The Naked Cowboy!

We heard about the "Naked Cowboy" doing his thing in Times Square before leaving on this trip, but thought that there was not a snowball's chance he would be out there this time of year... Well, he must have snow balls after playing out there today! Seriously - he acted like it was 70 degrees on a summer day, rather than mid-30's and light snow flurries (with a wind chill making it feel like 40 below at times). And he must be doing something right if he managed to be a high point of entertainment on another great day in the City.

We started the day at a coffee shop in the Dominican section of Brooklyn (how we wound up there is anybody's guess) with the best prices in town - $4 for ham and eggs with home fries and toast! Good eats, too. From there we entered the magical mystery tour that is the subway schedule on the weekends, and found ourselves at Trinity Church, rather than our original mid-town destination. Better to pop in there and hear the soloist than stress over a change in plans.

Since we were in the neighborhood, a quick browse through Century 21 Department Store was in order (right across the street form Ground Zero, where construction on the memorial is well under way). A brief consultation with a kindly local got us on the train uptown, where we eventually met up with Kimmm at Bryant Park to begin a jaunt through the Fashion District (where much of Project Runway takes place).

Ken's approach to life continued to rub off on us, as today Groom got in on the act and convinced a singer in front of NY Public Library to climb up on one of the big stone lions and perform a number. Groom claims it was the guy's own fault, as he had a line in his previous song about "riding the lion." He was so good natured about it, we now have a CD in our possession that I'm sure will make for interesting listening.

After a fine dinner at the Green Table in the Chelsea Market, we were drawn to the hubbub around the Standard Hotel, where figure skater Johnny Weir was taking part in  Elise Øverland’s fashion event. Ken kicked into high gear once again, and made the night of a perfect stranger in the crowd of admirers (who was too shy to approach Johnny) when he took her by the arm and marched her right up for a photo op. Ken was rewarded a kiss on the cheek for his efforts by the appreciative fan.

With that being just a sampling of today's adventures, who knows what tomorrow may have in store for us?!

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Project Tim Gunn

Here is a great story about a small world, the plus side of the power of the internet, and the combined powers of determination and visualization.

After eating at an Italian restaurant with a Polish waitress in NYC, we were browsing at a French store when we received a text from Kimmm (after a Facebook update) that Tim Gunn was heading to Stella McCartney's fashion week PETA event (not too far uptown from where we were).

We immediately hopped in a cab and went directly there. At the door Cindy was not going to be deterred by its being an invitation only party, and much to the surprise and delight of Groom and Ken, she was soon ushered inside. (It will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows him that Ken was able to talk his and Groom's way in, but this is out of character for Cindy.)

Emboldened by having clearly visualized meeting Mr. Gunn for quite some time leading up to this trip, not only did we get to be at the same party, but got the opportunity to meet him and snap this photo. He is as pleasant and gracious as you would expect him to be from watching Project Runway.

Tomorrow, due to a different Facebook connection, it looks like we will be attending the Perry Ellis runway show at Lincoln Center. We'll keep you posted!

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Try This Word Quiz!

Says Heidi on Project Runway, “As you know in fashion, one day you’re in, and the next day… you’re out.” This fickle axiom also applies to words; one day they’re in, and the next day, they’re out of style. I experienced this firsthand after using the word “thongs” to point out a cute pair of poolside sandals. “What?” screeched the sassy lassie, “those are flip-flops, not underwear.” When did those flimsy summer sandals morph into skimpy panties? Fie! It was unpretty getting dressed down by a cheeky youngster and yet I find myself remembering to call them by their new name.

It’s not exactly a new name, but a friend gave me a new word to describe my approach to the world: Equipoise. As I’m both visual and word-oriented, it’s the perfect characterization of my 50-50 split on most everything.

We make our living using illustrations and words, and our Photoblog is comprised of both images and text. Knowing this, a kindred spirit brought a book of unusual words to me at the booth last Saturday. What a great present. I was about to show it to my Holiday Market neighbor, when he popped his head in our doorway and said, “Here’s a book I thought you might enjoy flipping through.” It was all about the history behind some of our common phrases, such as keeping a stiff upper lip (has to do with maintaining facial control so one’s mustache whiskers don’t betray a quivering lip). We laughed realizing each was holding a book about words the other might like. He suggested inventing a new word to mean what just happened and devised “lexo-telephathy.”

In love with words, images and history, I am a candidate for time-travel. Until I can teleport myself back in time to various cultures, I must satisfy my curiosity by taking magic carpet rides around the globe through books and television epics. Currently immersed in the medieval world created by Ken Follett in Pillars of the Earth and World Without End, and Showtime’s The Tudors, I am learning how many of the ideas we take for granted were inspired. Lest I suffer from a mild case of limbeck, it was serendipitous that the seed for this week’s blog germinated from outdated, archaic and not oft-used words. Limbeck describes that pesky condition of wearing yourself out trying to come up with new ideas.

While obambulating (wandering around), we shot some photos that we think are ostrobogulous (bizarre, unusual or interesting). To make things more ostrobogulous, I invite you to take our word quiz. Throughout the next few paragraphs, I will introduce a few new old words and attempt to work them into a sentence describing the photographs.

In spite of my best efforts, some of you will be surprised to learn that yes, the text and pictures have a relationship. We try to tell a story with the photos alone, arranging them according to subject, color, texture or pattern, yet we also take the time to write something that incorporates the images. Must I spell it out? The photos and words go together. Equipoise, remember? (Here is the perfect place to insert my weekly rant. You can enlarge the photos by clicking on them and then using the back arrow to return to the blog.)

After reading the clues to these old-fangled words, you’ll find the definitions at the bottom of the page. They will not be in any order, in fact, I have mixed them up and placed them willy-nilly so as not to give the answers away.

Giving myself mogigraphia (writer’s cramp) trying to figure a way to work myomancy into this quiz, unfortunately neither of us have taken any photos illustrating divination by the movement of mice. Oh well.

Ready? The first photo contains a gleed. On a hot day, the H2O dispenser in the second frame would come in handy for all you aquabibs. Because of the graffiti, I’m throwing this word in for free. Did you know that Frankenfood is food that contains genetically altered ingredients? Forsooth!

With no particular locution in mind for #3, I couldn’t ignore the chance to show a matching hydrating source with its companion stencil. When I googled “why did Johnny cash go to prison,” online resources stated that he never did, except for an overnight stay at a jail here and there. Apparently “the man in black” just had a bad boy image, which segues nicely into #4. Don’t you think the footpad in the orange ski mask looks like he’s about to barla-fumble?

Speaking of masks, the boy-man in #5 has infucated quite effectively to create his own.

Number 6 is a portrait of an abnormous gamp while 7 is quite flosculous. Photo 8 symbolizes meliturgy and 9 is a bit icterical. 10 and 12 are studies in bloncket and in 11, Groom caught a flaffer in mid-act. Last but not least, lucky number 13 is simply titled Velleity.

Here are the definitions, so have fun matching them to the photos.

A. refers to birds, to flutter around

B. a mere wish

C. an outlaw who preys on pedestrians

D. flower or flowery

E. honey making or bee keeping

F. misshapen

G. tinged with yellow



H. refers to a color that’s gray or bluish-gray

I. a beam of light

J. call for a time-out while playing

K. to drink water

L. umbrella

M. to use make-up to paint your face

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…

Monkey Mom

This week’s activities included a pre-Mother’s Day tea at a 105 year-old chapel. This historic Cloverdale Meeting House is currently available as a beautiful site for weddings and other social gatherings. In our event, friends congregated to sell wares, sip exotic rose milk, nosh on handmade chocolate and exchange bits of old fashioned gossip. Wanna hear some?

Let’s see…God’s Minion just became a grandmother for the second time (Congratulations!), Kimmmm’s husband is being presented with the Ashden Award for Sustainability (Way to go!), Bo Peep was commissioned by said husband to create a top hat to be worn for his audience with Prince Charles (Yeah, Baby!), Sister was bit bad by a dog (Ouch! Sorry, honey), Chakra Girl is learning to Salsa (move those hips, darlin’), cousin Mary designed us kimono’s from material brought back from Japan (Thank you!) and I overheard a musical friend talk about her “glory hole.”

Conversation was brought to a halt with that one. Huh? Upon further explanation, we learned that a glory hole is a warm place where something hard is put to melt. Yeah, that didn’t really clear things up too much. There might have been something about glass blowing in there as well.

Which brings me to this week’s spelling mishap. I’ve already mentioned Brande Roderick’s flexible use of the American language (remember “forgooed?”), but I think she may have been eliminated from the competition by pulling a Dan Quayle. While expressing frustration, Brande tried to spell crap and came out with “s-r-a-p.”

To rap, er, wrap this up, I’m pretty tired and don’t have the energy to share my windy lesson on intention and resistance. I’d rather snuggle up with Companion and watch “Project Runway,” dish on girls behaving badly (Ms. Joan and Melissa “Oh grow up” Rivers), contemplate who’d make the better, ahem, “coffee” date, the character Patrick Jane on The Mentalist or Detective Sam Tyler from Life on Mars.

I want a full body massage, to be fed chocolate, to sleep for awhile, to have toe-curling “coffee,” and not have to be anywhere or do anything or process information or learn any lessons or be challenged for a little while. Yes, I want to indulge in mindless television without losing brain cells and eat junk food without gaining weight.

On that indulgent note, I’d like to wish all the women out there a Happy Mother’s Day! Whether you diaper a goat (you know who you are), nurse a cat, pamper a dog, or have a human animal, it all counts. We nurture the earth, each other, our men, our creativity, our bodies, our businesses, our minds, our pocket books, our homes, our parents and hopefully, ourselves.

Speaking of moms, I was on the phone last night with Sister, checking on her wounded finger, when she told me this story about our mother that she’d just heard. After the telling, we argued as sisters are wont to do. “No way, that’s not true.”

“Oh, yes it is, go call and ask her yourself.”

“Fine, I will,” etc. etc.

I hung up with Sister and dialed Mother. Okay, more accurately, there was no dialing involved using a cell phone, but it doesn’t sound right to say “I hung up with Sister and punched Mother.”

“Mom, is it true?”

She verified that it was indeed.

“How come I’ve never heard this story before?”

Mom’s reply is so casual, “I don’t know, it didn’t last very long.”

“Tell me what happened!”

“I took Eldest child to the doctor and was holding her in my arms at the check in counter when I felt something tug at my leg. Naturally, I thought it was one of the other kids in the waiting room, but then the sensations dramatically changed and I turned my head just in time to see a monkey climb up my body.”

“A monkey? A real monkey? Are you sure it just wasn’t Sister as a toddler, she was so hairy and cute, you know, or another kid?”

“Oh no, this was way before you or Sister was born. It was a real monkey and all I could think was that it was going for my child.”

“What did you do?

“Oh, I don’t know, I think the woman it belonged to came and got it or something.”

“A monkey is climbing you and you don’t remember what happened?”

“It was a long time ago.”

Yep, that’s my mom, cool under pressure, doesn’t fuss much. If only I could get her to say in an Australian accent, “The monkey took my bay-bay.” Oh never mind. Love you mom.

As Mother’s Day is just around the corner, I’d like to leave you with a quote from the estimable Dan Quayle. “Republicans understand the importance of bondage between a mother and child.”

Oh, glory hole!