offcntr | Entries tagged with amusing ourselves

A platypus hat?

Perry the Platypus hat?

I should totally have posted these pictures last Sunday, instead of today. May the Fourth.

Because they're all Jar Jars.

I'll see myself out.

Twenty new messages today alone; six of the "Take me off this list, dammit!" variety, the remainder various automatic responders creating more support tickets.

Yesterday, there were death threats.

Denise's cell phone woke us up early this morning. Could tell it was her phone: the ringtone is the closing title theme from season two of Babylon 5.

Mine plays Firefly.

Somewhere in the middle of an exceptionally busy week--meeting Tuesday (abruptly cancelled), sale set-up Friday, sale on Saturday, studio open house Sunday--we managed to eke out a day off for both of us, and drove down to Newport for a holiday.

Drove up to Corvallis and across on 36, hit town just in time for an early lunch at Nana's Irish Pub. Good Scotch Eggs, and Denise enjoyed her oyster roll; my cod and chips really needed salt. I'm always hopefully ordering it on the coast, and always disappointed. You'd think I'd learn...

Afterwards, we went over to the Oregon Coast Aquarium for the afternoon. We hadn't been in several years so it was good to be back. Denise knees have been giving her grief, so we borrowed a rolling walker, with seat, from our former choir director, a brilliant decision, as it turned out. Having a place to sit down whenever necessary, and even roll forward a little without standing, made the day much more manageable for her.

It was lovely sunny, though still pretty chilly outdoors, but we still caught both the otters and pinnipeds at feeding time, and I dropped in on the aviary. Puffins were in winter plumage, so no dramatic white cheek patches, though they'd gotten in some horned puffins since the last time I was there.

Spent a lot of time poking around the tidepool exhibit, gazing at the brightly colored fish in the coral reef tank, watched a three-foot long spotted moray circling its enclosure, blissed out with the jellyfish, and even managed a pretty nice watercolor of the copper rockfish.

The big walk-through tank originally built for Keiko the orca has been divided into three habitats, shallows, mid- and deep water pelagic. Five-foot sturgeons and gliding bat rays fascinated, but nothing compares to having a shark swim right over your head. Didn't see the octopus, sadly. Really wanted to try an paint one from life.

Decided to take the long way home, down the coast highway to Florence, watching the waves roll in from China. And then home for supper. All in all, a lovely day.

Flynn is ready to help out!

Guess who just got back from the Calvin and Hobbes exhibit at the university art museum?

It's (Still) A Magical World, Hobbes, Ol' Buddy is an exhibit of original comic art by the amazing Bill Watterson, on at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art through February 2. Watterson donated over 3000 pieces to the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library and Museum at Ohio State University; this is the first time any of the collection has been shown anywhere except that institution. The show features oversize reproductions and clever bits--the oversize sticker art in the elevator was surprising--but also thirty-odd original pieces, two weekly and one Sunday strip from each year of the comics' 1985-1995 run.

As former cartoonist myself, I was always amazed by the quality of Watterson's art. Seeing it in person, the pen and brush-strokes, the occasional white-out and redrawing, only made me respect it more.

We'd originally planned to bring one tiger and one bunny--for Mr. Bun--but decided we each deserved a Hobbes. And thus were delighted to find one of the time-travel strips, featuring present and future Hobbes side by side.

After we'd finished with a boy and his tiger, we went upstairs to visit the rest of the collection, which includes some very fine Chinese, Japanese and Korean art: paintings, pottery, jade carvings and amazing embroidered clothing. Up on the second floor landing, there was also a lovely show of metal-smithing, including a number of pieces by our old friend, Max Nixon.

It's a ghost crab.

Tomorrow's my 65th birthday. There will be cake--Denise's annual foray into the kitchen--and dinner at the Cambodian restaurant and I'm blowing off choir practice. Today we're going down to Cottage Grove to see Something Rotten at the Cottage Theatre. Have wanted to see it ever since a video of "It's Hard to be the Bard" started circulating on the internet.

I've added a new podcast to my studio rotation. Worldbuilding for Masochists features three SF/Fantasy authors talking with a guest author about some aspect of worldbuilding. So far, I've listened to MJ Kuhn, Cherie Priest, Rebecca Roanhorse, Mur Lafferty and Seanan McGuire.

One of the things they do at the end of every podcast is invite the guest to add a bit of worldbuilding to their ongoing shared universe. Got me thinking about what I'd add, given the opportunity. And I think I have the answer.

Craft-based magic systems.

I imagine fixing a spell into tangible form, for use later, fired into a pot or blown into a bottle, stitched into knitting or crochet. I don't mean en-spelling craft objects--a sweater that keeps you at the perfect temperature, a crock that preserves the food stored in it. I mean making the spell as the act of making the object. The spell holds its shape until the piece is broken, at which point it's released to act.

I'd think wheel-thrown pots or blown glass would hold fairly simple spells, though you could add layers with glaze or gathering cullet or frit to the glass bubble. Coil-built pots could hold longer or more complicated spells, though for real complexity, I'd go with fiber arts.

This also gives us different modes of action. Pottery or glass spells are quick-release, break it and away it goes. Trap a fireball spell in a jug to make a gunpowder-free grenade.

Knitted spells can be released a little at a time. A scarf of healing could unravel a couple of rows for a blister, or the whole thing for a sucking chest wound. The fourth Doctor's scarf could clear the whole Emergency Ward.

I'm not sure how metal-work fits into the system. Perhaps long-term, archival storage that can only be released by smelting it down again? (Although it occurs to me that forging a teleport spell into a sword, as a hedge against it breaking in battle, could be a wise precaution.)

And now I'm wondering about spell books. Tear out a page like a coupon? So many possibilities.

If only I had a plot to go with it.

Haven't been to the Lane County Fair in quite a few years, it always seems to fall on a busy week for us. This time, it happens I could squeeze in a day between kiln, Market, and getting ready for Anacortes, so I took Sunday afternoon to go down. Grabbed a sun hat, my water bottle, and the sketchbook and watercolor kit, and set off.

Buses used to be free fair week, but I couldn't find any evidence of that on the LTD website, and it was a nice, cool day, so I decided to ride my trike down. All went well until a rough patch by the Rose Garden, when I started to hear worrying noises from the chain. Right around 7th and Monroe, the pedal started freewheeling: the secondary drive chain had come off the gears. Fortunately, it hadn't broken, so I was able to pull over to the curb, lay it on its side and get the chain situated, at the expense of some very greasy fingers.

I'm not that interested in the rides or Midway anymore, and I'd just had lunch (and besides, the Democrats weren't grilling chicken this year), so I headed to the animal barns. Admired the fluffy bunnies and and the tiny bantam hens with even tinier chicks, watched the miniature goats play king-of-the-hill on the hay bales, and got a nice new painting of a bronze turkey hen.

But when I went to the next building, I got a disappointment: the large livestock barns were all closed. No pigs, no sheep, no cows. Huge disappointment. The horses were still in residence, so I got to see some trim little Gypsy Cobs--pony-sized and dainty, with feathered hooves--and a lovely big Norwegian Fjord with the bi-colored mane. There were also a mammoth donkey jack and jenny, and a really big mule--I'm guessing quarter horse/mammoth donkey cross. There was a pretty little miniature horse foal, only four months old, who got a special award for being "so brave in the show ring." And a little boy named Steel got to meet his namesake, a blue roan filly also named Steel.

But without the other livestock, I was done rather early, so I went in the exhibit halls, took a look at the quilts, walked around the commercial booths, and treated myself to an ice cream cone at Prince Pucklers (fudge brownie and salted caramel) and biked home again.

Driving down to Club Mud this morning to help pull down shelves for Art and the Vineyard, I was passed by a little blue car with personalized plates, NVGYUP. Took me a while to figure out the meaning.

Never gonna give you up.

I got rick-rolled by a license plate.

We finally got to celebrate our anniversary!

The actual day fell on a Saturday Market, the next day was kiln loading, then there was firing and jury duty and Market again, and Denise led a book arts workshop on Sunday and holy cats, if we hadn't grabbed a day off with both hands, it wouldn't have happened at all. As is, I was up until 11 o'clock Monday night recycling clay that wouldn't keep until Friday.

But we packed up some snacks and bears and headed out for the coast, just for a day. Visited our favorite beach, just north of Florence, catching precisely the lowest tide we've ever seen, perfect for tide pooling. Drove back to Florence for lunch at Mo's, visited a local co-op gallery and picked up a little art, even swung by the local Farmers Market and bought some strawberries and a chocolate croissant.

It wasn't a perfect day--what started out as sunny and clear in Eugene turned out overcast, with occasional spitting mist on the coast, and Mo's never properly salts their fish-n-chips--but still pretty darn good, and we talked to some lovely people from SoCal and Cincinnati on the beach. Even discovered some work by an old grad-school friend in the gallery. Good times.

Thought I'd found a couple of whelks, but in fact they were both hermit crabs. Though I see a couple of limpets in the photo that I missed in real life.

The stars of the show!

You know what they say: Keep your friends close and your anemones closer.

...and sometimes, ya just gotta stop and look at cool things in the sand.

All in all, a day to celebrate.

I'm pretty sure that case won't hold water.

Hold still for your mug shot.

I almost called out. Saturday Market requires reserved-space vendors to check in by Thursday afternoon, so the office can have our envelopes ready. I'd RSVP'd by Tuesday, because otherwise I forget, but I could still call and cancel, as long as I did it before 8:30 Saturday morning.

The forecast was for 94% chance of rain, temperatures no higher than 50°. All signs pointed to a wet, miserable day. I even had an excuse: seven batter bowls in the studio that needed trimming. Although, truth to tell, they were still too wet to trim. Thank you, 100% humidity.

And besides, I just can't. Too much Catholic guilt, or something. When I make a promise, I really have to keep it.

It was raining lightly, setting up, so I got the roof and walls up, hustled the shelves in and toweled them down. Stacked up all the boxes in the 8x8' space, then shuffled them around to access the spots on the shelves where the pots went. Walked past the stormwater rain garden on my way to Farmers Market and saw it was working as designed, three or four inches of water in it. Took a video for Instagram, and tagged in a few wet beast-patterned pots for good measure, then hunkered down to wait it out.

Lots of vendors missing, though our stretch is pretty full; guess we're all diehards. I expected a horrible slow day, but actually sold a mug around 10:20, pasta bowl shortly after. Talked with a family visiting from Texas to attend Track and Field trials; Dad later came back to buy a woodpecker mug.

Another couple with college-age daughter stopped in; the mother admired a $48 panda cookie jar, so dad said he'd buy it. As I was punching the sale into Square, she saw the shark and octopus mugs, so he added them to the bag as well. She asks, Do you ever do orca mugs? As it happens, I have one in the restock box, and dad shrugs resignedly. I'm beginning to feel a little guilty by now; Denise makes a joke about how he could call it an early Mother's Day present. I'm taking her to France for Mother's Day, he replies. So I guess he can afford it.

Coming out of the PortaPotties later, I overhear a young woman, washing her hands, say, "You know that pottery booth? I un-ironically love those dinosaurs." So I have to butt in from the next sink to say thank you, and ask, "Un-ironically?" She explains that she really loves them, as in, wants to have one, so I walk back with them and wrap up a brontosaur bank for her to take home.

Another of my students from Brushmaking stops in to show me her finished bowl. Becca's the one with Chinese brush-painting experience, and her bamboo and birdies came out very well, although her red-stain signature square on the outside of the bowl seems to have vanished in the firing.

It's May the Fourth, so Market declared it Science Fiction day. Lots of vendors and staff in Star Wars garb. I make a joke about channeling the Hitchhiker's Guide to Cheri as I loan her my towel. then have to explain the joke. Denise and I don't particularly follow Star Wars beyond the movies, but have played around in Trek fandom for years, so I wore my latex Klingon forehead prosthetic and a do-it-yourself honors sash, while she sported a Next Generation red-and-black commander's uniform sewed from two sweatshirts and featuring a brass and bronze communicator pin I fabricated in the jewelry lab at the Craft Center. Rachel took a pic for Market's Insta feed; unfortunately, I snagged the forehead taking off my glasses, so it's a little skewed.

The rain never let up, so packing up was another challenge. Finally got a little break around 5 pm as I was ready to load up the boxes, though the booth roof and walls were thoroughly soaked, and will likely remain so at least until Thursday, when we may finally get some sunshine. I couldn't complain, though. For a $700 day, I'll put up with the rain.

Saw something interesting on Instagram lately, a three-dimensional folded art piece. Looked like fun, so I thought I'd give it a try.

My first try was an exchange book for our book arts group. The topic for the month was rain/showers/water, and I was reminded of the culverts we used to explore on the farm when I was a kid. Didn't have time to do a tunnel book, but thought this might give me the dimensional feel as well. It's an anime pen--Sakura's Pigma Sensei 04--on mixed media drawing paper, folded and cut with an Xacto knife. Turned out pretty well, so I didn't feel that disappointed that nobody else brought an exchange and I got to keep it.

Had so much fun--and half a sheet of drawing paper left--that I decided to try again. This one was inspired by a watercolor in my sketchbook that we've made into a card for Pulp Romances, though with our current generation of kitties. I also decided to do it in full color, both sides, so borrowed some color pencils from Denise--my usual default, Crayola markers, dry too slowly and wind up getting smudged all over on this particular paper. Turned out really well, I thought. And it doubled as a card for Denise's birthday on Friday.

That's Flynn and Tiki, the kitties, and bears Bigfoot and Christiaan Bearnard.

Saturday Market has been having so much fun with the new rainwater gardens--we should, considering how much trouble they've caused us, between construction all last summer and the need to redraw our booth maps over the winter.

This is the second floaty toy that's shown up, on Saturday the 13th. Compliments of Shannon, our general manager.

So all day, I could direct people to my booth, saying, "We're on the south edge of east block, just three booths in from the unicorner."

Look what Denise got me! A Murderbot tee-shirt.

Yep, that's "The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon." I'm so delighted.

I'm kind of a sucker for free food. I pick wild blackberries. I gather windfall apples and pears from the Lutheran church next door's neglected trees. I literally picked up ripe plums off the sidewalk, biking home from the post office the other day. Back in grad school, I mapped out all the English walnut trees between home and the studio, and in fall would come home with pockets bulging with nuts.

Had a flashback to those days on Sunday. Denise and I had an hour to kill between church and a potluck, and River Road Parks & Rec was sponsoring their semi-annual plastics recycle, so we went to drop off several bags of yogurt tubs and medicine bottles. Denise was navigating, and took us up Northwest Expressway, not my usual route. While negotiating the difference between the Park and North Park exits (which are nowhere near Park Street, downtown near Saturday Market), I noticed crows landing on the shoulder of the road. I registered a scattering of something on the pavement, and the leaves of an overhanging tree.

I think those were walnuts, I said to Denise. Should we go back and check? So we wound our way back around to the Park intersection, pulled over on the shoulder, turned on the hazards, and I filled one of our newly emptied plastic recycle bags with nuts.

Walnuts are fairly easy to open when they're fresh. Lever your pocket knife blade into the seam at the stem end, pop the shell apart, harvest the meats. A pair of slip-jaw pliers makes a good nutcracker, for stubborn cases. And because the nutmeats are still soft, they don't shatter if you crunch down too hard.

Once they were all shelled, I dried them in a 275° oven on a sheet pan for about half an hour, stirring every ten minutes or so.