i just finished a variation of the bird series i call "bird portraits"...it's just another approach...a smaller more intimate look.
8/04/2008
queen-for-a-day
here's my new series..."queen-for-a-day" series at my etsy site.
i know this is way before a lot of you were born, but in the infancy of TV there was a popular program my mom use to love to watch... "queen for a day".
i watched it only because back then us kids where the prototypes for the modern day "remote control" :(
i always wondered why mom was so happy to watch other women get labor-saving NEW washers, dryers, refrigerators, stoves & vacuums. then i watched her one day; getting on her hands & knees to clean the kitchen floor, hauling the laundry to the dingy storage port outside where an ancient motorized washer stood with manual rolls that wrung out the clothes one-by-one, then hanging out the cloths on the backyard clothes line...hurrying so she could get us kids to the "neighbor lady" so she could get to her job at the factory.
i hereby dedicate this series to those wonderful women who truly defined "multi-tasking".
8/02/2008
my "bird series"
i remember seeing a "nature" program on pbs...it showed a male bird who not only built his nest on the ground, but also meticuluously cleaned & decorated it to court the female...i was wondering, would if we got it all wrong and they just LIKE TO DECORATE.
this whole series of birds is INSPIRED by my dad...we were never as close as my mom & me...he was a quiet intellectual scholar caught in wartime situation that left him not valuing what he had loved as a child...art, literature, poetry. years later, when the wounds had healed & i bought my dad's house i found in his garage, several boxes of his; one filled with his poetry, one of his calligraphy...and one filled with wonderful wood carvings of birds...so many birds...i found out later that when he had been sent to the internment camps during WWII, he was taught how to carve wood...he chose birds..they reminded him of "home"...but more importantly of his "freedom" lost.when he returned home...he never carved another bird again.
etsy is my friend...listing & relisting is my life
http://streetnoodles.etsy.com/
i mentioned this earlier, but i'll go on record about my involvement with etsy.com... i blush when i say this, i love this community of artists & what i preceive to be their purpose...their calling.
i had joined a few years ago, hearing about them from indie designer based blogs & websites. they seemed legit so i joined since i was getting no traffic at all at my website. as soon as i did i found that it was a huge community of crafters & just by shear mass it was hard to be seen for all the competition. instead of seeing it as a challenge, i threw up my hands & left after a few months of no sales.
my website business picked up, but i was having problems with my shopping cart (still do)...so i went back to etsy after hearing about some upgrades with them...they had raised their rates & were even more massive, but they were also better organized & were constantly improving upon themselves ...i was given "tools" thru inspirational articles and an energetic forum to rival anyone elses. tho my first sale was not immediate, i've seen an increase & now a hope that what i love to do can now pay for itself.
7/27/2008
CSI..a future conspiracy?
I blame it on CSI (the “good” one, Las Vegas). Remember the old episode about the “cat lady” who’s body is found with half her face eaten by her own cats…great image, right?
Anyway, I think my husband is slowly planning a murder by kitties…and ME as the victim…(dramatic intro of …”who are you…who…who..who, who?”).
Let me tell you my concerns. When we moved to this small (isolated) town, I wanted a cat…one cat. My husband started to collect 4 cats…FOUR! But not just ordinary cats…each having a skill..a talent if you will.
Stanley:
He’s the “smoozer”. He lulls me into a false sense of security with his fine tuned cat-ways, by purring in my ear, cuddling me in bed, and tongue-washing me to show his nurturing side.
Grayson:
He’s the “gentleman”. Always attentive to my needs (how obvious can you get!)…trying to earn my trust to be the only one of the “gang of four” to enter my inner sanctum…”my studio”. I’ve caught him trying to open the doors to my studio on several occassions.
Checkers:
He’s the “enforcer”. I will admit I created a monster! When John found Checkers in the backward…purely, by accident, he says…he was only about 3 inches long..his mother abandoned him for dead (more likely, saw the “666” birth mark on his head). Of course I nurtured him a little too well. He’s twice the size of a “normal cat, of this earthly domain”…he likes to crawl on my chest in bed…and pretends he doesn’t know that my breathing stops.
Stella:
She’s the “mastermind” I fear…her facial markings in a permanent “intimidation stare”. The other cats seem to do what she wants them to do. I can’t touch her without her trying to scratch or bite me, YET my husband can pick her up & pet her…a friendly cat-man relationship?... or a conspiracy in the making!?
There is yet no solid proof that there is a conspiracy…though I did find a half finished miniature popsicle replica of my studio in the closet…….HELP ME!
Anyway, I think my husband is slowly planning a murder by kitties…and ME as the victim…(dramatic intro of …”who are you…who…who..who, who?”).
Let me tell you my concerns. When we moved to this small (isolated) town, I wanted a cat…one cat. My husband started to collect 4 cats…FOUR! But not just ordinary cats…each having a skill..a talent if you will.
Stanley:
He’s the “smoozer”. He lulls me into a false sense of security with his fine tuned cat-ways, by purring in my ear, cuddling me in bed, and tongue-washing me to show his nurturing side.
Grayson:
He’s the “gentleman”. Always attentive to my needs (how obvious can you get!)…trying to earn my trust to be the only one of the “gang of four” to enter my inner sanctum…”my studio”. I’ve caught him trying to open the doors to my studio on several occassions.
Checkers:
He’s the “enforcer”. I will admit I created a monster! When John found Checkers in the backward…purely, by accident, he says…he was only about 3 inches long..his mother abandoned him for dead (more likely, saw the “666” birth mark on his head). Of course I nurtured him a little too well. He’s twice the size of a “normal cat, of this earthly domain”…he likes to crawl on my chest in bed…and pretends he doesn’t know that my breathing stops.
Stella:
She’s the “mastermind” I fear…her facial markings in a permanent “intimidation stare”. The other cats seem to do what she wants them to do. I can’t touch her without her trying to scratch or bite me, YET my husband can pick her up & pet her…a friendly cat-man relationship?... or a conspiracy in the making!?
There is yet no solid proof that there is a conspiracy…though I did find a half finished miniature popsicle replica of my studio in the closet…….HELP ME!
5/09/2008
"My softball" is gone !
I know it's taken me such a long time to get back on the blog. i also know i left everyone who stopped in on a cliffhanger.when i learned of my "softball" tumor & the need to operate to remove it along with all my "girlie organs" (which i was very attached to...no pun intended), i was in shock. i actually delayed the operation so as to coincide with my husband's vacation. i justified it by saying it would be more logistically easier for us, but in reality, i just needed a little time to get my head wrapped around what i had just been told. in hind sight, i wished i would have taken less time to adjust because the "softball" grew a little larger and started to twist about, cutting the blood supply causing some ungodly amount of pain.
i was screaming all the way to the hospital & swearing like a sailor for heavy-duty pain killers on the day of the operation. but my screams were met with a wall of bureaucracy. gratefully, the operation did happen. though they were 90% sure the tumor was benign i did have to wait a couple of weeks for the biopsy of the actual tumor for final clearance.
i haven't had the strength or energy to do anything but etsy maintenance (minimal)...this blog had to wait for my strength to increase & my hormonal depression to subside. but i assure you all i've been so grateful for everyday i'm here. i kiss & hold & tell my husband how much i love him...and i pet all my cats till they run from me.
please forgive me...i still get a little tired still. i will write back soon....have to tell you all about my attempt at getting a site on "flickr".
3/14/2008
My "softball"
It’s been a couple of days since I got the news from the results of my imaging exam. I’ve been debating whether to continue this blog as is or to create a separate blog just for this subject matter.
This blog has concentrated on my website business & occasional conversational tirades of my past & present. I hope you will read some of the past entries to understand why I decided to keep this blog as is…filled with my business as well as my personal entries.
Just like my past influencing my present & future, my work influences my life in general & vice versa. I wouldn’t have it any other way… it makes us human & beautifully flawed.
A couple of days ago I found out that my body has been growing something (theatrical scream in the dark) ! it’s about the size of a softball near my ovary. I didn’t notice anything…just thought I was aging prematurely & getting fat… little did I know I was going to sponsor a softball team, starting with the equipment.
Strange things go thru your head, at least mine… I remember my mom in the summer would warn me NOT to swallow the watermelon seeds or else I would grow a melon in my tummy. As I straddled that infamous exam table, I tried to remember when was the last time I had had a watermelon.
A couple of entries ago I talked about a childhood memory of my mom & her best friend who died of breast cancer. Funny how your brain kicks in thoughts & memories to help you along your way. We won’t know for sure if my “softball” is benign or cancer till I get an operation (scheduled for april 9th). Till then john & I talk about why stella (our female cat) likes to pee on the pillows, what do we need from the store today, and whenever I need to talk, or cry, or need to be held, he’s there. I am so blessed.
This blog has concentrated on my website business & occasional conversational tirades of my past & present. I hope you will read some of the past entries to understand why I decided to keep this blog as is…filled with my business as well as my personal entries.
Just like my past influencing my present & future, my work influences my life in general & vice versa. I wouldn’t have it any other way… it makes us human & beautifully flawed.
A couple of days ago I found out that my body has been growing something (theatrical scream in the dark) ! it’s about the size of a softball near my ovary. I didn’t notice anything…just thought I was aging prematurely & getting fat… little did I know I was going to sponsor a softball team, starting with the equipment.
Strange things go thru your head, at least mine… I remember my mom in the summer would warn me NOT to swallow the watermelon seeds or else I would grow a melon in my tummy. As I straddled that infamous exam table, I tried to remember when was the last time I had had a watermelon.
A couple of entries ago I talked about a childhood memory of my mom & her best friend who died of breast cancer. Funny how your brain kicks in thoughts & memories to help you along your way. We won’t know for sure if my “softball” is benign or cancer till I get an operation (scheduled for april 9th). Till then john & I talk about why stella (our female cat) likes to pee on the pillows, what do we need from the store today, and whenever I need to talk, or cry, or need to be held, he’s there. I am so blessed.
3/06/2008
Worry Wart
recently my doctor found a "growth"... i'm not suppose to worry...as if saying it makes it true. let's face it, i'm my mother's daughter, which means, i'm a "worry wart".
When I was a little girl, too young to go to school, I had my favorite sweater. It was soft and pink with rhinestones scattered all over the front collar, even the buttons had tiny rhinestones in the center. I loved to wear it to Sunday school (the only place I was allowed to wear it). One day Mom told me to get dressed and put my “favorite” sweater on…it wasn’t Sunday, and though I would never question her I thought it was strange. But then what did I care, I was a kid who was going to get to wear her favorite sweater, not on a Sunday, and take a drive with just my Mom…no one else…just me and her.
She put me in the old Ford …I remember the dull black color… the running boards… the leather seats hard as a bench with cracks that scratched the back of my legs when I moved. I was so short in the seat I could barely see outside… tops of trees as we passed, sunlight dappling though the leaves…after a while the car stopped in front of a house I didn’t recognize. My Mom got out of the car and walked over to my side… she opened the door, straightened my clothes, told me that we were going to visit someone…a friend…(friend of the family? …her friend?). I was not to touch anything…not to play …not to talk… not to mess up my clothes.
I remember I walked into a darkened room… there were people, they seemed to all know each other. Voices low and hushed…my mother’s voice added to the mix. I can’t remember …but I felt a politeness, a sadness.. children in a corner…quiet, sad…probably told not to play…not to talk…
My Mom took me outside after awhile and put me back in the car…she walked back to a woman who was standing on the front porch…a few polite words exchanged. Both women looking like they wanted to say more…to do more…to embrace, but an invisible wall stopped them. My Mom could barely look this woman in the eye…head and eye always lowering…her body bowing from the waist as if in some Japanese movie…
Mom came back to the car, started the motor, waved bye to the woman on the porch. Her eyes were looking straight ahead as she drove…she was quiet…so I was quiet…just looking out at the tops of trees and the sunlight now coming through the windows at a lower angle. Mom made a slight turn… my body responding to the centrifugal force…and when I sat back up the light hit just right… and suddenly… magically!!!…there was a million zillion tiny rainbows dancing on the dashboard, the door and my hands as I reached out to catch them…. I dared not to be quiet any longer…”magic” overriding Mom’s “quiet rule” for sure…. “MOMMY…MOMMY…look…look rainbows!!!”. But she didn’t seem to hear me…didn’t seem to see the rainbows…but maybe she did…she was crying…
Years later, through bits and pieces of conversations with her old friends, I found out that that woman on the porch that day long ago was her best friend. She had just been diagnosed with breast cancer… back in those days it was a “death sentence”…what usually happened was the family would “shroud” her away from everyone…talk about dying twice!! First, being treated like a leper by your friends…then watching yourself dying in the eyes of your family.
my husband & I have promised each other that that will never happen to us... we want to talk freely & openly about our mortality & all the phases that may lead to our end. luckily we both have a dark sense of humor.
When I was a little girl, too young to go to school, I had my favorite sweater. It was soft and pink with rhinestones scattered all over the front collar, even the buttons had tiny rhinestones in the center. I loved to wear it to Sunday school (the only place I was allowed to wear it). One day Mom told me to get dressed and put my “favorite” sweater on…it wasn’t Sunday, and though I would never question her I thought it was strange. But then what did I care, I was a kid who was going to get to wear her favorite sweater, not on a Sunday, and take a drive with just my Mom…no one else…just me and her.
She put me in the old Ford …I remember the dull black color… the running boards… the leather seats hard as a bench with cracks that scratched the back of my legs when I moved. I was so short in the seat I could barely see outside… tops of trees as we passed, sunlight dappling though the leaves…after a while the car stopped in front of a house I didn’t recognize. My Mom got out of the car and walked over to my side… she opened the door, straightened my clothes, told me that we were going to visit someone…a friend…(friend of the family? …her friend?). I was not to touch anything…not to play …not to talk… not to mess up my clothes.
I remember I walked into a darkened room… there were people, they seemed to all know each other. Voices low and hushed…my mother’s voice added to the mix. I can’t remember …but I felt a politeness, a sadness.. children in a corner…quiet, sad…probably told not to play…not to talk…
My Mom took me outside after awhile and put me back in the car…she walked back to a woman who was standing on the front porch…a few polite words exchanged. Both women looking like they wanted to say more…to do more…to embrace, but an invisible wall stopped them. My Mom could barely look this woman in the eye…head and eye always lowering…her body bowing from the waist as if in some Japanese movie…
Mom came back to the car, started the motor, waved bye to the woman on the porch. Her eyes were looking straight ahead as she drove…she was quiet…so I was quiet…just looking out at the tops of trees and the sunlight now coming through the windows at a lower angle. Mom made a slight turn… my body responding to the centrifugal force…and when I sat back up the light hit just right… and suddenly… magically!!!…there was a million zillion tiny rainbows dancing on the dashboard, the door and my hands as I reached out to catch them…. I dared not to be quiet any longer…”magic” overriding Mom’s “quiet rule” for sure…. “MOMMY…MOMMY…look…look rainbows!!!”. But she didn’t seem to hear me…didn’t seem to see the rainbows…but maybe she did…she was crying…
Years later, through bits and pieces of conversations with her old friends, I found out that that woman on the porch that day long ago was her best friend. She had just been diagnosed with breast cancer… back in those days it was a “death sentence”…what usually happened was the family would “shroud” her away from everyone…talk about dying twice!! First, being treated like a leper by your friends…then watching yourself dying in the eyes of your family.
my husband & I have promised each other that that will never happen to us... we want to talk freely & openly about our mortality & all the phases that may lead to our end. luckily we both have a dark sense of humor.
2/27/2008
Alias: Street Noodles...oh my!
well, i finally did it...joined esty (again). i had joined quite a while back in the beginning of my quest to make my crafting public. dare i say i wasn't impressed...but i've heard yet again some very good things about it. many blogs that i frequent often refer to it religiously and in researching it a little more i do find they have improved their services & organization in general. it seems more energized.
i'm only putting some of my jewelry & art dolls there to see how they will do. i'm excited about my new simplier jewelry...the cleaner lines are refreshing to me.
i hope everyone will checkout my site at etsy.
9/13/2007
new fall line: necklaces
i love halloween !
how does a dismembered
skeleton & pretty beads
work for you?
... just a sweet little autumn necklace.
new fall line: scarves
...this scarf is so much fun, yet elegantly soft. yes, those are real gemstones on the fringe.
...using richer colors with a variation of my decorative ends....
using soft luxurious yarns of earth-
tone blends....
... experimenting with making scarf pins.
6/10/2007
An Old Friend...
Out of the blue and unusually pleasant summer day, I got a phone call from an old friend, Elaine. I hadn’t heard from her in years. I do remember when I first moved back to my hometown I had left a message for her, but that was quite a while back. I didn’t think she would call back…I hadn’t kept in touch with her…maybe a few irregularly mailed Christmas cards or letters over the many years since college.
Elaine was always easy to talk to. I never felt out of place to plant a huge hug on her when we were in near proximity no matter how many years it had been. This time it was a phone call. After the shock of hearing her voice, we fell into the “catching-up game” like old pros without any awkward pauses. Both of us older, wiser, and with the “warranty” lapsing on similar body parts.
If I remember right, I met Elaine in a feminist art class in the mid 70’s. I was so use to “way-too-serious-art-students” who needed desperately to get a sense of humor (and probably get laid as well)…I think it was because I was one. She was this naturally beautiful girl with so much talent, intelligence & humor. I was drawn to her. We became fast friends & roommates & nabbed the best apartment in town. Though our living together was short & wonderful it ended I think because I returned to being a “way-too-serious-art-student-without-a-sense-of-humor”…if I was her I would have left sooner than later, but she stayed long enough to get me back from “the dark side” and for that I will always be grateful.
Do you remember that beach scene on “Sex in the City”…where Sarah Jessica Parker is throwing up on the beach and her friend is holding back her hair?? Even though she’s successful and looking beautiful in her designer clothes, a chance meeting of Mr. Big & his 20-something fiancée forces her to see what a fool she is…and though it’s been obvious to her friend who doesn’t say “I told you so”, but stays to hold back her hair and wash her friends’ face. In my case it was a half-ass attempt of an overdose. Though not lethal it kept me up all night in a drunken state with my legs cramping. Elaine massaged my legs all night to relieve the pain & watched over me when I was finally able to sleep.
I don’t know if Elaine will call back. If the talk about seeing each other again was like those chance meetings you have with acquaintances where you say “let’s do lunch” and never do. I use to think that I had to keep in touch with friends all the time to be “real friends”, but as I get older I don’t think there is a rule. Elaine will always be my friend (in my heart & mind). For a brief moment in time, she shared her laughter & tears with me. My only regret is that I feel she gave me more…more than I can ever give back.
Elaine was always easy to talk to. I never felt out of place to plant a huge hug on her when we were in near proximity no matter how many years it had been. This time it was a phone call. After the shock of hearing her voice, we fell into the “catching-up game” like old pros without any awkward pauses. Both of us older, wiser, and with the “warranty” lapsing on similar body parts.
If I remember right, I met Elaine in a feminist art class in the mid 70’s. I was so use to “way-too-serious-art-students” who needed desperately to get a sense of humor (and probably get laid as well)…I think it was because I was one. She was this naturally beautiful girl with so much talent, intelligence & humor. I was drawn to her. We became fast friends & roommates & nabbed the best apartment in town. Though our living together was short & wonderful it ended I think because I returned to being a “way-too-serious-art-student-without-a-sense-of-humor”…if I was her I would have left sooner than later, but she stayed long enough to get me back from “the dark side” and for that I will always be grateful.
Do you remember that beach scene on “Sex in the City”…where Sarah Jessica Parker is throwing up on the beach and her friend is holding back her hair?? Even though she’s successful and looking beautiful in her designer clothes, a chance meeting of Mr. Big & his 20-something fiancée forces her to see what a fool she is…and though it’s been obvious to her friend who doesn’t say “I told you so”, but stays to hold back her hair and wash her friends’ face. In my case it was a half-ass attempt of an overdose. Though not lethal it kept me up all night in a drunken state with my legs cramping. Elaine massaged my legs all night to relieve the pain & watched over me when I was finally able to sleep.
I don’t know if Elaine will call back. If the talk about seeing each other again was like those chance meetings you have with acquaintances where you say “let’s do lunch” and never do. I use to think that I had to keep in touch with friends all the time to be “real friends”, but as I get older I don’t think there is a rule. Elaine will always be my friend (in my heart & mind). For a brief moment in time, she shared her laughter & tears with me. My only regret is that I feel she gave me more…more than I can ever give back.
2/02/2007
Other views of my new studio...
my husband made this really nifty bead cart on wheels...it has carpeting on top so i can examine beads, a measuring tape so i can measure out beading wire, and pull-out drawers that carry clear plastic jars of beads...gives me an overview of the beads i have.
i wish everyone had a life partner like john...not only does he make me feel loved, but he can fix or build anything!
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