tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55128872988968597802024-03-13T03:06:57.158-07:00..takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-53500093898746935182011-02-27T15:33:00.000-08:002011-02-27T22:23:39.924-08:00Happy Birthday, Charlie!!My cat, Charlie, just celebrated his first birthday. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VNb6If6VQ_A/TWrSqvKPwDI/AAAAAAAAAOU/YAugPAuOMI0/s1600/100_4807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VNb6If6VQ_A/TWrSqvKPwDI/AAAAAAAAAOU/YAugPAuOMI0/s320/100_4807.JPG" /></a></div>Born sometime in February 2010, I brought him home in April. <br />
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Just a wee thing that fit in the palm of my hand, he had the tiniest meow. <br />
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He would explore every nook and cranny of the apartment with fearless curiosity, eat voraciously and sleep anywhere like a corpse for 12 hours at a stretch.<br />
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ANYWHERE..... <br />
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Anything dangly, shiny, or crunchy was understood to be his personal toys. Anytime I would assemble a box to ship out a vintage item, he would be inside the box before you could say Mid Century Modern. <br />
I loved that after every meal, he needed to be cuddled while he took a 10 minute power nap. He would climb on my lap after every meal and curl up in a ball. It was so endearing! He would sleep on my chest at night, tip-toeing softly on the bed after I got comfortable. His purr would loudly resonate in the tiny bedroom.<br />
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He would look up at me with that precious, sleepy-cat face and say, "Mow," before drifting off to sleep.<br />
Ahhhh, what a sweet kitten I had.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNpRh4HHVNU/TWrQUXohWtI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DqwNRZoG_MA/s1600/100B6540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNpRh4HHVNU/TWrQUXohWtI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DqwNRZoG_MA/s320/100B6540.JPG" /></a></div>And then he got bigger. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-erQNngMnJ-k/TWrQ962xKbI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3Debce9K_3c/s1600/100_9061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-erQNngMnJ-k/TWrQ962xKbI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3Debce9K_3c/s320/100_9061.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And bigger.<br />
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And bigger still <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OEla-vIfq5o/TWrbcSmtQJI/AAAAAAAAAOc/fl-XGPOuBzo/s1600/100_4583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OEla-vIfq5o/TWrbcSmtQJI/AAAAAAAAAOc/fl-XGPOuBzo/s320/100_4583.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And then I got him neutered and he became.....a surly teenager.<br />
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He wont let anyone pick him up longer than 30 seconds. Lap-naps? Not unless you want a new scar collection. Chest-sleeping? HAHA!!! The only time he gets on the bed is if I hit snooze on the alarm (which in his kitteh brain means 10 minute delay to Food Time) He will nip my toes and paw at my forehead until I get up.<br />
He has all of the classic indifference and angst of a 14 year old pubescent boy.<br />
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And I absolutely adore him...<br />
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Charlie is funny, charming, and one helluva fast runner up and down the stairs. He entertains me for hours just being Charlie.<br />
I wouldn't change a thing.<br />
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Happy birthday, Beasty!!!takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-72563143108171021962011-02-20T09:27:00.000-08:002011-02-20T09:31:04.485-08:00My first Outdoor Market... a valuable lessonSo I finally did it. I stepped up and bought a table at a local outdoor market. It was sponsored by a local consignment shop that specializes in local artisans handmade goods.<br />
The market had been gaining a solid reputation in the area as a place to get unusual gifts and objects. The store itself is a lovely eclectic mix of jewelry, clothing, and even miniature welded coffins that weigh about 25 pounds.<br />
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I signed up in December for a space in the pre-Valentines day market in February. The first bad sign was that the post card the shop sent out in late January to its mailing list (AND email list) didn't show the date for the February outdoor market. It showed every other market date beginning in March, but MY market was left off in a printing error (and subsequently not caught by the shop owner.)<br />
*sigh*<br />
Despite this, and already having committed to the market and because I had already made about 25 new items specifically for the market, I kept moving forward. <br />
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One of the benefits of having signed up early for this market was that I as ALSO invited to set up a table the night before the market for our cities "First Friday Art Walk."<br />
The first Friday of every month, all the local art galleries open their doors to the public. We have a surprising concentration of art galleries and private studios in the historical downtown area. Its an amazing night! Needless to say I was tickled I was going to be a part of it.<br />
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I made 17 new kaleidoscopes (a feat in itself! Each one takes 5-12 hours depending on the design. THIS on top of a full time Monday through Friday job...) I also made about 30 pieces of jewelry, and over 40 new ornaments (or "suncatchers," if you must call them such) and decorative wall mirrors. I was worried that because my items have relatively low profiles that my shop would appear bare. So I conceived of various ways to display the ornaments to add interest if seen from a distance. Shopping at IKEA just 3 weeks before the market, I discovered 2 metal racks in the as-is section that I instantly knew was just what I needed.<br />
The 2 racks were part of an assemble-yourself wire drawer storage towers. PERFECT!<br />
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So the night came for the art walk. I rushed home from work and packed up my little car and set up my table in the lovely courtyard of the shop (blessedly less than one block away from my home.)I was set up by 5 and the event ran until 10.<br />
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And I waited.<br />
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And it got cold. REALLY cold. Like the coldest night we had had.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gIK7maT66PM/TWFMiCVIl4I/AAAAAAAAALc/Ka3vPEc0SCA/s1600/art+walk+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gIK7maT66PM/TWFMiCVIl4I/AAAAAAAAALc/Ka3vPEc0SCA/s320/art+walk+2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>And I made one sale. A $10 necklace. (But the girl that bought it was so excited about her purchase that it made the entire night worth the effort.)<br />
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It was funny that nearly everyone that picked up a kaleidoscope shook it and held it to their ear. They thought they were like rain sticks or rattles. I made a mental note that I needed a sign to point out they were OPTICAL art, not audio. LOL!<br />
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The other displayed artists started to pack up about 9 when the temperature dropped to about 30 and the art walkers trickled to nothing. So, my brother came to help me pack up and then he stopped by one of the many wonderful food trucks (Short Stop BBQ) that frequent my neighborhood on weekends and he bought me french fries with Louisiana style pulled pork and bleu cheese coleslaw. I was a happy girl.<br />
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The next morning at 8 my friend Tommy came over to help me set up for the market. He brought Starbucks...bless his heart!<br />
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We set up my booth in a matter of minutes. Which was both a blessing and a cause of concern. It was indicative of how few items I actually had to display. The vendors around me were still still setting up by the time the first visitors were arriving at 10, their booths filled with stuff. Then I noticed that 75% of the vendors were vintage. Oh, dear, this wasn't going to be my crowd at all.<br />
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I made 3 sales that day, 2 of them to friends (thanks Tim and Veronica!!) who had stopped by to show their support.<br />
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We packed up at 3 (even though the sale was till 5) when there was a good hour where not a single person had strolled through the area.<br />
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On the plus side, I have LOTS of new items now for my Etsy shop, which I have been listing, slowly.<br />
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All in all, Im glad I did it. I needed to put myself out there. Next time I will be a bit more selective about the type of market I choose to sell. Now I have ideas galore on how to improve the visual pop of my booth. Next time will be better!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G-EVGZwcWZg/TWFMyP5791I/AAAAAAAAALo/08nsSX66cyM/s1600/market+3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G-EVGZwcWZg/TWFMyP5791I/AAAAAAAAALo/08nsSX66cyM/s320/market+3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-11983641781409874142011-02-19T19:39:00.000-08:002011-02-19T19:39:44.915-08:00Miss me?So....yeah. For a while I abandoned my blog...again....while I upped my efforts to find employment. I daydreamed about the blog. I sometimes would open it just to be sure it was still here. And I plotted for the day I could once again indulge in some leisure time in which to post.<br />
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So now I am gainfully employed (hurrah!) and can now come in and spout my thoughts and observations into the great void in the hopes that someone will see them.<br />
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So while I gather my thoughts and consider what I should post about, I would like to say thank you to you few souls who are peeking in at this note. Stick around.... I feel a post brewing in the ol' noggin'.....takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-78699249335454087442010-10-02T08:55:00.000-07:002010-10-02T09:18:25.094-07:00No, no, no, no, NO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>A few days ago I found this ad in a Womans Day magazine. I'm familiar with these "collectible" ads designed to rope in retired ladies with shelves and shelves of tchotchke, but this one really disturbed me. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TKdUjxHenzI/AAAAAAAAALE/TfL6qsk9uwg/s400/monkey+hair.jpg" width="372" /> </div> Not only is it one of the most disturbing renderings of a monkey Ive ever seen, but its covered in mohair. HAIR!!!! Its a figurine........with hair. <br />
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I can never, ever un-see this.takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-34797925567266611272010-08-14T22:32:00.000-07:002010-08-19T13:17:29.171-07:00Heloise All Around the House....1965 tips to make your housework fun!I have a passion for vintage books. Cookbooks are a particular favorite because the recipes are so honest in vintage books. So many recipes I come across in vintage cookbooks are recipes Ive never heard of. These books are so worthy of being collected and used a daily reference.<br /><br />It's no surprise that my love of cookbooks would naturally guide me to collect vintage books on tips and advice to housewives. (I have an 1892 book called "Mans Strength, Womans Beauty" that is advice for young brides how to conduct themselves as wives, and what to expect of their husbands. Fascinating stuff!!)<br /><br />Todays find is a 1965 book, "Heloise Around the House." (Later, this lovely tipster turned columnist in a weekly newspaper column Hints from Heloise. Remember that? I LOVED that column! <br />I digress....)<br /><br />I found so many laughable solutions and several practical ones. Today I decided to share with you a tip from 1965. Be sure to check back again....I'll be posting more!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TG2Q1mj_JfI/AAAAAAAAAK0/P2bL_BKwdxs/s1600/helloise+cover.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TG2Q1mj_JfI/AAAAAAAAAK0/P2bL_BKwdxs/s320/helloise+cover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507217169902937586" /></a><br /><br />"For good measure!"<br /><br />"For those who can never find their measuring tape, make yourself a sewing apron!<br />I find this one of the most useful things in my home. Just sew a measuring tape upside down across the bottom of the apron....This is for good measure!<br />It's handy when you are sitting at your sewing machine. You can lift the bottom edge of your apron and check the width of any seam or hem you happen to be stitching. These aprons sell well at church bazaars."<br /><br /><br />This actually seems to be a very practical application! I hope to see you skilled seamstresses selling these aprons on Etsy!takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-43779731394677551552010-08-04T17:02:00.001-07:002013-04-01T20:01:27.940-07:00My Marco. Life will never be the same.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLc1CDiSI/AAAAAAAAAKs/OGOU9DSt9uA/s1600/marco+8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLc1CDiSI/AAAAAAAAAKs/OGOU9DSt9uA/s400/marco+8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501722484686424354" /></a><br />I adopted Marco in October of 2008. He was the cat my ex had adopted from PetSmart to entertain his part-time children. (He only had weekend custody...and knowing what I know now, he should be banned from having access to anything with cells.)It was several months in to the relationship before I was invited to his "studio" apartment. (If "studio" means one room sewage plant with central AC.)He hadn't cleaned his toilet in the 2 years he lived there. He had a shower in the same space he prepared food, and did his dishes in a bathroom sink that was infested with ants no matter the weather. He also had Marco.<br />Marco was an emaciated, dehydrated gray long haired cat who, no matter how much the ex abused him, would still return for a hopeful scratch behind the ears. (90% of the time, the ex would take this trusting and hopeful nature to abuse Marco even further.) He would pin Marco to the floor under his boot heel and poke objects in the cats face. He would pick Marco up by the tail and hold him just an inch above the ground and laugh as the cat struggled to grab the carpet for footing. The poor cat would writhe in pain and anger and the ex took this as a signal to torment the cat even more intensely. Because the ex was such an upstanding fellow and concerned with setting an example for his children, his two sons would also torment and torture Marco. (Two little Jeffrey Dahmers in the making, I'm afraid.) And poor Marco, having been subjected to this torment for 4 years yet still having to rely on the sadistic fuck for food was suffering a feline case of Stockholm Syndrome.<br /> The ex wouldn't actually provide food for the cat, but rather would set a bowl of Fruity Pebbles on the floor next to the toilet. Sometimes if he was lucky, a package a bologna would spoil in the rot infested refrigerator and Marco would get to indulge in the shreds of rotten meat. The only water available was the filthy toilet water, or water left on the floor after a shower.<br />I was determined to get the cat. I was going to take him.<br />After discovering the appalling life the ex chose to lead, I was anxious to exit the relationship. But not before I got the cat.<br />One day the d-bag called to tell me he had to leave town on "business" (if business means to have an illicit weekend in an Arizona hotel with a woman he had met only on the phone....) He said he was leaving the key under the mat could I check on his cat.<br />Gladly.<br />I purchased a one-time cat carrier and went to the hovel. I coaxed Marco out of hiding and fought him to get inside the box. I still have scars on my hands from where he scratched and bit repeatedly. Poor cat was terrified. He wailed all the way home. I brought him to my place and set up my bedroom for him. Brand new and CLEAN cat box, fresh water, all the cat food he could ever eat, and a big bed to hide under.<br />After about 2 weeks he started to tentatively come out of the room. He would sit in the doorway and glare at me, then bolt back to safety if I so much as blinked.<br />After 4 weeks, he would sit apprehensively on the opposite end of the couch, again very skittish.<br />By week 8, he was sleeping curled next to me at night and taking treats from my hand.<br />He became my ultimate love. My entire life revolved around making him happy. I bought him a water fountain that would trickle fresh water tantalizingly 24 hours a day. I chose expensive, holistic foods to nourish him. And there wasn't a flat surface in my house that didn't have a bag of his favorite Good Life Recipe treats. After about a year of my nurturing and indulgences, Marco was roughly twice his original weight and deemed "healthy and very content" by our veterinarian.<br />Marco got used to a pet carrier eventually as I had to take him for vaccinations, checkups and groomings. He got attached to his brand new, soft-side carrier and would take naps inside, peeking slyly through the mesh screened windows. <br />Marco would greet me every time I unlocked the door or would sit in a favorite perch in whichever room I was in, but always had to have me in view. <br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLcrg09nI/AAAAAAAAAKk/s7DP39G8UKY/s1600/marco+6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 357px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLcrg09nI/AAAAAAAAAKk/s7DP39G8UKY/s400/marco+6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501722482131138162" /></a><br />He liked just being near me. He would curl up behind my keyboard while I typed. He would nip at my ankle if I was crafting for too long and hadn't acknowledged him. He would bring me a fuzzy toy at least once a day as his "gift" (a pleasant alternative to the giant Japanese Beetles he so loved.)There were a thousand ways he showed me every day how grateful he was. <br /> <br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLbvrvaOI/AAAAAAAAAKU/RPZydttQx6Q/s1600/100B0992.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLbvrvaOI/AAAAAAAAAKU/RPZydttQx6Q/s400/100B0992.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501722466070784226" /></a><br /><br />Marco softened me. Marco gave me a reason to love. Marco was an unconditional recipient of everything I had to offer. No bullshit. No games.<br />Marco was my life.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoJuM1lVaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/V-qRjg0C1q0/s1600/100_4079.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoJuM1lVaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/V-qRjg0C1q0/s400/100_4079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501720584111084962" /></a><br />On Saturday, July 24th, Marco left my world after having been let out accidentally while I was away, he got into the street and was struck by a car. I have grieved this loss possibly harder than I have grieved the loss of any human. I am in shock that whatever higher powers there are would subject him to such a horrific life for four years, and snatch him away after less than two years of happiness. Marco deserved better from this world.<br />Whatever higher powers there are have played a nasty little game with me. <br />My life will not be the same without Marco.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLcG9ZuVI/AAAAAAAAAKc/RsP-hsNFmKw/s1600/marco+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/TFoLcG9ZuVI/AAAAAAAAAKc/RsP-hsNFmKw/s400/marco+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501722472318875986" /></a> <br /><br />PS:<br />If you see my ex,(hard to miss; blond hair he wears in a faux 1950's gelled pomp, weighs no more than a bicycle, and a total wimp) do me a favor, tell him karma's looking for him.<br />And karma can't be evaded.takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-22236794758306019272010-04-24T18:07:00.001-07:002010-04-24T18:24:03.606-07:00Letting the 6 year old inside have her dayToday I went to COSTCO with my brother and his 2 adorable kids, ages 3 and 6. This particular store catered to individuals who have food vending machines, and rather than sell an entire case of sweet treats, they offer them for sale individually. There was an entire row dedicated to Hostess baked goods. A rainbow variety of fried dough and sugar glazed fruit pies, Ho Ho's, Zingers, Ding Dongs, and holiest of holy… Sno Balls.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXKwwmSZI/AAAAAAAAAJc/fD1QgKTjVs8/s1600/100B4822.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXKwwmSZI/AAAAAAAAAJc/fD1QgKTjVs8/s320/100B4822.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463876984073767314" /></a> <br />Packages of twin day-glo pink mounds of soft marshmallow covered with coconut flakes, enrobing a cream filled chocolate cup cake. I suggested letting the kids pick one treat each for later (a clever guise for an excuse for me to make my own selection MWAHAHAHAH!) <br />See, I haven’t eaten one of these things in at least a decade, if not longer. Giving up Hostess baked goods is something all adults eventually do when they reach a certain age. Its like a mid-life Lent sacrifice for all eternity. Well, today I decided it was my mid-life Easter Sunday and I would break fast on my baked goods ban! Happily I placed my package of pink, fluffy Sno Balls in the cart next to Raspberry Zingers (niece,) Ho Ho’s (nephew,) and Ding Dongs (brother.)<br />Once we returned home, I was left alone with my delicious cello-packaged mini Grand Tetons the color representing NOTHING I’ve ever seen in nature. I noted the ingredients list of no less than 50 ingredients (maybe more if you count all the multi-ingredient ingredients….) the first on the list; sugar. Ohhhh, this can’t be good. <br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXLOp4lMI/AAAAAAAAAJk/FRd5fL3n2XA/s1600/100B4861.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXLOp4lMI/AAAAAAAAAJk/FRd5fL3n2XA/s320/100B4861.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463876992098669762" /></a><br /><br />Just one bite, I thought. Before dinner. What could it hurt?<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXL0mtV6I/AAAAAAAAAJs/MwfPsWkPa_Q/s1600/100B4870.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXL0mtV6I/AAAAAAAAAJs/MwfPsWkPa_Q/s320/100B4870.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463877002285897634" /></a> <br />I peeled back the marshmallow robe and heard it make that pleasant crackling sound it made even when I was a kid. There it was. The chocolate cupcake.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXMXxuMBI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/XzyBca3GxoI/s1600/100B4910.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXMXxuMBI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/XzyBca3GxoI/s320/100B4910.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463877011727331346" /></a><br /><br />One bite of the cupcake sent dopamine rushing through my veins to alert my nerve endings of the joyous event. Then the marshmallow. Teeth sinking in to the sticky, spongy layer while bits of pink coconut landed like snowflakes on my lips. The six year old girl in me said “Squeeeeeeeeel!!!”<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXM68IwfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-rOhkxwMC3E/s1600/100B4962.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/S9OXM68IwfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-rOhkxwMC3E/s320/100B4962.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463877021166256626" /></a><br /><br />It may not be something we can have everyday, but every now and again, take your inner 6 year old to the sweets counter and let her pick out anything she wants. Hasn’t she been a very good girl?takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-75131134721283692402009-12-16T11:44:00.001-08:002009-12-16T11:44:47.833-08:00snowflakes 101<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fwwidall/3211317376/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3340/3211317376_c091038b7c.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fwwidall/3211317376/">snowflake_09082</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/fwwidall/">fwwidall</a>.</span></div><p>I found this link through another amazing blog (cakewrecks.blogspot.com) And I had to share it with you! He has created a somewhat complex camera sytem and snowflake capturing box and is able to capture amazingly detailed images of individual snowflakes. Their complex structure is breathtaking! It's almost difficult to believe these are formed by nature, and not photoshop (we are so jaded, aren't we?)<br />Click through his entire show of 100 perfect snowflakes!</p>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-18012902655963682252009-11-16T19:44:00.001-08:002009-11-16T19:49:58.064-08:00NEGLIGENT!!!Dear Blog'<br /><br />I know you thought I had forgotten about you. I know you probably lay awake at night, shivering, wondering; "Whyyyyyyy! WHYYYYYYY!?!?" My absence was not your fault. It was nothing you did or said, or didn't do or say.<br /><br />It's not you, Blog. It's me.<br /><br />I was lazy and negligent and I accept responsibility for how I've made you feel.<br />Please accept my apology. Please? And I promise to do my best to never leave you for so long again.<br />All I can do is my best....<br /><br />Wadda' ya' say?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SwIdUFVGzyI/AAAAAAAAAJU/gKGEwZVzuOk/s1600/marco+7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SwIdUFVGzyI/AAAAAAAAAJU/gKGEwZVzuOk/s320/marco+7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404914733663309602" /></a>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-44003085065546966732009-10-14T19:58:00.001-07:002009-10-14T20:18:59.613-07:00Kaleidoscopes....A New Shop!I finally did it. I opened a new Etsy shop to list and show off my handmade, stained glass kaleidoscopes! My inventory is on the light side at the moment, but there's more coming...MUCH more! I called the shop CrowsFolly because crows so love shiny objects and are involuntarily drawn to them. I think we all have a bit of that in us, as well! <br /><br />I started making kaleidoscopes about 8 years ago, give or take. I wasn't very skilled at making large stained glass panels, and frankly the size of them intimidated me. One day I was cruising eBay looking for one of those old cardboard tube kaleidoscopes like we would get as kids (I just loved that click click click sound the plastic objects made in that magical cylinder!) During my quest, I discovered a book from the 1970's about the Brewster Society http://www.brewstersociety.com/<br />There was a whole world of kaleidoscope enthusiasts out there! Artisans and collectors. A world opened up for me! <br />After about a year of trail and error, I discovered the secrets to making a quality scope. One main secret is front surface mirror. Most artisans wont tell you that. They would rather you plug away making scopes using standard one-sided mirror and let you wonder why the image was always distorted. Not me, though. I'd tell anyone who wanted to know. I'd even tell you where to get it (which is no small task sometimes.)<br /><br />Once I perfected the mirror assembly (a 3 mirror configuration is my favorite) I began to work on the exterior. Again, this was no small task. It takes a lot of care and patience to assemble one. You have to know when to not use flux, never use water to clean (it seeps under the copper foil despite all best efforts to prevent it) How to assemble the object chambers. But after several failed attempts I had figured it out. <br /><br />For several years my scopes were the most sought after and hoped for gift among my friends and family. (And I don't think a single one of them doesn't have at LEAST one on their shelves.) I toyed with the idea for years to sell them, not really thinking there was a market for them. Until I started getting custom orders. So now, along with doing custom orders I decided to introduce my scopes to Etsy. The clear glass used in my scopes is re-purposed from picture frames that I would discover in waste bins or in thrift stores. The colored glass is obtained from local merchants, and occasionally from salvaged pieces of broken stained glass boxes and other objects.<br /><br />I hope I will be able to provide a mix of scopes and glass objects that will make you say, "Ooooooooooo."<br /><br />So much for a Wordless Wednesday post. Ha ha!<br /><br />Stay tuned!takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-32420326336307896162009-09-05T13:39:00.001-07:002009-09-05T14:09:46.410-07:00Tokens of the Great American RoadtripSummer is winding down. Families prepare for the school year and the onset of Autumn. Children returning to school with stories of "How I spent my summer vacation." I remember those days. I loved having a souvenir of some sort to bring with me to school. Giggling and excited, we would ooh and ahh over the tokens each of us had collected that summer. Postcards, snow globes, key chains, and my favorite; cedar boxes. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRITfMZBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/rsVP1VOI9Zw/s1600-h/100B4862.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRITfMZBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/rsVP1VOI9Zw/s320/100B4862.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378090845634061330" /></a> <br />I remember my first cedar box from Hearst Castle in Northern California. It had a postcard image of the Castle lacquered on the lid, with a tiny, lockable brass hasp. I LOVED that box! I had one from Lion Country Safari in Irvine, CA. The Grand Canyon. Tijuana. Las Vegas. How I adored those cedar boxes, each with its cursive-font stamp stating the destination. <br />As I grew up, the boxes were lost, misplaced, broken, and in one odd occasion, burned by my step-brother. I missed them. So I began a mission last year; to find as many cedar souvenir boxes as I could. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRGnfcDnI/AAAAAAAAAHs/lsBcluB2KpY/s1600-h/100B4822.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRGnfcDnI/AAAAAAAAAHs/lsBcluB2KpY/s320/100B4822.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378090816644058738" /></a><br />My goal is to find one from every state (but where I will keep 50 varied sized boxes is something I haven't yet considered. Who can think clearly when on such a noble mission?!) <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRHrdJYeI/AAAAAAAAAH8/hfntK74Oy4A/s1600-h/100B4852.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRHrdJYeI/AAAAAAAAAH8/hfntK74Oy4A/s320/100B4852.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378090834888057314" /></a><br /><br />I have amassed a sweet little collection so far. My two favorites being one that has a poem to ones "Sweetheart," and the rounded-top box that resembles (in my eye) a tear-drop trailer. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRI170kqI/AAAAAAAAAIM/uxQHewYTuvE/s1600-h/100B4941.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRI170kqI/AAAAAAAAAIM/uxQHewYTuvE/s320/100B4941.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378090854880940706" /></a><br /> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRHCmf5KI/AAAAAAAAAH0/2FR3lnOwEdM/s1600-h/100B4842.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SqLRHCmf5KI/AAAAAAAAAH0/2FR3lnOwEdM/s320/100B4842.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378090823921427618" /></a><br /><br />They make me sentimental for the days of long car drives in the back of an non air conditioned station wagon, with the eternal question posed to the patient driver....."Are we there yet?"<br /><br />I hope your summer was full of memories!takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-41458915559197918542009-08-07T20:11:00.000-07:002009-08-07T20:52:05.772-07:00If they only knew.....Then I wouldn't find such amazing treasures! Something drew me to the stack of 1980's mass produced prints of pastel palm trees and coyotes in howling profiles. There it was, a bronze gilded frame and a huge Maxfield Parrish print. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz07MjDVgI/AAAAAAAAAHc/jI3_H12KF3c/s1600-h/100_6399.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz07MjDVgI/AAAAAAAAAHc/jI3_H12KF3c/s320/100_6399.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367434153736492546" /></a> GASP! The backing was shredded, save a tiny corner that had an art shop label for The Golden Rule in St Paul Minnesota. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz06ogaFCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/gywCKb_C0NI/s1600-h/scan0001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz06ogaFCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/gywCKb_C0NI/s320/scan0001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367434144061723682" /></a> $19.00. What?!? Well, even if it turned out to be a repro, it was a great find. The frame alone was worth more than that! So I take it home and research the Golden Rule. GOD BLESS THE INTERNET!!! Turns out the Golden Rule was the #1 department store for folks of considerable means from the 1890s up until the 1940's. They had an atrium where you could have an extravagant lunch while the porters stood at the ready with your newly purchased items. There was an entire floor dedicated to fine art. And in the 1920's a Max Parrish framed and numbered litho could be had for about $90. IN 1920! Even then he commanded a great price! After carefully removing the brown paper backing, I discovered the litho number on the back of the Parrish print. Turns out its and original run litho. GLORY BE!!! Sad part of the story is it has lost a lot of its glorious purple hues. Possibly was kept in a sunny parlor and was exposed to hours of abusive UV glare. *sigh* But just the same, I adore my new Parrish! <br />Until I can afford a mint condition version, this one suits me just fine.......<br /> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz07fB8m7I/AAAAAAAAAHk/19cGE6Uvon8/s1600-h/100_6402.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Snz07fB8m7I/AAAAAAAAAHk/19cGE6Uvon8/s320/100_6402.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367434158697913266" /></a>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-73198888137647773812009-07-25T16:29:00.000-07:002009-07-25T17:18:15.139-07:00Tiny plates....a growing obsession<div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub2zkn-gI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5_ECp9kefnY/s1600-h/100B9792.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362551147173771778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub2zkn-gI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5_ECp9kefnY/s200/100B9792.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub2Yy_JVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/tiE2mizBJA4/s1600-h/100B9671.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362551139986253138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub2Yy_JVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/tiE2mizBJA4/s200/100B9671.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>One day I was having a snack. A few slices of cheese and some crackers. I assembled my snack on a linen napkin, walked through the kitchen, one cracker was precariously balanced and when I stumbled on the corner of the area rug, the cracker flew and I tried to stop it and then I lost the whole mess. I thought, Maybe I need a small plate for small food. Currently I have large chop plates and pasta bowls, but no small plates. You know, like a bread plate that comes with a set? <div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub14qN-xI/AAAAAAAAAGg/FiPWy25C0S0/s1600-h/100B9641.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362551131359542034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub14qN-xI/AAAAAAAAAGg/FiPWy25C0S0/s200/100B9641.JPG" border="0" /></a> At that moment, an obsession was born. I don't like using paper plates (trying to leave a small footprint and all that.) Reusable is the way to go. And up cycling, I'd be saving them from a landfill! So I'd be doing a good thing by buying a few small plates, right?<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub1h4FuLI/AAAAAAAAAGY/vF7-Rict-OE/s1600-h/100_9610.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362551125243705522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub1h4FuLI/AAAAAAAAAGY/vF7-Rict-OE/s200/100_9610.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div>My next trip to the thrift store sussed out a single, funky 6" plate. A few days later I found 2 more plates in yet another funky design. Surely 3 plates was enough. I mean, how many snacks on any given day will I have? But what if I have company....and THEY want a snack? I need more plates.<br /></div><div>2, 3, 4 more plates added to the collection. But what if I had a Tapas party? I have that really amazing Tapas cookbook. It could happen.... I need more plates! And the stack grows. Clattering when I take one off of the top of the stack. (The same plate each time, by the way. I only ever use one plate at a time. And place it back on the stack. And use it again. And again. The same one.) While the rest of the plates go largely unused, it doesn't stop me from scouring the thrift store shelves for that stray Franciscan bread plate or milk glass saucer missing it's tea cup and doomed to spinsterhood. I'll have a tapas party one day. I swear I will.<br /><br /></div><div>I just need a few more plates first......</div></div></div></div></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub3AgcnrI/AAAAAAAAAG4/L-qZXlDMExA/s1600-h/100_9721.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362551150645911218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smub3AgcnrI/AAAAAAAAAG4/L-qZXlDMExA/s200/100_9721.JPG" border="0" /></a>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-389197169403904472009-07-23T14:33:00.000-07:002009-07-26T13:17:41.262-07:00It always starts with One<div>4 years ago I discovered a brown leather, hand crafted saddle shaped purse in a thrift store in Minnesota. <div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smjbwe36H0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/CM8ahzBzGdo/s1600-h/100B8752.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361776982352338754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Smjbwe36H0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/CM8ahzBzGdo/s320/100B8752.JPG" border="0" /></a> Instantly I was transported to 1976 when my mother carried a purse almost exactly like it. I had to have it! Here in CA., I would sometimes carry the purse out on my errands. I would <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">receive</span> mixed comments from my friends anywhere from, "Oh my God where did you find that! I've been looking for one for years!" to "Don't ever wear that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">again</span> if <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">you re</span> with me." <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">LOL</span>! I loved my purse. Say what you want, I think it's adorable. My friend calls it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hippy</span>-dippy. That same friend; knowing how much I adored my Minnesota saddle bag; purchased for me a second hand made leather purse for my birthday. (Her name is Kori. Tee hee, Kori, youre in a blog now!!) <div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbwzkKEGI/AAAAAAAAAF4/YXGn45a78Vc/s1600-h/100B8712.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361776987906642018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbwzkKEGI/AAAAAAAAAF4/YXGn45a78Vc/s320/100B8712.JPG" border="0" /></a> And I thought I couldn't love another purse as much as I loved the first! Beautifully detailed, including the monogram "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">MJS</span>," as well as a spot darkened from many years of being carried under the arm of "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">MJS</span>." </div><br /><br /><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ahhh</span>, and then I found the third. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbyZF5nqI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/VGdxjHb-LgA/s1600-h/100_6259.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361777015160151714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbyZF5nqI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/VGdxjHb-LgA/s320/100_6259.JPG" border="0" /></a> At a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">thrift store</span> I practically saw it from the parking lot before I entered the store. Like a beacon it called me. A handcrafted tote depicting Aztecs, cacti and a Mayan pyramid! <div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbyAF9uDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/2nNDA-UcNbE/s1600-h/100_6258.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361777008449534002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbyAF9uDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/2nNDA-UcNbE/s320/100_6258.JPG" border="0" /></a> Even the bottom is beautifully detailed. <div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbxjoPKqI/AAAAAAAAAGA/pwvvFguN4GA/s1600-h/100_6256.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361777000808655522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmjbxjoPKqI/AAAAAAAAAGA/pwvvFguN4GA/s320/100_6256.JPG" border="0" /></a> The entire bag is SO detailed, it's almost tacky! OK, so it's a little tacky.... that just makes me love it more!</div></div></div></div></div>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-52339730388520640952009-07-18T09:18:00.000-07:002009-07-26T13:15:27.368-07:00No Sharpies, Please<div>OK, I've established that I crawl thrift stores regularly. Not regular as in once a week, I'm talking every day. I find really great, really odd and really.....um, lets just say the last stop should have been the waste bin for 70% of what's in a thrift store.<br />Sometimes I look for things to put on my ETSY shop, and sometimes I look for items to round out a collection I have started. This particular day, I found a great vintage lunchbox. Silver with red trim. Vent holes in the sides. <div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7s9p4hfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/6-572sDigG4/s1600-h/100B6881.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359841781430650354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7s9p4hfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/6-572sDigG4/s320/100B6881.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7tSdXJ8I/AAAAAAAAAFg/F8nuMEOda-Q/s1600-h/100B6900.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359841787015276482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7tSdXJ8I/AAAAAAAAAFg/F8nuMEOda-Q/s320/100B6900.JPG" border="0" /></a> An amazing leather handle still attached. Sure, the silver paint had rubbed off from the lid, but it didn't detract form the appeal. How much could it be? I turn it over, and right there, written in black Sharpie permanent marker on the exposed metal of the outside of the lunch box, was the price. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7tpW9-7I/AAAAAAAAAFo/q1aWAUOggV4/s1600-h/100B6911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359841793162476466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7tpW9-7I/AAAAAAAAAFo/q1aWAUOggV4/s320/100B6911.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /> Really? A permanent marker? You can see there is a price sticker not 2 inches from the graffiti. Did they really deem it necessary to essentially devalue an item by permanently "tagging" this treasure? Needless to say, I took it home. I felt that in its current state it may not find a home as forgiving as mine. My other 3 metal lunchboxes don't make fun of it. Even though humiliated, it seems to have adopted a proud stance up there with all the pretty lunch boxes.</div></div></div> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7stSupOI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/yB11jUWWoZ4/s1600-h/100_7050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359841777038566626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmH7stSupOI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/yB11jUWWoZ4/s320/100_7050.JPG" border="0" /></a>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-87640405527809672542009-07-17T10:50:00.000-07:002009-10-02T12:09:12.459-07:00FOUND!!!<div>So I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">had</span> a job interview in Paramount a few weeks back. (Not a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">successful</span> one. I could tell the job was already filled before the interview started. I was the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">obligatory</span> white female over 40 to satisfy the affirmative action requirements. IMHO.)</div><br /><br /><div>But from lemons, lemonade! I noticed that on the corner just a block away from the interview location was one of those grand iconic giant-donut-on-the-roof donut shops. I take my camera everywhere (even to interviews!) so I went to get a donut (devils food with chocolate frosting and chocolate jimmies. Hey, I had to console myself!) and take a picture or two. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-vmIxnPI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Xh1qum8m4l4/s1600-h/100B4831.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359493281471372530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-vmIxnPI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Xh1qum8m4l4/s320/100B4831.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-vP6Q6tI/AAAAAAAAAEY/db4e-8Jew7M/s1600-h/100B4821.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359493275504929490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-vP6Q6tI/AAAAAAAAAEY/db4e-8Jew7M/s320/100B4821.JPG" border="0" /></a> As I pull in to the parking lot, I see a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">dumpster</span> behind the shop with the back rest of a Danish modern chair peeking out from above the rim. Oh my stars....could it be? <div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-u69tgjI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/i3MfM5qHhVY/s1600-h/100_6203.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359493269882241586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-u69tgjI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/i3MfM5qHhVY/s320/100_6203.JPG" border="0" /></a> The holy grail of mid century dining chairs? In the dumpster? I tottered over on my high heels and hastily pulled out the chair. A light from heaven shone down upon the chair and I swear I heard a harp...... With no delicacy, I stuffed the chair into my car, grabbed a donut, sanitized my hands (icky!) and sped away. All done under the watchful gaze of a homeless man with long, long dreadlocks.</div><br /><br /><div>I got it home, cleaned it, and began looking for appropriate fabric to cover the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">original</span> reverse-concave seat. I'm thinking a solid red bark cloth......</div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-ua95h0I/AAAAAAAAAEI/oRpiP6yEzhI/s1600-h/100_6204.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359493261293094722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SmC-ua95h0I/AAAAAAAAAEI/oRpiP6yEzhI/s320/100_6204.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Cheers!</div></div></div></div>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-60029231045399705072009-07-16T10:26:00.000-07:002009-10-02T12:10:02.924-07:00Vintage Cookery!<div>I have a passion.... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span> it's an obsession... for vintage cookbooks. I especially love the ones created by industrious church ladies' groups. (The ones that list recipes by Mrs. John <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Brethwhite</span> and Mrs. Lars <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kidrowski</span>.) While I will sometimes test a recipe or two, I never really dove in and utilized the recipes in my everyday cooking. (And I do mean everyday, as I prefer to cook rather than dine out. Cooking is so much fun!) My personal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">repertoire</span> of recipes that are "go <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">to's</span>" has become too predictable. Beef <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">stroganoff</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">spaghetti</span> with meat sauce, macaroni and cheese (yes, from scratch!) crust casserole (I'll get in to that one later.) So I decided to start incorporating the recipes from my vintage cookbooks into my rotation.<br />My most recent find is a Mennonite cookbook from 1950 that has "Eleven hundred mouth watering recipes from old Mennonite cookbooks..." <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jlgxQLVI/AAAAAAAAADg/xlvC6MSxHuc/s1600-h/100_6968.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359111577697004882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jlgxQLVI/AAAAAAAAADg/xlvC6MSxHuc/s320/100_6968.JPG" border="0" /></a> Perusing this cookbook showed me that these ladies made hearty meals from local ingredients on very modest budgets. And it made sense to me to try these recipes. There really are "mouth watering" recipes that really inspired me. (Well, except for the recipe for Mock Turkey made with a loaf of stale bread and ground sausage. I may have to try that just because!)<br />I started with Corn Fritters. And I tell you, these are wonderful! They can be served to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">supplement</span> a meal or as a dessert (if you sprinkle powdered sugar on them and omit the black pepper. Yum!) I recommend these highly! They are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">inexpensive</span> and can probably be made from ingredients you already have on hand.</div><div><br />Corn Fritters<br />2 cups fresh corn <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">kernels</span> (I used frozen, thawed and drained)<br />2 Eggs<br />1/4 cup Flour (I added an extra 1/4 cup as they didn't hold together well)<br />1 Teaspoon Salt<br />1/2 Teaspoon Black Pepper<br />1 Teaspoon Baking Powder<br />2 Tablespoons Cream (Low fat milk or buttermilk can be used and still <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">yield</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">tasty</span> result)<br />4 Tablespoons oil<br />Beat the eggs, adding in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">the</span> flour, baking powder, salt and pepper to make a slurry. Mix well till flour is blended. Add this to the corn and mix well.<br />Add cream.<br />Drop mixture by the spoonful to hot oil. (These will splatter and pop, be sure to use a splatter screen!)<br />Brown on both sides</div><div><br />Sprinkle with salt when they come out of the fryer (or powdered sugar if you prefer sweet fritters, but then omit the pepper in the batter.)<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jlC5xTKI/AAAAAAAAADY/4s124CmrgYU/s1600-h/100_6944.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359111569679666338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jlC5xTKI/AAAAAAAAADY/4s124CmrgYU/s320/100_6944.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jk1wwJfI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-CKP19xSfOs/s1600-h/100_6946.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359111566152181234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jk1wwJfI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-CKP19xSfOs/s320/100_6946.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />These are ridiculously yummy! I ate them with a dash of Franks Red Hot Sauce and some sour cream. It's so versatile you can come up with any number of condiments. </div><div>Try adding some diced Ortega chiles to the batter, or a small amount of shredded cheese. The possibilities are endless!<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jkc_mfnI/AAAAAAAAADI/adfz3jaRczI/s1600-h/100_6961.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359111559503576690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jkc_mfnI/AAAAAAAAADI/adfz3jaRczI/s320/100_6961.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Enjoy! </div></div></div></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jkPH3HjI/AAAAAAAAADA/srCmutTTUJE/s1600-h/100_6963.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359111555780124210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/Sl9jkPH3HjI/AAAAAAAAADA/srCmutTTUJE/s320/100_6963.JPG" border="0" /></a>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-15349361351278151982009-06-26T09:58:00.001-07:002009-06-26T09:58:25.208-07:00<script type="'text/javascript'" src="'http://www.etsy.com/etsy_mini.js'"></script><script type="'text/javascript'">new EtsyNameSpace.Mini(7469157, 'shop','gallery',4,3).renderIframe();</script>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512887298896859780.post-11520909069032940912009-06-13T11:08:00.000-07:002009-06-13T11:20:20.937-07:00Giant Home Workshop Manual, 1941<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsvBuSQmI/AAAAAAAAACA/PPjPGKxZvY8/s1600-h/giant+home+workshop+cover.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346877475279487586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 293px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsvBuSQmI/AAAAAAAAACA/PPjPGKxZvY8/s400/giant+home+workshop+cover.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsu4KjZxI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4MuQejXVnRo/s1600-h/scan0001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346877472713697042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsu4KjZxI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4MuQejXVnRo/s400/scan0001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsurBo45I/AAAAAAAAABw/Ik54m_eQMOo/s1600-h/scan0002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346877469186646930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsurBo45I/AAAAAAAAABw/Ik54m_eQMOo/s400/scan0002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsuSCCmgI/AAAAAAAAABo/AY-k0sDC0Ls/s1600-h/giant+home+workshop+scans.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346877462477445634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 297px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lciob281Rjs/SjPsuSCCmgI/AAAAAAAAABo/AY-k0sDC0Ls/s400/giant+home+workshop+scans.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>I found this at a thrift shop. A 1941 Popular Science printing called "Giant Home Workshop Manual." During the war, materials and finished goods were scarce. Many publications were created that instructed ladies on creating first aid essentials, home improvement items, cleaners, and I had a book that advised how to make lipstick! This particular book has such beautiful graphics and wonderful blue prints and photos, I have to share.<br />Todays submissision is how to make a tin can submarine. The confidence this book placed in a young boys ability to create such a toy is nothing like we know today. Video games and 24 hour TV has slowed the thinking of our youth. Sad.<br />At any rate....lets build a submarine!!!</div></div></div></div>takapitchahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12977613699809620250noreply@blogger.com2