Monthly Archives: March 2011

Not exactly a tea party…

Even better than a tea party! I love the classes in the studio.  Today was gray and wet outside but fun inside. The studio is just the right size to be cosy, sometimes you could even call it snug, but with all the fun and laughter it was perfect on a gloomy day.

I am so glad I decided to just slap a coat of poch paint on the floors. One end has carpet for comfort but the work area is safe to spill, splash, drip, drop and generally make a mess.  I have two long tables at the perfect height to work standing or on a stool–and here’s a tip–Goodwill is my lamp purveyor of choice. I watch for those swing arm lamps for two bucks, great deal!

At the far end I have my Inspiration Point, a laptop connection and a printer that uses toner. Old school, baby! I keep photos and tidbits that make me happy pinned on the wall. Including photos of my pets and kiddos, a shampoo bottle from France and various and sundry quotes I love.

Here’s me, so happy to be in the studio working! I’m wearing my French studio hat. Very silly, but it keeps my hair out of my eyes, all I need now is a scarf a la Isadora Duncan and I’m all set.

And of course, the helpers. The one requirement for helpers under 18″ tall is that they are black and white. One cat: Sweetpea; one rat terrier, Nellie; two shi h tzu’s, Mish and Moosh. The cast changes according to who wants to hang out at any given time. They have their own door, toys and beds-can you say spoiled?

Today the studio class was Do What You Love Most. Three of the gal pals wanted to make more garden ornaments. I think we are thinking of them like spring voodoo, our offerings to the weather gods to please hurry up and bring springtime our way. This is part of the saltshaker stash. The perfect basis for fun garden hangers.

This is a batch of finished garden hangers. Lots of them can be seen at Mr. T. put up overhead metal lines for me last year, very handy to hang stuff on and get it out of the way. I love all the things he does to keep me happy.

The two Lindas and the one Carolee totally focused on their projects. Linda O. discovered what a monster buffer can do to put a shine on poly clay. She also learned if you don’t hang on tight the piece becomes a missile and flies across the room. A lesson we’ve all learned at one time or another, startling but no harm, no foul.

Another shot of the studio students from my fuzzy camera. We had so much fun today, much better than a tea party!

Jaime bundled up in a work apron and a big fat old sweatshirt to stay warm while she worked at the glass station grinding her glass for a mosaic. I don’t think she noticed we were missing she was having so much fun out there in the damp all by herself. The mosaic/glass area is covered so she didn’t drown in the downpour and she accomplished a ton. Every girl needs a great glass grinder!

In April we will be making crazy funny pull toys of wood and dealing with power tools. I can’t wait! I always list classes on my gallery site and new students are always welcome. $25 for a two hour class and supplies and tool use are included unless otherwise indicated.

Join us for better than a tea party. If you have friends and want to do a class together, let me know. Choose a time that works and as Larry the Cable Guy says, “We’ll get ‘er done!”

Bankruptcy: Rabbit Wonders Who Fell Down the Rabbit Hole?

Who is Filing Bankruptcy?

I love this chart. It’s from 2008, but it really does give a nice window into who exactly is filing bankruptcy? In my world of student lending that’s a hot topic because in most cases you can’t get rid of a student loan by filing bankruptcy.

That may be slowly changing with the state of the economy and the plethora of predatory lenders who have saddled heedless borrowers with huge debt. That’s not to say the borrowers didn’t have their eyes wide open when they jumped into that swimming pool of molasses and then couldn’t get out.

I just read an essay called “The Frivolity of Evil” in a book called “Our Culture and What’s Left of It”, by Theodore Dalrymple. Dalrymple takes a dark view of society and he’s a little on the crispy side in his observations, but I took away an important point. A lot of humans make choices, really stupid choices when they know the outcome will be bad. They do it In The Moment. It’s easy to think about NOW and let the future sort itself out.

That pivotal place is where a lot of factors intersect.  Dalrymple interviewed a lot of women in terribly abusive relationships who had multiple children and  multiple partners. In every case the women knew the man was a very bad choice as a father and partner and still chose them for immediate gratification, hoping blindly things would work out.

In this instance, the subjects were all low income and coming through his clinic in England for treatment, but if we take that same thought and apply it to people who know on some level the loan they are taking is a bad choice, it makes sense. Personally, I have talked to  many students over the years who are desperate to finish their educations at any cost. They are just sure that diploma is the magic bullet that will make their dreams come true. Sadly, I don’t think that is the case in many instances and definitely not in this economy.

In my days at a university, I knew a 400 pound woman who got a teacher’s degree to teach first grade when she couldn’t climb a set of stairs to get to her classes. Of course she couldn’t get a job teaching rambunctious kids, yet the school eagerly took her promise to pay and didn’t counsel her on her prospects as a teacher.  The dilemma:  It was politically incorrect to mention her weight but it was  morally indefensible to leave her in debt to the tune of $30,000.00 she could never pay.

Things like this happen all the time. We live in an ivory tower in academia, we are proud that we  welcome students, change lives and make dreams come true. Still, I don’t think we do a good job of explaining to our students that reality has some nasty bitey teeth that never let go of your leg if you don’t get a job and worse, default on your loans. 

 Personally, I think schools are culpable in students’ failures if we don’t accept responsibilty for teaching them fiscal sense and counsel them on the reality of the jobs they want in the workplace that exists today. Like anything else, some students will show up on the door step knowing already what money is and does, and others will be lost and clueless, ready for that dip in molasses and a swim in the sea of bankruptcy.

I think thousands of us in the campus based lending and collections areas of schools know exactly what has to happen, but getting anyone to listen is a whole other fish fry. I’m seeing more and more about financial literacy these days and I’m really glad after being one of the voices yowling in the wilderness for years.

How does it happen? Who is successful? I intend to find out…

Welcome to the Aquarium

Journal entry October 1, 2006

Welcome to the aquarium:The eagle has landed, well…not exactly an eagle. At present more like a goldfish. Terry’s short term memory is shot. Like said goldfish he swims across the bowl turns around and it’s all new to him. He is now living only in the present. If he knew you before he knows you still. If he just met you, you will have to be reintroduced three minutes from now. Needless to say we are working very hard on helping him make those missing neural connections.

On the white board on the wall in his very nice room I have written out: ” I am in Olympia, I am in St Peter’s rehab center. I had an accident with my motorcycle in Montana. I hit a deer on 9/13/2006.” I remind him to read it every now and then. He can read, its halting, but he can do it most of the time.

This is all very odd and heartbreaking, he can carry on a perfectly lucid conversation, but if some piece is missing his mind supplies the missing piece out of some abstract memory which results in some unfortunately hilarious answers. I have every hope that the course in miracles will continue and he will begin to recapture those missing bits of his brain. I told him he now has the first valid reason ever not take out the garbage–he literally cannot remember.

Christmas should be easy too–I can give him the same present every three minutes and have a wonderful money saving holiday.  If I couldn’t laugh and see the humor I think I would cry like a baby and I really don’t want to do that– so please bear with me and don’t be appalled at my blackly humorous take on all this. I am not cold or unfeeling. I love this man and I’m like a bear with one cub these days, I need to remember how to smile and laugh and trust God and myself and all of you and Terry, it will be okay.

The folks at St Peter’s seem to be very nice, very dedicated and focused on rehab. I cannot leave him alone for a couple or reasons–number one, he pulls his C spine collar off. If I tell him his neck is broken he says he understands, looks me in the eye and yanks it off. This means all night long as I try to sleep in the chair next to his bed I listen for that velcro rip, jump up and explain it again, and again, hoping it will stick this time.

I am so looking forward to the help everyone has offered and I hope by Monday to have a central coordinator for “sessions” with Terry. I am finding I cannot do it all–right now I am caught up in just unpacking and getting myself reoriented to home after 16 days away–and still trying to be at the hospital half the time. Torin is trying to cope but I know he is shocked and scared and trying to grow up really fast.

I have stacks of mail to go through, thank heavens most of it garbage, but having to figure out the insurance, the paycheck, the bills, and Terry’s side of our life is all consuming.  I am deeply grateful to everyone who has stepped up and offered to help with Terry so I can actually get some stuff done.

Last night I was at the hospital with Torin and Terry and I got about three hours sleep. He slept soundly until midnight and then tossed and turned and kicked off the covers and got sideways in the bed and had to go to the bathroom and, and, and, until 3:30. I will warn you Terry sitting is not for the faint of heart. He is better at walking every day but still he is a little out of it as far as remembering to tell someone he has to go the bathroom. If you are not a strong person and you want to sit with him–make sure you know where the nurse’s call button is. I just sit him up and haul him off myself, I don’t even use the big white strap they gave me, that’s just too much like carrying a refrigerator around on my back. Having raised four boys, this is just sort of déjà vu on a big scale. Please feel free to scream over sharing–but this is the true story of TBI, traumatic brain injury. It’s not pretty, fluffy and romantic like in the movie 50 First Dates. It’s a grinding minute by minute process and remaining positive is the key. If this man can be yanked back into the world by just strength of will it’s a done deal.
Each night seems to be a bit easier as he gets his days and nights sorted out. Physically he is doing really well. It’s looking like he may have re-chipped an elbow that was already giving him trouble and his ribs and back keep him miserable no matter what position he’s in. He’s doing remarkably well and I have hopes that this is a trend that will continue. 

Keep those prayers revved up, we need all the help we can get!

Final Dispatch From the HP Lovecraft Memorial Motel, Billings, Montana

I’m still finding pieces of my journals, so from time to time the entries about Terry’s accident and the struggle back may get a little out of order. This one is too good not to share…

Sep. 27th, 2006 | 06:43 pm
location: room 258, the billings clinic
mood: amused
music: terry passing gas

Today I was waiting in line to check out of the HP Lovecraft Memorial Motel. It was about 3:00 on a sunny fall afternoon and a cowboy in a ten gallon hat, boots and a giant belt checked in, got his room key and wandered off down the hall. Relax, it only gets weird in Montana when they aren’t cowboys. My cell phone rang with a call from Don Bowman about flight information for tomorrow so I stepped out of line to take the call. I had taken a few photos of the hallways of serious weirdness and afterwards tucked my camera into my cowboy boot–not on my foot at the time, but stuffed into my overnight bag.

The door to the motel opened in front of me and I had all I could to not grab my boot, the one with the camera. So help me, they must have fallen off a cuckoo clock in a black and white movie. Thick Germanic/Austrian accents preceded them through the door and into my field of vision. He: crisp white Bavarian shirt with rolled up PRESSED sleeves, black and white suspenders and a black alpine style hat. I figured he’d have on lederhosen but nope, plain black pants. She: about five foot two and stocky, broad across the shoulder and the backside. Her face was arresting, small black eyes, a down turned pursed mouth a long nose that drooped at the tip and cheeks that would have been round and rosy except they drooped too. Sort of a white skinned German bulldog look. She had on a white kerchief tied over her head and under her chin, a la fairy tale wear. On the kerchief were large black polka dots. She had on a black and gray plaid dirndl with a matching plaid apron and a white puffy sleeved blouse. Thick black stockings and clumpy black shoes finished off her outfit–the final touch was the hair peeking out underneath the kerchief. It was rolled forwards and then backwards, again with the forties movie–oh how I wanted my camera. That much clashing plaid and polka dots was fabulous. I controlled myself and walked out shaking my head, sure I had been staying in an alien hive instead of a backwater motel.

I had dinner with my friend Kathy from Rocky Mountain College, located in Billings, and she said I was describing a Hutterite (hooter-ite.) She had just been in the hospital with her sister who was having a baby and a Hutterite mom to be was walking the halls with her mom. The girl was wearing her hospital gown, black and white kerchief, black socks and shoes. I wonder if she had the baby wearing her socks and shoes? Hmmm…. I wonder if the baby was wearing socks and shoes?

So long HP, I’m going home tomorrow.

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home… Terry and Traumatic Brain Injury headed to Oz, 9/26

Faye took the Yellow Car and headed home through Yellowstone, Old Faithful and tourists.

After taking it to mat with Regence Blue Shield, we are going home. Our insurance says they will only pay to transport Terry to the nearest rehab center-which is in Denver, Colorado. Not very useful to have him there, we might as well stay in Montana. I am beginning to understand the bitter truth about insurance companies now and it’s not pretty.

Terry in the hospital in Billings the day before we flew home. Its hard for me to look at these photos and its five years later!

The good news is we will be going home to Olympia and the Emily Gamelin Pavilion and Rehab center at St Peter’s hospital.  The hospital is only a mile or two from the house so I will be really close by; the rest of the bad news is to get Terry home I have to cough up a $3000.00 down payment out of my own pocket for the life flight.  I’m pretty sure his insurance will recover that for me, he’s a firefighter and thank God, the fire service is amazing about looking out after their own.

Packed up and ready to leave for home and rehab

He has passed the swallow test, he can eat with help, he can get up with a walker and sit in a chair. He’s still a complete froot loop and his short term memory is non-existent. He has no idea where he is or why for more than about three minutes. I wonder if that is as horrible for him as it is for me?

I’m so excited we are are leaving for home in the morning.  Faye took my car and drove it home a few days ago via Yellowstone, so we’ll flying out on a small plane and actually landing at the little airport in Olympia. Terry’s firefighters got special permission to cross into another jurisdiction with their rig and they will be picking us up at the airport in Tumwater. Every time I think about that I tear up, it’s such an amazing honor. I know they want to see him and bring him home.

Headed home form the Billings airport, a smiling nurse is already in the plane.

Going Home: The Life Flight Nurses were men. They were the two nurses who picked Terry up from Livingston right after the accident and flew him to the trauma center in Billings. They were astonished and happy to see him.  They told me they didn’t think he would make it when they picked him up the first time and here he was going home!

In the plane in the airanother shot of the plane

We got to fly around Rainier and I took pictures. I used to be so terrified of small planes but this was a wonderful experience.

Yes, that is Mt Rainier off the wingtip of a very small plane.

I could see the fire fighters rig, that is what they call their truck/ambulance/paramedic thing, from the air. When we landed some of the guys Terry knows best were there to take him gently from the plane and bring him to the rehab center. I started crying when I saw them, not sobbing, just leaking tears and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one.  Terry’s recovery to this point was nothing short of a miracle and miracles call for tears in my book.

The Lacey fire fighters met the plane and put Terry into their rig to transport him.

Terry's riding partner Don Bowman is on the left. Don's a paramedic with Lacey and he was with Terry when he crashed. It was a wonderful homecoming!

I hugged the flight crew and thanked them from the bottom of my heart for the care they had given Terry–twice. I took their picture on the tarmac before they climbed back in the plane to fly home to Billings. The flight cost $6000.00, but it was worth it to be home again. 

I will be forever grateful and thankful to this crew. They met Terry twice and sped him on his way twice. I hope the universe showers them with blessings!

Tonight, I get to sleep in  my own bed and the next leg of the journey back starts now.

Rabbit Off the Rails

Sometimes I just need to let the pictures tell the story….

I looked around my yard for signs of spring. The pink camellia by my front door is always first to signal winter may be ending.

On my hunt for spring, the studio staff kept me company. How handy. Black and white cat and dog. This means no matter what color you wear you have hair of the opposite color on your clothes.

Before I buckle down, I always have to salute my Friend Wesley, now mounted on a Yellow Tang horse. He's holding my favorite button. It says I'm a kitty cat, dance, dance, dance.

Last week was CRAZY, I had to sort my newly acquired shaker horde and then I had the great pleasure of cranking out fun garden ornaments. This is one tiny box, there is also a BIG box, a medium box and a tray of shakers.

This is my work table, I'm multi tasking. There's a metal fish, 3 chalkware pinecones, a goofy bird and a parrot. hmmm...which one to do first?

A shot of the wreckage, my studio looks like an explosion in a housewares factory. Luckily, it cleans up fast. Thanks to efficient storage and my trusty label maker!

I have been doing some research into the history of the adorable plaster shakers I found. I think the corks were stuck in them in the 30’s and never removed. I had to drill most of the corks out! Chalkware is basically molded and painted plaster of paris. It was used as carnival prizes from about 1904 to the early 60’s when plastic took its place in the hierarchy of cheapitudionous rewards. Some of the little figures are adorable, goofy birds and fish, pine cones, you name it, they made it. I did put two good coats of Krylon Triple Glaze on them but still, these are not meant for going outside to live, just fun to have in a window or hanging a lamp or plant indoors.

These are chalkware, too adorable for words.

Time to paint! Finally, website done, shakers done, time to hit the easel. This is the studio set up for painting. That's my working sketch in the foreground with the two helpers underfoot of course.


I has paint, oh boy, does I has paint! The calendar is an old Matisse calendar, I love it and use it for inspiration. I seem to have absorbed his color palettes somewhere along the way.

Or maybe not...I use a Winsor/Newton Sta-wet palette and its getting a little on the grungy side. Here it is midway through the painting.

"My Pool", Bad Attitude Dog on recycled plywood, with collage elements, the beach towel and the house windows are old cut paper. Ready to dry, get a coat of varnish and have a frame built. Next up: My bed. BAD dog takes over the bed.

The Law vs. Bristlecone Pines:In a Slow Contest

Bristlecone Pine, oldest living thing in the world

For those not in the know, Bristlecone pines are the oldest living things on earth. They can be as much as 5000 years old. They grow in isolated groves at and just below the timber line in a few areas on the planet. 

They grow in inhospitable conditions  including cold temperatures, dry soils, high winds, and short growing seasons. The wood is very dense and resinous, not prone to invasion by insects, fungi or other  pests. As the tree ages,  often only a narrow strip of living tissue may connect  roots to a handful of live branches.

They grow slo-o-o-o-o-wly but they hang on, sort of like the law in America. I have worked in higher education, in the campus based lending sector for over 30 years at this point, and I have an ongoing fascination with American federal law. Sometimes its hard to believe its still alive when you see some of the deadwood we are dragging around that poses as the law of the land. Like the bristlecone, at times it feels like there are a few branches connected to the roots and the rest is dead as a doornail and as dense as bristlecone wood.

The law attracts its own version of insects, fungi and potential pests: members of Congress, attorneys and sycophants with a vested interest mostly in the contents of their own vests, and nothing is as inhospitable and bleak as a law library if you ask me. Congress has the high winds (windbags) and short growing season (Congressional sessions) covered.  All the detractor factors do some damage in the end, but I’d like to think they do just as much that is good either accidentally or on purpose. Think of them as the good insects, like lady bugs.

Looked under "attorney" for clip art, got "formal suit", how truly perfect is this?

I’ve been researching bankruptcy law and student loans yet again, because since George’s bankruptcy overhausl in 2005, things are on the boil. Okay, a slow motion molasses boil, but still, change is in the wind. After BAPCA, the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act, the pendulum started a slow swing away from creditor protection and back to consumers. This was helped along by the collapse of the economic house of cards Americans were living in. People stood up in the rubble of lost jobs and foreclosed homes and took a good look around at how we got here.

Enough folks poked needles into their Senators and Representatives to get at least two bills written to protect student loan borrowers from predatory lenders in bankruptcy. Neither of those made it out of committee because the goverment has had bigger fish to barbecue, but I sense a shift in how bankruptcies are treated as far as student loans go. I fully expect something to get enough steam and trajectory to make it into law within the next two years, or more…remember the bristlecone.

I see two culprits, and since I don’t work for anyone but me these days, I can say what I want (the emperor has no clothes!).

Culprit the first: the Current Bankruptcy Law. Yes, its fine and dandy to say no student loan can be discharged in bankruptcy, but that doesn’t look at the human faces stuck with that debt, and sometimes collection fees make a 20K debt add up to 70K, remember those predatory lenders? Where’s the fresh start in that?  I am of the opinion that we should put some kind of cap on student loan debt. I am hoping our bristlecone pine Congress can figure out how to craft a law that actually helps borrowers get a fresh start when they have earned it.

Here’s my take on the how to: IF someone can prove they have made a good faith effort to pay their loans, stayed in touch with their lender/school and followed through to the very best of their ability, there should be a cap on non-dischargeability. We know a lot of loans pop good at seven years out of school, so the cap needs to be at least ten years out of school WITH the aforementioned demonstrated efforts.

 If you still can’t pay your loans and you have to file bankruptcy, let the loans go. Fine, never let Joe Schmoe return to school and get any kind of loan, that stops that abuse right there, but if Joe has $200,000 in medical bills he can’t pay why would we stick him with an aged out bloated student loan that has tripled in size?

Confusion on Campus

Culprit Number Two: The School Who Failed to Explain to the Student What Borrowing Money Really Means. We are hearing a new buzzword in this industry: Financial Literacy. Its about damned time. Financial Literacy means the school takes responsibility for educating their students in the realities of money. It teaches them about the consequences of overborrowing, and it puts the brakes on the amount of money they can borrow, gearing it to what they can realistically expect to repay.

 Liberal arts schools pride themselves on educating the entire student, preparing him/her to take a place in society as a participating member. If they haven’t bothered to give the student a good fiscal education, are they really educating the entire student? Schools are delighted to sign students up and be paid for the process, but if we are focused on the traditional 18 year-old especially, shouldn’t we be helping them understand what it costs to live in this country, how to budget funds, save and make a good future for themselves when they step out with that diploma and look for a job in a crappy economy?

For the first time in history, student loan debt has outpaced consumer debt. More students owe more money than all the credit card and consumer debt added togetherin the country as of June 2010. At this writing one in twelve people from the age of 18 to 24 is in debt hardship, in 1989, only 12% of people that age were in such dire straits.

On campuses across the country Perkins Loan and Student Accounts Offices have historically been whistling in the dark trying to get anyone to pay attention and lend a hand because this is one of those its takes a village things. Finally, the village is paying attention, can I get an amen?

I’m really looking forward to seeing what happens next in the snail race in Congress to change the bankruptcy law. And I’m watching  financial literacy campaigns and strategies pop out every where on campuses, I’m looking forward to tracking the best of them. I’d really like to stop seeing schools as part of that rarified forest that lets old dead trees hang on with ancient roots and only a few living branches for 5000 years….



Wordles pour des chats, le printemps et la belle France

I have discovered Wordles and the Wordles Web site. Getting a Wordle from its website to mine is  mind bending but I love the random art part of it.  is the site to play with your own wordle.

Put in a block of text, push a button and voila! Word art. In honor of spring, cats, and France–which I long for when spring comes, here are three Wordles and the original poems that inspired them.

The poems are American Tanka which is a sort of haiku, but a slightly different form and my favorite to write in. 

See how fun these are? I discovered they work better if you weed out words that aren’t absolutely necessary.

Wordling is really fun–and the only way you can drag it from there to where ever is to do a control print screen and move it that way. I put it in MS Publisher, threw a crop on it, dragged it into Adobe and resized it. The long way round I’m sure… Happy Spring! C’est Printemps encore!

Businessman’s Bounce, Really

It’s been a long week, hours slaving away in front of a glowing screen building a new art gallery website as one chore and more hours doing research and writing up a new Power Point for a presentation on student loans and bankruptcy for a webinar I’m doing at the end of March. Yes, back in the campus based lending game to some extent, 30 years experience is still good for something, but art is absolutely now on the front burner, about damned time too.

 I have no idea how I managed to get such a nice evenly divided brain that may even have a partition between  the right and left lobes. I am grateful though, because that focus lets me really hone in on two tasks and not get too distracted, ooh, shiny thing…

What was I saying? Oh, I know, subdivided lobes and all that. Its been a week without art making or much color except for the colorful language I tend to launch when I crash a large chunk of whatever I’m working on. Today I escaped! My saler buddy Lynn W. called and we headed for points south and west into the rurality of it all on the hunt for cool junk.

Best Record I've ever seen that encapsulates an era. Love her dress, the martini glass, the little hat, but why a wine bucket and a martini glass....hmmm...

I found this record album in a place called Garage Sale Maniacs in a town called Shelton. Shelton is a small logging town, trying to reinvent itself, but it seems to be like putting lipstick on a pig to some extent. You can dress it up but you can still tell its a pig. Garage Sale Maniacs is a storefront in the downtown area where the owners drag in stuff from garage sales and estate sales and spread it around this big empty store. You dig out what you want, carry it up front and the delightful owners tell you what they want for your stash of trash. I found some fine bits and pieces today. An ancient and gorgeous lock from a door, a metal cigar box, excellent buttons for jewelry making and a few vinyl record albums.

I am estatic. I’m ready to chuck the record and  just frame the jacket, front and back. It is too perfect for words. Click on it to make it BIG so you can read the whole text.

The liner notes capture the era of Eisenhower, station wagons, 2 kids and a collie dog--and the drunken louse of a salesman father out seducing the out of town chick. Perfect, welcome to 1958

The Businessman’s Bounce. The back of the record is absolutely hysterically funny. “Music for the expense account set. This is music for the tired businessman who isn’t so tired once he gets a young and pretty out of town buyer in his arms. This is music you might hear at El Morocco, the Pump Room, or the St Francis-tea dance music that features much dancing and absolutely no tea at all.”

I am in love with this 1958 hi-fidelity dinosaur. The out of town buyer on the cover is gorgeous and her dress is as cool now as it was then. I hereby share this jewel with you.

Happy Friday! More later about the 50 amazing salt shakers I found at a rummage sale and Lynn’s delightfully kitschy Last Supper paint by number purchase. I am liking all the tidbits I’m finding so much I’m going to put a gallery on my website called Rabbit’s Fun Finds where these pieces of  found fabulousity can be purchased inexpensively, because as Snoopy said, “Fun isn’t fun until you share it!”