the magazine of the sirens • by the sirens • for the sirens
November 2014
Glamping with trailblazer Paulette Rees-Denis
Boheme Thumbing through life with
Katwise
Living in vivid
Colo ur Gypsy Spirits roam the earth Volume 2, issue III
Published by Siren School
Photographer: Clarence Alford Model: Diana Godin silly fx: Joy deVivre
Living Colorful & Free FEATURED The Gypsy State by Perzaia!........................................................................................4 The Sweet Life !.............................................................................................................6 Gyps ‘N’ Progress !.....................................................................................................12 The Magic of Nature, The Magic of You by Lisa Faulkner!.......................................18 Unlived Bohemian Dreams by Bonnie Ramsburg!....................................................22 What is Glamping? by Paulette Rees-Denis!.............................................................24 Common Household Items; Extraordinary Uses by Genevieve P.!.........................35 Dip in My Daydream by Victoria Blake!......................................................................40 About Art by Kathy Figueroa!.....................................................................................48 Thumbs Up for Katwise !............................................................................................49 So... You think you’re bohemian by Lyle Dagnen!....................................................50 Colorful Thoughts from Sanndi Thompson!...............................................................57 Homemade Laundry Soap by Bonnie Ramsburg!.....................................................60 Keep Calm and Carry on My Wayward Sons by Shannon Lopez !...........................62
RECIPE for a Bohemian life • Vianne’s chicken au chocolat - p.10 • Gypsy comfort food - p.15 • Peppers with goat cheese & asparagus - p.39 • Bohemian Kolaches!- p.59
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Bohemianism is the practice of an unconventional lifestyle, often in the company of like-minded people, with few permanent ties, involving musical, artistic, or literary pursuits. In this context, Bohemians may be wanderers, adventurers, or vagabonds. This use of the word bohemian first appeared in the English language in the nineteenth century to describe the non-traditional lifestyles of marginalized and impoverished artists, writers, journalists, musicians, and actors in major European cities. Bohemians were associated with unorthodox or antiestablishment political or social viewpoints, which often were expressed through free love, frugality, and —in some cases—voluntary poverty. A wealthy and privileged, even aristocratic, bohemian circle is sometimes referred to as the haute bohème ("high bohemians"). The term Bohemianism emerged in France in the early nineteenth century when artists and creators began to concentrate in the lower-rent, lower class, gypsy neighborhoods. Bohémien was a common term for the Romani people of France, who had reached Western Europe via Bohemia. Gypsy - One inclined to a nomadic, unconventional way of life. • A person who moves from place to place as required for employment, especially: • A part-time or temporary member of a college faculty. • A member of the chorus line in a theater production.
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The Gypsy by Perzaia Where do the Gypsy Winds blow? Where do they go when after they brush against the blades, the bricks, jiggles the leaves, tumbles the wrapper, dries the sheets, touches the skin; pushing indiscriminately, its weight locomotive or a feather dancing on a breath? Wind is always in such a hurry, always eager to get to the other side of the globe when traversing in a gypsy state of mind. A rootless, groundless fling across the cosmos, eons of gypsy winds anxious to lap up every experience no matter the triviality of source, keen, as if it was the wind’s first time. Gypsy winds rarely stand for the stillness of a quiet moment, or long enough to relish the suspension of their rootless existence; preferring the trembling touch of molesting every outpost and in turn, bringing back souvenirs of its journeys. Gypsy is the wind who travels light, wears only clothes of mists that the temperature hands over in a holdup awaiting the ransom of sun or cold as hostage. Wind frocks in the latest of the many layered clouds fashions, ridiculous clouds, artist clouds, erotic clouds, functional clouds, fun clouds, all tinted in colors of sun and -4-
rain, lavenders and salmon. Gypsy winds are vain enough to ornament themselves in the mode of the day. The Gypsy King is a wandering wind, king wind from the north steering his tumbril drawn by snow dragons. They have a lumbering careen about them, drunk on the cold, dragging behind their icy currents like a condemned convict on his way to the gallows. North Wind’s heavy clawed-fists rake the rugged mountains and isolation frigid, intent on crushing the old ways out of the frivolous warmth of summer’s southern roll. Cold curling wind that ruffs the thick coats of muskox and artic wolves, pushing the lethargic grizzly bear into the shelter of comfy before feeling the burn of frozen. It is a wind that carries its heart in heavy scents, the musk of wooden muskeg, tundra weeds, frail ice flowers and metallic orcas packed inside enormous steamer trunks and hatboxes strapped carelessly to the back and jettisoning its load. The gypsy king’s voyages dwell for the most, in the land of serious story time. Inuit tales reticulated in the sublime of illuminations pirouetting in a sea of stars. In the recoil of chill he is dreaming of snakes and scorpions and
State of Winds the cactus road signs that lead to storms with an end. This, the most ancient of shaman winds, slapping its frigid wisdom against bare childish skin, reaching, reaching for profound until the king of winds tires into the pale of old age. Wind stands still for a moment to catch his breath—too long, too long, time enough to be cheated by a swaggering knave south-wind; wound-up, organized for a season of sultry frivolity. Knave gypsy wind topples the king; naked, buff, rippling his flaunt of heated muscle. His debauched southern visage smolders trickster with curly dark hair, glowering eyes and lips made for kissing, deceitful dirt trapped under his fingernails. He is organic, his days sought in pleasure and the leisurely laze of poetry. He is full of words like coral sand and tropical velvet, wetted coconut palms licked by the tang of salt sea air. The knavery of this gypsy wind, his pilfered baggage disguised in licentious pongs of suntan oil and redhot chilies drunk on tequila chocolates. He is the gypsy wind who orders chips and salsa with a side of guacamole, points to the clouds and says with an exaggerated accented sneer, ‘put it on their bill.’
The south wind is a bohemian tango of gypsy gales that woos with the force of a cyclonic lambada bellybash. His stiffened tempest of wanton seduction sweeps across immense expanses, to loiter in dark alleys and murky corners along the African coast, stalking for a swirling collision of pressures from the far easterly. Sniffing out the promiscuous waverly creature from the far eastern, he choses the vastness of an ocean caravan for their clandestine trysts. Intimately, the south wind nuzzles the winsome gypsy east —as dangerous a forbidden beauty as the lush succulent of Venus enfolded in a rosy silken saris. A high-maintenance manicure, she is a full-on wanton, moist lyrical bluster of curvy poisons and heady perfumes, her glorious crown of hair a web of entangled lore. She lingers, encircled in her gypsy trickster’s arms spiraling, he sups on her curry, her saffron and her coy sweetness tinted in licorice and honey snaking around her sultry limbs, coating her like a second skin. Within a peacock’s evening screams, the gigolo gypsy steals from the morals of goddesses, seeds to impregnation then reveals he is the father of demon west winds. She -5-
gathers her big belly until, unrestrained by incontinence, her water breaks into a fit of violent rages. She is the hurricane. She reveals her tempestuous easterly by birthing, ‘he who is the wind that splays the lightning bolt from the Prussian of storm’. Westerly is born sunburned, whipcord thin, he is an angry ginger-brown. This westward child grifter repels his mother easterly homeward. The union of this coffee stained wind is as unwanted as the deed. Dodger becomes his Facebook persona; this westerly wind is a true gypsy orphaned at birth, feeling assertions with the vindictiveness of a willful childish dust devil. Gypsy child swindler, smiling mischievously with pleasing eyes and a pinched whey-faced starving hollow of deprived, steals moisture away from puckered cactus and desert grit, pocketing puddles, drawing the shoreline evaporated to deceived. Gypsy child born, he is the
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wind that chaffs dead skulls white of flesh floating in oceans of dried grass, tumbleweeds and the desiccation of silent emptiness. He is the tested dust devil that vacuums the frail. I am the cliff top Oracle. Drawing in all from the windward blasts I read their thoughts in weather reports. Molest me the frigid king of the north or the sexy knave of the south; suffering the sultry witch from east and the gangsta’ delinquent of west. The gypsy winds force me reading their wordy twists. Read them like words on a page of blue sky clotted with clouds. They tell me their wayward stories chinook, tales blown hard and buffeted about. The core of their stories remains solid but the sides have been worn to soft shoulders as the familiar of everyday comes from afar to my present location. I scent their stories. I taste them in the everyday of mowed grass and hot pavement, the sizzled of BBQ’s and hot tree pollen drifting over me in a fine yellow talc brought to me in my isolation, brought to me by the gypsy winds.
Sheri’s Crystals on Etsy -7-
T he Swe e t L i fe Chocolate’s lessons & living on your own terms Like many moviegoers, I drooled over the movie Chocolat, which quietly oozed into pop culture in 2000, the year neither the world nor our country’s computer-based infrastructure came to a Y2K end. The film’s protagonist is Vianne, a chocolatier and gypsy spirit who moves whenever the wind blows a certain way. Rather than recount the plot and risk subjecting anyone to unwelcome spoilers — since you really should see the film for yourself, or better yet, of course, read the book — I will simply touch on what this story taught me and continues to teach me. One of the simplest themes in the film is the notion that it’s okay to be who you are — whoever you are. Vianne is open about the fact that her daughter was born out of wedlock. She wears clothing that suits her personality and shape, rather than draping herself in the dictates of a small village’s oppressive culture. She has fun. She helps underdogs, reaches out to the disenfranchised, and basically lives life to the fullest. Inspired by Vianne’s example and encouragement, many of the town’s soulshackled residents begin to creep out of their invisible cages. They learn to enjoy and appreciate life’s sweet little pleasures with a new sense of confidence, trying new things, learning who they really are, -8-
spoiling each other now and again, and even spoiling themselves, often with that delicious, decadent, hedonistic universal treat, chocolate! Relationships are enriched, prejudices dissolved, bridges of communication are built, and smiles appear on faces that previously had been dour and sullen. All because of chocolate, or at least what it represents. As for Vianne, well she learned a thing or two along the way as well, as I still do, each time I treat myself to a viewing of this modern classic. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a Trader Joe’s cocoa-dusted chocolate truffle beckoning me.
Living your own life your own way — how sweet it is -9-
Vianne’s Chicken au chocolat
Ingredients
Sauce • 1 tablespoon slivered almonds • 2 medium shallots • 3 cloves garlic • 2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil • 1 can diced tomatoes, drained (15 ounces) • 1/2 teaspoon salt • Freshly ground black pepper, to taste • 1 cup fat-free chicken broth • 1 cup port wine • 1 ounce bittersweet chocolate (Ghirardelli) • 2 teaspoons pink peppercorns • 1 teaspoon cognac Chicken • 4 chicken breasts (whole, skinless, about 2 pounds), halved • Pinch salt • Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Cooking Directions -10-
To make the sauce 1. Grind the almonds to a fine powder in a coffee grinder. Grind the shallots and garlic in a small food processor. 2. Heat the oil in a heavy skillet and lightly saut?? the almonds, shallots, and garlic for 2 to 3 minutes. 3. Add the tomatoes, salt, and pepper and cook for 5 to 6 minutes. Add the broth and wine and bring to a boil. 4. Reduce the heat and add the chocolate, stirring constantly to blend. Simmer for 15 minutes. Remove from the heat, cover, and let stand for a few minutes. 5. Ladle the mixture into a blender and process until smooth. Strain through a medium sieve into a small saucepan and reserve the liquid, discarding what remains in the sieve. To make the chicken
1. Rinse the chicken and pat dry. Season both sides lightly with the salt and pepper. 2. Coat a large cast-iron grill pan with olive oil spray and heat over medium-high heat. Add the chicken and grill on each side for 8 to 10 minutes, or until cooked through. 3. Return the saucepan to the stove and rub the peppercorns between your palms to crush them into the sauce. Add the cognac and simmer just until heated through. Serve over the chicken. 4. Per serving: 403 calories, 11 g fat (3 g sat fat), 41 g protein, 19 g carbohydrate, 1 g fiber, 102 mg cholesterol, 865 mg sodium from ABC News
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BONNIES-LASSES.SIRENSCHOOL.COM -11-
Gypsy Music Makes Progress... & some mighty Happy Fans
GYPS ‘N’ PROGRESS
Catching up with Gyps ‘n’ Progress — my new favorite band!!!!! I grabbed Fabio between (virtual) sets to ask a few questions about their music and where it’s going: Fabio Cascio - Doublebass Andrea Todesco - Guitar Alexis Kraniou - Guitar How would you describe manouche music to someone who is new to the style? I would describe it like Django Rehinardt style first of all, then like swing music mixed with gypsy style, but with an energetic pulsation, dancy and very virtuoso for guitarists.
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And what is this 'mad twist' you bring to it? As we come from different backgrounds, we would like to bring something new in this genre and a lot of stuff we compose is a bit unusual and with a crazy feel... We think that madness is an ingredient of our recipe. How did you all meet? Three years ago I joined a duo of modern manuche. We were very successful, but unfortunately they were based in Italy, so I had to leave them. After that experience I developed a lot of ideas in this genre and I absolutely LOVED PLAYING IT! I wanted to form my trio and a friend (doublebass player) recommended Andrea on guitar. We met and the alchemy started immediately; luckily he was practising with
Alexis (guitar) after we tried a few guitarists. It turns out he wanted him in the band in the first place. One day we jammed all together and the magic started! What sort of musical backgrounds did you all come from? Andrea and Alexis come from a jazz-funk, blues and progressive background. I am the black sheep as I love rock-songwritngprogressive and extreme metal. How did you decide on the band name? Ehm... deciding a band name is always difficult if it doesn't come natural. Before Alexis joined the band Andrea and I were rehearsing with two other guitarists to get ready for the first gigs. After practising we would always have a pint at the nearest pub to talk about the band. One day Andrea said to me, "Well, this is gyps in progress." I thought that a name was naturally born.
We changed it to gyps 'n' progress after Alexis joined the band as the works in progress were finished. So gyps stands, obviously, for gypsy, and progress is the best word to define our new ideas and, most important, the progressive style is in our blood. How has the music evolved as you've gotten to know one another? Very well I'd say. When we compose new material, we work very well together and the guys practice a lot. As a consequence, after twp months of playing together, we did our first EP, and we know that we are all very willing to make hundreds of gigs and few records! How do you think your mum would describe your music? Ahaha... maybe like popular ethnic music, or she might describe it as well as vintage and bouncy music. Your music is said to get people up dancing. What sort of dancing do most people do while listening to your infectious tunes? The capables do the proper swing-dance and others shake their shoulders improvising a dance that follows the rhythm. How has the band impacted your personal life? We all spend a lot of time on the music, the business, which takes a lot, and we also take care of our public image and -13-
appearances for our fans, trying to establish a bond with them. We all have tasks in the band. The guitarists are obviously focused on compositions and also on a few logistics. I (the doublebassist) take care of the business and the the practical organization of everything. For this reason Alexis and Andrea created a nickname for me: The papa or pappa (ironic word for pimp).
And what plans are you looking forward to? It's probably too ambitious but we are trying to evolve the gypsy style into something a bit more innovative and accessible to anyone. This regards the sound and the songs' structure. We might try to include a bit of the burlesque in our composition... and yes, we want to become the best band in London in this style :-)))
What's the band working on now? We are working on the new product that we will probably record this coming winter — more specifically, a double CD with some classic style and some eclectic mad tunes on the B-side.
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Find Gyps ‘n’ Progress on Facebook and listen to them on their BandCamp page or watch them on Youtube
Goulash – Gypsy Comfort Food from FoodGypsy Exploring my Roma roots with some good Gypsy comfort food, hearty Romanian Style Goulash. A rich beef and tomato stew heavy with Paprika, it’s slow food to warm your soul as nights get longer and the chill of fall fills your days. It is in my nature to wander, if I’m in one place for too long I will shift residents or I move the furnisher, the change of seasons always makes me restless. My maternal Grandmother used to say it was in my blood, inherited from her mother, a beautiful Roma woman who married an Austrian man and immigrated to western Canada in the boom of the nineteen twenties. As a child my Grandmother, Jessie, learned to cook at her mother’s knee the cuisine of her nomadic heritage; cuisine that bridged Russia, Romania, Hungary and Germany. Peasant food, many of her specialties were dishes that were the mainstays of the lower working class. Produce that stored well or was preserved in glass jars, cured meats that could last in through long cold winters. Borscht, cabbage rolls, sauerkraut, goulash. Later, when tragedy struck the family and both she lost both parents, Jessie was adopted by a woman who called her a ‘filthy Gypsy’ and she learned hunger for the first time. In a life salted by tragedy and the great depression, she like many woman of her time, learned to stretch every resource. She made clothing out of flour sacks and lined her children’s shoes with newspaper in winter. Never was food wasted, never did a single bite go unappreciated. Once a week she baked bread in a wood fired oven and on Sundays it was pie, even into the 1980′s she considered her ‘new fangled electric stove’ inferior in every way. I wish I had that big cast iron stove now; with it’s overhead warming oven, flat top and water heater, gleaming with chrome trim. I see it in my mind’s eye when I think of her teaching me how to properly fill the firebox on cold, damp mornings, her slippered feet and wool socks, wrapped in a worn chenille robe, her auburn hair in curlers. -15-
In her kitchen I learned to make soap and churn butter. On her small farm I milked goats, turned eggs under heat lamps until tiny peeping chicks and ducklings would emerge, and ran from staggering ganders bent on my destruction. Her simple approach to food is what I turn to time after time in my kitchen. Simple. Honest. Hearty. This is perhaps the food I do best, comforting and personal. This Goulash leans Romanian with it’s heavy use of onion, here we’ve paired it with a soft polenta, or maize porridge and topped it with sour cream. May it warm you to your toes.
Romanian Style Goulash Recipe Prep time: 20 minutes Cooking time: 90 minutes to two hours Yield: Serves 6 1/3 cup vegetable oil 2 onions, sliced thin 4 tablespoons sweet paprika 2 teaspoons salt 2 teaspoon ground black pepper 3 pounds beef stew meat, cut into 1 1/2 inch cubes 1 – 28 ounce can of tomatoes, whole 1 – 6 ounce can tomato paste 1/2 cup beef stock 3 cloves garlic, minced 3 teaspoon salt (divided)
Maize Porridge Recipe Cooking time: 10 to 15 minutes Yield: Serves 6 4 cups whole milk 1 teaspoon salt dash of pepper 2 tablespoons butter 1 cup fine corn/maize meal
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Method: 1. Heat oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Cook onions in oil until soft, stirring frequently, then remove and reserve. In a medium bowl, combine paprika, pepper and 2 teaspoons of salt. Coat beef cubes well with spice mixture, then sear over medium heat, in the same pot until browned on all sides. Return the onions to the pot, add tomato paste, tomatoes, garlic, beef stock and the remaining 1 teaspoon salt. 2. To cook stove top: reduce heat to low, cover and simmer, stirring occasionally between 90 minutes – 2 hours. OR if working with a Dutch oven bring your Goulash to a boil then cover and place a preheated 300°F (150°C) oven for 90 minutes – 2 hours. When fully cooked the meat should be tender and the sauce will be thick and rich. For the Maize… In a large, heavy-based saucepan bring the milk and butter to just under a boil then reduce the heat to medium low. Add your salt and then slowly add your maize meal, stirring constantly. Whisk for a few minutes until smooth and lump-free. Simmer for 7 – 12 minutes until cooked. Stir occasionally and add more milk if you find it too thick. Serve hot, in deep bowls with a generous portion of goulash served on top, a dollop of sour cream makes for the final finish, adding a touch of dairy to a deeply flavored stew. May the luck of the Gypsy be with you.
Find Gypsy Gab on her on Facebook page
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The Magic of Nature. The Magic of You. by Lisa Faulkner Nature heals. This feels like something I’ve always known. The extent of her power became evident after I endured several miscarriages early in my marriage. Nothing penetrated the dark cloud I awoke under each morning. Support groups and counseling only made me feel worse. Journaling helped me process. Some books helped me understand. Neither eased the pain.
Despite this history, I wasn’t prepared for what Nature had in store for me in 2013. During a daily sunrise walk on January 4, I spotted two deer I’d never seen before (or since). The word ‘magic’ had already crossed my path multiple times in meaningful ways. Because I’d also seen an image of the goddess Artemis with her deer, I accepted Magic as my intention/ theme for the year.
Several years ago, I recognized nature as my greatest mentor.
The studio I danced in for 8 years closed on January 10. After my last class, I felt an empty ache between my ribs and belly button that I described to my husband as “feeling like I left a piece of my soul in that room.” When it hadn't eased by the following week, I crafted a ritual, made a 'letting go' playlist and danced on the beach during my class time. By the end of my dancing, I felt as if I’d reclaimed the lost piece of my soul.
My favorite food became in season produce: Sweet kale in winter; Asparagus & strawberries in spring; Summer’s bounty of blueberries, peaches and tomatoes; Apples and kobocha squash come fall. I discovered like plants, I can absorb energy from the sun. And communicate with trees.
I kept dancing on the beach, typically choosing the warmest day of the week throughout the year. Dancing with the sand and waves eased the pain of losing my tribe last year. But more importantly, it deepened my magical relationship with Mama Nature.
Until a coast hike in Point Lobos—called the greatest meeting of land and sea— brought back the sun in my soul for an afternoon. Monthly kayaking under the full moon soothed it and began the healing until I could laugh around children once again.
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We played. She mentored me, providing insights and revealing truths. The most magical weekend of all occurred in Pacific Palisades. While there for Alexandra Franzen’s Write Yourself into Motion workshop, I danced at sunrise each morning. Day one dawned in pastels. Slow. Quiet. Pelicans. Dolphins frolicking. The second morning, I danced a bird ballet with the pelicans and terns, letting them inspire me. On day three, I became part of nature, wild in the sand and by doing so, I influenced nature—dolphins and birds, who’d traveled south came back to play with me. Nature is magic. I am part of Nature. I am magic. And so are you. Each of us as unique and precious as a grain of sand. Magic of Nature Playlist • • • • • • • • • •
Caresse sur l'Ocean - Kelly Sweet Storm- Lifehouse Heal This Land - Tina Malia Holocene - Bon Iver After the Storm Mumford & Sons In Sunlight- Tina Malia Light Up the Sky Christina Aguilera Building A Mystery Sarah McLachlan Chasing the Sun - Sara Bareilles Beautiful World (featuring Patty Griffin) Dierks Bentley
• •
Sexy Chick - Paloma Faith Now You're Free - Matthew Mayfield
7 Ways to Experience Nature’s Magic & Set Yourself Free 1. Listen to my Magic of Nature playlist featuring highlights from my 2013 beach dance sessions. 2. Go outside. Every day. Start small. Shoot for an hour. 3. Discover your sacred spot. Mine’s the beach. I also adore redwoods. Nearby parks. And the sun and trees in my neighborhood 4. Experience Nature’s magic hour—the hour before sunrise and sunset. 5. Play with nature. Dance. Do yoga. Garden. Hike. 6. Read The Nature Principle by Richard Louv and Your Brain on Nature by Eva M. Selhub and Alan C Logan. 7. Listen to Bernie Krauss’ recordings of nature.
Lisa is perhaps best known as the Pole-dancing Professor. Share her love of nature and dance with her on her Facebook page. Or visit her site for musings on the rhythms of life as well as ‘Lessons from the Pole & Beach to Fuel Feminine Fire.’
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- T RAV E LG RA M Have you ever wanted to travel? Do you dream of exploring castles and their surroundings? Have you imagined taking tea in a quaint European village? With the help of Mythic Adventures, the INTREPID LADIES ADVENTURE CLUB AND TEA SOCIETY is here to help make your dreams a reality. Whether it be a hike in the redwoods of Northern California, a swim in the warm waters of the Caribbean, or exploring castles in Europe, together we can help you find adventure, and maybe something a little more...yourself. Let the Magic Unfold...
rlstejn, Karlstejn Castle, Ka ech Republic Central Bohemia, Cz -20-
THANK YOU to our Start The Presses crowdfunding campaign pledgers, listed in the order they pledged
Kandise Unger-Ripper Billiam Morgan ~God~ Cal Horlick *God* Marla Spellenberg Erin Sankey Bohemian Belles Author EJ Sankey
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Unlived Bohemian Dreams by Bonnie Ramsburg
I pointed at it and said, “Hey mom! There’s a VW BUS!!!”
I overheard my mom telling either my dad or my grandmother that she’d always wanted an orange Volkswagen bus.
She looked at it and said, “I’ve always wanted an orange VW bus.”
I didn’t happen to catch the reason why, but I thought to myself, “Awww… how cute!” A few days later, mom and I were out and about with my aunt. One of the stops that we made had an unexpected surprise; there was a Classic Car Show right beside it! While my aunt went to do her shopping, mom and I strolled through the cars, admiring them and their personalities (both of us are in agreement — cars nowadays have none!) and just soaking up the ambience of a time gone by. All of a sudden, I saw a VW Bus! It wasn’t in picture-perfect shape; it was down to the gray color that cars have before they get painted.
I asked her why, just out of curiosity. Her answer left me a bit shocked; as it wasn’t something I would have ever thought about My MOM. She said, “I’ve always wanted to own one and travel in it. I guess I wanted to be one of those hippie chicks.” Hearing this, it sort of explains a few things. I think the need to be out and travel is what prompted many of our weekend/Sunday drives. It probably helps explain to me why she got so much joy out of a camping trip we took when my brother and I were younger (not so much me, I wasn’t allowed to read!) I think it also explains why mom and I will occasionally look at each other and say, “I just want to get in the car and GO!” Unfortunately for mom, responsibilities started early in life for her, namely me, then six years later it was my brother. She never got to live that Bohemian dream of owning and traveling in an orange VW bus, she says that even after I was born, she still wanted one so that she and I could travel. Although if she could do it now: I’m not sure if she’d want the bus, or a full sized motor home instead. If I could do it, maybe I’d get the motor home and paint the sides to look like an Orange VW Bus. What do you think, Mom? Would that be okay?
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Some grace for Grace ... that’s Bonnie’s mom
Time cannot dull the wistful way we think of youthful dreams. And burdens can’t quell our desires, hard as it sometimes seems. This Veedub bus is yours to keep, a token of affection. So jump in, turn the music up, and drive in some direction. Chase the sunset, camp outdoors, feel comfy and at home. And make your dreams come true each day, wherever you may roam. No matter what you didn’t do, no matter what you did, Just know you did a bang-up job of raising a great kid!
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What the heck is Glamping? by Paulette Rees-Denis
What does a wild-hearted, tattooed, honky tonkin’ bellydancer do when she is taken over with the urge for some wanderlusting? She goes glamping!
What the hell is that you ask? Well my friends, it is a term combining glamour and camping... does that conjure up any images in your head? Yes, and that before-mentioned bootscootin’ queen is me...and I go glamour camping, complete with tiara and crinoline, in any of my three trailers, two are vintage and one is a retro looking new pup. And what fun I have! Babes, I’m not one for sleeping on the hard ground in a tent...done that long time ago… Now I like to see the road and take my stuff with me in my own little house on wheels— my full kitchen (that is way important!), my bed, my man, my two corgi-dogs, guitar, my man’s bass guitar, various assorted cowboy boots and books, lots of wine and whiskey, computer, camera, etc. And little is the operative word here… we are talking 14-18 foot long trailers. Plus our tow vehicle (which I wish was a ‘57 BelAir station wagon!). Not one of those enormous scary RVs that could host a giant party and guzzles gas like not to be believed. Just a sweet small little trailer, that is decked out and cozy with some sort of theme! Take Loretta! She is a turquoise and white ‘63 Shasta, which my husband and I bought pretty much restored. She is a 17 footer, and her theme is honky tonk music, ‘cuz that is what I play on my guitar and listen to mostly. And of course named after Ms. Loretta Lynn. We found amazing fabric for the cushions that is jetson meets guitars and is perfect.
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Why not pitch a tent or stay in a hotel? Just guess...This is way more fun, with just some nicely added personal luxuries. I can still hit the road, call my shots, stay in resorts, state parks, or off the road, depending on if I want a hook-up to electrical or water, and see the world. No sleeping bags and wet gear or motels needed.
We laminated old album covers for placemats and hang up our cowboy hats and assorted accoutrements having to do with music and the country legends. And we try to keep it in its time period with old dishes, old lounge chairs, a cool striped awning, an old radio hooked up to our ipod. You get the picture. Then there is Buck. He is our ‘56 Aloha and is named after Mr. Buck Owens, another musical favorite. This one is yellow and white, 14 foot, and has similar musical tributes to the man. This is the trailer that my man Jeff saw sunken in a field covered in mud. He knocked on the scary door of the double wide, and asked to buy it for $200! Towed in on out of there and we had it restored by a genius fixer upper, Brian Morrow in Washington. It so rocks…
Of course, with every hobby, there is usually a new family involved. Ride a Harley, got a biker family. Take bellydancing, got a bunch of new girlfriends. Get a trailer, got a road trip full of BBQ-ing fiends. And glamping...well, you should see some of these trailers my glamping sisters deck out. I do go to several vintage trailer rallies throughout the year in the pacific NorthWest, to meet up and see what is going on out there in our little trailer world. My husband loves it and I have to put blinders on him when we are on the road or we just might be pulling yet another one back home. Good thing our very long driveway is full. Have you heard of Sisters on the Fly? This is one of my girl camping groups. No men,
Our third, because you can’t have just one, is a newer version of a teardrop meets an Airstream. It was our first, and though it is a 2004, I adore it. It’s true that they don’t make things like they used to, but this little cutie is so much fun, not much bigger than a teardrop trailer but you can stand up and cook inside. The table folds down into a bed and it is quite the homey little house on wheels. -25-
And then you get to decorate and add your personal style. Some set up chandeliers and bring out the finest crystal for their wines. Some use their redneck wine goblets instead ( a ball jar with a lid, a straw, and an added stem!) Some have elaborate pink poodle themes, a la Fifi, others have Hawaiian tiki bar themes. And there is an abundancy of cowgirl and fly fishing themes too… Repurposing old stuff goes a long way with these folks and their little home away from home. And some just keep it simple. All good.
no kids, no pets—those are the only rules. This is the all girl gatherings to get away and do some outdoor stuff. You will see what I mean if you check out their website for some great photos of trailers and their owners. On some of these weekends we have cocktail makers and storytellers, and just see who’s cowboy hat has the biggest brim. I’ve even taught yoga for the early morning risers in the community center, and got 100 women up bellydancing in their cowboy boots and crinolines while my musician husband was the mister sister (the only guy allowed) and played music while I danced and taught! Many time we hold auctions and raise thousands of dollars to donate to a special cause, like Casting For Recovery (last gathering we raised $4700.00 just auctioning off this amazing quilt handmade by many sisters). And everyone contributes. -26-
Often I want to cook up elaborate meals and light candles and lounge while sipping wine, and sometimes I just want dips and crackers and olives and beer. Some mornings we carry our steaming mugs of coffee as we sight see each others trailers or junk store finds. I don’t bring my blender so store bought smoothies are my way to go for breakfast--I do need to remain healthy! Potlucks are ongoing, as everyone shares everything with each other. Need help backing that little one into a space,
someone will always jump in to help. Try getting that awning up with one person, not an easy task, but your neighbor is usually right there to lend a hand. It doesn’t matter if you have tattoos or bleached white hair. You are all there for the same reason, or five anyway! I love to be on the long stretched out road, to take time out for exploration, down time, new and old friends. This kind of traveling is not for the faint of heart, as you need to sometimes lay on your back and jack up the trailer, or dump the gray water, or fix something, plus hooking and unhooking, leveling, and of course setting up and decorating. Sometimes it is a lot of work
just for a few days, and sometimes it is a breeze. You need to have the right tools and cords and the sway bar and a strong back, plus the desire to do it yourself. I also host a rally every year, coming up on number eight. Amazing folks from all persuasions come, join in the talent show with singing and joking and hula hooping and poi swinging. They bring great food and wine to share, laughter and stories from the road, year after year, to experience more life on the road with each other. Like old friends who see each other once a year. A true privilege really.
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What else do we do while we are glamping? Mostly we hang out with ourselves or our friends, do some sort of sightseeing, or go for a bikeride or a hike, or run to the beach with the dogs and come back for whiskey and some guitar strumming into the night, hanging out under the stars with a little campfire, and a warm bed waiting inside. How fab is that? Paulette Rees-Denis is a movement motivator, instigator and inspirator worldwide, the director of Gypsy Caravan Dance Company, and innovator of Gypsy Caravan Tribal Bellydance™ . She is the author of Tribal Vision: A Celebration of Life Through Tribal Bellydance. Lots of good Tribal goings-on, so check out her online class offerings, and the whereabouts of her upcoming Collective Soul and Teacher Training Certification courses. Sign up on her her website to get on the tribal journey. Copyright 2014 Paulette Rees-Denis for la Vie Sirene
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If you are a fan of Gy,sy Vardos, i.e. Caravans, visit Siren’s School’s album posted on Facebook. Here are some thumbnails of what you can ex,ect.
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“The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien
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Common House Hold Items; Extraordinary Uses! by Genevieve P.
Let’s face it; there is a solution for everything these days! A solvent for this, or a cream for that! “Miracle-working” products line the shelves of every store and shop out there! The catch? Those magical items often cost a pretty penny, and then some! So, how does one get the same effects and save the extra money for more enjoyable purchases? Never fear! Many ways to forgo those overbearing prices can be found in your very own home! Here are just a few said items, many of which you likely have already, and their incredible secret uses and powers! Distilled White Vinegar White vinegar is, by far, the most versatile solution out there — ideally, used as a cleaner! From anything to refreshing towels to those super hard to get carpet stains that even the expensive cleaners seem to have trouble getting. Fresh home and saving money? Always a plus! You can easily grab a large bottle for less than $5 at most every store! Here are just a few tried and true uses that you can do around your home on Spring Cleaning Day!
Carpets looking a bit worn and need some love? You have a toddler that LOVES to dump juice and make other stains on your floors? (Oh, hey, me too! Bless her trouble-starting little heart!) Have no fear! Just grab yourself a nice bucket, and put into it 1 cup white vinegar, a good squirt of Dawn Dish Soap (the blue stuff!), and fill with hot water (ratio 1 part vinegar : 4 parts water is usually). Get yourself a microfiber towel/rag. Now, with a little good ol’ fashion elbow grease, rub those nasty stains right out! Okay, stains are gone, but the carpet still looks a bit dulled and needs love? Take the same mix of vinegar/water (dish soap optional, but not needed), a spray bottle, and a push broom. Spritz all over carpet and rub it in. Your carpets are going to brighten right up! Worried about stinky vinegar smell? Never hurts to add a few drops of your favorite essential oils for a lovely fresh scent! Does it seem like no matter how many times you have tried, your bath towels just aren’t as fluffy as they used to be?
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Then rinse with cool water and polish with a soft towel until dry.
Over time, bath towels acquire soap scum and skin cells our bodies leave behind (yuck!) Get rid of the added ickies before you drop extra cash for new threads! Just plop a ½ cup – 1 cup (depends on load size) into your laundry’s normal wash cycle! The vinegar has enzymes that break away and eat up those gross left-behinds. The result? Fresh, fluffy towels that feel like you juat brought them home brand new! Brass or copper items not quite as shiny as they used to be? Put the shimmer back in your brass, bronze, and copper objects by making a paste of equal parts white vinegar and salt, or vinegar and baking soda (wait for the fizzing to stop before using). Use a clean, soft cloth or paper towel to rub the paste into the item until the tarnish is gone. -36-
Everyone has that one thing they make in their microwave that just explodes and causes a huge mess. If you are like a lot of gentlemen out there, you’re likely to forget to clean it, as well as you should, at the time of said mess. So now your microwave is a disaster zone. Easily solved! In a bowl, combine ½ cup vinegar and the rest water. Set timer for about 4 minutes, let that magical steam work its powers. Let it set for about a minute (steamy!) Now just take a damp, soapy sponge and clean it out. Nice and bright! There are so many uses for Distilled White Vinegar. It’s seriously a moneysaving miracle liquid! Just do a common search on the internet. You’ll be flooded with all sorts of valuable knowledge. So, the next time that one soiree gets a bit more rambunctious then your itinerary planned for, you’ll know exactly how to clean up the after effects! Baking Soda Baking Soda, like white vinegar, is also a fabulous cleaner and refreshing agent. (Just ask my kitty who gets a boost to his litter box with a sprinkle of baking
s o d a . S e r i o u s l y, i t ’ s a n a m a z i n g deodorizer.) But it’s also very useful for many things in the beauty routine as well Baking soda is cost-effective, costing less than $3 for a jumbo box at most shops. Here are a few things you can do for yourself to give a good pampering, without donating your kidney to science for expensive spa treatments. Nails stained from your favorite nail polish? Are they just not as white as they used to be? Don’t worry. Just mix up a magical paste of baking soda and hydrogen peroxide! 1 part hydrogen peroxide to every 3 parts baking soda (a thicker paste is ideal). Scoop, and gently massage, the paste onto your nails. Let the paste sit for about 5-10 minutes. Wash with mild soap and apply favorite lotion. The r e s u l t s h o u l d b e w h i t e r, brighter, stain-free finger nails! You can even use this same paste and method on the teeth. However, only do so about once a week, as the peroxide can be stressful on teeth if done daily. Adding baking soda to any tooth paste is a good way to get a better daily whitening boost.
My go-to is baking soda. That same ratio of backing soda and hydrogen peroxide you used for the nails, do for your face. However, no peroxide! Instead, use water. Then massage into your face. Let it sit like a mask for about 10-15 minutes; it will start to dry and get flakey. Rinse with warm water. Then take an ice cube and rub it gently over your face; pat dry. That chilly water will zip those pores up nice and tight! Apply your common moisturizer (coconut oil: just a few drops. This is bonus info and will be covered in a moment) leaving you with a fresh, glowing complexion like you just got the most luxurious treatment your local spa has to offer. And you spent less than $0.25 in baking soda to get it. Win!
Want to get a glowing fresh face clear of dead skin, but don’t have the cash to drop at the local spa? (Yeah, m e e i t h e r. B u d g e t s a n d toddlers, get me every time.) -37-
Salt water, swimming, heat and other things leaving your long locks of hair a little dry at the ends? Yeah, mermaids sometimes have that issue too. Coconut oil is the answer —just a few drops massaged into the tips of your hair after a shower. Gently massage up, focusing on the dry ends primarily. Avoid rubbing it into the scalp. The oil combined with your scalp’s natural oils can often leave one with a greasy feeling, and it’s just gross.
BONUS KNOWLEDGE: All-Mighty Coconut Oil I cannot go on enough about the benefits of coconut oil. It is seriously the most amazing beauty product replacer I have in my arsenal. As an organic and nonGMO product, it is super beneficial for the body. Nothing but the good stuff! I grabbed a large tub of it from the baking aisle of my local store and that tub lasts a long time. Take it from a mermaid, coconut oil is a great moisturizer. Just a few drops (seriously, a little goes a long way) after a shower and it leaves skin baby-buttocks soft! It seals in that moisture and doesn’t leave a scummy residue on the skin. It soaks down deep into the skin layers and provide nutrition to the cells. -38-
Once a week I also like to balance out my hairs’ PH levels with an apple cider vinegar rinse (1/2 cup apple cider vinegar and 2 cups water. Let hair soak it up and sit for at least 5 minutes. Rinse.) And then give it a moisture boost with coconut oil. For this, you will want to make sure that you do it with dry/damp hair, using more coconut oil then you would after your shower. You will want to make sure that you really soak the hairs in the oils. Let that sit for at least a couple hours, or overnight if you are able. Then shower up and wash it out. You’ll be left with super soft and shiny healthy hair, free of dry ends and unbearable frizzies! There are TONS of common things around the house that can be used in extraordinary ways! These are just a few personally tried and true uses. The possibilities are endless! Grab some things and see what you can replace in your house to save lots of cash. Use those extra funds to spoil yourself a little, you deserve it! Cheers!
Mini Peppers filled with Goat Cheese & Asparagus from My Recipes
Ingredients • 8 sweet mini peppers or gypsy peppers, stemmed, cut in half lengthwise, and seeded • 8 ounces asparagus spears, ends trimmed, chopped • 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided • 2 garlic cloves, minced • 1 teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary leaves • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt • 1/2 teaspoon pepper • Pinch red chile flakes • 1/2 cup fresh goat cheese
Preparation 1. Preheat broiler with rack set in top third of oven. 2. Toss peppers and asparagus in 1 tbsp. oil and spread out on a rimmed baking sheet. Broil, turning often, until starting to soften and brown slightly, 6 minutes. 3. Whirl garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper, chile flakes, and goat cheese in a food processor until just combined. 4. Spoon about 1 tbsp. cheese mixture into each pepper half and top with asparagus. Drizzle with remaining 1 tbsp. oil.
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Dip in My Daydream
by Victoria Blake I sat cross-legged in the grass, a freshly picked assortment of crisp white daisies nestled in my lap, slowly being threaded onto a flower chain I was patiently making. The summer sun was high above me, bathing us both in glorious warm rays and dousing our senses with pollen and that special heady smell of grass that only exists in the summer time. The lightest of breezes picked up a few loose tendrils of my waist length hair, making them caress my bare shoulders in a way I had always imagined a precious lover would do. -40-
My beloved house truck was to my back, two and a half stories of beautifully crafted wood, nestled atop a 1930’s bedford truck, stained glass windows casting a kaleidoscope of colours onto the ground all around, I felt as though I was sitting inside a rainbow. I held the now finished daisy chain in front of me and carefully placed it over my head – settling it around my forehead with a central trail dropping between my shoulder blades and down my back, it too moving with the blessed breeze.
Beside me you sit – always the same. I can’t see your face, but I know who you are. You know who I am. We are meant
He had already left and gone to work; at least I could get ready for work in peace. I slowly rolled out of bed and along the crawl
for each other. I am calm now because you are here with me.
space, stepping down to the second floor. Opening the curtains on either side of the truck, I could see a glorious day greeting me from outside. Now standing, I dressed and went down the half dozen steps to the
We have been searching for each other for the longest time, but I haven’t found you yet. Hope keeps me going. I know you visit me like this so I don’t give up, to keep hope alive when my desolate violent life invades and I have nowhere to turn, there you are. A screeching seagull swooped low directly above me, shattering my peace and jolting me back to reality. Leaning over I turned off my offensive alarm clock.
kitchen, filled the kettle and set it on the wood burner to boil for coffee. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that I struggled to understand how I had got to this place, how everything I loved so dearly now held me trapped firmly within its grasp. We had lived in our tiny house truck for almost a year, but it had been far from good.
Ugh, Monday again. My eyes traced a line of tongue and groove across the tiny roof, down the wall disappearing at the foot of the bed. My head was pounding – normal for me now. A weekend of over-indulging had become the only way of coping. Who was I kidding? It wasn’t just the weekends anymore. I knew I couldn’t take this for much longer, but I didn’t think I was strong enough to walk away either. Part of me was incredibly ashamed that this had become my life so quickly, and part of me thought I deserved it. I tenderly touched my ribs, and knew they would be purple from the night before. -41-
One good year before things descended in a way I never imagined they could or would. But they did, I felt trapped and didn’t know how to get out. Or maybe I just wasn’t quite ready at that time. I think that is why you began visiting me – so I could know there was more that life had to offer me – more that was good rather than bad. I will never forget the day you walked literally into my life. For real. I felt a connection with you from that first moment we met. I began to look forward to Fridays because I knew I would see you and the joy that surrounded our time together was immeasurable. You were my secret, you had to be – the consequences of him knowing about you would be beyond dire for me. So we continued our Friday night trysts, with a great deal of innocence, but when you visited me in my dreams there was anything but innocence, just a lot of deliciousness. We would spend a few precious hours together and then you would deliver me back into the clutches of evil. I would steel myself for another week of hell knowing you were just around the corner. I could live in the darkness knowing that there was a ray of light waiting for me each Friday. I no longer felt any joy being in my house truck; instead it held pain, frustration and much anger. Very far removed from the initial thrill and pleasure I used to get from being in my tiny home on wheels. It saddens me to this day that the joy was so quickly stripped from my life there. Saddens me and makes me angry. You became my best friend; and you gave me a way to survive for a year until I felt strong enough to leave, to want more for myself. -42-
I left my beloved truck behind, but it took much longer to shake off the bad memories. You never left my side, instead you have provided me with a safe place to fall on more occasions than I can possibly remember or count and I know I owe you my life. I may have left my truck behind that day, but I have never left the lifestyle and it has never left me. I know one day you and I will own a house truck together and travel this glorious country of ours in it, creating new beautiful memories where once there was only pain. We will find joy in waking beside each other each morning in our tiny bedroom, with its intricate woodwork and beautiful stained glass. Everything will be perfectly in its place. There will be a wood burner that will keep us warm, cosy and fed. We will travel in it to places that have million dollar views and spectacular pockets of nature will be our backyard. There isn’t a day that has gone by over the last twenty glorious years that I haven’t missed my truck and regretted leaving it. Not him, but the truck. It was my childhood dream that ended entirely too soon. But I will dip into my daydream once again.
Find the love you seek, by first finding the love within yourself. Learn to rest in that place within you that is your true home. —Sri Sri Ravi Shankar
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Caught in the Net Hand-crafted Mermaid, Ocean, Gypsy, Bohemian, Fae inspired Jewelry, Accessories & Treasures For pricing and purchasing info please visit: our Facebook page or Etsy shop 20% off when using code LASIREN20 *with minimum purchase of $25 or more Simply enter code at time of order. This goes for orders placed via Etsy & Facebook
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Do you dream of being your own boss, of setting your own schedule and determining your own destiny? Self-employment with Siren School as a Siren Soirees Producer, Fantasy Fitness Instructor or Fairy Godmother may be just the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of. Certification and training are available in a potpourri of genres:
Mermaid (parties & water workouts) Genie (parties & bellydance) Bollywood (parties & dance) Gypsy (parties & folkloric dance) Island (parties & dance) Moulin Rouge (parties & dance) Fae Courtesan & more
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Another Bohemian photo album on Siren School’s Facebook page.
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About Art ~by Kathy Figueroa Art is a language with which we communicate Comprised of lines both straight and broken Of colours, hues and shades A language where not a word is spoken So much can be conveyed By a scene, or enigmatic look A painting can be like an essay A gallery, like a book Artists speak this language Where words need not be said A work of art is a story Just waiting to be read (This poem was published in The Bancroft Times newspaper on May 3, 2012, the Bancroft This Week newspaper on May 11, 2012, and, also, in the Summer, 2012, issue of The Link magazine.)
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Thumbs Up for Katwise Those who are familiar with sweatercoat maven Katwise, know that she hitchhikes her way around the globe, spreading whimsy and color wherever her thumb takes her. In her own words: “I've been wandering the world for years, always finding new ways to thrive on my art. I have hitchhiked through close to 100 countries, and been a staple on the festival scene since the 1990s. For the past few years my sweaters have become sort of a "thing" on etsy, which has all been kind of bewildering and random to me! I hope you enjoy taking a peek at my colorful life! Thanks so much! :-) “
I wrote to her in hopes of grabbing an interview, to which she cheerfully agreed. I zipped off the questions below in an email, and then noticed she was off on adventure and had a work deadline. So instead of hounding her, I decided to leave the answers to your divining, by visiting her Etsy shop, Facebook page and fascinating website. Here are those questions: • • • • • • • • • •
Never have I seen traveling on your scale. It boggles the mind in the pleasantest of ways. When did it all start? And what percentage of the time are you on the move? How has being a homeowner changed your lifestyle? Were you always a sweater lover? How did your relationship with your woven wonders develop? I'd love to hear about your very first sale. What the item was, where you sold it, who purchased it, how it made you feel, and what you did with the moolah! What's your family like? What do they make of your madcap lifestyle? Aside from fantastical sweaters, what sorts of art projects are you fiddling with these days? Your Facebook page makes mention of your raising champion dust bunnies. I'm most interested in what goes into their training and where they've competed Have you read Hitchhiker's Guide and do you agree with its advice on traveling through the galaxy? Any advice of your own for those toying with the idea of thumbing their way through life's adventures as you have? Last, what are you looking forward to next?
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So...You think you're Bohemian
by Lyle Dagnen
Let me begin this little conversation with an observation; most people only think they're Bohemian. The mindset is just not there and most likely it will never be there. A true Bohemian, regardless of outside appearance, has to be possessed of a mind that is open to the world and all of its foibles, brilliance, darkness, light, change, permanence, humor, sadness, joy, superstition, knowledge, and anything else one can imagine. When that mindset is present, then Bohemian is one of the things that the individual can become; it will happen without having to think about it one teeny tiny little bit. Being Bohemian was a difficult physical appearance for me to acquire, since I was born into a family of the most un-Bohemian people on the face of the earth. I knew -50-
from and early age my thinking didn't fit into the family. Once I was old enough to be considered as having an opinion of my own and being allowed to express the opinion at family gatherings, I found my pronouncements met with a wall of stoned silence and stares. After being verbally accosted for expressing said opinions, I learned to keep my mouth shut. Then there was the physical appearance thing. I was dressed in the most conservative and standard kind of clothes. When I say dressed, I refer to the clothes I was allowed to wear. I asked about different styles, but was informed that that was not what I would like. I had my doubts, but I wasn't the one sewing at the time or spending the money for clothes. An example: I wanted my dresses hemmed
about an inch above my knee. My mom insisted below the knee was better. She would measure where I wanted, then put the hem where she wanted it, below the knee. Once she realized I had discovered the miracle of duct tape to adjust the hem, that problem was solved. I was an adult, nineteen before I began to dress as I pleased. That worked out without a hitch because I had moved to a university and had discovered my own style. That style was largely motivated by the U. S. Navy. It seems that the Navy chose to use straight leg jeans and uniforms and all the bell bottoms were sold in surplus stores. I became the beneficiary of some sailor's well-worn soft bell bottoms and fell in love with the style that they provided for me. Jeans slung off my hips and tees that were comfy took the place of linen dresses and gloves and hats and hose and underwear that I strongly detested. I became the free spirit my mind said that I needed to be. When I did choose a dress I choose a loose fitting, full length brightly colored kind of artistic expression of a thing. Needless
to say the tie-dyes and other fashions that were popular just sang to my soul. When my crazy self decided to become a teacher, I have to admit that my earlier training in how to dress came in handy. One must understand that school boards did not want to hire what they call a hippie freak peacenick. So I once again assumed the dress of the conservative southern belle, but remember that the Bohemian had been let out of the trailer and there is no way you can stuff that baby back in the door. My earlier training at keeping my mouth shut came in handy as well. It was something like being zapped back in time and learning that if I said the wrong thing, I would be burned at the stake. Not so much set on fire, but the possibilities of being removed from gainful employment made for many silent moments for me. I remember when some of the dress code relaxed and I was able to wear jeans at least once a week. But that was almost as sinful as showing up naked for work. Dress codes suck wind when they are not accompanied by a uniform code. Dress -51-
codes give a false sense of security with the word “appropriate” dress. That leaves it up to the individual and “thereby hangs the tail”. More than once, I was reminded that what I thought matched the code, did not (in their opinion) do so. I despised the whole concept and more than once expressed my ideas on the topic. Being Bohemian was in no way limited because of the style in which I dressed. But the idea that someone sets themselves as judge and jury irritated my idea of a person being able to express themselves. True, there are standards of decency; standards of acceptability; but a nice clean pair of jeans is perfectly professional as far as I can see. This is an argument I had for the entire thirty years that I taught. Moving away from the dress codes, my classroom was a reflection of my openness to the world. Believing that the text book was a guide to instruction and not The Bible. I found many outside sources for
instruction — trade books, newspapers, all sorts of materials that opened up the world to the kids I was teaching. They were a part of a very rural community with many of the citizens never leaving the area, even to go to Florida. Field trips to see Shakespearean plays in Atlanta, dramatic productions in Chattanooga, walking the Chickamauga Battle Field, simply going to Ft. Mountain State Park, became important events for the students. Having people come and present job information at a job fair as early as seventh grade allowed the kids to see that there was more to life that just the place where they lived. It was not just my effort, but the combined effort of many young teachers who shared the same kind of ideas that I had about widening the students’ horizons. One of the things that slammed me in the face was that no matter how well-educated I thought I was, I did not know nearly what I needed to know to teach school. Thus began my trek through graduate schools, adding certifications as I went along, being open to new ideas, concepts that were in need of modification, learning to try new things and give them a chance to work, opened many new vistas for my students. Recognizing mistakes I was making and being willing to change them allowed me to become a better teacher. My Bohemian way of thinking allowed me to absorb so many new, better, special, and good ideas that I was always amazed at the amount of growth one person could experience.
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Success was measured in long-term evaluations — a student returning from college expressing to me that something I had taught them had helped them through; hearing a kid say, “I did what you would have done. I stood up for myself”; hearing a kid say, “You taught me to love reading when you had us read The Outsiders.” A comment I really like was, “Remember when you read us Holes and we all couldn't wait until the next day to find out what happened?” Sure teachers are evaluated by professionals, but it's the observations of the students and the comments that they make that are truly what matters. I truly feel that it was my Bohemian mindset that allowed many of the innovations that became a part of my classroom. My husband and I will forever be at odds about the way I dress. He, coming from a military school, is a button-down dresser. He is often exasperated at my clothing choices. He says my “MuuMuus” just don't give the right impression. Personally, my
idea of a dress is some concoction that can be thrown into the air and parachute over my head. Shoes are a mere suggestion of something. I have had to learn not to go barefoot, a difficult transition due to health issues and safety. In retirement, I have discovered that jammies do just fine. My daughter has often been shocked when she discovers I have worn something she considers PJ's out in public. My oldest daughter and my son are more like me and figure if I'm happy who cares. As for child rearing, I think Bohemian affected me in two ways. One, I was an older parent; two, I was aware that there are some things that just don't make that much difference. My kids chose their own clothes. Not only regarding what they wanted to wear, but I also listened to what they said they wanted to wear.
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When they made mistakes, as all kids do, I often started with, “Did you learn anything?” I followed with, “Do you think you need to do
be sure to advise the friends to talk to their own parents. I also learned that when asked for advice, that it was important for me to
things differently?” Then I left it to them to make the changes, telling them that I would be around to help them if they needed me. Since I wanted my children to be able to say
help the other person clarify their own ideas and goals. Often, in the clarification of what they were thinking, they found the answer to the problem themselves. They answered their own questions.
anything to me, I had to be willing to hear anything they said to me without running around like some kind of demented idiot. Believe me, I heard things I did not want to hear, but we also were able of avoid many
Bohemian is a way of living, thinking and being. It's not just flowing skirts and gypsy earrings. I don't know how to be any other way than what I am. It just comes naturally.
mistakes because the kids had to decide things without experienced adult help. My kids brought their friends to me, and I had to
The most important thing you can do, if the lifestyle enchants you, is work on how you think and react to the world around you.
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Join our Gypsy- t- hemed Parties & and Dance Classes!
• Gypsy Jamboree Siren Soiree — Set your spirit free in this unbridled and boisterous get-together • Traveling Gypsies Fantasy Fitness class — This nomadic dance form originated in India then made its way through the Middle East and Russia to land in eastern Europe. [Class may include use of bell anklets, tambourine, fringed body veils, head scarves]
SirenSoirees.sirenschool.com
FantasyFitness.sirenschool.com -55-
Colors are the smiles of nature.~L ~ eigh Hunt
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Colorful Thoughts from Sanndi Thompson
Even if I was not an artist, I think I would still be fascinated with colors. Colors can lift moods, or can bring back memories or make new memories. Color is everywhere in our world. Outdoors, indoors, no matter where you are, there is color. I have always thought interesting the psychological, healing properties it can have on us, such as how just going outdoors or to a park where there is a lot of green can be so instantly calming, or how gazing at the blue of a swimming pool is soothing. Everyone usually has colors they love or colors they hate. No matter who you are or what age, color truly feeds our psyche from early on. I have often wondered about someone who is born blind and has never experienced any colors, how would color then work in their world? Would they feel it on another level perhaps? Or how would you describe a color to someone who had never seen any? Could you describe a color? (Food for thought here.) For instance, if I had to describe red to someone who had never seen red, then I guess I would use adjectives such as bright, vivid, bold, warm, strong. There are so many avenues and aspects of color to write about, I really am just rambling here; but I know it plays an important part in my world — for sure, in my art. I would say colors make statements, whether you are trying to be bold or subtle. Even if you think you are not making a statement by choosing neutral colors, well that is still making a statement. So the whole realm of color can be fascinating if you really stop and take time out to think on it. What colors do you have in your home? What color do you wear often? And our favorites, of course, change over time, because we grow and change as well. As an example. I love turquoise lately; my bedroom walls are this shade, for now, at least. It seems that after a color serves its time for us, on whatever level that may be, then when it has done its magic for us or our souls, we tire of it and then get a new fave. Colors are there for us when we go through changes in life or need a boost. How about stories of women who all of sudden go buy a red dress or that snazzy pair of red shoes? Yes, color is our friend and is always there for us for whatever mood or transition we are going through. All you have to do is let your feelings/intuition guide you. Your body, mind and spirit always know what you need. -57-
Bohemian Belles of Georgia
Events, meetups, parties, laughter & fun. Where Bohemian flair and a touch of Southern charm collide Let your gypsy spirit soar! A Siren School Salon -58-
Bohemian-Belles.sirenschool.com BohemiaBelles@gmail.com
Bohemian Kolaches from Taste of Home 28 Servings. Prep: 30 min. + rising. Bake: 10 min.
Ingredients 2 packages (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast 1/2 cup sugar, divided 2 cups warm milk (110° to 115°) 5-3/4 to 6-1/2 cups all-purpose flour 4 egg yolks 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 cup butter, softened 2 cups canned prune, poppy seed, cherry or lemon pie filling • 1 egg white, beaten • • • • • • • •
Directions In a small bowl, dissolve yeast and 1 tablespoon sugar in warm milk; let stand 10 minutes. In large bowl, combine 2 cups flour, remaining sugar, egg yolks, salt, butter and yeast/milk mixture. Mix until smooth. Add enough remaining flour to make a stiff dough.
Turn out onto a floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes. Add additional flour, if necessary. Place dough in greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover; let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. Punch dough down and allow to rise again. Roll out on floured surface to 1/2-in. thickness. Cut with large glass or 2-1/2-in. cutter. Place on greased baking sheets; let rise until doubled, about 45 minutes. Firmly press indentation in center and fill each roll with a heaping tablespoon of filling. Brush dough with egg white. Bake at 350° for 10-15 minutes or until rolls are light golden brown. Nutritional Facts: 1 serving (1 each) equals 164 calories, 3 g fat (2 g saturated fat), 37 mg cholesterol, 116 mg sodium, 29 g carbohydrate, 1 g fiber, 4 g protein.
image from ToriAvey
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HOMEMAD E (Front or Top load machine = best value)
submitted by Bonnie Ramsburg My uncle finally convinced my mom to make her own homemade laundry soap. She successfully purchased all of the items she needed to do so, which included a paint stirrer…. notice the funny looking thing on top of the blue bucket of congealed soap? She and my dad spent an afternoon cooking up some pennies on the dollar laundry soap. The following recipe is the one she used, and when I couldn’t find the hardcopy, I went searching for something similar online. Check out this link for a wide variety of recipes including powdered versions and some handy dandy information that will help you if you should decide to make your own. Ingredients: • 4 cups of Hot Tap Water • 1 bar Fels-Naptha Soap* • 1 cup Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda ** • ½ cup Borax Directions: Grate bar of soap and add to saucepan with water. Stir continually over medium-low heat until soap dissolves and is melted. -60-
Fill a 5 Gallon bucket half full of hot tap water. Add melted soap, washing soda and Borax. Stir*** well until all powder is dissolved. Fill bucket to top with more hot water. Stir***, cover and let sit overnight to thicken. Stir*** and fill a used, clean laundry soap bottle half full with soap and then fill the rest of the way with water. Shake before each use, as it will gel. When it’s time to refill your soap bottle, you will need to Stir*** the 5 Gallon bucket again until it’s mixed well. ~Optional: You can add 10-15 drops of essential oil per 2 Gallons. Add once soap has cooled. Ideas: Lavender, Rosemary, Tea Tree oil. ~Yield: Liquid soap recipe makes 10 gallons. ~ Top Load Machine- 5/8 Cup per load (Approx. 180 loads) ~ Front Load Machines¼ Cup per load (Approx. 640 loads) * Visit the FelsNaptha website to find a store in your area that carries the product.
** Arm & Hammer “Super Washing Soda” –in some stores or may be purchased online at Meijer.com. Baking Soda WILL NOT WORK, nor will Arm & Hammer Detergent. It must be Sodium Carbonate!!!! *** You will want to borrow or purchase (better option in the long run, you’ll be using it again!) a paint stirrer that attaches to your drill and is for a 5 Gallon bucket. It makes stirring much easier! _______________ My opinion on this: I personally wasn’t that impressed with the soap without the essential oil in it. I had washed a load twice and they still didn’t smell clean or fresh. Instead of adding it to the whole bottle, I just added some Clean Linen essential oil from Pat Catan’s to the individual cap full and I was happier with the outcome. I will continue to use the Homemade soap.
Homemade Fabric Softener This link will take you to the recipe I sort of followed came from. Materials: • Glass Jar with Lid • ½ a cup of White Vinegar • Fabric Squares
•15 drops of your favorite Essential Oil Directions: Place your fabric squares into the bottom of a mason jar and pour in your vinegar and essential oils over the fabric. Drop 1 sheet in your dryer with your clothes and they will smell fresh and be rid of static! ___________ My opinion on this: This is the first time I’ve ever made these. I used two of the sheets since my load of clothes were thick
work pants. Would I do it again? Maybe. I smelled the vinegar every so often when moved while I was working, so I may try to find a different essential oil. Instead of the reusable cleaning rags that I purchased that come 6 in a pack, I would probably use a sponge and cut it in half. I used Verbena Bamboo scented Essential Oil and I also doubled the amounts (well, I’m pretty sure there were more than 30 drops of the E.O. in it). I found that my clothes, while not smelling like perfume or scented, at least smelled clean and fresh.
This link is one I found after making up this batch. I’m not sure if I would try any of the recipes listed. I’ll have to check out our washer and see if any of them would work without having to figure out the “beginning of the rinse cycle.”
~ INSPIRATION! ~ I wish to thank my fellow siren and contributor Genevieve for the inspiration and for allowing me to use the fabric softener recipe. -61-
Keep Calm and Carry on My Wayward Sons by Shannon Lopez Not your typical sort of travelling folk, they are Hunters. The bane of every creepy, crawly, glowing-eyed monster that dares go bump in the night. As the name implies, "hunters" are (usually) humans who make it their business to track down and eliminate anything of a mystical persuasion, including, demons, ghosts, witches, vampires, shape-shifters, wendigos, etc. The Road So Far... To be a hunter is a life on the road. For a number of reasons, most hunters cannot or will not put down roots. Mobility is key. Constantly on the move, a hunter could be tracking a corpse munching ghoul in Wichita one day then have to beat feet to clear out a nest of vampires in Denver the next. The ability to put a town in their rear view mirror is also essential as the local law tends to mistake the decapitation of a supernatural man-eater for the cold-blooded homicide. This is often why a hunter tends to avoid visiting the same town twice. While a hunter dedicates his or her life to protecting mankind, the tables can turn whereby the hunter becomes the prey. In the world of the supernatural, a hunter makes quite a few enemies and sometimes that demon they exorcised back to hell takes it personally. It will makes it its business to crawl their way back up -62-
from the fiery abyss to murder a hunter in their bed. This stark reality makes it difficult and unwise to linger too long in one place. No, for the average hunter, a house with a white picket fence is out of the question, its endless hours on the road and cheap sleazy motels with roaches on the walls. Skills and Abilities: If a hunter expects to avoid becoming ghoul scat it’s generally a good idea to maintain a strong mind and body. This includes and not limited to: • A thorough understanding of mythology and lore (both world and local) • Proficiency in various forms of martial arts (or general hand-to-hand combat). • Expertise with both firearms and melee weapons • Ability to read and pronounce Latin verses and incantations (knowledge of other dead languages is strongly encouraged). • Access to research materials such as newspaper articles, journals, books, and other manuscripts (do not fear to use the local library!) • Knowledge of federal and local police procedure (a fake FBI badge and a cheap suit can open a lot of doors in a supernatural investigation).
• A hearty dose of common sense! If you think it’s a trap then it probably is. If you need back up then pick up the phone. Most hunters will set aside the lone-wolf mentality if it means getting a job done right. Weaponry: (The short list) Firearms: • Shotguns with modified shells packed with rock salt are highly effective when used against creatures such as ghosts and demons. While it won't "kill" a ghost it can disrupt their manifested form granting a hunter valuable time to escape. • A silver bullet from a handgun or rifle will put down a werewolf with ease when aimed at the head or heart. Bladed weapons: • Knives, axes, machetes, etc., can all be used to various effect, for example: the only way to kill a vampire is by decapitation (a wooden stake through the heart is like bringing a hotdog to a gun fight, useless). Blades made of or coated in silver, however, can harm or kill a wider range of beasts such as werewolves, shape-shifter, skin-walkers, fairies, and djinn. The Elements: • Salt: Many cultures extol the virtues of salt as a purifying element. It is why every hunter "worth his/her salt" will carry a much of the stuff as possible. Demons and ghosts are incapable of crossing a salt line or circle and can in fact be harmed if they come into contact with it. • Holy Water: It will burn a demon like acid, enough said. • Iron: Did you ever wonder why old graveyards have an iron fence? It was believed that a wandering spirit or ghost could not pass through an iron barrier thus preventing them from harassing the world of the living. A hunter can use an iron rod against ghosts, demons, and other monsters. • Fire: There are a few combinations to which fire can be applied:
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Fire: On its own it can kill creatures such as wendigos and rugarus. Fire + holy oil: can be used to trap or injure and angel. Fire + salt: when applied to the remains of a vengeful spirit will put it to rest once and for all.
Magic, Charms, and the Like: • Spells to summon or banish spirits, hex bags to curse or protect, and sigils/ wards to keep evil in or out. A hunter that doesn’t use magic is fighting with a severe handicap. It’s a shameful waste of a powerful resource that can get them and others killed. It's not an easy life being a hunter. No place to call home and life expectancy is... well it’s a special thing when a hunter can die of old age. A thankless job where the risk is high and the rewards are few. However, sometimes "saving people" and "hunting things" can be all the motivation certain people need.
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The Sirens of Cynthus a Coastal SoCal Siren School salon
Join us for fun, food, fitness, fantasy & friendship
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Siren Send-Off
The bulk of what this magazine issue has been about cannot be seen in these pages. The deadline for submissions was August 30th, and our contributors were here and there, doing this and that — fully embracing their gypsy spirits and relishing their last moments of summer. As such, we gave them time off for Bohemian behavior. Know that they used this time wisely. Some went on trips, others prepared for training as Siren School saloniieres, and most just enjoyed nature in all its unusual and unexpected iterations. Join us next month as we come together to share our favorite holiday traditions with one another. And by all means, do share yours as well! Heartily, Joy & the LVS Magpies “Our caravan is our family, and the world is our family” ~Gypsy proverb
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