Dressing the Part – Again

17. April 2022 · Comments Off on Dressing the Part – Again · Categories: Book Event, Domestic

I am back to doing in-person book events again, after almost two years of practically nothing. Seriously, for all of 2021, I did two book events and one craft fair, which – to add insult to injury – resulted in sales so meagre that the sales tax reported and paid to the state amounted to about $15 bucks. With the end of the covid sort-of-epidemic trailing off, and the quiet death (at least in Texas) of mask and social distancing mandates, and people actually getting out of their homes and going to live events, big events like Folkfest and the upcoming Lone Star Book Festival in Seguin are back to something approximating normal.

Which is such a relief for me, although since these events are mostly outdoors, the matter of being comfortable in a historic costume does come up. Some of my Victorian and Edwardian outfits are polyester fabric, and as such are hideously uncomfortable in the heat. I’m not even going to chance wearing one of them at the Sequin event, which will be entirely out of doors and late in May. Last year, I wore a cotton dress with an apron over it, in the style of a WWI Red Cross nurse, which was comfortable enough, but this year it’s going to be a two-day thing (just as FolkFest was) which means two different outfits suitable for the out-of-doors in a Texas spring. I went with a long skirt and Edwardian-style cotton shirtwaist for both days, with the required underpinnings, which are all cotton.

I was asked several times if it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, in such clothing, Just about all the women reenactors were also wearing long dresses were asked the same question, to which the answer was – no, not really. The other ladies were wearing loose cotton dresses, although I was the only one who was also layering a corset and a petticoat over the shift undergarment. I had only the one shift, which meant putting it through the wash after the first day, before wearing it again. So in preparation for more summer events, I’m making another shirtwaist – in cotton, of course, and two of those late Victorian undergarments called ‘combinations’ – a one-piece version of underwear combining a shift top and knee-length bloomers. One has to wear a shift or combinations under a corset, as corsets, with the metal busk and bones, can’t really be washed. In the old days, it seems that corsets were worn, and worn and worn until they were in shreds – the layer of shift underneath and corset-cover over were to preserve the corset and keep it relatively clean as long as possible. I don’t mind wearing one, by the way – they’re really not that uncomfortable for the generously-busted, they eliminate the discomfort of bra straps digging into your shoulders and it does wonders for posture.

 

Better Late Than Never

15. April 2022 · Comments Off on Better Late Than Never · Categories: Domestic, Old West

Finally caught up with work, and have the time to post pictures from last weekend, at the New Braunfels FolkFest:

Playing Around With Furniture Restoration

20. March 2022 · Comments Off on Playing Around With Furniture Restoration · Categories: Domestic

My daughter will insist that I have been watching too many restoration videos on Toob of Yew, but honestly, it’s fascinating to me, watching rusty and ruined bits of this or that being brought back to life. I also have developed a serious case of power tool envy, after seeing what could be done with a sandblasting unit, when it comes to destroying rust. Wee Jamie watches these with me – I hope that the concept of repair and reuse sticks with him, also the fun of using power tools.

Anyway, there is in my kitchen a rolling kitchen island; a solid piece constructed of oil-finished rock maple with a butcher-block top. I bought it through the Williams-Sonoma catalogue sometime around 1986, mostly because my kitchen in Spain was dinky, and there was no place to put the microwave oven, having fallen for that bit of cooking technology when on leave visiting my parents, who had a lovely large one. It’s in my mind that it came at least partially assembled; and it must have been a bit pricy because Williams-Sonoma. For about a decade I dedicated my yearly income tax return towards solid pieces of furniture, and that unit might have been the pick of that year. Anyway, it was a sturdy piece, with double doors on each long side, a small drawer just below the butcherblock top and movable narrow shelves on the short sides. I kept spices on the narrow side shelves, and an array of French porcelain cooking dishes inside, and the rolling island followed us from Spain to Utah and then finally to Texas, where my kitchen is still small and woefully short of counter space.

Alas, although the rock maple parts of the cart have endured rather nicely, certain of the panels which were of thin maple veneer over composition – have not aged at all well. For a good few years we had a cat who was addicted to peeing on things, and for totally ruining household items, noting quite beats the power and stench of male cat urine. So it came to pass that we were both tired of looking at the ruined finish, not to mention the way that the bottom shelves and side panels were warping out of shape … and yesterday in a fit of exasperation and ambition, I emptied out the contents into boxes, and disassembled the cart.

“I was bored,” I said to my daughter when she got home with Wee Jamie, “And I thought I’d take the furniture apart.” (It will be at least three weeks before Roman the Neighborhood Handy Guy can come and re-do the back fence, and I was all afire to get SOMETHING done!)

For all of today, we used the palm sander by turns, sanding off all the stains on the various pieces, and using every bit of Liquid Wrench and WD-40 on hand to pry out wheels, which had rusted practically solid due to regular applications of cat pee. A trip to Lowe’s for some small birchwood plywood panels, some passes with the circular saw, and … only exhaustion plus an uncomfortable tingling in the hands kept us from doing any more work on it today.

Tomorrow, I’ll finish putting it back together, paint the base white and finish the butcherblock top with linseed oil – did I mention that I have a new paint sprayer? New rollers and a set of metal knobs are to be delivered tomorrow. When I eventually redo the kitchen, it will be all be in white-painted cabinets, but for now, the revamped cart will do.

Pictures to follow. The “Before” pics were too ghastly to unleash on an unwary public.

The Sins of Microsoft

05. March 2022 · 2 comments · Categories: Domestic, Random Book and Media Musings

The sins of Microsoft are many – but since their Office suite is practically universal, one almost has to use it, especially if one is not technically adept in matters of a programming nature. I do understand that there are means of working around, involving Linux and some open-source word processing packages, but frankly, it’s all too much for a practicing writer and small publisher to process and still get useful work done, for myself and for clients.

I am, as a matter of fact, completely happy with and sufficiently skilled with Word, with Excel and Publisher themselves, although I wish that they hadn’t gone with the new hotness and ongoing income stream of the subscription model – that is, pay yearly or monthly for the privilege of using the programs. (Yeah, when I started with all this, you bought the package straight up, on a DVD/CD which you installed and used – forever, or as long as the computer lived, or until they came up with a physical upgrade.). I’ve been working with the various versions and so-called upgrades for at least three decades, with Photoshop for at least that long, and Adobe Acrobat Pro for half that long.  Not a genius with either of the last two packages, but well enough to get by. What has lately frosted my cookies is the utter dogs’ breakfast of Microsoft’s consumer account system, and their customer service when things to do with the subscription go sideways.

To be brutally frank, it sucks sweaty pustulent donkey balls. It’s calculated, apparently, to avoid having to deal with a customer’s problem or complaint, much less actually do anything to fix the problem.

To recapitulate – early last month, I had to switch to a new computer, since the one I was currently using was beginning to glitch and had not enough memory to run several essential programs in the manner to which I would have liked them to run. Switching over all the saved documents which were on a detachable hard drive – no problem. Porting over all the bookmarks and settings – piece of cake. Going to my subscription accounts for Adobe Acrobat, and Photoshop, and re-installing those services on the new computer, no problem at all. But signing into my Microsoft account and trying to get the Office suite installed … headache on top of headache. I absolutely had to have those tools on my computer, being halfway through two different projects. My first intimation that Microsoft’s customer services sucks donkey balls – I went around and around on my account, but always came back to – having to pay for the subscription service again. (WHY? Adobe.com was perfectly transparent, and the services that I had already paid for were readily installed.) Bit the bullet and paid for the subscription anew.

Straight, so far? On Friday, Microsoft charged me for the yearly subscription, even though I had just two weeks previously – paid for a new subscription, because I couldn’t install the previously existing subscription package on the new computer. I signed into my account and tried to file a complaint, and request for a refund … and this time I went around and around for more than an hour. They are insidious in their customer service, you see. I twice tried calling the help telephone numbers I eventually found … and got a recorded message which sent me a link which referred me to another Microsoft website page … which circled back to where I had been before. I couldn’t cancel the transaction, couldn’t even change it to a monthly billing, they didn’t even recognize or accept my phone number (what? Although they could send an automated text message to that number.) Eventually, I found a page where I could file my complaint and describe my problem in a hundred characters or less. How very generous of them. No other option for filing a complaint or notifying them of a problem, which seems pretty measly, considering how large a company it is, and presumably stuffed full of technologically knowledgeable employees.

I did get an automated email answer – but one which asked that I type my reply above a line above … which couldn’t be done. Yes, Microsoft customer service sucks donkey balls. Even Amazon has better customer service; yes, they do low-key the contact email and number to call, but with a little persistence, you can eventually speak to a real human being. AT&T, my own bank, our local utility company – all do a much better job. Frankly, I’m convinced that Microsoft doesn’t really want customer interaction of any kind. They just want your money; customer satisfaction isn’t anywhere in the same room, or the building. Monopolies can operate like that, for a while, anyway.

Me, I hope for a refund, eventually, or just for communication with a human being in customer service – or for the SMOD to land on Redmond, Washington State. At this point, I figure the odds are equally split.

Visions of History on the Big and Small Screens

07. February 2022 · Comments Off on Visions of History on the Big and Small Screens · Categories: Domestic, Old West, Random Book and Media Musings

I am tempted to start watching the series 1883 – and likely will, as soon as it appears in one of our regular streaming services, but I am wondering, just reading about it – how far into the episodes I can get before walking away.

I mean, we barely lasted one episode into Texas Rising; a hideous and heartbreaking waste of time and video, being shot mostly in the wild mountains of Durango, Mexico, which bore no resemblance at all to the topography of Texas.* And no, the chapel of the Alamo does not have a crypt. They did get two things right, although the rest of the series was a cringe-fest, according to viewers who had stomachs stronger than mine. Texas did fight a war for independence from the Centralist dictatorship of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, and there was a battle at the Alamo in San Antonio, and another at San Jacinto, barely six months later. Otherwise, Texas Rising was heartbreaking for Texas history fans, because it could have been a totally enthralling account of the war for independence and the fight for independent statehood – elements and incidents which were so dramatic and improbable that hardly anything needed to be made up out of whole cloth.

That series and countless others fell into a common fault of movies and television series when ‘doing’ a Western – that is, a story set on the American frontier in the 19th century – wherever that frontier happened to be in any given decade from the 1820s on to the end of that century. The common failing is to run it all together in one murky blur, as if technologies large and small remained constant, as did fashions, the political and geographical landscape, relations with various Indian tribes. As I wrote in this essay, several years ago, “there were very specific and distinct places, as different as they could be and still be on the same continent. 1880’s Tombstone is as different from Gold Rush-era Sacramento, which is different again from Abilene in the cattle-boom years, nothing like Salt Lake City when the Mormons first settled there – and which is different again from Laura Ingalls Wilder’s small-town De Smet in the Dakota Territory – or any other place that I could name, between the Pacific Ocean and the Mississippi-Missouri.”

Setting the series to start in 1883 is curious enough – it’s just rather late in the history of the frontier to generate a long-trail wagon-train journey, and from Texas to Montana, too. The western market in beef cattle was about to go bust by the middle of that decade, and the northern ranges ravaged by two especially harsh winters in a row. The various Indian wars along the frontier were done and dusted, all but the last uprising of the Lakota Sioux, inspired by the Ghost Dance movement. The transcontinental railroad had been completed long since. By the mid-1880s just about every major city in the United States and Canada was connected by a network of shining steel rails, obliviating the necessity of a long and dangerous journey by wagon-train across all-but-empty lands in most of the trans-Mississippi west. A cast interview that I did read mentioned that the producers and directors were going all out for authenticity. Well, we’ll see, eventually. I recollect reading an article in Smithsonian, of all places – which lauded all the ways in which the producers of The Patriot were going all out in historical fidelity, but once I watched that movie, I realized that the authenticity was all in small details, such as props, costumes and weaponry … just not the whopping big plot elements, personalities and key incidents. I’m afraid that I will find the series 1888 to be another helping of the same old stuff.

*Wierdly enough – the movie The Highwaymen got the topography exactly right. Yes – the wide lonely vistas, the two-lane paved roads with the line of spindly power poles along-side and the bare fields of new corn or cotton, or whatever spreading out on either side, the tiny roadside gas stations … were exactly right. The small towns, and transient camps, the little tourist cabin enclaves … also exactly right, as to time and place. I have pictures of my own, taken on various road trips which can affirm this.  I don’t know how much that the production company for The Highwaymen spent to do location shooting – can’t have been more than Texas Rising – but one big production got it right, and the other fell spectacularly flat when it came to the ‘look’ of places.

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