100 Day Project - Day 9: Covid-Fear, Barbed Wire, and the Kindness of Strangers

In mid-May, 2020, when the Covid-19 hype was at its height in my neck of the woods, I had a little incident in my local Tractor Supply store.    It was a lovely spring day, and I had been out running errands and doing things with my mom for most of the morning.  Around mid afternoon, I went to Tractor Supply, to purchase some rebar stakes I needed to put up fencing around my garden beds.  I headed out into their outside areas the store where the fencing and pallets of other rugged items were stored.  I was loading the rebar stakes into my cart, when my stupid handbag swung down off my shoulder, and annoyed, I shrugged my arm up and out to hoist it back in my shoulder.  When I did, I SMACKED the top of my right hand, HARD into a spool of barbed wire just to my right.  My reward was a lovely puncture wound on the on the top of my hand, that hurt like a #@$@&!!  So there I stood, clutching my hand, and before it started bleeding, I was able to look right into the wound and see how deep it was.  Then it swelled up like an egg, started bleeding, and I thought, uh, I really should wash this off because you know.. CORONAVIRUS.  And then, Ugh, What if it bleeds all over my arm?  What do I do now?  I didn’t even have any tissues in my bag.  

**Interestingly, at no point, did I consider just leaving the store.  I’m not sure why.  All I know is that I was there to buy the stakes, and at no point did it even enter my mind to just WALK OUT.  Odd, I know.**  

So I grabbed my cart and started wheeling it inside so I could pay and leave as quickly as possible.  By then the blood was congealing into a big blob on the top of my hand.  I shook my hand and it spattered off onto the cement.  I pulled my sleeve down over my hand, figuring that the inside of my sleeve was probably pretty clean, and thinking it would also keep me from getting blood on anything else.  I pictured blood running down my arm, so I held my hand up, and wheeled the cart with the other hand.  Of course, when I got inside, there was a ridiculously long line, which I joined, and then realized that I was starting to feel a little...  off.  Have you ever passed out before?  It starts with a little bit of a woozy feeling... a kind of hot/cold/sweaty/weak feeling.  I was thinking of not passing out, but still dwelling on the GERM factor.  Could I get Covid from a cut on my hand?  Are these people going to FREAK OUT if they see my hand is bleeding?  I needed air. Would they freak out if I took my mask off?  I unhooked my mask from one ear and let it hang while I fanned my face.  I clutched onto each unit of shelving as the line moved forward, periodically balancing my arm on the shoulder height shelves but being careful NOT to look at my cut because I didn’t want it to freak me out.  What if it was really bleeding a lot?  I started to worry, what happens when I put this damn mask back on my face?  I got up to the counter, hooked my mask back on my other ear, and immediately started to feel shitty.  I thought, ok, I’ll just tough it out, but then the cashier started debating the price, calling over to another cashier across the way, and I thought to myself, ‘uh oh, I’m going down.’ 

The next thing I knew, I was feeling the cold cement of the floor on my cheek, and then there were a bunch of people around me asking me if I was alright. Was I diabetic, did I have high blood pressure, etc, etc.?  No to all of the above, but yes, it was possible that I didn’t drink enough water that morning.  I was so afraid that people would be afraid of me if I took my mask off, so I kept apologizing for that, but instead of being angry with me, they were so sympathetic. The ladies who worked there got me water, and asked me of I needed any food.  Was I allergic to anything?  No?  They gave me a candy, but it was a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, and they kept asking me questions and it seemed that my tongue and throat were still somewhat asleep, so I couldn’t talk and eat at the same time.  They told me they were calling an ambulance, and I said, “Oh no, I really think it was because I worked myself up, and also because of the mask...” meaning, once I was worked up, the mask just made it worse.  

When the EMT showed up, all I remember were her big, black boots.  I was still sitting on the floor, and she came over and stood in front of me and asked me if I WANTED to go to the hospital, and I said no, I didn’t think it was necessary.  She clearly didn’t want to take me to the hospital, either.  She didn’t examine me, or ask me nearly as many questions as the cashiers did.  She said, “You might want to get a tetanus shot,” and I agreed that that was a good idea, and that I would get one, and then she left.  The cashiers asked me if I wanted them to call someone for me, and I said yes, please call my husband. I definitely didn’t think I should drive home.  They stayed with me, they checked on me, they told me to stop apologizing, it was ok, they were happy to help - it was no problem.  I was overwhelmed by their kindness.  So while the puncture wound was less than pleasant, their kindness toward me made a lasting impression.  Thank you again, Tractor Supply ladies.  You were awesome!       

100 Day Project - Day 8 WHAT are we Doing?

What are we doing??  That was my first thought when I saw this, in a Chinese restaurant near my workplace this past fall.  I'm showing my age, but this reminded me of a TV movie featuring John Travolta that I watched as a kid.  It was called The Boy in the Plastic Bubble.  John Travolta was a boy who had no immune system, so he spent his life in a plastic enclosure so that he wouldn't get sick.  I was overwhelmed by this monstrosity when I walked in the door of this place.  Is this really NECESSARY?  I mean, the plastic shield, the baby monitor for speaking, the little holes (with flaps) for money and the food, AND the hand sanitizer?  I took this picture so that when I got back to work, I could show my friend.  She was unfazed. "Oh yeah," she said, "They're all like that."   WHHHaaaattt?

Of course we should make some efforts to stop the spread of Covid, but when I see things like this, I can't help wonder, have we gone too far?  Must we completely alienate ourselves from each other in the process?  I don't know how you feel, but it feels to me like we're crushing our humanity in the process. 

100 Day Project - Day 7 There’s Nothing Like a Dog

I don’t understand people who don’t like dogs. Cats are amusing, entertaining, can be great companions and I do like them, but for me, there’s nothing like a dog.  A dog’s focus is you and your world.  They just want to be near you all the time.  If you’re a person who likes your space, this can be irritating.  My husband, for example, frequently gets annoyed by the fact that our two dogs often walk so closely behind him that if he stops short, they bump into his legs.  Most of the time, I just find this amusing.  

When you’re not feeling well, a dog is there for you, looking into your eyes adoringly, because you are the center of their universe.  “I’m here for ya, mom,” their eyes seem to say.  They will lie on the couch with you throughout your days of sloth or illness, play with you when you’re feeling peppy, and bring you a toy when they think you need a little fun in your life.  My only complaint about dogs, is they don’t live nearly long enough.  Like peonies, they provide us with so much joy, but their season is relatively short.  Luckily, I hope to have a lot more years ahead with this one, and my other girl as well.  When their times come, I'm sure I'll cry like a baby, but rest assured that I learned something about love through their presence in my life.  And even though their time on earth is so much shorter than I'd like, does that make them any less worth having?  

No. Way.     

 

100 Day Project - Day 6 (a little late) Something to Think About

I took this screenshot from a downloaded book called The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom by Don Miguel Ruiz with Janet Mills.  It reminded me of people I know who are involved in consistently challenging relationships.  "why am I being treated this way?" is their central question, and yet, they just keep taking it.  I had always been puzzled by the WHY of this, and then I read the circled passage.  I recognize plenty of times in my past when I have been my own worst enemy - harder on myself than other people were on me, so maybe when I was treated badly, it felt sort of... inevitable.  I've improved in that arena, though.  I've become kinder to myself, and maybe that's why I'm less tolerant of people who don't treat me very well.  I determined I would be my own advocate instead of my own critic.  Life is too short, and there are may opportunities for positive relationships out there. 

 

100 Day Project - Day 5 "Grandma's Bread"

As kids, whenever we went to my Italian grandparents’ house, they sent us home with a care package full of goodies...  lentil soup, fish that my great uncle had caught and my grandmother had filleted and frozen, and since we were a household with 5 women, coupons for Stayfree maxipads.  We girls didn’t care about any of that.  What we were most excited about, was the loaf of Grandma’s Bread.  

Grandma’s bread was a sweat, yellow loaf sprinkled lightly with raisins and candied citron, and the folding and turning of the kneeding process created a sort of whirled texture that you were able to peel off to eat.  It was buttery, yet light and airy, and when we arrived home from Grandma’s, we’d toast a few slices for a late evening snack.  I’d butter my slices liberally, then peel off the layers, eating them with a cup of tea, or a mug of hot cocoa.  

After my grandparents passed away, I searched for this recipe but I had no idea what I was looking for - I guess I expected to see a recipe in her cookbook entitled “Grandma’s Bread” but of course I didn’t.  Just this past Christmas, while perusing photocopies my mom had made of my grandmother’s recipes, I came to a realization...  The recipe I had been searching for was right there all along - the mysterious bread was an Italian panettone. It had the two types of raisins, the candied citron, and lots of egg yolks for the yellow color.  I’m no longer intimidated by bread recipes, so I’m giving it a try, and success or failure, I will toast and eat a slice in her honor when it’s done.  

100 Day Project - Day 4 An Armada of Parakeets

My son Connor has been harping on the idea of getting a pet of his own for quite some time now. He really wanted a dog... “I’m gonna get a golden retriever and name him Baxter.  I’m gonna take him everywhere with me.  He’s gonna ride around in my truck with me...  it’s gonna be great...”. Uh, not so fast, son. Baxter won’t be able to come with you when you go to work, and if he stays home with our two dogs, he’s gonna follow DAD around the house, not you.  So the Baxter idea got put on hold.  

When the kids were in elementary school, we adopted a guinea pig from a friend.  My two kids loved the little guy, and they named him Fluffy because he was really like a large ball of fur.  That is, balls of fur that also sported two additional, enormous balls of fur underneath.  Yeah, I said it.  Apparently my son was extra impressed with the size of the guinea pig’s gonads. He tells us now that whenever he described his pet guinea pig to his friends, he made sure to mention that Fluffy had some impressive anatomy.  But I digress....  Instead of getting another guinea pig, Connor thought he should change it up and get a chinchilla.  When we asked him, “Why a chinchilla?”  His answer was, “Why NOT?”  Why not?  Hmmm, they’re nocturnal, they require specialized diets, they’re quite likely to bite and they REQUIRE dust baths...  Ok, scratch that idea.

What he really wanted was a sun conure.  Google "sun conure" and see all the fun videos of these beautiful parrots playing, head bobbing and just looking cute sitting on the shoulders of their owners.  They really are beautiful birds - orange, yellow, red, with maybe some splotches of green.  But you can't take getting a pet like this lightly - sun conures live 15-30 years in captivity.  So if you get a sun conure, we told Connor, you probably won’t have to say goodbye to your friend for a long time, however, are you still going to be able to devote a lot of time to him when you have a girlfriend?  When you get married and have kids?  Hmmmm....  something to think about.  Did you know that a sun conure screech is approximately 90-120 decibels? And they DO SCREECH - apparently it’s “in their nature.”  “Nah, I’m gonna train mine not to screech.”  Haha, right.  “But, they SLEEP 12 hours a day!”  “Right, son, but they most like to screetch at dusk and dawn.  Dawn, you know, the time when the sun comes up?  Don’t forget in the summer time, that would be somewhere around 5 AM.  Your sister will kill you.”  We spent weeks debating this pet choice.  He loved the idea of a pet that would be around for a while.  He was picturing this head-bobbing, playful symbol of pirate-hood sitting on his shoulder for the next 30 years.  I suspect he considered buying an eye-patch and maybe a tricorn hat.  He imagined his friends yelling at him to “get that loud mouthed parrot outta here!”  We suggested a parakeet instead.  They’re smaller, they don’t live long enough for you to have to make accommodations for them in your will, and they’re not nearly as loud....But then sense intervened - sort of.  Connor sent me the text shown above:  “I’ve determined I’ll settle for parakeets only if I can have a small armada of them.”  Who refers to multiple parakeets as an armada?  My son, that’s who.  The only time I’ve ever heard the word “armada” in use, the word “Spanish” preceded it, and it was referring to ships, not birds.  I guess he wanted to make a parakeet statement.  Perhaps a parakeet kick line?  

In case you’re wondering about the outcome of this story, Connor got ONE parakeet a few days ago.  Connor named him Reggie, and he’s a cute little guy.  Still a bit unsure of his new surroundings, but sure to settle in.  And what about the armada?  Well, after Reggie pooped in Connor’s shoe, then tried to fly and momentarily got stuck behind the dresser, I’m thinking Connor will be ok with just one parakeet for a while.  Little Reggie can be an armada all on his own. 

100 Day Project - Day 3 Shoveling Meditation

Right now, a large portion of the country is complaining about shoveling snow.  Most likely, the amount of complaining you do will not in any way lessen the amount of shoveling you have to do, so I would like to suggest that you reframe shoveling and instead look at it as a meditative practice.  

The best kind of snow for shoveling is the light and fluffy kind.  If your snow is not the light and fluffy kind, let’s just pretend that it is, and take smaller scoops.

Now, let’s say that it’s evening, and the snow is gently falling.  The air smells crisp and clean, and flakes swirl gently around you as they float to the ground.  The sounds of the world are muffled; it is only you, and nature, and your shovel.  Stretched out before you, you view the soft, white expanse of your driveway (or sidewalk or whatever you’re shoveling).  Imagine it is a blank canvas, and with your shovel, you are about to color it the color of blacktop, paving stones, concrete or grass.  You set your shovel edge to the ground and scoop the powdery fluff, bending at the knees when you lift your burden... putting your whole body into it.  In one smooth motion, the shovel swings back, you turn to the side, and then the shovel swings forward, launching the snow to the pile on on your side.  

You repeat this shovel-dance, again and again, advancing across the space, painting the formerly white area with pavement, grass, or dirt.  Your muscles stretch, then warm.  Your mind clears. The cold flakes flutter across your lashes.  Puffs of your breath hover around your face at regular intervals.  Your whole body works in unison toward a common goal.  How can you not call this meditative? Especially since, when you’ve completed your task and you admire your handwork, you feel a certain... peaceful satisfaction at a job well done.  You return your shovel to its place, stomp off your boots and step back inside.  

Enjoy the snow.        

100 Day Project - Day 2 The Fuzzier, The Better

My daughter Alaina has loved fuzzy blankets ever since she was born.  I remember her in her car seat on the way home from the hospital, turning her head to the side and rubbing her cute, little, baby face on the fuzzy softness inside her fluffy hat.  It was obvious, even with her baby sensibilities, that she preferred some blankets over others.  

When Alaina got a little older, the blankets pictured above came out.  She LOVED them!  Every time we’d go to the store, she’d beg me to buy her another one.  She was on a perpetual quest for the BEST fuzzy blanket...  the softest, the prettiest, the most unusual color.  Before long, she had amassed quite a collection, but she loved every one of them, so it was quite a symbol of her love when, on the day our family cat died, Alaina chose to bury Foxy in her favorite fuzzy blanket. 

“Are you sure you want Foxy to be buried in this blanket?”  I had asked her, “Yes,” was all she said.  We sent Foxy into eternity wrapped in love and the very best of the fuzzy blankets.  Alaina had no regrets.

Years later, Alaina still stops to admire fuzzy blankets on every shopping trip.  Now there are not only fuzzy blankets, but fuzzy pajamas, fuzzy jackets, and assorted other fuzzy items to admire and collect.  This picture makes me smile because it reminds me of when she was a a little girl.  She still adds to her fuzzy collection, but she’s judicious about it.  There’s more to life than fuzzy blankets, but who doesn’t enjoy a throwback to a time when they felt swaddled, protected and wrapped in love? 

100 Day Project - Day 1 The Smell of Plywood

100 Day Project - Day 1

This is a picture of my dad, working on "straightening the walls" in my house.  If you don't know what "straightening the walls" means, well, that's a post for another day.  The focus here is on my dad's shirt.  When I noticed that it said, "I love the smell of plywood in the morning," I burst out laughing and thought, 'OMG, me TOO!'  The smell of freshly cut lumber reminds me of my childhood.  It had been by dad's dream to build his own house, and so he built ours one freshly-cut piece of lumber at a time (no, he didn't cut down and mill the trees also, but if that had been a practical option, he may have considered it).  Seeing something as important as a house taking shape before your eyes in your childhood influences your ideas of what you can do for yourself, and what you can create with your own two hands... anything.  I can build  anything.  

Family lore tells the story that I was barely a year old when my parents purchased the piece of land on which they built their house.  They were looking for land at an affordable price - a large enough piece to give them 'a little privacy,' so the neighbors couldn't 'see into their windows,' was how they liked to put it.  They were first attracted to a piece of land about a mile away - a small stream ran through the front yard of that piece and they thought, how charming! But that piece was out of their price range, so they continued looking and ultimately found the one they purchased - a two acre plot with a stately tree at the top of a hill.  We three ate a picnic lunch under that tree and soon after, construction began.  My dad worked on the house every weekend, and we kids spent summer days in the yard, playing in the sand unearthed by the excavation for the basement.  We kids built our own homes - forts cobbled together with small discarded pieces of lumber, cedar shingles, bent and dropped nails, and other assorted construction detritus.  Through it all wafted the scent of freshly cut lumber - pine 2x4s, cedar shake shingles, and plywood.  Other smells remind me of childhood, too.  Wet cement reminds me of when we mixed and poured the cement for the basement and garage floors; tarpaper reminds me of how we were never allowed to run around the house without shoes AND socks before my dad installed the flooring because the tarpaper on the sub flooring would turn our socks BLACK.  It's the smell of the lumber that I like best, though.  That's the smell that conjures up the start of the project; it symbolizes setting out on the path of your dream... the excitement and wonder are all head of you, and you realize that with your own two hands, you can do it.  

 

I'm Joining the 100 Day Project

I'm looking to establish a daily, dependable writing practice.  A while back I looked online for photo writing prompts.  I was sadly underwhelmed by what I found.  They were nice, but the photos didn't speak to me. Everyone's seen photos that call the phrase, "a picture is worth 1000 words" to mind, but where WERE those photos when I was looking for them?  

Then I discovered The 100 Day Project, and as luck would have it, it starts in just a few days.  I wanted to be a part of something that was "intended to awaken, nurture and sustain your creative spirit through the cultivation of small daily acts for 100 days!"  I wanted in!! But 100 days in a row of writing was kind of daunting.  Sometimes I can write 2 polished pages in a few hours, but normally, idea-to-finished-piece takes me at least a week.  I don't have time for a few hours every day, but could I write a few lines or a few paragraphs a day?  Probably - if only I had a source of at least 100 ideas, ready and waiting and tailored for me. And then I remembered my photo roll...

I have approximately 1300 photos on my phone's camera roll.  The oldest photo is from 2013, and the newest few were taken today.  I'm not saying these are pictures that are "worth 1000 words" but for me, they're worth at least a few lines, maybe a few paragraphs.  Some are the conventional "important occasion" photos; many are a sort of visual bookmark...  something I want to remember - and the photo is my reminder of it.  Who DOESN'T have such photos on his or her phone?    

So beginning on Sunday, January 31st and continuing for 100 days, I'm going to chose a photo from my cameral roll and write about it.  Some posts will be short and some will be longer.  Hopefully, some will be good and quite likely, some will be terrible, but my goal is to be in it for the duration, and NOT QUIT.  

I'd love for you to join me on your own creative journey - cooking, crafting, writing, sewing - whatever floats YOUR boat. We can offer each other support and encouragement.  Let's make the world a more creative place!!

 

Seussian Piano - Finished Piece

Someone asked for a picture of the finished Seussian piano, and I realized that I DO have one.  I tried to post it in the comments on the Seussian Piano post, but alas, I am falling behind in my blogger knowledge so I couldn't do it.  Hope this picture helps. As for the piano, I had intended to paint a black line around the white, and paint foot pedals as well, but I ran out of time.  I made the keys by googling a picture of a piano keyboard and copying that design with black and white duct tape.  Hope this picture helps!

Random Questions...

1. What the hell is with those teeny, tiny front pockets they now put in jeans?  Even if you are the owner of a pair of very small hands, you can only get, at most, half of your fingers in there, so just forget about carrying some cash or a shopping list in there.  Are people actually THAT fearful of getting the dreaded "pocket lines" across their upper thighs?  The only thing worse than this type of pocket is a completely fake pocket.

2.  When you die and your spirit leaves the physical world, and you go on to live in the afterlife, I've heard people speculating that you can present yourself as whatever age most appeals to you.  If this is so, I think I'd choose to be 28, but my big question is:  If I chose 28, does that mean I have to sport the hairstyle and clothes I wore when I was 28, or can I mix and match decades?  I'm not quite sure I want to get stuck wearing what I wore in the 90s for the rest of eternity.

3.  At the time of this writing, QVC is currently selling, for $28.49, a device that reaches for the toilet paper when you can't reach for it yourself.  Why is this even necessary?  If you have limited mobility, isn't it still easier to just remove the roll of toilet paper from the holder and put it in an accessible location before you sit down?  In my humble opinion, you still can't beat opposable digits. 

Gratitude... In the Moment

I am totally going for this living in the moment thing.  Living in the moment, gratitude, connecting to source energy, etc, etc. I get it, and I try to do it.  So, here I am in the beginning of January and I thought to myself, instead of waiting for the perfect photo taking opportunity, I'll just take photos of whatever appeals to me RIGHT NOW.  So this afternoon, when I was about to head out to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner, I grabbed my phone, walked into the yard and found a few interesting things to take pictures of. The picture above is moss growing on a rock on the side of our driveway.  

I know people who hate moss, but I love it.  It's like outdoor carpeting.  Moss doesn't love our summer weather, but in cool and rainy seasons, it looks great.  Since we've so far had a mild but rainy winter, the moss is loving it out there.   Check out this picture below... more moss:

I was happy to see that my pot of thyme is still looking good.  I should have used it in the chicken soup I made last week, but I didn't even think to check it - I just assumed it was dead for the season.

And then I found this marvel, right there on the ground. 

...and now I'm thinking, if a bird can make this amazing piece of fabric, basically, out of twigs and string and found objects and she has just a BEAK and not even opposable digits...

 ...then I can certainly do whatever I want with my life, can't I?

The case for loving January...

Happy New Year - would you believe me if I said that I like January?   A few weeks ago, I saw a post on facebook describing how Winter is really a nurturing season, we really just need to see it as such.  Winter is kind, it said. It showed a graphic of a large oak tree under which were three little burrows.  A fox was curled up in one, a bear in the other, and the third contained a seated young woman reading a book. Winter is nurturing it said, and I thought yes, yes it is. The post described winter as a time to recharge oneself, to look inward, to rest and rejuvenate so that in the spring one would be ready to burst forth with renewed energy into new realms… after a good winter, one would be ready to grow.  How can you be energized for the new if you don’t rest first?  I like the quietness of January… the cleanliness; I like how your surroundings look clean and uncluttered after putting away all those Christmas decorations.  I like getting back to just what’s essential.  

I believe that January is a time for decluttering your environment and your mind.  We all know about actual, physical spring cleaning, but the mental cleaning and pruning is always underrated. January is the perfect time for you to inspect the plants of your life prune and them carefully.  Dig up the bulbs that you’ve mentally planted, cut away the dead bits and make room for new, healthy growth.  

Young people, just like new gardeners, have only a vague idea of what they should grow in their gardens.  They want to keep everything - all of their plants.  They look to accumulate, fill their gardens with abundance… they want to save and stockpile for the future. They have no idea what will grow in their gardens so they try a little of everything, and there is nothing wrong with that.  When we get older, however, we become more discerning.  For example, you may accept the fact that you’re no good with most roses, but you love peonies, and they love you.  Why fight with the roses when they are clearly not your thing?  As a more seasoned gardener, you see that your space is not infinite and you realize that you need to cut out the bits and pieces that don’t really serve you.  You don’t mind the pruning; it has become easier.  You see beauty in the lovely, uncluttered space.  In January, we can look at our lives like the seasoned gardener looks at his garden.  You ask yourself, why should I hold onto things that make me sad?  I don’t need a clutter of abundance when there is such beauty in the empty space.  When I clear out my heart and mind and space, I make room for new things to grow.  Like a gardener who has pruned and weeded well, I’ve made space for new possibilities and it is indeed, beautiful.  Thank you, Winter, for this gift. 

Additional Fabric for Queen of Hearts Costume

When I last posted, I had just purchased a jacket and two pieces of fabric for my Queen of Hearts costume from Savers.  This past weekend, I went to Joann Fabric and Craft store.  I knew I wanted a black and white checked fabric.  I found one with alternating squares of black and white, but that looked too much like a flag on a car racing track.  Then I found this - diamond checks.  I thought I might use it for the large collar of her dress, and maybe some highlights on other areas. PERFECT.  I bought 3 yards of it.  I checked out the Valentine's Day fabric, but nothing really spoke to me.  Then I found this lovely photographic roses print.  This is perfect for the Queen of Hearts, right?  I mean, all that talk about painting the roses red, etc.  I got three yards of this, also.  I seriously had no idea how I was going to use these prints, but I figured I could decide at home. 

Back at the ranch, (so to speak) I knew that I wanted to remove the sleeves on the blazer, so I did that right away.  I was left with this: 

Although the jacket is lined, it was pretty easy to take the sleeves and lining off with a seam ripper.  I think I'll have to cut the shoulders back a little bit and make the arm holes a little bigger to accommodate the puffy sleeves I have in mind.  I thought about the checks for the collar and now I can't decide if that will be too busy of a print next to the face, especially with the roses print thrown in there.  I'm thinking of going with a big white collar and maybe making a piping around the edge of the collar in the checked print.  To get a feel for how all of this would look, I decided to lay the fabric out on a flat surface so I could picture it better.  

Here's my plain red, alternating with the roses print.  Then I decided maybe I can use the checked fabric as a belt highlight along the waistline.  There must be a proper name for that, but I don't know what it is.  (I definitely didn't need 3 yards of the checked print, but oh well.  See below:

I liked the checks in that spot, but it seemed a little too busy with the brocade weave of the plain red.  I added some black in between... (which is actually not fabric, but a t-shirt dress I had hanging around - I'll have to buy the black fabric).  When I added the black, I liked it a lot better.  I also put the end of the roses print under the black jacket to simulate puffed sleeves.  NOW, it's kind of coming together...

I still have the pink fabric (tablecloth) from Savers.  I'm thinking it might look good cut into heart shapes and sewn in a line down the black strips of fabric in the skirt.  Maybe I can add one strip of black with pink hearts down the sleeves, too, to bring the pink up to the top half of the outfit as well.  I'm feeling encouraged to continue this project.  So now I need to buy a few yards of black fabric and some white for the collar.  Oh, and a bit of iron on interfacing to stiffen the collar and to iron on the back of the pink for when I cut out the hearts.  Hoping to  make some more progress by the end of this coming weekend.  Wish me luck! 

Queen of Hearts Costume from Thrift Store Finds

Just when I've been floundering around for a creative challenge, Halloween arrives! Well, it's not halloween for another month and a half, but this is the season of prepping for Halloween.  A few weeks ago I said to my husband, "well, it's almost time for Halloween prep" and he looked at me like I was insane.  We live on a private road with 3 houses and practically no one sees the front of our house so he knew I was not talking about decorating the outside of the house.  But I digress... (as usual) 

I'm excited because I'm going to a Halloween party.  I'm not into gory, gross Halloween, (I'll pass on the rubber face masks of zombies and the fake blood everywhere) but I love making costumes and getting dressed up.  I've been tossing around a few costume ideas and this weekend I settled on the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland.   

There are LOADS of costume and make-up ideas on Pinterest for the Q of H. There ARE really nice costumes you can buy, but I like the challenge of making one myself.  In the past, I've gone to the fabric store, picked out a pattern and fabric and made my costume that way, but that method can be QUITE expensive.  AND time consuming.  Plus, I'm just not into the nitty gritty details of sewing a costume from scratch.  And my sewing machine has become temperamental. So this morning, I took a trip to the local Savers (for those of you not in this area, it's a thrift store chain) to see what I could find to fit my costume goal.  

When you start with pre-made pieces you have to be open to different options.  You can't go in there looking for a very specific thing because it's quite likely you won't find it, but you WILL find something that will work. The most important piece I needed was a top in either red, white, black or pink.  I needed a base to sew the skirt onto - something that could attach a skirt to and I could tailor to fit me.

I found a few options:

A corduroy stretch blazer from Loft.  I liked it, but I wasn't sure the buttons in the front would work.  Plus, it was not really red, but a kind of plum-ish red. And it wasn't long enough for me to attach a skirt and have it hit me in the right spot.  AND the stretch might be a problem if I sewed a lot of trim or embellishments to it.   

A short, brocade shirt from Forever 21.  I liked the brocade on this, but while it was appealing, it was also sort of a drawback.  It was black and white with silver and white seed beads on it, the print was a little bit geometric and I thought it would detract from the hearts theme.  Plus, this was borderline crop-top, and while it had a zipper in the back that would allow for me to custom fit it, it would again be really short in the end, creating an empire waist dress.  Because of those two cons, this one was out. 

A stretchy front zip jacket in red. This one would have worked, but it was XL, and I want the top of my costume to be fitted so this would have required a lot of alterations.  More importantly, it just didn't excite me.  Gotta have some excitement. 

A few different vests in grey. These were options, but one had a modern print to the grey fabric, and both were too short for me to make their buttons work.  Out. 

The above Lord and Taylor, linen jacket in black with the FABULOUS buttons. ($7.99) I was totally attracted to this jacket because of the buttons.  They're was made me notice it on the rack.  When I looked at it, I noticed - hummm, nice and long, so even though it has buttons, I can make my dress a drop waist dress if I want to, and the buttons will work.  There are SO many buttons, it will be secure enough for me to wear without an additional shirt underneath if I want.  It does NOT stretch, which will be a plus when sewing on embellishments, and it is pretty much my size. I scooped it up.  

I got a fabulous red curtain/tablecloth (for $2.99) and a pink tablecloth (also $2.99) as well to make my skirt.  I plan alternate the red and pink in stripes.  The pink is an oval tablecloth and I think I can use the rounded parts for the front of the skirt.  For the top, I'm going to 1. round out the neckline, take off the sleeves and add embellishments, then attach a skirt.  

I'm pretty excited with my start.  Next, I'm going to check out the fabric in the fabric store and see if I have any clothing items at home that will work with this project. 

Pallet Heart - Hmm, how to finish it?

At work, every year in late summer, we get a shit-ton of deliveries.  Some of them, for example, copy paper and text books come on pallets.  Last summer I got the brilliant idea that I was going to use some reclaimed pallet wood to make a few of those decorative wall hangings I see all over Pinterest.  I had been to one of those pallet wood stenciled sign classes and and I was a little disillusioned that the sign wasn't actually made of pallet wood, but with NEW wood that was made to look old and weathered.  I love the idea of recycling something old into something new and I had just bought my own jig saw the year before so I thought wood signs in shapes was the way to go.  

I stayed after work a few days and cut up the pallets with my jig saw after I tried at home to actually take one apart (see my post Pallet Problems). Our head custodian took pity on me (a jig saw works, but not well - it is the WRONG tool for that job) and cut up a few more pallets for me to use. I was inundated with pallet wood, but for the plan I had, I needed some really long pieces, and I did not have many of those.  

I created a template out of oaktag and arranged the wood on the floor so that I would be able to get the most out of the pieces I had.  I kept all the "good sides" up for the front, put the "bad" sides on the back and arranged the wood to get the most mileage out of each piece.  Then I glued them together with Elmer's Wood Glue.  (I realized that the edges of pallet wood are not really parallel, so there were some problems with this - I invested in a mini hand plane after I spent quite some time sanding with a palm sander to get the edges to match up.)

The glue held really well.  I placed my oaktag pattern on the glued wood and traced the heart shape.  I cut it out with my jig saw, and sanded and still, the glue held.  It held so well, in fact, that I didn't realize the cross pieces I had also attempted to glue on had never made contact, so they weren't stuck on at all.  I leaned the heart up against the wall in the living room to decide what I wanted to paint on it and as it got jostled around during vacuuming and whatnot, it eventually came unstuck and I got disgusted. 

Fast forward to THIS summer, and my continued attempts to finish projects I've started.  

I got some screws of the right length from Home Depot, reattached the support pieces and painted the heart read with watered down craft paint so that you could see the woodgrain through the paint.  That was another disappointment - I thought I'd be able to find STAIN in different colors, but apparently, that either doesn't exist or was not easily found.  (I looked for orange to paint a pumpkin I had also cut out.)

So now here I am, with my pallet wood heart all finished EXCEPT for the lovely quote painted on the front.  I'm not sure what I want to paint on it.  I want it to be something down to earth.  I love poetic quotes, and literature quotes like: 

"My heart is and will always be, yours." Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility 

But I still keep thinking I should go with something like Adam Sandler's song from The Wedding Singer:

"I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad, 

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.  

Oh, all I wanna do is grow old with you.  

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches, 

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks, 

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you."

I really like it because you know, that's what marriage is really about.  BUT IT'S TOO LONG TO FIT!

Help!!  Any suggestions?

I’ve been thinking an awful lot about this blog.  Should I continue it? Refocus it? Give up entirely?  Should I start a totally new one? What the hell am I blogging about anyway?  

Way back when I started this, I wanted to give myself writing practice because I loved writing, and I wanted to practice it with a potential audience (I think not many people want their creations of any kind to sit in a total vacuum).  As my lack of recent posts shows, I’m also not so productive without the pressure of a looming deadline.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t change.  I was WAY worse when I was younger!

When I started this, I intended to write, just write.  And I thought some of my posts were pretty good.  Admittedly, some sucked.  But sometimes it sucked to see that people were just not looking at the posts that I thought were really pretty good.  Then I posted some things on Facebook, but in so doing, my friends found out about my blog.  Which was good, and bad.  Good, because people saw it, but bad because then people I knew in real life saw it.  LOL.  I went through the internal dilemma of, “What am I going to write about that won’t compromise someone’s privacy?” because there were some good topics I could have written about, but even disguising names and details would not have been enough to completely hide whom I was talking about from other people that I knew.  This doesn’t necessarily mean I wanted to talk about BAD stuff, but you know, everyone’s different.  What you think is cute or funny, they think is not funny, or too personal ("I don’t want the world knowing that I shell my peas!").  My kids went through a period of time where they were always asking, “MOM, are you gonna post that on your blog?” and usually when I asked them if I could, they emphatically said “NO!” 

So I didn’t.  

Throughout all of this, I posted about crafts, and art projects, because I like doing them, and because throughout my life people have always said things like, “Oh, that’s cool. How did you do that?” So I did some posts about that stuff, and I saw that people, (people I didn’t know in person!) were viewing them. And that was SO COOL.  I made scenery for a few plays at work and at my daughter’s school and posted some projects and a considerable amount of people viewed them, and that is still so cool, but the play scenery thing did not work out logistically the last time or two, and so it’s not going to be in my immediate future.  The play people I know like work on a VERY intense time schedule where everyone’s schedule depends on everyone else’s and I just don’t enjoy working like that.  Maybe it will be possible for me to do play things further down the road and if so, that would be great. But I'm still going to make things, even without plays, and maybe I'll even make some things that can be used in plays. Who knows what the future will hold. 

All of this introspection has made me realize something.  I’ve been on a journey to find my thing, the thing that I most enjoy doing, and that was what I wanted to blog about, but I realized..

 my thing… is searching for my thing. 

So yeah, let me clarify:  this blog is about me searching for my thing.  And when I say thing, I mean the “work at what you love to do and you will never work a day in your life,” thing. (It’s like the “One True Love” of arts/crafts.)

Months ago, while I was pondering all of these questions about what I should be doing with my life, (creatively speaking) I had a psychic reading.  The woman reading me seemed pretty accurate - she told me some things that were pretty specific to me and my family that she really would have had no way of knowing.  Both of my grandmothers came through and said that this is “my time” and that I have “gifts that I’m not using.”  Jeez, I was kind of upset by that one.  I told her, “BUT I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT THE GIFTS ARE!  WHAT SPECIFIC GIFTS ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT, CAUSE I LIKE TOO MANY THINGS!”  Is it writing?  Is it paper mache? Is it photography?  Is it costume design? Does it involve power tools, because I LOVE power tools! 

I don’t yet know what my thing is, but I know that there MUST be other people out there with the same exact dilemma because Pinterest is LOADED with great creative things that people feel passionately about, and it’s also loaded with people like me who are trying them and doing some well, and some not so well.  All I know is that this blog is about, and is gonna continue to be about searching for my Holy Grail of creativity.  I’m gonna have some bombs, surely, (I’ve already posted some!) but I’m gonna have a few successes, too.  And I’d LOVE to hear about your searches and your successes because if you’re reading this, you love to create and you are part of my tribe.  

So now that I’ve written my rallying cry, I have to go to bed cause tomorrow promises to be a LOOONNGG day at work - I get paid to be a secretary and school starts in a scant few days. Goodnight, friends!

Between what is known and what is not known, there are doorways...

doorway in Bellport, Long Island

I am obsessed with doorways.  I've realized this over the last few years, when I've gone on picture taking outings and I've found myself looking at multiple doorway shots.  I can't help it - doors and doorways speak to me.  

Some say, "come on in" and some say, "Stay Away!" Some are casual and inviting and some are snobbish.  When my attention is caught by someone's front door, I can't help but wonder what that family's life is like inside that house.  

doorway in Bellport, Long Island

I love the exotic doorways I've seen on Pinterest - doorways from far away countries - but I also like the doorways right here in my own country, and some of the towns I know so well. 

Country doors...

Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

... and city doors

Manhattan, New York

Manhattan, New York

"Between what is known and what is not known, there are doorways"

I found that statement about doors on Pinterest (where else?) a week or two ago and I can't stop thinking about it.  It's got a mysterious ring to it, doesn't it?  Perfect for contemplating doorways.  

I see more pictures of doorways in my future.  

Enjoy.