Partial Unveiling Fish Chandelier

Well, it's missing a bulb and I still need to string 4 1/2 fish strands, but it looks good. Because it has 6 bulbs, it is not casting fish shadows, alas. 

It's custom and bespoke and delicate. No two fish are the same, and there are non-fish surprises such as a wave bead that ties the color scheme together and a glass bubble. There is a massive deep green fish. They all sparkle with Aurora Borealis (it's a bead thing). I wanted to make a blue whale gathering up the fish into a readily edible mass like I witnessed in Juneau, but never did. I don't have the right colors any longer and I like it without predators. 

I put the longer strands in the middle, the medium ones in between and the shorter ones along the outside for a graduated appearance that mimics the bulb stems. I want to learn how to make a circle with beads to create one octopus, but so far all I managed is one transparent star fish. This is the perfect task to beat the heat and humidity. A bit more fish making and I'll need another project. Alas, all of our ceilings are covered and I need to move onto another medium but light fixtures are my favorite. Oh, and after I finish with the fish, I need to strand my plastic flowers because this chandelier is CONVERTIBLE! The flowers should cover the space better than the fish because they are larger. 

Rhode Island

Hey, fun-loving New Englanders. Here's a ride that you
alone power. None of that new-fangled electricity here, nosiree.
Work up a sweat to try to get this giant metal cage
ALL THE WAY AROUND! Maybe even induce
a heart attack, if you're lucky.

Candy colored Lincoln Park. I have no photos, but the pictures live strong in my mind of the glorious tack that was a 1970s family style New England amusement park. Mom would pack a lunch that I would dance through with anticipation in the parking lot. I was tall enough that my father took me on the Comet coaster and it's not an experience I'll soon forget: if not for my father's karate chop to my waist on that first hill, I was falling forward onto the tracks. Clack, clack, clack! Good times. My sister would invariably get sick on fried clams. Many rides I wouldn't consider tackling because I was certain my parents wouldn't go for it, but those cages that could, in theory, swing 360 degrees sure looked dangerous. I always felt bad for the people in the Monster ride ("Monster Ride") who would emerge on the second floor. The humans pinned against the circle ("The Round Up") had nope written all over it.

CHiPs for the tykes

Basically the same ride, but
not motorcycles, storks

Who could focus on sandwiches

when all this awaited?

I couldn't understand my mother's
aversion to this. I think I know
now. Back problems, anyone?

But what I did ride I'll always remember. Storks, motorcycles, boats, cars with horns and steering wheels that did nothing, some sort of garish barrel, rocket ships, cars, and the flimsiest ferris wheel this side of a carnie. I got into one of those bucket seated multi-armed deals ("The Scrambler") with my little sisters and misjudged the centipedal force to crush my baby sis. No one cared about safety or intestinal health back then. No padding on "The Whip". Very few seatbelts - just a bar to grip. No one seemed to have planned anything besides my mother's lunch: we'd see families strapped with massive plushies that would take the entire backseat on the ride home. Ugly, cheap, HUGE eyesores that they already regretted winning for $100 in today's equivalent. 

 

Burlap in use

I know this reveals my age, but times were different. By today's standard, I'm amazed that Lincoln Park didn't have a class action lawsuit daily. Nothing preventing the kiddos from bailing out of the boat ride into the brown water. Most rides just encouraged you to hold on as their risk-avoidance mechanism. We "rode" the big slide by climbing stairs and, get this, using half of a burlap bag as protection from the searing heat and friction burns. It is a wonder as many of us survived to adulthood, truth be told. Far scarier than "The Monster" ride, was a total lack of safety. But, it was fun.

You couldn't say you weren't
warned

Clinging to life

That "safety belt" I'm
quite sure does NOTHING

This is incredibly girly, but many of those arcade games had dolls made out of nylon stockings and outfitted like Mae West in a riot of pastels and pouf. I'd dream of these visions of femininity all night as I could still feel my body sliding down "the big slide". 

Yes, this is what a 9-year old girl dreams of in 1977.
She was the epitome of femininity in my eyes.

Nostalgia is a powerful thing. I have lost touch with that young, wild girl who was brimming with excitement. The world seemed so magical. It was magical.

clams!

Clams, 

clams,

You certainly had options to eat
a few clams

Cigs were encouraged. Leisure
suit optional.

My father drove me out of Rhode Island in an Oldmobile Cutlass Supreme in 1979. I just drove my own self out of Rhode Island and I couldn't believe I'd do the same horrible thing to myself. It is magic. Every corner has the cutest pre-Revolutionary homes with their diamond lead glass windows. I found the homes in Providence I remember thinking even back then, special. I visited Federal Hill finally and felt the presence of Guy Alba cutting hair until close to 100 years old. I grew up in a magical place and it's still breath-taking. Rhode Island gives you a sense of discovery. Maybe it's because I didn't actually have an itinerary and my co-pilot was Tootie Pie, but I am counting the days until Rhode Island is mine again.