you notice the relationship between the Eiffel Tower and the man’s funkalicious top hat?). I purr around the friends who belong to these colorful chapeaux, designed by the talented Bo Peep. I’m impressed by the generosity of France and the brilliance of the sculptor Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi of Colmar for our symbol of liberty.

I adore letters, both the individual members of the alphabet and the cohesive form they take when written and mailed. They represent communication and friendship and I wholeheartedly appreciate those who make the effort, whether in person, through email, the phone, text messaging or a hand-written note. I love you all.

Birds, nature, the ocean... the list goes on. But like a contestant on Project Runway, I am challenged by space and time and must take leave to get my turduckens in a row. Again, Happy Anniversary, Happy Thanks-Living and I leave you with these words of gratitude.

Thank You, Merci Beaucoup, Muchas Gracias, Domo Arigato, Mahalo, Danke Schon, Grazie, Ta, Asante, Efharisto, Obrigado…