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Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Ripples - A Work In Progress

I wish I could fly. Just soar up into the clouds and float along with the wind. Completely free from the force of gravity. Maybe, if I could fly, I could escape the torment of memories, the corruption of insomnia and the depression of solitude. Or maybe I should wish I could swim to the deepest part of the ocean (what’s that? The Mariana Trench or something?). Just feel the silence of the water surrounding you, the only evidence that you were ever even above the water being the ripples left on the surface. This makes me sound like a coward right? Just wanting to run away from all of my problems. Well, if you knew what I went through you might understand a little better.

I guess that’s the reason I’m writing this down, so people understand. I hope this is easier for you to read than it is for me to write. Trust me, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and I’m pretty certain I won’t be able to do the events justice - I might as well say that now before we even begin. But everyone tells me, to continue on with my life I must "first confront what happened", and it's weird but I feel like I can trust all of you. I'm not entirely sure why. It's not like we've ever met before...

Have we?

Right now, I am down at the river at the bottom of my dad’s property, sitting on the fallen tree that fell in last night’s storm. It’s not an old, rotten one that’s been eaten from the inside out by termites and grubs, but a young sturdy one with a smooth white trunk and a few deep green leave still connected to the branches under the water. It’s hard to tell why it fell – I mean I know the storm knocked it down obviously – but still, why was it chosen? I mean there is plenty of other, taller, older trees around that could have quite easily been bowled over or struck by lightning, but it was this strong, young healthy gum whose life and prospects were ripped away so un-expectantly. Funny how the universe works, huh?

The part of the river I am in now is only about six metres across, knee deep and crystal clear. There are these constant little concentric ripples from insects touching the surface as they skim across. I wonder where they sleep – the insects I mean, and when. I wonder if their eyes close when they sleep and if they worry about waking up. I wonder what their names are, and do they have families? Poor, nameless, sleepless insects.

This was our place; Danny and I, I mean. This was where we used to come and sit, swim in summer and camp in winter. It was the only place on the farm dad never comes and it was totally ours, down to every rock and witchety grub. We knew it back to front and front to back. An echidna couldn’t scuttle through the night before without us noticing the place it had gone from and too. If a wasp built its nest in a tree on the border it would be the first thing we noticed as we walked in.

To be honest, I am only writing about my surroundings to avoid what it is that I am meant to be doing. Danny would never have done that. He was a straight forward action man. Maybe I should get on with it before you stop reading, if you even are reading…

Well, here goes nothing.

It all began on a foggy morning on the outskirts of the little outback QLD town we like to call Mirambrook. Danny and I were on our way to school.

Oh! I’m so dumb! Let me clarify one thing, my name is Dana Blake and me and Danny are, were twins. Maybe it was some sort of cruel joke by our parents; naming me Danielle and my twin brother Daniel, but that is just how it is and we have learnt not to question it. It’s still a great joke to our friends though. You would think after 17 years they would have gotten over it!

“Hey, after school, do you want to take the bikes down to McGuthers? It might be a good idea to get out of dads way this afternoon, he’s got the new head to count” he said, pulling a face as he finished. I laughed so hard I almost choked on my burnt vegemite toast. He laughed as well and patted me on the back. I nodded my head in agreement as I took a sip of water, my throat tingling slightly.

McGuthers Ridge is about a half hour away by bike and a beautiful place for hiding when your dad is in a bad mood. Imagine a red rock cliff, topped with trees and a grassy patch, which suddenly took a severe plunge down thirty feet. We did not have any idea of what was at the bottom of said drop, nor did we feel any inclination to find out. We didn’t go to the Ridge very often because it’s such a trek but when we did it always put us in a good mood for ages. Sitting on the edge of the cliff you can see farmland and hills for what looks like miles all around, and on the very distant east horizon, you can just barely see the ocean. At least we used to imagine we could.

Anyway, that morning, Danny drove to the bus stop like usual, we caught the bus with the other uncivilized farm kids and got out at the Mirambrook High School as normal. I met my friends Quinn, Mason & Stevie outside, and Danny ran over to where his mates Jacko and Zeke were playing a game of footy against some other guys. After I ran over and we talked for a bit, Quinn and Stevie had to go do something for the school fundraiser that was happening later that week. That left me and Mason to wander to our side-by-side lockers together, talking about everything from the cattle, to the cake stall, to the State of Origin. He kept subconsciously running his hand through his messy blonde hair, and every time he did it I would reach up and fix it again for him; he was 5’10 and I was 5’3, so it was always a bit of a stretch.

“We really spend way too much time together don’t we” he laughed after about the sixth time we had done it. I laughed and nodded my head, totally agreeing with him. We had known each other since we were two and our dads introduced us on the farm. We spent every weekend together since, and yet we never get sick of the others company.

Anyway, that afternoon, after we got home from school we ran to the sheds where the bikes were kept. While I wheeled my Yamaha out I started to notice a soft rattling coming from inside, but stupid me decided to ignore it and go anyway. When we were about three quarters of the way there the noise was really starting to get on my nerves.

“Danny! There’s some annoying rattling going on in my bike!” I yelled over the hum of the engines.

“Alrighty, let the man take a look” He said, pulling his four-wheeler to a sliding stop, jumping off and strolling over to the Yamaha in a fairly comical way - with his hands on his hips and taking overly long steps. I couldn’t help but let out an unladylike snort at the ridiculously sexist comment, but of course I knew he was joking. “Yeh, that’s no problem. I’ll ride it from now on so that you don’t have to put up with it!” he grinned at me and sat on the bike. Only then did we hear the rumble of thunder a few kilometers away, and we looked up to see the sky turned almost black with clouds.

“Looks like we should go back though, that storm’s gonna be fierce!” I shouted. Danny nodded and I sprinted over to the four-wheeler, and we set off at a monstrous pace. We wanted to get home before the storm reached us, but that was definitely not meant to be. The rain started bucketing down, drenching us to the bone and making it hard to see the next meter, and the thunder was so loud we could barely hear each other’s bikes, even though we were mere feet away from each other. What happened next, I did hear though, and the sound will haunt me until the day I die.

The sound of cracking branches and rustling leaves, twisting metal and dirt falling away. I stopped the bike and looked in the general direction of where I heard the noise and ran to where it was. It’s not anything. I thought to myself. It was just a branch falling in the storm. But my optimistic thoughts could never have been so wrong.

As I looked down the fallen-away slope, between the disturbed foliage and the broken branches, I saw the Yamaha a laying few feet away; crumpled and half submerged in the water. It looked like a tin can that has been kicked around a schoolyard for too long – squashed and broken. My heart started pounding in my ears, and I slid purposefully down the slope feet first – not caring at all for my own safety as I neared the knee deep water. I tripped at the bottom, falling face first into the cool stream, but getting up immediately and scanning the general area for Danny. I could smell the fuel leaking from the machine into the crystal water, and it made my stomach almost turn over, with the added stress of not being able to see my brother anywhere. I half expected him to jump up from under the water, shouting one of his classic one liner’s - “Watch it! That first step’s a doozy!”, but inside I knew something was terribly, horridly wrong.

The rain was still roaring all around me, but otherwise it was completely silent. No bats shrieked, no possums scurried in the trees, and no signs of life could be heard at all; except for my sloshing of water as I pressed forward, my pounding heartbeat, and my heavy breathing.  By now my clothes were absolutely waterlogged, and my hair was matted to my face, but nothing mattered to me except finding my brother, and walking home together. I tried to hone in on my twin senses, but for some reason I was feeling absolutely nothing – not even a flicker of anything from his side. Suddenly, I heard the sound of labored breathing to my right, closer to the bank than I had been searching. I ran as fast as my clothes, the river, and the rain would let me in the direction of the sound – scanning with my eyes, ears, and even my nose to lead me to Danny. Then I saw him.

He was slumped up on the bank; half out of the water and half in, lying on his stomach, trying to crawl up the embankment. I sprinted to him, grabbed under his armpits and helped to haul him up onto the shore. He turned over weakly in my arms, and I gasped as I saw him.

His face had cuts, bruising and scrapes all over it, and his right eye had a deep gash above it. I scanned my eyes lower, and saw that his wrist was bent back in a horrible way, his lower leg seemed to be almost dangling from his knee down, and he had a large shard of metal dug deep into the center of his torso. It looked like the handle bar of the Yamaha, but I wasn’t really about to analyze it, was I? What scared me the most was the fact that he was starting to cough weakly, with blood coming up into his mouth. He turned onto his side and crimson spilled from between his lips, onto the already saturated green grass.

He turned back onto his back and stared at my face from his heads position in my lap.

“Dana…” he gasped so quietly I barely heard him above the growling and pounding in my ears. Tears started to form in my eyes as I had a feeling I knew what was about to happen. “Don’t forget me…” he breathed out, blood again trickling down his chin, mixing with the cold water that already covered the both of us.

“I won’t have too. ‘Cause you ain’t going anywhere, alright! Someone’ll come and help…” I whispered, stroking his cheek with my hand, and wiping the blood from his chin. I pushed my hands into the pocket of my cargo pants and groped around for my mobile. I pulled it out of my pocket, fingers numb from both the cold and the shock that was taking over all of my senses. I fumbled with the cover of the black flip, and lost my grip on the slippery, wet metal. The phone dropped into the water and the screen went black. I let out a choked whimper, before gripping my brother tighter, and looked down into his shining eyes.  The water dripped from my hair and face down onto his, mixing with the tears that were falling freely from my eyes.

“Dana… Dana” he coughed out, and I started shaking my head, a few sobs managing their way up from my tightened chest. “Dana – Let me go…” I shook my head all the more and leaned down to kiss his cheek softly, before pushing my face into his chest. I felt gravel and blood against my face, but I didn’t care. His skin was cold, wet, and I could tell that he was getting colder.

“I’ll never let you go. Not for one second” I sobbed, hugging him. “I love you too much” I felt his hand weakly rise up to rest on the top of my hand. I turned my hand over and squeezed his fingers desperately between mine; subconsciously thinking that if I can hold onto his hand, I can somehow hold his life together as well. I looked at his face, and saw a weak smile on his trembling, blood stained lips.

“I… I love you too. More than you could ever know Dana. Please don’t forget…” He trailed off slowly - his chest growing still, his hand surrendering its grip on my own, and I looked up and saw his once laughing blue eyes had clouded over – staring up into the angry sky unseeing. The sobs turned into loud cries into the night, and I wrapped my arms as tight as I could around his cooling body; rocking and holding him, wanting to feel his heart flutter, or his chest rise with a breath, or to feel his hand lift up to hold onto me in return – to comfort me. The winds howled and the storm raged on, but the rain started to slow. Thunder could still be heard in the distance, and the lightning still could be seen splitting the sky in half at every interval, but it was coming to an end. Whatever God controlled the weather could sleep soundly tonight, knowing that he had single handedly brought a new angel to Heavens Gates.

I barely noticed that we were sitting in our spot. In our river.

I didn’t even notice the sound of four wheeled drives pulling up behind me, the smell of the engine fumes, or the light that suddenly enveloped me and my brothers’ body. I hardly noticed the thudding of many running, boot clad feet, or the shouts of the men who poured out of the trucks.  I only acknowledged them when they started to try to pull me away from Danny, who at that stage I still had a tight hold on. A pair of rough hands gently touched my shoulders, and tried to lead me away, but I kept my hold. The tears were still flowing freely down my face, as I couldn’t help but stare into his eyes – trying to will them into becoming bright and colorful again.

Then a set of strong arms wrapped around me, picking me up under my back and my knees, and holding me against his chest. I let my grip on my brother fall and I buried my face into the strong man’s chest, continuing to weep, and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. He lifted me and pulled me closer to him, rubbing his hand on my back to comfort me. But no amount of comforting words or gestures would make me stop crying, stop feeling, and stop grieving. He carried me away to one of the four trucks that had pulled up, and lay me down in the back seat.

I finally looked to see it was none other than my best friend, Mason Sheridan, who also happened to be the closest thing to a neighbor we had. Mason jumped in beside me, closed the door and continued to rub my back. He smelled of sweat, and hay bales, and looked absolutely exhausted. His normally spikey dark blonde hair was slumped down from the rain, and his warm grey eyes showed worry, and genuine compassion. As I lifted my head to look out the window I saw three of the men had taken Danny’s body and covered it with a small tarp that had been in one of the trucks trays. I recognized one of the many men immediately as my father – Warren Blake, cow breeder extraordinaire (Note the sarcasm), who is constantly under the pump, and looked a hundred years older right at that time. Some others were Danny’s friend Jacko - Jackson Marks,  Mason’s dad – Ben Sheridan, Brenton Fuller – one of dads friends, and Chris Pane – the town bakery owner who dad went to school with. It seemed as if they had formed a rather huge search party in an effort to find us. What a waste.

  1. Original comment:

    This is SO AUSTRALIAN!

    Now comment:

    Oh my god. I am so nominating you for best writer.

    1. Yeh, it really is. I write what I know. :)
      Oh god really? That's so sweet, but I'll never win lol...
      Thanyou so, so much!

  2. Damn, Hayley! That is SO FREAKING GOOD!

    And it was described so well... It made me feel like I was there! THIS WAS BRILLIANT!!!!!!!

    1. Aww thankyou so much! That's an amazing compliment. You are so nice! :)

  3. I loved this the first time I read it.

    I loved it the second.

    I loved it the third.

    Goddammit Hayley, why are you so good at writing?

    1. Nowhere near as good as you bubby, ur amazing. But thanks.
      Thankyou for reading it multiple times and not getting bored :D


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StyleCrush: Amanda Montgomery of Latest Wrinkle.

StyleCrush: Amanda Montgomery of Latest Wrinkle.

This week’s StyleCrush is another amazing Canadian fashionista, Amanda Montgomery of Latest Wrinkle. Originally hailing from Vancouver, this babe relocated to Toronto to blend her Pacific Northwestern twee with big city vintage vogue.

Name: Amanda Montgomery
Age: 30
Current Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Hometown: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Blogger at: Latest Wrinkle
Social media: Find Amanda Montgomery and The Latest Wrinkle on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. You can also follow her as @LatestWrinkle on Snapchat.

Wear Your Voice: How do you describe your personal style?

Amanda Montgomery: Fun, colorful, girly, with a dash of whimsy!

WYV: What inspired your blog/project/fashion career?

AM: After graduating from fashion design school, as I was working as a designer, I realized I was missing something I had when I was in school. I missed the complete immersion in the fashion industry, so I started my blog to share my thoughts on the latest trends and review my favorite runway shows.

WYV: Who are the people close to you that have shaped your style?

AM: Most of my style inspiration, from people who are close to me, are from the old photos of my mom and both my grandmas. I am constantly pulling inspiration from each decade, but I am especially in love with the ’50s, ’60s and the ’20s.

Related: Why Plus-Size Women ARE Brave

WYV: Who are your top three celebrity StyleCrushes?

AM: Mindy Kaling, Jackie O and Nicolette Mason.

WYV: Which stores/brands/designers are your faves? What draws you to each of them?

AM: Eloquii — I love the unique styles, colors and silhouettes that they offer. If you told my younger self that I would be able to wear all these beautiful designs, I would have never believed it.

Society+ — I love that there is a brand that puts body positivity first. Co-founder and Creative Director Jessica Kane is a size 26/28, and all the designs are fit on her. This is a brand that caters to women above size 22/24 — which is important to me, that all my friends no matter their size have somewhere to shop.

Addition Elle and Penningtons — I love to support Canadian businesses, and these two stores have always been here for me throughout my life.

WYV: Which big-name designers would you like to see move into the plus-size market?

AM: Kate Spade!!! They have added size 16, which is a (small) step in the right direction. But I want to see a full size range included.

WYV: What do you hope to see more of in media and fashion?

AM: I would love to see plus-size women not only in more mainstream magazines, not just as a “plus-size feature” but for it to be a regular occurrence. Also, I would love to see plus-size women star in TV shows and in movies without having their main story be about losing weight.

WYV: How do you feel representation can help big-bodied people?

AM: I think that it could change the world. If we can live in a world [where] women of all sizes are represented, and we stop glorifying a single body type, that it would change how women and girls feel about themselves, it can change how they are treated, prevent bullying, and create a safe space for every woman to be themselves.

🎉🙌🏻💕CONGRATULATIONS @StylisticStunner! You have won the #NoBS #TheFWE2016 Special Lunch and tickets to @thefullerwomanexpo! DM me for details! 🎉🙌🏻💕Want to win tickets to @thefullerwomanexpo AND a special lunch with yours truly, @whitneywaythore, and a bunch a plus size Toronto blogger babes to celebrate #NOBS {or NO Body Shame!} All you have to do is: 1. 💪🏻Snap a photo of you imitating this pose {with #NOBS on you arm} 2. Follow + Tag me [email protected]} and @thefullerwomanexpo 3. Use the hashtags #noBS #theFWE2016 4. Extra entry: tag a friend! All photos must be posted by July 9, 2016 at Midnight EST. You can post once per day. Open internationally, however winner will be responsible for all and any travel costs. I am excited to see your #noBS pics! 💪🏻💋

A post shared by Amanda at {LATEST WRINKLE} (@amandamonty) on

WYV: What advice would you give to a plus-size kid/teen having a hard time?

AM: That I know it is hard, because you don’t feel “right” based on what you see or hear. You are perfect the way you are, and each body is beautiful because they are unique. Life would be so boring if we all looked the same — luckily we live in a beautiful, diverse world! Surround yourself with body-confident people. When I was young I struggled every day with how I look, and as a result of the media, I still feel that way from time to time, but most of the time I love how I look, and I feel confident because of the strong body-positive people I have surrounded myself with.

WYV: How do you wear your voice?

AM: I wear my voice proudly, and everyday. I try to wear my voice to change how people see others and think about themselves. I also wear my voice to daily remind myself that I am worthy.

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发布于：2016-8-31 10:50:21  访问:54 次 回复:0 篇
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Sunday, September 16, 2012

BBAW Giveaway Winner and Update

The winner of a copy of Charlotte Markham and the House of Darkling is

Elizabeth of Silver's Reviews

Congratulations! Thank you to everyone who entered the giveaway. This is a fantastic book and I hope you all get a chance to get a copy.

You might have noticed that this announcement came a little late but I had a very tragic event in my family last Thursday and had to step out of regular life for a few days to be with those who needed me. I am sorry that I missed the end of an amazing BBAW week but as much as I love blogging, it just didn't seem important all of a sudden. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to get back into the normal swing of things around here. Normal just feels wrong right now. But at the same time, this is an amazing community and if anyone can help me get back there, it's all of you.

Taking a moment to breathe,

  1. Sending you lots and lots of love. I do hope you'll return soon, but I completely understand, completely. *hugs* xoxo

  2. HUGS and thoughts going out to you.

    So sorry for this tragedy.

    Silver's Reviews

  3. I'm so so sorry to hear about your troubles. There is nothing like a real emergency to make you realize what is truly important in life. I hope all is Ok and I send good thoughts and hugs your way.

  4. Oh, Kristen, I'm so sorry, and I totally understand - I had to take a break for some real life stuff a couple of years ago, and I'm just now finally getting back in the groove. We will be thinking about you and sending you well wishes, and we will be excited to see you when you return!

  5. I'm so sorry. You're in my thoughts. *hugs*

  6. Hugs to you and your Kristen. Will be thinking about you and sending positive thoughts your way.


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| October 13, 2015

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•    Select table covers in pastel colors by adding flowers in rustic vases that will dazzle the look of ceremony. The feathers in the flower are looking more beautiful.
05 Ways To Make Your Wedding More Beautiful

•    Decorum of curtains and chandelier with lights and flowers can change the whole environment of the ceremony.

5 Ways To Make Your Wedding More Beautiful (1)

•    Baby’s breathe in baskets and put them as decoration piece on wedding day. These flowers are even cheap than any other flowers.

5 Ways To Make Your Wedding More Beautiful (2)

•    Unique idea of placing vases at different places by adding flowers or candles with your choice.

5 Ways To Make Your Wedding More Beautiful (3)

•    A theme of paper lanterns is amazing at night.

Category: Decorations

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Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Hot Cross Buns (Vegan)

4 vegan hot cross buns
Inspired by Paul Hollywood's Bread programme, I thought it was about time I blogged another bread recipe.

I've seen a plethora of hot cross bun recipes lately, but very few vegan ones. Traditionally, these seasonal, Easter bread-buns are made with eggs, milk and butter, so I've substituted these ingredients for vegan alternatives. I think you'll agree that they look pretty much like the traditional variety (minus the crosses, of course!).
  • 3 cups strong bread flour
  • 1 cup sweetened almond milk, or similar
  • 4 tbsp soft brown sugar
  • 2 tbsp dairy-free spread
  • 1 sachet fast action yeast
  • 1 cup dried mixed fruit
  • 1-2 tsp ground mixed spice
  • 1 tsp Orgran No Egg, optional
  • ½ tsp salt
Add all of the ingredients, except the fruit, to the bread maker and set on the dough setting.
After a few minutes, add the dried fruit and allow the bread maker to run the full dough cycle. (Alternatively, kneed ingredients together in a bowl, until you have a soft, but not, sticky dough.)

Turn the dough out onto a board, but don't add any extra flour.
Kneed the dough for a few minutes and then divide into 8 pieces and roll into balls.
Flatten slightly and place, well apart, on a greased baking sheet.
Allow to prove in a warm place for 45-60 minutes.
Pre-heat the oven to 220C/200C Fan/425F/Gas 7.

Mix an extra 2 tbsp of strong bread flour with 2 tbsp of cold water to form a paste. Pipe the paste onto the buns (in your preferred design), with a small, plain nozzle.

Bake for 10 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 190C/180C Fan/375F/ Gas 5. Bake for a further 10 minutes, until brown. The cooked buns should sound hollow if you tap on the base.

Mix 2 tbsp of white sugar with 2 tbsp water. Heat in the microwave for 15-30 seconds on high, to form a syrup. Brush the syrup over the warm buns.
Remove from the baking tray and cool on a wire rack.

Serve warm or toasted for an Easter breakfast. Cut in half and spread with dairy-free spread and/or jam before serving.

Suitable for freezing.

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  1. These breads look very delicious, I'd love to try them for Easter. Hope you and your family have a wonderful Easter Sunday!

    1. Thanks Adi, I hope you've had a good Easter.

Thanks very much for your comment. I love hearing your opinions, so please rest assured that genuine comments and competition entries will be visible after approval. This may take 24-48 hours, depending on how hectic my work/home life is at the time!

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Multicultural Celebration of the Winter Holidays on Eastern Standard

Dec 7, 2016

At this time of the year, we tend to focus on celebrations of our own religions or cultures. But the winter holidays can also bring people of differing backgrounds together.

Dr. Nadia Rasheed, Pastor Anthony Everitt, Host John Hingsbergen, and Rabbi Moshe Smolkin sat around the mics for a discussion of multicultural faiths and winter celebrations for this week's Eastern Standard
Credit Marisa Hempel

On this week’s EST,  we’ll discuss ways to enjoy the  “most wonderful time of the year” while including the traditions and customs of those unlike our own.

 Guests this week include:

Anthony Everitt - Pastor of the Wesley United Methodist Church in Lexington, Ky.

Dr. Nadia Rasheed- A member of Masjib Bilal; one of three mosques located in Lexington, Ky, and a Board-Certified Anaesthesiologist in Georgetown, Kentucky.

Moshe Smolkin - Rabbi of the Ohavay Zion Synagogue in Lexington, Ky.

We’re interested in your questions, personal stories or comments about YOUR winter celebrations before the show at, or at 859-622-1657.

Or call in when you tune in for EST, Thursday morning at 11:00 on WEKU.


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Monday, January 30, 2017

Where Cometh Drump?

Did Drump’s family come from anywhere?  Did his hair come from anywhere.  For a while his family claimed they were Swedish.  They were not, but lying seems to come naturally to the Trump’s.   From all reports he is of German and Scottish ancestry and it is said that he “epitomizes the American immigrant experience”.  Pleeeze!  The Dubravinowitz’s , the Oppedisano’s, The O’hara’s, the Kimchi’s, the Federer’s, the Salazar’s the Nzewogi’s , and the Jackson’s (slaves took their owner’s name), epitomize the American immigrant.   Here’s an interesting fact: Trump’s grandfather came to the US in 1885, he returned to Kallstadt— his birthplace, in 1904, with his wife, claiming to be a loyal German who stood behind the Kaiser and the German Reich,”’  but German officials turned him away, because he was a draft dodger. (Drump comes by avoiding military service honestly,)  And when old Frederik was turned away, he said, “It was my intention to remain in America forever,” If only they had gone home we wouldn’t be in the predicament we appear to be in now.

Anyway, the bad news is, that against all hope for moderation, Drump is a lunatic. who clearly watched that Andy Griffith movie, where Andy is a musician who becomes so powerful he thinks he can be President, too many times. (it’s a favorite theme for Hollywood).  In the movies the nut cases does not succeed, but…..

Yesterday Drump enforced one of the thousands of most telling Executive orders he loves to sign. People coming from one of the predominantly Muslim countries  were not permitted entrance to our otherwise immigrant friendly country.  (How did they implement the order that fast.) Immigrants were in a pen at JFK.  If Drump had watched the Women’s March last week, he would have known there would be a public outcry. In fact, this protest may the first step in turning a March into a movement. The ACLU finally came to the rescue, but this horror show is unfortunately, just beginning.

Power is a complicated element. People who are insecure show their power by saying “no”.  Hey Muslim immigrant, can’t come into my country. We need to build a wall to keep “those” people  out. The Drump people are denying any prejudice but Muslim and Mexican human beings appear to be today’s targets, examples of the power “no” of the day. Oh and if you assist one of “these” people you can go to jail.

Whenever I witness an attack on human rights or dignity I think about this extraordinary poem by Pastor Martin Niemöller.  There are many versions.  Here is one :
First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left to speak out for me.

We must all be diligent in our speaking out.  There are a variety of versions and you can see more at:

We're just sayin.... Iris

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Now, About Those Weddings...

Paul Tully, my friend and political mentor, always thought about “the greater scheme of things.”  While he was a brilliant political strategist, he had some difficulty with interpersonal relationships.  It didn’t make him less lovable.  He died during the Clinton Campaign in 1992-- alone in a hotel room with an ashtray full of the cigarettes he smoked nonstop.

Whenever Drump opens his mouth or signs a document, I think about how Tully would react. For example, when Rockefeller died in the arms of someone who wasn’t his wife and the Presidential candidate, for whom we worked asked Tully how he should comment, Tully suggested he just say “good riddance. It doesn’t matter Mo, his people are never going to vote for us ”.  Drump is the anithesis of Tully.  Drump cares more time concentrating on more and bigger -- crowds, voters, walls —  than he does on the big picture.  Talk about anal, this is far worse than Jimmy Carter keeping track of who was using the White House tennis courts. At least that didn’t have any impact on international relationships, healthcare, or human rights.

Admittedly, I did say that I wasn’t worried about the results of the election, and that was true until someone handed the “President” a pen. Have Pen, Will Sign. It doesn’t matter what.  So, there will be a pipeline and a ban on immigrants and a wall that Mexico won’t pay for.  The President of Mexico cancelled his trip to the US because Drump is a jerk. Then, and despite what had been said in an hour long cross cultural conversation between Presidents, ours repeated that he would build a wall for which the Mexicans would pay,  and theirs said, “no chance, pal.”  So, in another shining example of Drump’s delivering alternative facts, he just doesn’t have the ability to hear or listen to what anyone else has to say. Especially, if it is not in concert with what he has to say.  Woe is us. It all gives me the “willies.”

On a happier note, David and Iris are celebrating their 33 alternative wedding anniversary. You see, March 26 is the day we met. We consider that our real anniversary. January 29 is merely the day we signed the katuba.  David asked for my hand and the rest of me on New Years.  We were in our 30’s.  When you decide to marry at that age, you need to do it with haste or you will manage to talk yourselves out of it. Jan 29, was the first timely and free weekend — Super Bowl, etc. We decided not to have a big religious wedding because Milty (my dad) was ill and couldn’t get out of bed.  David’s parents had to come from the west by wagon train.

Now, here’s the reason I am the person I am.  My mother and her sisters totally ignored what we said.  Her reasoning: you HAVE to have your whole family at a wedding. You HAVE to get married by a Rabbi, after all you did have a Get (a Jewish divorce from Husb. #1).  Like it or not, Daddy will get out of bed. Of course we can have it at our house, We’ll just put all the furniture on a truck in the driveway… No, it’s not going to snow. It will be very simple, your Aunts will make tuna salad and we will use plastic table cloths.  Aunt Sophie bought the tablecloths (plastic),  cut them to size (oh yes, they rented tables and chairs), hated the way they looked and returned them to K-Mart.  Are you starting to get the picture?  And as a final you HAVE to, they found the Rabbi with whom I grew up and flew him from Florida to New Jersey to conduct the ceremony.

Anyway, it was terrific. All our friends came from DC. The aunts and cousins came  from wherever.  David’s brother had a party, in NYC for our hundreds of friends who couldn’t fit in my parent’s house.  Our car got towed because Matthew left it in a No Parking zone. And we spent the night in an enormous suite unencumbered by the friends with whom we wanted to continue to celebrate.  This was not as bad as my first wedding where my cousin Stevie got drunk and tossed in a swimming pool, lost the keys to his new Corvette, where I had stupidly left my clothes for the honeymoon, and my Uncle Lou decided we would have more fun if he came on our honeymoon— which we were spending in his Miami apt. He was right.

Ok, I just leaped from a scary Drump in charge of the country we love to my hilarious weddings long ago. What am I trying to say?  Trump will never win the popular vote. He managed to totally ignore the millions of women and men who wanted him know that they have a voice.  His lies will continue as “alternative facts.”  Yet, there is still humor, love and kindness in the greater scheme of things. Iris and David are living happily ever after with lovely memories of a their wedding in Boonton NJ.  We will all survive the stupidity of our elected officials. We have in the past and we will again.  And always take Uncle Lou on your honeymoons.  We’re just sayin’… Iris

Monday, January 23, 2017

Yes, That March: #alternative facts

Kelly Ann outdid herself today defending Sean Spicer.  Who is she, and where did she come from? Back to KAC --- Liar in Chief. (Is she LOTUS …that’s bit too sweet).  She went on Chuck Todd and actually said that Spicer was simply using Alternative Facts.  Chuck too rightly said alternative facts are lies, falsehoods.  But KA is not one to back down.  She called Chuck overly dramatic and talked right through him  What have we, as a voting public wrought? The question becomes, can they keep it up?  Will the media continue to fold, otherwise they won’t have access to the Administration. In case they haven’t noticed, they don’t have access now and it won’t get any better.

Why would Sean et al, think its smart for the first press conference to be a na na ne na na.  My schlong is bigger than your schlong. Otherwise known as  a boys  toys pissing match.  We are apparently in for a great deal of measuring schlongs while we are pissing.  It’s all about optics.  What Trump has learned in is that you do not have to play the Washington game of telling your own truth.  You simply make up alternative facts, and repeat them frequently and no one will doubt you. It’s like the old saying, “if the lie is big enough, no one will question whether or not  it is the truth."

Let’s talk a little about the Women’s march.  People were yelling  things like “where is Democracy”, and the crowd would respond, “this is Democracy”  or “Women rise” or  “Trump has got to go?"  Is there someplace for him to go? Who would want him?   But that’s another blob at another time.   The idea that the marches were going to be a way to connect with people of like mind.  Not all of them, but most were out there because they want Trump to know that women have a voice and we will not go back.  But the President  is not in charge of making all the rules about which we care.  We have to let elected members of the school board know not to vote for restricting the material that our children are reading. We need to insist that our children should believe scientific truths as opposed to religious truths.   Remember, (here I go again),  that silly idea of separation of church and State.

Women need to protect themselves from elected officials who think they know what’s best for women’s bodies, Their professions and the actual reality of their lives.  And the March reminded us of how dangerous it is to keep quiet and just sit down and shut up!  We are not going back —- we have worked too hard to get where we are.
How do you build and sustain a movement like we saw yesterday. The women who we called OWWO.Old White Women for Obama in 2008 are pretty good organizers.  We don’t want to be in charge anymore but I think we are all willing to help Millenials find their voice and defend their rights. It only takes one person and lot’s of new technologies, to follow up on what happened yesterday.

The March in New York had no celebrities and, for the most part, were just walking together for about 20 NYC blocks, Until we got to the Trump building (where we are not able to walk past the building) so we dispersed.  Feeling good about being together. Trump will dismiss this March as an exaggeration just as has  dismissed women’s concerns.  It doesn’t matter.  We have discovered that as a very large group, we will be heard and we can make a difference. We're just sayin' ....Iris

Saturday, January 21, 2017

The March of Women

It was my intention to write about the wonderful party we attended last evening. Who doesn’t love Diana and Mallory Walker.  In addition to being gracious and elegant they are the World’s Cutest Couple.It was a birthday party for Diana.  All her and our friends, family and colleagues gathered to wish her continued joy.  That’s what I intended do before “The Women’s March.”

Every group - in New York -  that invited me to March with them (8 or 9 of them), had a different location at which to meet. This was totally confusing and it was unlikely that I would meet anyone of them. So up at 6:00am in DC,  and off to New York for a day that I expected to be a bit tamer.  There was a great deal of traffic, thankfully not going my way.  By the second rest stop in Maryland, I decided to stop. The best way to describe what I found was the time we went  to  Woodstock (yes, THAT Woodstock,) and there was so much traffic we couldn’t get off the Mass Pike.  We just sat and sat and finally decided it was no big deal, so we drove to Wisconsin.

Anyway, there were so many people at the Rest Stop, I couldn’t get in.I don’t mean to the bathroom, I couldn’t get in the door of the building. Truly, I have never seen anything like it. There was nothing to do but try another rest stop. One which was not both north/south — just north.  There was surprisingly little traffic going through the tunnel.  Maybe the March was just hype I thought… until I got to 2nd Ave. and 53rd street, where there police and fire engines - with lights flashing and  sirens roaring - there were hundreds of people milling about and trying to get to the stage.  Some of us never even knew there was a stage, because there was no way to get that close to where the march was to begin.  Yesterday, there was an e-mail that suggested anyone who was planning to attend should try to leave the staging area in alphabetical order.  Oh yeah, that was going to happen.  Half a million people and they were going to depart from 47th street walk to 42nd street turn right and walk up 42nd and turn right on to 5th Avenue - and do it in alphbetical order. Right.  The police were amazing.  When they realized there were as many people walking east as there were walking west, they divided the street, so you had to walk east before you walked west.  What was incredible was that marchers and police remained good humored and happy to be in the middle of women and men who were all feeling terrific. I was with my family by choice, which made it easier to be connected. It was grand.

The most amazing thing for me was that I did not see one person I knew.  After working diligently on Women’s issues for years  — all different areas — health, economics, policies, politics, professional  issues and on and on,  there was not one person in this huge crowd I knew. And yet, everyone in the crowd was someone I knew — young, old, black, brown, beige, yellow, they were all me.  And this kind and size of crowd, happened all over the country, in fact, all over the world.  So how do we take what happened today and make it a permanent and ongoing movement.  First a name that reflects all the themes and concerns, leadership and organizational plans.

Who knows whether it was the speech, the attitude, the extra long  Inauguration program, the campaigns or the Hillary win/loss.  And so Millenials, take it and run with it.  The girls who have been doing it for 50 years will gladly turn it over to you.  But let the people who worked with Betty Friedan and Bella Abzug tag along.  It feels right and in fact, it feels just plain splendid.  We’re just sayin’… Iris

Monday, January 16, 2017

The Last Man: On the Moon

He was a tough guy to track down. I was assigned by ZEIT magazine to photograph the "Last Man on the Moon"… Eugene Cernan was the last man up the ladder to the Lunar Excursion Module in 1972 - Apollo XVII.  It’s hard to imagine now that what would have gone on next  - Apollo XVIII - was cashiered because of money issues.    No man has been anywhere close to the moon since Gene Cernan’s boots left their final mark in that Lunar Dust.  But it was Nixon Term Two: the Vietnam war was still the Vietnam War, and people seemingly had had their fill of Moon Travel.    Cernan had one of those busy lives which ex-astronauts tend to lead, and four years ago when I was given the assignment, to accompany a story by my long time friend and colleague Peter Sartorious (who spent many months at the Cape in the 60s-70s covering the space program), who had warned me that the woman in charge of Gene Cernan’s schedule was a “steel magnolia”(pronounced in about 6 syllables with a heavy German accent…I mean STEEEEEL Magnolia!) The phone call would usually go something like this: Me:  “So, I just need about ten minutes, is there any time in the next couple of weeks that it would work?”  Steel Magnolia: “Mr. Cernan’s schedule is extremely busy…..”     You get the idea.  Well…it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and in the second month of this back and forth (there was no RUSH for the picture..obviously)  I mentioned to a friend of mine, a philanthropic pal from college who is super interested and involved in aviation and space travel, if he by any chance might know Gene Cernan. It turned out not only was he a good friend, but a week hence, there was a big salute to the Space Program and all the Astronauts (including Soviet pioneer Alexei Leonov) at the Museum of Aviation in Seattle.  Among all the astronauts, John Glenn, who had a previous engagement, was the only big name who couldn’t make it.     So there I turned up a week later, and was introduced to Gene Cernan over a cold beer, and locked in a five minute session the following morning, using the front parking garage wall of the 4 Seasons Hotel as my studio (hey, you take what you can get.)
Once he arrived, en route to a waiting Taxi (I love it when the photo session is during a taxi waiting period…) he was very cool.  You could sense that this was not only a guy who’d been to the moon, but he also had a couple of hundred carrier landings under his belt.  I shot like crazy for my four minutes, trying to catch that edge.  You don’t go to the moon without a little edge in your life.  You just don’t.   I was very sorry to hear he passed away today, at the very young age of 82.  There are only  a half dozen Apollo astronauts left and every day, a little sliver of their knowledge of space travel gets a bit tinier. We’re none the richer for that.   But those guys who rode the rockets: Bravo!!  And the way things are going, it does look as if Gene Cernan will be the Last Man on the Moon for a very long time.    Photograph ©2016 David Burnett/Contact Press Images

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Those Natty Ole Reporters

Photographers make photographs for Memory.  We want to remember a place, a person, a moment, whether it’s warm, wonderful and uplifting, or something horrible on the other end of the human scale.  For while we may not always change many opinions, there is certainly nothing to be gained by the willful disrgarding of history, of the past, or even what happened yesterday.  This year has been full of what seemed like “one of…” moments. I was watching TV live the day that Donald Trump said of John McCain that he preferred heroes who hadn’t been captured.  At that moment I was convinced that his campaign was over, finished, unable to recover from yet another crazy comment.  But, of course, as we all learned, his campaign might have been the called the campaign of “one of’ moments: they just kept coming for the whole 18 months. And each time you would recoil, or laugh in disbelief.

But what bothered me most was the way he took aim with a verbal  blunderbus, inherently inaccurate, at the Press.   I grew up in the 60s.  Most of what was consumed was in print in those days, with TV trying to get a grip on just how much time to devote to ‘news’ and how to present it.  I remember the oft repeated phrase that TV “came of age” on the weekend of November 22, 1963 with early reports of JFK’s assassination, and later that weekend, live and in living black & white from the Dallas perp walk, the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald.  For those of us who had the special privledge of seeing JFK being sworn in during Mr Laursen’s gym class just two and a half years prior on a 14” fuzzy B/W TV, it was part of our understanding of the power of TV and, if you insist, the “media.”   But for me, being a Press Photographer, whether for a weekly paper of 25,000 circulation, or TIME Magazine with 6 million copies (and 20 million readers, as they counted those people in dentists’ offices and barber shops over the next year) it was the Press.

The group who followed the President was called the White House Press Corps.  When you needed to boogie in a rice paddy with the 1st Air Cav, you talked with a Press Liaison officer.   It was only in the 80s that Media became the phrase of choice.   I suppose CNN had something to do with that, since 24 hour news was at the time,  a strange new thing. And I had the silly notion that CNN would be that great outlet for long form TV work, those great documentaries which had been a rare bird at the broadcast networks (think NBC “White Paper….”)  But of course I was wrong, and CNN became 95% about what is happening  “NOW,” often with incomplete background explanation.  But it was clear, the news was becoming about “breaking News…”    I, for one, had never thought the News was broken.  Amongst the people I worked with (mostly at Time Inc. publications) there were some who had an eye on playing their expense accounts, others who couldn’t resist the “me-me-I-I” sense of self importance, but in large part, it was people’d by a terrific set of reporters and writers.  There was very little agenda. They wanted to report what they saw, not mold their reports to any particular brand of political thought.  When I first started working in France in the mid 1970s, I was astonished to find that each  newspaper was more or less aligned with a poitical party:  l’Humanité  was the Communist paper, Liberation was the more liberal Socialist paper, France-Soir the rightist Gaullist paper.  I actually remember asking one of my friends, incredulous as I was, “Why can’t they just report the news?”  and being tsk-tsk’d as a youthful naif, to which I suppose I would have pled guilty.  In the last 20 years in this country we seem in many ways to have adopted that model.  Find a TV network which serves up what you want to hear, and keep hearing it.  TV is far worse (and with their advertising so much more based on demographics, they try playing to an assured audience) than print, I think.  It is still possible to find something which passes for “reporters” writing about the “news.”  No one is perfect, but where you have a corps of journalists who embody those basic J-school techniques, at least the news has a chance of being reported.

What scares me about President-Elect Trumps continuing vilification of the Press is that it can truly poison whatever little respect the public might have for the 4th Estate.  At Trump rallies all year, when he talks about the “lying, dishonest” Media in the back of the room, it has created one of the most frightening ongoing situations where rally attendees feel a need to add their two cents worth, and though as far as I know there have been no physical attacks yet, the atmosphere is far closer to the extreme political parties which I experienced in both Eastern and Western Europe in the 70s and 80s.  There is a sense that everyone with a Press badge is a target, someone who is obviously unfriendly to the candidate (to the -elect…) and yet there seems to be no comprehension that before there was a 2nd Amendment to the Constitution, there was a 1st Amendment.

One can only hope that as he ascends to the Oval office, the President-Elect will raise his own bar of behaviour, though of course we all wonder, amid the flurry of Tweets, whether that will happen.  It is something we are going to live through, all of us, even members of the White House Press Corps.

This picture was shot in 1976 at a Gerald Ford (you remember him, one of the last Presidents - along with Bush 41- who actually liked photographers…) rally.  Typically in the pre-computer, pre-cellphone, pre-Wifi world, when the President (or candidate) would arrive at a speaking venue, the Advance staff would have put together a “Press Filing Area” which had a number of AT&T land lines installed, each paid for dearly (a couple of hundred 1976 dollars per line, for one or perhaps two quick ‘update’ calls) by the press organizations. The Wires (AP, UPI)  The Times, the Post, the LA Times, the Chicago Tribune, etc., all had their lines installed, usually on  picnic tables (as if imply that “boy, this event is some picnic!”) and whatever news went down that day would be reported back to the ‘desk’ by those stalwart, ill-barbered, badly dressed, set of Burberry-wearing reporters. Flanked by their ever present Olivetti typewriters, it was as if you felt demonstrably less elegantly dressed simply by passing among them (rather like hanging out with Pig-Pen in Peanuts.)  But there was something sincere, honest, and and forthright about that crew of motley scribes.  They understood that while they may have all been trying to scoop their colleagues, the greater interest was keeping the public well informed, and that it was as much a duty as it was a job.   They weren’t simply “the dishonest media, the roomful of liars”  as they have been labelled.  Sadly, those who find his screeds uplifting have no idea what they about to lose if the Press continues to be beaten down in the public eye.  Ronald Reagan is oft quoted as saying  the 9 most terrifying words you’ll ever hear are “We’re from the government, and we’re here to help.”    Just try dealing with those 9 words when there is no one around to report about it. We're just sayin'... David

Sunday, January 01, 2017

A Friend.....

Yesterday I got a call from a dear long time friend.  He has, for the last 40 years been a buddy, a mentor.  Once as a political co-conspirator, we ran Lee Iacocca for President because he refused, and simply did not want to be the President.  We didn’t care: we  thought he was the best candidate.  The law is such that you can develop a Presidential campaign but only if the candidate doesn’t want to announce or run.  Yes it’s another one of those stupid laws. We raised $50 grand.  With that money we  printed hillarious literature and held any number of amazing campaign events.   We were visited by a few Iaccoca’s lacky’s, who came really close to threatening our lives, but after they met us they stopped worrying.  Another time we were working on an actual Presidential campaign with a real life candidate in Texas. At the end of the event, once the candidate was wheels up (that means he flew away), we drove to Mexico to party.  Our transportation was six campaign rental vehicles.  We drank too much an decided to take a limo back toTexas rather than risk  driving drunk.  No one ever saw those cars again.

He - my friend -  is a like a brother, a life line, and a well respected Democratic operative. And that’s only the beginning.  Everyone one should have a person like this in their life.  Unfortunately, not many of these people exist.  He is literally one of a kind.

Anyway, he called me to say Goodbye.  Over the years he has travelled down a long path of disability and illness. He lost a limb and an eye when he was wounded in Vietnam. Then years of rehab, hard work, and incredible genius and he became a successful Washington lobbyist with an amazing supportive gorgeous family.  And additionally, he is in the Enlisted Man’s Hall of Fame.  But his health problems never disappeared.  He had a liver transplant, cancer, and diabetes.   Still, he has worked tirelessly for Veterans rights and care — both in and out of government.  Somehow when he wasn’t working as a lobbyist, there was some stupid rule about his veterans benefits, they disappeared and his financial problems got worse.  But no matter what problems he faced he was an activist and worked tirelessly for Veterans.  All these elected officials who have given lip service to their concern for Veterans, never helped him.

A few months ago I got a call from another good friend who was about to kill himself.  His body had failed him and he just couldn’t deal with being disabled.  He did kill himself.  This was not that kind of call. He called to say he was tired and his body was no longer working — he had to have a leg amputated, so it was just a matter of time till he was over.  I told him I was not going to have a goodbye conversation on the phone, and I would see him in the next few weeks.

Everyone is going to die at some point. That is a reality of life.  But it takes a great deal of courage to face the end and pass the time knowing your life is at an end sooner than you imagined.  I felt honored to be one of the people he felt was important enough in his life to take a little time, express his thanks and love for our incredible friendship.  I will go and see him and thank him in return for all those fabulous adventures.  But he will remain a part of my life until I make the same phone call to the people I love. My hope is that the rest of the time he has is spent at peace with an abundance of joy.   We’re just sayin’…Iris


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Creepy clowns wanted for questioning in St. James Parish

PAULINA, LA (WGNO) -- Saint James Parish deputies are searching for whoever walked into a grocery store Monday night while wearing clown costumes.

It happened at the Matherne's supermarket in Paulina.  Deputies say they're taking the case very seriously.

clowns1The clown case is just the latest and follows others that happened around the country.  It appears to be the first in Louisiana.

Similar creepy -- or so-called killer clown -- cases have also been reported in North and South Carolina, Pennsylvania and other states.  It has reached the "phenomenon" stage.  In some of the cases, police say the clowns tried to lure kids to walk their direction.

In the St. James case, deputies say the pair walked into the store and was approached by the manager who asked them to identify themselves, but they refused and left.

Sure, Halloween is a little more than a month away.  But the idea of people walking around in clown costumes and refusing to reveal their identities has some people creeped out.

Deputies say they're checking footage from surveillance cameras and have some leads.  The clowns didn't take anything and didn't hurt anyone.


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Still life style by Holly Farrell

Thursday, 9 February 2012

Chair by Holly Farrell

Toronto-based artist Holly Farrell creates painted still lifes which elevate seemingly mundane subjects into meditations on the objects we use every day. We speak to Farrell about her career to date, inspirations, and choice of subject matter.

Bowl by Holly Farrell

"My first attempts at drawing involved setting a teacup, or a bowl, or a chair against a simple background - a tabletop or a bare wall," explains Farrell. "I practised drawing subjects which were mostly gleaned from my apartment. Subject matter was arbitrary to a point, though I found that having some sort of connection to the subject matter helped me connect to the work on a more personal level, ie. my grandmother's teacups, my mother's vintage bowl, or a chair salvaged from our old house."

Television by Holly Farrell

"Over time, after many successes and more than enough failures, I began to sense that the successes occurred more often when I had a direct connection to the subject, that I somehow was able to imbue the painting with something that reflected experience or memory or a place - of course this was totally subjective. Whatever it was, I decided then that I wanted to continue to paint from my past. I really connected with vintage piece: old wood chairs with peeling paint, chipped bowls, old wallpaper, vintage kitchenware, antique bottles, vintage soap packaging… the list goes on."

Pitcher by Holly Farrell

"My colour palette tends to reflect the time period of the subject I am painting. I sand down the layers as I paint in order to keep the colour layered, worn and muted. I add new detail at each stage, even painting over earlier important details - not unlike the successive wear on a piece of furniture that is painted over once in a while to freshen it up. I know those details are still there, under the paint. Painting wallpaper, though labour-intensive, allows me to be bold once in a while. I love the vintage 1930s and 40s wallpaper that goes with the bowls from the same time period."

Ice Cream Chair by Holly Farrell

"Twenty years after starting, I moved from painting the things in my apartment to discovering 'new' old stuff at antique shows and in vintage stores. Though I don't have direct experience with all of the things I paint, I am influenced by time periods, especially those my mother and grandmother lived through. Often my subjects find their way from the studio into my home - and are given a new life."

WGSN-homebuildlife subscribers can see all our still life styles here.


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Browse Definitions:

nanosecond (ns or nsec)

(This definition follows U.S. usage in which a billion is a thousand million and a trillion is a 1 followed by 12 zeros.)

A nanosecond (ns or nsec) is one billionth (10-9) of a second and is a common measurement of read or write access time to random access memory (RAM). Admiral Grace Hopper famously handed out foot-long lengths of wire to students to illustrate how far an electrical signal can travel in a nanosecond.

For comparison, a millisecond (ms or msec) is one thousandth of a second and is commonly used in measuring the time to read to or write from a hard disk or a CD-ROM player or to measure packet travel time on the Internet.

A microsecond (us or Greek letter mu plus s) is one millionth (10-6) of a second.

A picosecond is one trillionth (10-12) of a second, or one millionth of a microsecond.

A femtosecond is one millionth of a nanosecond or 10-15 of a second and is a measurement sometimes used in laser technology.

An attosecond is one quintillionth (10-18) of a second and is a term used in photon research.

See also: Grace Hopper nanosecond.

This was last updated in July 2006

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Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Whatsapp paint

This application allows you to paint and share WhatsApp,
Fun way to write and paint and share to whatsapp.
WhatsApp paint steps

WhatsApp is open, select a friend
then connect -> Gallery
Click to Paint it WhatsApp,
and then click the save button.
it will be share with your friend.
Paint with Whatsapp, Paint for Whatsapp, Paint and share.
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Wanna know a little more about SuperMom? Click here!
You are very smart if you found this hidden sentence!

Sing, Read and Write from Brite Music

This delightful music will inspire your child to learn to read. Each CD in this five-volume set will prepare your child to read and write by teaching her about each individual letter. Learning letters and sounds through music is a proven way to help children understand these new and exciting concepts. Set includes 5 CDs, 5 activity books, 2 wipe-away, learn-to-write booklets, "Getting Ready to Write" and "I Love Writing Letters," all contained in a durable, plastic holder.

(IMPORTANT UPDATE:  Brite Music has decide to go Digital Only on all products. The physical products are still available while products last.)

My son is a huge music fan. I've come to find out that he learns well through music, so I was excited that Julie allowed me to review the Sing, Read and Write program.
We love it! The songs are catchy and easy to learn. My son, age 5, (and even my daughters) all love to listen to them, especially when they are doing writing time in school.

Music is a way that lots of people learn. If you notice that even after hearing a song (any song) a couple of times you can easily memorize it. That is why I give Sing, read and Write TWO THUMBS UP!

The program includes wipe-off books as well as paper writing books. Each book is meant to be used in conjunction with the CD, as the songs and talking on the CD take the child through each coloring page. Each page has the words to the corresponding CD. The awesome thing with the books is that you are given permission to make copies for your class use. I love that part! I can reuse this program with my twins in a year or so!

I have also made a copy of the CDs for my kids to use in the CD player in their play room. This has helped alot for my son to listen to them often and at his own leisure. He is learning without realizing it.

My son used this program as Language Arts in homeschool preschool and did excellent, we are ready to move on to Kindergarten this coming Fall. Wahoo!

If you have children who learn verbally, then you need this program to teach them there letters,the sounds and how to write each. My son is HUGE on music, songs and silly rhymes. This is how he learns best so this is how I tech him.

Wanna place an order?
Julie Jensen is my consultant and she is awesome. When ordering on the website, enter her Consultant Code 2031205. By using her consultant you will receive a 10% discount!!

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One lucky reader will receive a $15 gift certificate toward the purchase of any product on the Brite Music website.

You must be a follower of What You reading Now? blog to be eligible. (So, become a follower!!)

  • Visit Brite Music, take a look around and then come back here and leave a comment telling me what product you'd like to own.

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A random drawing will take place on Friday July 9, 2010.

 The Legal Stuff: This book was provided by Independent Brite Consultant, Julie Jensen.

Chanelle said...

I tried using the code you put on here to get 10% off my order and it wouldn't work. I am really wanting the complete success system (not the digital) and was hoping to get a discount. Wanna order asap before supplies are gone.

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I send you an email Chanelle!

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Friday, October 17, 2014

Homemade Ketchup

First let me say that I love Heinz ketchup. I really don't care for other brands a whole lot. They are too sweet, spicy, vinegary, etc. I can tell the difference. I think I might be one of those super tasters. Seriously, my sense of taste is on overload. So why would I make my own? For shits and giggles really. I wanted to see how hard it was and what it tasted like. The recipe I used had a lot of good reviews and took all day in the crock pot. Before my boyfriend tasted it, he told me that he probably wouldn't like it. He's a Heinz guy too.

I followed the directions almost exact with a few spice exceptions. I didn't have dried mustard or celery salt on hand, so I just didn't add those. Several reviews said that it was too sweet, but I used the amount it called for. After I made it and it cooled, I tasted it by itself and it did taste a little sweet, but when I tasted it with some fries, it was fine. Rather tasty in fact. Better than I thought it would. I honestly didn't have high expectations, so I was surprised.

The whole house smelled like ketchup, so I was craving french fries all day. It takes 12 hours and needed to cool, so I had to wait until the next day.

I've made fries several times since I first made the ketchup and today the consensus was that it was really good and definitely could take on the big boys in a taste test.

This recipe is easy to make, but does take 12 hours in the crock pot and needs a stir once in a while, so it's best to be home or don't go out for too long if you plan to make it. Do plan on having french fries the following day!

Update: We ran out and had to buy some. My boyfriend said that he actually preferred mine. Woo hoo! Go me. Or the person who actually developed this recipe, which I found on All Recipes.

Yield: Three cups
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 12 hours
Total Time: 12 hours 10 minutes

2 (28 ounce) cans peeled ground tomatoes

1/2 cup water, divided
2/3 cup white sugar
3/4 cup distilled white vinegar
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 3/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon celery salt
1/8 teaspoon mustard powder
1/4 teaspoon finely ground black pepper
1 whole clove
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)

Pour ground tomatoes into slow cooker. Swirl 1/4 cup water in each emptied can and pout into slow cooker. Add sugar, vinegar, and spices; whisk to combine.

Cook on high, uncovered, until mixture is reduced by half and very thick, about 10 -12 hours. Stir every hour or so.

Smooth the texture of the ketchup using an emersion blender, about 20 seconds.

Ladle the ketchup into a fine strainer and press mixture with the back of the ladle to strain out any skins and seeds.

Transfer the strained ketchup to a bowl. Cool completely before tasting to adjust salt, black pepper, or cayenne pepper.

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Sunday, March 3, 2013

Pajarete and the wine treatment

Foto de  Subida al cerro Pajarete para visitar las ruinas del castillo de Matrera.
The ruins of Torre Pajarete
Castillo de Matrera, Villamartin, Andalucia, Spain
Originally pajarete (paxarete, paxaret, paxarette, pacharetti) meant the Paxarete vineyards of Cartusian Convent of San Hieronomo near Jerez de la Frontera, probably east towards Villamartin and Prado del Rey. The vineyards were planted with sweet grape varieties Millar and Pedro Ximénez grapes along with some Moscatel and Palomino. After phylloxera there is no evidence of the dark and sweet Millar variety. Sherry wines called abocado, vino seco and paxarete were made in the monastery. The first grapes to ripen were picked first and set on esparto grass mats to dry. Palomino (Listán) was picked last and pressed usually on the same or the following day. The harvest lasted for 1-3 weeks allowing the Millar, PX and Moscatel grapes to dry longer, usually about 10 days. As a result the early ripening grapes became raisined and produced natural sweet wine of 8-15% abv and about 300-400 g/l of residual sugar, which was often fortified with brandy de Jerez. Abocado was a dry oloroso style oxidized sherry (sometimes sweetened with Palomino Dulce) and Vino Seco (or Fino Seco) a dry fino/amontillado wine, both of which could be still referred as (dry) Paxarete wines in the 19th century. Similar sweet wines were made in Rota from dried Tinta grapes producing bitter-sweet dark Tintilla de Rota. Color de Macetilla or Mistela was an oloroso, which had been fortified before it fermented completely, leaving it sweet, in the style of port wines. Another similar product was mosto apagado, which was done by adding sweet mosto into the wine producing partially fermented sweet wine and usually used only in blending of sweeter sherry styles. Dulce was made by fermenting must from (mostly palomino) grapes in a cask that contained brandy; the higher alcohol stopped the fermentation before all the sugar was used, producing sweet high-alcohol white wine.
Pedro Ximénez grapes dried on grass mats

The sweet paxarete was valued highly in Spain, but in the early 19th century Britain sweet sherries were considered more of a ladies drink, men preferring drier fortified wines, beer and spirits. During the 1830s the sherry trade boomed the first time and in 1838 there were 43 registered shippers of sherry. Paxarete was one of the most expensive types, costing up to 7 times more than the cheapest real Jerez sherry (probably raya) and usually a bit more than a good aged amontillado or fino. Sherry trade reached its peak of the 19th century in the 1870s as the French strugled with vine diseases. At the same time the branding and marketing of wines by the shippers really began, which made it easier to blend different wines to be sold as sherry, including those from different regions. Blending wines with mosto (grape juice), brandy, sugar and colourings was very common and not just in the sherry business. As dried grapes were easier to transport, some paxarete was often made from grapes imported from other areas. Málaga and Montilla became major producers of pajarete sherry in the late 19th century.

Malaga Pajarete-malagaviinietikettejä; Turun Kivipaino
Malaga Pajarete from 1968,
Imported by the Finnish church
for sacramental wine
During the latter part of 19th century the English taste shifted towards lighter drier wines, partly because of the taxation and the flood of French wine into the market after 1860 as the customs embargo was dropped. Paxarete was still imported regularly and it was one of the most esteemed "malmsey" wines in Victorian Britain. Sherry barrels were used for whisky maturation probably from the early 19th century and as the blending and branding became common towards the end of the century. Sherry casks, and most likely also sherry as an additive, were used to give body to especially the lighter and younger grain spirits. Oxidized and sweet sherries such as pajaretes, olorosos, rayas and cream sherries were preferred because they gave the darkest colour and an agreeable flavour.

Pajarete was not a legally defined until 1999, so some producers from for example Málaga and California were selling pajarete/paxarete wines of their own, sometimes consisting of Pedro Ximénez wine, but quite commonly of caramel coloured, sweetened, oxidized and fortified wines. A notable imitation sherry was the very affordable Hamburg sherry, which consisted of potato spirit, caramel and spices. It was was banned in 1870 due to "health reasons". Most big sherry shippers had their own paxarete, PX or dulce brands; The Brown Bang Sherry (Sandeman), Gran Orden PX (Garvey's), Pio IX (Pedro Domecq), Delage Dulce, Osborne Paxarete and MacKenzie's Pajarete Solera. Some producers turned their raya wines (lower quality olorosos) into paxarete by maturing them outside in the sunshine, producing more cooked and concentrated wine. Vino de color, arrope or sanchoco were commonly used in blending of paxarete and cream sherries. Vino de color is any wine cooked and sometimes additionally sweetened with mosto. Sancocho is very sweet and concentrated wine boiled to one third of the original volume and arrope is thick syrup boiled to one fifth of the original volume. The tradition of boiling wines into syrups probably comes from the Moors, as they did not drink wine for religious reasons.
Arrope syrup
In the USA the boiled sweet fortified wine was classified as "Spanish-type blending sherry" by law in 1949 and manufactured mostly in California spesifically and exclusively for the whisky industry. The blending sherry was often sweetened with sugar or caramel, cooked to a reduction and infused with oak chips. It was not taxed nor was it possible to sell it as wine for consumers. Málaga and Montilla became the biggest producers of PX Pajarete wines in the 20th century Europe and Chile has its own DO Valle de Huasco producing pajarete wine. Cyprus made numerous bulk imitation sherries; the popular Cyprus Cream sherry was even sweeter than the natural paxaretes, probably due to added sugar. Imitation sherries were often colored with vino de color or caramel and fortified with industrial alcohol. The imitation sherries really stormed into the British market in the 1950s mainly in the lower price segment by agressive pricing.
Pajarete from Tarragona,
made of Moscatel and Garnacha
In 1999 Pajarete became a protected wine variety of DO Málaga and defined as "wine liquor, or natural sweet wine with a total sugar content of 45-140g/l produced without the addition of syrup [arrope], being aged and amber to dark amber in colour.". The Málaga pajarete is usually be made of Moscatel, but some Pedro Ximénez is also used. The pajarete style wines from Jerez are nowadays called PX, Pedro Ximénez, Moscatel or Dulce sherries and most of them are made according to the original soleo method.

Pajarete probably evolved from high quality sweet natural dessert wine to the blended, sweet(ened) and fortified bulk wine in the early 20th century. An affordable sweet brown sherry wine was just what the Scotch distillers were looking for, as it made possible the fast rejuvenation of whisky casks and enabled faster maturation.

WP Lowrie?
William Phaup Lowrie (1831-1916) pioneered the whisky cask management in the late 19h century. Lowrie was a merchant for both Port Ellen whiskies and González Gordon sherries, a cooper and later a co-founder of Glentauchers distillery. He was supposedly the first blender to use (sherry) wine finishes for whisky and the first cooper to import American pre-cut staves for UK cooperages. The brewers had used steam washers for new casks for decades. The process was automated already in the 1870s and it was common to use salt, hydrochloride acid, bisulphate or bicarbonate soda as additives when rinsing beer casks prior to refills. WP Lowrie introduced the steam pressure treatment to whisky industry primarily to test the integrity of casks in 1888, but soon after the steam was used also to remove harsh tannins from the fresh wood and to impregnate the wood with wine.

The wine-treatment of new casks became common in early 20th century and in 1929 it was reported that all of the new casks to be used for Johnnie Walker whiskies were seasoned with approximately 35 litres of sweet dark sherry per hogshead for 6 weeks. The casks were stored in an individual warehouse and turned regularly for even distribution of sherry into the wood. After the seasoning the casks were lightly pressurised ("with 0,2kg pressure", probably per one square inch?) and after that the remaining sherry was poured out. About 20% of the casks were said to be new, all of which apparently were UK-coopered wine-treated hogsheads made from import oak staves from the US or the Baltic. Older UK-coopered puncheons and Spanish-coopered butts were still being used as refill casks at the time.

The use of wine-treatment was introduced to save coopering costs and to ensure the availability of fresh casks as the sherry shippers had already started their own bottling plants in Spain in the early 20th century and the availability of home-emptied sherry casks was insufficient for whisky industry. Pedro Domecq started their bottling operations in Jerez in 1920 and González Byass were to follow gradually during the interwar period. Despite that, only 20 percent of sherry imports were in bottles during 1926-1940. Sandeman bottled some of their sherries and ports in location as early as 1880, but the bottling of sherry in UK by Sandeman ceased in 1969. Harvey's were the last big shipper to bottle all their sherries in England, as they bought a winery in Jerez from MacKenzie in 1970 and since then have been bottling all their sherries in Spain. In 1983 most (54.4%) of the sherries exported were bottled in Spain. The markets of EEC were easier to reach from Spain than from UK, especially after the preferential trade agreement with Spain and the EEC in 1970 and Spain's accession into EEC in 1986. Bottling of sherry is nowadays done almost exclusively (96.5% in 2000) in Spain and full sherry casks are no longer imported.

Harvey's bottling hall in the 1960s
As imported sherry casks became scarce due to the second World War in the 1940s and especially due to the increased bottling of sherry in Spain during the 1960s and early 1970s, the distillers rejuvenated the exhausted casks with pajarete. According to Philp in 1989 "a typical cooperage procedure was to add 500ml Paxarete per hogshead or 1 litre per butt, pressurise at 48 kPa / 7 psig for 10 minutes and then disgorge any absorbed paxarete.". Until 1972 the DCL also coopered their own sherry casks, which were made of American oak to a size of a puncheon (~558 l), wine-treated with paxarete and then used primarily for grain whiskies before used for malt whiskies. The American ex-bourbon barrels often received the same treatment; first fill with grain whisky, then after wine-treatment refilled with malt whisky.

Whether the Scotch distillers used real natural pajarete wine or sweetened imitations or even arrope or sancocho for seasoning is not clear, most likely they were not too fussy about the right provenance or traditional production methods concerning their "blending sherry". The typical seasoning paxarete of the 1980s was rich in tannins, esters and especially acids. A chemical analysis of different sherries by Philp in 1989 indicates that paxarette used at that point was very likely boiled and/or sweetened with arrope or sancocho as it contained 3,2 times more sugars (375 g/l), 5,7 times more tannins (4,7 g/l), 3,6 times more esters (278 g/l) and 6,9 times more acids (22 g/l) than an ordinary sweetened oloroso. In comparison the current version of Harvey's Bristol Cream has only 3,1 g/l acids and 130 g/l sugars and the naturally very sweet Don Guido 20yo PX sherry from Williams & Humbert has only 4,5 g/l acids despite of whopping 400 g/l sugars.

Photo: Albert Watson
As the Spanish sherry producers shifted from the traditional cask fermentations to use of modern steel tanks, the properties of casks changed. Fermentation was thought to remove many unwanted flavours from the fresh wood, especially bitter and sulphury off-notes. A special Gomez treatment was invented in the 1960s to simulate the effects of fermentation in the cask. It consisted of steaming the cask with ammonium hydroxide steam at 55 kPa (8 psig) for 60 minutes, which stripped much of the tannins and colour from the inner surface of the cask. This produced very neutral casks suitable for especially fino sherry maturation, but when subsequently used in Scotland they tended to produce light-coloured and slow maturing whiskies. The Gomez treatment was used from about 1965, but during the 1970s most of the Scotch distillers stopped buying these casks and began ordering their own spesified casks for whisky maturation. The casks were used for fermentations and maturation of sherries in Spain before they were shipped usually as empty standing casks to Scotland. According to the distiller's order, both American (Quercus alba) and Spanish (Q.robur) oak were used, as well as fino and oloroso sherries.

According to a rumour the Scotch Whisky Association banned the use of paxarete in the late 1980s or early 1990s, but there is no official evidence of that. The Scotch Whisky Order from 1990 bans the use of additives other than water and caramel E150a, so the blending of whisky with sherry wine including pajarete was indeed banned at that point. PX sherry casks are still quite often used especially for single malt production, but the use of sherry concentrates and high pressures in rejuvenation and seasoning has apparently ceased or at least diminished greatly. Philip Hills wrote in 2000: "wine-treatment of worn-out casks has been widely used to simulate the effects of new sherry wood... a sweet dark sherry such as pedro ximenes [sic] is introduced and the cask is pressurised in order to force the potion into the wood. For many years, a potion called paxarette was used, which combined sweet dark sherry with other flavourings and colourants... the results are not impressive: whisky from a treated cask of this sort smells slightly sulphurous and sweet, but that is all. Of the lovely aromatic flavours of a true sherry-cask maturation, there is no trace.". It is likely that the wine-treatment was dropped because of the poor results rather than an SWA order. Below is a comparison of different cask types and maturation temperatures.

Philp 1989
Oloroso and raya sherries are probably the most common seasoning sherries used nowadays, seasoning times varying from months to couple of years. Cask fermentations are rarely done in the Scotch-bound casks. The sherry bodega casks used for maturation of commercial sherries in solera systems are discarded usually after 80-100 years and sometimes  used for Scotch maturation after recoopering.

Conner JM et al. Changes in wood extractives from oak cask staves through maturation of scotch malt whisky. J Sci Food Agric 1993;62;169-174
Crawfowd, A. Bristol wine trade. Historical association 1984
Glasgow Herald 27.5.1969
González Gordon M, Sherry. Cassell Ltd 1972
Halley, N. Sandeman: two hundred years of port and sherry. Granta 1990
Harrison, G. Bristol Cream. Batsford 1955
Hills, P. Appreciating whisky. Collins 2000
Hotelli- ja Ravintolamuseon arkisto, Helsinki.
Jeffs, Sherry. 1970
Lea GH, Piggott JR. Fermented beverage production 2nd ed. Kluwer Acad 2003
Morewood, S. A philosophical and statistical history of inventions and customs of ancient and modern nations in the manufacture and use of inebriating liquors
Mosedale, JR. Effects of oak wood on the maturation of alcoholic beverages with particular reference to whisky. Forestry 1995; 68; 3; 203-230
Mosedale JR & Puech JL. Wood maturation of distilled beverages. Trends Food Sci Tech 1998;9;95-101
Piggott JR et al. Effects on scotch whisky composition and flavour of maturation in oak casks with varying histories. Int J Food Sci Tech 1993;28;303-318
Piggott, JR et al(ed). The Science and technology of whiskies. Longman 1989
Read J. Sherry and the sherry bodegas. Sotheby's 1988
Reid KJG et al. Understanding and enhancing cask performance. The Scotch Whisky Research Institute 2008.
Sykes WJ, Ling AR. The principles and practice of brewing. Griffin 1907
Wright HE. A handy book for brewers being a practical guide to the art of brewing and malting, embracing the conclusions of modern research which bear upon the practice of brewing. Lockwood & Son 1897

  1. could you give me the full reference for Philp 1989.

    1. The Science and Technology of Whiskies, edited by Piggott, Sharp & Duncan. 1989, Longman. Philp, JM, Chapter 9: Cask quality and warehouse conditions, p264-294. ISBN 0582044286

  2. This was a fantastic article indeed, I learned many things from it!. Thank you!!

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