Howl Part 2

 

OK--it has nothing to do with the haunted trail, but isn't this the cutest little baby snake you ever saw?  Bob was working in the garden and spotted this little guy--at first he thought it was an earthworm and then realized is was looking back at him.

Back to the trail.

In order to create a successful haunted trail, you have to have one foot planted firmly in Crazytown.  You have to be the sort of person who picks up baby dolls wherever you find them.

You have to be the type of person who can take PVC pipe, electric cable, a foam skull, and paper mache and create this

That's the fun part.  Crazytown is a fun place.  Many people live there.  But to have a successful haunted trail you have to have the other foot planted in the world of checklists, budgets, and planning.  Recuiting volunteers (and they rocked!) You have to make non-much fun items such as this.

As each actor checks in, he/she is handed a card saying which scene they'll be in, what sort of costume they need, what sort of makeup, and who can tell them what they'll be doing. 

The security team is briefed (members of a motorcycle club--bless these guys)

All the scenes in the trail are built according to ADA standards and are wheelchair accessible.

Meh.  But after the checklists are done, you can get back to Crazytown and down to the serious business of scaring people.

 

High fives are given when you startle someone enough that they fall down.  Victory dances for when you hear someone say "I just peed on myself"  (and more so when your nose tells you that other functions have expressed themselves).   But in all of the years we've been doing this, we have never literally scared the pants off someone.  But Rob saw a woman step into the woods--and he assumed that she was trying to hide.  His charge and yell of "arrrrrghh" suddenly turned into an "oh--excuse me" as he realized that she was taking care of business before facing the last scene.  Rob--you rule!

Howl Part 1

I had every good intention of posting regularly during October to tell of the building and running of the haunted trail for the museum's Halloween Howl.  Well, I seem to have gotten busy doing it, and not writing about it.

In short--it was an amazing success.  It all ran smoothly enough that it made us nervous, and on Saturday the museum was letting in over 600 people an hour (there are events all over the museum, so not *everybody* went on the trail, but it sure felt like it).  It's too big and too complicated (and I'm still too tired) to write in any coherent manner, so you'll be getting it in a random fashion.

Quick background information--for the past 19 years the Tallahassee Museum has held the Halloween Howl.  A big part of that is the Haunted Trail--about a quarter mile walk through the woods.  For many years the trail was done by the crew who called themselves "The Sick Puppies"--Rob, Jeff, Bob, and myself.  Finally, we burned out.  In 2011 Bob and I ran off to Oaxaca, Mexico for the Day of the Dead (Rob and Jeff decorated the museum grounds), and in 2012 we did the Cabinet of Curiosities.  For complicated reasons, we came out of "retirement" this year and did the trail.

We do try to take advantage of our space--all you need to do to scare most people is simply put them in the woods at night and keep it dark.  We just push it a bit more.  Some people aren't prepared to take that.  We found it strange that a large number of people (at least 30 according to our Line Wench), after standing in line for an hour and a half, would start down the trail, see the first scene--then turn around and walk back out. (And these are taken during the day--imagine it at night, when you're pretty sure someone is going to jump out at you)

(Jeff is a genius--the tombstones and the mausoleum are made of Styrofoam.)

And there's the teaser.  A nice soft bed is calling my name--more later.

The Haunted Trail Begins

For many years (possibly too many), the team affectionately  known as "The Sick Puppies" (Rob, Jeff, Bob, and myself) built and ran the haunted trail at the Museum's annual Haunted Howl.  We loved it--too put it honestly, we were obsessed with it.  Our dream was to have a professional level of haunt--the type that is actually installed year-round, added to each year, with a budget of many thousands of dollars.  Of course, our little team would have a month to build all the sets from scratch, and the term "thousands" never applied to our budget.  Every year we tried to top the year before--more and bigger sets, more elaborate props, more special effects.  Of course, the bigger and more elaborate it was, the more work it was to tear it all down and put it away.   We burned out, and in 2010, after our biggest and best trail ever, we retired.  We loved the trail, but it had kicked our butts. 

In 2011 Bob and I went to Oaxaca for Day of the Dead, and Rob and Jeff did a beautiful static display on the museum grounds.  In 2012 we did the Cabinet of Curiosities which was brilliant and we loved it--but we still thought of the trail. Each of those years someone else had done the trail--and had sort of called it in (which is a phrase which means "did a half-assed job").  We tried to let it go--but it bugged us.

2013--a friend of ours has been named the new Director of Education for the museum--and responsible for the Halloween Howl.  We want her to look good.  Retirement has failed--the Sick Puppies are back on the trail.  Uh . . .

But we made a pinkie promise (for real--I made the guys link pinky fingers) that we wouldn't kill ourselves.  In 2010 we had 13 large scenes.  We decided that you really only need three big scenes (beginning, end, and one in the middle).  The rest can be fillers.

So far, so good.  The build has begun. 

The campground is ready for the bloody campers. 















Bob has started arranging his dolls (it's a little disturbing that Bob not only collects dolls but does
some very strange things with them--I try to avoid thinking about it).  He still has another 30-40 dolls to add to the scene.











My fishnet (which Jeff insists is "the Hive") has been built of erosion fabric.  I will be making
costumes covered in the same material, so that the actors will be invisible.

The haunted vineyard has been started.

The toxic waste dump is finished--but I forgot to take the picture.















The final scene will be "The Farm."  We thought if we put everything we have into the last scene, that
will be the one people remember.  It will have drop panels, a tipping wall, a maze--and some things I don't even know about yet.  Rob and Jeff start with the infrastructure, which will later be filled in.  At the moment is just looks like a forest of 2 x 4s.

In short, not too bad!

More next week as the we continue to create the magic.

Big Projects, Little Projects

I started my new job two weeks ago.  Not that I gave up either of my old jobs--so now I curate the historic clothing collection, do animal education at the museum, and sew in the costume shop at the School of Theatre.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I (as always) have some projects going on.  I just have fiddly fingers and need to be twiddling with something.  And I usually have several going at once, to suit available time and brain cells.  My recent projects:

Purse.  This was for practical reasons--my purse was falling apart, and I really dislike shopping (and purses tend to be expensive).  I want at least two pockets on the outside of a bag (keys and glasses) and a half-dozen pockets inside to keep everything from taking a nose-dive to the bottom.  Bob had given me this batik cotton at some point and it seemed just right.

Temperature Scarf.  I mentioned this a few entries ago.  It's slowly growing--I only have to knit less than an hour a week on it, but I can't forge ahead because I have to wait for the daily high temperature.  It rained for almost two months straight during what is usually our hottest time of the year.  On the plus side, it kept the summer from being as dreadfully hot as it usually is.  On the minus side, I'm *really* getting tired of 90-95 degree orange  :-(





The One-Ounce-Wonder.   I started this about a year ago, and it might take another year to finish it.  It started with the question of "how much can I do with one ounce of fiber?" (in this case, a luscious yak down/silk blend).  So it got spun nice and fine and the knitting began.  It doesn't get worked on much--it's a bit difficult to see yarn this fine, and the lacework is pretty fiddly.  It's going to be a triangular scarf (or shawl, depending on how big it gets).  So far, I've knit a little over a half-ounce of the finished yarn.  Now its name refers to the question of "I wonder why I'm doing this?" or "I wonder if I'll ever get it finished?"

Felted Slippers:  These knitted squares will turn into another pair of felted wool slippers.  They're just simple garter-stitch squares.  I really shouldn't even admit to my knitting time on them--they're my driving knitting.  Uh--yeah.  My daily commute includes way too many traffic lights, often red.  Rather than pound on the steering wheel and swearing, and ONLY AFTER COMING TO A COMPLETE STOP (ahem), I knit.  I can do garter stitch literally blindfolded, so I'm not even looking at it, and I can drop it in mid-stitch when the light changes.  I get about two squares done a week, and my blood pressure is much lower.

The Folded-Strip Tote Bag:  I saw a cute pattern for making a tote bag out of a long narrow strip of fabric.  Perfect for something handwoven, no?  I've warped the loom with some chenille yarn (which will feel nice and velvety) and I'm doing what's called a "clasped weft" which is letting me do this two-toned irregular zig-zag design.  It will probably have to wait until after the Halloween Howl to get much woven on it--as I have another big project with a deadline.  To wit:

The Wedding Dress:  A friend is getting married in about a month (see the shawl/veil I made for the occasion a few posts ago).  What she really wanted was a vintage-looking dress.  She had even found a late 50's pattern.  Downside is that it wasn't her size, and patterns that fit closely need to be tweaked for  individual bodies anyway (for instance, it has a tight-fitting sleeve with elbow darts, and her arm is shorter from shoulder to elbow than the pattern).  I just sort of barged in and said I would make it.  Two old sheets later and we had a pattern that would work.  The fabric is a *gorgeous* cream-colored silk/hemp (yes--hemp!) blend.  It's almost finished (and you don't get to see pictures until after the wedding) but my fingers are sore.  The skirt is very full--and I don't like the "wadged up" look of tight gathering--so I did what's called "cartridge pleating."  Basically, you fold the fabric into small pleats, and then sew them to the waistband.  One. By. One.   By. Hand.  Takes awhile, but its so pretty.   This is almost finished--I need to put it one her one more time to choose the hem length, and then hem it up.  By hand, of course.

Finally, a finished project of another sort.  We just released our last possum.  He was one of the group that escaped into Bob's room during Mike's visit last spring.  The others have long gone on their way, but something went wrong with Stumpy (somewhere along the line when he was a baby he lost most of his tail.  The Manx look is actually quite adorable).  He was in the release cage, and one morning he was spinning in uncontrollable tight circles.  Because of all the rain this summer, we had a major mosquito problem, so the general suspicion was West Nile virus (I didn't get him tested because there really isn't much treatment for it except time).  The neurological problem was bad enough that he couldn't even eat or drink on his own, so twice a day for about three weeks we wrapped him in a towel and I pinned him down to stop the circling while Bob squirted water and soft food into his mouth.  Much to our amazement, he recovered.  We kept him another month to be sure--and then opened the door and let him out.  It was really a hard thing to do after spending so much time on him, but giving a critter his freedom is what rehabbing is all about.  Unlike squirrels, opossums usually don't hang around or come back after a release, so I probably won't see him again (but if I do, he'll be easy to recognize)

And the building of the Haunted Trail began last weekend--pictures to follow.

Oh yes--almost through reading Jules Verne's "Mysterious Island."  I really think those Victorian authors got paid by the adjective . . .

And that's how I keep myself busy.

Playin' at the Hookey Again!

*I* wasn't playing hookey.  I was merely taking a day off.  My job curating the historic clothing collection is a 10-hour a week position--I did that Monday and Tuesday.  Wednesday I worked at the Museum.   So I figured take a home day while I can (because I've just accepted a *third* part-time job that starts this coming week, which will cut into home days).

So my day off was legit.  Bob's--not so much.  But he really hoofed it and got two day's worth work done on Wednesday and just called in Thursday for a mental health day.  And whisked me away!

My plan for my day had been fairly prosaic--sew some Halloween costumes and get some chores done.  Instead, being as it was a beautiful day, not too hot, he took me down to Bald Point (one of the beaches on the gulf).  It's the off-season, so we had it to ourselves.  We didn't swim (the Gulf water tends to be a bit warm, murky, and uninviting this time of year) but had a long leisurely walk.  More and more we find ourselves taking pictures of things just for the patterns on them.  Bob uses them as inspiration when painting his models--he's on a dinosaur kick now and who knows what colors they really were?

One of the miracles of fall is beginning--we saw monarch butterflies fluttering about.  It's migration time, and they'll be heading across the gulf to Mexico.  It's hard to grasp that these tiny bits of color, that can get tossed in any breeze, can somehow make it across the wide expanse of the gulf.  All you can do is wish them luck.

All that looking at the ocean put us in the mood for seafood, so we headed to a small town with a
smaller restaurant where Bob dove into the fried shrimp and I made do with a grilled platter of shrimp, scallops ,grouper, crab claws, and devilled crab.  But first, after all that walking, large quantities of iced tea were needed.  Down here in the South we don't use small glasses.

Bob was the one who chose the restaurant (The Coastal if you happen to be in the neighborhood), and it just "happened" to be next to the Gulf Coast Marine specimens lab--a small research aquarium.  No stingrays to pat here, but a number of smaller tanks--shallow trays of various sea life that you can pick up and study (good thing I'd had that dinner or the scallops might have gone home with me).  Larger pools with sharks and sea turtles--no patting there lest you lose a finger or hand.  Some interesting research on octopi--who are both intelligent and curious.  We watched one video of a researcher who offered a toy to an octopus.  She reached out a tentacle and took the toy, then carefully looked at it and tasted it.  That part didn't surprise me--they will interact with humans and they study things.  What startled me was than when she finished she extended the tentacle again and handed it back to the man. 

 

And thence home for a nap.   Work can wait for tomorrow.

Museum Exhibit

I've always loved museums.  I love the past, the present, the concepts for the future.  I love wandering around displays.

And, as has been seen in some previous blog posts, sometimes I get to do displays.  So when I heard that an art history student was planning on doing a display of pre-Columbian Peruvian pottery I contacted her with "y'know--I've got some pre-Columbian Peruvian textiles in my collection."  Sort of elbowed my way into her project.

The project had that rare things going for it--a perfect committee.  The whole thing was Liz's idea, and she designed it, chose the pottery, and did the pictures and text panels for the walls. (this was part of her program for her Master's degree).  We had the help of Wayne, the museum preparator, who knows how to arrange cases, do lighting, and, in general, how to make things look good.   I supplied the textiles and a pair of objective eyes for the arrangement of the pieces.


If I may say so myself--the display is lovely.  It's actually difficult to get some good pictures, as the overall effect is soft and serene.  In a serene
way--it was very exciting to work on this, mainly because of the age of the objects.  As "Pre-Columbian Peruvian" covers a *lot* of geography and time, Liz decided to narrow the focus down to the Nazca era--which meant that the pieces we were handling were 1500 to 2000 years old.  It makes you be very very careful.

 

It's also exciting that this is a bona-fide, accredited fine arts museum--and my name is on the wall as a co-curator of a display.  I feel like I've arrived.

Big Brother, Little Brother

Have to continue to indulge in being a proud great-aunt.  Here's Dane with his new little brother Zeke.

Even though Dane had ordered a little sister, I think he'll do just fine with a brother.  He'd better be satisfied--I don't think we'll talk Amanda into doing this again!


Keeping up with my reading list--recently read:
"Hallucinations" by Oliver Sacks.  Sacks is a neurologist with an easy-to-read writing style.  While he usually writes on neurology, I noticed that he had also written a "Oaxaca Journal" about his trip to that lovely Mexican state. Because of my own fondness for Oaxaca I read that one as well.
"Northanger Abbey" by Jane Austen.  Funny snarky parody of the romance novels of Austen's time.
"The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie"   One of those classics that I had never read (or even seen the movie even though I'm I big Maggie Smith fan.  Heard it mentioned on NPR and decided to read it.  It's a hard book to categorize--almost the opposite of a coming-of-age story.

That puts me between books at the moment (I caught a cold this weekend so finished Jean Brodie faster than intended).  Back to Project Gutenberg.