Here we are back, Grandson, Joyce, Beach. No white horses, but that's where we started so we will stick with it. However, now it is time to do something other than wish. It's time for action. When you've reached a plateau, jack it up to the next level. Here we're jacking it up.
Celebrate! Party hardy. Now whatever you want to do, go and do it.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Fun, Box Springs, Work
That’s Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. After the
serious blog of last week, this one is frivolous. Are you in?
The fun was visiting the Carousel in Albany
Oregon. When friends invited us to visit a carousel, I thought, O.K., an opportunity to be together, to
visit, and I love carousels. I just didn’t know how much I would love this
And since I have kept my agreement with myself,
to take a photo a day for thirty days, I thought, Wow, a photo opt.
I didn’t know how astounded I would be. That was
the most exquisite carousel I have ever seen. Husband and I rode it. How could
Yes, and I posted more than one photo that day on Instagram. I couldn’t’ resist that either.
All the animals on the carousel were hand carved
and hand painted, a three-year process for each animal—two to carve, one to
paint, and there were months of curing. One cannot ride an animal until it is
trained. Whoops paint cured.
The attention to detail was exquisite, the
unique adornments art in themselves. And although each animal was one of a
kind, they all fit together like a collection on the dress design show #Project Runway.
I almost fell on the floor in awe and envy of
The pavilion that housed the carousel was a work
of art, too, as were the tables placed around the periphery of the room. The
tops had been hand painted each with a different carousel animal.
I am even reticent about posting pictures. They
say a picture is worth a thousand words, but this carousel must be experienced to be
fully appreciated. I know that not all my readers live in the vicinity, so here
you are folks, but if you are ever here, know that I did not photograph all the
animals. I left some for you to experience live.
And I must visit again. With an appointment, a
guest can visit the basement where craftspeople carve and paint the
animals. A notice said more were on the
way. I saw the drawing of a proposed bison, a bucking horse, a bird…and in the
photos below you can see a few animals in process—these were displayed next to
the gift store. And there were some antique animals on display as well; one was
a Zebra named Sweetpea. That’s my dog’s name.
My carver daughter’s teeth will probably ache at
seeing this opportunity, although, it is all volunteer. Talk about a labor of
2. Box Springs:
There is a mountain range outside Riverside
California named The Box Springs; I
always thought How strange, almost as bad
as Drain, Oregon, but here I am talking about true box springs. You know,
ones that go under a mattress.
We invested in a pair of box springs to go under
our King sized mattress. We have been sleeping on a platform bed, one that has
an air bed on top, and does not need springs. It’s one you hear so many ads
about, a “Sleep number,” bed where
each sleeping partner can, with a remote control, adjust their side of the bed.
No compromise there. The trouble was since it was so low; it was like crawling
up from a squatting position. And in the middle of the night—you can
imagine. Now with the box springs, it
has been brought up to civilized height. I’m a happy sleeper.
That was Monday. I got the first two chapters of
my manuscript back with editing comments. Now it looks as though it is glued
together with red ink. I am happy for the comments, though, for it is just what
I need. Elaborate here, adjust this, put this over there. Great input. I am so
afraid to bore people that I tend to be cryptic. That works for blogging, not
so much for a full-length book.
My editor is the best. She is a gift.
Carousel work in process:
A Poodle dog about to become a carousel mount.
The horse is before it has its glossy top coat. I like it this way, but I guess it wouldn't hold up to wear.
Patterned after the artists own rescued a retired Grayhound