White Trash R Us; or, This Week in Pictures

A couple of weeks ago, we bought a new couch. Now we have our old sofa on the back porch.

To complete the total White Trash Decor, we now have this: 

Nothing screams "classy" like a toilet on your front stoop. Except a toilet with flowers in it. (I'm working on it, give me a day or so. . . )

We also have a now-broken tub jazzing up the sparsely landscaped front yard. I know, we move in, property values go UP. 

This is now my guest/children's bathroom: 

About 2 weeks ago, Son 1 was showering. He took a step back, and CRACK. The new(ish) tub split. After 5-6 phone calls and visits from housing to verify that yes, really, the new(ish) bathtub is indeed broken, we have 1 day and counting of sawing, hammering, and all sorts of fun noises coming from the house.  We will hopefully have a bathtub/shower that will work (as well as a toilet that they have to re-install). 

Plus: it's a free house and we don't own it

Minus: we don't own it, so we are at the mercy of the government to fix it (and hopefully fix it right). Historically, we've had some rather, um, interesting government contractor repairs the first time around (French doors installed backwards, A/C unit that flooded the house three times and warped the new-ish hardwood floors), so I'm hoping they'll do it right the first time. 

Hope springs eternal here in GTMO! 

Also today in pictures: goodbyes at Ferry Landing.  This time it's a wonderful family with whom we've shared lots of laughs. We spent holidays together, and our kids spent many a sleepover at each other's houses. We will hopefully be saying "see you later" instead of "goodbye." 

Another plus: they are moving to Macedonia, somewhere none of us has traveled. It's yet to be seen as to when we'll be released from our indefinite detainee status at GTMO, but if we ever get out of here, living somewhere in Europe is always a possibility.  A plus: it's cheaper to travel ANYWHERE within Europe than it costs to travel from GTMO to exotic Florida (our closest US option). I know some people would rather go to Florida, but I'm saving my pennies to go somewhere else. 

And on to creative ventures---this summer, both Boy 1 and I were taken with this colorful hotel in downtown Playa del Carmen, Mexico. We took pictures of various angles. This is my favorite: 

Saturday night, I asked Boy 1 about his exciting plans, and he said that he wanted to paint. So we sat side by side for a few hours and this is my not-quite-finished product: 

And that, 12 hours after beginning of this download of pictures, is my past week or so. It's only Monday so who knows what other (mis)adventures await. . . 

Getting my crafty on; or Ninja tigers and dy-no-mite

"You wanted arts and crafts

How's this for arts and crafts? 

That's right!" 

---Weezer, "Troublemaker"

I am so about the arts and crafts right now.

In fact, this past weekend I took a painting class.

The last time I took an art class was with Mrs. Evelyn Benham, a talented watercolorist and sweet lady from my little hometown. I was in fourth grade and was lucky enough to be one of a handful of students she took as students for an after school art program that only lasted one year. My school district (and most of the state of Mississippi) didn't put much stock---or funding---into art programs for kids. I'm still amazed that my high school did not offer a single art class. Not one. I really hope times have changed since I graduated.

At the beginning of our first lesson, she introduced herself---although most of us knew her---by saying, "My name is Mrs. Benham, but you may call me Evelyn." She pronounced it "EVE-uh-lyn"---to which all of us nodded our head and said, "Okay, Mrs. Benham."

She was a long-time customer at my father's drugstore and one of his favorites. She had born in Nicaragua, and although I know she told my dad the story of how she got to Monticello via New Orleans, I don't remember. She and her husband are perfect examples of how you can find the most interesting and odd people in a small town---they were both college educated (and for people born probably 100 years ago, that was something), she an artist, he a farmer with a horticulture degree. My mom had a pencil cactus for years that came from a cutting from Mr. Benham.  They were both lovely people, very down-to-earth and loved living on their little farm out from town. And I loved her art class.

She had us make pottery out of clay from the banks of the Fair River and fired it in her kiln. I made a Siamese cat. It looked more like a bull. For years, it was in the den bookcase at my parent's house for all the world to see.

We had to draw portraits of another student, and I got paired up with a kid we all called Zot. I drew him as well as I could. He did the same. I had a mustache in his drawing. I was not happy.

I had a great time with Mrs. Benham and learned as much in those lessons as any kid would in a year of  proper art instruction. I was sad when they were over.

And now, over 30 years later, I am FINALLY taking art lessons again.

I have taken a slab and a wheel pottery class. It is the first time I've done any pottery since I was eight years old. Tonight I took a painting class. Never mind that I will probably tell everyone that my seven year old did the painting. (He is, in fact, taking art lessons on Sunday afternoons).

I have had a fun time getting artsy and dirty---nothing like coming home with clay in your hair or paint on your clothes.

It's about the company, as well. I have to say I love hanging out with a group of ladies, sitting around a table and painting pottery.  It's sort of the equivalent of the quilting bee from days long gone.

I have to finish up several pieces in the next few weeks before we go out of town for summer. I know I will really miss my Sunday afternoon sojourns to the arts and crafts building. Although I haven't really made anything yet that I absolutely love, it is a relaxing way to spend a day and some days I'm lucky enough to have my youngest tag along. Check out the awesome mug he painted with funny little creatures.

Cool little stars, tigers, and skulls (with dynamite, of course) amongst some of our other artistic endeavors. 

I'm hoping to get him to do a few more, because he's insisting on drinking out of it and I'm hoping to keep it forever. What's not to love about ninja tigers and skulls with dynamite sticking out of them?

In our last 8 months of purging ourselves of needless junk, I've accumulated quite a few things H has made. I guess I will have to reconsider life amongst 50 pairs of shoes and accept the fact that I only really wear flip flops and sandals here---and that way I can make room for more awesome ninja tigers.

Beastie Boys/She's Crafty

A hunk, a chunk, and more; or, Quick cash now!

Much earlier I wrote about a common Gitmo saying---you leave Gitmo either a hunk, a chunk, or a drunk. I heard an even better (and probably truer) version: You leave a hunk, a chunk, a drunk. . . or a monk.

There's a serious shortage of women on this base.

Not that I don't mind hearing "Yes, ma'am!" and having doors opened for me everywhere I go.

I do imagine it's difficult being single here, so MWR does a lot of free or almost-free programming for single and unaccompanied service people---kayak and biking trips, hikes, bingo night (seriously), golfing tournaments, ceramics classes, etc. MWR stands for Morale, Welfare, and Recreation for you non-military folks---and even though at first glance, recreation programs may seem like a no-brainer when it comes to budget cuts in difficult times, they are so crucial for the morale of a small, isolated base with very limited facilities, especially for people away from their families or alone. Despite what this place is lacking as far as places to hang out, MWR does a great job of trying to entertain everyone, even us non-military folks.

Tonight I took advantage of one of the MWR programs and went to a pottery class. It was so much fun---they have a slab roller, extruder, and several wheels. You can buy boxes of clay and store it there. Glazes are cheap and they fire everything for free. Plus it's a great way to spend a couple of hours, whether you are single (and perhaps lonely) or just are looking to learn something new. I foresee a mother/daughter pottery date next week.

I have become part of the coterie of parents who scream out their back doors, "Hey _____, come in! It's dinner time!"  This evening I saw a tree next to the playground undulating in a very unnatural matter---it definitely wasn't the wind---so I went to check it out and realized there was a kid in the top of the tree (thankfully, not my kid) shaking these out:

A bounty of beautiful mangoes.They are green and small, but we'll see what happens once they ripen. 

Our youngest has decided that he wants an iPad, and once he realized his $37 wasn't going to buy one, he's planning and scheming ways to make money. He had all these bundled in his shirt and said, "Mommy, mommy, I have a GREAT IDEA. I can open a store, right in my room, and right in my room I can sell FRUIT." 

Sounds like a TERRIFIC idea, right?!?!?  

The idea of hundreds of sticky, green mangoes in his bedroom really frightens me, so I had to break it to him gently that there will be NO FRUIT SALES in this casa since it's probably illegal and with all the trees on base, the demand for mangoes is as low as the price. 

That stopped him. . . I hope. 

By the way, the oldest informed us (correctly) that mangoes belong to the same family as poison ivy, and the skin contains urushiol, the oil in poison ivy that makes some people break out. You can get contact dermatitis just from touching them, and some people are very allergic to them. I am the only one of the four of us not allergic to poison ivy, so I guess we'll find out in the morning how our fruit gatherer faired, since he managed to get sap from head to toe before his brother gave us the dinner time lecture on the perils of picking mangoes. 

Spring Break has officially begun for the kids, so maybe our little schemer can think of another way to get some quick cash while he's out of school.