Two more posts, and "Slight Detour" will be a ten-year-old blog. So, I decided to feature some blasts from the pasts as the blog milestone gets closer.
For those who have not been reading for the past decade, this site was hatched one night when my brother Jim, the architect, artist and cartoonist, was home for a holiday visit. He brought with him a book of his original cartoons. It was called "Slight Detour."
We, as a family, believed those cartoons ought to end up where they could be seen by an audience besides family and friends.
Dave Oliveria from the Spokesman had launched his blog, now known as "Huckleberries Online," and having followed it since its beginning, I came up with an idea to start a blog where I could write and Jim could publish his cartoons.
We called the blog "Slight Detour," and the fun began. I figured that, with my usual short attention span for sticking with new interests, I'd contribute to the blog long enough for Jim to be able to publish a good representation of his artwork. Then, I'd move on to something else.
Well, we partnered in this project for a couple of years. I never really knew when a cartoon would appear, but it was always fun for everyone whenever Jim would post images evolving from his unique sense of humor and perspectives. It's been a while since Jim contributed a cartoon, but his funny bone is still at work on other artistic projects.
This morning, as I went back into the archives, finding items from the really early days of "Slight Detour," I found three of Jim's works from the first couple of months.
In addition, I decided to post one of my entries from this day nine years ago when we still lived on Great Northern Road with a Black Lab and a yellow Lab named Ebbie and Annie Dog, respectively.
Turns out my mother was involved in this post, and the thought makes me sad but wistful. I miss her so much. I have discovered, however, in this year-plus time since her death that tearful moments of reflection bring with them a sense of comforting closeness.
So, the post below provides a bittersweet vignette into special, happy and funny times spent with my mother. Plus, there's a comment from our friend Cis who's been publishing her own blog for nearly ten years.
Enjoy.
Friday, Dec. 2, 2005
Tomorrow starts the Christmas craft sales for Mother and me. We
do this every year. I, with my books; she, with her Western cards and matted
prints. We load up our stuff in the car, head off to the mall, or, in
tomorrow's case, the Bonner County Fairgrounds main exhibit hall. Then, we set
up shop with all the other hopeful crafters, sit down in our folding chairs---
and hope.
Some days are diamonds; some days are dust, but we do know how to entertain ourselves. If nothing else, people watching is good. I consider these days as precious gems, no matter what, because my mother is 84, and the good times we have while sitting there together make every minute worth it.
During Christmas season, little sis, Laurie, also joins our craft-sale sisterhood with her cool key chains, made by reducing more than a dozen of Mother's Western pen and ink watercolors of horses and barns down to a size where they'll fit a nice little piece of wood. Then, she shellacks the images on to the wood and attaches a chain. They're a unique little item, which work well for stocking stuffers, because of size and price.
Last year, at the fairgrounds craft sale, I decided to add a touch of my domestic side to our selection of homemade merchandise. Annie had come home from New Zealand the year before with a recipe for ANZAC cookies (Australia New Zealand Army Corps).
Since they were different and we all thought they were mighty yum, yum, I figured I'd introduce individually-packaged ANZAC cookies to Bonner County shoppers. So, I fixed up nice labels, along with a history of the cookies to display alongside the offerings. Even cut up some samples.
When the day had ended, the samples were gone, and I'd sold two cookies for a dollar apiece. We actually ate more that day than we sold. I also had a lot of extra cookies for Bill to take in his lunch. I think I lost about $8 and several hours of work on the deal. You'd think I'd learn. Well, I have. I won't be selling ANZAC cookies tomorrow.
I will be selling Christmas wreaths, I think. For some reason, when the snow begins to fly and my other work's all done (a rarity), my yearning for doing something creative takes over. I made wreaths for the family a couple of years ago. For ol' Fumble Fingers Love, they actually looked pretty good.
Even my sisters said so.
So, it seemed like a good idea to rejuvenate that project and whip up a few for tomorrow's sale. The wreath-making project started Tuesday afternoon with some shopping and snipping. The greenery has been free, since the Colburn ranch offers an endless supply of cedar and fir boughs.
So far, I've spent $35 for materials and will have spent three days developing prototypes. When Mother asked me earlier this week if I had wreath-making wire, I said I did, being careful not to add that my wreath-making wire comes directly off the electric fence spool.
By Wednesday morning, I was ready to start with the actual process. So, I took all my materials to the bunkhouse where Bill has a work bench. He has heaters in there, but he's never told me how to turn them on. I think it has something to do with pyrophobia (not mine but Bill's). So, I worked away in the brisk November air, imagining myself as Martha while igniting my creative desires in motion.
Two hours later, I finished the first wreath. This was after returning to the house and dialing up the Internet twice to review the wreath-making instruction guide. Somehow, having to use the snippers to shape the damn thing from start to finish didn't seem quite right. And, working with that electric-fence wire did a number on my frozen fingers. It just wasn't very pliant. I swore a lot as cedar bows continued to escape my grasp and fall off the wreath.
I also swore at those dogs who have ten acres of farmland in which to play. On Wednesday and Thursday, however, Annie Dog and Kiwi's chosen territory has extended to almost three feet away from where I stand, working. During most of this time, they've been very busy, growling and engaging in ambitious canine wrestling matches. Occasionally, I've been their victim.
A trip to Wal Mart late Wednesday afternoon to purchase floral wire has made all the difference. And, with prototypes finally completed and hung on doors at the Colburn ranch, I've finally developed a routine that seems to work. This morning, I've got five wreaths complete and one more day to work. If luck holds, maybe I'll have a dozen of my Western-style wreaths, complete with mini-lariats to offer at tomorrow's craft sale.
Maybe I'll make a little extra money. Maybe, I won't. If not, there'll be at least a dozen unsuspecting souls in Sandpoint who can expect some of Martha----oops----Marianne's custom-made wreaths as their holiday surprise. And, maybe I'll decide next year to just stick with the books.
Some days are diamonds; some days are dust, but we do know how to entertain ourselves. If nothing else, people watching is good. I consider these days as precious gems, no matter what, because my mother is 84, and the good times we have while sitting there together make every minute worth it.
During Christmas season, little sis, Laurie, also joins our craft-sale sisterhood with her cool key chains, made by reducing more than a dozen of Mother's Western pen and ink watercolors of horses and barns down to a size where they'll fit a nice little piece of wood. Then, she shellacks the images on to the wood and attaches a chain. They're a unique little item, which work well for stocking stuffers, because of size and price.
Last year, at the fairgrounds craft sale, I decided to add a touch of my domestic side to our selection of homemade merchandise. Annie had come home from New Zealand the year before with a recipe for ANZAC cookies (Australia New Zealand Army Corps).
Since they were different and we all thought they were mighty yum, yum, I figured I'd introduce individually-packaged ANZAC cookies to Bonner County shoppers. So, I fixed up nice labels, along with a history of the cookies to display alongside the offerings. Even cut up some samples.
When the day had ended, the samples were gone, and I'd sold two cookies for a dollar apiece. We actually ate more that day than we sold. I also had a lot of extra cookies for Bill to take in his lunch. I think I lost about $8 and several hours of work on the deal. You'd think I'd learn. Well, I have. I won't be selling ANZAC cookies tomorrow.
I will be selling Christmas wreaths, I think. For some reason, when the snow begins to fly and my other work's all done (a rarity), my yearning for doing something creative takes over. I made wreaths for the family a couple of years ago. For ol' Fumble Fingers Love, they actually looked pretty good.
Even my sisters said so.
So, it seemed like a good idea to rejuvenate that project and whip up a few for tomorrow's sale. The wreath-making project started Tuesday afternoon with some shopping and snipping. The greenery has been free, since the Colburn ranch offers an endless supply of cedar and fir boughs.
So far, I've spent $35 for materials and will have spent three days developing prototypes. When Mother asked me earlier this week if I had wreath-making wire, I said I did, being careful not to add that my wreath-making wire comes directly off the electric fence spool.
By Wednesday morning, I was ready to start with the actual process. So, I took all my materials to the bunkhouse where Bill has a work bench. He has heaters in there, but he's never told me how to turn them on. I think it has something to do with pyrophobia (not mine but Bill's). So, I worked away in the brisk November air, imagining myself as Martha while igniting my creative desires in motion.
Two hours later, I finished the first wreath. This was after returning to the house and dialing up the Internet twice to review the wreath-making instruction guide. Somehow, having to use the snippers to shape the damn thing from start to finish didn't seem quite right. And, working with that electric-fence wire did a number on my frozen fingers. It just wasn't very pliant. I swore a lot as cedar bows continued to escape my grasp and fall off the wreath.
I also swore at those dogs who have ten acres of farmland in which to play. On Wednesday and Thursday, however, Annie Dog and Kiwi's chosen territory has extended to almost three feet away from where I stand, working. During most of this time, they've been very busy, growling and engaging in ambitious canine wrestling matches. Occasionally, I've been their victim.
A trip to Wal Mart late Wednesday afternoon to purchase floral wire has made all the difference. And, with prototypes finally completed and hung on doors at the Colburn ranch, I've finally developed a routine that seems to work. This morning, I've got five wreaths complete and one more day to work. If luck holds, maybe I'll have a dozen of my Western-style wreaths, complete with mini-lariats to offer at tomorrow's craft sale.
Maybe I'll make a little extra money. Maybe, I won't. If not, there'll be at least a dozen unsuspecting souls in Sandpoint who can expect some of Martha----oops----Marianne's custom-made wreaths as their holiday surprise. And, maybe I'll decide next year to just stick with the books.
1 comment:
Enjoyed reading your trip down memory lane....
Especially liked the wreath making!
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