The Riley

I ran into him on Sunday--he was headed home from a classic car show. He sorta caught my attention seeing as the steering wheel is ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE CAR.  

I wanted so bad to ask what the thing was worth, but I'm not rude. So I googled it.  It's worth a LOT.  

Put me behind the wheel of that thing, and I would instantly turn into dyslexic driver and be running into fire hydrants within 2 miles. 

He's had this car, a Riley, (BMW now owns the brand) for 40 years and it is pristine condition.  I think because he's only driven it 1 mile a year as evidenced by his odometer:  

What he was most proud of, however, was the way the engine sounds. 

"I wish you could get a picture of the sound". 

"Oh, I can take care of that."  

I cornered him for 15 minutes. There were even costume changes, as I got him wearing three different hats.  

It's really too bad I'm so shy.  -> 

 

Nicole

There's a ceramic artist in Oklahoma City who makes corsets out of clay.  

But that's not what I'm going to show you today. Today I'm going to show you pictures of her bathroom, which is the most spectacular bathroom I've ever seen. There's no way to give that place justice, so you'll just have to make do with some of my paltry photography and go from there.  

First of all, the artist: 

Nicole Moan

Secondly, the method: She designs pictures, oftentimes based on her father's art, and then reconfigures the art in ceramic tile. Not square tiles, mind. This is ceramic tile in all shapes and sizes: everything from swirls to puzzle pieces to stars to squiggles. She first has to make the tile--an extraordinarily time-consuming process as I can fully attest, and then she methodically installs it so that it becomes representational art. Then of course she has to grout it all, which is arguably more of a pain in the ass than the tile work. 

I'm featuring her bathroom here, but her entire living room floor is her own ceramic design (again, based on her father's artwork), as is her main hallway, and of course the the kitchen counters and backdrop are an eye fiesta. 

On the subject at hand. 

Her bathroom, floor to ceiling, is decorated in this wonderful "Under the Sea" motif. And when I say floor, I don't mean she has blue 4-inch ceramic tiles on the floor so she could concentrate on the walls and ceiling. I mean the floor is a canvas in-and-of* itself. 

Naturally I didn't take pictures of the floor.  

But you can see pictures of it here, along with her wonderful bathtub and toilet. I would frankly be scared to do my business on that throne for fear of insulting the thing. 

Here are some detail pics. These are just little treats that are around her (several) mirrors: 

Sometimes I feel like somebody's watching me. 

One. By. One. she installed these details. This is OCD at its best. 

This is the sink. Complete with a bug in a bottle. Which no bathroom should be without. 

The counter top is designed to look like water is flowing onto the floor, so the floor (Yeah, I'm back to the floor. What of it?) by the counter is textured in such a manner to emulate water. 

Stay with me.  

You can see from the sink picture that her hand-made, costume counter top is configured of some plastic-y, resin-y substance that can be only be summed up as witchcraft. Add to this the knowledge that there are multiple layers of goodness to look at on the counter alone, including glitter (!), and I swear to Poseidon you'll feel like you're on an acid trip after being in there for three minutes.** 

Here's a glimpse of the ceiling: 

  

Who has the patience for this? I would be a drunk by now. Seriously.  

You see those pieces on the bottom section? Those are actually mirror shards reflecting the ceiling pattern. 

I'll give you a minute.  

.......

Check this out: She even had the nerve to put WINE BOTTLES in the opening where her window was. Here's a snippet of her window...you can get a feel for the concept here. 

Takes going green to whole new level.  This is destined to happen in my home somewhere. 

The entire installation took three months of almost constant work to complete.

She says sometimes her friends will call her and ask her to come over to take a bath. I personally maintain she's at risk every time she allows someone who doesn't live in the house to cross the threshold. Because if it were me, I would padlock myself in there and never leave.  -> 

*Do you hyphenate "in and of"?
**I assume. I've never actually done acid, but that bathroom can't be a far-off depiction of the kaleidoscope+ I understand goes on in the brain after ingestion. 
     +Of course I didn't spell that correctly the first time.   

Laundry Day

It was 8:15 on a Saturday morning. I had been awake since before 7:00. 

Let's be clear here: I don't do before-seven-o'clock on a Saturday morning. Life circumstances that forces anyone out of bed before, say, 9:45 on Saturday morning is simply sadism engineered by The Man. But there I was, up, out and about because my kid has the nerve to want to improve his chances for a better future by taking the SAT. What's worse is it was completely overcast so I couldn't even head downtown for some nice urban shots in the dewy early morning light.  

Therefore I was meandering as I had some time to kill before photography class--driving around a part of town that used to be my stomping ground; the school sponsoring the SAT is my high school alma mater. I get up to that part of town periodically and always drive around a bit to check out the lay of the land. It's amazing, isn't it, the changes that can happen to a major street over the years? The building I'm always most nostalgic about, other than the high school itself, is the one that used to be a bowling alley. We actually learned to bowl during the winter months of PE my freshman year and we walked to that bowling alley, where Coach Burtschi expected us to keep score by hand. The bowling alley also had a snack bar, and oftentimes after school my friends and I would go hang out there. They served Mr. Pibb. Plus they had a Pac Man machine. 

The building, amazingly, is still there but the business is long gone. Tucked in next door these days is a laundry mat.  

Which is where I met Elizabeth.  

She had gotten behind on the chore over the past week because one of her daughters was in the hospital. The little girl has an immune-deficiency disorder and bites, scrapes, abrasions, etc. can turn into impetigo in short order. Her body has a hard time fighting the infection and she requires IV antibiotics to get rid of them.  Summertime is worse.   

Elizabeth, her father calls her "Beth", married her high-school sweetheart; he's now active duty in the Marines. He just signed on for another tour of duty.  

"So you're going to have to move around a lot, I guess?" 

"We just bought a house, so I'm staying here."

As it turns out, Elizabeth works at the laundry mat on the weekends. She doesn't usually bring her clothes to wash with her, but right now the dryer at home is broken. She has to pay to do her laundry, but she gets reimbursed the expense in her paycheck. A small perk.  

She's also bi-lingual, English and Spanish, and helped me purchase chicken tamales from a man who came in peddling his wife's cooking for some extra money. I bought a baker's dozen for dinner that night which set me back $12. They were still warm. -> 

Beverly and Maria

These photos were two weeks in the making because I'm a highly skilled professional who pays the utmost attention to detail. 

Let me break it down for you:  

I attended my first yoga class in at least 3 years two weeks ago and met a woman who I'll tell you about in a minute. I asked if it was OK to take her photo. She acquiesced. I pulled out the camera, focused, clicked and...

...realized I didn't have a memory card in the camera. At which point I stammered and begged forgiveness and asked if I could try again the following Friday. "I'll be here," she told me.

The following Friday before I left the house, I ensured the camera absolutely, positively had a memory card so I could capture Beverly. Yup! It was there. After yoga I approached her again, went to take a photo and nothing--NOTHING!--was on any of my screens.  

Because I'd forgotten to put the blasted battery, which was recharging at my house, back in the camera.  

Today she didn't believe me when I told her I was really, truly prepared to capture her photo.  

But I showed her.  

Beverly

was born with a heart defect that eventually led to two open-heart surgeries in 2009. The second one left her with a condition called pulmonary hypertension, which resulted in her needing an oxygen tank permanently. This, in addition to recovering from having her chest cracked open, is the hand life dealt her. It's a lot for anyone to take.  

She was depressed for a year following the diagnosis and subsequent rehab--a year in which she didn't get out much and felt a bit sorry for her lot in life. The need for the oxygen embarrassed her. It's through no fault of her own, of course, but that didn't make the reality of walking around in public with medical equipment in tow any easier to swallow. 

Enter Maria...

who was relentless with her friend. She told Beverly to get up, get moving, get back to the YMCA. The ladies met there and Beverly was attending Maria's fitness classes (she teaches several a week) before all her health problems took their toll.

It took some coaxing. Beverly protested that everyone would be looking at her. Yes, said Maria, they probably would be. So what? It was this tough love that eventually led Beverly on the road to emotional recovery. She is now as active as she was before. Pilates, yoga, trekking, riding horses...she does it all. She had to tweak her equipment to accommodate her activities, but she's living her life. She told me this morning that she doesn't breath as deeply as she should when she's working out for fear that the extra noise from the machine would be bothersome to others. But I told her I liked the sound--that rhythmic, pressurized hiss is somehow comforting. She then shared women from her other classes use the sound as well. If they don't hear the hiss, they know Beverly isn't breathing and set her straight.  

It takes a village, doesn't it, to help us navigate this world. I find both these women inspiring: Beverly for not giving in to the depression and Maria for not giving up on her friend. 

What's your excuse for not living your life?  ->