A Lady's Bath - or, the Cat Room

I decided that I'll never finish changing the decor of my bath, so I might as well give a little tour now. Had I realized how large it would be, I would have pulled in the wall to make the guest room behind it large, but - oh well.

During the summer, while the house was being built, we picked out this wonderful marble for the vanities, called Rainforest Brown. It comes from the marble quarries of Rajasthan in western India, the same area that the Taj Mahal marbles come from (that particular quarry long depleted).  the serpentine striations in the marble inspired me to weave my own frame for the mirror, using willow, hawthorn and elderberry from our property. I'm rather pleased with the result, but Geordie, pictured, does like to chew on the corners. Here's a close-up of the marble.

I love my deep soaking tub.  It's here many of my writing ideas take form as I allow my body and mind to relax in a bubble bath.  Scenes and dialogue float into my mind, much like watching a movie.

I wanted a shelf above my tub for special things.

The shelf was a house-warming gift from our carpenter neighbor, Davy.

Since it's my personal bath, I can decorate the walls however I like. Original prints and images printed off the Internet, mostly of cats.  Not my erstwhile cats (that would only make me sad), but cats I've never known, but would like to.

I believe this and the next one are by Louis Wain

Geordie must always be the center of attention.

But other images decorate the walls. Little old things found in charity shops that I thought would like to live with me.

This wooden heart must have been made and hand-painted for a special woman many years ago.

And these pressed flowers in their old original frame.

A small silk weaving made in England for the tourist trade.

I have more wall space left --above this second vanity that fits behind my tub and in the toilet stall with its sliding door and across from the shower stall.

So many walls to adorn, and years to do it in, I hope.

When Good Dogs Go Bad

Pepper back from a run and full of self-satisfaction

Here is my husband Jay's Brittany Pepper, after he came back from a run on our 66 acres, avoiding coyotes, but not mud.  He loves to dig.  Jay had to take him into the shower for a shampoo.  Now that the snow is mostly gone, this may become a daily ritual.

Karneval, Fasching, Carnivale, Mardi Gras

In perusing online old German Jugend  magazine issues, I was intrigued by their Karneval art during the month of February prior to the beginning of Lent.  It is an old celebration and not limited just to New Orleans or Brazil.  Jugend was noted for its breakthrough artistic expression from the late 1890s through the 1920s. Here are a few renderings that appealed to me.

Old Paths

 Our neighbor Teresa walks her large mastiff Molly and Australian Shepherd Duke every morning through our 66 acres, but I don't get up early enough to encounter them.  I only see signs of them later when I venture out on the old trail.

I followed a deer path through the woods today.  You might wonder, "Where do deer paths lead to?"

Our deer paths lead from wild apple tree to wild apple tree in the woods.  Following deer paths in the autumn is the best way to find apple trees ready for picking.  We have over a hundred in various stages of growth and over 9 varieties of apples.

The deer still hope an errant apple or two will drop, but they have mostly dropped and been eaten now. But still, the deer follow the old paths.

And that brings me to a book I read last week, which I enjoyed immensely, titled The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot, by Robert MacFarlane. It's available on Kindle, but I decided to read it in hardback.  I'm glad I did -- it's a keeper.  "Paths carry memories of a person, just as a person carries memories of a path," says the author. Here's the review I gave it on Amazon and on Good Reads:

My criteria for giving a book five stars is that during the day I think on what I've read, and look forward to continuing my adventure with the author at the end of day; and the writing must be good. MacFarlane's writing is lyrical and masculine, too. He's not writing a guide book for you, but inviting you to come along with him over old and ancient paths. Why would he recommend you walk the treacherous Broomway, where incoming tides over foggy quicksand have drowned hundreds? Simply walk beside him as he attempts it. My favorite treks with him were through England and Scotland, as he relates history, anecdotes and the natural beauty surrounding him. But Palestine and Tibet would have had me at the edge of my seat, if I hadn't been lying back in bed. Sail with him along the ancient water roads through the Hebrides. Meet his adventuresome friends, including Isle of Harris sculptor, Steve Dilworth, whom I did look up on the Internet so I could admire his work.  

The best writing for me was MacFarlane's description of his ritual walk across the Cairngorm massif in Scotland, south to north, to attend the funeral of his grandfather, a mountaineer. I will be reading his earlier book, Mountains of the Mind, in which his grandfather is featured. He follows the Icknield Way and other paths of England in the footsteps of Edward Thomas,a writer and poet, who was killed during World War I in France. As an American, I was not familiar with Thomas' writings, but found MacFarlane's delving into his life and jaunts interesting, and that he was a friend of Robert Frost, who inspired him to become a poet. This book is full of little surprises. A joyful read.

My Own Private Idaho: Oh, Yes, It's Winter

My Own Private Idaho: Oh, Yes, It's Winter: Pete Autumn's been a time for rain, more rain, and lots more rain. With a sinkhole over our septic tank, the rain built up into a kiddie...

Umbrellas in Art

I enjoy looking at art that incorporates umbrellas and people hurrying along, going somewhere.

                               Or of furtive efforts to avoid the rain and wind on a dark evening near a Tokyo bridge.

I don't use an umbrella myself any longer -- I just pull up the hood of my rain jacket.  If I lived in a city instead of in the country, I would enjoy sitting at a window on a rainy street, watching people with umbrellas.

                                                 A lady out shopping, dressed in style.

People on their way home via the Underground . . . or the Metro . . . or the Subway
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Naughty French girls stepping out of naughty French magazines.

The working girl.

The elegant woman in velvet.

Masses of umbrellas heading for sales I wouldn't be caught dead at.

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  My love of umbrella art began my first week of school in the first grade.  Thank you, Sally.

Tales of an eBay Power Seller

 It was a small pamphlet, circa 1932, titled something like, "Should Bird Houses be Built on Golf Courses?" I'd picked it up at a library book sale, along with other vintage bird pamphlets. It wasn't the subject of the pamphlet that caught Jay's eye as he divided his attention between Sunday football and writing descriptions for my eBay auctions, but the printed name of one of the foundation board members on the back of the pamphlet advocating bird houses on golf courses -- Robert E. Jones.

 "I think this is Bobby Jones," he commented.

"Mm-mm," I replied. "Put it in parentheses."  The strong suit of listing on eBay -- key words. I started the 7-day auction at $9.99.  Within a  day I'd had an offer of $250.00 if I would remove the pamphlet from auction and sell it directly. Another email came in warning me not to accept any offers to stop the auction, apparently from someone interested in winning the pamphlet. I never stop an auction, considering it unethical.  As you know, most bidding occurs in the last couple of minutes of a competitive auction.  When the auction ended, the pamphlet had sold for $1,400.00 to someone in Minnesota.  It turned out that this very scarce pamphlet (who would have saved it?) was a "completist" item for collectors of Bobby Jones memorabilia. A few days later, we watched a docudrama of Bobby Jones' life and really enjoyed it.

I am an eBay Power Seller.  I have been selling used and rare books, "and whatever else the cat drags in," on eBay since 1997, when it was still in its infancy, before Meg Whitman arrived to take it big time.  I've met some very interesting people through eBay because I always ask in my automated email thanking them for bidding, "Why did you want this item?" Curiosity is one of my finest personality traits . . . under the right conditions.  There was the firefighter in Connecticut who won the vintage memoir of a fireman that had inspired him as a kid to choose that career.  And a publication from the 1936 Berlin Olympics that was won by a Canadian, whose father had represented Canada at those games.

There are various methods of finding products to list on eBay. Because I am a late nighter and normally sleep in until 9:00 a. m., the most difficult was getting up at 5:30 on Saturday mornings in the summertime in Laramie to hit the yard sales. But I did it and was usually rewarded.  Laramie is a college town, and that means people read. It was like a groggy Easter egg hunt.  I found a British publication titled "The Titanic and the Californian," published in Great Britain in the 1960s. First edition in fine dust jacket. Sold to me for $2.00 by a British graduate student (the book had belonged to his dad back in England).  On eBay, it sold for $350.00.

One morning I walked into an old house that had been vacated except for a few things in boxes.  Leaning over one box, I spied an Alcoholics Anonymous book with dust jacket. I reached down and carefully pulled it out. The dust jacket was perfect, and the publication date inside was 1951. First edition, 16th printing.  I didn't really understand what I was holding in my hands, other than that someone years before started going to A.A., but must have stopped.  The book was unread.  "How much do you want for this?" I asked. "Fifty cents," said the man, who was probably the aging son of that book's first owner.  I did a little research, enough to know that I should mention that the dust jacket was original and not a reproduction. The high bidder, at $840.00, was a real estate developer in Chicago, who proudly told me he would be showing it off at his next AA meeting.  And that would be fine because I'd placed that beautiful dust jacket in a protective Mylar cover. Condition, condition, condition.

I sold a book on the history of the Hashemite royal family of Jordan to a silversmith in California, who'd spent time in Jordan, instructing King Abdullah in some of the finer points of creating  and finishing small silver objects.  It seems it is the King's hobby.

I've even met some of my customers.  People in Wyoming expect to drive great distances, so it wasn't unusual for a customer from Casper or Cheyenne, or even Nebraska, to make arrangements to  drive to Laramie to pick up their winnings. And about a year ago up here in Idaho, the man who won Jay's childhood Lionel train set, drove a few hours from central Washington State to pick it up because he didn't want it damaged in the mail. We had a nice visit.  And once a regular customer and his wife from Calgary, Alberta, stayed with us for a couple of day as they toured Wyoming. It's a small world after all.

In the early days of eBay, it called itself an online community. And sometimes it is.

eBay Power Seller