Tonight I am posting an old one, so old in fact that I don’t remember when I drew it. I had as always fully intended to create something new for tonight, but we are having friends come for dinner, and we have hardwood floors and cats, and worse yet the Ghost of Christmas Crafting is still in the house. Glitter in every crevice of my hardwood floors. One of my dinner guests is a former Marine, I’m not sure he would appreciate leaving my home sparkling. I cleaned for about four hours, shopped, cooked and baked. Needless to say I’m tired, but I’m also out of time, they will be here in a half hour. I was organizing some of my work today and came across this drawing, as I said its been around for a while, but I mentioned a few weeks ago about my plan to do menus for special occasions, and here one is. These are guests that I promised dinner to a year ago. Yikes! What a year, but a promise is a promise, and I really do enjoy their company. So for tonight I combined my old sketch with my new plan, and I have to say I am quite happy with it. I’m off to final preparations, and for once to try to be ahead of the game and relax and enjoy my evening. In case you were wondering, I came through yesterday’s hike with flying colors, nary a pain in sight. We will be going again in the morning, hopefully with the same results.
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A Day To Be Thankful
Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you all have much to be thankful for. Despite my “woe is me” moment last night, I realize I have much to be thankful for. I’m keeping it short tonight. The year is coming to a close. It’s been a tough one. There were of course good things. Jessica’s wedding, and having our families join together to celebrate our daughter move to the next phase of her life. Brian seems to have figured out a plan for his life, and despite some aches and pains, Dan and I seem to be in decent health. We are down on our luck, but doing better than so many others. I am anxious for the new year, and hope to have much more to be thankful for in the year to come. Finally, to those I love, don’t ever doubt for a moment how thankful I am for you.
Too much cooking, too much eating, not enough sleep, I’m off to seek my pillow.
An addition to Emily’s birthday present. A small watercolor card.
Focus
I thought a lot about what to write this evening. The night before Thanksgiving, except I’m not feeling very thankful. It’s been several months since Dan lost his job. It has been a roller coaster of feelings around here, but there’s nothing like the beginning of the holiday season to bring emotion to the surface. I really struggled at the grocery store today. This time a year ago I was shopping for food to donate to the food pantry. Don’t get me wrong, we are nowhere near that kind of problem, but it hit me hard that our life has changed so much inside this past year. I think I took a lot for granted. Not the people in my life. I make a point of telling and showing them how much they mean to me. I did however, take for granted that Dan would always have a job, that we would always be OK. So for now my plan is to focus on what’s right in our life. We love each other, we have good kids, we have a wonderful new son-in-law, who makes our daughter very happy, our families are for the most part doing well, and we have some really wonderful friends. I also have a couple of children in my life who have had tragedy strike their lives much too soon. Focus. Focus on what is good in life, focus on what is important, focus on what you have not what you don’t have. Tomorrow I will be grateful to be with the person I love most in this world, there are far too many people who don’t have even that.
My project for tonight is an ornament, but not a Christmas one. It is for Emily. Tomorrow she will be five. She loves mermaids, so a mermaid it is. Also a box to put it in, another of my painted soap boxes. Emily is one more reason to be grateful tomorrow.
Hello, I’m Brian’s Mother
As I said the other evening, I am always honest in my blog writing. Full disclosure here. The very funny remark I attributed to my son last night about glitter being the herpes of craft supplies, should actually be attributed to the very funny Jim Gaffigan. When I told my son tonight that I had quoted him in my blog he was horrified. First because he said if I had told him I was going to quote him he would have told me the line was from Mr. Gaffigan, but I think even more so because I am exposing his secret to the world. Yes, he has a mother. When Brian was a little boy he was very attached to me. So much so in fact that Dan thought Brian didn’t like him. How quickly things change. By the time he was nine Brian was distancing himself from me. How I missed those cuddles with my little boy. It was in those years that the head bob began. This was Brian’s way of allowing me to kiss him. I’m not exactly sure when he passed me in height, but as soon as he did he began the practice of bowing down just enough for me to kiss the top of his head. I had spent years doing an annual art project with Jessica’s class. Brian stopped me by the fourth grade. Things have improved in the last few years. My little boy is now a man. He still doesn’t seem to want his friends to know I exist, but he has grown a little more affectionate with me. About a year or so ago I did him a favor. I don’t even remember what. What I do remember is that when he came over to hug me in thanks, I freaked. It had been so long since he came near me I wasn’t sure what was going on, I could say so much more, but I know without a doubt that he won’t be happy with the little bit of him that I have exposed here. All in love my son
I spent my day making fairies once again, so another ghost of projects past. I took an old flatware box and gutted it. Turned it into a box for pretty writing materials for a friend. She loved it. Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to some art that is just for me.
A Distant “Goodbye”
As the day draws nearer to my Dad getting the keys to his new place, I find my mind returning to thoughts of he and my Mom. I won’t get a chance to say goodbye to their home. I live too far away, and well, if you regularly read my thoughts, you know that money is tight. Going home isn’t an option. Tonight as I prepare dinner it is just Dan and I. The kids are grown. Brian is still here, but as young men often do, he is out more than he is in. We are in the kitchen/family room together, Dan watching the television and reading, I am cooking, painting, and writing all at once. There is a comfortable silence wrapped around us, one that two people who know each other so well, and love each so much can be content in, like a well-loved blanket. From time to time one of us speaks. A comment from him, or me asking his opinion on the piece I am working on. Satisfied to just be with each other. It makes me think about my parents. I’m sure they had evenings like this in that house. I am also sure that since my Mother died my Dad has longed for those evenings. Life moves, and although all of us moving through it have emotion, there is no emotion in time. Even though Mom has been gone for six years, the finality of her house no longer there for me to return to makes me sad. In a way it is like losing her all over again. But again there is time. It is time for life to continue there, another family will move into that house, another family who knows nothing of us or who we were as a family will make new memories there. For them it will be a new place, for me it will be the last place my Mother lived. One thing I have learned, particularly in these last few years, is to value these moments, these quiet evenings, because they won’t always be here. Each of us will have those moments of great loss, remember to hold on while you can.
On a less melancholy note, I am just about finished with my clock/bookcase. I say “just about” because I need to cover the back of the door, but it is a detail that isn’t important for tonight, and I need to add one more piece of trim to a shelf. What I am thrilled about is how it has turned out. The vision in my head is complete. I have so often mentioned that I love to do things for children. This is one of those projects. I’ve written so many posts that I don’t recall if I have ever written this before, so please forgive me, but then again it was one of the greatest compliments of my life. My Mother told me that she wished I were her mother, because of all the things I loved to do for my children. I am me because of her. I want to do things for as many children as I can. I am so excited about this project because there isn’t a doubt in my mind that when children come to our shop and see the enchanting world inside the clock, they will love it. When I had finished the clock face I was happy with it. However, the inside of the cabinet was empty. What to do? I had in mind all along the “Hickory, Dickory, Dock rhyme in my head. Inspiration struck. Why not a secret mouse house in the clock? First floor, the garden. Second floor, the main house. What to do on the third floor? It came to me last night. A bookstore, just like the one I will be opening. The mice are made of Sculpy, and the rooms are full of things I found in the garden, or leftovers from other craft projects. There are a few things that I think every child needs: discipline,love, and imagination. I want to spark a little magic in their minds.
Finally, tonight a piece of work that isn’t mine. My friend, Gabby asked me for an art lesson. I’ve mentioned Gabby before, she is nine. I have been asked to teach before, but never felt comfortable passing on my “I’ve never had lessons, have a million bad habits, don’t really know what I’m doing, flying by the seat of my pants” art. For Gabby I’ll make an exception. We did a lesson in watercolor. Gabby’s Waterlily.
Gabby did a beautiful painting.
Nonsensical Doodling
I’m a smart woman, an obviously talented woman, there isn’t too much that I can’t figure out…well OK, perspective, dancing, reading instruction manuals, my singing voice (if you can call it that), and football. I can however still manage to draw, to follow Dan on the dance floor to a certain extent, granted I may bruise a few of his toes, read the instruction manual twenty times until it sinks in, manage to sing along to Carole King or Carly Simon when no one is listening, and identify knee injuries when football players get knocked down (six knee surgeries, what can I say, I know a torn ACL when I see it). There is one thing I just can’t get a handle on. I’m ashamed to say its fourth grade math. My friend Gabby is nine, she is a very smart little girl. This morning she was stumped on two problems from last night’s homework and asked for help. “Sure”, I said, confident that I could help. Then I looked at it. Oh no, fractions! I have helped Gabby with homework before, it is always math. It usually goes something like this.
Gabby: “Jackie can you help me with these problems?”
Me: “Of course I can.” Then I look at the problems, tell Gabby how to do them, and then…
Gabby: “I don’t think that’s right. I think this is how you do it.”
Me: ” You know what? You’re right.”
I don’t even know why she’s asks me.
This morning was no different. I saw fractions, visions of Sister Aloysius popped in my head, and I panicked. I grabbed my phone and called in my mathematical “go to guy”, Dan. I explained my dilemma. After he finished laughing he told me how to do the math. It’s pathetic, and embarrassing when you are my age and can’t help a nine-year old with their homework. It makes no sense to me at all. I don’t understand how an intelligent adult can’t do fourth grade math. I am sure however that there are plenty of math geniuses out there who can only draw stick figures. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I had a very busy day planning for business. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do tonight. I’m tired. My body is still protesting the falling back of the clock. It is actually refusing to listen to the clock. As a result I have been up before five every morning this week. I think my body clock and my brain need to have a conversation about how tired my eyes are. I also think that the fractions caused some temporary brain damage. I sat after dinner and played with my pens. A nonsensical doodle is the result. I started drawing with no idea of where I was going to end up. In the end I began to think that it looks a little like a Dr. Seuss. The drawing looks like it is running from the page. Maybe if the Cat In The Hat needed a book-plate…
One For The Books
I’m sure everyone who reads this blog knows by now that our upcoming business will involve the sale of books. I may have even mentioned it myself. (After two hundred plus blogs I sometimes forget what I’ve talked about!) Dan had an e-reader, it came in quite handy when he was flying for business. When he got an iPad he passed the e-reader on to me. I never used it, not once. We probably have upwards of three hundred books in our home. We are readers, our children are readers, and that makes me very happy. I like the feel of a book in my hands. I like to open my cookbooks and see crumbs in the crease of the binding. Books are magic. They can transport us from our everyday lives to the other side of the world. A good book can touch every human emotion. They can make us happy, sad, scared, enlightened, and take us to places we never knew existed. Yes an e-reader contains words, but there is something so special about a book. Have you ever picked up an old book to find an inscription inside? When I give my grandchildren books I want to be able to write a message inside the cover. I want to bend the corner where I left off. I want to highlight the sentence that spoke to me. E-readers have their place. It’s just not my place.
My daughter was invited to a baby shower recently. Along with the invitation she was given a book-plate. A small sticker to place inside a book for the new baby, but what I really loved about it was that it offered the giver of the book a place to write why they chose that book. I think it is an extraordinary idea to share something so precious. To be honest I would have a hard time picking one book for this assignment. For tonight more book-plates for our business.
I also had the pleasure today of dressing two very special friends for Halloween. To my favorite zombies, Gabby and Kingston, I hope you had a lot of fun tonight.
Detailed Appreciation
Before I begin to talk about tonight’s artwork and it’s inspiration, I need to say a very public “Thank You”, to a new member of my family. I sent a text, I am mailing a card in the morning, (sorry it’s slightly late), but I felt the need to say this so she knows just how much her gift meant to me. Jill, my new son in law’s sister, and in my world that means he is my son, and she in a way an extended daughter. That may call for a short explanation. I am divorced. My ex and his wife are my very dear friends. Their two daughters are like my own. My daughter is from that marriage, she has two dads, and two moms. My husband has a daughter. We together have a son. We don’t believe in going halfway in anything we do in our lives. There are no step children, no half brothers and sisters. They are all of our children. When John married Jessica he became one more kid for us, (Yes John, I realize how old you are, but it’s too late now, you married her, now you’re ours!) John has two sisters with husbands and children, and a grandmother. Yep, ours. Now after that long not sure you needed to know explanation…
I did portraits of Jill’s girls. It was a pleasure, they are beautiful. I expected no thanks, and what I got in return meant the world to me. When I started this blog I spoke about not having the family support growing up to help me grow artistically. My parents just didn’t understand. I have also frequently mentioned my love of cooking. I came home one day to find a box waiting for me. Inside were some really cool kitchen gadgets, which if you could see my kitchen, you would understand how hard it is to find something that I don’t already possess. She managed to pull off a miracle. I love the kitchen stuff! Also inside the box was one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received, an antique metal child’s palette and an old box of charcoal, and a beautiful note. When I saw the palette it brought me to tears. It represented the kind of gift that a little girl who dreamed of painting would want to own. I was that little girl. As if that thoughtfulness wasn’t enough, there was also the card. The words of support for me and this project were extraordinary, and yes I did cry. Thanks Jill for understanding who I am and what means something to me. And now I’m crying again…I know, I can’t help it.
For tonight another pen and ink. I’m a detail girl. I love old things, old architecture, corbels, sconces….etc. I love the care and craftsmanship that was the norm of another era. I am lucky enough that my pack-rat partner, otherwise known as my Dad, gave me some old pieces I love. Stuff other people would throw away. A door plate. Yes, a simple door plate, with beautiful detail. It in my eyes is a piece of art. As always perspective began to get the best of me…such is life.
Doodles
As I face this empty page I once again find myself looking for excuses, but the truth is that I have a fairly busy life. Contrary to what so many misinformed people believe, women, and men for that matter, who stay home to tend to a house have full days. I have a few voluntary commitments aside from the day-to-day of my household. One of which I have regretfully not been very faithful to, but that is soon to change. I got a little lost in my own problems for a while. That commitment involves some motherless children. I lost my Mom when I was forty-six, these four children, two of whom were under six, the other two not much older, when they lost theirs. The inconsolable grief I felt when I lost my Mom is beyond description, but at least I did have her for all of those years. These kids won’t even begin to understand the realm of their loss until they are much older. Theresa brought them into my life, and it has been a gift. I decided last night that I would be there this morning to see the two younger ones off to school. I actually prayed last night to be awake in time to get there, and boy was God listening. I think I woke at least five times. When I finally dragged myself up it was 5:15. Not too bad, although it was tough to get out of that warm bed. Then I got to their house, I was greeted at the door by a little girl with a huge smile, and a little later upon waking her little brother another to match. We had breakfast and laughed and talked, it just felt great to see them so happy. A great way to start the day. Something I plan to do much more often. I did promise French Toast after all.
Then there is my Dad. He hasn’t quite recovered from the recent head injury. Still major confusion and forgetfulness. Shortly after my Mother died he confessed to me that he has trouble sleeping without talking to anyone. Thus began the now six-plus years of nightly phone calls, that’s right, every night. That is more than twenty-one hundred phone calls. I’ve missed a few here and there, mostly due to things like the jaw surgery I had two years ago, when I actually couldn’t speak, but I have been more than faithful to this commitment. Now that he is eighty-one, the calls have expanded to mornings and several throughout the day. I am his personal television schedule. Dan has the TV guide app on his i Pad. I look up movies, soccer games, or anything I think he might be interested in. Sometimes he just wants to talk. He can’t walk much anymore, and it gets lonely for him. Those calls have begun to eat into my day. I’m not complaining. I have repeated the same thing to everyone that comments, and that is that I would kill to talk to my Mother for a single moment, he is here. I won’t regret any of it.
My point, and there always is one, is that I am having trouble getting to my projects these days. It is true what I said the other night about putting myself last, I could reorganize my days to better suit what I need to do for myself, I just need to take the time to do it. Of course I also spent part of the day in a fruitless search for a sweater for the wedding we are attending on Saturday, you know something to deflect from the small planet-sized cold sores which have decided to make my lower lip their home. I told Dan to take a good look today, it’s what I might look like if I got collagen. For tonight I have doodles. You know the kind of stuff you scribble when on the phone? I started one earlier today and just continued it tonight while on the phone with my Dad. It is the only piece of art that I could fit into my day. Of course my doodles tend to be a little extreme…
A Startling Awakening
Dear Wrong Number, I myself have made calls to the incorrect number, but I usually don’t make them at 4:30 in the morning. I also, once realizing my mistake, will stay on the line long enough to say, “I’m sorry.” It’s the only polite thing to do….especially at 4:30 in the morning. The thing is Wrong Number, I happen to be one of those unfortunate people who don’t sleep well, and once jarred from a sound sleep by the shrill ring of the phone, I am unable to return to sleep. There is also the minor stress on my heart thanks to you scaring me awake, and thinking that it might be about my elderly father. You have no idea what effect your little error has had on my life. To begin with I spend my day looking like an extra from The Walking Dead. My face has this incredible ability to absorb makeup when I’m tired, as though I am SpongeBob’s mother, it’s really quite amazing. Then there is the voice in my head that tells me, “Hey, it’s OK, eat whatever you want, you’re tired.” Managing to break through the Great Wall of Dieting that took years to construct. And finally Wrong Number, I pride myself on being a productive person. The only productivity that goes on when I’m this tired is the relationship between me and my refrigerator. I realize that you know none of this when you call…at 4:30 in the morning, but I thought maybe since you have had such an intimate relationship with my day, and if that perhaps my number is close to the one you meant to call, and by chance it happens again, you might wait and say, “I’m sorry”, or “hello”, before you bang the phone down on my ear. I hope you had a nice day.
On to more pleasant subjects, like art, recycling, and my little friend Emily. Years ago the manger for our very old Nativity set began to fall apart. My Dad decided to build a new one, which was fine had Mary and Joseph booked a room at a Swiss chalet. The frame of the old one was still usable, so I, being the artist in the family, was given the job of recreating new sides and a back for it. I did a fine job, and it’s still around these many years later. As for the Bethlehem Swiss Inn? We turned it into a doll house for my daughter. Now it will become a doll house for Emily. It needs a little work, which I am thrilled to do. As anyone who reads my blog knows by now, I am just a little crazy when it comes to recycling. Two years ago I began my own private mission to prove how much paper was thrown away at my local Starbucks in the form of coffee sleeves. I decided that I would save our sleeves for a year and shame them into recycling. We are avid coffee drinkers, but not in my wildest imagination did I think I’d end up with the amount of sleeves that I collected. My plan was to collect them , make something artistic out of them, and then write Starbucks corporate office with my complaint and fabulous art project. By the time my year was up, I heard rumors of recycling bins being placed in the stores, and that has since happened. Meanwhile, I have more than one hundred sleeves. Not one to waste the paper, I held on to it, knowing a project would present itself. Last week I went looking for doll house roof tiles for Emily’s house. They were way too expensive, and then…a brainstorm! Corrugated cardboard roof tiles courtesy of Starbucks. I started tonight by deciding on a size, and proceeded to begin the painstaking effort of cutting out these tiles. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the process. When I was a little girl my Mother once said there was something wrong with me because I was always cutting paper. I think I was just connecting with an inner Martha before there was Martha. When I had cut a few out I decided to go a step further and use the technique I wrote about last week. I applied glue to a few and burnt them over a candle. I love them! Much sturdier than plain cardboard, and I believe much more paint-able, however having only finished thirty tiles I decided that I was insane. I am obviously still under the spell of Wrong Number. Emily would be attending college by the time I finished. I decided instead to try painting them with a coat of Modge Podge to seal them instead. Much easier. I am also painting the roof in the same color as the dresser that it will sit upon. You can thank “Wrong Number” because I’ve barely started and need to quit, but this is going to be really special when it’s finished. I can’t wait to finish the doll house, and to get some sleep, and I’m turning the phone off.
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