Sunday, December 30

Security

Someone found my social security card inside of a book from the high school library.

This is alarming for several reasons:
1. I didn’t know it was missing.
2. I graduated from high school two years ago.
3. I have no recollection of handling my social security card anywhere near library books at any time.

I have come to the conclusion that I am just stupid enough to use my social security card as a bookmark and then completely forget that I’ve done so.

Here are some pictures of my baby Oswald. He just got a handsome new haircut!


Saturday, December 29

He has a letter for his name!







Jay Ryan is possibly my most favorite person. Ever. I wish he would marry me. Or at least let me intern at his studio (he won't, I tried).

Also, the sweet seasonal craft fair, Renegade, now has a year round shop. Super, considering I've missed the fair the last two years. Thanks, college.

Friday, December 28

Fireside

Three generations of Kennedy women fiddled about the kitchen all afternoon. The septuagenarian boiled down the last of the beef to bare bones. The materfamilas, the big time bacon bringer, paced and panicked about shepherd's pie. And the youngest, the frightened future, played Laura Ingalls, fetching wood to feed the fire, hoping her flaming feast could feed more than empty stomachs.

I took some photos today when I was hanging out at home. Here are a few.


Thursday, December 27

The Mind of a Child...

Here's blog entry #2

I've had so much free time since work has fallen through for me this month. I don't even know what to do with myself.

Photography has always been a medium I've avoided for some reason. Probably just intimidated by it. So in all of this newfound leisure, I have been taking tons of photos. I'll try to post some of those in the future. I really have no clue what I'm doing, but it's fun to try something new.

I've also been making toys. Little felted animals made from old sweaters. A tribute to mama Muffy, I suppose. I'd like to think she'd be proud of my efforts.


Sweater Cat and two owls

Owls

Ok. That's it for tonight. Maybe next time I'll write something more pleasing to read.

Beginning at the Beginning

I don't really know why I've started this, but I have.

Eventually, Carly and I plan to do a joint-blog while she's studying abroad. Something like these (one and, most importantly, two) that I've always admired. I like the concept of two friends sharing visual ideas even though they're miles apart.

I was thinking the other day about two zebra finches I used to have. They were a pair, Poe and Clem, named after good ol' Edgar Allan and his cousin/wife/underage companion Virginia Clemm. These birds were, to put it bluntly, quite sexually active. Clem was laying eggs practically every other day, building endless nest-y layers over her forgotten potential offspring. She must have tired herself out, because she soon ended up stiff and pale on the messy, bird droppingy cage floor.
Poe was devastated, if I may anthropomorphize him to that extent. He stopped doing whatever it is that caged birds do to keep themselves from noticing that they don't have room to fly. He died not long after his mate, probably from a mixture of self-starvation and genuine avian depression.
I later looked more deeply into the history of the pair's namesake couple. Little Virginia died after only two years of marriage, sending her husband into an emotional funk that would end years later in his own death attributed to a combination of his raging alcoholism and suicidal depression.
Was the tragic death of these star-crossed fowl destiny? Or am I simply misinterpreting the biological pair-mating strategies of finches?
In any case, here goes nothin'