buenos burritos

green saturday

2009-11-07T17:06:00.001-08:00

Can't we just all get along?

not exactly wordless wednesday: green

2009-11-04T10:48:00.000-08:00

Jodi over at the Women's Colony has issued a photo challenge featuring the color green. Here are a few of mine...

Can you tell that green is my favorite color?

(It's a good thing I live in Oregon)

Now head on over and check out more

verdurous leafiness at the Colony!

bwaaahhhaha!

2009-10-31T11:48:00.000-07:00

All photos were taken October 30, 2009 at Lonesomeville in Portland, Oregon.

Check out the story and their wonderful pottery at their website: Lonesomeville.com

A happy, spooky Halloween from Camp Cactus!

last thursday in october

2009-10-29T23:28:00.000-07:00

On the last Thursday of the month in Portland, the galleries on Alberta Street stay open late for a monthly Art Walk. It seems like every town or city with artists now hosts a "First Thursday" or "Second Wednesday" event, where galleries stay open late to showcase new shows, and in some places, the art spills out onto the streets with the result that the ensuing sideshows are almost as interesting than the events themselves. This is especially true here in Portland, where artists and performers set up shop along the sidewalks teeming with people: gallery-hopping alt-yuppies (alternative types with jobs), burrito aficionados, stilt walkers, clowns on bikes, dogs, babies in strollers, and people watchers.

This month's art walk featured a Day of the Dead procession (in the rain, of course) to celebrate el Dia d los Muertos.

(photo by Matt Brown)

All in all, it was a very good night for burritos.

wordless wednesday no. 16

2009-10-28T00:14:00.001-07:00

is this hell, or a life sized board game?

2009-10-26T00:18:00.000-07:00

They lure you in with beautiful room sets, all sleek and clean and homey. See what you can do with only 350 square feet? A bedroom! A bathroom! A modern kitchen! Storage everywhere! A tiny office with an ultra cool desk and chair. They make it fun to shop, those Swedes.

The first time I set foot in an Ikea store, I fell in love. Everything was so stylish and simply designed, and oh, so cheap! Because I had stopped in on the way home from a field trip to the Seattle Art Museum with a couple of photo stylist friends, we didn't spend much time there that first day. Just long enough to buy a few cheap picture frames and get a sense of the wonder that is SWEDISH DESIGN. Little did I know that this short stopover would be the beginning of a love/hate relationship.

It's a good two and a half hour drive from Portland to the Ikea store in Renton, Washington. I began making that trip every few months, shopping for props to use on photo shoots, like the time I hauled about 800 lbs of laminate flooring, a bed frame, and countless mirrors, frames, towels and other do-dads home in a 1986 Colt Vista station wagon.

The old Vista made many such trips. The poor little thing was clearly not meant to haul such a heavy load, but she got us safely home with our booty time after time. I loved that car. But I was very happy when they finally decided Portland was big enough for its own store.

Ikea stores are designed to lead you through the entire place to entice you to buy something you didn't know you wanted, but find you suddenly need. It's a little like stepping into a giant board game of Chutes and Ladders.

You follow the arrows through the store, going from Textiles & Rugs to the Bath Shop, and on through to Home Organization, and if you're not paying attention to the arrows and make a wrong turn, you could end up back at Textiles & Rugs. So the Ikea folks have thoughtfully added "shortcuts" between departments that usually end up getting you even more lost. It can be a very disorienting experience, and you may feel like a rat trapped in a maze full of cheese* at every turn. (*I was going to name a Swedish cheese here...but after looking up "havarti" and realizing it was actually a Danish cheese, I wondered what kind of cheese the Swedes made, and all I can say is don't ever Google the term "swedish cheese.")

So, where was I going with this? Oh right. My love/hate relationship.

A couple of months ago, I embarked upon a (mostly) DIY remodeling journey. My studio was badly in need of a new door, and replacing it opened up a whole can of "while I'm at it, I might as well_________." You know what I'm talking about. It's the idea that if you've already got one wall with a giant hole in it, you might as well work on the other three while you're at it, since you've already got a mess started.

I quickly came to regret ever opening that can of "while I'm at it". You can read about my adventures in remodeling here.

But getting back to the love/hate thing: I'd been designing and researching and thinking about my dream studio for years. I had a list of amenities as long as my arm and a budget as long as a gnat's arm. Nevertheless, at the top of the list was STORAGE. I was tired of climbing up on the workbench to root through boxes stored on shelves. I wanted drawers! A whole bank of them. With neatly lettered labels. I wanted to replace the funky old workbench with a wall of storage that looks sleek and clean and gives the appearance that I'm actually organized. (Stop laughing, Dave!)

My budget being practically non-existent, I naturally thought of Ikea, that bastion of DIY. I bought four dressers, each with four drawers, and all a clean, crisp white. I stacked my four flat boxes in the car and drove home, daydreaming about how I'd have them all assembled and in place in a few hours.

I've assembled Ikea furniture before, and most pieces are designed to be idiot proof as long as you follow the instructions to the letter. This can be a little difficult, as the instructions don't even have words, but I'm a visual person, so when I opened up the first box and spread all the parts out on the floor and took an inventory, I wasn't too worried about putting them together.

Caught up in the spirit of being newly organized and logical, I perused the instruction booklet to familiarize myself with the details. First, some cautions:

Before you start, you'll need a few tools:

a pencil (you can ~~steal~~ get a free one at the store)
a straight-slot screwdriver
a Phillips-head screwdriver (I don't know why they call them Phillip...I don't see the resemblance)
what looks like an ice pick (or an awl)
a hammer

Next, it appears you need a helpful friend with a pencil behind his ear to assist you in scrutinizing the pile of parts.

After that, they are apparently cautioning you to assemble it on a rug because it's too fragile for the floor.

Last but not least, when you try to attach part C to parts A and B, you may become confused and have to call Customer Service.

The next page shows pictures of all the fasteners supplied to put the thing together. I counted 181 pieces, plus the 41 parts shown in the photo above, for a total of 222 parts. (I really did count them! Murphy's Law almost guarantees a trip back to the store if you don't.)

"Piece of cake," I thought...so how long did it take me? The first one took two hours. And then I opened the bottle of wine. I finished the other three in about two days, all by myself. (48 hours divided by 3 = 16 hours each) A total of eight hundred and eighty-eight parts, and I did it all without the friend with the pencil, because he was really only there to supervise.

I never did figure out what to do with the dang ice pick.

a page from my sketchbook

2009-10-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

Way back ~~in the Dark Ages~~ when I was in high school, I was enamored of the fashion illustrations in the Sunday NY Times magazine. I thought I'd like to be a designer, or at least a fashion illustrator. Fast forward a *few* years, and here I am, designing haute couture for fairies...it just goes to show you that when you follow your dreams, you never know where exactly they might lead you!

Click here to see photos of the actual gown on the studio blog.

Have a lovely weekend!

2009-10-12T12:59:00.000-07:00

"Even writers need relief from words."

~ sarah vowell ~

I'm coming up blank these days. I guess staying holed up in my studio, only venturing out on my twice-daily walks with the pups, or for quick trips to Trader Joe's for wine, doesn't make for very interesting stories. (Although, you should pop over to Mo's place...he can make an everyday bus commute sound like a scene in a Fellini movie.) I wish I had that guy's way with a story.

The good news is that I'm not blocked completely. I'm knee-deep in the creative process, it just doesn't involve writing at the moment. All my efforts are focused on things like this:

I honestly could not tell you why. It seems I have little control over the creative energy field that I'm channeling. I've just found it worthwhile to do what the voices tell me to. (I think they may be fairy voices, but that wouldn't exactly explain the other things I've been making...or would it?) Things like this:

or these:

Well, back to the studio. The fairies are waiting. Stay tuned for a giveaway soon!

october moon

2009-10-05T00:19:00.000-07:00

Full moon at midnight from the deck. The air smells like wood smoke, all crisp and clear. No frost yet, but it's coming soon. I can feel it in my bones. Happy October!

pardon me while I climb back up on my soap box

2009-10-01T15:45:00.000-07:00

I'm mad as hell.
This is my 200th post on Buenos Burritos, and I had planned to write something witty or funny for the occasion. Not today, amigos.

The issue of health care reform has got me seeing red. The American people are being bamboozled by insurance companies and the bozos we elected. And it's happening out in the open, not in hushed chambers or back rooms. What's that, you say, Mr. Baucus? It's totally legal for you to take money from drug and health insurance companies and lobbyists and then use your position on the Senate Finance Committee to craft bills in their favor, all while pretending to be a champion of health care reform?

(click on chart to enlarge)

This is just completely and utterly insane. We can never hope to have reform of any kind until we remove the bribes and incentives from our elected officials' pockets.

Read this letter by Rita Batchley, a nurse from Ventura, California about the need for a single-payer system of health care. Her impassioned and eloquent letter comes from someone who works in our broken medical system every day, and sees firsthand the effects lobbyists and corporate interests have on ordinary people. Health care in this country is already rationed. Those who have the most money and power get the lion's share and control how the rest is meted out.

Blue Cross/Blue Shield, Pfizer, Merck and Aetna have no stake in keeping us healthy. Preventive care would eat into their profits. The health care industry spends millions of dollars every year on advertising enticing us to buy the new miracle drug of the month, (hello? viagra?) and millions more to defeat true reform.

Maybe the problem is that we even have a health care industry at all. We've made treating sick people into just another money making proposition, and the result is that sick people have more value than healthy ones in the current scenario.

This year we've come closer to making changes that count than we ever have before. We finally have a president with the guts to implement them, but he can't do it himself. Baby steps are not necessary. America is all grown up, and now is the time to make great strides forward. Your elected officials need to hear from you.

Tell them you're as mad as hell, and you're not going to take it anymore.

Click here to find your Congressperson.

cloths of heaven

2009-09-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

~ William Butler Yeats ~

let the wild rumpus continue!

2009-09-22T10:30:00.000-07:00

drawing by Maurice Sendak, from Where the Wild Things Are

The big debate over health care reform has turned into a wild rumpus. Republicans (yeah, I'm talking about you, Sarah Palin) are whipping the easily-led masses into a frightened frenzy with crazy talk about "death panels," and painting melodramatic scenes that could have come straight out of a cheesy 1970s sci fi flick.

But seriously, everyone I talk to in this country has a story about receiving bad health care or has experienced insurance company nightmares, or knows someone who went broke trying to pay medical bills, or died because they couldn't afford treatment. So why are we only hearing stories about problems in other countries, like England and Canada? It's because those countries, along with most others in the developed world, have some sort of universal health coverage for all their citizens. Things are out of control here, and we need to take drastic measures to ensure equitable and affordable medical care for all, not just those who can afford it.

Yesterday, I heard an interview with former presidential candidate, Ron Paul, (a doctor himself) in which he commented that he did not believe that medical care is a right. I'm guessing he believes in the survival of the ~~richest~~ fittest. Those are some reassuring bedside manners you've got there, Dr. Paul.

I'm getting tired of listening to tirades against everything President Obama is trying to do to fix long-broken and corrupt programs and institutions in this country. We need to initiate genuine and necessary change. What we don't need is to waste our time wading through a smoke screen of knee-jerk opposition based on idiotic rhetoric, and listening to bozos call the president a liar. (I'm talking about you, Joe Wilson)

This is a free country. Everyone's entitled to an opinion. We just need to make sure our opinions are well-reasoned ones based on facts, and not on fear, half-truths and innuendo. There's a lot at stake here...let's not screw it up by being too lazy to check our facts before we open our mouths, okay?

Otherwise, we may end up living in a Groucho Marxist state instead of a Democracy.

invisible horses

2009-09-09T07:53:00.000-07:00

Way back ~~in the dark ages~~ when I was little, kids used to play outside after school. My little sister Kathy and I were no exception. We had a TV, but we weren't allowed to watch it if the weather was good enough for our mom or grandmother to shove us out the door to get some "exercise" and "fresh air." (We lived in NYC...there was no fresh air) In fact, it didn't even matter if the weather was good, we often found ourselves roller skating in the garage on rainy afternoons with our friends, going around and around in tight circles until we were dizzy and giggling and falling down.

In the winter, when the snowdrifts blocked the garage door or Mom didn't feel like cleaning up wet muddy clothing, I'd sit in the breakfast room for hours, wearing down crayon after crayon drawing pictures of horses.

Horses! I was crazy about 'em. I fell head over heels the first time I was put on the back of a little pinto in the pony ring at Kissena Park in Queens. I planned and schemed and measured the garage to see if we could build a stall big enough for a small horse. I was a realist. I knew how big thoroughbreds were, having seen them at Belmont racetrack, but I was pretty sure a feisty little mustang would be quite cozy in there. I lobbied for most of my childhood, I think, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. The parents were not gonna budge.

My best friend Jenny, who lived two doors down from us, had a wild imagination. We made up new games almost every day. Some were based on television shows, but most came straight out of our crazy little eight year old heads.

One day, we were sitting on my stoop discussing our love of horses and lamenting our parents' shortsightedness. (They just didn't seem to get how useful horses could be: they were easy to park, and I would be happy to run any sort of errand on my trusty steed, Dad wouldn't have to pay for train fare on the Long Island RR to Times Square, we'd never have to mow the lawn again, I could ride for help in an emergency, etc.)

Anyway, Jenny and I decided right then and there, that if we couldn't have visible horses, we'd just have to get some invisible ones that our parents couldn't see.

I decided my horse would be named Chocolate Pudding. He was a dark brown bay mustang with a long, flowing mane and tail the color of whipped cream. I think Jenny's may have been a pinto. The stables we kept them in (Cloud Nine Stables) were located (yep, you guessed it) on Cloud Nine.

Over the next couple of years, Jenny and I, her sister Lisa, and my sister Kathy formed the Invisible Horse Club of America, and held shows in our backyards. We held jumping events, steeplechases, and races, and endlessly debated the differences between a trot, a gallop and a canter. We set up viewing stands, and led stuffed animal parades down the block on our trusty steeds.

It was a great time to be a kid. No video games, or internet. TV was in black and white (ours was, anyway) and there wasn't much on in the afternoons except soap operas. Our parents expected us to amuse ourselves, so that's what we did.

I miss Chocolate Pudding. I just might have to get myself another invisible horse...this time, I think maybe it'll be a Palomino named Butterscotch. She won't be any trouble at all, really!

I'll just go measure the garage.

number thirty four

2009-09-06T05:28:00.000-07:00

...each year.

Happy Anniversary, Cactus Dave!

clippings from the bathroom floor

2009-09-05T10:02:00.000-07:00

AP Photo/Guiness World Records Book Launch, Ronald Mackechnie

Here's a photo of Melvin Boothe and Lee Redmond, who were the man and woman with the worlds longest fingernails. Unfortunately, Ms. Redmond, a 68 year old great-grandmother from Salt Lake City, who last cut her fingernails in 1979, tragically lost hers when she was injured in a four car pile-up in February.

This raises a few questions:

Was she driving?
How did she brush her teeth?
Did the nails come in handy for raking leaves?
How many times in thirty years did she poke herself in the eye?
To put it delicately, (admit it, you're dying to know) did she need one of these?

wordless wednesday no. 15

2009-09-02T11:30:00.000-07:00

this is just too strange.

2009-09-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

My horoscope for today...(click on it to enlarge)

Yesterday, I wrote about having disturbing and strange dreams, and how I was consumed by worry. But this is just too strange. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote this post about my horoscope. I'm beginning to think that the Yahoo astrologer is spying on me!

the flip side

2009-08-31T00:47:00.000-07:00

I know my last post was sunny and thankful and optimistic, so now that the other shoe has dropped I'm feeling a little discombobulated. Not much sleep for the past few days, and what sleep I did get was marked by disturbing and nightmarish dreams. Worries about loved ones, both human and animal, are in the spotlight at the moment, and that's where my focus is...well...focused.

When times get tough, I find it hard to shut down for routine maintenance, like sleep, for instance. So I sit up late at night and early in the morning, trying to make sense of it all, and fight the tendency to give myself over to needless worry and worst-case scenarios.

I just wish fervently that I could heal all the wounds with a soothing, golden light...and who's to say it can't happen? Sending it out to all of you. You know who you are.

the best summer days

2009-08-27T15:26:00.000-07:00

The best summer days offer up a combination of delights:

Berry pie for breakfast on the deck in my pajamas.
A mid morning walk with the knuckleheads in the sunshine under a cloudless, impossibly blue sky.
A surprise visit from a dear friend, who always makes my husband smile.

Afternoon in my studio, drawing while sprawled in a comfy chair found for free on the street last weekend, and the new french doors flung open to the patio built with my own two hands.

A day for which I cast my gratitude to the Universe.

better than watching oprah

2009-08-26T00:09:00.000-07:00

What do you see?

a tardy prompt tuesday

2009-08-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

Every week, San Diego Momma chooses a subject for us all to write about. As usual, I'm late...(and I've been told more than once that I operate in an alternative time zone known as "Russell Mean Time")

Anyway, this week's prompt is: INTROSPECTION

1. Who are you?
2. Where are you from?
3. Where are you going?

Here goes:

Who am I?
I am a conduit, channelling a constantly flowing stream of creative juices. At times a raging torrent pours out, flooding the entire vicinity with ink, paint, fabric, dirt, thread, clay, paper or wood. (Sometimes all at the same time) I feel almost out of control, like I've just gotten on a roller coaster, and the ride ain't gonna be over till it's over. It's a bit like childbirth, actually. A force of nature takes control, and there's no stopping until I've given birth to a brand new being.

Sometimes the flow is gentler, more manageable. The juices swirl around and pool, making a sort of creative stew that can be thought about and worked on over a period of time.

Occasionally, the flow dries up completely, leaving me parched and yearning for a small sip. I set about building a dam to collect whatever small drops may be trickling out so I can feel alive again.

Where am I from?
I think I might possibly be from another planet. One where it's not uncommon to admit to channelling a creative force, or any other force of nature, and speak the language of artists. I don't even know how many times someone has said to me "Earth to Jane!"

Where am I going?
Forward. Into the future. I'll be the one carrying the fancy flag. You want to come?

the truth is out there...

2009-08-18T23:16:00.000-07:00

I'm holed up at the county courthouse this week. Serving as a juror. Not allowed to talk about the case, but I'll say this: I spent the day with 12 of my peers listening to testimony by an expert witness who looked just like this:

Dr. Hans Zarkov

This was him in 1936...He hasn't aged a bit. Has he discovered the secret of eternal life????

I think I may be losing my mind. If Flash Gordon shows up to testify tomorrow, I'm toast.

And the judge looks nothing like Ming the Merciless, so I think the Earth might be safe.

2009-08-16T14:24:00.000-07:00

Here's my horoscope for today...sometimes its weird how accurate they are!

(click on the picture to read it)

Now, excuse me...I guess I'd better go make something out of wine corks and bottlecaps!

alien tunnels and mystical orbs: a woo-woo adventure

2009-08-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I visited an old friend out in Hood River with my sister in law, Martha and niece, Lily. Kim and Martha and I worked together over 20 years ago in San Francisco, and they hadn't seen each other for many years, so Kim invited us to her place for a girl's night out.

Adventurous gals that we are, Kim led us on a trek to a place at the base of Mt. Adams to sky watch. We left Hood River at sunset, and arrived at this place in the pitch-blackness of a summer evening. After signing in by the light of a flashlight held by an acolyte of the UFO movement, we were asked if we had brought digital cameras. When we told him we had, he went on to tell us that there was plenty of "orb activity" happening that evening, and that digital cameras were especially good at capturing images of the orbs. This explained all the flashing lights and excited whispers in the meadow we were walking toward. A girl appeared out of the darkness on the path in front of us, holding out her digital camera to show us some orbs she had just photographed.

They looked a lot like this:

(photo borrowed from this site)

Here's a video taken with an infrared camera. The orbs seem much less like dust particles when seen in motion.

We lay down our blankets and looked up at the amazing night sky spread out above us like a glittering light show, the milky way stretched across from horizon to horizon. Our hosts sat on the edge of the clearing in patio chairs, using laser pointers to track the "ships" moving through the sky in trajectories that looked suspiciously like those of satellites.

At one point a guy came in from the other side of the meadow, claiming he'd been knocked to the ground by an invisible force several times as he made his way back to the group. You never know...maybe bigfoot has cosmic connections, too.

We heard stories of fairy sightings the night before (apparently we'd "just missed them"), as well as an incident involving a seemingly 200 foot tall alien being stepping out of a light-filled cave on the side of the mountain. "No shit?", we said. He told us that they couldn't have been that huge - the aliens were just projecting a giant holographic image to "mess with us." He did say they had a videotape of it, though. We were too busy wondering what the hell we'd gotten ourselves into to think about asking to see it.

After a couple of hours of ~~tracking alien ships~~ star gazing, we packed up the blankets, re-engaged our skepticism and headed back to civilization.

And the dancing alien lights lit our way back ; }

Nanu Nanu.

wordless wednesday no. 16

2009-08-05T06:02:00.000-07:00