I promise these Guinness bottle caps have been collected over many, many weeks, not a matter of a few days. There are 23, plus eight to compensate for two frivolous purchases I made on Thursday.
These bottle caps have been taking up space in a kitchen drawer and will be forwarded to Studly Doright’s youngest sister, the beautiful and witty Amy, in Texas. Amy is a creative soul who will turn these Guinness caps into a work of art.
Of course, some would argue, they already are a work of art. And the Guinness? Sublime.
Doright Manor, where I reside with my husband, Studly Doright, is in a rural housing development about eight miles west of Tallahassee, Florida. We have a Havana, FL, address, but we’re geographically closer to the town of Quincy.
Typically when I shop I head to Tallahassee, with Havana being my second choice, but on Wednesday I needed something small (eye liner) and decided to see if I could find it in Quincy at the CVS. Sure enough they had what I wanted and much too soon I was driving home.
Quincy is the county seat, so I drove around the courthouse square to see if there was anything of interest. I noticed a business I hadn’t seen on any of my previous visits. Could it be an antique/junk shop? It was! Be still my heart!
My photos aren’t great, but the shop is. It’s called The Junktion and it’s been open for a couple of months. The delightful owner, (whose name I’ve forgotten thanks to my advanced age) is still sorting through things and she has some treasures.
I couldn’t quite keep myself out of the photo above. It is always all about me anyway.
And the owner is in this one above. She is adorable and has big plans for her shop. The photos, as I said, aren’t great, but the shop is.
Just next door to The Junktion is the Gadsden Arts Center. I wasn’t in any hurry to go home, so I popped in there for bit.
I’d never taken the time to properly stroll through the galleries of the arts center, having in the past merely popped in for directions or to ask a question, but now after spending some time there I realize that the Gadsden Arts Center is a real gem. In addition to the galleries, the center is adding a gift shop, and they offer classes and studio time. I’m not much of an artist, but it would be fun to take a class.
I had tons of time to come up with a blog post yesterday, but zero ideas. While I was watching Ellen Degeneres’s new show “Game of Games” I played with the doodle option on my iPhone instead of preparing something for this venue. So this is all you’re getting this morning.
I call this, “Art or Nart”
Playing Hole #5 on a Blustery Winter Day in Florida:
The Emperor Reimagined:
Beach Day:
Hello from the Other Side, Kandinsky:
I’m hanging on to these pieces of art. If I become famous one day perhaps they’ll be worth a fortune. Or nart.
My mother had two hobbies: reading and rearranging furniture. I shared her love of reading, but never understood her passion for decorating. Once I get my furnishings placed appropriately they might remain in the same place for years. The only times I've moved furniture around are when we've been transferred to a new location. I wouldn't do it even then, but I can't afford new stuff every time we change houses, and no one ever seems to want our old stuff.
Mom never had a budget for decorating, so our furniture was about as basic as it could be. We had a sofa, a love seat, and two chairs in varying shades of brown, tan, and black, but by simply rearranging the pieces from time to time and adding a new throw pillow or a crocheted afghan she'd create a completely different look.
Not long after I left home Mom bought a floral sofa. It kind of pissed me off. For all those years I thought furniture had to be a solid color and at the tender age of 18 I discovered florals exist! Had I not been worthy of a floral sofa? Was she making an exchange? Me for a sofa of flowers and leaves?
Studly Doright and I inherited my parents ugly black sofa when we married, but when I had the opportunity to buy a new one, it had flowers everywhere. It was ugly as sin, but at least it wasn't a solid. That'd show 'em.
Honestly, I have no skills in decorating. I never thought of it as something I'd enjoy doing for fun, but recently I was looking for an online game to keep me from overthinking everything in my life, and I found Design Home. Now I'm obsessed.
Here's how it works. Every few hours a design challenge is posted, usually with some criteria attached, i.e. two metal items, three rustic pieces, etc. Players select pieces either from their own inventory, from the inventories of friends, or from the shop, and then try to create a pleasing room. Players also get to vote on other designs. I get a kick out of seeing how others interpreted the challenge.
Here's one of my designs:
Isn't it pretty? My mom would have loved this game. Would she have chosen a floral sofa? I'll never know.
Saturday morning I drove into Tallahassee to savor the eclectic vibe of the annual LeMoyne Chain of Parks Art Festival. This isn’t an arts and crafts (or as Studly Doright calls them “arts and crap”) show, but a gathering of some of the finest artists and artisans from all across the country.
Name your poison–jewelry, pottery, textiles, sculpture, carvings, paintings, stained glass, and/or mixed-media. It was all there. I couldn’t afford 99.99% of the art displayed, but I so enjoyed looking.
Here are just a few of the sights:
My favorite, and the most affordable, part of the day was dog watching.
One end of the park is set aside for children to create their own art. I didn’t venture very far into this section, as my stomach had begun nagging me to find the food trucks, but I took this photo of the chalk art area. Note the little girl on the right. As I passed by she remarked, “Look! I’m walking on the wall!”
And I don’t know who Terrika is, but she made me smile.
At one point I was mobbed by a group of posh ladies who insisted on sharing their kooky style with me. I always needed a boa to make me feel complete; I just didn’t know it.
Unfortunately the Divas, as they called themselves, got away before I could snap a picture. It was a wrap and run incident. No one was harmed in the process.
What a wonderful morning! I did buy a small item for my little courtyard area at Doright Manor. I’ll share that another day.
A couple of weeks ago I shrugged off my nagging back pain to attend the LeMoyne Chain of Parks Arts Festival in downtown Tallahassee.
The day was gorgeous, seemingly made for enjoying the arts and soaking in the sun. Here are just a few of the photos I snapped that afternoon.
Art was everywhere, and much of it was for sale. It’s not often that I wish to be wealthy, but that day I did.
I love functional art and these handcrafted sinks by Indikoi Sinks fit that category beautifully.
Check them out online at www.indikoisinks.com
Then look at these gorgeous designs from Aquatic Impressions!
Here’s how they’re made:
I purchased a cutting board.
Hanging around with famous folks.
I really want this bicycle to decorate my courtyard area. Of course I also want a dinosaur and a Buddha and maybe a 30 foot tall bacon sculpture.
If days were desserts this past weekend would have been a fresh slice of orange sponge cake, piled high with luscious red strawberries and topped with cream cheese icing. It was that good.
After a ridiculously pleasant night’s sleep Friday night (thank you Tempur-pedic!), a refreshing shower, and a hearty breakfast I dressed and headed into Tallahassee on Saturday for the Word of [South] Festival of Literature and Music.
This marks the festival’s second year. I was in La Antigua de Guatemala last April and missed out. Not that I’m complaining. My week in Antigua was the experience of a lifetime. And from what I hear the festival saw its share of rain in 2015.
There was not even a hint of precipitation this time around, though, as authors, musicians, and artists from all over the country shared their time and talents with those of us in Tallahassee. There was something for everyone, from gospel, folk, soul, rock, and jazz on the musical spectrum and every imaginable genre on the literary side.
Cascades Park hosted the event and one had only to walk from one venue to another within the park to experience a completely new vibe. And did I mention that with the exception of two concerts the event was free of charge? Sweet!
I wandered aimlessly for a bit before finding a schedule of events for one of the stages.
The Biergarten stage was just one of five venues featuring performers. Seeing Rita Coolidge’s name on the list I hurried over to grab a seat. I had no idea who Leslie Poole and Paul Garfinkel were, but I arrived as their set was in progress and fell in love with their words and message.
Ms. Poole, the author of several books about Florida, read from her most recent published work, Saving Florida. I’m not a native Floridian, so learning about the efforts of women on the front lines of environmental activism in the Sunshine State was an eye-opening experience.
Mr. Garfinkel’s engaging folk songs woven around Florida’s delicate ecosystem bestowed even greater weight to Ms. Poole’s vignettes as the two traded places in the spotlight. Their performance was a lively, thought-provoking give and take.
Leslie Poole, left, Paul Garfinkel and his accompanist.
Then the beautiful Rita Coolidge took the stage.
Rita, a graduate of Florida State University, read from her memoir Delta Lady, and entertained the crowd with tales of her bohemian days as an art major here.
Rita, like all of the artists and authors, signed books after her presentation.
My friend Julie and her lovely mom enjoyed Rita’s talk with me. We hadn’t arranged to meet at the event; it just happened. Sweet, right?
After Rita’s presentation I had lunch at the Edison and ran into yet another friend, Cathy, who made room for me next to her place at the bar. We then hustled over to another of the stages to hear Diane Roberts read excerpts from her book, Tribal: College Football and the Secret Heart of America.
Having grown up in Texas, I could completely relate to Diane’s college football obsession. This woman, a professor at FSU, is hysterically funny. If you have any love for the game you need this book. Even if you despise the game you need this book.
I knew Studly would be getting restless, so I headed home shortly after having Ms. Roberts sign my newly purchased copy of her book. When I got home he was chomping at the bit to take the Goldwing out for an evening drive, so we suited up (“all the gear, all the time” is our motto) and rode over to Havana for a meal at a local Italian restaurant, providing the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Tomorrow I’ll share photos of Sunday at the festival. I’m still on an intellectual and emotional high after my experiences.
Saturday morning I had no idea I’d be sipping a beer at noon at a corner cafe in the small port town of Apalachicola. Having had the most luxurious night of sleep I’ve experienced in years, I lingered in bed feeling as if I’d been kissed by an angel.
Of course, it was probably only Studly Doright who’d pecked me on the brow on his way to the golf course. I guess his grey hair was halo-like in the semidarkness, but you never know.
Before showering I looked on Facebook and read a post about an art walk in Apalachicola. Knowing that Studly would be tied up with his favorite hobby well into the afternoon I made haste with my shower and got on the road.
I’ve written about Apalachicola before. The quaint fishing village on Florida’s forgotten coast is known for oysters and sponges and apparently, art.
I snapped a few photos as I walked about town:
I even purchased a photograph (below) by and directly from photojournalist Richard Bickel whose work has appeared in National Geographic Traveler, Conde Naste Traveler, Newsweek, and other publications of note. It makes me happy.
After a lunch of salmon and grapefruit salad (oddly wonderful) at Tamara’s Cafe, I drove across the bridge to Eastpoint and then crossed another bridge for my first taste of the beach this year on Saint George Island.
Studly Doright doesn’t understand my attraction to the ocean. I tell him I have a compulsion to be in the presence of sand and waves and water, but the only sand and water he acknowledges are on the golf courses he plays, and he does his best to avoid landing in either.
So I sent him this photo, and told him sand was a good thing. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t impressed.
I’ve been a busy little decorator these past few days. After two years of living in the home I’ve dubbed Doright Manor I’m finally hanging some artwork.
Now, the term “art” is used loosely here. There are no Ansel Adams or Georgia O’Keefe pieces gracing our walls. Instead, I’m fond of framing pretty greeting cards and random pictures from glossy magazines, a holdover practice from our days of living below the poverty line, along with finds from estate and garage sales.
I like to say my taste in art is eclectic. That sounds so much better than questionable or dubious. The few pieces I’ve purchased from art galleries don’t do anything for me once I try to find a spot for them. I really have fared much better with my more frugal purchases.
Regardless of cost or source all of my pieces have something in common: They hide multiple nail holes. Never mind the amount of time I spend measuring and calculating, marking and leveling, I never get it right the first time. Even if I’m hanging a single picture I end up with roughly 9,643 holes in the wall. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but just barely.
My expertise comes in cleverly masking those holes. “Oh, look, you placed a butterfly on the corner of the frame! How cute!” people exclaim. Damned straight, Skippy–that butterfly is camouflaging at least three holes.
I know at this point in the post I should provide a photo of a few of my displays, but no good could come of that. My readers will either pity me or laugh at me. And I’m not sure my fragile ego can handle that.
Ok, just one. No laughing. Pity’s ok, though. Or vice versa.
One of my garage sale finds. It makes me happy.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 