Best laid plans.........FaLaLa

It’s almost Christmas, and unbelievably totally unlike me- I am soooo not ready. I usually have everything wrapped and ready by the first week of December…. So much for smugness


I have wrapped exactly 8 gifts…the ones that needed to be shipped, and I barely managed to sort out the stocking stuffers last night. I have not shopped for Christmas dinner. I did manage to make some cookies with Evan last night, only because mom had made the dough for us.  Although I think (hope) I have managed to purchase everything for everyone, So lucky me…I get to do a marathon wrapping tonight…I intend to shut myself in the art room early tonight with a glass of wine and get creative-hopefully I will neither spill the wine nor discover anything has been overlooked…that would really blow.. Although rumor has it that Macys is open 24/7 until Christmas. Yeah, I want to go there at 3AM, can’t imagine how happy the associates will be to see me!

I am hoping none of you are riding with me in my little procrastinator canoe made of window screen…….

Merry Christmas! and yes I am grateful, for my family, my friends, that I actually dont mind wrapping, once I get started, and the bottle of wine given to me yesterday by a co-worker, it will be put to good use this evening  ;-)

Thanksgiving (yes I know it is way over)

Our Thanksgiving was terrific. I planned ahead, whittled the menu down to reasonable, prepped the night before, was calm and had a generally great meal. I figure if I keep doing this I may get it to perfection in about 50 more years ……..
Mom left immediately after the meal, I knew she wasn’t feeling great. I didn’t like the way Arthur our Siamese kitty was looking either. We cleaned up, had a great family night, watched some Christmas movie or other and turned in.

Next morning, Friday, Arthur was worse, I bundled him in the car, and took him to the vet, many IV fluids, meds, and tears later, we were on our way home. I knew it wasn’t right. I took him back that evening, same drill. Spent a portion of that night sleeping on the bathroom floor, Arthur in his crate, with the nebulizer running saline fog…….

Saturday morning, back again, this time, added X-rays to the list, after reviewing those, we knew there nothing further we could do. He was suffering terribly. He died in my arms. He was only 8. Arthur kitty was my 6 year old son Evans best-est buddy. When you asked Evan who he loves most in the world, the answer was always, in this order “Arthur, Mommy, Daddy, Nee Nee, Ria….”

I went home without Arthur and Evan ran to meet me at the car- “Where’s Arthur mommy? Why are you crying? Where is he? Is he OK? Where is my best-est buddy in the world?”

Me- He’s in heaven baby.

Evan- Dissolving in wide wracking sobs “what happened mama, what happened to my buddy, why did he have to die?”

I told him that the doctor has done everything he could do and that while he was trying to help him, Arthurs heart gave out, which isn’t that big of a fib. He raged at the doctor for not calling a specialist, he raged at himself for not being smart enough to know what to do to help Arthur, and he just raged, and gave vent to his pain & sorrow while I held him.

By evening, Evan was praying for Arthur and wishing to Santa for another kitty, not to help him forget Arthur, but to help him remember his buddy.

Sunday- out doing errands, husband calls, he’s found a breeder not too far. I went over to check them out. The woman was amazing. The cats were immaculate, just immaculate.

When I got home, I called Evan over, and said “you must have been wishing very very hard for Santa to bring you a new kitty”

Him- yes mommy, I have been

Me- Well Santa heard you, and he called me. He said he knows your heart is broken, and wants to help. He said he doesn’t like to bring kitties or puppies on Christmas because they don’t like being in the sack. He has a friend not too far from here who helps him when children wish for a new kitty, and he told me it would be fine to go over and meet her, and get an early Christmas gift, want to go?

He was in the car like a shot.

He busted me writing a check to the woman. I explained I was reimbursing her for the money she had spent on food, doctor bills etc. He thought that was a great idea.

We have two new Siamese kitties who have taken over the crate that Ria, our yellow lab, thought was hers ;-).

This is Ria dog, looking forlornly at her use to be crate. and Kitties, Millie and Silver....in the comfy crate formerly known as Ria's

And I survived my awful cold over the same weekend. And my Mom is doing fine, for that I am so very grateful.

And I am eternally grateful my son has such a wonderful innocence still that allows him to believe in wishes, and that his first great heartache has passed without damage to that amazing innocence, or to his capacity for love.

Out of the Margin

I have always found myself marginalized. I am honest enough with myself to know that it has been self inflicted, due to the usual litany of insecurities. But in the course of my incredible adventure as a mom, I am involved with my son’s school and have been forcing myself to be social, to come out of the margin and onto the main page. It’s hard, I stink at small talk, feel trivial, have no idea what other people find engaging, and am painfully shy on top of it all.

I have been selling my work, quietly, on line a bit at a time, for awhile and one of the other mothers discovered my etsy site, and purchased a big ol’ bunch for herself in June or thereabouts and ever since, she has been gently, persistently after me to do a party at her home. I finally did it, last Saturday night. The entire week prior I spent scared out of my mind, butterflies, hands shaking, wondering if anyone would believe I had suddenly contracted dengue fever.  Understand that the guest list was comprised mostly of other moms from our school and if I flopped, this was serious home turf, these were women I see and interact with on an almost daily basis, would I have to wear a bag over my head? put Evan in another school? oh crap.

The night arrived, and I was do or die brave and Juliann was so very gracious, so extremely incredibly generous, and so totally on my side. When I saw my work out on her table in her beautiful home, I actually calmed down. It looked amazing. I realized that I am good at this; I make beautiful original art jewelry. How great is that?

When the guests arrived, and start browsing, I could not believe the reaction I was getting, they liked it….a lot. They bought….a lot. They asked for special work…a lot. More parties. You aren’t charging enough. You’re talented. It’s beautiful. Can you make this...or that…? I cried happy all the way home.

I was out of the margins. And I like it...a lot.

And I am so very grateful to JuliAnn for scribbling in my margin, and showing me my wings.  I have such wonderful friends.

OMG I suck!

Because of my job, I have to leave Evan at school at 7AM.  Understand he goes to a wonderful private Montessori school. Most mornings, he begs me to stay for a little while, anticipating this, we get there earlier and talk or draw or he shows me his class work for a while, I can't handle the 'dump and run' thing either.  And my day is usually haunted by a measure of guilt that I am unable to be a stay at home mom, and must take advantage of the 'extended day' offered at this lovely school.  By the time I leave my office (@3:40) I am usually a bit frantic to get to him, where for the last few weeks I have been greeted with -at best- apathy.  Sigh.

Yesterday, I got to school, admired the masterpiece he had made in Art Club, and on the way to the car, he asks if we can go to Publix, "no, tootsie, not this time"  which precipitates him THROWING his water bottle across the parking lot, and yelling at me that I am being mean and I don't understand, etc etc.  I get him in the car, trying desperately to cover my threatening to leak tears and hurt feelings, and speak in a calm and peaceful voice with all the usual platitudes conveying my understanding of his frustrations, etc etc ad nauseum.  My son doesnt behave like this, yes he whines, yes he gets angry, but he does not throw things and scream.  It continues in the car, I cannot take it, I YELL at him that he may not speak to me this way, its hurtful, disrepectful, and cruel.  He starts to cry. OMG I SUCK. SO BAD.

So I pull over, park, get out of the car, and go around to his seat, open the door, give him a big hug, and explain about how much that hurt me when he screams that I am mean, that much of my day is spent thinking of how soon I can pick him up and spend time, even if we dont get to do anything but go home and make dinner or do homework.  Being a family isnt always about having fun, its about the mundane things we do to take care of each other too. It's about love, laundry, cooking, making lunches and innumerable snacks, it's about the dishes, and hugs, kisses and tickle fests, it's about cleaning crud from the bath, walking the dog and bedtime stories.   He kisses me and apologizes.  I kiss him back and apologize.

The rest of the way home, we talk about little things, carefully skirting the mutual meltdown.  At bedtime, we are laying there talking, and come to find out, he'd had a tough day at school.  He was embarrassed with his school project- which he did mostly by himself as opposed to many of the others having serious parental involvement.  He did a great job on it for a 6 yr old.  He also got in trouble for not being able to be still on 'line' while others were giving their presentations, and subsequently was not allowed the 5 extra minutes of playtime.  This is seriously tragic stuff for a 6 year old.  I explained that while his project may not have looked as cool, it was a better job simply because he had done it alone-mostly.  I explained that the kids who had not the the work themselves were the ones who lost out on the cool feeling of having done it yourself. We talked about having respect for others when they have their moment in the sun.  We talked about me not pausing to think that maybe he'd had a tough day.  We both promised to try to do better. We forgave each other.

And suddenly I didn't suck quite so badly.

And I am grateful for that.

The Bug House

Last night, laying in Evans bed as he settled in for the night, we were talking about his 'stink bug house'.  At school, on a daily basis- he cares for this little stinkbug out on the playground.  He builds houses out of mulch, twigs & leaves, brings it water in plastic caps, pets it, lets it crawl all over him.  His biggest problem is some of his friends will occasionaly smash the bug house.  So we (mostly Evan) came up with a way to keep 'Stinky' safer.  He's going to get a box, pretty good size, furnish it with doll house furniture, because "he needs a bed to sleep in Mama, and a table to sit at when he eats".  Decorate with pictures torn from magazines, have a hidey place made from mulch & leaves.  All the comforts of a buggy home.  Then we listed all the buggies that could come to visit, or even move in if it was OK with Stinky;  ladybug, walking stick, water beetle, caterpillars, roly poly's.  It was a great evening, and now he knows Stinky will be safe from the occasional friendly shelter smash.

I am so very grateful for my sons vision, compassion and imagination.  It keeps my heart light.

A Second...

I knew the weekend was going to be busy, I just didn’t know how many times I would be reminded of how fleeting everything can be. One little innocuous second can change everything.
The school book fair went as smoothly as we could have wished, I was busy painting faces, while Evan piled up every single book that had ever or will ever possibly in any way interest him. So we of course had the “you must choose” talk, along with the “you can’t have everything, and even if you could, where would you put it” conversation.

Sunday, we went to the Junior Elementary Social at one of the parents’ homes. They are so amazing this couple, so gracious, and generous. There is a pool, a tree house (or rather platform), a bounce house, a play set with a playhouse and innumerable things for kids to do.
Several of the men were holding court back near the bounce house, under a spreading Mango tree, apparently out of line of sight with the tree house.

I was watching the tree house from under the Chickee and saw Evan climbing the ladder, and the child on top of the platform hit him with, of all things, a plastic boat oar. Sigh. I start to get up, and see Evan backing down the ladder, so I relax, and turn to the conversation again, only for a moment. Next thing I know, Evan is running to me hysterical, that he had tried once more to get to the platform and the same child had hit him hard with the oar. One of the other dads, bless his heart, found out what the deal was, and confiscated said weapon. All I could think was I am so glad Evan didn’t fall. It’s a long way down. Men are still holding court, oblivious.

OK, Evan is fine, in the bounce house, I hear loudness, see way too many boys in the bounce house, junior testosterone is approaching dangerous levels, and I arrive just in time to see a child push Evan hard into yet a third. I called time out, got the more rambunctious ones out, whereby they headed for the pool. Sigh. Yep, Man Court is still is session, right next to the bounce house.

Evan and pals in the pool, Evan and one friend wrestling over the oar. Where did that damn thing come from again? Friend shoving Evan to the bottom of the pool using feet, hands, whatever. I see Evan start to -ever so slightly- panic, I reached in, grabbed the friend, Evan came up on the end of the oar, and explained that we do not drown our friends over a plastic oar. Man Court, I am relieved to see, is still intact. Yes that was sarcastic.

Standing near the pool now, watching like a hawk, I notice a child floating, sort of sideways, no motion that I can see, I take a step, and the next one will take me into the pool, when his mother, in her dress and shoes and all, goes flying into the pool, grabs him. He was just playing. He should be an actor. His mother is a hero in my book, when she realized he was fine, no yelling, no anger, just big hugs and lots of love. She’s an all time great mother, one of the very best. Save first -ask questions later. Man Court – is drifting towards the house, I guess they were bored.

There were more incidents, events and occurances, broken picture frame- casualty of a sword fight, skinned knees, heads butts, etc etc . Truly nothing unusual. I was exhausted, and frazzled a bit.

An hour or so later, on the way to a boy scout leader meeting , I came across an accident that had just happened, an overturned SUV, on a lonely road. Another car had stopped -a police officer and his wife it turned out. The officer was cradling the victim in the grass, by the cow fence, trying to limit his mobility and provide some encouragement. I asked the wife if she needed anything further, no, she said, calls had been made, services were on the way, and it looked bad, really bad. I got out of the way. I passed the ambulances, fire engines, 6 or 7 squad cars. The hair on my arms was standing up. The road was still closed off when I went to return home.

It only takes a second, one moment of inattentiveness, one small slip. We cannot possibly prevent all ‘those seconds’ from happening. Rather cherish every single second you do have, choose contentment over victimhood. Choose love over control.
I am so grateful for all the seconds I have had, with my family, mother, husband, son, brother. I am so very grateful that once in a while, I am reminded of how tenuous our existence is. It enables me to me grateful; it enables me to clear my heart for what is truly important.

A Note in Regard to the Presidents Speech to our Kids

The title to this entry is a link to the transcript of the prepared speech.

There is an amazing amount of rhetoric and vitriol being spewed by an awful lot of folks with some other agenda-in regard to the scheduled speech.

I am truly ashamed to live in an era where a president who takes the time to give a "pat on the back, you can do it" speech to our children is villified rather than celebrated. Considering all he has on his plate, I am amazed and gratified that he finds it of such grave importance and understands the weight the office will carry in speaking to our kids. I applaud his courage and conviction. I read the speech, I see nothing partisan, marxist, communist, racist or any other objectionable overtone in it. I see hope. I see pride. Thats what I want for my son.

Its been said that the speech was rewritten, so what if it was re-written? What speech isnt? So what that he says 'I' a lot-he's the president - if he isnt trying, who the heck is? If you did read it, you will have noticed he also cites parents, teachers, etc as trying to find resources, and gives credit for his success where it is due.

If my son watches this, and he will, he's going to come away more empowered knowing that the man in the white house actually gives some thought to what school children are facing. You people crying 'foul' need to get a grip. As parents, facing an increasingly lazy and self centered society full of 'gimmes', we need all the help we can get, all the reinforcement of a work ethic we can find. Who cares if the message comes from a democrat, a republican, or the Easter Bunny? Who cares if he's black, white, mocha or polka dotted? the point is not the messenger, it's the message. And it's a good one.

This man, our President, is telling our children that it means something to work hard, to believe, to try, even when it means failing, to keep trying, that if you want it enough and believe enough, you can make it happen.

What on earth is wrong with that? not a damn thing in my book.

Today I am grateful that a man like that takes the time to send such a positive message to my son.

Two Moments of Joy

I cannot think of better illustrations for joy.

My son's joy in the first picture, unmitigated, total joy in being six years old

Mine in the second, total, content, heartfilled joy at being Evans mama.

I am so grateful for my life, my joy.

Step Stools, Emergency Rooms and Nemo

This is Evan after a try at bouncing his head off the floor at Walgreens a week ago today. He got bored in the ER, and decided to try and draw with his feet...he did pretty well. The bump covered the right half of his forehead and was protruding about 3/8 of an inch and yucky spongy feeling. I have never been so scared for him. My mind goes crazy when stuff like this happens, all the 'what if's' doing an insane polka in my brain. What if...? What if.....? What if......?What if...? What if.....? What if......? creates an actual rhythm of panic-y images.

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To my credit, I managed to stay relatively calm (except when I thought things were taking too long in the ER, and yes I was mindful of other patients who were more in need) But man, that lioness mama part of me does kick in and kicks ass. LOL

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Nee Nee (my mom) was with him when it happened, she had picked him up early from school (camp) to go have ice cream and they were running errands after, fun grandma stuff. He apparently jumped up on one of those STUPID upside down garbage can looking step stools they leave around willy nilly. She told him not to do it again, turned around to get something off the shelf, and 'BOOM'. Possibly his selective 6 year old boy hearing had kicked in, and this time the thing went out from under him and he hit the deck, hard.

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Scared my mom to death, I felt so bad for her, she was so upset, it happened on her watch, and I know she feels responsible, but she's not-at all (are you listening Mom? XO). He's 6, he's a boy, he's going to get hurt, and badly sometimes. I always try to remember what Dorie said to Marlin in "Finding Nemo" when Marlin told her he didn't ever want anything to happen to Nemo- she said "but- if nothing ever happens to him, then nothing will ever happen to him......." words to live by, those are.

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But it's a week later, and I think I can safely put all the 'what if's' away, to come and dance a new polka in my head some other time....or not

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I am grateful for my mother, for all her love and support, her incredible capacity for love, and I am so immensely grateful that Evan is fine, that he is such a happy little boy, and that he loves his mama. Thats me!!

A little honest conversation with Spiderman

We took Evan to Universal Studios for his 6th birthday trip. What an amazing fun thing to do with a 6 year old, I tried my best to look at the trip through his eyes, to feel and get infected by his joy, his amazement, fear, and eagerness. We slogged through the rain, danced in the water attractions (fountains and such) doused each other with water cannons-A LOT- held each other tight on the scary rides, went through each and every gift shop looking for exactly the right thing (he even made choices not to spend his money, just in case something better was in the next shop!!).

I am marveling at just how cool it is to be 6, Spiderman, Wolverine, Captain America, and Dr Seuss, it's all good.

The best part of the trip for me was the night Evan & I went riding in the glass elevaor, 28 stories, facing the northern view of Orlando, we must have taken that thing 10 times, up, down, up, down, then went to the lower lobby, tied a towel around his neck and voila! batman was born, running though the halls on a desperate mission to save all the folks in the hotel from slimy sneaky bad guys.

Evan did get to meet Spiderman, and when spiderman asked who was his favorite superhero, Evan, in typical fashion said "Wolverine" The picture above is evidence of Spideys disappointment.

Today I am grateful for having the wherewithal to take him to such places, and for being enough of a child myself that I can see it though his eyes and be there with him

Mothers Day ("What not to Wear"- where are you?)

The picture is from Friday, May 8. There had been a Mothers Day tea at school, and I asked Nee Nee to take him for the balance of the day, I met them there after work, they had gone out to the pool, Evan made a great game of trying to pull me in the pool. I was winning....until I relaxed for an entire 2 seconds. splash. oh well, we ended up having great fun, while I tried to keep the skirt part of the little sundress from floating up around my waist (there was a character in the pool with goggles who kept trying to cop a free look at my unders, cretins abound)

So this same sweet boy, we are going to sleep last night (Mothers Day in the US) and he turns to me and says, "Mommy, you have the most beautiful heart, million bazillion, kanillion"

Me- Aww thank you my sweetheart, I love you too

Him- but your face isnt very beautiful

Me- Well, I'm glad you think my heart is.

him- why dont you wear make up Mommy, here, here and here (pointing to the various spots he thinks need camoflage)

Me- well, because makeup takes time, and in the morning I would rather spend that time with you

Him- how long?

Me- probably ten minutes

Him- Well I would be OK for that long if you wanted to wear makeup, because I know it would make you feel better (hard truth this child speaks)

Me- OK, then I'll do it tomorrow

Him- and Mommy? you need some girly shirts

Me- I dont like to shop baby,

Him- I will come with you and I will help you

Me- laughing- OK tootsie, that would be great. good night I love you forever.

Next morning-5:15 AM

We're waking up, he's having chocolate milk, I'm having vitamin water, and he turns to me and says - arent you supposed to be putting on make up?

me- OK, I'll go do that now

I go, apply goop, come back, he looks at me & says - you dont look any different.

I'm still laughing.

I am grateful for being whole enough inside my heart that this is funny, not hurtful. I am grateful thats he trusts me enough to be that honest. He does know the difference

Go Big or Go Home

My friend, Ginny Luther, is amazing. She has devoted herself to showing parents the way to discipline with love, understanding and respect. I, myself, don't think discipline is the right term, it's a form of loving guidance. Understand- it doesnt mean there are no consequences, there are. What she teaches us enables us to lovingly guide, grow with and absolutely delight in our children. She gives herself wholly, completely, and with out reservation to enable others to walk a peaceful path. I walk this path with my son, (yes I stray sometimes, we all do) He is 6. I can see the greatness in him, the heart, the empathy, the strength, already. All because Ginny taught me that what was in my heart made more sense than conventional wisdom.

She discovered these things while searching for a way to guide her young son, Bart. He grew into the kind of man you want your own son to be, a man of his word, a man of great strength and character, a man who knows love, a soldier who wanted nothing more than the world to know the freedom and joy that he lived. Who wanted nothing more than to come home and marry the love of his life.

A while back, Ginny thought she was home free, her son Bart had returned from deployment in Iraq. Phew. He was home, safe. She was to be one of the lucky ones. He was in Fort Hood Texas.

Then one day two uniformed men came to her door, ushering her into a hell like no other. The hell where your beautiful, true, love of your life little boy turned man-warrior has been taken from you, senselessly.

As I know the story, he was alerted that the MP's were going to the home of one of his men, cause? suspected stolen army property. Bart, as his mother does, took it upon himself to give this man, this human, a safe place, a safe path to reconsider his error. The man, the human, shot Bart. 5 times. In the head. Murdered Bart. And then killed himself.

Ginny is bringing herself out of this hell by doing something in typical loving Ginny fashion. She discovered in her rages against the pointless injustice of it, that of all the people and entities she was angry with, the killer wasnt one of them. Her husband pointed it out to her, that she never mentioned the killer as a target for blame. Ginny took this, pondered it, and discovered that she realized this man, this killer of her sweet son, didnt have the tools she teaches, he had no way to deal with the insane amounts of stress, anger and fear, that these people (who often are no more than children themselves) are living with. These soldiers, male and female, who put themselves out there at the request of the country, to fight, defend, and protect us. We are failing them. Go fight we say, and when they come home, we offer no support for the nightmare they most probably lived. The fighting changes people, in an extremely profound way. We can no longer pretend it doesn't.

Ginny is spearheading a movement called "Go Big or Go Home" words that her son Bart lived by. She wants to take what she knows (and its a lot) & teach military familes how to begin to deal with the myriad conflicting emotions, how to channel them, how to not get caught up in a cycle of hatred, paranoia and violence. She wants to prevent another mother, another family from a visit to that hell. And she can.

the title to this post is a link to her sons memorial site, go there, do it now. help her Go Big or Go Home

I am so grateful for all I have learned from Ginny, for trusting my heart, for my beautiful Son, and for the man he will grow to be, I know he will be as Bart was. and thats a lot to be grateful for.

Hippety Hoppety Easta Gansta

Is it even possible that the 'easta gansta' is the same excited child on the bunnys lap? or the one looking at his Uncle Dave with those huge I love you eyes? or tearing into the ice cream at the zoo? or showing his first lost tooth gap?

Ain't life wonderful?

Zen and the art of vacationing

This is Evan meditating on the steps outside the American Indian Musuem. Zen isnt it? ;-)

I took Evan to see my brother (aka Ultra cool Uncle David) in Virginia for a week. Brother took us into DC just about everyday, even going so far as to get up at 5Am one windy rainy cold morning, drive into DC, stand in a windy rainy cold line for 2 hrs to get tickets to take Evan (and me) to the top of the Washington monument, then he drives all the way back to Virginia to get us, and trains it all the way back with us to go to the top. It was amazing, unbelievable view, even through the rain.

We did the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, the American Indian Museum, the American History Museum, The National Zoo, and Dave took Evan to the Spy museum, one day so that I could go to the National Gallery of Art. I cried standing in front of the Rodin, Rembrandt's and Degas. Absolutely speechless.

I brought supplies with me to get busy work done, wire, stones, etc....never even opened the case. I had grand ideas of making fabulous bracelets, earrings etc, while drinking tea late at night with Dave....ahh the best laid plans.......but the wine was great :-)

I did get back to work the last few days and am very happy with the outcome, will post pics of that in a few days.

I am so blessed, and grateful for my son, my mother, my brother, and of course, my husband. what a fortunate soul am I.

Claiming the title of Artist

I love to make pretty things, (yeah I know, eye of the beholder and all that) I also love jewelry thats been made by someone, a craftsperson, an artist, yeah like ME. I hereby claim the distinction of ARTIST for myself. I am full of myself today, GOOD!

My work is original, maybe a bit raw for some, but it's beautiful, and I love it. All of the pieces are one of a kind, even if I tried to duplicate it, I dont think I could, as they all seem to shape themselves. Some of the work is rough around the edges, but it speaks to me that way.

The whole process is incredible-from choosing the wire / sheet/clay, sawing, bending, forging, drilling, polishing, torching, patina-ing or not and adding beads or some other touch to make it flash.

It's amazing to me that because I make it myself, it's termed 'costume' by so many people. As if unless it comes from Mayors or Zales it doesnt rate as real. The work is precious metals, semi and precious stones, loved and labored over. I am not a costumer, I'm an (dare I say it again?) ARTIST!! So that makes it ART Jewelry.

My blog pal Nic has the same issue, she had a great run in with a Dentist, who said that her (dentist) work was technical, inferring that Nic's work required no great skill. If that was so, then why was said dentist insisting Nic re-open her shop, if it doesnt require skill, could she not have done it her own dentisty self? with all her technical know how? By the way, Nic is an incredible prolific jewelry ARTIST (http://www.muranosilver.etsy.com/)

My nails look like I've never had a manicure, my hands are sore and not without cuts and scars, but I get to make lovely things

I was playing around this weekend with some beach glass I found, and made a couple of lovely dangles, the idea worked, just needs some refining...so it's off to get some more bezel wire....I know, I know...any excuse ;-) pics of the new ART soon. Boy that feels good to say that.

Love- Me

The Fib

This is Evan with my brothers dog, MTWD (Myer the Wonder Dog) a few months ago.
My son told his first real fib. He & I were in Toys R Us (arrrgh!) and his eyes fell upon a Sigma Six Delta Force Duke with all the accompanying flamethrower, saw, and laser attachements for the gun (which was as big as the action figure) I mean this thing is the Mac Daddy of GI Joe guys. Evan is COMPLETELY into GI Joe, Completely. We discussed it and decided it was not appropriate for him at this point, and that we would revisit it later.

Well, he went shopping with Nee Nee, and she bought it for his birthday (April). I find out later that She had asked him if he & I had discussed it, he had told her "I dont remember".
Well..........I know he remembers, this child remembers everything.

So Nee Nee returned it, and when I went to get him at school yesterday, he comes flying out the door, chattering up and down about this GI Joe. Sigh. I let him finish, then we sat down on a bench, and
I said- softly and with my arm around him "Did you tell Nee Nee you didnt remember if you & I had talked about it?"

He said- softly "Yes"

Me "Do you remember talking to me about it?"

Him - lip quivering "Yes"

Me- heart breaking "So did you fib to Nee Nee?"

Him- tears falling "Yes"

Me -trying not to cry "I asked Nee Nee to take the GI Joe back to the store, you told a fib my love, and there is a consequence to that, I'm sorry baby"

Him- crying "I'm sorry Mama, but I really really really wanted it"

Me- crying too and hugging him " I know baby, but if you had come to me and we had talked about it again, it may have been different, we dont fib, But I am so very very proud of you for telling me the truth even though I think you knew what was going to happen- We will talk about it again after your birthday, OK?"

Him- still leaking-" OK Mama, thank you for still wanting to talk to me about it, you're a good Mama"

Me- also still leaking- " And you are the best-est boy"

So the damn thing is in my office (its being discontinued) waiting for a possibly appropriate time to give it to him AFTER his birthday. Sigh........

Today I am grateful that love can be so strong, for tears and lessons hard learned, and for my Mom who taught me how to be strong.

A Necklace

I like this piece. It was my first PMC 'construction'. When I first did the patina, it was blue & purple, reminded me of the bubbles when you are snorkeling or diving in the Keys. Now it looks like snorkeling or diving in Lake Okeechobee-LOL. I still like it.

Almost the weekend

This is my sweetie. He has grown 2 inches in the last four or five weeks, he has not stopped eating in the same amount of time. And-most exciting of all (drum roll-please) he has his first loose tooth, which has been hanging on for 5 weeks, the other one is already coming in behind the loose one, Dentist says he will probably have a shark tooth for awhile.

His smile just lights up everything around him.

I'm jealous today (not really, just a teensy bit), he had no school, so he was with Nee Nee this morning and with Daddy this afternoon, and I'm here blogging about it, isnt that productive? Actually, he & daddy are at the pet store, they just called wanting to know what brand of dog food to get for Ria the moose-dog.

The pet store is dangerous.........Please please dont let them bring home another creature....... we have Ria-a 75lb Yellow lab (moose dog) Arthur-a 7lb siamese cat and 4 turtles all named 'Tabby the Hamster'. Evan named them after a hamster he had in a toddler class at Montessori about 3 years ago.

Evan is dying to get another dog, a smaller one, and another cat, so that Arthur wont be lonely in the daytime. Do I need a livestock license to have any more critters?

Have a wonderful weekend, I know I will.

Today, I am grateful that Nic reads my blog and for her funny and wise comments. Also for my terrific mom and tangerines

Howard Ikemoto

"When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college- that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared back at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?"
~ Howard Ikemoto


Yes I guess we do. We forget to be joyful and unashamed and free in our expression of creativity, whatever form it takes.

My son makes the greatest drawings, he is free and intent and full of purpose, and sometimes when he tells me the story of a drawing in our semi weekly kitchen floor art shows, he cant remember what it was originally and invents a new story to go with his vision. He's the real artist, I learn so much from him, every day- so maybe the pendant I envisioned when I started a pmc project didnt come out the way I expected, I have learned to give it another story. How cool is that?

Will's New Car

Been away a few days from posting, had other stuff to catch up on, yucky stuff like taxes, shredding old documents, grocery shopping- dont worry, it's not like I actually caught up on my laundry or finished that sterling bracelet (it's looking good though) or anything.

My husband is a 'road warrior' for a high end cutting edge technology company, and goes through cars like Evan goes through shoes-well, maybe I am exaggerating a little- anyway we had to go and do one of the things I like the absolute least in this world...buy a car. Dont you just cringe thinking about it?

I dont know why I dislike it so much, I seem to have gotten quite good at it. The secret is I really dont care if we buy the car or not, we do our homework, get financing dealt with ahead of time, go in with every possible question already answered, and are willing to walk away if it's not what we want, there are lots of cars out there after all. We're not looking to screw anyone, just dont want to get screwed ourselves.

When we were taking Evan to Nee Nee's for the day (absolutely no point in torturing him with a day at the car dealer), he asked daddy "why does Mommy have to go with you, why can't she stay with me?" Daddy told him it was because he didnt like to negotiate for cars, and that I was going to help him, besides he needed me to make the car salesman cry. Evan thought that was hilarious. So we're at the dealer, made a killer deal, we're happy, the salesman is upset, his manager is really pissed, and the finance girl is a twinkie, and my phone rings, it's Evan wanting to know if I made the salesman cry. "Did you make him go WAH WAH WAH mommy?" Yes I said and his boss too. "You're the best Mommy, Good Job!"

When we got back to my mom's (Nee Nee) Evan runs out to see the new car "WOW WOW WOW, this is the coolest car ever ever!!! You guys did great! Awesome!" Now with praise like that from him, maybe car shopping isnt so bad after all....

Today I am grateful for the wonderful Dremel set my mom bought me for Christmas with the drill press and the flex-shaft attachments I am having SOOOOO much fun with that. For Evans warm sleepy smile this morning, and for cantaloupe, with or without proscuitto & lime

Yaay!!

Jon came out of surgery well, Doc said they think they got it all, he's being transferred ICU today. My SIL Lisa is finally breathing again. Thank you everyone for your prayers.

yaaay!!

Jon & Lisa

My brother in law and his wife. Today Jon went in for pretty serious surgery. Lisa's waiting, for an update. I'll just keep waiting and praying.

Oxymoron

As defined by UrbanDictionary.com-Two words that conflict with each other. Examples of an oxymoron:

Microsoft Works
United Nations
Political Correctness
Linux Complete
Artificial Reality
Rap Music

While striving to be the perfect Mom, wife, artist (Hey I can dream!) I discover that its the imperfections that make things perfect. For instance if I dont make mistakes in being a Mom, then how will my son ever know how to stop, breathe, assess necessary amends, forgive himself if necessary, grow stronger-smarter-etc, and move on? If I am perfect, then when he makes a mistake, having no model for recourse-he is going to see himself as failure. Not OK.

As far as a perfect artist (thats it's own oxymoron, isnt it?) If I dont make mistakes, then all the work will have a repetitive theme, with out trying something new, my muse gets bored (I picture a tinkerbell-ish creature sitting in a fern, yawning at me LOL) I get bored, and everyone else gets bored. And I get nowhere in my journey. I read somewhere that in Great Japanese art, it's the imperfections that make it beautiful. I think it makes it human, as in hand made, with love and attention.

Perfect wife? FOTFLMAO-Oh Please! I just cant see Martha Stewart wearing Fredericks of Hollywood.........I'm too short anyway, seriously- all I can do there is love him, and try not to be a bitch.

So I have decided to continue on my imperfect path. Perfect isnt it?

Manure- from Dr David Weiman

Happy Places

This is my son, practicing to fulfill his dream of saving the world. The picture was taken at Truro Cape Cod, a year or so ago, I just came across it looking for something else (sound like anyone else you know?) It's such a happy picture, and Truro is such a happy place for us.

I came upon the happiest web-place today. Allison Strines etsy shop. Yes I bought something. Yes it made me very happy. (Todays blog title links to her site.)

She does the most cheerful heartfilling uplifting work. I bought "She's cleverly disguised as a responsible adult" and "She is good enough right now" Even just the titles are enough to make your day. I hope she realizes how much she gives when people buy her work.

I think it's incredible that in these hard and sometimes scary times, there are people out there, whose paths we cross (fate, karma, kismet, destiny?) who are there at just the right time with just the right message for us. If only we listen, I try to, whenever I am fortunate enough to cross paths with someone like Allison.

My gratitude for today: my son kissed me good morning (like everyday), gave me a huge hug and smile when I left him at his school (like every day), I am at a job I like- working with good people, will have dinner with Mom, and repaint the face on one of her mermaids tonight, and go home to my warm inviting comfortable home to put my sweetheart to sleep with his lovies, then go to my Art Room and work on a bracelet I started over the weekend.

Ain't it great to be blessed? or as Evan says "boom boom, aint it great to be crazy?"

Nietzsche

My favorite quote of late is by Nietzsche "We have art so that we shall not die of reality" Isnt that great?

When I feel like I am 'dying of reality' aka the everyday wonderful craziness that is my life, the thing that heals me best is to create something, whether a new piece of jewelry, a sketch or a martian made out of old oatmeal boxes and pipe cleaners. I used to feel trapped by all the nuttiness, felt like I would never be 'allowed' to let any creativity back in. What I didnt know was that I was the one doing the 'not allowing'. The way I feel about life has changed dramatically since I took the step, realized I deserved it, and with the help of my family, created "the Art Room" in our house, a place devoted to creating, and perservering. I have had failures in there, many, but they are all steps in the process, and are all good. The simple act of entering the room has an effect on me, calming, empowering, recharging.

And yes other stuff in my life must wait, but who cares if I dont always get all the laundry done? As long as Evan has clean underwear and socks, it's all good.

My Etsy Store

I opened an Etsy store a few months ago, it's so exciting to see my work on the net. My husband took the pictures. I work in precious metal clay, sterling, copper and bronze sheet, sterling and fine silver wire, and just about anything else I can get my hands on. These pictures are just a couple of the pieces I posted.

I love working in my 'art room' as my almost 6 year old has dubbed it. My son will be asleep in his room across the hall, or so I think and everyonce in a while I'll hear "Mommy? are you still in the art room?" "yes baby" I'll say, then I hear a sleepy "thats good Mommy, I love you" "I Love you too, sweets" I say, and then with my filled up heart, I work on making something out of something else.

I love my life (yes even the braces)

The Art Room

I recently discovered jewelry. Making jewelry, string beads, forging, fusing, hammering, torching. Such forceful words that create such beauty. This is a bracelet I made from sterling silver wire, heavy links, with double jump rings to hold it together.

I love being in my art room. My terrific husband and I decided a year or so ago to turn the 'guest bedroom' into something that would actually get used. We dubbed it "The Art Room". I have a work bench, my (almost) six year old has his table, we both have our stashes of supplies, the only rule in the room is "dont give up". Pretty good rule.

My son has been the fuel for my creative fire. I had made a bunch of pieces, and was wearing them, getting compliments, always saying "thank you" never telling that I made the work. One day Ev decided to toot my horn for me, and when a woman in the grocery store asked about something I was wearing, he piped up "My mommy is a jewelry maker, you should get her to make you something" and he became my defacto marketing department.

What a great kid. I am so blessed

Today

Today, I am occupied with my braces, new braces, although at my age, it seems sort of silly to have done it, but I have wanted to do this since I was in my twenties (many many moons ago). My wonderful mother gave them to me as a gift. Maybe it's my age I am occupied with, I don't feel 50, don't seem to look it, certainly don't act it. I have a (almost) 6 year old son, who keeps showing me new reasons for gratitude everyday, I am sure he is part of that. Just seems oxy-moronishly vain to have gotten around to braces at 50. and yes, they hurt, but I am glad I did it. I think I am tired of waiting to do things for me. So although it hurts and is a pain in my ass (I have broken them already) I am really really glad I did it.

only 360 days +/- to go