Mother of invention

Traditionally this phrase is that "Necessity is the mother of invention" Perhaps Accident is more like Invention's flaky Aunt. Many times the slip of the brush or the scissors at an inopportune time leads me to make "design choices" I would not otherwise make, but it seems to me that most invention is the result of desperation or of carefully planned out experimentation to fill needs...

What do you think? Could Accident be a mother to Invention?

Yo?

Ok this is a little random and just odd enough that I had to make a vid of it to share...


I tried the CD in a CD player... it's Billy Ocean disguised as Yo-Yo Ma... weird.

Happy New Year

A new year brings with it a plethora of resolutions that most people expect to fail at. I say Nay! Improvement is ongoing, resolutions should happen all year, the human spirit should be ever climbing to a greater goal at all times... January is a good time for reflection, to sit and think "where am I going?" "what would I like to be doing?" "Who do I want to be?". It is a time to look into the mirror and have a good harsh discussion with yourself.

Onwards and upwards.

This year I intend to learn about how to manage my money better, I am going to read one book by a Republican Conservative (a non-fiction book, Orson Scott Card does not count),I will fill the massive HP Lovecraft gap in my education by reading some, I am going to improve my foreign language skills (Spanish, Hebrew AND German), I will be a more positive person when I can, I will find time to go swimming this next summer... yes soon I will be closer to being closer to attempting 'perfection'

May your year bring you happy adventures, improvements, brilliant ideas and new exciting goals!

What are your next steps towards the fractal that is never quite perfection?  What Conservative book should I read that I will not feel the urge to purge upon?

Fortune cookie say...

Welcome to my new occasional feature. Real rambles inspired by fortune cookies.

Actions do speak louder than... words...
and what are "talks" but many words shuttled to and fro...

It can be a daily task to decipher if words are truth, lies, or subtext. What is it we say about each other or ourselves and how much of that is true or perceived or blatantly false? In costuming we try to show what a person thinks of themselves or their job or their station in life through their clothes. Do clothes speak louder than words? Does posture?
What about the priorities we make? When we make time to pause and talk to each other, or help, or don't, what does that say about our priorities?
When there are no words, action is all that there is.
Does a lack of words speak louder than a lack of action?

Balloon!

I saw this at the San Diego Wild Animal Park... sometimes the light is just perfect for random photos...

We won't go until we get some...

What exactly is Figgy pudding? It is prominently featured in the Christmas carol "We Wish you a Merry Christmas" and yet, it is a mystery. Until today I can't say I've ever seen one or heard anyone talk of eating one. I decided to do some investigation on the topic. First via Google search and then by Dad's cookbook collection I compiled a variety of Fig pudding recipes. As per my father's teachings I wound up taking the recipe I liked the most and altering it anyway. What follows is what I distorted from the 1951 edition of The Joy of Cooking...

Step 1; chop up about 2 cups of dried figs and let them soak in about 3/4 c Rum and 1 1/4 c. hot water (I left it for about an hour)

 2. Beat together until "fluffy" (didn't look that fluffy to me)

1/2 c. butter

2 eggs

3/4c Molasses

1/4 c. brown sugar

3. Add, then mix

Chopped walnuts (I put in a fistfull, so I guess that's about 1/4c)

Figs with all the rum and water

1/2 c. milk

4. In a seperate bowl sift together;

2.5c flour

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

5. mix it all together

6. preheat oven to 325°F and grease your pan

7. bake for about 1 hour or until a skewer comes out clean

It was hard to find this pan in our cupbords... we're not much of a bunt cake family, apparently this one was my great grandmothers.

The dough tasted like molassas and rum...

Finally I made a frosting of butter, orange juice and confectioner's sugar.  There are fancier/prettier pudding frostings, but this one was tasty.

Some recipes called for boiling the pudding or steaming it for four hours, some instruct to set it aflame before serving... so who knows how authentic this particular pudding is. It tasted like Fig Newtons and rum soaked gingerbread to me, but my friends Josh and Rosie claim that it does not taste like Fig Newtons at all (I did grow up on the organic hippie version of the Newton so perhaps I am biased). Either way, this stuff was fantastic and I intend to repeat it in the future.

Credit due.

Another Nutcracker is over... Running the show is chaotic and completely different from running a show with adult actors or dancers.  We have dancers from age 4 to age "none of your business".

One of my favorite bright nine year olds has been having a hard time this year.  Every week her group continues to be called the "little girls" and the "little ones" and as I sat quietly in the corner sewing or taking fitting notes I could hear her mumble in a quiet voice, "we're not that little, give us a little credit!".  Her class is indeed on the ball whereas the same level last year was sometimes problematic, I can see why she feels a bit underestimated.

Today I sat with one of our awesome helper moms and she looked over at a group of these young ladies and told them how amazing they were doing, their eyes lit up a little, and how they "look just like big kids when you're really so small." The light in the eyes turned into a little flame masked with fake smiles...

I looked over at them and remarked "Well, they really are the big kids.  In a couple of years they'll be pre-teens" Awesome helper mom looked at me and said "I suppose you're right, I hadn't thought about it like that."  Instantly all smiles were real and I had become their favorite adult.

Win!

**Not only was I mostly too busy to take any photos,  I just don't think it's appropriate to take pics of stranger's kids to post on my blog so please enjoy the awkward photoshop drawing... at least it gives me a little practice with this new program.

morning brain...

I woke this morning to the sound of Paul Simon and thought "that's odd... I love this song".

I fought with my arm falling asleep while I was half asleep and finally a loud song by the Ting-Tings startled me again.  I realized that I was Supposed to be awake. All that music had been planted... by me!

I've engineered my early morning alarm so that about an hour before I should wake up a thunderstorm starts my playlist... not enough to wake me up but enough to push my dreams forward, then slowly the list cycles through quiet "please wake up" songs like Oliver Mtukudzi's 'Wake Up' and Paul Simon's 'Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes'.  Eventually the list turns loud with Prince and U2, hopefully by this point I'm feeling the need to get up, if that all fails the lists gets worse and worse until I am listening to Miley Cyrus and Band Aid.


I know it sounds complicated, but a normal alarm is so easy to just turn off (or throw across the room) while still in a dream state, rendering it totally ineffectual.  Every time it goes off I forget that there is a reason to be awake.

There is a fog that takes over my brain and it just doesn't burn off until about 10am.  My brain is the Pacific coast.

Yawn

There are times when the life of an artist is excessively boring. To the outside observer it looks like every day is non-stop craft time that must be endlessly exciting and fulfilling... There are moments where I stop and think "holy crap I love my work!" but then I am reminded of the 15 pairs of white polyester pants that need to be hemmed and the stinky dance bodices that I must clean again in hopes of reducing the years of body odor that have become an integral part of the arm pits. I stop and think about invoices to send and clients who continue to be late in paying... There is the continuous job hustle. There are long stretches of time where the creative work gets put on hold for the organization and alteration jobs.

I would never ever give this up for a desk job but mostly these days I lack things to blog about because seven days a week have been this;

get up,
eat breakfast,
go to work,
go to more work,
dinner,
gym?
work,
screw around on the computer,
read?
sleep.

Holiday work will eventually give way to more exciting things and a quick vacation in SoCal later on should be a good thing, but until then, forgive the quietude of the blog.

Happy Thanksgiving...

I believe in creative lattice work. Sure, I could follow the Joy of Cooking recipie, I could make a perfect Martha Stewart lattice top for my pie, but it has no soul. My pie is different every time. I add at least one new secret ingredient to the pie each time... these have no less than three secret ingredients and a few not so secret (a 1/4 cup of Laphroiag whiskey... yum!)

Some families have the exact same Thanksgiving year after year and they are happy with the perfectly honed orchestra of food. I salute them, but I prefer variety. I prefer exploration.

Either way, pie is amazing!

P.s. Family and friends trying to call me; I forgot to charge my phone... it will be on soonish. Love You!

Cold

I have been reduced to wearing socks indoors.  This practice distresses and confuses the dog.  He knows that I do not put things on my feet unless I am going out.  'Why oh why is the human putting things on her feet and not taking the dog out? '
Why indeed.

Recovery and Slacking...

I've spent most of this month, and this past week in particular working long hours without days off. I don't really notice until finally there is a point where productivity drops off or when I have a half day. This was my half day. I had about two hours of work to get done that didn't happen until this evening. This morning was spent catching up with The Daily Show in my pajamas... this afternoon was spent at the Berkeley Marina reading my Alastair Reynold's novel... I love this place.


Hopefully a half day will get me through another week... life in the arts is so glamorous.