I was sitting on the front porch Tuesday afternoon after I dropped all the rose petals into the flower bed. I was thinking about John Lennon and Riley and their eternal connection in my heart while I sang to the dogs. The dogs LOVE it when I do this; in their excitement, they run to distant corners of The Compound, probably hoping I'll sing even more loudly so the world can share in the thrill of it all.

I wasn't singing a John Lennon or even a Beatles song, but one of my favorite Neil Young songs, "Birds." I was sad, and it occurred to me how one of Riley's gifts was that no matter how crazy awful our lives were (and 1980 delivered a ton of crazy awful), he could always make me laugh. As I sang, I remembered Riley telling me a story about a day he was sitting on his front porch, singing and playing his guitar. He was working on a song of his called "I Saw the Light" about the rotten luck of his alter ego, the Mysterious Vagabond Poet. Each time the MVP thought his life was taking a turn for the better, another awful thing would happen. And as Riley sang, he suddenly realized that across the street, his neighbors were sitting on their front porch and laughing their butts off. That's when he knew he'd accomplished what he wanted to with the lyrics: He'd taken all the crazy awful and made it funny. He came to my house a couple of days later to make sure the song would get the same reaction from me. Remembering how I laughed back then gave me a much welcomed lift.

( And then came magic. )

Image taken from the Internet.

Some years this date passes by without my commenting on it. This is not one of those years. I really miss my friend Riley and think of him on this day as I have every year since 1980.

Though I joked around a little about her in A Coventry Wedding, I've never been one to disparage Yoko Ono. In fact, I admire her tremendously. She's always been forthright and true to herself as an artist. Two things I love about her work are the Yoko Ono Wish Tree and the Imagine Peace Tower, a beacon of light that will shine through midnight tonight in Iceland, as it does each year from John Lennon's birthday on October 9 until the anniversary of his death--today, December 8.

In memory of Riley and John Lennon, I created my own little wish for peace in rose petals. After I photographed it, I left it, though I was sure the dogs would plow through it before either Tim or Tom could see it. Instead, all four dogs and the puppy have stepped around it, and it's still there hours later. Never underestimate the wisdom of dogs.





On a less somber note, happy birthday to Famous Author Rob Byrnes and our mutual friend Byrne.

The other night I dragged out my first grade class photo and forced everyone to look at it ("everyone" in that case being Tom, Tim, Rhonda, Lindsey, and Kathy S, as opposed to the "everyone" who comprises my readership here on LJ--your turn!).

Tim noted that the way we're posed, we all look like we're handcuffed. I didn't have the heart to tell him that we all actually were handcuffed. In the old days (thirtyish years ago!), they didn't coddle six-year-olds.

The next year, there would be no class photo, because that would have brought our work to a halt at the munitions factory.

I KID!

It was a cannery.

Got this button when I went shopping on Black Friday. It's part of
Macy's partnership with the Make-a-Wish Foundation.
If you're interested in helping donors and more than 25,000 volunteers make a wish come true (one almost every forty minutes!) for a child with a life-threatening medical condition, check out the above link.

Up against the wall...


Mush!

The things this man will do for me...

Current Photo Friday theme: Homemade

The fifth little piggie must be wee, wee, weeing all the way home.
Gift from my mother, who did the needlework when she was in her mid-seventies.

You know what makes me happy? Jingling bells. What you see on top of the happy book is a ring with tiny jingle bells attached ($4, Pier One). You know what makes everyone at The Compound happy? When I don't wear the jingle bell ring. Bunch of grinches.

If you want something to make you happy, please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I'll jingle my way through the pages of this book for you.

Lindsey has been preparing/finishing a series of canvases and prints with the theme of repurposed materials/urban sprawl that she and Tom just hung at Té House of Tea this morning. To keep me company and share mutual encouragement, she did some of her work here at The Compound while I finished sewing my final collection.

She also brought in a blank 18 x 24 canvas and stuck it under my nose. I often note that I can't paint on larger canvases. All that white space intimidates me, and I'm used to working on 3 x 5-INCH and 4 x 6-INCH canvases for One Word Art, the paintings I sell to raise money for AIDS and HIV organizations. Lindsey suggested that I visualize the canvas in sections and paint them as I normally would the small canvases. I'm not sure she meant for me to take her so literally, but that's what I did.

When I put down my base coat, every section was a shade of blue or green except one, which I painted red. I jokingly said that I was going to call it "Green and Blue and Red." And then, as I layered on colors, I finally said the painting was just "Red."

While Lindsey and I were painting, we were joined by Tim, who started a couple of canvases of his own (in oils, which I love, love, love to smell, since I only work in acrylics), Tom spent some time sketching, and Rhonda helped Lindsey stamp and finish her title and price cards to hang next to her finished works. The creative energy was amazing, and Lindsey occasionally checked out my painting, at one point saying that it reminded her of a patchwork quilt.

Did the suggestion of quilt panels put something in my head? (If you've read here long, you know I'm a several-time panel maker for the NAMES Project's AIDS Memorial Quilt.) Was I subconsciously remembering that World AIDS day was upon us once again? (Because in all honesty, I've been so wrapped up in sewing and other things that I only realized with a jolt at midnight that it was December 1.)

I don't know, but when Lindsey came by this morning to pick up her paintings and Tom, she reminded me of (Red)™ and pointed out that my painting and its title were the perfect way to mark World AIDS Day 2009.

I dedicate this to all of you who are living with HIV/AIDS. You're not alone; worldwide, we're still fighting the fight with you by giving our time, our money, and our efforts to raise awareness.

Red, 2009

World AIDS Day was first recognized in 1988 and has become a day to raise money and awareness, fight prejudice against those with HIV/AIDS, and improve education about the virus. The World AIDS Day theme for 2009 is "Universal Access and Human Rights."

According to UNAIDS estimates, there are now 33.4 million people living with HIV, including 2.1 million children. During 2008, approximately 2.7 million people became newly infected with the virus and an estimated two million people died from illnesses caused by AIDS.

Around half of all people who become infected with HIV do so before they are 25 and are killed by AIDS before they are 35. HIV hasn't gone away, and there's still a lot of work to be done toward its management and eradication. The red ribbon pin in this post's user photo sits on the window ledge in front of me to remind me of that every day.

Each time I put on my jewelry, I wear my Until There's A Cure bracelet in honor of the beautiful friends I've lost because of AIDS. Not a single day of my life goes by that I don't think of them.

I was so fortunate to have known them.

For
Steve R, Don P, Jeff C, John M, Tim R, Pete M



Candle courtesy of jefffunk.

Were you starting to wonder if I'd ever really post this? Admit it. You thought I took all the cash and prizes for being the only person to actually do all the challenges of Project Runway's sixth season and hightailed it to Barbados. Well, that's JUST CRAZY. I've received no cash. No prizes. And I don't fly if I don't have to.

But I have been sewing. The theme of my final collection is "Leather and Lace." You're thinking I've done a bunch of Stevie Nicks stage costumes, aren't you? Again, CRAZY. I actually designed for her singing partner on that song, Don Henley. Nothing but jeans, black shirts, and Wayfarers.

Kidding.

My "Leather and Lace" is meant to showcase two things about women: Though we sometimes seem as delicate as lace, we have the supple strength of leather. From Flapper to Unflappable, Femme Fatale to Futurista, Dainty to Diva, Playful to Elegant--fashion is but a means we have of expressing ourselves. We are tough, we are feminine, and we have lots of shoes.

( Do I have the designs and photos to prove it? Please click here and see. )