Red Riding Hood--some thoughts

And now for something completely different: another product of my ongoing Little Red Riding Hood obsession/fetish. I never get tired of this imagery. First I made the sexy red lace cloak, and then I paired it with a very virginal, delicate white muslin dress.

Speaking of Red, I've run across some interesting interpretations of her recently. I've been playing a  "short horror game' called The Path, by indie company Tale of Tales. It's not like a typical computer game at all--it's haunting, atmospheric, and intuitive. It feels "feminine" in an archtypal way. I played through it fairly quickly, but I find myself returning to it for artistic inspiration. You can get your own copy of The Path for $10 from Tale of Tales: click here

I enjoyed the film that came out this spring--mostly for the costumes and set design, which were gorgeous. The script and general Twilight-knockoff-iness of the story didn't impress me, but I did think it was quite feminist for a pop-culture film, and I dug that.

There's also a cool intersecting-vignette horror film called Trick or Treat that has a clever riff on Red--I recommend it if you like R-rated scary movies. It also features a cool witch character--always a plus for me. Netflix has it on demand.

And of course, no discussion of Red Riding Hood is complete without mention of Freeway, the creepy/genius movie starring a very young (pre-America's Sweetheart, that's for sure) Reese Witherspoon.This movie is pulpy, sad, funny, and very screwed up--one of my favorite films (a list which also includes Aliens and Death Proof). Approach with caution.

What is it that's so compelling about Little Red Riding Hood? For me, it's partly that she's a normal girl. The other well-known fairy tales (Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel) all end with a marriage. Cinderella, Rapunzel, and Snow White are famously beautiful, and they are, or become, princesses, over weeks, months, years. Red is a charming child, but she's no one special, and her story happens in a single day. Her variable fate also sets the story apart. There's no folk version of Snow White where the Wicked Queen wins. But Red is variously devoured, rescued, or able to escape through her own cunning. In one early version, she runs away, naked, after telling the wolf she has to pee. That's never going on a Disney lunchbox.

Of course, there's the Freudian interpretation--latent sexuality, fear of men, blah blah blah. But is the story really about that? When is a wolf just a wolf?

Tropical Storm Excitement!

This weekend, we had the first proper tropical storm since I moved here, Tropical Storm Lee. It rained harder than I ever imagined possible. A lot of low-lying suburbs and rural areas flooded, though mostly a non-life-threatening 2-4 feet. And in front of our house,  on Saturday morning, this happened:

That is a telephone/power pole that was struck by lightning around 7am, and crashed down, taking a bunch of power lines with it, which were live for about two hours. The Entergy guys (that's like PG&E here) fixed it impressively fast--there's only one picture because I didn't want to get in their way. There's an old folks home across the street that also lost power, so we got to piggyback on their "special priority" status. The storm moved up north on Sunday evening, and yesterday and today have been gorgeous.

My dad is cooler than Billy Corgan

I was just reading about an internet scandal where (former rock star, current icky semi-celebrity) Billy Corgan trashed a transgender woman on Twitter, using hurtful language like "he/she" and, um, threatening to punch her in the face. I don't feel like recapping the whole thing here, but you can look it up. I was inspired to post a story from my childhood, where I first learned that transgender people existed, and where my dad really knocked it out of the park in the parenting department.

When I was 8 or so, my dad and I were at a festival, and I met a person who looked like a man to me, but was dressed like a woman, and had a female name. So I asked my dad about it when we were alone. He sat me down and explained that: Some people are born into bodies that aren't right for them. It's very difficult, and they choose to change their bodies with hormones and surgery. We should respect this choice. Some people don't understand, transpeople face a lot of discrimination that's similar to racism, and that's wrong. A transman is a man, a transwoman is a woman, and I should use the correct pronouns--the person I met should always be referred to as "she" and "her."

I just wanted to say, awesome job, Dad! This was a really important conversation in my development as a pretty okay human being, and I did my best to pass it on to other kids. I was so lucky to have parents who were openminded and liberal about social issues and identity politics, and it makes me sad that so many people didn't have that in their lives. Thanks Dad!

Terrible Cleaning Advice

If you are a compulsively tidy person, you may want to skip this one. I once tried to articulate a version of my cleaning philosophy to my younger sister, who is very neat, and she became agitated and had to leave the room. I've always been messy, and now I live with a darling man who is even messier than me, and sometimes our house is a disaster. But I have made some realizations recently that helped me a lot, and now, I will share them with you! For free, even. Again, if you are naturally neat, you should probably stop reading now.

 1) Give up on perfection. No, really. I've been reading about hoarding recently, and I was surprised to learn that hoarders almost universally self-identify as perfectionists. It seemed counter-intuitive at first, but really, it makes sense. One of the reasons hoarders let their house get so icky is that they feel like they can't start a project if they don't have time to finish it perfectly. And they never have time to finish it perfectly. Most of us do this, a little bit, and I certainly did. But then I discovered an amazing magic trick. If I only have time/willpower to do one thing, I do that one thing. If the stove and the counter both need cleaning, and you only bother to clean the counter, well, now the counter is clean.

2) Small cleaning makes big cleaning. Once I start with a small, easy task, I often see something else that needs doing, and complete that, and so on, in an awesome chain of semi-competence. And if the cleaning chain reaction doesn't happen, well, now the counter is clean.

3) Some things are naturally icky.  I know that most of us don't have full control over where we end up living, and there are financial issues and such here. But if you are naturally messy and lazy, try to avoid wall-to-wall carpeting. The only people who can keep carpet clean are type-A neatfreaks who find vacuuming satisfying instead of obscurely disturbing, and if you read this far, that's probably not you. Other things that are impossible to keep clean include: food processors, white couches, and fondue sets.

4) A little organization is better than none. I keep all my bank statements and stuff in the cardboard box our crock pot came in. I know, it's horrible, but I can't afford a filing cabinet, and now if I need some paperwork, I know it's somewhere in this 1-square-foot box, instead of somewhere in my scandalous house.

5) If you couldn't keep a houseplant alive three years ago, you can't now. I realize it's weird, but I am totally baffled by houseplants. Isn't the point of a house to keep you out of the plants? Having a plant in my house is like having a snake in the tub--it's great, but it belongs outside. If you're not a weirdo like me, and you want to get a bunch of plants all of a sudden, ask yourself this question: Do you actually like plants, or do you just want to be the kind of person who likes plants? If you are a messy person who has awesome houseplants, well, I salute you. 

6) Be realistic. If you're a really messy person, you're not going to turn into Martha Stewart (or more accurately, her army of maids) overnight. You can learn to not be so ridiculous, but it's a gradual process.

7) Caffeine. It's like a goddamn miracle.

Semi-new things, two new dollies!

 I've been making these neato hoodoo hands (above and below). I'm using a great template pattern by Stacey Mead that I got on Etsy: http://www.etsy.com/listing/62553218/eliza-pennyworths-glove-an-extreme?ref=sc_1 I can make one in an afternoon. I want to get some lavender sachets to put in.

 This is the beautiful Lulu. Lulu is an Aletheia vampire sculpt, made by NotDoll. She very much deserves her own photo shoot, but it's too hot to go anywhere, so she may have to wait for fall. She was a very sweet gift from a doll friend, who designed her whole look also.

 And this is Maud! Also from a doll friend, though I bought this one. She's a Bobobie Isabella in mint-green resin. She is a total cutie pie. She's wearing a Barbie shirt here, and a skirt I made.

So, I am not actually a waitress now, not quite, but I am a hostess in a busy restaurant in the French Quarter. Hooray for jobs! It's got its drawbacks, like anything, but I basically like it, and my coworkers are cool.

The Story of That Time I Got Fired... sort of

Herein lies the epic tale of my recent dismissal from service. All names have been changed because it amuses me.

Back in May, this guy (I will call him Mr. Sucky) hires me as a part-time nanny for his 8-year-old. The kid is awesome, but right away there are problems. First of all, I am hired to work 3pm to 10pm, 3 days a week, but when I actually start, I seem to only be needed 4 to 9, two days a week. Mr. Sucky refuses to make any sort of schedule. He repeatedly claims he will email me over the weekend with next week's hours, then never, ever does. I have to pester him repeatedly to get paid and to find out my hours. He disrupts my plans to take the kid to Pirates 4 (which we were both quite looking forward to), and will not clearly articulate why. It is a giant pain in the ass, but I continue because I really need money, and I really like the kid.

And then. Kid goes to visit grandparents 4 hours away "for a week". A week passes. Then I email Mr. Sucky. Several times. I am eventually informed that the visit will last another week, but I will definitely be needed "by the middle of next week, I'll email you". There is no email. I send a polite email on Tuesday of "next week". There is no response. On Thursday I send a somewhat snippy email, mentioning the fact that I have now been out of work for three weeks, and it would be nice if he would please return my emails because I have no idea what is going on or where the kid even is. Once again, there is no response. On Saturday, I call. Mr. Sucky does not pick up. What a surprise! I leave him a rather annoyed message, which I think I've earned at this point (but it wasn't abusive or sweary or anything, just annoyed). I tell him that if he doesn't call me back by Monday, I will assume that I am fired. Also, I tell him that it is customary to dismiss someone by using some combination of the words "you", "are" and "fired", in an email, phone call, or even a lowly text message. I receive none of these things.

Mr. Sucky, while fairly benign towards his child, does not seem especially engaged with or interested in him, and was totally overwhelmed by the process of hiring me. Therefore, I doubt it was my (pretty decent) childcare that was the problem, since I probably could have taken the kid to a Slayer show and gotten away with it. Rather, I suspect the grandparents offered to take the kid all summer, and Mr. Sucky jumped at the chance for all that free childcare and abdication of basic parental responsibility. Incidentally, this is a man who is in an adult kickball league.

Mr. Sucky doesn't owe me any money (he paid up before the kid left), but he screwed me over because I wasn't looking while I worked for him, and I turned down a second interview at a very nice daycare to take the job in the first place. Not to mention all the stress and hassle and uncertainty while I tried to tell myself that I still had a job despite the mounting evidence suggesting otherwise. Or the bond I formed with a kid I'll probably never see again, and since his father isn't even man enough to send a goddamn text message, I can't even get in touch to send him a postcard. My only consolation is that New Orleans is not all that big, so I may someday run into Mr. Sucky and be able to spill my beer on him, take his Mardi Gras beads, or make him look bad in front of his date. I guess I could invest in a voodoo curse, but it hardly seems worth the effort.

And that, my friends, is why I am becoming a waitress.

New Dolly I made!

This here is Janie. I made her without a pattern, and now I'm kicking myself because she turned out so well, and I can't duplicate her exactly. She's supposed to be ethnically ambiguous--she has Asian features, but red hair and dreadlocks... I love making corsets and bloomers for my dolls--it's all I ever really want to dress them in. She is for sale here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/77533485/ooak-storyville-girl-boudoir-doll