This was the family we sat with - the young woman on the right in the white top and the young man in the front left are married and live in Atlanta. I was supposed to send them a copy of this picture. Think it's too late?
Ooooh the food. Salami and wild boar salami and prosciutto. Tuscan bread with garlic and olive oil. My personal favorite, the white beans. YUMYUMYUM. The pasta with spices you could sprinkle over the top. And if I'm not mistaken, 4 kinds of chianti, vin santo and still and fizzy water. And oh my I feel stuffed just remembering. Oh my goodness me.
We didn't leave until 3 pm. Then we drove to Volterra. But that's another story.
This "sign" was located on the side of the street we walked down as we returned from the Duke's Palace.
Here's a snippet of the Duke's Palace...I liked the color of the stone in the courtyard. The fireplaces were enormous...
And last but not least, the fellow himself...the Duke of Montefeltro. Painted by Piero della Francesca and remarkably honestly, too, as the missing chunk of nose was not painted back in. He was a gun for hire, and made good money at it. I saw this portrait along with his wife's at the Ufizzi Gallery. Walking through the Uffizzi made my little u-feet-sies tired...ha ha ho ho ho har hee....ahem. Now back to the regularly scheduled blog.
Pretty good for a mercenary, huh?
This is my birthday present, or it will be. I love it. I will hang it in the office/nee bedroom.
This is my house.
I get kidded about going to a scrapbook convention. I thought about that some while I was there. I looked at the cross section of America who were there - all income, education and age levels were there. Stay-at-home-moms, homeschoolers, teachers, lawyers, accountants and HR directors were there. There was even 1 guy I saw taking classes. So I think this pastime that people sometimes treat as a step child to real hobbies really has much more substance than it first appears.
How many of us inherited a box of photos, most of which feature people we don't recognize? Doesn't that make you sad? At some point, those folks were vital and vibrant and special enough to someone to be memorialized in a photo. And that someone saved the photo. And now all that is lost. Who were they? What did they care about? Where did they end up? What did they dream about?
Most times these classes show you alternative methods, new products, basic skills, the next greatest tool...but always they say to "journal"...for those of you not involved in scrapbooking, journaling is about what you would expect. It's capturing enough of the context in words to help you, your kids, your grandkids, and maybe their kids know who the people in the photo are, and what was important to them. Or how they lived. Or what they did for fun or work.
One class pointed out that very soon the ordinary, normal day would be as precious as any big event because time marches on.
And it's not new. Thomas Jefferson kept a "scrapbook" of his newspaper clippings.
Today, I think the blog is a form of scrapbooking: it has photography, journaling and design.
And today's scrapbooking is a far cry from the Victorian's pasting things into a book with manila color pages that crumble with time. There are classes on color theory, layouts, good design and writing. There are tools to master and other skills such as painting, photography and computer skills to incorporate. Classes teach looking at what you already have and thinking about it in a new way. Improvisation and innovation. How many of us buy self help books to teach us how to do that?
I guess I'd sum it up this way: scrapbooking helps us reflect on the life we are living as well as recording our lives.
Third, be appropriately outfitted:
Last year I took all my supplies and put them in a plastic shoebox from Container Store and stuck that plus a bottle of water and a snack in a large canvas tote from Land's End with my initials on it. I thought this was the greatest because a)it didn't cost anything extra and b)it didn't cost anything extra.
Next, no more plastic shoe box. See #8 above. This year, no more natural/blue canvas bag from Land's End, initials or no initials. This year, I have the Amy Butler Creativity Bag. Gaze at it above. Drink it in. Can you feel the creative juices it inspires? Please note: pink AND brown AND green AND as a bonus, turquoise. That'll show 'em.
Now. Can anyone tell me how to work my Crop-a-Dile?
I saw her first: black high top converse on her feet, plaid flannel skirt and black tee, many more tattoos than my needle-fearing self could imagine, with the unmistakeable air of a scrapbooker in scrapbooker heaven.
It was her. She was not a pigment of my imagination.
We were sisters under the skin when it came to scrapbooking.
It's always fun to see a place you know featured some way - you feel a connection, and you're involved as opposed to being just an observer. In fact, there's a murder story about the American student in Perugia that I keep tabs on because it happened just as I was coming home from vacation in Italy last year. But I digress.
This little coincidence brings new meaning to the phrase "it's a small world".
I think I will. Get them printed I mean. Just the other day I read about this thing I'd never heard of called a standout by Mpix. It takes the print and mounts it on 1.5" gator foam with a black band around the 1.5" edge.
So I think I will.
The girls stayed with Grandma, and they must have all been bored judging from the number of "how much longer?" phone calls we received. I tell you, it was hard to enjoy the heat and humidity and manual labor with all those interruptions.
After the heat and humidity with a side of manual labor, we gathered at my house for dinner to celebrate Grandma's birthday. I put out aged gouda cheese and olives to keep the hungry hordes out of my kitchen (abject failure). We had ribs, wicked rib sauce (I need to visit my Troy family and make ribs with wicked rib sauce for them), black bean salad and macaroni and cheese. We also had strawberry birthday cake with strawberry icing. From Piece of Cake [I vow never to bake my own cake again because I will never beat this place]. During the festivities I took lovely pictures of willing subjects.
But above, well, above is a different story. Above is a subject with her own avoidance issues. Or perhaps she is admiring the artfully rust embellished cast iron planter. Or bowing to the design of combining a soft, airy fern with cast iron. Or dodging a mosquito. Weeping with hunger? Or HIDING.
Silly girl. You can't avoid the camera.