Cultures

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Chevy Monte Carlo. No, it doesn’t run. It was made as an exercise to show the high quality work that goes into a Low Rider. Low Riders are unique to the Southern California Chicano culture. It leaks tho. 2010.

Yesterday and Today Himself: Took the day totally off. He didn’t even work at the museum. Herself: with the quilt blog too: Followed him around and used the GPS, went to a movie where we both laughed and ate too much, then came home and vegged. Herself: with the quilt blog too: Followed him around and used the GPS, went to a movie where we both laughed and ate too much, then came home and vegged. My Babylonian Captivity: Do stop in and read Tugster's experience as a human shield. He writes that, “ i was captured in kuwait (where i was teaching in the kuwaiti air force)….” Gratitude: RED made both of us laugh.

At one La Jolla estate sale high above the ocean, everything was moldy. Even a much wanted book was thrown away later because of mold eagerly growing inside the cover. At another La Jolla estate sale held in a giant old garage, not only was everything ossified in the ‘80’s…oh, you should have seen the acres of Mrs. Nixon style clothes a la my mother….hats, gloves, scarves, and polyester, there were isles of decoration left over from a redo of a major hotel. Everything we saw reflected the political and socio-economic culture of the time.

I fled to a bathroom at Harry’s then had eggs, sausage, and two really good pancakes. So did G. Harry’s is the best of the old La Jolla unpretentiousness run by a grandson now.

Later another estate sale high on a hill above El Cajon found me surrounded by fabrics. Rooms full of fabrics. Closets filled with outdated clothes. The garage was filled with fabrics. Boxes of fabrics lined the halls. Old quilts were scattered here and there….and more fabrics waited in every corner just popping out on this the third day of the estate sale. Fabrics of the time reflecting the craft culture of the time.

I bought five books on quilting.

I could work up no enthusiasm for the acres of fabrics and was completely appalled by the discovery that it had all been up in the attic. There was still more up there that the folks running the sale had not brought down to sit rotting away, not sold, for who would want these smelly bits of someone else’s past. It was good to leave there. It was very good to continue to think about getting rid of my own fabric stash….now.

We rolled down the hill to the valley and into a theater where we laughed, I even pounding my legs, clapping my hands, and delighting in the adventure of RED here reflecting the culture of the cold war. No intellectual pretensions at all.

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