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Relocation

It (she, the barn loom) was not happy in the basement. Barn loom? You might envision a loom so large it needed to be housed in a barn. Nope. It was made from substantial timber because the builders were used to building barns. This lumber was the material they were used to working with. Oh?! Yeah, me too. I was relieved that it was not a large loom. Big enough. And heavy! Yup, the SOB needed to disassembled and transported upstairs piece by piece. The back beam is a roughhewn tree trunk. Dry, but still one heavy SOB. We squeezed it into a room with four other looms. Why do we need so many (looms)? Ha! I got cameras (digital, don’t ask about film please) TNTC – too numerous to count. But why do we have such a bulky hobby? Well, short answer, you do a lot of different things. Yeah, right. Don’t we all. Bottom line: sunny and happy!

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Patterns

Blown glass, woven fabric: anything lends itself to interesting inspection. The pattern on this woven garment was from individual dyed fiber. It was not printed. The pattern was done with a computerized loom. No, it was not a computer. And it was not done mechanically. It was all done by hand. But the plan and weave were aided such that a more complex pattern could be undertaken. Puzzled? Just take my word that this was a pretty good weave that I could never do in a million years of trying. Do ya think it’s easy? Huh? Ok?


Pins and needles

Richard Cleaver does some strange work. It’s unique. I’ve never seen anything like it. It is a bit out there for me. It would appear he liberally uses hat pins. No matter. The work is eye catching. And you would have to admit it took a lot of time to complete. Wondrous things are lurking in the minds of talented artists.


Autumn

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The annual leaf photo: I look every year. Sometimes I get one. I’m still waiting. … still working on it…


Inside Story

We pass through New Castle; we eat at Jessop’s. It doesn’t matter we only ate hours before. This was a bittersweet day. Business concluded. I’m now officially in retirement. It’s taken a year to adjust to the concept. Sweet – now life begins again. I’m pretty happy. I’m in a good place. As they say – the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I can only speak for myself at this point. I’m responsible to me and the few around me. The phone ring no longer is a potential threat alert. It’s been a long time. I can finally admit relief and appreciate it. You don’t realize how much it hurt until they stop beating your head. Obtuse? You bet. You need to be an insider. Try the restaurant if you ever pass by.


Icons

MOMA. Spend a day in New York City. So many things to do, so little time. Eat. Walk around. Duck into the museum from the rain. Museum of Modern Art. Starry Night – Van Gogh, Christina’s World – Andrew Wyeth. There were many more. But these are pretty famous icons. We got to see them up close. There was a huge crowd surrounding Starry Night. The Wyeth was hanging in the hallway. It was cool to have seen them both. People were 10 deep around the Van Gogh taking selfies. The Wyeth was quietly passed in the hallway. So much art, an icon like this would be center stage. Here, it was relegated to the hallway. So much art, so little space.


Americana. I guess that is what one can call this stuff. I’ve never seen an egg beater like this. Rarely. Occasionally. Sometimes. I’m glad I don’t collect rolling pins. They abound by the truckload. I’m looking for a beater like this. But it has to work (at the right price) . I’m still looking.

Carom boards are an older game. The boards are collectable. Notice the pegs. The ones for sale always have a missing peg. Just one. Not two. Just one missing peg.

I had this book. It was a favorite. I loved Peter Pan. It reminds me of another pop up book my mother purchased at Macy’s. It was Cinderella? Maybe Sleeping Beauty. I was opening the book as we crossed 34th St. The head of the heroine tore off. I just let it fall to the street. My mom was so disappointed. I was not. She made and taped a crayon-drawn head and life went on. What mattered and that I remember is her disappointment in my allowing the head to fall to the street without telling her. I would say that I had brain lock and it never occurred to me though I vividly remember the head tearing away. Sad. Read the inscription. Someone’s grandma once wrote “love” into this book. No. I took a picture. We did not buy it.


Shop

“Shop”  was the name of a class we took, sophomore year in high school. I went to Stuyvesant, a specialized science and math high school in Manhattan. You got in by entrance exam. We also got mechanical drawing. Go figure. Shop class was taught by Mr. Eiffert. He was a garrulous man who imparted wisdom like: when walking home in the dark hold your keys with the tips out like brass knuckles – just in case. Or, a can opener will do real damage if used to slash. Our shop project for the year was to build a valet chair with a lidded box for the seat. It would be useful if completed properly. Cut to the chase: mine never worked and was eventually tossed with the trash. Meanwhile, we were not exactly privy to the project. We were told to make each part without visualizing the whole finished project. Early on in my enthusiasm and lack of attention, I managed to plane off the tip of my middle finger. Yup! It was a power planer. Gone in an instant, so long finger tip. Fortunately, it was the nail – which grew back. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the ER across the street. Nothing to do but apply a bandage. The rest of the class spent the afternoon copying all the shop rules, long hand, into their notebooks. I got the best deal; I didn’t have to copy the rules. Funny, ‘cause I’m the one who needed to do it.

Fast forward, look at me! Mr. Eiffert must be rolling in his grave. I have set up a shop. I even laid in track lighting the other day. Neat! Yup, track lighting. Installed it without shocking myself. It’s bright, like a mini OR! Ha! Power stuff – yup! Chop saw, table saw, router, router table…. So far all the fingers and toes are intact. I’m planning to build a bookcase. This will be 8 foot tall and 8 foot wide. It better look good. So, the small projects thus far have taught me basic skills. I built two drawers. I built two tool boxes. I built three basket stands. I have built two jewelry boxes.

Everything you want to know is on YouTube. The problem is that there are varying opinions, so caveat emptor. I’m learning to stain wood. It’s actually like painting. The color you chose and the color you get are options and customized. And, of course, there are mistakes to be made. In this case, I admit that I am returning to high school shop class a bit later and slightly wiser. So far all of my original parts are still my own.


Moon

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I’ve said it before. I’ve done this before. To be sure, I was surprised myself. In fact, I had to look twice and then I still wasn’t sure. But, yup! I got the moon! Well, I was shooting the bridge. Random! We were headed home. I was near 10PM. (My camera is set for EST). So, yes, it was dark, as in night. I was shooting the bridge. It’s lit well enough and makes a dramatic shot. Of course, I wasn’t stopping the car. At about 55 mph I set the camera for shutter speed of 1/100 and ISO on auto. It set itself to 5000. Voila! I just aimed and shot away. Yes, I was watching the road. But, there was no one else on the bridge. See?! …no other cars coming or going. My edit was to see the pattern of lights. Whoa! That’s the moon. … an added benefit. I would be lying if I told you I noticed the moon was out as we drove home. This series got my attention. I’m glad I got the shot. 99% luck, 1% skill; I knew what settings to use. Hey, it’s not my first rodeo.


Doll Heads

It’s a spooky display. However, there is a story. I had a doll as a kid. My mother was progressive. She gave (made) me dance lessons and ballet lessons. It’s didn’t take. I was the oldest. I was the one she experimented upon. She failed. I prevailed. I’m the first to express regret that she gave up too soon. The doll baby I had was soon separated – head from body. Yeah, you can laugh that I turned out to be a neurosurgeon. But that was no harbinger. I just did not like the baby to have any clothes and did not like to have it with a head. The eyes opened and closed by weights counter balanced behind the eyes. (To this day we refer to the doll’s eye reflex in comatose patients. So maybe there was a connection to my adult avocation.) Otherwise it (doll) didn’t do much. Nowadays, I understand they talk, walk, eat, and shit. It was a simple doll that I had, one step up from painted eyes. I wonder where it went? (wink)