tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-985515412988904442024-03-19T03:12:19.825-07:00Copper BeechA journey through the forests of life.Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-9081165191206965232017-07-24T08:08:00.001-07:002017-07-24T08:08:14.561-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wow, long hiatus from my blog...But I'm still here, retired from teaching art, still messing around with metals, still trying to write a story or two, and still learning Gaelic.<br />
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I became a grandma too, three months ago today. Little Eva...what will you be? The world is your oyster, as they say. It's indescribable how a new little life can bring whole new levels of meaning to one's own. The love is overflowing.<br />
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Eva Sa-rang Choi</div>
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These earrings were fun little nuggets of discovery, as I learned to use my rolling mill, disc-cutter, and hole-punches (finally), after a long series of illnesses and minor surgeries. Metal and texture, two of my favorite things to explore. These were completed just before the holidays last year, but I'm still moving forward with new ideas and techniques.<br />
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My jewelry goals this year: learn to set gemstones in bezels and improve my sawing and soldering skills.</div>
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I'm also looking forward to using some of the enamel components I made in the Painting With Fire workshop I<i> </i>took in Tucson with Barbara Lewis, and taking the next steps in this amazing process. I would like to attend some classes to achieve my goals, and have discovered the Tacoma Metal Arts Center, where they teach metalsmithing workshops of all sorts. Since a lot of my family live in that area, it's entirely do-able.</div>
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Meanwhile, I'll continue my journey with Gaelic as I head into year 3 through the Atlantic Gaelic Academy. Glè spòrsail!</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-88177190613614573642015-07-14T19:49:00.001-07:002015-07-14T20:02:00.523-07:00Home is Where the Cat Is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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High plains in Montana</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I went home to Montana this past weekend for the first time in forever, to the little town of Shelby, for an all-class reunion. Such a flood of memory...as we left and headed toward the Rockies, things converged inside me and outside in that incredible light that only Montana possesses, and that special atmosphere of the high plains. Amid some tears, this poem came to me. If it's not very good, that's okay--I'm pretty certain nobody will read it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Still, it was necessary to get the words out and onto paper. I only wish this blog-program would conform to the way it was written without having to reduce the type to a point where it's unreadable. But what am I worried about anyway?</span></div>
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<u><span style="line-height: 115%;">Rediscovered
Country<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">In the
vastness of the Northern Plains, I was raised,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">A land of uncompromising
and astonishing remoteness,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Where the
only certainties are a cutting wind and a clean sky, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">And that long
stretch of country holding the horizon as far as human vision reaches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">A place of
grudging magnificence and profundity--some would say a wasteland--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Where emptiness and
silence roll out like a blanket of riddles </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Across the broken coulees and bluffs,
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Abrupt and precipitous
amid the endless waving grasses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">River breaks,
their cottonwood banks a surprise </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Of inscrutable green in the tawny heat,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Give way, after
a swift respite, to the clanging sun, </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Until the distant and crumpled strata of
the Front<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Arise to
contradict the flatland without equivocation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Great
fractures created by the forces of compression and thrust-faulting </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">As tectonic
plates crashed together, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">This insurrection
of stone was further altered by massive continental ice sheets,</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Scouring the
plains and carving the piles of solidified sediment </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Into cirques and arêtes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Gouging out
great attenuated valleys where lakes of cold, clear water lie, </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Connected by silver
streams l</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">ike beads
upon a strand of silk.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">It is no
land for the fainthearted, or the weak, this place of daunting geology.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">One must
seek diligently beneath the surface for its secrets—</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">And oh, yes, there are many,
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Whispering
on the breath of autumn as it sprints unhindered across the plains</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">In the
middle of July,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Or in the
rush of some unnamed brook in spring-spate, </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Leaping gleefully out of its banks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Within the
thunder, sudden and unanticipated as it reverberates<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Down a narrow
valley and across the surface of a lake, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Are the voices
of time, murmuring yesterday into eternity.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">I breathe deeply of the electric air. Somewhere, there is lightning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-58194838318889535092015-05-07T20:39:00.001-07:002015-05-07T20:39:40.734-07:00Alba...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You should have let us go, UK.</div>
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Alba!</div>
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Gu brath!</div>
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Gu dearbh!</div>
<br />Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-83329493289863192072014-10-07T20:01:00.001-07:002014-10-26T19:25:51.472-07:00Ravens at Kelso: a PoemMy dad's family came from this area in Scotland. Kelso Abbey was one of the great abbeys in the Scottish Borders razed by Henry VIII during the period of the "Rough Wooing".<br />
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I'll never forget being there, and the great black birds croaking among the ruins and the headstones. Here is a poem I wrote about our visit.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Established in 1128</span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ravens
at Kelso Abbey </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">by Gayle Weatherson<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I heard
them croak in Kelso’s ancient kirkyard,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Among
the flinty ruins of the abbey:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Rasping
cries from tree to tree, echoing stone to stone<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Like knives
cutting through the silent morning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The
swoop and glide of dark feathers;<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A
glimpse of wing and flash of tail,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sharp
against the pale grey pearl of sky;<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The
curving whisper of air displacement<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As one
lit upon a bough of twisted pine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A single
feather fluttered, </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span></span> </div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">black as night, beneath the tree, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">An
obsidian blade shining sable on the green green grass,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Although
there was no sun.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="uficommentbody"><span lang="EN" style="color: #141823; font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Abbey</span></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: WishMF; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-88870608061073732742014-10-06T15:52:00.000-07:002014-10-06T15:52:09.000-07:00Gàidhlig Language Acquisition and Spaghetti al Dente: An AnalogySo...(I promised myself a long time ago that I would never begin anything with the word "so". So it was, but is no more...)<br />
<br />
So, I'm learning Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig), and have been "learning" it for six years. Given that I've had fewer than twenty-five days of actual classtime over the course of those six years (with furious bouts of directionless study in bewtween), it's amazing I know anything at all. I live out in the wilderness--an fhàsach--without access to a regular class until very recently, when I finally signed up for a weekly Skype class from Caroline Root. It was an excellent decision, despite my reluctance to adopt new-for-me technology. Just having weekly sessions, a wee bit of homework each week, and listening to and speaking in the language despite my mumbling reticence, has been a marvelous way to open new pathways in that darkening grey matter I call a brain.<br />
<br />
It has helped me to see the huge gaps in my understanding, as well as some of my strengths (few, those). It has also caused me hope that with enough diligent work I might achieve a modicum of fluency before I die. That, and asking for help when I need it, from the generous community of Gàidhlig teachers and learners out there. We are, in essence, in the same bàta.<br />
<br />
However, learning a new language at the age of sixty is not the same as learning one at six. Of course it's not. It's rather like spaghetti as one ages. One tests whether the noodles are done by throwing a few of them at the wall and if they stick, it's ready to serve. Or maybe it's the other way around...At any rate, that's what language acquisition is--you throw a handful of words at a brain, and some of them stick. Many of them don't, but you keep at it. My brain is a pretty slippery little nugget. <br />
<br />
But I realized long ago that learning this beautiful old language--the reasons for which are as complicated as the language's history itself--is worth pursing for no other reason than to do a tiny wee bit in helping save it from oblivion. I would like fluency one day, but I'm old and may never reach that pinnacle.<br />
<br />
Like these drawings that are unfinished, learning is never a done deal. Nevertheless, I'll keep at it. <br />
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Alba a' feitheamh (Scotland Waiting)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnD5BN-5FLik_V1ikl5w3ZE2lRzwqWTQcRct9MUq1_BoVbPU_JSRkhyphenhyphenbfwXqB7MRyfutUn6R5ypDhRDnPGQFTyUeLnAAJVsMgQJinLMZuYIIWJrUOblsSoMdVSMq2XjbK4Sss1JHJyXpg/s1600/Unicorn+color+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnD5BN-5FLik_V1ikl5w3ZE2lRzwqWTQcRct9MUq1_BoVbPU_JSRkhyphenhyphenbfwXqB7MRyfutUn6R5ypDhRDnPGQFTyUeLnAAJVsMgQJinLMZuYIIWJrUOblsSoMdVSMq2XjbK4Sss1JHJyXpg/s1600/Unicorn+color+01.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></div>
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(The Unicorn has since been completed)</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-45653655051447548402014-09-19T04:16:00.000-07:002014-09-19T04:16:44.904-07:00Alba, My Alba
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Bratach na h-Alba</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So this is
it. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> it, Scotland’s chance at
self-determination, blown away like thistledown on the winds of despair and
fear. This little blue flame that had so much potential to become a beacon of
democracy for the world has been snuffed out and the world can now get on with the
business of spiraling into the shithole it has made for itself. Just a blip on
the screen of darkness. So much for the chimes of freedom.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">They may ring again one day, but probably not in my lifetime. The Unicorn is still chained.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZIybkdoXiiIbuXHBZX20tSU2SRiOHFAFZUhKXysO8JSEhzGpVzC1ZtT0ASQLjSfnAUHh92vyc3sOxLiY7Jv_GCgyxxZPCm559Kt0Qa4kFQX_pZi-uHbgP1i4Q5mG2VxKSwr1G3s8Goc/s1600/The+Bee+at+Culloden+02+c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZIybkdoXiiIbuXHBZX20tSU2SRiOHFAFZUhKXysO8JSEhzGpVzC1ZtT0ASQLjSfnAUHh92vyc3sOxLiY7Jv_GCgyxxZPCm559Kt0Qa4kFQX_pZi-uHbgP1i4Q5mG2VxKSwr1G3s8Goc/s1600/The+Bee+at+Culloden+02+c.jpg" height="284" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Bee at Culloden</div>
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Saor Alba</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-83447729925432906432014-07-01T16:52:00.000-07:002014-07-02T09:45:47.577-07:00Summary of An Interesting Year Or So: Runrig, Oregon Coast, Tucson, Hawaii, Montana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Well...It has been some time since I've written a blog post. A great deal has happened since I retired from teaching. <br />
<br />
Probably the most significant was our August trip to Scotland to see Runrig for their 40th anniversary celebration at the "Party On The Moor", held near Inverness. We stayed in Edinburgh for a few days, taking a day-trip to Sterling Castle and the Glen Goyne Distillery, going on a tour of the Scottish Parliament (Parlamaid na h-Alba), and mingling with the Fringe crowd before taking the train north to Inverness for another few days and the concert. <br />
<br />
The performance was amazing and I still can't believe we were there. What a special, awesome night! Julie Fowlis was MC (and she sang a number with the band too), Mànran provided a fantastic performance, along with a few other topnotch groups, and then the lads were on. Arthur Cormack was standing about two yards behind me throughout the concert, and James Graham was on our train. (Of course they didn't have a clue who I was, and I managed not to accost them.)<br />
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The "lads"</div>
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We then visited Oban for a few days, took a tour to Mull and Iona, walked all over, took thousands of photos, and carried home the best of memories.</div>
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It was the Oregon Coast during the holidays--that quiet week between Christmas and New Year. Relaxing and beautiful, there were people surfing in the glorious weather. Tides were extreme that week.</div>
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The spiral stairs at Yaquina Head Lighthouse</div>
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Lace falling water</div>
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In February we traveled to Tucson for the gem and mineral show, (where I spent too much money). We got to visit the Sonora Desert Museum and the mission of San Xavier del Bac--both moving places. The sky is so incredibly blue.</div>
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Negative space</div>
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Edificio</div>
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Sonoran Desert</div>
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Cactus</div>
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In April, just after we started a kitchen remodel and had a flood downstairs, we flew to Maui. I didn't think I'd love as much as I did--and do. What a beautiful island.</div>
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P.T. Fleming Beach</div>
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Island Light</div>
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Moving Water</div>
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This last Sunday we got back from a week in Montana. It was good to be home, and we got a chance to visit with family.</div>
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Lake McDonald</div>
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Colorful rocks and clear water</div>
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Rain on water</div>
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It's been a good year in other ways too: I got my braces off and survived oral surgery (lots of blood and bruising), and the kitchen is done. Now to get the house back together.</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-63176094470850530062013-12-10T13:04:00.002-08:002013-12-10T13:04:46.598-08:00Processes of ReclamationI decided I needed to do something with my old fine silver scrap. Torching it into dirty balls of casting grain didn't seem like enough because they just sat there in a little box gathering dust. So I torched the scrap into blobs, put them into the tumbler, and started hammering them flat. Then I textured them between layers of old t-shirt with a hammer, finished the edges, polished them, drilled them for jump-rings, and finally dapped them into subtle domes. It's an interesting process and I like the results.<br />
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scrap ready for torching</div>
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that bright orange glow</div>
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in the quench</div>
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before tumbling</div>
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after tumbling </div>
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before and after hammering</div>
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some finished pieces, textured, stamped, drilled, and domed</div>
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This is my process for the reclamation of fine-silver scrap. I have some nice pieces, where it was useless junk before. If I don't like the way something turns out, I can always remelt it and start over.<br />
Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-27622059957616985682013-09-27T14:13:00.001-07:002013-09-27T14:24:59.691-07:00UpCyclingSince I fell off a ladder in July and injured both my shoulders (tearing rotator cuffs and facing surgery), and then dragged my suitcase all over Scotland for two weeks, I've been "fired" from deck-painting, gardening, standing on ladders, trimming trees, lifting anything, driving distances in excess of 10 miles, and most cleaning tasks--in short, anything using my arms in any but the most limited (envision T-rex) fashion. So, I am relegated to writing and sewing until this gets resolved.<br />
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Yesterday (or was it Wednesday?) I visited my local Goodwill store in hopes of finding some old lace tablecloths or curtains to use for sewing some Boho clothes, remaking stuff I have. Instead I found 3 formals, 3 costumes, 3 shirts and a name-brand silk dress (for $6.99). After some research, I discovered the silk dress was originally very likely around $300-400. <br />
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At any rate, with the exception of the silk dress, I washed everything, including the formals and the silk shirt with sequins (very ugly sequins), tried it all on, and found that I could at least squeeze into the little dress, and that with some alteration I could make it fit better. Then I had an idea...<br />
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Blouse with sequins...ugh, and silk dress</div>
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After 2 hours with a seam-ripper: no sequins</div>
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Side by side</div>
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Together</div>
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Next, I have to figure out how best to remove the sleeves from the blouse and put them on the dress, expand the band below the bust, and add the neckline of the blouse to the dress. All very fun and challenging, since I haven't sewn anything for years. Altogether, I'm out about $13.00 on this outfit, and after taking apart the other dresses, I have some nice shimmery yardage and some tulle.</div>
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Scotland pictures coming soon, for those none of you who read this.</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-66638423098495405252013-07-14T07:15:00.002-07:002013-07-14T07:15:53.203-07:00Wave Action<br />
Souveniers from our beach trip to the Oregon coast in June.<br />
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Sand waves</div>
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Whirlpool within</div>
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Morning light</div>
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The same wave</div>
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Afternoon</div>
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Altogether, it was a great weekend, with family and friends to celebrate my retirement and my birthday. My only regret was that it wasn't longer. I love the ocean.</div>
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Sets</div>
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Splashing on rocks</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-24573522951781538802013-07-13T17:52:00.000-07:002013-07-13T17:52:43.622-07:00Summertime Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Finally, a new blog entry! So far, retirement is still sinking in and I've been busy going through boxes of school stuff and closets full of clothes, sorting and washing and boxing for give-away. Yesterday I took the first things to the charity shop in downtown Echo. Still have lots to do. </div>
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We've been refinishing the decks with heavy-duty deck paint, and I've been growing tomatoes and eggplant in pots, pulling weeds, hoping to get some things transplanted, and taking lots of pictures of the wildflowers. I'm glad to say that I have three thistle plants which are starting to bloom. Something is eating all my shade plants (probably pillbugs and snails) so I've set out an experimental beer-trap in hopes they'll have a great time while dying.</div>
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The redecorating of the guest bedroom is moving along. It looks as though I'm going for a kind of flowery-seashell theme, with turquoise and lime and a kind of periwinkle blue-lilac. </div>
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The new bedspread, pillows, and lamps.</div>
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The little green monkey.</div>
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And some of the hundreds of flower pictures I've been taking and messing with in PS.</div>
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Flowers</div>
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Sunflowers</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbp4UD0sRotKN_vkvU2HHmrP1Tf5OgHwKJ9ZsEMXBJFHmuBEV98GJPRx08F64XENK7rY_v71hVJbHgjoMeAvlAuk1_Xctgm2XePgR-wDj-ppBUbeyIQeVsRK__EX9QS2ZLDhchwDnV_LY/s1600/Yellow+daisies+bunch+c+blur+adj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbp4UD0sRotKN_vkvU2HHmrP1Tf5OgHwKJ9ZsEMXBJFHmuBEV98GJPRx08F64XENK7rY_v71hVJbHgjoMeAvlAuk1_Xctgm2XePgR-wDj-ppBUbeyIQeVsRK__EX9QS2ZLDhchwDnV_LY/s320/Yellow+daisies+bunch+c+blur+adj.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sunflowers</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgly89EgeegKLG9yzDIlE_Hzz79CRgWFomO16V9tq40q636MlF4ZGjvtoJyOgvTebhJOQgTAZ6n_keTF3GfXyj6p26HUXtcbHzB8w80a8LzcCNxTVPF0ms_6KKQMGBo4h1GLw1RgTzmdR8/s1600/Wild+coneflower+1+c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgly89EgeegKLG9yzDIlE_Hzz79CRgWFomO16V9tq40q636MlF4ZGjvtoJyOgvTebhJOQgTAZ6n_keTF3GfXyj6p26HUXtcbHzB8w80a8LzcCNxTVPF0ms_6KKQMGBo4h1GLw1RgTzmdR8/s320/Wild+coneflower+1+c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Coneflower</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo5lTokPj4H721oQIqUw-wU-f4qaVRGELLVIo1mQbLyNIMlduRgexvziZU35Y5QKYA835KI9Kl_fe1lvqOl-yVE0gxmcqkupzZKz-m7LoTUL6MgsEXsLQiTQ3XFsWzZD14f5CBJgI2as/s1600/Thistle+glory+1+c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo5lTokPj4H721oQIqUw-wU-f4qaVRGELLVIo1mQbLyNIMlduRgexvziZU35Y5QKYA835KI9Kl_fe1lvqOl-yVE0gxmcqkupzZKz-m7LoTUL6MgsEXsLQiTQ3XFsWzZD14f5CBJgI2as/s320/Thistle+glory+1+c.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
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Thistle</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl3qmq8YKXQsEKociXJx6ljPZFGXU1u_NQt5Rc0UxV66sX1im8aCbdgpacTJV_rAOWaB5TyAxgOUpIzHu9BgLj0hOK_0TZRAM4pAQS5qS_WWO5lSiUAZrfZnEArEmbC1IF9xgE5gZIqQ/s1600/Wild+blue+flax+single+c+auto+wc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl3qmq8YKXQsEKociXJx6ljPZFGXU1u_NQt5Rc0UxV66sX1im8aCbdgpacTJV_rAOWaB5TyAxgOUpIzHu9BgLj0hOK_0TZRAM4pAQS5qS_WWO5lSiUAZrfZnEArEmbC1IF9xgE5gZIqQ/s320/Wild+blue+flax+single+c+auto+wc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Blue flax</div>
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<br />Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-3490559448404925282013-02-17T21:29:00.002-08:002013-02-17T21:37:18.509-08:00Sugarman: Sixto Rodriguez<br />
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Sugarman...I first heard of Sixto Rodriguez while I was searching around for stuff having to do with surfing, being a newish fan and all. I came across part of a film called "Lost Atlas" by Kai Neville, about some young cutting-edge blokes surfing remote locations. It was just a snippet of the film, but the soundtrack intrigued me. "Woman, please be gone/ You've stayed here much too long..." It sounded old, like from the 60s, but I had never heard a voice like that, or words that scorched in just that way. <br />
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Thanks to the internet, I was able to type those words into Google and voila: it was a song called "Hate Street Dialogue" by Sixto Rodriguez. I discovered that he was from Detroit, that his music was (and still is) awesome, and that if I'd heard of him at that time, I would certainly have bought his records. He only made two that went nowhere in the States. But in South Africa, and Australia, he was huge.<br />
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I finally just watched the documentary film about Rodriguez, "Searching for Sugarman". It made me cry. What a humble man. He still lives in Detroit, still plays some of his music, still works hard every day. What little money he's made from his music he's given away to family and friends. Here's a sample of some of his songs:<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_7u06P3ebU">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_7u06P3ebU</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMv9kjFp1gk&feature=endscreen&NR=1">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMv9kjFp1gk&feature=endscreen&NR=1</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLnGdyUN-IU">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLnGdyUN-IU</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1GwgzEZcps">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1GwgzEZcps</a><br />
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-86846664197873787782013-02-16T16:22:00.001-08:002013-02-16T16:22:24.695-08:00For the Love of Cooking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38aDKEWFkDVJbEf6UhuERqyGiQXjKXZ4vguqXhGy0FLcA2qDxrDzQzc5pD3Rue7sjOWkg3ect17TJSVis5lJ5I0VKK3H3Kb82F7NeZbqyk-2qvdBEmXN9WwfsqDWyeU91ZFE0y3CL2hE/s1600/Still+life+with+pears.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38aDKEWFkDVJbEf6UhuERqyGiQXjKXZ4vguqXhGy0FLcA2qDxrDzQzc5pD3Rue7sjOWkg3ect17TJSVis5lJ5I0VKK3H3Kb82F7NeZbqyk-2qvdBEmXN9WwfsqDWyeU91ZFE0y3CL2hE/s200/Still+life+with+pears.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
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In spite of the fact that I love to bake, I have rediscovered (or perhaps discovered really for the first time) my love for cooking. I began in fourth grade, a very long time ago, at the age of nine. I didn't like it all that much, as I recall. It seemed a boring chore. But now my kitchen is MY kitchen, where some sort of magic happens, and where a recipe is just a suggestion. It also helps to have good knives. I have a set of Wusthofs, and hope one day to have some better cookware and a gas cooktop.<br />
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Last night I made delicious faux-tatoes with cauliflower, cream cheese, and butter, whirred together in the processor with salt and pepper. Then I roasted bite-sized chunks of butternut squash with garlic in olive oil, all to go with the chicken wings William put into the oven. For dessert was the simple but delicious pear galette I invented.<br />
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This morning I made a quiche, for the first time with a pastry crust (I usually leave the crust off because of the carbs, but sometimes I don't care anymore). I think it's probably the best quiche I've ever made. My pastry crusts, I must admit, are pretty good...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdc8StUho7jzZSYWn8KGkf58NHbCP3lnXEJXLWoWvypWzNh54uTRH9Q8bZf5I6NSPHnfpx4_XhwjlLAHEVlne9o2p1Y4iUHbcSpQo1WIhKyaMI6uXaparxytJ5-qGlRujlHcz7ipk2_zA/s1600/Sunlit+still+life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdc8StUho7jzZSYWn8KGkf58NHbCP3lnXEJXLWoWvypWzNh54uTRH9Q8bZf5I6NSPHnfpx4_XhwjlLAHEVlne9o2p1Y4iUHbcSpQo1WIhKyaMI6uXaparxytJ5-qGlRujlHcz7ipk2_zA/s320/Sunlit+still+life.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Since I normally don't take photos of food, here are some nice still lifes with pears...</div>
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and not-very-good pictures of the quiche.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8j0TFxPv66HPb7DAPNI6ZIblpDI1ieEX4nmqKfLzFMwP7zS3L4OrUSgfUFM8odGKsHqe7_Fj0E0gFVcftUmuul_K9dcAlzJr4FI5fi7kwivGZPQ4ym6kLGHypSNdpQOpnLDmN7Olm1fI/s1600/Quiche+1+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8j0TFxPv66HPb7DAPNI6ZIblpDI1ieEX4nmqKfLzFMwP7zS3L4OrUSgfUFM8odGKsHqe7_Fj0E0gFVcftUmuul_K9dcAlzJr4FI5fi7kwivGZPQ4ym6kLGHypSNdpQOpnLDmN7Olm1fI/s320/Quiche+1+crop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOvl4QD6mcbnPbe-dxf5eHby46LDmnTjKKfT1K6EI2EmoIFuWVvx-WzI3o5BFS0IQmpFelUMwtN3aH_1Nkd9OIv7ua8AgHeHJl0yMP993mc7jymsSKmFfRnaYgDsBt6N-k_MYYMtRs_w/s1600/Quiche+2+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOvl4QD6mcbnPbe-dxf5eHby46LDmnTjKKfT1K6EI2EmoIFuWVvx-WzI3o5BFS0IQmpFelUMwtN3aH_1Nkd9OIv7ua8AgHeHJl0yMP993mc7jymsSKmFfRnaYgDsBt6N-k_MYYMtRs_w/s320/Quiche+2+crop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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At some point, after retirement, I plan to garden, put up preserves, and experiment with new flavors, especially Italian ones. Viva la cucina!</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-69166810096045874462013-02-15T21:02:00.000-08:002013-02-16T21:18:13.069-08:00Memories of Italy: Food for the Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Some eye-and-spirit-candy from 2008...memories of the sun in Florence, Italy, and the lovely days full of art, everywhere, and light, and food, and sweetness, and heat...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_D7vLNaJKb03Ra4qfwaw54Ub-w0HtdYVLiHm_WzZRmNOAtetX-vx0dw8xW22ydWnT5fCh6EUhcqciRo2aYq01Y0s8TK4k7OE-9li9xm-Krtmsrzz-PAtYEnwKMqREaz1ML-zezaiR4j0/s1600/FirenzeSkyline1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_D7vLNaJKb03Ra4qfwaw54Ub-w0HtdYVLiHm_WzZRmNOAtetX-vx0dw8xW22ydWnT5fCh6EUhcqciRo2aYq01Y0s8TK4k7OE-9li9xm-Krtmsrzz-PAtYEnwKMqREaz1ML-zezaiR4j0/s320/FirenzeSkyline1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Skyline: Firenze, from a hilltop</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-foPRRwhDobrlBYvgsNkP-NPtPKBJZLpZlNftJFdVRv-9P4EP-B41oQq53QU5zfcgQ4xuYCygia_c8h4emvMWHqaPlUYDC_ZDc7-qwW9Kmr16PhEzWx4OWiMju8qOJnuHdpm0qLkWWGk/s1600/Lion+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-foPRRwhDobrlBYvgsNkP-NPtPKBJZLpZlNftJFdVRv-9P4EP-B41oQq53QU5zfcgQ4xuYCygia_c8h4emvMWHqaPlUYDC_ZDc7-qwW9Kmr16PhEzWx4OWiMju8qOJnuHdpm0qLkWWGk/s320/Lion+1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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Lion in quatrefoil</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1GSHJy_t99_g6zbqif_wl-bBkKPICFtjLVs6lQw2VBO7dzsHkuxxHa9ilitJ7sRi1zGEK2F4xirEr9Bj5S5hiVunt-9VejkVbSONxmPBYf6Zj20Udy1uxGmAApuC3oOQpju_kj4y2qU/s1600/FirenzeDuomo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1GSHJy_t99_g6zbqif_wl-bBkKPICFtjLVs6lQw2VBO7dzsHkuxxHa9ilitJ7sRi1zGEK2F4xirEr9Bj5S5hiVunt-9VejkVbSONxmPBYf6Zj20Udy1uxGmAApuC3oOQpju_kj4y2qU/s320/FirenzeDuomo2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Il Duomo, Firenze</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15CaCADlcdJPp5lYsPvtRCRxRC1mEgqHrVj_dtpN1v8rbAMuHnGt8twL0wKm0H2sHnjEElbVX5_O1Vps673vBltQeEyOcGL3E40aXPifqTSd63DHMUrEY7_txYAD0gM6_cNRlgaP686M/s1600/Giotto'sTower1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15CaCADlcdJPp5lYsPvtRCRxRC1mEgqHrVj_dtpN1v8rbAMuHnGt8twL0wKm0H2sHnjEElbVX5_O1Vps673vBltQeEyOcGL3E40aXPifqTSd63DHMUrEY7_txYAD0gM6_cNRlgaP686M/s320/Giotto'sTower1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Torre Giotto</div>
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That was a trip to remember, and being there was every bit as sweet as the memory of being there. I was awed, humbled, thrilled, to finally be in Italy, in Florence, the ancient city I dreamed of in art history classes. Everything was delicious: tiny streets, hidden squares, the Arno and Ponte Vecchio, churches great and small, trattorie, cobblestones, gold like the sun, sky like a robin's egg, tangy green olive oil, freshly made mozarella, the everything and everywhere. I loved it, and I will go back.</div>
<br />Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-6853093679988833402013-02-08T22:14:00.000-08:002013-02-08T22:14:35.019-08:00On RecoveryI am finally over being sick; at least I'm well enough to have returned to work on Monday after a week-and-a-half of fever, chills, horrendous coughing, and excruciating lower back pain because of it. Lying on the sofa for the better part of a week, including some nights when the bed was just too flat, I managed to read two books on Tutankhamun, another on archaeology, and began a fourth on Tuscany, which I am savoring in memory of our brief visit there in 2008. Ah, Italia....<br />
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And now that I'm back, going into the second half of my final year of teaching, I decided to make the best of things and teach my photography students as much about Photoshop 6.0 as possible for the rest of the year. To that noble end, I have not exempted myself from learning a few things as well, or re-learning them, as the case may be. Here are some interesting results:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsDIYCeWdJ83IjDk-5LviDm9vzfUiOp8ved5quq2IPRADwyi5C5PqhoeSzp5Gl0wBvwvuCeNWQEzTawSKgct4qNmZqe4KNc2hWZi7N6dMJ8_ZibwyJ1PH2dps1rqJnL351lZrwEhcYTo/s1600/Berry+Droplet+1+cropCurves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsDIYCeWdJ83IjDk-5LviDm9vzfUiOp8ved5quq2IPRADwyi5C5PqhoeSzp5Gl0wBvwvuCeNWQEzTawSKgct4qNmZqe4KNc2hWZi7N6dMJ8_ZibwyJ1PH2dps1rqJnL351lZrwEhcYTo/s320/Berry+Droplet+1+cropCurves.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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Apples, dark</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGbF0aXcb_WxwVpNoL04jUiu2jM0iTNJF_4j_xtv8u3oY_b7Puk6MF7ct7oIBP6fZhG6jLeJjeBh1Y1yZ0mhpjpn1EMWnSFVJpR7wdXqmR8F9L48Vm2irRoPgMRrTRe2TfbhCCfYhj18/s1600/Berry+Droplet+1+cropGM2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGbF0aXcb_WxwVpNoL04jUiu2jM0iTNJF_4j_xtv8u3oY_b7Puk6MF7ct7oIBP6fZhG6jLeJjeBh1Y1yZ0mhpjpn1EMWnSFVJpR7wdXqmR8F9L48Vm2irRoPgMRrTRe2TfbhCCfYhj18/s200/Berry+Droplet+1+cropGM2.jpg" width="147" /></a></div>
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Apples, gradient mapped</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmd3dXFso-eQmdMCGNM10XtAbSqh16x8JvYSfWAbbPP-8quH4-4WoXk4V6z2HsbVlWpM7jzPBvClZvaDJ3zdO4rWKswauPawt_p44aqbwJ6XU_haXDC1tZLTCrhkAjT_XW12VW25FYxA/s1600/Berry+Droplet+1+cropGM2rev.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmd3dXFso-eQmdMCGNM10XtAbSqh16x8JvYSfWAbbPP-8quH4-4WoXk4V6z2HsbVlWpM7jzPBvClZvaDJ3zdO4rWKswauPawt_p44aqbwJ6XU_haXDC1tZLTCrhkAjT_XW12VW25FYxA/s200/Berry+Droplet+1+cropGM2rev.jpg" width="147" /></a></div>
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Apples, gradient mapped and something else that I forgot because I can't replicate it...</div>
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Curve rust</div>
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Original birdbath</div>
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Iron leaf, gradient mapped</div>
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first glimpzse of sunrise, abstracted</div>
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Ice crystals...interesting texture</div>
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Spider plant with sun and table</div>
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Interior, desaturated with steel-bar gradient map</div>
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Most of these involve gradient mapping and/or curves. Some of them are quite nice...I am having a good time with my new camera.</div>
Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-26728721067363790972013-01-26T11:09:00.001-08:002013-01-26T11:09:09.553-08:00A Garden In Winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There's something peaceful and magical about a winter garden. I felt temporarily well enough after a shower this morning that I ventured outside to shoot the diamonds hanging from needles and branches in my garden. It had rained earlier, all night in fact, so capturing them was easy.</div>
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We are planning to move one day from this area. My only regret will be leaving this yard and garden we have worked so hard to make beautiful. Over fourteen years we have toiled (or my husband has!), and we still have lots more work to do, but there was literally nothing here when we moved in, not a stick or branch of anything, just bare dirt the consistency of powdered sugar. Now it is not only a haven for we humans, but one for birds, frogs, deer, and other wildlife. We see birds fly by every day and when the osprey return every spring, it's thrilling to see them soar within feet of our windows, often carrying steelhead in their talons. I will miss it, but until then, I will enjoy the quiet and lovliness, and even the hard work, of my ever-changing garden.</div>
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A Blackbilled Magpie</div>
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<br />Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-3178621391459287592013-01-25T21:41:00.000-08:002013-01-25T21:41:08.452-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Forest Goddess (or something)</div>
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I haven't blogged for awhile so I thought I'd share something I made. I created this painting years ago (my friend Angie Kile used it when her first child was born as a focus during labor). I recently found it again and have been adding improvements and subtracting mistakes.</div>
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I happen to be sick right now, having contracted something from school (a rarity for me, as I hardly ever get sick). Anyway, perhaps this portrait will become one of the characters Eilidh meets in the elven realm. She is now sitting on my "altar" of stuff I collect and like: rocks, old antlers, copper pots, feathers, sticks, dried bouquets of roses, weeds, and a mask I bought and repainted so it was much cooler.</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-62019652318707707242012-12-18T18:01:00.000-08:002012-12-18T18:04:57.358-08:00Tagged: The Next Big Thing Blog-HopThanks to my friend Miriah, who is an an <em>actual</em> writer, not just a wannabee, I was tagged in this blog-hop, not to be confused with a sock-hop (is anyone else out there old enough to remember what one of those was?).<br />
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So here goes:<br />
<ul>
<li>The working title of my book is "The Solitary" (now at 147 pages)</li>
<li>The idea for the story came from wherever magical ideas come from. All I remember was having a thought and writing the first sentences in my notebook while on a bus-trip to the Portland Art Museum in Portland, Oregon last April 5th. They languished on that page for a couple of weeks before they made it onto my computer screen, and by the end of May, I had 90 pages (while teaching and finishing up our school's yearbook).</li>
<li>The genre might be fantasy</li>
<li>I can think of no actors who might play the major roles if this were ever to be made into a film. I generally loathe movies anyway and scarcely watch TV either, and the usual celebrities wouldn't be good enough. If surfer Owen Wright were an actor...(see earlier blog posts for characters.) </li>
<li>In one sentence: Eilidh Runyon, a 30-year-old witch who practices as a solitary and lives alone on an ancient farm in some nebulous place like Wales or France, rescues an elf named Taliesin who is near death from an arrow wound, who has fallen into her world from the other realm, and who has partial amnesia. (Adventures ensue.)</li>
<li>If I ever finish the story in writing instead of just in my head, I don't know how I'll publish it. Still toying with choices.</li>
<li>I have yet to finish the first draft, although the story itself is finished. It has a beginning, middle, and end, and in fact, I usually write the end after I've written the beginning...the middle is the slog.</li>
<li>I hardly ever read fiction anymore because of time constraints. After I retire, perhaps...So I really have no idea to what other books I might compare my story, although I <em>love</em> Shakespeare.</li>
<li>Related to question #2, I'm not sure who or what inspired me to write this tale. Most of my stories are inspired by my most vivid dreams, but this one wasn't. It certainly wasn't the bus trip, although I did have a great time and my students enjoyed it.</li>
<li>If anything might pique my reader's interests...my work is usually somewhat philosophical, with a bit of intertextuality, tragedy, and humor woven in. All of my stories, ultimately, are love stories, and center around the theme of redemption.</li>
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So...I hope I've answered the questions adequately. I have asked the story to stay on hold until June, when I retire from teaching. It's my favorite one and I don't want anyone else to write it!<br />
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-47811437911419261692012-11-22T10:42:00.002-08:002012-11-22T10:42:53.625-08:00Samhuinn to Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_z46IxR7LaWOX0veXvLR24a-eCgCGzeoxeDmaQ3PK6ROQY21u4_awMJlIjTSu1iMpZ7bjPWEbk2vxf4NyUxqlXxMg5d8UJy2SwG5vC5VGn2FPSAYlDTrHBsmZv05QcTF8ohyrpx9Hsbk/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_z46IxR7LaWOX0veXvLR24a-eCgCGzeoxeDmaQ3PK6ROQY21u4_awMJlIjTSu1iMpZ7bjPWEbk2vxf4NyUxqlXxMg5d8UJy2SwG5vC5VGn2FPSAYlDTrHBsmZv05QcTF8ohyrpx9Hsbk/s400/DSC_0063.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Has it been three weeks already since the first of November? How time is flying this year. And now, it's the morning of Thanksgiving day. The turkey is in its brine, the menu is planned around a Paleo theme, the house is mostly clean, we await the arrival of our guests, and I'm trying not to think about the buttload of work I have to get back to after the holiday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">As I reflect upon the things I'm thankful for: family, friends, sunshine, rain, the seasons, life itself--I am reminded as well about adversity, about those people, even in the midst of all this bounty, who have little to celebrate; about Thanksgivings in my own past which were colored with poverty and bitterness and being alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">I am thankful those days are gone. I'm thankful that I am with who I am with, that I have two wonderful children who love me, that I no longer have to use a calculator when I go to the store, that I have decent employment with adequate insurance coverage, that putting gas in the car isn't really an issue, that I live a pretty comfortable life now, after early setbacks and adversity. I am thankful for all of this, and just for being alive today to enjoy the lovely sunshine pouring in through my windows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">As I reflect upon this day of thanks, I am full of both sadness for human failings, and hope that we all can look forward to a better future, that as a people and a nation and a world we may put aside our political and ideological differences and work together to achieve it. I may be an idealist, but I wish for peace in the world, and an end to hatreds of all kinds, even those that reside in the darkest places in my own heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Happy Thanksgiving.</span></div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-9515798318568725982012-10-21T17:59:00.000-07:002012-10-21T17:59:27.637-07:00Teeny Silver Surfboards<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoafRyY2hLLk65chYKIvAek5MKOgFg8N-9748NoOjEU8zuNIDWsnaM55vyZQPi5jMCMT8QqHgP0L21wODIeO05dlX2NFCDFP_GkPeJ1AcFvB9MegA_yRJNEeCaYKii7CZf8rW_qCpjWQ/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoafRyY2hLLk65chYKIvAek5MKOgFg8N-9748NoOjEU8zuNIDWsnaM55vyZQPi5jMCMT8QqHgP0L21wODIeO05dlX2NFCDFP_GkPeJ1AcFvB9MegA_yRJNEeCaYKii7CZf8rW_qCpjWQ/s200/DSC_0043.JPG" width="132" /></a></div>
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The fronts</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_W4QG6ACxft-v-I56NyyRHWrCpCxMEtBfQHkbs-hOQ40CjCnK7X0BIG4FkzaaTRRSBXAOYDhErdADR0CmpUqk2X9O6zfZ1udDEPTJL1ohofmYYsrW3Z67yyvt3YuKtpoSwWO745XInzE/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_W4QG6ACxft-v-I56NyyRHWrCpCxMEtBfQHkbs-hOQ40CjCnK7X0BIG4FkzaaTRRSBXAOYDhErdADR0CmpUqk2X9O6zfZ1udDEPTJL1ohofmYYsrW3Z67yyvt3YuKtpoSwWO745XInzE/s200/DSC_0045.JPG" width="132" /></a></div>
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and the backs. Not very good photography...</div>
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These are the first three surfboard pendants in fine silver (.999FS.) that I've made. I had fun making these, using textures with metal clay, and then cutting them out using templates that look sort of surfboard-shaped. I had to do a bit of sanding. On the backs of the second two are wave designs, and I made bails out of 18g fine silver wire, attached with PMC3 slip. The lot were torched, brushed, polished a bit, and put on chains. The top one I've been wearing for a few days. None of them have fins. I thought they'd catch on clothing. Earrings are next, but not until I get some other stuff done, like grading, laundry, vacuuming, scanning senior pictures, and donning my armor for another hectic week. It's the end of the first quarter already!Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-60821819001967725322012-10-20T20:03:00.000-07:002012-10-21T18:02:25.331-07:00Surfing and Painting: Surfboards and the Elements of Design<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzsVIMX71-6GODURR4iEvAgYcsTLkABt-2WIIXtg6jsVuj0BBrk7HKQn675llAH88oBiYB0OQp2KPwZlor2xzRCWAB3r8fLU7jtRkU3jjT1DWdhmoIEE5my3r-3bgqXSpJxcdP7r6Oy4/s1600/DSC_0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzsVIMX71-6GODURR4iEvAgYcsTLkABt-2WIIXtg6jsVuj0BBrk7HKQn675llAH88oBiYB0OQp2KPwZlor2xzRCWAB3r8fLU7jtRkU3jjT1DWdhmoIEE5my3r-3bgqXSpJxcdP7r6Oy4/s320/DSC_0030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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All 38 surfboards. Whew! The last for awhile, I'm thinking.</div>
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Couldn't crop the picture because I no longer have Photoshop.</div>
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The latest four.</div>
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Surfing...So, my favorite surfer Owen Wright lost in the Quarters at the Rip Curl Pro in Peniche, Portugal, to Julian Wilson, who went on to win the whole event. I like Julian and he needed to win something. Owen eventually lost, but not before he surfed a perfect 10 and beat Mick Fanning in Round 5, which may be a vindication of sorts... Owen traveled to France and Portugal with his GF, his dad, and his little bro', Mikey. I wonder whether Tyler was there?<br />
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During the competition, I also enjoyed reading The Sardine, a nifty little e-mag Rip Curl published online during each of the many lay-days while everyone waited for the storm to hit and then abate, and the resulting swell to surge and then clean up. When surfing started again, one guy had sardines falling out of his wave right in front of him, slapping his face!</div>
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The world tour goes next to Santa Cruz, CA in November, and then it's on to the Banzai Pipeline on Oahu, Hawai'i for December, the last pro comp of the year. For someone who will probably never attend any kind of surfing event ever, it's fun, entertaining, and educational (!) to watch the world's best surfers fight it out on the world stage. These guys are serious athletes. A great many of the results rest on the luck of the draw, the waves one gets, plus a whole lot of other variables, and the finesse with which one can read and ride the sets. It takes physical skill, stamina, and an intimate knowledge of a swell and how to choose good waves that make a great surfer. And perhaps being born beside the sea and learning how to swim like a fish helps as well.</div>
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Painting...So what do surfing and painting have in common, aside from the fact that really beautifully decorated surfboards exist out there and people all over the world are riding art? The surfboard is a great canvas for art. Some surfers paint their own boards, and many of them are quite good. To paint a board takes skills other than how to surf: at least a modicum of art training (how to hold a paintbrush, say), and informal knowledge of the elements and principles of design (if it looks good it probably is). </div>
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Meanwhile, I love watching the aquamarine waves curl over onto themselves, break white, and fan out over the sand like foamy lace, and I like learning about surfing: the ultimate contest between man and the sea with nothing but a little bit of rigid foam between tiny human and big blue water. Foam-balls and chandeliers, two-wave hold-downs and barrels, floaters and face-carves. I love the ocean too, but not enough to live on the coast--the Oregon one anyway. Southern Cali--well, that's a different story that'll never be told. But I will always be an artist, and I'll continue making these little jewels until I get tired of them. I'm still hunting for an old <em>genuine</em> surfboard to paint on too. In the meantime, I'm making the tiny ones out of rag foam-core and just fashioned my first little silver surfbaord pendant. Picture later. </div>
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Owen gu brath!<br />
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-79689694170392989152012-10-14T17:44:00.000-07:002012-10-14T19:48:16.026-07:00Paleo & Peniche, Eating & Getting Barreled<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouaLpm5kb3F1Y08uHwPKpO3n1VF7OvFS6pKYQO1gk3ANf33ZUNgqS85xjZmiGxfSMLn9gWc_DyNJNFwbE0cfm9vzHs9uJJzioxUtNSDSKUUzX9Dmu7kplKkW_zz3A9VPp9H817c4zUEA/s1600/One+Sea+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouaLpm5kb3F1Y08uHwPKpO3n1VF7OvFS6pKYQO1gk3ANf33ZUNgqS85xjZmiGxfSMLn9gWc_DyNJNFwbE0cfm9vzHs9uJJzioxUtNSDSKUUzX9Dmu7kplKkW_zz3A9VPp9H817c4zUEA/s200/One+Sea+1.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>
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The logo design-work for my new company (haha) One Sea, or maybe One Wave--haven't decided yet...</div>
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Between gradually changing my lifestyle to one where carbohydrates are limited to vegetables and fruits, sucessfully making my first batch of coconut butter (yummy), watching the last 4 heats of the Rip Curl Pro Portugal Round Two at Peniche (along with a couple of previous heats I missed), grading a whole slew of papers (teacher's curse), and making a trip to the local health food store where I purchased some low-carb ingredients and a lovely turquoise scarf, I got some painting time in and have created a couple more tiny surfboards in the last few days.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOKOElMqOiPr4iFRP8KWXk21yAd5lpXLuEwm1aP_6ikL4Z5LXt41B7DM5h_PJbQW1f1z0iL8MLTzpkm78ovtObS5jm248qAeX6-gQc8lVzePbBloLcEiYvprw61LLB9Cz5yRdb1SxhUY/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOKOElMqOiPr4iFRP8KWXk21yAd5lpXLuEwm1aP_6ikL4Z5LXt41B7DM5h_PJbQW1f1z0iL8MLTzpkm78ovtObS5jm248qAeX6-gQc8lVzePbBloLcEiYvprw61LLB9Cz5yRdb1SxhUY/s320/DSC_0007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some new stuff...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbsCmgi7EtwqBBa79XGHlExO9MTm13jwhRoPmprRz8gYZ_sXeHIA7lbsPgRTVYu-wWis2NHyXmCWpIw9D2lrujG3Konh8Fx2S-y6wkBZSaVXHqaLyo73KegK2hldkDKUeJ751acYbPzg/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbsCmgi7EtwqBBa79XGHlExO9MTm13jwhRoPmprRz8gYZ_sXeHIA7lbsPgRTVYu-wWis2NHyXmCWpIw9D2lrujG3Konh8Fx2S-y6wkBZSaVXHqaLyo73KegK2hldkDKUeJ751acYbPzg/s320/DSC_0008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And just to show the bottom of the Hawaiian shirt-themed one, on the left: I did a reverse. </div>
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It wasn't a 360-air, but hey...</div>
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Medieval-design surfboard with matching new scarf.</div>
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Although I love watching the ocean roll in over the sand, I know I will never surf in it, or swim in it, or ever feel comfortable in water, although I may try to paddle-board someday. I can't swim and I grew up far from any beach. The first time I saw the ocean I was 33 years old: Long Beach Peninsula in Washington State. As sports go, I suppose I could like a worse one than surfing. It's fascinating and beautiful to watch. I know most of the pro surfers' names now and have my favorites: Owen Wright, Mick Fanning, Kelly Slater, Josh Kerr, Gabriel Medina, Jordy Smith, et. al. Everybody, really, unless they're surfing against Owen.</div>
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And this isn't exactly new: when I was in 8th or 9th grade, I was babysitting, watching the couple's color TV after the kids were put to bed, and I saw these guys standing up on longboards, riding the impossibly beautiful aquamarine-sapphire barrels of the Pipe in Hawaii, getting totally shacked. I was blown away. Maybe I'm just entering my second childhood.</div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-12690261158069729222012-10-05T14:06:00.000-07:002014-07-01T09:37:20.298-07:00The First Attempt is Often the Best<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I still love this version the best.</div>
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Eilidh and Taliesin: the first incarnation, now nonexistent,</div>
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except within the workings of my computer...</div>
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...and more silliness from the world of tiny surfboards.</div>
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Having fun with my new colors. I haven't had new </div>
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acrylic paint for a very long time.</div>
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It occurred to me some time ago that the curl of a wave is the same curl of a vine-tendril, a whirlpool, a fractal, the center of a flower, the whorl of a galaxy, the spring of a fern; the Fibonnacci sequence as a metaphor for life, perhaps. For me the curl, the wave, the spiral, is endlessly fascinating. What is the basis of the primal attraction we humans have for this ancient symbol? </div>
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Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-36351436170789619012012-09-30T15:46:00.001-07:002012-09-30T15:50:18.429-07:00Making Little Surfboards<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've been perfecting my "shaping" technique when cutting out surfboards. I use a very sharp exacto knife and cut on the bevel, using quarter-inch thick pieces of rag foam-core and a template. Then they're sealed with medium and painted. If I seal the back first I get a nice curve reminiscent of a real sufrboard. Here are some examples:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxu4ByJLLpiZHD7f5QgpwL9bUqNE4Sj85tXNfyzKVtoi_59AjvWH_hxkirg2Ywyy1YHjAzt2d9TMLSbaxFkU3oGQr0dkkd6RE3SCHSzCU-jN9Y42U2XOzpbq2YWOzDmig_y4AsRtuNkM/s1600/fave+1+back.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxu4ByJLLpiZHD7f5QgpwL9bUqNE4Sj85tXNfyzKVtoi_59AjvWH_hxkirg2Ywyy1YHjAzt2d9TMLSbaxFkU3oGQr0dkkd6RE3SCHSzCU-jN9Y42U2XOzpbq2YWOzDmig_y4AsRtuNkM/s320/fave+1+back.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The bottom and top of a new board.</div>
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Another view of five. These are the bottoms.</div>
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And the tops of the same five. </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvE7XgH3RsPoHQ_2adfnA0IDvvWxxlP2_sbF_pOKZ_jkdaCgt1QysWjKQilpQqN3MSk15RGeEiWahvNgVinv-Ipjs-yCC4UM50gJP_4jG7YIVYdJNUmggnqnQ-MMYx4ad3Xcb_9Zq1-k/s1600/New.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvE7XgH3RsPoHQ_2adfnA0IDvvWxxlP2_sbF_pOKZ_jkdaCgt1QysWjKQilpQqN3MSk15RGeEiWahvNgVinv-Ipjs-yCC4UM50gJP_4jG7YIVYdJNUmggnqnQ-MMYx4ad3Xcb_9Zq1-k/s320/New.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then there are six smaller ones I just finished, sort of...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxk9BDd6AZw6sxovxSY155Ch3Jh-3HCv8IBkPQiziCDBhN0AeTBiYF9XQLQ8y9lbZfF2X9bLcm3nZufOpNgYGqP7WslA2K_917_cTjvnfLPS6pgSy-OWADvqUqPWSA1dY4HsS8jnySsw/s1600/New+Small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxk9BDd6AZw6sxovxSY155Ch3Jh-3HCv8IBkPQiziCDBhN0AeTBiYF9XQLQ8y9lbZfF2X9bLcm3nZufOpNgYGqP7WslA2K_917_cTjvnfLPS6pgSy-OWADvqUqPWSA1dY4HsS8jnySsw/s320/New+Small.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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tops</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkfLdqjD89vw81_Pw8E85mmWEElUBW51oS7cUDhO7E8MnoEbJDt-Sk6GHi0mJoiOTEOvtF1-nm3vuCxmQIPE11_7E_cuh6HjybxDWTq4B-gB2wrbXJwBOb-1SixCzMlhPemnecNbKSlQ/s1600/New+small+backs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkfLdqjD89vw81_Pw8E85mmWEElUBW51oS7cUDhO7E8MnoEbJDt-Sk6GHi0mJoiOTEOvtF1-nm3vuCxmQIPE11_7E_cuh6HjybxDWTq4B-gB2wrbXJwBOb-1SixCzMlhPemnecNbKSlQ/s320/New+small+backs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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and bottoms.</div>
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These are fun and challenging to make. Someday, if I ever find a cheap real surfboard, or even recognizable bits of one, I'll paint on it. I have been searching...to no avail, of course.<br />
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I've also discovered that I can't upload images the old way--something about my new computer perhaps--so I have to put everything in HTML and post until I figure out what's wrong. Someone please tell me if you can see the images posted this way.</div>
<br />Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98551541298890444.post-40706992021798891172012-09-30T07:53:00.003-07:002012-09-30T08:05:15.571-07:00Summer's End, Work, and Dreaming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcKcU54VykIivjutkbipWM_qTDLAbCQR1pK_1WOw1lBjQ9DTexWo-vUHO6bqdojf6fAyxa2qoqcUSkeGkZE3WqbapDLHtndpyaxznP-DT8pUPh0GswImlZQLVutkErDYQPibqQVlKB5I/s1600/Two+tops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcKcU54VykIivjutkbipWM_qTDLAbCQR1pK_1WOw1lBjQ9DTexWo-vUHO6bqdojf6fAyxa2qoqcUSkeGkZE3WqbapDLHtndpyaxznP-DT8pUPh0GswImlZQLVutkErDYQPibqQVlKB5I/s320/Two+tops.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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A great deal has happened since my last post, much of it trivial and silly--the normal every-day grind stuff of going back to work after a summer off. Here's a list then:<br />
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<li>surfing (or watching it rather)</li>
<li>painting on little tiny surfboards, since I haven't found any real ones yet</li>
<li>getting ready to retire from teaching art--this is my last year</li>
<li>getting braces (no likey)</li>
<li>losing another tooth</li>
<li>entering a jewelry competition (I didn't get in)</li>
<li>getting a new computer</li>
<li>sending my sister my old one</li>
<li>planning an addition to the house: a 576 sq. ft. studio above the garage (still no viable bids)</li>
<li>planning a trip to Hawaii for spring break with my mom</li>
<li>finding the perfect jeans that fit (!!!woohoo!!!)</li>
<li>getting the perfect curtains to go on the clerestory windows: cotton voile</li>
<li>writing a story</li>
<li>studying Gaidhlig and trying out Level 4 at Slighe nan Gaidheal</li>
<li>getting through every day...</li>
<li>reinstalling my cool fonts onto my new computer (lost the Mason ones that I loved)</li>
<li>learning how to use this new interface</li>
<li>planning a birthday/retirement party on the Oregon coast</li>
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The list goes on, of course, but that's the way lists work. They never end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM6pW3pnV6y-qH5zPAkHEhup6PmzA2fGV4vnuSjBAqdNAOibu0DHhHJvgFqVlOCab3r8WZkw65XU59JtMTeiBB7R1omxa-4aPI32itanuqakp55Az_1BVFx_m4awUToZGTig0cRQzvkc/s1600/Surfing+lizard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM6pW3pnV6y-qH5zPAkHEhup6PmzA2fGV4vnuSjBAqdNAOibu0DHhHJvgFqVlOCab3r8WZkw65XU59JtMTeiBB7R1omxa-4aPI32itanuqakp55Az_1BVFx_m4awUToZGTig0cRQzvkc/s320/Surfing+lizard.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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some tiny surfboards (this is not all of them--I now have painted 24 of them, ranging from 8-10 inches)</div>
Eilidhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12039191139755450800noreply@blogger.com0