I have been remiss in NOT making a formal announcement right here on my blog that I am retiring both REMAINS OF THE DAY and FULL TILT BOOGIE. I did write it on the class info pages, but failed to say more about it. Now, with only 6 days to go before these classes close their doors forevermore, I’m letting you know. The time has come for all good things to come to an end. Even though I still get sign-ups on both classes they are just so old I don’t feel like I want to offer them anymore. I have always operated my online classes on equal parts enthusiasm & intuition. If something feels right I roll with it and when it begins to feel outdated, I gently let it go.
A decade or more is a good long run, long enough I think. I’ve retired other classes in the past: STENCILRY, STITCHED & STENCILED, and SEWN. They were put out to pasture without much fanfare. But ROD and FTB were huge classes with loyal legions of class members. So here’s the deal. No more new sign-ups after December 31, 2020.
So, if you’ve never taken either class now is the time to jump in with both feet.
I DO have plans to teach more online classes one day. Right now I am focused on the sheer pleasure of art for art’s sake. I’m in PLAY mode.
And now a compilation of a few posts from Christmas Past.
DECEMBER 13, 2007
A million years ago when I taught 2nd grade…
Our official Postman. It is his job to put the big envelope addressed to Santa in the mailbox on the corner tomorrow after school. He didn’t believe me when I said I’d mail it. The rest of the class falls for everything I say hook, line, and sinker. Not him.
“Santa is just your parents.”
“Well sure, there are plenty of fake Santas, but there IS a real one.”
“How does he get into our houses?”
“How does he deliver all the presents?”
“He makes all the time stop in the whole world then he starts it again when he’s done.”
“How can he make all the toys?”
“What about electronics?”
“Easy, he contracts those out from China, Korea, and Japan.”
“Will he really read all the letters from ALL the kids?”
“Letters are his favorite thing. They make him really really happy.”
“But will he bring us what we say in the letter?”
“He tries really hard and he wants to, but he can’t always.”
“How does he know us?”
“He knows lots of stuff.”
“Does he know that my mom died.”
“Are Santa and God brothers?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure. They might be cousins.”
“Do you got the address for where my mom’s at?”
“Yeah. Do you got that address?”
December 24, 2009
Remember when everyone used to make FLICKR collages and put them on their blogs?
I will be out tonight like all of you. Craning my head back and scanning the starry sky for a dark sleigh. Except I know things about Santa and his ways that most people don’t. Or at least I think I do. After spinning one wild yarn after another to the little punks before we went on vacation, I’ve started to believe my own lies stories.
The one about catching the special train at Union Station that lies in wait deep underground underneath all the other lines. It goes straight to the North Pole and only I have the master key…
But how do you do that and get back in time for school?
Warp speed. It’s kind of like time travel, but it only works 12 days before and after Christmas.
What were the elves doing?
Every last one of them was taking a nap and snoring. I had to wake them up!
Can you take someone with you?
I wish I could. Let me ask Santa.
How come you get to do it, but not other people?
When I was your age I saw Santa! If you ever see the real one you get special Christmas powers.
My dad told me that Santa isn’t real.
There are secret things in the world that parents don’t know anything about.
December 27, 2010
I ate a snickerdoodle in the car with the windows rolled down.
Driving. Passing people: 1 old woman with a cane and floppy brown velvet hat walks across street in front of my car and sits next to girl with a red plaid scarf around her neck and black bow in her hair.. talking on her cellphone.
The girl screamed, “Yes, I am!” Someone somewhere being convinced of something.
A woman pedaling her bike down Figueroa with a poodle in the front basket. Chinatown. 2 old men inside a store.
Cake shops, pinatas. Flowers on the sidewalks. There is a festival in the streets every day. Every single day. It’s called LIVING.
December 31, 2011
That time I went to San Cristobal de las Casas for Christmas.
Hello! Here’s a little story about what can go terribly wrong when you travel. It’s time to leave San cristobal de las casas.
Your cab driver on springs called Guadalupe literally throws your bags in the back of his cab built for hobbits and flys out of town. Occasionally he puts the car in auto pilot so he can throw his head back and take long leisurely sips of his water or to look back at you in the backseat. You know… Just to see if you’re still somewhere back there underneath the suitcase. He flys down the mountain and in no time flat you have arrived at the airport in Tuxtla Gutierrez and prepare for take off.
The plane leaves. The plane stops in Guadalajara at night. Everyone climbs down the rickety stairs with their luggage. You almost knock a woman in high heeled boots off of her stair in front of you. Accidentally. With your bag.
You aren’t sure what you are doing or why but you’ve learned that following the herd and not asking questions is best in these situations.
You go in the airport. You go out of the airport. You go back in. Your luggage is searched. Your boarding pass is magic markered. You go outside. A flock of unruly sheep in the night. Your shepard separates the flock. You’re in the group next to the woman reading the Spanish book on how to have multiple orgasms. I AM NOT MAKING THAT UP! You all board the plane. You are tired. The woman with the book is your seatmate.
You head to Los Angeles. After at least 2-3 hours of flying in a thunderstorm lightening strikes the plane. No really IT DID. Biggest noise you have ever heard. You make the sign of the cross. You aren’t sure how this is going to turn out.
The plane makes it all the way to HERMOSILLA Mexico. It lands. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t ask. The plane sits on the Tarmac for a loooong time. Finally the pilots says LA is closed due to fog. He wants to fly all the way back to Guadalajara. Huh? Some of the passengers start to complain. They refuse to buckle up and sit down. The FEDERALES come on board. No really. THEY DO! You want them to take out those passengers gangster style, but instead they try reasoning with them. An hour later they’ve been subdued. The plane takes off. That’s when the fun starts.
You wake up with a big thud. Touchdown! Back in G town. More herds more flocks lots of pushing and shoving everyone wants to be at the front of the line winding at top speed through the airport with no one at the helm guiding. The line to nowhere. You wind up at the back with the infirm and feeble. You learned in 2nd grade not to push. The line stops.
You wait in the line ALL. NIGHT. Your arse hurts, your legs quiver, you have to go to the bathroom.
If you wait a couple more hours you MIGHT get in on standby to LA from Mexico City. First though you have to GET to Mexico City. You aren’t there, remember?
A stray sheep with a plan bolts out of line and into a really short little line on another airline. He looks like a nice sheep, not unruly. Not like a pusher. You go over to him and ask him what he just did. He bought a first class ticket on the other airline. You can do the same for a price. They’re the only tickets left and if you buy one you won’t have to spend any more time in the line with the pushers. You decide at this point that you brought the credit card in your purse on your trip for just such an emergency. So you use it!
Now you’re eating chilequiles looking out the window. Waiting for your 2 pm flight to LA. The skies are blue, the sun is getting bright and shiny. You haven’t slept but you don’t care. You aren’t in a line. You’re going home!
The lady with the orgasm book? She’s still in line. The woman with the go go boots? Still in line. You wave to them as you sashay past. They don’t wave back, but you do not care. Not one bit.
Sent from my iPad