an interesting little...

... volunteer job I offered myself for on Saturday, which you will find both unusual and possibly discomfiting: recycling used shoes.  If you fall of the far end of the 'excessively fastidious' scale, you should stop reading right now, as the following will make you very uncomfortable.  Since I was a volunteer, you might assume I knew exactly what I was getting into.  But you know what 'assuming' does, right?

Actually, I did not fully grasp the magnitude of the undertaking. I was unprepared for the handling of other people's rejects.  It was off-putting, but in retrospect, should not have been surprising. As well as drastically underestimating the quantity of donations people would drive by an drop off. That was amazed.

In the same way my naive little self was so easily duped by sleight of hand tricksters when young.  Along with those high school kids I admired from afar as a small elementary aged child, when they would volunteer to participate in performances by traveling shows. When some traveling charlatan would come to town to present his skills as a magician or hypnotist in the public schools, and students between ages six and eighteen would be herded into the small-town auditorium. All these years later, my innocence in the ways of those mystery men is still intact. How did they get those big strapping high school football players to 'baa' and 'oink'?

Nothing mysterious or surreptitious occurred: mostly me not thinking it through sufficiently to consider how disgustingly nasty those used shoes and hiking boots would be. They were pretty rank. But there were also some pairs that still had tags on them, never worn. Every type shoe you could name or imagine. Flip-flops and slippers. Pumps or kitten heels. Athletic shoes and work boots. Steel-toed construction boots and warm fuzzy bedroom shoes. Sandals and pointy-toed high heels. Tiny little 'Nikes' small enough to have been on wee little feet that never hit the ground. Huge man-sized hiking boots that looked like they would fit Sasquatch. We took 'em all.

They were matched up in pairs, bundled together and bagged up.  Every bag was supposed to hold twenty five pairs. By the time I left the designated location: it looked like we might have filled two dozen bags. That is a LOT of pairs of shoes.

My understanding of the purpose of the recycling event was two-fold: 1.) keep the shoes out of the land fill. I'm guessing the rubber soles of athletic shoes would last as long as old tires, linger for a thousand years.  Plus (the best part): 2.)  they will be packed into cargo containers and shipped to places where people can use them. Here, I am assuming to third world nations where people do not have, or cannot afford footwear.  I readily admit some of those hundreds of shoes that were donated on Saturday were  unsuitable, and seriously: ridiculous as far as 'practical'. So definitely not 100% usable.  But... still... shoes vs no shoes? Footcovers win every time.

about eye glasses...

... and having to do with The Man Who Lives Here.  I often wonder how he can get to where he is going, with vision so clouded by dirty lenses, covered with dust, grime, unmentionables. He will occasionally hand his spectacles to me for cleaning with my shirt tail. When he suddenly, apparently  discovers how limited his vision is from all the stuff preventing clarity.  I will pass them back, after removing smudges, bits of shed skin, possible sneeze prints (sorry about mentioning the unmentionables- not only is it nasty, but it is also true!), for him to comment: "Wow!" and "Oh, my goodness!"

The last time be passed me grubby, vision-limiting eye glasses needing cleaning, I noticed one of those little oval pads that support the frames on the bridge of his nose was missing.  Upon returning the now sparkling clean lenses to the owner,  I pointed out the missing part, and told him he needed to get it repaired. It would be an easy, quick fix at the optical shop, probably taking three minutes of time for some one with the parts and tools to install that small replacement.  It didn't happen. After a week, I asked if he had gotten that little chore squared away.

He reported he had another pair of eyeglasses, with frames very similar to the ones he had been wearing. What he called the 'back-up specs.', that he located and started wearing.  But when he took those 'back-ups' off at the end of the day, he discovered those glasses were missing a little nose pad also. I predict he used his all purpose bad word!

So when I saw him next, he was wearing the back-ups for the back-ups: looking like something from the 1980's.  I offered to go get #1 and #2 repaired.... which is a story for another day. Sufficient to report it was a thoroughly frustrating, irritating, convoluted, unsatisfactory experience. Ultimately, I found some innocent by-stander who was persuaded to take the one little nose pad from #2 and apply it to #1 using the world's smallest screwdriver, scavenging parts to make one comfortably serviceable pair of specs. Until I can get to the VA clinic (for the third time) and get him back in working order.  

a little jobette....

... when I went to do a day of substitute teaching on Thursday. Thinking I should try to at least get ten days of sub. work in before the end of the semester in mid-December, I found a position that I hoped would work.  I called the school to ask if it would be acceptable for a one-handed person to try to manage for a half day. And was given a counter proposal: take a Kindergarten class instead, though it would be a full day. I had the day open, and wanted to give it a try, willing to attempt when I heard there would be a para-pro in the class as well.

I did, we did, it all worked out. Everyone survived. So I signed up for another one today.

Being so handicapped, and limited with what I am physically able to do: writing is a real struggle - possible - but really difficult. With the left hand, it looks like the work of  five year old.  Since the right hand continues to be confined in a cast from palm nearly to elbow, anything I can produce (with either hand) looks cramped and cribbed. Hopefully, only two more weeks of this, then on to rehab.

went to work...

... today, though it only might, maybe, possibly, marginally qualifies as 'work'. The boss decided he could put me on the schedule one day a week to come in and smile for several hours. I am to stand by the platter of tasty bites and say: "would you like to try a sample of our fresh, tasty ________?" Last week it was pineapple chunks. Today it was new crop, fresh south Georgia pecans.

I was putting them in little sample cups, using my left hand and little clear plastic tongs. Thinking if I should ever get to the point where I am really feeling skilled and adept with the little plastic pinchers, I will be ready to eat with chopsticks. In the unlikely event I get sufficiently coordinated to master the wee tongs, moving food from the bowl to my mouth with chopsticks will be a breeze!

It was not a profitable day. I probably gave away two pounds of nuts, and might have sold six of the one pound bags for all my smiling effort. Practicing my smoothest sales pitch, with remarkably poor results. The pineapple chunks were much more successful last week: understandably since that was a BOGO (buy-one-get-one).  While the one pound bags of pecans were so high (even on sale with $1 off), no one was willing to purchase as an impulse item. If it was not on the list, it was not going in the cart.

as a result of ...

... going to that very entertaining musical last Sunday afternoon, I had a hankerin' for more.  I was remembering having seen the movie that came out some years ago about Johnny Cash and June Carter, titled "Ring of Fire." (?) I sent an e-mail to my local library requesting to borrow the DVD.  I have been to my branch twice, hoping to find it had been transferred, but it hasn't come yet.

There is also a bio. about the wild piano playin' man, Jerry Lee Lewis, with Dennis Quaid cast in the leading role. I saw that one years ago, but would love to see it again too. Lewis was definitely a guy willing to live life in the edge. I don't know much about Carl Perkins, who was the fourth guy of that historic "Million Dollar Quartet", other than he was a great guitar player. Here I go, off to google again...

And recently discovered that Kurt Russell did a movie about Elvis. I don't know if the plot is really a biography, or just loosely based on the life of the 'King of Rock 'n' Roll', but with Russell as the lead character, it would have to be good entertainment.  My library procurement source reported that the Elvis movie is on order, but  the other one cannot be located. I know it exists, as I have a very clear memory of being thoroughly astounded at what an outrageous person Jerry Lewis was portrayed to be.  A man who clearly had no hesitation about shocking people with words or actions. And, though slowing down due to age, still scandalously shameless with egregious behavior and uncensored language.

but the real reason...

... the 'thing' that captured my attention when I saw the flyer from Emory University, was the opportunity to go and see a temporary exhibit of textile arts called 'molas'. What? Molas. No, not some ingredient in Latino recipes. No food or drink allowed in the museum.

Molas are decorative fabric panels made by indigenous people of Panama, specifically those living on islands along the eastern coast, in the San Blas island chain. You probably did not even know Panama had islands, right?I am thinking that the natives did not start making the brightly colored designs until after the Conquistadors invaded their lands.  You remember: bringing Christianity, deadly diseases, wiping out centuries-old cultures and languages. While searching for a new trade route to the far east.

Those 'civilized' Europeans were horrified at the lack of propriety and modesty they discovered among the natives living in the heat and humidity of equatorial lands. In time, the cloth began to be used to make beautiful intricate designs on their clothing, with the aid of technology: scissors! The process is difficult to describe, but fascinating to see. I first heard of these painstakingly produced works of fiber arts when studying art history years ago. Instantly fascinated by the beautiful designs, as well as the time-consuming effort required to imagine, plan and create the finished piece-work.

Perhaps best explained as a combination of applique and quilting. Even though difficult to envision the finished product can be breath-taking when you consider the many hours invested in layout, assembly and completion.  Starting with two contrasting colors of fabric, with many smaller bits of other colors of material sandwiched in between the top and bottom, small slits are cut though the top layer to let the other smaller pieces/colors appear, with the cut/raw edges carefully folded under and hand sewn to create a finished piece.  Designs can be birds, sea life, mammals, native plants, or even abstract, all inspired by and adapted from their surroundings.

I don't think these finely crafted pieces could be done without that nifty addition of sharply honed western technology: scissors used to make those slits and snip tiny holes in the material.  Though it does not outweigh the loss of lives and vanished, irreplaceable cultural history that disappeared under the ravages of European domination, these amazingly intricate works would not otherwise exist. A wee small bright spot that is a result of the greed of the Spanish Queen who financed that first voyage in 1492, when Columbus sailed the ocean blue...

about the field trip...

... that started with the mailed out flyer about special events on the Emory University campus during fall semester. The exhibit I wanted see (long before I fell and broke my arm, resulting in semi-disability) was textiles from Central America. Specifically: amazingly detailed work done by Native Americans. Well worth the trip. On display through the middle of December. I knew waiting another month was not wise, as I have vast experience in The Art of Procrastination.

I actually got much more than I bargained for, as the exhibit included carefully preserved hand woven fabrics from centuries past. There are places in the high dry desert of south America, Peru if I am remembering right, where mummified internments have been found from thousands of years ago. I'm sure there is research out there, readily available at your fingertips about fairly recent discoveries of native burial sites. It seems like I recall having read articles with detailed descriptions, and photos of indigenous peoples, complete with funerary offerings to provide archaeologists with a wealth of information. Perfectly preserved in an arid climate, dressed in their traditional garb for eternity, then found hundreds of years later, leaving students of those ancient cultures with more questions than answers.

The fabrics they were wearing, or used to make bags, baskets or other storage vessels were woven from natural fibers, gathered by locals, or received from afar as trade goods. Baskets and other containers, carefully woven with remarkably intricate designs, and clothing incorporating feathers from native birds. Amazingly complicated patterns depicting animals, and scenes from their natural environment. Carefully planned color schemes using materials they had at hand, or fibers available through established trade routes from different peoples/climates hundreds of miles away.

There were embroidery pieces so meticulously done as to be works of art all these hundreds of years later. Done by very experienced hands exhibiting great skill, using what we would consider to be rudimentary materials and primitive tools. Showing painstaking devotion to their work, and great patience in every minute stitch. Tiny decorative chain-stitching with a single thin thread meticulously done to perfection that far exceeds my handiwork.