Personal Pasta Purgatory

This Thursday past was the due date for our Color and Design projects. (Think back and remember me dyeing thousands of noodles…)

So. Pretty much non-stop (no kidding – if I wasn’t wrist deep in noodles, I was waiting for them to dry and if I wasn’t doing either of those, I was thinking about the lamp) for the past two/three weeks I’ve been working on this lamp.

I spent around sixty dollars on it.

Who knows how many hours…

I had such dreams for it. I thought it was going to be spectacular.

It’s not.

As with all things, there were many unforeseen issues that arose.

· The noodles dried on the top but not the underneath

· Noodles have a penchant for rotting. And making your entire apartment smell disgusting

· Although they seem it, noodles are not that strong. They will collapse

· Noodles, like all things that soak in water, shrink when they dry (Ok, that one I did see coming)

· “Lamp Kits” don’t come with bases for the lamps

· “Lamp Kits” are not kits at all. They’re several individual pieces that you need to buy individually.

· Et cetera.

So, I had dyed all those ring noodles and some manicotti. The manicotti either collapsed while drying or were so brittle when done that they just fell apart so I had to come up with a new idea for my base.

I bought some lasagna noodles and I dyed them. I loved the ruffles on the edges and I was

determined to use them.

I put some aluminum foil over the only thing that I could find that I thought would work: my preexisting table lamp – for the shape of the shade, extending it downward with the tinfoil. I then began to layer noodles on.

When they dried (which is a relative term, because they really didn’t underneath where it was touching the foil) they were so heavy that they warped and broke where the foil was not supported by the lamp.

I threw that whole piece out and bought more lasagna noodles.

I started over (on Monday) and overnight I created an entire shade and a really crappy base that I redid on Tuesday after class.

Finally, I had what looked like a lamp, but it was still wet and I was really afraid that it wasn’t going to be done for Thursday.

I got it to dry well enough and I coated it in come polycrilic that I bought just for that occasion on yet another trip to Home Depot to buy supplies for this lamp (I ruined the first socket because the directions didn’t tell me that once it was put together, it was not going to come apart without being completely ruined).

And Voila! Everything was ready to be put together.

The problem was that when I went to go put the shade on the lamp, I knew that it was not going to support itself. So I fashioned a fancy wire frame for it.

But the base was really wobbly. The whole thing almost fell off of the shelf I had it on because it was so bad.

I didn’t have enough rice to weight it down and I couldn’t get bulgar wheat in so I decided to fill the tube for the base with plaster – thinking that it might come spilling out the bottom, but also being pretty sure that I got glue all around the bottom so it really shouldn’t come out.

It came out.

It was covered in plaster and it was so brittle as to fall apart easily – but it was together.

I was disheartened and upset. I didn’t want to bring it in to class at all because I knew that it looked pretty bad, but I had tried my hardest and well, the idea itself is pretty original and complicated.

I got just the feedback I was expecting: Cool idea, I’m sorry about the execution. Then I received some ideas to make it better.

Maybe one day I’ll try again but for now – I’m kind of done with pasta.

The New Lorax: This One Speaks for the River.

Throughout my two years at Arcadia, I’ve heard the name Chris Swain mentioned at least a dozen times. E-wastes drives and swimming. I guess it never really occurred to me to look him up even though Steph and Iris sung his praises.

That was, until, as all things are, Steph asked me to set up an event for him at Arcadia.

It took me a while to contact him but I finally got through and I must say our conversation was pretty funny. I was only really half expecting it. Only half and not less because I was, well, warned, I guess?

So, we set up a date and time and discussed all the details and it was pretty much set to go. Of course, there were some hitches but that’s rather inconsequential now.

Anyway!

Our event was Friday, but on Thursday TTF was holding a screening of his Hudson River documentary.

I wasn’t able to go.

At first.

Then I emailed those whom I was going to work for and asked if I could leave at 6 and they were ok with that.

Then that work was cancelled altogether and I got to go no matter what! I was REALLY excited. I (as you may remember) went to one of their screenings a few weeks ago and it was a blast.

So anyway. On the way there Jamie and I were pondering whether or not Chris was going to be there and Steph couldn’t really say either. When we arrive Sarah tells us that Chris will be there for the discussion portion of the screening.

The movie, I thought, was quite good. I commented to myself on how I really appreciated all the extra bits of information as he went down the Hudson – little trivia things that, even though I was born spitting distance from the river, I did not know.

Chris was, as ever, really funny throughout the thing.

At the end, however, I found the most powerful piece of the film. I actually got a little teary at the sculpture at the end. I laughed that I, the artist in the room, would really be impacted by that. (I found out later that he requested that if they were to do a documentary about him, it would be informational and that he thought the sculpture at the end was weird)

The movie ended and Chris was “two miles away.”

We started without him and, as discussion with this group seem to do, it flowed really well and was quite thought provoking.

Suddenly, from where I am sitting, I see something moving through a crack in the door. We all fall silent as we hear the outside door open and almost instantly he who must be Chris Swain bursts through the door and immediately asks if anyone has any questions.

If I thought talking on the phone with him was funny, this was probably the funniest thing in the world.

But in all truth, no matter how many jokes Chris makes or however many funny things he does, this is a serious situation and there is definitely a serious lining to everything here.

People really do go everyday without clean water. People die everyday from not having access to it. More people die of not having clean water than any other disease.

What he’s doing is not only brave – because he is swimming through some really nasty stuff – but it’s also really inspiring. Even from the video, we could see that he really touched a lot of people and brought the issue to the forefront if it wasn’t there already.

But, not to make the mood somber or anything, when we left we saw that Chris had parked on the lawn. Not in the parking lot. Not in the driveway. On the little tiny five foot patch of lawn in front of the house. And it looked like he was in such a rush that he must’ve slammed on the brakes because he was pretty close to the house.

And he had no coat. Mind you, it was freezing AND he had just driven from Massachusetts – where it is no doubt even colder.

The three of us ended up creating scenarios that kept us laughing all the way home.

But I digress.

I had finally met the famous Chris Swain.

Friday night was our event at Arcadia (that I set up! YAY!) and I was really nervous that no one would show up. I also got upset when Steph told me that I stupidly put November on the flyers instead of December. It was too late at that point.

Finally it gets to be time to actually head over to Brubaker. We get there and set everything up and Steph shows up. Then another club member. Then Chris.

At the end of it all we had ten people, which isn’t bad I suppose. I do really wish that more people came though because well, he’s really a great guy with a lot to say.

Speaking of that: Here’s what he said. But not quoted. And really jumbled from it almost being a week now since that Friday.

Both nights, he talked about finding and doing something that you love. This makes it easy to get up and love what you’re doing. It helps you do it well. I’ve been saying this a lot lately: It’s cliché, but it’s cliché for a reason. It’s true.

A conversation spurred off of what one of the people at the movie discussion about being the first crazy person to do something. Imagine a guy at a concert. Everyone is sitting but this one crazy guy is up and dancing away. Everyone thinks he’s crazy and they just want him to sit down so they can be at the concert in peace. But then something strange happens – someone else gets up to dance too. Pretty soon – within minutes – the entire place is up and dancing. Who was the one to really get the idea going? The first crazy man who only one person would consider dancing with, or that second guy who was the social lubricant that got everyone else up and moving?

On Arcadia’s night, Chris talked about how many sea turtles die from ingesting or choking on plastic bags. I don’t really want to recount the numbers, so if you’re interested, look them up. It’s a lot. Stop using plastic bags. I love sea turtles.

And then there were the sharks. Apparently there was legislation afoot that would ban – in US waters – anyone from having “pieces of a shark” on their boat. If there was a shark fin on a boat “there’d better be s hark attached to it.” This legislation never went any further than some secretaries desk. These sharks deserve better. There’s something like a 90% decrease in the amount of sharks than there were before – I forgot how long before…

Since Chris is swimming in the Atlantic, he is taking a great risk. Not only could his crew all fall in the water, he could be swept away, or eaten by sharks, or… Well, the shark bit is interesting. He talked on Friday about how people have recommended silly things for him to do to avoid sharks. He told us how sharks hunt and such then recounted to us a few ways people suggested that he solve his might-be-shark-issue. Namely: paint your wetsuit to look like an Orca. Ok. Well, good in theory but this wouldn’t work. 1. He’s too small. 2. His electromagnetic signatures are not accurate for that of an Orca 3. Sharks close their eyes when they attack. They aren’t going to see the suit anyway. SO! Some people – out west somewhere – I don’t remember who – donated a “shark shield” to him. Apparently it’s a two meter (I think) long wire that attaches to his ankle and trails behind him as he swims. When turned on, it gives off a new electromagnetic signal that deters the sharks. Nifty.

Then there was the veggie truck. I’ve always wanted to convert a car to veggie oil. Now I know it’s feasible. He’s got a veggie truck.

Another really great thing that he talked about that I have some serious considering to do about is this… “If I died, I want to have done…” It’s a method of finding out what you want to do in life. He went to school for French literature and Film studies. Then worked in a whole bunch of odd jobs. Then he went to school for acupuncture. He worked there for a little while and one day found himself on the banks of the Columbia River. He had decided to swim the entire length of it. He says that he’s vain and wants his kids to think well of him. To know that he’s done something. I think that that is a valiant thing to do for a valiant reason. But, so, he’s found his thing… What do I want to have done if I died? (I recommended that he swim the Finger Lakes next and he told me I could do it. Well, I suppose I could.. but I’m not a swimmer. I’ll have to find something a little more suited to me)

I guess that’s a good place to call it quits. There was so much he talked about that, well, you just should’ve been there.

Even though only ten people showed up, the event was definitely successful. I am proud to say that I’ve met him and I extend my support for all he has done. I think he is brave – I have a feeling my impact on the world will be much more subtle than his.

Yes, he speaks for the rivers, but I bet he’d like it if a chorus join

First Art Post!

Yay!

Well, this is exciting, eh? My first art post! And it’s even going to be about something exciting!

I’m taking Color and Design this semester (WOO!) and it’s a TON of work, but I LOVE it. There are so many things that I love that came from that class. This next project: it’s going to be one of those.

Our assignment is to “design something functional... that is: Distinctive in its use of color, reflects Excellent understanding of color harmony, is Refined and Professional in its exectution, causes the world to STOP and take note of its original and fresh approach to the tradition that it springs from.” And she (Betsey) would prefer that it be made from unconventional material.

“Well. What the heck am I going to do?!” I thought.

Then I remembered that last piece for painting that I did with that fence for that pasta zoo. I soaked noodles then, when they were pliable, I formed them how I wanted them and I let them dry. They hardened and I glued them down. Voila! A fence for the tiniest zoo in the world – or the shortest animals.

Ok. Molded pasta. It has to be colored and well, watered down acrylics just didn’t do the trick.

My mom suggested food coloring and BOOM! I had my method of obtaining color.

In that melee, I also decided for some reason that I have utterly forgotten now, to create a lamp.

At first, I wanted a floor lamp but that notion is simply ridiculous. I opted for a table lamp.

Today, I went to Home Depot and bought everything to make a lamp (except a base – for some STUPID reason, they sell everything to make your own lamp except the base) and I assembled it.

I went to Target and bought some lasagna ( I LOVE the wavy sides!) and some manicotti noodles.

My mom had bought me some food coloring. Concentrated! GEL! (no – I have no idea why that’s so exciting)

So tonight, I used every glass and even some aluminum pans that we have (except the one I cooked dinner in) and filled them with warm water and food coloring.

Blue.

Green.

Pink.

Orange.

Purple.

And I dyed thousands of noodles. No really, thousands. I had three one thousand baggies of noodles (don’t ask) lying around and I used them, so I know.

I dyed rings and the manicotti.

They’re now drying on the entirety of my dining room table.

And – all of our glass and some of our aluminum pans still have food colored water in them. They will for days.

I am making a lamp. It is exciting.

And it is colorful. I’ll post pictures when it’s done.

“You know where even free range chickens go during the winter? The barn.”

“They just poke their little heads out and look at you when you drive up”

That, courtesy of my Dad. He was telling me how he was greeted when we went to the Happy Hooves Organic farm to get our turkey for our Thanksgiving dinner.

And, boy, what a turkey. He – I named him Reynold – was 16 pounds. Luckily he wasn’t any bigger or he wouldn’t have fit in the oven! I already had to create saddle bags of potatoes to sit in his pan with him because there was no room in there.

Along with Reynold and his potatoes, we ate broccoli, stuffing, and home made rolls. It was a fantastic dinner and we have TONS of left-overs.

I know that last week I rambled on about how great our fresh chicken was but this turkey blew that chicken out of the water.

Usually, I’m only about half enthused to eat turkey. It’s usually dry and a bit hard to swallow – even when you cook it upside-down.

Reynold was far from that. You could SEE the moisture on the meat and, at one point, a piece actually dripped! Astounding. I have never been happier eating a turkey.

I do wonder, however if Reynolds moist-ness was due to the fact that he was a happy turkey, or how I cooked him.

So, I know this post was a bit anticlimactic, but I’ve been working on it for days and this was all I could come up with. I need to move on.

My Pre-Thanksgiving/Kicking off the Holidays post

As I’m sure we are all blissfully aware, tomorrow is Thanksgiving!

Before I start, let me say that I will be imbibing, inhaling, absorbing, swallowing, sniffing, taking in by way of osmosis, consuming, nibbling, gormandizing, ingesting, masticating, noshing, and just plain eating all sorts of good food tomorrow. I do so love food and Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday – because of family and all that food.

But not a single Thanksgiving can pass without someone reminding we gluttonous Americans that there are people out there that can’t possibly get their hands on a real meal. Even here in our own country. I’m here to be that person, I guess. It’ll be a good way for me to swim through all those afore-mentioned verbs and remember “how lucky I am” and well, perhaps work a little harder to help others less fortunate than I.

I take it as no mere coincidence that Empty Bowl was one week before Thanksgiving.

For those of you that may not know the splendors of Empty Bowl (this is a different link as the first one!), let me fill you in. No pun intended.

Each year, Arcadia University’s Community Service Office holds this event in our castle. Students, professional potters and professionals of other inclinations, teachers, and more make and glaze ceramic (and this year paper!) bowls and donate them to the event. Local restaurants and the like donate soups, breads and desserts. Tickets are sold ($12 for students and $15 for non-students) and on the day of event, people come to choose a bowl and they get to eat soup (and bread – and dessert)!

As with all things, there is a point to this. World hunger is an important and very real issue and, even though it’s a cliché, it’s true that every little bit helps. That’s why all the money made from our Empty Bowl events gets split between Heifer International and Philadelphia Northwest Interfaith Hospitality Network.

Heifer gives farm animals to communities in need and Interfaith gives guidance and a place to stay for displaced families in the Philadelphia area.

This years’ empty bowl event hosted more than 700 people and raised more than $8,800 dollars.

If you visit Heifers website, that’s like 8 cows, or 36 goats, or 220 flocks of chicks (a flock is anywhere between 10 and 50 chicks).

So, this thanksgiving, think about donating to Heifer, or a local organization that deals with poverty in the area. For Thanksgiving, I encourage you to maybe instead of buying that extra pie, save the money and donate the money. For Christmas, buy one less gift for each kid. That little bit of money could mean a better day in the life of a person in need.

Fried Apple Pasta

I don't have much I feel like writing about today so I thought I'd leave you with a recipe that was, perhaps, the spark that finally ignited this blog.

I had a bad day once a few weeks back and, when I have a bad day, I cook. That night, I created Fried apple pasta. Remember though, that I invented this recipe mostly from thin air so I'm guessing here. You may need to tweak it slightly to taste or yield.

You'll need:

• 1 egg, beaten
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 tbs sugar
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons water (give or take some to get the dough moist enough)
• a dash of cinnamon
• finely (FINELY) chopped, or even shredded apples - probably about a 1/4 cup or less.
• butter

Mix everything together and knead really well. You want the dough to be uniform, well, other than the apple pieces, and smooth - not so wet as to be sticky, but not so dry as to not mix well enough.

Let the dough rest under a bowl for twenty minutes.

Roll through your pasta machine - probably to the second or third thinnest setting and cut the pasta into linguine.

Take about four strands and, in your palm, make them into a little nest shape, set aside and continue until you're done with your dough.

To cook them, heat up some butter until, when splashed with a bit of water it sizzles and drop the pasta in. Cook it until golden on both sides.

They're great served with a little cinnamon sugar or apple butter on top!

Update on Mission One: Phase One

I did a little more research tonight about home made solar dehydrators and I came up with a new design (all fancified on Paint and everything!).

The new one is a bit less original, but there were a few design flaws with it.

I didn’t have the best ventilation. The sun shouldn’t be hitting the food.

Pretty much, it is the same though; there are just a few changes.

It was a journey getting this chicken.

Last night my roomies, my boyfriend, and myself sat down to a lovely pre-Thanksgiving dinner.

We had chicken, and roasted red, blue and Yukon gold potatoes, broccoli, stuffing, salad, and that cranberry gunk from a can.

It was delicious. Yup. But that’s not the point.

I want, no, need to tell you about our chicken.

Mostly every Saturday, I frequent the Glenside Farmers’ Market. The handmade wet scones they had in September and October were PHENOMENAL. Cardamom and Curry (who WILL get their own blog post here shortly) is a fantastic tea shop with AMAZING tea headed by a kick-butt woman. Then there is the man who, because I didn’t really introduce myself and thus didn’t learn his name, I affectionately call the Turkey man.

I talked to the Turkey man once before my fateful chicken day. Usually, I tried to avoid him because I wanted to buy one of his chickens so badly, but I was extremely strapped for cash – damned economy. That one day that I did talk to him though, I decided that I was going to buy my Thanksgiving turkey from him.

That morning, I went home and I messaged my roomies to tell them the situation. The message reads as follows:

16 October at 11:36

I am sending this through Facebook because we're never all together at once really and I wanted to say something before I forgot.

Not that I’d really forget – the truth is, I was extremely excited already.

I just went to the Farmers Market and there is a guy there that is taking orders for a Thanksgiving Turkey. I'm assuming we're doing a Thanksgiving together, yes? Would you guys be interested in getting more information about these turkeys? I know he does free range chicken every week so I'm sure the turkeys are the same. I didn't get a lot of information because I wanted to see if you guys were interested in getting a turkey that way, and if you weren't, I didn't want to get myself all excited.

So. Let me know what you think. He's there every other weekend so (although I [and possibly you, Jamie?]) are not going to be there, he'll be back on the 30th. I would assume we just put our names down and say we want a kinda small turkey.

:D

We came to the conclusion that we would, in fact, get a turkey from him.

A few weekends later, I trudge down to the market and there he is, faithful as ever, with his binder for turkey orders. I step right up and say: Good. You’re still taking orders. I want a turkey. Tell me about your turkeys.

And he does.

He tells me that they’re free range – in the sense that they have all the space they could really want, giving me a knowing look. He tells me they get to root around for all the bugs and forage they want, again with the knowing look, and I smile knowingly back. He talks a little more then peters off, giving me a new look, like, do you want to know more?

I am satisfied. I say: I’m going to buy a turkey.

He says Ok. They’ll be processed on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and distributed on the Wednesday.

My hopes are crushed. I say: Is there a way I can pick it up on Tuesday, say, at the farm? I’m leaving to go home on that Tuesday. I live in Central New York.

He gave me the “ow this means you can’t buy a turkey from me” face and says: If you want to drive six hours round trip.

I ask where in Pennsylvania and am disappointed to discover it’s not conveniently right on 81 North. We talk a little. Hopes and dreams and what am I going to college for sorts of things and I leave turkeyless and disheartened.

I had to drive to pick up some bowls for an event after that and on the entire way there and back, I cook up a scheme.

I’ll buy a chicken! I have people to feed next Saturday (yesterday!) and we shall eat chicken! Even better! It will be our Thanksgiving meal!

The problem is, I don’t have any money on me. And there is only $18.83 in my checking account. I begin to concoct a wild scheme. I finish concocting the wild scheme and visit him again at the farmer’s market.

I’m back! I proclaim. I’m going to buy a chicken! We decide how big of a chicken I need and discover how much it will cost. $20.25. I say, ok, hold that chicken, I need to go to an ATM.

I walk across the street and go to the ATM. My idea is that the last time I went to the ATM it asked if I wanted to pull from my savings account. I figured, since my chicken was more money than I had in my account, that I’d pull from there and replenish the money as I am paid back for the bird.

The account is not authorized. Uuh.

There are people in line behind me and I’m kind of rushed.

In a spur of the moment decision, I take $15 out of my account, and with the 3 dollar service fee (RIDICULOUS!), I have 83 cents left in there.

Now, that’s not enough, but I have a plan.

Jamie, my roommate, had me pick up some groceries for her the night before. She gave me money. There was still five dollars left. So, yes, I stole it.

So, with her money and my money and a short rummage through my change pocket, I scrounged up the money for this chicken.

I was so excited about this chicken that when I got home I immediately called up my dad and asked him if he would buy his – our – turkey from a local farm. He said sure, send him some sites. I did. We picked a farm. That Turkey will probably end up a star on this blog as well.

I was so excited about this chicken that when I got home I immediately called up my mom and asked her if she would buy her – our – turkey from a local farm. She asked how much it would cost and I told her how much my chicken was. She thought it was outrageous to pay over four dollars a pound for chicken. You can get turkeys and chickens for 83 cents a pound she says. Why would I pay more than that? She won’t. Extinguished and rather itchy that she didn’t get the point, I fell silent which is surprising because that was a perfect opportunity to delve into a rant on the horrors of processed, cheap, food. She said well, we can eat something else for Thanksgiving dinner. I laugh. A full, hearty, I can’t believe this situation, laugh. I say that would be no different than getting a factory farmed turkey. The conversation pretty much ends there and I realize that this is exactly the sort of person that we as responsible food citizens find blocking our way when trying to make a difference in our political food system. The person who wont pay more for real food.

Fast-forward to yesterday. The meal is purchased and planned, prepped and cooked. I am ripping the chicken savagely from the carcass with an oversized fork and a carving knife. The meal is steaming on the table.

We are eating the meal and goddamnit isn’t that the best chicken I’ve ever tasted.

I comment on how this chicken was more than worth the $20.25 we paid for it and everyone loudly agrees. We discuss the wonders of this chicken that tastes like chicken and we quickly clear the serving plate and dig further in to taking it off the body.

It is delicious!

And, better yet, it is a chicken. A real chicken. Who led a real life.

Phase One of Mission One: Plans: Complete

The date is November 18^th, 2010 and I finally look at an email I received and I read it. It tells me that the watershed partnership our Environmental Networks helps with wants us to come and watch No Impact Man with them. I can’t believe I didn’t read this before! I’m very suddenly set on going.

They had a superb trail mix on the table when we arrived and I commented to my friend Steph that it included kiwi fruits as we were just discussing the differences she learned about while living in New Zealand between the birds, the people, and the fruit. This segues into me saying that I can’t wait to get a food dehydrator. One of the lovely watershed ladies chimes in that you can make your own and boy, does that get me excited. I need to make one.

It is here that a blog – this blog – comes in. Kind of. At that point in the night we hadn’t discussed it, but let’s pretend we’re friends with “in retrospect” and it will all be alright.

For a while, I’ve been wanting to start a blog. Not necessarily for people to read, but if they do, hey, that’s cool. I just didn’t know what to write about – being an artist, talking about art, foodie-ism, environmentalism…? I told them my dilemma and they said, well, why not everything? They thought I'd make a great food writer, with my strange student foodie ways.

So. I want to write about my life as a foodie/environmentalist art student. Reader beware, you’ll never know what’s coming! There’s a lot of great material here.

This food dehydrator is mission one.

I did a little research online and didn’t find any plans that really met what I wanted, but I got some info and, well, I felt confident enough to design my own solar powered food dehydrator. Why the heck not? All it really needs is a good ventilation system, to be weather safe (if it’s solar powered, it needs to be outside), and it needs to have removable trays for easy access and cleaning.

I do a quick doodle or two of what mine is supposed to look like:

Then I do a dimensional doodle of a superior quality and coherence. Complete with dimensions and everything!

What’s really cool about this particular food dehydrator is that it’s a solar powered one. No electricity here, baby. AND, all it will take to make is

· some ¼ inch plywood (approximately 3 square feet if my math skills don’t fail me),

· a 12 inch X 12 inch X 1/4 inch piece of plexiglass,

· a handle for the plexiglass,

· some screws and nails,

· six 11 ½ inch X I don’t know, something like ½ inch woodstrips,

· four to eight ¼ inch X ¼ inches cubes,

· aluminum flashing,

· and some screen!

Tool wise, I’d need something to cut the wood and strips, a drill, a hammer, and one of those funny little things you attach to a drill to cut out a one inch hole in a piece of wood, perhaps some scissors for the screen, a pencil (can’t forget the pencil!) and a ruler/tape measure.

How about some construction skills? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t really build things. I have no idea how this is going to go, let alone how well the thing is going to really function at the end.

However, up until the skills part, I have or can find all of these materials. I have some scrap wood from a sculpture project, aluminum flashing I inherited from my uncle, screws and nails aplenty at my Dads house, and even a little band saw. Find some plexiglass, and I’m good to go!

Phase one of mission one: plans: complete. Thanksgiving is next week and I get a nice break to go home so phase two of mission one: collection will commence then I suppose.