Thursday, November 10, 2005


Mark and Silva's Wedding Posted by Picasa

Mark and Silva's Wedding Posted by Picasa

Friday, September 23, 2005

How to be creative

I found this true list about creativity when I was looking for information about Edward Gorey. [Our second film project is to shot Goreyesque.] In addition to the full text version link above, here is the link to Gapingvoid's site.

So you want to be more creative, in art, in business, whatever. Here are some tips that have worked for me over the years:

1. Ignore everybody.

The more original your idea is, the less good advice other people will be able to give you. When I first started with the biz card format, people thought I was nuts. Why wasn't I trying to do something more easy for markets to digest i.e. cutey-pie greeting cards or whatever?

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2. The idea doesn't have to be big. It just has to change the world.

The two are not the same thing.

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3. Put the hours in.

Doing anything worthwhile takes forever. 90% of what separates successful people and failed people is time, effort and stamina.

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4. If your biz plan depends on you suddenly being "discovered" by some big shot, your plan will probably fail.

Nobody suddenly discovers anything. Things are made slowly and in pain.

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5. You are responsible for your own experience.

Nobody can tell you if what you're doing is good, meaningful or worthwhile. The more compelling the path, the more lonely it is.

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6. Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten.

Then when you hit puberty they take the crayons away and replace them with books on algebra etc. Being suddenly hit years later with the creative bug is just a wee voice telling you, "I’d like my crayons back, please."

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7. Keep your day job.

I’m not just saying that for the usual reason i.e. because I think your idea will fail. I’m saying it because to suddenly quit one’s job in a big ol' creative drama-queen moment is always, always, always in direct conflict with what I call “The Sex & Cash Theory”.

8. Companies that squelch creativity can no longer compete with companies that champion creativity.

Nor can you bully a subordinate into becoming a genius.

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9. Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.

You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you don't make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow-line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness.

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10. The more talented somebody is, the less they need the props.

Meeting a person who wrote a masterpiece on the back of a deli menu would not surprise me. Meeting a person who wrote a masterpiece with a silver Cartier fountain pen on an antique writing table in an airy SoHo loft would SERIOUSLY surprise me.

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11. Don't try to stand out from the crowd; avoid crowds altogether.

Your plan for getting your work out there has to be as original as the actual work, perhaps even more so. The work has to create a totally new market. There's no point trying to do the same thing as 250,000 other young hopefuls, waiting for a miracle. All existing business models are wrong. Find a new one.

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12. If you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you.

The pain of making the necessary sacrifices always hurts more than you think it's going to. I know. It sucks. That being said, doing something seriously creative is one of the most amazing experiences one can have, in this or any other lifetime. If you can pull it off, it's worth it. Even if you don't end up pulling it off, you'll learn many incredible, magical, valuable things. It's NOT doing it when you know you full well you HAD the opportunity- that hurts FAR more than any failure.

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13. Never compare your inside with somebody else's outside.

The more you practice your craft, the less you confuse worldly rewards with spiritual rewards, and vice versa. Even if your path never makes any money or furthers your career, that's still worth a TON.

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14. Dying young is overrated.

I've seen so many young people take the "Gotta do the drugs and booze thing to make me a better artist" route over the years. A choice that was neither effective, healthy, smart, original or ended happily.

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15. The most important thing a creative person can learn professionally is where to draw the red line that separates what you are willing to do, and what you are not.

Art suffers the moment other people start paying for it. The more you need the money, the more people will tell you what to do. The less control you will have. The more bullshit you will have to swallow. The less joy it will bring. Know this and plan accordingly.

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16. The world is changing.

Some people are hip to it, others are not. If you want to be able to afford groceries in 5 years, I'd recommend listening closely to the former and avoiding the latter. Just my two cents.

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17. Merit can be bought. Passion can't.

The only people who can change the world are people who want to. And not everybody does.

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18. Avoid the Watercooler Gang.

They’re a well-meaning bunch, but they get in the way eventually.

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19. Sing in your own voice.

Piccasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldn't paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinberg's formal drafting skills were appalling. TS Eliot had a full-time day job. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan can't sing or play guitar.

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20. The choice of media is irrelevant.

Every media's greatest strength is also its greatest weakness. Every form of media is a set of fundematal compromises, one is not "higher" than the other. A painting doesn't do much, it just sits there on a wall. That's the best and worst thing thing about it. Film combines sound, photography, music, acting. That's the best and worst thing thing about it. Prose just uses words arranged in linear form to get its point across. That's the best and worst thing thing about it etc.

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21. Selling out is harder than it looks.

Diluting your product to make it more "commercial" will just make people like it less.
Many years ago, barely out of college, I started schlepping around the ad agencies, looking for my first job.

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22. Nobody cares. Do it for yourself.

Everybody is too busy with their own lives to give a damn about your book, painting, screenplay etc, especially if you haven't sold it yet. And the ones that aren't, you don't want in your life anyway.

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23. Worrying about "Commercial vs. Artistic" is a complete waste of time.

You can argue about "the shameful state of American Letters" till the cows come home. They were kvetching about it in 1950, they'll be kvetching about it in 2050.
It's a path well-trodden, and not a place where one is going to come up with many new, earth-shattering insights.

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24. Don’t worry about finding inspiration. It comes eventually.

Inspiration precedes the desire to create, not the other way around.

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25. You have to find your own schtick.

A Picasso always looks like Piccasso painted it. Hemingway always sounds like Hemingway. A Beethoven Symphony always sounds like a Beethoven's Syynphony. Part of being a master is learning how to sing in nobody else's voice but your own.

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26. Write from the heart.

There is no silver bullet. There is only the love God gave you.

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27. The best way to get approval is not to need it.

This is equally true in art and business. And love. And sex. And just about everything else worth having.

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28. Power is never given. Power is taken.

People who are "ready" give off a different vibe than people who aren't. Animals can smell fear; maybe that's it.

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29. Whatever choice you make, The Devil gets his due eventually.

Selling out to Hollywood comes with a price. So does not selling out. Either way, you pay in full, and yes, it invariably hurts like hell.

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30. The hardest part of being creative is getting used to it.

If you have the creative urge, it isn't going to go away. But sometimes it takes a while before you accept the fact.

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Sunday, August 21, 2005

Maternal great-great-great grandmother & her family

SOLOMON HOWARD SMITH. - Mr. Smith, a most generous and public-spirited citizen, and a pioneer of so early a day as 1832, was born at Lebanon, New Hampshire, December 26, 1809. He came of Revolutionary stock, his maternal grandfather having been a soldier in the war for Independence, and a relative of the Greeley family. His father was an assistant surgeon in the war of 1812, and died at Plattsburgh, New York, in 1813.
The boy Solomon was afforded good advantages, receiving his academic education at Norwich, Vermont; and he studied medicine with his uncle, Doctor Haven Foster, not, however, taking a diploma. In 1831, with a number of other adventurous spirits, he went fishing for cod on the Newfoundland banks, and met with good fortune, except that upon the return the schooner was run over by an English packet ship and sunk with cargo and all. Smith and the others were picked up and left at Boston bankrupt, as they were staking their fortune upon the sale of their fish, which they shared alike. At the city in which he found himself, Smith obtained employment as clerk, but in 1832 was moved to cast in his fortune with Captain Wyeth, and build up a great business upon the Pacific coast.

The severe journey across the plains and mountains he endured as well as the best, bidding adieu to one after another of the scions of the first Boston families who were in the party, as they turned back, meeting with William Sublette at the rendezvous on Green river, at Pierre's Hole. On the trip from that point to the Columbia, this side of the Salmon River Mountains, he endured seven days' fasting, eating nothing but the buds, or pome, of roses. Being at the head of one of the little parties into which Wyeth had divided his company he descried, on coming out of the mountains, an Indian tent with smoke in the distance, and making his way thither at the top of his horse's speed discovered upon arrival that the Indian had but shortly returned from the hunt, - a buffalo lying at the side of the tent; while the heart of the animal was boiling in the pot over the fire. To his eloquent gestures indicating his hunger, the Indian replied by immediately tendering the whole morsel; and the feast was royal and just completed as the other members of the party arrived. Their hunger was soon relieved, however, by recourse to the buffalo.

Reaching Vancouver, Mr. Smith soon found employment to succeed Mr. Ball as teacher of the school at the fort, filling out the term of which but two weeks had been taught, and following the first with a second term. The year following he married Celiast (see biography of Mrs. Helen Smith), and went to Gervais, making a settlement and teaching school at Chemawa. Afterwards he went to the mouth of the Chehalem creek, and assisted Ewing Young to build a mill, and made that point his home until 1840. Suffering, however, from ague, and hearing his wife tell of the excellent climate at her old home by the ocean, and conferring with McLoughlin, who advised the making of settlements only in communities large enough for protection, he with Daniel Lee went down the river in May, 1840, meeting at the mouth of the Columbia the ship Lausanne, with the reinforcements for the Methodist Mission. In August of the same year he made a removal to Clatsop, advising the missionaries also to establish a station there. From that time he made his home upon the beautiful Clatsop Plains.

He became the real agricultural pioneer of Clatsop county, as the fort of Astoria was simply for purposes of trade. In his capacity of pioneer he was the first to bring horses in the spring of 1841 to the mouth of the river, making a ferry-boat by means of two canoes lashed side by side. The horses were Spanish animals obtained from the place of Ewing Young and were put aboard the craft at St. Helens. With Mr. Frost he went to the Willamette valley and brought cattle via the Grande Ronde, Salmon river and Tillamook, and made subsequent trips. He opened out a farm, and, upon the great revival of business and trade consequent upon the opening of the gold mines in 1848, sold butter and beef to great profit, getting two dollars per pound for the former. He also had supplied beef to the wrecked crew of the Peacock in 1841, and for the Shark in 1846.

In 1849 he opened a store at Skipanon, Oregon, doing a large business and at one time carrying a stock worth twelve thousand dollars. In 1851 he went into the lumber business, leasing the old Harrall mill on the Lewis and Clarke river, and operating it successfully. From 1852 onwards he confined himself more strictly to conducting his farm. From the earliest years he was a friend of good order and progress. He was especially interested in schools, and with the few settlers in that region kept a teacher at a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. He held school offices constantly, and in 1874 was chosen by the people of the counties of Clatsop, Columbia and Tillamook as senator to the state legislature. It was while serving in that office that he died, in August, 1876. Sol H. Smith will always be remembered as a pioneer of great enterprise and generosity, opening out a new country and extending every possible assistance to those who came after him.

He had a family of seven children, three of whom



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570 HISTORY OF PACIFIC NORTHWEST - OREGON AND WASHINGTON.
are living: Silas Smith, born in Chehalem valley September 22, 1839, was brought up with his father, and at the age of majority went East to study law, reading with W.N. Blair, a county solicitor, and a cousin of Senator Blair of New Hampshire. Mr. Smith is a thorough lawyer and a very effective speaker, a man indeed of much culture and broad ideas. He resides upon the old place of his father near Skipanon. His wife, Mary H., daughter of Deacon G.W. Swain, of Laconia, New Hampshire, is a lady of culture and attractive social qualities. They have five children. Mrs. Josephine Ketchum, Sol Smith's elder daughter, resides in San Luis Obispo county, California; Mrs. Charlotte Braillier, the younger, resides near Skipanon.

MRS. HELEN SMITH. - There survives within the limits of the old Oregon no person whose life possesses more universal interest than the lady whose name appears above, and of whom we present an excellent portrait. The widow of a pioneer whose first operations upon this coast belong to the antique days of Wyeth and Kelly, her own memory extends to the remote times of the Astor expedition of 1811; and her infant life was contemporary with the explorations of Lewis and Clarke in 1805. The entire panorama of the occupation and settlement of our state has therefore passed before her eyes. She has been no careless observer of these great events; and her mind, still clear and active, retains a surprisingly vivid recollection of our early Oregon history. As thus pictured in her mind, this possesses a peculiar interest from the fact that it has been drawn exclusively from personal observation from the standpoint of the native owners of our state.

Celiast, whose christian name is Helen, is the daughter of Coboway (incorrectly written Commowool by Bancroft), and dates her birth in the year 1804. Her father was the chief of the Clatsops, a tribe whose boundaries extended from the mouth of the Columbia river southward to Ecahni Mountain (Carni), eastward thence to Swallalahost or Saddle Mountain, and thence by Young's river back to the Columbia. The Clatsops were a quite and peaceable people, having the same language as the more numerous tribe of the Chinooks. They were possessed of many arts and accomplishments, which, although of a different order from our own, betrayed no less the inventive genius and predominance of the human mind. Their houses, often sixty feet in length, and made of split cedar planks sometimes twenty feet long and three feet wide, the canoes hollowed from cedar trees by means of chisels and mallets, and steamed and strained to a greater width by means of a fire kindled in the hollow after the process of chipping out was nearly completed; the salmon seines made of wild flax threaded and twisted into chords; and lastly the clothing made of the skins of wild animals and of frizzled cedar bark, with elaborate ornamentations of shells, pebbles, quills, feathers, and later of beads, - were all specimens of industry, and o f ingenuity which would tax the skill and patience of the European. For some years before the birth of Celiast, the Clatsop Indians had carried on a trade with the passing ships fro strap and scrap iron, of which they made their chisels and knives and for beads. The traders of Astoria still later supplied them with cloths, and to some extend with firearms.

Coboway, chief of this people, held his title as did the chiefs of the most of the native races, - by virtue of his intelligence and activity. He was a faithful and honest man, of much service to Lewis and Clarke, and was intrusted by them with the certificate announcing their arrival and wintering at the mouth of the Columbia; and this document, as by request the chief delivered to the captain of the first vessel entering the harbor. Among other duties of the Indian chief was the delivering of the stories, legends and beliefs of the tribe to his successors; and from her father the young Indian girl learned all the myths of Ecahni, Tallapus and Old Thunder with the faiths and maxims of the tribe delivered as they were in rhythmic language with vivid narratives. From the regular and clearly carved features, the lofty brow and large expressive eyes of this now venerable woman of more than eighty years, we may suppose that in her youth she was of unusual beauty. Soon after reaching womanhood, in accordance with the custom of the Hudson's Bay Company, she was sought and married by one of the employés of the organization, a Frenchman by the name of Porier, the baker at Fort George or Astoria. She bore him three children, and in the removal to Vancouver in 1824 accompanied him thither.

It was during her residence at the latter point that there occurred an event which must have been exceedingly distressing to her feelings. This was the bombardment of the Indian village at Tansy Point by a British schooner. The sanguinary affair was brought about as a result of the wreck of the bark William and Ann at the Columbia bar, and a difficulty in obtaining the wreckage. This was one of the few occasions upon which McLoughlin showed severity; and his course has been justified on the ground that the Indians had murdered the crews of the vessel. This charge has, however, ever been earnestly denied by the remnants of the Clatsop Indians; and it seems hardly just to let it stand without their protest and explanation. By their account, and indeed by all authentic records, the William and Ann, in company with the American schooner Convoy, Captain Thompson, sought to enter the river late in the day, in the month of February or early in March (the month of smelt). The schooner was in the lead, and passed safely into Baker's Bay; but the bark missed the channel and struck on the middle sands, holding fast. A boat from the schooner, as appears from the accounts of a sailor of the Convoy, attempted to go to the relief of the unfortunate crew; but the wind rising brought them into peril, and compelled them to return without reaching the bark. During the night the William and Ann went to pieces; and, as the Indians said, the crew were drowned. The Convoy went up the river bearing the tidings; and in due time a boat party came from Vancouver to investigate the wreck. They found no trace of the crew; but much of the cargo was in possession of the Indians. among other effects of the ship was a boat with the oars,



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SKETCHES. 571
found in the hands of a sub-chief of the Clatsops. This Indian declared that he found it floating in Young Bay. He moreover incited the others, and confirmed them in their intention to retain the wreckage which they had gathered, all but one of the Indians refusing to give up any of the property. Upon pressure and threats from the English, the saucy chief produced a small, decrepit, bail dipper, and said that he would send it (with his respects) to the chief factor. This ultimatum carried back to Vancouver brought as a response an armed schooner, which shelled the village, and from which an assault was made; and the recalcitrant chief, with two of his men, was killed. The village was also ransacked for the lost goods, and generally pillaged. The bombardment, which occurred, not upon the loss of the crew, but two months later upon the refusal of the Indians to give up the plunder, seems to have had an adequate cause, not in the belief of the English that the crew had been murdered, but that it was dangerous to allow any Indians to hold their old view that they might call their own anything that they found or that came from the ocean; but that the property of the English was everywhere sacred, and must be given up on demand.

Some years after the removal of Celiast to Vancouver, it was discovered by McLoughlin that her husband, Porier, had another wife in Canada; and upon the chief factor's advice she left the Frenchman, retaining only the youngest of her three children, which she also relinquished a few years later. She took up her residence with her sister, Mrs. Gervais, at French Prairie, but was frequently at the fort. There she was first seen by Solomon Smith, and sought by him as a wife. In the absence of any civil or ecclesiastical authority, ceremony was dispensed with; but in conscience they were bound, and a few years alter were formally joined by the missionary Jason Lee. They now spent some years at Chemawa, and later at the mouth of Chehalem creek; but in 1840 Celiast, or Helen, was rejoiced to guide the canoe of her husband, which also conveyed Daniel lee and a crew of Wasco Indians, to the scenes of her old home at the mouth of the Columbia river. This excursion was made in May. In August following a regular removal was effected thither; and after a short stop at the mouth of a romantic little stream, the Neacoxa, by the ocean beach, a permanent home was formed at the north end of Clatsop Plains, on a farm embracing some of the finest grass land of that region famous for herbage. There Mrs. Smith has lived for just under about half a century, conducting her household in an exemplary and capable manner. Since the death of her husband, she has kept a cottage of her own, apart from the other members of her family but upon the old homestead.

In the early years of the settlement on the plains, she rendered the Whites many important services. Once as the whole band of Clatsops, augmented by the Tillamooks, were on the way to massacre the family of a man at whom they were enraged, she met them while in full array, and by cogent arguments, directed both to their caution and to their nobility, turned them back from their bloody purpose. Her influence over them was remarkable; and it is probable that, if she had not used it at that very moment in the interest of the white settler, a local and perhaps a general Indian war would have ensued. At another time, she saved the life of that worthy gentleman, Mr. Frost, by seizing by the hair the Indian Katata, and wrenching from his hand the gun with which he was about to shoot the missionary. Once more she wrenched from the hand of her husband the gun-stock with which he was about to brain an Indian who was making upon him a murderous attack, but whose arm was already paralyzed by one blow of the weapon. Mr. Smith was ever glad to have been prevented from killing the fellow, as he proved after his punishment to be a faithful friend.

These incidents illustrate the courageous and noble nature of Mrs. Smith, and the careful study of her portrait impresses one with the benevolence and integrity of her character. Although now an octogenarian, she is still in good health; and her mind is not impaired by age. She must not be omitted from among the number of those who have made our state, since her services, whether as wife and mother in a new settlement, as a pioneer of one of the oldest of our counties, or in bidding a hundred excited Indians to leave the settlers unharmed, have been of the highest value.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Polydactyl


Darwin Posted by Hello

Polydactyly, or extra digits, is a common trait among cats. . . . known by various names - "mitten cats", "thumb cats", "six-finger cats" and "Hemingway cats". The latter is because of writer Ernest Hemingway who made his home on the small island of Key West, Florida. He shared the island with nearly 50 cats, including a 6-toed polydactyl given to him by a ship captain; the cats bred and the polydactyl trait became common, hence polydactyls are often known as "Hemingway Cats". Hemingway's colony of cats was free-breeding with the local cat population and the ratio of polydactyl cats to normal-toes cats was about 50/50. Another story suggests that the cat given to Hemingway was a female double-pawed cat and that the polydactyl cats on the island came from 19th Century ships' cats. The high rate of polydactyl cats in Boston, USA has also led to the nickname "Boston Thumb Cats". The nickname "double-pawed" cats is a misnomer since there is a specific double paw condition.

Darwin and mouse Posted by Hello

Friday, June 17, 2005


Baby One and Baby Two Posted by Hello

Sunday, June 12, 2005


Knives Tattoo Posted by Hello

Sunday, April 24, 2005


brothers & sisters on Mom's back deck Posted by Hello

Monday, February 28, 2005

The Gates


The Gates Posted by Hello

The Gates official website, project and artist information about Jeanne Claude and Christo. They have a sense of humor while setting the record straight on common errors.

Touching The Gates


me & The Gates Posted by Hello

Four months (June 23, 2005) after the end of The Gates' installation forty-eight items were listed for sale on the Ebay search Christo The Gates. Standing on the base and touching the fabric of The Gates seemed to be the most common impulse among visitors.

Christo and his lawyers have aggressively sought to limit images and use of the name. There have been other recent efforts to copyright public space.

The Gates at Harlem Meer


The Gates / Harlem Meer Posted by Hello

The 11-acre Harlem Meer (Dutch for "Lake") and its surrounding wooded landscape were constructed after the lower Park had been completed. The saying "Save the best for last," comes to mind . . .

Friday, February 18, 2005


run rabbit run Posted by Hello

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Grandma Day


Grandma Day @ 8 years old (front, third from left) and family Posted by Hello

Sunday, January 23, 2005


I put fringe on the throw I knitted while Mom was in the hospital Posted by Hello

Sunday, January 16, 2005


66 apple tarts baked for work cookie exchange Posted by Hello

Monday, January 10, 2005


One turkey Posted by Hello

Gaggle in the yard Posted by Hello

Sunday, January 02, 2005


Mom's tree waiting for trash day Posted by Hello

Grandma Day's gingerbread ornament Posted by Hello

Mom's Charlie Brown tree Posted by Hello