I don't have enough to sell at a 3 day festival and then Carrollwood's VillageFest is an understatement.
If I keep up on a roll with stores, eventually I won't be able to do stores. Or...
if I do shows, I'll not be able to do stores.
The biggest strike was getting into Pine Island. It was sort of the goal I've been working on..and now I need another one.
I would like a gallery/store SOMETHING to sell me in NYC.
Odd? Possible?
For sure if I don't try, it'll not happen. There must be some type of Folk Art or coastal/beach store there where I'd fit.
I know I'd sell.
If I keep up on a roll with stores, eventually I won't be able to do stores. Or...
if I do shows, I'll not be able to do stores.
The biggest strike was getting into Pine Island. It was sort of the goal I've been working on..and now I need another one.
I would like a gallery/store SOMETHING to sell me in NYC.
Odd? Possible?
For sure if I don't try, it'll not happen. There must be some type of Folk Art or coastal/beach store there where I'd fit.
I know I'd sell.
Automatically shipped by LoudTwitter and RhondaK, Native Florida Folk Artist...Tiki bar signs, funny drinking signs, inspirational work, mermaids and MORE.
Dog beach in Venice Florida. Sadie's love for running for the big dogs had her nicknamed the Fearless Fast Pug. I like to believe it is her solid good work and homelife.
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609/ # - 16:02 Dear Alan -- I got my stuff selling in Matlacha on Pine Island like you'd wanted us to do. I like it here. I am sorry I wouldn't come here.. #
Dear Alan -- I got my stuff selling in Matlacha on Pine Island like you'd wanted us to do. I like it here. I am sorry I wouldn't come here while you were alive Share this beer with me and accept my apologies.
We Never Talk About My Brother, by Peter S. Beagle. Tachyon Publications, 2009
I’d not read anything by Beagle before, and this collection of short stories has me hooked now. The stories are done in a variety of styles. One story is done as Japanese folklore; another is a fable. In the title story, a man who can kill by changing the past finds that his brother isn’t the powerless fool he takes him for. One is an urban fantasy where a man duels with a ghost- by reciting horrible poetry. One is a poem cycle based on the Unicorn Tapestries housed in The Cloisters. One chronicles an encounter with faery. There are ten offerings and there is not a dud among them.
I’d not read anything by Beagle before, and this collection of short stories has me hooked now. The stories are done in a variety of styles. One story is done as Japanese folklore; another is a fable. In the title story, a man who can kill by changing the past finds that his brother isn’t the powerless fool he takes him for. One is an urban fantasy where a man duels with a ghost- by reciting horrible poetry. One is a poem cycle based on the Unicorn Tapestries housed in The Cloisters. One chronicles an encounter with faery. There are ten offerings and there is not a dud among them.
The Final Solution by Michael Chabon is another in a series of modern novels which re-animate Sherlock Holmes in one form or another. I'm ambivalent about the practice of borrowing characters from classic fiction, but I'm happy with the results in this case. Like Laurie King's popular mystery series, this novel gives us an older, post-retirement Holmes. Chabon's Holmes, however, is shown in extreme old age, in the late 1930s. He's becoming physically and mentally decrepit, barely able to maintain his beekeeping. He's called in by the police one last time, to assist in an odd case involving a murder and a stolen parrot, which may turn out to have serious political and military implications.
This is a terrific short mystery, entertaining throughout. Even the minor characters are rich and entertaining. Especially so is Holmes himself, who, although his identity is obvious, is never actually referred to by name, only as 'the old man' or by similar terms. This isn't a Conan Doyle tribute, and no detailed knowledge of the Sherlock Holmes stories is necessary in order to enjoy it. Highly recommended.
This is a terrific short mystery, entertaining throughout. Even the minor characters are rich and entertaining. Especially so is Holmes himself, who, although his identity is obvious, is never actually referred to by name, only as 'the old man' or by similar terms. This isn't a Conan Doyle tribute, and no detailed knowledge of the Sherlock Holmes stories is necessary in order to enjoy it. Highly recommended.
I am going to do a show in Punta Gorda. I might drive by my old house to see who is living there. I have a theory on that.
After I take down at 2pm, I'll be leaving the Punta Gorda Isles Civic Center and going out to Matlacha. I'm looking at getting into a Gallery out there.

THEN coming back ( or going?), I have to deliver a sign to Boomer's in Port Charlotte.
It is going to be one very long day where I'll learn a great deal about my self...again.
The show in Punta Gorda will be full of watercolorists and all that sort of thing...prints, matted this and thats. Jewelry for days. So...it'll be interesting. However, having met the real housewives of PGI, let me tell you...and having had my hair pulled by one--those are some wild dockside dames.
After I take down at 2pm, I'll be leaving the Punta Gorda Isles Civic Center and going out to Matlacha. I'm looking at getting into a Gallery out there.

THEN coming back ( or going?), I have to deliver a sign to Boomer's in Port Charlotte.
It is going to be one very long day where I'll learn a great deal about my self...again.
The show in Punta Gorda will be full of watercolorists and all that sort of thing...prints, matted this and thats. Jewelry for days. So...it'll be interesting. However, having met the real housewives of PGI, let me tell you...and having had my hair pulled by one--those are some wild dockside dames.

The empire strikes back
In recent weeks, we've taken huge steps towards blocking spam accounts on LiveJournal. In fact, we've suspended as many as 30,000 accounts in a single day! We've implemented several pre-emptive measures to prevent the creation of spam accounts, and we've honed our detection of suspicious content. Spam bots are a crafty lot, so we'll continue to refine our tactics and keep up the good fight to keep you safe from spam attacks on LiveJournal.RSS feeds again
If you're addicted toWii have killer CSI Deadly Intent contests!

If you're a gamer who loves CSI, have Wii got news for you!
Enveloped in postcards
Last week, we asked you to send in postcards to help us decorate our drab concrete walls. Here's a photo of the results so far! Thank you so much and please keep them coming! You can mail them to Frank the Goat, Esq., c/o LiveJournal, Inc., 539 Bryant Street, Suite 210, San Francisco, CA 94107. Be sure to include your username, since we'll be giving ten random users paid account credits.
Photos of the week
If you haven't visited our new LiveJournal photo community, you're in for an amazing visual trip. LiveJournal users from around the world will take you on a scenic journey to everywhere. Post your own pictures or kick back and enjoy at( Read more... )
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Just back from a walk on the beach. I have sand on my feet...I love love love that feeling.
I have sand in my bed. LUXURIOUS.
Had a strange dream about my X last night. I kept hitting him in the head, out of the blue, for no reason. (well...contextually no reason
When I met him, he told me his previous woman would just hit him in the head for no reason. Having now had the whole Ballpark experience from bad seats to thin toilet paper stuck on my shoe, I'm not going to agree with "no reason"....
But he was trying to get me to do business with this Cheech/Chong sort of Mexican guy who was in the Mafia which made him a lot less fun. He had a big van. He told me I wasn't smart for avoiding this guy.
THEN we were walking through NYC down through somewhere like Greenwich Village's winding streets. We were hand in hand and I pulled aside to take pictures of the front of a building which weren't just the ornate, scrolled fronts with cupids but had purple vines all wound together meeting in a bouquet of dolphins. It was in that picture taking moment I "remembered" I was an authority in the field of building facad decoration, restoration and the meaning of each symbol. (not so in real life...)
I wonder why I always dream of NYC. I never dream of Philly, North Carolina or other places I've lived in Florida. I never dream of Orlando, living on the boat, Davis Islands, Siesta Key or other places but for home. I always dream I'm in the home I was born in or in New York City.
What city do you dream in?
I have sand in my bed. LUXURIOUS.
Had a strange dream about my X last night. I kept hitting him in the head, out of the blue, for no reason. (well...contextually no reason
When I met him, he told me his previous woman would just hit him in the head for no reason. Having now had the whole Ballpark experience from bad seats to thin toilet paper stuck on my shoe, I'm not going to agree with "no reason"....
But he was trying to get me to do business with this Cheech/Chong sort of Mexican guy who was in the Mafia which made him a lot less fun. He had a big van. He told me I wasn't smart for avoiding this guy.
THEN we were walking through NYC down through somewhere like Greenwich Village's winding streets. We were hand in hand and I pulled aside to take pictures of the front of a building which weren't just the ornate, scrolled fronts with cupids but had purple vines all wound together meeting in a bouquet of dolphins. It was in that picture taking moment I "remembered" I was an authority in the field of building facad decoration, restoration and the meaning of each symbol. (not so in real life...)
I wonder why I always dream of NYC. I never dream of Philly, North Carolina or other places I've lived in Florida. I never dream of Orlando, living on the boat, Davis Islands, Siesta Key or other places but for home. I always dream I'm in the home I was born in or in New York City.
What city do you dream in?
Books read in September:
39. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson,
40. Me & Mr. Darcy by Alexandra Potter,
41. The Wild Things by Dave Eggers,
42. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle ,
43. Fearless Fourteen by Janet Evanovich,
44. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins,
Most surprising read of the month: I absolutely LOVED The Hunger Games! It was thrilling and I had a difficult time putting it down! I am going to read the sequel soon! :)
Most disappointing read of the month: That would definitely be A Wrinkle in Time. I thought since so many people gave it such high praise, that I would automatically love it. I was wrong haha!
Current read: I just started reading The Thirteenth Tale and it is interesting so far.
39. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson,
40. Me & Mr. Darcy by Alexandra Potter,
41. The Wild Things by Dave Eggers,

42. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle ,
43. Fearless Fourteen by Janet Evanovich,
44. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins,

Most surprising read of the month: I absolutely LOVED The Hunger Games! It was thrilling and I had a difficult time putting it down! I am going to read the sequel soon! :)
Most disappointing read of the month: That would definitely be A Wrinkle in Time. I thought since so many people gave it such high praise, that I would automatically love it. I was wrong haha!
Current read: I just started reading The Thirteenth Tale and it is interesting so far.
I sort of think of it as dropping a line off the back of the boat while you're headed somewhere else. I try to write it up to scare people off who'll waste my time. Dreads are also super effective. Despite what I look like on paper, you'll not want to buoy your job status taking me to a corporate Christmas Party. I'm still inclined to lick salt off the neck of strangers--and keep them at stranger status. I definitely included the Fox News quotient. As in, if you're a Fox News--I'd probably get on your nerves. I think it is an important pop and social culture dividing line. I'm more Jon Stewart, anti-masssage-spa work with my hands girl. I'm not laying around anywhere with the scent of hot oil wafting through the air. I think that too, is a sort of lifestyle dividing line. My idea of proper pampering is having a sore bottom after riding on the back of a Harley to no where for no reason. There, I can can get inside my own thoughts and just roll there without interuption while being reminded of my mortality. And the possibilities of things. Like roads. Strangers. Bumps. Grinds.
However it can also be having a bottle of wine with a Canadian here for a week sort of experience.
Whatever it is, it is making me want to paint again.
My hands are blue--and it is good.
However it can also be having a bottle of wine with a Canadian here for a week sort of experience.
Whatever it is, it is making me want to paint again.
My hands are blue--and it is good.
but haven't worked in the time to go see them. I am on day two of a headache that is holding on like bad credit.
Drinking peppermint coffee.
Doing a detox in a box. From the shelf space they take up, it must be a hobby. I think I killed my liver and it was not evil. I think I killed it with McDonald's--such a sad thing.
Used to you'd cook up all this stuff and drink juice for days.
The headache is just going to have to go along for the ride.
Have to get ready for a three day show. I did my sales tax -- late. I still haven't developed a sound bookkeeping system to support my little time consuming life eating business.
I should before the end of the year.
Meantime I'm swearing off McDonald's but for one sausage biscuit a week. No lunch at College. Nothing from a vending machine.
I'm being killed to death by convenience.
I have to recreate an inconvenient life.
Cooking always reminds me of Alan because I used to make him this crazy sandwiches. Everyday. Never the same type. Cooking sandwiches? Didn't use store bought meat. I got up at 6am to walk Oskar and then make Alan lunch when we were in Tampa. When we moved on to the boat, I pretty much quit cooking. Those sandwiches were my daily "I love you"..I am thankful for you. That all before we moved to the boat and everything went wrong for him, yet right for me. At the time that wasn't immediately apparent.
My Sarasota apartment didn't have a kitchen. My Siesta Key place--well, I didn't want to stay inside. Then John cooked. In fact, when I'd gone back to the evil Port Charlotte house it was clear he'd gotten drunk and forgot he was cooking as he left a package of meat rotting on counter. Spaghetti noodles scattered, fallen. Like a Twilight Zone episode.
I used to make this 4 days chili with a half dozen types of peppers including the Scotch Bonnet. It was a very sexy chili when served with a smoked gouda shrimp marmalade quesadilla. A dark, unmoonlit night kind of merlot.
I'd make it for men that thought I was in love with them while I was more likely thinking about a line, a string of words, a feeling like smoke.
None the less, I hope another sailor maroons himself here soon. I like the happily never after sailing off into the sunset moment.
It's a moment you can hold careful in your hand that doesn't overwhelm or poison the day to day.
Not that I'm bitter. I'm just experienced. Very.
Drinking peppermint coffee.
Doing a detox in a box. From the shelf space they take up, it must be a hobby. I think I killed my liver and it was not evil. I think I killed it with McDonald's--such a sad thing.
Used to you'd cook up all this stuff and drink juice for days.
The headache is just going to have to go along for the ride.
Have to get ready for a three day show. I did my sales tax -- late. I still haven't developed a sound bookkeeping system to support my little time consuming life eating business.
I should before the end of the year.
Meantime I'm swearing off McDonald's but for one sausage biscuit a week. No lunch at College. Nothing from a vending machine.
I'm being killed to death by convenience.
I have to recreate an inconvenient life.
Cooking always reminds me of Alan because I used to make him this crazy sandwiches. Everyday. Never the same type. Cooking sandwiches? Didn't use store bought meat. I got up at 6am to walk Oskar and then make Alan lunch when we were in Tampa. When we moved on to the boat, I pretty much quit cooking. Those sandwiches were my daily "I love you"..I am thankful for you. That all before we moved to the boat and everything went wrong for him, yet right for me. At the time that wasn't immediately apparent.
My Sarasota apartment didn't have a kitchen. My Siesta Key place--well, I didn't want to stay inside. Then John cooked. In fact, when I'd gone back to the evil Port Charlotte house it was clear he'd gotten drunk and forgot he was cooking as he left a package of meat rotting on counter. Spaghetti noodles scattered, fallen. Like a Twilight Zone episode.
I used to make this 4 days chili with a half dozen types of peppers including the Scotch Bonnet. It was a very sexy chili when served with a smoked gouda shrimp marmalade quesadilla. A dark, unmoonlit night kind of merlot.
I'd make it for men that thought I was in love with them while I was more likely thinking about a line, a string of words, a feeling like smoke.
None the less, I hope another sailor maroons himself here soon. I like the happily never after sailing off into the sunset moment.
It's a moment you can hold careful in your hand that doesn't overwhelm or poison the day to day.
Not that I'm bitter. I'm just experienced. Very.







