Fieldtrip: What we found in the Sculpture Fields #CHA

There's a new sculpture field in Chattanooga, even though it advertises itself as plural. Maybe that means there might be more. I hear an amphitheater is coming, adjacent to the field o' sculptures. Right on top of a landfill. Isn't that great? We could be singing along to "Cheeseburger in Paradise" while Jimmy Buffett performs (wearing a parrot hat, obvi) all the while an actual cheeseburger is decomposing underneath our very feet? Living in the eco-kingdom is phenomenal.

I don't know if sculpture fields are the new cupcake shop, the new pop-up shop, the new record players for old vinyl albums. Are they the latest hipster movement or are they old news? Despite the fact that Chattanooga enjoys the fastest internet in the nation (so fast that it should be making me younger and lighter simply by the velocity at which I am downloading gigawhatevers), I'm really behind the times. I'll have to watch some Portlandia tonight and see if they spoof the Sculpture Field Craze that is now so played out.

I think my favorite sculpture is this one. From one vantagepoint, it reminds me of a guy desperately trying to hail a cab (Uber wasn't around when he was sculpted). From another angle, it looks like he's waving to Lookout Mountain.

When I made Little Man pose for this one, I thought, this would make a great bridal backdrop. Just hand me my megaphone because I became a minor prophet that day. I'm seeing it on the 'gram like you would not believe.

Parents in usual places: "Stay off that rusty rail. You'll get diptheria or tetanus or something!" Parents at Sculpture Fields: "Oh, you guys look cute. Let's take a picture for the 'gram."

If you go on a swelteringly hot day, you can pretend to be Bowe Bergdahl running from the Taliban in an arid wasteland. This is not, as it turns out, what our kids were playing here. They can't get into Season 2 of Serial, I guess.

This one is called Granite Windows. It spins. That's way beyond my sculpture wheelhouse. Hahah. Wheelhouse.

Daughter.

Hubs.

Little Man

To go: http://sculpturefields.org/

What I plan to do with my lack of Powerball winnings

The doorbell rang at 9 o'clock yesterday,Our neighbor Jordan who always calls me ma'am, could have knocked but he rang, our children long in bed.

Jordan asked for some sugar in order to make Kool-Aid. Because maybe that's too much to go without at 9 o'clock when you're in the fifth grade, enough to force you out the door into the darkness to ring a neighbor's doorbell whose name you only know as ma'am.

I was so happy my husband was home so I could hide, bra-less and he could fetch a literal cup of sugar to give to Jordan for all of his Kool-aid needs.

And that is how I always want it to be: to be asked and tickled to death able to give out from a sweet supply.

Which is why I have not bought a ticket to match my numbers to the queue of balls to watch and wait and see tonight if I should arrange for the U.S. Mint to pour some sugar on me.

Because the thing about scarcity and abundance is not in how much it depletes or enriches but in how quickly and easily it comes to give or take away.

Don't be a killjoy they'll say Here's to your loss and our gain, But for now I can meet my neighbor's gaze the Kool-Aid mustache isn't asking for a cut of what I have not whatever I can give.

To know my neighbor's thirst and to be known as one who can can sweeten the deal, that is my billion dollar winning. My life stands to lose much more than it stands to gain from a powerball, a power fall from wealth for me.

Crafternoon with findings from The Refindery

I have a penchant for trolling shops and other emporia that stock old timey estate sale things. Bureau drawer knobs and big slabs of slate. The things I could do with them! The junky things I can make using mod podge and dryer lint! My personal kryptonite are planks of wood, though. I love a good solid piece of wood that cries out to me, Paint me! Gold leaf me! Take me home!

My virgin visit to Chattanooga's The Refindery afforded me the ultimate souvenir. A wood plank that was...you might want to sit down for this and grab a paper bag in which to breathe...hand-carved. I know. It was like winning Powerball or giving birth to an heir to the throne and not having to tell the media right away. At least, that's how I imagine it would feel. Finding your handcut wood and the salesperson at The Refindery saying, "How 'bout $12?"

Boom. Sale. Done and done.

She said it was probably a remnant from someone's fireplace which was lovely to think about this being a literal part of someone's hearth.

Here is what happened when I got home:

1. Sanded wood to clean off any excess crud.

2. Painted with acrylic paint and then covered bottom half with chalkboard paint.

3. Allowed to dry and posted some kendraspondence in chalk on my new fireplace fixture.

I think it looks quite fetching and will definitely return to The Refindery for more woodchips from the Planet Krypton.