Tinoose's Other World 2

At Last!

2011-01-22T05:19:00.000-08:00

So, the agency that provides my mom with a Japanese caretaker 2x a week called me yesterday with the FUNNIEST story! Apparently Y-- was finally successful in getting my mom to take a bath. Let me back up a bit... When we first moved mom into an assisted living home, she refused to bathe. The caregivers at the home spent the whole month trying to get mom to allow them to help her bathe 3X a week. Their first attempt resulted in one of the caregivers, a woman about my size, to get "beat up" by my mom (at 4'11" and 75lb dripping wet, no pun intended). I thought they were joking when they told me about it because they were giggling and carrying on. I was just horrified (and secretly very proud of my mom) when I saw poor C--'s bruised arms and haunted eyes. (Ok, joking about the haunted eyes part, but those bruises were HUGE, black and purple all up and down both arms!). Since then, apparently, they've never been successful in getting mom to bathe again. I'm guessing that they mean "willingly bathe," because one of them told me that it takes 5 of them to give her a bath. This is despite the fact that they tried to accommodate my mom by buying a makeshift bathtub (a huge plastic storage crate!) and adding a stool so that she could bathe Japanese style.

Now back to the story of how Y-- finally got my mom to take a bath. When she tried to coax her into bathing this Thursday, my mom asked her if she would take one with her (Japanese tradition of community bathing). I would have loved to have seen Y--'s face at that moment! Lo and behold, she agreed! Bless her dear heart!! I just started howling with laughter when the owner of agency got to this part in her report. She couldn't stop laughing either! I've never met Y--, but I was picturing this little Japanese woman squeezing herself into the plastic storage crate with my mom in order to help her bathe! And then I was picturing the other caregivers at the home-- eyes widening in horror at the thought that on the days that Y-- isn't there, that's what it's going to take for them to get my mom to take a bath! Oh my goodness it's just so funny! I still can't stop laughing about it! Y-- definitely deserves some extra pay for her efforts! Anyway, they said that my mom was happily taking a bath with Y-- and then afterwards, she got upset and told her to go home! Awwww... I love my mommy!

Hee hee hee!!!

~Tinooseus!

Rainy June Afternoon

2010-07-28T11:12:00.001-07:00

These photos were actually taken in June of this summer. In the midst of what had been going on, I have forgotten all about them. Looking at the frames now, I find myself instantly transported back to that particular day. We were at the Stapleton Park, near the man-made pond and dock--one of our favorite spots to take doll pictures. It was around 9:30 in the morning, the day was gray, rainy, windy, and just plain cold and uncomfortable! Normally I would have been able to brave the elements and would have taken hundreds of pictures, but I just didn't have it in me on that day. I took about 25 pictures at Stapleton before I just gave up.

So Ms. Margaret and I grabbed a late breakfast and then we just moseyed on back to her house, talking up a storm. It was still cold and wet, but the urge to take pictures was still strong for Ms. Margaret. At first, I just hung out on the back porch watching her, but then I started posing Mina and then taking pictures myself. I took over 130 pictures in that back yard!

Thankfully, it was much more comfortable in the back yard than it was at the park. Perhaps because it would only take a moment to get indoors where it was warm and dry. But more so because of the tantalizing and comforting odor of a baking cake wafting from the kitchen where Ms. Edna (Margaret's mom) worked while listening to a CD (turned up a bit too loud) of Burl Ives singing folk music. It was such a precise moment in time to be photographing Mina-- the weather suited my mood and the music, well, the music worked somehow! Outside, everything was so wet and green and lush-- the perfect backdrop for a perfect doll, my Custom House Saint Mina.

Such moody pictures! I love this doll, my sweet little Mina... And I wish I could show them to my father, who was a photographer. I think he would have liked them very much.

~Tinooseus!

Sand Creek Park

2010-07-24T09:19:00.000-07:00

Mina went down to the Sand Creek Park in Aurora, Colorado today. She just wanted to look around for a bit. While she was there, she found this strange little doll in a torn jumpsuit.
And so she picked it up and carried it around with her as she explored.

Mina often found that it fell out of her pocket when she once again spotted the doll on the ground before her. It was as if the doll did not want to be taken home with her.

So Mina put the little doll back where she found it, took a quick picture of it, and left.

~Tinooseus!

City Park Photo Shoot

2010-07-11T20:09:00.001-07:00

I took Mina to City Park early this morning to take some pictures before it got too hot outside. There was something going on at the Park, not sure what, but I saw some people camping out and lots of tents. If I had the energy, I would have walked over to check it out. But, eh. No energy. But I am happy with how these photos came out. Hope you like them, too.

~Tinooseus!

Petals

2010-04-18T09:35:00.001-07:00

~Tinooseus!

The Old Tree

2010-04-18T09:30:00.000-07:00

~Tinooseus!

Historical Meditations

2010-04-18T08:44:00.000-07:00

All photos taken at the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Monument and nearby Memorial at Denver City Park, Denver, CO after a rain shower on April 17, 2010.

~Tinooseus!

Is that Tina???

2010-04-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

If I were skinnier and could dance, could this possibly be ME???

Click HERE to see me in action!

Hmmm!

~Tinooseus!

Bongie's Beehive

2010-04-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

Ok, anyone who knows me knows that I really have a thing for beehives. And of course, you'd remember my photos of LeeLee (Elfdoll Sooah) debuting her beehive. Anyway, wigs for these very teeny-tiny dolls are hard to come by-- they are either too big or contain way too much hair. So, I've always had to make them if I wanted something new. Well, I finally made a little beehive for Bongie! It crack me up because it's a bit, errr..overdone. Very "Snooki" and Amy Winehouse. But still, very, very cute! So, here is take 1 of Bongie's Beehive....

~Tinooseus!

P.S. She's still holding out hope that the House of Butterfly will relent and custom fit her a proper cheongsam!

2010-04-11T07:20:00.000-07:00

Last December, I brought this cutie home-- Fairyland's RealPuki Tyni. Actually, I brought her sister, too, but she has moved to the West Coast for warmer climes...

Tyni is on the left, her sister Sosie (Soso) on the right. Fairyland really knows cute, don't they? I can't get over how detailed and adorable these TINY little sculpts are! So expressive and so small....

Tyni is off to mail a FedEx package to someone... wonder what it is?

She loves her Charles Creature Cabinet boots so much that she won't take them off!

Hanging out with cousin Ivan... (Fairyland PukiPuki Piki)
She plays her accordion for hours at a time.... what a gal!

~Tinooseus!

Breath of Spring

2010-03-18T08:16:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to share a picture of my Fairyland RealPuki Tyni doll. She's 3 1/2 inches of pure Elfin sugar!

~Tinooseus!

Most HILARIOUS Post from ZoZ!

2009-12-11T09:34:00.000-08:00

Gotta LOVE my doll boards. This one was posted this morning...

VDR---When the light bulb explodes!>>>

Posted by aisyon December 11, 2009, 8:47 am

This month has been an interesting one for me as I am starting my small doll collection due to injury and hubby realised some truths he rather would not have noticed....

The first was when my sweet Hypermaniac Choyangbi arrived. He helped me open the box, then lifted her out of the bag and started fondling her in a strange manner. Naturally I asked why he was acting like some sort of perv--- he gave me the you-are-an-idiot glare and the haughty response, "I am checking for seams."

The second was when my lovely Hypermaniac Eujquiv arrived. He took the wig that came with her out of the box and then promptly dropped in on the table going "Ugh, this can't be right!" He looked at the wig then turned to me and said, "Ohh, it's not a Jpop wig!"

The the light bulb finally flashed on when I was trying to dress my lovely Elf and I asked him to get me a pair of 16mm eyes from the 16 drawer. He rooted about the tiny drawer, pulled out a pair of eyes, then said without thinking, no these are 18 and put them into their correct drawer. When he realised what he had said and done he turned and left without a word. I found him an hour later in the back yard, his shirt off, sawing a long piece of wood and drinking a beer. I think the poor fellow has been dollified without knowing!

I told daughter who then laughed for ten minutes before asking me if Dollheart came in people size!

Social Networking

2009-03-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

Click on the photo to get to the bigger picture!

~Tinooseus!

Couture No.5

2009-03-04T11:55:00.000-08:00

Oh wow-- SODA did it again! I simply have no words about this creation of hers. Other than that I wish I could have had it made into a wedding gown for my upcoming nuptials on March 27...

It's such a dreamy gown... even without my "soft focus" effect, lol!

~Tinooseus!

***

Icy February Morning

2009-02-24T09:24:00.001-08:00

Ms Margaret and I only lasted about 10 minutes last Saturday morning for our latest photoshoot adventure. It was just TOO cold and icy! I did manage to snap a few of my two favorite girls-- Mina (Custom House Saint Mina) and Bongie (Elfdoll Bong Sun Hwa). We just have to save those 7 am photoshoot for warmer seasons in the future. Hope you can still enjoy the few photos that I managed to snap before admitting defeat!

The girls are standing on the concrete "patio" area by the dock. The winds were high the night before, and you can see frozen droplets and sprays from the pond on the ground beneath their feet. It was such a cool image!

P.S. Can you believe that by that afternoon, it had warmed up and melted all the snow and ice? That's Denver weather for ya!

~Tinooseus!

Technical Difficulties?

2009-02-17T07:08:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone--

I just heard that people can't hear the videos I've embedded into my blog because my Louis Armstrong stuff is playing over it? I went ahead and moved those posts to another blog as my easiest solution. Click here to view: Scenes from the Obama Inauguration

~Tinooseus!

First Dance

2009-01-16T10:15:00.001-08:00

Aw! Lately I've been really noticing weddings and every little thing relating to weddings! (I know, I know-- a post is owed, lol! I got engaged on New Year's Eve!) A friend sent this absolutely hilarious wedding footage, gives me ideas except that my intended and I simply can't dance. Not even sorta!

Before playing this video, do this:

Scroll down a bit until you find "Tinoose's Listening To" on the right hand side of my blog
Pause the purple music player by clicking on the pause button on the upper right hand corner of the player-- this is the symbol in the middle.
Enjoy!

from Snotr, http://www.snotr.com/video/1299

~Tinooseus!

Movie Night

2009-01-12T20:35:00.001-08:00

With big sister Bongie still stuck at the office, the girls decided to host a movie night with their new friend Ivan "Thrill-ah Mill-ah!" Millar. They couldn't believe how adorably sweet he could be when not dressed in his street gear and adorned with all his bling-bling! They promised not to tell anyone, hahah!

They plan to stay up until 1 a.m. and then sleep in until noon... What a life, eh?! Hope they remember to clean up before Bongie gets home!

~Tinooseus!

Jammin' With the Tinies

2009-01-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

Ivan "Thrill-ah Mill-ah!" on electric guitar.
Miss Marguerite "Ree-Ree" Joy on violin...
Renown beauty Amelie "LeeLee" Soo doing vocals...

Jinamarie Monnaemi on the erhu...

Celia "Charlie" Louise on guitar...

Miss Rosie on piano...

Mimi Monnaemi on flute...

Backup vocals, Wilhelmina "Mina" Faith...

Cecil and the Weepers, directed by Ivan "Thrill-ah Mill-ah!"

Ok, I've always wanted to do a photoshoot with every single one of my ball-jointed dolls jamming away in a band! Well, I'm missing Keo, Bongie (I know, I KNOW! But I actually forgot her at work in my office!), Hana Soah, and Yuliya (who can't be out the same time as Charlie because they share a body). Anyway, it's just an informal setup that I have up on my dresser in my bedroom, certainly not my usual setup when doing a photoshoot, but it does the trick!

Anyway, please meet the legendary music director Thrill-ah Mill-ah! and the band formally known as Cecil and the Weepers. No, I don't know who Cecil is, lol! It just sounds good, doesn't it??

Ha!

~Tinooseus!

A Cool Cat a.k.a. Thrill-ah Mill-ah!

2009-01-11T19:04:00.000-08:00

My Fairyland Puki-Puki (Piki) finally made it out of layaway last weekend. I didn't have my camera so I couldn't take really decent photos of him until today. Which is great timing, because he has these beautiful new gray glass eyes. Anyway, meet Ivan!

A little about Ivan... today in church, this man stood up to talk about his ministry, and by way of introduction he said that he felt comfortable with us enough to share his "real" name. He said he's known as Andy Millar, but his real name was (gansta accent) "Thrill-ah Mill-ah!" It was really funny, and he inspired my creation of the character of Ivan. So with heart-felt apologies to Andy, please meet Ivan, a.k.a. Thrill-ah Mill-ah!"

~Tinooseus!

Why I Went to Library School

2009-01-08T18:52:00.000-08:00

Or Excerpts from a Library School Statement of Goals

Libraries... what a marvelous invention! As a young girl growing up in an often violently troubled home, my libraries have literally been a stabilizing anchor. I've spent many a solitary afternoon crawling around in the dusty stacks of my school library looking for stories. Every Saturday morning, I'd head off to the public library for a few hours of what had become my comfortingly routine escape into the happier realities that existed within the pages written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Beverly Cleary, and Betty Bard McDonald. By the time I entered high school, I had attempted to read every single book in the adult fiction section of the Central Library in downtown Denver starting with the A's, but I soon discovered that not every book was worth reading! At this time, I had also discovered the non-fiction floors and thrived on the books with beautiful photographs of homes and interior decorating ideas. Because this was a particularly tumultuous time in my life, I spent an inordinate amount of time with a book in hand (and two in a bag!), dreaming of a different kind of existence that somehow involved the characters I've gotten to know and huge green plants thriving by bright windows framed in Irish lace. Essentially, no matter where I was or what I was doing, no matter what was happening at home, no matter how I was feeling inside, I have always managed to find my way back into the quiet and peaceful nooks of my library.

***
It really was no surprise that my first real paying job was as a Shelver for the Denver Public Library during the snowy spring of 1988. I'm proud to report that over the years, I've worked in many different types of libraries-- school, academic, specialized, public--with the bulk of my...years spent by the sides of various DPL librarians and their specialities. I've learned how to welcome tenderhearted children into their special library and to steer young adults towards the resources-- electronic, mixed media, or print--that they sought for school assignments, for pure enjoyment, and for the millions of questions about life filtering through their heads. I've assisted professional musicians in their quest to enrich the souls of Humanity with the heartbreaking strains of a Mahler symphony and the ethereal themes of Johann Sebastian Bach. I've placed information and recipes into the flour dusted hands of sleep-deprived culinary students, and I've ensured the accurate and timely access to the various media encapsulating the medical sciences for the hundreds of men and women laboring to become doctors, nurses, alternative health practitioners, and medical researchers. All of these things I have accomplished mostly behind the scenes as a paraprofessional library assistant. As many years as I've spent in libraries and as much as I know about customer service, preservation, archives, serials, circulation, cataloging, the organization of the World Wide Web, I fully recognized that there is so much more to learn and to practice about professional librarianship. Since my passion and my need for libraries have not faded over the years my desire for advanced advanced studies in librarianship and information management has grown stronger...
***
Looking back, it was not just the striking contrast between the worlds within books and my sad childhood that drew me back time and time again to my neighborhood Library. Another lure was the increasingly diversifying gathering of her professional gatekeepers. I've met and befriended many different kinds of librarians--the bee hived one with the tissues tucked up her sleeves and permanent frown lines; the really odd gentleman with the long pinkie nails and a great love for history and trains; the crabby, yet efficient and methodological creature staffing the reference desk; the breathy and eager Children's librarian flushed with recent memories of library school-- they've all had a significant and positive influence on my perception of the value and importance of libraries and the people who work in them. Despite the many variances and stances these people took of their role within the library profession, somehow every single one of them have managed to impart their love, advocacy, and respect of libraries and information and knowledge and the people who seek these things. Each shared a demonstrable commitment to service and unhindered access to the riches of information and opportunity. With the exciting inevitability of University of Denver's Library and Information Science program finally being recognized and accredited by the American Library Association, the dream of joining this roost of librarians I've so admired is now within reach.

written 7/1/2004
***

Folks I hope that if you don't already do so, go visit your local public library and READ!

~Tinooseus

Baking with Jinamarie

2008-12-31T16:06:00.000-08:00

While listening (and singing along) to Puccini's O mio babbino caro (Oh my dear papa, an aria from the opera Gianni Schicchi, Jinamarie goes into the baking zone with much joy and gusto. She is so happy to be baking so many pies and cakes and other sweets for the New Year and her dear sisters...

"O mio babbino caro,mi piace è bello, bello;vo'andare in Porta Rossaa comperar l'anello!"

"Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!e se l'amassi indarno,andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,ma per buttarmi in Arno!"

"Mi struggo e mi tormento!O Dio, vorrei morir!"

"Babbo, pietà, pietà!Babbo, pietà, pietà!"

Translation from http://www.xs4all.nl/~josvg/cits/sb/sb413.html:

Oh dear daddy
Oh dear daddy I love him, he is so handsome
I want to go to Porta Rossato buy the ring
Yes, yes, I want to go there
And if my love were in vain
I would go to Ponte Vecchio
and throw myself in the Arno
I fret and suffer torments
Oh God, I would rather die
Daddy, have pity, have pity

This is such a pitiful song, eh? And it has nothing to do with baking. But the melody is divine and Jinamarie loves to sing it. It went well with the wine and all the baking.

~Tinooseus!

In the Mood for Lov...uh, Noodles!

2008-12-30T10:16:00.001-08:00

I remember the first time I ever saw Juzo Itami's Tampopo. It was one of those movies that not only was very funny, but also really got me salivating for a hot, steaming, fragrant, and flavorful bowl of noodles! So of course, I could not resist getting these little Re-Ment set of 3 bowls of noodles and chopsticks for my tiny resin kids Bongie, Jinamarie, and Mimi.

The Monnaemi Sisters hope that wherever you are, whatever you're eating, that you are enjoying your food as much as they enjoyed theirs!

Have a very happy day!

~Tinooseus!

Miss Rosie

2008-12-29T10:09:00.001-08:00

Miss Rosie (Dollzone Shoyo) was so beautiful the other day! Usually, the Shoyo sculpt is very cute, very adorable and most owner pictures of this doll reflect that observation. It was the reason I was so charmed by her when I was photographing dolls for Denver Doll Emporium's website last year and I ended up buying her and taking her home with me that same day. In the 'Street Musicians' photoshoot, I realized that she was a very BEAUTIFUL doll as well. Check her out!

~Tinooseus!

Street Musicians

2008-12-29T09:19:00.000-08:00

From Wikipedia:

"Busking is a British term used in many areas of the English-speaking world. Buskers are also called street performers or street musicians. The place where a busker performs is called their pitch. People busk for a variety of reasons, for money, for fun, for the attention they get, to socialize or meet people, for the love of their art, or to practise their skills or try out new material in front of an audience...Busking can be the bottom rung of the entertainment industry. Some of the most famous groups and superstars started their careers as buskers. Examples include Joan Baez ...Pierce Brosnan, Jimmy Buffett, George B urns, Cirque du Soleil ...Joni Mitchell ... Carlos Santana, Simon and Garfunkel, Stomp..."

***

I took some photos this past weekend. It was VERY cold out, so you’re looking at some pretty dedicated dolly buskers!

Part 1: On Saturday, the weather was very cold in the morning—it had either rained or snowed before daybreak, when we headed out to Stapleton Park, the streets were wet. Then it started to snow, then the snow turned into these weird hard miniature snow balls, then it rained again, and then finally, the sun came out. Interesting morning! Too bad my camera battery finally died out...

On violin is Miss Rosie (Dollzone Shoyo), on guitar is Charlie (Dollstown Lucille), and the beautiful listening fan is Ms Margaret’s doll Lil’Bit (Elfdoll Soah).

Part 2: Then, on Sunday: Despite the beautiful blue sky, it was VERY cold today! My fingers felt like they just froze! They really, really hurt--seriously! I thought that they might have gotten a bit of frostbite (they didn't, but I need to invest in some warm fingerless gloves that has the "hoodie" part to cover my fingers again when I need them covered. YIKES!).

ReeRee (My 2nd edition Custom House Saint Mina doll) tried to earn some money on this very cold, deserted morning at the Skateboard Park (Downtown Denver, by the Platte River).

After a while, ReeRee put her violin away and went to sit by the river to meditate and to pray.

Moved by the beauty of her surroundings and her sweet conversation with God, she brought out her violin and began to play a rather melancholy prelude.

~Tinooseus!

Christmas with the Monnaemi Sisters

2008-12-29T09:03:00.000-08:00

On Christmas Eve, the Monnaemi Sisters finally began putting up their Christmas tree. This was awfully late for them them to start decorating-- most years Bongie incites everyone around her to get started with the decorating right around Thanksgiving. But this year, they were having too much fun sledding, having snowball fights, eating lots of food, and going on exciting adventures around the city. It was little Mimi who finally mentioned that they didn't yet have a tree. So, in a flurry of very excited activity, the old vintage silver tree finally went up.

Once again, poor Jinamarie got stuck with the task of untangling the Christmas tree lights...

Mimi almost brought the whole thing down when she climbed up on a chair to put the star on the top...

Attracted by the noise and lights, all the cats came out of their hiding places and threw themselves into the mix...

After a few hours, the sisters started to clean up. Then, settling down to gaze appreciatively at the tree, the girls fell quiet and thought about the loss of their dad the year before.

The beautiful vintage tree brought forth memories of their childhood Christmases with their parents, happy days with all of their loved ones who have gone on to the other side, and also of the miracle of Baby Jesus born in a manger many, many years ago.

After saying a short prayer with her sisters, Bongie went to the kitchen to get everyone some hot chocolate, and then ran back to grab the tray of cookies that she'd baked earlier that day.

The girls stayed up very late telling stories, eating cookies, and drinking cup after cup of hot cocoa...
***

The next morning, Jinamarie got up before her sisters and cooked a big Christmas breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. She also sliced up a ripe, juicy, and very sweet melon...

After eating breakfast, the girls ran to into the living room and ripped open packages, screamed,laughed, and behaved atrociously. The scene was much too shameful to photograph, but you can most assuredly take my word for it! Anyway, everyone got what they wanted-- new paints for Mimi, cookbooks for Jinamarie, and Bongie got some very cool golf clubs!

The End.

~Tinooseus!

Day at the Museum

2008-12-23T12:45:00.001-08:00

Mina went to the Denver Museum of Nature & Science the other day and had a wonderful time going back to the days of dinosaurs by walking through the Prehistoric Journey exhibit. This photoshoot was quite a challenge because of the unique lighting situation-- the exhibit spaces were dark but the artifacts themselves were well lit. I did not have enough light for Mina to be in focus, but the results were interesting after all. What do you think?
~Tinooseus!

On the first floor looking up at the whale (?) skeleton.

Behind Mina, you can see part of the Cretaceous plesiosaur (elasmosaur) suspended gracefully overhead in the main entryway.

Gazing at the ancient sea floor 600 million years ago...

Dimetrodon and Eryops skeletons.

Stygimoloch diorama in the Cretaceous Creekbed.

This is probably my favorite picture out of this entire photoshoot.

Beneath the Allosaurus.

Studying the prehistoric mammals.

More Fun in the Snow...

2008-12-23T12:02:00.000-08:00

The sisters are sledding in the Moser's backyard in Arvada. It was a LOT of space to play in!

So, the girls just didn't get cold and wet enough the other day, they just had to go back out again. At least the sun was shining this time, but brrrrrrrrr, it was still VERY cold! Anyway, enjoy!

~Tinooseus!

Jinamarie was humming Christmas caroles to herself, enjoying the pristine snow...

Mimi still can't handle the sled, even with big sister Bongie coaching.

As she zipped by, Bongie shouts out a warning to Jinamarie, but she's a bit oblivious...

"Fa la la la laaaaa, la-la, la, laaaaa....oooof!"

Bongie is holding a black walnut, which cracked open to reveal a perfect heart-shaped interior. Or it could be an owl.. Hoot-hoot!

The End!

A GREAT Day!

2008-12-19T20:52:00.001-08:00

I've always loved bringing the Monnaemi Sisters to work with me and today was no exception. They are literally a pocket FULL of humongous fun! It snowed earlier in the week, and there was still an inch of snow left on the benches in front of the library. So, today was sledding day!

Fearful of laying on her tummy and seeing the ground hurtling toward her at breakneck speed, Mimi tried laying on her back on the sled first. Bongie pulled the sled running as fast as she could, and Jinamarie ran behind to catch her baby sister just in case!

Feeling rather dizzy, Mimi decided to sit up on the sled, and ever helpful, Jina did her part by grabbing her sister under her arms and hauling her up.

But Bongie put on some speed and Mimi fell back again! Jina lost her grip and tumbled into the soft snow...

Bongie: "Ha, ha ha, ha, ha!!"

Jinamarie: "Oooof!"
Suddenly Bongie fell over, too!

Mimi zipped by, so Jina got up and ran past the fallen Bongie, racing after the runaway sled!

The sled hit a bump and came to a halt. Mimi was breathless for a moment, staring at the blue, blue sky...

Much to Jinamarie's relief, Mimi was just fine!

Wet and chilled to the bone, the girls went back inside and discovered that one of the work studies at the library brought in a Yule Log baked and decorated by her mother!!!

It was big and pretty, and looked mighty tasty, too!

Grabbing what utensils they could find, the girls were ready to dig in!

I told them to sit because we had to wait for the workstudy's supervisor to come back from a meeting before we could cut the cake because Ivy (the work study) wanted her to see it first.

Mimi was the first to sit. She sat as close to the cake as she could, so she could be ready as soon as she gets permission to go for it. Reluctantly, Bongie and Jinamarie joined her. "At least we're first in line," they muttered to each other.

***

An hour and a half later:

"Mmmmmm.....this frosting is soooo good!" exclaimed Bongie.

(Before you feel sorry for her becuase her sisters had great big serving spoons and she only had a pair of wooden chopsticks, know that Bongie is VERY handy with them. She had NO TROUBLE keeping up with her sisters and probably ate more than they did, actually...)

"Oh.... my stomach hurts," thought Jinamarie to herself, "I wonder if I can eat one more spoonful?"

Later that evening, freshly showered and warmed by their sweaters and dry pants, Jinamarie cooked a taco feast for her sisters.

Mimi asked Jina for a slice of lime for her beer...

Bongie learned a trick-- she burped a few times to make room for yet ANOTHER taco...

After dinner, the girls have plans to put up their Christmas tree... hmmm, that ought to be interesting after all that beer! Maybe they should take a nap, first!

~Tinooseus!

Hey, Sis!

2008-12-16T11:34:00.001-08:00

For some time now, I have been contemplating selling ReeRee, my 2nd edition (happy face) Custom House Saint Mina because I need the money. I've told myself that I'll always have Wihelmina, the 1st editon (the sad faced one), and reasoned that I haven't bonded with ReeRee as much, and I've even dared to hope that one day I'd find a 2nd editon again. But truth be told, I can't separate the girls! They belong together in a very special way, and when I look at ReeRee, I know that I have bonded with her, just in a different way. Anyway, I put this new blouse on ReeRee and posed her up on my desk next to Mina and fell in love all over again with the two of them. Honestly, is it any wonder?

~Tinooseus!

Cocoa-Mocha Cupcakes

2008-12-15T22:43:00.000-08:00

There wasn't enough batter left for the last pan. I was too lazy to remove

all of the unused cupcake wrappers and baked them empty. Silly, huh?

***

So, tomorrow is my library's Holiday Potluck for staff. Instead of picking easy-to-make things to bring, I go all complicated and decided to make Cocoa-Mocha cupcakes. This used to be a 2-layer cake complete with chocolate covered espresso beans and fresh strawberries and less-than-perfect piping around the edges. I decided to make cupcakes so they're easier to share with a bunch of people and easier to not over-indulge (if you're not the baker, that is). No slicing a big cake, no trio of hungry guys cutting the cake into 3 slices and then getting sick off of its richness (this is NOT a "healthy" recipe-- the entire thing has 3 eggs, 6 egg yolks, 4 sticks of butter, 2 1/3 cups of sugar, and so on). Anyway, I've never been a neat cook-- my kitchen looks like a disaster after I make this recipe, and making cupcakes left things just a little bit worse off than usual. Check it out!

Since I needed less buttercream than frosting an entire 2-layer cake, I had to haul out the old 5-lb Cooking from A to Z cookbook that I love in order to find the original recipe. The book took up half the space on my kitchen table (which already held a host of other things both related and not related to the cupcakes):

In my apartment, I don't have a lot of counter space (the pots and pans I keep in the oven had to go on top o the stove and spilled over on the little counter space I have to the left of the oven), I had to put the wire cooling racks on my washing machine:

I had two cupcake pans to bake 48 cupcakes at a time. Have to line each one with cupcake paper. Again, no counter space, so the pans were balanced on top of the pots and pans that came out of the oven so I could bake in the first place. The tiny counter space to the right of the oven wasn't spared either:

Now, the good news is that it only took about 2 hours to make from start to finish-- a savings of 1.5 hours that it takes to make the 2-layer decorated cake. The other good news is that the cupcakes are perfect little bites of chocolate heaven.

The bad news? I have 3 plastic containers of cupcakes to balance on the bus tomorrow morning, along with a backpack filled with packages that I have to mail, and a bag filled with my crock-pot and the ingredients for a hearty Vegetable Tortelini Soup. Times like these I wish I had a driver.

Sigh...oh well! Yum! Yum! Yummy!!!

~Tinooseus!

I Didn't Want to Go...

2008-11-11T20:29:00.000-08:00

Photo: Charles Walter Drew 9/23/1932 -- 1/2/2008

While cleaning up some of my old files on my laptop this evening, I found this thing that I wrote on January 15, 2007-- almost a year before the death of my father on January 2nd of this year. It was kind of a shock to come across this document all these many months later, and it brings with it a fresh rush of grief as I remember my father once again.

***

January 15, 2007

I really didn’t want to go to my parents’ house this Sunday. It was very cold outside, the buses were on the Sunday/Holiday (i.e. hardly running) schedule, and I was sick, very tired, and depressed, and honestly, all I wanted to do was go back home and crawl back into bed. I've had this epic battle (Should I or shouldn't I?) raging in my mind and heart all morning long about it, and every time I came to a decision it wasn’t long before I'd flip to the other one. Mentally, I pictured the buses I would have to catch in order to get over there from my church, imagined the thick brown cloud of nicotine that has become the normal forecast at my folks' place because of my dad’s chain smoking, recognized the headache that I would end up with from the visit, tried to resign myself into committing to another afternoon of dealing with my mom’s broken-record lament for her only son, half-heartedly planned the logistics of making a stop in the middle of the trip in order to pick up some lunch for them, struggled with the knowledge that I should stay a while for my parents versus giving in to the overwhelming urge to flee back to the quiet balm of my own little apartment in Capital Hill. Visiting my mom and dad always required a lot of planning and stamina and resolve, and I desperately wanted to put it off.

After navigating the dangers of walking through rugged piles of ice and snow along a heavily trafficked Quebec Street, I finally arrived at the doorsteps of my childhood home, and I used my key to let myself in—my dad is often physically unable to get to the door and my mom never hears the pounding and the yelling, so last year we finally made copies of the house keys to use in case of an emergency. I've only used them for non-emergencies thus far. My mother was sitting in the living room knitting something, watching tv, and talking to someone inside of her head. She glanced up at me and said “Oh, Tina’s here. I feel better now.” That was both one of the oddest and most poignant greeting (even though it wasn’t directed at me) that my mother has ever put forth, and I paused for a moment before coming all the way into the house and shutting the door –the light, the fresh air, the world- behind me. The house was very hot as usual, but on that particular day I welcomed the heat.

As I unpacked the lunches from a Japanese place between my church and my parents' house, I automatically answered my mother's deluge of questions: Where is Gladys? Is Carlton coming? Is the baby ok? Are you hungry? Is it Saturday? Are they going to take your father away soon? “Me fyowa you lanchee mochoteeta—nisu! Lureta salumondu-Japanesu!” I brightly announced to my mother and showed her the ginger salmon bowls. Her round face lit up and she opened her eyes wide. Taking a fork from me, my mom poked around in her bowl for a moment before she tucked in like a very hungry little kid. Satisfied with her progress, I carried the 2nd bowl into my father’s room just off of the living room. His room, as usual, was dark (heavy curtains drawn, walls stained brown with nicotine and age, the glow from the tv and a small florescent fixture are the only sources of weak light in the room) and dreary. While my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I looked sadly over my father, taking inventory. He was a skeletal figure curled up on one side of the bed that he used to share with my mother, big eyes staring at the tv. He seemed surprised to see me standing there, but did not move or say a word. I encouraged him to try the salmon that I brought, telling him that it was my favorite dish from the restaurant, and assured him that it was really good. Since he made no move to take the bowl, I set it down on a chair that he used as a table (every other surface was covered with mail, coins, pill bottles, and neatly folded socks). I hesitated for a moment at the doorway, for I never knew what to say to my father, but then I turned and left his room to rejoin my mom on the old striped avocado-green couch.

She was still steadily eating, and so with a sigh, I opened up my own bowl. For the next couple of minutes, the only sounds were the blare of the football game in my dad’s room (Chicago VS Seattle), the faint drone of the traffic on Quebec Street, the annoying buzz and rattle of my dad’s oxygen unit, my mom’s noisy chewing and audible gulping, her faint mutterings, and the scrape of metal forks against Styrofoam containers. My mom asked me, “Is this red salmon?” Yes, I replied. “Japanese restaurant, right? Oh, oh…oh… the rice is good. Tokyo Japanese restaurant?” she asked. Uh… how did she know? It was from the Tokyo-San Bowl over on 7th and Colorado Blvd! “Cook a man or a woman? How much was it?” All the while she dribbled rice and big chunks of salmon down her front as she consumed the meal. I watched her from the corners of my eyes and chuckled at her enthusiasm. It was such a pleasure to see her eat with so much happiness. She wore thick cream colored socks that she knitted with her gnarled hands, old brown corduroy pants--faded and worn in the knees, a long sleeved pink t-shirt, and a knee-length teal tie-dyed sleeveless twill dress pulled over the whole ensemble. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail—gray, white, yellow (from the nicotine), and very thin. I wanted to cry when I looked at my mother’s hair. It used to be so thick and black and shiny. When did she get so old?

In between bites of fish, I would lean over to the left on the sofa in order to look into my dad’s room to see if he had started eating yet. No... he was still just laying there listlessly. I briefly worried that my mom would take his bowl away and eat it herself if he didn't get started. She really loves fish. After we finished eating, my mom opened up a bright yellow I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter container and thrusted it under my nose. It was filled with bright and sugary and stale Apple Jacks. She was saving them for her 6 year old granddaughter. She could not understand why my brother and his daughter didn’t visit every week (they live in Texas), but it never stopped her from buying food for them in anticipation and an unshakable faith that they would knock on the door at any moment. She generously said that I could have some. I took a few and popped them in my mouth as I leaned over again to see if there’s been any change in my dad’s room. My dad had rolled over to the other side of the bed, but he was still just laying there quietly.

My mom talked nonstop, this time about how I should punch the lights out of the Japanese man-cook for charging $7 for the bowl of fish and rice. (I lied-- it was really almost $10 a bowl, but she didn't need to know that.) After a brief diversion (my mom spilled her water and we scrambled to get it mopped up), I looked into my dad's room once again and realized with a start that he was sitting up in his bed and eating. I was so happy! Like my mother, he ate every drop and declared the meal delicious. After clearing away the mess from the lunches and picking rice off the sofa where my mom was sitting, I got up and sat on my dad’s bed next to him and asked him how he was doing.

“Same old same old,” he said moodily. His body was folded nearly in half as he rested his elbows on his legs and hung his head. He assumes this position so he could draw breath in and out of his lungs. It made lipreading impossible, but this position was one that gave my dad’s voice a reassuring resonance that is normally lacking due to the ugly symptoms of COPD and congestive heart failure. Both have rendered his voice thin and weak and full of phlegm. The cave created by his body from the position he took--the small space between his head and the floor-- all came together and created full and deep acoustics as he spoke. If I close my eyes, I could pretend that my dad was still healthy, able-bodied, and muscled. If I close my eyes, I couldn’t see his naked scalp through the sparse crinkles of yellow-ish gray hair, couldn’t see the swollen skin framing the urine-yellow “whites” of his eyes, I won’t see the former boxer reduced to knobs and bones, and loose, dry, and flaky skin. If I close my eyes, I can’t see my dad’s dying spirit struggling to remain upright and stoic, just as life and decades in the Air Force demanded.

My dad talked non-stop, just as my mother did earlier. He repeated himself –as he did every single time I visited—about how the IRS screwed him when he retired from their Colorado office after 10 years of service. He talked about how my mom drove him crazy with her behavior (she has schizophrenia), about how these people called him all day long trying to sell him things that he didn't want or need. As he talked, I glanced around his room as if seeing it for the first time. I stared at the muddy walls, remembering the cool moss green paint that my mom and my brother and I painted there one summer afternoon years ago. I looked at my dad’s massive accumulation of mail, wondered if any of it could be thrown away. I puzzled over the coins spread all over his desk. Why? I gazed over my dad’s bent head into a corner of his room, overwhelmed by the understanding that this room has become my dad’s haven, his resting place.

My dad talked and rocked himself gently, and then suddenly he took a detour and started to reminisce about his mother. “I really miss my mother a lot,” he said, “She was the only one I could ever talk to, and I could talk to her about anything, and she always understood me. And even when she didn’t understand she always tried to understand or took the time to learn more about what it is she didn’t understand. And I could talk to my mother about anything.” He told me about how my grandmother once sent him $50 –which was an incredible amount of money back in the days—and how the unexpected gift had literally saved his life. He talked about how he’d never asked his mother for money, and about how he always wanted to do for her instead, even after he got married and started his own family. I was startled by this sudden change in the topic, and I felt incredible sadness because my grandmother—his mother—had passed away about 4 years earlier. I thought about how lonely my dad must have been in those long years without his mother’s weekly calls, without his mother’s love. I could hear the longing in his voice and in his words. Just because he never talked about it, just because he never showed any weakness, we as a family never talked about things like that, as well. I knew that my dad was depressed after his mom died, he showed signs of it to be sure, but to ask him about it, he was always 'fine.' When my grandmother died, it was a shock to us all despite her age. None of us knew that she was sick with cancer because she did not want us to know. By the time we found out, a mere hour before her death, it was too late. She died less than an hour after I called to chat with her and got a home care nurse on the phone instead. I then called my father in a panic, but by then my grandmother had lasped into a drugged coma, and he never got to talk to her, never got to hear her tell him what was going on, never got to hear his mother’s love for one last time. And I truly understood at that moment sitting next to my father in his bedroom that he was still deeply grieving his mother’s sudden departure from his life.

Photo: The newspaper clipping, ca.1948.

My dad talked on and on that Sunday afternoon with topic shift after topic shift. He said something about his aunt and why he couldn’t understand why she could “do those things to hurt people” and then turn around and “expect those same people to take care of her when she needs it.” Baffled, I tried to figure out what I had missed when my dad veered off again to talk about a newspaper article that was written many years ago about him and his father, about how his father was a boxer before him, about his family, and then he said, “...and I guess that’s really what it is all about.” And just like that, his words choked to a halt. I looked closely at my father and realized that he was sobbing. I have never seen my daddy cry before, and without a second thought or hesitation, I reached out and started to slowly rub his back.

I really didn’t want to go to my parents’ house this Sunday.

But I am so glad that I did.

~Tinooseus!

Photo: Dad's A.F. pall bearers at Fort Logan National Cemetary, January 9th, 2008.

***

Eyes

2008-11-10T18:24:00.001-08:00

They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul. Yuliya (Dollstown Bandi) has always had beautiful grey-green eyes, and she was one of the few dolls whose eyes I have rarely changed out. However, last week, Gina had posted some of these incredible glass eyes for sale on the Zone of Zen. I knew that I had to have them and was very excited to have managed to snag her only pair of 16mms. They came today, and I put them in Yuliya right away (poor Charlie's head was unceremoniously removed from the body that they share... She looks kind of sad-- I have GOT to get her her own body...), and oh my. These are just heavenly!

Snapped a couple of photos but will do a proper photoshoot this weekend! She's still wearing the Galliano dress, but she wears it SO well, huh?!

~Tinooseus!

My Wordle of Tinooseworld2

2008-10-28T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's a little small, but if you click on the picture, it will take you to the bigger one. It's cool!

It takes the words that I've written so far and creates this cool image. Wordle uses the number of times a word appeared in my blog to determine how big the word appears in the graphic. As you can see, my post about my mom quest to see that I get married is the largest! Hee hee! It's all VERY cool!

~Tinooseus!

Cold Fall Morning

2008-10-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

It was SUCH a beautiful Fall morning. Margaret and I went for a walk along the Sand Creek Greenway at Stapleton, both for our exercise and also to scout for new photoshoot locations. And we found one. Not sure what it's called-- it was near 29th Avenue and Beeler Street. So, while a few dedicated folks picked up trash along the Greenway, Margaret and I took photos of our dolls and enjoyed the relative peace and quiet. It was quite chilly, but very quiet and peaceful. The sky was a bit gray, but within an hour, some of the clouds had cleared and the sun blazed forth. It was a great time to be out taking pictures. I bought my doll sisters Wilhelmina 'Mina' Faith and Marguerite 'ReeRee' Joy. Both are Saint Mina dolls from the Korean film the Doll Master. The dolls were sculpted in the amazing likeness of the actress (Lim Eun Kyung) that played 'Mina.' My sad faced one (Wilhelmina) is the 1st edition and the happy faced one (Marguerite) is the 2nd edition of the AI event dolls from Custom House. These event dolls are long sold out and only available on the secondary doll market. I have been very blessed to be able to acquire both.

My session ended when a pack of wild kids descended upon me and my dolls, curious, asking questions, and shouting and running around. They didn't stay long, but they broke the spell. As I was packing the girls back up, I saw one other opportunity and shot a few more. And then the mosquitoes woke up. Margaret and I went to eat breakfast, and then wanted to go to a few other locations for more pictures, but there were too many gorillas and pedestrians and Obama rally organizers blocking off and cluttering up the landscape. So around 12:15 we called it a day. Hope you enjoy the photos!

~Tinooseus!

FAQ: So, how high was that rock thing?

2008-10-25T13:40:00.000-07:00

Many people have asked me about the rock formation that I climbed last weekend in order to take some pictures of Mina. My short answer was "Not that high." A few folks wrote that they were picturing me hanging off the side thinking "Well...this is it...this is the end." Others scolded me about heart attacks and endangered ball-jointed dolls. So I am now going to answer the question again. Honestly, it was NOT that high:

Oh, and I know what you are thinking now-- "How tall are you?" Only a mere 5'6".

Right. Shut up.

~Tinooseus!

Get Married!

2008-10-24T18:08:00.000-07:00

Pic: My mom as a young married woman.

Grab your tea and get comfortable-- I want to tell you a true story about my very tiny Japanese mama. She has always made it very clear to me and to anyone who would listen that her job as a mother wasn’t done until I got MY job done, which is to get married and then present her with a few grandbabies. My siblings have gotten married, so they were off her radar as far as that went. I am the youngest, her last 'hold-out,' and she was determined to crush my 'rebellion' and make me perform my one and most important duty to her. Since the time I was really young, she had been on me like white on rice to get busy with the business of marriage and motherhood. I can vividly remember her trying to arrange something between me and the family’s mail carrier back when I was 13. (I'm pretty sure that my dad didn’t know about it!) But you know, I was in junior high school and I had a crush on a boy named Stuart. In my 13 year old eyes, the mailman was gross because he was really, really old (a.k.a. over 20). Despite my protests and rolling eyes, my mom wooed him with cookies and smiles. She probably scared the bejeezus out of that poor man once he finally understood what she wanted. Either that or he could never quite put together her broken Japlish/Engrish and just thought to himself, “Gee… there’s that friendly Mrs. Drew again!” Needless to say, her scheming and plotting failed. And so year after year I tried to tune out my mom’s scolding voice:

“When are you getting married?”

“Don’t be so picky!”

“Stop wasting time!”

“Tina, when are you getting married?”

“What? You’re going to high school? WHY?! GET MARRIED!”

“You’re getting very old.”

“You’re such a lazy girl—GET MARRIED!”

“Quit being disobedient—GET MARRIED!”

“What? MORE school?? GET MARRIED!”

“Why are you so picky? You don’t like anyone.”

“What’s wrong with that one? He’s married? Why won’t YOU get married?!”

“Get married!”

“AGAIN with the school?! When are you going to stop? GET MARRIED!”

“Where’s your husband? What? GET MARRIED!”

On top of that, every year for my birthday I received a special gift from my mom. I call it the annual Happy GET MARRIED Birthday Talk. Don't get me wrong-- on regular, ordinary days I got The Talk, too. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, and sometimes at night I heard my mom and the dreaded M word. There has been many theme and variations on The Talk, which usually went like this:

“Tina, you’re getting old. Another year has gone by and you’re still too lazy to get married. What’s wrong with you? Stop being so picky! What do you mean they don’t like you? Quit worrying about loving them, worry about that after! Just GET MARRIED!” or “Hey Pickle Girl—where’s my grandbabies?! GET MARRIED!”

Pic: Mom and Dad celebrate 50 years of marriage.

The Talk have been mostly annoying, sometimes distressing, but occasionally unbelievably hysterical. Take the year of my 29th or 30th birthday. I went home as I always did for my birthday dinner and cake, and true to form my mom started in almost as soon as I walked through the door. She was in a very cranky mood that year, though, so it wasn’t long before she had worked herself into a screaming frenzy: “You’re just a bad daughter because you haven’t gotten married yet!” Without thinking, I hollered right back, “You’re just a bad mama because you haven’t found me a husband yet!” That shut her up! But alas….she was only quiet for a moment. That woman sucked all the oxygen out of the room before she began bellowing for my father to come downstairs to where I stood—legs planted, hands at my waist, chin jutting out, glaring furiously down at my short mama. My poor dad came running, thinking that he had to break up a cat-fight or something equally horrifying to his peace-loving soul. Imagine his consternation when my mom calmly—but firmly—told him, “Charlie! Find your daughter a husband!”

My absolute favorite Happy GET MARRIED Birthday Talk occurred the following year: My sister and I had been eating my birthday dinner with our parents, and we had just polished off our plates of cake and ice cream. We kept throwing puzzled glances at each other and then stared pointedly at our mom all evening long. She had been curiously silent as she ignored us and meticulously ate her dinner. Then she ate her slice of cake. And then down the hatch went the scoop of vanilla ice cream…. Finally, our mom shooed us off and urged us to go lay down on her futon to rest. So my sister and I clomped heavily (we were stuffed) downstairs to the basement, kicked off our shoes, and belly-flopped down onto the homemade futon and started talking.

“Hmmmm… wonder why mommy didn’t say anything?” she asked.

“I don’t know! Maybe she gave up,” I replied. Naively, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’ve managed to escape The Talk. It wasn’t long, however, before we both heard our mother making her noisy way downstairs and across the tiled basement floor toward her bedroom where we were sprawled like sheep before the slaughter. She eased her feet out of her slippers by the door, came into the room, and then delicately kneeled down by the edge of the futon and folded her hands into her lap. She had this very tragic look on her face as she gazed at me. Kind of like an old actor in a Kabuki theater. “Tina…” she said in this very plaintive voice. “Why won’t you get married? Isn’t there anybody that you like?” And in a moment of gregarious and profound weakness (I was probably just high on sugar), I told my mom about this man that I really liked from my church. He was an Elder, and he was very handsome, quite funny, and we once went to a Christopher Parkening concert together. After listening sympathetically to my tales of unreciprocated romantic longings, nodding her head sagely from time to time, my mama asked me, “Do you want mommy to talk to him?”

I have been listening to this tiny comedienne and her one-part act for a very long time. I was even starting to get used to it. Then it happened. One birthday I did not get The Talk. Who knew that I’d take the omission so hard—I went back to my little apartment that night and cried my eyes out because I thought that since my own mama had given up on me, I would never, ever, ever get married. My friends laughed at me and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t HAPPY that she didn’t nag me that year. They thought I had finally lost it as I began to go throught the 7 stages of grief. As it turned out, she just forgot that it was my birthday (which explained the lack of cake and dinner, too), and she simply picked up where she left off a few weeks or so later. Nag, nag, nag.

Well, I’ve now endured almost 30 years of The Talk which, by the way, has a new variation—she’s skipping the ‘get married’ section and is just repeating the ‘where is my grandbaby’ line over and over again. Ha! I must have the only mom in the world who wants her daughter to have children out of wedlock. Anyway, after all this time, I've finally given up the hope of ever finding my soul mate, my companion for life and have stopped looking. A nice date for me was on the pages of a good book or up on the movie screen. Except for occasional bouts of intense loneliness, I’ve more or less adapted to the “but not for me” scenario. Lately (and especially since the death of my father this past January), I’ve found myself entangled in a complicated and exhausting web of trying to care for my old mama and deal with her myriad of mental and physical health issues, work on probate and conservatorship stuff, sort through my ambivalent feelings about being back in the neighborhood where I grew up, trying to adjust to a new routine that leaves very little time for tending to my own needs and well-being, working full-time job, and trying to find time in the few hours left at the end of the day for rest, play, and sleep. It has been quite a stressful time for me and sometimes I feel like a zombie just putting one foot in front of the other. However, I’ve noticed something that kind of makes me smile through the tears: even though my mom has been displaying really alarming signs of dementia and Alzheimer’s, the one thing that remains constant is that she never seems to forget that I haven’t yet gotten married nor given her the grandchildren that she so desires.

“Tina….when are you getting married, huh? When are you going to get pregnant—I want three boys. Huh? When are you going to be a good girl and get married?"

My mama really doesn’t seem to understand much these days, and her mental confusion is hard to witness. I find myself telling her things that she forgets a few minutes later. I watch her trying to figure out how to turn the record player on or struggling to find the right English words to ask me a question. She’s constantly asking me where her son is and when her husband is coming back home from the hospital… and occasionally she’ll ask me in this most bewildered tone, “Why do I keep forgetting these things?” I have been listening to my mama getting all the facts of her life mixed up as she enters this new stage in her life. She often confuses me for my sister, or my 9 year old niece, and sometimes, inexplicably, for my father, and I want to just put my head down and cry. Instead, I patiently (and sometimes impatiently) remind her that my brother lives in Texas and my daddy died in January and I tell her over and over again that I'm Tina when she calls me Kazai or Charlie. But lately my mama can’t even understand my words—not only had she forgotten most of what little English she had, but she’s starting to forget the special little made-up Japanese-English language that my siblings and I shared with her from the time we were little kids in order to communicate with her, our mama, our mommy. So I can’t tell her where my dad is buried, I can’t tell her why my brother can't come over and take her to the grocery store, I can’t tell her why eight dollar bills and a five dollar bill does not equal $85. And most of all, I can’t tell her that I’ve met the love of my life.

Oh, and that he’s a mailman.

~Tinooseus!

Big Risks

2008-10-18T19:47:00.001-07:00

Ok...

So, I've had a lot of people kind of freak out over my doll pictures recently, not so much because they are photos of DOLLS (although... well... never mind, that's another post!), but because it seems to the casual observer that I put them in harm's way in order to get a great photo.

"That's beautiful but she's much too close the edge of the dock!"
"What if she fell over the balcony and landed on that hotdog stand???!"

"Since you don't know how to swim, do you have a backup plan just in case she falls in the lake?"

"Aauiggghhh! I can't look!!!"

Consider for a moment if you will, this photograph that I took of Ruth by the Platte River:

Kinda scary, right? Well, I promise you that she was quite safe! I always make sure that my dolls are stabilized and secure and won't fall over . Sometimes they are actually leaning against something that you can't see in the picture. Granted, a loose dog running amok or a very strong gust of wind would have been catastrophic. But most of the time, my "big risks" really aren't so much so. In fact it would be fair to say that I am not always as safe or secured as my dolls are. In this river photoshoot for example, I was all over the place looking for interesting angles and effects. At one point I had carefully climbed up and perched on a rock adjacent to Ruth in order to get a desired shot. When I tried to stand up I realized that I had gotten my foot stuck in a crevice. So there I was-- a $600 doll in one hand and a $400 camera in the other... well, you get the picture!

So, early this morning, my friend Margaret and I went down to this park/greenbelt area in the new Stapleton development. There was this really cool climbing wall that gives us way too many ideas involving our dolls in miniature climbing gear, an observation deck, and a couple of groupings of these really big and beautiful stone slabs all built for little kids to go climbing. Of course, I had to climb up the "mountain" myself in order to get this fabulous shot, for example:

And this one:

And this one, too:

And as it so often is with many things in life, I found that while it was fairly easy getting UP the structure-- getting back down proved to be an unanticipated challenge. So as I clung to the rocks way up in the sky, I started thinking about how people always think of me as a person who takes these really big risks with my dolls. I found myself with a somewhat out of control case of the giggles that actually went along quite nicely with all that dread building up in my stomach as I imagined plummenting down the side of the mountain. (Yes, I do insist on calling it that!) My legs were also starting to get a little shaky and I realized that a lot of the footholds and places to grab on were built for much tinier feet and hands...

All that commotion attracted Margaret's attention, and I sensed that she was kind of shaking her head at me behind my back. I'm sure I looked ridiculous. It's like this-- in horseback riding, there's this kind of stomach-dropping fear that can come upon the newly initiated when they mount a horse. You feel like you are SOOOO high up in the air and you might find yourself starting to hyperventillate as you grab tightly to the reins and start to put the squeeze on the horse's sides. Which makes them MOVE. Which causes you more fear... Apparently the same sort of thing was going on while I was stuck up on the rocks. It really wasn't so high, but a fall still would have hurt a little, and it seemed like the air was really thin, and my feet were slipping and my hands getting weaker and weaker....

Anyway, I arranged the photos that Margaret shot into a collage so that once and for all everyone can satisfy their curiosity about one aspect of my photoshoots. These are also for your complete amusement, so go ahead and have a laugh!

Don't worry-- no dolls or cameras or human beings were hurt in the making of these photos!

Unfortunately, I DID split my pants...

So Margaret and I went shopping afterwards.

It was a good day.

~Tinooseus!

Contemplating Change & Tinoose's Other World 2

2008-10-16T13:24:00.000-07:00

Bongie contemplates changes in the woods...

I have been thinking for the past 5-6 months now about my first blog (Tinoose's Other World) and how I've gotten into some lazy and not-so-well-thought-out posting habits that kind of threaten the sustainability of my original posts. Since I have too many postings now (and too little time) to consider fixing/editing each one, I simply stopped short of actually taking action when it came to thinking about the problems in my old blog. Now, yesterday I started a Learning 2.0 online course that included an assignment to create a learning blog for the class. In doing so, I was once again reminded of the need to do something about my old blog. I've also discovered what some of the newer features were and must say that I really like the enhancements! Now, I could have simply upgraded from my old template in my old blog, but I would have lost a lot of what formatting that I had on it. It's my fear that the losses would have resulted in a strange-looking and damaged blog. NOT a good idea since Tinoose's Other World will be featured in a future Haute Doll Magazine article... in short, it was a risk that I simply wasn't willing to take! Since I wasn't exactly sure what would change with the upgrade, I have decided to just create the "next generation" of my old blog! And so Tinoose's Other World 2 was born! I hope you enjoy it as much as the old one, which from this point on will be referred to as "Tinoose's Archived World."

~Tinooseus!