Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings
I have to be careful this time of year. It is neither prudent nor provident to allow myself to become fixated on one thing. Winter has a lot to do with this. January is my usual month to sit in the office, cogitate, plan, imagine, and create new fancies from whole cloth.
was preparing to take out the recycle bin when this "dead soldier" caught my eye. The bottle is an empty jug of spiced rum that powered my don't drink and then drive fruitcake. Momentarily I was transported to my early days. I took the cap off and began blowing an accompaniment to Washington at Valley Forge, a perennial favorite of 1960's jug bands.
When the snow melts and spring comes, you'll tend to wonder what the great fuss had been for.
here is a preoccupation with the concepts of success and zenith in our society. As in, "Â John's zenith was in the 1990s." Some even follow celebrities with a sort of gleeful anticipation -waiting for the talented to slip over the edge. We envy their success, and we gloat over their fall.
My introduction to the world of exotic woods began early. I had to stack and sort through piles of different woods at my mentor's studio. Of course, Warburton would never be my master, and I'd never become his apprentice. But he took mentorship seriously while treating me a bit like an apprentice. So when I was in Baltimore, I'd go off to his studio and work as directed.
It may have been the Monk who got it into his mind that cleaning the apartment for the New Year's was a good and worthy thing to do. " a new broom sweeps clean for a New Year," he stated. Most of the other habitues of the Folkie Palace just looked at him as though he was crazed.
In 1977 I was on one of my summertime retreats from study. It was my routine to come home to the Boston area and split my time between working on orthopedic floors at one of the large downtown hospitals and sailing. At that point, I was close to finishing a Phud, and it was a joke among friends in the medical and nursing professions that I'd soon be Dr. Carreras - although not in medicine.
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