Archive for
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| I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. |
A song from my childhood. I love Lynn Anderson’s version of Rose Garden best. It gets stuck in your head and I like to pick apart the lines. My cohort Becky tells me not to get to caught up in the meaning. She’s been in plenty of bands sitting around when someone asks, “What does it mean?” Answer: “Nothing, it rhymes.”
I could promise you things like big diamond rings, but you don’t find roses growing on stalks of clover. So you better think it over.
Still… I studied English as an undergrad in the 90’s … I had my feminist theory class taught by a radical lesbian who outed me in a lecture of 200 students. I have a hard time not looking for subtext: “To whom is she promising the diamond ring? Why stalks of clover?” I could have written pages… you don’t find roses growing on stalks of clover. So you better think it over. Okay it does rhyme. But let’s pause for a moment and look back over the year, and let’s look forward to our future… let’s think about the long view. Entitlement! Slam your hand on the desk and shout out:
“FU Bush era tax cuts. WTF?”
That’s what I thought while embroidering this pillow… feeling paralyzed …inarticulate. Anderson’s slightly upbeat version from 1985 is my preferred version. The 1973 version is a classic and must be appreciated for the front porch if nothing else.
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| I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. |
A song from my childhood. I love Lynn Anderson’s version of Rose Garden best. It gets stuck in your head and I like to pick apart the lines. My cohort Becky tells me not to get to caught up in the meaning. She’s been in plenty of bands sitting around when someone asks, “What does it mean?” Answer: “Nothing, it rhymes.”
I could promise you things like big diamond rings, but you don’t find roses growing on stalks of clover. So you better think it over.
Still… I studied English as an undergrad in the 90’s … I had my feminist theory class taught by a radical lesbian who outed me in a lecture of 200 students. I have a hard time not looking for subtext: “To whom is she promising the diamond ring? Why stalks of clover?” I could have written pages… you don’t find roses growing on stalks of clover. So you better think it over. Okay it does rhyme. But let’s pause for a moment and look back over the year, and let’s look forward to our future… let’s think about the long view. Entitlement! Slam your hand on the desk and shout out:
“FU Bush era tax cuts. WTF?”
That’s what I thought while embroidering this pillow… feeling paralyzed …inarticulate. Anderson’s slightly upbeat version from 1985 is my preferred version. The 1973 version is a classic and must be appreciated for the front porch if nothing else.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-Bcl93lO1A?fs=1]
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| You have to be invited to touch Tala’s pillows. |
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| It’s as if it the pillow was made for Michael! |
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| Woman in Repose, Ann picks a barkcloth fragment from the 30’s–a scene from the Midwest–apropos! |
Apartment Therapy gave us a nod in their Weekend Guide which is fantastic. Above are just a few of the intrepid visitors who made it out in the rain.
Thank you Andrew at Svenska Mobler for hosting, Charles Rosenberg for organizing everything and to Antiquated in LA for joining. Great fun– Cheers thanks a lot!
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| You have to be invited to touch Tala’s pillows. |
|
| It’s as if it the pillow was made for Michael! |
|
| Woman in Repose, Ann picks a barkcloth fragment from the 30’s–a scene from the Midwest–apropos! |
Apartment Therapy gave us a nod in their Weekend Guide which is fantastic. Above are just a few of the intrepid visitors who made it out in the rain.
Thank you Andrew at Svenska Mobler for hosting, Charles Rosenberg for organizing everything and to Antiquated in LA for joining. Great fun– Cheers thanks a lot!
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| My bathroom wall is a little homage to Penine Hart. Things purchased from her. Butterflies from “Richter’s Butterfly Museum east Durham, NY & a photo of upstate NY taken with a Diana Camera by Christine Rodin. |
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| A crazy lady pots plants. I mean me. |
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| Bloom of the year. |
Recently I have been buying 60’s 70’s pottery so that I can re-pot the succulents at my back door. The current pots by my back door are out of scale and I want to put a stool back there so that I can sit and stare at the sky and drink coffee.
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| Another plant from Mary potted as found. “Susan Arah’s” baby shoes. January 15, 1956. |
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| A surprising bloom in the bathroom window attempts to buffer the next door view. |
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| More blooms. I didn’t know they had flowers. |
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| The boxes in my bedroom. I’ve covered all the pots and planters in the windows in white duck tape. |
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| My bathroom wall is a little homage to Penine Hart. Things purchased from her. Butterflies from “Richter’s Butterfly Museum east Durham, NY & a photo of upstate NY taken with a Diana Camera by Christine Rodin. |
|
|
| A crazy lady pots plants. I mean me. |
 |
| Bloom of the year. |
Recently I have been buying 60’s 70’s pottery so that I can re-pot the succulents at my back door. The current pots by my back door are out of scale and I want to put a stool back there so that I can sit and stare at the sky and drink coffee.
|
| Another plant from Mary potted as found. “Susan Arah’s” baby shoes. January 15, 1956. |
|
| A surprising bloom in the bathroom window attempts to buffer the next door view. |
|
| More blooms. I didn’t know they had flowers. |
|
| The boxes in my bedroom. I’ve covered all the pots and planters in the windows in white duck tape. |
Earlier this week the Dr. said to me, “It happens because you are getting older.” I smile at him and nod uh huh.
I go to lunch where my cute would-be-waiter-boyfriend works and he calls me “SIR” –several times. “Can I get you anything else, Sir?”
“Not now,” I say.
I go to a thrift store and an elderly man is closely inspecting a piece of fabric. He has silver hair & beard. He has a large scarf wrapped around his neck and is wearing baggy Levis & sweater & clogs with white socks.
“That’s going to be me.” I say to myself.
Sigh…41 is upon me. I better find a good tailor and start wearing pleats.
Earlier this week the Dr. said to me, “It happens because you are getting older.” I smile at him and nod uh huh.
I go to lunch where my cute would-be-waiter-boyfriend works and he calls me “SIR” –several times. “Can I get you anything else, Sir?”
“Not now,” I say.
I go to a thrift store and an elderly man is closely inspecting a piece of fabric. He has silver hair & beard. He has a large scarf wrapped around his neck and is wearing baggy Levis & sweater & clogs with white socks.
“That’s going to be me.” I say to myself.
Sigh…41 is upon me. I better find a good tailor and start wearing pleats.
