there is something magically sweet about a snowman. you know, without a doubt, that it won’t last forever, but it makes you smile every time you see one.
weeks ago when it had snowed packing-snow-to-just-cover-the-grass, the little boy a couple doors down went outside and built this snowman. his silly grin made me stop the car and back up; i had to take a picture of him, preserve him for gloomy days, days of no snow, days when it’s dark at 4:30.
little-kid relationship with snow is good wisdom to remember. embrace every chance to be in the moment. cherish the snow falling, the feeling of flakes gently landing on your face. treasure the slow-down of time, the chance to be with each other. be mindful that the time is fleeting; it won’t last forever. in this busy time, i think i will try to take every opportunity to build a snowman.
as i look at a few of the throw pillows i designed through the months of our FLAWED CARTOON postings, i remember some of the stories i told in those posts…what the FLAWED CARTOON sparked in my memory bank or made me think of. you are what you eat reminds me, once again, of my big brother – and the words he had written on his sticker-decorated-painted-verses-nylon-string guitar. so much possibility!!! makes me think of my sweet momma and her determination to drive her electric wheelchair downstairs in her assisted living facility to dinner all-by-herself. face your giant a sign of the times, fearless – each of us brave, every single day. i will try to see i to i an honest attempt at kind, gracious co-existence. and dream. of course, dream.
this is week 42 of our STUDIO MELANGE. and as i look back through all the writing and thoughts and designs and merchandise, i relive each one…reminders of time flying by, of days passing, of the ever-importance of our heart-stories.
i hope you might find a pillow you can’t live without in this week of throw-pillows-to-purchase-as-gifts-this-holiday-season. but if not, i hope you find a writing that resonates with you and reminds you of the value of your own stories.
ohmygosh. this was my swan song every time we left the house when The Girl and The Boy were little. this is our swan song before we leave the house now. every time. some things don’t change. i know this has nothing to do with this flawed cartoon and the instincts of birds flying south (or the technology they pay attention to), but middle age and its challenges -and joys- dictate what i pay attention to. and the common theme songs are hot flashes and restroom locations. sheesh!
we have a group of friends that all go together to a winter festival up north a bit. we literally PLAN where we are stopping for the “rest” stop and snacks. and it’s only an hour and fifteen minutes away! we don’t have devices to alert us. they are not necessary. besides, charlie refuses to have any of that confounded stuff.
yup. sometimes nature and people and even geese don’t really need technology.
well, blackbeard may well be a goob, even the biggest goob ever, but some things are best kept to ourselves, eh? my sweet momma always said, “if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.” there is candor and there is boorish rudeness and there is a very fine line between them.
we were at costco. in the fruit and vegetable section. pondering just how many blueberries and strawberries we could eat in the next few days; costco’s quantities are not meant, necessarily, for two people. but we are berry-lovers, so it works for us. we were in the middle of deciding to get both the 57 pint container of blueberries and the 28 quart container of strawberries when i felt a presence. right next to me. close. like next to my face, only my face was turned away. i thought – is this a mystical visitation? is this a sign? i turned slowly. she was standing rightnexttome, her face inchesfrommine. i have never seen this person before. she spoke directly -and loudly- to me, “are the blueberries any good?” she asked. “it’s only me. will they stay good?” i tried to back up, but our cart was behind me and she moved forward as i moved back. i was trapped. i answered (you owe me, costco!) that they were the best berries and would last and last and that she should buy them. and then she was gone. good grief. what i wanted to say was, “get out of my space!!!”
i know you know what i mean. (insert eye-rolling emoji here.)
we used to drive in the car, ok, minivan at the time, and blastttt this kelly clarkson song called breakaway. The Girl and i would sing it loud, really really loud. i still know all the lyrics (despite the fact that i can’t remember what we did each day last week without consulting my calendar. but you know what i mean…if you are, um, my age, then you likely remember all the lyrics to all the 70s songs you listened to. ok…..what was i talking about here?)
monday’s studio melange post was about unleashing the power of your crayon, yesterday’s was living without fear. today’s is called break away. hmm. a theme is quietly emerging.
one of my favorite quotes of michelle obama, “when they go low, we go high” reminds me of this – the power of breaking away from the masses, the power of unleashing YOUR crayon with an eye to the center, the power of living without fear. break away indeed.
it was close to midnight and we were on a pretty windy and mountainous road (might i mention with no guardrails?!) The Girl was driving and all of a sudden the deer ran out from the side, sprinting across right in front of us. she handled it like a pro; driving these roads can be stressful and dangerous, but she is level-headed and careful, a really good driver. and she kept us all safe. i was grateful it didn’t just stand there staring at the glare of our headlights.
i taught at a school in florida a longgg time ago. it was 1982 and i was in the teachers’ lounge eating a small snack lunch with one of the teachers, my friend lois. there was a group of teachers in there, all gathered around the stove (this alone seemed pretty bizarre to me – a stove in a teachers’ lounge. who has that kind of time??) they were cooking something in a large cast-iron frying pan, an economy size container of crisco on the counter next to the stove. i was new at the school and i was still trying to make friends, so i asked what they were cooking. “possum,” i was told. (possum?? insert grossed-out emoji face.) here’s the part where i slipped up: i -in all sincerity- said that i hadn’t seen possum in the meat counter at publix and asked, “where do you purchase possum?” without blinking (no pun intended) they told me that they go out most nights “shinin'” in the woods, snaring animals to hunt with the use of headlights. “you never know what you’re gonna get!” they added. i never really fit in there.
recently, while perusing facebook (which i actually don’t do all that often) i came across a post by My Boy. he had made homemade ravioli for dinner. wait! what?? homemade ravioli??? now, this requires making pasta from scratch as well as stuffing it with a delicious tuscan sausage mix. just sayin! this is the same person who, long ago now, used to be able to live on honey buns and swedish fish. he has amazed me time and again with his creative cooking and the photographs he has sent of yummy meals. one day he grilled shrimp out on his deck for dan and me and d. just as thoughtful as the birthday he made me mac and cheese after a long evening i had spent volunteering, but, i have to admit, much tastier.
the first time My Girl made us dinner we had gnocchi and an excellent sausage sauce. i hadn’t had gnocchi in years – since i had it with the hot chics in montana – and her recipe immediately made it onto our ‘what-should-we-have-for-dinner’ list of possibilities.
these are the same two human beings who would ask, ” what’s for dinner?” now i find myself asking them. funny how cooking creativity blossoms in each next generation.
reverse threading 