CLOSING TIME ~ OUT OF TIME DESIGNS

….COMBINING LIFE AND ART

New Beads For Spring…

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Spring always brings a renewal; we like to do our spring housecleaning, getting rid of the cobwebs and freshening things up. It also brings about a renewal of our creative energies as well. I have begun to think about my new beads for the year and one of the first is my take on the humble morning glory. It is a simple flower, not one picked for bouquets or corsages, yet one that  I love so much as it reminds me of my grandmother.

 

 

 

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This next set of beads is a flight into fantasy. What would seeds on other worlds look like? What would grow from such strange pods? Flowers or food? What of the animals that graze on this weird plants.

Do you like making your own jewelry creations? Stop by my etsy store to purchase these and many other rustic, fantastic beads.

If you would like to follow my other blog go to http://www.outoftimedesigns.com

Have a lovely day!

 

 

 

 

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The Best Valentine Gift Ever….

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I know what you’re thinking; that a grandchild would be the best Valentines gift ever but…no you would be wrong. Living long enough to see the child grow up to be a lovely young woman now THAT would be the best gift.

I want everyone of you to look long at this picture above. Imagine that is is your mother and your child (sister and niece, friend or any variation you wish), sweet picture, makes you feel warm and cozy, right?  NOW imagine that your mom (sister, cousin) was not in the picture any longer, not so nice now is it?

So how does all of this relate to Valentine’s Day? What better gift could you give someone than the gift of life and love? Buy your sweetie (whomever that may be) a nice card and inside make a note that you donated to The Christine Senger-Bryan Gamma Knife Fund. Many of you have seen my repeated postings on face book and many of you know Christine personally. Christine has brain tumors that are not able to be operated on in a conventional manner, but a laser procedure would be able to be done. However, even the co-pay is so expensive that she will need help with expenses.  Her friends have rallied around her and are doing all they can but it is still far from the mark. That is when they decided to set up the GiveForward Fund to help. It is an excellent on line fundraiser and to learn more just click on the link above. To read more about Christine and her fund just click here or on her name above.

It doesn’t matter if you know her personally or not, you can still use this as a great opportunity to ‘pay it forward’ or just say this year instead of candy that will make you fat or flowers that will die “I am donating this, in your name so that one more grandmother has a chance to see her grandchild grow up.”

If you would like to know more about this courageous woman and her friends – even if you are not able to donate go to the site and see the generous outpouring she has already received. For additional information you can visit the website of Andie Meeks, a friend of Christine and an artist who is donating her work to the cause.

 

 

 


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Time For A Change…

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A time has come to make a change; in fact it is long overdue. I have neglected this site for quite awhile…somehow I just couldn’t find it fun any longer. It has served it’s purpose but now I am absorbing it into my other site.  Please stop by and see what I have been up to there. I am still doing a blog but it is centered more around the creativity that keeps me engaged in life and all its possibilities.  I have a gallery that showcases some of the jewelry I’ve made as well as one for dolls and mixed media. You can even access my Etsy site there as well.

A sincere thank you to all who took the time to stop and look around; I’m not deserting you all simply downsizing. So grab a cup of coffee and come visit. I think you’ll like it.  ~ Kathy


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Playing Around With Poetry

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A Walk On The Shore

 
A tiny figure full of fright,                                                                                                         Crosses the moors in the pale moonlight.

Across the stones, through heather and gorse,                                                                          She carries a heart so full of remorse.

She loved a man, a weak one -it’s true,                                                                                            And he loved her, but she never knew.

Through the rocks and to the sand,                                                                                           And on the shore; all night to stand.

Watching and waiting with lamp held high,                                                                          Searching the shore for ships gone by.

All in the village have spied this lass,                                                                                                    And all hold their breath when near she does pass.

The tale has been told, many times before,                                                                                       Of why she walks nightly down to the shore.

The story is one of fortune and fame,                                                                                             And the man she loved but could not claim.

His was the family that kept them apart,                                                                                         Tore him in two and broke his heart.

The lovers never could marry his parents declared,                                                                       So he sailed on the “Sovereign” to see how he fared.

But the ship was cursed with sickness one day,                                                                            And all on board did pass away.

So on sailed the “Sovereign” night after night,                                                                             And no one knew of their terrible plight.

Years went by and his family mourned,                                                                                           The tiny lass, still they scorned.

She kept her vigil week after week,                                                                                              Down at the shore, her lover to seek.

They looked for him always; the lass and his child,                                                                              As they lived alone, on the moors so wild.

Then one day they gave up the ghost,                                                                                                 And both went home to the Heavenly Host.

And though it’s been ages (and perhaps even more),                                                                     She still walks nightly down to the shore.

Still she searches the waves and the reef,                                                                                         And shines her lamp to hide her grief.

The tale is told of that fateful day,                                                                                                 When the “Sovereign” finally comes to bay.

Three ghosts will walk in the moonlight mild,                                                                                       A man, his maid, and their little child.

~~K.L.Richardson


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**April 20*** Panama Red Special*****Today Only!********

I’m listing this cool cuff on etsy with a special price FOR TODAY ONLY!  The regular price is $35.00 but today only-until midnight-the price will be $4.20 (plus postage). So if you get it, you’ll get it!

8666568708_4b7f57387e_cThis knock-out cuff is made from polymer clay on an aluminum base for stability. Each one is unique, definitely OOAK. I have tried to capture the ‘peeling paint’ look of urban grunge. Each cuff is formed, baked, painted and distressed with many layers of color to give it that worn look. I finish it with a sealing spray to keep the color true.
If you like the BOHO, funky look this is absolutely for you.

The width of this cuff is just over 2 1/2″, since it is a cuff style it will fit nearly every size.
This listing is for the red cuff shown in the main photo; last photo shows different color combinations. If you have questions or a special request please email me.


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Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone! And Save The ‘Bishops Hat’ For Me…

We all love Thanksgiving; the abundance of food, having the family and friends get together, the food, the football game, all that turkey! Damn! What am I going to do with the leftover turkey THIS year. Well folks, I have an idea that might get rid of all those darn bones you were going to make soup with but never got around to actually doing.

This might not be for those who don’t really want to know much about our food-those who just prefer to eat it and then fall into food coma nirvana. But chances are if you cooked the beast you wouldn’t mind making some money from it also.  I found this site by  surfing to find dancing turkey skeletons; I didn’t find that but did find a place that sold turkey skeletons. Curious I checked it out and found a picked clean set of bones will set you back $349-just about what I usually put out for the meal itself. This site is really interesting but not for those easily grossed out.  I noticed that they will also buy skulls if you have some to sell, not just turkey skulls but all kinds. I imagine they do a brisk business with the mob underworld.

                                                         After reading up on all the different bones I could buy I then found this site that gives you tips on how to clean the bones and arrange the skeleton.

When I was a little kid I never thought about what mom and grandma had to do with all that left-over carcass.  It was just fun to have an excuse to stuff myself silly.  But as an adult in hard economic times if I could turn this into a money-maker, well hey, why not? However, this year for once I will not be doing the cooking, my granddaughter has taken over hosting Turkey Day, so perhaps I will have to resort to thievery and steal the bones on the pretext of soup making…

*Bishops Hat-the fatty turkey tail that some people (my late grandfather) considered a delicacy


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Help! Bring Food And A Crossbow!

OK here is the scene…I am down stairs at my L-shaped work table very engrossed in jewelry design….mind is not functioning for normal things and not aware of my surroundings. Peeps (my cat) has been visiting up and down the steps and exploring the basement where I am. So….I need a tool from the back shelf, roll my chair back to get it and all of a sudden am transported to a ‘slasher movie’ where the main antagonist is a killer, maniac cat. Peeps suddenly screeches, jumps my leg clawing madly and howling louder than a tomcat on the make!  She doesn’t stop but advances on me more, eyes wild and black as coal. It becomes obvious to me that I have hurt her terribly by rolling over some part of her (tail, paw, leg) and I am torn between sorrow at hurting my dear pet and terror for my life as she won’t quit howling. We are both trapped in the little space and every move I make seems to upset her more. I try calling my granddaughter (she has a key can get in and rescue me) but no answer, try another friend and he is tied up. By this time I am able to move slightly away and see that blood is streaming down my leg.  I go toward the stairs but the cat follows looking like a killer zombie cat hell bent on my destruction…so I move slowly up the steps as quick movements seem to upset her.  When I reach the top of the steps I am able to make a hasty retreat to my bathroom to wash the blood off my leg. I have peered out the door once and she is still stationed there, still glaring at me and still in a bad frame of mind. I want to check on her to see that nothing is broken although she was walking slowly she didn’t appear to be limping, so hopefully it was just her tail. Still…I want to comfort her but as I am the person who caused her pain it will probably be a long while before I can approach her.

Yep, I just glanced out and she is still outside my door….I wish I had thought to bring something to eat; it looks like it is going to be a long night….


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LOL! OMG! WTF! The Death Of Subtlety And Nuance

Sadly I have not posted for some time now; it wasn’t really a writers block or even simple depression. Just a generalized funk at the state of affairs circa 2012.  More specifically writing in this era of internet and texting.

First off, I don’t always agree that television causes violent crime or video games made junior go out and kill ten of his neighbors. I think those things have caused our society as a whole to cheapen and degrade, but I feel that we still have free will to choose our course. Simply because a reality show has cheating spouses doesn’t mean you need to “fix” your marriage by the same method.  Neither does ‘Jersey Shore’ make you talk funny and wear 3 lbs of eye shadow.

However, even though I use them, I feel that internet and texting has worn away two things (among others) that make for good writing/reading.  Subtlety and nuance are all but absent today; in the age of ‘Fifty Shades‘ there is no appreciation for ‘Lady Chatterly’s Lover”.  I believe in the truth wholeheartedly, but that does not mean that we do away with nuance.  Perhaps I was spoiled growing up with only books and very little t.v.; I had to actually use my imagination. When I did watch anything it was usually old black and white movies-now there was nuance and subtlety!

I have always enjoyed writing simply for writings own sake. I never tried to make a living at it; it was my way of connecting with all the wonderful authors I admired over the years.  But somewhere along the way it no longer became fun; people started to tell me they liked my writing and foolishly I listened…just like those ‘singers’ who insist their friends love for them to sing.  So slowly I tried to change my writing to please others, ironically it was subtle and I didn’t even notice at first.  But then all of a sudden there it was; no one liked it unless it was of the “hit you over the head with it” style. Gone was the subtlety, gone was the need for the reader to interact with the author.  I don’t believe reading is a passive exercise; it is a collaboration between the reader and the writer.  If the writer has something to say he writes it. I as the reader am obligated to join in the exercise or close the book and find something easier.

So I suppose in a way this is an excuse (for not writing more often) but not an apology.  And in the future I will stick to writing what (and how) I like; if you choose to take the path less followed rather than the obvious, I invite you to join me.


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Thursday Throwback…

Yes, I am one of those Boomers who doesn’t want to grow up, get old, feeble and all those horrid adjectives. And I love “my” music as much as the next septuagenarian but PBS has got to stop doing these fund raising retrospectives!  Let us listen to our music but don’t make us face up to how old we really are, for heavens sake! Good Gawd, people find some other way to make money, but stop putting on these aging rockers that made our hearts flutter when we were young and now make us totally cringe.

Perhaps I am being unkind but when I see guys in their 60’s, 70’s singing songs that are clearly meant for teens or at best young 20 somethings it makes me remember why mom said not to do drugs (..wish I had listened).  We boomers have done ourselves a disservice by insisting on products to prolong our youthfulness; when I hear “Can’t get no satisfaction” I don’t think of disenfranchised youth; I think of Viagra commercials. “We gotta get out of this place” evokes a mass jailbreak from the nursing home our kids have (rightly in some cases) consigned us to. “Oh lord please don’t let me be misunderstood” could simply be a plea to our doctors about figuring out the right dosage of our heart meds.  Gerry and the Pacemakers, for cryin’ out loud!  At least their name has kept up with the times. Unfortunately, as the years have passed these Brit rockers haven’t got better dental care;  yet we are treated to close-ups of British teeth that the years  have (horrors!) made worse.

Then there are the cuts to the audience “rockin away” and I am reminded why I listen to this music in my car or in my home, and not in public places-so I won’t be tempted to dance  along with it. It looks like the “exercises” that the social director in the local home makes the residents join in so they can keep those arthritic joints mobile for just a bit longer. Now I know this makes me sound bitter but I am not, honestly! I am content with my life, I have had my moment in the sun and I still am involved with life. But there is a place and time and now it is time for a different set of youth to take over. I do wonder what it will be like for them when they reach this age…

If they are smart, they won’t subject themselves to 70 somethings with multiple piercings singing about someones bootylicious ass…


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Just Another Manic Monday….

Just another day at the Pan-Am Stewardess Training Classes.  Here the gals are learning the speech about putting on oxygen in the case of an emergency.  Looks like Glenn Miller and the band already have theirs on! Come fly with me…


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Have I Told You Lately…

…how proud I am of you. You have had so many obstacles in your life and overcome them all with grace and your own brand of style and humor.  I don’t think I could ever convey how deeply you touch the lives around you, taking it in stride, not thinking yourself exceptional-but my dear you are!

Tomorrow you as you walk that aisle your grandfather and I will be the proudest people there.  And I don’t know about your grandfather but I know I will be ruining my make-up with tears of joy.

As you make your way into the world remember all those who have touched your life in some way-the good and the not so good…for each one has shaped your life and personality into what it is today. And hard as it is to say I wouldn’t have it any other way. You are a beautiful person inside and out and we are lucky to be in your life.

Love,

“Granmama”

**for my dear granddaughter upon her graduation from college


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Oh Crap, It’s Monday!

Yep, for those of you that follow a regular schedule it is that most hated day of the week-monday.  So I thought I would brighten your day with some random silliness.

                                           Martha and Edwina on vacation at the powder keg factory.


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Cool Blues….And Pinks, Purples…

Since I can never make up my mind what flowers I want I have done two sides.  The previous post showed the warm colors and this side has the blues and purples that I love as well. Really why should we have to decide about flowers-they are all lovely.

These will need to fill out a bit since they have just been planted but I have : Phlox, angelina, petunias, morning glories (seeds waiting to sprout) two kinds of ivy, dianthus, boxwood tarragon, Mexican heather and strelitzia (the tall leaves on the right) which I believe is also called bird of paradise.

I will post updated pics as they (hopefully) fill out and get lush.


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Sixteen Candles…And Counting (Bust Out The Fire Extinguisher, Granma!)

I used to love all those “coming of age” movies;  Molly Ringwald, Anna Chlumsky, the whole Breakfast Club.  But for some reason I haven’t seen many lately. Is it possible they are not being made anymore, or is the more likely explanation that they no longer appeal to me so they aren’t “in my radar”?  And anyway who said those movies have to be about some cute/dorky/pre-pubescent angst-ridden pre-teen.   They have it all wrong.  I have had many of those ‘coming of age’ experiences my whole life. Let me tell you what the real one is…the first time you use your Medicare card at the doctors. Especially if you happen to be standing next to an obvious octogenarian. Especially if you think you don’t look your age.

I turned 65 this year, a blessing in disguise because I finally have insurance and can now see a doctor without selling a grandchild first. Kidneys aren’t an option at this age. However, you haven’t ‘come of age‘ until you pull out a card that by it’s very ownership states that you are without question never going to be asked for proof of age again in your life.  You will never have to show ID to get into an adults only club, or to buy cigarettes.  Never will I talk one of my older (!) friends into getting me a bottle of vodka because I’m not old enough…sigh.  In all reality I haven’t had to do this for decades, but this makes it so…final. So as I sat looking at ancient magazines and waiting for the doctor I looked around at the other patients.  I tried to imagine them as young Molly Ringwalds, and Harrison Fords and just couldn’t.  I was seeing The Graduate but from Mrs. Robinsons point of view!

The one thing that all those movies had in common was the hero or heroine suddenly realizes how drastically and irrevocably their life has changed. No going back now Chris Chambers.  Now the reality hits you; no matter how much you diet, exercise, floss or botox you will never again be that ingenue`. This is the moment where life hits you square between the eyes like this and says “Yes, by god, you are old!” Never mind that most of my friends are younger than me; they are catching up quickly. And it doesn’t matter that I ride a honkin’ big Harley; I only ride in nice weather…so yes the age is showing, sadly.  So to all of you who have not yet reached that decrepit magical age that is Medicare, you have one more coming of age to look forward to…

And as I sit here wondering how my life had got so far, so fast and where did all the time go; I realize I always played it safe, played by the rules and respected my elders.  The words of Ben Braddock (The Graduate) came to mind, “It’s like I was playing some kind of game, but the rules don’t make any sense to me. They’re being made up by all the wrong people. I mean no one makes them up. They seem to make themselves up.”  And there and then I decided that in this the third act of my life, I was going to raise a little more hell, be a little bit irreverent and generally go out kicking if at all possible.  Maybe I will get another tattoo…I just hope my family takes it with grace and understanding, knowing me well enough to see that I am only rebelling and not going senile.  No my dear grandchild you don’t need to have me committed.  I have no wish to re-enact “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”.


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It’s 2 AM…Last Call…

….So, yeah I have been getting pestered lately about not having a new post. What can I say, the Muse has deserted me , fled in the night.  Hoping to kick start the process I wandered into the local bar/slash biker hang out looking for inspiration, or at least entertainment. This place is really a dive-you know the kind. Kept dark so you can’t see the roaches skittering between the tables, acting as tiny busboys on the cheesy vinyl table-tops. Food…well if you are brave enough one of the bartenders will slap together a greasy sandwich and toss it your way.  Or there are always the tidbits in the bowls at the bar.  But do you really know what those crunchy things are that you are biting into?

The patrons of the establishment are right out of “central casting” (“send over 8 extras to work in the bar scene”) down to the writer in the corner gathering material. The men were all casting a hungry eye toward any female that walked through the door.  Each was clad in jeans that hadn’t seen a Maytag in months…baggy in the rear and dragging at the heels.  That was where the uniformity ended…the shirts were a mash-up of tight t-shirts with adverts for their favorite defunct band or patterns that were popular in the 80’s straining at the buttons over the waist.  Greasy hair of an indeterminate color and unshaven, scruffy faces finished their look. Yep, real keepers, everyone of them!  Most were working on a pretty good buzz; easy enough to spot as soon as they tried out their pick-up lines with the women, words slurring and volume loud.

The women! Ah, what can I say but that they were a perfect match for these guys. eHarmony couldn’t have done better. Aging nymphs, wrinkled and bleached, apparently without a single mirror in their home, or at least one that told the truth. As they prowled through the door they were scanning the scene for a leading man. Alas, there are none, only two-bit character actors fooled into thinking they might catch the ingenue`when in reality they, if lucky, will win the consolation prize of the chain-smoking withered cougar. And both will fool themselves for one night, waking with regret in the morning.

Overseeing and orchestrating this whole play were the two bartenders, one guy, gay but still in the closet, so of course all the women flirted with him totally unaware of the futility of their efforts. One gal, long past her prime, but still sharp and able to talk rings around the stool jockeys.  She could insult them, putting them in their place and they would still tip her!  She had a couple years of community college, just enough to make her look like she was “uptown” and these jokers didn’t know the difference.  Together this dynamic duo slogged through the night making boiler-makers for the guys and whiskey sours for the women, hoping that tips at nights end would see them through one more week.

And I, silently watching from a darkened booth, scribbling bits of observation as I gloweringly rebuffed glances that happened my way. What story would I glean from this? What made these people any different from the freshly scrubbed wholesome couples at Olive Garden? After a few Mojito’s (said to be Hemingways favorite) I realized that I was never going to pen The Old Man And The Sea sitting here. I also realized that these people were not, in fact, any different from all the other swarms of people trying to connect in the wee small hours of the morning. Everyone was looking for human contact, a way to validate their existence on earth.  So with that thought amplified to importance by the alcohol in my brain I bid adieu to the last act and exited by stage left.

As I walked back up the street littered with glass from broken street lights, I realized I still hadn’t come up with a story.  What excuse could I give other than lack of inspiration? And then I remembered my friend Harry had said….”Why don’t you try fiction?”

 

 

 

***Those of you who know me have already realized this as a total work of fiction.