Memorial Day

We had a GREAT Memorial Day Weekend!  Our bosom buddies, the Burgess', have a house right on Lake Houston.  When we called and invited ourselves over for the weekend, then included some extended family in the invite, they didn't miss a beat.  Like I said, true friends.

DH's sister and her husband and daughter joined in all the fun.  There was a double kayak.  They proved to be good synchronized paddlers.  I guess all that ocean outrigger canoeing was good experience for them.

DH took out the single kayak and ALMOST kept up with the two of them.

In addition to these two boats, the Burgess' also have a 'sailing kayak' which was pretty cool.  It included a foot treadle driven paddle system and seemed to be pretty slick.

Why I didn't manage to capture a picture of that one, I'll never know.  Suffice it to say, it looked pretty cool for a one man sail driven contraption.  I think, if I knew a single thing about handling a sail, that that would have been the boat for me.

What kept everyone entertained for a long, LONG time was the jet ski.

This time last year, almost the whole lake was a dry mud flat.  There's still a lot of growth in previously passable areas.  The jet ski is such a shallow draft that it can skip along the lake and get to most of the areas without worry of getting stranded.  If you know where the sand bars are, you can get around and see quite a bit of the local area.  The main lake was pretty choppy, so we kept to the side inlets.

Of course, no weekend would be complete without lots of good food, companionship and drinking.  We did all of that, too.

We played in the pool.  Enjoyed all the water sports.  Sat around enjoying the view of the lake.  Watched a Texas sunset with a glass of wine in our hands.

On our last night, we lit a fire and sat around it while some of the previous year's fallen limbs were burned to ashes.

Overall, an idyllic experience gifted to us by some very dear friends.  When I count my blessings, the Burgess' count double!!

--  Sandee Wagner

Love and Hate the Internet

I have a love and hate relationship with the Internet.

On one hand you can find anything!  On the other hand, it might not be in English.

This morning, I found a "no waste" pattern for a hoodie.  In case you have never done any sewing, one of the biggest problems I have with it is the waste of fabric between pieces you cut out.  I even took up quilting just to use up my scraps.

So, the brass ring for me has always been no waste patterns.  There are quite a few for children's clothing and they tend to be blocky, timeless designs.

Today, when I came across a post about a no waste pattern for a hoodie, I was very excited.  When I clicked on the link, the site came up and it included lovely photography, lean clean graphics and a pleasing color scheme.  Unfortunately, it was not in English.  Not only was it not in English, the web browser could not even figure out what language it was to offer a translation.

For the most part, my sewing skills are 'Rambo class'.  I throw myself at a pattern and hack my way through the instructions with a machete between my teeth.  It's not always a pretty sight.  I am not one for whom it all comes easy, and makes sense.  I do not have a chance of taking a pattern in a foreign language and 'figuring it out' on my own.

Which is why I love and hate the Internet.  On the one hand, there's a pattern out there I'm very interested in.  On the other hand, I'll never be able to use it.

--  Sandee Wagner

Art and Life

I love the graphic expressions of artists.  I love how photographers see the world through their cameras.  I love how painters can take a white canvas and a hundred dollars worth of paint and create a masterpiece.

It all fascinates me.

Possibly because I have so little artistic ability myself.  Oh, I paint.  My children hang the canvases.  I figure they'll all end up in the Goodwill box some day, but each time I put a canvas on the easel, I am charmed.  It lightens up my mood to slap paint on canvas.

But I know the difference between what I do, and what real artists do.  I can take a coloring book picture and put a stylized design of it on canvas.  And when my grandson's favorite color is orange, I can make sure that painting has a LOT of orange in it to make him happy.

This is not art that lasts.  I wish it would, but I know my limitations.  I use a pallet knife, I don't even know how to use brushes.  What I do isn't art.

I saw something on the internet today that IS art.  It's art in a free form, BIG way.  There's a commercial art guy named Stefan G Bucher (used to do CD covers, now he does mostly books) who has a website called www.dailymonster.comhttp://www.dailymonster.com/.  On this website, the drops ink on the page of a paper and then 'blows' it with a tube of air.  The resulting ink smear is the basis for the 'daily monster'.

Each one of these videos is a short fascinating ride seeing through the eyes of a real artist.  He takes that wild, wingy smear of ink and envisions a monster.  Then he colors it in and we can see it too.  He's published a CD of his first hundred monsters, the videos of their creation.

He even has some short films on YouTube where he talks about being creative, drawing and knowing when you're finished (he suggests signing your name with a stamp, like the old Chinese custom).  He is an artist.  He sees the world through a creative lens.

What Stefan sees proves that his imagination is open and percolating.  I just wish I could put myself in a category with someone like that!

Stefan G Bucher, my hat is off to you and to any other person who doodles on napkins with black ink.  You make my world a better place.

--  Sandee Wagner

The Heard Museum

We flew to Phoenix, AZ last weekend to attend my niece Janet's wedding.  I love weddings.  I love when family gathers for a celebration of love.  And this one was truly a love story.

A side benefit to attending this wedding?  Being introduced to the venue, Arizona's Heard Museum.

This museum is a 'living museum' dedicated to the heritage, culture and arts of native Americans.  Not so much a history museum as an educated display of art, artifacts and culture.  Really nice.  I recommend it.

One of my favorite items in the collection was a fence built by Tony Jojola with Isleta and Rosemary Lonewolf.  This installation of poles, glass and clay was representative of the Southwestern fences built with organic materials.

It started with dark blue and black and the color morphed along the length of the piece going lighter and lighter.  A truly lovely variety of shapes, textures and colors.  Photos don't do it justice.

There was an entire gallery of modern art and sculpture, which is not generally well represented in facilities that display native American art.

I wish my pictures could convey the COLOR used in some of these pieces.  Although many of the fiber rugs and cloths were muted tones, lots of the canvases had bright, vibrant colors and tones.  The juxtaposition of this energetic style alongside some of the ancient, traditional artworks was compelling.

A lot of local artisans were featured.  Some even had videos of them creating their works along with explanations of the symbolism and meaning behind each piece of art.

This gallery had a soaring ceiling that featured a cross hatching pattern of wrought iron braces.  I couldn't tell if it was structural or just decorative but either way, it was fascinating.

We were allowed to view the gallery, but it was after normal hours so the lights went off on a timer and our movements through the museum caused them to turn on as we approached.  This huge, white space filled with modern sculpture and paintings was especially affecting.

A traditional surprise in The Heard Museum was an enormous collection of kachina dolls.  All my life, I have seen examples of Hopi kachinas.  My oldest sister has a few really interesting ones in her home.

But I've never seen this many in any one place before.

I tried to capture the number of figures in this case, but my camera was not up to the challenge.  And this room went on and on.  There were cases and cases this size, all filled with kachinas.

I'm not sure who collected these--if they were donated them to the Heard--or if this collection was amassed by the curators, but either way, it was a charming aggregation of spiritual objects.  It represented hours and hours of painstaking work on the part of the artists.

The final surprise offered by the gorgeous Heard Museum was a fun gallery filled with a bolo tie collection.  Since 2005, Chicagoan Norman L. Sandfield has acquired an amazing variety of bolo ties and has allowed his collection to be displayed at the Heard.

I was enchanted with the breadth of this display.  All tribes of native craftsman had boards filled with examples of their stylized work.  Pictures of actors and singers were displayed alongside bolos worn in film and on screen.

There were semi precious stones and a variety of materials all worked into neckware for cowboys.  There were even a few that were made to look like flattened silver neckties.

So much fun.  There were so many great examples, it was impossible to pick a single one that outshone the rest.

I've always liked bolo ties.  I liked the idea of guys who lived in hot environments finding a way to replace three or four layers of fabric with a small lightweight leather strap.  It just makes sense.  But like so many other items of gear that have a common sense birth, the final products represent a vast array of artistic and creative jewelry that anyone would love.

From simple slides for boy scout scarves to highly intricate silver carvings that I couldn't imagine a man wearing for any length of time, this collection of bolo ties stunned the eye and warmed the heart.

It made me want to go out and buy one for DH.  I wonder if he'd wear it with aplomb?

The Heard Museum--whether given a private viewing during a wedding reception, or surrounded by a teeming mass of school children on a field trip--would never disappoint.  I feel the need to put it on my list and make a return visit next time I get out to Arizona.  I'm sure I didn't see it all.  How could I?

--  Sandee Wagner

So Far Behind...

There are a lot of things I have missed out on in my life.  I have not always been fashion forward.  I've missed out on many social trends.  There are plenty of technological advancements that left me in the dust.

I find myself fascinated with the 'catch up'.

I have logged into Pinterest.  Seems like everyone I know (or know on Facebook) has been doing this for months or years.  I'm very behind the times.

I like the idea of 'saving' links by pinning them.  When you need to find a website that you liked, you can just go back to your 'board' and find the image you pinned.  Easy.

Each time I peruse the website, I look at folks's pinned items in a relative few categories.  I look at gardening, architecture and home decor.  I guess you can tell I'm in the process of buying a home.

Total strangers' pins will show what they have marked as interesting and I see a lot of trends that I might not otherwise identify.  Lots of home decor is based on white spaces or white furniture.  I'm not sure who lives that way.  I'm sure if I put in a white slipcovered couch, it would be grease and dirt smeared in no time.

Lots of people pin pictures of things for their 'dream home', posting it to a board with that name.  As I skim over things, I find myself drawn to other people's aesthetics.  You can click on their pins, go back to their boards and look at all their items pinned to 'dream home'.  Some I like and repin, some (like the white sofas) I can do without.

Today, I was gobsmacked by a post on a 'dream home' board.  The very lovely photo showed built in bunk beds, which are very hot right now.  If it had been a picture of a set, I would never have hesitated, I would have just glossed right by it.  However, the picture was a shot of four sets of built in bunkbeds all decorated in a modern lodge style.  So, eight people in one room is a dream house?  I just don't get that.

I think my dream house would have eight separate bedrooms with en suite baths for each.  I was raised in a large family.  I know what a pain it is to share bedrooms--I did it for seventeen years.  In no way or fashion does a room with four sets of bunk beds feature in my 'dream house'.

It just goes to show that it takes all kinds.  I'm envisioning an only child who wanted brothers and sisters pining for a house full of commotion.  It's the only thing that makes sense.

--  Sandee Wagner