ruth waddy

eco – friendly fashion made especially for you

admin — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 02:56:10 +0000

coverpage2, a photo by ruthiewaddy on Flickr.

Inner tube Eveningwear

admin — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 04:03:32 +0000

they’re fully equipped, a photo by ruthiewaddy on Flickr.

Need a beautiful and environmentally friendly dress for a special occasion? I’d love to make one for you! whether it’s a dreamy cocktail dress like the one on the left that I made for the Portland Hilton, or a dramatic full length gown – the 100% recycled bike tube overlay allows you to change the color of the dress simply by changing the sheath underneath!

Little Black Dress

admin — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 03:54:05 +0000

Little Black Dress, a photo by ruthiewaddy on Flickr.

A classic black sheath with fancy bike tube applique and cool swinging strips of tube. Perfect for party time!

Pocket Dress with bike tube applique

admin — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 03:42:06 +0000

Bailey, a photo by ruthiewaddy on Flickr.

From my brand new line of clothes inspired by the beautiful iron railings and decorations in Old Havana. This cool blue dress is fitted with ultra sassy hip pockets

Cuba

admin — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 09:01:50 +0000

The flight from Cancun to Havana was via a vintage Russian aircraft that began to smoke just before take-off. I guess it was the cooling system but, wafts of it came up between the seats and eventually the cabin was full of a misty haze as if I’d entered a elementary school haunted house with a fog machine on full blast.

From the beginning, I made every effort not to speak, hoping that I would blend in like nobody’s business. Funny though, a man singled me out from the line of foreigners waiting to exchange money and asked ( in English) if I needed a cab. I hesitantly admitted that I would in a minute, and he leaned in to say that the line for money exchange was much shorter upstairs. I followed, and indeed, upstairs there wasn’t a line at all. By the time I was done getting my CUCs; however, it was pouring rain – biblical, monsoon, sideways kinda rain.

The cab driver apologized and said I’d have to get another cab because he was not allowed to park at the door and he didn’t expect me to walk through the rain. I felt like this was a great time to negotiate a better rate. I asked if he was a licensed cab driver. He assured me that he had a license, but as a private driver, and that I would need to walk to the parking lot with him and that we would be followed – though I would just have to tell the police that I’d arranged for him to pick me up.

I was skeptical, and as we started walking toward the exit, men with walkie – talkies swooped in immediately behind us; so when a guy in a uniform asked if I needed a cab – I abandoned my new friend and went for the legitimate ride.

Havana is lush, and desperate looking. A funny mix of sobering poverty and a thriving pulse… I couldn’t help smiling and doing an internal dance as the cab sped and honked it’s way through the narrow streets.

I didn’t have a reservation, but I’d gotten the address for a Casa Particular from the internet. Little did I know that I was headed to the home of the most warm, honest and generous people I would meet in Cuba. Calle Cristo #16 is Elizabeth’s house and luckily, she had a room available on the roof! I could hear a mix of children’s shouts, pots and pans, dominos being played, and music. If there is a heaven, I think it must sound like this.

San Antonio

admin — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 03:29:21 +0000

Though I wouldn’t have guessed it, I think that the point of the whole trip might be about family. I kept meeting really fantastic families along the way and it seemed like a good time to visit my own. I stayed a week and was actually able to see everyone, though not all at once. It made me start to wonder why I’ve been living so far away from them. It also made me think that now might be the best opportunity I have to get a little closer. Most folks probably would have conjured up with this brainstorm months ago, though I tend to take the long road with these things.
I know for a fact, that I am lucky enough to be related to some of the best examples of really great people. I think that I can learn a lot from them.
So I’ve decided to move to Austin. I think it will be close enough to the family and yet, unfamiliar enough to sate my personal desire for adventure.

Marfa

admin — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 17:31:20 +0000

Coming into Texas at night all vehicles were funneled off of the highway for a mandatory inspection in El Paso. I wasn’t sure what was happening, and during a lull in conversation with the officer, I wondered if perhaps, he’d ask me for ID or something and he casually said, ” We’re just waiting for the dog to finish up” I looked over and sure enough a German Shepphard popped his head and front paws up onto the hood of the truck. For some reason my response was, “Oh! Hi puppy!”. They let me go.
It’s been many years since I’ve driven through El Paso, though I used to do it pretty frequently, and this was a first. I felt a little like I’d just woken up with a sore bottom and a space ship taking off on the front lawn.
It was a strike against Texas, but I kept heading to Marfa and stopped at Prada in Valentine. It was dark and as I pulled over quickly and parked I realized that someone had left a pair of cowboy boots on the front steps. The day before I had torn a big hole in the heel of my trusty old boots and it was stranger than ever that these boots were my size. My feet are enormous – size 11 so it was like a love letter from Marfa. Next to the boots was a big tarantula and intellectually, I know that they are pretty harmless but emotionally, they kind of freak me out. So I grabbed the boots and shook them out ALOT!
Marfa itself was more than I expected. The people are genuinely warm and amazing. I got set up at El Cosmico, though this took all afternoon as I spent some time patching the holes in my tent. Brooke, who checked me on is awesome and as we sat having a beer, her friends from Austin – Jayne, Laura & Howie joined us and before I knew it I was part of the family. We shared a fantastic meal and hilarious conversation. I hung out with them for the next couple of days and was really touched by how much they care for each other. I also met a great woman Charlene with whom I visited the Chinati Foundation and later watched fireworks and the Mysterious Marfa lights. I must say, too that everywhere I went in town, I met people who were so welcoming – from the laundry mat to the galleries – it was really heart warming.
I did have another encounter with law enforcement though. One morning I decided to take a walk and practice my ukulele. I thought it would be weird to march through town, so I headed out the country highway near El Cosmico. I was out for maybe forty-five minutes when a Sheriff pulled over and asked me for ID. He said he’d had a report of a someone walking along the road playing the guitar. I told him that the report was true, although technically it was a ukulele. I asked if it was illegal, and he said “no, but when there’s a report he has to check it out”. He added that he wanted to make sure that I wasn’t a runaway. Ha! I really had him fooled because I WAS a runaway ( it’s just that nobody was looking for me)!
I’d like to say that this was my last run in with the law in Texas, but alas, it was not! I’d decided to leave Marfa and was trying to decide between camping in Big Bend or visiting my family in San Antonio. I’d stopped in Alpine to check out a cool little shop and had gotten back on the road when I noticed a white truck following me. I figured he’d pass when we reached a passing lane, but he didn’t and I was kind of annoyed because I’m a slow pokey driver and I feel pressure when people hang out behind me. I figured he’d regret it and pass eventually. Instead he turned on his flashing red and blue lights and I pulled over.
He said that I’d blown a stop sign in town and that he was following me to see if I was impaired. He said that I was kind of weaving in my lane and that he had a dog in his truck. I took this to mean that the most expedient route would be to let the dog sniff my truck. Since this wasn’t my first anal probe, I figured, “why not?”. He took my ID and went to get the dog. I had to step out of the car and somewhere in all of this I started to cry. I was just so pissed off at Texas. It was definitely sending me mixed signals! I couldn’t concisely explain this to the officer when he asked why I wS crying. Of course he took this as an indication that I had a truck full cocaine stuffed illegal aliens. And as I’m standing on the side of the road I start wondering how I got here and I realize that it is Kurt’s birthday and what would have been our 9 year anniversary; and my blubbering is uncontrollable now. This is when the cop starts to get angry with me. He is at the passenger door and says that the dog is indicating something to him, which honestly made me wonder if he and the dog had some mystical twin-like form of communication; because these indications were imperceptible to me! He said that I should just tell him what was in the cab because that would make it easier on me.
“Cheese!” It was the only thing I could think of. There was a block of pepperjack in a bag on the seat. I think this pissed him off. He called in reinforcements. Three more cars pulled up including a Sheriff and a Border Patrol officer. They went through my entire truck by hand and with the dog again. They looked through my purse. The sheriff approached me and asked how I was doing. I’m not sure if this is a “good cop” tactic, some attempt to penetrate the awkwardness, or just the world’s most idiotic question. I blubber out the litany of my current complaints against love, life, and Texas law enforcement. He gives me a field sobriety test by making me follow his pen with my eyes. Then he says, ” Sounds like your just having a string of bad luck.” and he gets in his car and leaves.
This statement strikes me as incredibly profound. I’ve often marveled at how lucky I am and truly, this seems like a tiny break in a long string of good luck. I decide to go visit my family in San Antonio. The other cops soon abandon their search and I head out on the road.
60 miles later one of my back tires blows. I have to laugh. As I’m trying to position the tool to lower the spare, a nice man pulls over to help and the good luck begins again.

Elephant Butte Lake

admin — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 18:19:12 +0000

After several incredibly hot days I decided to try to find some water. Elephant Butte Lake State Park seemed like a pretty good bet. It was a Saturday, and I soon found that I was not the only person with this idea! In fact it was so crowded that finding a break in the column of cars, trucks, boats, jets skis and RVs at the water front was nearly impossible. I did manage to slip in and go for a swim, though I parked the truck on a hill about a hundred yards from the water and the partying multitude. I chose the spot mostly because I noticed a scary loss of traction when attempting to maneuver closer to the beach. During the course of the day I witnessed many folks getting stuck in the sand. The nice thing was that everyone of them got towed out by some kind stranger with one type of enormous truck or another. I have never seen so many enormous trucks in my life. Several of them were military vehicles that I assume came from nearby Fort Bliss. I also met an amazing family. Though I should say that they met me. Ted, Amber and their three kids were such fun to hang out with. Somehow they pegged me as an artist and a liberal – but they still wanted to hang out!! I won’t name any names, but it turns out that one of them is a closet vegetarian.
The crowds thinned out the next day and even more so on Monday. Sunday also brought a vicious wind storm. It’s funny, I had survived an eight hour storm outside Moab, it included rain and incredbilby heavy winds. Though I was a bit nervous at times, I survived it unscathed and the tent flexed ALOT, but no damage was done. Not so, at cozy Elephant Butte. the afternoon was calm and lovely when a huge gust of wind sent my solar panel flying into the tent , tearing a few big holes in it and ripping out one of the tent stays. The entire tent moved a couple of feet from it’s position on the truck. I was sewing at the time and I caught my machine as it started sliding off my impromptu table. I held the tent steady until the winds died down. the sand had whipped up to the point that i could not see the lake. the strangest thing was that through the entire ordeal I could hear the monotonous drone of an icecream truck playing ” do your ears hand low?” ”When the dust settled I noticed that the porto potties had also taken some hits knockcd over on their sides.

Arches

admin — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 21:47:04 +0000

Visiting Arches has been the single most amazing thing I may have ever done! It's just one beautiful, majestic, mind-blowing vision after another! I have no words!


I will indulge in one bit of critical self analysis.  I did the hike to delicate Arch in cowboy boots.  Not because I was trying to be cool, but because they were what I was wearing and I didn't think about it until I was half way up the trail and an old man said, " There's a horse up there that I think you can ride!".  I laughed it off because he was geriatric, and I did't want to cause him to fowl his Depends by giving him the old left hook.  But it was as though this single comment opened the flood gates.  People would either comment on my shoes or else I would notice them noticing them!  Most folks were wearing some form of hiking boot or sneaker.  Even a guy who was wearing a cowboy hat and big belt buckle was wearing hiking boots!  It did get a little steep, but it wasn't as though the hike was technical.  As I passed several people who were all geared up in brand new hiking boots, I debated about whether or not I was the foolish one.  There were toddlers hiking it in those goofy soulless toddler shoes for Pete's sakes!

  I mention it though, because when I reached the top and there was this massive drop off that others had chosen to scamper along the edge of in order to get out under the arch. I hesitated.  I went about half way, clutching the rock and making myself more nervous then I needed to be.  I kept thinking that if I slipped and died, all of those jerks would say it was because of the boots!  I'd just been hiking the same rock for a mile, suddenly because there's a drop I don't want to do it?  Well, now I will always wonder if I'd have done it in a different pair of shoes.  Granted, I didn't see any toddlers out there either, but who knows!



Moab Utah
admin — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 21:21:02 +0000


I love Moab!  It's so incredibly beautiful.  I camped for about a week on Willow Spring road which is BLM and a back entrance to Arches National Park.  I had a couple of lizard friends staying with me and at least once a day I would hear something huge fly over the tent.  The first couple of times it happened I would scramble out to see what it was, but missed it.  Then one morning, I was outside and heard the noise.  It sounded like cartoon superhero flapping or a little helicopter.  I looked up and it was a raven!  After that they seemed to be all over the place.  I would see and hear several in a day.

I also finished one of the art projects I've been working on which is a wearable dream catcher.  My goal is to create a ceremonial use for it.  I have worn it to sleep a couple of times, though I'd like to document this and sleep outside with it on.  Logistically, this has proved pretty tricky since I am by myself and with limited equipment.  I need to rig some kind of tripod.