Pantyhose people and wool quesadillas

A felted wool tortilla with Jesus on it (or is that Ventura??)! I am so inspired right now. I think I'm going to move on to felting after perfecting my pantyhose people. I have this strong desire to make life-sized dolls out of pantyhose. I'm making one for a friend as a prototype, and if all goes well I'm making one for myself soon after. Whatever you do, do not enter "pantyhose people" into your search engine to find out how to make this craft. You could end up as traumatized as I was! I'm going to need my pantyhose Grandmother (that's what I'm making for myself) to help me work through these confused feelings brought on by a seemingly innocent Google search. Maybe we'll make coconut creme pie together to finish out the evening. I'll be sure to post photos of this bonding moment when it happens to share with you all!

Whistle-Blower

What did I do this weekend? Ran with Paul, ate free Thai food, played capoeira, the usual. Oh, yeah, I did blow the opening whistle of the Bleeding Heartland Girls rollerderby (Farm Fatales versus the Slaughter Scouts). Not bad for a Saturday night!

Roda na academia do Mestre Pele, Forte do San Antonio, Salvador-Bahia, Brazil.

I have been meaning to put a short clip from this roda up ever since returning from Brazil. This was the most beautiful roda I have ever been a part of, and I left feeling very energized. Forte do San Antonio used to be a colonial prision and is now a heritage site full of capoeira academies. It was so meaninful to play capoeira in a space with such a history. There is almost an unspoken responsibility to not only honor the traditions of capoeira , but to joyfully celebrate them as well. It certainly was mind-boggling to imagine imprisioned Africans living in this fort, right next to the ocean, but never seeing anything beyond its high walls.

Fraterville Mining Disaster

After the Fraterville mine accident in 1902 only 3 men were left alive in the small town. Over 1,000 children were left fatherless. My ancestors (my Mother's family) are from a neighboring community, Briceville, TN. One web search claimed that 8 of my ancestors died in this tragedy. My Grandfather went on to work in the mines of this area and continued to do so for most of his life.

The following is a letter written by one of the 200 miners that suffocated while trapped in the mine (like many miners, he was trapped with his son who also perished there):
"Alice, do the best you can; I am going to rest. Good-bye dear little Ellen darling, good-bye for us both. Elbert said the Lord had saved him. Do the best you can with the children. We are all praying for air to support us; but it is getting so bad without any air. Howard, Elbert said for you to wear his shoes and clothing. It is now 2:30 o’clock. Powell Harmon is in Audrey Wood’s hands. Ellen, I want you to live right and come to Heaven. Raise the children the best you can. Oh, how I wish to be with you. Good-bye all of you, good-bye. Bury me and Elbert in the same grave. My little Eddie, good-bye. Ellen, good-bye. Lillie, good-bye. Jimmie, good-bye. Horace. There are a few of us alive yet. Oh, God, for one more breath. Ellen remember me as long as you live. Good-bye darling."

Samba na rua

The Lotus Festival last weekend left me pining once again for Salvador, where every night is a party in the streets! This is the samba band that performed at the bar where my friend Jefferson works. People were dancing in the streets, where cars would simply drive around them. It was obvious that everyone had the collective understanding that dancing is far more important than driving. I believe that the world can be divided into two distinct factions--those who dance in the streets and those whose idea of fun is a few rounds of potty putter.
While in Brazil I saw a great Forró band (and learned how to dance Forró --thanks Mauricio!), went to a wild dance club with Tom (caprinhas and go-go boys...ahhh that is the life!), and witnessed Iuri singing Reggae music with a Brazilian band in an Irish Pub. Multiculturalism at its finest!

The Gourd Witch Returns

She lives in a shack on the hill...

Her favorite color is black....

She enjoys soup...

Spooky Times

Laying in bed last night, I found my brain was working overtime yet again. Some nights it feels like it is scanning for viruses, installing new programs, and reorganizing its files. Well, in all this processing last night it pulled out a real gem of a memory. Imagine: It's 1984. I'm curled up in bed with my Alf doll reading the newest (okay, so they were written 20 years earlier, but they were new to me!) adventure from the three investigators. If, in 1984, the phrase "freak my shit out" were coined I would have been apt to explain this book as such. I think to commemorate this new Halloween season I'll dig up this book and see if it still does the trick. Maybe it will scare the kids? If you had the hiccups would this cure them?