Don't think that being quarter Cherokee would save your butt! You are still 75% something else! She is one mean woman and I autta know! :p
Anyway, the old clock on the wall reads time to "vamoose", so have a great weekend all! :wave:
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Don't think that being quarter Cherokee would save your butt! You are still 75% something else! She is one mean woman and I autta know! :p
Anyway, the old clock on the wall reads time to "vamoose", so have a great weekend all! :wave:
So much to catch up with, I think I'll just juggle for a while ...
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mags
Good picture Mags.Hope below sites help. :grin:
http://yoyoguy.com/info/ball/index2.html
http://www.acm.uiuc.edu/webmonkeys/juggling/
Meanwhile, unseen to many, the Ladies Embroidery Class reopens. Ms Butterfly is keen to impart her knowledge to the ladies sitting poised with needles, silk and various materials.
She said, 'we will start with Daisy stitch, you have to thread your needle with white silk or green, depending on whether you are doing the leaves or the daisies. Then you carefully insert the needle into the material, don't stick the needle into your thumb, otherwise we shall have to look for bandages. Then you pull the needle through the material with the thread attached, don't lose it, otherwise, we shall have to go hunt for it. When the needle and the thread is through to the other side of the material, you put your hand up and I will let you know what to do next ....'
She smiled sweetly, as Embroidery Teachers do, and waited for results ... who would be the first?
"Arrr.." says Ahab, "This be a might similar t'mending sails, excepting that the needles here be smaller."
Mrs. Butterfly nods approvingly as Ahab threads his needle. She glances over at Moby who is all flippers and flukes as he struggles with a bobbin of pink thread. "There was just no hope for some people, err.... creatures." She thought to herself, feigning a smile of encouragement in Moby's direction.
"With me new mate, Moby, I can't do scrimshaw no more." says Ahab to no one in particular as he busily stitches away.
Mrs. Butterfly smiles again. With the exception of Moby, the class is going well.
Ahab looks up and says, "Mam, you wouldn't be having a dram o' grog handy, would you? This be right thirsty work."
Mrs. Butterfly, Vice President of the Virtuous Women's Temperance League, bristles with umbrage. "I should say not!" she replies frostily.
Standing erect to her highest pinnacle of virtue, she surveys Ahab with suspicion. Then horror! Oh horror! She comes to the startling realization that Ahab, her new pupil whom she had hoped to drag from the gutter onto the true path of righteousness and purity, was not stitching the daisy pattern the class had been studying but had rather started something in a lurid scrimshaw style involving mermaids and sailors, doing exactly what she was not entirely sure.
In the most un-genteel of fashions, she suddenly screamed, "Where will it end? What has happened to the Prehistoric Planet? Where is sanity?"
With a shaking hand, she reached into her sewing basket and pulled out a bottle of Lydia Pinkham's Nerve Tonic for Women, unscrewed the cap, and took a large swig.
Ahab, rubbing his parched lips, looked up and said, "Ere, that be good stuff. A dram o' that be like a double grog followed by a couple pipes o' opium."
As he reached for the bottle expectantly, Mrs. Butterfly fainted.
Daisy and Claire put down their needlework and came over to Moby and Ahab.
"She not be very sociable with the grog." Ahab said peevishly.
Daisy replied, "I think its time to go."
Moby who had just managed to thread his needle looked disappointed. Ahab looked hurt and confused.
Claire turned up her posh nose and thought to herself, "You can put bilge water into a champagne bottle, but it will never be anything but bilge water. Good God! What does Daisy see in this riff raff?"
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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg
It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!
Aye mateys ’struth be told in days of old there be pirates in Saskatchewan. So sit ye down with a dram o’grog while tell ye a tale or two
bq. The Last Saskatchewan Pirate
I used to be a farmer and I made a livin’ fine
I had a little stretch of land along the CP line
But times went by and though I tried the money wasn’t there
And bankers came and took my land and told me fair is fair
I looked for every kind of job, the answer always no
“Hire you now?” they always laughed, “We just let twenty go!”
The government they promised me a measly little sum
But I’ve got too much pride to end up just another bum
Then I thought who gives a damn if all the jobs are gone
I’m going to be a pirate on the River Saskatchewan….
Arrrrrgh!
Cause it’s a Heave! Ho! Hay! Ho! Comin’ down the plains
Stealin’ wheat and barley and all the other grains
It’s a Ho! Hay! Hi! Hay! Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores
Well you’d think the local farmers would know that I’m at large
But just the other day I found an unprotected barge
I snuck up right behind them and they were none the wiser
I rammed the ship and sank it and I stole their fertilizer
A bridge outside of Moosejaw spans a mighty river
Farmers cross in so much fear their stomachs are aquiver
‘Cause they know that Tractor Jack is hiding in the bay
I’ll jump the bridge and knock them cold and sail off with their hay
Cause it’s a Heave! Ho! Hay! Ho! Comin’ down the plains
Stealin’ wheat and barley and all the other grains
It’s a Ho! Hay! Hi! Hay! Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores
Well Mountie Bob he chased me, he was always at my throat
He’d follow on the shoreline but he didn’t own a boat
But cutbacks were a comin’ and the mountie lost his job
So now he’s sailin’ with me and we call him Salty Bob
A swingin’ sword, a scull ‘n’ bones and pleasant company
I never pay my income tax and screw the G.S.T. (screw it!)
Prince Albert down to Saskatoon, the terror of the sea
If you want to reach the Co-op, boy, you gotta get by me!
Cause it’s a Heave! Ho! Hay! Ho! Comin’ down the plains
Stealin’ wheat and barley and all the other grains
It’s a Ho! Hay! Hi! Hay! Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores
Well pirate life’s appealing but you don’t just find it here
I’ve heard that in Alberta there’s a band of buccaneers
They roam the Athabaska from Smith to Fort McKay
You’re gonna lose your Stetson if you have to pass their way
Well winter is a comin’ and a chill is in the breeze
My pirate days are over when the river starts to freeze
I’ll be back in spring time, but now I have to go
I heard there’s lots of plunderin’ down in New Mexico
Cause it’s a Heave! Ho! Hay! Ho! Comin’ down the plains
Stealin’ wheat and barley and all the other grains
It’s a Ho! Hay! Hi! Hay! Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores
Bad knitting song...I guess. But,Sing it they all did! :grin:
...then Ms Butterfly cautiously opened her eyes, her lips twitching then she said, 'I am VERY pleased to see that Moby has threaded his needle .. and I'm not mean with the grog, it's really only suitable for Ladies of a Delicate Disposition....'
Ms Butterfly then proceeded to wait with interest, to see who would join Moby in this most suitable task of embroidery?
El Squid struggled to thread his needles and get on with the embroidering, but sadly, he was all tentacles when it came right down to it.
Mr. P, on the other hand, wore a glove, which has nothing to do with embroidery, at all.
Chi Ken, deep in a zen-embroidery trance, whipped out a beautiful waterfall scene, complete with cranes and lotus blossoms, unfortunately embroidered into his own thigh, as he neglected to pick up his piece of silk.
And, as we all know, a stich in thigh, gathers no moss.
Ms Butterfly looked with interest and compassion upon her eager class.
She could see real potential in El Squid and felt that he could embroider about ten items at a time.
She looked back in her ancient instruction manual and realised she had failed to say that one must put one hand underneath the material, so that stitches don't dig deep into flesh. However, she did feel that Chi Ken's design was so beautiful, that she dashed to get her camera....
..and this, was the result -
http://theseoultimes.com/ST/db2/imag...0126113144.jpg
There are always things from one's past that one cannot escape, even by running away to sea.
Chi-Ken's so-called embroidery extended over most of his body. It was needle work of an entirely different kind. Then there was the missing little finger on his left hand, the permed hair, the sunglasses, and his fondness for Nissan Fairladies with black windows.
It all added up. It all made sense...........
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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg
It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!
It all made sense ... to Ms Butterfly, who with a glimpse of inspiration so rare in her life, she wondered if she'd been living before?
She realised here was a whole new craft, not just pretty lace embroidered serviettes, tablecloths, cushion covers, blouses and suchlike, but whole men !
She wondered whether she ought to split the class into two, one evening to concentrate on real embroidery and the other evening, to concentrate on this new craft.
So she proceeded to write a new instruction manual ... which would contain things like ...
... using a dictionary before committing to any "permanent" text and how to tastefully cover up any previous work, especially if it involves names. Perhaps, she mused, it would be wiser to start off with some simple blue-black jail house designs, such as a tear drop or broken heart, before assaying into colored inks or complex motifs.
Now, if only she could talk that Squid fellow into contributing a bit of ink, she could get started.
But, the Squid fellow was not to give up any ink.He had plans for a full body tatoo.
Ms. Butterfly put her hands on her hips (that way teachers do )and glared down at the Squid.Her mind was made up................................
But,the Squid fellow always kept his ink in his top hat.She could never find it there
unless..................
... she got some help from the white rabbit who lived in it. One had to be very careful when reaching into that top hat, for it enclosed a dimensional anomality, otherwise known as a worm hole, resulting from frequent exposure to the cephalopod's unusual cerebral emanations.
So, being very careful not to stick any part of her hand into the hat itself, Madame Butterfly rapped politely on it's brim.
"Hello! Is anybody in there?"