Almost Christmas! Have you gotten your stocking ready? I remember one year before you were born, Jenny, I got up in the dark on Christmas morning, everyone else was asleep. Lo and Behold, Santa had already been there. After I looked over all three stockings, I adjusted things and went back to bed. When we all got up and rushed into the living room to see what Santa had brought, everyone but me was surprised to see what gifts had been left. It seems Santa really liked me, I got three dolls, and Nancy and Annie Bells just got color books and hard candy stuck to the felt stocking, and an orange. Lucky me! Somehow shortly after that Mom and Dad composed themselves from laughing 'till they cried and re-arranged the gifts. For a short while, I was the Queen of the Presents and Santa's Favorite! Merry Christmas, and may all the gifts be yours!

Growing Up Pam

Martha Dressler was the first best friend I remember. We lived half a block up the hill on K Street, and her house was the first one I could walk to by myself.

Going to play at Martha's house was quite different than at my house. It was quiet, mine never was, and I remember it as very big. I know now it wasn't such a large house, but because it was two stories high, I thought it was. I remember it so well, I could tell you the layout of it today, except for the front door entry. That is a mystery my mind can't unfold, probably because I always went in the kitchen door!

One of our favorite things to play was "store" or C"cooking'. Mrs. Dressler had saved food cans and boxes with the labels on, and entertained ourselves for hours. These were kept down a few stairs on shelves just above the stacks of National Geographics. (When we were in grade school, Martha would pick one up and say "watch". She'd let go of the pages and they would fall open on pictures of half naked African or south American Indian women. We'd giggle and decided that Dr. Dressler must have "looked" them open!)

If we were being good little girls, we got to play with Martha's dolls. They were beautiful little dolls that had their own trunk full of treasures. You opened the trunk and found clothes rods and drawers with dresses and shoes and hats in perfect rows. My dolls always looked like they'd weathered many storms and had part of the clothes they came with.

it was also at Martha's house that we played Uncle Wiggly, and Parchesi as we got a little older. The Dresslers had a beautiful piano which I wasn't allowed to touch. Martha spent hours practising and played very well at a very young age. On their coffee table were magazines I didn't see at home; Life, and The New Yorker. (I learned to love and understand most of the great cartoons at a young age!)When I was invited to lunch at the Dressler's, first you washed your hands in the little bathroom just off the living room. Then Mrs. Dressler would inspect our hands, and often I would be sent back to do a more careful job. At the table there was always a napkin in a napkin ring, and I remember Martha got her daily vitamins out of a little white paper cup that sat at her plate. At my house, we got Fish Oil spoonfuls whenever Mom thought of it!

Martha's mom must have wondered what our household was like, she asked me questions like "what kind of music does your mother listen to? I'm sure she likes classical." I would tell her we never listened to classical music or Broadway tunes like they did, we liked Frankie Lane and boogie woogie. (Mom would have been horrified!)

It was with the Dressler family that I saw my first and only live operetta, "Carmen" in the Commons at Eastern. I have never forgotten the music or the colorful costumes, probably where I got my love of dressing like a gypsy! I also got to go to a showing of "The Red Shoes" at the college with them, and I have always remembered the tragic plot. We cried.

Several times we got to play dress up at Martha's house, and what a treat that was! Mrs. Dressler had saved all her "flapper" dresses, beads and feathers on silk. They were not only exquisite, they fit. Mrs. Dressler was a short woman, and when we put on her high heels, the dresses just cleared the floor. I don' think I've ever worn anything so beautiful and felt so grownup since.

Our best game outside at Martha's was leaping from rock to rock as pirates or cowboys in her yard under the pine trees. In my mind they were 5 feet apart. I must have been only three or four when we started this joyous game, because the reality is these 2' rocks or only about 18" apart. Little legs!

Playing with Martha at my house was very different. As I remember our games were mostly outside in the dirt. The only problem was when Martha heard the dreaded slide whistle her mom blew to call her home, we both knew she wouldn't be able to come back that day because she got too dirty. But we had a wonderful time until she left. One year Dad dug a big hole in our yard planning to add on, starting with a basement. We spent hours sliding down the dirt hill on our bottoms, laughing all the time. Of course if Martha giggled too hard, she'd wet her pants. She just couldn't help it, and home she'd go, in again for the rest of the day. We must have run out of money for building at the Johnson house, so Dad pushed all the dirt back in the hole. That left a huge yard full of soft diggable dirt. Martha and I spent one wonderful day digging tunnels, and making roads and stick bridges and rivers. We used the hose to have water for our boats we made of leaves. Unfortunately for me, when Dad came home from law school that night after dark, he took only a few steps until he was up to his shins in mud and water, good leather shoes covered in goo. Martha was lucky to live at her house that night, I got a spanking!

Mom was our Bluebird leader from 2nd grade on, and of course, Martha was right there with all of us neighbor girls, Jenny Geschke, Susie Gamon Marcia Miller. We performed "Here Comes Peter Cottontail" in song and costumes for the Lions' Club one Spring.(Poppie, my grandfather , was a member). We were all in bunny tails and handmade ears, and carried woven paper baskets full of jelly beans. As we hopped around the room singing, Martha's handle broke and jelly beans went flying. The whole room got the giggles, but only Martha wet her panties. (Mom saved the day with a dry pair out of her purse!)

My saddest little girl day was when Martha and Marcia got to go to kindergarten and I didn't. My 5th birthday was late in November so I had to wait another long year before I could go to school. I remember so clearly sitting on the curb in front of Martha's house waving goodbye and crying like my heart would break.

Through all the times at her house, Martha's big sister Harriette was in and out and yelling at us. She was in High School, so we just mostly got in her way! Dr. Dressler was not there during the day as I remember, and when he was around there was music and some laughter, and a lot of "be quiet'!

Martha and I grew apart as we got older, our interests were different as time went on . But in my heart I've always loved my first wonderful friend Martha. Her giggle and happy self will always be one of my favorite memories. We were lucky little girls to live only a half block away from each other, and to have such sweet First Friends.

The time it takes to take all the previous owner's silicone off cannot be measured. Or the time it takes to take out or grind out all the staples, the joining of choice by the trailer maker. Hours of dissolving the gunk, then scraping it off with steel wool. That has been my job, while Wayne gets the glamour gigs! He gets to build new cabinets, run the wiring, install the lights and the gas stove, rebuild the bed frames, the seats, the closet, repaint the siding and the roof, all the fun stuff. But finally we're able to have lunch in the Scotty, in the warmth of the heater! That's a big change from the temperature in the shop we're working in, in the mornings I can see my breath. Long johns and work boots are my friends!

This last week we got the siding and roof on, and all the windows installed. We put the trim that joins sides to top on, and in the process used over $200. worth of stainless steel screws. And it looks amazing! We still have the finishing stuff to do, hook up the wiring and the running lights, and some cabinet finishing to do inside. Also need to get a faucet and hook up the pump for that. But we're close, so close!

Here it is, two months later, and we're almost done with the Scotty rebuild. We've cut out the new walls of birch plywood, sanded, shellaced,sanded, shellaced, steel wooled, and finally used floor wax as a final finish. The up they go, followed by the inside roof. Beautiful! Amber shellac gives a fine aged look, somewhat like a maple paneling. Wayne has run wires, built cabinets, rebuilt frames for the windows, all the necessary things. And all with stuff so light, you'd think it wouldn't hold up. But, that's what it takes to keep the weight down. We need to haul this with the '52 truck!

New project: re-making an older trailer

Wayne and I have decided our old Teardrop Trailer is no longer the right fit for us, and so have bought a 1972 Serro Scotty camping trailer to re-do. When we looked at it in the field, we thought we had gotten a bargain! Then we opened the door, held our noses at the smell, let out an entire army of mice, got rid of the ants' nest, and got real. We may have paid too much, even at $250.

We hauled our"find" to the shop, and started the bigger- than- we- knew chore of dismantling the Scotty. The walls were rotted, the ceiling had to be replaced, and most of the floor. I had hoped that it wouldn't be a whole trailer deal, but no way was that going to happen. Wayne, of course, had a more realistic view of things. He had spent a lot of time on the net looking at stories of other folks re-dos, and knew this was not only necessary, but in the long run, practical. And a whole lot less smelly! We have now spent two or three weeks taking the tralier down to the floor, piece by piece. I am amazed at how thin the walls are, and at how many staples one company can put in a trailer! All had to be cut or pulled, and there are hundreds. We finally got to the floor, all the cabinets out, the walls and ceiling down and the outside metal saved. The ceiling is so thin, it can be rolled up. Wayne used the old walls as a pattern, and cut the walls out of 1/2" birch plywoodnot an easy task with crumbling wood. Then while he built a new cabinet, I sanded and shellaced the wall panels, and finished them with a layer of floor wax. ( and I thought I'd never use a product like that, not at my house!) Finally yesterday we layed the linoleum, a beautiful silver/brown dot pattern, and after using a wonderful tool called a biscuit cutter, joined the panels and put up one wall. It looks beautiful! By using amber tinted shellac, we were able to have the walls look like vintage and aged paneling, instead of stark new wood. We're on the way up, with another wall to go tomorrow, and on to the ceiling. The inside ceiling is 1/8" thick door skins, very bendable. We'll use the same finish on that as the walls, so my work is cut out for me, so to speak! As always, we enjoy working together, and end our day all sweaty and dirty and pleased,mostly, with our progress. Onward and Upward!

How not to paint a mean umbrella!

Another lesson learned, of course, the hard way. When Steve asked me to paint the remaining huge white nylon umbrellas for a giveaway at Burning Man, I said I'd try. These umbrellas, being made of nylon, are hard to get paint to stick, and don't co-operate at all with stenciling or any kind of fine line work. But I thought I could do it. After all, I am an ARTIST.I painted them beautiful colors, pink, yellow, green, blue, and set them in the sun to dry. They were noisy and stiff by the time they dried, which should have given me a clue to stop right then! But no, I forged on, sure I could turn a "nylon" ear into a silk purse. Wrong! No matter what method I used, stencil, freehand or silkscreen, the image was smeared, or thin, or just generally messed up. Time to stop and think about a solution.

In the meantime, I happened to see a film about the Burning Man Festival, held in the desert in Nevada. It was a huge incredible art scene, with costumed people, huge structures built in beautiful styles, vehicles hidden under feathers and lights, and art everywhere. That did me in. There was no way I was going to send the world's ugliest umbrellas to this exciting festival, they'd embarrass me and my friend Steve. They would do better at a 5 year old's classroom, and maybe not even that! (My 6 year old granddaughter makes better art!)

So I buried my pride along with the brollies, and called Steve with the bad news. No handouts from me, these were not going to do.

The lessons were many from this project leading nowhere. One, I have to have the time to experiment and play before I do something "for real". I have to know how the materials I use are going to work, and if they're going to do what I want them to. Two, no matter how hard I try, sometimes things don't work. Three, give in, give up , and get on with it! Don't linger and moan about the mess, just clean it up, chalk it up to experience, and move on. And Four, don't try this without remembering lessons One, Two, and Three!

Seems like life, sometimes, a lesson that's hard to learn. Not everything works the way you planned or hoped. So look it over, figure out what went wrong, and sometimes, just get on with it. I can't change or fix everything, no matter that I want to and feel I need to. There isn't always a magic wand. Darn!

I've had a wild and woolly three weeks, and feel finally, after tomorrow's show, I can catch my breath.

It all started with the Artwalk in Edmonds,their third Thursday art celebration. I was the featured artist at the Manya Vee Gallery, where I sell my jackets. I took many of my garments that Manya doesn't usually carry, along with some tools and fabrics and some of the things I use to decorate my clothes, and set up my little show. It's always fun to meet some of the people that buy and wear my clothes, as well as visit and get input from the men and women who come in to the store to look. It's like a friendly party, with "dress-up" as a bonus!

After spending the night with Sherri and Rick, daughter and son-in-law, we headed for Cheney in our 1952 Ford Pick-up. The beauty of our state is always a treat to see. We have such a diverse landscape, there's always a new type of view. It starts as we head up the mountain to Snoqualmie Pass with trees, trees and more trees. All the green is so soothing, and I always watch for a glimpse of a wild flower that might still be there from an earlier Spring bloom. The pine trees start on the way down the mountains , the trees that still say "home' to me. Through the beautiful Ellensburg Valley with the river as a neighbor, and then up and down the hills on the way to The River. Big sky, wide open spaces, and I feel like I can breathe deeper and stretch further as soon as we get to the Columbia. When we hit the high desert, it's stark vistas are made, I think, to put me back into a better perspective in the world. Somehow things become more in balance when I can see so far, and not much to get in the way. I know where the trees start again after the great absence, one pine here, then another, then two together. Must be just past Ritzville! To me I'm almost home, I want to speed past Sprague and rush to the turn off for Cheney. This is home, even though I've lived most of my life on "the coast". There must be something we don't see that makes those childhood and high school years spent growing up leave such an imprint on us. Especially when it was a happy and carefree time.

This trip we push on into Spokane, to my sister Jenny and Keith's new house, the first overnight guests in a brand new place!

More later!

Last week Wayne and I made a "tree" of dried bamboo. We have a corner that is an odd shape, and we didn't want anything else to water!

First step was to dry the bamboo, which we did down in the yard. We got it from our neighbor, who has it growing and crowding their yard in one corner. The we wedged one branch between deck and roof, and used various lengths to fill in our tree. Luckily I had some painted canvas birds I had made around last Christmas that didn't sell at my shows, so on they went with Wayne's mother's help. All done! Fun, not permanent, and good for now!

Artful Living

Yesterday I was reminded how living as an artist takes over our lives, even when we're not aware of it. Wayne and I went to check with a client of his, and on her porch was a telling sight. There was a stack about three feet high of lovely brown twigs, all about the same length. I remarked that there was a project in the works, and thought, this is an artist's home! Sure enough, she had a plan for a decorative garden fence, and a house filled with wonderful objects to look at. She is a potter, a collector of interesting objects, and a story teller with fascinating stories.

Many of us can include ourselves in this group of artful living people, if we only look around at what we've done. We have a collection of objects, arranged with a purpose. We have paintings and pottery by friends and strangers that have captured our interest. We have colors purposely placed, a rock that has a wonderful color, pictures carefully hand drawn placed with love on the refrigerator door. And people like to come to our houses, they have so much to look at, and feel the warmth and the fun of the folks that live in this way.

Every day, as I look around my little house, I am so pleased to see my "things", they make me happy and content. They remind me of friends, of places I've been, of the joy of living every day with a fresh perspective. Most days, that is enough.

Early Morning Thoughts

Watching tendrils of fog steal across the lake on an early morning shaft of sunlight.....

The first fisherman arrives at 6:30 on Lake St.Clair, while the swallows have already been feeding the new babies for an hour. they're good parents, taking the mess out of the nest and returning to the chirping babies with a bug, time after time. No shifts, just mom and dad in succession until the darkness finally stills the demands.

Painting a Canvas Floorcloth

Last week I painted a canvas floor cloth for under our dining room table. This 6'x8' rug is the largest by far I've ever done, but still small enough to be done! I started with natural colored 14oz. canvas and painted both sides. I use any latex paint to fill the canvas, by covering it with paint on both sides, letting it dry completely before getting started with the design. Then I drew my design, inspired by a card I had seen, and got all my paints ready to go. When the painting was finished, after hours of kneeling on the floor, I let everything dry. Next I turned under the measured hem and held it down with double faced carpet tape. Then my great assistant ( and husband) Wayne coated the completed cloth with three coats of poly acrylic , drying thoroughly between coats. Finished!

Here are some hints and helps about painting on canvas:

1.Don't choose too light a canvas. 12oz. seems to be the minimum, and the 14oz. works great. Especially with the larger pieces. If the canvas is too light, it will curl up at the edges.

2.Be sure to fill all the canvas with paint to start with, so you can't see the threads. This seals it, and makes it much more sturdy .

3. Any latex paint will work, even acrylic craft paint. I've used gloss, high gloss, no gloss, it doesn't seem to matter. I've also used permanent markers,they work great. Just don't put on the acrylic until the marker is dry, it'll run. I speak from experience!

4. Anything can inspire a design, wallpaper, rugs, pictures, shapes.Go with it!

5. Do a small piece first, say for a place mat, or kitchen rug. Then you get the feel for what can happen!

6. These are washable with a damp cloth,and if they get worn and lose the top coat of acrylic, just paint it on again!

7. Remember it's only paint, if you make a mistake, sand it off or paint over it. Enjoy!

Her I go, my first attempt at blogging! I'll share what I'm doing in my fiber world, my studio and my life.

This week Wayne and I are recovering the seat of his '52 Ford pickup. What a hard job. Three or four thicknesses of upholstery and foam and vinyl, all on my good old New Home sewing machine. Makes me long for my grandmother's old pedal Singer! We'll finish tomorrow, hopefully, with no blows being flung, and only the minimal nasty word thrown in when necessary. So far so good! Makes me long to sew the silk I have waiting for a jacket due at Manya Vee's Gallery, it's so forgiving and so easy to sew!