Archive | September, 2012

Ants. Again.

23 Sep

The weather here has turned very chilly at night, and the ants have decided to move inside for the duration. Generally, we only see them inside when it has rained for a day or two. These creatures bewilder me. They come into the bathroom in swarms, and into the den in a slow but steady trickle. Never on the kitchen counters (I may live to regret that remark) or any other place where they might find food.

In the bathroom, they race around the outside edge of the wash bowls, and climb into the cup, which can be disconcerting when you go to brush your teeth. No place else. Do they like the taste of scouring powder or toothpaste? In the den, they hide under my laptop, where it is warm, and get on my hands and arms.

Quick, Henry! The Flit!

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Ahem!

21 Sep

Ralph Lauren just hired his first Plus Sized model. She is a very pretty young lady from Australia who wears a size 12.

That’s the same size I wear!

Characters Study

16 Sep

I found this picture in my mother’s files, and it probably tells you all you ever need to know about the way my sister and I went through life.

This was taken at Easter, 1958. I was almost sixteen, and going through my “Famous Model” stage, and Lynn was eleven, and going through her “Wooden Indian” phase, I suppose. That’s my mom’s father in the middle, trying to act as if he doesn’t know either one of us.

A pair of characters.

300 Years is a long time!

5 Sep

This year Joppatowne will celebrate the 300th anniversary of its charter by Queen Anne, and the 50th anniversary of its re-establishment as the planned community of plain old Joppa.

The church we attend is a “descendent” of the original Copley Parish (it moved around to follow the population), and we will be having a Home and Garden tour on the 9th, as well as a Colonial Tea Room, and an Even Song service from the 1692 Book of Common Prayer. We didn’t really have much to put in the large display case at the library, so I borrowed two dressmakers dummies, and took along Miss Martha from my teaching kit, and we made do.

As I was setting up the female mannikin, a lady asked me who she was supposed to be, and I – always the smart aleck – replied, “Marie Antoinette”.  Blank look. I finally explained the historical connection, and the clothing on all three “people” was representative of the way folks would have dressed when Joppatowne was a bustling seaport.

The man’s vest looks particularly weird because I have lost an entire plastic tub of male clothing. Lacking a proper vest and shirt for the poor fellow, I used one  of The Squires dress shirts, and a detachable stock, then folded a silk Royal Gordan tartan scarf, safety pinned thistle buttons in the center, and then pulled and pinned until it looked reasonably presentable, albeit a tad wonky. I pinned his stockings up inside his breeches, but they obviously need to be stuffed with something, and put a pair of my shoes on his feet. They’re a loooong way from authentic, but wear ’em, George, and don’t argue.

The family at homeIf moving that bloody display case wasn’t such an ordeal, I’d put Miss Martha inside it, just as a precaution.

This is how they looked in the living room, before I took them to the library. Martha is about the size of a three year old. I had a grand time putting her into the seat of a shopping cart at Target, and taking her off to buy shoes. Fortunately, the sales clerk got into the spirit of the thing, and complimented me on how well behaved my little girl was! I really wanted loafers, but we settled on black Mary Janes.  Wear ’em and don’t argue! Actually, with the odd shape of her feet, I’m not sure loafers would have stayed on, anyway, so it’s just as well.

Largest Small Town in the World

1 Sep

Ah, Baltimore!

Yesterday, I took a lady from our church to the hospital for some out-patient surgery. Nothing major, but it took for-bloody-ever. We got there at 10:10 and left the parking garage at 4:10.

I always come prepared for these things – book, knitting, crossword puzzle. There were two other people in the waiting room, and I managed to strike up a conversation with them. I never did get either of their names, but the gentleman was an architect who specialized in historic preservation.  He knew both my brother-in-law, and the fellow who was the architect for our “new” church, and was also a member of The Engineers Club, also known as the Garret-Jacobs Mansion, where I had worked for several years. We knocked around names of folks who had worked there, and discussed the “Spindle Room”, which fascinated the lady from Atlanta. Mrs. Garrett would stand in her dressing room, behind this screen of spindles, where she could watch who was coming in and what the ladies were wearing, and then choose a dress to outdo them all.

The woman who was waiting was originally from Atlanta, and she said at first it “spooked” her when people would get on the bus and start “How’s your mother?”, “Do you like your new job?” the second they paid their fare. “It was just one big family reunion.” And then after about six months, she started seeing folks she recognized and began to join the conversations – “if only to say ‘hello’ to a face I recognize”.

Hang in there, kid, you’ll soon be a member of the family.