You Can Call Me Gwen

I got a PlayStation for Christmas!

 

 

Actually, I made a play station for Christmas.

Because, at this time of year, it's not enough to have a six foot play table in my studio.  

Nope, its not enough.

So the old card table is currently full of colorful paper scraps...

 

 

...and more colorful paper scraps.

 

 

Or is the old card table/new play station actually a construction site?

And are those just scraps?

Might they be houses and windows and roofs and doors?

 

 

Oh, my!

And now I am going to add "home builder" to my resume.

Because I can if I want.

So there.

Come Closer

 

Do you remember learning about Miles Standish in your early American history studies?

We often call this Miles of ours...

 

 

...Miles Standoffish.

Because, Miles, when we sit down, often comes and sits down in front of us, looks at us with his big puppy dog eyes and puts out his paw to tell us to please pet him, talk to him, scratch his ears, love him.

But...Miles always sits just at the far end of our reach and makes it difficult for us to give him what he wants and needs and what we love to supply.

So, this morning, when I sat down and he positioned himself in front of me and I was struggling to love on him, I pulled on his collar to bring him closer (into my lap, actually) and I said:

"Oh, Miles. Sweet boy. Come closer. You've got to come closer to get all this love."

Those words had barely left my lips when I heard Jesus say:

"Naomi, that's exactly why I want you to come closer."

He doesn't want me to come closer so he can upbraid me for all of my faults and failures, or take away things I enjoy, or put more strictures on my life.

He wants me to come closer to experience more of His love.

Oh, God, help me come closer!

 

 

Yea, though I walk...

 

A morning or two ago, I was reading Psalm 23 before Miles and I set out for our walk on the mean streets.

 

 

When I stopped to take this photo of our shadows (because I liked the way the latest addition to our found flatware 'set' showed up), it brought to mind verse four of that Psalm.

       "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

And then I recalled a story I heard years ago, of how one man explained this 'shadow of death' to a child.

I wish I could find the original source of that story for you in its entirety.

What I DO remember about it is that they were walking down a busy street as they spoke together.

A very large truck passed between them and the sun, casting a deep shadow over them for a few moments.

The man turned to the child and asked, "Would you rather the shadow of that truck passed over you, or the truck itself?"

I was awestruck.

I am going to die an earthly death, but because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, I have been given eternal life.

The truck ran over Jesus.

Only the shadow will pass over me.

 

 

 

Still Searching

 

Ode to Lost Friends

The missing "A", the missing "B",

The missing "F", the missing "T",

I walk and walk and still don't find,

These letters, though they're on my mind.

 

I always look, but never see,

That missing "A", "B", "F" or "T".

My wish has not been granted yet,

To finish my found alphabet.

 

C*n you re*d wh*t I w*nt to s*y,

When I don't h*ve a letter "A"?

It's *othersome *nd *ad to me,

To write without my *uddy, "B".

 

My *riend, it looks so *unny, too,

Without *n "F" to see us through.

*nd "T", my *riends, wh*t c*n we wri*e,

When "T" is nowhere in our sigh*?

 

I've done wi*hout *hem *or so long,

*nd li*e wi*hout *hem seems so wrong,

I *eg you, *riends, ple*se pr*y *or me,

I need *h** "A", "B", "F" and "T".

 

Yours *ruly,

Gwenners

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On a treadmill at the gym.

Dear Diary,

Walking this cool morning in Oklahoma City, I was thinking over a recent conversation with my Leetle Brudder (who lives in a kinder clime) about how I manage to do my walking when the Oklahoma weather turns hot and humid.

On a treadmill at the gym.

That's how I manage to walk.

And I hate it.

I said to my brother, "For our family, walking on a treadmill is right up there with sitting in a recliner; we just can't easily spend our energy or time without PRODUCING something".

This morning, as I walked and remembered that statement, it occurred to me that these are attitudes ingrained in us in our childhoods, not by words, but by the way my parents lived.

You don't "waste energy" or "kick back" much when you have nine children and very limited resources.

But, as I thought about my aversion to the treadmill and the recliner, indeed, my judgmental attitude about both of those things, this portion of 2 Corinthians 10 came to mind:

     "...take every thought captive to obey Christ..."

Have I ever thought about taking all my little ingrained (or invited!) aversions and preferences captive to obey Christ?

Have my aversions to some things and my preferences for others ever been the little 'g' gods that I've served instead of obeying Christ?

I have to walk on a treadmill and sit in a recliner because of my physical brokenness.

Wouldn't it be nice if I did those things in a spirit of peace?

Would the treadmill and the recliner help me more if I took my aversions (going nowhere! stillness!) and preferences (productivity! action!) captive to obey Christ?

Let's find out.

A Word on Help, Rilke, and The Mad Hatter

 

I received some help from my chiropractor today.

That statement is a LOT bigger than it looks.

That help meant I was able to spend a couple of hours seated in my studio this afternoon with Alice and The Mad Hatter without being distracted by pain.

We had a tea party.

 

 

Well, they had a tea party, anyway.

This was my first time doing a paper-cut piece using silhouette paper: it cuts easily, which is lovely when one has to make a lot of curved cuts with an Xacto knife, but it also curls easily, so I had to be very careful not to bend all the vines and flowers once they were set free.

I think the last (and only other time) I attempted this piece, I was using a very heavy white paper; definitely easier on the silhouette paper.

Anyway, I now have this lovely paper cutting and wish I had...

...mad framing skills.

 

---------

 

I've also recently been getting some help learning how to live more peaceably and fruitfully with my broken body, and one of the helpful things that has floated back to the surface of my mind in this process is a poem I have loved by Rainer Maria Rilke.

 

                        Brother Body

(in the sanitarium, in Rilke's final illness)

Brother body is poor...that means we must be rich for him.

He was often the rich one; so may he be forgiven

for the meanness of his wretched moments.

Then, when he acts as though he barely knows us,

may he be gently reminded of all that has been shared.

 

Of course, we are not one but two solitaries:

our consciousness and he.

But how much we have to thank each other for,

as friends do! And illness reminds us:

friendship demands a lot.

                            Uncollected Poems

 

What a blessed way he had of living with his failing body!

Today, I spent a few minutes during my walk thinking about just some of the wonderful things my body has afforded my life - from jumping rope to bearing children - and I thanked it.

Gratitude is a game changer.

 

 

Happy Valentine's Day, Vase Included!

 

It is no secret that my inner child loves Valentine's Day, or that Prince Charming loves my inner child.

So you will not be surprised that I woke up to this today:

 

 

After opening and reading his lovely card, I began to touch and comment upon each of these gifts.

When I got to the roses and lilies, I read the tag, turned to Prince Charming, and said,

        "Happy Valentine's Day, Vase Included."

 

 

We have been laughing ever since.

So, to you, Dear Reader, I wish a very happy Valentine's Day.

Vase included.

 

Cast your optics (and fire away).

 

Dear Reader,

I was just minding my own business this morning; savoring that luxurious second cup of coffee and working the daily crossword.

 

Yes, in ink.  Yes, (yes!) in red ink; it's February!

 

I guess I was pondering a more difficult clue when it happened.

The insert from today's paper arrested my attention.

 

 

I opened it.

 

 

Would you just cast your optics on those?!

Do you see them?

 

 

What do you see?

If you said "scented paper roses", my work here is done.

If you said "perfume ads", please stay tuned for more training.

Put down your red pen and pick up your scissors.

 

 

And give yourself a bouquet of beautifully scented roses.

 

 

You deserve it.

Love, Gwen 

 

P.S. In other news (and I'm fairly certain this is the best thing I'm going to tell you today), Prince Charming sent me a text while these roses were happening and this is all it said:

     "I dreamed you shot down the Devon tower with a missile and I didn't stop you."

Say what???

I've Got Joy

 

In January, I had the blessing of being added to the already-full class roster of a ten week recovery program for blocked artists, just days before it started.

So far, it's been a wonderful, terrible, exhilarating, exhausting, helpful, painful experience.

And this is week four.

Since the group is larger than she normally has, our facilitator has us sitting in a rather large 'circle' made up of eight six-foot tables.

Last week she realized that name tags were necessary in such a large group, but when she mentioned it, a hand shot up and one of the participants suggested place cards for the table.

She liked that idea and we were tasked with bringing a place card for ourselves to this week's class.

Dear Reader, you know how much I love paper, and cutting, and making place cards by now, don't you?

In the following few days, I noticed my morning writing was ending with little drawings, instead of words.

 

 

Ideas will make their way out of the head, if you let them, and mine seemed to be all about having my name card include a visual representation of some of my creative interests.

It seemed fitting for this group.

Yesterday, I finally sat down to firm up a design and begin executing it.

It was delicious to be sketching again, to be slicing through paper with a frighteningly sharp Xacto blade, to be scoring, inking, shading.

It has been too long since I opened my pencil box.

 

 

(Old friend, I want us to be close again!)

When I picked up the Xacto knife... the pencil... the tortillon, I entered that strange time-warp again; three hours (which included the one for dinner-making) went by downstairs while only fifteen minutes passed in my studio.

When I was finished, I was truly pleased with the result; so happy that I was able to execute the idea which had come to me.

I was actually joyful.

For. One. Split. Second.

And then Fang started to speak...

"Are you kidding?! Look at that thing! She didn't say to do anything creative, just to bring a place card."

"Oh my gosh! That thing is huge!"

"What a big show off!"

"You are just way over the top."

"Those women are going to hate you for showing off like that."

"You aren't really going to take that big, showy thing, are you?"

And on, and on, and on.

I felt my joy slipping away.

Until today.

Today I reached out to "Jesus with skin on": I showed my place card and I shared my battle with some people I trust.

And their answers came back.

"So lovely!  'Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.'" (C.S.Lewis quote)

"Wow! That is VERY cool!!! It would be a real shame to let the thought of other people's reactions stop you."

"You will inspire them."

So, tomorrow, Dear Reader, I am taking this "huge, show-offy, over-the-top" place card, which is actually just a visual representation of some of my creative joy, to group with me, because when Fang was turning up the heat to steal my joy and I was stumbling around trying to fend off the lies with the truth...

 

 

...I had help.

 

 

 

Be Careful

 

Be careful not to underestimate the imagination of an eight-year-old boy.

Be especially careful if you give him a gift certificate for Christmas for "One Awesome Paint Job" for his new (big!) bedroom.

You'll be tempted to think he is just going to want the four walls painted with some bright color and, perhaps, a graphic design somewhere on one of them.

You'll be remembering how he hated leaving the little doggie you painted on the wall of his first bedroom and you'll think to yourself that he is just going to choose, oh, maybe a baseball and bat for his new one.

You'll be wrong.

You'll go out to 'consult' with him when he's ready to redeem his coupon and you won't be able to catch his vision of what he wants from his description.

You'll ask him to draw a picture for you, but you won't 'get it' from that, either, because "It's kinda hard to draw."

So, maybe you'll Google "graphic wall paint" and start scrolling through pictures with him, hoping to find 'something like'.

He'll probably yell, 'That's it!', when you least expect it.

And that's when you'll know.

You have underestimated the imagination of an eight-year-old boy.

It will be good for you to have plenty of time on your hands, then.

And plenty of Frog tape and patience, too.

You'll need them all

On Day One, you'll need to do a little caulking and paint the ceiling.

You'll need to paint the "It Wall" with a base coat, too.

 

 

On Day Two, you'll spend  two or three hours putting Frog tape on the "It Wall" in a random please-use-straight-lines-and-make-mostly-triangles pattern.

It won't feel random by the time you are finished.

 

 

And then, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to run that base color over the wall again so it seals (hopefully) the edge of that tape and prevents bleed-through.

 

 

While it is drying, you will start painting the first coat on the other three walls, but once the "It Wall" is dry, you'll use some of the paint from the other walls to fill in some of those triangles.

You're just going to choose four random triangles to fill in, but you'll spend so much time striving for 'balance' that it won't feel that way by the time you are done.

 

 

As soon as you're done with that color, you will start filling in a few of the triangles with your other accent color. 

You might feel a little heart-skippy trying to decide where those should be, but you'll have to press on; there is still so much to do.

Once you get that color out of your little roller, it will be time to shake up the 'real' color and get to work on all the rest of those triangles!

 

 

Now your "It Wall" looks pretty ugly, so you'll leave it for awhile and go finish the first coat on those other walls.

By the time you are finished making your way around that very big room, your wild colors will be dry enough for their second coat and, by golly, you'll give it to 'em.

Then you'll spend just a little time cleaning rollers and brushes and trays and yourself and your work area and...and...and...

Then, and only then, you'll have arrived at the Magic Moment.

You'll start pulling off those 12,752 feet of Frog tape (gosh, that's what it felt like).

 

 

And then you'll see just what was in the imagination of that eight-year-old boy.

 

 

You're going to have to come back for Day Three and put a second coat on those other walls and do a lot of this...

 

 

...because, doggone it, it bled through anyway.

But, when you're really finally finished with the whole thing...

 

 

...you're going to think it was worth all the work, because your little eight-year-old grandshoot is going to say he doesn't like it...he loves it.

And when his dad asks him how much he likes it and what he would give it on a one-to-ten scale, he is going to put his hands up and give you a solid...

 

 

...nine?!?

 

Down by the River

 

Do you hear anything when you look at this?

 

 

It's faint, but I hear the slap of the rope, the tap of shoes and my little girl self singing a jump rope chant.

 

    Down by the river, down by the sea,

    Johnny broke a bottle and he blamed it on me.

    I told ma, ma told pa,

    Johnny got a lickin' and a ha ha ha.

    How many lickin's did Johnny get?

    1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ....

 

It's the closest I've felt to that little girl in a long, long time.

Whimsy

 

I got a wee bit weary of cold and gray today and I got tired of taking my 10,000 steps indoors .

Today required whimsy.

And I discovered Whimsy is a girl.

 

 

She's innocent and carefree and she appears to be outdoors.

I feel better now.

 

There Will Come a Day

 

If your Seester sends you a beautiful calendar every year with all of your very large family's special days artfully noted...

And if you save all of those calendars...

And if you inherit some from your Darlin' Mither, who also saved all of them...

There will come a day when way too many days have been taking up room on your studio shelf for way too long.

What will you do?

Will you cut some of the pages into circles and then cut the circles into spirals?

 

 

Will you roll all the spirals up real tight...

 

 

...and turn them into roses?

 

 

Maybe you'll take all those roses and make a wreath and mail it to the Calendar Girl for Valentine's Day...

 

 

...because everyone knows Valentine's day is so importantly fun that we must celebrate with pink and red, hearts and flowers and punny little greeting cards (I'm not lion).

Hey, even my eye shadow is preparing for Valentines Day.

 

 

Are you, Dear Reader?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Custom Flooring

 

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I had a friend who was replacing her parquet floor.

I asked her to save some pieces for me, thinking I would use them to mend a bad spot in our own floor while we wait for the happy day when we replace ours.

The bad spot was in a corner behind and under the media center so, obviously, it was a red-hot priority item on my home maintenance to-do list.

Not.

But, by golly, I've hung on to those 'tiles'.

 

 

When the grandshoots dropped in the other night, they discovered a loose piece of flooring in an exposed area of our floor and proceeded to do a very excited and competitive search for more when I told them there were others that were loose, as well.

As I watched them find (and pull up!) a few pieces of flooring, I remembered the salvaged pieces I'd been hoarding and realized that I am simply not going to do any floor repair with them.

I got out the Sharpies and the salvaged pieces of flooring for the grandshoots and told them they could design (temporary) replacements for the pieces of flooring they'd pulled up.

They were very pleased with their work...

 

 

...and their design choices...

 

 

...are as unique as they are.

 

We didn't glue anything down, and I kept and marked the pieces of 'real' flooring so I can put them back in, but just for now we have the most interesting and unique custom parquet floor "in the whole world on earth", as the Shoots used to say.

Tell that to

 

Canvas Trees

 

Yesterday morning, during my walk on the mean streets, I picked up a handful of magnolia leaves.

I was remembering something beautiful I'd seen here.

I messed about in my studio for just a bit this morning.

 

 

I want to go back.

Soon. 

With a few leaves from all the trees in the neighborhood.

And colored paints.

And tiny paintbrushes.

And my grateful heart.

 

Fat Free Krispy Kreme Donuts

 

 

Getting a box of these that are fat-free seems like a pipe dream, doesn't it?

 

 

And yet...

 

 

...just last week I was able to get my hands on that very thing.

 

 

 

Of course, they're very small, can't be chewed and have no flavor, but, hey, we were talking about fat-free, weren't we?

I am having waaaay too much fun making things for our American Girl dolls these days.

This craft came courtesy of the generous folks at American Girl Ideas (whose video theme music Prince Charming says he can now readily recognize) and you can see their lovely tutorial here.

I used Sculpey clay to make my little donuts, because a kind friend gave me a LOT of it years ago (along with the pasta machine one 'needs' to soften the clay before use) and it's been waiting for its day in the sun.

The frosting is puffy paint and the glaze is clear nail polish with some interference pigments sprinkled/brushed in (an experiment which ended happily).

For several months now, I've been having so much fun making clothes, furniture and accessories for my dolls that one evening Prince Charming sighed and said to me, "I'm so sorry you didn't have the childhood your soul craved."

My response came spontaneously and immediately.

"Are you kidding?! God is giving it to me now, when I have money and mad skills!"

That, dear readers, is the kind of God I serve and the kind of man He gave me.

I am blessed and grateful.

Valentiny Party!

 

Every once in awhile, I look at these shelves in my studio...

 

 

...or more specifically, all of the things inside of them...

 

 

... and begin accusing myself of being a useless hoarder (and worse) and start mumbling about giving it all away.

Usually, my family hears these mumblings, begs me to reconsider, reminds me of the many times "having everything" in my studio has blessed others, and just generally backs me away from the cliff (and the thought of hiring a dumpster, building a chute to it from my second-story window and sliding everything into it) (yes, it gets that bad).

I'm so grateful for their interventions.

This week, as I was getting ready to host an American Girl Valentiny Party for a group of my young friends and their dolls, I pulled the matchboxes off the shelf... ...

 

 

...to make tiny invitations.

 

 

 

 

...with a surprise hidden inside.

 

 

I got down the red paint and the small wooden hearts ...

 

 

...to begin making place card holders.

 

 

When I needed something to hold the two hearts apart so the cards could be slipped in, I pulled down the toothpicks, and had an "Aha!" moment.

 

 

The wooden game pieces...

 

 

...were added to wooden spools, some empty tins and lids I stole (!) from the storage jars...

 

 

...to create mini cake stands (shown here with a naked cake during the test fitting).

 

 

The red binder clips...

 

 

...came down and were taken apart to serve as menu holders.

I made seven matching doll dresses as gifts for the girls...

 

  

...and I was very much over it by the time I finished!

I dumped out the contents of my "random heart charms" container and got out some beads to make dolly-sized necklaces as take-home favors.

 

 

(I also took some really bad photos.)

My friend, Able Baker Dana, came over on Friday to help with the little cakes and all the heart-shaped food preparation.

We had some fun...

 

 

...and did some work...

 

 

...which included cutting little tiny tortilla hearts... 

 

 

...to make into tortilla chips.

 

 

We cut the world's tiniest carrot sticks...

 

 

...and we made menus...

 

 

...and small paper placemats, bingo cards, and hearts for "Musical Hearts".

When the big day came, I set the table using the tiny plastic 'silverware' I found at the dollar tree...

 

 

...6" dessert plates, votive cups for drinking glasses, and tiny cloth napkins made from the excess length I cut from the (free!) tablecloth.

 

 

 

 

 

And, finally, seven precious girls arrived, bringing their dolls with them.

They had lunch...

 

 

 

...waiting patiently for their special orders to be served.

 

 

They played Pin the Heart on the American Girl.

 

 

 

They played a (very intense!) game of "Musical Hearts"...

 

 

...but were great sports when they lost their place.

 

 

They played a game of reverse "Conversation Heart Bingo", eating the candies as the sayings were called.

 

 

 

Then we let them eat cake...

 

 

...and make the world's tiniest ice-cream sudaes.

 

 

 

They exchanged Valentines.

 

 

...had their photographs taken...

 

 

 

...and then they just played and played and played with their dolls and with each other.

It was a wonderful Valentiny day.

 

Rescue me!

 

I love a redemption story and this one is no exception.

After I posted these before and after photos of the restringing of Miss Helping Hands' childhood American Girl Doll...

 

 

 

...a friend sent me this photo of her daughter's first AG doll, wondering if I could do anything to help:

 

Shudder! Gasp!

Her daughter had received this baby before the recommended play age and had used a marker to give her some purple eye shadow and fingernails.

 

 

A distressed momma then partially obliterated her right eyebrow trying to remove the ink with a Magic Eraser.

I had no experience with fixing any of these problems, but then I'd never restrung a doll before I did Molly McIntire, either.

Thank you, YouTube tutorials, you're the best!

After a few hours of online research, I decided to try to save this sweet girl.

I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed this transformation!

This poor little baby...

 

 

...was having a really bad hair day...

 

 

...and had more skin problems than you could shake a stick at ( go ahead...make that phrase obey your grammar rules!).

 

 

I began by washing, brushing out, and trimming her hair.

Did I just calmly say "brushing out"?

It took hours, a few strands at a time and one half inch at a time, to do that little job.

Afterward, I applied a LOT of lovely-smelling "braid spray" (a black girls' hair product).

 

 

I left it on her hair while I cleaned her skin with water and my EnviroCloth (LOVE that thing) and started her first skin treatment.

 

 

Acne cream.

Who knew?

I covered it with plastic wrap and let her lay in the sunny window.

 

 

After a few treatments, it was fading nicely.

 

 

It took about five days of treatments - sometimes several applications in one day - before it was all clear.

But, man-oh-man, what a thrill!

I drew on a new eyebrow using colored pencil and she was just as pretty as she could be.

 

 

(Oh dear. I just noticed she has a smudge on her nose.  I'll have to take care of that.)

Phase two of hair care meant another gentle wash, "pulling" it (yes, I had to completely remove many completely unruly strands of hair), another thorough brushing, a teensy bit of trimming, and a light mist of braid spray.

It did wonders.

 

 

She is leaving foster care and being reunited with her family soon, so I made her a new dress and bought her some new shoes for her new life.

I also gave her a new name, at the family's request.

Meet Natalie Renee:

 

 

Now, take another look at the before and after photos...

 

 

 

 

...and remember never to give up on anyone.

You do not know what God is doing in secret.

Some of us He has just taken in.

Some of us are in the windowsill.

Some of us are in the hair chair.

Some of us have had a lot of work done and have new shoes and new clothes, but we still have a smudge on our nose.

And there are some who have not yet come in.

But...

There is room.

And there is hope.

Because there is God.

Scavenged Beauty, Take Three

 

My wonderful Beeg Seester volunteered to do some sewing for her church this Christmas season, thinking she'd be stitching up a few shepherd costumes or some such thing.

No.

They asked her to make a tree skirt for their biggest Christmas tree.

An eleven foot diameter tree skirt, to be exact, from a diamond-puckered taffeta with two bands of  velvet and a beaded trim.

She said she had to use pi when she was figuring out her patterns and fabric needs.

I said the only pi I understood was of the eating variety.

I was SEW impressed.

Making patterns, laying out all that fabric, cutting it and then getting it through the machine without creating miles of unsightly puckers?

That was an impressive feat.

Take a gander at this incredible finished product, folded in half here because...well...do you have a big enough space to open an eleven foot tree skirt?

 

 

(No. That is not my Beeg Seester.)

As I stood back in amazement and cheered her on, I was quietly lusting after the scraps that necessarily ensue when cutting straight runs of fabric into circles.

I finally just put in a bid for them.

She brought me a lovely, big pile.

I stitched some into a decoration for our front door and pulled, once again, a bunch of greens from the ice storm rescues, and some pine cones, cording and bulbs from the stores in my studio and Christmas boxes.

 

 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

After a lovely day full of creative pursuits, I went to bed last night with ice packs on the hurty places and distracted myself from the pain by thanking God for the treasures from the street.

And Beeg Seesters, and pinecones, and felt, and needles and thread, and hands that work, and the talents He wired into me, and friends to play with, and paint, and color, and berries, and twinkle lights, and...and...and...

Listing every little thing that I have been enjoying was a pretty wonderful way to fall asleep.

Try it tonight and let me know what you think.

Beauty from Ashes, Part Two

 

The streets here are still (sadly) lined with the debris from the ice storm of Thanksgiving weekend.

My garage still has these buckets of greens I picked from the curbs of our neighbors...

 

 

 

 

...though they are not as full as they once were.

Yesterday, I made the centerpiece for our table.

 

 

I might need some new candles.

 

 

(I certainly need to straighten the candles I do have.)

I built the box from a 1" x 4" last year, and the sweet little birds were purchased at a clearance sale some time back, but...

 

 

...the greens, berries, and pine cones are all rescued beauty.

Thank you, God. 

Beauty From Ashes

 

It's been difficult to see - lining the streets in every neighborhood of our city - the carnage from the Thanksgiving weekend ice storms.

It's painful to know my sisters lost beloved oaks and profusely-productive pecan trees and to hear of friends whose wonderful old shade trees are now only insurance liabilities with neighbors' fences crushed beneath them.

We hear talk about "nature's way of pruning", but it is often sad, sometimes dangerous, and frequently costly.

Our yard boasts no significant trees - a crepe myrtle with a few snapped limbs is all we personally suffered - and perhaps that is what leaves me in a position to see the beauty in the ashes.

I've been scavenging.

A bucket full of holly branches, quite loaded with berries, from a curbside up the street.

A big armload of magnolia limbs from a nearby neighbor's yard.

A trunkful of evergreens, with pinecones still attached, laying in the easement near the exit of our subdivision.

Limbs from a birch too big to fit in the trunk.

A branch from my sister's pecan, another from a friend's fallen Chinese pistache.

And lots of bare, straight twigs.

I am hoping to give them back to the people who suffered their loss.

Perhaps in the shape of a wreath, maybe in the form of a centerpiece, some in the form of decoration for porch or pillar.

Right now, most of the greens are in water in my garage.

 

 

 

A few sprigs made it into my Fiestaware pitcher and are sitting on the kitchen table.

 

 

I cut the limbs from my Beeg Seester's pecan and my friend's Chinese pistache into discs and have been using my woodburning tool (for the first time!) to make ornaments for their Christmas trees.

 

 

And many, many twigs are being made into new trees. 

 

Beauty from ashes.

I love a good redemption story, and I love this one most of all:

^"But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law,  to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons."

Thank God for Christmas.

 

Help!

 

Fall fell and the urge to sew hit me hard.

I am...

 

...sewing...

 

 

...doll clothes...

 

 

...and...

 

 

... I can't...

 

 

...seem to...

 

 

 

...stop.

 

 

Help!

My Inner Child...

 

  

...still plays with dolls.

When my dear Daughter-in-Love recently shared this pin with me, I stopped smack dab in the middle of a building project (more on that later) to go up to my studio and MAKE.

I started with some simple little designs (which I saw on another site and am so sorry I can't find to credit here).

 

 

The fun is in opening those little matchboxes to see the magic!

 

 

Those legs reminded me of ballet dancers, so I tried to put the dolly in an appropriate pose and...

 

 

...I used my trusty Sharpie to give her some ballet shoes.

 

 

Then I thought, "Well, if a girl can have shoes...why not grab the white gel pen and give her some socks?" 

 

 

I am so disgusted with myself for having failed to mark where I saw these "faeries in a matchbox" so I could give credit to the source.  I loved them so much.

I love this little faerie's...

 

 

...fancy leggings!

 

 

Since the inside surprise is so much fun, I thought "Why not give this birthday girl...

 

 

...a birthday gift?"

 

 

And, since this girl...

 

 

...isn't celebrating a birthday, why not give her a puppy for a surprise?"

 

 

You see how it goes.

Of course, I always think of my own little girls - now so grown-up - when I am playing with dollies, so I made a little Matchbox Mary, complete with her little "polka dot" mole...

 

 

...and her beloved Jack.

  

 

Now I must work out how to draw a teeny, tiny hedgehog.

 And buy more matchboxes. 

So Glad I Married That Particular Man

 

Soooo.

Prince Charming is having a poker game here tonight, with a few of his sons and friends.

He sent me a text this afternoon and the conversation went like this:

Prince: "Any thoughts on dinner?"

Me: "Yes. 'Dinner' in the Midwest once denoted the noon meal, though it is now largely considered to be the evening meal, which was once referred to as supper. Doctors recommend eating a light dinner, as activity levels are generally lower in the evening than throughout the day. A meal of 3-4 oz. of broiled chicken or fish, a salad of fresh, leafy greens and a 4 oz. serving of brown rice would be considered a healthy dinner. It has been noted that an occasional glass of red wine with dinner has health benefits as well. In modern America, with its large percentage of working women, it is now often considered the role of the husband to provide for the evening meal."

No reply for a full two minutes.

Then, this:

Prince: "Wow. What are your desires, sweetheart?"

So, I'm telling you, if you're a single girl and you're hoping to get married to a man some day...

Get one like that.

ICAD Challenge - Week Seven

Better late than never?

I have finally returned from gadding about the country and can now settle down to get all these amazingly different cards posted for the final three weeks of the ICAD challenge.

Week number seven's theme was: "Inspired by words. Typography, found text, definitions, poetry, calligraphy, hand-lettering, metaphors, plot & character development."

Try that on for size!

Some of us strayed a bit from theme, but all of us hung in there (and that was tough to do!).

Annski dipped into her graphic arts background to create her cards online this week and Ellen used her well-honed photography skills to good purpose for the 'focus' prompt.

I was still 'stuck' (ha!) in California, with just my pen and pencil, for part of week seven and I also resorted to words-not-pictures for a prompt or two I found uninspiring.

I won't name names regarding those who were struggling and straggling by this point in the challenge (the worst stall-out starts with "N"), because we all managed to DO the cards and here they are:

 

Day 43 - Definition

Annski

 

 Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 Ree

 

 

Day 44 - Focus or Blur

Annski

 

Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 Ree

 

 

Day 45 - Saturday Night Live

Annski

 

Ellen

 

 (Does Ellen have a house full of grandchildren on Saturday nights, perchance?)

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 Ree

 

 

Day 46 - Album Cover

Annski

 

Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 

Ree

 

 

 

Day 47 - Fashion

Annski

 

 

Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 

Ree

 

 

 

Day 48 - Disco

Annski

 

Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

 Ree

 

 

 

Day 49 - Black and White

Annski

 

 

Ellen

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

 

Ree

 

Week eight coming up shortly!

You believe that? 

ICAD Challenge Week Six

 

 

Let's not discuss how far behind I am on posting the weekly cards for Gwen's little group in the Index-Card-A-Day Challenge;I'm even further behind in getting my actual index cards done.

The theme for week six is: Use a different color palette (a different combination of colors) each day this week. Any medium.

The prompts are as follows.

 

Day 36 - Backgammon

Annski

Annski chose writing as her theme this week because she has so many memories attached to the prompts.

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh 

 

 

Naomi

 

 

Ree

 

Day 37 - Chess or Checkers

Ann

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

If you don't zoom in on the tag, you're missing all the fun. 

 

Ree

 

 

Day 38 - Mah Jong

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

Meet "Ma Jong"

 

Ree

 

 

Day 39 - Bingo or Monopoly

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

Laura Leigh went 'off prompt' because she was "thinking about week one's chevron prompt".

 

Naomi

I started my beachy vacation on this day, staying at my Big Brudder's home on Greenville Drive and dog-sitting while he was away. I and only packed pen and pencil, so my cards during were all done with those tools.

 

Ree

 

 

Day 40 - Yahtzee

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

"Large Strait"

 

Ree

 

Day 41 - Bridge or Gin Rummy

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

I was in LA. I couldn't help myself.

 

Ree

 

 

 

Day 42 - Scrabble

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi

Still can't decide which I enjoy more; making a great double word play or eating a double-double at In-n-Out...

 

Ree

 

And there you have it!

 

 

Index Card a Day Challenge: Week Five

 

There was some serious groaning going on last week in Gwen's little ICAD challenge group and I can't say that I blame anyone.

The prompts were fun for the most part, but I think the theme threw a lot of us: Mark-making tools, stamps, stickers & tape. Found stamps, eraser stamps, date stamps, postage stamps, stickers & washi tape.

Here are the results.

Day 29 - "Iced Cream"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh ("Help! I'm melting!")

 

Naomi

 

Ree (I think this is how she felt about the theme this week.)

 

Day 30 - "Telephone"

Annski (I really like this card. Just sayin'.)

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi ("Liar, liar, pants on fire. Your nose is longer than a telephone wire.")

 

Ree

 

Day 31 - "Trivia"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh (I rode the carousel in Hyde Park in London and never noticed we were going the wrong way!)

 

Naomi (Nine honeybees equal the weight of one M&M.)

 

Ree (He's still alive...)

 

Day 32 - "The Weather"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh ("Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.")

 

Naomi ("Hot fun in the summertime." Sing it with me..)

 

Ree

 

Day 33 - "Mad Men or I Love Lucy"

Annski (Vintage DYMO Tape from the Mad Men era. Annski didn't like Pete Campbell. Thus, the poopy-colored tape. Ha!)

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi (It feels good to confess it. I always felt it was a little un-American not to like her.)

 

Ree

 

Day 34 - "Flag/Independence Day"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Laura Leigh

 

Naomi (You know you thought it was Jose when you were a kid...)

 

Ree

 

Day 35 - "Portrait"

Annski

 

Ellen

Laura Leigh (I was told this was her first ever attempt. I am impressed.)

 

Naomi (My tribute to Amadeus Modigliani, whose work I really like.)

 

Ree

 

This week's prompts are all about games.

Game on, playa.

ICAD Challenge - Week Four

  

I have had a terrible week, so I am grateful that the others in Gwen's little Index-Card-A-Day-Challenge group have been sending some great looking cards my way.

This week's theme was a bit fussier, as it included more than just materials parameters.

The theme was: Inspired by wallpaper, fabric, thread & quilts. Abstract & geometric patterns. Colored pencils, neocolor wax crayons (must find out what those are), markers, ink.  

Feel the squeeze?

I found it constricting, but it was still late in the week before I overcame my 'Law-Abiding-Larry' self and threw out a parameter or two in order to bring some joy back into the process; sad to say, my cards reflect both the misery and the return to ease.

Also, I'm not fast, but I'm slow, and I finally realized it makes a lot more sense to present the cards by day, rather than by artist, so you can see the prompt and the wildly different interpretations of it in one place.

So, without further ado, here are the cards for week number four.

 

Day 22 - "Psychedelic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

 

Day 23 - "Romantic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

 

Day 24 - "Geometric"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

 

Day 25 - "Botanic/Organic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

Day 26 - "Exotic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

Facade  (Laura Leigh's prompt-inspired original poem)

I'm always walking in a straight line
Always pretendin' that I am fine,
Ignoring the warning and sign,
It's a facade.

Layer on layer I make my mask,
Pull it up tightly before you ask,
Make it the goal of my every task,
It's a facade.

Always confining, your motives divining,
In fear I'm reclining.
Always confining, your motives divining,
In fear I'm reclining.

Contriving and striving I live my lies,
Hoping outsiders won't hear my cries,
I've got it together like that's my prize,
It's a facade.

Under the rug I have swept my fears,
Hardening my heart to avoid the tears,
Gets harder and harder throughout the years,
It's a facade.

 

Ree

 

 

Day 27 - "Academic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

 

Day 28 - "Dramatic"

Annski

 

Ellen

 

Naomi

 

Laura Leigh

 

Ree

 

Now, in the interest of "leaving 'em laughing", I am going to include a link to a Three Stooges clip which will explain Annski's "Academic" card.

If you haven't seen this particular piece of ridiculousness before now, I am just so happy that I can help put it into your brain to plague the rest of your day.

B...

I...

Bye

 

Index Card a Day Challenge - Week Three

 

I truly hoped I would be able to solve all the technical problems before I had to post these photos of the results of the Index-Card-A-Day Challenge for week three, but I haven't been able to do it and week four is almost over.

So, with apologies to Ellen, whose work is so poorly presented here,these are the cards from Gwen's little ICAD group.

The theme for the week was collage.

The daily prompts were:

• Route 66
• Greeting Card
• Wabi Sabi (we had to look it up, too)
• Tree House
• Snow Globe
• The 1970's
• Color Wheel     

 

Ellen:

Day 15:

 

Day 16

 

Day 17

 

Day 18

 

Day 19

 

Day 20

 

Day 21

 

Ree:

Day 15

 

Day 16

 

Day 17

 

Day 18

 

Day 19

 

Day 20

 

Day 21

 

Naomi:

Day 15

 

Day 16

 

Day 18

 

Day 19

 

Day 20

 

Day 21

 

 

Annski:

Day 15

 

Day 16 - Two Views

 

Day 17

 

Day 18

 

  Day 19

 

Day 20 

 

Day 21

 

 

Laura Leigh:

Day 15

 

Day 16

 

Day 18

 

Day 19

 

Day 20

 

 

Index Card a Day Challenge - Week Two

 

I don't know how it goes for anyone else, but forcing myself to use the ICAD Challenge themes and prompts has meant that I am often quite surprised at the results of my playtime (sometimes even a bit frightened).

Last week,s prompts made a lot of us groan despairingly, but we made it through and have lived to tell about it.

Here are the results of Week 2.

The theme was 'Paint'.

The daily prompts were:

1. Cherry & Grapefruit
2. Carrot & Lemon
3. Ginger & Eggplant
4. Mango & Lime
5. Parsnips & Kiwi
6. Plum & Blueberry
7. Salt & Pepper

Annski:

Day 8

 

Day 9

 

Day 10

 

Day 11

 

Day 12

 

Day 13

'

 

Day 14

 

Ellen:

Day 8

 

Day 10

 

Day 11

 

Day 12

 

Day 13

 

 

Day 14

 

Laura Leigh:

Day 8

Day 9

 

Day 10

 

Day 11

 

Day 12

 

Day 13

 

Day 14

 

 

Naomi:

Day 8

watercolor, Signo pen

 

Day 9

 watercolor, Signo pen

 

Day 10

 watercolor, Signo pen

 

Day 11

watercolor, Signo pen

 

Day 12

watercolor, Signo pen (with my apologies; the ends of the parsnips looked like scary eyes and the rest just happened)

 

Day 13

 watercolor, Signo pen 

 

Day 14

 watercolor, Signo pen

 

Ree:

Day 8

 

Day 9

 acrylic paint, zig photo markers and a lemon

Day 10

 acrylic paint, stencil

Day 11

watercolor pencils and acrylic paint

 

Day 12

 watercolor pencils, micron pen

Day 13

 

Day 14

acrylic paint

 

And there you have it!

We are half way through "collage" week, now.

Well, some of us anyway.

I got a little bit behind because I was keeping the grandshoots.

And throwing up.

Gross.

Index Card a Day Challenge: Finishing Week One

 

 

The last three prompts for week one of the ICAD Challenge were: Owl, Taxi, Periodic Table.

Don't those words just set your hair on fire?

Mine either, but Gwen's little group made it through the week anyway.

Ellen:

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

 

Ree:

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

 

Annski:

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

 

Laura Leigh:

Day Five

Day Six

 

Naomi:

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

 

We are half-way through the challenging theme and prompts of week two.

There have been days I wanted to poke my eyes out with my paintbrush.

Don't Text While Mowing

 

Dear Diary,

This morning I went out at the strike of 8:00 to mow the yards and I discovered that the mower was out of gas.

There are two gas cans in the garage and one of them contains a gas/oil mix for something other than the mower.

 

 

Although it has been a long time since some poor son of ours used the wrong gas can to fill the mower, I remember the consequences of that particular error and I feel my muscles tighten and my heart beat fast at just the thought of making it myself.

So.

I texted Prince Charming:

    "Big gas can for the mower?"

No answer.

I wondered why he wasn't responding, as he had sent me a text just moments earlier, so I sent a teasing text.

    "Answer now."

No answer.

    "NOW"

No answer.

I pulled out the large gas can, which I suspected was the mower gas, and discovered this:

 

 

I filled the mower and mowed both our big yards.

I watered the plants and flowers.

I pulled some weeds.

I came inside and took a shower.

I ate breakfast.

Still no answer.

So I sent another text.

    "Don't worry about the mower gas questions. I used the small can. Apparently it was the wrong one, because half way through doing the back yard the mower blew apart. Thankfully, none of the pieces hit me, but one did go on the roof.  I got out the big ladder and was going up to get it, but I got too close to that crepe myrtle where that big mockingbird has her nest. She dive-bombed me and it scared me so badly I lost my footing and fell. Nothing broke, but it knocked me senseless and Hannah called an ambulance. By the time we got to the hospital, I was coming around. The EMT asked me what had happened and I told him the whole story. He just held me in his arms and said..."

The Prince replied.

    "What?????"

And I finished the story.

    "Oh, you precious, beautiful woman. I would have answered your text."

It was only a split second before his response came.

    "I've always told you that you deserved better."

And now you know why I call him Prince Charming.

Index Card a Day Challenge: First Four Days

 

The first four days of the ICAD Challenge are now under our belts.

There are themes for each week and prompts for each day, but both are totally optional, and some of us are following both, some only one and some neither.

Also, we have participants who are using the ICAD Challenge for writing, rather than visual art (which makes me very happy).

This weeks theme is "drawing & doodling" and the prompts for the first four days are 'chevron', 'carnival', 'map' and 'mailbox'.

So without further ado, here are some of the cards from some of us groupies (technical and other difficulties make this an incomplete round-up, sigh).

Ellen:

Day Three

Sharpies

 

Ree:

Day One

Acrylic Paint w/sponge daubers, Gelly Roll pens, Sharpies

 

Day Two

paint markers, Gelly Roll pens, Sharpies

 

Day Three

 

Day Four

Sharpies and Micron pen

 

Lulu (8 yrs old):

Day One

 

Anonymous:

Day One

 

Naomi:

Day One

#2 pencil, blending stump

 

Day Two

#2 pencil, blending stump

 

Day Three

#2 pencil, blending stump

 

Day Four

#2 pencil, blending stump

 

Laura Leigh:

Day One:

 

Day Two

 

Day Three

 

Annski:

Day One

 

 

Day Two

 

Day Three

 

Day Four

 

 

It's like a little peek into the hearts and minds of these artists.

And I'm enjoying the view.

ICAD Challenge - Title Cards

 

Several of the people in Gwen's little ICAD Challenge group have shared their title pages with me and I thought you might like to see them

I think I'm going to love seeing all the wonderfully different artistic expressions which can be made on a little 3x5 index card.

I forgot to ask these artists to share a little bit about the techniques and materials they used, but I'll try to get that information for the first round of cards.

It looks like Ellen did some printing, but I wish I knew how and with what.

 

 

Rosemary used fabric. Love.

 

 

Ree used every color in the arsenal and, as Iris said, "Color can raise the dead".

 

 

You already know that I cut stuff up.

 

 

I'll let you in on a secret though: not one of these title pages gives any true indication of what page one looks like for these artists.

And I just love that.

ICAD Challenge

 

 

I've heard from quite a few of you Dear Readers who are planning to start the ICAD challenge tomorrow and I'm really glad.

I'm also pretty wigged out.

We were challenged to create a title page this week and, per usual, I got totally spooked and freaked out about it all.

Do you ever hear the voices?

"You can't do anything. You don't have any talent. Who are you kidding? You're going to embarrass yourself. Let the real artists do art." 

Et cetera, et cetera, and I do mean ET CETERA.

This idea of having to perform perfectly the first (and every) time I try my hand at something wedged itself pretty tightly in my brain very early in my life and I'm still waging war against that lie.

All this resistance keeps me from doing art most of the time, which is precisely why I decided to commit myself to this challenge. 

I want to use my 61 index cards to try roughly 61 things I've never tried before and enjoy the process.

That sounds almost impossible to me, but...God.

So, please pray for me, Dear Readers, as I strive to keep going and keep it real.

For now, eye will sign off with my EyeCAD title card...

 

 

...which is resting against a big stack of books from which I plan to take my art exercises.

I will not be doing them perfectly, but I will be doing them.

Anyone care to join me?

  

 

"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home." Twyla Tharp

I am taking the "2015 ICAD Challenge" being offered over at Daisy Yellow and I'm inviting all of you Dear Readers to join me.

You can read about the challenge by following the above link, or you can start with this link for FAQ's about it.

It is NOT a competition and it does not require a big layout for art materials; the idea is just to DO something creative on, or with, a 3 x 5 index card every day for 61 days, beginning June 1, 2015.

I hope you'll follow the links and the reading will inspire you to take the challenge.

Please leave a comment to let me know if you're going to participate.

We'll run away together.

Monster Mash

 

 

 

Little Mr. Fox is celebrating his second birthday here on Saturday and I am using it as an excuse to make some games for the grandshoots to play when they visit.

I'm always hoping to use things up and spend no money, so I started with a little 'research' on the web, and decided the first game would be a "Feed the Monster" bean-bag game.

I had some help from Little Man putting the primer on a scrap piece of particle board from the garage, and then used a giant Sharpie to draw the outline of the monster Miss Helping Hands wanted me to use (which she found at Candyland Studio).

The grandshoots helped color the monster using some of the craft paint which has been lingering in my studio for years.

 

 

This afternoon, I drilled holes at the corners of the monster's mouth for inserting the jig saw blade and then used the saw to cut out the entire mouth.

A very quick sanding of the cut edges, followed by coloring with the giant Sharpie, came next.

Fabric glue and cheapo craft felt came into play next.

Teeth were cut and attached like this...

 

 

...and a large rectangle of black felt was glued to the back of the board just above the mouth.

Because I wanted to be able to set up this game anywhere (instead of having to prop it against a fence or wall) but it also needed to be flat for storage, I used a 3" hinge to attach another piece of scrap wood to the top of the back to support it sandwich-sign style.

It was sturdy enough that it didn't budge when we tossed bean-bags at it, but I was still concerned it might fall on a small person who leaned on it while retrieving bean-bags, so I was happy to find the locking hinges, which hadn't worked for the fold-down art desk I built, were the perfect solution.

 

 

We spent no money and we used up some stuff.

The monster is now ready to be fed.

 

 

 

 

Alas, we have no dried beans in the house with which to fill the bean-bags.

 

 

When life gives you lemons...

It matters.

Dear Diary,

This morning, after getting all my supplies loaded up and my work clothes on, I realized that it would probably be a kindness to my niece/client (who has three young children and a baby) if I didn't show up for work as early as I had planned, so I threw on a jacket (in May!?) and set out for a brisk and pared down version of one of my walks on the mean streets.

As I walked, I began talking to God, offering prayers of thanksgiving for legs that still work, a new day, the rain we've had, my family members, and for all manner of good things.

But, just so you know the whole truth, Diary, when my path took me onto the busy street and I began to feel agitated by the roar of the cars rushing by, my thanksgiving faltered in a very quick and noticeable way.

I thank God, who is constantly having to rescue me, that instead of cursing the noise and bustle of it, He prompted me to give thanks for my city and for the goodness of such things as a sanitary sewer system, paved, lighted and maintained roads, the sidewalk I was using, clean water, emergency alert systems, and curbside trash and recycle service.

Thinking with purposeful gratitude about my city caused my mind to turn, again, to the story of Nehemiah and the rebuilding of Jerusalem; a piece of history which we have been studying on Sundays,and on which I have been meditating for many weeks.

Those thoughts, in turn, became prayers that the Prince and I would take our places in the city, that we would mend and defend our section of the wall, wherever it is, and bring honor to God.

Two hours later, I was covered in bits of wallpaper backing and joint compound dust, teetering on a ladder and wielding a brush full of sealant for damaged walls which I was desperately trying to keep out of my hair.

I was listening to the sweet chatter of my client's five-year-old and promising her that she could use the roller and 'paint on some glue' once I'd worked my way down the wall to her level.

I stopped, once I'd gotten there, to take a photo - the third in a series showing the process of redoing the room - and it suddenly struck me.

I was, quite literally, repairing a wall in my city...

 

 

...and I knew that it mattered.

 

 

 

 

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The Real Reason I'm Exhausted After a Long Walk

It's Been Five Days

I like to read.

Gee...

 

Without a 'G' there is no green,

There's nothing great, no gym, no Gene.

There are no gods, no goop, no glee,

There's nothing good without a 'G'.

You've got to have a 'G' to go,

To grin, to giggle, and to grow.

Without a 'G' there is no Glen,

No Gertrude, Gregory...

Hey...

No Gwen!

 

Good thing the streets yielded up a (perfect!) 'G' when I was walking yesterday.

Such an exciting discovery prompted a check on the progress of my Found Alphabet and I made another nice discovery when I pulled the letters out of the box: I'm much further along than I thought!

Here is the roll call:

No 'A'.

 

 

 

No 'D'.

 

 

No 'F'.

 

 

No 'H'.

No 'I'.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No 'P'.

 

 

No 'R'.

 

 

 

No 'T'.

 

 

 

No 'W'. 

 

 

 

 

 

I've walked an awful lot of miles and there are nine letters still MIA.

Gee.

The Real Reason I'm Exhausted After a Long Walk

 

Dear Diary,

I had an unusual walk on the mean streets yesterday.

Well, I wasn't actually on the mean streets much, I spent most of my five miles in some nearby neighborhoods. 

I had some of my typical experiences; I found four pennies and another pair of flattened eyeglasses, and I saw a couple of things I wondered about.

For instance, how does a cleaning sponge wind up on the side of a major thoroughfare...

 

 

...and what is the story behind these broken crayons that were laying in the side street?

 

 

Why did they make me feel kind of sad?

When I found a nickel on the street yesterday, I had to wonder again why I find quarters and nickels very rarely, but find pennies and/or dimes nearly every time I walk.

 

 

There were some typical happy moments, too; as when I once again passed the names and dates which my neighbors - who are not kids - etched into our freshly repaired street last winter.

 

I like to think of the two of them deciding to leave their mark in the street and I always wonder if they did it openly or furtively.

Maybe it is more fun to imagine than to know.

I also took some action on a thought I have had many times when passing a lovingly landscaped yard.

I took photographs of anything that inspired or blessed me and am having some prints made to turn into postcards.

Maybe those strangers will enjoy getting a note letting them know the fruits of their labors are being appreciated by others.

 

 

But, Diary, what happened that made the walk unusual is kind of hard to tell you about.

You know my rule about kicking home any balls or round objects I find in the street when I'm close to home; just something I do to act like a kid again.

You also know that the ball has to be rated at least 3F : it has to be flattened, forsaken, filthy, forlorn, and/or forgotten (I wouldn't want to break any child's heart).

Unfortunately - or not, depending upon how you look at it - I found a 4F ball yesterday when I was a full two miles from home.

 

 

I don't know what got into me.

I thought, "What the heck. I'll just kick this baby all the way home."

Gosh, Diary, I felt really awkward when I was on the busier streets and old Flatty would lopsidedly meander into the middle of the road and all those nice drivers would slow down or stop to let the crazy old lady get her play toy.

Then something worse - or not, depending on your perspective - happened: I found another 3F.

It was a tennis ball, whose photo I didn't capture, because by now Flatty was behaving like a toddler, going this way and that no matter how I tried to direct him.

Well, I added Tennie to the family and let me tell you, Flatty and he never went in the same direction even once.

I was swerving all over the road and leaving my dignity behind me in bits and pieces.

After a mile or so - free, now, of all pride - I knew myself to be completely dedicated to seeing these two safely home, and I found myself going further and further out of my way to keep them rounded up.

As we all got tired, we took smaller and smaller steps, Flatty and Tennie started keeping together more and more, and we all seemed to be getting along better and better.

I was worried as we approached the main thoroughfare.

How was I going to get us all safely across without breaking the No Hands rule?

I silently formulated a plan to send Tennie across first: he was younger and had more bounce left in him, so I reasonably figured that he could make it onto the easement on the opposite side and wait there for Flatty and I to follow.

He didn't make it.

He got about three quarters of the way across and just stopped.

I watched with horror as he was hit by a car and dragged a good ten yards up the road.

Flatty and I crossed safely, if not altogether gracefully, a few moments later.

It took me some time to get Tennie out of the street then, and he was badly hurt; his fur coat hanging in shreds from every part of him.

As we were now so close to our own street, and home, I urged them both on and we rounded the corner onto our block.

Flatty must have been a little shook up, because he rounded the corner and went all the way to the far side of our street.

Tennie, mortally wounded and feeling he couldn't go on, rounded the corner, saw his chance to escape his misery, and offed himself; slipping quietly through the grate into the storm sewer.

I was stunned and unable to move for a moment.

When I pulled myself together, I crossed the street to Flatty and the two of us silently made our way home; moving very slowly now, exhausted and sorrowful.

Today Flatty lives with the other Round Objects I've Kicked Home in the drawer of the wicker plant stand on the front porch. 

Unlike the others, I doubt he will be played with and enjoyed by the grandshoots; he's too obviously flawed for them.

He has a special place in my heart, though.

He lived a whole life inside my head on the mean streets of Oklahoma City.

And so did Tennie.

God rest his soul.

 

 

I like to read.

 

In my never-ending quest to find a chair I can sit in comfortably (post-hurting-my-back), I purchased this mid-century modern piece at a garage sale last spring.

 

 

The foam cushions, which were almost useless, were covered in this unlovely grayish-white vinyl, but the chair seemed to promise me comfort if I would give it some care. 

It made it to the to-do list this month...

 

 

...and I am happy to report that it was completed today.

 

 

I would love to report that it turned out exactly as I'd hoped, but, alas, I did it myself.

Some things did go very right, and I am very happy about them.

I was able to construct the covers - lining the fabric, covering and attaching the cording, installing hidden zippers - in a way that pleased me (and I usually don't like working for Me, as I seem very hard to please).

Also, my friend, Able Baker Dana, shopped for fabric with me and pointed out that I had pulled the same piece of fabric out and considered it at two different stores.

The fabric is a departure from my usual orderly geographic prints, so I was very grateful that she was there to tell me that I was obviously desirous of a change.

Friends are an excellent thing to have.

When I told her that I just didn't think I would like the piping covered in the same fabric as the cushions, but also was concerned that black (the only other option my limited thinking could offer) would be a bit too harsh, she is the one who suggested I use the piece of fabric I had purchased to cover the piano bench (just because I liked it with chair fabric).

 

 

Perfection!

It was the definition the cushions needed, without a harsh note.

There were things I learned on this job, though, which, of course, are things I wish I had been able to avoid.

I made the top cushion shorter than the original because I wanted to see the lovely curved top of the chair. 

 

 

Can't see it, can you?

I did not take into account how much higher the seat would be when there was a new, wonderfully-firm piece of foam in the new-but-same-size cover.

Also, I wish I had used a 3" piece of foam for the seat-back cushion; using the four inch foam means I am sitting just a little bit too far out on the seat for perfect comfort.

Granted, that could be fixed, if I was willing to take the cushion cover apart and remake it and I was willing to spend money on another piece of foam.

Am I willing?

Not yet.

I have placed my new chair in my newly designated reading corner, and tomorrow morning I will make a test run.

I have a LOT of books I am currently reading and a whole lot more in the wings (that's a blog post for another day).

I am currently searching for the perfect little side table either to build or refinish for this space, and wondering what art would be just about right for the wall. 

 

 

Other than that, all that is needed is to open the window and pour a big, fresh cup of coffee.

Life is good.

Walk and Wonder

 

 

Dear Diary,

I need to talk to you in a rambling, non-edited sort of way today because, in spite of walking several miles on the mean streets this morning, I am a little nervous and unfocused and having a very hard time doing even one of the many, many things I need to be doing today.

Let's start with talking about those walks on the mean streets and see where it goes, because those walks fill me with lots and lots of questions and it's a safe bet I can ask them of you without having you laugh at me.

Am I nuts because I think the collection of washers I've found on the mean streets is beautiful?

Like, I would frame them and be happy having them on my gallery wall.

 

 

Also, I understand how washers and nuts and bolts and such wind up on the streets, because cars and trucks, and things that go, just naturally shake them loose and shed them after awhile.

But, Diary, how does all the silverware wind up on the street?

 

 

Who takes their dinner out to the street to eat it? 

Why don't they pick up their silverware when they drop it?

Why aren't there ever any knives?

And these keys...

 

 

What do they open?

Are their owners locked out forever?

Diary,how come I find so many yellow #2 pencils on the street?

 

 

What were they writing that they were cast off in such a manner?

Why do I feel sorry for them?

I feel sorry for the many pairs of smashed and broken eyeglasses I see in the street, too.

 

 

How did they come to be there?

Are they missed?

And another thing, Diary, I was walking down this sidewalk this morning...

 

 

...and being very careful not to step on the lines.

Why?

Because I was thinking about this ridiculous childhood rhyme we always chanted on our way to school:

"Step on a crack, you break your mother's back. Step on a line, you break your mother's spine."

Who on earth thinks up such terrible things for kids to chant?

And why pick on our dear, sweet mother?

Since I seem to be venting all my pent-up feelings about my walks on the mean streets, Diary, I'm just going to make a confession.

I take pictures of some wonderful things I see along the way, like these gorgeous roses which someone with an eye for beauty planted by their mailbox, ...

 

 

...and these colorful posies growing at the side of the road.

 

 

I appreciate their natural beauty, but I confess that sometimes I feel obligated to notice it.

I never feel obligated to notice the round, metal things which I am always delighted to find along the way.

Why do I like them?

What thrilled me about discovering that the power companies mark their big tree-trunk poles with these?

 

 

And why was I disappointed to find that, at some point along the way, they had changed from this 'gentler' font?

 

 

Why do I love the paving company emblem set in the concrete curb at the middle school?

 

 

So many round, metal things catch my eye when I am walking; some more or less permanent...

 

 

 

 

...and some there only temporarily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lastly, because I'm feeling better now, Diary, I just want to tell you that I am very conscious of being watched when I walk.

I wonder if other people have noticed The Watcher, too.

 

 

He's a little, um, unnerving.

 

 

It's Been Five Days

 

 

For the last two weeks, I have been working some long, and sometimes tough, hours on a kitchen re-do/paint job for a client/friend.

But...

When Sherwin Williams sent the little notice telling me about their 40% off sale, it still made my fingers itch and my heart all beat-skippy and I began to look disparagingly at every wall in this house which had been bothering me even slightly. 

I bought four gallons.

Last Monday, I repainted the family room, moving from Ralph Lauren "Raffia"  to Sherwin's "Rice Grain", which I had used to brighten up the hallways, stairwell and entry a few months back.

When Prince Charming left town on Wednesday, I decided to paint the entire front room in the same color.

Of course, I was working for my client all day, so I would set the timer for 20 minutes in the morning and 'cut in' part of a wall, then set it again for 15 minutes on my lunch hour and do a little more.

I would drag home from the jobsite, feed my hungry self, and paint until bath and bed time.

It got done.

I have a few interesting things to tell you about it.

One, I missed having the time to take my long walks on the mean streets, so I missed finding the pennies that are always out there waiting for me, but... I found a single penny, in both rooms, when I moved the furniture (also, a Lego brick and a small pinecone, but they don't count).

Two, I had a great laugh when I took the mirror off the wall. Remember our herd of swine (which Miss Helping Hands recently moved to over the door to the kid's playspace)?

 

 

Apparently, the herd of swine once traveled along the tops of the mirrors in the dining room and when I took the mirror down to paint behind it, I discovered a stray.

 

 

Poor thing was upside down and stuck; made me laugh out loud!

Three, and this is the best part, Prince Charming still hasn't noticed that the room has been painted.

He came home on Friday afternoon and we sat in that room and talked and talked.

At one point in the conversation, he said, "Wow, these new windows make such a big difference. That breeze coming in (our old ones were single pane and stationary) is awesome. And they seem to make the whole room feel more open."

You think?

Could it be, maybe, that it seems more open because we changed from this yellower color and dark accent wall...

 

 

 ...to these much lighter and all-one-color walls?

 

 

I think so, and, after he reads this, I'll bet Prince Charming will think so, too.

I just love that man.

 

Be Mine

 

Before February breathes its last, cold breath, let me show and tell you what happens when you take...

• scraps and paint from your garage and scraps and paint from your partner's garage
• felt hearts and paper roses from Valentine's days gone by
• wooden skewers from your kitchen drawer
• a long mirror, sans frame, snatched from the neighbors curb
• tealights found in your stash and wrapped with washi tape from your studio
• pens from the kitchen drawer and white feathers and red shipping tags from your studio
• dishes and linens from your kitchen and dishes and linens from your partner's kitchen
• toilet paper rolls from u-know-where and paint and beads from your studio
• the paper cones you made as Valentines 

...and then mix in great friends who bring readings and music on the theme of love and add more delicious food and drink to the table.

You get a party.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night was so lovely...

 

 

 

 

  

 

...and it's such a great blessing to have friends...

 

 

...and hosts like these...

 

 

...who welcome us into their home, make these great photo props, and are still enjoying each other after thirty plus years of marriage.

It was great fun to read the quotes on the back of our place cards and try to name the sources...

 

 

...and it was nice to send everyone home with a Valentine...

 

 

...or two.

 

But, the nicest thing of all is having a Valentine of my very own.

 

 

I love him like a fat kid loves cake.

I Heart Valentines

 

Now that they've all been delivered, I can tell you about my Valentines.

This week, I got out every pink, red, heart-shaped or glittery thing I have in my studio, put it on my work desk, cut it into pieces, added in some wire and feathers and mixed it all up with some hot glue.

See what I made?

 

 

A really big, scary mess!

Oh, and these:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yep, I heart Valentines.

And, even though I had to give these away already, I am going to love tomorrow.

Because tomorrow is Valentine's Day - which is just about my favoritest day of the whole entire year - and tomorrow is a party.

I can hardly wait to go and then come home and tell you about it..

 

Thin Places

 

Somewhere in our discussion on the first chapter of John last night, I was asked the question, "So, where do you most often experience those 'thin' places?"

Those 'thin places'...where the things that keep us from seeing God's face - the things that separate us from the heavenly realm where all is right - suddenly cease to form a wholly impenetrable veil and we catch a glimpse of glory.

Glory that makes our souls soar and our minds and bodies free of their fetters... for eternity... within a single moment.

Where are those 'thin places' for me now, that, truth be told, I so often experienced at the clothesline when I was busy raising six shoots?

It took a moment to realize that in this current season of my life, those thin places often come when I am immersed in art: standing, heart struck, in front of a painting or a sculpture, reading a piece of poetry or prose that " gives expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in me for utterance” (Oswald Chambers), listening - my soul possessed of ears - to an exquisite instrument or voice, or transfixed by a dancer who is no longer executing forms and steps, but expressing the beauty of God.

I thought about the time I was able to spend  - riveted and lost from the earth - standing in front of "Portrait of the Artist's Mother" by James Abbot Whistler.

 

 

And I remembered how, when I had to leave it behind, I came to understand, in an instant, what is in the heart of some art thieves.

How like the flow of life is it that I should have finished, just this week, "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt, a Pulitzer Prize-winning book with art theft featured in its story line?

And in that story line, these lines describing how a piece of art may affect us:

"...if a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel, you don't think, 'oh, I love this picture because it's universal.' 'I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.' That's not the reason anyone loves a piece of art.  It's a secret whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you. ... Yours, yours. I was painted for you."                  

All this passed through my mind, and some of it crossed my lips, as I tried to answer the question which had been put to me, and then...

...this morning.

This morning I read the February 6 entry (I'm behind and what a blessing!) from "A Year With Rilke" (a blessed gift from my Hair-on-Fire Friend), and Rilke gave me this:

"Things are not nearly so comprehensible and sayable as we are generally made to believe. Most experiences are unsayable; they come to fullness in a realm that words do not inhabit. And most unsayable of all are works of art, which - alongside our transient lives - mysteriously endure."Paris, February 17, 1903  Letters to a Young Poet  

And there is the truth.

Things - and God - may not be sayable.

But they are experienceable.

At the clothesline or at the museum...

...there is God.

"F" is for "February" and "Finishing"

 

...and "Finally".

I don't know whether it was last summer or the summer before that my dear sister-in-love came for a visit and bought two beat up card cabinets at a garage sale and then decided she didn't want to take them home.

I do know it was the same summer we found a broken down cabinet at someone's curb and threw it in the trunk to take home and cannibalize for parts.

The card cabinets had been used as storage in someone's shop and were really dirty and rusty and chock full of old screws and bits and pieces of small hardware.

In the end, the broken cabinet had only it's four legs (with casters) which were worth keeping, so they have been sitting atop the card cabinets in the garage waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

This week, I finally finished up the project I had envisioned at least a year ago.

I'm not fast, but I'm slow.

Alas, I forgot to take any 'before' pictures.

Before I emptied, cleaned, sanded and spray-painted the cabinets and the legs, and before Prince Charming got them all assembled for me.

But, I did take some 'after' photos and I think my little Seester is going to like having this piece in her new industrial-look studio.

 

 

 

She makes beautiful glass mosaic art pieces, among other wonderful things, so she needs storage for all her supplies.

I hope she can use the special labels I made for this piece, because I made myself laugh out loud when I thought of them.

 

 

"F" is for "finished".

Finally.

Something happened on the way.

 

Dear Diary,

I went to the fabric store this weekend to buy a few things I needed to make the drapes for my Daughter-in-Love.

The drapes are coming out just as we pictured them, and I hope to hang them tomorrow when I am  there priming the ceiling and the walls I just textured.

 

 

But, golly gee, the trip to the fabric store was anything but what I pictured.

I wasn't two steps inside the store before an old friend spotted me and gave a genuine shout of joy.

I recognized her, but I was shocked at her appearance.

There were flames shooting out of her head.

Inside the space of three minutes, I got at least three hugs and a jump start on a conversation about creative endeavors that nearly left me breathless.

She spoke to me about quilting and told me she is making quilts, preparing to become a quilt contest judge, and knows my friend in the Modern Quilt Guild.

She spoke to me about "The Artist's Way" and told me she is going through the book for the fifth (?) time, reads all of Julia Cameron's books, and is faithful to do the reading and the assignments every day.

She spoke to me about writing and told me she is attending local writer's club meetings, has been writing poetry, and is a member of a poetry group where members read their work and recieve critiques.

She spoke to me about fiber arts and mentioned - with a sort of breathless excitement - that there is a local fiber arts group.

She spoke to me about the way she has set up her home to facilitate creative thinking and doing; "corners" for reading, for sewing, for writing, for thinking.

Yes, her hair was definitely on fire.

And I wanted the flames to leap their boundaries and set my own bean ablaze.

Dear Diary, she told me that she reads what I write to you, so maybe she will see this and be glad to know she was an inspiration.

 

        I met an old friend at the store,

        And she spoke like she ne'er had before,

                Her hair was on fire,

                (A thing I admire),

        So I said, "Tell me more! Tell me more!"

 

Then again, if she sees this, she may also be sorry.

She invited me to the poetry group.

Sewing, Cutting and Grieving

 

I've been sewing.

I made banner-decorated tote bags for the Hope Pregnancy Center, using a curtain panel purchased at the thrift store and leftovers from another binge,...

 

 

...and I made a sweet little dolly for a young friend of mine (free PDF here).

 

 

I've also been cutting.

I used a free template from the generous CindyMindyPindy at Scherenschnitte and a new-in-the-box (and perfectly sized!) frame I found at the thrift store.

 

 

But, mostly?

Mostly, I've been missing Me Darlin' Mither.

She was full of grace and she loved my little dolls, and bunting appliqued totes, and whimsical papercuts...

...and me.

Hey, kids, it's time to hang the stockings!

 

Since Miss Mary Mack married Mister Mitch (how's that for alliteration?) in August, I had the pleasure of making another Christmas stocking this year.  

I let those two cute-little-honeymooners choose from a big selection of Bucilla brand stocking kits in the Merry Stockings catalog, and this is now hanging on the mantle:

 

 

After making ten of these types of stockings, I've finally developed an efficient production method, which meant this year's stocking was completed in record time.

For years, also in the name of efficiency,  I have used one of the watchmaker's cases from my  "small objects storage trays" to save all the leftover sequins from those stockings (and other projects) .

But...

For some reason, the lid on that particular case is loose-fitting, and I have had this accident...

 

 

...more times than I can count.

I'm all about efficiency; especially during the busy holiday season.

When it happened again this week, do you think I picked up this mess and immediately - and finally - put these sequins in a new case with a tighter fitting lid?

No, I certainly did not.

Because I, like the sequins above, am...

...a beautiful mess.