tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-203492542024-03-07T17:31:52.453-07:00el paso daily photo blog by chacal<b>Portfolio</b>: <a href="http://about.me/chacal"> about.me/chacal/</a><br>This site includes occasional ramblings by carolyn rhea drapes (chacal la chaise), Designer, photographer, artist. MA, ABD PhD, Rhetoric and Writing Studies, UTEP. Social media: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chacal">Flickr</a>, <a href="http://chacal-la-chaise.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/chacal_lachaise">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://intagram.com/chacal">Instagram</a>.carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.comBlogger166125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-31317556014046790002023-02-23T18:08:00.000-07:002023-02-23T18:08:06.564-07:00Sometimes you need to get away from it all.<h3 style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p7wcllABZBVCU7baRfj8vz3eVovJBnc_XUgHsCHUlA19XfK5nH9bBiAhfRsovgRjZ1aAKvXKFIS6AQpp1gSyZj-ZTtIOhmWKMFrAn6syk6zuRPWCLQ-suFX8_7kTHytRRX7cnkhN_ZA0B9mJcX2b-2l-Z15q4RRJlevMnL2na5z1cnfWGg/s3557/IMG_9710.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3557" data-original-width="2453" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p7wcllABZBVCU7baRfj8vz3eVovJBnc_XUgHsCHUlA19XfK5nH9bBiAhfRsovgRjZ1aAKvXKFIS6AQpp1gSyZj-ZTtIOhmWKMFrAn6syk6zuRPWCLQ-suFX8_7kTHytRRX7cnkhN_ZA0B9mJcX2b-2l-Z15q4RRJlevMnL2na5z1cnfWGg/w262-h379/IMG_9710.jpeg" width="262" /></a>And sometimes, it's time to return and be part of the larger world. </h3><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Between the first of 2023 and February 14, I painted many watercolor sketches to give to friends and family for Valentine's Day. The bulk were mailed around February 7, with one mailed after the day. Here are a few of the paintings I made into cards. About half were actually painted on watercolor paper postcards. But, due to the weight of the paper, I chose to locate envelopes that the cards would fit into and mailed them as first class letters. </span></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcM_sNho_2Nt8zjL7BqHnD-4Hd-MB4pMvAAYPwXPlX4FUAoBnHlCKgEl4hofGY0I1LcHONQalqc3plO7Bg_yEH8v-WLHURrp7ooBsISWoSdl8EMqlmaY36y2hdneoOfcbJBTpCTJ1rA0qynxY7vjnNQagao9TPgFZGW_hX8h_niO3fX2BTg/s3269/IMG_9715.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3269" data-original-width="2339" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcM_sNho_2Nt8zjL7BqHnD-4Hd-MB4pMvAAYPwXPlX4FUAoBnHlCKgEl4hofGY0I1LcHONQalqc3plO7Bg_yEH8v-WLHURrp7ooBsISWoSdl8EMqlmaY36y2hdneoOfcbJBTpCTJ1rA0qynxY7vjnNQagao9TPgFZGW_hX8h_niO3fX2BTg/w229-h320/IMG_9715.jpeg" width="229" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1i3Ed8iK5YiUFnvi_fX1rhFnJW-Gt1J_mS6DncSrqBhgrLEgXBjtcR2iiS6Unz0CcNuYc4jm5oVNfPJIIJ7Fx3od6MnEiOy29JD4S0nMqO22oB8TVtSqX-aGic98-W31S06SAATiAJJUBGmi6A0gL_4WLrShkYLaH3i2Z5YHmZ0ZB2h3kNw/s3555/IMG_9716.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08a0HQhrEKHZzqHSGIRxgjnzRPoCSEDqoEbz5vwTih4NW26CZ1xwF5eeEZiM4IE7DyQFOyPOz3qE-ittgnfXocf6_eY01TN9GMK5UGA_XFWBjjezgqhTcRuxZqlaK7nBrnm9Ok8ehwva-oatsfD0JDJETzTCMy7Zng7ddyPhww84_kuwDgA/s3681/IMG_9838.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2796" data-original-width="3681" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi08a0HQhrEKHZzqHSGIRxgjnzRPoCSEDqoEbz5vwTih4NW26CZ1xwF5eeEZiM4IE7DyQFOyPOz3qE-ittgnfXocf6_eY01TN9GMK5UGA_XFWBjjezgqhTcRuxZqlaK7nBrnm9Ok8ehwva-oatsfD0JDJETzTCMy7Zng7ddyPhww84_kuwDgA/s320/IMG_9838.jpeg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4zJo40vKYfj15c_H8tQAFEyeBlSDJGPl5zw3WF0cybcwLmF2HCAsSbt7J-IlD2H07PfT_QYEmiqsIWxKXGGkEHefcTWVO5CG7VvDp1S22bxOdf6eU_E9zqtRGBEc8kML9RtHJzSnssGshOIdbxqF5Yw6_smC14lppZqt5_HZL8k_tm2-yw/s541/Resized_20230214_094947.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="387" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4zJo40vKYfj15c_H8tQAFEyeBlSDJGPl5zw3WF0cybcwLmF2HCAsSbt7J-IlD2H07PfT_QYEmiqsIWxKXGGkEHefcTWVO5CG7VvDp1S22bxOdf6eU_E9zqtRGBEc8kML9RtHJzSnssGshOIdbxqF5Yw6_smC14lppZqt5_HZL8k_tm2-yw/s320/Resized_20230214_094947.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div><br /></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0El Paso, TX, USA31.7618778 -106.48502173.4516439638211551 -141.6412717 60.072111636178846 -71.3287717tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-5915091947249813212021-10-03T20:23:00.001-06:002023-02-23T17:37:20.110-07:00Under the spotlight: Reading my entry, Evil's Root published for the website, Life in the TimeAnd, my voice came through the mic just fine.
<p>Thanks and hugs to Amit Ghosh, editor of the project and founder of the Bordersenses Literary Journal. May the memory of my friend Donna Snyder be a blessing to us all.</p>
<p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtCb4eikYojCDIhd-p3Bi4CR-ttsbwBc3DhwU4IUQmo-uJHD0ulV-uz58Zu5KkpH_IXEyhYoFwCu0DUXP2dPEfL1AJeTTjEYir6mvsHX-44blmtIlPf91Tsf9KxepwiWiH-jrDWEkkBKHlcPZQTzDS8HMAEYr0goqHPgga0DnltO8bCIBjA/s960/IMG_0306.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image: Poster for 'Life in the Time' book release and reading" border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtCb4eikYojCDIhd-p3Bi4CR-ttsbwBc3DhwU4IUQmo-uJHD0ulV-uz58Zu5KkpH_IXEyhYoFwCu0DUXP2dPEfL1AJeTTjEYir6mvsHX-44blmtIlPf91Tsf9KxepwiWiH-jrDWEkkBKHlcPZQTzDS8HMAEYr0goqHPgga0DnltO8bCIBjA/w320-h400/IMG_0306.jpeg" title="Poster for 'Life in the Time' book release and reading" width="320" /></a></div>At 7:15, a burly fellow sat at the entrance to card people. Near the entrance, neighborhood guys get up, and leave half drunk glasses of IPA on their table. They leave to smoke in the parking lot where unsuspecting car tires will, at some point, drive into the deepest and widest wet pothole in town.<p></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a neighborly mix of adobe and cinderblock houses with fenced-in courtyards, small local businesses, large industrial workshops and warehouses, and El Chuco’s Chicano Park that sits beneath the confluence and flyover bridges of US 54, Loop 375, and I-10. If you look up at the exact right moment, you can see semis, amber running lights flying low along the bridge connecting I-10 to Loop 375 West. They look as if a small aircraft is about to crash land onto the International Free Bridge.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An interesting warehouse compound, Old Sheepdog Brewery’s set of graffiti painted boxcars and patio with a food truck fronting its entrance set before an inviting lounge. It sports tall stools and tables and picnic tables outside the bar with a low slung bench made of more boxcar parts. The food truck sits off to the side, its cook chopping fillings for quesadillas and frying up good portions for loaded fries. Before i read around 9:30, we tried their loaded french fries and quesadillas served with a Hot Bastard red sauce. MJ enjoyed their <a href="https://untappd.com/b/old-sheepdog-brewery-be-reet/4451485" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Be Reet porter</a>, while our table mates fancied the <a href="https://untappd.com/b/old-sheepdog-brewery-mango-and-cash/4146607" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Mango and Cash New England IPA</a>, and i had red wine. </span></p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div>Later, a group of fellows came in carrying big graffiti-style paintings on cardboard with images of Bowie, Cobain, and Marlon Brando as the Godfather, among others. They hauled them up a steep stairway outside the bar and into another studio venue. Back in its previous working life, the stairway might have led to an office of some sort. </span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtCb4eikYojCDIhd-p3Bi4CR-ttsbwBc3DhwU4IUQmo-uJHD0ulV-uz58Zu5KkpH_IXEyhYoFwCu0DUXP2dPEfL1AJeTTjEYir6mvsHX-44blmtIlPf91Tsf9KxepwiWiH-jrDWEkkBKHlcPZQTzDS8HMAEYr0goqHPgga0DnltO8bCIBjA/s960/IMG_0306.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Spoken word poet at the book launch" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUfmWXuWmWx-l2LNQ2eKYMxzhdDH5jBZAyn2fQTRtiFNU9qn_zEdnqkxQb4E39JLEQNny9erx9ACXUgpZhb5YpL0LTnk-iz0xaKOerPo9TFzKzi9Tj3yNPj7GKWbPCuaGV3k1b6eH_dbw_ZPCVjSKK98kHKUPy9dymTD8XOsMtTaxo8Fh7g/w269-h359/IMG_0399.jpeg" title="Spoken word poet at the book launch" width="269" /></a></div>Ritchie Marufo, who I knew from teaching at UTEP’s FYC program, runs the Barbed Wire Open Mic project on Thursdays at Sheepdog, and began the evening’s event with his instantly in-the-moment composed set of raps, augmented with loops of live percussive sounds and reverb, with a background of the evening’s events.</span></div><div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once warmed up, several good rappers and a few acoustic guitarists played and sang covers and original songs. Then came a young comic who works at the brewery, and who looks and sounds like he’s 13 (srsly). He built his funny set around the experiences of a minor-looking and sounding kid who’s over 21 and working in a bar. One nervous electric guitarist performed a lively and much appropriate cover of Green Day’s Good Riddance. Fun.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At our table sat our good friend Donna Snyder, a beautiful woman and wonderful poet. Donna runs and facilitates the Tumblewords writing project. She read her piece from the book and a couple of other poems. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Poet Kit Wren, a regular facilitator and presenter at Tumblewords and his mom, the poet Robin Scofield, were also there and once Kit finished his readings, i was the next to read after a wonderful singer songwriter who sang original songs about Amarillo and Houston. NB Unfortunately, between the time of writing the original post draft and now, Donna passed away from cancer. It took her quick, which is what she hoped. Her diagnosis of stage 4 cancer came but a few weeks after this event, and left us all in the arts community shell shocked. </span>Donna was a gift for us all and source of strength and encouragement to me. </p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpiLqxxF_iHMGUTcsWVadw2Y5wY7WDzRLHGGNnAciJfWFR835mstkg4eFvKuokqzJOgf6Yru3vWAYZ2t2_hthsXdQfde89bPKoWmXuTc9pnDbRFjBbbuaL1JsimT7MLpw8t2AR-V73cG0IO0ON20JDrywCc7RXKB5h1kZhcuN8lc-fq-Tag/s1348/IMG_0409.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="1336" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpiLqxxF_iHMGUTcsWVadw2Y5wY7WDzRLHGGNnAciJfWFR835mstkg4eFvKuokqzJOgf6Yru3vWAYZ2t2_hthsXdQfde89bPKoWmXuTc9pnDbRFjBbbuaL1JsimT7MLpw8t2AR-V73cG0IO0ON20JDrywCc7RXKB5h1kZhcuN8lc-fq-Tag/w280-h283/IMG_0409.jpeg" width="280" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXhiCRyBH0ZVUruCzwo-vSmXoYuSWw4cjxWKeU3ra-QFC9izh6sQSO0hdfJreGCwaLpWEx14M69F20wdi3xm62hbZGUF1uHOShPR5oqMv9nLZG7ZkuYsGTIL2Wyq-oaLHG7JoLaEknSdRiBUnntlc9Aaf9I2HyR60ctAg_1pu9JGBA4ZjqQ/s2423/IMG_0403.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2008" data-original-width="2423" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXhiCRyBH0ZVUruCzwo-vSmXoYuSWw4cjxWKeU3ra-QFC9izh6sQSO0hdfJreGCwaLpWEx14M69F20wdi3xm62hbZGUF1uHOShPR5oqMv9nLZG7ZkuYsGTIL2Wyq-oaLHG7JoLaEknSdRiBUnntlc9Aaf9I2HyR60ctAg_1pu9JGBA4ZjqQ/w336-h279/IMG_0403.jpeg" width="336" /></a></div></div>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Never one to be comfortable in a spotlight or use of a mic, i sat and worked around the brightness, trying to fix my gaze so that I could see to read my piece. Eventually I found a space in the light and finished. Fortunately, my hesitant reading allowed me to breathe and emote a bit for the prose in my poem. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14.3px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="".SFUI-Semibold""></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="".SFUI-Semibold"">At some point i turned airplane mode on my phone and was unable to set/receive images.</span><span> </span><span face="".SFUI-Semibold"">Finally, i saw it was about to rain, so we left around 11:00. Sure enough, as we rose to leave and say out goodbyes, big raindrops started plopping into the big parking lot pothole. My time in the spotlight was done.</span></span></p><div><span face="".SFUI-Semibold"" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div> <p></p></div>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-17802226594247805942021-06-27T15:54:00.040-06:002021-06-28T16:53:36.821-06:00Will there really be a morning? Braiding the lives of Frances Farmer, Britney Spears, and Sara Crewe<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOV19kfI3Jl5HEqCiL_OGutSLnyhXCYQCiBt6yjiWHJyzWRZ9KLJtiiBhh_twHrHG-aHdDZIocMqKf1xtvhchc2zOJtE3v0HKEHIs6jkzQ6kwuFO4muPX0NXeYveAYEfgq2eV/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img data-original-height="450" data-original-width="294" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOV19kfI3Jl5HEqCiL_OGutSLnyhXCYQCiBt6yjiWHJyzWRZ9KLJtiiBhh_twHrHG-aHdDZIocMqKf1xtvhchc2zOJtE3v0HKEHIs6jkzQ6kwuFO4muPX0NXeYveAYEfgq2eV/w210-h320/image.png" width="210" /></a></div><p></p>With attention on Britney Spears and the conservatorship that holds her emotionally, physically, monetarily, and psychologically imprisoned, one memoir sticks out: Frances Farmer’s autobiography, <i>Will there really be a morning?</i> (1973). Though portions are disclaimed, as noted in the linked Wapo article, her book nonetheless exposes how independent women (be they entertainers or not) have been “treated”, confined, and silenced. Throughout history many women have been exploited by family, society, their industries, financiers, and thieves; compounded by the medical and psychological practitioners said to "look after" their welfare and bank accounts.<div><br /></div><div>My Dell paperback of Farmer's book looked like those found for highly inflated prices on Amazon and Bookfinder (ave. price over $500 for a paperback in “fair” condition). Sadly, my copy became ballast during a move; no doubt left at some West Texas Goodwill. Given the loss, at this point I am unable to reread or quote from the book; but, her harrowing journey impacted me greatly. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YxAA2t-RkilkOwJ88x6fu3WvJdHhMO78-whcg_vTHA-GEZ7Izlt0qH0fqZNoet_3EaUUGYCbHXH-K6zPAHBM9lbP9ZSkj3MhlsWjt1mCQoh-oLcxy1hfxUnHzZ0YSJUbz0kx/s1117/2B9C8500-0CFE-42EE-B3E4-7A9F6382A5B4_1_105_c.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="705" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YxAA2t-RkilkOwJ88x6fu3WvJdHhMO78-whcg_vTHA-GEZ7Izlt0qH0fqZNoet_3EaUUGYCbHXH-K6zPAHBM9lbP9ZSkj3MhlsWjt1mCQoh-oLcxy1hfxUnHzZ0YSJUbz0kx/w202-h320/2B9C8500-0CFE-42EE-B3E4-7A9F6382A5B4_1_105_c.jpeg" width="202" /></a></div><div>The title of Farmer’s book comes from a poem by Emily Dickinson, which echoes the questioning of the confined yet brilliant lives of Farmer, Britney Spears, and the fictitious life of the newly destitute Sara Crewe. </div><div><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div><hr /><div><br /></div><div>“<a href="https://www.bartleby.com/113/2002.html" target="_blank">Part Two: Nature</a>.”</div><div><div><br /></div><div>WILL there really be a morning?</div><div>Is there such a thing as day?</div><div>Could I see it from the mountains</div><div>If I were as tall as they?</div><div><br /></div><div>Has it feet like water-lilies?</div><div>Has it feathers like a bird?</div><div>Is it brought from famous countries</div><div>Of which I have never heard?</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!</div><div>Oh, some wise man from the skies!</div><div>Please to tell a little pilgrim</div><div>Where the place called morning lies!</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><hr /><div><div><h4>Frances Farmer </h4></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p>In his 1983 trace, Estrin attempts to sort Frances Farmers’ life and travels along the road that led to two biopics about her life that were released at that time. The attention that Farmer's life garnered then could be a prototype of the "<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/article/framing-britney-spears.html" target="_blank">Free Britney</a>" movement, though it came too late to rescue Frances from her family, the studios, and herself. </p></blockquote><div><blockquote><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The Unraveling of Frances Farmer</span></div><div>By Eric Estrin</div><div>January 23, 1983</div></div><div><br /></div><div>FORTY YEARS after her name began fading from public view and 12 years past her quiet death from cancer in Indianapolis, the entertainment industry is at last attempting to give actress Frances Garmer a little compassionate understanding. Not many people made that attempt during her lifetime.</div><div><br /></div><div>Her domineering mother, a stern, super-patriot, constantly frustrated Farmer by ranting against her idealistic career goals and political beliefs. The Communist party used the young actress in a much-ballyhooed attempt to gain sympathy for its cause in mid-'30s Moscow. The Paramount studio chiefs asked her to grind out one frothy feature after another, disregarding her consuming thirst for artistic growth.</div><div>...</div><div>But Farmer, who as a schoolgirl had scandalized her hometown, Seattle, by winning a national essay contest with an entry titled "God Dies," and again later, when she traveled to Russia as winner of a contest sponsored by a left-wing newspaper, could never make herself comfortable as a Hollywood "star." She had angered Paramount by refusing to change her name to something more glamorous; she favored old clothes, little makeup and a rattletrap jalopy as personal effects; and she became associated with unpopular political causes--like migrant workers and loyalist Spain.</div><div><br /></div><div>In her ongoing battles with Adolph Zukor and the other Paramount power brokers, Farmer made up in ardor what she lacked in clout. After her success in "Come And Get It," she became increasingly critical of the fluffy roles she was offered, and candidly spoke of her disappointment to the eastern press. The only good thing about Hollywood was the money, she said.</div></blockquote></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/style/1983/01/23/the-unraveling-of-frances-farmer/" target="_blank">https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/style/1983/01/23/the-unraveling-of-frances-farmer/</a> </blockquote></div></div></div></blockquote><hr /><div><div></div></div><h4>Sara Crewe </h4></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">In turn, the cosmopolitan stoic and orphaned hero in Frances Hodgson Burnett's YA book, <i><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/146" target="_blank">A Little Princess</a></i> first published in 1905, a few years into the Edwardian era. </div></blockquote></blockquote><div><div><blockquote></blockquote></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><p style="text-align: left;">In Burnett's <i>A Little Princess</i>, Sara becomes destitute upon hearing, with her headmistress, of her father's demise. In turn, she immediately is relegated to a garret above the boarder floor at her former school. She starts life as a scullery maid cum French tutor. Yet, as with Spears, Sara stoically works and remains regal throughout her reduced circumstances. As such, both strive to "<a href="https://www.latimes.com/politics/la-na-pol-michelle-speech-20160725-snap-story.html" target="_blank">go high</a>" when others seek to see her fail and fall. And in the fictional end, it does work for Sara. It's as if she has willed the universe to reverse her economic and social situation and restart her the life she was destined to live. </p></div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><blockquote><div><div><div><div><div><div><blockquote><div><span style="color: #351c75;">...Sara looked rather pale, and it was not to be denied that she had grown very thin, her proud little spirit would not admit of complaints. She had never confessed that at times she was almost ravenous with hunger, as she was tonight. She was growing rapidly, and her constant walking and running about would have given her a keen appetite even if she had had abundant and regular meals of a much more nourishing nature than the unappetizing, inferior food snatched at such odd times as suited the kitchen convenience. She was growing used to a certain gnawing feeling in her young stomach.</span></div></blockquote></div></div></div></div></div></div></blockquote></div><div><blockquote><blockquote><div><span style="color: #351c75;">"I suppose soldiers feel like this when they are on a long and weary march," she often said to herself. She liked the sound of the phrase, "long and weary march." It made her feel rather like a soldier. She had also a quaint sense of being a hostess in the attic.</span> </div></blockquote></blockquote></div></blockquote><div><blockquote><hr /></blockquote><h4 style="text-align: left;">Britney Spears</h4></div><div><blockquote><div></div><span></span><span></span><div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CQhP9A7gIzE/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="563" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghl5XXmtZzQNfH53SoBxQlNFbvdCw3pxs33AKkHbb6-NX3bA_U9ZWe8WIHB98e-2awAdr2yqnMYgbGpohDEAcK5JLyUz3Mwytv3VTVpkVcc5VJUVI90Xd7MJMA5i17t5l3Pgiq/w258-h640/36AE02DC-F5D9-45DC-BD3D-72059302B321_1_105_c.jpeg" width="258" /></a></div></div><div>What awaits Ms. Spears and her personal and professional freedoms, only time will tell. But if her recent Instagram post is any indication, what comes after her court hearing is that she will continue to work and be the person she sees herself to be. In her mind, believing in the fairytale seems to actually help a person weather any storm, and mirrors the attitude that Sara Crewe presented to the world.</div></blockquote><blockquote><div><div><div><blockquote><span></span></blockquote></div><div>Overall, I hope everything it works out for Britney and that she goes on to life the life she wants. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>In her post, Spears writes:</div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Playfair Display;">I just want to tell you guys a little secret 🤫 … I believe as people we all want the fairy tale life and by the way I’ve posted … my life seems to look and be pretty amazing … I think that’s what we all strive for !!!! That was one of my mother’s best traits … no matter how shitty a day was when I was younger … for the sake of me and my siblings she always pretended like everything was ok. I’m bringing this to peoples attention because I don’t want people to think my life is perfect because IT’S DEFINITELY NOT AT ALL … and if you have read anything about me in the news this week 📰 … you obviously really know now it’s not !!!! I apologize for pretending like I’ve been ok the past two years … I did it because of my pride and I was embarrassed to share what happened to me … but honestly who doesn’t want to capture their Instagram in a fun light 💡🤷🏼♀️ !!!! Believe it or not pretending that I’m ok has actually helped … so I decided to post this quote today because by golly if you’re going through hell … I feel like Instagram has helped me have a cool outlet to share my presence … existence … and to simply feel like I matter despite what I was going through and hey it worked … so I’ve decided to start reading more fairy tales 👑🧚♀️🦄 !!!!!</span></div></blockquote><p>Source: @britneyspears, 06/24/2021. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CQhP9A7gIzE/" target="_blank">https://www.instagram.com/p/CQhP9A7gIzE/</a> </p></blockquote><div><div><div><hr /><div>In all, these three young women are seen bad girls in their time, and all have followers. Whether it is Farmer being loved by her audiences; Spears who is beloved for her songs, her dance moves, and her work ethic (and now those advocating for her to be released from a soul-crushing and invasive conservatorship overseen by her father); and, Sara Crewe who refused accept the servitute levied against her by her boarding school headmistress. The same boarding school that her father entrusted with her care and education. All these young women are headstrong, focused, and beautiful in their own right. Yet, they are seen as "bad girls," beginning with Frances Farmer, who Spears' life up to this point closely mirrors. Although a fictional creature, Sara Crewe was an invention, yet meant as an exemplum for all to strive to be. She is the fictional embodiment of Michelle Obama's motto: "<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-politics/wp/2016/07/26/transcript-read-michelle-obamas-full-speech-from-the-2016-dnc/" target="_blank">When they go low, we go high</a>." </div></div></div></div></div><div><br /><blockquote><div><div><div><hr /></div></div></div></blockquote><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Sidebar</span></h4><div><div><div><span></span><span></span></div><span></span><span></span></div><span></span><span></span></div><span></span><span></span><p></p><p style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: trebuchet;">In grade and high school, aside from learning to appreciate fountain pens, reel-to-reel three-head Sony tape recorders, Hartmann luggage, <a href="https://casualphotophile.com/2018/04/03/leica-rangefinder-buyers-guide/" target="_blank">Leica</a> and the tiny <a href="https://www.shutterbug.com/content/minox-closer-look-every-spys-favorite-camera" target="_blank">Minox</a> "spy" cameras, <a href="https://www.crane.com/">Crane</a> notecards, and Lenox china and crystal, I read many books while standing around the regional department story where my parents worked (for a combined total of about 55 years). Whether I was standing and reading at The Popular’s Bassett book department, or sitting on the cool lino at its <a href="https://www.henrytrost.org/buildings/popular-dry-goods-company/" target="_blank">downtown store's</a> small stacks on the mezzanine floor, I was free. </span></p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: trebuchet;">To me, the book department was a secret club hideout for one, with the bonus that its stacks overlooked the accessories and greeting card departments. I was a spy. While reading, I was comforted by the elevators softly dinging bell when it stopped on the floor nearest to my dad's departments and the book, camera and sporting good, luggage, stationary, and fine china departments. Sitting amid the paperbacks I read, listened, and absorbed it all. The book department was my hide. It was time away from school bullies, homework, and helicopter parents even though they were nearby. The store had no literary gatekeepers, unlike the librarian I encountered at the downtown public library.</span> <span style="color: #0b5394;">(How could the life of some random nun become saint be off limits for someone under 12? And, I know it wasn't the life of St. Augustine.) At the store, I could read Shirer's tome, which I carried around for weeks, but a random saint? Guess not. </span></p></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: trebuchet;">Beginning with a paperback by another Frances (Hodgson Burnett) and her YA fairy tale </span><a href="https://medium.com/@patrickherring/a-stoic-little-princess-2728ce1bb087" style="font-family: trebuchet;" target="_blank">A Little Princess</a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: trebuchet;">, a book about a "stoic" young girl named Sara Crewe, I surreptitiously read books by </span><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/334327/stranger-in-a-strange-land-by-robert-a-heinlein/" style="font-family: trebuchet;" target="_blank">Heinlein</a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: trebuchet;">, <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/11/19/hermann-hesses-arrested-development" target="_blank">Hesse</a>, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/25/books/review/Shaftel-t.html" target="_blank">Maugham</a>, <a href="https://www.nationalreview.com/2021/06/j-r-r-tolkiens-work-transcends-wokeness/" target="_blank">Tolkien</a><span>, and <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/revisiting-the-rise-and-fall-of-the-third-reich-20231221/" target="_blank">William L. Shirer</a><span>. The reading list was of my devising and what drew me to them most likely were their fascinating covers. There were no guides or adults interfering with what I chose to read or buy. And, all this reading later lead to my attraction to <a href="https://www.worldcat.org/title/will-there-really-be-a-morning-an-autobiography/oclc/370409" target="_blank">Francis Farmer</a><span> and her startling autobiography. Farmer’s memoir made a deep impression when I first read the book, much like Norman</span><span> </span><a href="https://studsterkel.wfmt.com/programs/norman-maclean-discusses-his-book-river-runs-through-it" target="_blank">Maclean’s</a>, “A Run Runs Through It,” <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/30/books/alvin-toffler-author-of-future-shock-dies-at-87.html" target="_blank">Toffler’s</a> “Future Shock”, the Ballantine editions of The Hobbit and LOTR, and my precious, “<a href="https://journalofmoderncraft.com/responses/native-funk-and-flash-part-one" target="_blank">Native Funk and Flash</a>” with its $1 remaindered sticker and winsome looks by another "bad girl," the late <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/20/arts/20burch.html" target="_blank">Laurel Burch</a>. </span></span></span></p></div></blockquote><div><blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHKu5x3i0kD_i4CGbJUwIREwc1qzwvFKRw9t749T8Ps8C-T6WC8vsKkkSqnC7LVGF1MyFIXkd9bZYSKhE-Gy6DTz0o56JrAjmyNqNyW4dd05Rz4_fEjyCwvU3M2X-sDAjM-K5/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="660" data-original-width="1193" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHKu5x3i0kD_i4CGbJUwIREwc1qzwvFKRw9t749T8Ps8C-T6WC8vsKkkSqnC7LVGF1MyFIXkd9bZYSKhE-Gy6DTz0o56JrAjmyNqNyW4dd05Rz4_fEjyCwvU3M2X-sDAjM-K5/w400-h221/59A5D370-CB7E-4289-B10B-6DCB51559307_1_105_c.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br />Lord of the Rings, J. R. R. Tolkien, cover illustrations by [Barbara Remington]<br />(<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/15/books/barbara-remington-dead.amp.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/15/books/barbara-remington-dead.amp.html</a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;">). Ballantine (1965).</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMv1PF9WLCxP-6FDqKnEHpSdN9NTwfKsSivWV5cusBQwuYWjFWbYnQLw5IISGL1jrg3QidmLsvD0NLb_Gv_ucocSwl1hqTlYiJV4cDQYVuX_7EGu9eISYY-ChmiIa1_6DvdsjJ/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="863" data-original-width="911" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMv1PF9WLCxP-6FDqKnEHpSdN9NTwfKsSivWV5cusBQwuYWjFWbYnQLw5IISGL1jrg3QidmLsvD0NLb_Gv_ucocSwl1hqTlYiJV4cDQYVuX_7EGu9eISYY-ChmiIa1_6DvdsjJ/w320-h303/D5F1BE1D-DC7F-4C78-BE9A-FB550F6BBA21_1_105_c.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: verdana;">Native Funk & Flash: An Emerging Folk Art</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">By Alexandra Jacopetti, Jerry Wainwright · (1974).</span></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p></span></blockquote></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></div></div>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-22137614217495060992020-03-17T17:22:00.000-06:002020-03-17T17:22:04.041-06:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Note: If you can get your hands on St. Clair's book, "<a href="https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/the-secret-lives-of-color/" target="_blank">The Secret Lives of Color</a>," go for it! It's absolutely beautiful and wonderfully written and organized. It's up there with Victoria Findley's "<a href="https://kammartinez.wordpress.com/2012/10/24/a-journey-through-history-science-art-and-the-paintbox-a-review-of-color-a-natural-history-of-the-palette-by-victoria-finlay/" target="_blank">Color: A Natural History of the Palette</a>" and Alexander Theroux' "<a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/review-of-the-primary-colors-90659893/" target="_blank">The Primary Colors</a>" and "The Secondary Colors."<br />
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These are great sidelong glance readings in the time of Corona. In addition, check out this 1995 <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1995/03/03/books/a-reader-finds-that-a-current-book-reads-suspiciously-like-an-old-one.html" target="_blank">New York Times article</a> about Theroux' second color book and how easy one can be found to have not sourced their quotes correctly.</div>
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<i>Snail of a different color from <a href="https://qz.com/emails/quartz-obsession/1819974/" target="_blank">today's Quartz Obsession</a></i></div>
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Rulers of the ancient Mediterranean loved Tyrian purple. Roman magistrates wore white togas with a purple stripe. Emperors wore solid purple with a gold stripe as a sign of victory. But the colorful dye was exceedingly hard to get, as it was derived from Murex sea snails, which excrete the bromine compound to protect their eggs and ward off an attack.<span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></div>
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For a single ounce of color, manufacturers had to milk or crush 250,000 gastropods. Once they’d collected the snail’s secretions, they placed the dye in a vat of urine and fermented it for 10 days, according to Kassia St. Clair’s book The Secret Lives of Color. Once they applied it to fabric, its brilliance reportedly never faded.<span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span></div>
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But the elaborate process was eventually Tyrian purple’s downfall. By the time Constantinople fell to the Turks in 1453, the Byzantine emperors could no longer afford to source the dye, according to St. Clair. The recipe was lost until 1856, when a French marine biologist rediscovered the snail species and their signature hue.</div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-10929918108427880592019-07-04T23:08:00.001-06:002019-07-06T11:33:01.187-06:00Bus rides 🚌 to Pershing Drive, shots 💉, and arroz con frijoles 🌯, with a bowl of hot, red Jello water 🥣<div><i>Note: A member of the Facebook El Paso Memories group posted a picture of the now privately-held Pershing Theatre, and that opened a time and space portal for me.</i></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_68f6_c593_db2e_ceec" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/S_jIC8-F8S4zIPwTWCAh-BUfDindR7FlI9SL-YjAo4eP0Sf2qEzau77iq-Q" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 360px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>All first run Disney movies were shown at the Pershing Theatre, and for the most part, “family-friendly.” My mother never learned to drive even though abuelo told her to get dad to teach her before they wed. “You won’t learn after the wedding,” he warned. She never did, so she and I took the bus. </div><div><br></div><div>Before the various El Paso bus companies consolidated, my mom and I traveled El Paso on several bus lines. We took the blue Lower Valley bus from our house on Taxco in Ranchland Village. Next, we’d transfer to the Government Hill green city line, and then walk to the one-screen Pershing after disembarking at what is now the El Paso Police Department headquarters (was Sears). Between Sears and EPPD the building was purchased by the Diocese of El Paso with the intention of moving Christian Brothers’ Cathedral High School into it after being retrofitted for educational and PE purposes. That would have been a neat trick as its current location sports a swimming pool. But the dream never materialized. </div><div><font face="Courier"><br></font></div><div><font size="4"><font face="Courier">Chisme sidebar: It was said the Vatican approved the loan for the building, and immediately the paper was stowed in the “never to be repaid file drawer” by the lending bank.</font> </font></div><div><br></div><div>But back to when it was Sears at <i>Five Points.</i></div><div><br></div><div>Before we moved to Santa Fe, my first experience with and for a great team, supervisor, and comptroller was working the sales audit control desk. It was a routine if fast-paced situation within the accounting department. We were squirreled away in office space on the second floor. Happily, the job opened many doors for me insofar as work experiences and future expectations went. </div><div><br></div><div>The Montana Street at Piedras site is an unusual one in that, the <a href="http://digie.org/media/12445" id="id_ce21_139_7978_adbd" target="_blank">Ralston Masonic Hospital</a> (Lodge #130) also stood there from 1910 through WWII. From healthcare, to retail commerce, to pipedream of an reinvisioned educational facility, and now housing a local law enforcement agency — much has occurred over time on one single trapezoidal spit of land. Whatever came before Ralston Masonic Hospital?</div><div><br></div><div>The Ralston had a children’s ward that treated those with juvenile arthritis, polio, and <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/legg-calve-perthes-disease/symptoms-causes/syc-20374343" id="id_caa1_a688_c83c_c24">Legg-Calve-Perthes</a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">,</span> a disease that hobbled my dad at 14, and causing him to limp for the remainder of his life; sadly dad died in 2015, aged 89. Dad spent most of a year in the Ralston, learning to walk again after surgeons at <a href="https://southwestgeneralhospital.weebly.com/information.html" id="id_4d48_ea09_f900_f34d">Southwestern General</a> operated on his hip to remove the diseased tissue. Over time, his hip joint fused because of the initial surgery and post-op care. According to the daughter-in-law of one of the orthopedic doctors who treated my dad, the Ralston Masonic Hospital brought El Paso its first orthopedic specialists, specifically for pediatric care.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_f45_633a_22aa_9a36" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/XM1V7YcUbiOoRl83WE5Gjvde_UFSrcNjZilqL3FLenqJkKhkTxWz-os6Vjg" alt="Masonic Hospital, Five Points, El Paso" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 407px; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; display: block;"></div><div><br></div><div>A block away on Pershing Drive and many years from his experience, I walked out of the theater with my mother after seeing “101 Dalmations” (1961) or maybe it was a holiday rerelease of “Lady and the Tramp” (1955). </div><div><br></div><div>Clearing after an intense thunderstorm, dusk was turning to twilight and would soon be nightfall as clouds broke, revealing the sky’s first stars. We waited under the marquee for my father to pick us up in his 1956 Olsmobile Delta 88. It was turquoise and white. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4615_4391_b46e_6b5a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/UDWANSj8MH8boY4m6L2qjuqOqKz68XQtsStWKd57sJBtB1dzCSR2q9FwqUI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 313px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font size="4" face="Courier">Sidebar parental advice gone unheeded: Though she tried after she turned 55 to get her license and then drive alone, mom never got past earning her learner’s permit. Dad had no hand in that accomplishment as she paid for the driving lessons herself. I return you now to the next part of the story.</font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Next to the theatre is the Pershing Inn, and next door to that was the office of our family doctor, <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/140689484/joe-s-galatzan" id="id_f73f_beeb_94d5_4371">Dr. Joseph S. Galatzan</a>, brother to Judge <a href="https://prabook.com/web/mobile/#!profile/1277367" id="id_ee33_bea4_7dd6_9b42">Morris A. Galatzan</a> It was within that small rectangle of central El Paso real estate that my mother and I traveled the bus system so often. Far too often, it seemed. Especially regarding my allergies.</span></div><div><br></div></div><div>My dad’s family had met the Galatzans because they lived in the same neighborhood near El Paso High School (EPHS) 🐅. My grandmother Ruby and the brothers’ mother were best of friends. Their backyards were adjacent to the duplex, my grandparents first home on Virginia Street, just below Schuster Drive, after they moved from Oklahoma. They originally came from Little Rock, Arkansas. It was their good fortune to get to El Paso right before October 31, 1929. During his medical career, Dr. Joe Galatzan was team doctor for the 1966 TWC Miner basketball team and instrumental in establishing Sun Towers Hospital (now Las Palmas). </div><div><br></div><div>The quintessential family doctor, he delivered my older sister who but lived one day, and me, born two years later; he removed my tonsils at Southwestern General Hospital; and later, confirmed my first pregnancy. Overall, I spent much time in his office as I had a running sore throat accompanied by horrible earaches due to airborne allergies. It was never strep, though I still can recall the pain in my ears and my mother needing to warm up drops she applied nightly. Bermuda grass and non-bearing mulberry trees — hybridized and frustrated fauna — they cost many school-aged kids to lose classeoom time, and have goopy morning eyelids, receive painful innoculations, and experience popping eardrums.</div><div><br></div><div>Dr. Joe had <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2019/06/26/highlights-magazine-is-right-about-what-we-owe-migrant-children-us-children-too/" id="id_28af_3c6f_fb96_2526" target="_self"><i>Highlights for Children</i></a> in his office and I would read them always from cover-to-cover as I waited for the inevitable SHOT. I camped out in that office so often because I needed what seemed like monthly antibiotic shots in my butt to combat those chronic allergy-related infections I got ad nauseam. Not only shots, I constantly was instructed to gargle with warm water and salt, as directed by my mom. I must admit it did help, though she made me hot Jello water to sooth my throat, too. Red please. </div><div><br></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2911 Pershing Drive today. Previously the office of Dr. Joe Galatzan. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(Source: Google maps)</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><img id="id_9022_9b2e_b95a_a303" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/r73CGW8AnZ5mudh73W0VweK3K5R6VyL27x5sI9KYgMt8GdhpdMEmrnx3_HQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 407px; height: auto;"></span></div></div><div><br></div><div>The doctor officed in what had been a traditional Austin Terrace/Five Points bungalow. The telephone system had a peculiar ring to it, something completely different from the usual house trill. The sound of the office phone added to the atmosphere of dread — from the <a href="https://www.highlights.com/about-us/history" id="id_fb65_9535_36a1_7c7f"><i>Hightlights</i></a> Timbertoes family, their black and white line drawings having way too much fun, to the dim filtered light made by wide venetian blinds, and dark bricked fireplace — it was quite a dreary vignette. Once inside and through to the exam rooms, however, the light shifted immediately to bright white lights, white enameled cabinets, and the efficient- and sanitary-looking healthcare whites worn by nurse Blackie and Dr. Joe. </div><div><br></div><div>Blackie was a formidable woman. She took no shit from anyone, even whiny me. She wore the quintessential stiff white uniform with cap, and thick rubber soled white nurse shoes that squeaked when she walked on the green speckled lino flooring.</div><div><br></div><div>After she would call me back, I was examined, and Dr. Joe would then pronounce his diagnosis. It never varied: a shot and pills in my butt and down my throat, salt and water gargle for my swollen tonsils, and ear drops and cotton balls for my popping ears. Sometimes an eyewash for summer mornings when my eyes were glued shut overnight by an obnoxious green discharge. The shot. Another shot. Always a shot. Terrified of the things, I once clenched my butt so tight I literally shot the innoculation back at Blackie. Man, she was angry. Maybe that’s when they decided I should have my tonsils removed. Nurses at Providence later told me that Blackie ended her days there, and to her dying day gave them all bloody hell. </div><div><br></div><div><font face="Courier" size="4">Sidebar childrearing: <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Swats on the butt after a shot hurt more than regular ones. </span></font></div><div><br></div><div>After the ordeal, my mom and I would then get back on the bus and travel to either downtown to visit my dad at work, or we would get off at San Jaconto Plaza (terminal point for the green city bus line). Next, we’d walk to near the main library and catch the sky blue Country Club bus and travel on to Smeltertown where my abuelos and cousins lived. Finally, a glass of iced Kool-aid or tea, and a quick lunch of frijoles, warm tortillas made by my abula and tia that morning with Mexican rice. Then a nap. Afterwards I’d have time outside with my cousins after they came home from Jones school. It happened all beneath and across the road from the ASARCO plant. Land of hot sand and sulphured skies, the Rio Grande was about 100 yards or so from La Esmelda backyards. La Esmelda, with her hand-built adobe and cinderblock homes, chicken coops, and caged yellow canaries, hanging from my abuela’s cottonwood tree..</div><div><br></div><div>Good times.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e545_f87e_2f4c_7393" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rl_oEqB-2Fhhdka363bvoFybwpmCPPxKOl6ON8FvK1mg3Ko1jIrZmAB3Yo8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 360px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>Here’s a good blog post about the theatre and its owners:</div><div><a href="http://www.barbandruss.com/the-journey/2016/1/30/a-special-day-in-el-paso" id="id_a5e9_660_807_d190" target="_blank">http://www.barbandruss.com/the-journey/2016/1/30/a-special-day-in-el-paso</a></div> carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-88308339985674591372019-06-06T00:22:00.001-06:002019-06-11T19:12:41.272-06:00Too many bees! 🐝 🐝 🐝 Or adventures in feral bee removal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Most likely this little bee is a Buckfast, referred to <br />as “the mutt of the beekeeping world,” </i><a href="https://www.beepods.com/types-honey-bee-breeds-attributes/" id="id_bace_bfdb_7acc_b74a" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" target="_blank">Beepods</a></div>
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Beepods explains that, “Buckfast Bee stock is named for the location of its hybridization and origin, Buckfast Abbey, in Devon in the United Kingdom.” It is a gentle bee that has been warmly welcomed into the United States for domestic beekeeping, Buckfast bees are a good bee species for “newbee” beekeepers.<br />
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Domesticated bees are social creatures. They gather pollen to make their home, honeycombs, and honey to house, feed, and care for their queen, her worker bees, the her one-act male drones. All the while, they prepare for their new queen. As a colony, they appreciate a calm quiet place near moving water.<br />
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<i>A drowsy remaindered bee. The next morning, she was </i></div>
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I’ll be the first to say our yard needs work. And while the control box for the sprinkler system functions, it ended up attracting a colony of sweet tempered feral honey bees. We were unaware we had bees due to where the box is located in the yard. I think they picked our yard because it’s relatively quiet, next to the arroyo, and near what they need and like: fresh water.<br />
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Over the course of several years (I don’t think before October 2016 as that’s when the injured owl stood on the green box trying to be invisible) I believe the bees did their bee thing inside the green rectangular box that sits beneath a pine tree that needs trimming. <br />
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With the help of friends, I hunted for someone who could use a few new bees. That’s when I discovered the <span style="font-family: "courier";"><a href="https://pdnbeekeepers.org/" target="_blank">Paso del Norte Beekeepers Association</a></span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 12pt;">. </span><br />
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By submitting a form on their website, I was contacted a few hours later by a beekeeper named Josh Meier. He meet up at the house, and successfully relocated the queen and her colony. It took a while because that box was packed with combs, bees, and honey.<br />
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Generally, bees have a <a href="https://www.beepods.com/honey-bee-forage-map-radius-diameter-hive-coverage-plants-range.html" target="_blank">range of between three to five miles</a>. So from our backyard they roamed. They could get as far as the greens of the Coronado Country Club, all the fountains and swimming pools in between, to vegetation, whether native or planted flowering trees and plants. They could roam a bit up the mountainside and gather pollen from the wildflowers blooming since March, and bring back bags of pollen on their legs. Back they'd fly to their green sprinkler control box hive.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Possible range of our backyard bees. <br />Map courtesy, <a href="https://www.beepods.com/honey-bee-forage-map-radius-diameter-hive-coverage-plants-range.html" target="_blank">Beepod</a>, Honey Bee Forage Map</span></i></td></tr>
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In time, the colony grew until our neighbor noticed the bees and how much they appreciated his new fountain. This being after the house stood empty for at least five years. Before then, the pool the new owner replaced with his fountain was covered with a slipshod and highly problematic cover. There was no pool water there or routine sprinklers running.<br />
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<td valign="top" width="325px"><span georgia="" new="" roman="" serif="" style="color: #45818e;" times="">Timestamp sidebar: In October 2016, a male great horned owl (one of a mated pair) suffered a broken wing and stood on the sprinkler control box trying to be invisible. Didn’t work. Caught beneath a sheet and stowed in a large box for transport, he was relocated to Stick House Sanctuary for rehab and was later released</span></td></tr>
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<img alt="smoking the bees" id="id_76cc_33d4_c5d5_e758" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/KSHqLGG0Tl-5wV1SbeIlYcRJFvb44Ic8Smz4ToSSmoAc-TTIgdfQ0k68HGk" style="height: auto; text-align: left; width: 350px;" title="smoking the bees" tooltip="" /><br />
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Up above us on La Posta, someone lounged by a pool and played random pop songs on their tinny iPod speakers (millennial boombox.) Two doors down, a neighbor’s dog barked continuously. The late afternoon light filtered by the smoke of pine needles render the bees drunk and drowsy.<br />
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Josh cleaned out the sprinkler control box and collected about five frames worth of combs. In the end he had to vacuum the remaining stray bees who stumbled upon the bee relocation program as they were returning home from a long day gathering pollen in the neighborhood and mountainside flora. He noted any remaining bees will either move on to find another hive, or wait for the queen to return. Sadly, they will live for but a month in all, and may not have long to wait to meet the many earlier queens and other bees who went before them. <br />
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As he worked, I asked how he knew he had captured the queen. Josh said he knew so because how quickly the worker bees began clinging to the sides of a box where she now was being held. About the size of a hard-sided carryon bag or big typewriter case (O, alright, like a portable <a href="http://oldcomputers.net/compaqi.html" id="id_d691_9957_ea2d_9564" style="font-family: times; font-size: 12px;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Compaq luggable, circa 1983</span></a><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 12pt;"> ) </span>the box contained the combs that held their queen. <br />
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He used pine needles to create smoke that make bees drowsy (drunk). Immediately, the backyard smelled like we were smoking a brisket.</div>
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Bees are clever and prolific. Josh said this bee season (spring into summer) he’s had to relocate 40 hives.<br />
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Tomorrow, he will cut into a wall to remove another feral hive somewhere else in this county. In addition, he noted our hive was about three weeks away from swarming. <br />
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Swarms occur when bees can no longer sustain itself due to its population and must therefore divide in two. One group heads out with the reigning queen, and the remainder stays in place with a new queen in waiting. Chances are they wouldn’t have re-established themselves very far away. Perhaps, just over the fence inside the next green sprinkler control box they found. Good luck bees. May you multiply and divide and make as good of honey as you left here today.</div>
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Thanks to Josh for his quick, careful work. And thanks to Ray for alerting us to their existence. And most of all, thanks to the rehomed bees for not colonizing in my courtyard wall, and behaving as sweet as their honey tastes.<br />
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For help relocating and not killing bees, contact the <a href="https://pdnbeekeepers.org/" id="id_8d06_e00b_7c06_6301" style="font-family: courier;" target="_blank">Paso del Norte Beekeepers Association</a><span style="font-family: "courier";">.</span></div>
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<i>Two jars of Backyard Honey™️ </i>🍯<i> as @prepgirl77 calls it. In all, we collected about one pint from the combs Josh gave us! </i></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0Foxes Arroyo, Via Aventura Dr, El Paso, TX 79912, USA31.8565987 -106.533953100000024.9084547 -147.84254710000002 58.8047427 -65.22535910000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-87477916485618717172019-04-25T21:51:00.001-06:002019-04-25T22:31:24.606-06:00Take your child to work day, was Take your daughter to work day<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Twitterscope: You may begin a project with an assertive surge, but conditions are quick to temper your approach...Work with the cosmic momentum, not against it. You can reach your destination if you’re willing to take the scenic route. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">More for Capricorn </span><u>bit.ly/A5KmeJ</u></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_5fab_dfe2_3eee_5be4" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RgGjvUN1s0Mn0IcCQg0y9_t1ZfvTdoPsJ85lyqP_hr0hun3Y8p_kmxx9VA4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">#ADHD that’s been happening my whole life... #cosmicmomentum (wtf?) #ego most assuredly that... #caution? Never. #ScenicRoute? Forever and a day. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">BTW, everyday when i went by #scat (sun city area transit aka shuffling chicanos around town) aka the bus, to go to downtown El Chuco, to the old school retail department store where both my parents worked, was #bringyourchildtoworkday. That actually was the cheapest form of after school childcare ever. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_dece_5225_4817_6dfa" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/tFDnwiTVVZzUkvL4XT15e2o_RpGEoa7zrTiX0AgBMpUlPbYiT0XQTOYwKUQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Either Bassett Center or to downtown #ElPaso, and itoccurred at least 3–4 times a week. If i went to town by myself, I didn’t have to make supper for us.</span></p> <a href="twittersscope" id="id_4477_7cc2_ba2d_54eb" target="_blank">bit.ly/A5KmeJ</a>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-87398111621133943662019-02-06T16:43:00.001-07:002019-02-06T17:21:32.216-07:00Lost Guitars: Google book searches, Twitter, and Milagros<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Glad to hear of its return, and reminds me of <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/MilagroBeanFieldWar?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#MilagroBeanFieldWar</a> with its disembodied apendage, <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/elbrazoOnofre?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#elbrazoOnofre</a> like a milagro charm depicting an arm, truck, or guitar. <br />
Smashing Pumpkins’ Billy Corgan Finally Reunites With Stolen Guitar. ^<a href="https://twitter.com/RollingStone?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@RollingStone</a> <a href="https://t.co/LK3sdD725G">https://t.co/LK3sdD725G</a> <a href="https://t.co/JWAkMCoO4m">pic.twitter.com/JWAkMCoO4m</a></div>
— 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖑 (@chacal_lachaise) <a href="https://twitter.com/chacal_lachaise/status/1093279051349979141?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 6, 2019</a></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.05rem;">On Tuesday, Corgan’s fortunes changed. A friend of his contacted him with a picture of a guitar that looked like the stolen instrument. But he was still incredulous because he’d been tricked before. “Somebody sent me a picture a couple of weeks ago of another one of my guitars, and I wrote the guy back and said, ‘How did you get my guitar?'” he says. “And he wrote back,</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.05rem;">‘Oh, it’s a recreation.’ He’d literally gotten the same stickers, worn them down in the same way and scraped the paint so it looked worn. You could have fooled me.” So he decided to check it out in person. Sure enough, it was the early Seventies Fender Stratocaster that he had been looking for for more than 25 years.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.05rem;">Corgan knows it’s his guitar because it had certain distinguishing marks beyond the psychedelic paint job he’d given it. He recognized the place where a previous owner had carved the initials “KM” into it, and he remembered the placement of certain cigarette burns on the headstock “that I always thought were unsightly.” These were things he’d never talked about in the press, so it would have been impossible for someone to copy them.</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.05rem;">Perhaps the most incredible part of it all is that the guitar was ostensibly stolen in the first place; it’s an instrument worthy of a story by Homer. Corgan recalls that about 10 years after Chamberlain sold him the instrument a person he didn’t know asked him if he still owned his guitar. He then described the one that Corgan just got back. “He said, ‘I lent it to Jimmy, it was actually my guitar,'” the singer says. “And I said, ‘Oh, I feel so bad.’ And he wasn’t mad. He was like, ‘Oh, that’s OK. Jimmy’s my friend. If Jimmy sold it to you and you used it, that makes me happy.’</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.05rem;">“But that’s the guitar’s circuitous history,” he continues. “Jimmy procured it and somebody procured it from me, and now it’s back. This guitar has a certain magical mystery to it. It changed the fortune of my life. So that’s why I felt it would come back to me. It was like the talisman or something, like in Lord of the Rings. It was meant to come back to me.” </span></blockquote>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-25136587947698996782019-02-05T16:28:00.000-07:002019-12-02T15:42:08.192-07:00To the Students: What Is and Why the Need for Superb Owl Sunday?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img alt="A snowy owl rests on Jones Beach on Long Island in New York. # Vicki Jauron, Babylon and Beyond Photography / Getty" height="280" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-iii/s25_955699818/main_1200.jpg?1549177708" style="border: 1px solid black; float: right; margin: 5px;" title="A snowy owl rests on Jones Beach on Long Island in New York. # Vicki Jauron, Babylon and Beyond Photography / Getty" width="400" /><br />
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<span style="color: #993300; font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino";"><strong>What Is and Why the Need for Superb Owl Sunday?</strong></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hearkening to information that covers copyright infringement and fair use in general and specifically for commercial use, many announcers for companies not sponsoring the "big" event went out of their way not to refer to Sunday's championship game by its official name directly. As a result, they carefully removed the words "Super Bowl" or "Super Bowl Sunday" from their scripts due to the exorbitant amounts "official" sponsorship companies pay for advertising during the game and pregame shows. Read the word official as costing millions of dollars per minute during the game to run a single commercial. According to the CBC: </span><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's roughly $175,000 per second.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This year's host network, CBS, is charging a record $5.25 million for just a 30-second spot during the championship match-up between the Los Angeles Rams and New England Patriots, reports CNBC's Julia Boorstin. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Huddleston, 2019)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">But things being ironic and fun, suddenly, misreading or re-emphasizing an alternative spacing of letters produced <span style="color: #993300;"><strong>Suberb Owl</strong> </span>instead of the other two words. Of course, this let loose with all sorts of Hedwig cousins flying around the internet as so many puppy bowl howlers.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDy-DnE4UUbqUpvWMCnrDs2p_-kneCfQCEc-qUnV8H66ts0TofynIn6i-ACHELtST70QfXL7H-7sYn8wKjzpXwfZ5M2PC_0KKuqyDCMWWst2uyK8Uq0RqfZERS3JHdpalOfKx/s1600/superb+bowl+-+whats+this+i+hear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="Owl with large orange eyes looks directly at audience." border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDy-DnE4UUbqUpvWMCnrDs2p_-kneCfQCEc-qUnV8H66ts0TofynIn6i-ACHELtST70QfXL7H-7sYn8wKjzpXwfZ5M2PC_0KKuqyDCMWWst2uyK8Uq0RqfZERS3JHdpalOfKx/s320/superb+bowl+-+whats+this+i+hear.jpg" title="What's this I hear about a Suberb Bowl?" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Here is a collection of backgrounder articles and cautions at the CommLawBlog:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.commlawblog.com/tags/super-bowl-trademark/" target="_blank" title="CommLawBlog and The Big Game">https://www.commlawblog.com/tags/super-bowl-trademark/</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="No. 9: A barn owl in Galyat, Pakistan # Zahoor Salmi / Getty" height="240" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-iii/s09_908304352/main_1200.jpg?1549297974" style="border: 1px solid black; float: right; margin: 7px;" title="No. 9: A barn owl in Galyat, Pakistan # Zahoor Salmi / Getty" width="400" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Not to be outdone by all the owl related memes, <i><a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/" target="_blank">The Atlantic</a> </i>promoted their gallery of Superb Owl images:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;">Superb Owl Sunday III - 28 photos of these magnificent nocturnal hunters. If you have some time today before the big game (or are skipping the event entirely) I invite you to have a look, it was a real hoot putting this together. <a href="https://t.co/G1aX9U9JFR">https://t.co/G1aX9U9JFR</a> <a href="https://t.co/jDCiHjrJ23">pic.twitter.com/jDCiHjrJ23</a>— <br />The Atlantic Photo (@TheAtlPhoto) <a href="https://twitter.com/TheAtlPhoto/status/1092149813766967297?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 3, 2019</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Check them out!</span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;">References</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Huddleston, T., Jr. (2019, January 30). This is how much it costs to air a commercial during the 2019 Super Bowl. <br /> Retrieved February 5, 2019, from CNBC Make It website: <br /> <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2019/01/30/how-much-it-costs-to-air-a-commercial-during-super-bowl-liii.html" title="This is how much it costs to air a commercial during the 2019 Super Bowl">https://www.cnbc.com/2019/01/30/</a><a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2019/01/30/how-much-it-costs-to-air-a-commercial-during-super-bowl-liii.html" target="_blank" title="This is how much it costs to air a commercial during the 2019 Super Bowl"> how-much-it-costs-to-air-a-commercial-during-super-bowl-liii.html </a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Jauron, V. (2019, February 3). A snowy owl rests on Jones Beach on Long Island in New York [Photograph]. <br /> Retrieved from<br /> https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-<br /> iii/s25_955699818/main_1200.jpg </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Salmi, Z. (2019, February 3). A barn owl in Galyat, Pakistan [Photograph]. Retrieved from<br /> https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-<br /> iii/s09_908304352/main_1200.jpg <span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Tag archives: Super Bowl trademark [Blog post]. (n.d.). Retrieved from CommLawBlog website:<br /><span style="color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span> https://www.commlawblog.com/tags/super-bowl-trademark/ </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Taylor, A. (2019, February 3). Superb Owl Sunday III. <em>The Atantic</em>. Retrieved from <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-iii/581917/" target="_blank">https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2019/02/photos-superb-owl-sunday-iii/581917/ </a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">TheAtlPhoto. (2019, February 3). Superb Owl Sunday III - 28 photos of these magnificent nocturnal hunters. <br /> If you<span style="color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span>have some time today before the big game (or are skipping the event entirely)...<br /> https://t.co/G1aX9U9JFR [Tweet]. Retrieved from<br /> <a href="https://twitter.com/TheAtlPhoto/status/1092149813766967297" target="_blank">https://twitter.com/TheAtlPhoto/status/1092149813766967297 </a></span></span><br />
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-71072950440926504442018-11-22T20:58:00.001-07:002019-03-14T10:02:44.960-06:00Turkey by Taxi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In many families</span></b>, conversations revolve around lore and tradition origins during the holidays. A couple of years ago at a family reunion meeting, I learned the whole, or at least more of the a story about a Thanksgiving turkey first told to me by my mother. When she told me the story early on, she just said a headless fowl chased her around the yard in Smeltertown.</span><br>
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<img alt="" id="id_bab9_f379_cb8d_eb07" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16JEBhUH3hvyGSmlRYbUzbV2pESr11ZJ8umjvttcEJ1uu6QUHWbHNC0ywHZhva9YM-q8PbQ4JUW91OaqS_Xxci3b7-hGh4VhkAgNxnbipKqCuVFolthkKKP40jHCrpZxR_Prt/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 352px;" title="A beavy of fowls" tooltip=""></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For years, I only knew that some headless fowl had chased my mom around the yard after being beheaded. All these years later, and I still didn't know if it was a turkey or chicken, or for what event it had been slaughtered. Now she and my father were dead, and the story remained incomplete until one Sunday when I met with my two remaining uncles and many cousins at my cousin Gloria's house near El Paso High School. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Towards the end of our meeting for our first ever Gonzalez family reunion, tio Roberto started explaining that one year there was a major labor strike against The American Smelting and Refining Company (ASARCO). Supposedly, it would last well into or even past November.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">His brother Ricardo next explained that whenever abuelo came home with 50 pound bags each of beans and rice, there was sure to be a strike, a long one. During those times, they had meat only once a week. </span></div>
<div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">At end of summer, the strike began. As it continued past Halloween, everyone feared there would be no Thanksgiving dinner that year. No <i>guajolote</i>, no <i>mole de guajolote</i>, no big turkey drumsticks.<i> S</i></span><i>olomente frijoles y arroz y </i>Kool-aid.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">But just before the holiday, abuela took the bus and went "to town," by herself. She was emboldened to solve the problem of the Thanksgiving dinner for her 12 children. Usually, she never left Esmelda. Instead, everyone came to Esmelda to see her. This left my mother the eldest, and her siblings wondering what the woman was doing. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div>
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Later that afternoon,<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> abuela pulled up in a taxi with ...a live turkey! Apparently, she crossed the bridge into Cd. Juárez for the fowl and rode back across the bridge to El Paso, and then <i>La Esmelda</i> in the taxi. We don’t know how she did it, but she came back home with the turkey...in a taxi.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">All that remained was to do the deed — chop the head off the fowl, which abuelo did. But, my mom had to hold the large bird down as abuelo swung the axe. His aim was true, but the turkey was not yet willing to call it a day. He ran around the yard chasing my screaming mother. There began the germ of her story to me — that some headless bird had chased my mother around their dusty yard.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In the end, abuela and her three daughters made tortillas, frijoles, and rice, stuffing, mole, ice tea with limes. Everyone enjoyed <i>el cocono </i>(<i>guajolote</i>) that year. Soon</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> afterwards and before Christmas, the strike ended.</span></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-62760012227982658522018-11-06T12:25:00.001-07:002018-11-06T16:16:12.238-07:00Lucille and the Royal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday, November 4, was my mother-in-law Lucille’s birthday. She would have been 101. I say this because one of her proudest moments was how she lent a Royal like this to her neighbor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mrs. V was in a bad marriage. Her husband ran around with other women and drank. Once, I was told, one of the women showed up in the middle of the night and threw rocks through all the windows in Mrs. V's house--evidently, her husband had called it off with the rock thrower. Fortunately, his abuse was never physical to her or her sons, and he held a job. Mrs. V felt she couldn’t leave him because of the mores of the day, and that she would receive no support for her sons and her. In short, she needed a job, but had no skills for a decent paying position. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Having hauled the big black Royal typewriter halfway around the world and back, Lucille lent her friend the machine so that she could practice and get her typing speed up for a civil service position at Fort Bliss. I still hear Lucille telling us that there was some reason she held onto her father's typewriter. She concluded that this must have been the reason why.</span><br />
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So Lucille and Mrs. V worked together while the kids were in school. She taught her friend to know the ins and outs of typewritten communication. How to insert the paper, use carbon sheets, change ribbons, correct errors, and the like. She practiced, got her speed up, and took the civil service exam. She was hired. In fact, Mrs. V went on to have a great career, eventually becoming an administrator on post. And Lucille was left with knowing she helped a woman make a positive change for her and her family. To her dying day Mrs. V praised Lucille for the help and encouragement she gave.<br />
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<i>Non nobis solum nati sumus.</i><br />
Not for ourselves alone are we born.<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>― Marcus Tullius Cicero</div>
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Image sources: </div>
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<li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BMaRIZRFEKJ/?utm_source=ig_web_options_share_sheet" target="_blank">Royal Typewriter</a> </li>
<li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp1-fJqFqG8/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=xbr34stjy4" target="_blank">Lucille's photobooth collage</a></li>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-53411124131366266952018-10-20T20:52:00.001-06:002018-10-20T20:54:41.255-06:00Perfect Brandy Manhattan Recipe <img id="id_e9c8_b664_7bec_5197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqZWaUcT9vQN_plAzOTCq55qJg2noHbFeHhl2027zHMuF1dWjmrl4la4Ozxriwca1sxue5kXAp7gNbY5qe-ka81wmP_B58nMSWy8YJqVC5UJC6F_7cQ7WGBo72ZbxnJJaR0NaZ/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 285px; height: auto;"><div>Previously known only to those from Stevens Point, Wisconsin, this cocktail was brought to El Paso, Texas in the late 1950s by the late, Stanley E. Drapes, Major Ret USA especially for his wife Lucille (Jurgella) and her sister Isabel. The recipe is said to habe originated at either the old Sky Club or Antlers supper clubs in Stevens Point, and could have been adopted by the two Jurgella sisters. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Happily, the tradition to serve this cocktail on festive occasions has been exported to Hawaii by Stanley and Lucille's son, Vincent, and continues to be served in El Paso by his son Michael, and in Wisconsin and Minnesota to this day. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Na zdrowie!</span></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_5f05_b02b_4731_2f90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktvUrbTpuB5-faXLQlh682GzzMOaOa9jo_9cn2Vd1OlhA3Bm5AMhGqQp8C68qHtLP2gHYpZQ8fvKVEAUKc4jkHQ3Gdbdeo0haTosGWl6RyiQtGWZ12eX0Qp2JUVVhpR7NjJXs/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 165px; height: auto; margin: 4px;"></div><div><br></div><div><div>For one serving:</div><div><div>1/2 oz dry vermouth</div><div>1/2 oz sweet vermouth</div><div>1 oz brandy</div><div><br></div><div>For a cocktail party, consider making the liter and half recipe (1.5 L). Mix a week in advance so that the ingredients can "marry" and age together. </div><div>Store in the refrigerator, and the mix will taste smoother when allowed to age longer.</div><div><br></div><div>Combine: </div><div>500 milliliters of dry vermouth </div><div>500 milliliter of sweet vermouth </div><div>1 liter brandy </div><div>Serve in old fashioned glasses over ice with marichino cherries on swizzlesticks. </div></div> </div></div>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-86672929681968368542018-10-16T15:37:00.002-06:002018-10-16T20:43:42.045-06:00Favorite political ads: Richard Linklater<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"Come on...<br>
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...................................................... Ted."<a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Whataburger?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#Whataburger</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/richardlinklater?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#richardlinklater</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/BetoORourke?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@BetoORourke</a></div>
— 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖑 (@chacal_lachaise) <a href="https://twitter.com/chacal_lachaise/status/1052055171235237888?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 16, 2018</a>
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This scathing anti-Ted Cruz ad was made by famous filmmaker Richard Linklater <a href="https://t.co/XSQqRc6Tey">pic.twitter.com/XSQqRc6Tey</a></div>
— NowThis (@nowthisnews) <a href="https://twitter.com/nowthisnews/status/1049710583220555777?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 9, 2018</a></blockquote>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-9752318065917945112018-10-07T23:29:00.001-06:002018-10-08T13:44:18.699-06:00Snacks for a little deer 🦌<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><font face="Helvetica">This afternoon a juvenile deer walked through our backyard from the arroyo and went next door for a snack. Usually, we have about six adults and this summer saw two babies in the arroyo with their mothers. He’s evidently been by this particular yard before as he had no trouble munching there for at least five minutes.</font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><font face="Helvetica"><br></font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><font face="Helvetica">Thanks to MJ for alerting me to the little deer. He spied him walking theough out backyard. Then he saw him munching in the front yard.</font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Gill Sans"; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Video shot with an #iphone8plus edited with #imovie and later squared for </span><a href="https://instagram.com/p/BoqJHqejxCU/" id="id_6088_cd97_f790_eabc" target="_blank" style="font-family: "Gill Sans";">Instagram</a><span style="font-family: "Gill Sans"; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> using #nocropapp.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br><iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/293880543?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&badge=0" width="500" height="281" id="v_id_99b8_b174_2662_3419" frameborder="0"></iframe><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Helvetica"><br></font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font face="Helvetica"><br></font></span></p> carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-51840104700242063222018-09-25T18:01:00.003-06:002018-09-25T22:28:46.523-06:00Threads Box WIP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="_5afx" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; direction: ltr; font-family: "helvetica";">#TBTuesday #bravocotton by Rainbow Gallery #wildflowers by The Caron Gallery #needleart #linencanvas #plasticcanvas #metallicthreads #needlepoint #dimentionalstitches</span></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-57013239647528347502018-09-25T17:28:00.004-06:002018-09-25T17:31:33.296-06:00UTEP Student Veterans Writing Program<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtb6kdLeoyZCFtSUI5JSB7xQJgKUtS_9iP_Mk8ZmZaoC4r3Ez4F5ZNqwXr0giCiE2NUHUViDaCi4XhcpUStb0DenBLn9C5OoYkEXBGKsU8nednQLZsbsntQxmiQ4TKmLnCHP6E/s1600/veterans+fyc+flyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtb6kdLeoyZCFtSUI5JSB7xQJgKUtS_9iP_Mk8ZmZaoC4r3Ez4F5ZNqwXr0giCiE2NUHUViDaCi4XhcpUStb0DenBLn9C5OoYkEXBGKsU8nednQLZsbsntQxmiQ4TKmLnCHP6E/s640/veterans+fyc+flyer.jpg" width="438" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This program serves as a supplement for veterans returning to school after their service. It aims to assist those in First Year Composition, but may help veterans in all their writing life stages. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Veteran students are encouraged to participate as their schedule allows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This program seeks to reach to veterans specifically now, but hope to allow all military affiliated students in the future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Availability limited to the first 30 students. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Fall Semester Schedule</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wednesdays</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">RSVP at MSSC@utep.edu</span></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-50985172626028368872018-08-17T00:55:00.002-06:002018-08-17T00:55:32.093-06:00Foto Frontera at the La Fe Cultural and Technology Center<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebGtzFhaVidLQTV3aQCA03WfS1_OwxYU1AW45bAZbyPB8Lq74NGcqdPQ3e2GGpZelbx0REL5SdPRQu5ZBA-bL9aRcovqy-rqNC2G3GJoy0lVlAGRctMJN4E-rYF30GQA_A_nq/s1600/Facebook+poster+for+exhibition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="1201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebGtzFhaVidLQTV3aQCA03WfS1_OwxYU1AW45bAZbyPB8Lq74NGcqdPQ3e2GGpZelbx0REL5SdPRQu5ZBA-bL9aRcovqy-rqNC2G3GJoy0lVlAGRctMJN4E-rYF30GQA_A_nq/s400/Facebook+poster+for+exhibition.jpg" width="305" /></a><br />
<a href="https://carolynrheadrapes.wixsite.com/taj-portfolioshow" target="_blank">Exhibition Link on Wix</a><br />
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If you are in town from Thursday, September 6 to October 26, 2018, please stop in to see all the wonderful photographers' works which will be on display along with my dad's images.<br />
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For the event, I chose to create a new website for my dad's images using Wix. Every semester, I teach a First Year Composition course that includes an ePortfolio or Advocacy Website assignment. This allows me to remain relatively current with the various free services students can use to create their websites. Because of this practice, I decided to create a photography exhibition / portfolio for my dad's photographs that will be exhibited in September at the La Fe Cultural and Technology Center.<br />
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I like the idea of being able to connect from one service to another while adding content here, and chose Wix because it lets the designer create finely arranged pages, and provides several basic templates from which to choose. Weebly is very good too and I've created sites with it. It is very good for students that have little or no web design and authoring experience. However, Wix seems best for portfolio and gallery type sites. </div>
carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-57304192364354248622018-06-07T18:32:00.001-06:002018-06-07T18:32:34.897-06:00It had to come at some point<img id="id_b9a8_5079_2353_898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlxwFbX0clf1aN5yt0V77_YGGjN4Ea8wtX4WbQg3ECRnjk5LZqH440UNFJm7Xa8w5-gJjQMRdAbSvezK7GL3tEg0vf-NqA6SoUuz7kIv5tnKu3lamu4IyilPR6O9Z2hL7gbU-/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When a relative greatly disappoints, go to Costco, gas up the vehicle. Then, go inside and buy a big box of strawberries 🍓, some shrimp 🦐 , and avocados 🥑. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then come home and make strawberry jam for the very first time. I did everything but buy a bottle of Taittinger 🍾</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The disappointment stems from this relative (over 40 and living in another state) believing that any immigrant is a bad immigrant. I didn't go to this person’s Facebook page, but instead, the person commented on an image i posted of Jim Carrey with a quote. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_9fe8_8f08_b7ee_7c93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8MaR3phMF-P_jz1cJ5rqTMCNqs-YG-n5cGQ3VcF6JP2DwgPB0rgk6YFz8vXOMBQVRc6mOeFkyx11Y3_w1NL3nVnNxhoUs_h0HvN8UEDD53mCOU_H1du5PDnf8laVGDGsfj5U/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The recipe comes from a link to Ina Garten’s strawberry jam recipe. It’s really simple and has but three ingredients: fresh strawberries, lemon juice/grated lemon rind, and sugar.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;">Find her recipe here:</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;"><a href="https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/fresh-strawberry-jam-recipe-1916121"><font face="Palatino">https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/fresh-strawberry-jam-recipe-1916121</font></a></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p> carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-19525299759737278632018-05-05T01:46:00.001-06:002018-05-05T01:47:44.595-06:00Aluminum 35mm Film Canisters<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My dad was a retail camera buyer for a local department store. Previously and immediately after high school he worked as a darkroom technician for a portrait studio and then a drug store. </span></p><img id="id_508_170f_227f_d3fa" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYY-23MgWrtP0zHund2LCQH-Re6QchYMA3JM5eeMQ9MeQeIvtMfLCCBJIC3OKJ9hi2-b135MMtzCG6QXkQE4c4Pmp3KnTeQRL_0MWPdobszO8-HcCKh0o5PHX5hiXaGDd1mWA/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 378px; height: auto;"><br><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In high school, he told me that #Kodak was phasing out its metal film canisters and switching to plastic. I immediately started saving the aluminum ones, and sometimes he brought me some from work when people left their film to be developed and printed.. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_3c6e_a08_1dd_b2f9" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7ZD7j7DB08Cb0hpS-IDU2L-hjEE1fAZABPtpdAS4fLcrT_v0u-cYO-6-SoMcRYTK_ZMCuakUospQ9BC7J7d3Hkshdta6UcJW7PXApA2TKTTxRxDTWDeCv7zk-HhhUO1RjUY8/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Over the years, I’ve discovered special film types had colored canisters. Shown in image 3 Is a book of little stickers printed by @moo. Good times. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_3ff1_eea6_bc2d_8b32" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzY7rswWKht13FJeSm-VBQmkxtlFD7B6n8enk9SrNR9fDTMSE_V83kpuSFCBpHC12U2snAJ0n93hHLyXPPvIT8dGWg6e2ENVGgQjnXKTsbrr_ahbNTvFQGgLg1lwF9Ybyar3ag/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 391px; height: auto;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></p> carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-14422559843984642342018-04-20T18:58:00.000-06:002018-04-22T16:48:52.723-06:00The quiet ones with whom we share the land: Mule deer and skunks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i>Accompanying an announcement reminding students a draft was due soon, this image was included with a note about the deer that live nearby. Added here is a collage of one of several skunks who live around the arroyo, too.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwS-NONAI149Ccn1ChAxzqB_CFp8rT60Y7-6bR_G-rB_V0a_00-VRyscE_G1U29w78zLhbf8u1jAJa3sxyeRGayTt5HE0FvUeDnCzmnV5J-wubB1p6t9yrt5gJTD-eQPCJTLj/s1600/deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="mule deer" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1223" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwS-NONAI149Ccn1ChAxzqB_CFp8rT60Y7-6bR_G-rB_V0a_00-VRyscE_G1U29w78zLhbf8u1jAJa3sxyeRGayTt5HE0FvUeDnCzmnV5J-wubB1p6t9yrt5gJTD-eQPCJTLj/s400/deer.jpg" title="mule deer" width="305" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of six mule deer that live in and around the Franklin Mountain foothills in an arroyo behind my house. This fellow and the others usually walk up and down the arroyo, munching on leaves that hang over the walls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Deer usually travel together in groups of threes, although all six have been seen together as far as Snowheights and Westwind. Last week, I spied two females with their juvenile offspring, one each.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A couple of seasons ago, the six, seen earlier down Westwind one evening, were seen later that night walking back into our arroyo (a rain runoff collecting station for the area) behind my house.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosAzdXx1ym7YWKvwaZmlek_UslKa59AhdHBz-3JUQReEGdH4ob5jg41mazOiZ3CxEyL9ANHvjUXAqwhihS9XkS2hETbDFFaOnZIgGro1H7wHWmpYrhjErCTqOleTIS8yeOlid/s1600/IMG_0944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="collage of American skunk, male" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="986" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosAzdXx1ym7YWKvwaZmlek_UslKa59AhdHBz-3JUQReEGdH4ob5jg41mazOiZ3CxEyL9ANHvjUXAqwhihS9XkS2hETbDFFaOnZIgGro1H7wHWmpYrhjErCTqOleTIS8yeOlid/s400/IMG_0944.JPG" title="collage of American skunk, male" width="246" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Silently and slowly they walk along the backyard walls that face the arroyo below La Posta. They are nearly invisible unless you see them move. One side glance and they disappear again until you detect their movement. This place was christened Foxes Arroyo as two foxes have lived in the arroyo, too. One night I heard their growly noises at our old cat Buddy, and I saw their ears and faces peeking over the back rock wall. Another night we saw them scamper across Belvidere to get back into the arroyo. Like the deer, they forage beneath the larger house walls across and in the arroyo. Instead of greens they search for small rodents and other small mammals. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quietly, too are the skunks and other smaller mammals that dwell in the foothills of the Franklin Mountains. In the winter, a momma skunk and her kits will sometimes keep warm in our garage. We leave its door open about three inches so that animals can get water. If we left out dry cat food, the skunks come in for a nosh, too. But the night I captured this small skunk it was about 10:30 PM. They also make the rounds about 2:00 AM. Here, he is munching some seeds I put out for them. In the morning, all the birds will alight and finish what was there. The bird seed includes sunflower seeds, dried fruit, and nuts.<br /><br />
Along with the skunks, we have Steller's blue jays (migrating), two types of dove, mocking birds, juncos, tiny ladder-back woodpeckers, thrashers, minuscule field mice, ground squirrels, coyotes, owls, raptors, (red tailed hawks and the petite American kestrel) and squirrels. Years ago, a friend in Northeast El Paso said he saw a badgers in his neighborhoods near the Franklin foothills off Magnetic. Deer and skunks are also living there, too.</span><br />
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0Foxes Arroyo, El Paso, TX 79912, USA31.8565987 -106.533953100000024.9084532 -147.84254710000002 58.8047442 -65.22535910000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-17762416899560717922018-04-19T17:59:00.002-06:002018-04-20T00:36:45.330-06:00Photography and Vintage Film<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="Georgia">
In between reviewing student assignments and meeting with them, I was catching up on newsletter reading. The Twisted Sifter always provides interesting posts about visual artistry and how it intertwines with technologies, whether old and new.</font><br>
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<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hHINDOtFH1A" width="560" id="id_3018_7728_c6dc_ae5b"></iframe><br>
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Today's newsletter is no different and provides a balance between moving images of 1911 New York City, presented by videographer<span style="background-color: white; color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-size: 15.84px;"> Guy Jones,</span> <a href="http://twistedsifter.com/videos/hq-video-of-new-york-city-life-in-1911/" target="_blank">black and white film</a> and Christopher Burkett's Ilfachrome CIBA large format film photography.</font><br>
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<font face="Georgia">Each video explores how either the editor of the movie or the photographer combine old school technology with new. The real magic continues in the "post production" work, whether adjusting the speed of the video and adding ambient sounds, or taking up to eight hours to expose Burkett's diminishing supply of special film to its equally dwindling inventory of paper.</font></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-352149736257172892018-04-16T19:25:00.002-06:002018-04-17T16:10:54.540-06:00Sidebar: Concrete, Cotton Seeds, and Cigarettes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino";">Recently, I've been sharing what I call Sidebars, random information about local items of interest. I send the information along when I send announcements </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7C197ggVSJnFmtBt3nhe3IG8OGgzsKmIKPkiIqsC7ufx7Y5vOXJgj618TUif4EUl-6Eyoji1GJnFVGTmPW8c2j0NeGQr2BjuJCs05lC4NSl62ZSUUK4GpmyM2lMuJGOZa09S/s1600/ASARCO-3-700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "palatino";"><img alt="Asarco smokestack under construction, El Paso, late 1960s." border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="700" height="400" id="id_d69_7b6a_f532_5040" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7C197ggVSJnFmtBt3nhe3IG8OGgzsKmIKPkiIqsC7ufx7Y5vOXJgj618TUif4EUl-6Eyoji1GJnFVGTmPW8c2j0NeGQr2BjuJCs05lC4NSl62ZSUUK4GpmyM2lMuJGOZa09S/s400/ASARCO-3-700.jpg" style="height: auto; width: 289px;" title="Asarco smokestack under construction, El Paso, late 1960s." width="289" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "palatino";">to students via Blackboard. This was the most recent Sidebar, but now I'm thinking I will go back and post more of those here, too.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino";"><span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><b>I</b></span><span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><b>mage above</b></span><span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">: In the mid-1960s, after my father worked for The Popular department store for many years, he left to work for a testing laboratory. There, he tested cement, and ran soil compaction tests for many large projects in town, including the now demolished <a data-mce-href="http://digie.org/media/1330" href="http://digie.org/media/1330" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(67, 128, 5); border-width: 0px; color: #438005; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">Farah Manufacturing</a> facility (now the site of the Fountains of Farah), Morehead Middle School (concrete corrugated shaped flat roof), the El Paso International airport traffic controller tower, and the tallest <a data-mce-href="https://cdm15823.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p15823coll15" href="https://cdm15823.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p15823coll15" id="id_e143_a051_7e77_2b02" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(67, 128, 5); border-width: 0px; color: #438005; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">ASARCO</a> smokestack, completed in the late 1960s. At ASARCO, dad</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1px;"> photographed the construction site at ground level several times and he was even allowed to take me there, too. Between the ages of 7–12, I went to many sites and watched the concrete compaction tests at the lab and helped place cement cylinders in the damp room where they were to be cured for 21-days. The cylinders were capped at the building site with a funky yellow sulphur cap at either end.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.1px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino";"><span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">For its time, the ASARCO smokestack project was the largest and longest continuously poured cement project in the world. When the regionally grown cotton was ready to be processed into cotton-seed oil, dad worked at the Southwestern Irrigated Cotton Growers Association* (SWIG) processing plant</span><span style="font-style: inherit;">. When he came home after working at SWIG all day in the fall, his short-sleeved cotton shirts were permeated with the smell of refined cotton seed oil. </span></span></div>
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<span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "palatino";">One Sunday, while visiting my grandparents at their home in Smeltertown, which stood directly across the street from the ASARCO plant, dad got a call to go to the construction site. I begged to go with him and he said yes. We toured the ASARCO site with the project manager and walked inside the tower as seen here. I remember looking up to see the blue sky while standing dead center within the hollow stack. (Shades of <a data-mce-href="https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/ring/" href="https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/ring/" id="id_710d_8575_7160_935c" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(67, 128, 5); border-width: 0px; color: #438005; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank"><em style="border: 0px; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">The Ring</em></a>!) Later, when it was complete, dad rode the construction elevator to the top of the smelter tower and shot photos from its platform. Unfortunately, those photographs were given to ASARCO and I never saw them. </span></span></div>
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<span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "palatino";">By the time <a data-mce-href="https://vimeo.com/64039378" href="https://vimeo.com/64039378" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(67, 128, 5); border-width: 0px; color: #438005; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">the tower was demolished on April 13, 2013</a>, my mom had died in January of that year, and dad had lost most of his sight due to macular degeneration**.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino";"><span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">*SWIG: </span><a href="https://archive.org/stream/swigsouthwestern29weav#page/n4/mode/1up">https://archive.org/stream/swigsouthwestern29weav#page/n4/mode/1up</a></span></div>
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<span data-mce-style="font-family: helvetica;" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "palatino";">**Macular degeneration is hereditary. However, those who get it in later life were usually those who smoked cigarettes. My father smoked unfiltered Chesterfields from the age of 15 to 58 or so. Not long after he quit he began losing his eyesight. </span></span></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-70913980771188225072018-03-22T16:54:00.000-06:002018-03-22T16:57:23.570-06:00Discourse Communities essay for my current online class<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Usually, activities are set up to discuss the discourse communities in which we are members. Students realize that they overlap with one another, or that they are members of similar kinds of groups. Students map these encompassing and shared communities that reside within and without our residence, and include, but not limited to:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">families, extended or nuclear;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">communal situations with many roommates, such as a college co-op;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">military service members--enlisted or officers;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">churches, temples, mosques, sitting group members;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">gym and yoga members;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">classmates, past and present;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">athletic team or band members;</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">clubs; professional, Panhellenic, etc.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;">We converse and share information differently within and without our diverse discourse community collections. And, when communicating, we put on different attitudes or "masks," depending to whom we speak or write/text/twitter/share information with those, at any given time or place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">We laugh with our families and may hail each other by nicknames the family has bestowed on us. My González Smeltertown nickname was Carolina La Gallina (Carolina the chicken, and rightly so). My Jackson cousin and grandparents hailed me by the southern Carolyn Rhea (pronounced Ray) by running my first and middle names together. One </span><span style="color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="color: black; display: inline; float: none;">González</span></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"> cousin was nicknamed Pelon (bald, ironically because he was born with a full head of hear) and other Gūero because he had green eyes in our sea of brown as boot irises. Yet, over time Pelon has come to fit his name because lost most of his hair, and Gūero still has his green eyes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">We focus and become serious when speaking to authority figures, etc. We share stories within special groups and learn to trust or not to trust outsiders. Here, in this <em>Daily Show with Trevor Noah</em> segment with Roy Wood, Jr., he defines and frames what <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2015/04/the-truth-about-black-twitter/390120/" target="_blank" title="The Atlantic: The Truth About Black Twitter">Black Twitter</a> means as a digital discourse community. Wood, Jr. also shames and complicates the group why others cannot simply opt into self-enrolling as a member of Black Twitter and why: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcSh2F8e__8" target="_blank" title="Black Eye on America - What Is Black Twitter?: The Daily Show">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcSh2F8e__8</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br />We allow membership based solely on where we are born, in which family, by the color of our skin, and by the language(s) we learn and use.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Discourse community members share, tell inside jokes, and use language and words differently. We warp language into special terms, and share lore, aka family stories. Lore includes oral histories, communal memories, practices, and special recipes for holidays. Over time, the meanings of such thinks like special foods and recipes fade as older group members die. If stories aren't shared, they disappear with the last member. But we can later recall their meanings if we discover diaries, photographs, letters, and other textual, visual, or recorded evidence. Even a person's type of handwriting can identify their education level and where and when they learned how to write, such as with the <a href="http://www.oldfonts.com/antiquepenman/tag/the-palmer-method/" target="_blank" title="Handwriting as a sense of self, blog entry from 2016">Palmer Method</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: "helvetica";">Lost Significance</span></h4>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica";">Such happened on my maternal side of the family. Decades ago, my mother's family lived in <a href="http://borderzine.com/2012/11/smelter-town-%E2%80%93-a-personal-look-at-a-ghost-town-firmly-embedded-in-el-paso-history/" target="_blank" title="Smelter Town – a personal look at a ghost town firmly embedded in El Paso history, Borderzine (2012)">Smeltertown</a>, a now politically erased and physically destroyed Mexican American community that was once located across Paisano from the now razed <a href="https://vimeo.com/74617201" target="_blank" title="Vimeo: Demolished in Sixty Seconds: Reflectiions (sic) on the Ending of the El Paso Smelter (5 min)">ASARCO</a> plant. At the time I was about 4-7 years old, and still can recall the special foods my abuela and tia would have prepared for next week's Good Friday. In hindsight, the sparse noonday meal (served before noon) mimicked a Passover Seder meal. This memory of such weird food combinations later prompted my older cousins and I to wonder about their significance beyond a Good Friday Catholic fast. It has enticed me to research if perhaps abuela's family (Macias, who was of Mexican and Belgian descent,) and an immigrant with abuelo from Aguascalientes, Mexico, were in fact, "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/29/us/hispanics-uncovering-roots-as-inquisitions-hidden-jews.html" target="_blank" title="Hispanics Uncovering Roots as Inquisition's 'Hidden' Jews By Simon Romero, NYTimes, October. 29, 2005 ">hidden Jews</a>." Several years ago, the El Paso Times interviewed and discussed families here along the border who discovered their older Jewish heritage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">The main point of all this is to explain that discourse communities share of specific information that others do not have. Members are privy to this information that others cannot know or obtain unless invited to learn. And it is by noticing these special hallmarks, subtly interviewing our families, coworkers, classmates, and friends that we can understand more about ourselves and how we communicate and share with those around us.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-67598333030034756062017-12-08T12:41:00.002-07:002017-12-08T15:17:21.101-07:00International Write-In for 2017 at the University of Texas El Paso<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">Today,</span><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">I am at <a href="https://www.utep.edu/" target="_blank">UTEP</a>'s University Writing Center, located in the Main Library,</span><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"> participating with others in the <a href="https://www.swarthmore.edu/writing/intlwritein17" target="_blank">International Write-In</a><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">, sponsored by Swarthmore College. I plan to be here from 11:30-2:00. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">The major aim a write-in is to kick back, meet with friends, and always support one another. Additionally, I'm assisting my students and answering any questions they may have for any class project taught this semester. While it's not what I thought a write-in would be, I sent an announcement to my students encouraging them to stop and say hi. And, one student came. We discussed tech issues, the semester topic researched, and help for what exactly should the ePortfolio and advocacy website entail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">Overall, this is a perfect time to take a break from studying, and do some free writing; even some free sketching would be fun.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"><br></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "palatino"; font-size: small; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">Here is one picture I took soon after I arrived.</span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlWYwGMKw_y_7Neku0aVZWXvXEfy9lqV4fJrAVDfmB_JetMO-jHkyUtVmhMLed2jKid84dQwHYGPuxFoxmU7d3HHeSHvEuRUYjeD5z9hJ4OeNK45HYZEi2mGJYT20sm92UuF4/s1600/writing+center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="1600" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlWYwGMKw_y_7Neku0aVZWXvXEfy9lqV4fJrAVDfmB_JetMO-jHkyUtVmhMLed2jKid84dQwHYGPuxFoxmU7d3HHeSHvEuRUYjeD5z9hJ4OeNK45HYZEi2mGJYT20sm92UuF4/s640/writing+center.jpg" width="640" id="id_a8b_6708_3959_6af3" style="width: 647px; height: auto;"></a></div><img id="id_a55f_571d_454f_72b0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdhF33D0XqGDs45LhWWOeXCMrisp8JdF8lWvP2gE-qFbPfcN3Kjt9vdF1RKkn1S2Lor8FDKMbESXH0eyVTDmg7TpPLmlfrrwKKcPiq4ZB9x60a51IDya43nyVIaTVyNCmZ-rB/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br>carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com02051 Wiggins Way, El Paso, TX 79902, USA31.7673509 -106.50468934.7969694000000018 -147.8132833 58.7377324 -65.1960953tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20349254.post-85913569217060125242017-09-02T18:10:00.000-06:002017-09-03T17:50:11.286-06:00Buddy the King<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4KIJrOYXJRrwxO1K8FvAHB2awytxi1F0TNqyi5ed5TsmK9-zirWlBlKF52A2iiPsRA175swwY9eQVq8pnXHhRlxWp_a5JyZoiHfh-FePtsaxWo8FGEKcVbYprEoBJCphDi2k1/s1600/buddy_watercolor2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4KIJrOYXJRrwxO1K8FvAHB2awytxi1F0TNqyi5ed5TsmK9-zirWlBlKF52A2iiPsRA175swwY9eQVq8pnXHhRlxWp_a5JyZoiHfh-FePtsaxWo8FGEKcVbYprEoBJCphDi2k1/s400/buddy_watercolor2.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "cambria" , "calisto mt" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Much like the time he fell into the badly covered and abandoned pool next door, he missing a day until meowing back to my call for him, Buddy was King until the end—dignified, even annoyed at any less than a dignified situation he found himself, whether then or just a short time ago. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: "cambria" , "calisto mt" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 16px;">He hadn’t maowed his Flamepoint meow since Thursday. It was the singular call, one that belied his Siamese and Tabby heritage. </span><br />
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Saturday morning at Crossroads Animal Hospital, the veterinarian pronounced his paper thin veins would make his anesthesia injection too worrisome for the old cat. She didn't want to keep poking to inject properly, so she opted for a slower acting place to inject<span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: 12.0pt;">—</span>the abdomen.<br />
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Her first try at hitting his vein had resulted in a subcutaneous bubble, its blueness translucent through shaved white skin. Before that, she noted he had developed a pronounced heart murmur since his last visit.<br />
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She agreed with our determination to let him go. We told her he had stopped eating and drinking. He could no longer keep his food down, and he had difficulty climbing the steps to our bed. Yet, he valiantly fought off her second and final medication that she injected.<br />
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Slower, accurate the drugs finally did their duty even as he struggled to keep from sleep as a supreme monarch would. His last breaths continued after his brain had left this earthly realm. His muscles and nerves worked after his consciousness gone.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTrcd7bbNEf9zE_zYaz_mEfzaAvPbI7Dw1S6Ts8_NcT4Ku4vmGhbItAJiVEk8mqa8iW3zWdC6-8-jDgZwST5vl1FYEiIIooQERQS9Az8o0mcEMinTyN53gMDnKXHnEIHuMTKs/s1600/buddy_watercolor1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="864" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTrcd7bbNEf9zE_zYaz_mEfzaAvPbI7Dw1S6Ts8_NcT4Ku4vmGhbItAJiVEk8mqa8iW3zWdC6-8-jDgZwST5vl1FYEiIIooQERQS9Az8o0mcEMinTyN53gMDnKXHnEIHuMTKs/s320/buddy_watercolor1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Buddy had a matchless strength and hauteur, the counterpart to our first cat Inky, a tiny "dowager empress." She was a black stray we first found during the 1995 July fourth weekend. She died in 2013, a little before my father came to live with us after my mom died and his hip replacement sentenced him to life in bed or wheelchair.<br />
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To me, Buddy was a great companion and helper when I lifted him, and placed him in my father’s railed bed; he gave dad great comfort and happiness. Many nights Buddy would remain, at the foot of dad’s bed until perhaps midnight or so. Then he’d jump off and meow at the backdoor, a signal he was ready to leave for the evening.<br />
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It was estimated by his primary vet that he was between 14 and 17 years old; but, we’ll never know. Never know from where he came, how old he was, and if he had another name. What we do know is that he had a home with us for nearly 10 years and was a joy to care about and for. </div>
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Thank you, Buddy. You reigned over this household and Foxes Arroyo well. </div>
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carolyn rhea drapes aka chacalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06359391760248612442noreply@blogger.com0