tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32155686938077990042024-03-14T08:40:49.535-07:00wacky tackyA guide to living & designing on the fringeMr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.comBlogger472125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-68448468716719952922017-01-22T12:18:00.000-08:002017-01-23T06:25:27.284-08:00Crazy Crafty: A Living Vintage Valentine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was the kid who pressed too hard when he borrowed your markers. <br />
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It wasn't just your markers, however; when scribbling away with pen in a notebook, one could easily flip ahead at least ten pages and see a clear imprint of what I had previously written. Oddly enough, I had an unreasonable affinity for written exams but would break an undue amount of pencils in the process, suffering from hand cramps hours after. I've even endured severe chastisement (and costly remediation) from the dentist for brushing too hard.<br />
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Pressing too hard has been a recurring theme in my crafting life as well. As evidenced by my <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2015/07/kitsch-en-kounter-lady-liberty-in-lime.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Statue of Liberty Lime Jell-O</span></a>, <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/05/crazy-crafty-mamas-macaroni-magic.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Mama's Macaroni Magic Necklace</span></a>, and <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/11/crazy-crafty-rootin-tootin-cowboy-twine.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Rootin' Tootin' Cowboy Twine Holder</span></a>, I am quite capable of pressing a craft too hard in nearly every way - technically, thematically, and financially. The inspiration of this year's Valentine's Day craft came from a source that often presses too hard in my favorite area of wordplay - the humble pun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk03u87R7hyphenhyphendSDAahaND4kaWAGWxt5pQ6qpzAdq6FeujmFifd6qy6ebrfVXH4IfQ0Bx6Lv1gSWWLozal5TCF7WIAVrRV4-WH3GZexTQqmb8qeBvSAkDcxKFuXGwerSSCXKg3y11B1BmU/s1600/IMG_4835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk03u87R7hyphenhyphendSDAahaND4kaWAGWxt5pQ6qpzAdq6FeujmFifd6qy6ebrfVXH4IfQ0Bx6Lv1gSWWLozal5TCF7WIAVrRV4-WH3GZexTQqmb8qeBvSAkDcxKFuXGwerSSCXKg3y11B1BmU/s200/IMG_4835.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoGoTN_SyQP7Kw0xGRFRYNEmtiglQPGEzyfeh8mX4S8Ua0W0nv4tJkZED0dyLzTAnerRKD_3o5P_2JYgDk2xFS6W2rSusSGoRoC3Wbj9gJJ_X4yHVVcHZ5m0vQh_cOpuI5vW_KiMdd4g/s1600/IMG_4837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoGoTN_SyQP7Kw0xGRFRYNEmtiglQPGEzyfeh8mX4S8Ua0W0nv4tJkZED0dyLzTAnerRKD_3o5P_2JYgDk2xFS6W2rSusSGoRoC3Wbj9gJJ_X4yHVVcHZ5m0vQh_cOpuI5vW_KiMdd4g/s320/IMG_4837.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Vintage valentine cards are universally adored for their charming </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">illustrations but the highlight for me is always the written sentiments.</span></div>
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Looking to transcend the two-dimensionality of the printed card, I envisioned a living Valentine that combined the old-timey whimsy of the illustrations with the hokiness of the punny inscription. Gathering my supplies - and my wits - I struggled to find an original concept.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-3wRpxtZSkt4GANxvSw-6Dfb-pyOb6J3vyMt0McnoIblMV1fibylFLiq7G1JHIq7tDnKg3v65lem9p7traWvkwcnZKPKnJ0cNlHkLbe2W0-2nX4yHS3MHMuAAvfjq5D413ThJNfAKTs/s1600/IMG_4836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-3wRpxtZSkt4GANxvSw-6Dfb-pyOb6J3vyMt0McnoIblMV1fibylFLiq7G1JHIq7tDnKg3v65lem9p7traWvkwcnZKPKnJ0cNlHkLbe2W0-2nX4yHS3MHMuAAvfjq5D413ThJNfAKTs/s640/IMG_4836.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Supplies included heart-shaped safety pins, washi tape, googly eyes, pipe cleaner, and the omnipresent rick rack.</td></tr>
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I finally came up with an idea that reflected my penchant for dad jokes, poorly-executed crafts, and killing weak plant life. A discount cactus became the perfect foil for my Valentine's Day dream.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZTzlDA2nKQzj1HFtHFixuVk7C2TepLm4vVwJsNC51gQJMUWDP6ts9kmxF6kGwxCCnQqSIfMYlPz-QLd0bt6DheJnJ5vCof3BPxmBcxL7qmBu7jQbM5j0dLlKLVhRSeSTfwlgYo1nuhM/s1600/pin3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZTzlDA2nKQzj1HFtHFixuVk7C2TepLm4vVwJsNC51gQJMUWDP6ts9kmxF6kGwxCCnQqSIfMYlPz-QLd0bt6DheJnJ5vCof3BPxmBcxL7qmBu7jQbM5j0dLlKLVhRSeSTfwlgYo1nuhM/s640/pin3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You're Lookin' <i>SHARP</i>, Valentine!<br />
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<i>SEW</i> I won't stop <i>NEEDLING</i> you<br />
until you put the "<i>US</i>" in <i>CACTUS</i>!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PimQq8NuZt8v98AlniU8-J4xQceMuBgwKxSvD9UqVrXr1qt1Vd2w8lKEfeidoRk09V-Zv8HxLDuAmmLM3vBcF_L-JN7yxiqVtAfuGowC0eHy0Ho4Fr0bBAlIcYYEO1YEhtIHsIGmxdo/s1600/pins4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PimQq8NuZt8v98AlniU8-J4xQceMuBgwKxSvD9UqVrXr1qt1Vd2w8lKEfeidoRk09V-Zv8HxLDuAmmLM3vBcF_L-JN7yxiqVtAfuGowC0eHy0Ho4Fr0bBAlIcYYEO1YEhtIHsIGmxdo/s640/pins4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three puns in one sentence, that's a <i><b>wacky tacky</b></i> world record!<br />
It wasn't my first instinct to use "cactus," but "succulent" lent itself to some rather unsavory word play.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiSwb_O1pgEyBD5EDYAnSoOtZHmGvwXg9FrRk8MfBy6Ig_3BnfelQUz8ORGUF-7zqA987LgX458Tfc1zOqeOjt1TzTvD31lY1sxhw3a3cuhrcsqmOBMxNFlU06dgkAJS9tKF-kFhSwNU/s1600/pins1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiSwb_O1pgEyBD5EDYAnSoOtZHmGvwXg9FrRk8MfBy6Ig_3BnfelQUz8ORGUF-7zqA987LgX458Tfc1zOqeOjt1TzTvD31lY1sxhw3a3cuhrcsqmOBMxNFlU06dgkAJS9tKF-kFhSwNU/s400/pins1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like more CUSHION for the PUSHIN'...<br />
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I could've sworn that I had at least 1,700 of those tomato pin cushions.<br />
When I could find nary a one, I was forced to make my own <br />
using polka dot remnants and some baker's twine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwpOMfNiUaz_RgT18QNsivUQskwirm80rxo_B7o163mZNbNpd0W4H-cvCPbiQxrPiivWK0tbE833XfIss9xdozDnJ5kMgvcA7hOmDho_oQsIl0yqUbpRrNQ9anXIjwRVt3uS90Xba9ce4/s1600/pins5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwpOMfNiUaz_RgT18QNsivUQskwirm80rxo_B7o163mZNbNpd0W4H-cvCPbiQxrPiivWK0tbE833XfIss9xdozDnJ5kMgvcA7hOmDho_oQsIl0yqUbpRrNQ9anXIjwRVt3uS90Xba9ce4/s640/pins5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll <i>STRING ALONG</i> with you!<br />
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Okay, baker's twine may have become something of a crafting cliche but on a <br />
vintage wooden spool, it looks way better than plain, old, mercerized cotton.</td></tr>
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"I'll String Along With You" - Doris Day in <i>My Dream is Yours</i> (1949)<br />
It was either this or "My <i>PUNNY</i> Valentine."</div>
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HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!<br />
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-13054816269600518272016-12-25T15:23:00.002-08:002016-12-25T15:23:29.813-08:00All I Want for Christmas is a Sleep-Eating Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have found myself the last two nights awoken by the distinct sensation of something being lodged in my throat. The first night, in a mild panic, it occurred to me that it was probably one in <a href="http://mentalfloss.com/article/50951/how-many-spiders-do-you-really-swallow-your-sleep">my yearly allotment of sleep-consumed spiders</a> struggling for survival (after a few determined swallows, he was lost to the history of digestion). Leave it to me to get fat by sleep-eating spiders.<br />
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On the second night, I was struck by the improbability of eating two of my own spiders on two consecutive nights, realizing quickly that the second one was <i>YOUR</i> spider - the one right by your bed, the one you went to massacre with a slipper, convincing yourself that you really smashed it but-good only to examine the bottom of said slipper to see no visible traces of guts or disembodied legs anywhere, leaving you sleepless for wondering if it now lurked among the bedclothes. <br />
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Yes, I just slept-ate your spider and that is why you'll see no "traditional present" from me under the tree this year. In a world caught in the proverbial web of holiday consumerism, I offer you an alternative gift - the gift that keeps on giving, in fact. Better than buying you a star or planting a tree in your name, I saved your life, your sanity, and your ability to sleep in peace. <br />
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I ate your spider. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8Q17TVaHYpnNuAy1jh0LmngnrduCtbuzbTdhcx9sGh1nGhSMTbNqWTHv-a2rs31UtefijFVxfm05K_Hy61gnxoJfx0tJ8O5WTbKNR3Zy1T0KZiP6h71kPI8KUqxIe5XS-nbw3H1dxiM/s1600/1aeca836d809cb5697f190fb5fa53cf0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8Q17TVaHYpnNuAy1jh0LmngnrduCtbuzbTdhcx9sGh1nGhSMTbNqWTHv-a2rs31UtefijFVxfm05K_Hy61gnxoJfx0tJ8O5WTbKNR3Zy1T0KZiP6h71kPI8KUqxIe5XS-nbw3H1dxiM/s400/1aeca836d809cb5697f190fb5fa53cf0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Merry Christmas.<br />
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"The Web of Love" - Joi Lansing</div>
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Cheers!<br />
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Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-34164103664896914702016-12-16T10:35:00.000-08:002016-12-21T09:08:42.381-08:00Crazy Crafty: Mrs. Santa's Got A Brand New Hat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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At this point, failure should be no surprise to me. Nevertheless, I am often shocked by my own missteps, feeling particularly disappointed when said failure results from a supposed area of personal expertise (e.g.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/04/crazy-crafty-return-of-mad-hatter.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">crazy homemade hats</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">)</span>. Disappointment abounds in Mr. Tiny's Workshop...</div>
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Intent on showing off my <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2016/11/crazy-crafty-wacky-tacky-tree-toppers.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">wacky tacky Tree Toppers</span></a> to the family, I paraded them through the living room before the hot glue was even dry. So busy humming "Pomp and Circumstance," I completely misjudged the time it would take to finish the song before explaining my creations. I had barely uttered the last "duh-dum" when Mary pounced. Practically wrenching it from my hands, she perched the snow angel atop her head and covetously inquired if it was to be her Christmas hat.</div>
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Why hadn't I thought of that?!! </div>
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Really, why?!! I mean, I have long held the reputation for turning just about <u>anything</u> into a hat - candy containers, placemats, fruit baskets, paper plates, panty hose and whiffle balls, etc. If I hadn't thought of transforming my dollar-store delights into headpieces then I was fairly certain that my imagination was broken. I had failed the holiday. I had failed myself. The only way to rectify the situation was to make some holiday headware that would sustain Mary throughout a season's worth of parties. This year, instead of a Christmas dress, Mary would get a Christmas <i>head</i>-dress - with one caveat; I told her that if I made the hat, she had to wear it to at least one holiday party.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It all began in very much the same way as the tree toppers; the usual suspects included glitter tulle, doll head/hands, graduated bells, pipe cleaner, and pompoms. The red, white, and black tinsel trimmings came from a deconstructed penguin decoration found at the 99 Cents Store.</td></tr>
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As I had used the baby doll head for the snow angel, all I had were the face and hands of a sweet, bespectacled old lady (but enough about me). Using them, I carefully began transforming the flotsam and jetsam of the craft stash into the merriest of Christmas widows, Mrs. Santa.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I gave Mrs. Santa a full makeover (including a touch up of her eyes, lips, and hair). <br />
She wears a mobcap and proffers a miniature Christmas tree from the cake supply store.<br />
The two-tired skirt works as a veil; the white tinsel trim is wired so the veil can be shaped as needed.</td></tr>
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As the hat grew in size and scope, it occurred to me that maybe this might be a bet that even I didn't have the nerve to enforce. But Mary called my bluff. Not only did she wear the Mrs. Santa hat to a party - she kind of rocked it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In a bizarre, crazy Christmas way it works, right?<br />
And when it is not in commission as a hat, it can<br />
be employed as a super-festive toilet paper cozy! </td></tr>
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Mary also upped the ante of the bet; at the very last minute (as we were on our way out the door), she dared me to wear a crazy party hat. With negative time on my hands and no hat, I grabbed a tinsel tree decoration from the side table, quickly wiring on some ornaments and a bit of elastic to make an "aluminum" christmas tree hat.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchyphenhyphenhgeDvwqmwUFsTKNb-2YkYAlLJ7MyA1eK-IVQZ2P2qs7UlS2dFWOZtW1NYdB1mb0JOWTwRrWEI_sx7tgLT07umbu-A3rd-cOqnlT3D0h3D5QxwpAMca6b3vhDjqpXwwZa4I3W0I67s/s1600/hats+for+two.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchyphenhyphenhgeDvwqmwUFsTKNb-2YkYAlLJ7MyA1eK-IVQZ2P2qs7UlS2dFWOZtW1NYdB1mb0JOWTwRrWEI_sx7tgLT07umbu-A3rd-cOqnlT3D0h3D5QxwpAMca6b3vhDjqpXwwZa4I3W0I67s/s640/hats+for+two.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leave it to these two weirdos to show up at a fancy, grown-up <br />
holiday party wearing homemade garbage on their heads.</td></tr>
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The strange part is that the hats were actually a hit! As it turns out, having a Christmas tree sitting on your head is quite the ice-breaker; all evening long conversations began by acknowledging the celephant in the room...and the hat on his head.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5TLjOrRNynefPbiJY6pRURSNOk45JvmE_hgLLERk-vL7jOUSYl-idXCyb2j0JM8AB-hXdfBJNsRFr1dOtFLUcnBwYgtwEVt4nbNZNKOJMJVKiBEaApwNqqyE_06Qz5Jtm3SWbCxjmzE/s1600/tiny+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5TLjOrRNynefPbiJY6pRURSNOk45JvmE_hgLLERk-vL7jOUSYl-idXCyb2j0JM8AB-hXdfBJNsRFr1dOtFLUcnBwYgtwEVt4nbNZNKOJMJVKiBEaApwNqqyE_06Qz5Jtm3SWbCxjmzE/s400/tiny+hat.jpg" width="351" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Um...my eyes are down here."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQT7HCwDsWiHlEML3ZL2VlpCBWMEqvDhQzve-EZH5eDQpScKMiiEqg8m4QFi-hqCv4BLZ-sKNYfdczOqR_LxXln7-_X4QlijoNXuD-y-ssU2UrjIC0R4VcjbRJe7aygML-_-GZV8-2zM/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQT7HCwDsWiHlEML3ZL2VlpCBWMEqvDhQzve-EZH5eDQpScKMiiEqg8m4QFi-hqCv4BLZ-sKNYfdczOqR_LxXln7-_X4QlijoNXuD-y-ssU2UrjIC0R4VcjbRJe7aygML-_-GZV8-2zM/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Sage, our host for the evening, approved of the ceiling-scraping millinery.<br />
We're sending a plaster repairman next week. </td></tr>
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To balance the sky-high spectacle on her head, Mary wore all vintage - a black '40s dress in rayon crepe, costume jewelry, and a '40s fur jacket. In spite of the ebullient holiday cheer inherent in Mrs. Santa, the outfit read as a wartime femme fatale in an unlikely and depressing yuletide movie (see: <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0036711/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">Christmas Holiday</span></a></i>). And so we say to you...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYdQH_C3ehyphenhyphenXLnTwnZ6D_8LjWa-dGyqgJT9qO0i4apVhwqqSCPjL95pU1ymTRbBIaUwXpt0VhpmNe3myV2YOdgz3LvXCbFDmeOQe8BBXbjkDVwBqQcdHTXtP0Y-Gw9LKaP8yAKnfr4t0/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYdQH_C3ehyphenhyphenXLnTwnZ6D_8LjWa-dGyqgJT9qO0i4apVhwqqSCPjL95pU1ymTRbBIaUwXpt0VhpmNe3myV2YOdgz3LvXCbFDmeOQe8BBXbjkDVwBqQcdHTXtP0Y-Gw9LKaP8yAKnfr4t0/s400/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Merry Christmas and A Happy <i>Noir</i> Year...'Always!'"</td></tr>
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"Always" - Deanna Durbin in <i>Christmas Holiday</i> (1944)</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-80907797515351200032016-12-11T22:45:00.000-08:002016-12-12T23:23:47.213-08:00Sew What?! Mexicali Folk Couture Strikes Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I like to pretend that my refusal to purchase scads of souvenirs is some kind of transcendence into a realm of heightened spirituality like, "I don't need twelve pairs of toy castanets, I'll carry every beautiful moment of this Spanish vacation in my heart." More likely, it is because I'm cheap and fat, and every penny saved on tchotchkes is a dollar earned toward döner kebabs, fun-flavored Kit Kats, or Croatian pizza. Don't even get me started on Croatian pizza. </div>
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Yes, I'm cheap, chubby, and, lo theses many years later, I'm still tripping on all the untouched pairs of castanets left all over the house. <i>Recuerdos de España</i>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7e_jEFwBXhhbLSWnIpFmx9Tesmb6us7z-NXHYx9NzRXgOVagY7fREj3O1LbNtVE97eKo-ao5wHXJAlCJjq6TLQMtUnBr8HYq-sdRvM_XpqbR8_PjCBe3ysP6GTtnDymLTlzxg4cPLlk/s1600/IMG_9809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7e_jEFwBXhhbLSWnIpFmx9Tesmb6us7z-NXHYx9NzRXgOVagY7fREj3O1LbNtVE97eKo-ao5wHXJAlCJjq6TLQMtUnBr8HYq-sdRvM_XpqbR8_PjCBe3ysP6GTtnDymLTlzxg4cPLlk/s640/IMG_9809.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Apparently, my enlightened attitude isn't shared by my sister because, from one of her work trips to Mexico, she returned with an avalanche of souvenirs. I can just see her, overwhelmed by the splendor of the mercado, eagerly shouting, "I'll take one of everything!"</div>
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Quite conscious of my inability to control the sewing urge when handed a pile of interesting fabric, Mary made sure that her purchases included a few yards of a striped Mexican textile in three colorways. This fabric presented a particular challenge because each length was only eighteen inches wide. Knowing that some creative piecing would be in order, I started draping the fabric on the dress form. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtsoL6fL3VuqEdSZQCddXAoz_9qvemz3n_v-2cVKRa2zULu625kWAfagQfCUA5KCu1gobKk88_ajF5Moynf7IYBN46BjOhd7ArSSH8KlMuwt869eGNkEymw_HCC5uCwL176Rj-ZVlWU0/s1600/IMG_9751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtsoL6fL3VuqEdSZQCddXAoz_9qvemz3n_v-2cVKRa2zULu625kWAfagQfCUA5KCu1gobKk88_ajF5Moynf7IYBN46BjOhd7ArSSH8KlMuwt869eGNkEymw_HCC5uCwL176Rj-ZVlWU0/s640/IMG_9751.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My personal design challenge was to incorporate each colorway into the completed ensemble.</td></tr>
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After several rounds of pinning, I decided on a poncho with a contrast yoke featuring a large neckline bow. To balance the volume of the poncho, I made a simple pencil skirt, creating the necessary yardage by joining the fabric at the selvages.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04MFB1VLs3nMk5D4mUy9rK0OsjFiBUsfV8T0FplDy7QuhiJWkqfqG1296GBT9wFZoX1iZaDo7LPApw_RZ_SvOCnFHQQ6wpD6d84rhFkp0iMbzLYD88wucs1-L3eSC4exjRzFb6FTc34/s1600/IMG_9777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho04MFB1VLs3nMk5D4mUy9rK0OsjFiBUsfV8T0FplDy7QuhiJWkqfqG1296GBT9wFZoX1iZaDo7LPApw_RZ_SvOCnFHQQ6wpD6d84rhFkp0iMbzLYD88wucs1-L3eSC4exjRzFb6FTc34/s640/IMG_9777.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fast becoming a signature of Mr. Tiny's Mexicali Folk Couture, <br />
the poncho and its bow are trimmed in <u>eighteen</u> handmade pompoms.<br />
I hemmed a remnant of the white fabric to make the headscarf; the hat<br />
is a purchased souvenir.</td></tr>
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Envisioning a mid-century counterpart to Mary's overzealous souvenir hound, my concept for a photo shoot involved a classic car full of colorful souvenirs. Time and finance are usually the fodder for the epic battle waged between my lofty concepts and meager reality. Thankfully, Mary's convertible Corvair, a million tissue-paper flowers, and our reliable friend-photographer, Fabian, came to my rescue.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KjNHsnxNaFFWLr6Y9ufRFFH14ZMsv0Ih0Fx5vuchYwbHhXz_FOhLBH9P0Tjq-Zj-0MniBBo92R5hqfNhBJMJSj5n0g5XZBCNuN44zzHxnyu41XLhxGVvpL89LzGHnHMSENWlKnjVZsY/s1600/IMG_9827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KjNHsnxNaFFWLr6Y9ufRFFH14ZMsv0Ih0Fx5vuchYwbHhXz_FOhLBH9P0Tjq-Zj-0MniBBo92R5hqfNhBJMJSj5n0g5XZBCNuN44zzHxnyu41XLhxGVvpL89LzGHnHMSENWlKnjVZsY/s640/IMG_9827.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I told them that I wanted it to look like a sixty-year-old editorial from <br />
<i>Harper's Bazaar</i> or <i>Life Magazine</i>, Mary and Fabian got right down to business.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFfWBkmtYASCoDvHryPRdNKP_56BszTaE7fwNqG0gcBscft2gdS0jCp2lkrpWqrBw6hyphenhyphenqRRTXUHJpfBcmR-myrcBaM6yUGLuiSxuBmg2KVvSZojmSDbnT6_feOwpVVabRYj1InImAp88/s1600/IMG_9842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFfWBkmtYASCoDvHryPRdNKP_56BszTaE7fwNqG0gcBscft2gdS0jCp2lkrpWqrBw6hyphenhyphenqRRTXUHJpfBcmR-myrcBaM6yUGLuiSxuBmg2KVvSZojmSDbnT6_feOwpVVabRYj1InImAp88/s640/IMG_9842.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabian always has a deft way of combining fashion and automotive photography.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjMllktz7lTbKwxmCnAbiOURnmyNx66EncbAjZfQnPyNvyT6IcCsnP07F0wngOINyMNNPYnCiJPsyYXyCA5sZZHSnYubjZOP4hmM0kxzBoBLAh5jij_BgWFgR2t6_prDSacXd6K3E5F0/s1600/IMG_9834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEjMllktz7lTbKwxmCnAbiOURnmyNx66EncbAjZfQnPyNvyT6IcCsnP07F0wngOINyMNNPYnCiJPsyYXyCA5sZZHSnYubjZOP4hmM0kxzBoBLAh5jij_BgWFgR2t6_prDSacXd6K3E5F0/s640/IMG_9834.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary's shades are themselves a souvenir from our summer adventures in Venice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajwbKwBIo-__By6poFrhYSg8Oig3tlmUt3cdQAeRMP4uWxIZ9i1iUCqTMImxZT6tjUsaRdQ0_xtVPEER00YMyF18dGSqZwia5BbMI-EstPvSaQ4JSgpSeK_68xbb37RcfF_2WtRf0Lhg/s1600/IMG_9865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajwbKwBIo-__By6poFrhYSg8Oig3tlmUt3cdQAeRMP4uWxIZ9i1iUCqTMImxZT6tjUsaRdQ0_xtVPEER00YMyF18dGSqZwia5BbMI-EstPvSaQ4JSgpSeK_68xbb37RcfF_2WtRf0Lhg/s640/IMG_9865.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I have no impulse control and I don't care!"</td></tr>
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As much as I loved Fabian's photographs, I couldn't help but notice my failings as a stylist; the matching basket purse I made is barely visible in any of the pictures. And so, I feel compelled to give the purse its due.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcpMIHtGBeLaxVDfrbSS6XT_5EB10gHYYQUjSeCFbY0Fywn1a5jgY5G4wkBIGef5DeYjS17tDgnjKRRuwfTSvKZ08L2FDxXRVNG0FUgUdHvO1d2r6t9baswlVaIRmWRVK_7rIA_FzPIM/s1600/purse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcpMIHtGBeLaxVDfrbSS6XT_5EB10gHYYQUjSeCFbY0Fywn1a5jgY5G4wkBIGef5DeYjS17tDgnjKRRuwfTSvKZ08L2FDxXRVNG0FUgUdHvO1d2r6t9baswlVaIRmWRVK_7rIA_FzPIM/s400/purse.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The basket purse follows the color blocking on the outfit and, like the poncho, it<br />
is trimmed in yellow pompoms. If you're keeping score, that makes TWENTY!!! </td></tr>
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As much as I love it, I'm not sure how many opportunities Mary will have to wear this outfit in its entirety; like most of my (mis)adventures in design, it scratched a creative itch, allowing me to move on to the next project. Thanks to Mary and Fabian for skipping the "Tijuana Taxi" and hitching a ride on the Mr. Tiny bandwagon!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/7vtF5GjVeaY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7vtF5GjVeaY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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"Tijuana Taxi" - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (1966)</div>
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-90115764937072744922016-11-30T14:42:00.000-08:002016-12-04T09:17:39.658-08:00Crazy Crafty: wacky tacky Tree Toppers Two Ways<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Grandmas are so crafty, spending countless hours leading up to every holiday ping-ponging between their Pfaffs, tangles of yarn and crochet hooks, and shakers full of glitter. The only thing more comforting than learning the myriad ways in which pom-poms and bits of felt can be transformed into everything from tree skirts to toilet-paper cozies was the warmth of being gathered into the suffocating succor of her bosomy embrace.<br />
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This Christmas' Crazy Crafty projects should prove every bit as comforting as granny crafts of yore; but just imagine, instead of a sweet old granny, a large man of equally heavy bosom slinging a glue gun as hot as a two-dollar pistol. Struggling every year to find the tree topper of my dreams, it finally came time to make one - or two - of my own.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhME6msp1e314U7am3G_SV_CUXudmPOflyOYXIpVk7y3fig7hNf1OOHyqDNFhtvD_KY2NyAEHgP1N_0-wK2Lbr5cM1Cbcln5dastKEtXbhzdyELbmMdx4yS7SpS-R3A3qvqIDXtf4Zr2Zk/s1600/IMG_4456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky vintage tree topper" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhME6msp1e314U7am3G_SV_CUXudmPOflyOYXIpVk7y3fig7hNf1OOHyqDNFhtvD_KY2NyAEHgP1N_0-wK2Lbr5cM1Cbcln5dastKEtXbhzdyELbmMdx4yS7SpS-R3A3qvqIDXtf4Zr2Zk/s640/IMG_4456.JPG" title="Vintage christmas tree topper" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early drafts of potential tree toppers were expected to follow the cone-shaped body of this<br />
angelic Phyllis Diller lookalike. But Phyllis' stick-straight lines just weren't going to cut<br />
it for the more womanly angel that I had in mind. </td></tr>
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Inspiration struck in the curvy form of a bell! As per usual, my craft-making ethos is, "If it ain't in the stash or it can't be found at the 99 Cents Store, then it's probably not going to happen." So, I headed to the mecca of the impecunious crafter, finding among other sundries a set of three graduated, silver bells. Gathering metallic rickrack, tinsel pipe cleaner, glitter tulle, and the disembodied doll parts that my brother and his wife found in a dark corner of their garage (p.s. If you think I'm creepy, what does that say about them and their garage), I began to assemble my angel.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7ihhCx1QrQ5PeFPN74ughRnVQgCLP5Ja6iQYzPIoGbCU-pz97ayWocY-kyAdB8RHqJ9VIs5Plb3JUYvwZQpwc2k_PoxV36pIQfOhAiwLLLMUgnAgvnYAvNqzRSsvB2Q6qv0iSnCS-8Q/s1600/IMG_4393.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7ihhCx1QrQ5PeFPN74ughRnVQgCLP5Ja6iQYzPIoGbCU-pz97ayWocY-kyAdB8RHqJ9VIs5Plb3JUYvwZQpwc2k_PoxV36pIQfOhAiwLLLMUgnAgvnYAvNqzRSsvB2Q6qv0iSnCS-8Q/s640/IMG_4393.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My supplies - if it doesn't include a toilet-paper roll, liquid-soap bottle, or<br />
cottage cheese container then it doesn't really count as a granny craft, does it?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsef6D8gm20_tklyrjCk_sTf_aK5DP5wYDxrn4OqMCsT4k5Tpowz0lkRAE9l5S5kCWUBgBwCAIPLDpg1B0E0djZoqIEZyt1LRi2Kxkzaytv1ZtbCHa9IRVmH6EUa_t6zCvAgJea_He984/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsef6D8gm20_tklyrjCk_sTf_aK5DP5wYDxrn4OqMCsT4k5Tpowz0lkRAE9l5S5kCWUBgBwCAIPLDpg1B0E0djZoqIEZyt1LRi2Kxkzaytv1ZtbCHa9IRVmH6EUa_t6zCvAgJea_He984/s640/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If I were a bell, I'd be ringing!"<br />
<br />
I covered the cardboard roll with colored paper and secured it inside the large bell base.<br />
I shrouded a smaller bell in glitter tulle and finished it with a band of rickrack at the <br />
bottom and at the neckline.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28JoeDRngJ3Tz8iNbT9vIadKWJJUOEYyR_RU9TtRuNorjZQhDFyhd_jifbrMZ4QqfjFUReKZu0CVOvatrkM9Zg4dSAAg1-D4pU6BQ4kmpMnWzpcffUEIq93xgpC6CDqxB9HBY38WMVpY/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28JoeDRngJ3Tz8iNbT9vIadKWJJUOEYyR_RU9TtRuNorjZQhDFyhd_jifbrMZ4QqfjFUReKZu0CVOvatrkM9Zg4dSAAg1-D4pU6BQ4kmpMnWzpcffUEIq93xgpC6CDqxB9HBY38WMVpY/s640/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" width="594" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I "fleshed out" the upper arms with tinsel pipe cleaner. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvKgB0BYvBmyIVosSEfYHcNIfOu5V01i_HLYlPhquuLLqE66Erg8L0aZdTjuZ_GSZ0RECiYj1ZIbJeEQEIzIFRscyz4cs4D2kxvhBfRMG8BjluTjY6z8m00LmY54_HgVxpgUNWy4EiRw/s1600/IMG_4455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky tree topper" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvKgB0BYvBmyIVosSEfYHcNIfOu5V01i_HLYlPhquuLLqE66Erg8L0aZdTjuZ_GSZ0RECiYj1ZIbJeEQEIzIFRscyz4cs4D2kxvhBfRMG8BjluTjY6z8m00LmY54_HgVxpgUNWy4EiRw/s640/IMG_4455.JPG" title="DIY tree topper" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You little snow angel!<br />
<br />
I fashioned the wings and the silver petal peplum out of a deconstructed Christmas flowers from the 99.<br />
The skirt is several layers of the tulle, gathered and then trimmed in rickrack. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I won't say that my mom was dismayed exactly; perhaps "confused" is a better word for her mental state when she discovered two of her thirty-something sons excitedly discussing the merits of DIY doll making and the results of such. Forgetting about the bag of doll parts he had donated to the cause, my brother though that the snow angel was vintage - a compliment indeed!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSwyTCPvjdZi1NTN_-1AVgkghHoUPKtNmF2q0ACaXSjfQfKS3aDqkdZnep9sVsd4Bt0cY4ocqpfrbWEVQHJpS22HO5EnS4iBlNKap19iMUBBFo7D8XAoYoXpSLPPzhA7Sx9xjtl1OA9A/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSwyTCPvjdZi1NTN_-1AVgkghHoUPKtNmF2q0ACaXSjfQfKS3aDqkdZnep9sVsd4Bt0cY4ocqpfrbWEVQHJpS22HO5EnS4iBlNKap19iMUBBFo7D8XAoYoXpSLPPzhA7Sx9xjtl1OA9A/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe she couldn't appreciate it because she hadn't notice how liberally <br />
I applied the half-used packet of sticky-backed rhinestones to the skirt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Never one to leave tacky enough alone, I spied the one remaining unadorned figural lady lamp among the <b><i>wacky tacky</i></b> archives (you may recall from the Crazy Crafty post about "<span style="color: red;"><a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2015/05/crazy-crafty-lady-in-tutti-frutti-lamp.html">The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Lamp</a></span>" that independently of one another, each of my brother's gave me the same sexy-lady lamp base). Momentarily angry at myself for heretofore overlooking her obvious holiday charms, I quickly realized that it was not too late to explore her tree-topping potential.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOImhSqohtLOsHOjCjfx0TS3t_AEH9Q5Hm83OMSs_oA38i79yhgB5ZpxV5gLEoj_hvrsAJsibhgxRfqbyPHnIhMJKSR3H_7mbp4fGQfObzr-WUKhTeBkAcC9haESTONSYkl2k8PLPj7qI/s1600/photo%252B3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="sexy lady lamp" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOImhSqohtLOsHOjCjfx0TS3t_AEH9Q5Hm83OMSs_oA38i79yhgB5ZpxV5gLEoj_hvrsAJsibhgxRfqbyPHnIhMJKSR3H_7mbp4fGQfObzr-WUKhTeBkAcC9haESTONSYkl2k8PLPj7qI/s400/photo%252B3.JPG" title="vintage lady lamp" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Merry Christmas, boys!"</td></tr>
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Following similar steps to the snow angel tree topper, I made a teal under dress with a full circle skirt and an over dress of teal netting trimmed in iridescent rickrack and rhinestones.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIk_kXHzLXEqXhtcbP_bMfDpwD-5doR1AUrwXfnuCSFAwwOm79_rUganswgN_SoT3ZClMM8wCmVlC71EKRw2MqOscz-k_hcPeM7srIzGbunIUGbcOgj7dvHI_JhUOuFVt_8A6hdkZo07k/s1600/IMG_4452.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIk_kXHzLXEqXhtcbP_bMfDpwD-5doR1AUrwXfnuCSFAwwOm79_rUganswgN_SoT3ZClMM8wCmVlC71EKRw2MqOscz-k_hcPeM7srIzGbunIUGbcOgj7dvHI_JhUOuFVt_8A6hdkZo07k/s640/IMG_4452.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wanting to disguise the socket, I found among the christmas hoardings a fully-lit, flashing tree topper. <br />
Remembering that there exists such a thing as a <a href="http://www.gordonelectricsupply.com/index~text~5649789~path~product~part~5649789~ds~dept~process~search?gclid=CjwKEAiAjvrBBRDxm_nRusW3q1QSJAAzRI1t7LMYL45GGtjIn70MuKIY6lUmDD2JAQyppXUsNquSIRoCcW7w_wcB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">socket -to-outlet converter</span></a>, I hid the wires and plugged it in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhbbTRWjr_ILDsvu_cWdc7GOXEJqE-0t7BDErX64CqGlL2LPd48ypVTrIyA96uoiGwhTZyQ33tbRvUJ7NlGvY52iJ3eATBuPc4qJT0la5_7gArZ25bED_sRaMTdqzcnc4C7xNf6Npkis/s1600/IMG_4451.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="vintage tree topper" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhbbTRWjr_ILDsvu_cWdc7GOXEJqE-0t7BDErX64CqGlL2LPd48ypVTrIyA96uoiGwhTZyQ33tbRvUJ7NlGvY52iJ3eATBuPc4qJT0la5_7gArZ25bED_sRaMTdqzcnc4C7xNf6Npkis/s640/IMG_4451.JPG" title="DIY tree topper" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think the tinsel headdress transforms this snow girl into<br />
a full-on showgirl - an ode to Electra from <i>Gypsy.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a0oIyKcks1E1mTnynFK87zq8aebZN-7WwY3FQsPKNLGfUWE47Ul6WDoemAiFtW7H3oCRhpyOUXFQ83AoRgDAgGFG23uH4BW8OZGPmmm6CI3LVHMM35qQSJ5u-lQNbHEHEPsfWbXFEtc/s1600/IMG_4447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a0oIyKcks1E1mTnynFK87zq8aebZN-7WwY3FQsPKNLGfUWE47Ul6WDoemAiFtW7H3oCRhpyOUXFQ83AoRgDAgGFG23uH4BW8OZGPmmm6CI3LVHMM35qQSJ5u-lQNbHEHEPsfWbXFEtc/s640/IMG_4447.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Devil or angel?<br />
I even made her stacks of rickrack-and-rhinestone bangles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhupAG8jZ4AAGqHNDO0JwRxpzRs7iCgz8Mg5zYSXOCM0r-rYJ-t3FKcs2a8HnGYmytKmvMuMhNI7mvOAZyimDy5VvkOEg43gFSkT1UPjWFWobq6SCI-CwfeZCIPPtpeoARGvLr0VFmAc5M/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky tree topper" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhupAG8jZ4AAGqHNDO0JwRxpzRs7iCgz8Mg5zYSXOCM0r-rYJ-t3FKcs2a8HnGYmytKmvMuMhNI7mvOAZyimDy5VvkOEg43gFSkT1UPjWFWobq6SCI-CwfeZCIPPtpeoARGvLr0VFmAc5M/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" title="DIY tree topper" width="574" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm electrifyin' and I ain't even tryin'!"</td></tr>
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Here shine the two of the <i><b>wacky-tacky-</b></i>est tree toppers in all of their glittering, yuletide glory.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MlXyCqkmbjBlIwddjW2Z0EyQSsUsDYAZnyENQ6TYfKPZa-4-f-SKc5U8epjJ4BqYPLOmGp4kvWtVxCfY3YMIRm6zrjyRbrI8HWPKA5EnC9MzRhI5PXubVCWhtX89mS-65Goq8PbFPvQ/s1600/IMG_4439.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MlXyCqkmbjBlIwddjW2Z0EyQSsUsDYAZnyENQ6TYfKPZa-4-f-SKc5U8epjJ4BqYPLOmGp4kvWtVxCfY3YMIRm6zrjyRbrI8HWPKA5EnC9MzRhI5PXubVCWhtX89mS-65Goq8PbFPvQ/s320/IMG_4439.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqfOQfGGcg8KJ1cIBBWf1TNvQC8na6ulA-R91LyhnyMRnXDr7hBpQI-SCyIS4zI925aRcCJvQs52ZFq9HJUlsoWksPYiQeDtNo_mPMl1dNoPM8pGdTGZJ_i06k8nsbiAh2afuO00LPuA/s1600/ladylight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqfOQfGGcg8KJ1cIBBWf1TNvQC8na6ulA-R91LyhnyMRnXDr7hBpQI-SCyIS4zI925aRcCJvQs52ZFq9HJUlsoWksPYiQeDtNo_mPMl1dNoPM8pGdTGZJ_i06k8nsbiAh2afuO00LPuA/s320/ladylight.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Do you ever get the feeling, like you've created a cherished family </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">heirloom </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">before you've even had time to share your project?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I do.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKPSfucjqYZvCJfsQhh59WWud7ESbWuIstIamwhK1xw_seaHRfMUwkgnepl12HAOn3dP5b76_zatPdktoZp_1O71BUto0ocRswwDp07C_mqOXn8irDJlfnLAd6hQ7qC1YYibaERAb0UU/s1600/outsidetree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKPSfucjqYZvCJfsQhh59WWud7ESbWuIstIamwhK1xw_seaHRfMUwkgnepl12HAOn3dP5b76_zatPdktoZp_1O71BUto0ocRswwDp07C_mqOXn8irDJlfnLAd6hQ7qC1YYibaERAb0UU/s640/outsidetree.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can kind of see, the snow angel was awarded pride of place rather<br />
than our version of "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085334/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window.</span></a>"<br />
It's a good thing for the runner-up that we have erected two christmas trees this year! </td></tr>
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Have you made any Christmas crafts this year? If you're not thrilled with who sits atop your tree year after year, remember that granny always said, "Idle hands are the devil's playground;" get those holiday hands busy and make your own <b><i>wacky tacky</i></b> tree topper!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gFRSawe33sA" width="560"></iframe>
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"You Gotta Get a Gimmick" from <i>Gypsy </i>(1962)</div>
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-38946027189768025352016-09-13T09:17:00.000-07:002016-09-14T20:06:11.833-07:00Holy Rollin': BOTS Invades Salvation Mountain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Salvation Mountain is Instagrammer's ecstasy. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ChPDNTy8VVgAa0He7YVh7kOV8b__uCG7JPULEx_Yi6ZVxCxEDp4xX5Wf78Jje3BEiJvZ-87G9ib9rmuH2jYHO1v-GpUInCtIqpkn8j_9Y-7w9Vb0gdn5raYXdzsbLpKhpFVMJ_HaMro/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ChPDNTy8VVgAa0He7YVh7kOV8b__uCG7JPULEx_Yi6ZVxCxEDp4xX5Wf78Jje3BEiJvZ-87G9ib9rmuH2jYHO1v-GpUInCtIqpkn8j_9Y-7w9Vb0gdn5raYXdzsbLpKhpFVMJ_HaMro/s640/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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A much-revered landmark for IG users, Salvation Mountain is a checklist destination perfectly prohibitive in its desert geography (close enough for social media sojourners to get there and back within a day, distant enough to give every picture pilgrim the appropriate amount of cool cred for making the otherwise desolate journey). As evidenced by the thousands of carefully-filtered photos bearing the eponymous hashtag, Salvation Mountain is a place for disingenuous youth to affect the poses that have become so subconsciously familiar (those characterized by the subjects' well-studied stare as they regard the horizon with an expert combination of anguish and apathy). A colorful, if slightly sun-blistered backdrop, Salvation Mountain's unqualified Judeo-Christian ethos can be tolerated in the name of post-ironic photo gathering. A surefire "heart" magnet, Salvation Mountain elicits envy and scorn in equal measure. In short, it <i>is</i> Instagram. The veneer protecting my contempt for social media sociology may seem perilously thin, yet there we were excitedly making the trek to a destination every bit worthy of its celebrity.<br />
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Get a load of this!</div>
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Music and video by Mary</div>
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I refuse to insult anyone's intelligence by pretending that a profundity greater than the average mountain climber's motivated our visit. Yes, the wacky tacky adventure team, in our quest to storm <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/search/label/trash%20castle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">America's greatest trash castles</span></a>, was there to document the divinely-inspired folk art of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xanCKr_ESwk"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Leonard Knight</span></a>...but not before procuring some ultra-hip photographic evidence of our own day trip.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1t2PBOf_DHXYOCDTXKVKthyphenhyphencnG0TXjIgtJV5IHTSKiyyJm0MVPli6Cjhdq0oRPvN5ZXXDJjcURWjfSm2QUFoViH4GkwWFu8N6ZgLWAt6b_5_d1R6-Nxwl1KJP80YyxZa3mYiC20_OMc/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1t2PBOf_DHXYOCDTXKVKthyphenhyphencnG0TXjIgtJV5IHTSKiyyJm0MVPli6Cjhdq0oRPvN5ZXXDJjcURWjfSm2QUFoViH4GkwWFu8N6ZgLWAt6b_5_d1R6-Nxwl1KJP80YyxZa3mYiC20_OMc/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Blazing our trail, we began to spitball a few ideas for heightening our experience at Salvation Mountain; as we flew past a discount store, I suggested that it might be fun to arrive in white sweatsuits and drugstore flip flops, giving the appearance of a cult pilgrimage. Call it pretense, if you must, but I was looking for a way to add a layer of humor to our visit (after all, the<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/390265123935452699/"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">ten sexiest Instagram poses</span> </a>lose something in translation when applied to a fat man on the cusp of middle age). When the elusive white sweat suit became our proverbial white whale; we were forced to settle for the offerings of the paint aisle, leaving the hardware store in crisp, white coveralls and a trio of matching safety goggles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA80M1jt-oCPARAJ-j-Hkk0hi1D572rrCkI-Z1DDNn8WAcuqiS3o4qo5Q_h15zM5dmTme28XAFP2N9FiAIwi0DY9cgGqw3454Dcxa4GewzSyjdO2u9lPlXqQ9e24BdHahtZBtMqojGQLQ/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA80M1jt-oCPARAJ-j-Hkk0hi1D572rrCkI-Z1DDNn8WAcuqiS3o4qo5Q_h15zM5dmTme28XAFP2N9FiAIwi0DY9cgGqw3454Dcxa4GewzSyjdO2u9lPlXqQ9e24BdHahtZBtMqojGQLQ/s400/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Introducing BOTS (Brotherhood of Terrestrial Salvation)<br />
Like a mess of meth-making<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=peqzq3V2WAw"> Mike Teavees</a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvation_Mountain"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Salvation Mountain</span></a> is the lifework and ministry of Leonard Knight. What started in the 1970s as a proselytizing mission via homemade hot air balloon (seriously) evolved into an '80s-era devotional of straw, clay, found objects, and countless coats of house paint. It took two tries and many years for Knight to master his signature mountain-making technique; through it all, his faith, love, and generosity never wavered. Expansion and maintenance of his passion project continued until his health began to fail in 2011. In the years since his subsequent death, local volunteers have lovingly preserved <a href="http://salvationmountain.us/bio.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Knight's masterpiece. </span></a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNKFz8oXlwUd1IAyk3-de41RtWyu8SLPD7tuDsEJ9dPuGsRkOTBlcVjp32ELWbNtDN7wng4wmKYYtIm4UTlfb_pkf6Y8rdSSpb-yF3hhNA5G9P9NHCQLD-AK0B0DWp7R7059b5cZOJEo/s1600/godislove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNKFz8oXlwUd1IAyk3-de41RtWyu8SLPD7tuDsEJ9dPuGsRkOTBlcVjp32ELWbNtDN7wng4wmKYYtIm4UTlfb_pkf6Y8rdSSpb-yF3hhNA5G9P9NHCQLD-AK0B0DWp7R7059b5cZOJEo/s400/godislove.jpg" width="327" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love is all you need. You may quote me.</td></tr>
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This legacy of love is the true message of Salvation Mountain. Christian and nonbeliever alike are reminded at every turn that the purpose of our existence is love.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmL_hlvg2mJBvVB4colb5C_dgogDxPZU4CWHEGPeu78wgLY1U94AJI6LRpywBDSwiJAxMhkKe4HcfJywx_kSElNK-smfvHBS3hQfYK2NHqYqwCMK94P0i0NqN5PIbpoJd_7ZP3MgPObI/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmL_hlvg2mJBvVB4colb5C_dgogDxPZU4CWHEGPeu78wgLY1U94AJI6LRpywBDSwiJAxMhkKe4HcfJywx_kSElNK-smfvHBS3hQfYK2NHqYqwCMK94P0i0NqN5PIbpoJd_7ZP3MgPObI/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just in case anyone missed the <u>literal</u> writing on the wall, <br />
these two BOTS brethren demonstrate how to get a heart on.</td></tr>
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It was unclear whether other Knight devotees were feeling the love of the BOTS' presence. Despite a woeful lack of purpose/planning on our part, many videos and photographs - surreptitious and otherwise - were taken as we silently marched our way up and over the mountain (with un-swinging arms for that authentic touch of cultish weirdness). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhEz4YCYsjVKo0Tr9R-CvwAy7i5kxATQI_Fd1VPt6u8ZOmF9je0FC1UYAEXDuJvUOF1vt0V_EIFlVZZ5p74Mf-j2qe7WyDYeRZDql7ayCM7t5OW8zoZWHGea9eENZ908URhjPNt1s0ss/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhEz4YCYsjVKo0Tr9R-CvwAy7i5kxATQI_Fd1VPt6u8ZOmF9je0FC1UYAEXDuJvUOF1vt0V_EIFlVZZ5p74Mf-j2qe7WyDYeRZDql7ayCM7t5OW8zoZWHGea9eENZ908URhjPNt1s0ss/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="402" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's still wondering if the label on the coveralls was accurate - "One size saves all."</td></tr>
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One confused Brit was brave enough to approach me and inquire after our presence; struggling for a clever response, I instead feigned a vow of silence, trying and failing to communicate with meaningless hand gestures. When the BOTS did speak, it was a practice in improvisational call-and-response between Sister Siusiak's Polish and our semi-Slavic gibberish, punctuated liberally by the <a href="http://www.wordsense.eu/siusiak/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Polish slang for wiener</span></a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXWt4pgy394xnCTzb3pslbNXuAls9BWMYV9MpEqRwjra7FMN-A-dzHEjWua9djEHUoyGh9L6teXSH6fKAfcCUVIbFAHdvS3J-gAULgEiGNnR_gixBqvZpJst0MZDmu9sk2Ah0C0aXBj8/s1600/IMG_3589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXWt4pgy394xnCTzb3pslbNXuAls9BWMYV9MpEqRwjra7FMN-A-dzHEjWua9djEHUoyGh9L6teXSH6fKAfcCUVIbFAHdvS3J-gAULgEiGNnR_gixBqvZpJst0MZDmu9sk2Ah0C0aXBj8/s640/IMG_3589.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting to question our own bizarre behavior, all we needed was to turn a corner for a loving affirmation.</td></tr>
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Things reached a new pinnacle of strange when we formed a human triangle (facing inward with our hands on each other's shoulders) and began to vocalize in unison. I'm willing to place a generous amount of accountability upon our choice of ensemble; with temperatures upwards of 110 degrees, the internal temperature of our space suits might very well have been delirium inducing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzNMkvNjadYQneG0CnqPaHXiyrrqRgFxistViTrnQwyLLNQccZjws_uQeb04pFnCps0IcgAwMwCksGH13-Cg6J-7bAltb1dXlYhRx54b4U5_D_QeAPxHYziXZ1-zRT2T23o_knUp-Tjs/s1600/IMG_3555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzNMkvNjadYQneG0CnqPaHXiyrrqRgFxistViTrnQwyLLNQccZjws_uQeb04pFnCps0IcgAwMwCksGH13-Cg6J-7bAltb1dXlYhRx54b4U5_D_QeAPxHYziXZ1-zRT2T23o_knUp-Tjs/s640/IMG_3555.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You could say that we were getting carried away by the spirit of the Man Upstairs...</td></tr>
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In the end, we couldn't decide if we were the lighthearted antidote to the hordes of picture pilgrims or ourselves symptomatic of the devolution of weird roadside in America. As the conflict rages on, we are seriously considering making BOTS official.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvPNAvUfCtBA3X9v5cvSywEcgFFS1SKKn8bb1sbWLr20gFFdJ_93UM7-MSYlFPFt15fOkBOCNGkqyvlQpmEYLo_yixCdaXcVY84fvVFROaVAclU40gh3WOyQ9SAyYJ2gqpbXhdUPgLNw/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvPNAvUfCtBA3X9v5cvSywEcgFFS1SKKn8bb1sbWLr20gFFdJ_93UM7-MSYlFPFt15fOkBOCNGkqyvlQpmEYLo_yixCdaXcVY84fvVFROaVAclU40gh3WOyQ9SAyYJ2gqpbXhdUPgLNw/s640/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">We are mobilizing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj3gulTIrCWoCdjrbI1cSJvPlZp5yt5E-cpe5Mat_On-4Qi1MgvyrIXvn7wbDXlEzb41m4jQE2xE2bpypdaKocAKy611zYNQ0f2H09KQPVNjnES6kN2dLy2bxxjiKm51MzqG5LT_lXR8/s1600/cyrus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj3gulTIrCWoCdjrbI1cSJvPlZp5yt5E-cpe5Mat_On-4Qi1MgvyrIXvn7wbDXlEzb41m4jQE2xE2bpypdaKocAKy611zYNQ0f2H09KQPVNjnES6kN2dLy2bxxjiKm51MzqG5LT_lXR8/s640/cyrus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Brother Cyrus says the reaping is nigh.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOeF7S8rxC_ZyRpdqdi1_LQfeiEhJ8pxLlePuhv4Ver6aKMnqkjWfWeAD4v5zWWFS8yWSO1EK4eIpGycR5-PBRssPygnb1i5AUoT-3hOI96bL6VqDWQT6dclU0Fu_jqc4EEQEsYd8bvE/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOeF7S8rxC_ZyRpdqdi1_LQfeiEhJ8pxLlePuhv4Ver6aKMnqkjWfWeAD4v5zWWFS8yWSO1EK4eIpGycR5-PBRssPygnb1i5AUoT-3hOI96bL6VqDWQT6dclU0Fu_jqc4EEQEsYd8bvE/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resistance is futile.</td></tr>
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If you don't want to get left behind, all you must do is "Jump in the Line."<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-DI5HlZYGZ3m5kIinoyVns7ORzLJ4gCnH7MTZ55o9PaRLmDKGw0iWSqO1MS_mALOYGVw3YRy8vK23iK371Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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"Jump in the Line" - Harry Belafonte (1961)<br />
This video has been brought to you by <a href="http://www.fartcoinc.bigcartel.com/"><span style="color: #38761d;">Fartco, Inc.</span></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrjJK_LtRuUmmefF6Par_IH_EHw9LZ5K_rdZALzS3wrrBcVmseWLRqIRRTauiQYlMa0WWLVW0myK8WpxDi2aL3fiUS1-q3gHFi6Elur3isTMoLrlP8PzLC_OpJDI9-wB8fL6kwH70P30/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrjJK_LtRuUmmefF6Par_IH_EHw9LZ5K_rdZALzS3wrrBcVmseWLRqIRRTauiQYlMa0WWLVW0myK8WpxDi2aL3fiUS1-q3gHFi6Elur3isTMoLrlP8PzLC_OpJDI9-wB8fL6kwH70P30/s320/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<b>Salvation Mountain</b></div>
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Beal Rd</div>
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Niland, CA</div>
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<a href="http://salvationmountain.us/">salvationmountain.us</a></div>
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Cheers and Amen!<br />
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Mr. Tiny<br />
(Brother Diminutata)</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-19470290946281623042016-08-01T12:54:00.001-07:002016-08-11T17:47:39.246-07:00Sew What?! A Shimmering '60s Minidress???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How often does it happen that you start out with every intention of creating a shimmering, '60s minidress...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RYMSaLPEJzvNGI42oTD-HEXe6i4pP7diJu-kQWfMMzucSoDOaG7pU-P5b7DMxsAo1qpWJnfL9WjYVTSQNuPYPYIc-Mbhr2Hil6EZLZdgWW8pFK-KZneAtffL-ziYGFyTuQOWKZCNghJY/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RYMSaLPEJzvNGI42oTD-HEXe6i4pP7diJu-kQWfMMzucSoDOaG7pU-P5b7DMxsAo1qpWJnfL9WjYVTSQNuPYPYIc-Mbhr2Hil6EZLZdgWW8pFK-KZneAtffL-ziYGFyTuQOWKZCNghJY/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="245" /></a></div>
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Only to end up - after hours of sewing and hand-finishing - with Jane Jetson's housecoat?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-Tt9Qe2ZzC6hvBEqE5iJiMU22V0REUbsh9KxyWL3jHpaTYxxQwFfMxlLZQxqIfpv-yAFCtwubr21trxn1GOpp3PHlGPShSmgeocy5vWRZLaHOvphYn3ZY36VmLgBjQQ-5wKpGyrAn1fb/s1600/Picture+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-Tt9Qe2ZzC6hvBEqE5iJiMU22V0REUbsh9KxyWL3jHpaTYxxQwFfMxlLZQxqIfpv-yAFCtwubr21trxn1GOpp3PHlGPShSmgeocy5vWRZLaHOvphYn3ZY36VmLgBjQQ-5wKpGyrAn1fb/s1600/Picture+3.png" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry, George...</td></tr>
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It probably didn't help that this Mr. Tiny Original was made out of a lightweight upholstery fabric featuring alternating stripes of purple and gold lamé (recognizable from Mary's red <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/12/sew-what-happy-holiday-frock.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Happy Holiday Frock</span></a>); the metallic fabric sewn into a <i>Star Trekian</i> v-shaped yoke only added to the mid-century, space-age sensibility. </div>
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Yes, Mary was fated to look like a dress-extra from that lesser known sci-fi masterpiece, <i>Mars Needs Matrons</i>. </div>
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I really should have seen this one coming.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As I don't often sew in shades of violet, I was devoid of an appropriate lining<br />
material. In typical <strike>cheapskate</strike> make-do fashion, I dove into my stash of remnants,<br />
emerging with this piece of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marimekko"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Marimekko's</span></a> beautiful Tulipunainen print (1960). </td></tr>
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Brainstorming for a way to elevate the humble <i>housecoatery</i> of my creation, I returned to the sewing machine and made a matching pair of fully-lined dance pants. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dance pants or decorative diaper cover? You be the judge.</td></tr>
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It was only then I realized that, when paired with the brevity of the hemline, the briefs only served to make the dress look like a '60s babydoll nightie. Undeterred, Mary took the dress out for its first spin last year at <a href="http://www.theregenttheater.com/event/857543-soul-clap-dance-off-ft-los-angeles/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Jonathan Toubin's Soul Clap at Downtown LA's Regent Theater</span></a>. So busy dancing were we that, of course, we photo'd not a single op.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Fortunately, representatives from <i>LA Weekly</i> were on hand to catch Mary "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wro3bqi4Eb8">Tighten Up</a>."<br />
(<a href="http://www.laweekly.com/slideshow/lina-in-la-ny-night-train-soul-clap-dance-off-5616173">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwu8WNdvTcBSJlF962dGgbjhnHV3DHEiIwsL3qAo2PFG1XaH_AG2CNfx_tHuDdOFxs06kIiPf3ON6mvrvgmTotQm9Xno1WspEf6CyrkNEeEGvKaYXygIyZhxDzjSYAzDNDdfiN8aDaFE/s1600/IMG_3217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwu8WNdvTcBSJlF962dGgbjhnHV3DHEiIwsL3qAo2PFG1XaH_AG2CNfx_tHuDdOFxs06kIiPf3ON6mvrvgmTotQm9Xno1WspEf6CyrkNEeEGvKaYXygIyZhxDzjSYAzDNDdfiN8aDaFE/s400/IMG_3217.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Truly, the only pictures we have come courtesy of the <i>Weekly</i>'s Lena Lecaro.<br />
(<a href="http://www.laweekly.com/slideshow/lina-in-la-ny-night-train-soul-clap-dance-off-5616173">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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Languishing among the racks of barely-worn Mr. Tiny creations, this dress came to mind when Mary was deciding on potential outfits for the Brian Wilson <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">"<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qle9m4GD9Cc"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Pet Sounds</span></a>"</span> concert we attended over the weekend. As the event was the highlight of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><a href="http://www.midstatefair.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">California's Mid-State Fair</span></a> </span>(and the lives of these two California kids), we attempted to make the most of our surroundings by making our way to the midway! </div>
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Armed with only our phones, we did our best to</div>
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capture the ambient light provided by the rides.</div>
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In honor of the wheel, we call this dress "Bueller."</div>
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(brought to you by Spacely's Space Sprockets).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGWH5fvKZ0QEbnVuhlwfQKHjuNywLmY6KYMic-BEYvMEm7DQVu1fNOCCWcPY-F2Uoq15SvK3iwtNUqdoS4xhx5GbeUEV6Y8NPl2ycq6xozsBq9iO2LUcWL5N31cyZynxySvJV2Po44c0/s1600/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGWH5fvKZ0QEbnVuhlwfQKHjuNywLmY6KYMic-BEYvMEm7DQVu1fNOCCWcPY-F2Uoq15SvK3iwtNUqdoS4xhx5GbeUEV6Y8NPl2ycq6xozsBq9iO2LUcWL5N31cyZynxySvJV2Po44c0/s640/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
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Mary swings with...well, swings!</div>
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My favorite ride has always been the carnival swings.</div>
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I love the feeling of flying amongst the romantic portraits </div>
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of all those lovely ladies painted on the canopy.</div>
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Details of the dress are few in these photos but one is certainly evident.</div>
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Like all women who wear dresses, Mary was particularly pleased with the pockets!!!</div>
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This dress marks the millionth time I have kidded Mary for rarely/never wearing the clothes I make for her. After two nights out on the town, I tell myself that I am allowed to count this dress among my successes. Without any resentment, I am satisfied if the future of this frock is relegated to becoming the futuristic housecoat it was always meant to be...I guess "[It] Just Wasn't Made for These Times."</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/VyhU2mVyFAk/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VyhU2mVyFAk?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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"I Just Wasn't Made for These Times" - The Beach Boys (1966)</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-40056927286011145912016-07-19T16:07:00.001-07:002016-09-11T22:01:06.799-07:00Coming Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I knew I had found my homeland when I began to recognize the heavy-browed people of generous proportion sweating through their clothing, their roughhewn features the genetic result of millennia of undiluted peasant stock. Forever operating under the assumption that my hyperactive sweat glands were some cruel anomaly, I had finally discovered an entire creed of people whose evolutionary trajectory had set them on a path of perspiration profusion. My people. This primal cognition allowed me to overcome the self-consciousness induced by my sweat-stained shirt and freed me to pursue my more definitive anthropological work - comparing cankle size and structure. I was home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny & Mary take Europe!</td></tr>
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In my youth, I was nagged by a jealousy of the kids who spoke to their parents in Polish, Spanish, Portuguese. I could never come to terms with the fact that, while many of my friends went to Japanese School, Chinese School, Hebrew School, the most exotic school I would ever attend was "public." <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Island of Rab, Croatia<br />
How's that for exotic?</td></tr>
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Where some children were stymied by the overabundance of colorful options, I always knew exactly what food I would bring to represent my heritage on Culture Day, a pristine loaf of plain, white bread (more than likely with the crusts removed). With a surname of Slavic derivation, we practiced no language, no music, no culture that could substantiate the claims of our ancestry. Certainly, I'm grateful to be American but I felt an urgency to connect with the land that gave me my name, my history, and my nose.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We weren't forty minutes into Croatia when we saw the sign!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The Yugoslavian surname Simich (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Simić</span>/<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">Šimić</span>) puts the bearer pretty firmly in one of two camps, Serbian or Croatian (based almost entirely upon the presence/absence of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caron">caron</a> - that little "v" above the "S"). Knowing little about our paternal genealogy beyond its origins in the former Yugoslavia, the search for our roots was limited to Croatia by the strict policies of the car rental company; liability prohibited us from crossing the borders into Macedonia, Serbia, Montenegro, or Bosnia-Herzegovina. This trip and the forbidden, albeit very minor, detour through Bosnia would have tickled the mischievous heart of my genealogy-loving dad to no end.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirimk1kgNtKHjXPVR7OOgBRRi3LPUTS-ijQwFJg76yfEenE3mKM22fN73xk4aS-62-ThjMJuauJbJDC1E4OkZxXk1nWrvfz9Rmg3JMqjJ4Tb09Be8bP4gLa0crtb8axLhvmfLNDsAdyj4/s1600/IMG_2421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirimk1kgNtKHjXPVR7OOgBRRi3LPUTS-ijQwFJg76yfEenE3mKM22fN73xk4aS-62-ThjMJuauJbJDC1E4OkZxXk1nWrvfz9Rmg3JMqjJ4Tb09Be8bP4gLa0crtb8axLhvmfLNDsAdyj4/s640/IMG_2421.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Treading the well-worn paths that many Simiches have surely trod.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We couldn't help but think of our dad throughout our Croatian sojourn. He was with us. In fact, so deluded by the fantasy of coming face-to-face with my father (or his Croatian doppelganger at least), I kept a watchful eye out for a happy, hulking brute entertaining crowds of people with tall tales and home cooking. It wasn't to be. The reality of his mother's Swiss heritage would have certainly played a role in his genetic makeup, making him not so solidly Slavic. Nevertheless, the dominance of these Eastern European genes had me convinced that I saw a relative or two.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDJuCbygAMbzwlunBoYbG_5Y4jCATE78jRVIQSAZq_yIjHA1JXMkRf5FTwQBwnGMrhjEd188o2_na06baVEG7Z0fSias00T1vk-PAkWm3Y6GQKvIFjzkgLKccqGVuQU_FOb5eVTjXq1g/s1600/IMG_2450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDJuCbygAMbzwlunBoYbG_5Y4jCATE78jRVIQSAZq_yIjHA1JXMkRf5FTwQBwnGMrhjEd188o2_na06baVEG7Z0fSias00T1vk-PAkWm3Y6GQKvIFjzkgLKccqGVuQU_FOb5eVTjXq1g/s640/IMG_2450.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you my uncle?<br />
Painting in panties with peacocks is a longstanding family tradition.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Too many viewings of <i>The Parent Trap</i> had me secretly wishing that I might even find a long lost twin whose very existence explained my face and the way it looks. The satisfaction of such an encounter would have been profoundly tempered by the horror that there were two unfortunate souls wandering the earth with my ugly mug!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxUNSeKqqThTLySp5VU0n2IuL1FyKKD6erRoAYcOEJFbD53qO2T6vf6NhkmXb919mIjFIKLK5rXkkeTAgJg3OxkgG3D8jFvM2tovLnfOvTbqv0Lbi9SSMBCLUZmxeakhKPHBCN65pCew/s1600/IMG_2478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxUNSeKqqThTLySp5VU0n2IuL1FyKKD6erRoAYcOEJFbD53qO2T6vf6NhkmXb919mIjFIKLK5rXkkeTAgJg3OxkgG3D8jFvM2tovLnfOvTbqv0Lbi9SSMBCLUZmxeakhKPHBCN65pCew/s400/IMG_2478.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was immeasurably comforted by my bus buddies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There is an innocent disregard for time and law in coastal Croatia that felt organic to our independent spirits. From the barefoot construction workers wearing naught but speedos so they could enjoy intermittent dips in the Adriatic to the bus driver who held us hostage during his break, it is clear that the acquaintance Croatians have with rules and regulations is decidedly casual. Having long attributed our collective disposition to a carefree coastal upbringing, I began to consider the possibility that an affection for the sun and the sea, combined with a genuine mistrust of authority, might very well be hereditary.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpz-fLW0ArlK4bGGRVW-Vpx8i7yaipla4n6h7Ev3Jepe2e84CnoMs0rCnAdwTRzhruLiYacQ7gCl5ZRJq5hujSr1va-kHKVozD1IhwFG9hwmrKZ2mwhPGJIMQ0r6AQJstiEaMn6-_bRM/s1600/IMG_2512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpz-fLW0ArlK4bGGRVW-Vpx8i7yaipla4n6h7Ev3Jepe2e84CnoMs0rCnAdwTRzhruLiYacQ7gCl5ZRJq5hujSr1va-kHKVozD1IhwFG9hwmrKZ2mwhPGJIMQ0r6AQJstiEaMn6-_bRM/s640/IMG_2512.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't tell us what to do; we'd rather be boating!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After several wonderful days of sun-drenched swimming and stair climbing, wherein I earned plenty of blisters on both my feet and forehead, I came to realize that no matter how deeply I connected with the sights and sounds of Croatia, even on my best day I'm still only Yugoslavian-American.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_0QeRyvlDh-W2YfCNv0ooerzkvl8DQifcuv5bsRsXMdNRWbf9AZvZnHSNDQSLcnapS4_aqAl6tn2B27fStHrLr_VkC_wNvDdKRnDxhU9Rq1hibnBIi2-9ICgdjBR3_gH0bygUqsGmIM/s1600/IMG_2523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_0QeRyvlDh-W2YfCNv0ooerzkvl8DQifcuv5bsRsXMdNRWbf9AZvZnHSNDQSLcnapS4_aqAl6tn2B27fStHrLr_VkC_wNvDdKRnDxhU9Rq1hibnBIi2-9ICgdjBR3_gH0bygUqsGmIM/s640/IMG_2523.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, in the most heinous of un-Croatian activities, I swam with a shirt on.<br />
Let's make <b>#swimshirtsareforheroes</b> a thing, okay?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I probably shouldn't admit it but the American in me hates minding my own business. From the one time I felt it my duty to firmly correct the behavior of an elderly woman for demeaning a cashier to the multitude of times I have been forcefully awoken out of a comatose-like trance whilst staring at a scene unfolding before me, I continue to insinuate myself into situations which I obviously do not belong. As evidenced by the regular rivulet of drool coursing down my chin, the staring problem has indeed become pathological.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHQf3DzDKhnvzAaO_RMG8xTwjxMtp7uFVnpdU0AEXrhrY9Byr1XgEH8154muTdt9CVBPBhG_j1ihgKads8hHaaSjGdkpM00eefrYybcCdTztdZdl9sNh_oxj32Rh4Bnu7ZwqCw5yhtUI/s1600/IMG_2322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHQf3DzDKhnvzAaO_RMG8xTwjxMtp7uFVnpdU0AEXrhrY9Byr1XgEH8154muTdt9CVBPBhG_j1ihgKads8hHaaSjGdkpM00eefrYybcCdTztdZdl9sNh_oxj32Rh4Bnu7ZwqCw5yhtUI/s400/IMG_2322.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some people call me a Croatian cowboy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The American in me is silly. If there are bubbles being blown, I will giddily chase them. If there are fart noises to be made, I will make them fervently resound. If there is music playing, I will dance (remind me to tell you about the time we spontaneously learned a folk dance and joined in the video of a Spanish tourist group in old Dubrovnik).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWscF8Xy4GjCA4ZzdP4JFgU7ul7yAn5AESBWyF_fM_vO_Y6lETzmSW32hf4ea4b-1eAC2ueO1ehjaFU5_bh0O7dDJTdieehKpb-ZWQxsineTQaVVURZq7hAzS83g5Gdw5gbqAAbfmHM3Q/s1600/IMG_2533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWscF8Xy4GjCA4ZzdP4JFgU7ul7yAn5AESBWyF_fM_vO_Y6lETzmSW32hf4ea4b-1eAC2ueO1ehjaFU5_bh0O7dDJTdieehKpb-ZWQxsineTQaVVURZq7hAzS83g5Gdw5gbqAAbfmHM3Q/s640/IMG_2533.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post fiesta siesta...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The American in me is probably louder than necessary, overly smily, and unilingual. My high school German might have helped a tiny bit in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland but crossing the border into Croatia left me dumbfounded. I had no basis for understanding Croatian and still refuse to believe that an entire region can communicate everything it needs to say with merely a series of "sh" and "ch" noises.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-FgUNVP-NCDtxqkd5zadoRzrNgmgWbAObdVHELV84HFvoyHNPwjJrVY4BnjkrsCE8Fz_pqSNmQtD-oZkjJC7397pYGc7Twj3fNJAK2A4QuBI3h7SAZ7dcSYFAl7d8RQQ0lciwOV9zzE/s1600/IMG_2526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-FgUNVP-NCDtxqkd5zadoRzrNgmgWbAObdVHELV84HFvoyHNPwjJrVY4BnjkrsCE8Fz_pqSNmQtD-oZkjJC7397pYGc7Twj3fNJAK2A4QuBI3h7SAZ7dcSYFAl7d8RQQ0lciwOV9zzE/s640/IMG_2526.JPG" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>"Sh</b>e <b>ch</b>ose to <b>sh</b>are her snowy <b>ch</b>arms <br />
and <b>sh</b>owed her clothes were blea<b>ch</b>ed."<br />
I gues<b>sh</b> I <b>sh</b>ouldn't ca<b>sh</b>t the fir<b>sh</b>t <b>sh</b>tone...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Genealogical research seems to be all the rage currently; I can't say that I'm really all that interested in searching out the historic celebrities with whom I might share a second-string strand of DNA. Rather, my search was for a sense of knowing and a place of belonging. I found it for a time in the ham-and-cheese fritters, the crinkle in the corner of the eye of the man who resembled my grandfather, the smooth limestone pathways of the old cities. I found it in the slow pace, the love of family, and the connection to the land.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGk95n429PYF8KtE2mofCk2NhINLQMJODZC5aOfFeQFSdTyEnk5GAiRZWN91oYFleJPamTRl6NkzoZrXmCy_k1e86-Va1iH1pGf4_xaSPQtgqKw0HmBFda4Lzenqs2Zz9wLj2XYmzA8wk/s1600/IMG_2480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGk95n429PYF8KtE2mofCk2NhINLQMJODZC5aOfFeQFSdTyEnk5GAiRZWN91oYFleJPamTRl6NkzoZrXmCy_k1e86-Va1iH1pGf4_xaSPQtgqKw0HmBFda4Lzenqs2Zz9wLj2XYmzA8wk/s400/IMG_2480.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heck, I even found it in seeing the granny panties sway on the line...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My blissful daydreams of what might have been had my great-grandparents remained in the old country were occasionally shadowed by darker images of communism and civil war. Visiting Croatia left me torn between gratitude for my "American-ness" and wistful for a way of life that is uniquely European. Like it or lump it, I am the sum total of each weighty branch of my family tree; the Yugoslavian branch had long felt like a stump. My hope is that we nurtured it with plenty of Dalmatian sun and water (enriched by good, old-fashioned American dirt). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYvGVdNUgpBJPCn3hKkjibhtZ9OMfWqDMbOW1FDN-3Of8WLAgqjMmnqUr3gGb9fIPShq4RTsjnXRKvI2UE8slr5Vw3uU5BNSz6bf2SqZ6nvNOBZJiuaDOQ-uHtCCE3OfOufGEyMlUh2vY/s1600/IMG_2419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYvGVdNUgpBJPCn3hKkjibhtZ9OMfWqDMbOW1FDN-3Of8WLAgqjMmnqUr3gGb9fIPShq4RTsjnXRKvI2UE8slr5Vw3uU5BNSz6bf2SqZ6nvNOBZJiuaDOQ-uHtCCE3OfOufGEyMlUh2vY/s400/IMG_2419.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm going to choose it's a branch of bougainvillea.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I will still envy those childhood friends for knowing from their earliest days who they were and from whence they came. I will probably complain (exclusively in English) about my contemptible lack of language skills - I am American after all. I will always cherish my first trip to the land of my people; I will be equally grateful for a loving family to whom I can always return. Croatia's sky and the sea will continue to call me but until my next adventure in the old country, I know that I am home.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIY0qMXbU360USFcLsqAT9Xan0glSQYljV4QNREMn3J_cu1WhYZlC-XPdn_kHGrRneEyVgxKIfVK4TaLl3O7z8JJMy2kyRMR3ffCi9glIbWkTSF3SQamVvqNCLKMpQssYV6V3FjA7pRBM/s1600/IMG_2548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIY0qMXbU360USFcLsqAT9Xan0glSQYljV4QNREMn3J_cu1WhYZlC-XPdn_kHGrRneEyVgxKIfVK4TaLl3O7z8JJMy2kyRMR3ffCi9glIbWkTSF3SQamVvqNCLKMpQssYV6V3FjA7pRBM/s640/IMG_2548.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dubrovnik, Croatia (2016)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-60092155480582182792016-05-02T13:58:00.001-07:002016-05-02T17:04:30.886-07:00Kitsch-en Kounter: Cinco de Mayo CHURRIOS Burro<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Have you ever created something that works out surprisingly well on your first try only to be foiled by over confidence in a subsequent attempt to recreate it? Well, get ready...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMi0ZtyqTNrON_vAMxqVWWgmIdBweQKWvq3KpJjDy96FZ0nsYZtlrsiMfViQBJsdDjJk1DT1WoPEtplVuejRTRhdW_N1ltM6yQzCdiM2FLXTJgXsrPUXjG9ExuTnycVeG7f-Bx9IhkiSk/s1600/IMG_0969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMi0ZtyqTNrON_vAMxqVWWgmIdBweQKWvq3KpJjDy96FZ0nsYZtlrsiMfViQBJsdDjJk1DT1WoPEtplVuejRTRhdW_N1ltM6yQzCdiM2FLXTJgXsrPUXjG9ExuTnycVeG7f-Bx9IhkiSk/s400/IMG_0969.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During the holidays, I decided to exploit the possibilities of my <br />
rabbit-shaped cake mold for a last-minute, potluck dessert.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When there is no time for a cake but there is a houseful of christmas cookies, assorted candies, and a box of Rice Krispies (more than likely generic), I feel like that charmed <i>Chopped</i> contestant who, instead of being afraid of the mystery basket's contents, realizes he is the only one who knows to remove the membrane from prairie oysters.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxVaMZRvLTrxC-3xy-vUGt2Qo3fYp8q5lx3OmKUD6z5jIWz3KWHvNXdu97jwms9WASz-nNpMegbDgbhU8UJAzXoN3JEabTZVwUT-zDQlSSHJipJS4vkV1u8du4Jqfjg8TuKBpWPki6-c/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxVaMZRvLTrxC-3xy-vUGt2Qo3fYp8q5lx3OmKUD6z5jIWz3KWHvNXdu97jwms9WASz-nNpMegbDgbhU8UJAzXoN3JEabTZVwUT-zDQlSSHJipJS4vkV1u8du4Jqfjg8TuKBpWPki6-c/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="365" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rudolph the Red-Nosed Rice Krispies Reindeer - not<br />
perfect but pretty solid for an impromptu holiday treat!<br />
<br />
Using a bread knife to saw chocolate-covered pretzel rods, I refashioned<br />
them into antlers by melting the chocolate with a barbecue lighter and<br />
"gluing" on the remaining pieces. The ears are the neighbors' homemade<br />
biscotti, the eyes are jordan almonds, and the details are rendered in<br />
chocolate icing. A snowy bed of coconut is dressed up with a few holiday<br />
decoratifs. The nose, of course, is a bright-red maraschino cherry!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I never did a proper "Kitsch-en Kounter" post about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Rice Krispies Reindeer during the holidays, I felt it was acceptable to recycle the idea for Cinco de Mayo...but Rice Krispies seemed like old hat. Then I remembered the small batch of marshmallow-Honey Nut-Cheerios (cough, store brand, cough) squares I made. With a scant bag of Cheerios and the dregs of a marshmallow bag, I created a dessert from which we have coined the name "Churrios" for a flavor profile complimentary to that of Mexico's favorite donut stick!!!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4d2ZvzxjyuRteiZZL2xgV_sJ5Uhu2unKemBojGYka0sa5f27PFhpX2aqBoeiZIPOG8_8YNl-sOuayTkY33dApoDyEbY4MN-xgtfPX1xo67qudKfAVlAk7pwlKo9L5fiq2gYGlNf0pIs/s1600/IMG_0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4d2ZvzxjyuRteiZZL2xgV_sJ5Uhu2unKemBojGYka0sa5f27PFhpX2aqBoeiZIPOG8_8YNl-sOuayTkY33dApoDyEbY4MN-xgtfPX1xo67qudKfAVlAk7pwlKo9L5fiq2gYGlNf0pIs/s400/IMG_0917.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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The makings of Churrios!</div>
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It becomes acutely apparent that <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2015/12/my-father-my-buddy-my-baby.html">your father</a> was an unusual man when your adult brother comes over for a visit and wants to "make a craft." A lone picture exists of the <u>one</u> time that our dad tried to take us fishing, learning quickly that his sons were destined for different things. And so we found ourselves, two thirty-something brothers, not comatose in front of a football game, not parked at a sports bar, not playing video games, or concentrating on the contents of an automobile's engine compartment, rather brainstorming in the kitchen for ways to transform a Rice Krispies Rabbit/Reindeer into a Churrios Burro (Burr-io?). By word and deed our dad encouraged ingenuity and creativity - culinary and otherwise - over what might be considered more masculine pursuits. He was cool.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3m89Ue41murQ3plt7bG1he9NGxvGFbcNhzGVvD-OCkFpm4OLNzEc6XeKZq5qBgb74NVOKgpF6slOr2oTCzagc-mAZMovXkAwvjZBbW7tuxwRth9Mb0U7HY-c8r8ddt2GVNKr0ORDmyRs/s1600/IMG_0932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3m89Ue41murQ3plt7bG1he9NGxvGFbcNhzGVvD-OCkFpm4OLNzEc6XeKZq5qBgb74NVOKgpF6slOr2oTCzagc-mAZMovXkAwvjZBbW7tuxwRth9Mb0U7HY-c8r8ddt2GVNKr0ORDmyRs/s400/IMG_0932.JPG" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Included in our brainstorming session were ideas for presentation.<br />
I quickly found one of my vintage Mexican tablecloths but immediately <br />
became crestfallen when I realized that I had recently discarded a bower<br />
of paper flowers and even a mini Mexican flag...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In cooking, crafting, and sewing, my priority is always to make the most of what we have on hand. With all the urgency of panicky usher seeking medical relief for a theater patron, I screamed, "Is there a miniature sombrero in the house?!!" In a home where the answer to that query can come so rapidly in the affirmative, one might assume that there wasn't anything for which this project could go wanting; the Churrios Burro, however, required a very special trip to the store.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAN-TqzBF5ZJPpmSk8gnE_G20bl7FSp6osWGza6dcpvsF9QlJoIOAAcAMMgB3MioFk_Tv6VDV6YkkxVyYSH9K_kz2W2Xzzn6JZfTqZhdDHP7iS2qYyoscMSSZazMfgow8YIrmMyHH2O6E/s1600/IMG_0927.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAN-TqzBF5ZJPpmSk8gnE_G20bl7FSp6osWGza6dcpvsF9QlJoIOAAcAMMgB3MioFk_Tv6VDV6YkkxVyYSH9K_kz2W2Xzzn6JZfTqZhdDHP7iS2qYyoscMSSZazMfgow8YIrmMyHH2O6E/s320/IMG_0927.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For what would a Churrios Burro be without some Chiclets and Bandera de Coco?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JSCuiE8uGuAbPei21C-11TA1UsNb8_tPFmdm_v8dXhBqUrAJJG7dLq-ma1iD1kAUe10dvpargNHV6u8zBEfK7mgizYYN51lrsVR0EoVsZ5HEjl46fc5XJ3GGjBmvyXRzMZci_pgx-_8/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JSCuiE8uGuAbPei21C-11TA1UsNb8_tPFmdm_v8dXhBqUrAJJG7dLq-ma1iD1kAUe10dvpargNHV6u8zBEfK7mgizYYN51lrsVR0EoVsZ5HEjl46fc5XJ3GGjBmvyXRzMZci_pgx-_8/s400/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nobody's immune to the chiclet-teeth Hollywood makeover!</td></tr>
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A tad over-anxious, we un-molded the Churrios Burro before he was quite ready. I made a cinnamon frosting with coconut milk to add some highlights/character but by the time our little Burrito was assembled, there was no time for superfluous adornments before he began to implode.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKppJSQbRbb7KjjRdX7bDycCrvriUe6ifLInjxs0YRbTRu_WkzGnvdru9zWbY1RfUI41oGWt6vZJJllTS_xkkCAridetUxUG0NESkoVIOggYC1o9TjVGjrNhNHFWJ10ByzVQoDZckeWhw/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKppJSQbRbb7KjjRdX7bDycCrvriUe6ifLInjxs0YRbTRu_WkzGnvdru9zWbY1RfUI41oGWt6vZJJllTS_xkkCAridetUxUG0NESkoVIOggYC1o9TjVGjrNhNHFWJ10ByzVQoDZckeWhw/s640/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With dead M&M eyes, a blanket of flattened Bandera de Coco, a single, snaggle chiclet <br />
tooth, and that miniature sombrero, our Churrios Burro had to hit his bed of Mexican-flag<br />
coconut before he fell completely apart.</td></tr>
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The lighting inside wasn't so hot; we wondered if a trip outside would improve the situation...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmJ52c19W3LD45xvY8d8P6QXHt_f7v3LBiBayReQtrt8AtSGospK3FbY40BjgegdLe8p2KjEdgEzMWfRhXlCLbixt-ITVf0UAx8KP7tj9b_l-kDSNP9Jb8wXO7v4SsiR4Jepd1M9G6_0/s1600/IMG_0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmJ52c19W3LD45xvY8d8P6QXHt_f7v3LBiBayReQtrt8AtSGospK3FbY40BjgegdLe8p2KjEdgEzMWfRhXlCLbixt-ITVf0UAx8KP7tj9b_l-kDSNP9Jb8wXO7v4SsiR4Jepd1M9G6_0/s400/IMG_0938.JPG" width="386" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly, it didn't...<br />
<br />
This Churrios Burro is suffering from the dreaded "Cinco spread."<br />
Our impatience combined with the large format of Cheerios might have <br />
made the molded dessert a questionable choice BUT, because it still <br />
tasted delicious, I will share the recipe without feeling like a total ASS!</td></tr>
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<b>CHURRIOS RECIPE</b></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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1 stick of Butter</div>
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1 16 oz. Bag of Mini Marshmallows</div>
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1 17 oz. Box of Honey Nut Cheerios (or generic equivalent)</div>
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1/2 teaspoon Cinnamon</div>
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1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract</div>
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Cinnamon-Sugar for dusting</div>
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Directions:</div>
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In a heavy-bottomed dutch oven or stock pot, brown the butter (really, it makes a delicious difference). When the butter is browned, add the entire bag of marshmallows and allow them to melt (stirring constantly). Once the marshmallows are melted, remove the pot from the heat and stir in the cinnamon, vanilla, and cereal. Press the combined mixture firmly into the mold of your choice. Once set, remove the Churrios from the mold, sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar and decorate for your chosen holiday extravaganza.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYO0_EC3wz-8EwYrY6lKA8K7wsxVfbQu_cVVjDjG2UTSaZW7KSrUuMzAQDLqmuUT_N1F3NtI6MjANynYmdKSI1A7NyRXDGGOtJsRYP7-iE8Rpf7UKXV7Bb3ya8mB-VnGRxNj2sQ8XoRR0/s1600/FullSizeRender_1_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYO0_EC3wz-8EwYrY6lKA8K7wsxVfbQu_cVVjDjG2UTSaZW7KSrUuMzAQDLqmuUT_N1F3NtI6MjANynYmdKSI1A7NyRXDGGOtJsRYP7-iE8Rpf7UKXV7Bb3ya8mB-VnGRxNj2sQ8XoRR0/s400/FullSizeRender_1_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But be patient before un-molding or he'll never be able to say "Heeyaw, Heeyaw, Heeyaw!"</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/xTgygdKKdh4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xTgygdKKdh4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"The Donkey Serenade" - Glenn Miller with The Andrews Sisters (1940)</div>
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Feliz Cinco de Mayo!!! Now go make an ass <strike>of</strike> for yourself!<br />
<br />
<br />
Cheer-ios!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-17746877316718373162016-04-30T09:21:00.000-07:002016-04-30T09:21:03.514-07:00Once Upon a Time in STORYLAND...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_d5kGhTK5NBGXRLPusX06OeOmFgQLfWOf6yDhEV6wiCfh0Adx_rjbdNc7BpVl8Ln76QCOSC3OqtjT2qXKIcd74AEQG1wR4pLZPnmlCiCbK4mVLXBgz0JZxV1yeYJfcrFDxnS4Ve9InY/s1600/DSC_0704.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_d5kGhTK5NBGXRLPusX06OeOmFgQLfWOf6yDhEV6wiCfh0Adx_rjbdNc7BpVl8Ln76QCOSC3OqtjT2qXKIcd74AEQG1wR4pLZPnmlCiCbK4mVLXBgz0JZxV1yeYJfcrFDxnS4Ve9InY/s640/DSC_0704.JPG" width="502" /></a></div>
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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived an adventure team who dreamt of a grand holiday in <a href="http://storylandfresno.com/">Storyland</a>. Combining their life savings, amounting exactly to one hill of beans (albeit magic), they discovered they had just enough for the railroad fare from their humble village. And so they packed their meager belongings for the long passage north.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2kaXzrVEHlTBo7HFac9JTiaK7X0BytwT5iEK3TYzpYSVQIemRw5U0cPDI3osVaSAooyDKS7SBWDIMD0cTaZOOir104Xcl7Q6KTTTCv3hlB_zhtICDRSxQySRZbP9mrD7gc2I7GyDlrs/s1600/DSC_0645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2kaXzrVEHlTBo7HFac9JTiaK7X0BytwT5iEK3TYzpYSVQIemRw5U0cPDI3osVaSAooyDKS7SBWDIMD0cTaZOOir104Xcl7Q6KTTTCv3hlB_zhtICDRSxQySRZbP9mrD7gc2I7GyDlrs/s640/DSC_0645.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never having ridden a proper locomotive, they thought the<br />
train ride would be the most harrowing part of their journey...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMglkMc5LyNdAE4pHJWx3LD8lVcldNop55Gr5xQ7ml25f681N-2_qALYJCETTWz1S4n91LYriNClPS-dGggxqPmFfp3YqaA3zaE4QK7GTikFn2beOVODpOlS18MdGmIROQ8qCKwT3Y0WI/s1600/DSC_0634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMglkMc5LyNdAE4pHJWx3LD8lVcldNop55Gr5xQ7ml25f681N-2_qALYJCETTWz1S4n91LYriNClPS-dGggxqPmFfp3YqaA3zaE4QK7GTikFn2beOVODpOlS18MdGmIROQ8qCKwT3Y0WI/s640/DSC_0634.jpg" width="560" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is until they came under the attack of a not-so-reluctant dragon!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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Filled to the brim with immersive attractions based on history's most beloved fairy tales, Rotary Storyland (nestled in the verdure of Fresno's Roeding Park) is every <u>child's</u> dream come true. So child-centric is it, that some well-intentioned locals advised us to bypass Storyland in favor of more sophisticated diversions.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7A-B5o-C27-gpD7M4fHKAFdNCVz4iIXT1hc3_4_fA1E90hqvkJiIPwwe3X-0qmYxpQ1uL2kz3cZ3j0i7pe1oiQID012Q6E3qbanxMiBRSJu2P4RHTp9ybHEE-A0TyWGIIsh38mNEaUR0/s1600/DSC_0832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7A-B5o-C27-gpD7M4fHKAFdNCVz4iIXT1hc3_4_fA1E90hqvkJiIPwwe3X-0qmYxpQ1uL2kz3cZ3j0i7pe1oiQID012Q6E3qbanxMiBRSJu2P4RHTp9ybHEE-A0TyWGIIsh38mNEaUR0/s400/DSC_0832.jpg" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mlf5TE33HDXvrm8zw0MuiCmScnbGXj3wGdk4QM6AId6IKywYkqvBxPJDxTJp1lVWY5gIKSBV2MyZ6c-cVm0r-n2TorgVqW0PB2E9eIhwCLswxXJ66D4YJ8OaV7Mm_vwlkx2Idw2-VTk/s1600/DSC_0838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mlf5TE33HDXvrm8zw0MuiCmScnbGXj3wGdk4QM6AId6IKywYkqvBxPJDxTJp1lVWY5gIKSBV2MyZ6c-cVm0r-n2TorgVqW0PB2E9eIhwCLswxXJ66D4YJ8OaV7Mm_vwlkx2Idw2-VTk/s400/DSC_0838.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">They'd obviously never met the <i><b>wacky tacky adventure team</b></i>!</span></div>
<br />
<br />
Built in 1962, Storyland, is the kiddy pool to the "deep end" that is Rotary Playland (1955). Directly adjacent to Storyland, Playland is a contemporary of its decidedly-overwrought neighbor to the south, Disneyland. Within its gates, it appears that park goers can ride carnival-style rides in a lakeside setting, but as we whizzed by on the train we were barely afforded a view of Playand's many wonders.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgXyT3MSUHQh8WT-m5gsXmLtAcEi1IDebW6wLDPHzKzfEicsbu56f86rP2qT2jjuQNRPWfGyvJfF0lNU4wou9PvjGMlxFoPH7eY5VX9CjBzR7sktHR0wt6MoalXPlZe_o_4WL4MWvt8I/s1600/DSC_0687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgXyT3MSUHQh8WT-m5gsXmLtAcEi1IDebW6wLDPHzKzfEicsbu56f86rP2qT2jjuQNRPWfGyvJfF0lNU4wou9PvjGMlxFoPH7eY5VX9CjBzR7sktHR0wt6MoalXPlZe_o_4WL4MWvt8I/s640/DSC_0687.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">We did, however, manage to catch a glimpse of an amazing drinking fountain where to hydrate <br />
is to defy death; for a cool sip one must stick one's head inside the mouth of a man-eating lion!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSYW4tZGfzHmMGKTcOIob6Arp-OXty4Y_1xJMpTGtwr3Xe-bnQPUULZjEwMzSGb5z_a-_bXm_c-jORPthjPcX3BFgO03370WpJziC3RAzUO5FXvDeGVh4ygzWumSBQ2J5Kfs30c4mWZU/s1600/DSC_0678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSYW4tZGfzHmMGKTcOIob6Arp-OXty4Y_1xJMpTGtwr3Xe-bnQPUULZjEwMzSGb5z_a-_bXm_c-jORPthjPcX3BFgO03370WpJziC3RAzUO5FXvDeGVh4ygzWumSBQ2J5Kfs30c4mWZU/s640/DSC_0678.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And pictures simply do not do justice to the radiant colors being applied to the whirlybird helicopters.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As Playland was not yet open for the season, we stuck to our original plan and continued on our trek to to Storyland. Acting the big shot, I strutted up to the ticket booth and placed my order for four adult tickets. Imagine my confusion when the charming attendant inquired if there were any actual children in our party. When I answered in the negative, she indicated that Storyland is closed to adults unaccompanied by minors. Thankfully, our respectful protestations - accompanied by the flashing of a <b><i>wacky tacky</i></b> business card - resulted in VIP entrance to the park!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWZELJRhKCaCJ1uUMwG038dK7LO3PlE8yy86IfcyWUfFLmJMKHj2RJHEdDyYRviAfKunzot1Nmhu_thdhpCkn-jqCmPihzlWAPdC0wn04FFsDfwxHQ7-3osnGYEvNraAD4t1toI-hkD0/s1600/DSC_0825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWZELJRhKCaCJ1uUMwG038dK7LO3PlE8yy86IfcyWUfFLmJMKHj2RJHEdDyYRviAfKunzot1Nmhu_thdhpCkn-jqCmPihzlWAPdC0wn04FFsDfwxHQ7-3osnGYEvNraAD4t1toI-hkD0/s640/DSC_0825.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It quickly became evident that we were indeed <br />
quite a bit larger than Storyland's typical clientele.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Large though we may be, our all-access pass revealed some of Storyland's most well-kept and, dare I say, dirty, little secrets.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxVDb3mTMA6BfklLBlwKHMSsu1gKqeCMOboCxXp34LU1RLcWgMpB3SZcQJ7wdYcXD71YGW371tIpWPNesOodS34UMmr0yeKzaYGXMv0-VBnkkExD9ggTyCGbnU-DRhf4VCiVcL32iPNc/s1600/DSC_0724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxVDb3mTMA6BfklLBlwKHMSsu1gKqeCMOboCxXp34LU1RLcWgMpB3SZcQJ7wdYcXD71YGW371tIpWPNesOodS34UMmr0yeKzaYGXMv0-VBnkkExD9ggTyCGbnU-DRhf4VCiVcL32iPNc/s400/DSC_0724.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Example: Humpty Dumpty didn't fall...he was pushed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJIlRQ2z4vggP4LcHhAq7JGF-LrdLRt9gglBgxjVKnRKCvl6ZdS6q7PnQwZ-7E9aqRtIJTFSqALwsdimbEArIjfIa6dmKtG1kCAnfAyaew5btdFMHdnXPqu-RJkClZGQOhxqi0UMZqvY/s1600/DSC_0785.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJIlRQ2z4vggP4LcHhAq7JGF-LrdLRt9gglBgxjVKnRKCvl6ZdS6q7PnQwZ-7E9aqRtIJTFSqALwsdimbEArIjfIa6dmKtG1kCAnfAyaew5btdFMHdnXPqu-RJkClZGQOhxqi0UMZqvY/s640/DSC_0785.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: One word - "extensions"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiFmErO2v1Ijyg__gY7MzU6_O8o5wjPACpKLXFu52xk6HfYZuB-tKHfcHX7oMb0A74qGslxV9Ks7478c24-sZyQ0eg_DJFyx0o-5AiJuziYA5Vfam4xwcowvOf5LTwzq77C4HmPTx6Kg/s1600/DSC_0746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiFmErO2v1Ijyg__gY7MzU6_O8o5wjPACpKLXFu52xk6HfYZuB-tKHfcHX7oMb0A74qGslxV9Ks7478c24-sZyQ0eg_DJFyx0o-5AiJuziYA5Vfam4xwcowvOf5LTwzq77C4HmPTx6Kg/s640/DSC_0746.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: In spite of what Alice will tell you, eating this will <u>not</u> make you smaller.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqYjH65hTNoangmCW_Pky7ngaZzr3Z0sxrklexKc8JRayTmlOsYuaRR7c-ld3DF9_4UkeRvgdU1XoYAIauFuwM49I9xdm8v8-09BmBInxVkFIm-pfU2NbIWPPf94qKPydUimnwSsO3c4/s1600/DSC_0821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqYjH65hTNoangmCW_Pky7ngaZzr3Z0sxrklexKc8JRayTmlOsYuaRR7c-ld3DF9_4UkeRvgdU1XoYAIauFuwM49I9xdm8v8-09BmBInxVkFIm-pfU2NbIWPPf94qKPydUimnwSsO3c4/s640/DSC_0821.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Little Miss Muffet was a curd thief and whey rustler; even the tuffet<br />
belonged to Mr. Spider (Storyland's most respected cottage cheese magnate).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwOhykY-QY3OCj9-6YZmFAgDJ5jtCA0faGmjwLL1bzBv6eozP2xVSY0NE_tihsWasTY4GhFSq_2vCT2NBBL-Vd1aZLlionbrqn2hnHzq8Ew_h4ZkZz0vnPfhXscVSPHSLDYB56p35FAc/s1600/DSC_0763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwOhykY-QY3OCj9-6YZmFAgDJ5jtCA0faGmjwLL1bzBv6eozP2xVSY0NE_tihsWasTY4GhFSq_2vCT2NBBL-Vd1aZLlionbrqn2hnHzq8Ew_h4ZkZz0vnPfhXscVSPHSLDYB56p35FAc/s640/DSC_0763.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Goldilocks was in serious cahoots with the three bears...like Baby Bear has two mommies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAYnGd6NxpI3v7tVHR-zrHlv_8Agxd8Sv654m2XjpdYaSZvd4ufBqHoiSF_573C-xwOrfe05IrUawRivDlfc0C1gzB8RpzBnApxw8FZoRcre6EqJuVsPB9vkrHzSjsjuKAKH4sMFhTWM/s1600/DSC_0765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAYnGd6NxpI3v7tVHR-zrHlv_8Agxd8Sv654m2XjpdYaSZvd4ufBqHoiSF_573C-xwOrfe05IrUawRivDlfc0C1gzB8RpzBnApxw8FZoRcre6EqJuVsPB9vkrHzSjsjuKAKH4sMFhTWM/s640/DSC_0765.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: There was no hill to fall down; Jack and Jill were plastered.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsy0EW-f5DZzXmupkj6MlW3-sdsr7Ii8OA6JieS7GMBvLuH75OwGc6FRyK20yL6g9pBVQQPvhxDxSaMTSf_bh65SzvrJBoUhyphenhyphenQ4nJvz0fO69KjtM1UZDAZMg53RoYapWhMQNWky-phtqs/s1600/DSC_0829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsy0EW-f5DZzXmupkj6MlW3-sdsr7Ii8OA6JieS7GMBvLuH75OwGc6FRyK20yL6g9pBVQQPvhxDxSaMTSf_bh65SzvrJBoUhyphenhyphenQ4nJvz0fO69KjtM1UZDAZMg53RoYapWhMQNWky-phtqs/s640/DSC_0829.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Little Boy Blue was under the haystack but he wasn't alone...and they weren't sleeping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1EfmWs25DgL-0bVbBANadvEUFo3GM6iOYxE_cZ2XvTMWhTMhFWs1l-DegZ3mGLrY5n0v0DHlcapfyTjxXtIw7zvDaApLlqf9L6Qc6XQN5COPMneJM1MDBDhyphenhyphenwKWjIBgvycwd5DiXGDM/s1600/DSC_0797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1EfmWs25DgL-0bVbBANadvEUFo3GM6iOYxE_cZ2XvTMWhTMhFWs1l-DegZ3mGLrY5n0v0DHlcapfyTjxXtIw7zvDaApLlqf9L6Qc6XQN5COPMneJM1MDBDhyphenhyphenwKWjIBgvycwd5DiXGDM/s640/DSC_0797.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: It is the <u>w</u>itches, in fact, who get stitches.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAeifErjY9XtXOWTlxPoxtVBKGM_C1uThEX9wseAJlR8tpYf86oaMP1VBFAfvZ5sgdAVp-KVI1GVlmsFrISaGdr_yu3KxCC6EcrAAynZWpBQI9vAoosLrqh3ylva3DGaNHfIlTJJbVE4/s1600/DSC_0719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAeifErjY9XtXOWTlxPoxtVBKGM_C1uThEX9wseAJlR8tpYf86oaMP1VBFAfvZ5sgdAVp-KVI1GVlmsFrISaGdr_yu3KxCC6EcrAAynZWpBQI9vAoosLrqh3ylva3DGaNHfIlTJJbVE4/s400/DSC_0719.jpg" width="198" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWvi2GizJuaaQTPRughS0i4iIoCNb5yKvqmdgpURrOMrMS-irp5EtmAkWbnE9vlH26PCSM16e46srdWYHf9YZLy1CBihIvOrouKZOiPHtPB7o1ZaCcHywVpHaFMiEsx_OyERWO36mukE/s1600/DSC_0769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWvi2GizJuaaQTPRughS0i4iIoCNb5yKvqmdgpURrOMrMS-irp5EtmAkWbnE9vlH26PCSM16e46srdWYHf9YZLy1CBihIvOrouKZOiPHtPB7o1ZaCcHywVpHaFMiEsx_OyERWO36mukE/s400/DSC_0769.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="267" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Example: Hansel & Gretel were fools - every fairy tale cottage comes complete with an escape hatch.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXqp1ewLPvz3-wLmjayERbl2ehC6006-oQUo-K16GELsbBsRUAYF66eqnHRMzOHZ0jM6geA8A6nosi9CY36IaJFoQDig4kGttdJ0cGF3UzztmxJ0lzZACCZJkNKg2O_96kxFEOx5gmEo/s1600/DSC_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXqp1ewLPvz3-wLmjayERbl2ehC6006-oQUo-K16GELsbBsRUAYF66eqnHRMzOHZ0jM6geA8A6nosi9CY36IaJFoQDig4kGttdJ0cGF3UzztmxJ0lzZACCZJkNKg2O_96kxFEOx5gmEo/s640/DSC_0707.JPG" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: There was no house of straw...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xUYi4oIo7VbvBSTzA3uicURmZqiiwBDlu2NYIdYISdK9RZNg4jJF2tWQPQrh0RDFcLgDJ0GCAXvdBb1OdnSAc3NqZEmZl8EogX3H3q0_kISUQNFBoCuc_DAJ12BHqdMi5N2De20582I/s1600/DSC_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xUYi4oIo7VbvBSTzA3uicURmZqiiwBDlu2NYIdYISdK9RZNg4jJF2tWQPQrh0RDFcLgDJ0GCAXvdBb1OdnSAc3NqZEmZl8EogX3H3q0_kISUQNFBoCuc_DAJ12BHqdMi5N2De20582I/s640/DSC_0710.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was no Big, Bad Wolf...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwHhoVfqaGWOG4fqMk7wqoGiOnjaIAdAE3k1FPdQ_DDIp42t2K9VDET-_tvJNbURqqnTGUDz8dwt2Pashs25fQWG1UzdqafnHnKqnQLEHG9Ppc2-r9bvu5DVrgG8vGWabDyoJtIz1GLo/s1600/DSC_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwHhoVfqaGWOG4fqMk7wqoGiOnjaIAdAE3k1FPdQ_DDIp42t2K9VDET-_tvJNbURqqnTGUDz8dwt2Pashs25fQWG1UzdqafnHnKqnQLEHG9Ppc2-r9bvu5DVrgG8vGWabDyoJtIz1GLo/s640/DSC_0709.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Three little Pigs were guilty of perpetrating Storyland's biggest insurance fraud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRLJ_dLAkBzZbYaX5-X_yiw5EeqOYvIEZ8tViPMWsDADEUwTmlK1YZd-txBr3-xdz6f8H4CJ8mr-deLWIcw0ByX4RdaiSWYGlNQs22ubI0Pq67GTo-k8l-zBLnLeL2tj60O4lErNHGzk/s1600/DSC_0739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRLJ_dLAkBzZbYaX5-X_yiw5EeqOYvIEZ8tViPMWsDADEUwTmlK1YZd-txBr3-xdz6f8H4CJ8mr-deLWIcw0ByX4RdaiSWYGlNQs22ubI0Pq67GTo-k8l-zBLnLeL2tj60O4lErNHGzk/s640/DSC_0739.jpg" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: The Gingerbread Man is totally catchable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19TkG6NFIEtBistx3VSGvYW1-Vh6yAhQ3djZlusKmFkJUyaN7FqbUjUce7NszvUW1sAEOFipU_t_J3swMrjhDPuEIoL1gVf4koJfZ7czh_lAzgGrfOoUKxJbAR3ruRW8Sfjb-TG5vcGM/s1600/DSC_0747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19TkG6NFIEtBistx3VSGvYW1-Vh6yAhQ3djZlusKmFkJUyaN7FqbUjUce7NszvUW1sAEOFipU_t_J3swMrjhDPuEIoL1gVf4koJfZ7czh_lAzgGrfOoUKxJbAR3ruRW8Sfjb-TG5vcGM/s640/DSC_0747.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Little Red Riding Hood was notorious for sampling the forest's many varieties of mushrooms.<br />
The subsequent hallucinatory episodes included wolves, grandmothers, and...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88RihkHSLdk7zgxNnEjiWxqbG-m0IFpUpYDy49BHaf13enrP85Pxmk4DgoGYJ8iYkT189m5Hl0bK79V1WAUc1cOgkvCWrvXQXiyzwDxBaAUk_81ZCAAZFSPqxSPzBjnAw6PoE5hv_ylA/s1600/DSC_0728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88RihkHSLdk7zgxNnEjiWxqbG-m0IFpUpYDy49BHaf13enrP85Pxmk4DgoGYJ8iYkT189m5Hl0bK79V1WAUc1cOgkvCWrvXQXiyzwDxBaAUk_81ZCAAZFSPqxSPzBjnAw6PoE5hv_ylA/s640/DSC_0728.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imaginary tea parties.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu63AxcuCujK16XKcFZL25Yi6Hhv-dEbPefjwtjvhP7tHzrQT7Tj6bRBRRCRyAF00Vm2NSJ__UhWSqI5pzBCrv4WGgKddEmO6EeH8RJ2JjMu9L0TPE_1lAywDRZozMfXn_NuI0Ys3Ndgg/s1600/DSC_0774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu63AxcuCujK16XKcFZL25Yi6Hhv-dEbPefjwtjvhP7tHzrQT7Tj6bRBRRCRyAF00Vm2NSJ__UhWSqI5pzBCrv4WGgKddEmO6EeH8RJ2JjMu9L0TPE_1lAywDRZozMfXn_NuI0Ys3Ndgg/s640/DSC_0774.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: After the foreclosure, Sleeping Beauty's Castle<br />
was auctioned off to a new owner not of royal lineage but... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VM8GzbeslbJPpSd_ko9UIRMEg9ASMorzFVpEtg_sudxJxcFNpuNgIr6Dg1Z1yKzqWFD7lDKBmGSk5mbsVFc9DFEihAL1zbiv8i9ziGZ7HMnR2bX_-YeYl2qw5FhOVKCTHYkyXFY5wWw/s1600/DSC_0775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VM8GzbeslbJPpSd_ko9UIRMEg9ASMorzFVpEtg_sudxJxcFNpuNgIr6Dg1Z1yKzqWFD7lDKBmGSk5mbsVFc9DFEihAL1zbiv8i9ziGZ7HMnR2bX_-YeYl2qw5FhOVKCTHYkyXFY5wWw/s640/DSC_0775.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To The Beverly Hillbillies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHM4_L8jwqrbTk0mEqMqbNGnsDgFUJfgr5c6NEvtAxoMmxMa4aUloHW4-ATooPsR0J3rtFOmSwqITyLBjwP208mj2H-b2BYsxiOIpQ0guzAUZ0mFiG48mbUiqWaG7X1RRu1bNJmoLdn0/s1600/DSC_0802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHM4_L8jwqrbTk0mEqMqbNGnsDgFUJfgr5c6NEvtAxoMmxMa4aUloHW4-ATooPsR0J3rtFOmSwqITyLBjwP208mj2H-b2BYsxiOIpQ0guzAUZ0mFiG48mbUiqWaG7X1RRu1bNJmoLdn0/s640/DSC_0802.jpg" width="438" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: No matter how hard you try, the house is <u>not</u> edible.<br />
Trust me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGI9SuPHhQlYgDIS9gPRy11gMEs0wDR8st8cZncBx8LNBfob-Fe0XEiTLcYR6ZLry47UV_DACoY5JoJ7zdhpBz_9C5HUorxfQGSjaxZyOm5aIAV2dyicTw8wWgAn5JrLpuLEEfuKyg158/s1600/DSC_0736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGI9SuPHhQlYgDIS9gPRy11gMEs0wDR8st8cZncBx8LNBfob-Fe0XEiTLcYR6ZLry47UV_DACoY5JoJ7zdhpBz_9C5HUorxfQGSjaxZyOm5aIAV2dyicTw8wWgAn5JrLpuLEEfuKyg158/s400/DSC_0736.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: It's easy to get swept away in the fantasy but...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAviLQ7pCTXMI_fOFt5Lv4EDDiysdGohDtXaC23XCNuQ1t7lYsdWvcYd-nRdx0aH7p7ySSNpQlDhvcfzNHB21n3AyPkdi2Xb6c9XcXxr9y5WOXmA4UZZj1k3aocCvZ_grVn40P5yS5Ipo/s1600/DSC_0737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAviLQ7pCTXMI_fOFt5Lv4EDDiysdGohDtXaC23XCNuQ1t7lYsdWvcYd-nRdx0aH7p7ySSNpQlDhvcfzNHB21n3AyPkdi2Xb6c9XcXxr9y5WOXmA4UZZj1k3aocCvZ_grVn40P5yS5Ipo/s400/DSC_0737.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There would be no princes that day...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCH-qBAcUvSRT4uE0mJ5J_VEIJ9D6on7CX-YmdxPJFYftqF_imT9AiJ6CmmVrwNF12pYLXP_0FMAKnBsjO-vR0l4ZDhMbm6v1_86NH_3ZKVZ1Ar-mF_qEpxTdH_YKb63dmBWtfZ7g0mU/s1600/DSC_0738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCH-qBAcUvSRT4uE0mJ5J_VEIJ9D6on7CX-YmdxPJFYftqF_imT9AiJ6CmmVrwNF12pYLXP_0FMAKnBsjO-vR0l4ZDhMbm6v1_86NH_3ZKVZ1Ar-mF_qEpxTdH_YKb63dmBWtfZ7g0mU/s400/DSC_0738.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When all we had was a bunch of horny toads!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicD2Wix_YHnDVswuqbjOWzJhD8F2PzcUQRTS5NPJ_XjwWaYK9aTErmjuSJQqtZxhmzWcwTXzPdD2h7cTKZdcDaGVBTMA5SHhmx-K5gk7_uaDVuv8gDV-sa2Z0I7wREQOwb2l6m_xtyFNI/s1600/DSC_0787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicD2Wix_YHnDVswuqbjOWzJhD8F2PzcUQRTS5NPJ_XjwWaYK9aTErmjuSJQqtZxhmzWcwTXzPdD2h7cTKZdcDaGVBTMA5SHhmx-K5gk7_uaDVuv8gDV-sa2Z0I7wREQOwb2l6m_xtyFNI/s640/DSC_0787.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example: Dorothy did not miss the Scarecrow most of all. <br />She left him to farm beets with his equally-brainless kin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The best thing I learned at Rotary Storyland is that my family is much more funner than what your family is!!!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5zp8d3YvcMs0t-v7FhZ1_U4FdbohY82QT9HT1wr5u0fYdkwUsPXcnHpqaJ1Q1j_5f7Sls3knOhSLoJwzu3jYzHLdwYpC4UEgB1baOFF1egdJep2AMREkvVo6Wsr12C9XpC5DWzeZh0w/s1600/DSC_0817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5zp8d3YvcMs0t-v7FhZ1_U4FdbohY82QT9HT1wr5u0fYdkwUsPXcnHpqaJ1Q1j_5f7Sls3knOhSLoJwzu3jYzHLdwYpC4UEgB1baOFF1egdJep2AMREkvVo6Wsr12C9XpC5DWzeZh0w/s640/DSC_0817.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even after the <i>Mary</i>-Go-Round...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzx1b9Np6zOk8_BWzEPRWFlMOwQlONVYObijUMjI1xEYMtajj06yCHGPcrAqSaYWtpYmnMugJyzz6mXBjcSGA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
broke down.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And we always live "Happily Ever After."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uUbK_KuKrhjrpinVnRArlKq91PHNEEIlMC6USAJXJ0-qRgnEEt4q1c5kU7grHIhAL3NTte6MM7jAelSayOBd-Z9k8uB3lCqKZWup7UgcvosWKzP48UWVEyZcLLeYQUm4et0555frFdM/s1600/DSC_0714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uUbK_KuKrhjrpinVnRArlKq91PHNEEIlMC6USAJXJ0-qRgnEEt4q1c5kU7grHIhAL3NTte6MM7jAelSayOBd-Z9k8uB3lCqKZWup7UgcvosWKzP48UWVEyZcLLeYQUm4et0555frFdM/s640/DSC_0714.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So when do we get our own show?!?!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92xyNk-8UShOVOSoBkKiM2it1lAmSFqOSl9-Qn97HxCItVz9VEgqKhILWsY4WFieuD02A4rpWtc77zTzNMhM_dLKBf5xM0HZKyNrlHnAyP-vJ0DJ7wOGSXG75L8A6XRJlIZ-SQqkUgc0/s1600/DSC_0703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92xyNk-8UShOVOSoBkKiM2it1lAmSFqOSl9-Qn97HxCItVz9VEgqKhILWsY4WFieuD02A4rpWtc77zTzNMhM_dLKBf5xM0HZKyNrlHnAyP-vJ0DJ7wOGSXG75L8A6XRJlIZ-SQqkUgc0/s400/DSC_0703.JPG" width="265" /></a><br />
<b>Rotary Storyland & Playland</b><br />
<b>(Inside Roeding Park)</b><br />
890 W Belmont Ave<br />
Fresno, CA<br />
(559)486-2124<br />
<br />
<a href="http://storylandfresno.com/">storylandfresno.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-66054550020702012602016-04-26T22:09:00.001-07:002016-04-27T06:43:14.928-07:00Chow Time: Four Clowns at a PANCAKE CIRCUS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I finally understand the East Coast vs. West Coast rivalry rooted so deeply in the '90s hip hop community. Fundamentally, I'm pretty sure that it's about breakfast food.<br />
<br />
Obviously, the East Coast is the undefeated champion when it comes to streamlined chrome diners, all night joints where one can unashamedly order a kitchen-sink omelette just as easily at four in the afternoon as four in the morning. Where the West wins is corny coffee shops - Googie-style affairs with kooky rooflines and even kookier theming.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HBKnKDHSl19WfXMYATuAqCdGDLLqzXGpbz_W55B4hOqnBy9Zt0jQsGuGVToN_zOH5q6kFRoMOGI4DmGJ-g9RpCSgA1njkK3dnoa5-x5TaPPamUV8ekQuTQk9JWuxfN53aqg1Lz1X3bc/s1600/DSC_1006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HBKnKDHSl19WfXMYATuAqCdGDLLqzXGpbz_W55B4hOqnBy9Zt0jQsGuGVToN_zOH5q6kFRoMOGI4DmGJ-g9RpCSgA1njkK3dnoa5-x5TaPPamUV8ekQuTQk9JWuxfN53aqg1Lz1X3bc/s640/DSC_1006.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pancake Circus (1960) - Sacramento, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To visit Sacramento is to learn that Pancake Circus is the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tupac_Shakur">Tupac</a> of themed coffee shops. Seriously, when told that the kitchen would not make her pancakes in the form of <a href="http://www.crimemuseum.org/crime-library/tupac-shakur">Tupac's famous West Coast hand sign</a>, Mary requested that they at least arrange her bacon in the shape of a "W."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n_O5DxUJ2rSV3M-vCy1feOCemLTc859LCVAuI_9RrVIU10Bhl9tlRUO9SepYH4BS0uRHKATHcwMuQkfgTyEf64bcGZAt-bxBnNEjiQVOD1RsKpWYuns9m-wTicL6RtLz9c4IcTyQaOE/s1600/DSC_0030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n_O5DxUJ2rSV3M-vCy1feOCemLTc859LCVAuI_9RrVIU10Bhl9tlRUO9SepYH4BS0uRHKATHcwMuQkfgTyEf64bcGZAt-bxBnNEjiQVOD1RsKpWYuns9m-wTicL6RtLz9c4IcTyQaOE/s640/DSC_0030.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kitchen, the counter, and some of Pancake Circus' OGs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Waiting for our meal to arrive, we engaged in all the usual coffee shop shenanigans - shooting the paper wrapping off our straws, loosening the lids on the pepper shakers, playing the rims of our water glasses etc. It wasn't until we began balancing spoons on the ends of our noses, that I realized what was happening; at Pancake Circus, <i>we</i> were the circus. The spoons were little more than large rubber balls and we were the seals. Here, the two-dimensional animal cutouts watched as we, trapped in our naugahyde cages, wildly tore into the food delivered by our keepers/servers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVIFCSobDG5tIRu0S3k3PhuxV_TR6FtF7lsgQw_uordLAXL-Ocsm_aVq1Uv4DbPOvFr2KZVTCFRgb7vvZrr4uyvs-SVaTFRx7WjlQ0jCLs1E2uu2aShgneH1_T5lSEygjVg0ATCBvhh8/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVIFCSobDG5tIRu0S3k3PhuxV_TR6FtF7lsgQw_uordLAXL-Ocsm_aVq1Uv4DbPOvFr2KZVTCFRgb7vvZrr4uyvs-SVaTFRx7WjlQ0jCLs1E2uu2aShgneH1_T5lSEygjVg0ATCBvhh8/s640/DSC_0022.JPG" width="574" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See what I mean?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0fpteQvtiyc7onsTZFwtSVFaL-s9fHnZbv3oORlyaLZ8C4YZ301-4L2fK2WpC7LkugSHh5SqhNMZ62o9Tw6-cWmBX1gEkP8dAPdxlC0e2f_aJKdD2zl7bf8XzFGVIi3OhOxDGxnqqn0/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0fpteQvtiyc7onsTZFwtSVFaL-s9fHnZbv3oORlyaLZ8C4YZ301-4L2fK2WpC7LkugSHh5SqhNMZ62o9Tw6-cWmBX1gEkP8dAPdxlC0e2f_aJKdD2zl7bf8XzFGVIi3OhOxDGxnqqn0/s640/DSC_0025.JPG" width="518" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's an animal!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJgpTAuji4K40LPI090xrhWXSrpUHjJBynm9jgOtMNQrgIb3jh2K1HBSNSTN1dbDOqztiFEziZvqVaOR_gOW4oyoi_IWOsbMezYbOcPm6sIb1lCLYTssYUSKG_8Ahr0b51HsCGYxFMfY/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJgpTAuji4K40LPI090xrhWXSrpUHjJBynm9jgOtMNQrgIb3jh2K1HBSNSTN1dbDOqztiFEziZvqVaOR_gOW4oyoi_IWOsbMezYbOcPm6sIb1lCLYTssYUSKG_8Ahr0b51HsCGYxFMfY/s640/DSC_0024.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stalking her country potatoes like big cat! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
To distract myself from the startling realization that we could easily be mistaken for circus animals (and to rethink my questionable comparison of Pancake Circus to Tupac Shakur), I decided to take some pictures...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbhtP3atRncYO6-dQ7jmtsKEBOOxKht9FvoyJ-q1RafbIjQgoIXUhaWI3F3MP2g4p5Hov5ymK8LWCZ9Kop9lNGJZbBt5kNnYHyAHuzwHZq_MH9NYXMRlcfBRgwm1AYbdoC0mTN29OjWQ/s1600/pc1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbhtP3atRncYO6-dQ7jmtsKEBOOxKht9FvoyJ-q1RafbIjQgoIXUhaWI3F3MP2g4p5Hov5ymK8LWCZ9Kop9lNGJZbBt5kNnYHyAHuzwHZq_MH9NYXMRlcfBRgwm1AYbdoC0mTN29OjWQ/s400/pc1.jpg" width="373" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Under the lights of the BIG TOP!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If clowns (paintings, plushies, porcelain dolls, parachuters) are not your thing, then I still say go to Pancake Circus! Think of it as phobia therapy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_k9Pxj9TMAAp1p9pQ2krv1B7WIjg2wAIRAMjlfMFIayB1LbS_EiL4n1-tUzj3VVKu725wMjBCKQFGDA5DGBQu0EKfbrwFr4k4RKlHGKzzfhYd8JXXGE088DT6N_YJf6YiX18epnfvMs/s1600/clown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_k9Pxj9TMAAp1p9pQ2krv1B7WIjg2wAIRAMjlfMFIayB1LbS_EiL4n1-tUzj3VVKu725wMjBCKQFGDA5DGBQu0EKfbrwFr4k4RKlHGKzzfhYd8JXXGE088DT6N_YJf6YiX18epnfvMs/s400/clown.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because these people are not clowning around!!!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLI792DkEBHOP3pw_eonNg3E-a-LSBV2qFO1Ouf-6poRfmuExjKOO3H8grj992OyPYvexdWQjb2Ys2_VyC3y6uBGPTJMKiYq8O5u1otUamYt7YafB7Y7iVTOHuMZ4nxvw36vVVgiXCe3Q/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLI792DkEBHOP3pw_eonNg3E-a-LSBV2qFO1Ouf-6poRfmuExjKOO3H8grj992OyPYvexdWQjb2Ys2_VyC3y6uBGPTJMKiYq8O5u1otUamYt7YafB7Y7iVTOHuMZ4nxvw36vVVgiXCe3Q/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" width="382" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or are they?</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeETaZ5WmLNqnjcQfFvt9KJKsv22y7ixu-XQGy4-5NjfIVLbMTCaiUaSpZW6LF69mdjXHg6XyIia3mUcqk5bwSsyi8FsTcHepq0p1DDxg6JqKl3yirL5mCPp_doS4AKAnPYqJXV8_Ou2E/s1600/trapezeee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeETaZ5WmLNqnjcQfFvt9KJKsv22y7ixu-XQGy4-5NjfIVLbMTCaiUaSpZW6LF69mdjXHg6XyIia3mUcqk5bwSsyi8FsTcHepq0p1DDxg6JqKl3yirL5mCPp_doS4AKAnPYqJXV8_Ou2E/s400/trapezeee.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX5M01EdPJS8qGLn-ynuWzTvpvVL8_GbekZOVbRLT3rd6ysPqiqKcstw8U6_SMWaZ-743NA3nzI_HkBHyxEIetizAjUdi_m6NJxpjL5lpJJRzgXYs07vZPdcqbFFM_eleuKyRqJE2ZhU/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX5M01EdPJS8qGLn-ynuWzTvpvVL8_GbekZOVbRLT3rd6ysPqiqKcstw8U6_SMWaZ-743NA3nzI_HkBHyxEIetizAjUdi_m6NJxpjL5lpJJRzgXYs07vZPdcqbFFM_eleuKyRqJE2ZhU/s400/DSC_0007.JPG" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVafcqORCAYCdy7r7bo2ePRRA-lelCpiilGO8CQDhvOUE8l0PBBp_1IHmac4T_EPXjMnuJGQdxL827eS1GFqNM6SRr29povhBCmq1RFZG47SzCdpnDzR362GKppYc6gnukt7HQ5G6gos/s1600/para+pc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVafcqORCAYCdy7r7bo2ePRRA-lelCpiilGO8CQDhvOUE8l0PBBp_1IHmac4T_EPXjMnuJGQdxL827eS1GFqNM6SRr29povhBCmq1RFZG47SzCdpnDzR362GKppYc6gnukt7HQ5G6gos/s400/para+pc.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Mind if we drop in?</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vLI6dckTbPLsxILgLrbnLadPG6RfYe-M1V4hs20pCmN_lZ0DEd3381RlEbTzZJaDy51vDcGVfVcp2hTmYVK_ldOAYeE12gwFuPle8-6gUs8rj2uLA4qqhUv6sflkda8WN3hqomA9-HE/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vLI6dckTbPLsxILgLrbnLadPG6RfYe-M1V4hs20pCmN_lZ0DEd3381RlEbTzZJaDy51vDcGVfVcp2hTmYVK_ldOAYeE12gwFuPle8-6gUs8rj2uLA4qqhUv6sflkda8WN3hqomA9-HE/s640/DSC_0020.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Uh...no, thanks!'<br />
<br />
My favorite part of the Pancake Circus went unnoticed by nearly every other diner in the restaurant;<br />
it's that accordion-style partition (above) that closes not in a straight line but in a swoosh!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6E01cou27Imh4KIZzcEKbIfc9V_liojnYCt_xU3TtOep2U6eNGeLkEwQnvWnrfVtChRIspPCDCnSzgsvNoAj74tp-RQSimbnUGNHW5f1wHQXWgc4m1EN3Q9cU-C7VYjjyRaLPM4WLOQo/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6E01cou27Imh4KIZzcEKbIfc9V_liojnYCt_xU3TtOep2U6eNGeLkEwQnvWnrfVtChRIspPCDCnSzgsvNoAj74tp-RQSimbnUGNHW5f1wHQXWgc4m1EN3Q9cU-C7VYjjyRaLPM4WLOQo/s640/DSC_0037.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love my family.<br />
I love this photo.<br />
I also love the incredible walls, slightly obscured by the elephant<br />
cutout; the matchstick mosaic is studded with tiger-eye glass tiles. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Prior to running away with the Pancake Circus, we met an older couple in town who told us that going there would be a waste of time. "Oh...<i>there</i>," said the wife, "It used to be cool." I tried to maintain my composure but inside I was shouting, "No duh, lady." I mean, it doesn't often happen that bastions of mid-century morning mealtime dramatically improve with age yet it remains our duty to support them! Sure, the edges are worn, the finishes are dulled, and the clowns are many. But as the old saying goes, "Circus breakfast is the most important meal of the day."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEY_Zs1JG8TNyrDmfpehZTzDt6HyR_MhcSM2xGv8zpjq1LMFbkux_Zr4Uba2AMCOIY9drvLxT7ygRNiLc0dmvUppC6zdMVbU_PB1d9OP0GauQYDRTzg8hV2oKRylkN8q4L65ksrJwHczQ/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEY_Zs1JG8TNyrDmfpehZTzDt6HyR_MhcSM2xGv8zpjq1LMFbkux_Zr4Uba2AMCOIY9drvLxT7ygRNiLc0dmvUppC6zdMVbU_PB1d9OP0GauQYDRTzg8hV2oKRylkN8q4L65ksrJwHczQ/s640/DSC_0039.JPG" width="451" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If not the animals, then we definitely left feeling like the<br />
clowns; and that still makes Pancake Circus pretty cool...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwbKU0Wl4oB3mKwl4Uh7fLY4Azwk0fAtrRo-ouXRc1QKo0eVnEu-tneNgvLWKtvwRNfoCmi7Rb3RxCvTFpy8rTRHjTISg5i95TsoFD14kwwMEw0JWbMJUHPKDwdw8dpuFy1sSA5hsc20/s1600/pcccccc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwbKU0Wl4oB3mKwl4Uh7fLY4Azwk0fAtrRo-ouXRc1QKo0eVnEu-tneNgvLWKtvwRNfoCmi7Rb3RxCvTFpy8rTRHjTISg5i95TsoFD14kwwMEw0JWbMJUHPKDwdw8dpuFy1sSA5hsc20/s640/pcccccc.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even after hours!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7WzTj72TKxQ4tud-UOBuM3IGRVodr5DFfyqrx8Lw32Tg7ECK7klLw9bJujxMpiP69SPK8O9F0I728PQDOZatJ64AalhgF8J9mkYaOPj7s1ixf5-Rr1c0UZF3h-ZF29XPhgymqdivZWI/s1600/DSC_0995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7WzTj72TKxQ4tud-UOBuM3IGRVodr5DFfyqrx8Lw32Tg7ECK7klLw9bJujxMpiP69SPK8O9F0I728PQDOZatJ64AalhgF8J9mkYaOPj7s1ixf5-Rr1c0UZF3h-ZF29XPhgymqdivZWI/s320/DSC_0995.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="301" /></a><br />
<b>Pancake Circus</b><br />
2101 Broadway<br />
Sacramento, CA<br />
(916)452-3322<br />
<br />
<a href="http://pancakecircus.net/">pancakecircus.net</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-14159407656719136502016-04-22T13:38:00.002-07:002016-04-25T09:04:12.822-07:00Chow Time: Fresno's Chicken Pie Shop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This post comes at quite a difficult time, following the recent demise of our beloved, local institution, <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2011/02/la-palma-chicken-pie-shop.html">La Palma Chicken Pie Shop</a>. As it was the feature of our very first "Chow Time" post, we feel particularly saddened by the loss of owner, Otto Hasselbarth, and the relegation of his landmark restaurant to the <b><i>wacky tacky</i></b> history books. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioM3Jjerne6FJt-rE8SfdwAif4lm2jUe34X7PPTFsoRIyoqc5reWsS96okL6yK6lXu12yS196S2HAhyphenhyphenAGYEtHgrZr_TeqLCt81De69eR2C4UifJSwr0ccWZQdm-iPQ4Cgtjcohbgg_c4A/s1600/lpcps.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioM3Jjerne6FJt-rE8SfdwAif4lm2jUe34X7PPTFsoRIyoqc5reWsS96okL6yK6lXu12yS196S2HAhyphenhyphenAGYEtHgrZr_TeqLCt81De69eR2C4UifJSwr0ccWZQdm-iPQ4Cgtjcohbgg_c4A/s400/lpcps.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rest in Pie</td></tr>
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Luckily, our friends at the <a href="http://www.neonmona.org/">Museum of Neon Art</a> have stepped up to preserve this legendary bit of Orange County history by preserving the iconic, chicken-shaped neon sign that otherwise would certainly have been so much fodder for the scrap heap. In loving tribute to La Palma, we set our sights on Fresno, CA, home of another purveyor of pastry-bound poultry, Grandmarie's Chicken Pie Shop.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjpBmgoCQvHIBIBtDpvmAakK3yex-h9UFlgMuZIjQknnUzicgmxB7_3ndgI8yi90JzRXWuZSSTU93tfiPALN6BMQUROMcZzzYljdxSNLQYyW53_GQvhJnlphwh1VrFCdvJPqmyyDgzLs/s1600/DSC_0513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjpBmgoCQvHIBIBtDpvmAakK3yex-h9UFlgMuZIjQknnUzicgmxB7_3ndgI8yi90JzRXWuZSSTU93tfiPALN6BMQUROMcZzzYljdxSNLQYyW53_GQvhJnlphwh1VrFCdvJPqmyyDgzLs/s640/DSC_0513.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandmarie's Chicken Pie Shop (1956) - Fresno, CA</td></tr>
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Of a similar vintage to La Palma, Grandmarie's shares the same unapologetically old-timey sensibility, serving homestyle comfort food with few frills but plenty of atmosphere. A cavernous coop, Fresno's Chicken Pie Shop shelters three giant, reverse-painted plexiglass roosters (after all you can't make more chickens without roosters).</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpa21qkZHlcr2mBnVI1W1_-lE_ZuKHXyN2LQoF99nWdrctCH2ixyYXyDAi3Jo2bpr4kgdZtJRjIjjh4fuJeOHMwi0xcLuLGOKDj-KC_fR9gsixkG9PvASDtpZ4uLyYIP3J8GPFWCE-Xs/s1600/DSC_0526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpa21qkZHlcr2mBnVI1W1_-lE_ZuKHXyN2LQoF99nWdrctCH2ixyYXyDAi3Jo2bpr4kgdZtJRjIjjh4fuJeOHMwi0xcLuLGOKDj-KC_fR9gsixkG9PvASDtpZ4uLyYIP3J8GPFWCE-Xs/s640/DSC_0526.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Officially unnamed, these guys definitely rule the roost.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwf1KJ2kYgPC0pR19FO_vTHRp1VrXqlsCVCDSTLY0sg2kHPwB-AAmLcVYX4gtyUmBULCdM2YimRp751bi9LiTp7AxDoTUp3FF5CAHGmTMR5WVsQ12iqolC27pcanHNOxPnpA8Goblk1wk/s1600/DSC_0530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwf1KJ2kYgPC0pR19FO_vTHRp1VrXqlsCVCDSTLY0sg2kHPwB-AAmLcVYX4gtyUmBULCdM2YimRp751bi9LiTp7AxDoTUp3FF5CAHGmTMR5WVsQ12iqolC27pcanHNOxPnpA8Goblk1wk/s640/DSC_0530.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were told than one of these fellows was older than the others, finding his way here from a previous location.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7YSpgMa2LV-6zXF_q-0qUxnETOh4vpQMI_c7-EIgWPWnRcNSse1v6m3jdo151ZHZF26LI13hMkQ-gaPUmWpcZ8NqjRLgZTT2SzqqhLTRHcLWJFpOamllhge3AtoEukuROL7SwcHxHhc/s1600/DSC_0551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC7YSpgMa2LV-6zXF_q-0qUxnETOh4vpQMI_c7-EIgWPWnRcNSse1v6m3jdo151ZHZF26LI13hMkQ-gaPUmWpcZ8NqjRLgZTT2SzqqhLTRHcLWJFpOamllhge3AtoEukuROL7SwcHxHhc/s640/DSC_0551.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're sure it's this one.<br />
Just look at him, cock of the walk!</td></tr>
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Smack dab in the middle of The Tower District, Fresno's cultural center, the Chicken Pie Shop was an area institution long before this location opened its doors in 1956. An ever-growing customer base demanded a dining room that could serve the masses; Grandmarie obliged by opening a huge venue that could support the crowds of farm-sized appetites in California's central valley. Indeed, the seating options at Grandmarie's Chicken Pie Shop are endless. Making like Goldilocks, we decided to try them all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vHxK0uxaZghwg0JS33dDdFA-5AROZyvgGhK_Z_iQzC9K-yNk02laxJ3M0KhKoel1v9vQp4QcngoUVuWzh1Py5bP34CtAOs36_A1CauQ2EwGbNgNUW2H9ru7VHjNsSI9DjU1NqF36NtI/s1600/DSC_0529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vHxK0uxaZghwg0JS33dDdFA-5AROZyvgGhK_Z_iQzC9K-yNk02laxJ3M0KhKoel1v9vQp4QcngoUVuWzh1Py5bP34CtAOs36_A1CauQ2EwGbNgNUW2H9ru7VHjNsSI9DjU1NqF36NtI/s640/DSC_0529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting with the two atomic-age horseshoe counters...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEionK63Z62AW3K6aJFkKF_pl8arVi1sNwNS69fohtQ59QbZdNSho2CZ-0T8nYIRUep9WtYZLOClzmL87l5bJS1BigyQVWBmLLVUvmJqFyhFe8JZNnRA-ihniTSLrhFk0Ub-Tv_hEbCOWk8/s1600/DSC_0604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEionK63Z62AW3K6aJFkKF_pl8arVi1sNwNS69fohtQ59QbZdNSho2CZ-0T8nYIRUep9WtYZLOClzmL87l5bJS1BigyQVWBmLLVUvmJqFyhFe8JZNnRA-ihniTSLrhFk0Ub-Tv_hEbCOWk8/s640/DSC_0604.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too big.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfMQJfDNnuvhAiCgcD_WNUvL3lKmXXR1nLgJWWJSYXGp2BRbGGrCFLye82dT_Jmj9F1pcyVVf71ayXJvkkLNAsVOhYfGvlObFjOuQhuddvyysAEhd7x4NWeCpFR3BuhuTAvCzfythL1w/s1600/DSC_0531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfMQJfDNnuvhAiCgcD_WNUvL3lKmXXR1nLgJWWJSYXGp2BRbGGrCFLye82dT_Jmj9F1pcyVVf71ayXJvkkLNAsVOhYfGvlObFjOuQhuddvyysAEhd7x4NWeCpFR3BuhuTAvCzfythL1w/s640/DSC_0531.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And making our way through miles of multi-toned, tufted green booths.<br />
Too small.</td></tr>
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Finally choosing a booth (just right) beneath Cocky Locky, we placed our order with our charming and ever-so-patient waitress. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H_IVzWEkQp9dqdWB2NVHzUCBzBPLS19Fl3WAI0_YlJifpVjweu9kGcQvbTvrKCJjEfaN9oTcADZHnyMleP9RqZcGjc7pEWuqvXW2lARcygVUg-ajbovQWSH0Ndiql9VYamgzAA1J2j4/s1600/DSC_0527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H_IVzWEkQp9dqdWB2NVHzUCBzBPLS19Fl3WAI0_YlJifpVjweu9kGcQvbTvrKCJjEfaN9oTcADZHnyMleP9RqZcGjc7pEWuqvXW2lARcygVUg-ajbovQWSH0Ndiql9VYamgzAA1J2j4/s640/DSC_0527.jpg" width="403" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's called the <u>chicken</u> <u>pie</u> <u>shop</u>, idiots.<br />
Why are you taking so long to order?!?!!</td></tr>
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She hardly even made fun of me when I ordered the "mini meatloaf" that <i>wasn't on the menu</i>. I'm not sure how I made that up; maybe I was hallucinating or maybe I figured that ordering off-menu would make me seem like a super-hip regular. Either way, it didn't work. Honestly, there was a menu item that I must have scanned a little too quickly, projecting upon it my desire for an individually-portioned meatloaf. As it turns out, Grandmarie's "Mini Loaf" is a miniature loaf of their delicious homemade bread. </div>
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After recovering from my embarrassment and choosing a legitimate menu offering, we settled in to talking about how much we already loved this place. Then the food came.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimaKRtPNeuzLsqViuGyVo9b7tKyol-66tbdzfWCGAOgBxT1pKEfx7t3vX9HQxeyCx5IpswXVf4g7V7-X4OEoDwMMASap7exlGmNbVSbSlWdk7fV85LB_ofYZi-c4yt7E0XFz13yUAFeSI/s1600/DSC_0555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimaKRtPNeuzLsqViuGyVo9b7tKyol-66tbdzfWCGAOgBxT1pKEfx7t3vX9HQxeyCx5IpswXVf4g7V7-X4OEoDwMMASap7exlGmNbVSbSlWdk7fV85LB_ofYZi-c4yt7E0XFz13yUAFeSI/s640/DSC_0555.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The chicken pie dinner - all this plus biscuits.<br />
<br />
Our server beamed as she boasted about the purity of Grandmarie's chicken <br />
pies, unspoiled by any pesky vegetables lurking beneath the flaky, gravy-soaked crust.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUYhfltpqg-4rhBsqw6rwCKw0pXCB6K8YTccLe4U8giOfQMJudbH34v5mhhkFUidBZjq4525NNX4krFtmZ-ci5VKjvzYZW3eq_OgYuoSENCfjMmnBhlETjUqVrkDb3rsH60QhT5M6LOY/s1600/DSC_0562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="553" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUYhfltpqg-4rhBsqw6rwCKw0pXCB6K8YTccLe4U8giOfQMJudbH34v5mhhkFUidBZjq4525NNX4krFtmZ-ci5VKjvzYZW3eq_OgYuoSENCfjMmnBhlETjUqVrkDb3rsH60QhT5M6LOY/s640/DSC_0562.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Erika was so overcome with gratitude that she couldn't continue her meal without saying grace.</div>
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I guess nothing connects people like food, faith, and freedom from vegetables...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green-Chile Cheeseburger</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFGeeE5v8Pu8z-4g7Oe1uA_H6WE7A4mUaXcWzkJagFE4OPnEuUGYsrDeJ7xbMngJFgB0Qv_Dq3R3lmwIBRcdEPYDxmgMsYFBYlnbnYmWjMNy8Sujrwc7HEoqvXYlFoA9s-xjlztAoVkk/s1600/DSC_0554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFGeeE5v8Pu8z-4g7Oe1uA_H6WE7A4mUaXcWzkJagFE4OPnEuUGYsrDeJ7xbMngJFgB0Qv_Dq3R3lmwIBRcdEPYDxmgMsYFBYlnbnYmWjMNy8Sujrwc7HEoqvXYlFoA9s-xjlztAoVkk/s640/DSC_0554.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken Fried Steak Dinner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0C-1Ii51JgBgbhsT9cUoe_r4-vE_feuiZbC46pIBZJWTecJHPhqCf06ZzWmhh83__6n-nxgllgVqrjWslyHb54E3W2EqEW2T0BN6AWOjcrdDuP-NN8PaPSA-j7-Gz59jm4jOQCtFpM0/s1600/DSC_0557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0C-1Ii51JgBgbhsT9cUoe_r4-vE_feuiZbC46pIBZJWTecJHPhqCf06ZzWmhh83__6n-nxgllgVqrjWslyHb54E3W2EqEW2T0BN6AWOjcrdDuP-NN8PaPSA-j7-Gz59jm4jOQCtFpM0/s640/DSC_0557.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuna Salad Sandwich</td></tr>
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Certainly, it might look a tad institutional but you'll hear no complaint from our party on that count - especially when the institution includes that beautiful, green-and-white scalloped dinner ware. <br />
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Even more than their main courses, my dinner companions oohed and aahed endlessly over the sweet corn, the succulent coleslaw, and the perfectly-prepared steak fries. We decided that it's best that Grandmarie's Chicken Pie Shop is such a distance from us. Otherwise we'd get so used to eating their deliciously-monochromatic meals that eventually our flesh would fuse with the 60-year-old vinyl seating.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wmDdNafIhvc0_Q8bfuuhwradQxF1VSGe_I7Kz6hjN7DIFJvSn4PRnQZDwngmhcrV8M6WMdrcIIdrkwgQ5SVZ55FY9WbGa4Ln7F1mBhxFP-Tp7yo7yLarkoccGGix-Cfm7-DtS_CMC4k/s1600/DSC_0613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wmDdNafIhvc0_Q8bfuuhwradQxF1VSGe_I7Kz6hjN7DIFJvSn4PRnQZDwngmhcrV8M6WMdrcIIdrkwgQ5SVZ55FY9WbGa4Ln7F1mBhxFP-Tp7yo7yLarkoccGGix-Cfm7-DtS_CMC4k/s640/DSC_0613.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary still thinks it might be worth it.</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A5dowCyaP7I" width="420"></iframe>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"The Wise Little Hen" (1934)</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Not so wise.</div>
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Sure we'll help you plant your corn...and then </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we'll serve it a long side a pie, a <i>chicken</i> pie.</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFj-ypUNG7xEDi42Qhz8reFaWw0nJOz7fgtcxq6p6M8eL-yuAu9ecOGUvMqg5Z_gH9l6JGhebtFMJklEX-tE-rYaI41GNER9WXY2LcJJ9ipQvdddv5l45VhxgVS4Ro4yt9g9-uX1O4Pm0/s1600/DSC_0510.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFj-ypUNG7xEDi42Qhz8reFaWw0nJOz7fgtcxq6p6M8eL-yuAu9ecOGUvMqg5Z_gH9l6JGhebtFMJklEX-tE-rYaI41GNER9WXY2LcJJ9ipQvdddv5l45VhxgVS4Ro4yt9g9-uX1O4Pm0/s400/DSC_0510.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></b></span></b></div>
<b>Grandmarie's Chicken Pie Shop</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
861 W Olive Ave</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Fresno, CA</div>
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(559)237-5042</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-62766548483444136352016-04-20T16:39:00.001-07:002016-04-22T05:33:24.746-07:00Havin' a Ball at the Las Floristas Headdress Ball!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'll go ahead and say it. I like funerals. <br />
<br />
It is said that funerals (memorials, celebrations of life, et al.) are not for the dearly departed. Instead, they are for the living. It may sound bonkers but nothing makes me want to go on living like a funeral - not so much for a fear of death, rather because hearing about the way that a successful life is one lived in a spirit of service and adventure, can be a somber reminder that there is still much living and learning to do.<br />
<br />
Last weekend we drove several hours to attend the memorial service of a family friend who left an incredible legacy of beauty, joy, and mischief. While the better part of three decades had passed since I had any direct contact with this friend, attending her memorial service was a wonderful opportunity to have my vaguely-marvelous memories of this unerringly-chic woman substantiated by the fond remembrances of her loved ones.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0oU-FK45Mzn1RYY67orj8U-m0VCEqWcLNeaDc3qiBQzBg9v7EUIRL6d9btjAn9OZtnKymptMuTzyRPKjGFSoRoJ3hyphenhyphenL0vH4hYs0U7yTLU2US9daMBiwR-26xfzn5WcX-dQTj6SO3hD4/s1600/susieg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0oU-FK45Mzn1RYY67orj8U-m0VCEqWcLNeaDc3qiBQzBg9v7EUIRL6d9btjAn9OZtnKymptMuTzyRPKjGFSoRoJ3hyphenhyphenL0vH4hYs0U7yTLU2US9daMBiwR-26xfzn5WcX-dQTj6SO3hD4/s400/susieg.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Susie, 1958<br />
Isn't she breathtaking? I think of Susie every time I make a dress or skirt for Mary;<br />
she was quoted as saying, "A proper skirt should never have less than 5 yards of fabric."<br />
(A higher-resolution image can be see <a href="http://www.corbisimages.com/stock-photo/rights-managed/42-69409476/las-floristas-headdress-ball-1958">here</a>)</td></tr>
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<br />
A statuesque octogenarian who referred to herself as 5'12", Susie was adventurer, wife, philanthropist, teacher, mother, model, artist, and chef all rolled into one. When the announcement of her passing came, we were both saddened and intrigued - saddened, of course, by the loss and intrigued by the stunning images her family shared of Susie's incredible life. In one particular photograph, dated 1958, Susie is donning a couture creation (remarkable for its multi-colored, asymmetrical peplum-turned-train) and a dramatic, oversized headdress. My thoughts turned immediately to<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0043208/?ref_=tt_ov_inf"> </a><i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0043208/?ref_=tt_ov_inf">I Love Lucy</a> </i>and the episode, "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0609254/">Lucy Gets in Pictures</a>" (1955).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBaDjMrmen_PsFIdIsELJbixTboY4dmocDgOmoZMfjR5gA77tovZ8IpFn6b_iz5KgD_p_ZZHGtEM3GtkBuAEuvpi_gvtS_BmB50NYKZiuYARjmMbeau21Il4Q081X-CTni6rBtGTQi9CU/s1600/0676f2c16e7759c5da71bc0a24e6ef46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBaDjMrmen_PsFIdIsELJbixTboY4dmocDgOmoZMfjR5gA77tovZ8IpFn6b_iz5KgD_p_ZZHGtEM3GtkBuAEuvpi_gvtS_BmB50NYKZiuYARjmMbeau21Il4Q081X-CTni6rBtGTQi9CU/s640/0676f2c16e7759c5da71bc0a24e6ef46.jpg" width="491" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When Lucy buckles under the pressure of this towering headdress, <br />
she gets downgraded from cinema star to simple supernumerary.</td></tr>
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Built for laughs, Lucy's headdress had nothing on the height, breadth, and splendor of Susie's phenomenal headpiece (and let it be noted that there isn't even the slightest trace of strain on Susie's unblemished brow). Perhaps it is bad form at a memorial to so enthusiastically inquire about the origins of a sixty-year-old photograph but included in a slideshow tribute were a few equally-intriguing images that left us feeling like this was more than an ordinary fashion show. Our piqued interest reached its collective peak when "showgirl" was not mentioned among her may artistic exploits. As it turns out, Susie was a long-time participant with <a href="http://lasfloristas.org/joomla1/">Las Floristas</a>, a Los Angeles-based charity benefitting the health and educational concerns of special-needs children at Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center's children's clinic. Since 1938, the <a href="http://lasfloristas.org/joomla1/index.php/the-headdress-ball">Las Floristas Headdress Ball</a>, has been the charity's largest annual fundraiser. Each year, similar fantasies fashioned of feathers and flowers, designed and built by professional florists, seem to grow in complexity and size (as shown in the videos below).<br />
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<b>Las Floristas Headdress Ball </b>(1938-1967)</div>
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(Susie can be seen at least twice is this video at about 4:50 wearing </div>
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the gown and headdress combo above and approximately 5:35)</div>
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<b>Las Floristas Headdress Ball</b> (1968-1990)</div>
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Have you ever? I have never. I mean, did you see Susie with the scale-model Ice Capades dancer on her head? Did you see the lady doing the Charleston? Not to mention Eve, the functioning ferris wheel, the pirate ship, the mermaid leading her seahorse chariot, the giant opening ball thing, and the LOBSTER!!! Oh, the lobster! As far as I'm concerned, the Rose Parade can go suck an egg.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1EHStzMB1t4yltX4Nsk_h3CLpBr56hyhCqF42ZhLcn7FIzwQEbXh3y1wdBS4Vf0AW3j1_EWaUHcPqsje_Zeeh6qu9d5Ds-07x6wWwPvwYGp4gDQmyMfAiO8xK0VtBdACgsDCDeQCynU/s1600/Corbis-42-69409440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1EHStzMB1t4yltX4Nsk_h3CLpBr56hyhCqF42ZhLcn7FIzwQEbXh3y1wdBS4Vf0AW3j1_EWaUHcPqsje_Zeeh6qu9d5Ds-07x6wWwPvwYGp4gDQmyMfAiO8xK0VtBdACgsDCDeQCynU/s400/Corbis-42-69409440.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="http://www.corbisimages.com/stock-photo/rights-managed/42-69409440/las-floristas-headdress-ball-1958">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvq_sV5U-RdC1k8gAvW1m6mqhFTVazbbrvcHLK4CFtHiYUqp5VHyhiiYP3Mzb2kW8CT6i_tHHPIqMO8VM7pYlqL7OK85_ZGxHzfVtEktp8SBOUKr41KKcSnry_F7Jzh0F577Bheiwl4A/s1600/89caa6df531552609ae928179f110a41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvq_sV5U-RdC1k8gAvW1m6mqhFTVazbbrvcHLK4CFtHiYUqp5VHyhiiYP3Mzb2kW8CT6i_tHHPIqMO8VM7pYlqL7OK85_ZGxHzfVtEktp8SBOUKr41KKcSnry_F7Jzh0F577Bheiwl4A/s400/89caa6df531552609ae928179f110a41.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/389772542723764816/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dUKjKNJnA0LA7YIiU35Rvu7-HvDu2F_qAM6o8u-Lz7uB4-5w1dRZZNQ5oOpq1psu_NSXw6EVqiO5kR2jLSlRdnpMNzcC6AvzrE9BP0p5bKWJYvWXozsShibrfBOx5sayQ9z8dADq1_o/s1600/las-floristas-head-dress-ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dUKjKNJnA0LA7YIiU35Rvu7-HvDu2F_qAM6o8u-Lz7uB4-5w1dRZZNQ5oOpq1psu_NSXw6EVqiO5kR2jLSlRdnpMNzcC6AvzrE9BP0p5bKWJYvWXozsShibrfBOx5sayQ9z8dADq1_o/s400/las-floristas-head-dress-ball.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://atherdiscretion.wordpress.com/2007/11/27/the-hats-have-it/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ldWfGBTbJh3xH3kZ5pWNHltz-YCqnOGx023X58dxME8Jbz6mPlTHNfo168dCND_gOt_MBnSL9YR2hPJ7MT8QeC2DZEdTsKOyLOvco-JudMc5OetEJrzQCBkYYqK65C8PHSnVt8wzvoE/s1600/3362889e32dcedaf2f9460c017d77b60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ldWfGBTbJh3xH3kZ5pWNHltz-YCqnOGx023X58dxME8Jbz6mPlTHNfo168dCND_gOt_MBnSL9YR2hPJ7MT8QeC2DZEdTsKOyLOvco-JudMc5OetEJrzQCBkYYqK65C8PHSnVt8wzvoE/s400/3362889e32dcedaf2f9460c017d77b60.jpg" width="381" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/389772542723759742/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
My newest research project is to see how these pieces are made; even with paper, aluminum, silk flowers, foam, and featherweight plastics, these works of wearable art have got to be heavy (some of the models are concealing cleverly-disguised braces/supports). I saw somewhere that the staff of the Headdress Ball includes an orthopedic surgeon to consult on the maximum height and weight of the headdresses. Of course, the next move would be to wrangle an invitation to the Headdress Ball - even behind the scenes. If you have an in, please let me know; I've got to see this for myself!<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfGNFUXOG1h1C9noIRTe3vSSkY_uTb300xOKUUDnzLuPECIybgJIg0MAZUTruFkMV-LoAYTt_dLlIFliZc413CMocPU-dlaq4C3e5ToR2kAK_oFLhpCEnbf6As0VABlK0HwMGyBHKZjc/s1600/5d30be963cd50bbad3caac79410c42ce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfGNFUXOG1h1C9noIRTe3vSSkY_uTb300xOKUUDnzLuPECIybgJIg0MAZUTruFkMV-LoAYTt_dLlIFliZc413CMocPU-dlaq4C3e5ToR2kAK_oFLhpCEnbf6As0VABlK0HwMGyBHKZjc/s640/5d30be963cd50bbad3caac79410c42ce.jpg" width="454" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/389772542726825850/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuYMpemYEQn6heC5LlIw2b8LzIijS0ZHT8iZEyjCWVYKmprjX52tDl4WBcftL8lkRB5RY6EoheYubIIwyHvYVQ8XXdkDrJUSsrVu8K8MlXidf4Q3_vGnHLe7gjIu29rHmDJmIvD8evXs/s1600/daf57e2e041518ff9d89bbb5c10167bd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuYMpemYEQn6heC5LlIw2b8LzIijS0ZHT8iZEyjCWVYKmprjX52tDl4WBcftL8lkRB5RY6EoheYubIIwyHvYVQ8XXdkDrJUSsrVu8K8MlXidf4Q3_vGnHLe7gjIu29rHmDJmIvD8evXs/s400/daf57e2e041518ff9d89bbb5c10167bd.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/389772542723764642/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPBDuVPcT9GvtydUpCDiLovDxoHLvA1AyVZDS2IbhDbFPY9Z0H2tiLbRCsBFYViZrHzJ-ngCBU3OtpofFUMa5p8BPDAPPn2FLPCZ0ickdHR7y21PqVY7IBoJGL6YMEdlv1s2h5nKXcvx0/s1600/7efba1ec9d4f6bf36619df7578846ac6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPBDuVPcT9GvtydUpCDiLovDxoHLvA1AyVZDS2IbhDbFPY9Z0H2tiLbRCsBFYViZrHzJ-ngCBU3OtpofFUMa5p8BPDAPPn2FLPCZ0ickdHR7y21PqVY7IBoJGL6YMEdlv1s2h5nKXcvx0/s400/7efba1ec9d4f6bf36619df7578846ac6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/389772542723759740/">Source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTY1GjWrBFPQLTwd1tk0VsydRVFWMbJACue8NyI1QIpt99Mw40HPLbhAJ5NypSUd7FCz-SQHZVa5svZ4lvE_G8VQVk-EAunJZJq-d7Xb96WPRnlqrkE3l0020lxj5hwQENesf6IKnWk8/s1600/Theodore+Bentley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTY1GjWrBFPQLTwd1tk0VsydRVFWMbJACue8NyI1QIpt99Mw40HPLbhAJ5NypSUd7FCz-SQHZVa5svZ4lvE_G8VQVk-EAunJZJq-d7Xb96WPRnlqrkE3l0020lxj5hwQENesf6IKnWk8/s400/Theodore+Bentley.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="http://www.strawberige.com/2010/05/eccentricities-headdresses.html">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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So now do you see why I like funerals? People are fascinating and full of personal histories to which we may not always be privy; as heartbreaking as the occasion may be, it is a thrill to learn more about the person and a challenge to be more like him or her. I am grateful to Susie and her family for being a wonderful example of inclusivity, generosity, and kindness. How lucky we were to have our lives touched by such a force of light and love! If a pretty girl is like a melody, then Susie was SYMPHONY!<br />
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To find out more about Las Floristas, the Headdress Ball, and to donate, please visit <a href="http://lasfloristas.org/">lasfloristas.org</a>. <br />
To find out more about the Las Floristas Children's Clinic at Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center, please visit <a href="http://rancho.org/">rancho.org</a>.<br />
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Cheers!<br />
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-72579176233023481622016-04-10T19:01:00.001-07:002016-04-11T14:34:22.697-07:00Signs of the Times: Gunther's Ice Cream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If nothing else, Instagram has taught me that there are many people who spend the bulk of their free time documenting interesting, historic, and beautiful signs. One need only search the hashtags <b>#coolsign</b> or <b>#vintageneon</b> to see that <b>#signgeeks</b> are alive and well. Never has the activity occupied enough of my time for me to consider it even much of an avocation. A passing interest? Maybe. A road trip diversion? Sure. A whimsy? Why not?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbsrgdbD2x1kbw7gMuqnYqcQOxon1cozSGJPmAVTqIDtBr8XXUVHVqB-S71LHI-7tiEzB38hcHDS3GbFH_U2KVNsaBUXhyaCN7iiEASYGJPL5kXgxMFfcFu-7OStIyhbdjGOYqlCoGgw/s1600/DSC_0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbsrgdbD2x1kbw7gMuqnYqcQOxon1cozSGJPmAVTqIDtBr8XXUVHVqB-S71LHI-7tiEzB38hcHDS3GbFH_U2KVNsaBUXhyaCN7iiEASYGJPL5kXgxMFfcFu-7OStIyhbdjGOYqlCoGgw/s640/DSC_0917.JPG" width="528" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gunther's Ice Cream (est. 1940) - Sacramento, CA</td></tr>
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I suppose the time has come for me to reevaluate my place in the world of sign hunting. However unpopular my stance, I must admit that I go for the big game. Fancying myself an expert tracker, I sniff the winds for whiffs of neon and follow the telltale tracks. If I could, I would triumphantly hoist one foot on top of the very best signs I bag, posing for the camera with a self-satisfied grin. Among my prize trophies would be Gunther's Ice Cream in Sacramento, CA.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz1IyUPxJY_xFWRNv8_U7dVnP7m-QVDDRkk9-3kXaMBYtXMIZ_Sq3hBblKWkcViZPuOD3OIzViTNevAQlHtDA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Gunther is all aglow and ready for action!</div>
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It can be challenging for a lactose-intolerant to justify embarking on a 1,000-mile safari to the ice cream epicenter of California's capitol, but that is precisely how I know that my devotion borders on the fanatical; I need no justification. On one trip, I made my family drive approximately 45 miles out of the way (retracing our steps twice) because I got a hunch that there was a good sign I missed (and indeed there was). I approach this endeavor with all the devotion of a newly-minted Hindu monk. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tSy1xaIzmmzbHzAxcItr4voYeFF4WUWoIODCaNb0eiVu89SjZbDWre-uCpy-RA5Zi0qZg6qIOBXqy8XzZeBSfeuyf2V0DITgnvsAcghOfyx6nhlbfw9egIRb-fhS0cqauV4X4jLMczU/s1600/DSC_0929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tSy1xaIzmmzbHzAxcItr4voYeFF4WUWoIODCaNb0eiVu89SjZbDWre-uCpy-RA5Zi0qZg6qIOBXqy8XzZeBSfeuyf2V0DITgnvsAcghOfyx6nhlbfw9egIRb-fhS0cqauV4X4jLMczU/s640/DSC_0929.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But if I'm going to worship at the altar of any multiple-<br />
limbed deity, it will be Lord Gunther ...sorry <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vishnu">Vishnu</a>. </td></tr>
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Oh, yes. Gunther's does serve ice cream. If they didn't, they would have a quite a difficult time explaining the endless line that encircles the building. Generations of Sacramentians, Sacramentites, Sacra-men's toes (or whatever you call 'em) have made Gunther's Ice Cream a favorite, sun-down watering hole - a truly ideal setting for observing the sign in its natural habitat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0kROriFP-xyE6K2aUUuhZarOAbJ273Ew3eOCZZrL4Y49DrJZ5H_vypyCb0wSthiEe_jt3cKJGzGYQViYCa-BxMLFai68eN_IdFnqD6J34I3IcMN_82EbBKLKV2b58Bfh0poh4dcqxzQ/s1600/DSC_0984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0kROriFP-xyE6K2aUUuhZarOAbJ273Ew3eOCZZrL4Y49DrJZ5H_vypyCb0wSthiEe_jt3cKJGzGYQViYCa-BxMLFai68eN_IdFnqD6J34I3IcMN_82EbBKLKV2b58Bfh0poh4dcqxzQ/s320/DSC_0984.JPG" width="269" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGjgmO94_7uhMuPw8p-GqLvM-S8_xQTrvygDA13gEzRF3E0q5u1Y1jeO98KYib8q5PyvZBny-FTps64sSNgRV6qUbJi__VwQJoHzt3C6hlm0goGniYooMQun972RAbtC9ruCEt7bwkV4/s1600/DSC_0987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGjgmO94_7uhMuPw8p-GqLvM-S8_xQTrvygDA13gEzRF3E0q5u1Y1jeO98KYib8q5PyvZBny-FTps64sSNgRV6qUbJi__VwQJoHzt3C6hlm0goGniYooMQun972RAbtC9ruCEt7bwkV4/s320/DSC_0987.JPG" width="248" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Cherries on top for everyone!</span></div>
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And while I couldn't indulge in the dairy-filled delights, I was more than sated by one of my favorite pastimes - THE HUNT (and thanks to the <i><b>wacky tacky adventure team</b></i>, not a single Cecil was injured)!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlL4SCALzXnInDZEU8yr47rxkrkFtOGSbp0kEBrDUj6Ccq0OWCJgsFos-eFyilWtk0e3gtxq-bkNuc61BrRoXXoyETpWTIU2HkYpD7fZB5m8WdqSlgovLfHq4nrpWtVjVWEUhdrlgE8nk/s1600/DSC_0991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlL4SCALzXnInDZEU8yr47rxkrkFtOGSbp0kEBrDUj6Ccq0OWCJgsFos-eFyilWtk0e3gtxq-bkNuc61BrRoXXoyETpWTIU2HkYpD7fZB5m8WdqSlgovLfHq4nrpWtVjVWEUhdrlgE8nk/s640/DSC_0991.JPG" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes the only way to fit all the sundae-<br />
stuffed <b><i>wacky tacky adventure team</i></b> members into<br />
a single photo is to stack 'em - TRIPLE SCOOP!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYgk3mriGbwUGJ2tH8P9fupavUDkFx2XQk3GzdIpeJ7n1dKSao7bX5NSiby7SVjfEHshjf3KlhVeuZuMQLiyh30a-Q6Qd_MZshWZp-16vAcy3zy55fA8swu6sNLEmg_kpxMfKB26mqOc/s1600/DSC_0921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYgk3mriGbwUGJ2tH8P9fupavUDkFx2XQk3GzdIpeJ7n1dKSao7bX5NSiby7SVjfEHshjf3KlhVeuZuMQLiyh30a-Q6Qd_MZshWZp-16vAcy3zy55fA8swu6sNLEmg_kpxMfKB26mqOc/s320/DSC_0921.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>Gunther's Ice Cream</b><br />
2801 Franklin Blvd<br />
Sacramento, CA<br />
(916)457-6646<br />
<br />
<a href="http://gunthersicecream.com/">gunthersicecream.com</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-15412583837252076192016-01-31T20:11:00.000-08:002016-01-31T20:20:12.662-08:00Chow Time: Venice Room - STEAK Your Way!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pUq-4iVsfM6oiQcPQlqLbWSylivAdg0DRv-gjAQaaPUKImmHMjfXhb8fAkvjlxjObVGW6I7MqvMN107rXtoSQUt-cGJjs9F3-gOM5xd3abQw8uTXJWFMVIXtwacCdVGva5iKrooUEUw/s1600/20160129_200023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pUq-4iVsfM6oiQcPQlqLbWSylivAdg0DRv-gjAQaaPUKImmHMjfXhb8fAkvjlxjObVGW6I7MqvMN107rXtoSQUt-cGJjs9F3-gOM5xd3abQw8uTXJWFMVIXtwacCdVGva5iKrooUEUw/s400/20160129_200023.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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At Monterey Park's <a href="http://www.theveniceroom.com/">Venice Room</a>, it's strictly a case of "GYOS" (Grill Your Own Steak) - a novelty to which I would normally find myself entirely averse. I mean, restaurant fondue is a definite fon-<i>don't</i> for me as I am morally opposed to paying for the privilege of preparing my own meal. The charm also wears quite thin with things like shabu-shabu. And the same holds true for pho; if I wanted to make soup, I would have simply stayed home and made soup! While this has certainly prevented many a succulent encounter with Korean barbecue, I've learned that if you don't stand for something, then you'll fall for anything. Principles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonk1SjO5MLYTYUAtXhN8myKS46mZviKbjkgPxqiU-hImpfTdvkPUWCiipuRlxCovPllmQX0lfjMIDhTuU7gaRJwSkyGpTaq1Y1lCRxDuLfkPdei7Gs6SeHJX7_F0BbL3X9HOfcUBEK0U/s1600/20160129_185051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonk1SjO5MLYTYUAtXhN8myKS46mZviKbjkgPxqiU-hImpfTdvkPUWCiipuRlxCovPllmQX0lfjMIDhTuU7gaRJwSkyGpTaq1Y1lCRxDuLfkPdei7Gs6SeHJX7_F0BbL3X9HOfcUBEK0U/s400/20160129_185051.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Venice Room - Monterey Park, CA</td></tr>
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Few things have the power to overcome my aversion to DIY dinners on the town like a mid-century steakhouse. Opened in 1957, Venice Room is the true definition of a bar & grill. In every sense, it is both a bar (about two-thirds of the facility is dedicated thusly) and <u>a</u> grill (literally, one communal grill in the corner that serves as the stage for steer-searing showmen of every variety).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWVyaMcb4XRvgWAgQhEA2jWZFHSIMSvduT-HWdBUmZSmWbvfzFYENyKS69L80FiNvQP84TDHPooGDPXuhbZ4Jj2TdK0iOU90jU2Y_MEAtiyJnDOwfCMvLKNRiECBJ8DtLfj-a0nejeYM/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWVyaMcb4XRvgWAgQhEA2jWZFHSIMSvduT-HWdBUmZSmWbvfzFYENyKS69L80FiNvQP84TDHPooGDPXuhbZ4Jj2TdK0iOU90jU2Y_MEAtiyJnDOwfCMvLKNRiECBJ8DtLfj-a0nejeYM/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="377" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grill Masters enter here!!!</td></tr>
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The dinner menu is limited at Venice Room. So limited, in fact, that there is no menu at all. As soon as our group of three was seated in one of the tufted, black-leather demilune booths, the lone waitress approached the table and, extending three fingers on her right hand, queried, "So...three steaks?" <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpvxGkMlQr8vP3yRNe0sFXIaGiyBoOpnvWWzZKiXCLFdt62Yzp5bxEcG8WClZL2JmC0qE0UTzAVvtCKamc-mqGlh2HGmKnH96bdDP7njl9I0KInICCtWwII6XLdb0lfiFRhyphenhyphenJF984Z-Q/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpvxGkMlQr8vP3yRNe0sFXIaGiyBoOpnvWWzZKiXCLFdt62Yzp5bxEcG8WClZL2JmC0qE0UTzAVvtCKamc-mqGlh2HGmKnH96bdDP7njl9I0KInICCtWwII6XLdb0lfiFRhyphenhyphenJF984Z-Q/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Beef, it's what's for dinner."</td></tr>
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Sensing my hesitation, she quickly explained, "That's all we have - steak, baked potato, salad, and a roll." My request for a dinner service sans steak was met with equal parts incredulity and pity.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUW6EDhfpE-UztcW0GyENsftUUVUho_zAItsXppQZFNb1zdMHdVqngYwGHzTUN-OB3UtXMQI2v8tFQIGOWnuWfGFeZUs5prB-LqMdFXFoghJwtyCcPkqI7ozP36XJujdl6W2qnwTHpxE/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUW6EDhfpE-UztcW0GyENsftUUVUho_zAItsXppQZFNb1zdMHdVqngYwGHzTUN-OB3UtXMQI2v8tFQIGOWnuWfGFeZUs5prB-LqMdFXFoghJwtyCcPkqI7ozP36XJujdl6W2qnwTHpxE/s400/photo+4.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not going to say that non-steak eaters are considered second-class citizens, <br />
but I could detect the sense of wonder as to why one who so staunchly abstains <br />
from steak would come to a restaurant that specializes in nothing but. </td></tr>
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Keeping things ever more simple, only one cut and one size of steak is served at Venice Room. But don't ask me what cut that is; I can't tell my T-bone from my top sirloin.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSnMiU8iTr1zPVfxCpQZCzCZOa17I76PX5bjgrixCuMc7bhsbnnbgz2TOthM9h2QLXsTBKcxnnQZp2_hnRBo60XouiVXty8D7u9j9e5siExqcReOTRsR7mJMTcK-C_aYiNi-miIdz6o4/s1600/20160129_185644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSnMiU8iTr1zPVfxCpQZCzCZOa17I76PX5bjgrixCuMc7bhsbnnbgz2TOthM9h2QLXsTBKcxnnQZp2_hnRBo60XouiVXty8D7u9j9e5siExqcReOTRsR7mJMTcK-C_aYiNi-miIdz6o4/s400/20160129_185644.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But even I could discern that this was quality meat.<br />
I can definitely see some marbling and whatnot...</td></tr>
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The method of food delivery is initially startling but pleasantly old-timey. Guests are invited to help themselves (do you detect a theme here?) to the salad bar, a cafeteria-style affair complete with sneeze guard. Moments later a platter arrives tableside that contains a foil-wrapped baked potato, a french roll the size of a football, and great slab of raw beef in wax paper.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdLpHiqnvsDxQyuQ_mbjO9x8BUBtBhppJCiFJ6SqFlSVkB5nVOSdJfTyTv0Bje8i9VRcxxybggLpxSHA9ye8FzioeQkmv8B0T6FZIIVunrqB8czi589uHKgGP99LpKoxpBHICaFBkDFc/s1600/20160129_185637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdLpHiqnvsDxQyuQ_mbjO9x8BUBtBhppJCiFJ6SqFlSVkB5nVOSdJfTyTv0Bje8i9VRcxxybggLpxSHA9ye8FzioeQkmv8B0T6FZIIVunrqB8czi589uHKgGP99LpKoxpBHICaFBkDFc/s400/20160129_185637.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I tend to err on the side of extreme caution when it comes to food contamination;<br />
this little still life made me glad that I opted out but every other diner was licking <br />
their chops in anticipation.</td></tr>
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<div>
The steaks may be the stars of the show at Venice Room but behind every great steak is an even greater grill master. Standing before a massive indoor barbecue, beneath the gleaming scallop trim of the copper vent hood, Ben cooked every morsel of meat to perfection...at least according to Erika. But it was Ben's first time. His performance at the Venice Room grill was nothing compared to "Don Julio."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkT2NcRl_JqPufb37rO63IqGquJilv0zEOahdjGS3CVE-Eh_urlrEQtt3kR-cjVLF_2bqNgxYRbbj5YE0R5KkR46vm2lciF3yExL3Q9qBURGONxDbBWzCk3LKWxjE0xfvmwu6_MOGBQs/s1600/20160129_185834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkT2NcRl_JqPufb37rO63IqGquJilv0zEOahdjGS3CVE-Eh_urlrEQtt3kR-cjVLF_2bqNgxYRbbj5YE0R5KkR46vm2lciF3yExL3Q9qBURGONxDbBWzCk3LKWxjE0xfvmwu6_MOGBQs/s400/20160129_185834.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyhtOeWUqDwTfJ4pm0vq0nawuAPHTICZCLfX9UceHBY9IZekkLzhtYg1i75GmIQilrxEKSYv0Dsk3FWKYv_nkopRe2lW09uACaiZVMh896x_QNXopOYO12mF4rP9I2eemiujvy0X5X6s/s1600/20160129_195638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyhtOeWUqDwTfJ4pm0vq0nawuAPHTICZCLfX9UceHBY9IZekkLzhtYg1i75GmIQilrxEKSYv0Dsk3FWKYv_nkopRe2lW09uACaiZVMh896x_QNXopOYO12mF4rP9I2eemiujvy0X5X6s/s400/20160129_195638.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Ben vs. Don Julio</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">From grill marks to jackets there was one clear winner. </span></div>
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Small but mighty, Don Julio escorted a beautiful bevy of local talent who swooned as he turned the seasoning station into a scene straight out of <i>Cocktail</i>. Spinning sauce bottles and twirling tongs at the end of his nimble fingers, Don Julio skillfully choreographed the flames in a dramatic fire dance. An obvious expert, DJ's system even included adding a bit of char to the rolls.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mqg6pcEiPjVZOyKXgINflEMt9zAmWmgwgHZnT6sUxLLg6LkQL0pDAgt8H6fryQwx_lhsWww5MEAo-mt40qaDf1lSc7Mk8MNjdSzAaLyGXhNCopG2fqTRncEHOx6OKn-VFhW102p1STU/s1600/20160129_190715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mqg6pcEiPjVZOyKXgINflEMt9zAmWmgwgHZnT6sUxLLg6LkQL0pDAgt8H6fryQwx_lhsWww5MEAo-mt40qaDf1lSc7Mk8MNjdSzAaLyGXhNCopG2fqTRncEHOx6OKn-VFhW102p1STU/s640/20160129_190715.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We might have been outclassed when it came to showy preparation but <br />
nobody could beat us for sheer enthusiasm where eating was concerned.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">All was well before the meat sweats set in...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza79PFv93lxVKeBAchTGRBVyHhnqFjt8dsvnxVK6P_0qsAASGAkoXL4BkDXqXU1EeKgAoST7ysWJIz6pUThXTdMEgIfYqujFT87bkccH2eADFi4DLQJKa59wmTebUoXAr2fxi-Yo2lSI/s1600/20160129_185850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza79PFv93lxVKeBAchTGRBVyHhnqFjt8dsvnxVK6P_0qsAASGAkoXL4BkDXqXU1EeKgAoST7ysWJIz6pUThXTdMEgIfYqujFT87bkccH2eADFi4DLQJKa59wmTebUoXAr2fxi-Yo2lSI/s400/20160129_185850.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The room was so dim that Mr. Tiny had no idea that the <br />
house dressing could easily stand in for nacho cheese. </td></tr>
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We did such a thorough job in cleaning our plates that the owner (son of original owner, Joe Lombardo) came over to our table to congratulate us. Peppered throughout our polite small talk, we were sure to include compliments on maintaining this landmark restaurant and its many fine furnishings. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ohubod7NKS-1t671ZZj6gfBJ_KLdA6KpMbDqS95ZTDSwkWUgUIbfMO9nKLsvZ3ozL4iSIfUvJS7QtDPSvXop4fPW1MvMedS8kSDQSmBlEDzAhgZAj8LTAj13G8raW01MHOVv2gYyUDM/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ohubod7NKS-1t671ZZj6gfBJ_KLdA6KpMbDqS95ZTDSwkWUgUIbfMO9nKLsvZ3ozL4iSIfUvJS7QtDPSvXop4fPW1MvMedS8kSDQSmBlEDzAhgZAj8LTAj13G8raW01MHOVv2gYyUDM/s400/photo+5.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Walls not covered by murals of Venetian canals, are given the full<br />
glamour treatment in the form of multi-color, paisley, foil wallpaper. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The show-stopping highlight of Venice Room's thematic decor is its black-lit backbar.<br />
Peeking through the portico, Venetian ships rendered in neon sail serenely down the canals.</td></tr>
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As lovely as the murals are and as much truth as there is in the adage, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it," I am always looking at even the finest venues with a critical eye. For simmering just beneath the jolly surface of this <b style="font-style: italic;">wacky tacky</b> diner is a frustrated restaurateur and production designer wanting to create atmospheric and gastronomic perfection. I just so happen to have a few ideas handy:<br />
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1. This one seems like a gimme but, in a Venetian-themed restaurant clad in canal scenes, it seems to me that the staff should be dressed as gondoliers (<i>singing</i> gondoliers would be a bonus).<br />
2. The "salad bar" - a term I use as lightly as a downy feather - could use some revamping. It's a system that would certainly not suffer from the addition of tomatoes or a few shoestring beets. My feelings would certainly not be hurt if somehow the "bar" took the form of a gondola...or maybe I'm just taking the theme one step too far.<br />
3. This will make me sound gluttonous but nobody ever said, "That's too much butter!" Mathematically speaking, a pre-portioned teaspoon of butter simply isn't enough for a large baked potato and a roll as big as my head (a head that falls in the 99th percentile).<br />
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A few quibbles notwithstanding, Venice Room is practical <i><b>wacky tacky</b></i> perfection - particularly if you are the type who wants to grill your own steak in front of a live studio audience (I'm looking at you Don Julio). On this point, I am certainly willing to concede to a landmark with a record of nearly 60 years of successful service. So make your way for <i>steak</i> your way!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sH9kod1e3C_-LEpwAk_k_ZIHwP5wGcTcFPRNPrT-o-log4EwMkJI5_e-nrBlHXhsi4jrsZ9iVHK7MawrBiSG3B4welx8H_r_qplr-TJXpRZhqEjtVdLAyfJiMHJUcEpnxbmN3cQJZNA/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sH9kod1e3C_-LEpwAk_k_ZIHwP5wGcTcFPRNPrT-o-log4EwMkJI5_e-nrBlHXhsi4jrsZ9iVHK7MawrBiSG3B4welx8H_r_qplr-TJXpRZhqEjtVdLAyfJiMHJUcEpnxbmN3cQJZNA/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>Venice Room Bar & Grill</b><br />
2428 S Garfield Ave<br />
Monterey Park<br />
(323)722-3075<br />
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<a href="http://theveniceroom.com/">theveniceroom.com</a><br />
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-27306865827406646342016-01-06T14:29:00.001-08:002016-01-07T22:12:57.146-08:00Tiki Time: Taking Island Shelter on San Diego's Shelter Island<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"<i>Most people live on a lonely island lost in the middle of a foggy sea. </i></div>
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<i>Most people long for another island, one where they know where they will
like to be</i>."</div>
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These days, I really do find myself muddling through a fog, longing very much for another island. As she always does, Southern California steps up to provide my every need - even a little bit of island paradise right where the West meets the water. It may seem a little "on the nose," but in the Port of San Diego, there sits an island-themed island, a place where tiki gods rule and every building is wiki wacky tiki tacky!<br />
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At just over one-mile-long, Shelter Island packs a powerful punch of Polynesian Pop! As it has no permanent residents, every visitor immediately becomes part of the island <i>ohana</i>. Spending a few sun-kissed hours soaking up the mid-century splendor of this tropical paradise was enough to refresh my spirits and restore my faith in my own native island.</div>
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<b>TRADER MORT'S LIQUOR</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jT2XNfAI-wbCwqYjSHeNk6Nm-4lFvmMKpQ4jttHYWf8shQxZhmGv4sNyP235lHcTqsnlCWt4Hyww82SnN0N4gpihpepTvEMohISyoVjyPxT3H3vrKjbnwebnrSTIdR6CdEjBLafKYOE/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0jT2XNfAI-wbCwqYjSHeNk6Nm-4lFvmMKpQ4jttHYWf8shQxZhmGv4sNyP235lHcTqsnlCWt4Hyww82SnN0N4gpihpepTvEMohISyoVjyPxT3H3vrKjbnwebnrSTIdR6CdEjBLafKYOE/s640/DSC_0027.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trader Mort's Liquor (1965)</td></tr>
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The first stop on our self-guided tiki tour was Shelter Island's preeminent liquor emporium. Since 1965, Trader Mort's Liquor has stood sentry at the gateway to the island's many tiki delights. Under swaying palms and that magnificent roof, Trader Mort's offers thirsty vacationers a place to stock-up on umbrella-drink essentials.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-f6N3WPo9hm-pCDlT9aNX7QS9IzD6rn8S3U-KCeBqOjkkfC1q6fJBdD289Mh29uPaDanS8VM_1Tmlm3-yvrpB1mGCu9Y5RdfFr3TFqR6zYurYE295ucEmLhv2RAO__ozW64FgKsCJno/s1600/DSC_0018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-f6N3WPo9hm-pCDlT9aNX7QS9IzD6rn8S3U-KCeBqOjkkfC1q6fJBdD289Mh29uPaDanS8VM_1Tmlm3-yvrpB1mGCu9Y5RdfFr3TFqR6zYurYE295ucEmLhv2RAO__ozW64FgKsCJno/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPML-BAYn8vO_Vfrc-hoArff1O4puv87GX1cHA4wb6baODTTb5B9pFbGcU-2oAOyxPadPO6_XP3hTSjnvMSww__jeCV3OfRmeH0-BvtT-qsq7M8ToHMJ49as5tCghdNv0icgi2u3X9Klc/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPML-BAYn8vO_Vfrc-hoArff1O4puv87GX1cHA4wb6baODTTb5B9pFbGcU-2oAOyxPadPO6_XP3hTSjnvMSww__jeCV3OfRmeH0-BvtT-qsq7M8ToHMJ49as5tCghdNv0icgi2u3X9Klc/s320/DSC_0014.JPG" width="192" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVApGDUKciahnoZYNlIHLH7Wjrv8-OwN_a902sUZmMqN23a4k5aGy3zdAu_qDROoCX2WM-gRVwR2ON49KGuo1JyYVS0qwOQFG8XELc0L8GgWeRnpeUbNsmYvv3Na0zxWjAcGJe7gN8Hc/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVApGDUKciahnoZYNlIHLH7Wjrv8-OwN_a902sUZmMqN23a4k5aGy3zdAu_qDROoCX2WM-gRVwR2ON49KGuo1JyYVS0qwOQFG8XELc0L8GgWeRnpeUbNsmYvv3Na0zxWjAcGJe7gN8Hc/s320/DSC_0016.JPG" width="190" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9XWuZqmH0Rsaga27ZjL8FHbv1fYRuPgVnF0FBYLLi5UHjXyxhmyefvF28hfRni4EYhICfoYL6rbs9fKGuWMwzfUR9o2j9e8DJhjd42NT8XqysV7fMcEDwoWj9b8Q8o-Gi_BQ5iWCAq0/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9XWuZqmH0Rsaga27ZjL8FHbv1fYRuPgVnF0FBYLLi5UHjXyxhmyefvF28hfRni4EYhICfoYL6rbs9fKGuWMwzfUR9o2j9e8DJhjd42NT8XqysV7fMcEDwoWj9b8Q8o-Gi_BQ5iWCAq0/s320/DSC_0015.JPG" width="192" /> </a> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">With a roofline is punctuated by the gods, we knew </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">that we were walking on holy (<i>haole</i>?) ground!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'll take potent potables for $1,000, Alex"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The sparsely-decorated and </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">wonderfully-worn </span>interior remains lost </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">in time, shelving a host of tiki mugs and other ceramic cocktail vessels. </span></div>
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<b>HUMPHREYS HALF MOON INN</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Humphreys Half Moon Inn & Suites (1961)</td></tr>
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The next stop on our tiki tour was Shelter Island's Hawaiian-style hideaway. While it would be a challenge to get lost on the island (it has but one road), it is more than easy to get lost in the lush gardens of <a href="http://www.halfmooninn.com/">Humphreys Half Moon Inn</a>. <br />
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Since 1961, the sprawling gardens of Humphreys Half Moon Inn have been studded with half-hidden tikis nestled between verdant foliage and serene water features. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1ATS2KYxT2j40S1EP8dt9HwB5mHFsG33cIbPAyP0MbCly46erqxYyPeb8zwgb7OSxj9SFGBer-ba3AZfIX0s4EurkdKM1-BxtjlHIyOHUao57wPFBTmt93PBw-pv4ss7bxw-NeRoJ1E/s1600/DSC_1066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1ATS2KYxT2j40S1EP8dt9HwB5mHFsG33cIbPAyP0MbCly46erqxYyPeb8zwgb7OSxj9SFGBer-ba3AZfIX0s4EurkdKM1-BxtjlHIyOHUao57wPFBTmt93PBw-pv4ss7bxw-NeRoJ1E/s640/DSC_1066.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is even a "See-no-evil," monkey-topped, tiki totem by the pool.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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While Humphreys is in the midst of a "remuddle," (board-and-batten siding is quickly being replaced with stucco and questionable, silvery, slate corner caps), the grand porte-cochère proves that it isn't too late to fully embrace the genius of the original architecture. Time and modern sensibilities, however, are rarely on the side of <i><b>wacky tacky</b></i>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM2FAtp74r8vySMVqfoFqjaJyNPA0TmA_KLb5XYPjpl0KK24iwH9G4XWuTIn9mmuKx3na6zGn83RvTqdxlnk3qvElSj8xdjRiluSqvDDN8AhhMsuuQzxQ1Rs3z35dXRhxzcH_EWhK0JQ/s1600/DSC_1012.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM2FAtp74r8vySMVqfoFqjaJyNPA0TmA_KLb5XYPjpl0KK24iwH9G4XWuTIn9mmuKx3na6zGn83RvTqdxlnk3qvElSj8xdjRiluSqvDDN8AhhMsuuQzxQ1Rs3z35dXRhxzcH_EWhK0JQ/s640/DSC_1012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such is the case with Humphreys' restaurant/music venue. With an inviting a-frame entryway, Humphreys by the Bay, promises a dimly-lit interior replete with ancient fisherman's floats and blow-fish lanterns. Instead, guests are treated to a dining room completely refashioned in white leather and chrome.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhhAhZkzuMx9Ft7M9VaxPRu7cwD9DZFRkdRVn74v9P5ZZp06z7RsW8RecGL3qaV_eVKHhvdhzNas7EKATNAOO2njgFjDzeY6xo9XI39cdJHxJa2-rJc9zJbtNgkOdigSkhEBmpKQzjIc/s1600/DSC_1015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhhAhZkzuMx9Ft7M9VaxPRu7cwD9DZFRkdRVn74v9P5ZZp06z7RsW8RecGL3qaV_eVKHhvdhzNas7EKATNAOO2njgFjDzeY6xo9XI39cdJHxJa2-rJc9zJbtNgkOdigSkhEBmpKQzjIc/s640/DSC_1015.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The exterior is not faring much better. As seen in this photo, the rafter tails are crumbling and the edifice shows only shadows of the original decor (tiki mask/signage?). See a vintage photo <a href="http://www.tikiroom.com/img/35x46267e4f.jpg">here</a>.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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All things considered, our complaints are few and our gratitude plentiful for an ownership who is actively maintaining a vital part of California's historic tiki architecture.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3j6snu5BQdph2QjlKcvnDMj5WYzBzkEVbDDlB1gMIvKWduQtmVzQnU_z1D6Qipx1Ni7Oand_fmXA2HmMowZYxkjpSMy1le0nC5oLaSmaWslwOW1byn2ZVv2iJ_kpj18vUdR1a6NwShw/s1600/DSC_1034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3j6snu5BQdph2QjlKcvnDMj5WYzBzkEVbDDlB1gMIvKWduQtmVzQnU_z1D6Qipx1Ni7Oand_fmXA2HmMowZYxkjpSMy1le0nC5oLaSmaWslwOW1byn2ZVv2iJ_kpj18vUdR1a6NwShw/s640/DSC_1034.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Including this enormous lantern with which I became completely obsessed... It was so big that a human could easily fit inside it, reminding me of the cages from one of those <i>Pirates of the Caribbean</i> movies.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>PACIFIC PORTAL</b></div>
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One part conch shell and two parts starfish, James Hubbell's "Pacific Portal" sculpture is an obvious photo-op on the tiki tour. Directly across the street from Humphreys, the larger-than-life art installation conjures images of Verne-ian voyages and feats of Cousteau-ian courage.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVo9aJJfrQHlbwghvYBdT6SqOZDC7oNwOZzT90hHMyrnCYdqIEJFQinvX-8QE1qnFpct_DUJNvgiLH8ZTqB4HlBaUZVxsKX6cDbyhuvePvsSsBjzowm8yiYphyphenhyphenxCHU1z59wMaq5aP4OJ0/s1600/DSC_1072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVo9aJJfrQHlbwghvYBdT6SqOZDC7oNwOZzT90hHMyrnCYdqIEJFQinvX-8QE1qnFpct_DUJNvgiLH8ZTqB4HlBaUZVxsKX6cDbyhuvePvsSsBjzowm8yiYphyphenhyphenxCHU1z59wMaq5aP4OJ0/s640/DSC_1072.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like this handstand-y show off...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFsp15VxxfnWGYEMKOpuLQl2FbMMgWTvz26xtZKj9UQhn3tRgE99l0zgHTE57CKV5FOhCepsSoBCMx3doLO3_MA-4xiLYtcAG5XTzuk74rK17piIML8vQ-k0LAxSWbPhfxxuDMjcl6Qzk/s1600/DSC_1080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFsp15VxxfnWGYEMKOpuLQl2FbMMgWTvz26xtZKj9UQhn3tRgE99l0zgHTE57CKV5FOhCepsSoBCMx3doLO3_MA-4xiLYtcAG5XTzuk74rK17piIML8vQ-k0LAxSWbPhfxxuDMjcl6Qzk/s640/DSC_1080.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not to be outdone, Ben & Erika performed some highlights from their own acrobatic repertoire.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7e_xarkuoWFns2536C7iNpB5OXJCljdfdjZ9uVtP1R_jU4XwUBf70VmQ5aFinwAE2eZwxr92LWFl7sS7YAjRuH0Yb4DZQWSl683KGMtovJ7d5UOHSh4ATR0g7r1d0u41EcGwHijuWXRI/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7e_xarkuoWFns2536C7iNpB5OXJCljdfdjZ9uVtP1R_jU4XwUBf70VmQ5aFinwAE2eZwxr92LWFl7sS7YAjRuH0Yb4DZQWSl683KGMtovJ7d5UOHSh4ATR0g7r1d0u41EcGwHijuWXRI/s640/DSC_0007.JPG" width="627" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And they even stuck the landing!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiorccP6X_XpD-NzZcnSkK62l9oUvWC8JE2FI2LrWqW8StypXRWB1Pj8cRSjxN-8X1I6WIu8Ro89H9oHtegjhCuCUxMa2e9AzFoYDvQ5Q-_wKffXgbKZT7YNxkSLihVMXXxkiqpbt19Kg/s1600/DSC_1092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiorccP6X_XpD-NzZcnSkK62l9oUvWC8JE2FI2LrWqW8StypXRWB1Pj8cRSjxN-8X1I6WIu8Ro89H9oHtegjhCuCUxMa2e9AzFoYDvQ5Q-_wKffXgbKZT7YNxkSLihVMXXxkiqpbt19Kg/s640/DSC_1092.JPG" width="510" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the bottom...</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BALI HAI RESTAURANT</b> </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzyaRjD4QoHazXai0qYBHhK1aBQmd8vbFlrNuQTgzbdOFZd11CCmSL6y0YN7n35fA_ymmf2TvWQhT_jhUqzGJ4vUMmzOQ6Mc-IwQgEmHI6T3N0OpWCepGivO4rjwzjk9yzG3TotGh0tg/s1600/DSC_1003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzyaRjD4QoHazXai0qYBHhK1aBQmd8vbFlrNuQTgzbdOFZd11CCmSL6y0YN7n35fA_ymmf2TvWQhT_jhUqzGJ4vUMmzOQ6Mc-IwQgEmHI6T3N0OpWCepGivO4rjwzjk9yzG3TotGh0tg/s640/DSC_1003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bali Hai Restaurant (1953)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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A brief visit to Shelter Island's most famous outpost concluded our tiki tour. Considered by many to be the jewel in Shelter Island's tiki tiara,<a href="http://www.balihairestaurant.com/"> Bali Hai Restaurant</a> began life as "<a href="http://www.matterhorn1959.com/blog1/cornercafe200.jpg">The Hut</a>" in 1953. Flagging patronage in its earliest years encouraged an overhaul that set a precedent for many updates over the next half-century.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurji52AbCB_AXbXYhISFLwrM-8aIiydgkff69H654MaZn4oLbWt5DG-DpHwlPaSAEMN69T7AFmGJfQmLXQ2Eau2IMhbkUBSr9zKpVQoB_8zxJUNvbMtTGC-thzbT7DFWWuBPj2brYenE/s1600/DSC_1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurji52AbCB_AXbXYhISFLwrM-8aIiydgkff69H654MaZn4oLbWt5DG-DpHwlPaSAEMN69T7AFmGJfQmLXQ2Eau2IMhbkUBSr9zKpVQoB_8zxJUNvbMtTGC-thzbT7DFWWuBPj2brYenE/s640/DSC_1002.JPG" width="638" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One enduring element of the original restaurant is the iconic "Goof" on the roof!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCiJV7sztfMdzBhY_Gm0z1zoNsrsdR6j60HI2tPRdyI5o0fmXOn19X8Jr0ziI1AYLFw5HSV9aw-hb3ICWp9iYckXx61cVUvHglnS2ij-Y7NL6Tj2ASIo_b1IDB8dL4VU0steKreCP2as/s1600/DSC_1006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCiJV7sztfMdzBhY_Gm0z1zoNsrsdR6j60HI2tPRdyI5o0fmXOn19X8Jr0ziI1AYLFw5HSV9aw-hb3ICWp9iYckXx61cVUvHglnS2ij-Y7NL6Tj2ASIo_b1IDB8dL4VU0steKreCP2as/s640/DSC_1006.JPG" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Real Goof<br />
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I'll admit it; slightly underwhelmed by Bali Hai, I assumed an even grumpier<br />
attitude than that of Mr. Bali Hai, the establishment's less-than-amused mascot. </td></tr>
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Somehow, I feel like I have shirked my responsibility by never before dropping anchor at Shelter Island. But now that I have, I know I will be a regular visitor. If you are ever in San Diego and you hunger for a veritable pu pu platter of Polynesia, then get down to Shelter Island. Who knows, you might see me there! <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"If you try, you will find me where the sky meets the sea."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cC0wuSLd33I" width="560"></iframe>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Bali Ha'i" - Sarah Vaughan with The London Symphony Orchestra </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBXuHRTLDfqdP7dxx4ILa_GN1t8zTIG_-QGqmWnrB3KRWzb7zLKZwPjvlTrfeI-253KXF7rXY_YeL6-cQi5vM5nlEo1gd8rMtWMr7uWyvTmH1Munp8wt_o8QoT4-6jtoMkoWpzTdDWlw/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBXuHRTLDfqdP7dxx4ILa_GN1t8zTIG_-QGqmWnrB3KRWzb7zLKZwPjvlTrfeI-253KXF7rXY_YeL6-cQi5vM5nlEo1gd8rMtWMr7uWyvTmH1Munp8wt_o8QoT4-6jtoMkoWpzTdDWlw/s320/DSC_0035.JPG" width="251" /></a> </div>
<b>Trader Mort's Liquor</b><br />
2904 Shelter Island Dr<br />
San Diego<br />
(619)224-3771<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UhNGeHwh8Ffw7HIYorho7i5RbP98RLv6w5Mb6-1BHw_E20C36yzrGCV0Zy0dOjhfAdl7GzDOkKHzeIXWsknF_sc6qK0dVPXIH8cIO0HEnLvsvBgD1zfJCT-ZxJSmaOTfxQxLAtYebyA/s1600/DSC_1033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UhNGeHwh8Ffw7HIYorho7i5RbP98RLv6w5Mb6-1BHw_E20C36yzrGCV0Zy0dOjhfAdl7GzDOkKHzeIXWsknF_sc6qK0dVPXIH8cIO0HEnLvsvBgD1zfJCT-ZxJSmaOTfxQxLAtYebyA/s400/DSC_1033.JPG" width="267" /></a></div>
<b>Humphrey's Half Moon Inn & Suites</b><br />
2303 Shelter Island Dr<br />
San Diego, CA<br />
(619)224-3411<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.halfmooninn.com/">halfmooninn.com </a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kPUrfXyvePdRxn95JPD1EhaiErGDC3MCsgVm2KvXk4wVejLBwsaZPb3CaPm8jBTPMYoZuud8USV3KJpxkhLxB1w26qsrKxjqR-IjcCbs3m5npEN58Ck732aQ-nsaU65-iL8zIWxqXEQ/s1600/DSC_1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kPUrfXyvePdRxn95JPD1EhaiErGDC3MCsgVm2KvXk4wVejLBwsaZPb3CaPm8jBTPMYoZuud8USV3KJpxkhLxB1w26qsrKxjqR-IjcCbs3m5npEN58Ck732aQ-nsaU65-iL8zIWxqXEQ/s320/DSC_1004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>Bali Hai Restaurant</b><br />
2230 Shelter Island Dr<br />
San Diego, CA<br />
(619)222-1181<br />
<br />
<a href="http://balihairestaurant.com/">balihairestaurant.com</a><br />
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Cheers & Aloha!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny </div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-17569973949575749522015-12-21T08:45:00.000-08:002015-12-21T08:45:39.978-08:00Crazy Crafty: A Sock Monkey's "Tail"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hand-me-downs work in mysterious ways. <br />
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Despite his protestations to the contrary, <a href="https://instagram.com/sicknimich/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">my older brother is kind of a hip artist</span></a>; professionally, he works as a graphic artist and screen printer but his passions are illustration, lowbrow culture, and motorcycles. Being well-connected in the action sportswear industry and motorcycle/chopper scene means that he often gets insider hook-ups. Fortunately for me, the trickle-down effect applies even when it comes to such <i>ped</i>estrian things as socks! Recently, I procured from him a few pairs of brand-spanking-new <a href="https://www.stance.com/" style="color: #cc0000;">Stance Socks</a>. In all honesty, I was a little concerned by the obsession my bearded brother and his tough-looking biker friends have with the preciously-patterned, often intentionally-mismated socks (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rbe6sltd8w4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">designed and worn by the likes of Rihanna</span></a>). One wear of the socks, however, was enough to change my derisive tune. Without sounding like a paid testimonial, all I will say is that the cushioned sole, the downy-soft yarns, and the comforting compression of the elastic fibers, are total game-changers. If socks were hugs, then Stance would be my large-bosomed grandma. This is why, with only three sets to my name, I was reticent to destroy even one pair of these footwear phenoms. But given the color story and pattern of this particular pair, I was left with no choice but to turn to one of the Depression-era's most popular crafts.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRoD8FUuSJgki8iwOiYUDwrCcvpvZSXls9txnanLr1bCMFoz4zNvNI8WV15F71xA0fnoFn8RZH6at9h19FuA5gk-nNg5fsT5ZY54UxWjW2F9SUcG3y7ZPvrwEmnYrn5QZhDNctR0PeR4/s1600/DSC_0974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRoD8FUuSJgki8iwOiYUDwrCcvpvZSXls9txnanLr1bCMFoz4zNvNI8WV15F71xA0fnoFn8RZH6at9h19FuA5gk-nNg5fsT5ZY54UxWjW2F9SUcG3y7ZPvrwEmnYrn5QZhDNctR0PeR4/s640/DSC_0974.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's nearly impossible to believe that the designers at Stance intended these to be anything but a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sock_monkey"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">sock monkey</span></a>!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In the 1930s, the "Rockford Red Heel," a sock manufactured by the Nelson Knitting Company, became the standard for creating the iconic sock monkey. With their heathery field punctuated by "Rockford Red" heels and toes, these socks were practicaly foreordained to become my nephew's refashioned Christmas present.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeeH9MxxY5taUl9hQGu_h1Ot1XhZxYd9Svb6ylCMfC0joCB5R5xzlu9ZO6z5NWIbs4Wo3Bc1a7Wsbw_tOSHxyfVMciqrzInYdiCXE4qeXtJ_BD1rNAcEWI9jn7Ph4V4kbDAASXLetGkU/s1600/62013f50131680761401d21ae15514bc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeeH9MxxY5taUl9hQGu_h1Ot1XhZxYd9Svb6ylCMfC0joCB5R5xzlu9ZO6z5NWIbs4Wo3Bc1a7Wsbw_tOSHxyfVMciqrzInYdiCXE4qeXtJ_BD1rNAcEWI9jn7Ph4V4kbDAASXLetGkU/s200/62013f50131680761401d21ae15514bc.jpg" width="170" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6S5sWv5dSqEKpDaGNMQ8TCAtHsQb1r7IuzgfztJ8Te_XU2raHc_UkCGrsjnI7Y6WVFvC8w_E0RSPWGKeezDA22zbSEVjxFrC9xq4pAq1C6sBvypyxGAtC7qR_RPs_QbUUZir_S-fhvE/s1600/bunny1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6S5sWv5dSqEKpDaGNMQ8TCAtHsQb1r7IuzgfztJ8Te_XU2raHc_UkCGrsjnI7Y6WVFvC8w_E0RSPWGKeezDA22zbSEVjxFrC9xq4pAq1C6sBvypyxGAtC7qR_RPs_QbUUZir_S-fhvE/s200/bunny1.jpg" width="129" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMz0KDZ5kyPtgCdGmIrX5w4qBJgb2yqWYkcQYzrcTqqIGBuaIfdt90GboAK1XerA31HSG_0GWkAEdtRabEXY4i9qR2JTg0Q2bmpDPeRfwEgBeGE1bjQcGfA6EbUV1igz12A6TMO12IzM8/s1600/11137637_1398701493783001_354478778_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMz0KDZ5kyPtgCdGmIrX5w4qBJgb2yqWYkcQYzrcTqqIGBuaIfdt90GboAK1XerA31HSG_0GWkAEdtRabEXY4i9qR2JTg0Q2bmpDPeRfwEgBeGE1bjQcGfA6EbUV1igz12A6TMO12IzM8/s200/11137637_1398701493783001_354478778_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Every year I make my nephew some kind of stuffed animal as part of Christmas/Birthday/Easter present. With the socks burning a hole in my creative pocket and the years waning in which he will still be able to appreciate "Pirelephant", <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/04/sew-what-here-comes-peter-cottontail.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Pinkeroni the pink easter bunny</span></a>, or Egghead the clown, this year was my last chance to be the (sock) monkey's uncle!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9eIUnNPrx5amn0e-WYYyevFFPc0pVZTGfw5dZroNJQ51gPcFc-zm3zoCYtkgm7mEuUMxiCKSv5k8xvTfXfy0qwOMCKUFmMAiylBCiotRLC63R2T1s5X7ZHS1RIy4bnhxPVGLlT_EXjM/s1600/DSC_0964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9eIUnNPrx5amn0e-WYYyevFFPc0pVZTGfw5dZroNJQ51gPcFc-zm3zoCYtkgm7mEuUMxiCKSv5k8xvTfXfy0qwOMCKUFmMAiylBCiotRLC63R2T1s5X7ZHS1RIy4bnhxPVGLlT_EXjM/s400/DSC_0964.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!"<br />
It's a bit creepy but aren't all sock monkeys?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5L42VSqLBZDIyQ55DEn4f5ILelwUPdOGakM9tsHG9fAIXuKAi-r3baKwP_E7WA7BoY2P9AKc_sgpmvvrdNYkjSoWhZ9XvexZh1Jm39y6HmCCM8-_A7CLypA32u0TsTqyvSs3XJ-Zh7M/s1600/DSC_0965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5L42VSqLBZDIyQ55DEn4f5ILelwUPdOGakM9tsHG9fAIXuKAi-r3baKwP_E7WA7BoY2P9AKc_sgpmvvrdNYkjSoWhZ9XvexZh1Jm39y6HmCCM8-_A7CLypA32u0TsTqyvSs3XJ-Zh7M/s640/DSC_0965.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">I considered making an après-ski ensemble but with the striped toe of the sock automatically becoming<br />
the sock monkey's permanent knitted cap; the only thing I needed to add was a red pompom on top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I wish I could say that it was a conscious design choice, but the fact is that I didn't consider a tail when portioning out the precious knitted real estate of these hand-me-down, high-style socks. Icould tell you that "I'm mad about about [this] chimpanzee" but...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdu8B6HsnxpdgTOgAuHfdDGyaYDrZvVCJ-Pt1pVJwIitRs6_SG3dogsvQqXt2SnzBdMhne7ljxtfWz9c7zkRImrRFcVdM_K_GhP1ggIpdnRqYtqOsFXGF9IuwqBQqW71RaZ1VRtOlC7g/s1600/DSC_0958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdu8B6HsnxpdgTOgAuHfdDGyaYDrZvVCJ-Pt1pVJwIitRs6_SG3dogsvQqXt2SnzBdMhne7ljxtfWz9c7zkRImrRFcVdM_K_GhP1ggIpdnRqYtqOsFXGF9IuwqBQqW71RaZ1VRtOlC7g/s640/DSC_0958.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One look at his bright-red hind quarters reveals that he is much more likely a <a href="http://www.laforce.org/gallery3/index.php/Asia-Trip/singapore/DSC03675"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">sock baboon</span></a> (and even <br />
they have tails). Please excuse me while I go fashion a tail out of sock scraps before Christmas Eve!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Sometimes I think just pretend to make these things for my nephew when I really kind of make them for myself. Lucky for him, I do hand over custody but I have been granted frequent visitation. I'm pleased that he continues to enjoy his growing menagerie of stuffed animals because I definitely get a kick out of making them. Truth be told, if he didn't like them, I probably would continue to make them and keep them for myself.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Uduyx5fKfBtpgAbUmtqvMj0B1pwsBtmZJVrCLS2mZlfLObP7YPD4mQ6yu85NuVKr9iD6bYUmCqwzeIItDuC_671aUKIz2dLYPCGRaGMnWpGMmE_ClEg_naM7CqCJcq61RKukSfeAYU0/s1600/DSC_0957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Uduyx5fKfBtpgAbUmtqvMj0B1pwsBtmZJVrCLS2mZlfLObP7YPD4mQ6yu85NuVKr9iD6bYUmCqwzeIItDuC_671aUKIz2dLYPCGRaGMnWpGMmE_ClEg_naM7CqCJcq61RKukSfeAYU0/s640/DSC_0957.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope a new simian styling and a ride in a vintage Hy-Speed wagon do not undermine the street cred <br />
of these super-hip superstar socks. In fact, I hope that Stance hires me for their new craft division (with <br />
Martha Stewart as the face of the brand, probably).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z2AjnlMYqy3fzePTOyt9Mq6-MKdBS6h6_DfVQesiYCluprk9BDyAPA913WHSw2HYxuR7u7Ejs9xYTSzP6wHr3pxRpd4hD-hqHiqFcG3jjQ-4oXYBnMBKBZK35cc8YuNF5lP4l2daQjI/s1600/DSC_0952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z2AjnlMYqy3fzePTOyt9Mq6-MKdBS6h6_DfVQesiYCluprk9BDyAPA913WHSw2HYxuR7u7Ejs9xYTSzP6wHr3pxRpd4hD-hqHiqFcG3jjQ-4oXYBnMBKBZK35cc8YuNF5lP4l2daQjI/s640/DSC_0952.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I even left the branding intact just so that Stance knew I was<br />
serious about collaborating with Rihanna on her next line of socks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I don't know that it strikes the same cool chord as an internationally-known pop star (or even a group of miscreant bikers), but I think I have a slogan for Stance's as yet untapped market; "Stance: the heart & <i>sole </i>of crafting!"<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oRTlfFlJ4o8" width="420"></iframe>
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"The Monkey's Uncle" - Annette Funicello & The Beach Boys</div>
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-1719491096391454502015-12-18T12:34:00.001-08:002016-12-18T10:40:36.293-08:00My Father, My Buddy, My Baby<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times new roman";">For those who don't follow along on<a href="https://www.instagram.com/wacky_tacky/"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Instagram</span></a>, I suppose that I should explain our recent radio silence. Last week, following a terrible accident while under the care of "medical professionals," my father passed away. Last night we held a memorial service celebrating a brilliant man and a life well-lived. He deserved so much better from life and from me, but these are the words I could string together in an attempt to honor the bottomless source of creativity, service, and joy that is my hero - my dear father.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQcmSdfuMiM9eXIlRazuVcUFEuWBfNUvFSO3A9QTQpeBHaO8xClkryLs0uZdGVg6SY90maMD5v94f6BK8m4zlVUDy7IPlFLbb8wqqXHn8fLxHdplJKdkOWajzrN41DLsDKfI-HDZYPy0/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQcmSdfuMiM9eXIlRazuVcUFEuWBfNUvFSO3A9QTQpeBHaO8xClkryLs0uZdGVg6SY90maMD5v94f6BK8m4zlVUDy7IPlFLbb8wqqXHn8fLxHdplJKdkOWajzrN41DLsDKfI-HDZYPy0/s640/unnamed-1.jpg" width="450" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Being your father’s favorite child isn’t always all that it’s cracked up to be. Actually, it is fraught with anxiety. There are the front row views of him playing human <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_The_Price_Is_Right_pricing_games#Plinko"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Plinko</span></a> while falling out of the neighbor’s tree (and hitting every branch on the way down), the worry of wondering whether or not he has gone permanently blind after performing a "quick weld" without the benefit of a welding mask. There is the embarrassment of the long series of notes excusing my junior-high absences that chronicled my diplomatic endeavors in South Africa and the crippling nature of the subsequent traveler’s diarrhea. In going through his papers, we actually found a rough draft of one such excuse note:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">"[Mr. Tiny] hurt his ankle when he kicked his brother.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">After severely disabling his brother he turned criminal, </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">going on the '</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">run' </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and robbing a liquor store. After the </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ensuing gun </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">battle with police, he fled to Mexico where </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he is hiding </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">out. And this is why he can't run in P.E." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">There is also a lot of activity directing – the hallway wheelchair races, the sing-a-longs, and the impromptu living room dance parties (some that continued into our final days at the ICU). But these examples are pretty universal among every “favorite child.” Am I right?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I love hearing the memories of my dad that keep pouring in from friends and family. The common themes among these stories are how talented, cheerful, funny, and helpful my dad was. These remembrances are particularly valuable to me because my own memory is total rubbish. They remind me of the brilliant, beautiful man who let me walk on his back when he needed a massage (a practice that ended many years ago - I promise you that it was not a contributing factor to his current condition). They tell me more about the man who taught me how to draw a duck and a horse and a dog as we half-listened to the messages delivered in church. They tell me about a life lived in service to his fellow man. This isn’t to say that he was perfect; one memory that I do recall from our early years together features me as a petulant 4-year-old who refused to eat his portion of scalloped potatoes. This act of defiance quickly became a battle of wills between father and son. At first, I was handed the fairly-pedestrian threats of not getting dessert, not leaving the table, and not “passing Go” until my plate was cleaned. Things escalated when neither threats nor bribery were working. At one point, my mom gathered the other kids from the table and bundled them into their winter coats. Sitting resolutely at the head of the table, my dad declared that if I didn’t eat the quickly-congealing potatoes, everyone was going to Disneyland without me. Unmoved, I settled in for a long night at the dining table. Even as the taillights of our Honda disappeared down the street, it occurred to me what a cruel joke this was to play on my siblings who were headed anywhere that night…but certainly not The Magic Kingdom. After several trips around the block, my bitter band of brothers and sisters stumbled through the front door to a scene identical to the one they had left before. With pursed lips, I continued my hunger strike, haughtily ignoring the desperate bargaining and berating. I could feel the balance of power shifting to my side of the table. It was at the precise moment when I was sure that I had won when an exasperated, young father unloaded the entire contents of a water pitcher over the head of his “favorite child.” I think my obstinacy and my flair for the dramatic are genetic. In the end, the joke is on you, Dad. Now I can’t <i>stop</i> eating potatoes…it’s like I’m perpetually carb-loading for a marathon that I will never run!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">For those who aren’t totally familiar with my dad’s recent history, I’ll give you my version of events. Eight years ago, just shy of his 54<sup>th</sup> birthday, my dad suffered a massive stroke that left him totally incapacitated. We put his life, and ours, into the hands of medical professionals and held vigil night and day. After a couple of months, our biggest celebration came when he was able to reach up and scratch his nose. Two very trying years passed, both highlighted by successes and riddled with setbacks. We were finally hitting our stride when he suffered yet another stroke that seemed to erase the progress he made and left us all wondering if there were to be any more birthdays for him.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Our inclination has always been to avoid reliving those tension-filled days because of the physical response <span style="text-decoration: underline;">we</span> had to <span style="text-decoration: underline;">his</span> prognosis. Unable to train my mind to focus on anything other than overwhelming sadness, I resisted sleep and ached night and day. For several days, we waited to see if the emergency procedures that were being performed on his behalf would have any positive impact. Instructed to make peace and say our goodbyes, our family came together to face the most devastating outcome possible. Then, sustained by IVs, a feeding tube, a ventilator, an arsenal of the latest in chemical engineering, prayers, faith, and the love of our family, he began to rally!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In recent years, it was obvious that many effects of his strokes were lasting- some seemed like cruel jokes. My dad was a talker; like Will Rogers, my dad never met a man he didn't like and with whom he didn't have at least 5,972 things in common over which he could engage in a lengthy discourse (much to the chagrin of our mother...and the people waiting behind us in line at the grocery store checkout). After the strokes, his speech became impacted by a syndrome common among stroke victims called aphasia; this made communication a major challenge, particularly with people outside of our family. My dad was doer; as we dragged our feet behind him, he used every minute of his "free time" to improve our family home and to help neighbors, friends, church members, and extended family. My dad was a Renaissance man; after replacing the brakes on my car, you would be just as likely to find him painting, cooking, or writing a poem as you would to find him installing a dishwasher or laying tile. Confined to a wheelchair, he became unable to perform some of the simplest functions of personal care. As a young man, my dad was an adventurer; he rode motorcycles and raced cars. And as a father, he made time to take us out of school for a day of fun at museums and parks. He had the ability to make interminably long road trips to visit family seem like Sunday joy rides. It then became our responsibility to convey him using “Old Blue,” a specialty van with wheelchair accessibility.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In the wake of his illness and recovery, the biggest surprise was how little about him had changed. Yes, he had become a little more fragile and a little more tender, but his brilliant mind was intact. His sense of humor still had us rolling on the floor. His passion for his wife was abiding. His love for his children and grandson was abounding. His concern for others was unwavering. His faith was steadfast. His desire to be of service was unyielding, his appreciation for beauty more profound, his courage undefeated.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It is interesting to see how his life was an amazing lesson, one to which I should have been taking more thorough and much more copious notes. Since his illness, however, the lessons became more obvious. I have had to learn to be of greater service to others. I have had to try to be more loving. I have had to embrace adventure and uncertainty. I have had to rely on faith. I've always been hilarious so that was not a problem. Given the impossibly-big shoes to fill, I have felt utterly inept on the best of days. Nevertheless, it has been my great honor to serve my father in a way that transformed the tumultuous early years of our relationship into something so pure, so simple, and so loving. I am not a touchy-feely kind of guy but not a day passed when I didn’t hug the life out him, hold his big meat hook of a hand, and tell him that I loved him. Even though his language was affected, he had many standard phrases that left our hearts soaring and let us know how deeply he appreciated us, including “I love you,” “Wow,” “Thank you,” “I do,” “Si” (he was bilingual), and “I think you’re beautiful/terrible/wonderful/bloody spectacular/fill in the blank.” One time, he even told me that he thought I was sexy; I mean, this guy had some serious range. Being a bit of a rabble-rouser, I always encouraged him to broaden his vocabulary. Every day when I picked him up from “The Club,” I would buckle him in and ask him if he was ready to go. When I received an answer in the affirmative, I would shout, “Then let’s…” and at this point it was his job to fill in the blank with, “GOOOOOO, dammit!” Just for the record, my mom told me it was okay to say dammit in church – but just today.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">He was hilarious. I honestly don’t know why it is that I spent the first part of my life vowing to be nothing like my father and the most recent part of my life trying so desperately to be half the man that he was. My efforts to officially canonize him are still under review by the Pope but I just can’t help but remember him as a wonderful disciple of Christ. He was a stellar example of walking the walk, talking the talk, and being of service to everyone around him.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">If you ask my mom, she will tell you that he has become the perfect husband. He eats what she wants him to eat. He goes where she wants him to go. He wears what she wants him to wear. She is completely in charge of the finances. And she always knows where he is. I thought of him as the perfect baby. With nothing but respect, I began to think of him as my child…my enormous, beautiful, bouncing baby boy. The correlation works rather literally so you'll have to go with me on this; I changed him, I fed him, I buckled him into a special seat so that we could run errands and get to doctors appointments. I tucked him in. I even mashed up his medicine and mixed it with applesauce. The tenderness I have felt for and from him was probably as parental as anything I will ever experience in this life. There was genuine beauty in his gentle willingness to submit to us…as we maintained our reverence for his dignity.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">My father was there when I took my very first breaths; I was there when he drew his very last. I suppose that this is what we call the “circle of life,” but I am not ready. I want a few more chances to scratch him behind the ear, to pluck his errant nose hairs, to rub his back, to hold his hand, to hear him say, “Wow!” I want to hear him tell me again that I am "pretty special." Everybody frowned on the idea, but my plan was to "<i>Notebook"</i> my way right along with him. If you’ve seen that corny movie, then you know what I’m talking about. In doing so, we would have tested not only God’s plan for us but also the weight capacity of a standard-issue hospital bed. Yes, my dad left me, but he left me prepared for what lies ahead. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The greatest gifts my dad has given me are purpose, an understanding of service, and a mother who exemplifies the true meaning of devotion. No tribute to my father would be complete without acknowledging my beautiful mother. My dad didn’t just love my mom; he had a passion for her. That passion was expressed in quiet, simple gestures, in rip-roaring "discussions," and in public displays of affection. It was <i>intense</i>. Growing up in a house filled with humor, excitement, strong opinions, and passion, it is no wonder that our life has been, shall we say, colorful. Through it all, my mom has been <span style="text-decoration: underline;">the most</span> humble, steadfast, hard-working person I have ever known. What can I say? My parents chose the best of the best. But besides <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-password-is-mother.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">her winning streak on <i>PASSWORD</i></span></a> </span>and his regular first-place ribbons at chili cook-offs, my parents have lived a life free from major acclaim and a lot of high-profile credits to their names. Together they built a life that was rich in ways that were not always obvious to the outside world. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">f you’ll indulge me, I’m going to "pull a Pat" and read you a poem I wrote. Everyone in my family accuses me of being my mother’s son but writing poems is pure Dad.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THERE’S A LITTLE BROWN HOUSE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">ARE BITTERLY POOR.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEIR SHABBY, OLD CLOTHES</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AREN’T MEANT TO BE FUNNY.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEY RECYCLE CANS</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">JUST FOR THE GAS MONEY.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THE CAR THAT THEY DRIVE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">HAS TIRES THAT ARE WORN,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">HAS BRAKES THAT ARE SQUEALING,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AND AN IMPOTENT HORN.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THE CHILDREN KEEP MOM </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">IN A PERMANENT PANIC,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">WHILE DAD JUST KEEPS BUSY </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AS HEAD CHEF AND MECHANIC.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THERE ARE SO MANY KIDS</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">WITH SO MANY NAMES</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THAT WHEN ONE GETS IN TROUBLE </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">EVERYONE’S BLAMED.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">SOME PEOPLE WILL SCOFF</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AT THE REDUCED CIRCUMSTANCES</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">BUT THE FAMILY’S QUITE USED</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">TO THE GIGGLES AND GLANCES.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">DESPITE HOW THINGS SEEM</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">FROM OUTSIDE THE DOOR,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THE PEOPLE INSIDE </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">DON’T KNOW THAT THEY’RE POOR.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THE RAMSHACKLE STRUCTURE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">TO THEM IS A COTTAGE.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AND THEY PLAN ON STAYING </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">WELL INTO THEIR DOTAGE.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEIR CLOTHES MAY BE CLASSED </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AS OLD HAND-ME-DOWNS,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">BUT COME HALLOWEEN</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEY ARE PIRATES AND CLOWNS.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEIR CAR IS A CHARIOT</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THAT CARRIES THE LOAD</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">WHEN HUNTING DOWN PALM FRONDS</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">O’ER THE BUMPS IN THE ROAD.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">CHEERFULNESS REIGNS </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">AT THIS HUMBLE DWELLING</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">BUT THERE’S STILL TIME FOR FIGHTS,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">CALLING NAMES, AND SOME YELLING.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THE CHARM OF THIS TRIBE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">MAY BE LOST ON OTHERS,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">BUT TO PEER THROUGH THE WINDOW</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">ONE QUICKLY DISCOVERS - </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THAT HIDDEN INSIDE,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THEY’VE COLLECTED A TREASURE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THAT CANNOT BE COUNTED</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">FOR IT’S FAR BEYOND MEASURE.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">THIS FORTUNE THEY PRIZE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">ALL OTHERS ABOVE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">IS GOD’S GREATEST GIFT…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A FAMILY’S LOVE.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In his very last hours with us, I think my dad was just waiting for me to ask him one more time, “Are you ready? Then let’s go, dammit!” Instead, as his breathing slowed, I told him how proud I was of him. I asked him to watch over us. I thanked him for being an incredible father. I told him how much I loved him. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It was never a question whether my dad loved me or not but he gave me plenty of opportunities to wonder if, given the choice, we would ever be friends in "real life." On the last day I shared with him before he entered the hospital, he gave me one final gift. In between the Christmas carols and dance routines, he traded in his typical loving refrain for something much more precious to me. Whenever I entered or left the room, instead of offering me his usual “I love you,” he looked me in the eye and repeated “I like you. I like you. I like you.” I like you too, Pop.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CRGdlnVyJzXaj4qZueTiUHq7FHK7vQqzRq2BJvtBq_SFx0gTkdq0OFyRqiGxfYO7yaP1aB0HhAiJV1Yh08Q-VlnoYdVenqTWssRFUvpQPg-yYnXmwcsa0Ba6xz_AeNTKxrBZE9oo76o/s1600/12391134_1072828686085147_6802282484503800715_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CRGdlnVyJzXaj4qZueTiUHq7FHK7vQqzRq2BJvtBq_SFx0gTkdq0OFyRqiGxfYO7yaP1aB0HhAiJV1Yh08Q-VlnoYdVenqTWssRFUvpQPg-yYnXmwcsa0Ba6xz_AeNTKxrBZE9oo76o/s640/12391134_1072828686085147_6802282484503800715_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Father • My Buddy • My Baby<br />
November 2, 1953 - December 11, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jGFZ9rgN-oA" width="560"></iframe>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Dear Father" - Colin Hay</div>
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-78048505838855055192015-12-01T00:00:00.000-08:002015-12-02T07:19:32.265-08:00Crazy Crafty: The ADVENT of the Dollar Store ADVENT!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The dollar store is the only retail environment in which I can afford to browse. Typically, I am the type of shopper who treats a trip to the store like a combination obstacle course/scavenger hunt, jumping hurdles and ferreting out the necessary items in record time; seriously, I can do a full Costco run in under twenty minutes! But the dollar store is a different story. It's the one place where I don't have to casually turn items over, discretely checking for a price before gingerly setting them down, trying desperately to quell an acute onset of the vapors. At the dollar store, I am Oprah. It takes all of my limited will-power not to extend my beneficence to every other cost-conscious consumer, shouting, "<i>You</i> get some corn picks! <i>You</i> get some cough drops! <i>You</i> get a coloring book!" - especially at Christmastime. <br />
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Strutting the holiday aisles of the dollar store in a lordly manner, I am supremely confident in the knowledge that I can buy anything in sight - often in multiples - and still remain solvent. It is here that I look for inspiration for Christmas crafts as there are at least 1,225 things one can do with a spray of pine cones covered in gold glitter and styrofoam snow. This year, however, nothing intrinsically holiday-related was speaking to me. This year, I had to search further afield; I had to hunt in the "Health & Beauty" aisle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_d3b5NyNkvyHK08jrUsZ0dvzBgrZFma5adZapNUoBkmg_xoUaHoRiT5mE-wclUPnjU4xfSG0tRbQCvcc59qYNnfRVuGkHQLDx90dZUdTcGVeA7v3M4fKC6Gj6u4ekRLnQ9-4zLulP1k/s1600/DSC_0952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_d3b5NyNkvyHK08jrUsZ0dvzBgrZFma5adZapNUoBkmg_xoUaHoRiT5mE-wclUPnjU4xfSG0tRbQCvcc59qYNnfRVuGkHQLDx90dZUdTcGVeA7v3M4fKC6Gj6u4ekRLnQ9-4zLulP1k/s640/DSC_0952.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It occurred to me several years ago that these ordinary, weekly pill organizers made perfect sense as the foundation <br />
of an advent calendar. My nephew's obsession with the disposable advent calendar I sent him last year was the only motivation I needed to finally turn this dollar store bargain into a Crazy Crafty Christmas Miracle!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyovmX7-_JtivTIBGx7nrAdM8N1ZYM1gy_LgIlOli_Yh3p4HrfFgK84GwdnCVE09DGoKSZdBLInAmvM5f4WYkWdjOLmBMBYVKpdxooEVhzMihSWjB6sZsyR4nfuGQ7BltL9dPLojYKBg/s1600/DSC_0955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyovmX7-_JtivTIBGx7nrAdM8N1ZYM1gy_LgIlOli_Yh3p4HrfFgK84GwdnCVE09DGoKSZdBLInAmvM5f4WYkWdjOLmBMBYVKpdxooEVhzMihSWjB6sZsyR4nfuGQ7BltL9dPLojYKBg/s640/DSC_0955.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With some adhesive-backed craft paper from the stash and a sheet of dollar-<br />
store stickers, we transformed the pill cases from utilitarian to <i>beau</i>-tilitarian.</td></tr>
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As with all of my experiments in Crazy Crafty, I tend to go off half-cocked. With absolutely no plan and no instructions to follow, I have to make things up as I go along (and disaster often ensues).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjH7N2qZhCOz6VB7D5Ymy2Xo7YH2-5CpWLof_rNowiZq5FbEXzWD5KN6tjMPnaZTZCozRf0i-3rPBTyXRetgxHDHCPXafsohHK0O1veeS8uWW-n6dGRznlw7mUv-UzSEKhAoSeCeFxgY/s1600/DSC_0971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjH7N2qZhCOz6VB7D5Ymy2Xo7YH2-5CpWLof_rNowiZq5FbEXzWD5KN6tjMPnaZTZCozRf0i-3rPBTyXRetgxHDHCPXafsohHK0O1veeS8uWW-n6dGRznlw7mUv-UzSEKhAoSeCeFxgY/s640/DSC_0971.JPG" width="566" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My original thought was just to simply glue each pill case together. <br />
Unfortunately, that would have prohibited the proper function of those little hinged doors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdjC5U4a_A0FHwZOWQ3qefjT076B3jpZLtDsi3OggbtvYqkyXkC2R0zMgdPy0BL3gKwcvXJ5hpqX2MS6UkpVqBm0XqrThl7YuSHyF_m5C14eknNnKWW4_pwcj6e1bpZ3S5180rYwp1UA/s1600/DSC_0970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdjC5U4a_A0FHwZOWQ3qefjT076B3jpZLtDsi3OggbtvYqkyXkC2R0zMgdPy0BL3gKwcvXJ5hpqX2MS6UkpVqBm0XqrThl7YuSHyF_m5C14eknNnKWW4_pwcj6e1bpZ3S5180rYwp1UA/s640/DSC_0970.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instead, I punched a hole in the top and bottom of every Saturday and Sunday, stringing <br />
the cases together with a double-thickness of baker's twine and bead spacers in between.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Dp1Hzu8J_VAVICe5EcQSfjpPF_cR-_FWkhpTLgukd0DOxlXGO-13mkbborVw-9XM6ASZKPso8SlBkKtTiJeji7BiYQP8MH3_CWrSfxoBLpb2f4zr4oOeJ1ZbRdHNCmugtxG3P0lj8ws/s1600/DSC_0966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Dp1Hzu8J_VAVICe5EcQSfjpPF_cR-_FWkhpTLgukd0DOxlXGO-13mkbborVw-9XM6ASZKPso8SlBkKtTiJeji7BiYQP8MH3_CWrSfxoBLpb2f4zr4oOeJ1ZbRdHNCmugtxG3P0lj8ws/s640/DSC_0966.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fully-functioning advent doors reveal mini chocolate balls, holiday <br />
stickers, money, and a few toys/trinkets that I had lying around.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-RXUO7vtUg9IhFzoEAy9gX4QQYJPAb5dDD__TSDRadGS-4NHIj1uLVdqfSsTbWeVcczCjXD_j8Wk1DxgZIChkfPWdGvT_PMYXmCpdvvwiSEVlVB_nn-v9vB2oBK7GzrgesCoMtTWPGw/s1600/DSC_0957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky advent calendar" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-RXUO7vtUg9IhFzoEAy9gX4QQYJPAb5dDD__TSDRadGS-4NHIj1uLVdqfSsTbWeVcczCjXD_j8Wk1DxgZIChkfPWdGvT_PMYXmCpdvvwiSEVlVB_nn-v9vB2oBK7GzrgesCoMtTWPGw/s640/DSC_0957.JPG" title="pill box advent calendar" width="568" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sure, it's a little cutesy for my usual taste, but I know one five-year-old who will love it!</td></tr>
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Lest that same five-year-old think that it's all about him, I got weird and found a plastic baby at the cake-supply store, wrapping Him in bias-tape swaddling clothes and giving Him a grommet halo.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfA2Lz6GvcanWhE-fL7R89hVcJkMz8ZftuwHNuzfnQTWx-fKFhNSCQouJf0zwTyPrhfU_fsZUgKBE0BjQ_Hd83wf0pJAzqEyK0_MzULub-IXSauLu105kDZdgrRBZMl_eq33EQB1dq1sA/s1600/DSC_0968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfA2Lz6GvcanWhE-fL7R89hVcJkMz8ZftuwHNuzfnQTWx-fKFhNSCQouJf0zwTyPrhfU_fsZUgKBE0BjQ_Hd83wf0pJAzqEyK0_MzULub-IXSauLu105kDZdgrRBZMl_eq33EQB1dq1sA/s640/DSC_0968.JPG" width="528" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Go, Shawty. It's Thine birthday.<br />
We're gonna party like it's Thine birthday!!!"</td></tr>
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Do you have any new holiday crafting ideas for this year? Will you too find your supplies next to the stool softeners and pregnancy tests at your local dollar store? Whatever you've got planned for the holiday season, we hope that your days may be Merry & Bright!<br />
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"White Christmas" - The Drifters</div>
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Cheers!</div>
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-64900322263980451132015-11-28T18:33:00.000-08:002015-11-29T07:54:37.362-08:00Sew What?! A 1950s Circle Cape SUIT-ed for Fall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before we succumb to Yuletide's wintry embrace, may we please take a moment to share with you one autumnally-appropriate "Sew What?!" creation before its seasonality expires? Pretty please...? Living in practically-seasonless Southern California, barometric changes factor relatively low in my design process; what works in May may be easily donned in December. This particular ensemble, however, has a style, a silhouette, and a color story just made for the fall.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaSuXjveg5sG_B4DE2gUj4qWmSOew_-QX5k4UpAu04rhFzoFzsUVblJ88kso6nRh07zlZlb12OuE8Ro_9OM8z4ZDihAFBSJmn7xUjCGK_6DsM7tF5Fd8VQSjA9ZKGbPbSVVk_TMlWIJg/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaSuXjveg5sG_B4DE2gUj4qWmSOew_-QX5k4UpAu04rhFzoFzsUVblJ88kso6nRh07zlZlb12OuE8Ro_9OM8z4ZDihAFBSJmn7xUjCGK_6DsM7tF5Fd8VQSjA9ZKGbPbSVVk_TMlWIJg/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our design & photography team - Mary, Mr. Tiny, Jessie, and Fabian</td></tr>
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In a rush to get some pictures taken before everyone's focus shifted entirely to Christmas, we hoped that one of our amazing photographer friends had some time in their schedule for an impromptu shoot. We were thrilled when our pal, <a href="http://jessicastopnik.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">Jessie Stopnik</span></a>, an incredibly-talented professional photographer, deigned to answer her phone (even when she knew it was us calling). When we learned that <a href="http://fabianfioto.wix.com/photography"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">Fabian Fioto</span></a> was also available, we all hopped in his '55 Buick and headed to the park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqe6fAwaP7reNahXTjZGznz3lxT81hzzWO1zWmL_Hh1Hlg6G1zm2_aj5vCYbe3jFTu6gBXlI7VkFBLNJ4Il1BJAbAtupOti1MAbdMWOjbtked71JW6-9z1rGcNOF5Ml9tV76RX3a3IW-4/s1600/IMG_2486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqe6fAwaP7reNahXTjZGznz3lxT81hzzWO1zWmL_Hh1Hlg6G1zm2_aj5vCYbe3jFTu6gBXlI7VkFBLNJ4Il1BJAbAtupOti1MAbdMWOjbtked71JW6-9z1rGcNOF5Ml9tV76RX3a3IW-4/s640/IMG_2486.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ideally suited for suits, Autumn always has me hankering to create a chic, two-piece ensemble. <br />
As my tailoring skills are all but non-existent, I decided to create a sort of unstructured suit (a<br />
pencil skirt and matching cape) out of a one-dollar-per-yard plaid I have had in my stash for years. </td></tr>
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For one who can't be bothered matching plaids, I am like a moth drawn to tartan's heavenly flame. There is something so decidedly traditional about the multi-colored warp and weft, something so collegiate/preppy, something so "Fall." Trying hard to capture any kind of Fall that we could muster, I was overjoyed when the leaves started fluttering down from the trees in our backyard. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a rake and a trash bag and gathered them up for the shoot. Okay, the secret is out; what you can see in the photos is strategically-placed yard debris. What you can't see in the photos is my sausage-y fingers scattering leaves like a spastic flower girl at a November wedding. </div>
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Yes, with me on official leaf duty and Jessie masterfully manning the camera, Fabian was left to assist - learning quickly that operating the reflector (my usual position) is no easy task!!!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQw-20w06OXYbSHQ_SpYr3-ZPgHTxqh3KlqXWKlMenrQJmGzZSyf_WBolIzjXqNhB4Xs0wLA8fYh5H1773IwAlw2c9mLR_bbQr-Iq7MXUbbvRgZU4Som7-yErQtcvtWZjkBaOrzdGrxw/s1600/IMG_2482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQw-20w06OXYbSHQ_SpYr3-ZPgHTxqh3KlqXWKlMenrQJmGzZSyf_WBolIzjXqNhB4Xs0wLA8fYh5H1773IwAlw2c9mLR_bbQr-Iq7MXUbbvRgZU4Som7-yErQtcvtWZjkBaOrzdGrxw/s640/IMG_2482.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="436" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big idea behind the cape is literally just a big circle with two arm holes.<br />
The top of the circle cascades over the shoulders creating a shawl collar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGhKI9tKxsJVc8NDXmLa1EcfYK9Qt3jkM1gf155oIa_DQVcL0LGta68Z6uZUPGFxL45CH6ay3PFDtbItZpy57Ar6obI0kLE2gsYPEiBPqoygDmsDn1MyEP57CL4xRX7fFfRZ2ipAXxng/s1600/IMG_2487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGhKI9tKxsJVc8NDXmLa1EcfYK9Qt3jkM1gf155oIa_DQVcL0LGta68Z6uZUPGFxL45CH6ay3PFDtbItZpy57Ar6obI0kLE2gsYPEiBPqoygDmsDn1MyEP57CL4xRX7fFfRZ2ipAXxng/s640/IMG_2487.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a kind of "convertible" collar that can be pulled up should the top on the convertible be down.<br />
(Fabian won't forgive me if I allow this to imply that his is a convertible Buick - it is <u>not</u> a convertible.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpXmXyDdTx6RrDweCoBBMcjmTEkHm6H0TrU0qKSZAw3HyIQ5-Dq-DWpgZMCDVBk9p5S-aor7AeasC5ZmaLnqDBuxv1fJcn3sVt8qpot2UhqsIaXlsMvmlkCQkzmgJ5JjpweJQKxuucTQ/s1600/IMG_2489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpXmXyDdTx6RrDweCoBBMcjmTEkHm6H0TrU0qKSZAw3HyIQ5-Dq-DWpgZMCDVBk9p5S-aor7AeasC5ZmaLnqDBuxv1fJcn3sVt8qpot2UhqsIaXlsMvmlkCQkzmgJ5JjpweJQKxuucTQ/s640/IMG_2489.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every inch of once-raw edge on the cape is finished with self bias binding.<br />
Thusly, the cape can be worn backwards, forwards, upside-down or inside-out should the <br />
wearer choose. The curved hem allows it to fall in a pretty dynamic way no matter what.</td></tr>
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It always strikes me as funny that every time we prepare to photograph an outfit, Mary asks me for a detailed drawing of how I want her hair and make-up to be styled. Without fail, she emerges from her toilette with something completely different (and usually better).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcpAoOkWJ5L7l6h7UlJIOcAOucte8rB5Xx8z_C7QJV8gngIyMS65k0UDjkfOysbSggkzAeb7KN-HJhZUqAFq0r9f1wkn6wByU_wJuUktIMUdLJpXVDA9WduADfIX4GRIhbqFo0TqW-Mg/s1600/IMG_2494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcpAoOkWJ5L7l6h7UlJIOcAOucte8rB5Xx8z_C7QJV8gngIyMS65k0UDjkfOysbSggkzAeb7KN-HJhZUqAFq0r9f1wkn6wByU_wJuUktIMUdLJpXVDA9WduADfIX4GRIhbqFo0TqW-Mg/s640/IMG_2494.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing a vintage mock turtleneck and her own jewelry, I think she nailed it!<br />
But let's just make sure that the only things falling from the tree are leaves...</td></tr>
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As fortunate as I consider myself to be - surrounded by attractive people with legitimate talent - I can't help but feel a bit like an impostor in their midst. I suppose a feeling of inadequacy is an often-universal symptom of the creative mind; Jessie, a self-described lifestyle photographer, wasn't confident in her ability to do vintage-styled fashion photography. Having photographed some of Mary's past outfits (<a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2011/07/jessica-stopnik-photography-and-dumb-ol.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">here</span></a> and <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2011/04/wacky-tacky-goes-to-prom.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">here</span></a>), we knew that she was more than capable of capturing some beautiful photos.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjl7_IA80AuMHIPQ0K1_-mQOvnbJirrqW1m3EkvtbdVP9aazCVSaaqM3gA-SY74h6FZTyrRKLBLmL1TRzrA_sHegV_N2vW1b2lSIbjeuURtj8P8G01y10HCE1dwgptNhTYZs-29vzixQ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjl7_IA80AuMHIPQ0K1_-mQOvnbJirrqW1m3EkvtbdVP9aazCVSaaqM3gA-SY74h6FZTyrRKLBLmL1TRzrA_sHegV_N2vW1b2lSIbjeuURtj8P8G01y10HCE1dwgptNhTYZs-29vzixQ/s640/photo+1.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, even in our obligatory, "That's a Wrap" jump shot, <br />
Jessie is really the only one to achieve success!</td></tr>
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In this season of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for talented friends and family who allow me to participate in truly collaborative experiences. An enormous THANK YOU must be issued to Jessie for taking the time to share her talents with us. Our THANKS also go to Fabian for assisting us with his photographic knowledge of cars and camera reflectors. And, heck, we'll even give a THANK YOU to Mary who, if nothing else, kept an errant "Leaf Boy" in check.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacb3tBAPIaKsYvXlaYxmRbFtmpdFTsfWomIcCGGJBFBfVn_ejip-erWSqJZsx-oUl5mGt4DM0xH5uihjQ1TxrziMP80lo4802X0MEtvO6VfWwlH0-hTauGJq6-IuKxPvHEyY_FD1fSQ/s1600/IMG_2499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="wacky tacky sew what mr. tiny" border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacb3tBAPIaKsYvXlaYxmRbFtmpdFTsfWomIcCGGJBFBfVn_ejip-erWSqJZsx-oUl5mGt4DM0xH5uihjQ1TxrziMP80lo4802X0MEtvO6VfWwlH0-hTauGJq6-IuKxPvHEyY_FD1fSQ/s640/IMG_2499.JPG" title="Jessica Stopnik Photography" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Um...where are those dang 'Autumn Leaves?'"</td></tr>
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They're right here!!!</div>
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"Autumn Leaves" - Keely Smith</div>
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Since we know that you like what you see, please feel free to view more of Jessie's work on <a href="http://jessicastopnik.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">her blog</span></a> and her <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jessiestopnik/?hl=en"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">Instagram</span></a>. Fabian recently created a cool, online portfolio of his work that can be viewed <a href="http://fabianfioto.wix.com/photography"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">here</span></a>.<br />
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-32843475689363774592015-11-22T15:13:00.001-08:002015-11-23T14:00:36.055-08:00The TEXAS STATE FAIR is a Great STATE FAIR!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny & Mary take Texas (or at least the State Fair of Texas)!!!</td></tr>
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I'm not sure if it is embarrassing to admit, but <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038116/">State Fair</a> </i>(1945) is one of my favorite movies. Furthermore, it is far and away my favorite Rogers & Hammerstein musical. Don't get me wrong; I think Dick and Oscar wrote some of the 20th Century's greatest love songs (see: "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNdl-HIkDqQ">Something Good</a>") but somehow their works, bogged down by far too many a dreary dream ballet for my liking, are overwrought and ultimately depressing. <i>State Fair</i>, unique in its purely-cinematic origins, is a masterpiece of mid-'40s optimism. The joyful whirl of dirndl dresses and "rousing, cornfed ditties," encourages my perennial delusion that this is what all fairs will be like. Not so much.</div>
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<i>State Fair</i> (1945)</div>
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Remade in 1962 with an unlikely roster including Alice Faye, Ann-Margaret, Bobby Darin, and Pat Boone, <i>State Fair</i>'s geography changed dramatically from the corn fields of Iowa to the wide, open prairies of Texas. Filmed on location, <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0056526/">State Fair</a></i> (1962) made the most of the enormous fairgrounds. </div>
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"Isn't It Kinda Fun?" - Ann-Margaret in <i>State Fair</i> (1962)</div>
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My birthday trip to Texas resulted in a self-guided tour of those very fairgrounds that was more than "kinda fun;" it was the highlight of our day in Dallas. The only things "kinda fun" about the 1962 movie reboot are Ann-Maragret at the height of her powers and matching the fairgrounds captured in our photos to the images presented in the film.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">State Fair of Texas, 1962</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">State Fair of Texas, 2015</td></tr>
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Opened in 1936 for the centennial celebration of Texas statehood, Fair Park is a marvel of Art Deco architecture. Open to the public year-round, the sprawling fair grounds define the phrase, "They just don't make them like they used to." To ensure that we were able to see everything, we rented bikes that we thought would allow us to cover more ground.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was our lucky day as there were only two functioning bicycles left in the bike rack!<br />
Mine, of course, was cursed with gear issues and left me pedaling triple duty...</td></tr>
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The main entrance into the State Fair of Texas was appropriately large but slightly unprepossessing, with only a solitary statue honoring the dedicated men and women who designed and built the fair.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxgzvrdz_bYuwXhOgHOsZr7RphvlSiwY_9YlO5SovWh-uuOq-Xe3aISZg-YE4BE16f9fAU5yvNfh8m3g-ymjDarsgXq0qForhPmaE9ap29mwdCVEC-aES6tOj8YSFGP8dDm7Pb2MCcCR4/s1600/DSC_0764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxgzvrdz_bYuwXhOgHOsZr7RphvlSiwY_9YlO5SovWh-uuOq-Xe3aISZg-YE4BE16f9fAU5yvNfh8m3g-ymjDarsgXq0qForhPmaE9ap29mwdCVEC-aES6tOj8YSFGP8dDm7Pb2MCcCR4/s640/DSC_0764.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"To perpetuate the memory of the builders of the State Fair of Texas."</td></tr>
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Just past this garden, however, an entire world of stately beauty is revealed. Flanked by a pair of pegasus (pegasi? pegasuses?), an almost endless reflecting pool becomes the centerpiece to a grand concourse of exhibition halls and pavilions. In front of each porticoed hall towers a powerful statue representing Texas' famous six flags (Spain, Mexico, France, The Confederacy, The Republic of Texas, and The United States).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HWBo14TaBPWUe0Pro2Y5Y02ckFGkBeZ39moWIaKkXNkUOqdLQbcej4hGJ4fLzCVq1enKliJINI71ZfLmkCbZvF0QgolR6OAsamcKX7Gpq1fq8VQ3dmvyHfTPTSFkQyebV16EDeDjd5M/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0HWBo14TaBPWUe0Pro2Y5Y02ckFGkBeZ39moWIaKkXNkUOqdLQbcej4hGJ4fLzCVq1enKliJINI71ZfLmkCbZvF0QgolR6OAsamcKX7Gpq1fq8VQ3dmvyHfTPTSFkQyebV16EDeDjd5M/s640/Picture+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91noSWzFRWkLauRx0VQP94sgu246VJCebN45bIp4s2jKoHixA4vWO8wNZYLJk8RZFIsuL-bsnb9RqJaExcINqFsaRoMduLWsWsE6ORuGwcccfMLZ_bB-Vn958XywHh-GoGiyfc9nHuXY/s1600/DSC_0766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91noSWzFRWkLauRx0VQP94sgu246VJCebN45bIp4s2jKoHixA4vWO8wNZYLJk8RZFIsuL-bsnb9RqJaExcINqFsaRoMduLWsWsE6ORuGwcccfMLZ_bB-Vn958XywHh-GoGiyfc9nHuXY/s640/DSC_0766.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
The fountains weren't operating but that didn't diminish the majesty of Fair Park's main esplanade.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyU-ldmJhLTJ0U5ajNlpU_OEuCht1rofO3agkZQyxe2WbXbdKsz5hD0k486Vn5mgwq-cOYSpdwzMoRYqW1BfWHJrLJ96-MkiaOAaPNEASJ7GeF6CPQ9V9Y48fStNgWYCI9VqN8u4WyLo/s1600/DSC_0880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyU-ldmJhLTJ0U5ajNlpU_OEuCht1rofO3agkZQyxe2WbXbdKsz5hD0k486Vn5mgwq-cOYSpdwzMoRYqW1BfWHJrLJ96-MkiaOAaPNEASJ7GeF6CPQ9V9Y48fStNgWYCI9VqN8u4WyLo/s640/DSC_0880.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many of the exhibition halls are adorned with larger-than-life murals.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUJ9xGGPcluMdGkt2bZsnoBVx2zmJt0NtS6ZRE_QMl3IX5u9TUn54AaVETSEnySFEXOmrpvOJ9niizkkGf2eK14gL2_bVGl4BgLNA32YyGcavJyeUEksU30c2q0rIXU6zh_tArN2tX_0/s1600/DSC_0876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUJ9xGGPcluMdGkt2bZsnoBVx2zmJt0NtS6ZRE_QMl3IX5u9TUn54AaVETSEnySFEXOmrpvOJ9niizkkGf2eK14gL2_bVGl4BgLNA32YyGcavJyeUEksU30c2q0rIXU6zh_tArN2tX_0/s640/DSC_0876.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary said that this is how she pictures her romantic life - a blonde angel swooping<br />
down to rescue some poor guy from the endless miseries of bachelorhood. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBf8c9PIsZQK2FqnXi8URO8BjkR9aIrwOyDAo6m1V36Gd9QVNtzjlpcypNIESiE8amp2kPpPFTr_HdxL88aPqi2h1jNRejWs2moBt41akSUZqqvsG5AJAujt9eBvdGPGBWEFJJNZIWLU/s1600/Picture+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBf8c9PIsZQK2FqnXi8URO8BjkR9aIrwOyDAo6m1V36Gd9QVNtzjlpcypNIESiE8amp2kPpPFTr_HdxL88aPqi2h1jNRejWs2moBt41akSUZqqvsG5AJAujt9eBvdGPGBWEFJJNZIWLU/s640/Picture+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
It is our understanding that the fairgrounds suffered from some questionable "make-<br />
unders" over the years. Thankfully, everything has been restored to full, glorious color. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_sQsHqCb1MSuINtD-ZbsRlq1Mv81k_XLVBhUyxhsoX8YiKiBWT4_04eVlJEiiSDnFPXbKwVtnkh-tWpdJ-CmW26tT6QlS_twpwshIX1RROfsxFrQ8A6j_zHE9szczbHwuQk22Z6SU4k/s1600/DSC_0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_sQsHqCb1MSuINtD-ZbsRlq1Mv81k_XLVBhUyxhsoX8YiKiBWT4_04eVlJEiiSDnFPXbKwVtnkh-tWpdJ-CmW26tT6QlS_twpwshIX1RROfsxFrQ8A6j_zHE9szczbHwuQk22Z6SU4k/s640/DSC_0772.JPG" width="448" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
This is not the same statue as the one pictured above, but you get the idea.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4HoW0lr_vxorkoOBoFE8C56RvJWI5bIht9U5dEhfFSexwhCgaIJRSc94RB_Kbxrj45Q5W9BvaCUQ_2GhrGep_UJm390iuaR6Rz0246MsKyFt5l1y2_FDKTOU7aBNA6afUu13mNKyNEY/s1600/DSC_0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4HoW0lr_vxorkoOBoFE8C56RvJWI5bIht9U5dEhfFSexwhCgaIJRSc94RB_Kbxrj45Q5W9BvaCUQ_2GhrGep_UJm390iuaR6Rz0246MsKyFt5l1y2_FDKTOU7aBNA6afUu13mNKyNEY/s640/DSC_0776.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary wondered why this particular statue wasn't included in the final cut of <i>State Fair</i>.<br />
I could only think of a couple reasons...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebxbJAwY1CdxadPeDFR7mDGxrxN1QnIGvg_v7vSLPwbs-NAlanjfcgg9vHgq4pbt79ahm82Lpj8wmeTjL9FwYISlamoT2ehGAps18EwDbKChKUJJ8SXdELiGEY6GjejxS_w_7j1HL610/s1600/Picture+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebxbJAwY1CdxadPeDFR7mDGxrxN1QnIGvg_v7vSLPwbs-NAlanjfcgg9vHgq4pbt79ahm82Lpj8wmeTjL9FwYISlamoT2ehGAps18EwDbKChKUJJ8SXdELiGEY6GjejxS_w_7j1HL610/s640/Picture+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIr6tMpPc2pocYNMS7cIYYpjf6GQfYnkEYfDH0tSpdJTA-hWJVq1DHPt7yoT6DmrT1SZ98MW7h1IkZYnEmDr-TiBSGMhya9DhAirmbMiJNNjNg7ucTO47z8e48tg2eCZYiijzghpTq_cw/s1600/DSC_0801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIr6tMpPc2pocYNMS7cIYYpjf6GQfYnkEYfDH0tSpdJTA-hWJVq1DHPt7yoT6DmrT1SZ98MW7h1IkZYnEmDr-TiBSGMhya9DhAirmbMiJNNjNg7ucTO47z8e48tg2eCZYiijzghpTq_cw/s640/DSC_0801.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
The Hall of State is not featured prominently in the film but you can clearly make out<br />
the golden god in front of the building...and just past him you can see that Tejas warrior statue.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8gM-A81rQ7kgPC9qvTKJyvaPDptpUJnj-YuuwTjDNcxTdldbJeFwgDlkZSRXIgc1PIFDP4p77FjKygAIO5MXM0F23_Lq5qpwhnMCjkPMf9wkBVJa3n8fI4cehtR5RUj4EkNmfgaXgBQ/s1600/DSC_0813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8gM-A81rQ7kgPC9qvTKJyvaPDptpUJnj-YuuwTjDNcxTdldbJeFwgDlkZSRXIgc1PIFDP4p77FjKygAIO5MXM0F23_Lq5qpwhnMCjkPMf9wkBVJa3n8fI4cehtR5RUj4EkNmfgaXgBQ/s400/DSC_0813.JPG" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGyL4G2xdYhGEiZhvR1t0BjPAsYUBFSSGqVlxbHbskltJP3xYip7gaxtM2dspYMKK4KKlpnVWIZiGPb2q-_YJ-nyQVOONAxPIp_1JlSCzczfUrl8x7KKdNVgF7fK5Z3NFE6UEhf9Bi0g/s1600/DSC_0814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGyL4G2xdYhGEiZhvR1t0BjPAsYUBFSSGqVlxbHbskltJP3xYip7gaxtM2dspYMKK4KKlpnVWIZiGPb2q-_YJ-nyQVOONAxPIp_1JlSCzczfUrl8x7KKdNVgF7fK5Z3NFE6UEhf9Bi0g/s400/DSC_0814.JPG" width="267" /></a></div>
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One of the pavilions was left open so we took the opportunity to do some exploring.</div>
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It was quite dark inside and nothing was going on but we did get the chance to marvel </div>
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at the Art Deco motifs that continued on inside the buildings. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPZIhOxn3R6ffMbqnVKiN2nDjT4uLX5xYIzW0FSWwIEBvdr06L7HqjRFjWbFX8b54xfxl4W3NLInsQXRW9wCsXLESwVz-yG-nEQI1AWt6wC5hgTqgnvjmqchxMVSsTKmmx40tcpmmoLA/s1600/Picture+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPZIhOxn3R6ffMbqnVKiN2nDjT4uLX5xYIzW0FSWwIEBvdr06L7HqjRFjWbFX8b54xfxl4W3NLInsQXRW9wCsXLESwVz-yG-nEQI1AWt6wC5hgTqgnvjmqchxMVSsTKmmx40tcpmmoLA/s640/Picture+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cAley6s4h3EI-KxdDOBwZqYs1kKf3FwBFzSsxdTxQO-cOrTBPNeYw8JBtZBEdBlEC9RiuzLq7EQuzAietxEDaauMCW_5IQm_n6Jd2YWsB1mL8vWCZH6weQxSyOqniVDoRsa4h3Mciz0/s1600/DSC_0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cAley6s4h3EI-KxdDOBwZqYs1kKf3FwBFzSsxdTxQO-cOrTBPNeYw8JBtZBEdBlEC9RiuzLq7EQuzAietxEDaauMCW_5IQm_n6Jd2YWsB1mL8vWCZH6weQxSyOqniVDoRsa4h3Mciz0/s640/DSC_0844.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
As much as we loved the State Fair of Texas, it was certainly not without its disappointments.<br />
A chairlift/gondola ride might be fun but it is no substitution for the long-gone '50s-era monorail!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7sv2SHaajhdg9PzVIW9j3bNRuvKq_C-j6eRGVNmbMEgXmUkQLFH5C6zg96XIA0kIg-rFbq0wKVuYxZ_pQL_F9CCMjLuQStG1QZrt4D_Smd1apL0u62lVcicUG8BX-x_2SuNzSeGOzME/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7sv2SHaajhdg9PzVIW9j3bNRuvKq_C-j6eRGVNmbMEgXmUkQLFH5C6zg96XIA0kIg-rFbq0wKVuYxZ_pQL_F9CCMjLuQStG1QZrt4D_Smd1apL0u62lVcicUG8BX-x_2SuNzSeGOzME/s640/Picture+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSBcSxBew28u4X6cbqNqnOlg5j299dvGIwXM_vy3_O6Z0YisuOh5UW3sAVYXeaAoJY8GxTCQvmp848zDoW9RdcvwATC0uBU9uY2YB9i9UaTwEuJcSe4GF_TK8v3GqSqE3POECkqID5cM/s1600/DSC_0852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSBcSxBew28u4X6cbqNqnOlg5j299dvGIwXM_vy3_O6Z0YisuOh5UW3sAVYXeaAoJY8GxTCQvmp848zDoW9RdcvwATC0uBU9uY2YB9i9UaTwEuJcSe4GF_TK8v3GqSqE3POECkqID5cM/s640/DSC_0852.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015<br />
And don't get me started on Big Tex!!! I was more than a little miffed to learn that <br />
Big Tex is only on site when the fair is running. But I was quickly distracted by this<br />
shiny, gold, skyscraper (the base of which can be seen next to Big Tex in the above <br />
still from the film). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-OktGyMXCLd_LKYQWKfUyc6kpkJwS60ksxYY_qhrj0LvUSgwdJH900HfP6jwzCCqcbudYN3gpItAAFCwkY8BvceJ4gxEdvyAbqgIw2GHz-uGypEzNnMqFg8zssCSU9Qv6rpZNOeNoA8/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-OktGyMXCLd_LKYQWKfUyc6kpkJwS60ksxYY_qhrj0LvUSgwdJH900HfP6jwzCCqcbudYN3gpItAAFCwkY8BvceJ4gxEdvyAbqgIw2GHz-uGypEzNnMqFg8zssCSU9Qv6rpZNOeNoA8/s640/Picture+8.png" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>State Fair</i> (1962)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVa60E5_0T7eBU68OH1IXG62wb5eGtlEqFlnUeCjHZPzP8ICZTBvZeNy_HQ5lIRby9ASfHnfpNzRkfp_4KU5BNIC1GEaP_5tCIdpPpEc0DYekNa4EYUSaf0CtPhrJxQaYl_WT0Ebq96c/s1600/DSC_0819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVa60E5_0T7eBU68OH1IXG62wb5eGtlEqFlnUeCjHZPzP8ICZTBvZeNy_HQ5lIRby9ASfHnfpNzRkfp_4KU5BNIC1GEaP_5tCIdpPpEc0DYekNa4EYUSaf0CtPhrJxQaYl_WT0Ebq96c/s640/DSC_0819.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the world's largest carnival barker, Big Tex beckons fairgoers into the midway. I<br />
had to settle for "Big Mare" or "Midway Mary" as she's known around the fairgrounds...<br />
Even still, I was thrilled to see the same neon-clad midway arch that is featured in the movie! </td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/6wTZTX_2yrw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6wTZTX_2yrw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The original star of the midway was the Triple Racing </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Roller Coaster, seen in this footage from 1936.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Fair Park extends far beyond the grandeur of the exhibition halls and the thrills of the midway. Home to museums, an aquarium, and a manmade lake, one could happily spend an entire day roaming the grounds - even without the promise of caveman-sized turkey legs, deep-fried Oreos, and milk-chocolate bacon on a stick.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CuEJsyART13XG1EdwL8d7PAAItC4oUnpx0q1QA0ENKvLS3HviqORYAOi-CYQZ88nj6Y_6YEIiGiYy0Xym3_jt3ggVqOadRzoTm9ksLlUZIGeHOUcU8zA3NZVlACxZeOoHj3CJ4nl-MY/s1600/DSC_0832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CuEJsyART13XG1EdwL8d7PAAItC4oUnpx0q1QA0ENKvLS3HviqORYAOi-CYQZ88nj6Y_6YEIiGiYy0Xym3_jt3ggVqOadRzoTm9ksLlUZIGeHOUcU8zA3NZVlACxZeOoHj3CJ4nl-MY/s640/DSC_0832.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the forecourt of the aquarium sits an incredible seahorse water feature.<br />
I'm not sure that I've ever mentioned it here, but I am fascinated by<br />
seahorses and love seeing them represented in art and architecture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfDABkhshpNvl41AlVrSYPmWnZf7OdKqEJuWQm48mrTmkgJ2YwwqXUWYX36679xByRb-QC93Zu6kkFDOpYVaUeSk3zcQN16E8JoGiG6s1km01xhaP48eRg4r4o1r5U6JdMWJXPo3Kims/s1600/DSC_0872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfDABkhshpNvl41AlVrSYPmWnZf7OdKqEJuWQm48mrTmkgJ2YwwqXUWYX36679xByRb-QC93Zu6kkFDOpYVaUeSk3zcQN16E8JoGiG6s1km01xhaP48eRg4r4o1r5U6JdMWJXPo3Kims/s640/DSC_0872.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This fella was loitering outside the Natural History Museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQoMdD278BA1S5bI5gROWgLE_Gd0O5M9LxtSqbZ7F59G6fndRj3_u5HGMBDrnhv4-ygckS97c-7ECgbQkPsti3x5dN-GJqqsepczGK8-xszSMu05aG0Sfk95i8lW5EpOO3Z53RnEG5_4/s1600/IMG_3322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQoMdD278BA1S5bI5gROWgLE_Gd0O5M9LxtSqbZ7F59G6fndRj3_u5HGMBDrnhv4-ygckS97c-7ECgbQkPsti3x5dN-GJqqsepczGK8-xszSMu05aG0Sfk95i8lW5EpOO3Z53RnEG5_4/s640/IMG_3322.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Creating a fairyland atmosphere, one section of the lagoon features a beautiful, interactive<br />
sculpture garden, where serpentine footpaths meander through the water and around the trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhFyCvGyoGSJFN21yNox4laynckKslxcUxRXmDjC3gYvLemKvfJdT8wV8SUk9nc6P0wpDfYSwEEc_CXidQN-FNaiXZ-KFVoMdp9DZu8G9KpN-t6lc8grbICKbgPwm2I7eMYXxzSKbvUU/s1600/IMG_3323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhFyCvGyoGSJFN21yNox4laynckKslxcUxRXmDjC3gYvLemKvfJdT8wV8SUk9nc6P0wpDfYSwEEc_CXidQN-FNaiXZ-KFVoMdp9DZu8G9KpN-t6lc8grbICKbgPwm2I7eMYXxzSKbvUU/s640/IMG_3323.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The joke's on you, Texas. This troll is on <i>top</i> of the bridge!!!</td></tr>
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A fair full of people might have lent some vitality and atmosphere to our visit but Mary and I agreed that that we preferred having the entire park to ourselves. It is a treat to experience the art and architecture without shoving past hordes of hungry fair folk (oddly enough, one of the few people that we did see was someone with whom Mary is acquainted from Southern California; we met him as we entered a warehouse sale that was being held on the fairgrounds - Mary has a friends in <u>every</u> airline hub).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw-2YGLAbP8X4BibzHP0xcu8PhPz-r9KnrGBYrMoza8E3o9HosDHu2HJAgniTBRrOg83KTSmqdI0-LE9TfBeglyOwEV2t06uhoI8nk3edmwWgvlvHFiw2wJC2EpZswR2_ps-5BDF7wxM/s1600/IMG_3327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw-2YGLAbP8X4BibzHP0xcu8PhPz-r9KnrGBYrMoza8E3o9HosDHu2HJAgniTBRrOg83KTSmqdI0-LE9TfBeglyOwEV2t06uhoI8nk3edmwWgvlvHFiw2wJC2EpZswR2_ps-5BDF7wxM/s640/IMG_3327.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">A panoramic view of the wonderfully-desolate State Fair of Texas</td></tr>
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The State Fair of Texas did much to restore my faith in the possibility of fairs. If you ever find yourself deep in the heart of Texas, it is a most worthwhile use of your time. And as everyone in Texas is a Texan, even a couple of no good city slickers, we feel perfectly comfortable declaring that "Our state fair is a great state fair!" Don't miss it! Don't even be late!</div>
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"Our State Fair is a Great State Fair" - <i>State Fair</i> (1962)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPc6Bei4WKuaqpbYwyERzk4KvB9Pie2R_ME_hO6gOyheUKEXdtpIcSkBVRz0SD-HpK9cs-tvVNRwkwNKxVNrEb2bDTGp1fLGQZz8z4TijYkkhzKK1bPOB4LzMufaxr_j9kOpVmpVxbhw4/s1600/DSC_0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPc6Bei4WKuaqpbYwyERzk4KvB9Pie2R_ME_hO6gOyheUKEXdtpIcSkBVRz0SD-HpK9cs-tvVNRwkwNKxVNrEb2bDTGp1fLGQZz8z4TijYkkhzKK1bPOB4LzMufaxr_j9kOpVmpVxbhw4/s400/DSC_0760.JPG" width="267" /></a></div>
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<b>State Fair of Texas</b></div>
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3921 Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd</div>
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Dallas, TX</div>
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(214)565-9331</div>
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<a href="http://bigtex.com/">bigtex.com</a></div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-89230104504547779442015-11-15T19:50:00.002-08:002015-11-16T08:28:03.043-08:00Signs of the Times: DFW in Lights!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On our recent jaunt to the great state of Texas, I had to remind myself that every adventure need not necessarily be a <i><b>wacky tacky</b></i> fact-finding mission. It's okay, I told myself, to to put down the camera and simply enjoy my surroundings. It's perfectly reasonable, I concluded, to abstain from researching bowling alleys, bakeries, and beauty shops. It is good etiquette, so I'd read, to connect on a personal level with local residents (particularly if those locals happen to be your awesome extended family members). But sometimes it is also acceptable to acknowledge that the heart wants what it wants. And this heart of mine, enlarged by too many trayfuls of good, old-fashioned, Texas barbecue, wants signage - crackling, glowing, neon signage!
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyaHNCGMGXKQRqKCX0jOcxnpl4hlN9uPA9geLiMyFU9BTm0krvFwlTSLBMvFRKWWMF5Trz-XlAUil_DO8ACHvzSBTaVA87gWwyHvWn6aEKuP6Orx7Oc85_RorjkD6oPBxFvjTwokQNkY/s1600/bbbakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyaHNCGMGXKQRqKCX0jOcxnpl4hlN9uPA9geLiMyFU9BTm0krvFwlTSLBMvFRKWWMF5Trz-XlAUil_DO8ACHvzSBTaVA87gWwyHvWn6aEKuP6Orx7Oc85_RorjkD6oPBxFvjTwokQNkY/s400/bbbakery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Bonnet Bakery - Fort Worth, TX<br />
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The first sign we encountered was in the historic Crescent Heights neighborhood of<br />
Fort Worth; the 80-year-old Blue Bonnet Bakery's new-ish sign added some roadside<br />
whimsy to the 1922 Christian Science Church from which the bakery now operates. </td></tr>
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With a couple of exceptions, signs in the greater Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex defy the stereotype that everything is bigger in Texas. In fact, most of the signs are relatively modest compared to, not just the businesses they advertise, but also the vast prairie country they inhabit. Thank goodness that we at <i><b>wacky tacky</b></i> are not size snobs; new or old, meek or bold, we are of the opinion that when it comes to signs, even modest can be hottest.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsgrgOSEkqtY9o5M6UGMTZVEcpDJzKaeonnYwR1dwnZgphMDkFjBrTeAspf8sPfC7LLf1wMyNvhbzUkUxaU2Z91XO3Z-UsLtCG8BtXHnM2oANCn-iMohwypuIPNNyzpWRppaXUggdZhs/s1600/DSC_0606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsgrgOSEkqtY9o5M6UGMTZVEcpDJzKaeonnYwR1dwnZgphMDkFjBrTeAspf8sPfC7LLf1wMyNvhbzUkUxaU2Z91XO3Z-UsLtCG8BtXHnM2oANCn-iMohwypuIPNNyzpWRppaXUggdZhs/s640/DSC_0606.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Messina's Shoe Repair - Grapevine, TX<br />
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It doesn't get much more simple than Messina's sheet-metal & neon shoe. And yet, there is nothing<br />
so quaint and old-timey as hanging your shingle in the shape of the services/wares that are offered.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ8zCG1bPDiK3P2yZ38K9SGg01l5qmRDXS3fiEjCdIEh3i37MGNx8rcXkkNp3liHOlz8acrXS6N9DTGBl0194u2n-xlc4gfCbmjLs30oT_DPSN0G_ZE86OgkFgcizeJZBQhiAvuBI_28/s1600/DSC_0611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ8zCG1bPDiK3P2yZ38K9SGg01l5qmRDXS3fiEjCdIEh3i37MGNx8rcXkkNp3liHOlz8acrXS6N9DTGBl0194u2n-xlc4gfCbmjLs30oT_DPSN0G_ZE86OgkFgcizeJZBQhiAvuBI_28/s640/DSC_0611.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coburn's Cafeteria & Catering - Fort Worth, TX<br />
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Unfortunately, the cafeteria inside Coburn's is long gone but they<br />
continue to offer some of North-Central Texas' best catering.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpeFyBa-o1-CkX5MVchzMgMrJcwzwXuP3v6YXLV4Jw1tGgkfcN-J_Zu_VKoY3VwBGTbrNqcRvFITUQKzIebGbK0Fg16Uq8I2blct-O-jr5gc4fjcbiAdijZq_PIPPJBDw-dI0WcfHk_k/s1600/DSC_0617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpeFyBa-o1-CkX5MVchzMgMrJcwzwXuP3v6YXLV4Jw1tGgkfcN-J_Zu_VKoY3VwBGTbrNqcRvFITUQKzIebGbK0Fg16Uq8I2blct-O-jr5gc4fjcbiAdijZq_PIPPJBDw-dI0WcfHk_k/s640/DSC_0617.JPG" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose - Fort Worth, TX<br />
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I'm not sure what they're advertising but whatever they're sellling, I'm buying.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXAHG6FKq3Y88ydBRY30ga4A6lzMYcHlTZhIk48LIXRtfT3GzZ4JgsXMT8Btq-YvJq4V6tLAwfX7nI6t-zLjNY2IXgdNw6I1WTv7JhPttxe-X-mpZxpjEvxuuZwt-9vXCRKt8YiWvP4E/s1600/DSC_0625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXAHG6FKq3Y88ydBRY30ga4A6lzMYcHlTZhIk48LIXRtfT3GzZ4JgsXMT8Btq-YvJq4V6tLAwfX7nI6t-zLjNY2IXgdNw6I1WTv7JhPttxe-X-mpZxpjEvxuuZwt-9vXCRKt8YiWvP4E/s640/DSC_0625.JPG" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leddy's Boots & Saddlery - Fort Worth, TX<br />
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You can keep your football; this is my kind of Friday Night lights!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t1eDJYZzJQldY6TYdd_BuEfgoPlpvsiv80FVRaSy_VyMgYSa9OtN487ciAOekbs0l7wxljmmjYnG8yEr9bJXxz3pARyLaoYwh1PbdW5KWtae6R35wxhXcxqN04L-8jYde4jzchA_CRE/s1600/DSC_0645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t1eDJYZzJQldY6TYdd_BuEfgoPlpvsiv80FVRaSy_VyMgYSa9OtN487ciAOekbs0l7wxljmmjYnG8yEr9bJXxz3pARyLaoYwh1PbdW5KWtae6R35wxhXcxqN04L-8jYde4jzchA_CRE/s640/DSC_0645.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riscky's Steakhouse - Fort Worth, TX<br />
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Cool sign - no bull.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdZhMuiPEG3u7bYTtbH9c0cXc5DgISg5gF6BFkAxrhFQgHYVOA-ZM6lJpFX5Gc5pJbAPtRW570g6M_ouYsKvuCGxbk6TKFg-3jXVuGC_ufFDBe1QBZizhT19MzlQ0P2z89Cy578mA6gA/s1600/DSC_0665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdZhMuiPEG3u7bYTtbH9c0cXc5DgISg5gF6BFkAxrhFQgHYVOA-ZM6lJpFX5Gc5pJbAPtRW570g6M_ouYsKvuCGxbk6TKFg-3jXVuGC_ufFDBe1QBZizhT19MzlQ0P2z89Cy578mA6gA/s640/DSC_0665.JPG" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theo's Drive-In - Grand Prairie, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkmXHN3u4CJM_2QQD8Y3Y2T1E2Kvg5LzxtVJYtvWNQ8-R3xKu2KNZrOWEojXlqhZTlsmfaeyYt2Bqovz6EFre9Rtv6YOjtUz6G_SoWpy3xVUAuFxjE6RK76VGSiyijmXFFstdyUs7th8/s1600/DSC_0668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkmXHN3u4CJM_2QQD8Y3Y2T1E2Kvg5LzxtVJYtvWNQ8-R3xKu2KNZrOWEojXlqhZTlsmfaeyYt2Bqovz6EFre9Rtv6YOjtUz6G_SoWpy3xVUAuFxjE6RK76VGSiyijmXFFstdyUs7th8/s640/DSC_0668.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theo's Drive-In - Grand Prairie, TX<br />
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Don't you all of the sudden have a serious craving for Cre-Mel Root Beer...whatever that is.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vcuhFS4_9ydEeV0hr5bcgQC3JEtzvwWQif5kZnBVjIrhCTwlijPOQe8e_-mrzfdDh1SjIwCkT6KAtyWsUkI47DVYboN-fJTGsN5OPzcqyKfvgZE84memIlQRJL0eI90UGW4Wg-qIF8Q/s1600/DSC_0698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vcuhFS4_9ydEeV0hr5bcgQC3JEtzvwWQif5kZnBVjIrhCTwlijPOQe8e_-mrzfdDh1SjIwCkT6KAtyWsUkI47DVYboN-fJTGsN5OPzcqyKfvgZE84memIlQRJL0eI90UGW4Wg-qIF8Q/s640/DSC_0698.JPG" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Texas Liquor - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRGc88hHkOJR3zYpPSPzI5wlnrsSDKOrNasM4Vrh4yJejeDLbM-qR0avaR9-dj7JUEJojYR4McrKY_uTELO2rwjhyVLMBO8DXGLSN3Emt8X4Jm_PaVFotQ0bDCPfdaRyJeRUCAtX2DCY/s1600/DSC_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBRGc88hHkOJR3zYpPSPzI5wlnrsSDKOrNasM4Vrh4yJejeDLbM-qR0avaR9-dj7JUEJojYR4McrKY_uTELO2rwjhyVLMBO8DXGLSN3Emt8X4Jm_PaVFotQ0bDCPfdaRyJeRUCAtX2DCY/s640/DSC_0709.JPG" width="494" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buck & Ruck - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8JHDYw4J0CVjLXrQENhe1hsIFBsjR0L2ix73i2K5DfNd5l5cNXMqqeEoUJAcgn9igegO_s-aniMiRWn66KT1KNnJMa2SWjtph-SzdOYH2Y57-SPc5KoWWlEMElzj_c43S7fdEU_M03M/s1600/DSC_0726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="582" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8JHDYw4J0CVjLXrQENhe1hsIFBsjR0L2ix73i2K5DfNd5l5cNXMqqeEoUJAcgn9igegO_s-aniMiRWn66KT1KNnJMa2SWjtph-SzdOYH2Y57-SPc5KoWWlEMElzj_c43S7fdEU_M03M/s640/DSC_0726.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stop n' Save Liquors - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgRjsJwxjHcCAQJruX6WIZsOk_NV4yPyv5YcJBbKFs2nYBJNeHU9Yi7yAo1pL346YSAoMUgBaoJGtNJc3Uox-8wvM5NP9iNIQ9VQNkn1VOk_eoD7FyorXWx5o82HFPS-RH8wx8f9-Ho0/s1600/DSC_0727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="592" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgRjsJwxjHcCAQJruX6WIZsOk_NV4yPyv5YcJBbKFs2nYBJNeHU9Yi7yAo1pL346YSAoMUgBaoJGtNJc3Uox-8wvM5NP9iNIQ9VQNkn1VOk_eoD7FyorXWx5o82HFPS-RH8wx8f9-Ho0/s640/DSC_0727.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The reverse of Stop n' Save Liquors - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DZN-2CiKWX7y2IU-PQOnbEbSFiCR6ZjUXepRS53QEswFBPpbhWspx9ZTbtl2JTg9LBI35oA9taip6PCoxY7B3m2Y1Hb7pOD4vDHUn-9Jl-x__DGGLIM2MfHVdUgGVB0lVGLmGNgB6R8/s1600/DSC_0730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DZN-2CiKWX7y2IU-PQOnbEbSFiCR6ZjUXepRS53QEswFBPpbhWspx9ZTbtl2JTg9LBI35oA9taip6PCoxY7B3m2Y1Hb7pOD4vDHUn-9Jl-x__DGGLIM2MfHVdUgGVB0lVGLmGNgB6R8/s400/DSC_0730.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standard Spring & Brakes - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD9O-1nZ9j59BjqNSPE9M0O2YY0rJdM4OHMABJS87Zi7bj6pEqd46F2MoeYR69vxb7ufJhjieop3bJQC58atbhR0m2c3AR5GVeDxJTSN55YvyqfVhcmJtzJT4rJdHC-W2F7y1omgtMJA/s1600/DSC_0754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD9O-1nZ9j59BjqNSPE9M0O2YY0rJdM4OHMABJS87Zi7bj6pEqd46F2MoeYR69vxb7ufJhjieop3bJQC58atbhR0m2c3AR5GVeDxJTSN55YvyqfVhcmJtzJT4rJdHC-W2F7y1omgtMJA/s640/DSC_0754.JPG" width="436" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep Ellum - Dallas, TX<br />
<br />
Rollin' deep!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEv0Nnwf7tG8RogzGfYilzI13XoQbmvmQsiyK9ind-qnTTA1ZCx2515lAWFnOCDzP1QfDwEoAqh29xygX6fg0Fxkqm-WKjep4Smf40I5VzQLJP33jgi8oA3qxJqRtId3rJWbS5r3tlAI/s1600/DSC_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEv0Nnwf7tG8RogzGfYilzI13XoQbmvmQsiyK9ind-qnTTA1ZCx2515lAWFnOCDzP1QfDwEoAqh29xygX6fg0Fxkqm-WKjep4Smf40I5VzQLJP33jgi8oA3qxJqRtId3rJWbS5r3tlAI/s640/DSC_0619.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe T. Garcia's Mexican Dishes - Grand Prairie, TX</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXiZlJOfA2Y8OUBw1lAs-0ZeixHGSXpAtC4bmj6brz22d1gqurnuU6FVD3MBPIRRCnS8woEYYfkx9pwZlHDHV-5RnN8LpKPe2-hJ-SeiL_j2axFUXy2H4tTaY6jc6XuC0nrFbT0s1NoQ/s1600/DSC_0734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXiZlJOfA2Y8OUBw1lAs-0ZeixHGSXpAtC4bmj6brz22d1gqurnuU6FVD3MBPIRRCnS8woEYYfkx9pwZlHDHV-5RnN8LpKPe2-hJ-SeiL_j2axFUXy2H4tTaY6jc6XuC0nrFbT0s1NoQ/s400/DSC_0734.JPG" width="381" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep Ellum - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGzk2wxRl2SB1VIi7-_fGo3xaa2_BOzxupDEau5UQvy5m3aVa7N8dlpLb_2LH-U3WxnRQCE3Het4v0owZx187noRxdBQVpY-boouBQCClYN_Kblgx-fVK1JV7W6nuwpSFzacpjN_Vc3A/s1600/DSC_0736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGzk2wxRl2SB1VIi7-_fGo3xaa2_BOzxupDEau5UQvy5m3aVa7N8dlpLb_2LH-U3WxnRQCE3Het4v0owZx187noRxdBQVpY-boouBQCClYN_Kblgx-fVK1JV7W6nuwpSFzacpjN_Vc3A/s640/DSC_0736.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam Hats - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhP1ZvCS4TpEZU_Fh1Ddf3rk5nNb5cPIGSz0ciEdC7hjRdnrIQ8MxMygs9dpY2yh5e2awijFkNyDhMUbLTilFnRV7kWkJxqExQRUzpaBl6DKhmRL1zmEX_E3A7MWSoJXzRV6On7N0v_A/s1600/DSC_0755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhP1ZvCS4TpEZU_Fh1Ddf3rk5nNb5cPIGSz0ciEdC7hjRdnrIQ8MxMygs9dpY2yh5e2awijFkNyDhMUbLTilFnRV7kWkJxqExQRUzpaBl6DKhmRL1zmEX_E3A7MWSoJXzRV6On7N0v_A/s640/DSC_0755.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twisted Root Burgers - Dallas, TX</td></tr>
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Even though this is the one and only time Pee-Wee has ever led us astray (the promise that every Texan we encountered would clap along with us given the appropriate prompting was left unfulfilled after many, <u>many</u> attempts), we still adore Mr. Herman and the signs of DFW. Although we didn't stick around long enough past sundown to see any of these beauties in their full glory, that didn't dim the twinkle they left in our eyes. To coin a new phrase, "the <i>signs</i> at night are <i>small</i> but bright, deep in the heart of Texas!!!"</div>
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"Deep in the Heart of Texas" - The Ranch Party Gang (1957)</div>
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(It should be noted that <i>Town Hall Ranch </i><i>Party </i></div>
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was broadcast from Compton, CA - woot woot!)</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-9522021298827221342015-11-04T18:10:00.000-08:002015-11-05T18:01:45.847-08:00Kitsch-en Kounter: Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After innumerable viewings of <i>The Dick Van Dyke Show</i>, what once seemed bizarre and mildly-repulsive has started to sound vaguely appetizing. In an episode entitled "All About Eavesdropping," the Petries engage in a one-way battle with their best friends and neighbors, the Helpers, after unintentionally overhearing a private conversation conveyed via a child's intercom. Feelings are hurt when Millie considers the possibility that Laura left out the secret ingredient (mustard) when sharing her prized recipe for avocado-peanut butter dip. Wait a minute - AVOCADO-PEANUT BUTTER DIP?!?!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0P9v5n7jMjaB8IJuQuxHsW1fhqvTi5tCf8rtUOLwcqoEDMIcjnNa6C8kSz7nZkxkE1cGjn8rIXjN0FhPqXIOjZpXdsxuIhfbRuxP8e_9NcKU2IrPT75GypJiBDyxt6AqUWSUIkeXLpCE/s1600/800px-Dick_Van_Dyke_Petrie_family_1963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0P9v5n7jMjaB8IJuQuxHsW1fhqvTi5tCf8rtUOLwcqoEDMIcjnNa6C8kSz7nZkxkE1cGjn8rIXjN0FhPqXIOjZpXdsxuIhfbRuxP8e_9NcKU2IrPT75GypJiBDyxt6AqUWSUIkeXLpCE/s400/800px-Dick_Van_Dyke_Petrie_family_1963.JPG" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We would tell you how good it is but our tongues<br />
are permanently stuck to the roofs of our mouths.<br />
(<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dick_Van_Dyke_Show#/media/File:Dick_Van_Dyke_Petrie_family_1963.JPG">Source</a>)</td></tr>
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What was certainly no more than a writers-room spoof on mid-century foodstuffs has become a years-long source of fascination and dialogue for the members of my family. Finally deciding to research such recipes, we discovered that the only thing yielded by Google was other inquisitive <i>DVD Show</i> enthusiasts searching for the "real" avocado-peanut butter dip recipe. So, in answer to their queries and to my own, I decided to write an original recipe for <i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip</i>. After all, I like peanut butter and I LOVE avocado; this was going to be a home-run! I mean, how hard could it be; the key ingredients are listed right there in the title!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvS4k3_UX8lrzxGnhRvQZmvUcjrsUDOyAYF843sGHgXc5A7s_KOnvy3MdTsA5M5g9sEsj8SYyRfaDQ3Oo_t-4ete2ynhPcvdC2FQXGTWnFgeO7dzHTgRbyH5N4469UOR3uN1xhfoVVFM/s1600/DSC_0391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvS4k3_UX8lrzxGnhRvQZmvUcjrsUDOyAYF843sGHgXc5A7s_KOnvy3MdTsA5M5g9sEsj8SYyRfaDQ3Oo_t-4ete2ynhPcvdC2FQXGTWnFgeO7dzHTgRbyH5N4469UOR3uN1xhfoVVFM/s640/DSC_0391.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living smack-dab in the middle of avocado country, we believe that nature's miracle fruit goes with/on <i>everything</i>!</td></tr>
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I started by mashing the avocado and blending in a small amount of peanut butter but it was obvious that there was more to this gastronomic delight. The only real clue to additional ingredients offered by the show is that mustard is key to the dip's success; thinking about the rich, velvety texture of avocado and the stodgy, fatty nature of peanut butter, it only makes sense that something acidic, like mustard, would be needed to lighten the heavy load. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7NMn8nUu1yhJEFSI6WRe8bJUMFyHWh62J-9WoCxCiURkOoVIruHhfdZAUwdeNGf2m3WqI7ZnUq5-xOelcpK5euC5NZBE36ZgKzGQHDoLxbrtV6iBUWBDv_m2cLvwzRu6dQSY1O3G0XM/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7NMn8nUu1yhJEFSI6WRe8bJUMFyHWh62J-9WoCxCiURkOoVIruHhfdZAUwdeNGf2m3WqI7ZnUq5-xOelcpK5euC5NZBE36ZgKzGQHDoLxbrtV6iBUWBDv_m2cLvwzRu6dQSY1O3G0XM/s640/photo+1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It also occurred to me that lemon juice might brighten things up, balanced by the sweetness of a little <br />
honey. To add some drama, I sprinkled in a dash of cayenne pepper along with some salt and pepper.</td></tr>
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If the ingredient list to <i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip</i> isn't enough to turn your stomach, then the color must be. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gI9bTB1BmnrbcQllCsuTQY-ThWJbfAhQIm7fJ0BkiDkPLyqZ-H2tF5GpyjJAjqGE0XO5MB6t304Fc4QQ2uS4VE7N3-mnIYNArKyn73p4f8p3qDybuMHbTlwQ3r_fW1aHfCE0fejqqv8/s1600/DSC_0534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gI9bTB1BmnrbcQllCsuTQY-ThWJbfAhQIm7fJ0BkiDkPLyqZ-H2tF5GpyjJAjqGE0XO5MB6t304Fc4QQ2uS4VE7N3-mnIYNArKyn73p4f8p3qDybuMHbTlwQ3r_fW1aHfCE0fejqqv8/s400/DSC_0534.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere between the yellow mustard and the cayenne pepper, the dip's<br />
resemblance to infant excrement was advancing at much too alarming a rate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I had even considered adding some pressed garlic to the mix but good sense got the better of me. In every Kitsch-en Kounter experiment, there is a time when the chef must be honest with himself; <u>nothing</u> was going to make this better. Although I hate wasting food, it felt good to answer the question, "Is Avocado Peanut Butter Dip real?" Yes, <a href="http://www.nysun.com/editorials/yes-virginia/68502/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Virginia</span></a>, <i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip</i> is real - <i>really</i> disgusting. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to share the recipe, one that might be better referred to as "<i>schlock</i>-amole," with my Kitsch-en Kounter Kulinary Kadets.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30jOaGylNnHganMMYkPxfVt2c2W1ns9k0XTKGIWVcDIGbgEz8zg1ytitimHKfhyjGQEmJ4aj5Df6PdzWGsKSm4iiKgWi8LbxYGRgZDRV8WvtEJrGkFiCKdFFi8L4dc5ffI8Txsr89eno/s1600/DSC_0541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30jOaGylNnHganMMYkPxfVt2c2W1ns9k0XTKGIWVcDIGbgEz8zg1ytitimHKfhyjGQEmJ4aj5Df6PdzWGsKSm4iiKgWi8LbxYGRgZDRV8WvtEJrGkFiCKdFFi8L4dc5ffI8Txsr89eno/s640/DSC_0541.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip</i><br />
We even found "Corn Curlies" with which to serve the dip - never mind that they're nacho-cheese flavor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip</i></b><br />
(this can be made in quantities, but I wouldn't recommend it)<br />
<br />
1 Large Avocado (pitted and mashed)<br />
1 Tablespoon of Creamy Peanut Butter<br />
1/4 teaspoon Yellow Mustard<br />
1 Dash of Cayenne Pepper (this recipe is bordering on a <a href="http://www.maplevalleysyrup.coop/step-2-how-to-do-the-lemonade-diet-s/146.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">health cleanse</span></a>)<br />
1 teaspoon Honey<br />
Juice of 1 Lemon<br />
Salt & Pepper to taste (although the taste is not going to get any better, trust me)<br />
<br />
Blend all ingredients until smooth. Serve with Corn Curlies, Wheat Whippies, Peanut Pippies, and/or Potato Poopies. You are more than welcome to adjust the amounts and play with other ingredients but, as I said, it's never going to be good. Believe me, "if you see it in the [<b style="font-style: italic;">wacky tacky</b>], it is so."<br />
<br />
<br />
This was a true Kitsch-en Kounter adventure that actually found success in its failure. We learned (to our chagrin) that avocado doesn't always improve the taste of everything. We also learned, for the benefit of all who wondered, that <i>Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip</i> was indeed just a writers-room joke - and the joke is squarely on us. "Oh, Roooooob!"<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RizJLPhLq7w" width="420"></iframe>
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<i>The Dick Van Dyke Show - </i>"All About Eavesdropping" pt. I</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Vo3m3PA5fRc" width="420"></iframe>
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<i>The Dick Van Dyke Show</i> - "All About Eavesdropping" pt. II<br />
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As we head into potluck season, instead of loading down the buffet table with yet another cheese ball or nonchalantly setting down the seventh store-bought platter of lifeless crudités, why not thrill partygoers by making <i>Laura Patrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip</i>? Even if it tastes terrible, it is bound to keep everyone's coats nice and glossy - and they'll thank you for that!</div>
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Cheers!<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-51936888505879888882015-11-02T11:23:00.002-08:002015-11-02T20:29:35.964-08:00Crazy Crafty: Where the BEAUTY At?!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Isn't it cute how beautiful people get to use Halloween as an excuse to play at being unattractive, charmingly dabbling in the seedy underbelly of the genetic lottery, casually day-tripping to the underworld of the grotesque in which the rest of us ugly mugs are forced to exist everyday? In direct contrast, we are left to exploit the holiday for its democratizing properties, sprucing ourselves up just enough to timidly step out of the shadows, hoping that our efforts to improve will at least be met halfway by their sweet attempts to slum it. Feeling fairly confident this Halloween, I was still taken aback when a friend actually remarked that I looked "handsome" in <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2015/10/sew-what-wishing-that-halloween-was.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">my costume</span></a>. So don't be at all surprised when I trade-in my signature specs for a turban!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBecLI_SyQHRhLvQcVCTBXfU0NSp4aO6XttLiFDR_pgtQ1zZ6bfFZYcvgZbkxngdEgpz9rESdszE43ycqv_X8V89IdXTSiTOrnAuuC24bduiXSHckNLg_qKg6p7O2oNpcDnRVvBPBpjM/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBecLI_SyQHRhLvQcVCTBXfU0NSp4aO6XttLiFDR_pgtQ1zZ6bfFZYcvgZbkxngdEgpz9rESdszE43ycqv_X8V89IdXTSiTOrnAuuC24bduiXSHckNLg_qKg6p7O2oNpcDnRVvBPBpjM/s640/Picture+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screen-captured PROOF!<br />
Although I did such a stellar job at blurring things out, the possibility <br />
remains that I might have left the comment on my own Facebook post.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Seriously, if it means wearing fifteen pounds of costume jewelry, donning a scant amount of eyebrow pencil, and fumbling around in a state of legal-blindness to make me look like a passable human being, I will just have to do it. But exerting so much energy on my own appearance would leave me entirely unable to pursue other projects; such was the case when it came time to think about Mary's costume. Usually, all of my creativity is focused on designing her costume, using whatever energy remains to throw something together for myself in the few days leading up to Halloween. This year, however, I began with mine, completely burned out by the time I was done. I used the distraction of a pumpkin patch to casually mention to Mary that she was on her own for a costume. Just as I was explaining my utter lack of motivation, she bet on the winning piglet at the pig races.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdR-FwM9GP8dc4WJhc4cuqTSgdJGLUWR7fVUcJU5UVH05_Qb5_QPAvTi8H0j5q1OI91Q-iSbYKuGGfomaS0a2e83kv3FMg1C_IiikIrzxim08o__qynS3lQW8w9R3NebyXxEGoH96cUk/s1600/photo+3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdR-FwM9GP8dc4WJhc4cuqTSgdJGLUWR7fVUcJU5UVH05_Qb5_QPAvTi8H0j5q1OI91Q-iSbYKuGGfomaS0a2e83kv3FMg1C_IiikIrzxim08o__qynS3lQW8w9R3NebyXxEGoH96cUk/s400/photo+3.PNG" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the form of a rubber pig nose, Mary won Halloween inspiration.<br />
As soon as she donned her prize, we knew that when it came to this <br />
year's costume, beauty would definitely be in the "Eye of the Beholder." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
While to me every episode of <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052520/?ref_=nv_sr_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">The Twilight Zone</span></a></i> is essentially the same (anxiety inducing in its heavy-handed dramatic irony), even I am able remember a few standouts. The star of <i>TTZ</i>'s second season was entitled "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734568/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Eye of the Beholder</span></a>;" in it, a young woman recovers in a hospital room from a final surgical attempt to make her look "normal." As the bandages are unwound, a lovely face emerges (not only free, in typical television fashion, from bruising/scars/stitches but also attractively made-up). Strangely horrified by the results, she flees from the room as the "normal" faces of the hospital staff are revealed. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHIzaqLSfJ4N8V05ml2dAUUnWZObtWM0SRjIFilAEPU7LoM-eNRk4OaxIhKxeKjr877m4Fy0_IaNQUII2ofy1og5ste6fn05Ny-_ThNF4efZ0QMOcN9mPimVp2rvwEM-R6e-JVwwOaGY/s1600/tumblr_mtxyo1NV0Z1qzjp43o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHIzaqLSfJ4N8V05ml2dAUUnWZObtWM0SRjIFilAEPU7LoM-eNRk4OaxIhKxeKjr877m4Fy0_IaNQUII2ofy1og5ste6fn05Ny-_ThNF4efZ0QMOcN9mPimVp2rvwEM-R6e-JVwwOaGY/s400/tumblr_mtxyo1NV0Z1qzjp43o1_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful people<br />
Every day is "Opposite Day" when you're in <i>The Twilight Zone</i>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
On the basis that an early-'60s nurse's uniform could easily be pulled together from the contents of her closet, I committed to crafting a mask for Mary inspired by the characters in "Eye of the Beholder." Starting from scratch was unrealistic, so I picked up a mask from the dollar store to use as a base.<br />
<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNcB8ietob0n6IedQX1dbxIqTRYhKI21kj01IS3YWlijLWgHpCk-I_l0GYr_dAeOYPeR52epOX81Pw1QsWhtj1y_tEMyikb_8duysweXvLovm6PkDRDcI2JdWG8qE5-jk2OX_Su2_5ouw/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNcB8ietob0n6IedQX1dbxIqTRYhKI21kj01IS3YWlijLWgHpCk-I_l0GYr_dAeOYPeR52epOX81Pw1QsWhtj1y_tEMyikb_8duysweXvLovm6PkDRDcI2JdWG8qE5-jk2OX_Su2_5ouw/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Except for the ears, the feline face already had lines <br />
reminiscent of old Florence <i>Swine</i>-tengale (above).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Trimming down a pig nose and sawing off a cat's ears was nearly enough to have me jump ship as a moderate carnivore and swim to the island of vegan delights - <i>almost</i>. After the basic remodel, it was time to build up some of the broader contours of the face.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7vvbT55Ia5leGd49Pn1pNzMXGcRQItWq2Sqa4iA-bMWSq_oB-7X0rBu1JPIFzEFhIggo5Zrjz5cH3FJs84AVS3H-Ki4OR1ltWKuQ0A_PT1EQlmOHoqEQAryUrP-6bEYrGKAxkBSSrKo/s1600/toolssss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7vvbT55Ia5leGd49Pn1pNzMXGcRQItWq2Sqa4iA-bMWSq_oB-7X0rBu1JPIFzEFhIggo5Zrjz5cH3FJs84AVS3H-Ki4OR1ltWKuQ0A_PT1EQlmOHoqEQAryUrP-6bEYrGKAxkBSSrKo/s400/toolssss.jpg" width="387" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tools of the trade<br />
<br />
After removing the choice, tiger-print spandex from the mask, I built up a <br />
topography of unadulterated ugly using paper straws, hot glue, and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">papier-<br />mâché. </span></span>To smooth things out and fill in the nooks and crannies, I employed <br />
ordinary household spackle (also found at the dollar store). My work was <br />
finished with a couple coats of craft paint.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mary took over by using things in her make-up bag to add some shading/depth/repulsion. Falling decidedly in the "inspired-by" rather than "faithful-reproduction" category, in the end, I believe our mask was a success.</div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4ENy8bfU8CpyioD3S5mW-AdghdOQIGH1oj1qM4ABKTFjc9TFsNJvmNjis4qCGyt6HPf41gp-g3kw-6iVEcwyOqiNlSDOZWFH-6usISQQbqBiMYkspGJk0JhOFDK7cHjYnba8g8Tu-Hs/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4ENy8bfU8CpyioD3S5mW-AdghdOQIGH1oj1qM4ABKTFjc9TFsNJvmNjis4qCGyt6HPf41gp-g3kw-6iVEcwyOqiNlSDOZWFH-6usISQQbqBiMYkspGJk0JhOFDK7cHjYnba8g8Tu-Hs/s640/photo+2.JPG" width="470" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proven by the impact of Mary's dramatically-lit, Halloween-night selfie<br />
<br />
For all the work I usually put in, my favorite costumes are often the last-minute, homemade<br />
jobs; Mary's wearing all her own clothes and the nurse's cap is just a folded piece of paper. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Failing to take any pictures of the mask-building process or of our Halloween festivities, I wasn't sure that I had enough material to warrant a blog post. My hesitation, however, was no match for the insistence of our pal, Kimmie, at <a href="http://www.thatgirlinthewheelchair.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">That Girl the Wheelchair</span></a> - and I quote, "I need a blog post about this. Now." Here you go, Kimmie; thanks for the kick in the pants!!!</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="https://archive.org/embed/TwilightzoneEyeofthebeholder" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="640"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Eye of the Beholder" from <i>The Twilight Zone</i> (1960) </div>
<br />
<br />
I hope your Halloween was enjoyable and that it too left you pondering the meaning of beauty, reexamining the importance we place on it in our society. I hope you understand that beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. I hope you remember that we are all capable of an internal beauty, a beauty that will shine through whatever genetic shortcomings we feel we may have. Okay, not really. More than anything, I hope you ate so many treats that your Reese's hangover was as bad as ours!<br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
Mr. Tiny</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3215568693807799004.post-87950165305460523402015-10-27T09:24:00.001-07:002015-10-28T02:04:23.949-07:00Sew What?! WISHING that Halloween was "1,001 NIGHTS"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There has to be some kind of superstition that warns against revealing one's Halloween costume prior to October 31. Somehow it feels like a bride parading around town in her wedding dress before the big day, especially to one who views Halloween as a <i>marriage</i> of everything wonderful - holidays, dress-up, ghost stories, and <u>free candy</u>!!! Having broken many a mirror with only negligible consequences, I am willing to tempt the fates and show off this year's version of my tried-and-true Halloween pajamas (as is the case every year, my passion for Halloween is tempered only by my extreme distaste for even minor discomfort, i.e. ungainly costumes, elaborate makeup, full-face masks, gore, the inability to sit/stand/eat/use the facilities properly, etc.). Any costume I wear must be able to do double duty as lounge/sleepwear.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4ZETKuimGaOzzQJT4s_ImwfJHn_tEoGn82h2xuqa-GMvm-zG7QOyQvRNnDN2dtVBoNK25IW1D2ZAUy0p1kbOncqxgi1Ch8f73MA0egOiHtgfW43g6_Bwce7cmuppz9lntVoPn5ZeaJU/s1600/DSC_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4ZETKuimGaOzzQJT4s_ImwfJHn_tEoGn82h2xuqa-GMvm-zG7QOyQvRNnDN2dtVBoNK25IW1D2ZAUy0p1kbOncqxgi1Ch8f73MA0egOiHtgfW43g6_Bwce7cmuppz9lntVoPn5ZeaJU/s640/DSC_0520.JPG" width="458" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inspired by the vintage statuettes that take pride of place on the bookcase, the goal <br />
for my costume was a character ripped straight from the pages of <i>The Arabian Nights</i>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEgD5QYmjQc0LIOalqPh3Bkq9jpP_GUuO41Jf8fOzYt8cwnhd_A1o2yJtm9jbE6TBqhO0syVPhR3gXY_4BqqSMWlSBpkWgZclb9l_PdFsW_FN-Oc8fV4jRWLYEHssldxMh0682SjP8So/s1600/2994747685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEgD5QYmjQc0LIOalqPh3Bkq9jpP_GUuO41Jf8fOzYt8cwnhd_A1o2yJtm9jbE6TBqhO0syVPhR3gXY_4BqqSMWlSBpkWgZclb9l_PdFsW_FN-Oc8fV4jRWLYEHssldxMh0682SjP8So/s400/2994747685.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After seeing the rows of luscious pearls worn by a character on <i>American </i><br />
<i>Horror Story: Freak Show</i> and subsequently adding them to the mix, the<br />
resulting costume is probably a culturally-insensitive pastiche of maharaja,<br />
sultan, genie, sheik, Gabor sister, and transvestite. I'll go with genie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Even dressed as a genie, the most important question I can ask myself when I'm trying on new clothes is, "Is this flattering or is this <i>fattering</i>?" Swathed in at least ten yards of reflective, bargain-bin upholstery material, I think the answer is clear.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsaoKphD3Q3sFKkjFv16uPYeob8kDHR1ag5J8Ne6vHmPDxqM3wyAbTZ-RQusy7-xeYKtFtw3TkKi3GqJClMfQCP3vS_zVs6SAnGmT9f0v6SdFSFAWDLrPHuL-r9UI-I5WVux6xyOsJpY/s1600/DSC_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsaoKphD3Q3sFKkjFv16uPYeob8kDHR1ag5J8Ne6vHmPDxqM3wyAbTZ-RQusy7-xeYKtFtw3TkKi3GqJClMfQCP3vS_zVs6SAnGmT9f0v6SdFSFAWDLrPHuL-r9UI-I5WVux6xyOsJpY/s640/DSC_0495.JPG" width="406" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I blame the bird.<br />
What's that old saying about removing at least one accessory before leaving the house?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-s8nj8SePmdMhEP6GdQqrOtrbDDpwwN1JTi64P9A9ZWXywDYJ363v_OG4tWD9MAot7hfampxEEU-qCWtbFW6rme927n0yAjTmItiHy6svFYgMF9rQbKernyahDoMM9KWdROAadI-vaQ/s1600/DSC_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-s8nj8SePmdMhEP6GdQqrOtrbDDpwwN1JTi64P9A9ZWXywDYJ363v_OG4tWD9MAot7hfampxEEU-qCWtbFW6rme927n0yAjTmItiHy6svFYgMF9rQbKernyahDoMM9KWdROAadI-vaQ/s640/DSC_0530.JPG" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But there was no way that I was going to ditch my greatest accessory by far.<br />
For some reason, I was hell-bent on a stylized, avian companion. I began creating the<br />
scepter parrot before starting on any other part of my costume. With undue confidence,<br />
I just cut directly into my fabric (remnants from <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/12/sew-what-happy-holiday-frock.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Mary's Christmas dress last year</span></a> and<br />
another dress yet to be shared) and hoped for the best - it actually worked! The eyes<br />
are made of buttons and rhinestones; the scepter is a brass ring with a finial made from<br />
beads, buttons, and rhinestones, resting atop a length of gold-painted bamboo onto<br />
which poor polly was rather unceremoniously skewered.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Managing to complete my costume a full three weeks before Halloween, I was left with ample time to follow the click-bait leading to at least two online articles dedicated to the prevention of offensive Halloween costumes. Having received some concerned feedback on this forum about my choice of <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2014/10/sew-what-its-just-gypsy-in-my-soul.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">vintage-style "gypsy" costume last year</span></a>, I sincerely hope that this year's costume (a well-intentioned, mythical genie) falls on the correct side of the costume-decency dividing line. Honestly, I figured the most offensive part about it would be the fact that everyone encouraged me to go bare-chested!!!</div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5LarTJurGlXckAFRGcvgId2LMVOXSzXjVewh31ZHem70qJA8ygK8vZe29exgSD0M2mz2sxpfZgIQTI2KDGNryM1cfH9Z1BX3SrbeAd2Zn-Zfhzaq8BPO1TlvICiS57sh0qHrIueo8us/s1600/DSC_0502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5LarTJurGlXckAFRGcvgId2LMVOXSzXjVewh31ZHem70qJA8ygK8vZe29exgSD0M2mz2sxpfZgIQTI2KDGNryM1cfH9Z1BX3SrbeAd2Zn-Zfhzaq8BPO1TlvICiS57sh0qHrIueo8us/s640/DSC_0502.JPG" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing the costume to the <a href="http://anaheimhalloweenparade.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">91st-Annual Anaheim Halloween Parade</span></a>, there was absolutely<br />
no way I could subject the good people of Anaheim (home of Disneyland) to a nearly-nude<br />
Mr. Tiny. Instead of going topless, I opted for a "fleshtone" (although whose flesh, I know<br />
not) shirt, removing the ribbed cuffs and collar and replacing them with gold braided trim.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczsWfRgSlUDKDNN1xMPUTxNPznNa3y7xLMugem0VAHRlLIZvyIpltru6vHDPSp7czzNgNNT_C5R0lruBmd9IJHU3rLkO97IBCISTYpeNBVFSuyfFzSNZG-cVe74msT0aovd6J5O82a1s/s1600/DSC_0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczsWfRgSlUDKDNN1xMPUTxNPznNa3y7xLMugem0VAHRlLIZvyIpltru6vHDPSp7czzNgNNT_C5R0lruBmd9IJHU3rLkO97IBCISTYpeNBVFSuyfFzSNZG-cVe74msT0aovd6J5O82a1s/s400/DSC_0522.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used the same trim to <i>cobble</i> together the remodeled rubber slippers I got<br />
for $1.50 at everyone's favorite Japanese discount store, <a href="http://thewackytacky.blogspot.com/2013/09/i-die-so-over-daiso.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Daiso</span></a>. The curly <br />
toes are finished off by dangling beads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>Fattering</i> though it may be, the costume fulfills all of my comfort requirements as well as the usual budgetary concerns. The only things I had to buy specifically for the costume were the slippers and the window-pane taffeta; everything else was unearthed from the bottomless pit of my fabric/craft stash (You may call me <i>Prudence</i> of Arabia). <i> </i>Dare I say that my costume was <i>nearly</i> my "wish<i>"</i> come true? Rather than a sophisticated, sometimes-sinister sultan, I think I more closely resemble <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/266205027946171269/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Jeannie's junior-genie, Babu</span></a>...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lKvFe8c5btE" width="420"></iframe>
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Intro from Hanna-Barbara's <i>Jeannie</i> cartoon</div>
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You only have a few days left; what are you going to be for Halloween?!!<br />
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Cheers!<br />
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Mr. Tiny</div>
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Mr. Tinyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16646297018044505890noreply@blogger.com4