MissBennet20's Xanga

Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu

Sun, 27 Jan 2008 00:31:48 GMT

Alright, the time has come. I hereby join the ranks of those who have left Xanga for a different blog. Please visit me hereafter at www.ellsworthcreations.com/SirRoderick for continued bloggage =)

I still happily maintain my association with the the xanga site StillSharpe, though my opportunities to post the quotes of my beloved roommate are altogether too few.

Again,

www.ellsworthcreations.com/SirRoderick

Please don't be a stranger :) I shall still check my friend's xangas.

Ich spiele an meiner Arbeit und ich arbeite an meinem Spiel

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 02:53:08 GMT

This last week and a half, my boss and I have worked on a rather amazing piece. Two columns supporting a large overdoor. It almost exaclty matches the design of the 1854 sections of the Capitol in Washington DC. Supposedly it came off the exterior of an English house, built in 1779. It is true that the Capitol was modeled after designs like those, so it's possible. Anyway it was quite awfully damaged and uglified when we got to it. The gold was filthy, but it had been tip-guilded in the past 20 years or so. The woodwork was a dull, dark graphite gray, notched and cracked in lots of places. It was in a living room across from the fireplace; a room full of beautiful antiques, many with gold as well. But the dark grey of the overdoor was fighting the rest of the room and it looked very ominous...looming.
Since last Thursday we've washed it in mineral spirits (hence the face mask picture), sanded it, painted it in a light grey set coat, put a liquidy glue (size) onto the gold, re-sculpted some of the broken areas with molding paste and plaster, tip-guilded the gold, put a brownish-walnut overglaze over the whole thing, and then used various dark brown colors to antique areas of it back even further. Now it still looks 228 years old as it should, but it's not so nasty and flat and dark. Andy (my boss--who said that if I ever called him boss he'd fire me, oops) had to re-sculpt some of the frieze designs in modeling clay and bake them...today we sized and guilded those, nailed them into place (the originals were made of iron), and antiqued them.

I've learned a lot at this job...mastered none of it, hehe, but learned much (including a history of rock and roll). Andy's a good teacher because he gives me just enough information to do what is needed and then trusts me to go ahead...I'm free to ask all kind of questions, but it's good for me to learn by doing.

I can hardly believe God has given me this job...to spend all day doing fun artsy stuff...yay :) Yeah it's hard on my feet, and sometimes I have to wear yucky masks in order to breathe...oh well.

Laborare est orare. Work is prayer.
And in my case, it's play as well :)

Oh yeah, almost forgot to mention: at the home where we did this work, on the wall to one side of the overdoor there's a Claude Monet. On the other side, a Van Goh.
A 1936 Matisse in the bathroom, and a Picasso in the hallway.

Tonight is a new moon, oddly meaning no moon. Where we live, the stars are often brighter than we are used to, but on a night like this even more so! Thus the following came to mind...

"Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it."

The Book of Love

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 01:48:50 GMT

This is one of my favorite songs...look it up somewhere and listen to it.

The Book of Love
(Peter Gabriel)

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing

But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb

But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know

But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

Calm

Sun, 14 Oct 2007 19:55:45 GMT

The wind is in the trees.....the sun is on the grass.....their are birds eating at the feeder......one dog is running around in the flowers and the other lounging on the warm ground. I'm sitting on the back porch in my long shorts and small sandals, enjoying the view. Enjoying our ridiculous 8 ft.-jungle-flowers, hehe, and going to choir practice in a few minutes.
God is so good.
Even though my future is unsure, even though there are hard decisions to make, even though my heart is weak, even though Mandy Bricks is in the hospital, even though Mrs. Witkowski just lost her mother, even though many were injured and killed in the pile-up on the I-5, even though the Middle East is a mess, even though the world is a mess. God is good. He is the ONLY good. He is there and He is perfect. The universe holds no secrets from God, and His decisions will always be best and wisest. Why do I worry? Why do I wonder why He does what He does with the people in my life?
I have one responsibility. Obedience. Obedience takes trust. Trust takes patience. God grant me, and you, that patience.

And as my sister so wisely said--"I pray that God keep me lest I confuse inscrutability with absence."

Water, color, fire, and music

Tue, 09 Oct 2007 01:26:11 GMT

Wow!
A studpendous thunderstorm, a bright rainbow and a firey sunset all in one night! The slow heavy rain soaked in deep (we needed it!) and the rainbow was visible from horizon to horizon--then the sunset made it look like the view from the front door was on fire! It was bee-yoo-tiful.

I am continually amazed at the emotional power of music. Whether it's bagpipes, a capella choir, fiddle, classical guitar, opera, orchestral or so many others...excellent recordings (and live performances!) of these leave me speechless every time, and often change my mood in a split second. Perhaps that's a reason for me to be extremely careful with the music I love so much...it could make me quite the emotional rollercoaster, and what girl needs more of that?! Hehe...but I hope that power never loses it's effect on me. The day that music no longer moves me will, I hope, be the day I die.

I'm sitting on the couch next to the piano...such a loverly piano :) thanks to Dr. Mays' help in choosing it! When I'm done with the next thing on my list (posting on my blog was of course not on the list, hehe) I'm going to play for a while. Night is the best time for it. Or early in the morning...but people in the house don't usually appreciate that :) Anyway...I turn the lights down low, practice Christmas music, play slow Bach pieces, play Legends of the Fall, Lord of the Rings...and sometimes just try and work out some melodies I like. It's very cathartic...

Don't be ridiculous, Elizabeth.

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 02:40:51 GMT

There is now conclusive proof that my sentimental nature has reached an unhealthy level. Those of you who have always known this and have been trying to tell me so for years, feel free to indulge in a hearty "I told you so" or your own version thereof.
This evening my mind mulls over a wonderful weekend, a fun new job, and great new friendships. I think about how good and patient God is, to put me somewhere I didn't want to be, and wait for me to realize that He knows best. Then comes a creeping, quiet feeling of guilt. But for what? Why should I feel guilty for enjoying yet another set of major changes in my life? I think it is because a part of me holds to the previous friendships so tightly that any additions seem like betrayal. And of course they are not...but once in a while there is a nagging struggle in which I feel that I am wrong to be reveling in the new joys at the expense of the old.
But then reason and reality become clear again. A young widow who happily remarries will naturally battle the same "guilt"; no doubt with more intensity and for far better reasons. However it is a guilt just as false as my own. God gives new joys to replace those He has removed. Though not to replace--to augment! It may take time to recognize them, to fully appreciate them. But they are good, and there is no betrayal.
I used the phrase "previous friendships"...silly me. There is nothing previous about it. Those people back at TMC and California in general, and Minnesota, and others all over the world that I have known and loved, those I have the honor to call my friends, are not lost to me. Even if my earthly fear of never seeing them again is realized, there is still Eternity to consider, after all. :)
These are simple truths and perhaps you sorted them out for yourself long ago. Bear with me. If we were good friends once, and now we are separated by months and miles, you are not forgotten. You are in my mind often, even as the new friends embed themselves in my affection.

Ouch.

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 23:49:49 GMT

Today was a good day. Except for the part where I dropped a case of handbells onto my already broken toe.

Swingin' from the treetops

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 22:39:24 GMT

You have to admire the daring of squirrels. They dash up these skinny trees like there's no tomorrow, and scamper around on whispy twigs of branches at the top, not caring one wit about the fifty-foot drop below. Then they jump across the abyss to another tree more whispy than the last! I can see the whole harrowing sequence from my window. The complexities of aerodynamics notwithstanding, it's just downright cool to watch.

On the other hand, they do try to eat the birdseed in our feeder. Nasty little thieves. And they probably have a distinctly unpleasant odor if one could ever get close enough to smell it, and no doubt they are generally very dirty. The bite of a sqirrel hurts a lot too, so I've heard.

Hmmm.

Biters or not,
thieves or not,
odorous or not,
dirty or not,
I applaud them.

Sometimes the heart of the book is in the title

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 19:54:36 GMT

There is a book I just started reading, and I'd like to tell you guys a bit about it.

A small book about the Holocaust has sat on my shelf for years, untouched. It is only 216 pages, and the title always intrigued me; perhaps I had seen so many documentaries and museums and heart-breaking images of the Holocaust that kept me from reading a book as well. Whatever the reason, it remained on the shelf.
Two years ago, my sister wrote a gripping essay on a rare experience: she met a Holocaust survivor. I will never forget her powerful description of the encounter, of sitting next to the sad, shrunken old man on a long flight to Austria. Oscar Stroh. With the oldest, most dead eyes she had ever seen. Ten days later, in Israel, she saw those same eyes in every face on the walls of Yad Veshem, Israel's Holocaust "museum".
Since reading that essay, the memory of the little book on my shelf came back to me at random times. Though I had still not read it, the few things I did know drifted through my mind . . . it was a personal account, written by a lady who was a child at the time of the Holocaust . . . she later earned a Ph.D. in Hebrew culture and Jewish History from New York University . . . and I suddenly wanted very badly to read it. I had never read or heard a personal accout. Oscar wouldn't tell my sister anything about it. When he told her that as a young man he had studied Law, she asked what kind of law he'd practiced.
He simply said "I never practiced law." Then he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Have you ever heard the term Holocaust survivor?"
She nodded, every horrible image of the savagry of those years coming to her mind.
He whispered, "That is me."

When I unpacked many of my old school books a few weeks ago, I saw it. The 14 yr-old face of the author looked out from the cover. I read the title again. My sister's description of Oscar's eyes flooded back.

"I Have Lived a Thousand Years"

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 03:25:12 GMT

A few more interesting shots :)

Mr. Gibbs

friendly tree in North Carolina

yup, it's honey

what I would call the bridal gown of all flowers...in South Carolina