Thursday, February 19, 2015

Totally Impressed with Stonehaven

PHOTO BY MARGO WILSON FROM MEARNS LEADER ARTICLE BELOW

http://www.mearnsleader.co.uk/news/local-headlines/stonehaven-town-partnership-seek-local-views-in-new-report-1-3693914


PHOTO FROM CHOUMAN AND GILMOUR FROM MEARNS LEADER ARTICLE BELOW



No I don't live in Stonehaven and no I've never even visited there except electronically ... but I have to say that I'm thoroughly loving the place!

The staff of their newspaper, the Mearns Leader, do a fantastic job of keeping everyone informed on what's going on, a very fortunate thing for me being as I'm clear across the world.

The links above are the beginning of what might turn out to be a collection of my favorite Stonehaven Stories ... where I can go when I need some serious Spirit-lifting ... I might have to start a whole new blog for them so they don't get lost in my hodgepodge of posts and I can get to them when I need them - which I'm finding to be an increasing need.

And no I can't explain why in the world I'm so fascinated and enchanted by a town so far removed from where I live. Other than its connection to Dunnottar and Dunnottar's connection to the Stories I write down of times long past (and times to come, as those Stories get written), I would have no idea that Stonehaven is one amazing community.

Oh but it is.

You know, a person can learn a lot from reading what talented local reporters write - and even more from reading the comments of local people who care enough about their community to add their input to discussions about topics that matter to them.

I don't mean to poke my nose into their business, and I'm not (quite). I am, however poking my eyes and my ears into their business ... not to mention my heart ... because even from a world away this place has the power to enchant.

The above two articles are a good indication of what I'm finding to love about Stonehaven.

People come up with ideas about how to make an already wonderful place even better, right? Right. And then they share those ideas so that all and sundry can (and do!) have a say about the whole thing.

You know what I'm finding?

I'm finding a community of people who are indeed a real community, ready willing and able to talk to one another about anything and everything under the sun that has to do with them and their home. They use their Voices - and they listen to one another. And good things happen.

They're coming up with solutions. Without compromising their strong roots in the past, they're looking to the future.

So yeah, my sentimental eyes aren't always completely dry as I observe from clear over here.

http://www.mearnsleader.co.uk/news/local-headlines/join-in-big-blether-on-alcohol-and-drugs-1-3694134

Monday, February 16, 2015

isis, Islam, Christianity, Judaism - It's a Family Thing



2015  02  16

Jordan has Spoken.
Libya has Spoken.
Egypt has Spoken.
Israel has Spoken.
Saudi Arabia has Spoken.
Rome has Spoken.
Iran has Spoken.
China has Spoken.
Russia has Spoken.
Japan has Spoken.
Germany has Spoken.
Belgium has Spoken.
France has Spoken.
England has Spoken.
Scotland has Spoken.
Ireland has Spoken.
Australia has Spoken.
Canada has Spoken.
The People of the United States of America have Spoken.
Norway has Spoken.
Sudan has Spoken.
Islam has Spoken.
Christianity has Spoken.
Judaism has Spoken.
. . .
The list goes on.

As the leaders of Islam, and her people themselves, begin to step up to the plate to discipline their own, hope grows.

There are some powerful nations on that list up there.

This whelp calling itself isis might better watch its step because it looks like mama and papa might be starting to get upset with its behavioral choices and attitude – and backing them up are the grandparents and great-grandparents in this equation, Christianity and Judaism.

Really?

It takes a rebellious child on a rampage of death and destruction to unite the generations of a family that never should have been at odds in the first place?

It’s not about what’s different, people.

It’s about what’s the same.

Peace and justice for all.

If the parents need a hand, grandma and grandpa are right there; if need be, so are the Elders.

Just sayin’ . . .



What If ...

2015  02  12

The United States of America was founded on the ideal of freedom. Many of our families came here so that they would be free to practice their religions in peace, or to leave behind brutally bloody conflicts in their old homelands.

That policy holds as true today as it did in the 1600s and 1700s. If you come to us seeking peace, welcome to our nation.

If you seek strife, divisiveness, or battle, this is not the place for you.

Really, it’s as simple as that.

But, you say, you had your own Civil War. We did, yes. When the USA was barely a fledgling, less than 100 years old as a nation, her unity was challenged from within. It did great damage and has not been repeated.

But, you say, the USA ought to keep her nose out of the affairs of the rest of the world.

She could do that, this is true, and perhaps she should. Such a thing could possibly be arranged.

She has everything she needs right here within her own borders. Shall she close her borders? Shall she say to all: you may not enter; if you are here, you may leave but if you do you will never return, nor any of your descendants, ever . . . ?

Should the USA say to the world: leave me alone and I will leave you alone? I will keep within my own borders all of my trade. I will keep within my borders all of my wealth, all of my creativity, all of my strength . . . I will take care of my own and you do the same.

Shall she join with Canada and Mexico? 
And shall that new entity, North America United, tell Europe and Asia, and Africa, and South America to close themselves off from one another as well, to use their own resources as they see fit and use them to care for their own?

Shall she then say to the world: fight if you choose; I will not . . . ?

Suppose that were to happen. Suppose she did say those things.

Europe and Asia would be in the position of being able to fight it out, to destroy their own people with war and hatred. South America would cope as best she could; Africa likewise.

All have abundant resources that need only developing. If the only trade that can take place is within the borders of each, perhaps the needless exploitation of resources would cease. Perhaps resources would instead be cared for properly – because if they are not it will be the people themselves and their livelihoods and homes that will be at risk. Perhaps it would begin to make sense to look to sun, wind, and water for energy sources.

If Europe and Asia were one nation, insular, yes they could duke it out until they destroy themselves without any intervention from the rest of the world.
On the other hand, there would be a great incentive to work things out peaceably. Their people would have to come to that conclusion, probably the hard way.

Suppose, for a moment, a different scenario.

Suppose, if you will, that nobody wants to change anything.

Suppose the Judeo-Christian world goes to war with Islam, for example. It wouldn’t be the first time. Only this time the weapons are much more far-reaching. Suppose current events escalate into global warfare.

Judeo-Christianity might get pushed beyond tolerance and into open warfare if Islam doesn’t correct its own aggressive ones. Where are the leaders of Islam? Do they not want to accept responsibility for the behaviors of their own people? If they do not, there should be no argument about someone else finally stepping up to the plate to do it for them.

Do these leaders forget the power of the Judeo-Christian nations? When it was our own whose aggression and atrocities broke the peace of our world, a few short years ended it. They were bloody, vicious, and costly years – but it was done. And the USA did not stay out of it. She had to be poked hard, but she did not stay out of it.

While the Metallic Ideas are Incubating ... WOOL !!



Meanwhile, back at the ranch ... 

Okay, not the ranch (dangit anyhow).

I'm taking a break from metallurgy here and going back to the wool jacket I got at the frip shop the other day.

Here's the sleeve I'm going to experiment with by boiling the heck out of it to see if it will felt. I just cut the one sleeve off for the time being. It turns out to have been two pieces. I want to see how much it will shrink, hence the measuring tape.

While I'm waiting for the water to boil the sleeve sections are sitting on the old cutting board I use for clay sculpting projects. I'll have one of those coming up here shortly so hauled it into my old kitchen from my studio. Not that it took extreme effort to haul it, being as it's just a cutting board.

# Into the water they go! I'm just using my big old coffee pot to boil them up in - it was handiest.





While they're busy doing whatever wool does in boiling water, my mind can turn to what I might want to do with these pieces when they're done. 




I'm assuming they'll be somewhat smaller than they started out, so am thinking about possibly making myself another belt-bag to go with some of my Sidhelagh clothes. I'm hoping they'll turn out the same color they were - which I don't see why they wouldn't - because I already know that I'm going to want to use the 3" copper brooch my sister made (using the design from an ancient shield, totally awesome!) with it.



While I'm waiting for those sleeve pieces to boil themselves into felt (I have to agitate them every few minutes) I can do a little more homework on the metal casting thing.

I found out that I can make my own ceramic crucible and it will be better than most of the ones I've seen and read about other people using.

Ha.

I can make it any size I want. I can give it whatever shape I want. I can design handles that will exactly accommodate my tongs. I can build in a pour spout that will deliver the molten metal where I want it to go. And if I don't like it I can try a different design (yep - and grind up my first one to mix into my sculpting clay - it's called grog believe it or not.

Someone was talking about how they can fire thick clay sculptures by adding grog to the clay when everyone else was saying no no no no you have to make your sculptures thin-walled or they'll explode all over the place. So I was happy when this guy spoke up because I had already been thinking why not just fire it low and slow ... and that's exactly what he said ... then he threw in the bit about adding grog and I'm going, 'Grog? What? Isn't grog something you drink? Like beer or some such?'

Me being me, I had to look it up, thinking my vocabulary can't be that far off in its automatic assigning of meanings to words.

No, I'm fine (whew). Grog is a kind of weak alcoholic beverage akin to beer.

It is also ground up bisque (fired ceramics) that you add to your sculpting clay so you can make your pieces thicker than what would normally be okay for firing.

*smug self-satisfied smile*

So now we know.

I also found out that I'm not making 'felt' exactly; I'm making 'boiled wool' and can stop boiling it any time now even though it surely doesn't seem to have shrunk any. You're supposed to give it a dunk in cold water to prevent it from shrinking any more - but I'm not exactly worried about that. So onto a towel with the two pieces of that sleeve. And there they'll stay until they're dry.


Then we'll see if the boiling made any difference. Frankly I was expecting something a little more impressive, but what the heck. The tag said it was 100% wool in three or four different languages so ... 

Anyway, the rest of the jacket is across the top of these pieces, for comparison. *chuckling* All you can really see is that the jacket is dry and the sleeve pieces are wet. For this procedure you're supposed to squeeze (not wring) excess water out and then put the fabric between towels to dry instead of using a dryer. So that's what I've done.

Found out some interesting things about boiled wool. It's making a come-back in the fashion world, apparently; not that it matters to me but it's nice to know so I can play at being fashion-conscious in case anyone asks me about it.

It's also supposed to be really weather-proof and warm - and there are places that it's never ever gone out of fashion. Cold places in the mountains of our world from what I gather. Which tells me that it might just be all it's cracked up to be.

In a few short hours we'll find out how all that hot water affected the pieces of lightweight jacket fabric we used here.

And if you think I'm going to stay up all night watching those pieces of wool dry, you'd best think again.

Next time I do something like this it will be in the daytime so I can use the drying time to sculpt myself a crucible or something.

Instead, I'm going to sleep.





Sunday, February 15, 2015

Experiment on the Horizon

What does THIS:


Have to do with THESE:



And THIS ?



That's what the experiment is all about.

The working hypothesis is: I can take some of the many matching doorknobs that grace the many doors in my house, press them into ceramic clay to make disk molds, which I will incise with the above design (using plain lines, not the many-sized circles as I'm not that skilled), and use the ingot buttons in their molten form to create medallions using said molds.

Being as it's an experiment which is as yet merely a thought in my notoriously strange mind, don't be holding your breath or anything waiting for spectacular results.

You know me.

I'm not into fancy schmancy and am not going to try to create intricate little patterns and designs - plain and simple is plenty enough challenge for this woman.

#          Time lapse ... digging through studio and store room to find things I need ... which I duly found, thank goodness.

You know what?

I just had another thought.

Those medallions will be a perfect size for a nice big necklace dangle ... so I've got to remember to carve little ring things at their tops ... which has nothing in this world to do with the thought that just blazoned across my mind but I don't want to forget to DO it, so put this little reminder to myself in here for safe-keeping so to speak.

No, my thought was that these things will also be a perfect size for the brooches I need for my chitons and cloaks and plaids and such.

Not that I'm going to use these medallions for any such thing, mind you.

Howsomever, there's such a thing as carving directly into the clay while it's still damp ... and I can design the penannulars I want (simple, very simple, as this is still me we're talking about here) and just carve the rings with the divide smack into the clay. The pin too, for that matter, and then figure out how to bend the wide end of it around the ring - although this is aluminum alloy we're using so it ought to retain some of it's workability, right? 

When it  comes to the ring things, the circles on the doorknobs are exactly the size I want - so I can just push them far enough into the clay to get the impression I need, a basic pattern, and then deepen the areas I want. Holy Mother I'm going to have to be bloody careful pouring, aren't I? Or I'll have scads of filing and such to do, which I wouldn't find very fun I betcha. So it's careful I'll be.

How hard can this be? People have been making these things for thousands and thousands of years. And if the meaning of the name Gowan is even close, there were some smiths among my ancestors. Not that I'm exactly 'smithing' anything, but working with metal is working with metal, right? Right. Melting it and making it into things I need. Maybe some of that DNA is kicking in, you never know. My sister works in a whole different way with metals to make fancy schmancy jewelry stuff ... not me, though. I'm just looking for plain and simple utility here. 

Hmmm ... I wonder ... what if, to make the brooch circles, I just lay some of my thick aluminum wire into them, the stuff I use for the bracelets and spirals and such? Then I wouldn't have to worry about trying to pour into those narrow grooves ... the wire would melt as the molds heat while the rest of the aluminum is becoming molten ... and those molds can just sit right there in the kiln to cool while I pour the other stuff. Because, you know darned well that if I tried to take them out right away I'd spill molten aluminum all over the place and the brooches would surely be ruined, along with a lot of  other stuff that I don't really want to ruin either.

And what the heck. I just had another thought as I was hoping the aluminum would retain enough flexibility for me to wrap the pin ends around the brooch circles. It dawned on me that the stuff is likely to still be too flexible. Dang. I might need some antimony after all. To mix with the aluminum as it melts, you know, to toughen it up some. 

Well then.

Let the experimenting begin, huh? 

I think I'll just try dropping them into a bucket of cold water first. If they're still too soft to serve their purpose, that will be the time to think about other options.

Copper. Copper just flew into my head.

Ach.

Geez.

Bronze? A sort of bronze? What the heck.

Not tonight.

Please don't make me figure this out tonight.

*sigh*



Friday, February 13, 2015

Mittens From a Sweater

First effort here - don't laugh TOO loud !! 

Here's that purple sweater ... I've got one mitten done so used it as a pattern for the other one. The chalk works pretty well for tracing your hand and then tracing around the first mitten ... 


1) turn the sweater inside out
2) put your hand with the wrist about an inch up from the bottom hem of the sweater
3) spread your fingers a little so you'll have 'wiggle room' inside your mitten
4) draw with chalk around your hand
5) stitch it up - for this pair I used a straight stitch AND zigzag but think I'll try it without the zigzag next time ... 
6) cut your mitten out
7) turn it right side out and see what you think!
8) turn it inside out again and use the first mitten as a pattern for the other one
I made this pair bigger because it's for my daughter and her hands are bigger than mine. If they're too big for her all she has to do is turn them inside out and stitch inside the seam. I also used a lightweight sweater because she said she wanted lightweight mittens, like the light little knit gloves that are all over the place - but she wants mittens, not gloves!


And there you go. Simple. Quick. Mittens.

And it's on to the next project!

I Need to go 'Frip-Shopping' !!

Here's a beginning ...  lightweight sweaters in red and purple for mittens, the bright jewel tones in silk (jacket), woven pinks and burgandy in a wool blend (jacket), and a sort of tweedy wool jacket that's actually a warm tan rather then the grey this photo makes it look like.


A glimmer of an idea has been percolating around in the back of my mind for a while now and is beginning to take on a bit of a shape.

I want to do some experimenting.

Fancy that, huh?

Oh but I really do want to try some things, just for the fun of it.

For one thing, my daughter Tess wants a certain type of mitten and I know exactly how to get her exactly what she wants ... I just have to DO it! 

'Frip-Shopping', for those unfamiliar with the term (which would be everyone except for a handful of us) means heading out on a quest to go to every second-hand store a person can find, usually in search of one particular thing or type of thing. Equally usually, it means coming home with a whole bunch of stuff you never even thought of buying - in addition to (or in lieu of) what you set out to look for.

It's one of the most incredibly fun things in this whole entire world.

So what am I going to be in quest of as soon as I can manage to get started on this quest of mine?

Old woolen sweaters, mainly.

Anything else that's 100% wool.

In as many different fabric weights as possible.

Tess wants lightweight mittens, which probably ought to NOT be woolen, but I will most certainly find somebody's old sweater in a different kind of fabric (the kind she wants) and can make more than one pair of mittens out of it - so she will get her mittens and I will have a couple more items to add to my collection of stuff!  

So if I don't want all that wool for mittens for Tess, what do I want the wool for?

I want it for my own self.  

Woven or knit doesn't really matter to me, so long as it's 100% wool.

Because I'm going to dismantle the biggest men's sweaters I can find, wash them in the hottest water I can manage (boil the heck out of them in my new old kettle maybe) and then dry them on a hot dryer setting. I'm going to felt them is what I'm going to do.

And then I'm going to make myself some of those awesome boots that my friend Marian made for me and which I've just about gotten totally worn out.

Okay, they're not worn out, but the seams are coming loose in the pair I wear all the time.

I'm going to experiment and see what I can come up with for designs.

Ha.

With my luck I'll end up with a really big felted ball all wadded up.

Still, it's worth a try.

I can make myself some boots with however many inside pads I want  (cut to exactly fit my feet and stacked up inside the soles of the boots, yep), nice and thick for the winter time. And summer moccasins.

I can make felted bags to hang on my belts, to match the boots.

I can make leggings to match.

I can make mittens to match.

I can make scarves to match.

I can make hats to match.

Being as this is all extremely experimental, second-hand stores - Frip Shops - are my best bet for finding what I'm looking for.

I'm going to be looking for woolen dresses, sized extra large.

And men's sweaters, as big as I can find.

I'm thinking that if I get a big enough man's sweater, I can use the arms for boots - the shrinkage will be considerable, you know, as the hot hot water and hot hot dryer take their toll.

Once it's felted, I can cut it into whatever shapes I want and it won't unravel.

Heh heh.

That means I don't have to worry about anything except for the strength of my seams.

I'm hoping to get the boots from the sleeves, and from the body of the sweater (IF this experiment works) will come mittens, scarf, and hat. The leggings I'm thinking will only happen if I come across a couple of matching sweaters so I can use the second one for the leggings - depending on how big the sweaters are to begin with I reckon.

While I'm out there Frip-Shopping I'll also be on the lookout for 100% cotton, linen, and silk. Those are for the pants, tunics, cloaks, and chitons.

If by chance I find a big woolen blanket I'll be a very happy woman - because I can  do a lot with one of those!

Since it's all experimental I'm NOT going to want to invest huge amounts of cash in something that might not work.

If it does work, so much the better - I can expand my Frip-Shopping (since the shops nearest to me will be darned well out of wool, cotton, linen, and silk) and get on with expanding my wardrobe!

The thing about wool and silk especially is that they're warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Believe it. The warmest long johns are silk. Expensive, of course, but worth every nickel. Me, I can't afford them - unless I happen across a skirt that some great big lady has donated to a Frip Shop. In that case I can probably buy said skirt for five bucks and have enough silk to make myself a pair of really great pants (or two or three if the lady was really big) that I can wear in the summer and that can double as under-drawers in the winter. The same goes for wool.

And you know how easy it is to make a pair of pants, right?

Same for tunics, and easier yet are chitons. 

So yeah.

I'm definitely looking forward to heading to our local Frip Shop ASAP, to see what I can see. Then it will be road-tripping out in that wonderful thing called Fibonacci (spiral) to the next towns, and then the next ones.
  
Another great source for already felted wool are the old coats, those really long ones. I got one last summer that I was going to make into pants and some lightweight boots but never got around to it. The coat is WAY too big for me, goes down to my ankles and I can darned near wrap it twice around me. This winter when it was cold COLD I thought what the heck I'm gonna wear that thing!

And so I did.

Very handy, I have to say. Warm as all get-out and plenty long enough so that my legs never got the least bit cold, either! Not only that, it's plenty big enough for me to wear like five sweaters under it if I wanted to - which I never did but I could have. 

Yes I'm going to take it apart and make it into pants, because that's what I got it for after all ... and because it's a great color, a dark forest green that I really like. And yes I'll see if I can make some little boots out of it too. It's too thin to be good for winter boots ... unless ... I suppose I could double the recipe, so to speak, if there's enough left after the pants and light boots, and make a pair that's bigger enough to go over the small ones with a thick liner between them and inside soles like the ones I made out of the scraps of that wool blanket I turned into pants and a tunic.  The pants turned out great; the tunic not so much.

If ever I get bold enough, I might do a 'tutorial' and stick it into my YouTube channel. You won't believe how quickly you can make a pair of pants - ten minutes and I'm telling you true here. Otherwise, believe me, this woman would not do it. I'm not much of a seamstress, so the simplicity of the ancient styles is something I really appreciate.

Another thing I really appreciate is Frip Shops. Cheap fabric so I can play to my heart's content without worrying overmuch whether or not my experiments are going to turn out.

#  UPDATE!
As you can tell by the photo at the top of the post, I did indeed get a few things to begin playing with ... 

Now let's see what I can do with them!

Meeting Dickon of The Secret Garden



When I was a youngling I read The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and loved it so much that I created as best I could paperdoll Characters and a backdrop for them. 

When I had daughters of my own I made sure they came to know that story.

I had no idea how much they had taken it in until I met Steve and brought him home to meet my two young daughters. Not wanting to spring a total stranger on them I described to them his love of nature and especially animals. Since we were then in Family Housing at UND where I was working on finishing my degree, I didn't have to tell them that he values education and books, too.

Anyway, the time had come to introduce them and I watched the faces of my girls as he walked into the room.

Round went eyes of deep brown and eyes of blue-green. In sucked sharp breaths. To me flew glances bright with questions.

Soon they were at my side, pulling me to them. Bending, I listened to a pair of awed little girls who wanted to ask me something. 

And so they whispered:

'Mom! Mom! Is he ... is that ... is he ... Dickon?'

Well now.

What's a mother to do?

'He is called Steve, but I think he might just be Dickon too, grown up now.'

And so it was.

The man Steve who came into our lives was very much what we would expect in a grown-up Dickon.

We began an enchanted journey which, for me, will never lose the enchantment - come what may. 

Many things have come from that enchanted journey - the most fascinating and lovely being our two daughters to add to our then-family of my first two girls and Steve's little son. They are all grown now, those children ... yet the enchantment has never waned and it is often and often that I think of them as they then were ... and imagine them tending their very own Secret Garden. 

Whether or not my daughters remember meeting Dickon in the flesh when they were young girls I have no idea.

But I remember, and cherish the memory.

Because it is such moments that remind us how magical life can be.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Pray


Our Little Place is Growing!

Our very own Small Town USA is having itself some fun, let me tell you!

At least I was having fun today ... *big smile* ...


                 








If you haven't heard, there's a good-sized two story brick building named the Viking on a corner of our Main Street that, back in the olden days, was a home furnishings and supply store called the Quarve Building (after the owners), using the main floor and lower level (basement) while the second floor was apartments. 

The building has been put to use in a few ways between then and now ... and recently became available again. Except the second floor has been closed for a very long time and the basement could stand some TLC, so it's now just the main floor - which is plenty ... for the time being ... 

The renovations of said main floor over the course of time have come in handy for our little community.

The big front display windows aren't so very different, and the front doors and steps are the same ... but inside ... the big entry area is flanked by the Couchs' Coffee Shop that has all kinds of things besides coffee (mm-mm good!) and a sort of Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe called The Melding Pot that has all kinds of things that you might not want to eat or drink but which you will most assuredly love looking at and taking home. Shelly Weigelt makes darned sure you'll find plenty of new things every time you stop by. AND she's got helium balloons on behalf of Perry and Laurie Anderson. Also up front and in the hallway are custom-made wreaths designed and handmade by Wendy Wagner of Wendy's Wreaths, in conjunction with the Coffee Shop.

As you walk down the wide hallway you'll find men's and women's rooms to your right.

To your left, along the side street length of the building, are what were offices and meeting rooms. They are now homes to a bunch of small shops. First in line you'll see Close to Home Gifts - all personally created by our local artists, spear-headed by Deronda designs, whose creative metalwork jewelry and lampwork beads are likely to make you ask, 'How does she do that?!?' West End Creations adds the bright colors of crocheted items plus earrings and rings that will catch your fancy and hold it. Shiela Branson (yep, that would be me) contributes artwork and the books she writes and illustrates, including the whole lineup of the 'They Are My Song' series. Add soaps and lotions using buffalo tallow (including a men's line) made by another type of artist, Mrs. Robert Fehr, and some pottery designed and handmade by yet another local artist, Kathy Tebelius, and an assortment of era items ... Close to Home is liable to become your 'go-to' place for some almighty special gifts. Fay Fandrich often adds plants and flowers for special occasions.

Next stop is Anne West of Bowdon's West N More for some exceptional clothing and accessory options. 

Then comes Eldredge Publishing's Fessenden facility. For your printing needs, whether a quick copy of a school paper or invitations to anything you can think of to leaflets or ... well, the list just doesn't really stop.

Moving on down the row you'll come to another 'extension', this time of the business-next-door The Computer Loft. For your computer needs, this is the place for you.

Last in line but certainly not last in interest is The Stuff-o-torium - looking for era pieces and/or antiques to pique your curiosity? This guy's got one heck of a lot of stuff, believe you me. Every time I walk in there, he's got all kinds of new (well, old, but you know what I mean) and fascinating stuff. It's downright dangerous and I'm intensely relieved to be totally broke - otherwise I'd be carting a lot of his inventory to my house ... and I'm supposed to be clearing my own stuff out, not adding to it!

So that's the line-up along the side street. 

On the other side, once  you're past the ladies' room and the men's room, you come to a bit of a division. First there's a one-step-up sort of platform room with a half wall that looks into a great big wide open space. Right now there's a desk and chair in that step-up room and that's about it. Michelle uses it at times for her publicity stuff. Kids play in it at times, and they can play in the big open space too (unless somebody else is using it).

The big open space is for general purposes. Every other afternoon a group uses it for sweat-producing workouts, for example. 

It also has a line of cubicles along the far wall that are for general use. Kids use them for doing homework, people can use them for on-line projects (The Computer Loft donates internet access), you can sit at them and read, work on your own craft projects ... whatever you might need a temporary desk for. 

Sometimes the big open area is filled with vendors for special occasions. It can also be used for birthday/anniversary parties and bridal/baby showers (non-alcoholic types of things I'm presuming, but don't quote me on that), meetings ... if you need a big space but not an auditorium, this comes in right handy.

The Coffee Shop is open 7:30 a.m. - 6:00 p.m. Tuesday-Friday and closes at three on Saturdays. The rest of us are mainly open Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from ten-ish until maybe five-ish ... because, well, because we have creating to do and families to spend time with. On the other hand, this is Small Town USA - none of us are all that hard to find if need be.

So ... it's not been but maybe three months and already this Small Town USA is turning a historic building into something that's creating a new history of its own. 

It's called The Q.


Monday, February 2, 2015

Why Does Anybody Write Fiction When We've Got History?


My rendition of a part of this history ... 

Louis II through Louis V of France

In case there are any conspiracy theory fans out there, here’s a set of circumstances for your perusal. This bunch of Carlovingian Kings of France … somebody must have cursed their line a good one somewhere along the way …

Louis II (the stammerer, musta stuttered) reigns only 18 months, and those are filled with internal fighting because his chiefs, vassals, and an abbot, mainly in Aquitaine (never really took to Frankish rule, preferring their own, thank you very much) align themselves against the crown – not Louis II himself in particular, mind you … just the crown in general.

Plus the Vikings, aka Normans, are back.

Anyway, he gets sick and dies on his way to try to fix things with Aquitaine.

Leaves two teenaged sons, he does … kind of reminds me of Theodosius and HIS two – except that THESE two brothers act together to try to stop the Vikings (um, Normans) … 

The older one, Louis III, is barely sixteen and the other, Carloman, is maybe thirteen at the time their father dies. There’s also a baby brother but he doesn’t count, being as he’s 'illegitimate', the son of Louis II’s second wife (divorced his first one) and born posthumously to boot.

Anyway, their father Louis II suddenly takes sick and dies a year and half into his reign, in 879.

They are opposed from the get-go.

The abbot of St. Denis, with help, tries to get Louis of Germany onto the throne, to no avail … and so said abbot, Gozlin, has to leave the realm.

Then this guy Boson gets himself declared king of Provence by the bishops and nobles there.

Once these teenaged kings get their crowns firmly on their heads, the brothers take on the Vikings (Normans)  – stop them, they do – but then some who had hidden themselves sneak up in the night and scare the bejayzuz out of the victors before taking themselves off to loot Germany for a while.

The boys, together – Louis III in the west and Carloman in the east (I think – if you find it a matter of urgency, look it up), have but three short years before Carloman’s ruling alone, and he has only two years of that …

Sigh.

So.

Louis III either falls off his horse or gets sick (like his father?) and dies. He’s 19.

Carloman goes back to fighting the Normans, who don’t just go home after he beats them but stick around and raid in smaller bands all over the place until Carloman opts for buying them off so they’ll leave the vicinity again, instead of trying to chase them hither, thither, and yon.

Two years after his brother gets dead, Carloman dies in a hunting accident, either from getting stabbed by a stag or by getting shot with an arrow allegedly aimed at said stag. He’s 18.

So they’re both gone.

Instead of granting the baby the crown, they give it to Fat Charlie, Emperor of whatever – ah, Charlemagne's empire – because they think he’ll be a stronger force against the Normans.

Ha.

That’ll teach them to think.

Apparently this guy isn’t very nice.

He invites a chief of the Normans to a meeting but, instead of going to meet him, has him assassinated.

Well now.

This kind of makes the rest of the Normans mad.

They get together the biggest force yet and lay siege to Paris in 885, bringing their boats and the whole nine yards.

Instead of rushing to the aid of his people, Fat Charlie dicks around for a year or so in Pavia, wherever that is.

So Paris is on her own and holds out against this big strong Norman assault for all this time, which Fat Charlie has called down on them by ticking off the Normans in the first place.

When Fat Charlie does get around to showing up he doesn't take on the Normans, although he does get as far as Metz where apparently he just sits around and does not much of anything in particular. Eats, maybe. I don’t reckon they call him Fat Charlie for no good reason.

Finally the brave Count Eudes of Paris has just about had it with this whole situation.

The Normans are trying to get past the ramparts six ways from Tuesday, the moats are filling up with the rotting corpses of French people, food is running out, and yada yada … enough is enough already.

So Eudes sneaks out of Paris, right?

He sneaks through the enemy camps and goes to Fat Charlie in Metz to give him what for.

Really, what the heck kind of king sits there and lets Paris be under seige for a whole dang year without lifting a finger to do anything about it?!? Especially when said king caused the whole thing in the first place.

Under the impression that said king is actually going to finally do something, Eudes sneaks back through the enemy camps to Paris.

Unfortunately for him, it seems somebody snitched on him. They do say that he had to fight his way back into the city and got his sword all bloody in the process.

And here comes Fat Charlie to the plain of St. Denis.

When he sees what he’s up against, he pays the Normans 7,000 pounds (weight) of silver, offers them safe passage on the Seine, and suggests they head for Burgundy which is ripe for the picking.

This they agree to, and aboard their boats they go, to take the water route (the Seine) through Paris.

Um.

No.

Paris isn’t going to let them through and they shoot the captain of the first boat that tries it.

So the Normans bodily pick up their boats a couple of miles outside of Paris and carry them on their backs to a couple of miles on the other side of Paris … then off they go to wreak havoc in Burgundy.

Fat Charlie has managed to make everybody mad at him so he gets deposed and Charlemagne's Empire gets dismantled into eight separate kingdoms – which is probably just as well since nobody’s getting along with each other anyhow, not so's  you'd notice ... an empire divided is no empire in the first place.

France’s new ruler is guess who.

Eudes of Paris.

They pass over little Charles the Simple again. I bet that made his mother kind of mad but who knows – maybe she was relieved, all things considered. For all we know she had a hand in the untimely deaths of her stepsons … paving the way for little Charles, you know ... nah ... she wouldn't do that.

Anyway, Eudes takes it to the Normans in no uncertain terms and kicks their backsides from hell to breakfast, only to have more of them show up and pick up where the others left off in totally wrecking everything they can get their hands on.

He finally has to resort to paying them off, which kind of gets them off his back but makes the nobles and such pretty mad because they’re the ones who are getting stuck with all the bills.

So they up and make little Charlie king after all.

Luckily for all involved, the responsibilities are shared by Eudes (whew!).

When Eudes dies in 898 he tells everyone to go with Charles as king and let his own house off the hook for inheriting the curse of the throne of France. Okay, I made that last bit up, but apparently he did tell them that Charles was sole monarch.

And so things go from bad to worse. The whole shooting match is now in the hands of the nobles and etc. Nobody is even bothering to fight or buy off the Normans any more and the people are paying through the teeth just to live.

Things get so bad that the Normans don’t even have anything left to ravage.

So they settle themselves down and become colonists instead of raiders – new towns and such come into being where the old ones have long since become barren. Makes a person wonder if they would have been so thorough in their ravaging if they'd known they were going to be the ones to have to put it all back together again ... 

And here comes good old Rollo again. This is the guy that had been bribed by Charles the Bald in 876, and then was in on the siege of Paris.

Now he goes about burning the monastery of St. Martin of Tours, sacking Bourges, and marching into Paris.

So Charles the Simple hands over his daughter Gisele, gives Rollo rank, and gives him the whole province of Maritime Neustria from the sea to the river Epte – the Duchy of Normandy.

And Rollo is in.

He’s supposed, as a gesture of submission and good will, to kiss the foot of Charles.

*snicker*

He doesn’t.

Neither does the guy who’s supposed to step up to the plate and do it for him.

Oh, this guy goes up to the throne all right.

But instead of stooping to kiss that foot, he raises said foot of said king and uses it to topple the king from off of his throne, onto his backside on the turf (the turf part is debatable, the toppling part is not).

Bet that got a few Norman laughs and a few French growls. Ah no, they took it in silence I understand. Fancy that.

Rollo is duly baptized as part of the deal, with Eude’s brother Robert Duke of France standing as his sponsor.

The old warrior marries Gisele and turns his new lands – Normandy – into something wondrous, apparently.

Well, who was going to argue with him about how he wanted to do anything? Who would even want to try to stand against him? His own people were on the same page as him, and anyone who didn’t like it was free to leave his realm, or die I guess. All things considered, he had a darned free rein and used it to turn things around. 

Kind of reminds me of Alaric some, only with a really deep and wide mean streak. I betcha Rollo never had a sword whose name was Kindness. They both (bottom line) wanted homelands for their people. Alaric asked time and again and his people paid with their blood fighting for someone else’s gain, trying to ‘earn’ a home … they ended up in Aquitaine by fighting to protect it. But that’s a whole different Story, that is.

Back to topic.

Once Rollo has a homeland for his people, he and they settle down and create peace for themselves – the hard way, they get that peace, but I would bet they think it worth the price.


At the above site on page 284 it says:

“… according to Oderic Vital, ‘a child might have traversed his domains, with a purse of gold in his hand, without fear of molestation.’”

The same source says that Rollo once hung a pair of golden bracelets on the limb of a tree and they stayed right there for a good two years without anyone touching them. The rebuttable presumption is that he eventually went hunting in that same area again and took them down his own self. Since there’s nobody to rebut said presumption we’ll just go with that.

Charles the Simple, meanwhile, is proving his simplicity.

His best friend Haganon seems to be calling the shots – and he overshoots himself when he doesn’t let Henry Duke of Saxony and Robert Duke of France in to see the king when they want to tell him about some crappy stuff going on out there in the kingdom.

Makes them mad, that does.

In 920 everyone gets together, meet up with Charles, and one and all they break their ‘reeds or wands of office’ and throw them at his feet.

Charles the Simple is deposed.

Robert Duke of France becomes king by acclamation. Or election. Take your pick. He gets to sit on the throne and wear the crown.

Charles goes away to Lorraine and Robert follows him for no real good reason that anyone can figure out. Maybe he just wants to see where Charles is going.

Dear Haganon hires himself a Norman army and surprise surprise there’s a fight.

King Robert, a white-beard by this time, grabs his own banner and charges hellbent-for leather at the banner of Charles. Charles warns his standard-bearer in time and Robert's attack ends up with his own head at his own feet. So to speak.

Howsomever, Robert's son Hugues goes on to win the day and Charles goes on his way to Germany to see if Henry of Saxony would have mercy on him.

Now Hugues isn’t all that interested in wearing any old crown, bless his heart, and asks his sister Emma what to do. Being as she’s married to the Duke of Burgundy (Raoul) the crown goes to Raoul by order of Hugues.

Sigh.

No, that’s not the end of the story.

Rollo, just to stir the pot and rile things up, now that the whole mess is settled, declares himself for guess who –

That’s right.

Charles the Simple.

He says it’s because that’s the king he has sworn allegiance to, and maybe he isn’t really lying about that.

Hindsight being 20/20 and everything being a matter of perspective, consider how things might have evolved if France had put Rollo in charge of the whole shebang instead of just giving him Normandy.

Ah.

You can’t expect people to go that far, given the history Rollo had already inflicted on them.

At any rate, nobody agrees with Rollo about siding with Charles the Simple, not that I believe he really expected them to.

Charles becomes the prisoner of Herbert Count of Vermandois by devious means; Herbert trots him out once in a while when he wants something from king Raoul, but he never gets set free. If they spoil him, as they well might even though he's a prisoner, he might not mind captivity too much. At least he's safe. And useful to somebody.

Meanwhile, Charles’ wife Elgiva takes their three year old son Louis to her brother Athelstan of England. 

Rollo himself dies at a ripe old age a little while after Charles is taken captive. His son William Longsword takes over …

King Raoul dies in 936 without a son so poor Hugues again has to decide who to put on the throne.

This time he gives it to the logical recipient, Louis IV, son of the now-dead Charles the Simple, nephew of Athelstan of England.

By now Louis IV is a whopping sixteen years old and Hugues decides he wants Burgundy.

Good grief.

Burgundy Hugues cannot have, with or without Louis IV saying so.

So he decides he wants Laon – which is really all that Louis IV has. So he says no and they have a fight over it. Emperor Otho saves Louis IV’s bacon but Hugues is pretty darned powerful …

Louis IV goes to Aquitaine and gets a lot of sympathy but not much else.

Everyone’s sick and tired of all the fighting. They just want their lives back – like the Normans up in Normandy, they want their lands and their homes to be safely their own again, productive and yada yada ...

Speaking of the Normans … William Longsword has gotten himself assassinated by Arnoul the Count of Flanders in retaliation for William helping out an enemy of said Count.

Now Richard, William’s son, is only ten years old and illegitimate to boot.

Louis IV heads for Normandy to accept the homage of Richard, which is duly performed, assigns himself Richard's guardian, and hies him off to Laon (castle of the king, Louis’ home).

And keeps him there.

Yep.

And they called his father simple.

Richard’s governor (and teacher?) Osmond sneaks into the castle disguised as a groom for the horses, gets Richard the Fearless bundled into a bunch of hay, and carries him over his shoulder out of the castle grounds to a waiting conveyance and they get the heck out of there and back to Normandy.

So what does Louis IV do but enlist the help of Hugues Duke of France of all people – they’re going to get rid of this Richard kid and split Normandy between the two of them.

I tell ya. The father has nothing on the son when it comes to simple-mindedness.

They get to Normandy and everyone just leaves them alone (which really ought to have told them something, right?). Louis picks a fight with Hugues and sends him packing back to Paris.

Ditto above statement.

We’re up to 945 now, in case you were wondering.

Anyway, a honking big bunch of Danes come on down to Normandy, into all that nice quiet ‘innocence’, to help out (they owe Richard’s father William a favor -  and probably really just want the fun of the fight) and kick the everlivin’ daylights out of Louis IV. 

He runs for it but gets himself captured.

Although it goes against his grain, Hugues gets together the ransom to free Louis IV from captivity in Rouen – and then takes him prisoner his own self.

Poor guy (Louis IV).

Now he’s got to sign Laon over to Hugues after all, in order to get his freedom. So he’s got no power, no land, nothing at all – and goes a-wandering destitute among his people, a sorrowful sight …

Uffda.

Louis IV goes to his brother-in-law Emperor Otho for help but the help isn’t really all that helpful. Otho is also brother-in-law to Hugues, you see. Being between fighting brothers-in-law  is no doubt not a safe place for anybody, no matter what title you carry.

Finally the Pope has to decide, and even then Hugues is darned attitudinal, sneering at the threat of excommunication and demanding this that and the other thing.

And he started out being such a nice guy.

Geez.

Anyway, Laon goes back to Louis IV but Hugues gets to keep all the power and control.

Heck of a deal, that.

In 954, four years after all this, Louis IV dies when his horse falls while chasing a wolf.

Really.

Those French kings ought to just stay the heck off of horses.

And here we go again.

Louis IV’s son Lothaire is only thirteen when his father dies.

Hugues, true to his not-so-nice-guy nature, demands and 'gets' Aquitaine, just like he tried to get Burgundy.

Same results.

William of Aquitaine is having none of that.

And the fight is on for a couple of years – until by the grace of the Almighty and to the relief of all (except presumably Hugues himself) the guy finally bites the dust.

Well now.

We’ve got fifteen year old Lothaire on the one hand and his ten year old first cousin Hugh Capet on the other. Their mothers are full sisters – and I can’t even begin to imagine what in the world their lives had to have been like.

These sisters, Gerberge and Hedwige, have some powerful brothers: Otho Emperor of Charlemagne's territory, and Bruno Duke of Lorraine and Archbishop of Cologne.

With their respectively troublesome husbands at long last out of their hair, the sisters get together with their brothers and the family makes a decision.

The boys Lothaire and Hugh are going to be raised together from here on out – and that’s all there is to it. Enough is enough of the bickering and fighting already.

And guess what.

It works.

The two of them have each other’s backs for keeps.

*chuckle*

Emperor Otho dies, right? And his son Otho II takes over in Lorraine, first cousin to these two.

They come to ‘take’ him just as he’s sitting down for a nice fancy feast – he gets away, leaving his meal for his cousins to thoroughly enjoy.

Vowing vengeance, Otho II tells his cousins that he’s going to ‘sing Alleluia at the walls of Paris like it’s never been heard before’ or some such …

And he does.

Scares the livers out of everyone when his army shows up at Paris fully outfitted for serious battle.

And they do indeed sing :  The Canticle of the Martyrs – Alleluia! And Te Martyrum candidatus Laudat exercitus Domine! – which probably scares everyone even more.

Then they turn around to march home, carrying the booty they’ve collected along the way …

Mm-hmmm …

They get caught in a river flood and lose all that booty, plus cousin Lothaire takes out their rear guard for good measure.

So it isn’t all just fun and games.

Even so, there doesn’t seem to be all that much angst among the cousins, to be honest, relatively speaking, for the time.

On the other hand, Lothaire gets dead allegedly by poison at the hand of his wife Emma in March of 986. Not the same Emma that Hugues asked for advice – for heaven’s sake that was how many generations ago now?

Lothaire’s son Louis V is more than a little upset with his mother and her (presumed) lover Adalberon Bishop of Laon.  He threatens them but probably doesn’t follow through; reigns for only fourteen months before he too dies of poison at the hand of his wife Blanche, who wants (and gets) Uncle Hugh Capet as her new husband … whether the story is true, we don’t know; whether Hugh has any knowledge or participation, we also don’t know.

And with Louis V ends the line of what is known as the Carlovingian race of the kings of France, in the merry merry month of May in 987. [That's a nice round five hundred years from 487 and SONG, come to think of it. Maybe I ought to write this into fiction, hmmm ... ?]


Which is as good a good place as any to end this little story methinks.