Showing posts with label The Altered Page. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Altered Page. Show all posts

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Isn't It Surprising My 'Re-Posts' Are Both About People and Not Art? Or Maybe Not Surprising.

Seth at The Altered Page has let us have another chance to "repost" a blog page or two. I "talk" so much I'll only post one.

Thursday, December 6, 2007 Not Alone in the Dark.

IT was a dark and stormy night. Really, it was!
It was pitch dark, pouring rain and I was leaving Clackamas on the right highway headed in the wrong direction: north instead of south. There was no turning back. I knew what eventually lay in front of me. It wasn’t going to be pretty, either. It would involve three lanes o f traffic, with more vehicles constantly merging onto the road on my right.
I stuck to the middle lane. All of us were eager to get home, especially those large pickups and SUVs — passing on both my right and left — throwing up water spray that covered my windshield. The wipers were going rapid fire, “swish, click, swish, click.”
Northward I flew, saying aloud “I can do this!” Again, aloud, I spoke to my fell ow drivers: “We all just want to get home safe.”
The radio was off. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but staying in my l ane and remembering to breathe.
Parkrose exit. I could have gotten off there. Powell - another exit with a name I knew. I pi ctur ed the long stretch of Powell Boulevard and the bridge to the other side of Portland.
The freeway seemed to collapse in length and become shorter and shorter as the minutes went by. The airport exit came up before I knew it. I would have to get off this road soon or end up in Washington.
The airport exit! I knew the airport. I could find my way home from the airport. I had gone out of my way by a long shot, but from there I knew I could find my way home.
Unfortunately I turned off at Cascade Station, thinking it was the first parking area for ov ernight or weekly parking at the airport. I didn’t know it was a humonguous new shopping center with stores for almost anything you might or might not need.
I considered going in and asking for directions, but something akin to a Y chromosome kicked in. If I asked for help I would be admitting defeat: “I couldn’t do this alone.”
I have a difficult time asking for help, but that’s too long a story.
I did call my husband on my cell phone, however, to let him know I might be late getting home. I had called him when I left Clackamas.
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“I’m out by the airport. Yes, I can see it from here. I’m at Cascade Station, near that new Ikea store. Oops! Someone’s in back of me. Gotta’ go.”
I dropped the phone into my lap and drove off. Ahead of me was a Subaru in a right turn only lane. I saw a blue sign: I-84. Things were looking up. When the light changed we both turned right and then stopped at another light. I decided to trust the Subaru and followed its taillights when the light turned green. Soon we were on I-84 ... going in the wrong direction.
Sandy Boulevard. Another familiar street. I abandoned my friend in the Subaru and left the freeway. Now I was on Sandy, headed east or west. Your guess would have been as good as mine. No daylight; no sun to show me my way home; no stars either. Only more rain.
My cell phone rang. It was my husband asking “Where are you now?”
“I’m headed down Sandy,” I said. “Say, there’s an adult toy shop. Need anything?”
I don’t know who I was trying to reassure with this attempt at humor, him or me.
I stopped at a light then. There was a car beside me on my left and I glanced over at the intersection of the one-way cross street looking for information and saw a sign that read “City Center.” Yes!
“I’m at an intersection,” I said, “and there’s a sign to city center.”
“Take that,” he said. “You can find your way back that way.”
However, to go that way I would need to cross three lanes of traffic — one beside me on my left and two other oncoming lanes. I remembered my driver’s education manual and knew this wasn’t an option. Then I spotted a motel on the right just through the intersection.
“I’ll bet I can turn into this motel, go through their parking lot and turn onto the one-way street headed toward downtown. Goodbye,” I said.
Soon I was hurtling toward “downtown” which turned out to be I-84 again, but in the correct direction. I got into the left hand lane to make sure I would get the Salem and, eventually, Beaverton exits.
Finally I was really on my way home. I was on my way to the safest place in the world. Why had I ever left it, I wondered.
That night, holding my husband's hand and trying to fall asleep, I was amazed to have traveled all that distance and come to rest, at last, here in this snug harbor. A million thoughts went through my head. They were all related to my trip and the “what if’s” that so often haunt us late at night.
What if I’d had an accident? What if I hadn’t been lucky?
But I had been. I was lucky to find my way home safely, lucky to be snug in a safe little house with someone I love. Lucky, lucky, lucky.
I believe in skill. I believe in intelligence. But I’ll trust lucky any day.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

You And I, Travel To The Beat Of A Different Drum ...

DIFFERENT drums ... for some reason that Linda Ronstadt song came into my mind as I began this post. Written by Michael Nesmith (now that name's familiar to some of us) and a popular hit when Linda sang with the Stoned Ponies. Oh, it takes me back, for sure. My hair was long, long, long and had never been touched by a curling iron. My bottom was a little higher, too, along with the bosoms - which got a clean bill of health by the way! (Made a mammogram appointment lately?)
I'm just thinking tonight about all the things that make us different ... and interesting. Remember that "Twilight Zone" episode, "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" (1964) where everyone either looked like Suzy Parker, Richard Long or Pamela Austin? How boring to all be the same. (Not to mention, confusing!)
Now me, with my farsighted eye and my near-sighted eye, I've been to the ophthalmologist too much lately. The other day I finally gave up on the blended trifocals lenses. They were not working for me. Too much prism effect, which made me dizzy. But in honor of Don, (Grrl+Dog calls him "Gorgeous One") I had to take a self-portrait (it's self-portrait Wednesday too!) of what might pass for steampunk glasses. (Well, they might if they were rusty and a little bit funkier.)
And I forgot to tell you that a *miracle* happened on Sunday and I made a pie without crying. The bottom crust rolled out perfectly, the berries tumbled in and the top crust - I got the teensiest bit uneasy but quashed it quickly - it rolled out perfectly too. I cut out little leaves to put on top and sprinkled it with sugar. The Mister demands "a little pie" for himself, because he *tells me* his mother "always did it." Well, I guess I would try that too if I could get away with it and he obviously did because you can see him in the picture tucking into his apple pielet.
Yesterday, Tuesday, I got mail from Fannie Narte, and inside the envelope was a great little carry-all bag. It will be just perfect for my lunch and other odds and ends I can't do without ... after I decorate it. Check out Fannie's lovely "lady prints." Beautiful drawings/paintings on her blog and in her Etsy shop.
Well, I'm going on and on, aren't I? Just one more picture to show you of our Russian sage, orange day lilies and Rose of Sharon in the background. This picture, along with the sunflower, were taken at sunset as I was outside watering. The light is so lovely that time of day and they - the days - are getting shorter. (Sob!) Have you noticed? Love to you all - femminismo
p.s. Tomorrow is Seth's (The Altered Page) second chance at reposting a favorite blog. Check back to see what I dig up for Buried Treasure.
p.p.s. Oops! Some huge photos again. Back to the drawing board!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Deadline, deadlines, deadlines all month long!

PROCRASTINATION is one of my strongest qualities.
Wait! Did I hear someone say procrastination is not a "quality"? There are all sorts of qualities you know. Good ones and not so good ones. What if procrastination saved you from getting run over by a bus? Not such a bad quality then, huh?
Anyway, I knew this day was coming. Seth at The Altered Page e-mailed to remind me and others of the upcoming deadline for our Disintegration Projects (DisCo for short), Aug. 1.
We need to take the projects and turn them into something else. You can use everything you "aged" or part of it for your new project. The picture (altered itself, quite a bit in photo editing) shows my bundle of papers from the book "Master of Ballentrae" by Robert Louis Stevenson. Out in the muddy garden through a good part of the winter -- now totally dry, hidden in a corner of the kitchen on the floor near the heating vent. Waiting ... waiting ... waiting.
What will they be? What will they become? Next purpose in life, please! Time to consider the possibilities - femminismo

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Now Look What the Mailman Brought . . .

I AM SO LUCKY! I "attended" Robin's "Happy Birthday to Me" party and was sent my party favors in the mail.
What a wonderful haul, and I'm going to use the handmade postcards to get in touch with friends and spread the love.
Thanks, Robinsunne in Maine. As a girl, I always wanted pen pals in other states and countries and now I've got them.
I'll have to write back. After everything I've been lucky enough to receive, I will be staging my own giveaway one day very soon.
I have furtively logging on to Seth's Altered Page blogspot to view more on Barron Storey. I am just totally fascinated with his drawing, and at work, while I was waiting for something to proofread I drew a couple of pictures. I don't have Storey's "scratchy style" down, but I'm sure that takes years of training and experimentation.
Well, better get to bed. Tomorrow's another day full of adventure and thrills and life - femminismo

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Inspired by Seth at The Altered Page.

I REALLY don't know what Seth, at The Altered Page, is up to, but I have an inkling, a premonition, a presentiment, a hint, a suspicion, a vague idea.
He took pages from a book, wrapped them with string and said something about a project called "Disintegration," and "winter is the right time to begin," and nature is his co-conspirator. He showed his project in the beginning - which you can see by clicking on the link above under his blog's name.
I sacrificed one of Robert Louis Stevenson's works to see what Mother Nature and I could come up with. Today is the 24th of January, not exactly the beginning of winter, but let's see what spring brings. You can tell by the photo that now, right now, it's official: I am a certifiable nutcase. Or an artiste! Your choice, but I hope you pick artiste.
I am still enjoying the oil painting I bought yesterday. It is such a jewel! Check it out below if you didn't get to see it. Enjoy this day. Do something creative that verges on nuttiness and see what happens - femminismo
p.s. Keeping me honest, I must admit I changed the photo since I was here last. I decided to paint the pages a bit with gesso and acrylic - to give them just a little color and protection. That's all. Over and out.