Experimenting
I walked to the Western Development Museum (WDM) yesterday. The Festival of Trees was on. This year’s theme was Christmas Memories. The purpose in going was mainly to use a digital camera to take some pictures. Since I don’t yet have such a thing I used the camera on my cell phone. The pictures, which you will not see, are for the most part very blurry.
I had trouble with the camera. The first obstacle was in getting the pictures focused. Well, actually keeping my fingers out of the pictures. Once I figured out how to hold the phone the next problem was keeping still. Didn’t work well at all. As stated above, most of the pictures are blurry.
And there is only room for twenty pictures on my cell phone. The whole experience left me wondering “how do people do this?” Take usable pictures with their cell phone, that is. And then, after that, how do you get the pictures off your cell phone and onto your computer?
So, you get descriptions instead. There were over seventy items and no, I will not be describing all of them. There were Christmas trees, wreaths, swags and gingerbread creations. There were the regular WDM exhibits and their Christmas exhibits.
The trees had typical names (Pop up Santa, Once Upon a Blue Christmas) and not so typical names (Moulin Rouge anyone – was that the one with masks? or was that the one titled Christmas Masquerade). There were many children’s trees and at least two Western themed trees. There was a Betty Boop themed wreath. Whoville and the Grinch were represented as well.
Many trees had toys and other presents under them. The Zoo tree was entirely made up of stuffed animals. There was an old fashioned house and cradle under another. One tree, no idea of its name, was somewhat pop culturally based and the basket under it had the recent Hairspray DVD and a Beatles DVD; perhaps this was Peace, Hope, Joy or Sparkle and Shine or Baroque. I have the program; it lacks descriptions.
My favorite tree was a duet entitled Blizzard; two white trees, decorated with white ornaments and no lights. (That’s another thing that made it hard to take pictures: the strings of lights on almost all of the trees). My favorite wreath had metallic green leaves. My favorite gingerbread creation was based on various Charlie Brown Christmas specials. There was Peppermint Patty skating, Lucy in her booth and Charlie Brown’s tree.
Another highlight, for me, was the WDM’s Christmas Display based on Eaton’s Once Upon a Christmas. Eaton’s Once Upon a Christmas used to be on display in the Eaton’s department store every year. It is an example of early mechanical animation and includes nursery rhymes, fairy tales, classic children’s tales, angels and the multiple window display telling us the story of The Boy Who Became Santa Claus.
The Angels were always my favorite. In the Angel’s Workshop, Angels are building and painting toys. At the Angel’s Sewing Circle, they are sewing, knitting and quilting. Such practical gifts. Such diverse angels.
All the Festival of Trees items were for sale. I didn’t look at the prices. Unlike last year, there was really nothing that I wanted to buy. Last year, there was a Looney Tunes tree that I coveted. There was Bugs Bunny, Tweety, Grandma and all my favorites. That was a tree I would have put up every year. It made me smile.
And now I will leave you with a smile:
What goes “oh oh oh”
.
.
.
Santa walking backwards.
I wish you Peace, Hope, Joy.
I am exhausted : (
One day off is not enough time to catch up on everything I need to do to keep my life on track and granted it is a very quiet life! I only, for the most part, have myself to take care of. Sometimes I’m responsible for my mother (when she has appointments in the city). Sometimes I’m responsible for nieces and nephews (but they’re all pretty well able to take care of themselves now).
So the reason I only have today off is that I occasionally have to work weekends and this weekend was it. Last weekend, I had a three day weekend and in December I’m working two Sundays instead of a full weekend. I prefer to work Monday to Friday and have tried to negotiate this over the last three years. I’m on yearly contracts and am really bad at negotiating.
Slept in this morning till ten, walked downtown, paid some on my student loan, did a little bit of shopping, took the bus to the grocery store, bought groceries, walked the two blocks home. (Tired yet?) Put away groceries, swept floor, cut up and froze onions (cheaper by the bagful-would go rotten before I used them all up otherwise), had bath, braided hair, made casserole (suppers for the rest of the week. I hate to cook when I get home after a long day), peeled apples (will make apple pie after supper; apples needed to be used), did laundry. It is now 5pm and I have laundry to finish, a pie to make, TV to watch, a magazine to finish and a pile of paperwork on my desk that will wait to the weekend (when I am off).
Forgot to mention that throughout most of this I’ve been on the internet!
The plan is to finish this blog post, eat supper, do dishes, watch Terminator (yeah Sarah), put away the laundry, read the magazine and collapse into bed by eleven. I’m tired just typing it all out. Thankfully, getting all this done today means I can relax and read most evenings and go out next Saturday to peruse the Festival of Trees. Maybe I’ll try to take pictures with my cell phone (only camera I have right now). Talk to you after that.
Winter Ice
Last week, we had the perfect weather conditions to create ice; snow, rain, freezing temperatures and warming temperatures equal ice. Ugh.
Wednesday morning I walked to work like I was an old, old person. On the bridge I held on to the side catching myself from falling at least three times. We strangers were compiled to talk to each other warning of icy spots ahead and giving encouragement. It took me twice as long to cross the bridge.
When I was young (very young; 7, 8, 11) I would have skated down the bridge reveling in the ice. After all, it is downhill – it would have taken seconds instead of minutes. This was before I was constantly told that I had weak ankles. By the time I turned thirteen I was spraining my ankle (usually the right) every year until I was in my early twenties. I could walk across a perfectly straight road and sprain my ankle.
Now, the older I get, the more developed becomes my fear of falling. I’ve never broken a bone: I don’t want to start now.
Someone needs to invent a way to keep the sidewalks dry or a sidewalk surface that won’t ice up. They could become multi-multi billionaires.
I hate icy winters!
Where is my snow? Fluffy, snow sculpture snow!
Quick Update
I did not go to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show this weekend. Company coming the next day and I wanted to be in bed before midnight. You know you’re old when you choose bed over bawdiness.
I do plan on seeing a public performance of this show before I die. I suspect that by that time I will be one of the oldest members in the audience. I’ll be like the old hippies in the new Volkswagen advertisement (I love that ad); getting sentimental for what use to be.
See you next week.
Making saints out of sinners
November 11, 2008 at 9:19 pm (Book Commentary) (books, Canterbury Tales, Janet Evanovich, Nascar, pop culture, racing, saints, Sharyn McCrumb, the South, tours)
I read an interesting book this weekend. It’s a fiction book about a subject I have no interest in at all; NASCAR. Admittedly, there are probably many in my gene pool who would love this sport. After all, my grandfather was a big fine of wrestling before it became such a spectacular showy spectacle. Myself, I don’t see the entertainment value in watching cars go fast around a track for hours and hours.
St. Dale is a southern novel about NASCAR legend, Dale Earnhardt. It is written by Sharyn McCrumb. She writes Southern Appalachian novels and Elizabeth MacPherson mysteries. I read her for her Appalachian ballad novels, which I consider Gothic, full of mysticism and magic realism.
St. Dale encompasses a pilgrimage, a journey to the sacred places of Dale Earnhardt. The racetracks that shaped who he was. Thirteen people sign up for the Dale Earnhardt Memorial Tour shortly after his death and go on to pay homage to his memory.
There are the sisters Justine, a true fan; Bekasu, a judge who is there under distress and their cousin Cayle, whose father named her after another racing legend. The newlyweds, Shane and Karen, are married on the racetrack at the tour’s first stop. The old couple, long time fans, Jim and Arlene are reliving old glories as he tries to save her from the lose of her memories.
The Rev. Bill Knight, is new to the phenomena of NASCAR, and is there to supervise the orphan Matthew, who is dying. The reverend is not from around here, he is not Southern and is our eyes and ears on this strange journey through unfamiliar Southern culture.
Terrence Palmer, a New Yorker and Sarah Nash have only just met. They are on the tour because of the generosity of Terrence’s father. Rounding out the group are Ray Reeve, who is in Agro-business and Jesse Franklin, a county auditor.
Harley Claymore, the tour guide is an ex-driver who wants back onto the NASCAR circuit.
All are seeking and experiencing miracles that they attribute to Dale Earnhardt.
The book, itself, is a twist on Canterbury Tales. For one not knowledgeable about NASCAR it serves as a short history to the sport. I can now drop names such as Junior and the Bodines and know what I am talking about. But, at the core, St. Dale is about miracles and why we, as a community, feel the need to canonize the dead. It explains, at the basest level, why Elvis and Diana (you know who I mean) captivate our lives even after their deaths. This book needs to be read and dissected alongside Canterbury Tales.
For a lighter tour of NASCAR, without all that distracting history, I would like to recommend the Alex Barnaby series by Janet Evanovich. They are set in Florida which is where St. Dale ends and are a lighter, more modern take on the subject and also loads of fun.
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