You Can Call Me Gwen

Twins Separated at Birth

 

One of these sweet little girls has been adopted, and will be leaving this week for her loving new home.

The other, however, is still in foster care.

Do you wish you could fix that when you look at her happy little face?

I would like to know.

And I would like to know who you are.

Leave a comment on this post telling me which of your childhood toys you wish you still had today.

If twenty or more of you comment by midnight (CST) February 2, I will have a random number drawing and send Twinsie Two into the arms of the winner.

And if not...

Well...

That will be very sad, now won't it?

Sunday Leftovers

Time to empty the camera and the brain to make room for the new week.

I'm going for the world's record in randomness.

You coming?

 

First up:

This figurine of a headless sugar cane cutter which is a souvenir of our long-ago trip to St. Croix.

 

 

I dusted the place this week.

This beauty was still standing, headless, in a place of prominence on the bookshelf.

She lost her head originally in a daring game of Throwing Balls Inside The House When Mom's Not Looking.

She lost it again when I packed her away to make room for Christmas decorations.

I set her up sans head when I was getting everything back into place at the end of December.

I assumed her head would show up in the process.

It didn't.

I forgot all about it until I dusted this week.

Which tells us two things:

I'm fairly oblivious to my familiar surroundings.

And I don't dust very often.

 

Next up:

 

 

Speaking of losing your head.

I guess we could say I lost mine for the second time when this next-generation Shoot was born.

He was on the way out to the car here, but he stopped to watch the geese fly over.

Love him.

He just got into playing with the animals this week.

It was such a challenge for his little hands to make them stand upright.

I was so proud of him.

And he left this for me under my workstation:

 

The perfect pet.

No poop.

No noise.

No demands.

And he lives in a plastic box.

 

Thirdly, in the I-Give-Up Category:

 

 
I found money in another coat pocket this week.

At least this was marked  "Grocery".

I guess I was 'saving' the leftover grocery money in the pocket of an unused coat.

And I guess I'd better start using the bank now.

 

And the last bit of photographic randomness:

 

 

I had these slipped to me in church this morning, bless my Big Seester's heart.

I know that all of you who actually see me in flesh and blood are remembering to gather up your "nubs" and "cheweds" to donate to my "Old Fashioned Yellow #2 Pencils Art Project".

Right?

 

Now the camera is empty.

But...the brain!

Here's what needs to go:

I got up a bit later than usual this morning, so I couldn't dawdle in the shower.

And since I couldn't actually dawdle, I just thought about how much I like the word dawdle.

And I started thinking about a whole bunch of words that I just plain like.

Some because of their meaning, some just because of the way they sound.

Words like:

Gadzooks and bazooka.

Effortlessly and gladly.

Knickerbockers and McGillicuddy.

Sniggering and giggling.

Hunker and fastidious.

Bombastic and melodious.

Tinker, putter, festive, plea.

Have you had enough of me? 

Straightened Priorities

When the weathermen forecast an ice...

 

 

 

 

 ...and snow...

 

 

 

...storm for our area, we usually respond by buying enough groceries and firewood to last for a few days.

Just in case the roads become treacherous or impassable.

But do we make sure we have enough dolly stuffing, embroidery thread, and other important supplies?

No.

We don't.

 

 

 

And it just makes me want to hang my head and cry.

"Sob, sob."

When I woke  this morning, the world was covered with a blanket of white.

The snow was falling soundlessly in big beautiful flakes.

The quiet and the peace were palpable.

And then I heard the sound of muffled sobbing.

 

Oh, Lottie. What ever is the matter?

"I don't want to be dropped off in a plastic bag in a strange place, where strange hands will touch me and strange voices will call me by a strange name."

Lottie, I could never let that happen to you.

I could never let you go.

You've been here with me your whole (12 hour) life.

I love you.

"Really?"

"Do you really love me?"

"Do I really get to stay with you forever?"

"Oh, I am so happy!"

 

So am I, Lottie!

So am I.

What Toy Society?
 
 

"It's a dangerous business..."

This morning I did something I rarely do.

I watched the weather report.

"Freezing rain, sleet, snow, and slick and hazardous road conditions."

Aha!

The quote I painted on the inside of my studio door is true!

At least for today.

The schools have closed, the littlest Shoot is home from college, and Techie is working from home today.

It puts a holiday sort of feel in the air.

It's like having permission to go without makeup, wear a sweatshirt, and drink tea.

I don't know why I need permission, but I do.

So, no Special K today.

I started the day by making this:

 

 

 

It's a baked pancake.

And if you've never had one, well, I'm sorry.

Fix that soon.

Here's the recipe (complete with a bit of batter):

 

 

 

If you bake it, they will come.

They will pour syrup on it, eat it, and love you forever.

 

 

 

Well, they'll love you until you start marinating the chicken for dinner with a new recipe.

Then you may feel like you are walking on that thin layer of ice out there.

"Hey, remember that pecan-crusted chicken we had once?"

Um, yeah.

"Is that hard to make?"

Um, well, um.

"Oh, nevermind. It's okay."

So you get out the recipe.

 

 

And you notice it got a "4 to 5" rating (on a 5 point scale) from the family when it was new.

And you wonder why you never made it again.

Then you find you have all the ingredients.

Even the 2 cups of pecans.

Because your pecan-growing Seester blessed you with a big bagful to do the Christmas baking that you never did.

You cut up the chicken and blend all the spices together:

 

 

 

And you take a picture.

Because the second-littlest Shoot can't get home from college and you want her to know that you are using one of the bowls from the cutest little stacking bowl set she bought you for Christmas.

Then you sprinkle that seasoning all over the chicken.

 

 

 

And you mix up the dijon mustard, the lovely golden honey, and the minced garlic with the little, tiny whisk that you think is so groovy.

You pour it all over that chicken (making sure that the little Shoot sees it), cover the dish, and pop it into the fridge until dinnertime gets close.

 

 

 

And suddenly the ground under your feet feels solid again.

And you are loved.

 

  

Mr. V.H. Caterpillar

Okay youse guys.

Here's how this project went.

I cut out some 3" strips of fabric and sewed them together...mostly in straight lines...some at an angle, to give the guy a little curve.

I ironed the seams flat and laid it, right side down, over some solid green fabric, and cut around it to make the back side of Mr. V. H.

He's a one-sided 'pillar, but that's better than being two-faced.

 

 

 

I pinned the back to the front, right sides together, and penciled in my stitching line.

 

 

 

Then I pinned them together so I could cut them without any shifting.

 

I set him aside for a minute and free-stitched some antennae and feet on a double layer of felt.

I cut them out close to the stitching.

Then I unpinned Mr. V.H. and opened him up to give him a face and stitch his feelers and feetsies in place.

Then I got the shakes.

From going without breakfast.

Because I planned to work out first.

First thing this morning.

Which I didn't do because I started sewing Mr. V. H. and couldn't stop.

Until I got the shakes.

So I stopped here and ate through a bowl of Special K and half a banana.

Which made me think, "Mr. V. H. needs something to eat through, too."

I stitched a couple of pieces of covered wire to some green felt.

I folded the felt over, stitched and then trimmed close to both sides.

Then I cut  up some scraps of fabric (and one of green felt for a little extra padding) to make a leaf.

I forgot to take pictures.

I stitched the wire stem all the way up the back side of one leaf part.

Then I sewed the two leaves together and turned them right side out,

I made the brown stem the same as the green, only longer, and I just tucked the green stem in one side before stitching the two pieces of brown felt together.

I forgot to take photos of that, too.

And I forgot to take photos of the plum, but you probably know how it was assembled because you're smart.

And that brought me here.

Where I guess my blood sugar level returned to functional and I suddenly remembered the camera.

I grabbed Mr. V. H. and tried to find something to use as a pattern for the "ate through" hole.

I centered it on the plum and traced around it.

Yet another use for the fabulous Mod Podge!

A nice tight applique stitch around the circle and a little close cutting, and here is the proof of Mr. V H.'s voracious appetite.

Now I just stuffed that plum plum-full of poly-fill and slip-stitched all those little openings shut.

I pushed the plum stem down into the plum a bit and pulled the two sides of the plum in with hand stitching to make it stay nice and upright.

Et voila!

Mr V. H. Caterpillar.

And his dinner.

All ready to go to the library.

But I have to go work out.

Ugh.

Hungry? Eat a project.

 

Did you, or someone you love, enjoy this book as a child?

How about as a grown-up?

I loved it for the art.

Today I love it because I, also, am hungry all the time.

I wish that eating through all the things I'd like to eat through would do for me what it did for the caterpillar.

Alas.

I think not.

But there is another reason I'm looking at this book today.

Back when our last three Shoots (Ps.128:3) were in elementary school, Beanie Babies were all the rage.

The Shoots were raised commercial free, though, and that had a couple of nice side effects.

They read books.

That's one.

And, though they heard all about the latest rages at school, they usually made up their own minds as to whether or not they liked a thing.

That's the second.

They liked the Beanies.

But they didn't care about the brand.

So, when I found a big sale on Beanie knock-offs one summer, I splurged on a nice big bunch of them.

Everything from ladybugs to fish.

And I did not give them to the Shoots.

I did not even show them to the Shoots.

I checked out children's library books of the nature kind.

One to correspond to every Beanie I'd purchased.

Read a book, get a Beanie.

That's the way it was.

Reward or bribe?

You decide.

This is the decision I made this week:

I want to drop my next toy for The Toy Society at the library.

That's what got me thinking about those Beanies.

So, yesterday I checked out this book and read it.

 

"On Monday he ate through one apple. But he was still hungry."

 

And today I raided my scrap stash.

 

"On Tuesday he ate through two pears. But he was still hungry." 

 

And I made some plans...

 

"On Wednesday he ate through three plums. But he was still hungry."

...of the sewing kind.

 

 

 

 

Which will have to wait.

Because I have to go to the grocery store now.

To get some things to eat through.

Stop and smell the roses.

Stop and smell the roses today.

Or just play...

 

 

 

...in the bubbles...

 

 

 

... and remember when you were a carefree kid.

 

 

Love you.

Saying good-bye to Bummy Wabbit. - You Can Call Me Gwen

UPDATE ON BUMMY:  Bummy is now listed on The Toy Society's blog (http://thetoysociety.blogspot.com/). He is drop #911. If his finder sends any notification, it will be posted with his picture. They will send me an email, so I will let you know if I hear from him again. I hope he is snuggled in the arms of a loving new owner.

via youcancallmegwen.typepad.com

Leftovers. Edible or not.

Back in the day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and there were six minors in this house majoring in eating, we used to have one meal a week we just called C.O.R.N.

I can't say anyone loved Clean Out Regrigerator Night, but the first ones in line at the bar usually didn't hate it.

I think.

And if anyone complained, I'd just just say:

"Look. I've been feeding you for 16 (or 15, 13, 10, 9, 7) years.  Aren't you full yet? "

There aren't any strappers around here these days, and Prince Charming is...let's say...resistant to leftovers.

And I hate waste.

So, I quit cooking.

And I started blogging.

Now I have leftover photos.

Images from along the way that defy categorizing or I've simply forgotten to include elsewhere.

They've been stored safely, so they should be okay to take in.

Guess who I'm going to serve them to?

Bwahahaha!

 

Do you ever think about how many stories-without-words you read in a day?

Some of the stories are scary and kind of sad, like these.

I never take this (rather sharply-curved) off-ramp without feeling badly for the drivers who wrote these stories.

 

 

And does anyone else feel heightened anxiety when they get stopped in traffic directly under an overpass? 

I sure do.

And it doesn't help anything to be sitting there looking at crumbling concrete and exposed rebar. 

Sometimes, the world scares me.

 

 

And sometimes there are unexpected bits of cheer.

This one was on the wall of the OU Children's Hospital.

 

 

And so was this.

All the framed art on the walls there is done by children.

This one had no signature, I'm sorry to say

It is done in pointillism, minus the color.

And it is sooooo very cool.

I wanted it.

Bad.

 

 

I don't remember why I took this picture, but I LOVE THIS TOOL!

This is a glue-tape gun.

I've actually never come across one in a store, but you can find them online here.

I don't know what I did before I had this given to me by one of my wonderful friends.

Gee.

Good tools and great friends.

Life is good.

 

 

Sometimes.

This is the final tally (Prince Charming took over when he returned from the salt mines) from the tracking I told you about here.

I keep repeating to myself, "A righteous man careth for the needs of his animal." (Prov. 12:10)

But it does say man.

And who's defining needs?

 

 

I made this again this month.

You should try this recipe if you like to bake bread.

It's simple.

It's delicious.

You can easily modify it for conventional mixing and baking.

And you can add an egg wash and some coarse salt for extra beauty and flavor.

You won't be sorry.

Gosh.

I'm licking the screen.

Leftovers aren't so bad after all. 
 

Saying good-bye to Bummy Wabbit.

UPDATE ON BUMMY:  Bummy is now listed on The Toy Society's blog (http://thetoysociety.blogspot.com/). He is drop #911. If his finder sends any notification, it will be posted with his picture. They will send me an email, so I will let you know if I hear from him again. I hope he is snuggled in the arms of a loving new owner.

Bummy Wabbit ventured out today.

He is excited about being Gwen's first drop for The Toy Society.

Of course, Bummy doesn't drive, so Prince Charming took the two of us here:

 

 

 

Bummy is sitting patiently in the oncology floor waiting room.

 

 

 

He feels a little, well, humiliated about having his ears flattened like this.

 

 

But we explained that we had to follow rules, and Bummy will do just about anything for kids.

The Toy Society suggested we "gussy up" the tag and the envelope for the letter, so this is what I did:

 

 

I took a copy of the book on the right.

I read this book when I was in a California elementary school back in the dark ages.

And, lo and behold, if it wasn't gifted to me by a friend 35 years later in Oklahoma.

My friend who is married to a Blackheart. (Gasp!)

Getting on with it...

 

 

I just folded it into a little envelope, placed the letter inside, and...

 

 

...ran some glue-tape down the sides and flaps.

 

 

 

Then I closed it up and sealed it with a little heart.

I also copied this page from another story book:

 

 

 

...to make the back side of the tag.

 

 

 

I thought it was appropriate, considering the front of the tag says:

 

 

 

Prince Charming and I prayed that Bummy would be a blessing as from God to his new owner.

And then I said to Prince Charming,

"Take me home. I'm yours." 

 

 

.

Blackheart the Postman

 

I've been stitching and stuffing these little Valentine felties this week while Prince Charming and I listen to a series of talks from these good people.

 

 

I'm not sure what is driving me to mix blue with my standard red and white this Valentine's 'season'.

 

But I do know what drove me to include the black heart.

A little bit of guilt.

Mixed with a whole lot of laughter.

I'll tell you about it in this little story we'll call "Blackheart the Postman".

There is a good reason the title is not "Blackheart the Letter Carrier", as you will see.

 

Blackheart the Postman

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away in a nearby city, there were four little boys and two little girls. They were sick of having to pose for pictures cheerful little childen who lived in a overcrowded cozy little home with...

 

 

 

...their two under-prepared gorgeous, young parents.

As our story opens, the youngest boy and his two little sisters are fighting over playing sweetly and quietly with their building blocks and dollies.

The three older boys are sitting at the dining room table fidgeting and grumbling dutifully laboring over their school books.

Their overwhelmed stunning and brilliant young mother is teaching them how to carry to the ten's place, sound out the "ough" phonogram, and say their spelling words in American sign language.

The little boys are so sick of enthralled with their studies that when the postman is seen approaching their mail box, they all shout, "Can I go get the mail? reluctantly, though selflessly, ask, "Mother dear, shall I bring in the mail for you?"

Their distracted sweet and gentle mother gives permission to leans upon Techie, the eldest.  She is never ever fair and just in dispensing asking favors, having no idea, a sure knowledge of whose turn it is.

Techie walks as slowly as possible eagerly to, and then from, the mailbox. He knows this may be his only escape from the school desk he will benefit from the fresh air and will return to his studies with increased aptitude .

He returns emptyhanded and mumbling.

"Blackheart."

"What did you say darling?" says his wary patient and understanding mother. She knows that Techie and his brothers sometimes try to get away with saying things they shouldn't are waiting for something they ordered to arrive.

"He didn't leave us any mail, so I called him Blackheart," Techie confesses.

"I see," says his mother.  "That is a very funny name. You have chosen wisely, Grasshopper Techie."

And, so, from that time forth, the postman was always referred to as Blackheart when he failed to carry a letter to the four little boys, two little girls, and two news-starved generous and talented parents who lived in the crowded little cottage on 15th Street so far, far away.

And he still is.

The end. 

 

I'm sorry, Blackheart.

We know it's not your fault.

But we still blame you.

 

Just (don't) do it.

I'm sorry I can't talk to you today.

I worked out yesterday.

And I can't move my arms.

I've got tons of stuff.

Well, maybe not tons.

But lots.

So I had a friend over today, and we played at making cards again.

I'm a slave to that family calendar now.

And February's coming.

I got out some things I haven't played with in a loooong time.

 

 

Then I stamped and colored on paper I've had for a loooong time.

And we made birthday cards with a little help from the computer printer.

Sometimes, the cards write themselves:

 

 

I have trouble coming up with ideas for "man cards".

But, as I said, I've got a ton of stuff.

Like an old set of blueprints.

Only I just gotta say, blueprints aren't blue anymore and it makes me sad. They had their own peculiar smell and feel. And I miss 'em, doggone it.

I guess I should say I have some engineering "plans".

Big huge sheets of 'em.

I should be able to make enough man cards for even MY family.

 

 

 

I tried to come up with some great line for the inside.

This was the best I could do:

 

 

 

This is one reason I don't work for Hallmark.

Back to the tons of stuff...

I have a lot of little paper elephants that I cut by hand during a particularly intense season.

Et voila!

Anniversary cards.

 

 

 

And just in case you can't read that stamp on the back of the envelope:

 

 

That's right.

Don't forget it.

And, of course, there is a front to the envelope, too.

Oh, yes, and an inside to the card.

 

 

I'm ready for the rest of January, all of February, and some of March now.

Bring it on.

P.S This is what the little elephants were left over from:

 

 

They just didn't want to have their picture taken today. 
 

Choo-choo, chugga, chugga, chugga...

Wish I could follow the train of my thoughts for a day and find out why some of this stuff is rolling around in my brain. For now, though, I'm just going unload the varying cargo on you, trusted friends and innocent bystanders.

• I've been meaning to buy ten or twelve copies of this book, and I found myself thinking about it again today. Once I started reading it, I couldn't put it down (see note).Wish I had the words to write my own review, or even to say why I love it. I'll tell you how much I like it simply by saying the reason I want a dozen copies is so I can give one to anyone who seems even slightly interested in reading it. Check out the customer reviews on Amazon. (Alas. Our local library system does not have it listed in their catalog.)
• I've been thinking about "Blackheart" today, so I'm going to have to tell you about him in a future post.
• I've also been thinking about this series of ridiculously humorous books today. Prince Charming has been trying to complete my hardback set. You'll recognize the author from the wonderful No.1 Ladies Detective Agency series. These stories are as tongue-in-cheek hilarious as those are gentle. And, hip hip, they are available in our local library.
• Does anyone use old-fashioned, yellow, No.2 pencils any more? I need, oh, say 50 or so - in various degrees of used-up-ness - for an art project. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
• I love the gentleness of God when He is correcting me. Just when I start thinking that I'm doing a pretty bang-up job of tracking my spending and money, I'll put on a jacket I haven't worn for a bit and find crumpled up money in the pocket.
• Wishing I could rock a baby every day. It's one of the wonderful things in the world.

Note: I'll never be able to use this phrase again without remembering my Big Seester saying to me, "I'm reading this great book on levitation. I just can't put it down."  Yuk-yuk and thanks, Seester.

And there you have it.

Brain drained.

As Elvis would say, "Thankyouverymuch."

 

Why I made this.

A while back I signed up with The Toy Society.

You can look at their website here.

I've been thinking about what kind of toy to make first.

And today I came across this little sketch I made when I was surfing one day.

 

And I remembered these:

 

 

A pair of linen pants I bought at the thrift store, intending to re-purpose the lovely fabric.

Then I went through my stash of scraps looking for something really bright and cheerful to keep things lively.

This piece from the Amy Butler collection (love her stuff,see more here) captured my fancy.

I drafted a pattern and started cutting and sewing.

 

 

Nice thing about making your own patterns - you don't have to follow any rules when you use them.

An hour later, this is what I had:

 

I want to make many more.

Short ones.

Tall ones.

Fat ones.

Skinny ones.

But this one is going to be "dropped" according to The Toy Society's guidelines.

And I'd like some suggestions for drop sites from those of you who are local.

Let me hear from you.

Bummy Wabbit needs a home. 

I collect something.

I have been thinking about the things people collect.

Over the years I've been tempted to collect various things, but the thought of dusting them usually keeps me from it.

However, (and you knew this was coming) I do have a collection.

Of found grocery lists. 

And I'd like your help to make it grow.

Because I'm planning to make something with them.

It's a strange collection, no?

But I like them for what they tell me and for what they leave me wondering.

Here are some of the Found Grocery Lists  I've collected:

I find them thought provoking. For instance:

I thought Mr. Redenbacher's name was Orville.

Are they really buying cats?

"There's something about an Aqua Velva man."  Sing it.

What are Bud Bones?

I'm sorry about the wasp problem.

That stings.

 

Not particularly fascinating, but it seems to say, "Thanksgiving dinner."

I also wonder if this person came down with something during the planning phase.

Notice how orange juice and echinacea took prominence?

Does it hurt and have a temperature?

 

I'm thinking,"Thanksgiving dinner" again.

I'm also thinking, "I wonder if I'll ever be able to buy a ready-made pie crust?"

 

Sometimes, it's just the variety that gets me.

Gloves, milk, cantalope and eyeliner in the same shopping trip.

I'm loving that "L. Johns".

Is that short for long-johns?

I'm also thinking, "Hmmm. 42-30. Better make that skim milk."

 

Don't have to wonder what we're feeding the kids.

 

Now, I'm not positive this is a shopping list.

But it could be.

And you have to love the paper choice.

 

Sometimes you can tell the shopping is quite narrowly focused...

 

...and you just wish you could join them for dessert.

 

What does "both" mean in regards to toilet paper?

All those vegetables...and only one noodle.

I'm so sorry Gary is hurting.

Maybe he needs to lay off working on his boat for awhile and kick back with a dish of tapicoca.

 

 

Um.

Fungus cream and gum.

Back-up and apples.

Quesadillas, blue coral, and an oil filter.

Okay. 

 

 

 Sometimes they are nicely labeled "Grocery List".

Even though there is nothing to eat listed on them.

 

Sometimes the list is straightforward, and I'm just left wondering where they work.

Hospital?

Doctor's office?

They snagged the pharmaceutical rep's give-away note pad.

 

Body wash A.

A bread.

Is "A" a person? 

I like blueberry bagels and Prince Charming hates ham.

And that's the end of that.

Now.

I want you to hang your head and keep looking down.

While you shop, that is.

And send me your Found Grocery Lists.

I will send you something in return.

These are the little bookmarks I made for the Finder in Oregon who just sent some coastal grocery lists my way:

 

 
  
 ( This book is a good read.)

Look at other unusual collections here.

Or stand on your head.

Doing either thing will change the way you view the stuff in your world.

Go forth.

 

Love. Keep it simple.

I may be rushing Valentine's day.

But I had a neighbor on my mind all day.

I wanted to make a little something and leave it in her mailbox to let her know she is loved.

I was pretty busy enjoying Little Man, Miss Mary Mack, and Helping Hands Hannah, though.

Then nap time came.

For the college girls.

Not the baby.

He went home.

And I remembered these.

So I sewed a string of them together on the machine like this:

 

I got out these things...

 

...and did this:

 

 

...to make this (how pleasant that the punch was exactly the right size):

 

Then I locked the thread at the end of the message under the bottom spool cap (love these new-fangled spools) and started wrapping the garland around the spool like this...

 

...until I'd wrapped all of the garland and most of the thread.  Then I locked the thread from the beginning of the message under the top spool cap...

 

...and it was all done and ready for...

 

...packaging.  And here's how I made the simple package from a standard letter-size envelope:

 

 

I sealed the envelope and scored the top, bottom, and one side, 3/4" from the edge.

 

 

 

I cut a bit off of one side to make an opening...

 

 

...and folded it back and forth a few times along the score lines.

 

I pushed up the uncut side to make the box bottom and glued the little tabs down.

 

 

All done.

 

 

Helloooooo in there.

 

 

Add the 'gift tag' and stitch her shut.

 

 
  
Made.

Packaged.

Delivered.

Before nap time was over.

Love. Keep it simple. Get it done.

You can capture more than fireflies in a jar.

Last month I found this cool project and tutorial here.

I sat and visited with Me Darlin' Mither and made a few for myself.

I thought I would use them for packaging when I gave away holiday goodies.

Alas.

I didn't make any holiday goodies.

They've been sitting on my kitchen hutch for, lo, these many weeks.

Today the stars aligned.

I am on a rampage, of sorts, to go through every drawer and file in this house and bring 'solemn order' to all paper.

Or just fill a dumpster with it.

I have an accountability partner who does a great job of making sure I deal with at least seven pieces a day.

The beauty of this plan is, once you start into a file, you really can't stop. 

Seven or not.

Anyway...

Yesterday I saw this groovy little idea.

And this morning, during my 'Seven Pieces Round-up', I was working with this file.

Now you know where this is going.

 

No fireflies.

But my whole family in a jar! 

Bwahahaha!

I didn't want to crop my photos, so I just gently rolled them and let them take the shape of the jar.

We've always been a little warped anyway. 

Now...

Here's a picture of the kitchen "communication center" today.

 

Do you have any questions about this?

I do.

Should I find a way to go to the beach on March 9th and stay for free and do whatever I feel like doing?

Because that's the offer I got from my friend who owns the beach house.

The beach house on the beach.

With the spa.

Well?

Another thing about this board:

Those tick marks?

Yesterday, Me Darlin' Mither laughed too long when I told her that when I leave the house now, I'm usually thinking this to myself as I lock the door:

"Ha, Jack! Who's going to be your slave today? Ha ha. Not me!"

Jack is not my husband.

Jack is the three-legged cat who owns this house.

He's left over from one of those six kids who vacated this place.

Those tick marks are for every time that cat demands I let him in or out today.

Or feed or water him.

Or just watch while he eats!

And it's only ten a.m.

That's right, Mom.

Laugh. 

I just felt you should know.

I was cleaning today and started thinking about this.

It's not something pretty.

Or something you can eat.

And I can't show you how to make any.

But, gosh, I like this stuff.

 

If you haven't ever used it, I hope it's because you have a maid.

Otherwise, get some.

It does just what it says.

On all the surfaces it says it will do it on.

With much more kindness than...er...those others.

Trust me.

Oh, my stars!

I started making puffy paper stars about a year ago.

 

I'd decided to make something every day and paper stars are fast and easy.

And addictive. 

So they'll answer if I get to the end of a day and realize I haven't created anything.

That's how the galaxy grew.

And now I keep them on the cofee table.

 

I scoop them up and set them aside when I'm cleaning, and scatter them back out when I'm finished.

It's like making a new piece of art when I dust every week.

Or every two weeks.

Or once in a blue moon.

And sometimes I'll write a little prayer on the strip of paper before it becomes a star.

 

Now, stop thinking about the dust on my coffee table, and make some puffy stars of your very own.

Here's how:

You'll need some thin strips of lightweight paper, about 12" long.

Most of mine are cut less than 1" wide.

Start by tying one end of the paper...

 

...into a tight little "knot" that makes a perfect pentagon once you...

...tuck that little end around the back.

 

Now you start wrapping the long end around the back...

 

...and then wrap it around the front.

 

Make nice tight folds and be sure to keep the shape of that pentagon.

 

You're going to tuck the end into it.

Sometimes you'll have to make a little fold so the end will fit inside.

 

Then just tuck it right in.

 

Nice and snug.

 

I'm so sorry that I only have two hands, and no way to show you this important step very well. 

Can I talk you through it?

Just hold the pentagon by it's sides between your thumb and index finger.

And pinch the opposite sides of the pentagon in to make a star point.

Keep going until you have created all five points and have your own little galaxy starter kit.

 

Just like this.

 

It will need friends.

And you will want to make them.

So, it's all good.

Now stop thinking about my crunchy cuticles, jagged nails, and dry skin.

It's use and abuse, folks. Use and abuse.

Purty

Just loving the beauty of the speckled eggs my chicken-raisin' seester brought me.

Makes it hard to crack 'em.
 

 

"I think I can. I think I can."

Every Christmas one of my five amazing sisters sends us a calendar with the birthdays and wedding anniversaries of every member of our wonderful family written in and decorated with cheerful little stickers.

 

These calendars are beautiful, and every year when we receive ours I imagine myself sending handmade greeting cards to every one of the people whose names are written in those little squares.

 

This year I decided to actually do it.

And I think I'll make it.

 

As long as I don't count 'em.

 

 
Because I came from a very large family.

 

And many of the people from my very large family have large families of their own.

 

 

And some of the people from the large families of the people from my very large family are now having large (or small) families of their own.

It's kinda scary.

Stark Reminder

A few months ago I saw a menu holder in a local store that I wanted really a whole bunch a lot.

I didn't buy it.

I think I do pretty well at resisting impulse purchases.

I saw it again on Monday.

On the clearance aisle.

Marked 66% off.

And I still wanted it.

So I bought it.

I had these visions of beautifully calligraphed menus of equally beautiful meals.

This is not what I envisioned:

But that's all there was for dinner.

Until Prince Charming drove through Taco Bell.

Alas.

Someone left an orange on the counter.

Note to self: Always read creative blogs before making breakfast.

Early this morning I spent a good part of an hour just browsing through some wonderful, and new to me, creative blogs. Then I went into the kitchen to make one final breakfast for Miss Helping Hands before she made the trek back to college today. I don't think any of the blogs I visited were focused on food or cooking, but they had the effect of making it impossible for me to do anything the "same old way".

And someone had left an orange on the counter.

Just one lonely orange.

So when I decided to make waffles with our tried and true waffle recipe, I picked up that lonely little orange.

And I just zested that orange's peel right into the waffle batter.

And I got out the real maple syrup and the imported Irish butter.

 

 Ohhhhh. I wish you had been here. This is what Miss Helping Hands ate before she said...

 

 

..."Let's never go back."

Amen.

We laughed today.

Here's a little story. I love Valentines. I love to make Valentines. I'm sorry we stopped decorating Valentine's Day "mailboxes" after grade school and I'm still trying to make up for all those lost years. When the kids were all home, I used to make heart-shaped biscuits for breakfast and heart-shaped pizza for dinner on Valentine's Day. And I made a lot of Valentines. I still make a lot of Valentines. But a couple of years ago, at the end of Valentine's Day, I realized I hadn't made one for the one "little" chickie still in the nest. I went up to my studio.  I had two little stickers left. I had a tiny glassine envelope. I had a little piece of silk ribbon. I had a wicked sense of humor. I made a Valentine.

When I brought this down to the little chickie, she said, "Oh! How sweet! I was just thinking, 'I wonder if Mom knows how much I still appreciate her Valentines."  And then she opened it.

 

I told you it was a wicked sense of humor.  Well, today, Miss Mary Mack is not feeling very well. And today I decided to mess around with some of the bizillion hearts I cut out yesterday. I made this card...

 

...and then I practiced writing on the inside with my sewing machine.

 

When the little chickie saw it, she said, "Do you remember the 'mean Valentine' you made for me?" Of course I do. She said, "You're never going to live that down, Mom. I carry it in my wallet. In fact, I've transferred it from wallet to wallet several times."  I felt bad. So I made another card.

 

And I put it in an envelope and carried to the little chickie's sick bed.

 

I wish you could have heard the ooohs and ahhs and the, "Oh, how sweet, Mom" when she opened the envelope. And I wish you could have been here when she opened the card...

 

 
 
 ...and laughed herself sick!

Some things never change.

I know I should feel bad.

But, really.

I got her sooooooooooooo good. 
 

Aw, cut it out.

It was too cold to bother today.

I stayed in my pj's way too long but, I'm sorry, I just couldn't get un-warm or un-cozy for even a second.

What I did get, though, was antsy.

Really antsy.

So I cut.

It's what I do.

I cut about a million little hearts.

And while I was cutting I noticed this:

 

 

I was wearing the appropriate pajamas.

Sometimes you get a clue about just how right a thing is.

Oh, my little heart, be happy!

Carry on! 

  

 Turquoise Love.

 

 

And Security Envelope Love. 

What shall I do with you some day when I am dressed?