A Vintage Sewing Pattern Give-Away

So, I have these vintage sewing patterns. I posted a mention over at Leahpeah's blog, and Leah said she's interested in a couple of the Vogue patterns. Then Andrea emailed me and said she was interested... so I took pictures of the rest of them and offered them to her. And she's claimed a couple. The rest are up for grabs.

They will be mailed to you at no charge. I do not want payment. I think they are only worth a couple of dollars and mostly I want to make sure they go to someone who will use them.
I would ask that in return, you send a photo of the finished product you create....

This one is one of my favorites.
I imagined myself wearing this dress dashing around the streets of Paris....
on my way to an important meeting.
To meet an important man.
And I look stunning.
In reality, I wandered Paris with my sister.
I mostly wore jeans.
And instead of a sassy scarf,
I wore a backpack
slung over my shoulder.
Tres chic. Quelle fromage!




This one gal in the gray pantsuit her leg kicked,
flicked. Out to the side,
displays a certain joi d'vivre.
I picture myself wearing the
white fringed pantsuit. (far right)
It MUST
be
polyester.

Where's the party?


So I'm offering them here to you, dear readers. If you'd like to claim one or more, Contact Me. First come, first served.

You can see all the vintage sewing pattern photos at Flickr. I've noted "Claimed by..." in the photo description.

Did I choose purple or did purple choose me?

I just discovered this purple women group, and realized I am in fact purple myself, evidenced by my last post. The work is one I created in 2001.

And now I have a definition for what purple is... and it appears I fit the bill, having no children.

Growing up I always assumed that I would marry and have children. Afterall, isn't this what little girls do? grow up, get married, and have children.

I've always believed that having children, raising children, is a huge responsibility. One that should not be taken lightly. It's a responsibility I believe is better to undertake with a partner.
So, at this point, even if I am fortunate enough to find a nice boy to settle down with, I'm thinking bio-babies are out of the question.

And I'm ok with that. I never had a yearning for babies. And lord knows there's plenty of other people out there who have the emotional tools to become great parents.

I am Purple

Sometimes a little red
full of passion
Sometimes a little blue
sad and serious
The color of the early night sky
or fresh and fun like posies and plums
A symbol of royalty
of ceremony
I am sometimes powerful
I am Purple.

How to Cut a Perfect Heart

Valentine's Day, like every holiday, was a big deal in my house growing up. I have fond memories of my Mom, decorating the house with paper hearts and flowers, and making a special meal (which somehow involved red food dye?)

I even remember very clearly Mom teaching me how to cut out a perfect heart, folding in half diagonally a square of red or pink construction paper, and cutting the outside edge in a swoop, then unfolding to reveal a perfectly symetrical heart.

Now, especially since I am single, Valentine's Day is not quite so much fun. It's the one day of the year when you (I) feel particularly pathetic without a mate. But don't feel too sorry for me. I did get two Valentines so far. From my aunt and uncle-- they send silly ones every year and this year was no exception, plastic cupids included. And I got a Valentine from my roommate, who is of course going out on a hot date tonight. Oh, and my sister wants to take me out for dinner. But not tonight because she'll be in L.A. for a gyrotonic training session.

And if I get totally desparate, there's always Neil's Emergency Valentine Day Hotline over at Citizen of the Month.

And if I start to feel really sorry for myself, there is always V-Day, a global movement to stop violence against women and girls.

And finally, I can thank god (or would that be gods?) that I don't live in ancient Rome and am neither a goat nor a dog on February 15 for the festival of Lupercalia, which is the origin of the conveniently calendared christian St. Valentine's Day

[Lupercalia ] began with the sacrifice by the Luperci (or the flamen dialis) of two male goats and a dog. Next two patrician young Luperci were led to the altar, to be anointed on their foreheads with the sacrificial blood, which was wiped off the bloody knife with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh [NOT SURE I'D BE LAUGHING WITH BLOOD DRIPPING DOWN MY FACE] ; the smearing of the forehead with blood probably refers to human sacrifice originally practised at the festival.

The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the victims, which were called Februa, dressed themselves in the skins of the sacrificed goats, in imitation of Lupercus, and ran round the walls of the old Palatine city, the line of which was marked with stones, with the thongs in their hands in two bands, striking the people who crowded near. Girls and young women would line up on their route to receive lashes from these whips. This was supposed to ensure fertility, prevent sterility in women and ease the pains of childbirth. This tradition itself may survive (Christianised, and shifted to Spring) in certain ritual Easter Monday
whippings.

And speaking of St. Valentine... did you know there really is not a St. Valentine, but rather that St. Valentine may refer to one or all of three martys that showed up in the history books around the same time that the Pope outlawed public pagan rituals. Hmm.

So, Happy Valentine's Day, V-Day or Lupercalia, or whatever you may be celebrating.

San Diego Blogger Awards

Doing my duty here as a responsible citizen of the blogosphere, and a little shameless plug for myself and my own little blog:

SanDiegoBloggers.com is requesting nominees for the San Diego
Blogger Awards - Blogs to Watch in 2007.....

..... [Email] ..... blogs [at] sandiegobloggers.com with the category and URL of the blog you nominate. Any additional notes or insight into why you nominate each blog
would be greatly appreciated.

The site says on February 28th, 2007 the nominees will be posted and finalists chosen, so I'm not sure what the deadline is for nominations....

Anyway, if you want to nominate me, go ahead. And if it will persuade at all, you might be interested to know that the only thing I've ever won is a kite flying contest in the second grade. I had the most beautiful kite. It was made of pink gift wrapping paper and my mom helped me cut out flowers made of yellow, white and blue tissue paper to glue to the front of it. Unfortunately it only flew for just one moment. One glorious moment before it came crashing down to earth, suffering structural damage that could not be repaired in the field... sigh...

Complete info the San Diego Blogger awards can be found on the SanDiegoBloggers website. I'm thinkng my category would be Personal Blogs and Writing. I wish it were Travel and Adventure, but I have not been doing much of that lately... maybe next year.

Gyro Debby

My sister got her Gyrotonic tower purchased, and set up at The Pilates Place in Encintas. It looks like some sort of ancient torture device, with all those straps and weights, but its actually pretty gentle, and a nice workout. I got my first Gyrotonic session last night.

I'm a little sore today... and I feel like you feel after a good yoga class or a massage, where the lactic acid and toxins that were trapped in your joints are released, which is good, but I should have been drinking water to flush them out of my system.... next time. And a lot of the little muscles in my sides and abdomen are, well, lets just say I can feel them. I know they are there. Like they jumped out and said, "hello! you have some muscles here!"

BY the way, this is neither the studio where my sister is teaching nor the exact machine she uses for teaching (though it is my sister as the gyro model in the picture here)

Cough Cough Gasp Gasp

I still want a cigarette. I quit last Friday. Mostly. I've had a couple since I quit. Oh well. I'm doing fairly well all things considered. Is there ever a good time to quit?

Last month we (my sister and I) finally got my Dad's condo on the market... it took a long time to clean it out, and then we fixed it up a little, which of course cost more and took longer than we had planned... but we got it on the market. Our first offer after a week on the market was for 30K under the asking price. AND they wanted us to pay closing costs. What the buyer didn't know is that we were not desparate. Yet. So we waited. And yes, gone are the days of homes on the market for 2 days and bidding wars, and such, but a month later we got another offer.

Today we accepted the offer for our Dad's condo. For the asking price, except they want us to pay 5K towards closing costs. So, instead of waiting longer, paying another real estate tax bill, and more HOA fees that are outrageous ($540 / month) we accepted the offer. So keep your fingers crossed for us. We need to be done with this. Get the IRS off our backs, settle my Dad's estate and be done. And yes, it feels good, but also, it made us sad today. So we cried.

And I wanted to go smoke. Even though many of my Dad's health problems were directly related to his smoking, I wanted to smoke. How sick is that?

Very Zen Amanda

OK, I know some of my readers (one of the three of you out there-- Hi Uncle Bill!) probably think I am all hip and savvy about this blog thing, like I'm in the know, but the truth, I am pretty clueless. Well at least oblivious to the behind the scenes emailing and cyberstalking and ugly commenting that goes on. Those people don't read my blog. Thank god. I suppose if my blog were more popular I might get some of that. Or not. Who knows why people do the things they do.

I met Amanda, Just Amanda, of Very Zen last July at Blogher. I didn't really know she was one of those quazi-popular bloggers... she just seemed like a nice gal, and I checked out her blog and she has a quick wit and a heck of singing voice, so I dropped in on occassion. Well, apparently she's had enough.

So... So long Just Amanda. Wishing you well....

Suprise Suprise Suprise

Sheila's post about suprise parties got me to thinking about, well, suprise parties!

I don't have any horror stories, in fact just the opposite.

1. My sister's 40th birthday party. She had earlier in the year gone to a 40th birthday for a friend. It was a catered, private dinner cruise. It was lovely. She said she wished she could do that for her 40th birthday, but she couldn't afford it. When I looked into it, and even asking my granddad, and my dad to pony up, I couldn't really afford it either, but I got an idea. I coordinated a suprise dinner cruise for her. I snuck into her house (ok, I had a key) and fortunately she had synched her Palm pilot with her address book on her computer, so I was able to nab her entire address book, and invite all her friends. Then, her boyfriend arranged a "dinner" for her with another couple. Steve told her, "Sorry I couldn't do a private yacht, but we thought a dinner cruise would be fun." and my sister pasted a smile on her face as they boarded the Hornblower boat and said, "How nice," in that voice that was tinged with a little "oh you cheapskate I would rather eat at a nice restaurant."

But when she entered the ship's dining room she saw there were oh, say 30 or 40 of her friends-- friends from all over the US-- and family-- also from all over the US and she was totally, completely utterly suprised. It was awesome.

2. 2004. The worst year of my life so far. (although 2006 is in a tie at this point) I was turning 40. My granddad had died in February. I had to find a job, find a new place to live and move. And I was turning forty. Oh yeah, and my sister had cancer. Real bad cancer. Stage 4 breast cancer. In her liver, her brain, her bones. She was in bad shape. And we were settling my Granddad's estate. And everyone was totally focused on helping Debby get better, and nobody gave a shit about me. Poor me. My life sucked.

August. The week before my birthday. My aunt and uncle and my cousin Katie were visiting, to deal with more estate business, to go through stuff in the house... to visit my poor cancerous sister. No one cared about me. Poor me. And my sister, too tired from chemo, said, "Why don't you come here for dinner." So I said, "OK."

"And why don't you stop at Trader Joe's and get some wine."

Trader Joe's was on the way, so I said, "No problem."

It was weird that she insisted I stop at Trader Joe's, not Ralph's or Vons... Aunt Mary K and Uncle Bill had gone over earlier. Katie was in the car with me. And I as I turned onto the street where Trader Joe's is... and turned into the Trader Joe's parking lot, I notice a whole bunch of people standing around holding balloons.... and one of those trucks with a giant, mega sized basket, a basket for a balloon. And I see my Aunt Mary K, and my Uncle Bill, and hey, what's my friend Julie doing? she lives in LA! and there's Karin! and Tina! and Scott! and Ralph ! and Catheryn... and I stall my car, and the person behind me honks because I'm not TURNING. INTO. THE. PARKING. LOT. FAST. ENOUGH. But who cares! Tears are streaming down my face and I'm laughing and crying at the same time, because they do care about me. No one forgot my birthday. My sister remembered my birthday. She arranged a balloon ride for me. For me and a bunch of my bestest friends. She's the best sister ever.

Blogger acting wonky?

We're testing the new Carmen Electrode blog... go on, google Carmen Electrode... you know you want to ... she has a new look, and we moved her blog to our our new dedicated server (this is work related stuff)

So long, farewell, etc 2006

I had in draft form this post about saying adios to 2006. It was a crappy year. I'm glad to see it go. But the truth it its not quite done with me. So I really can't say goodbye yet. Lord knows I need to soon. I have things to do this year, that just aren't getting done.

I really need to work on my book, Reconstructing My Mother. I've not been writing much, except blogging, and writing articles for welding journals, which really doesn't count. In fact sometimes I wonder if I use up all my words doing these other kinds of writing... but the reality is that the memoir project is an emotional place to be and I'm not strong enough right now.

But now I have a deadline. I'm pretty much signed up for (not yet paid, so I can still get out of it) taking a Master Class in memoir at the Taos Summer Writing conference hosted by the University of New Mexico. Which is where I started this book in 2005. The teacher for the master class is the same one I took from before, Gregory Martin, author of Mountain City and teacher extraordinaire. He's already given me the OK to come to the master class. Now I need to have a first draft done. It does not need to be pretty, it just needs to be done. And done by the beginning of June. What am I nuts?? don't answer that.

Anyone have any tips on how to just do it? Even 5 minutes a day seems like to too much right now. It's like I'm sabotaging myself. I mean I just spent 1/2 an hour creating this post when I could have been working on my book. So now I have to beat myself up about it which just makes it worse. And I know I'm doing it and I still can't stop.

thar she blows!

Whale watching on Monday. Click on the image to see it bigger and better. More later. I'm tired.

Amy Wallen and Me at the Semi Permanent Ink Spot

This is a picture of me at Amy Wallen's book launch party. No, I don't have a picture of Amy, this is my blog. It's all about me!

Seriously... it really was all about Amy Wallen, and her book MoonPies and Movie Stars... as it should be. Amy is the hostess of First Friday Open Mic a production of San Diego Writers Ink, which is where you'll find me most first Fridays of the month. Amy is a terrific hostess/emcee even if she is a bit anal about the 3 minute rule. She is also a great writer, which I knew before I read the book because I'd heard bits and pieces read pre-publication at said open mics and at writing workshops I've attended with Amy. Beyond that I would consider Amy a friend, and I can't tell you how happy I am for her. She has put in the time and done the hard work and written a book I can heartily recommend.

Ruby Kincaid, bowling alley owner extraordinaire, sets off to California hot on the tail of her daughter Violet, who left Devine Texas four years earlier.... to complicate matters she doesn't know how to get in touch with Violet, who had been recently spotted on the t.v. as the new Buttermaid (it's better made). Along for the ride is Ruby's her crazy carousing sister Loralva (so she can get on The Price is Right) and Imogene, Violet's mother-in-law (who's a sour puss but has the Winnebago for travelling and the money)... then there's Bubbie and Bunny, the kids Violet had left behind.
Moonpies and Movie Stars has been reviewed now in the LA Times, and the Washington Post (A World Gone Madcap by Louis Bayard)so I won't do a review here, but I will say she has written what I consider to be one of the best sentences ever:

"Aunt Loralva says let's get a move on-- Hollywood, California here we come!" Ruby's heart stopped somewhere between Hollywood and California. It snagged on the comma.

I just love that line, "It snagged on the comma." Get this book. It's fun. And you'll want to eat a Moonpie.... even if they do taste a bit like sugar covered cardboard.

I still love Leah

Even though Leah Peah didn't participate in my Tag You're It post. These things are silly anyway (sorry Sheila). I think I only did it because I was looking for something to post anyway, and why not reveal my weirdness??

So 2007 has come. I spent the last week cleaning my room. I polished my wooden bookshelves with lemon oil, and because I bought a new matress-- the first new matress I've ever owned in my life-- I had the opportunity to vacuum really well under said old matress before the new one was delivered. And while I was at it, I vacuumed in all the corners and crevices. And while I had the vacuum out, I decided to go get some of those Space Bags so I could free up some linen closet space. What fun it is to pack those bags and suck all the air out rendering them flat! Yes, I lead an exciting life. But seriously, it feels good to start the new year off with a very clean room, and space in my closet.

And while I was going through my closet, I pulled out more things for Good Will: a sweater I inadvertently put in the dryer (which had linted up my black jeans but good), a shoe rack, a sheet set and a couple of blankets (don't worry I still have linens for guests), some shoes which although they may be really cute are horrendously uncomfortable. Over the next few days, these items will make it from the reading loft to the trunk of my car, and hopefully end up at the Good Will before long. It sure feels good to get it out of my room.

I still have paper work to go through, but I did manage to sort out a lot of things into various piles: recycling pile, shredding pile, and the I still need to deal with this stuff pile. It's a work in progress.

So here's to 2007, and all the possibilities! especially now that I have room!

Miracles

Miracles are a rare thing. Too rare. Keri passed away last night.

Neither chemotherapy nor radiation, Tibetan singing bowls nor prayer circles were enough to save her, to summon a miracle. She was surrounded by love and I hope that made her transition easier, more peaceful.

I'm sad that I didn't know her better, that my sister lost a friend. They met in the chemo lounge, each connected up via an IV drip to their own special concoction of drugs. (My sister can make friends wherever she goes!) It turned out that Keri's parents lived in my granddad's neighborhood, just a few doors around the corner. And a few doors from Dr. Bernstein, their oncologist.... they all got to know each other because of cancer. Debby and Keri soon became friends regardless of the cancer, in spite of Cancer.

If Debby didn't have cancer they would never have met. She would not have lost a friend... Debby would never have known the difference. Keri would not have mattered.

But she did matter. And I can't help but think that maybe my sister has a special angel looking out for her now.

Sometimes its hard

Hard to stay positive in the face of adversity. Somehow this guy Tom Bailey found me and posted on my blog, so in the interest of good blogosphere relations, I checked out his blog, which he bills a "a personal blog for people who know me" and says it "is not a business blog."

Well, I don't know him. But I like his blog anyway. Hope he doesn't mind if I pop over and visit every now and again.

Many of his posts are about staying positive. This is a message I need to hear often. I truly believe that we create our own reality, that we choose how we react, that negative thinking is a bad habit and only serves to make you feel bad... Unfortunately I don't always practice what I know.

One of the reasons I named my blog akajesais because of my nickname, JeSais, which began as a joke. Later, taking the name JeSais was my way to remind myself that I know more than I think I know.

I don't do New Years Resolutions. I think they are meaningless unless you have a plan for implementation in place, complete with milestones, and measurable goals. What I do try to do is assess at year's end my accomplishments. This is a good way to stay positive, to focus on what I did right.

I know this post a bit of a ramble. I hope like me, you'll all take a moment to take stock, look at what you've done right this year. Make a list. Check it twice. Did you go the extra mile for someone? Did you finish a project? Did you make someone smile? Did you do something nice for yourself? Remember one good moment-- a sunset, a raindrop, a conversation with a friend... Even if it was something small put it on your list. Because, afterall, big stuff starts with small stuff. Or a better way to say that is "a journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step."

Happy Holly Days everyone.

Say a prayer for Keri

Debby's friend Keri is not doing well. She's in the hospital and has been for the last 6 days. She can't eat. She can't talk. She can't see.

Keri has ovarian cancer... cancer that has metastisized. Spread. It's in her brain now and they couldn't get it all with Gamma Knife like they were able to do for Debby. So they had to do brain surgery. And radiation. And chemo... and it hasn't helped and it totally sucks and its unfair and I'm glad its not my sister Debby. I wish it weren't Keri either, but I'm really glad its not my sister.

So in the midst of all the ho ho hos and and nog drinking, raise a glass and say a little prayer for Keri. And even if your family drives you crazy, enjoy the moments you have with them.

Tagged. Why am I doing this?

It's the blogosphere's answer to a chain letter... a meme or a meme wannabe in the making. Sheila of GetSheila.com "tagged" me which means (a)I'm supposed to post in response to being tagged. and (b) I'm supposed to pass it on and I'm supposed to post the rules.

My post:

1. Like Sheila I count things. Mostly stairs and steps
2. I play air piano along with the music even though I've never learned piano
3. I imagine flying my car off a cliff, not in a suicide attempt, but rather in an attempt to be airborn... to fly. Of course I know this will not work, and I would die, so I don't do it.
4. I wait until the last minute to do almost everything. Then I stress over it and freak out. Doesn't matter what it is: paying a bill (thank god for online bill pay); making an appointment to get my hair done; writing an article/essay; etc.
5. I hate to shop. Really. Mostly because I hate to spend money AND because I usually know what I want, and then of course I can't find it so it becomes an exercise in frustration.
6. And speaking of exercise... when I do exercise my face turns bright red and freaks out aerobics instructors.

Passing it On:

Thats all. I don't know if I have 6 blog people but I'll give it a shot... Jes... leahpeah...and um, while we're at it Joe... terri (because she really needs to write a new blog post) and Jill the Muse (because she really needs to write a new blog post too) and last, but certainly not least, dear Ralph, so he too will learn the joys of the blogosphere. Sorry guys.

Remember, this is like a chain letter. You may ignore it if you like, or just do the post, no need to pass it on.

The rules:

Post a blog with your six weird habits/ things as well as the rules/ instructions;
Add to your blog a list of your six victims to be tagged;
Leave a comment for your six victims that says "You are tagged! Read my blog" (but you cannot tag the person who tagged you).

I am not a poet...

Not even a Prose Poet, as I discovered at last Saturday's workshop with Roger Aplon.

A prose poem is open ended. I like things wrapped up in a neat little box.

A prose poem is driven by metaphor. I'm not metaphoric in my writing.

A prose poem is dream-like, surreal. I'm real.

At any rate, here's what I came up with:

Today the sun shines like shards of glass piercing the soft blue sky and the ocean swell is from the south or maybe it's the storm that passed over Hawaii yesterday and today is the place to be in the town that is where we lived when I was five and six and maybe even seven. And now I stay out of the water, the smell, salt taste on my lips and bacteria that I fear may seep into my soul.

Today is the place I want to be usually and sometimes it is the only place that matters when life is unpredictable like a Vegas slot machine. One push of the button and you win or you lose and coins tumble like a thick chunky waterfall into a bucket, not your bucket but your neighbor's bucket and you want to be happy for him or her but you can't because your today has passed.

Today is a dream of birds flying, mocking squawking and swooping in and out of the pepper tree taunting me with their wings, but they don't know Today I will fly.

# # #
Not sure what it is but it is probably not a prose poem.

Poetry and Prose

On Saturday I'll be taking a workshop from published poet Roger Aplon-- The Prose Poem: Investigation and Discovery. I've met Roger once, briefly, at another event sponsored by San Diego Writers, Ink. He told me I wrote beautifully and I was too stunned to tell him I thought the same of his work. Not only does he write evocative poetry, he has a wonderful cadence and rhythm to his voice that lends itself so well to his poetry. His poetry reading voice is not the sing-song stacatto beat of a slam poet, but more like a melody of words that is performance, but natural as well.

Roger describes the workshop:

The prose poem is the child of associative & colorful prose. A bastard at best. Taking the economy of poetry & marrying it with the random experience of “story.” It can define a momentary, captivating glimpse at some “thing”: a chance encounter, a dream &/or any fragment that allows the reader to impose him or herself in or on that environment. The prose poem form allows greater latitude than strict “poetic” form where the line breaks must be of the most exquisite design. The prose poem is less formal, more given to risk & open-ended. A classic example of a renegade form. For this day we'll explore some prose poems & write some of our own, using as material our discussions, prompts, dreams & improvisation.

He says "This is an experiment as all prose poems are experiments. I'm looking forward to the investigation."

And so am I... and I look forward to the opportunity to play with words. And poetry, although not my strong suit, appeals to my desire to convey deep meaning with few words. As my writing coach says, I'm "more Joan Didion than Janet Fitch." I'd like to be a little of both, the minimalist approach of Didion blended with Fitch's mellifluous language.