I need to get a new camera. There's so much to show you, but I don't want to schlep along my big bead camera everywhere I go, and the little pocket camera died back in Seattle. I guess I should just surrender to getting a new phone, one with all the bells and whistles... and a camera. After all, my phone is crapping out on me too, as I guess it's supposed to after five years or so. Remember when a good sturdy phone came with your house, rugged and dependable and bolted to the wall? I miss that in some ways, but not enough to go back to it. Moving forward, always moving forward. Technology won't wait for the stragglers.
In the absence of a camera, imagine three fifty-ish women, setting out on a thrift shopping excursion to Yreka, California, about 45 minutes south of Ashland. Mitzi and Serena both showed up at my door wearing black and white printed tops, which they did not plan. I teased them about it, but blended in well, wearing a plain black shirt with my jeans. We all busted up though when i picked up my bag, which is, oh yes, a black and white print.
We hit every thrift store in Yreka, on the look out for all things fabulous. I found a brand new red wool, Liz Claiborne cap with a jaunty little newsboy brim for two bucks, and a nice office chair which I need for the studio. Serena found some cute clothes. And Mitzi scored the big deal of the day - a fluorescent lime-and-purple leopard print, large brimmed pimp hat. I dared her to wear it in the street, and of course she was more than happy to oblige, carrying her bags of plastic baby dolls (for use in the Bonehead Project), and a three foot long, battery operated, vibrating, blue massage tube she got on sale for a mere $1.75.
Imagine friends, these three women, causing such a ruckus that other women were following them from store to store, just for the entertainment. And imagine, at the end of the day, Mitzi in her pimp hat, Serena in Mitzi's abandonned pink straw cowboy hat, and me on my new chair, rolling down the sidewalk of downtown Yreka, laughing so hard we could barely breathe. And I swear, not a drop to drink.
I promise to start carrying a camera of some sort.