ANNIVERSARIES

My mom has always joking attributed part of my existence to the Illinois blizzards of the late 70s. After several years of this onslaught of snow, she thew in the towel (or hand warmer), headed south, and eventually met my dad at the copy desk of The Commercial Appeal. Today marks the 36th anniversary of one of those whopping storms. After seeing some pictures posted by The Chicago Tribune, I understand how completely attractive Memphis seemed in contrast. In a strange twist of fate, my mom is now a teacher and spends her winters wishing for snow days.

Woman in Oak Park by Anne Cusak for The Chicago Tribune

Face masks on Foster Ave. by Sally Good for The Chicago Tribune

After last winter, I'm fearing what this one might hold in store. I've never been much for snow that hangs around for more than 2-3 days. I don't know what to do with it, or how to cope with the fact that the inside of my nose has frozen solid and my feet never get warm, or that the crazies have cleaned the grocery stores clear out of toilet paper, batteries, milk, and peanut butter.

To see the rest of this photo series, click here. By the way, how cool is it that both these pictures were taken by women?

FIRSTS

This week I _______________________________.

1. Fed an animal I will eat later.
2. Canned homemade spaghetti sauce.
3. Stuck my hand under a chicken to gather eggs.

BREAKING THE HIATUS

It's been a while since I actually posted anything over here. I'm not really counting my Throwback Thursday posts, since I rigged them to post all at the same time. Summer has been busy so far. I spent the month of June moving across town and taking small trips. Then I went on a big trip. To Maine. It was the farthest north I've ever been and the coldest ocean I've ever stood in. After a few days on the coast, we circled back and drove from friend to friend, making visits and leaving craft beer and tumbled sea rocks in our wake.

Until this past Sunday, I had officially spent more time in the LL Bean store than in my studio. I hadn't worked in so long, I kind of forgot what I was doing, or thinking about. So while I ease back into things, I'm doing a little chair refinishing project. Nothing like mindless sanding to get the brain churning again. I'll be using the same stain and process that I used to make many of my pieces for the Salvage show. Until then it will just be me and the chair. And my newest favorite podcast.  I'll get back to regular work and posting. And I've got so much more Throwback Thursday content coming to the blog.

THE RABBIT'S LAST HURRAH

Before we got our cat, we had a real Christmas tree. When I was little, we always drove the Rabbit to pick out tree. The car was old and orange and my dad didn't care if the tree scratched any of the paint on the roof. After we picked out the fullest, best smelling tree, it got tied to the roof, and we drove on home. The car had a manual transmition so my dad needed both hands for driving. It fell to my mom to prevent the tree from flying off the car. She would put an old leather work glove on her left hand, stick her arm out of the sun roof and hold onto to the tree trunk for dear life. This was almost as ridiculous as the ordeal of getting the tree inside the house. Dad would attach the stand in the garage and cut it free from its plastic net. Then he would bear-hug the tree and carry it through the house, performing a loping waltz from room to room as mom ran before him moving end tables and breakable things out of the way.

I was really sad when we had to get rid of the Rabbit.  I had always imagined that it would be the car that I would learn to drive with. I might have even asked my dad if we could just leave it in the backyard and grow grass on it. That wasn't happening either. Its passing didn't go unnoticed. Dad compromised, and in its final winter we rimmed all of the Rabbit's windows with battery powered Christmas lights.