Simply Curious

Part one of my birthday challenge showed up - a gift. A book. THIS book, in fact. Should I be afraid?

It's definitely ominous.

*note* I realize this posts backwards, so scroll down to Friday and read up!

An unexpected side effect of traveling without family is that, when you get back, they all want to know every detail of your trip. Even relatives I rarely talk to anymore insist on seeing all the pictures! (If you were really that interested you would have gone with me when I asked!) As an appeasement, I'm posting a play by play.

Sunday morning we went to breakfast. The lady who runs the place went all out - this is possibly the first time I've ever eaten breakfast in courses! Granted, my idea of breakfast is generally: "what can I eat that doesn't assault my taste buds at this ungodly hour and won't make a mess?"

Course 1 was fruit (bananas, raspberries, strawberries, etc) and yogurt and chocolate sauce (NOT syrup) and whipped cream, and possibly grape nuts or other crunchy things. Taste buds said, "oooh, yum. I can handle this." Mind said, "whoa, chocolate at breakfast? I like this lady."

Course 2 was a frittata? or possibly a quiche? It was mostly egg, which means I know nothing about it. Growing up with a mother who was deathly allergic to eggs means that I never acquired a taste for them, and generally avoid. I was willing to try it, though, since there was bacon and spinach and tomatoes in it that would offset the texture. It was also very good, but rather rich, so I only had about half.

We shared a table with a couple from South Carolina. We had interesting conversations with them about politics, family, and travel. He was in the military, and since we were from a very political/military/world oriented area, we got along quite well.

After breakfast, it was time to get on the road again and head to our final destination - Chimney Rock Park!

We tried to take the scenic route, but missed the turn due to the area's bizarre lack of road signs. Sure, eventually there was a road sign, but it would be blocked by other random signs, or so small that you couldn't see or read it from the 3-lanes-in-each-direction highway. So we took the interstate to another scenic route (there's no lack of scenic down there). As I stared out the window I realized that the carpets of healthy green draped along the sides of the road (in some places right TO the road) was kudzu! It waved prettily in the breeze caused by the cars, and I tried to shut my mind to the internal lecture about invasive species.

We drove through what I call one road towns - towns that hug the main thoroughfare and don't branch off onto side streets. They couldn't, there was rocky mountains on one side, and a river on the other. We saw the town of Bat Cave, but alas, there was no place to stop and take pictures of any signs. All too soon we came to the town of Chimney Rock, and it's Rocky Broad River. The round rocks in the river were awesome - it looked like you could rock hop across the whole thing. The rocky part of the name was certainly accurate, but broad - not a chance. Here, buildings hung out over the river, almost desperately, trying to be a part of the Chimney Rock allure.

We crossed on a narrow wooden bridge and drove up to the admissions gate, and then on up farther to park near the famous elevator. Scary, wild trip up a narrow road with sharp turns, no markings, lots of trees and picnic areas in places I would never want to picnic for fear of a car crashing the party. We made it safely to the top, Brian enjoying the nice turning radius of the rental.

To get to the elevator, we walked up a long, cool tunnel that had been blasted out of solid rock. It was slow going, as every few feet there were signs telling about the creation of the elevator and the work done to make Chimney Rock a tourist attraction. There were also signs that told you how long your wait would be if you were in line there, and more signs explaining about the rock types.

The elevator itself was sleek, and modern, designed to withstand moisture and operate quickly and smoothly. I found this disappointing in comparison to the creaky, old fashioned elevator in Shenandoah Caverns, which was open so you could see the rock as you descended. Up we went as the elevator operator gave us a short intro speech to Chimney Rock. Then the door opened to reveal . . . a gift shop! Farther on was a snack bar, where I decided it was lunch time, and no way was I going to climb about on an empty stomach! I got a ham sandwich, which was on a roll of bread which was incredibly good. Then, cold water in backpack and camera in hand, we set out.

Brian had been here before, and had taken a personalized do-or-die tour of what sounded like the entire park, twice, backwards, barefoot and carrying grandma on his back. I requested a short, simplified version of just the most interesting route - Chimney Rock itself, then down to the routes with names like Subway, Needle's Eye, Rock Pile, Grotto, etc.

Such views! All over. And such paths! And such lack of safety? The top of the actual chimney rock was encircled with a metal fence, in many places the rocks were higher than the fence. Not a place to take little kids or clumsy people.

The pathways were wooden walkways with railings on each side - very sturdy, although one staircase was warped and awkward to maneuver. It snaked down along the edge of the cliff, causing you to lean and duck, and step carefully, because the stair treads were leaning and ducking, too! The railings were smooth to the touch - not a splinter among them, and trustworthy. We climbed down staircases and across bridges, rarely touching bare rock except in one or two places. We came to the 'Rock Pile' which looked exactly like it sounds. On the far side of that was a spiral staircase going straight down. At the bottom of that we encountered a wide eyed, sweating and gasping middle aged woman making her way towards us. I tried to console her that she was nearly there, but instead had to warn her to take it easy and enjoy the views before tackling all the stairs! Little did I realize that this was an excellent example of foreshadowing.

The Subway was a low hole in the ground, but wide and easy to get through. Lots of rock and crevices. Beyond that was the Grotto - a nice flat shady spot that looked rather like the Opera Box. They had put benches there so you could sit and admire the view. We went on past, down more stairs and paths, and passed, to my surprise, a food and souvenir kiosk, complete with employee and cold drinks.

Around the corner beyond that was the beginning of the Needle's Eye, staircases built into a crevice that ran up the rock. Rock climbers would consider this the easy way up, even without the stairs! Just wedge and brace your way along. Instead, we took another spiral staircase. Then it stopped, and I found myself staring up a long, narrow flight of stairs into rock and darkness. We waited for another couple to come down the stairs from above, listening to Brian gleefully whisper about the long staircase and hobbitses. Curse those hobbitses. If it weren't for them I would have been able to descend this flight instead of start an ascending reenactment. I think I took the stairs too fast, for by the time I got to the top, I had begun wheezing and gasping for breath. Before that I had been fine. (before that, it had all been downhill!) My legs were still fine, though, so I pushed on back the way we had come at a slower pace. (This had all been a circular route, we came out of the Eye near the Subway entrance.) Back past the Rock Pile, across the bridge, around and up . . . and up . . . and my legs began wheezing, too. Brian was ahead of me, taunting me with the promise of sorbet at the top of the stairs. Somehow I made it, but that was apparently the last of my energy. I wandered in a numb, fried daze the rest of the day. Sorbet ended up being ice cream, and 1 scoop was measured as 1 very tall cardboard cup. I could barely finish a quarter of it. I took two Dramamine in anticipation of the scary ride back down, and discovered that while 1 pill worked without affecting me, 2 contributed to my slumpish fog. I know we drove towards Charlotte, behind several Sunday driver motorcyclists, and that I actually spotted our turnoff sign at one point, and that Eminem was playing on the radio (and has been stuck in my head ever since, argh!), but other details are a blur. We waited in a long security line at the airport, and I struggled to get my hiking boots off, and back on. (really, they ought to just run everybody through that conveyor belt.) Then we wandered about looking for food, and also found rocking chairs.

Once on the plane, I found I just couldn't stomach the thought of eating, and held a sub in my lap the whole way home. (at one point, Brian leans over and asks me how my pet sandwich is doing.) I dozed and no longer cared, just wanting my quiet bedroom and a shower.

We began descending, and I stared out the window at all the sparkly yellow lights in the darkness below us, awed by my first nighttime flight. Then I became aware of a bright spotlight shining in from the other side of the plane. I continued staring at the tiny lights, thinking that was an awfully high spotlight, and we couldn't be that low yet, could we? So I turned and looked. It was the moon, almost full, gliding gracefully by. Oooh.

On the shuttle back to the main terminal Brian produces Biltmore chocolate from the depths of his carry-on and hands me a small piece of heaven. Other women on the shuttle stare at me in envy as I sleepily nibble on my chocolate coated rice krispy treat, chocolate so creamy I thought it was peanut butter.

We find the neglected yellow mustang and Brian drops me off at our house (at a more sedate speed), and we give my mother a random, disjointed summary of the weekend before he heads home. I finally unwrap my pet sandwich, zap it in the microwave, and managed to eat half. I gave my parents souvenirs (a thimble and a coffee mug - boring, but hey! that's them) and tried to disentangle myself from the dog, who, once Brian had left, ceased barking and instead attempted to permanently attach himself to my leg. He had his front paws wrapped around my leg and was alternately licking and bopping me with his head. Not sure if he was happy to see me again or not. I finally got upstairs and stayed up long enough to download over 200 photos. Then I crashed. And woke up the next morning grateful that I had taken an extra day off.

An unexpected side effect of traveling without family is that, when you get back, they all want to know every detail of your trip. Even relatives I rarely talk to anymore insist on seeing all the pictures! (If you were really that interested you would have gone with me when I asked!) As an appeasement, I'm posting a play by play.

Saturday

Tour #1
Or, OMG, poniezz!!!11!!

Saturday we were up bright and early and out the door, reluctantly missing breakfast being served in the two dining rooms. Once again we meandered down miles of estate roads, this time to a new destination - the stables. Yup. I was going to ride a horse across estate grounds.

I think I have been on a horse once. possibly as a five year old at a church fair, sitting on a pony that was being led around in circles. I have no actual memory of this event, but I've seen pictures. I used to talk to horses and pet them when I was waiting for my mom back when I took ballet in junior high. (the dance studio was in a converted barn, with one section still functional, for rescued horses.) So, first time riding for me.

We checked in, got weighed (apparently a requirement, fortunately she didn't announce the number out loud) and went out back to where the horses were idly standing. The people who had signed up for the ride were split up into two groups of four, each with a guide. We were in the first group, and I was given the first horse - Apache, a white quarter horse, covered with tiny black specks, rather like Snoopy's coat. Rather embarrassing to have to try to mount a horse without the benefit of watching anybody else do it first, but I did just fine, under their instruction and having a mounting stand to start from. It was like sitting on a canoe in the water! I briefly worried about whether I should have taken motion sickness pills. Brian ended up on a brown quarter horse named Cowboy, which naturally prompted one or two jokes. The guide adjusted our stirrups and taught us how to use the controls. Erm. Taught us how to hold the reins and use them to control the horse. The guides were great working with beginners. We had total control of the horse, and after a few minutes I was completely comfortable in knowing that Apache was listening to me and willing to do what I wanted.

And then . . . we were off! Over gently rolling hills at a sedate pace, the horses having done it so often that they often started or stopped before we could tell them to. The guide was very personable, and spent half her time twisting backwards, talking to us. Hers was a draft horse named Pudge, who was lovingly teased the entire trip about his personality and antics.

That particular day there was a horse event of some sort taking place, so we would pass groups of women on their own horses, wearing special riding gear and helmets. Our horses were very interested in them (particularly Cowboy), as there were very few female horses on the grounds. The trip was great, with no problems, except the occasional halt to allow a horse to do its business, which appeared to be contagious among the other horses. We were able to stop at one point and take pictures of the chateau, high up on a hill. Definitely a fun tour, and one I would readily sign up for again. (as in, where's the local VA tours?)

Tour #2
Or, What's this button do? and this one? How about this one?

Once we had disentangled ourselves from the saddle and remembered how to walk again, we went to have lunch at the restaurant in the creamery, and then head out for tour number two - behind the scenes!
We soon discovered that we were supposed to have actual tickets for each of these tours, and had to go track them down before we could follow. This tour took us around all the not-elegant parts of the building. Not pretty, but impressive in their bulk and function in trying to run a house of that size. We saw boilers bigger than the living room, a marble and gold trimmed electrical switch board that looked like something out of a mad scientist movie, the impressive butler's pantry, a room where they made ice using ammonia, a cabinet that stood 10 feet high and held nothing but the leaves of the big dining table in the gallery, the servant's elevator, which ran 6 stories up, the kitchen courtyard, and so forth.

Brian pounded the guide with questions about functionality, materials, statistics, and the inner workings of all and sundry. She readily answered every one, or for a few, admitted that they had never found information regarding the query. We learned about water pressure, the various ways the house had been heated over the years, servant routines, seemingly random holes in the floor, the cost of installing a six floor elevator that functions perfectly over 100 years later, electrical production, and stuff I can no longer remember because my brain couldn't hold it all. (We also learned that Anthony Hopkins couldn't get into the building without a pass when they were filming Hannibal there.) I ended that tour with a sense of awe about how much it took to run one house, and the examples of changing technology over time. (one of the amusing parts of the tour was seeing the modern wires and CAT5 cable - or possibly T1 - strung everywhere.)

Tour #3
or, I can't see ANYONE's house from up here!

The rooftop tour. Awesome. This was my first chance to take pictures of the house, since photography wasn't allowed inside, but was allowed and encouraged outside. The tour included unfinished parts of the house, where we learned about the time consuming efforts of period restoration, and some the innovative designs that were incorporated in the building. Seeing the rooms unfinished was just as great to me as seeing them pristine. So big and bright on the upper floors! We got to go out on various balconies and rooftops, where I snapped madly with my camera, taking closeups of the many, many architectural details on the building, or shots of the horizon, where you saw nothing but trees, soft rolling hills (I've been using that phrase a lot, but really, it's what they were!) and, well, more trees and a tourist or two. The guide pointed to a mountain peak way, way off in the foggy distance and said that Vanderbilt owned land all the way to there. It was hard to comprehend having that much space; so very much space that it dwarfed the huge building that one easily got lost in.

By the time the third tour finished, it was late in the afternoon. We grabbed more ice cream, and wandered around the shops in the stableyard, trying to see what we could learn about its original workings. I wandered around a gift shop while Brian sampled wines, weaving my way among cheerful Red Hat Society ladies - most of which looked too young to belong. I bought a book of old Vanderbilt photos and a miniature rug that would fit perfectly in my archaeologist's study. Then we headed to the far side of the building to admire the arbor and the bowling green, and continued to wander down towards the gardens. By this time, we were pretty worn out, and there were still more stairs. I took some garden photos, but never made it as far as the beautiful brick greenhouse. I shouldn't have looked behind me at all the stairs I needed to climb back up!

An unexpected side effect of traveling without family is that, when you get back, they all want to know every detail of your trip. Even relatives I rarely talk to anymore insist on seeing all the pictures! (If you were really that interested you would have gone with me when I asked!) As an appeasement, I'm posting a play by play.

Friday, part 2

I nearly forgot about the wine and chocolate tour! We went on Friday evening. I was expecting to see how wine was made, how chocolate was made, or at a least a tour of the wine facilities, etc . . .

What we got was a short trip into the bowels of the old creamery, a big stone room with gothic decorations and a lot of chairs. We were seated and given sample glasses of two different Biltmore produced wines, and a brief talk on how to admire the wine with all the senses, not just taste buds. For each wine we were given a small handful of chocolate drops, and told to sample each wine again, with the chocolate in our mouths, and sense how the chocolate changed the effect of the wine in your mouth. It was a bit disappointing, really, and did nothing but encourage my opinion of wine as a pretentious art form. It's meant to stimulate thought and conversation; it's not actually functional on its own, and, in fact, should not be drunk by itself.

An unexpected side effect of traveling without family is that, when you get back, they all want to know every detail of your trip. Even relatives I rarely talk to anymore insist on seeing all the pictures! (If you were really that interested you would have gone with me when I asked!) As an appeasement, I'm posting a play by play.

Friday

Someone (not me) was running behind, and showed up after 8 am, requiring a mad rush to the airport. Apologies to anyone on Dulles access road or the Parkway who got cut off by a yellow mustang. I was not driving. I, in fact, had my eyes shut the whole 10 minute ride.

Dashed from valet parking to United check in, envying children who could wear those wheely shoes. Fortunately no one was in line. The airport, in fact, looked deserted. Checked in and checked luggage with about 2 minutes to spare.

On the plane. Shocked by its lack of size. Felt like walking into a cave. (It was better once seated.) Wished I could understand what the pilot and stewardess were saying. Compared the takeoff to Brian's driving (very similar). Made a fool of myself by leaning over to the window and exclaiming "It looks just like Google maps!" (my last flight was, unfortunately, long before Google or online satellite maps were around.) We tried to guess what roads/buildings we were looking at before we got too high up to see. Entertained myself with Sudoku puzzles and the sky mall catalogs. Up in the air for less than an hour, apparently, and then we were in Charlotte. The stewardess excitedly announces that we had a 'perfect landing.' Wander off to grab our luggage, and then to get a rental car. Oddly enough . . . it's a mustang that's been reserved! Terry behind the counter proceeds to inform us that since I'm an insignificant other, I can't drive the car without paying them more money. (ok, so different wording, but still!) Go outside, admire bizarre floating woman holding a crown, and hop on the shuttle. Find bright red mustang. Argue about driving. Win shotgun. Sit down and realize I can't see over the bare, square, flat dashboard.

We stop in a town named Shelby for lunch, at a Cleveland Mall. (boy, do I feel lost.) Bought the proper cable for the MP3 player hookup, and set off again, this time with me at the wheel. Yes. I'm a bad girl. MP3 player has lots of European techno. After a while I comment on this and the fact that I can't sing along. Apparently the music choice was intentional. *grumble* The ride is fairly easy, once I get my seat in the right position (it was awkward, the headrest was in the way most of the time). I also realize that this car has more power than mine and I can pass people. Or not. It's a fair, calm drive, beautiful weather, not too many hills or curves or big trucks, except at one point where three of them decided to pass me.
Eventually we leave the interstate, I get a quick refresher course in left vs right, and then somehow manage to get to the inn.

The inn is located in a shady lot in a quiet section of town. Beautiful stonework with a lovely front porch and round windows in the attic. I drooled a bit. Inside was wonderfully decorated with antiques and bright colors. A wonderful staircase that split in four different directions. And the ceilings! A good 12 feet high. Such open space! The house felt bigger on the inside than outside. The guest room was full of antique quilts. Strangely, there were no light switches.

After turning off all the lamps, we headed back out and went up to Biltmore. Crept through a construction zone that later turned out to be Biltmore Village. (bah.) Drove through the entrance gate. Kept driving. and driving. and driving. Pretty fields, elegant woods, a babbling brook or two. Oh, a vistor's center? Show our tickets. Drive some more. You're sure there's a really big house here, right? I mean, c'mon . . . really big house must be visible from far away, right?

And then we come to . . . a parking lot. Ok. Park. Follow a footpath. Glance up, and wow, there's a chateau! It DOES exist!

We took the self guided tour, sans earphones. I was surprised at how dark it was in the downstairs rooms, although it was well past 3 pm by that time. We wandered in and out among people standing still, staring dumbly ahead, earphones on their ears. I gaped at chairs and windows and floors and fireplaces and walls. I was also amazed at the friendly, intelligent attendants in each room, able to answer almost any question Brian could put to them, and providing even more information, or joking with us. The tour flow was well planned; the house seemed to go on forever, right up to the observatory, which was the only place where we had to turn back and start heading back down . . . through a completely different section of the house. At one point we were in the basement (or somewhere near it) where I completely didn't see the bowling alley. Sure, I looked that direction, but my mind said: "no way is there a bowling alley there." We rounded a corner and came across a group of girls, softly singing "Spanish Ladies." I started laughing, and Brian promptly started singing the next lines. (strangely, the girls seemed to think the song came from the Master and Commander movie.) We wandered down towards the pool room, Brian still singing merrily, with their laughter (and mine) echoing after us.
hmm, other highlights from the first tour? I had read and drooled over the pictures in the Biltmore book I owned, so everything looked familiar to me. I accidentally pulled a Marylin Monroe in front of an oversized fan (darn those skirts!) I got to see an actual, functioning gargoyle (granted, it was at the end of a drain pipe.) I wished I had brought a pedometer to see how much ground we covered going up and down and around the building. We paused to get ice cream and peer into the stable cafe, before heading out to dinner.

Dinner was at a german restaurant, where I finally got to meet the waiter Brian had been going on about for months, to the point of becoming a running joke. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, and was completely himself, cynical and (flamboyantly) expressive. Poor guy had been having a rough time the past month. I enjoyed talking with him. Pity we didn't get time to meet up with him again.

To be continued . . .

I'm going to Asheville, NC for a few days. This is my first vacation in five years. My first vacation without a relative along. My first time on a plane in over 8 years. The first time I ever got to PICK where I wanted to go. (I know. I am SO far behind everyone else.)

Now that I realize that yes, this is actually happening, I'm excited. The only proper way to express my excitement is in squealy girl L33t speak, and I shall spare you that.

time to stop goofing off and go!

Random doll I will someday get around to making a page for . . .

I bought this little boy a few years ago from a lady's web site. He'd been there a while, and I felt rather sorry for him, so he came home with me. He still moped a bit, even after I gave him a haircut. Possibly the scar across his face made him self conscious? He was rather flamboyantly dressed in bright gypsy fabrics and a sash, and I could tell it just wasn't him. A few weeks ago I came across this lovely striped cotton and immediately thought of him. Without any remorse, I ripped off his costume and redressed him. Do you know how hard it is to find pictures of desert clothing? I finally just improvised, and named him after the little boy at the beginning of the movie the Fifth Element. (I probably should have watched that scene BEFORE making the outfit, but oh well.) I see from my new camera that it's crooked and the iron did not do any good, so I may have to redo. Fortunately you can't see the gash across his eye and nose in this shot!

Also check out my Knight - I finally got his surcoat made!

Captain George Robinson House

I like authentic reproductions!

The process of making a mini doll can be a long one. Often there's long periods of just waiting for stuff to dry. My trim arrived, so I was able to go on to the shaping part of the skirt.

Thought you might like to see the process. Involves lots of pins and cheap hairspray.

Yes, go ahead and make jokes about voodoo, dolls, and pins. That's why I posted this particular photo.

You're welcome.

No, I didn't forget. Yes, I know it's been a while. I just didn't feel like I had the right fabric. I found an interesting piece at G Street fabrics yesterday, and settled down to try and finish this doll before Halloween.

No, it's not done. I still have to do the sleeves and add some details. (trim and accessories. Need to find some chenille trim.) I will admit I'm slightly stuck on the sleeves and shoulders, but I can always give her a cloak if I don't figure it out. Every time I look at the original dress I notice new things. Today I noticed it looks as though she's wearing a robe. That would be FOUR layers of fabric. I don't know that I can get away with that. I can barely get away with three. And I have some shaping to do so the fabric will lay properly.

The eyes. I need to paint the eyes.

On Saturday, in the wee sma's of the morning, a butterfly landed on my nose. I brushed my hand at it, but it wouldn't go away. I tried batting at it again, but it was determined to hold its position. I sat up, annoyed, determined to do battle.

Finally, beating frantically at my nose and lower face, I managed to wake myself up from a really weird dream. Obviously, there was no butterfly in my room in the middle of the night. There, was, however one of those breathe right nasal strips across my nose. (they work beautifully when they're not pretending to be butterflies!) I pulled it off and went back to sleep. When I got up the next morning and looked in the mirror, there, along one side of my nose, was a nice heavy red scratch.

Beautiful. I battered my face battling a bogus butterfly!

Erin and Andrew arrived later on to take me to Calvert for the weekend. It was fun, as usual. We visited Flag Ponds park again and collected shark teeth. We also went to historic St Mary's City and Sotterley Plantation.

There were monarch butterflies everywhere.

Case Closed!

The Mystery of the Missing Deerstalker is now solved.

I found it in an envelope in a plastic container under my bed, with a whole bunch of old miniature magazines and catalogs. It's, um, squished flat, but totally recognizable. No charges will be made.

Project bouncing again. (It keeps my increasingly insane mind occupied.)

I bounced back to my big dollhouse. I admit to being disgusted with it and wishing I could just get rid of it. I can't. It's special. It's mine. It's practically one of a kind.

I almost wish it WERE one of a kind, but there's another one out there. Mom has been going through my great-grandparent's old photos and slides, and brought me one of Gran next to a dollhouse. "Here hon, do you want this photo of Gran with your dollhouse?" I looked at it. "That's not my dollhouse." Same shape, same spacing of doors and windows. But the door is different, the siding is a different shade, and the window mullions are spaced a different way. I have a vague memory of a second dollhouse being in their basement when I went to visit, and I remember poking about in it, comparing the differences between mine and that one. It's been a LONG time though. I want to know where the second one is!

Mine is 21 years old. It has endured 10 years of active playtime by two siblings, dusty basement storage, carting up and down stairs, and then me being creative in it and then changing my mind. Repeatedly. As I stared in it forlornly the other night, it suddenly hit my why I wasn't able to continue working on it.

The walls. 3/8ths inch plywood. It has splintered and cracked along the edge of the opening outer wall (fell off years ago and floated around until I found enough screws to reattach it). There are cracks and splinters from where I forcefully removed the moulding. The wallpaper was poorly applied. The grain in the wood was very heavy, and acrylic paint couldn't hide it. The wall colors I had chosen were dark and rather ugly. (what was I thinking?) The ceilings weren't as bad, but had a definite unfinished look.

I realized I would have to do two definite things.

1. Strip off the old wallpaper.
2. Find a way to fill in the cracks and grain and basically smooth out and/or prime the walls.

I whined to my miniatures list about my inability to remove the wallpaper. It was attached with watered down Elmer's glue, for heaven's sake! I should be able to sneeze and have it come off! Fortunately, lots of replies and suggestions shot back to me, so #1. is now finished. (WARM water, not cold, and a sponge brush, not a regular kitchen sponge. didn't feel like trying vinegar.)

Now I have to do #2. The suggestions weren't QUITE as helpful. Many people suggested matte board, but I feel it will be too thick. (I'm considering bristol board, but I don't know if it will hold paint without wrinkling up. Must test.) A few suggested spackling, which I had somewhere (can't find it at the moment) and may work. I know it'll be difficult to apply evenly, but it will hide a multitude of sins. (I just have to think of it as lathe and plaster.) I thought about using a primer like Kilz, but I really don't know how well it will hide the grain. I don't know if there's anything thicker that's still paint. I really don't want to use something smelly. Wallpaper would solve my grain problems, but I have specific plans, and don't want patterned paper in all the rooms.

The kitchen is complete, save for minor details. I have everything I need for the living room. I know how I want the nursery to look. I know what color I want the dining room to be. I know what details I want in the bathroom. (romanesque look, detailed tile floors, a large statue of a roman woman carrying a jug, etc. . .) I have a vague idea about details for the little girl's room. I decided to leave the paper up in the master bedroom, although it's a bit Victorian. I plan to add to it to deaccent the busy pattern. I also need to make a custom sized bed so it fits properly in the room. (I think it will end up wider than it is long, but so long as the illusion is correct, it doesn't matter.) No idea what to do in the halls or the back parlor. (well, lots of ideas for back parlor, I just need to pick one!)

It's a great mental exercise, I suppose. I want historically accurate, or as close as I can get to it. Turn of the century! Edwardian! Art Nouveau! Craftsman! (I know, I probably shouldn't combine them.) Lots of new things coming in, most important being electricity and indoor bathrooms. I pulled the idea for the nursery straight from a book, and the kitchen sort of did itself. I made the living room wallpaper from a pattern I found on a web site specializing in period prints. I copied the sofa from one I found on eBay. I feel like a scavenger at times, but it's fun. Next on my list is a phonograph player, also found on eBay. Simple design, the audio horn is hidden under the turntable. I'm still looking for a chandelier for the dining room. It has to be electric, but not TOO fancy. I found one design I liked but it was black. I think brass would work better.

Yeah, you see? I want to go on to making the fun little stuff, but the crappy walls are holding me back.

Stupid walls.

They're almost fixed.

I am SUCH a geek.

I've been doing a little miniaturing, nothing fancy, just adding the Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson dolls I made years ago to my web page.

Today I decided to move my archeologist's study from one shelf to another, where it could be better seen. Along the way I had the idea of building a custom shelf to display all the miniature books, 'antiques' and unusual items that I had collected. This of course, takes a little planning. What do I need to store? How much room will it need? A lot of the stuff I hadn't seen in a while. I dumped all the books out of the shelf and started sorting through them, and noticed I had books labeled 'Sherlock Holmes' along the spine. I assumed they were the Arthur Conan Doyle stories.

This is why I am a geek. They turned out not to be Doyle's stories. They were the monographs Sherlock Holmes had written IN the stories. 'On Dating Documents.' 'On Secret Writings'. 'On Tobacco Ash'. 'On Tattoos'. 'On The Shape of Ears'.

I laughed. And you know they're going right back up on the shelf.

Yeah, so you think I have nothing better to do. I know I have plenty of other projects without starting something new, but I just can't help it sometimes. And this one hasn't been easy.

Mom and I experimented last night with the tea dye. Four bags to a bowl full of water, heated for five minutes in the microwave, then soaked til I got bored. Immediately we discovered something interesting with two of the fabrics. The pattern on them had been printed with some sort of ink. The fabric was changing color, but the ink wasn't! I stood there with my stirring spoon, poking at the fabric and chanting, "Dye! Dye! Dye!" It didn't help. While it had an interesting effect on the striped fabric, the beautiful lacy print didn't really do all that much. We couldn't believe it. Next time, a different fabric, and perhaps more tea.

I had bought about 6 different fabrics on Friday, trying to decide which to use for the skirt. Today I chose the three in the picture. (None of these are the weird fabrics from the tea dye experiment.) I rather wish I could have gotten the garments grungier looking with the tea, but I'm not done yet! I may try spraying a solution on with a water bottle, and experiment with ripping the fabric or adding patches.

I also sculpted her hands and feet and face and shoulderplate. Then I ran out of clay. I had to mix the color to get the effect I wanted, and didn't make enough. I DID, however, make enough for the parts that would show, so it really doesn't matter what goes underneath. The hair is embroidery floss (obviously not in its final shape yet). I was hoping to imitate dreadlocks, although later it occured to me that cornrows or even a kerchief or turban would do just as well. I rather like the idea of a turbanish type hat. I will experiment and see!

While Tia Dalma inspired me to create the doll, I still have a strong impression in my mind of Queen Mousette in Blues Brothers 2000. I know I have stills of her costume somewhere, but I remember it as being very shiny. I think I prefer the earthy bajou look. Again, I still have to experiment. But first, I need a body to dress.

The clay kept getting too warm, and too soft. I had a hard time preventing everything from shifting the wrong way, and I can never see my mistakes til I take a picture, at which point, it's too late! I tell myself that real faces are rarely perfectly symmetrical, anyway. Just please remind me not to forget to paint her eyes!

I forgot the penny again. For scale, a penny is the size of her head. I just measured.

Item Four of Very-Hard-To- Find-In-One-Inch-Scale items: swords.



Attempt at a Katana. Roughly four inches long, so it's just a little bit too long for true one inch scale. (that'll teach me to eyeball things.) The silver and gold clay by Premo has a really great effect to it, doesn't it?

However, I'm having a problem. I'm not sure if it's the clay or the way I'm baking it. While this sword may LOOK halfway decent, it, well, it's a bit . . . floppy. Admire it all you want, but take it in your hand and it will allow you to perform daring feats of strength and skill by bending it almost in a circle. On letting go, it will slowly begin returning to its original position. It's basically a miniature rubber sword.

That wasn't exactly the effect I was going for.

Stop laughing.

2 am, and I'm making miniature canopic jars.

Worried. DEFINITELY worried.

I think they turned out well. I really like that 'gold' clay. Took quite a bit of research to figure out just what canopic jars traditionally looked like. It boiled down to a figures of a human, a jackal, a baboon, and a bird (falcon? hawk?). The baboon proved to be the hardest to sculpt. I realize there should be writing on the jar, but I'm not sure how to go about it. Hieroglyphs are a lot more complicated to do when they're that small!



Go ahead and add THESE to my list of things not available in one inch scale!

I'd like to rant a bit at the miniatures world for their lack of certain items. One inch scale cameras are very hard to find (at least realistic looking ones) and video cameras next to impossible. (I've only seen ONE, and it looks very old.) Most of what IS available are modeled after antiques. Come to the 21st century, my fellow miniaturists! I'm willing to give you money for what you can produce!

In the meantime, I have to make do with my own sorry attempts at digital equipment. Two attempts at digital cameras, one at a MiniDV camcorder. Really,they're very SIMPLE designs! I need a bit more practice.




Oh yes, and one last attempt. I wanted lots of pieces from around the world, and thought Sake flasks, or Tokkuri, would be appropriate for Japan. Here's attempt number one. (definitely needs a second try!)

Bag End in One Inch Scale

Fantastic job! It'd be a cool project to try someday. I think I have floor plans somewhere, too . . .

I've gone from having a creative streak to being a creative freak.

This is actually an old project, but I was never happy with the heaviness of cardstock. Today I thought I'd give it a try with the leftover Bristol Board from my interior decorating project. Perfection. They even SOUND like composition notebooks. I'm quite pleased. I also had to print a page of them, so there will be lots! The whole thing was designed in Photoshop. I did try to use images of real composition books, but it just didn't work out the way I liked it.

I also uploaded the original image for other miniaturists to try and print out. I have no idea how well that will work. I may try to create a PDF file once I get to work.