Bear

I collect stuffed animals, in fact, I used to work in a toy store. This drawing is one of my first bears (that I bought as an adult), and I think I drew this in 1983. So may I submit to you my Friday Archives... It's kind of fun to go back and look at my old creations. Thanks Loobylu!

Stopped At Carpinteria

For my Friday Archives we journey to Carpinteria. These are recent pictures but everything looks just like it did in 1992, a mere 16 years ago. The above picture is a short or long term apartment building. We had the ground floor second from the corner for the month of October.

   

We came here because 1.) he was already here on a job, and 2.) I needed a vacation. So I specifically requested, "I want to walk out the front door and on to the beach!" And he got very close.

If you turn around 180 degrees, this is what you see. Those big things way off on the horizon are not ships but drilling platforms, and when the fog lifts, they are quite obvious. 

  

Everyday that October I would walk all the way down the beach to the campground, and everyday was a mini adventure. 

One day I got tar all over my feet. This wasn't left over from the disastrous 1969 oil blowout.

No. This asphaltum occurs naturally and was used by the Chumash to make their canoes watertight.

Another day some Hollywood people were filming a beach blanket bingo type of movie complete with dozens of tan young women wearing bikinis with long blond hair. The director was having them run back and forth across the sand. They looked like they were about to collapse. 

And yet another day the fog was so thick, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. I went down to the waterside and felt a strangeness like I was being picked up, a floating sensation, and then these two nuns in full habit appeared and smiled at me. True story.

  

I went back to the apartment and experienced the worse flu I think I've ever had in my life. I didn't want to move for three days. Only it wasn't the flu. I was pregnant.

  

I didn't come to term with the child. Isn't that the nice way to say I miscarried? But if I had I would have a 15 year old on my hands right now (and I'd probably be wringing them occasionally). 

  

I Did It On Purpose.

Make no mistake about it. Our old toaster oven was beyond ever being completely clean again, and every time it was used, it smoked and smelled up the house.

The last time it was used I said, "Well, say goodbye. That's the last time that toaster is ever going to be used in this house again."

He raised his eyebrows like, "Oh sure."

  
When the greasy beast cooled down, the toaster, that is, I picked it up and marched it out to the dump pile. It was a small appliance fire waiting to happen anyway. When I came back in, he shot me this look like he couldn't believe what I just did.

Maybe I made a mistake because I immediately desired a crunchy piece of toast smothered in melted butter.

The next weekend we went to every box store in North County looking for a replacement.

  
Finally I saw it -- the toaster of my dreams. It took me back to the days of my childhood. Not a toaster oven, but a glorious chrome number with settings for bagels and pop tarts, and a crumb tray. An old-fashioned toaster that pops up the toast.

I brought it home and became a toast mistress.

At first, it was set half way between the darkest and the lightest setting, but I like toast to be a medium brown, so I upped the setting. After about a week of wondering, I finally said out loud, "What is going on?" It took me three cycles to get the English muffins the proper shade of tan. I complained vigorously. It goes good with morning coffee.

"It worked fine at the beginning," I said. "Now it's like it has already burnt out."

I was ready to nominate it to the POG (piece of garbage) Hall of Fame.

"Hey, now," he said calmly. "Be nice to your beautiful chrome toaster."

I grumbled and gave it a hard look. And that's when I noticed. I turned the setting to the lightest not the darkest. Oops.

  
I tell you all this because I want you to know I am capable of making a mistake now and then. Perhaps it's even a mistake telling you so, but because I make them every so often, I'll share another.

We just had a partial solar eclipse on June 10. For the life of me, I thought it was supposed to be on June 9, a Sunday. The height of the eclipse was to be in the evening, around 6 p.m. Around that time, I kept on asking him every five minutes or so, "Honey, does it look any dimmer to you?"

  
And boy, after a while, it was pretty clear who was looking dimmer.

  
Say goodnight, Gracie.

But that's OK. By the next day I was all ready for the moon to get in the way of the sun. And when the illumination started to drop and that eerie color was cast across our California landscape, I began to wonder if the sun would ever return.

It's just an eclipse, I told myself. But what if Mr. Sol didn't come back?

Well, my friends, we would be toast, but I was glad to be mistaken again.

{This was published in June 2002.}

  

Shadow Box circa 1975

About 33 years ago my bestfriend gave this to me. Shadow boxing was all the rage in the crafting world, and we were into making things. When I look at it now, it is like a time capsule. The black and white picture of the car was my crush's Fiat. The car club her brothers had going was called System. Although I don't remember liking beer, I think all her brothers drank Coors and Pepsi. I liked RC cola. But I did like sunflower seeds, and we used to sneak Kent cigarettes. Also the CAR drawing above the B&W car was in reference to the acronym of our secret club.

  

I ended up dating this crush for few years. My bestfriend and I had a falling out a few years later too. But for some reason, I kept this old thing. You should seen the dirt I wiped off before taking this picture. 

  

Now I know it isn't my archive and had I made it, I might not be proposing what I'm proposing to do. But I feel like disassembling the whole thing and making a new shadow box of old doodads and nicknacks that I have laying around. 

  

I wonder if I'll have any regrets.

Winston the Dragon

In the Spring of 2004 I took an art class at the local JC. I wasn't the oldest person in the class, but I certainly was older than most the students (by about 20 years). The class was really fun. The teacher was fabulous. And I had a great time perfecting my role as a "character," something I always knew I would grow into.

For part of the final we had to draw a dragon at home to be critiqued on the final day of class. The picture was to be done in black and white and one color of our choice.

"Oh dragons! How cool!" The class exclaimed. 

However, my first thought was that famous picture of Winston Churchill.  

The day of the final everyone put up their pictures. Beautiful, scary, very Japanese, elaborate dragons abounded. 

Then there was Winston.