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This is so in tune with my pulp fiction covers and Fancy Nancy YA book jacket, that I HAVE to share a  link sent to me by my friend Liz for "Vinatge Valentines WTF." And if you these are strange, wait until you see the rest of the fantastic collection.

I live for this kind of photography: haunting shots of once lively and active places, now in ruins. There is something that hits a nerve somewhere within me that makes me look at the disintegration of old structures, and see it not just as it is, but as it must have been. 

There's a lot to read and a lot to see in this wonderful photo essay about  New York's North Brother Island and abandoned Riverside Hospital from The Kingston Lounge, which may soon become another favorite photo blog for me, right up there with Shorpy. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves and the history tell it's own story.

 All photos courtesy of Cakewrecks

Here is the problem when you like to blog and when you also like to read the blogs of others: it all takes time, and on any given day, I seem to have less and less of it. Truth be known, when it comes to choosing between entertaining myself reading what other people have written or attempting to wax poetic myself and share my thoughts with readers, I choose--you guessed it--entertaining myself! Surprise, surprise!

In the blog post before this one, I wrote about getting in my daily dose of pick-me-up at Awkward Family Photos. Love the site. Can't stay away. Can't stop laughing. 

But my other, equally enjoyable place to visit and find a smile on my face and maybe even tears of laughter in my eyes is CAKE WRECKS. Cake Wrecks is exactly that--a blog devoted to the so-called professionally done cakes one can buy in a bakery, supermarket, or wherever, that are, in a word, wrecks. As defined by Jen Yates, the genius behind the site and the book that came out of the site:

 WHAT IS A WRECK?

"A Cake Wreck is any cake that is unintentionally sad, silly, creepy, inappropriate - you name it. A Wreck is not necessarily a poorly-made cake; it's simply one I find funny, for any of a number of reasons. Anyone who has ever smeared frosting on a baked good has made a Wreck at one time or another, so I'm not here to vilify decorators: Cake Wrecks is just about finding the funny in unexpected, sugar-filled places."

All photos courtesy Awkward Family Photos

Addicted. Totally. And without remorse of any kind. It's my computer and I. It's not just that I love using it as a tool to create art. It's the web. The Internet is my worst vice and my greatest enjoyment. I am always on it. My husband has even said that someday he expects to come home find me stuck INSIDE the monitor, like some sort of Twilight Zone episode.

 
I can justify it to some extent, because I am not a TV watcher of any significance. I'd rather be on line, checking out everything from eBay to newspapers to blogs by other artists and writers then sitting in front of some mindless sitcom or self important drama. I've even discovered a whole cache of blogs that write about vintage stuff and collecting, which is what this very blog started out as about 5 years ago. There is no end to the kind of information I suddenly find myself interested in. Hey--wanna  know more about scroll saws? Ask me!

Lately, however, my addiction to the net has to do with something more essential: getting my daily dose of humor. And my top choice of enjoyment?  AWKWARD FAMILY PHOTOS.

If you read this blog, you already know that I obsess about the passing of time. You know that I wish I could time travel. You know that I love antiques and Ken Burns and the Oxford Project and anything that allows me a glimpse into the past. 

Now that I have discovered Google Street View, I even take trips to old neighborhoods of my past so I can "walk around" a see what those places now look like compared to  years ago. Let me tell you that can be fun, but also depressing. Sometimes places look very much like they did when I was living there, like my old street and house in Stony Point, New York (but the town itself is totally different) or the house my husband and I lived in in Buffalo, NY,  as newlyweds. Most of the time, however, things have changed so much, I don't recognize the neighborhood at all, or, in the worst case scenario, they  don't even exist, which is the case with both of the apartment buildings I lived in as a child with my grandparents in Newark, New Jersey. Gone. Empty lots. Rubble.

The discovery of Google Street View is just one of the wonderful things I came upon when I discovered my absolute favorite, MUST VISIT EVERYDAY blog: SHORPY.

To quote from the site:

THE 100-YEAR-OLD PHOTO BLOG

The blog is run by Dave, who posts the most magnificent high resolution pictures of years gone by. I do not know any personal information about Dave, except that he has some facinating looking family members whose mid century pictures he occasionally puts up on the site.  

When I look around my house and see the enormous amount of stuff I have managed to collect and inflict on my family, I sometimes feel...well..a little guilty. I wonder if they would all somehow live a life of minimal objects with a different mother and wife. I think my husband would clearly live is less clutter. He is very neat and organized by nature. Not anymore. I corrupted him. He sort of "caught" whatever it is that has always ailed me, and he now subscribes to the same sort of busy look in decor that he has come to know and love. In a way, my kids have, as well, though I doubt that they will ever be as far advanced with this malady as I am.

With those thoughts in mind, you can imagine how utterly relieved I was to read an article in today's NY Times about renowned urologist and Columbia professor Dr. John Lattimer, who passed away at the age of 92, and left behind a life's collection of oddities that certainly puts my mundane assortments of objects to shame.

I think I would have found Dr. Lattimer to be a kindred spirit. The article points to the fact that he was an only child of two only children. So was I. It mentions that somehow his collecting was an effort to hold on the the past. I agree. And it is more. Somehow owning a piece or two of the past, helps to grasp the present. I would even go so far as to say that it increases understanding of the future.

My husband and I have often joked about what our poor kids will have to deal with when they need to figure out what to do with over 100 cookie jars, even more pieces of carnival chalkware, tons of cowboy stuff, and a gazillion vintage tablecloths, not to mention everything else in this house.

But this we can guarantee them: they will not have to deal with anything even remotely similar to the type of relics being sort by Lattimer's daughter Evan, as she catalogs his vast collection for sorting for auction, discarding, and keeping.

How do I know this? Read the article. What gives me the right to sound so damned cocky, pun intended? This fact: I do not have in my posession, for example, anything even close to being Napolean's penis.....

The summer is here and I have made my way up to New Hampshire where the pace is slower and more peaceful. Seriously, the pace really is slower. With my lead foot on the pedal I have had the humiliating experience of having the NH driver in front of me pull over to let me go by, because I must have been too close on his tail in "Boston Speed Driver" mode. Let me tell you, nothing makes you feel more like an arrogant city slicker and a jackass, than having a local resident feel the need to actually stop on the side of the road, to let the nutcake behind him zoom by.

This year the summer is a little different, since we will be going back and forth much more between Massachusetts and Hebron for most weeks. Usually I try to just settle in and stay put, but family affairs and scheduled surgery for my husband will see us mostly here on weekends.

That being the case, my collecting time up here in the treasure trove known as New Hamshire antique stores will be limited. But I'll try to squeeze a few outings in anyway.

One of the things I have begun seriously collecting is artwork by unknowns. I have found most of what I have up here. Most often I find landscapes, framed, and signed, painted with love, and often 50, 75, even more than 100 years old. The art I buy is pretty inexpensive, but lovely. The paintings I am drawn to were painted by some undiscovered painter, with plenty of talent, if not reputation.

And that is how I came upon the wonderful painting pictured above, although I actually found this one in a consignment shop in MA.

There was something very sepcial about this painting. Hard to put my finger on it, but there was a real talent and hint of whimsy that said "professional." On the back of this watercolor I found a label with this information:

American Watercolor Society Member 1950
TITLE: "Phil's Wharf"
ARTIST: Sandra James
ADDRESS: 554 West 114th Street, NYC

With the magic of Google, I disovered that Sandra James was a children's book illustrator. She seemed to have done a series of books by Alice Turner Curtis, one of these being A LITTLE MAID OF OLD CONNECTICUT, and other similar titles. Another book I found was from 1944, by Eleanor Youmans entitled: MOUNT DELIGHTFUL: THE STORY OF ELLEN EVANS AND HER DOG TAFFY.

On the askart.com web site, I was able to find only one other example of her paintings--a landscape of central park.

She was married to another artist by the name of Syd J. Browne.

I am trying to find more books illustrated by Sandra James, and any additional information I can get my hands on. If you are someone who is familiar with her work, her books, or can tell me anything about her, I would so love to hear from you.

This painting speaks to me, and, in a way, I feel that Sandra James is doing the same. I also find strangely pleasant the fact that my husabnd's name is Phil, like the title of the painting.

..to show you this:

I don't know why, but this just soooo appeals to me. Maybe it has something to do with having an aesthetic sensibility that embraces Elvis Lamps. Or maybe it is because I just got back from San Antonio and I want to bring a little of the south up here to Massachusetts.

Whatever. I NEED this for my patio. I want to put it right by the running waterfall pond with the swimming coy. Of course, I'll serve little drinks with umbrellas, and also light Tiki torches.

And in the winter, I'd bring it inside the house and stick it in the middle of the sun room.

We'll see. Maybe by summer....

Now back to business.

Coming up on Saturday: BLOG TOUR visit by author/illustrator Joe Kulka. Make sure to visit. Joe is VERY funny....

I tend to identify very closely with stories and characters. In the seventies, after reading Charmed Circle by James R. Mellow and various bios of Collette, I became obsessed with Paris. I wanted to cook like Alice B. Toklas. I wanted to just hang with artists. I wanted to eat lots of cheese and drink lots of wine.

Down the road when I was reading the "Clan of the Cave Bears" books I started using all kinds of wild fruits and herbs when I cooked, a la Ayla. I think my husband actually went into Wild Berry overdose.

More recently, when I was reading Memoirs of a Geisha, I paid close attention to subtle nuances of being graceful and I actually spent time drooling over kimonos and contemplating how I poured a cup of coffee or tea. Is my wrist delicate and seductive, or do I move like Sylvester Stallone? (answer: don't ask)

These and other books made me think myself out of my own skin in various ways. That is the magic of books. I can still taste the cinnamon toast I think I made myself while reading Seventeen as a teenager. For some reason I think someone in that book ate lots of cinnamon toast. Am I remembering correctly?

I also did this kind of stuff as a doll maker and puppeteer. I guess, in the end, it's not enough to read about, or create characters; I like to become them, too. Well, I like to become them if they are likeable, anyway.

So what to do if your most recent characters are country music singing kitties? Start singing? NO. People would pay BIG BUCKS for me to NOT sing, believe me. I could grow whiskers easier than learn to sing.

No, I think I have hit upon the perfect solution. I need something from this web site:
rocketbusters.com.

And I think this is exactly what I need:

Yes. Blame Betsy. Betsy Bird of Fuse #8. It is her fault.

When I went over to check out her blog this morning (Thurs., Feb. 22), like I do every morning, I scrolled down to find a YouTube video of the Four Freshman, doing a great number on a librarian.

Now since I really do remember that kind of music, having lived through it, I loved watching those four fresh freshman (and, for the record, I really DID have a jumper like that). In fact, I loved it so much I went over to YouTube to see more of them. Which then led me first to a video of the Boswell Sisters doing a nice blues number called Heebie Jeebies.

But it got worse. The Boswell Sisters pointed me to my favorite singing sisters, The Andrews Sisters. (seems like only a few posts back I was thinking about those gals. Oh, wait--it was only a few posts back)

When I was a kid I LOVED the Andrews Sisters, although I could NOT get into those padded shoulders. I hated that style. How was I to know back then, that I would be sporting my own football pads once the 80's rolled around? On YouTube I watched a whole bunch of great Andrews Sisters videos: A nice montage, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, and one from an old Abbot and Costello movie "Hold That Ghost" that I wacthed over and over and over again on Million Dollar Movie, out of New York on Channel 9. The number is "Aurora." (the famous line from that movie: "Moose kept his money in his head....")

But then, I found a great video of the Sisters with Dean Martin from the 60's. And let me tell you--I LOVE Dean Martin in the 60's. I am one of those nuts who bought this. And it is great.

So I am late to getting back to work. And it is all Fuse # 8's fault because of that great librarian bit.

Edited to add: This one you have to see. It's a clip from BUCK PRIVATE, with Abbot and Costello and the Andrews Sisters again. There is some great jitterbug dancing on this one. Gotta love that swing!

When BACA is official, I will sign on and have it notarized. It's a need. It will be good for me. Like therapy. Honestly, I think I am already in need of some professional help to deal with the kind of negative feelings those celebrity books seem to evoke in me.

And now something has come along that makes me think I MIGHT LIKE THE IDEA OF A CELEBRITY ILLUSTRATOR. Yes, you read it right. I said such a thing.

I know that we all do a lot of whining about celebrity children's books, and with good reason, but in truth we illustrators never worried about having to deal with celebrity illustrators. Why, that's laughable, I'd say. GFAW! I was pretty certain and smug about that.

Until this celebrity. And I bet he could do a darn good job, too.

I am talking about Jeff Bridges. Thanks to DRAWN, which I caught on JacketFlap, I saw this post.

And then I took a look and was wowed by the simple and attractive energy of this site:

Man, I always thought Jeff Bridges was hot to begin with. But now--whoa.

I'd even buy a book and go to a signing.

I think this might put a whole new lean on Fuse # 8's Hot Men in Children's Literature.