We did it! We accomplished one of the items on our Sunday List. (Visit Conversations with Shen for details.) On Sunday afternoon we headed out to Old Town Orange for a bit of antiquing. It was a new world for Ferris. I grew up immersed in it. The best part of the day is that my passion rubbed off a little on Ferris and a monster was created. She spent the evening researching her new obsessions on Google & eBay. I gave herself a pat on the back for imparting a little bit of wisdom.
I was a little disappointed in the shopping. Everything was much more expensive than it should be and each store seemed to have the same items. I’ve always been more of a fan of the individual store rather than antique districts. But, there are a few good spots around The Plaza that are worth the drive. It was also a great place to jump (or be pushed) head first into a new world. In my family antiques were a way of life. I’m not talking about Louis the XVI fancy-schmancy furniture, I’m talking about real world, things you can use, antiques. Glass ware, linens, kitchen ware. I would never buy something just to look at it. I want to use it. I want it to have a purpose. Looking pretty is just the bonus.
The best part of the day was spending it with an old friend & igniting a fire. Antiquing, thrifting, junking-whatever you want to call it, is the ultimate in recycling. Why buy something new when something old was probably built better and will last longer? I did find a few treasures…An old hand sifter with the paper label still attached, a potato masher with a green handle, an enamelware ladle ( I LOVE enamelware), an old carnival prize metal cowboy horse and a Ponderosa Ranch tin cup (both gifts for Monkey-I’ll fill the cup with M&M’s). I also found an old Reyn Spooner shirt for my husband for only $20. A steal really. Ferris found a couple of goodies too but her day was more about finding out what she really likes. I’ll post some photos later. My husband hijacked his new shirt for a trip to Atlanta before I was able to snap a picture.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
A Confession
I have a confession.
I am a stalker, a creeper...whatever you want to call it. There are quite a few blogs that I read everyday and I never comment. Why? I have no idea. These sites tend to inspire me to be more creative. They frustrate me a bit too. Only because they show me what I'm capable and remind me that I'm not doing the things I should be.
As a penance, I have added them to my blogroll and I will list them all here. I will make an effort to comment. Find something good to say and just say it. For now, to all of you out there doing the same thing, lets work together and start leaving our positive comments.
Feeling Stitchy
Buttons Magee
Antique Mommy
Future Girl
I am a stalker, a creeper...whatever you want to call it. There are quite a few blogs that I read everyday and I never comment. Why? I have no idea. These sites tend to inspire me to be more creative. They frustrate me a bit too. Only because they show me what I'm capable and remind me that I'm not doing the things I should be.
As a penance, I have added them to my blogroll and I will list them all here. I will make an effort to comment. Find something good to say and just say it. For now, to all of you out there doing the same thing, lets work together and start leaving our positive comments.
Feeling Stitchy
Buttons Magee
Antique Mommy
Future Girl
Monday, September 22, 2008
Grace Stikes Again
I've mentioned before that my nickname growing up was Grace (one of the many nicknames anyway). Well. This weekend, she stuck her foot out and tripped me up again.
We were visiting family yesterday. The terrain was not my own. Lovey & I were horsing around as we often do. - Now, before I describe this "horsing around" we were doing, please know that nothing is done viciously or with anger, we are laughing the entire time, and for the most part, it is done softly with intent of messing with the other person, not hurting them. There is rarely pain & apologies and giggles are passed when there is.- SO...This game we play usually starts with one of us very lightly kicking the other one in the calf or the rear end. Or lightly finger slapping the other one in the arm or again, the leg. Sometimes there is poking in the arm or stomach. All it takes is one touch and we're both off giggling and smacking each other. My husband HATES it when we do this. He says it's because he knows one of us will end up hurt. But, that rarely happens. I think it's because he's more than a little jealous. He's one of those "doesn't play well with others" kind of fellows. He does play too hard and someone does get hurt when he gets involved.
As we were playing, Lovey got a good smack on my leg. We had an audience and had them all laughing. Because this smack was loud (but not painful) he took off running outside. This caused everyone-mostly men-to make chicken sounds. Again, just teasing , he was laughing & smiling the whole time. While he taunted me from outside the screen door, I warned "Just you wait...I know where you sleep!" A few minutes later, he braved the indoors and stood talking to his uncle. I crept up behind him, kicked him softly in the rear end and took off.
This is when I learned a very important safety tip. Never wear Crocs while running on thick piled carpet. The rubber sticks and you just don't get the speed or control you need. I turned the corner, the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, my knee buckled underneath me. I looked forward and saw only the corner of the wall. Quickly, I stuck out my arms so they would grab it first rather than my head crashing into the corner. My hands made it, my arms grasped it, I made it to the wall without injury. This was not done gracefully. I was literally hugging the wall while my legs were bent at strange angles, both feet stuck in place because of that darn rubber shoe. As I giggled, I slid down the wall, hit the floor, rolled over and started laughing. My sweet Lovey knew I wasn't hurt so he too laughed to the point of falling to the floor. My wonderful sister in law watched all of this in a panic. All I could hear above the laughter was her calling my husbands name over & over, sure I had seriously injured myself.
I did scrape my knee, and I do have a large bump on my wrist, but the fun was more than worth it. As I stood in my own kitchen later, my husband examining my slightly swollen wrist, he said "I knew someone would get hurt." I just smiled and went for the facts. My boy is 14. He doesn't let me kiss him. He will only on the rarest of occasions let me hug him. But he will play with me. If I get a little banged up in the process, then so be it. Years from now neither of us will remember the sting of a finger slap but we will remember the laughter.
We were visiting family yesterday. The terrain was not my own. Lovey & I were horsing around as we often do. - Now, before I describe this "horsing around" we were doing, please know that nothing is done viciously or with anger, we are laughing the entire time, and for the most part, it is done softly with intent of messing with the other person, not hurting them. There is rarely pain & apologies and giggles are passed when there is.- SO...This game we play usually starts with one of us very lightly kicking the other one in the calf or the rear end. Or lightly finger slapping the other one in the arm or again, the leg. Sometimes there is poking in the arm or stomach. All it takes is one touch and we're both off giggling and smacking each other. My husband HATES it when we do this. He says it's because he knows one of us will end up hurt. But, that rarely happens. I think it's because he's more than a little jealous. He's one of those "doesn't play well with others" kind of fellows. He does play too hard and someone does get hurt when he gets involved.
As we were playing, Lovey got a good smack on my leg. We had an audience and had them all laughing. Because this smack was loud (but not painful) he took off running outside. This caused everyone-mostly men-to make chicken sounds. Again, just teasing , he was laughing & smiling the whole time. While he taunted me from outside the screen door, I warned "Just you wait...I know where you sleep!" A few minutes later, he braved the indoors and stood talking to his uncle. I crept up behind him, kicked him softly in the rear end and took off.
This is when I learned a very important safety tip. Never wear Crocs while running on thick piled carpet. The rubber sticks and you just don't get the speed or control you need. I turned the corner, the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, my knee buckled underneath me. I looked forward and saw only the corner of the wall. Quickly, I stuck out my arms so they would grab it first rather than my head crashing into the corner. My hands made it, my arms grasped it, I made it to the wall without injury. This was not done gracefully. I was literally hugging the wall while my legs were bent at strange angles, both feet stuck in place because of that darn rubber shoe. As I giggled, I slid down the wall, hit the floor, rolled over and started laughing. My sweet Lovey knew I wasn't hurt so he too laughed to the point of falling to the floor. My wonderful sister in law watched all of this in a panic. All I could hear above the laughter was her calling my husbands name over & over, sure I had seriously injured myself.
I did scrape my knee, and I do have a large bump on my wrist, but the fun was more than worth it. As I stood in my own kitchen later, my husband examining my slightly swollen wrist, he said "I knew someone would get hurt." I just smiled and went for the facts. My boy is 14. He doesn't let me kiss him. He will only on the rarest of occasions let me hug him. But he will play with me. If I get a little banged up in the process, then so be it. Years from now neither of us will remember the sting of a finger slap but we will remember the laughter.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Searching for inspiration...
Last weekend I rearranged my living room. A sure sign of trouble brewing. Usually when I do this it's because I'm trying to distract myself from something else. I knew as I moved my favorite chair into a corner, that this was the case. Four days later and I still don't know what it was I've been distracting myself from.
As I wondered around the local bookstore last night I just couldn't find anything that interested me. That is a shocking thing. Not once have I walked into a book store and not been drawn to something. I knew I was looking for beatuy and inspiration. Something with a lyrical language and deep in meaning. I just couldn't find it. I ended up with the John Adams biography by David McCullogh I've been meaning to read forever and an anthology of poetry. What does that say about what I've been needing? Hope in a politically ravaged time? As I began reading John Adams last night one of his quotes was something like..."You're never alone as long as you've got a poet in your pocket." Fitting that I purchased this and poetry at the same time.
As interesting as this book may become, I don't think it's the inspiration I've been looking for. Maybe the looking for inspiration is a distraction itself. I'm feeling unfocused and scattered. Perhaps today, I'll just listen.
As I wondered around the local bookstore last night I just couldn't find anything that interested me. That is a shocking thing. Not once have I walked into a book store and not been drawn to something. I knew I was looking for beatuy and inspiration. Something with a lyrical language and deep in meaning. I just couldn't find it. I ended up with the John Adams biography by David McCullogh I've been meaning to read forever and an anthology of poetry. What does that say about what I've been needing? Hope in a politically ravaged time? As I began reading John Adams last night one of his quotes was something like..."You're never alone as long as you've got a poet in your pocket." Fitting that I purchased this and poetry at the same time.
As interesting as this book may become, I don't think it's the inspiration I've been looking for. Maybe the looking for inspiration is a distraction itself. I'm feeling unfocused and scattered. Perhaps today, I'll just listen.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Proud Parent
Lovey has been going to "school" his entire life. I've always worked outside the home so he's always had to get up early, pack up his necessities in his backpack and head out the door. The necessities used to be his stuffed Eeyore and Winnie The Pooh blanket. Now it's 50 pounds of books and binders.
While he is a very smart boy, sitting down and listening to a teacher has never been his strong suit. He'd rather take his own time, learn it in his own way. It was the same when learning to write his name as it is learning algebra. The ability is there, but never the drive. He knows things about our history and science that no one has ever taught him, he just knows somehow. I frequently say to him "Why can't you use this power for good?"
The middle school years were extremely difficult (not quite an accurate description-there are not words to describe how painful and heartbreaking they were). Early on, The Mayor & I would help Lovey with his homework. We worked hard on staying involved in what was due and when. We felt that without our push he just wouldn't do the work. This "help" as we saw it, almost always ended in battles & tears. His sensitive nature thought we were picking on him and putting too much pressure on him. After a year and a half of this struggle we stopped helping. We stopped pushing. Clearly the amount of pressure Lovey was feeling wasn't doing anyone any good. No more than "did you finish your homework" crossed our lips. We made the choice that living peacefully together was much more important than whether his homework was done. Was this the right choice? I don't know. Lovey spent so much energy lying to us about whether or not the work was done that his guilt ended up in the same battles and tears. He has always been the type of boy that would "tattle" on himself. If he has done something bad or wrong, he feels it deeply and is often harder on himself than we could ever be. In the end, our choice to not pressure him only resulted in his guilty feelings overwhelming him.
We finally sought help in dealing with his feelings about himself and towards us. Help with how we were handling the situation. Most of our Wednesday night therapy sessions ended uncomfortably. With either me crying, The Mayor angry & hurt, or Lovey silent and withholding. But it's been good for all of us in the long run.
Along with our Wednesday nights, I have spent countless hours in prayer for Lovey. Asking God to be with him. To bring him peace. To allow him focus and understanding towards what he needs to do. Pleading with Him to wrap his loving arms around my boy and protect him from the dangers facing his teenage years.
At then end of his 8th grade year, Lovey was failing 3 classes. Not just the detested algebra, but science & language too. Because of teachers that could see his potential he was given the chance to focus on catching up. He worked diligently during those few months and improved all of those F's up to C's. Without pressuring him, I simply said "Lovey, think of what you could have accomplished had you put in just put in a fraction of that hard work during the year." Normally, he would have protested. Blamed everyone but himself while internally feeling like a failure. I braced myself for the argument that would surely come my way, but it didn't. He just said "I know Mom".
The summer months flew by. On occasion we would talk about the coming change of high school. We would gently tell him that it would be much harder than middle school and that it would require a lot more effort on his part. In the past, these types of conversations would lead to a fight, but not once over the summer did we argue over it. Each time it was discussed he would say "I know. I'm going to try hard this year." Words are easy, it's the actions that tell the story. As September approached I wanted desperately to believe his words. It's a terrible feeling to distrust your child. But all of the fights and lies in the past kept me from being able to trust his words. I continued my prayers, begging for Gods guidance and help with the child I love so fiercely.
The first day of school arrived. In an effort to keep a calm in the house I didn't make a fuss. I didn't take the day off from work. I tried to make it like any other day. When I arrived home from work, Lovey jumped right in to telling me about his day. Talking about his teachers and who he thought he would like & dislike. He gave me the papers I needed right away. He asked for my help in getting the new list of supplies still needed. I sat at the table soaking it all in. Never in his previous 9 years of school had he come home with that much enthusiasm. Never had he volunteered information about his day. Inside I was screaming & jumping for joy. Outside, I smiled and listened. I covered his books while he talked & talked. I helped put together his binders while he laughed telling me he was too nervous to eat lunch that day.
I went to bed that night thankful to God for the joy and peace he had given sweet Lovey. I was eternally grateful for that one day of an enthusiastic student. It's been a week and while the excited nervous energy is gone, the enthusiasm towards the work seems to have stayed. Two nights went by with no homework. A familiar line of "I did it at school" were heard. The doubt crept back into my mind. So I asked. I told Lovey I wanted to believe him, that I did believe, but I needed to see the homework he said he had done. This too would normally cause a huge fight. To my great relief, it didn't. He didn't comment. Didn't argue. He got his book and showed me the work.
There will continue to be a bit of doubt and a need for Lovey to earn back my trust, but I'm taking each day one at a time. The last week was so incredible. I know there will still be bumps in the road, but a huge part of my heart believes that the worst is behind us. I am always proud of Lovey for all that he is and the beauty of his mind and heart. But today, I get to proud of him as a student too. My heart sings with thanks and joy.
While he is a very smart boy, sitting down and listening to a teacher has never been his strong suit. He'd rather take his own time, learn it in his own way. It was the same when learning to write his name as it is learning algebra. The ability is there, but never the drive. He knows things about our history and science that no one has ever taught him, he just knows somehow. I frequently say to him "Why can't you use this power for good?"
The middle school years were extremely difficult (not quite an accurate description-there are not words to describe how painful and heartbreaking they were). Early on, The Mayor & I would help Lovey with his homework. We worked hard on staying involved in what was due and when. We felt that without our push he just wouldn't do the work. This "help" as we saw it, almost always ended in battles & tears. His sensitive nature thought we were picking on him and putting too much pressure on him. After a year and a half of this struggle we stopped helping. We stopped pushing. Clearly the amount of pressure Lovey was feeling wasn't doing anyone any good. No more than "did you finish your homework" crossed our lips. We made the choice that living peacefully together was much more important than whether his homework was done. Was this the right choice? I don't know. Lovey spent so much energy lying to us about whether or not the work was done that his guilt ended up in the same battles and tears. He has always been the type of boy that would "tattle" on himself. If he has done something bad or wrong, he feels it deeply and is often harder on himself than we could ever be. In the end, our choice to not pressure him only resulted in his guilty feelings overwhelming him.
We finally sought help in dealing with his feelings about himself and towards us. Help with how we were handling the situation. Most of our Wednesday night therapy sessions ended uncomfortably. With either me crying, The Mayor angry & hurt, or Lovey silent and withholding. But it's been good for all of us in the long run.
Along with our Wednesday nights, I have spent countless hours in prayer for Lovey. Asking God to be with him. To bring him peace. To allow him focus and understanding towards what he needs to do. Pleading with Him to wrap his loving arms around my boy and protect him from the dangers facing his teenage years.
At then end of his 8th grade year, Lovey was failing 3 classes. Not just the detested algebra, but science & language too. Because of teachers that could see his potential he was given the chance to focus on catching up. He worked diligently during those few months and improved all of those F's up to C's. Without pressuring him, I simply said "Lovey, think of what you could have accomplished had you put in just put in a fraction of that hard work during the year." Normally, he would have protested. Blamed everyone but himself while internally feeling like a failure. I braced myself for the argument that would surely come my way, but it didn't. He just said "I know Mom".
The summer months flew by. On occasion we would talk about the coming change of high school. We would gently tell him that it would be much harder than middle school and that it would require a lot more effort on his part. In the past, these types of conversations would lead to a fight, but not once over the summer did we argue over it. Each time it was discussed he would say "I know. I'm going to try hard this year." Words are easy, it's the actions that tell the story. As September approached I wanted desperately to believe his words. It's a terrible feeling to distrust your child. But all of the fights and lies in the past kept me from being able to trust his words. I continued my prayers, begging for Gods guidance and help with the child I love so fiercely.
The first day of school arrived. In an effort to keep a calm in the house I didn't make a fuss. I didn't take the day off from work. I tried to make it like any other day. When I arrived home from work, Lovey jumped right in to telling me about his day. Talking about his teachers and who he thought he would like & dislike. He gave me the papers I needed right away. He asked for my help in getting the new list of supplies still needed. I sat at the table soaking it all in. Never in his previous 9 years of school had he come home with that much enthusiasm. Never had he volunteered information about his day. Inside I was screaming & jumping for joy. Outside, I smiled and listened. I covered his books while he talked & talked. I helped put together his binders while he laughed telling me he was too nervous to eat lunch that day.
I went to bed that night thankful to God for the joy and peace he had given sweet Lovey. I was eternally grateful for that one day of an enthusiastic student. It's been a week and while the excited nervous energy is gone, the enthusiasm towards the work seems to have stayed. Two nights went by with no homework. A familiar line of "I did it at school" were heard. The doubt crept back into my mind. So I asked. I told Lovey I wanted to believe him, that I did believe, but I needed to see the homework he said he had done. This too would normally cause a huge fight. To my great relief, it didn't. He didn't comment. Didn't argue. He got his book and showed me the work.
There will continue to be a bit of doubt and a need for Lovey to earn back my trust, but I'm taking each day one at a time. The last week was so incredible. I know there will still be bumps in the road, but a huge part of my heart believes that the worst is behind us. I am always proud of Lovey for all that he is and the beauty of his mind and heart. But today, I get to proud of him as a student too. My heart sings with thanks and joy.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Smile
Today, I'm challenging everyone who reads this blog. (All three of you!) Pass it on. Smile. Even if you don't feel it at first, by the third or fourth smile, you'll be happier and so will the person you're sharing it with.
"Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been." ~Mark Twain
"Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been." ~Mark Twain
Friday, September 05, 2008
Afghan project
My next adventure is in the world of crochet. It's another art first taught to me by my great grandmother (Grandma Tag as we called her) as a child, and reintroduced to me by my beloved Gram as an adult.
When we were very little Grandma Tag was sure to teach us some of her amazing skills. She could make amazing things out of nothing. From building a house to a fancy cake for birthdays and everything in between. She once turned a burnt couch sitting on someones curb for the garbage into a one of kind sectional for her tiny house. She was junking long before Country Home of Country Living made it cool. But I've gotten off track....
My Grandma Tag was and Gram is the type of woman that can crochet an entire afghan in a day. Their turned fingers working like lightening as they worked shell stitches. I'm just not that fast. I've wanted to work on a scrap afghan for quite some time. There is so much yarn in my house I could probably make a few of these projects and still have plenty left over.
I'm roughly 13 rows into my current attempt. I'm trying to keep the color story going. I faded from blue into green and will fade the green into purples next. It's a simple shell & reverse shell but I think it looks sort of like a yo yo quilt (an art I do not yet know how to do-I'm hoping my Gram or mother in law will someday show me).
I really am a beginner at this. I know a handful of stitches and have made maybe 3 afghans in the past. I've made several wash cloths, which is a great way to practice new stitches. With each turn of the hook I think I improve. Maybe someday I'll be as quick as my wonderful grandmothers.
Embroidery Project
This project is long over due. I've been working on for nearly a year. Not because it was especially complicated. It was just one of those things that I would work on for a while, then set aside only to pick it up again a few months later. It is a pillow for my grandparents and their "new" old trailer. When we were little they had a Travelese that my grandfather rebuilt. It was our home away from home. It was sold when I started high school for a bigger & "better" trailer. Recently, fond memories of the Travelese caused my grandparents to search for something similar to their old trailer and after several months of searching they finally found one. It is so like the one in our memories. They're working hard on fixing it up. I've done my part with a pillow that travels down memory lane.
It includes images that bring to mind our many trips. All but the tree are patterns from Sublime Stitching. I created the tree myself, as you can tell. Many our our trips were to visit the giant redwoods in central & northern California. The words are lyrics to a song my grandmother used to sing while on the road. "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed. I had a little drink about an hour ago and it went straight to my head." I thought it better than my grandfathers ditty "She's got freckles on her but, she's nice." I'm most proud of the fire & the roasted marshmallows.
The picture doesn't quite do it justice. The stones look great in person. Same with the marshmallows. I used a stark white for the top and a taupey brown for the roasted part.
So there it is. My first embroidery project since before the age of 10. I think I did pretty well for someone who hasn't picked up a needle and floss in over 20 years. Now onto to other ideas.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
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