Even a Stopped Clock Shows The Right Time Twice a Day (Cut-Fold-Make your own Stopped Clock)

PLEASE click on this clock project picture to bring up the fully detailed

print'able migonette clock

I was inspired to create this migonette clock after my friend Marilyn and I went to see the Cartier exhibit at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco. Though we enjoyed taking in the wealth (no kidding!) of glorious and exotic luxury items on display, after a while we both felt a little jaded. It's an odd feeling to think of such a concentration of money being in the hands of such a small group of people.

My favorite items were not the lavish necklaces and opulent rings. They were the clocks. I was particularly struck by a collection of tiny migonette clocks all made, of course, from precious gems and layers of pricey stone. One particular gem-of-a-clock was sheeted in blue and white stripes.

It doesn't really matter to me whether a clock is made from alabaster and pearls, or resin and simple beads. With their obvious time portal abilities, I just like timepieces. So I designed and created my own blue and white striped masterpiece from card stock, using the box-outline template that Victoria magazine artist-in-residence Olivia Kanaley, used to create little fall-themed boxes in the October issue of Victoria. Olivia kindly granted me permission to use her box-shaped template in this project and make it available to others on this page.

Keeping in mind, as the poet says, that 'even a stopped clock shows the right time twice a day' (a lot of people seem to be in disagreement about which poet said that), I hope you enjoy constructing your own stopped migonette clock. Feel free to use it either as a time portal or a little container for treats, for you or a friend.

My newly constructed migonette clock is sitting temptingly on my desk. That Henry Purcell piano piece has been rather challenging. I'm thinking that a quick trip back in time, for a Baroque era music lesson with the maestro is in order.

The Simple Romantic recommends that, after your click on the picture to bring up the full view, that you then print this project on a piece of card stock paper. You can get card stock at an office supply store in packages, or often you can buy individual sheets at a large photocopy store

Time on My Hands:Whither Shall I Wander?

Please click on the door above,

to better acquaint yourself with this California time portal

If I step through this Californian Spanish-colonial doorway, an obvious time portal, where will I land? I might expect to end up like Isabella of Castille (of Ferdinand and Isabella fame) in the palace at Segovia shortly before 1492. Yet, I’ve found time travel, like it's mainstream cousin, often drops me off in spots other than those I’d expected.

Like the rabbit that comes out her back door while I'm sitting glued to the entrance she went in, I tend to start out on one simple project and end up in a totally unexpected place.

a) I was supposed to fly to Texas and ended up spending five hours in the Mexico City airport. Every word of Spanish conversation I’d ever employed ABSOLUTELY deserted me as I wandered around in circles attempting to understand how to acquire two tickets to Costa Rica, nearly ending up in Nicaragua. I’m sure there were English speaking people in that airport, but I never found them. Which shouldn’t have been a problem, because normally, my Spanish speaking confidence is high.

On that day, I was reduced to drawing pictures to communicate my needs.

b) In the ‘midst of beginning vocal skill study, the solo voice class accompanist encouraged me to start studying piano, and do so right away. It’s not that these skills are unrelated. I just wasn’t expecting to need to go out and buy a piano. Six years later I am still studying piano, and voice.

Oh - and I ended up studying Italian as well. Again, it's not that it isn't related. It just wasn't in the plan book.

c) I took an intensive class in Photoshop last spring and that led to a fascination with writing apps, for which I’m having to learn a programming language I didn’t know before.

* * *

Think I’ll just open that red door, and see where it takes me. Segovia in 1492, perhaps? Then again Peron’s Argentina, or Cuba in the 1960’s may be just on the other side.

The Dasher: Playing at Past Times

When it comes to European time travel, my forays generally tend towards the world of the nineteenth century English Regency era, with it’s music making (think Paganini), poetry swooning (think Byron), and novel reading (think Jane Austen, Mary Shelley, Fanny Burney). I must admit that there’s another side to these times that occasionally sounds somewhat intriguing.

No I’m not talking about the pastimes I’d have been statistically most likely to have engaged in - legging it up and down freezing cold stairs with cans of hot water, sweating over the cook stove to prepare meals for the middle class family that employs me for little beyond bed and boards, and a few pounds a year, or going blind sewing at piece work for the gentry.

No I’m imagining the fascinating pasttime of (gasp!) high stakes card play. Drifting back to courtly western European society of the eighteenth (think King George III, Marie Antoinette, and Allessandro Scarlattti) and nineteenth century, there’s little other entertainment for a more dashing type of woman. It in’t as though I’d go to work each day or need to devote time to my children or household. Over time, balls loose their luster. A woman who’s been on the town for some time, particularly a matron of certain standing, is likely to disappear into a discrete little card room once she becomes ennuyé with the same partners and conversation.

Beyond the shops, what is a lady to do with her pin money if she doesn’t bet? Of course ones vowels from play, must be paid. Those are debts of honor, of course, and certainly nothing like paying your milliner, mantua maker or sempstress. Those bills from tradesmen and women can be so provoking! But of course, a lady can also always stake her jewels. And if she pawns a family heirloom there’s a good chance her husband will redeem it for her, even if she has outrun her allowance, just a bit.

In a world of extremely limited transportation without television, radio, movies, raves, adventure travel or public restaurants what is a lady to do? Languid tea at a friends over the same old gossip, or a cosy little card party with stakea of a-pound-a-point? And if you and your husband practice looking the other way, maybe your current cicisbeo will even stake you at whist, piquet or quadrille.

With so many forms of entertainment available nowadays, I don’t actually play cards in the modern era. Gambling meccas like Las Vegas and Reno have little appeal for me. But, just for one evening, I’d adore to shrug into my hoops, tie on my coliquot ribbons, spread just a touch of that rouge my sister brought me back from Paris, on my cheekbones, place the patch called ‘lover’s kiss’ just so at the edge of my mouth, and sit patiently while my woman sculpts and powders my hair in the latest chiene couchantestyle.

Those diamond encrusted heels were a little dear, but they make all the difference when it comes to the confidence with which I approach the tables.

Tonight, I’m sure my luck will be in.

A Stitch in Time

Please click on the picture below

for more timely details

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Time Portal Identification Made Easy

I added this Alley Portal in Menlo Park California

to my own Portal Life List, just last week

Even experienced Time Travelers may have difficulty recognizing a time portal when they encounter one. When is a train not just a train? How does a B.C.E. transporter differ from a run-of-the-mill station house? Which alleys lead to Never Land and which only provide the quickest path to the household garbage cans?

I recently caught up with Biding Mytime, a senior staff member with the well-known time travel service "Portal Pilots". Captain "Bide-a-wee", as she's known to her colleagues, who consider her a woman ahead of her time, was happy to share some of the characteristics that will help even a newbie observer, such as myself, spot a few portals to add their Personal Portal Spotters Life List.

The Captain was just folding up a report from maintenance when I entered the Portal Pilots Millbrae BART Station.

“Now look around you,” the good captain intoned with an expansive gesture. “From the outside, you might guess this place is nothing more than a metro station. But you’d be dead wrong!”

I studied the assorted time travelers waiting in the Comman Era (C.E.) terminal. Clearly this was not the typical Bay Area Rapid Transit station. A Roman matron was dangling a squalling toddler, who’d clearly traveled way beyond his comfort era, over the edge of the escalator hand railing. A medieval monk in the corner was chanting to himself, or maybe into his Blue Tooth device, while a surcoated devotee of Joan of Arc, clearly waiting for the next transport back to the crusades, engaged in a little light-sword practice in the corner. I moved gingerly away from the knights combat-zone-of-choice and offered to buy the captain a beverage.

Over a friendly cappuccino, latte, double foam, hold-the-pease-pottage Captain Bide-a-wee explained some of the spotters tricks she’s picked up over the years.

“It’s like this, Hon. Time friendly transport mechanisms abide by certain rules.” She wiped some foam off her metal breastplate, and took another long thoughtful swallow. “See first off, you gotta remember that time is of the essence.”

I nodded, trying to look like I was understanding the lesson.

Then she pointed to a large digital clock on the wall. “So you might think that would take you some where.”

I nodded again, actually thinking I was getting somewhere with my studies.

“So, is that clock a time portal?”

She snorted and choked on her drink. “Well of course, that thing is no portal.” She studied it for a moment, clearly turning over in her mind, the best techniques for instructing the utterly clueless. “Fair to say there are clocks that’ll get ya’ where you’re going. But that ain’t one of ‘em. And why? Can you tell me?”

I studied the large, ugly gray time piece in a bemused fashion. “No, I suppose it’s not-“

She thwacked one leather covered knee pad. “That’s right, Hon. ‘Cuz after you stare at that awhile, you can’t say you had a lovely time, can you?”

I agreed I could not.

“But this place, “ she pointed to the station walls. “Is a legend in it’s own time. So,” she turned one palm up indicating the obvious, “here we have an obvious portal.”

I took another sip of my own drink and considered her explanation. “I’ve got an old carriage clock at home. It doesn’t run anymore, of course, but I’ve always had a feeling about it.”

She thumped her cup on the counter and gave me a broad grin. “Now you’re thinkin’ straight, girl. That somethin’ that’s stood the test of time.” She unfolded, and spread out, the report she’d tucked into the capricious leather bag, tied belt-like to her waist. Now look-a here at the portal types our gals will be inspecting in the area this week.”

I studied the maintenance engineers list.

bridge

canyon

ladder

path

alley

creek

Standing Stones

cave

trail

painting

mirror

clock

train

station house

“How many Standing Stones do you find in the San Francisco Bay Area?”

She grinned and tapped her nose with a knowing wink. “You’d be surprised!”

I was just about to suggest I buy her another drink when the voice of the gate agent came over the loud speaker, announcing, “Time is ripe.”

The captain jumped suddenly to her feet with a clash of breastplate against the back of the metal counter, that resonated throughout the station. “Well, Hon, there’s no time to lose, time and tide wait for no woman. Good luck with the spotting. Just remember to take your own sweet time.”

A woman ahead of her time indeed! A few minutes later she disappeared through the doorway marked Time Flies, Staff Only. I was a little disappointed not to spend more time with Captain Bidingtime, but time, after all, is money.

Mabel's Really Bad Idea

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Families: Dear Martha

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Oh! Hard Times, Come Again No More....

Stephen Foster