The Talented and Amazing Spanky
Spanky saw this post about her sister Sweetpea and said, “You don’t write anything about me.” Maybe she meant I don’t write enough about her.
Today I’d like to focus on some special skills of my little Spanky.
She’s got some lucky friends. Spanky does not buy gifts for their birthdays. She makes them by hand. They are not gifts that take a few minutes to create, they are these fabtabulous plush toys that she designs the patterns for and sews entirely by hand (looking at her stitches I told her she would make a great plastic surgeon).
It takes her about a day from start to finish for one of her plushies.
Some of them are based on anime characters.
And others are just a total fabrication. Here she just made a cow because her friend is obsessed with them.
This one is based on some anime character that a friend of hers loves.
She has a other special skills and talents. She plays the piano and the cello, she can write, she can draw, and she can read a 600 page novel in just one day.
She is full of surprises. Here she is at Warped Tour kicking the shit out of a nineteen-year-old guy on Guitar Hero.
That guy’s face was pretty red when the beating was done (she had triple his score, and that was the highest girl score of the day). Poor thing, all his friends were watching.
The best thing about her? Almost everything that comes out of her mouth is funny. Sometimes her jokes are over my head. She’s smarter than me. I call her my portable brain. She’s my righthand man, my sidekick, my dawg.
So don’t change the channel. Spanky will be doing a guest post here next week, a review of an upcoming concert.
Fin
I am finished writing my screenplay. It happened at about 6:00 this morning and the feeling of accomplishment is extraordinary.
Everyone. Hear me. Finshed! The first draft, that is. Now comes the rewrite.
I started it in August or September of 2006, thought it would go fast because I had a detailed outline, but got caught up with some pretty rough life events. But I never gave up.
Seems like there would be a lot of words for this moment. There aren’t. Just feeling. I could almost weep.
Flash Mob
A flash mob is when a whole bunch of people get together and stage a public event or “happening.”
Some of them are absolutely hilarious. Like this one where a 100 person mob chase people at random. This made me laugh until I could barely breathe.
Watch only if you want to laugh.
If I Was a Sculptor…
Sweetpea is the only one of my children to ever ask, “What should I be when I grow up?” She’s asked way more than once and as time goes by she seems more panicked about it. I remember being just like that at her age, when it is most important.
I wasn’t always like that. At the age of six, we had a neighbor who was a nurse. She wore white uniforms and the nurse cap and a beautiful black cape. That’s what I wanted to be, a hero in a black cape.
Then I wanted to be a nun. We had a convent in town and that place was gorgeous. So was the cathedral. I wanted to live there. It had dramatic ceilings was full of stained glass and marble sculptures. A lot of the nuns were either school teachers or nurses, so that didn’t mess up my first dream. I could be both.
Then the artist came to our house. My mom was sewing the bridesmaids dresses for a wedding she was in. She came by for a fitting and stayed the afternoon. I was forced to go play outside, so I don’t remember her, the artist, just her car in the driveway. It had been rear-ended so it was all crumpled up and tied closed with a piece of rope.
My little brother and I had to go inspect. We could see in the trunk and get our tiny hands in there. I don’t remember if it was he or I who did it, who stole all those paints, all I know is that for years we had a stash of high grade oil paints under the house. And so began my love for creating art.
I started with paint by numbers which is really a bad way to learn. That is not how real painting is done. It just teaches you how to stay in the lines. That is something no one should be taught.
I was always creating things. I’d paint, sew, sculpt, whatever, to make the things I wanted. The idea of making something out of nothing thrilled me. What facinated me most though, was machines. I wanted to build one. I also had a deep fascination (still do) with cogs and wheels. Electricity scared the hell out of me so all my stuff was hand crank. Once I made a movie projector out of a flashlight and paper towel rolls so I could show the neighbor kids a movie I’d drawn. On paper towels. No, it didn’t work, but I was gifted at selling things, see. I convinced them it did work. They witnessed for themselves my complete failure on the big screen, but left my theatre believing they’d just seen my movie.
The materials I needed to build my things were not only unavailable to me due to lack of funds, I just didn’t have a basic understanding of tensil strength. I was always making things out of paper.
“Dancers” made out of lobster shells by some French artist.
So. When I met Blane, a guy who always knew he wanted to be an engineer, you can’t imagine how he rocked my world. He understood machines, he had buckets of cogs and wheels and he knew how to build things and wasn’t afraid of fooling with electricity. He invented things and they worked.
For a while I thought I might be a hairdresser. I’d started cutting my own hair when I was about thirteen. After practicing on my brothers, I got really good. Next thing you know, I was cutting my dad’s hair, my grandmother’s, my friends, their mothers… The reason I didn’t become a stylist was because every person I interviewed about that career told me not to do it, that they stay on their feet all day.
Funny that I would become a nurse and stay on my feet all day. It was a career that was intense, yet satisfying. Every day was different.
A perfect fit for what I’m doing now, writing. Hospitals are full of all sorts of people from every background, and as a nurse I was privied to intimate details about these people. Information gathering which I’d store in my mind for later use.
Funny how things turn out.
The thing that stands out the most in my mind about growing up and what interests fit me best is the movie business with the neighbors. I loved it that they believed in my show, my story. But most of all, me.
So my advice to my daughter is to do what she loves doing. I remind her of her talents, her strengths. Never her weaknesses. She probably does enough of that herself.
Street Cred
You ain’t the coolest of the cool until you’ve had your photo taken with Mr. T.
Here is Liv’s son Klaus, (his nickname is “Klausenburgervonbeulenmeisterstein”) when he was still a little English boy. He ran across Mr T while in Dallas and got one of the best celeb photos, ever.
His mom had the photo made into a poster which Klaus displayed in his dorm room when he grew up. Talk about some major street cred.
An Artist’s Artist
Amy Winehouse. Rehab. One of my favorite songs.
Soul, jazz, Motown-like. Listen. You’ll love it. I promise.
Bye Bye Wallflower
Scientists just found the gene for shyness. They would have found it sooner, but it was hiding behind another gene.
Okay, that’s not true, it’s an old joke from a few years ago. What made me think of it was this article about how some Swiss scientists discovered that using a nasal spray of Oxytocin reduces shyness. Yes that’s the same drug they use to induce labor, and no I don’t mean the kind of labor that brings in a paycheck. Now that would be cool, a cure for laziness.
I don’t know if I’m shy or just quiet. I’m never the life of the party, but I’m not a dud either. I prefer to listen than do the talking.
So, I wouldn’t snort the Oxytocin.
4-3-2-Pop
Okay, as promised, a little bit on Parisian sounds.
Paris is called the City of Lights. It’s a reference to many things, one being the Lumiere brother’s first public showing of moving pictures. But mostly it’s because the city doesn’t sleep (I think New York City already has that title). So if you have a room in Paris that is on the street side (versus the back, or garden side) and it is summertime, you aren’t going to get any sleep. Most hotels do not have air conditioning, so your windows will be open or you will suffocate.
It is noisy.
Mostly with buzzing cars and motorbikes. I don’t know why they are so loud, but they are and when the traffic is light at night, they rev those little engines to go faster. It reminds me of bees, multiplied by about a thousand. I’m a heavy sleeper, so I can do streetside. I like waking up to the street sounds of Paris.
Falling asleep in Paris, you’ll hear people walking below, heeled footsteps, and often singing. People in Paris love to sing.
Speaking of singing and sound, we did catch a My Chemical Romance concert at Le Zenith. It was the only concert of theirs we have gone to that was exclusively theirs (versus a festival), so we got to hear them for two full hours versus about 30-45 minutes.
We were shocked when we got to the arena because it was so small and the upper levels were curtained off. There were only about two to three thousand people there. Unheard of. It was like having our own private show. Anyone was allowed to go into the pit and the French didn’t crowd us. Or mosh. Or throw bottles. Quite a pleasant experience. It is no doubt the best show I have ever been to or will probably ever see.
They played every song from The Black Parade in the order that they are on the CD. They also wore those marching band costumes and called themselves “The Black Parade” during that half of the concert. They even played some B-sides from that album. After that, they said they were leaving, that their friends “My Chemical Romance would be out to play some old school stuff, if you’re into that kind of shit.” While they went backstage to change, a lot of people got confused and thought the concert was over. So while they leaving, we were able to inch closer to the stage. MCR came back and those suckers lost their places.
I know. Where are the photos? Well. Those bastards at the Zenith confiscated every camera and held them until the concert was over. Zenith’s policy, not MCR’s. I am bitter about that, bitter. My best opportunity for some amazing concert photos and, fuck, no camera.
Life is funny isn’t it?
You’ll just have to settle for Metro (subway) photos. There are lots of adverts on the walls which Parisians frequently complain about. Most of the time they are entertaining and tastefully done. This is Paris, they lead the world in taste.
The Metro is one of my favorite things about Paris. It’s been around for about a hundred years. It’s hard to imagine people zipping around town in these underground tunnels 100 years ago. These days it takes minutes to cross town in this thing. Above ground it doesn’t seem to take more than a five minute walk from anywhere in Paris to get to a Metro entrance.
The tickets are only about $1.30 each if you buy them in books of ten. Considerably cheaper than London’s underground which is about $6 per ticket. Both are even cheaper for the locals who get Carte Orange (Paris) or the Oyster card (London). Tourists can get them, but station agents are reluctant to sell them to visitors.
I have always loved this warning sticker in the Metro cars.
Wait, wait. This one too. I am a sick puppy. But hell, if you fall on the tracks I might save your ass.
Here’s a video of what it is like to walk through the Metro tunnels and ride the trains under Paris. It was done by some Parisians so you can hear their lovely voices and laughter.
I hope you watch it.
Here is a drawing in the guestbook at the home where we stayed just a few miles outside of Paris. A guest from Denmark or Holland did this with an ink pen. Amazing.
Beautiful Things
I asked my French friend once, “Paris est belle ou beau?” (Paris is beautiful (f) or beautiful (m)? She answered, “Paris est beau.” What that really means is Paris is a masculine word in French. I would have guessed feminine. No doubt about whether the place is beautiful.
Everything there is beautiful. To the eye, the ears, the nose, the palate, the fingertips. And some.
There is lavendar everywhere. Did you know that it chases away scorpions? In the south of France there are beautiful rolling hills of blue, so much of it you can smell it in the air.
They say in France a baker is either a good at making pastries or bread, never both. There are bakeries everywhere to tempt you.
If you take it “to go” they always wrap your pastry in lovely paper, just like this:
And speaking of pastries, can’t you just smell the wedding cake?
I stumbled upon this wedding and watched the guest throw confetti on the bride and groom. I love the way the confetti looks on this gown.
In the Montmarte district, I saw this window and wished I lived there.
Even when things are weathered, they still look amazing.
And who would think Contact paper could look so good on something?
This light fixture in this clothing store, I have to have one.
It won’t go anywhere in this house, but I’m going to make one of these. I will.
See these patches of grass on the table?
Those things are everywhere this season. Decorating store windows in England, Switzerland, and France. This is real grass here in Paris, the other countries had plastic grass. Don’t know what’s up with that, but maybe we’ll be decorating our store windows next year with that stuff.
Oh yes it is…
Not just the regular Coke Blak, chers, they do have that, but also an extreme version of it. The bottle is metal, not glass as it is here. Heaven this place, heaven.
The most beautiful thing about Paris is this:
My daughters buddying up and walking real close to each other like the Europeans do. They never hang out like that at home.
I will give you the sounds of Paris in another post. I am off to my dreams now. A bientot (later).
Chat Noir
No matter where you go or live, there always seems to be a house that is spooky. A house where everyone says “the witch” lives and kids take dares to run across the yard. We saw one in France so I took the opportunity to tell the kids a creepy story about a French witch in that house.
And then a black cat came out. Of nowhere. I poked the camera through the wrought iron fence and took this photo. It wasn’t until I uploaded it that I realized I took that photo through a spider web.
So I sit here creeping myself out with this photo and decide to zoom in on the cat’s eyes. That is not red-eye. That cat’s eyes are glowing. I did not Photoshop or enhance it in any way, just crop and zoom.
Hell, while zooming in why not look in the windows?
You see that ghostly face?
Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
For Prince Zach
Jennifer’s son Zach likes castles, so Spanky got a photo of one for him on the drive to France.
This is a magical castle. There is a toy shop in it and everything is free. That’s on the first floor. The crystal elevator takes you up to the second floor where there are parades and birthday parties every day. You must wear your superhero costume here if you want to party.
The best thing about this place is the wishing well in the back garden. You can throw a penny in there if you want, but really all you have to do is ask and all your wishes come true.
Have a speedy recovery, Zach (and Jennifer).
I hope some of you will add to this magical story for Zach in the comments section.
Zach has autism and mitochondrial disorder. He is in chronic pain and is being cared for at home by his mother.
More Good Things About Switzerland
Switzerland is one of my favorite countries because it is downright be-yoo-ti-ful. Yodel that. It is nature at it finest. What I think of more than the alps is the color of the water there.
The people are so friendly and helpful, easy to talk to. There are four different language regions. French near the French border, German in the middle, Romansh to the east, and Italian near that border. It’s fun to drive into the country and see the language change on the road signs as you get to different regions. They speak really good English, too.
There is no dust in Switzerland. I checked. These are some of the cleanest people on Earth. Even the cars stay clean. And the bicycles. Which are everywhere. These are just the ones parked at the train station.
Extreme sporting is a big thing in Interlaken. Since we were there for Father’s Day, we gave Blane the gift of paragliding.
He took this photo with his mobile phone just after jumping off the mountain.
I’ve always wanted to paraglide, but wasn’t in the mood for it that day. Maybe next time.
Another thing I’ve always wanted to do out there is the obstacle course in the forest. There are platforms way up in the trees and cables to glide from tree to tree. It’s like chutes and ladders on crack. We found one and were going to do it, but it was just too rainy in the mornings. Another thing for next time.
Travelling itself can be an obstacle course. Deciding where you want to go and what you want to do while there, transportation, finding suitable lodging, food. The tour bus thing does not suit me. It’s too easy.
Some people make better travellers than others. Now that they are a little older, my kids enjoy it and understand why cultural exchange is so important in life, but when they were little, they preferred to be at home and with their friends than go to some strange land.
I’ve always felt more at home when away from home. One day I will probably sell everything and buy a gypsy wagon. Walk the Earth. [wink]
Outrunning Rain at the Greenfield Festival
One of the scariest things about going so far away to an outdoor festival is the possibility of rain. We could have camped right there on the festival grounds, it was included in the price of our tickets but we opted out. Just in case. It was difficult to pass, the scenery and all.
Good thing we did pass on it. Here’s the view from our balcony the day before the festival began (yep, those are the alps).
Here is what we woke up to on the first day of the festival.
Uh huh. Rain. I told everyone to wake up quick, that we had to get rubber boots. I’d seen some in town the day before while we were walking around and made a mental note of where to get them. A couple of years earlier there was a magazine photo of Kate Moss leaving a rock festival and she was wearing ugly (and muddy) rubber boots. Thanks, Miss Moss (oh, and your Top Shop in London rocks).
We bought the last of the boots and although it did stop raining by the time we got there, the festival grounds were sloppy and muddy near the stage areas. Here’s Spanky and Sweetpea styling in their fancy new boots.
It didn’t rain again until the minute the very last band finished playing that night. We couldn’t believe our luck.
That’s Marilyn Manson, Friday night’s headliner. He put on a spectacular show, even though I don’t care for too much of his music. Some people I spoke with there who had seen him before said it was not a great show, that he usually has a lot more energy.
It is difficult to capture the beauty of this place in a photo. It is an old airfield that the military uses. Three sixty degrees of stunning scenery. (I’m pretty sure they mine chocolate in those alps, they have way too much of that stuff.) Here’s the main stage.
And here is opposite the main stage where people buy lots of beer and sausages.
Sometimes a little too much beer.
But no bottling. Not much crowd surfing, and not much moshing either. We got squeezed pretty tight while listening to Juliette and the Licks. That is Juliette Lewis’ band. Odd huh? Yes, the actress. She’s a good performer, she’s amazing to watch on stage. Listening to her is a different thing. She can’t sing. And she is a bit crappy to her bandmates, giving them a thumbs down when she thinks they aren’t playing so well.
Between every song she stopped to bitch at someone in her band or behind the curtain working her sound equipment. I imagined her telling them, “Make me sing better!”
No such problem with Jared Leto’s voice of 30 Seconds to Mars. I’ve seen him perform three times now and the dude always keeps in tune. He’s a very considerate performer, taking special attention to those near the sides of the stage, playing for them too. He goes out into the audience, the crazy thing. This time he climbed a tent pole about three stories high and sang from there for a while. After the show they did an autograph signing, and Sweetpea, a devoted Jared Leto fan just had to go see him.
So we are waiting behind the barricade in line and Leto sees my camera, looks right at me in the crowd and smiles.
Yes he is looking at me, look closer.
Once I got past the barriers and security, they made me put my camera away. Sweetpea really wanted me to get a photo of her talking to him. I guess it just takes too much time for them to take photos with fans. They run people in and out of signings really fast. But this band talked to us for longer than usual. We were the last ones, maybe that’s why. It made Sweetpea’s day. No week. No. It made the entire trip for her.
That is why I took them to this festival. For years they have travelled with me and it has been really boring at times for them. Little kids do not enjoy travel as much as adults do. Why not do something fun for them? It used to be Disneyland Paris and children’s museums. Now that they are teens it is rock concerts, a great way to meet people from different cultures, not so much as tourists, but visitors. To see them enjoying music as we do, but just a little differently.
We all agreed at the end of the three days that Smashing Pumpkins put on the best show. They were the very last band to play on the closing night.
Check out Billy Corgan with his head shaved and wearing a robe. Not too many bands do encores these days but the Pumpkins came back and played two songs in an encore that lasted about 15 minutes. And as soon as they finished, it began to rain.
It rained every single night in Switzerland and every single morning, but it never did rain in the afternoons and evenings when the bands were playing. I felt really sorry for those poor bastards in those tents though.
Misadventures and Special Skills
After that fabtabulous ride on the Eurostar with the male model, things went a little downhill getting out of Paris.
It took about two hours to get out of the underground parking garage at the train station. First, the car was dented so I had to go back up to the rental desk and document that. Then when I got to the gate, the machine would not spit out a ticket or lift the gate for us to get out. I was pretty fired up and got into a screaming match (in French, you should have heard me) with the attendant on the speaker. This was my first fight in another language and the girls were cracked up. But this is what they do in Paris, yell at each other all the time. I was fitting in like a local. If you think Parisians are just rude to foreigners, think again. They are actually ruder to each other.
Oh and it gets worse. There is a ring road around Paris, not too easy to get to, but once on it, just like any highway back home. I just needed to get onto that road, circle the city and then on my way toward Switzerland. When I got to that road however, the section I needed to get on was closed. So I went to the next “Porte” or place to enter the road. I was at the north end of Paris and needed to get all the way across to the south end. There are no highways that cut across Paris. Just this ring road that goes around it. Paris is like a rat maze and the cars in it are like maniacal rats playing chicken. The motorcyclists add to the havoc, cutting in and out of traffic as if they have a death wish.
I’d never driven in Paris before. I had no map. Porte after Porte was closed and it felt as if I were in a balloon trying to punch my way out. The only thing I wanted more than a nav system at this point was this car:
Looks like something you’d get in a basket from a fairy godmother doesn’t it?
I did have a Google map printed from home that took us from that highway to Switzerland. Once we got out of Paris, I realized Spanky is the most amazing nav person ever. There were so many turns on the way there as we took some back roads at the French Alps part, but we never missed a turn. She is better than a nav system and way less irritating.
I’ll tell you more about some other special skills I discovered about the girls on this trip over the next few days. Right now I’ve got to go dig out a thorn that has been in my finger since the first day of the trip (I touched a rose bush).
