Uh… I might not be very good at blacksmithing, it turns out…

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Yeah, there I am, driving home from my blacksmithing class just a few hours ago, face covered with soot, coal dust, chunks of burnt and unburnt coal, and red from being so hot. I took my first class after my three ‘blacksmithing 101’ classes where they just teach you to be safe in a barn full really dangerous stuff.

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My forge was all ready to go, and I was so excited. This class is supposed to be much more ‘artsy’ than the other classes. I am all-art-side-of-the-brain as you know, so I figured now, I could use my artistic side to get around the fact that I have no real life skills. I do every kind of art. I should be good at this, right?

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We were supposed to turn that round bar of steel into a leaf-shaped key ring ornament… or a necklace, depending on which way we bent the other end…

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Oh… wait… there are more instructions on the back of the paper… The thing is… and this is a thing that I have already been learning… but trying to make metal dance to your tune is like trying to work with really hard Playdoh… with a four pound hammer… when it is red hot and you can’t touch it…

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I grabbed two bars of steel. I figured that way, if I messed one up, I would still have one that would pass me on to the next project with a checkmark by this one.

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It started off pretty well. I got the point and the narrow neck with no problem…

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Then, I totally messed up the leaf vein pattern… but I figured it could still turn out okay…

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I got them hammered off on a cutting edge… and at that point, I knew I was in trouble, but I figured I could probably save them and still pass the class… if they graded on a curve…

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But I knew it was going to be a close one… More on this in the next post.

Also, can I just say that this has been the hottest weekend of my life. I had to drive my youngest daughter to camp east of Los Angeles yesterday. We set off right in rush hour traffic… and ten minutes into the trip… a two hour drive with no traffic… my car’s air conditioner stopped working. And we were in stop and go traffic… for three and a half hours… and it just kept getting hotter… and then today, a barn filled with forges. I feel like I was run over with a road grader.

 

Posted in My art, Pictures of me, Stories of my life | Tagged , , , , | 36 Comments

I don’t like to let my jokes go…

My family was complaining about that just this morning… but, hey, if I make up a joke, I treat it like an Apache warrior treats a stolen horse when he is in a hurry to get somewhere… I ride it hard and fast until it drops dead, eat some of it raw, then I cut out its large intestine, and fill it with water, slinging it over my shoulder and using it as a canteen…

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My dog…

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So, I was at the pet store getting a big bag of food for Shiloh the dog… and I saw that… uh… well, it’s a dog toy, and it is very long, and it looks like a cross between a leopard, an ocelot, a snake… and maybe Chester the Cheetah who does those Cheetos commercials.

Anyway, she was wrestling with ‘Stretchy Cat’, as I now call her new toy, and for a minute there, it looked like the toy was winning…

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But Shiloh finally managed to fight Stretchy Cat to a draw… Also, please notice how well our dog matches our coffee table… and you thought I didn’t have style…

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Breaking it down…

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Who said that? A game where you have to say who said something… and whether or not the person who said it was a fictional character or not…

I am going to type a few quotes, and you just have to tell me who said them… and bonus points if you know which ones were said by real people and which were said by fictional characters…

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  1. Billions of bilious blistering blue barnacles…

2. We have met the enemy, and he is us…

3. Arithmetic is being able to count up to twenty without taking your shoes off…

4. I know this defies the law of gravity, but you see, I never studied the law…

5. It would be so nice if something made sense for a change…

6. A bruise is a lesson, and each lesson makes us better…

7. The problem is not the problem, the problem is your attitude about the problem…

8. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter…

9. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us…

10. A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no  means the most interesting…

 

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How’s your day… a poem… I suppose…

How’s your day?

Is it an okay day?

Is it a hooray day?

Is it a yay day or a gray day?

Is it a play day, a lay by the bay day?

Is it a nerves that fray kind of a day?

Is it a heyday?

Is it a payday?

Is it an I just may day, or a no way day?

Is it a going away day, or an I think I’ll stay day?

Is it a you day, or a they day?

Is it a feel like you are on display day?

Is it an overwhelmed with pure dismay day?

Is it a  you have nothing much to say day?

Or a talk without delay day?

I know it isn’t an easy thing to weigh, but I am very curious about your day…

 

 

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Stop hitting yourself… stop hitting yourself… stop hitting yourself…

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Yeah… I know it’s immature… but it still makes me laugh…

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An open letter to Southerners who are worried about who might be peeing beside them…

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Well, I do apologize about this… I thought I was done talking about the new bathroom laws popping up in the Southern states… but the crack squirrels that live in my head had a few more things to say… so… uh… yeah… (I have to humor them, or they chew on the wiring)…

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Dear people of the South who are all in a tizzy and having the vapors over this whole ‘who can pee where’ thing,

I will get your smelling salts while you stick your head between your legs until the dizzy spell passes. Don’t you fret none, my little wilting hothouse flowers. Uncle Arty has come up with a few simple solutions to the maddening forward progress the world keeps insisting on making, despite the fact that you are uncomfortable with progressive change.

You can have your pee and drink it too…

Here are some things you can do:

*Just build new restrooms right beside your special ‘this-restroom-is-only-for-people-who-think-and-look-like-me’ restrooms. In fact, you can put them in the exact spot where you used to build special restrooms for the ‘colored’ people… (sorry, their words, not mine)… This plan will only cost you a few hundred million dollars of your tax money, plus whatever loss of federal funds you will have to give up… a small price to pay to keep yourselves pure and unsullied.

*You can secede from the United States, and just do whatever the heck you want to.

*You can drive around with your outhouse in the back of your pickup truck… if you aren’t already.

*You can pee in the freakin’ woods like the other, lower mammalian life forms.

*You can just hold it in until we get this all figured out… (if this leads to any health problems, that will sort of suck, because you probably are going to try to abolish cheap healthcare, but hey, you take your stand, you make your bed, and if you end up wetting it, then at least you made your point, right?).

Like so many of the divisive issues of our day, these ‘fear-of-change’ issues that seek to undo so much of our forward progress, this is just another chance for you to pick which side of history you want to come down on… and don’t blame the rest of us when you have to explain to your grandkids someday why you picked the side you did.

We already agreed on so many of these issues, women’s right to choose, equal civil rights for all people, and now health care for all. The thing is… and if you don’t think this is a scary thing, then I am worried about you… Trump and his ‘make America great again’ thinking is the same as admitting that America isn’t great. Wrap your brain around that. This ‘let’s go back to the good old days’ plan isn’t the answer to our problems. Just how far back do you want to go, exactly?

If you are African American or Asian American or Latino or female, we don’t have to go back that far to reach a time when you couldn’t vote, or have a decent job. If you come from an Irish or Italian heritage, we don’t have to back much further to get to when you were treated like crap… which is ironic in light of what we are talking about.

Hey, I have a great way to bring this whole conversation around in a complete circle… why don’t we go back to before they invented toilet paper?

 

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Where I stand on who gets to stand… or sit… where when they need to pee…

Yes, I am taking a stand on peeing!

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I suppose I am also taking a seat on where people should be able to poop, too, and let’s face it, what this country needs is that one, brave, transgendered person living in the South, to refuse to give up their toilet seat… we need a Rosa Parks for the new millennium!!!

This whole argument is so freekin’ ridiculous. The idea that men… child-molesting perverts and rapists… are going to be dressing up in drag in order to assault people in the restrooms is not what bothers the people making this an issue. This is just another way for religious zealots to express their hatred of people that they consider to be sinful, and for idiots to feel like they have some control over their lives by taking away another option from members of another minority.

Transgendered people have enough trouble in their lives without wasting time trying to molest people in bathrooms… and the real, dangerous child molesters already have a way to do that… they drive around in windowless vans full of candy and puppies. Yes, some rapes do occur in bathrooms… now, go on, find one story in the news about a transgendered person convicted of doing that… just one… go ahead… we will wait…

I am not even sure that most of the people supporting these new bathroom laws really even know what a transgendered person is. I suspect they think they are just men in drag. I don’t have the time, space, or energy to explain to you how stupid you are, if that is what you think.

Look, here’s the thing… and this is a thing about my thing, so bear with me… but I would rather not pee standing right beside anybody, if I had my choice. Standing beside a long line of guys, holding my thing, while they are all holding their things, is a thing that shouldn’t even be a thing, that’s the thing!

Going to the bathroom is awkward at the best of times. Men’s rooms are disgusting. I don’t know why men have such a hard time hitting a toilet, but let’s just say that if firemen were all that bad at aiming their hoses, all the fires in the world would still be burning. Guys, stop spending so much time worrying about who might be in the restroom with you, and start practicing your target shooting… Here is a tip: when you are at home, each time you have to pee, drop a Cheerio in the bowl and try to hit it with your pee. Trust me, your family will appreciate it.

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