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Archives for August 2012

Bramble Patch: August 2012

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Here are some of this month’s happy distractions.

What do Swedish people think of the Swedish chef? The answer is fascinating.

A Detroit art movement that is equal parts Mickey Mouse and Mrs. Havisham. I can’t stop looking.

Next time you are at the bookstore, check out I Could Pee on This and Other Poems by Cats, by the hilarious Francesco Marciuliano. I bought two copies thinking one would make a great gift, but apparently Lola had other plans (read: she ate it). 

What the? There is a hotel in Kenya where the giraffes come in and eat croissants off your breakfast plate. REAL CROISSANTS, PEOPLE.

Yarn bombing is over, but zip tie bombing is coming to a street light near you! 

How does one preserve a 25-year-old cheese ball in resin? Now you know.

This might just be the holy grail of portrait painting.

I want my epitaph carved out in this font (and it’s free, woot.) 

They made a movie about butter sculpting with Ty Burrell. It’s like Hollywood crawled up my nose and read my mind.

For Time Lords and those who love them: a virtual fruit salad of Doctor Who themed propaganda prints and original art. Nerdtastic!

Oodles of handy information for my fellow bloggers: 50 Online tools to Better Your Blog
(warning, this link will keep you busy all afternoon).
 
 

In the Tiki Room

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Found this fella in a junkyard last weekend and OBVIOUSLY he had to come home with me. I’m thinking he is from the South Seas somewhere but I don’t know. Anyone? The stain looks pretty new but the wood looks very old. You can’t tell from this photo, but he is about the size of a Cocker Spaniel. Heavy too. Until I can figure out a decent place to drill some wall anchors, he is hanging off a coat hook on my front door right across from the couch where I watch TV. He just sits there and stares all judgmental and stuff and I’m all, Dude put your fangs back in. It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the Real Housewives of New Jersey.

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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here. 
 

Arm Candy

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I love bracelets.
Bracelets love me. 
We are in love.  
And despite the fact that I have the wrists of a rhinoceros (and often resort to making my own), I never feel so pretty and dainty as when I wear an arm full of jangly bangles — something I do quite frequently. Thought I would take a photo of what my arm looks like this morning to share with you guys. Five bucks says someone is going to ask the question I always get; “How do you type with those things?”

Answer: “With attitude.”

The other question I always get; What is the trick to layering miss-matched bracelets?

This is a tip I learned from window dressing years ago: always wear at least three (four or five is better) and make sure two of them share a common element like color or shape or material. In this case, the common element is dots. Yes, dots. The dots on the dice match the bevel rhinestone dots on the red bracelet next to it. I could stick those two together and wrap my wrists with Barbara Bush’s pearls and it would still look good. And believe me, I have tried it.
Also, it also never hurts to make sure one of the bracelets dangles off a bit. A little dangling never hurt anybody. Unless you operate dangerous machinery for a living, in which case, forget about the dangle thing.  
This big hunkin’ dice bracelet is from HSN.com. That’s right — the Home Shopping Network! And here you were thinking they only sold birthstone rings and dolls with teeth. Not so, my friend. I’m shocked to say it is still on clearance (how this did not sell out months ago I will never know) and it’s from the queen bee of layered jewelry, and my personal hero, the glorious Iris Apfel. If you have big wrists like me, this one is a winner! If you have skinny little flopsy wrists you might want to steer clear of this (but check out these butt-kicking wooden beads.)

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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.  
 

Before the Sauce

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From the late 1970’s I think — an end of summer haul of buckets and bags of tomatoes.
Caption on back reads “Before the sauce.”
I spotted a display case of mason jars at the grocery store yesterday – a sure sign of autumn in Middle America. The very site of such a thing gets my sweaters all aflutter; Canning jars? Beach gear on clearance? And right next to the candy corn? Yessss!  
Growing up we always canned tomatoes. Lots of them. And not because we were Italian (don’t I wish) but because it was the only thing that ever grew in abundance that was worth preserving. I tried canning some store-bought tomatoes a few years ago but it just wasn’t the same. Plus, each jar ended up costing about three times what it costs to buy a jar Paul Newman’s sauce…and then Paul Newman went and died and I felt more obligated than ever to buy his sauce. This year I thought I would try my hand at homegrown again but they all disappeared off the vine before I got a chance to set them aside. I blame the squirrels. Or the slugs. Or maybe it’s a trickle-down effect of global warming. Or…zombies. 
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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.  

The Fountain

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The Marcus Aurelius quote above appeared on calendar in my elementary school nurse’s office. As a kid, I tried to remember it when I was feeling unkind or petty towards others. Which was a lot. Then I got to high school and learned that Marcus Aurelius was a Roman emperor who probably never had to pick up a shovel in life. WTF did he know about digging?

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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.

Trophy Time

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Nothing a little silver polish won’t clean up.

I bought myself a trophy.

Actually, it might be an ice bucket, but I am going to pretend it’s a trophy. As someone who has never won a trophy (not even one of those stupid “Great Job Participating in a Non-Competitive T-Ball Team!” plastic trophies they hand out by the dozen) I feel I am entitled to buy my own. And for $2.00 at Goodwill, how could I say no? 

Now, what should the engraving say?

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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.  

Christmas in August

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There is this high-end antique store that keeps their Christmas decorations out front all year round. I sort of love it. I know some people cannot stand it when their neighbors leave the lights up past New Years, but this place has the chutzpah to leave them up all year round! It’s all fruity and bountiful and evergreen and fabulous. What is not to like?

I say, kudos to them for finding a reason for the season, even if the season is ass hot and smells like Malibu.

My neighbors are sooooo going to hate me come next February.

I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.  

 

The Rightness of Trees

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I once heard a marriage counselor say that the world is divided into two types of people. 
Type 1 is one sort of person who likes to be right. They enjoy it. They seek it. They feel that being correct/good/valid about something means they (as a person) are correct/good/valid by proxy.
Type 2 is the sort of person who does not like to be right because, if they are right, that means someone else has to be wrong. They will not seek to prove their point of view because it means someone else has to feel bad about the issue. And if the other person is feeling bad because of their actions, well, how could they let themselves feel good? Instead, they will hold back, bite their tongue, and accommodate by whatever means necessary.
Neither one is better or worse. The world relies on Type 1’s to strive for progress and innovation (after all – they need to prove their point), while Type 2’s provide empathy and compassion. Interestingly, the counselor said that most successful marriages are composed of couples that fall on opposite sides of the table, but, she was sure to point out that  “most people who are successful in life fall somewhere toward the middle of the spectrum” she said, making elaborate, tai-chi esque hand gestures. 
Since hearing this advice several years ago, I have come to conclude she was right – there are two types of people and the spectrum of “rightness” is wide. Very wide. And getting my own butt somewhere in the middle is a more difficult struggle than one might suspect.
I have also concluded that the only thing I like less than an Extreme Type 1 Know-It-All Asshole, is a Mealy-Mouth with a Martyr Complex Type 2. As luck would have it, I am excellent at attracting both.
Where am I going with this?
The trees! Oh yes, I was writing a caption to this photo I took of these two trees at the WarrenDunes in Michigan a couple weeks ago (it’s a fun beach, btw — you should totally go).
Thing is, you don’t usually see trees growing in the middle of the sand at the beach, do you?  Yet here these two stand all on their own. Isolated. Alone. One erect as a tin solider (Type 1, obv), while the other one is half-way to a back-flip trying to accommodate (a Type 2, natch). If the one on the right stood up straight, it would steal the light from the one on the left, and then the one on the left would peter away. Eventually the one on the right would remain, but would lack the strength to stand alone to weather to wind and rain, not to mention a frequent occurrence of sand storms. Both trees would eventually fail.
Moral of the story: If you are a tree, don’t be an idiot and plant your roots in the middle of a sand dune. 
Moral of the story 2: Next time you insist on asserting your opinion as what is right, look beside you and wonder if someone else is holding back so that you do not have to be wrong.
Wow. This might be the world’s longest photo caption.
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I’m taking a break through the end of August and posting nothing but pictures… Details here.