Just the Two of Us

Once upon a time, I started a book called "The Story of My Life". I have not given up on it. I have just been musing. Anyway, this part has been made awhile but my camera was lost again. I keep losing it. The constant loss of my camera may merit a couple of pages dedicated to its own topic in the story of my life. I have some stained glass mosaics to show too but not today.

Please enjoy grades 7 and 8 of my life. These two years were very happy for me. They were most possibly the happiest two years of my entire school life. Mom and I were on our own by this time just the two of us. My sisters claim that I am my mother's favorite child. We do have a very special relationship because we know each other so well. But knowing my mom as I do, I know she does not have a favorite child. It is simply easier for her to talk to me largely because we have been so close since this time in my life...grades 7 & 8.

More Stained Glass Mosaics

Okay, yesterday, Mike, Shelly and I went to our second class of stained glass mosaics. We have completed gluing down our first project but have not grouted yet. We will do that next Saturday. Mike and I started our second projects. Shelly was so exhausted after gluing down her first project that she opted out of a second project. However, she is quite the stained glass mosaic artist. She is very good. Mike and I struggle a bit. This is not a surprise to me. I as usual am only mediocre at this craft. I know I will always be a "B" student when it comes to crafts but that is okay. I am just in it for the joy not to create the rose window of Notre Dame Cathedral.

My kite project. Still needs grouting.

The beginnings of my Picasso-esque style house numbers project.

Mike's Second Project
This will be her house numbers when finished. Right now it is sailboat and cloud.



Shelly's tulip project.

The Sizzling Life of a June Bug Beetle

I do not have a crafty entry for the blog today. Instead, I just came in from outside where I was feeding 'the brood'. You see, my neighbor and I decided our brood was becoming too heavy (ie. fat). Those guys were coming to Mom #1 to get breakfast, then, going to Mom #2 to get another breakfast. (I designated myself as Mom #1 because I am doing the writing here. I may have been born at night but not LAST night.) Same thing for dinner. Except they would go to Mom #2 first because she gets home first then when Mom #1 gets home later, they would come to her for another dinner. Instead of cats, they were becoming pigs. So the moms conspired and decided that Mom #1 would feed breakfast and Mom #2 would do dinner. That brood caught on fast. Right at 6 AM they would all show up for breakfast. At night, when I got home, not a cat was to be found here. They were at Mom #2's house eating dinner. Let it be said that a cat surely knows a sucker. Along about 8:30 PM, they all show up at Mom #1's house all ganged up at the back window wanting a 'snack'. Mom #1 is a pushover. It is not enough for her to give them a snack but she must go out and fraternize with them all and make sure they are all okay after the day.

Okay, folks, long story short here. While I was outside with the snackers, I did some of my famous ruminating or pondering. I am well known for  my ponderings. My life assessments are often appreciated for their shall we call it 'uniqueness'? Anyway, I like to observe nature as most who read this blog already know. So while I was listening to the cacophony of  loud cat food munching, I sat and watched a June bug. What is up with that life form anyway? Have you ever watched one? They sizzle around on the ground on their backs in a circle. I call it sizzling because that is what it sounds like. Then, when they do in fact manage to upright themselves, they immediately attempt to fly. They do not fly though. Instead, I would call it more of a launch maneuver. They 'launch' around for about 5-10 seconds, fall back to the ground on their backs, sizzle around and around and around in a circle again, upright themselves and so it goes over and over and over and over again. This is the life of a June bug beetle. What a strange insect, right? Just something to think about next time you see one.

Stained Glass Mosaics

Just because I have not posted in over a week, does not mean that I have not been up to anything. I actually have worked in my life story board book and have almost finished the two years covering 7th and 8th grades.

Plus, today I went to a class with two friends, Shelly and Mike. We are learning how to make stained glass mosaics. For my beginning project, I am making a plaque with a red and white kite on it. I only cut myself two times! We have two more classes and we almost finished one project today. We will be pros by the time we graduate. It was so much fun! I am already looking forward to next week's class.

Mike working away on her project.

Shelly's tulip project. She is scoring a piece of glass.

The beginnings of my kite with a few bloody spots.

Walking in Circles

I like dabbling in the altered book but I really like playing with photoshop. I am apt at noticing other people's strong points. I am a great observer. However, when it comes to assessing my own strengths I am either poor at it or simply put, I do not have any strengths. I do not like to think the latter is true. I am sure I must have one. I just cannot see it other than I am a great observer. I just have not found my artistic strength yet so I will keep trying stuff. Hmm...seems like we have been down this path before.

And then the crescendo

Not just since beginning this recent call to memory lane but long prior to it, I have frequently thought of my life not in years but phases of events. This is probably natural for most people. “Most people”, I say, always casting myself as an outsider in this drama we know as life set in a world that belongs as much to me as anyone but never completely feeling that way.

This brings me to my next point and that is that another of my deep seated attributes has been to think of myself as immensely odd. I am not sure if I came into this world classifying myself this way but definitely since the first time I was able to compare myself to other school kids. As a child, I assumed all of the other school children were living the happy lives I had been living before my parents’ divorce. I am sure some were living that happy life. I am sure some were not but I did not realize that then. Age is good for some things.

In the years 1970-1971, things were about to get a whole bunch worse before they could begin to get a whole bunch better. One single year of my life was the crescendo or the turning point as it were. That year was stark. It was bleak. I have no pictures of it other than my school picture.

During that year, I shared a room in a house in a different town with my last sister still living at home. Good times were scant but she and I made our own happiness by drawing lots and lots of fashions. My sister was and still is talented with a pencil. However, forever being a big fan of her little sister, she decided that I drew better heads than bodies and she drew better bodies than heads. We developed a fun new game. I would draw a head and she would draw a body to go with it. We spent hours laughing at our creations. I never knew what to expect. She had quite the imagination.

When not inventing entertainment, we lived in a stepfather imposed puritanical world without telephone, television or radio. However, I was holding out a treasure. I had a secret transistor radio given to me by another sister who understood my love for popular music that had recently married and moved away. To this day, I can stretch my mind across those years like a long arm reaching out a hand through a mist to touch a reflecting pool of memories vividly remembering a song I heard while I clandestinely listened to my little, orange radio. That song was called “Your Song” by this new guy, Elton John. Even now, I think of that song as the most beautiful song ever written, the truest expression of love ever put into words and set to music. Even now, it can bring a tear to my eye.

My Lost Year

I can still draw with practice. I have been dusting off the pencils and discovering its entertainment again.

Fly Me to the Super Moon!

In honor of the super moon tonight, I made this today. I have been very artistic today while needing to be very janitorial. I worked on my biographical board book even finishing another phase of my life. I will post it tomorrow.

I worked outside in the yard some too. My back yard is somewhat "wild". It is kind of like a wildlife sanctuary. Anyway, there is this wild rose thing that has taken over a loblolly pine tree. I do not think you can quite grasp the magnitude of this from this picture alone. This pine tree is tall.  It is encroaching on a little red bud tree next to it too. By next year, I figure the entire house will be under it. I have a bridal wreath spirea about to do the same thing on the other side of the yard. Heaven forbid that I should take a clipper to them. I like things to grow wild. Just visit my yard and find out.

Study in Red and My Thoughts for the Day

Do you ever have times when there are many thoughts traveling about your mind? I am in one of those phases. It is the state of the world causing it. I am an avid believer in there being no separation between us and our universe. We are the fabric of the universe. It is not us and it. It is not us and the earth. It is not us and wildlife. We are one. There is no division.

There is a weekly show I watch that hosts a man that is very smart; there is no denying it. I admire his dedication to knowledge and his constant search for the facts. However, he has one trait I do not admire. Instead, I realize he just 'does not get it'.

Some people that tout themselves as being only factually oriented take pleasure in being atheists or agnostic. If they cannot 'prove it', they cannot believe it. I hate to say it but many academic types believe in this manner. They believe this is an admirable attribute. However, I see it as a sign of egotism no matter how smart they are. What would you think of me if I said "Well, if I cannot understand it, it must be hogwash." ? You would think me very full of myself and perhaps you would laugh at me for being so vain. This man I am speaking about is this way. This man whom I watch his show weekly believes this way. This man says religious teachings are largely myths and fairy tales.

There is no doubt that everything that is espoused as religious teaching and writing is not all accurate. No doubt. There is no doubt that many original writings have been ignorantly and sometimes craftily misinterpreted and translated. However, there is much truth still to be found in those writings too. The baby should not be thrown out with the bathwater as they say.

I say perhaps the universe is such a great and wonderful thing created by One so incomprehensibly more intelligent than we are that everything that One does must appear as magic to us just as fire did to cavemen. This One can create everything out of what before was 'seemingly' nothing. Seemingly to our ignorant, childish eyes. To say that if I cannot understand it, it must be magic is silly. Magic is science that was once misunderstood or not even dreamed of yet.

I suppose the disaster in Japan has me pondering all sorts of mysticism. We are one. There is no separation from our small selves and the mysteries of the universe. Go out tonight simply to admire the moon and the stars. Then, tell me it was all created simply by accident. You won't be able to say that. You won't.

The Story Continues...

Have I mentioned that my camera is broken? I tried scanning this. I am not happy with the results but nonetheless I will be using it here. Next time, I will just take a phone pix. Even that would be more detailed than this.

When I last left off, the wind of change was beginning to build a cold storm that would blow away life as I had known it to that point. Then was when I was four to five years old. The next five years of my life, I would spend largely on the dark side of the moon.

But the days were not just filled with unhappiness. There were good times too. I loved school. School is where I could go to be safe and happy. School is where the best of friends were. Plus, I still had my sisters even though they were quickly growing up but now I had a beautiful niece too. She was my little playmate.

Separated At Birth?

While I have been working on my life story board book, I noticed that in some of  my childhood pictures that I  bear a close resemblance to someone else that has been in the news lately. I never thought I was a very attractive child. Little or no top lip, hooded eyes, heavy eyebrows. In another place and time, could I have been a princess? Probably not but it is funny, you must admit.




Me at 6 years



Kate Middleton at 5 years

By the way, I think I must have always had the same hairstyle for my entire life. Funny what we notice when we begin reflection.

Story of My Life

I began making a new board board book today. It is a story about my life. I was born long before mothers began scrapbooking. My mother has tons of pictures of my oldest sister. By the time it got to me, there are not so many. This is normal. So I thought I would just make a little book of memories, those things that stand out in my mind.

I did not understand myself so very much when I was younger. As I have grown older, I have had many reconciliations with aspects of myself. Children pay for the sins (mistakes) of their parents. There is no way around it. It comes to us all. The playing field is level that way. No parent ever began parenthood with experience. It is all trial and error. Live and learn.

When I was born and up until I was 5 years old, I had an extremely happy life. Everyday was spent playing, dreaming, more playing, more dreaming and spending time with my three beautiful, older sisters. There was never a shortage of playmates in those days because my sisters and myself were all pretty much playing age. My dad provided us a good life. My mother was a stay at home mom. She cooked three meals a day. She ironed. She cleaned. She sewed our dresses. She took cookies to school for my sister's homerooms. She was the perfect mom.

We went to the First Methodist Church every Sunday that my grandmother was baptized in the year 1900. We came from a long line of Methodists on both sides of my family. Each Sunday morning, all of us little girls would line our shoes up beside my dad's shoes and he would go down the row polishing them all. I always wore a hat and gloves. Two of my sisters always wore big crinoline slips underneath their dresses. One Sunday at church, my sister kept complaining that her slip was scratching her so my mom took it off of her and laid it in the pew beside us. In awhile, I looked around and saw my sister sitting there with her pink crinoline slip on her head like an Indian headress. It was beautiful! I admired it so very much and wished I had a slip to put on my head. Shortly, my mom spotted it and quickly tore it off of her head and laid it back down in the pew. Why, I wondered? It certainly could not have been because it was not a beautiful thing!

Our house was in town and had a wonderful screened in porch that was perfect for playing. My mom has mentioned that screened in porch so many times throughout my life as being a mother's dream for playing kids. We could play in it regardless of the weather. It was shady and cool when it was hot. It was dry when it was raining. We spent hours and hours out on the porch. We would cry at night when mom would tell us we had to come in to go to bed.

As I said, in this phase of my life, everything was good and beautiful. Little did I know then but a cold wind was building that would bring change to my life forever. Nothing would ever be the same. Innocence would be lost. Sadness would cast a long shadow over my life and eventually cross the doorstep. But I would always keep a brave face and keep on plodding as children seemingly do so easily.

I have included a picture of our house then along with a picture of the type of car we had, a 1958 Ford Fairlane. I can so remember driving around with mom in that car while standing up in the front seat. Times have changed. Summer time was the best! Endless summer days of playing time. I have always had a fascination with the moon. On the night I was born, a cold autumn Friday night, there was just a sliver of a waning moon. Plus, did I mention that my sisters and myself all had a cat a piece! My cat's name was Bobby Jack. He was my first love! If a magic fairy appeared suddenly to say that I could return for an hour in time back to the happiest place in my memories, it would be to here. Back to mom, dad, all of my sisters, and little Bobby Jack.

Henry's Song

There are only 30 minutes left in this day and what is it they say about this day? "Laissez les bons temps rouler". I suppose the times rolled for me today because I feel like I have been run over by a steam roller but I wouldn't call much of it good. It was one of those days when you hit the ground running and keep running all day long. I find it ironic they call today fat Tuesday when I had to skip lunch and was so hoping I could have dinner but never found time to have that either. It was easy to count calories today. That would be zero.

However odd this might be for this hectic day, I did discover Henry's song. Remember how everyone in my house has their own song? "I" even have a song. "I" have two songs. That is how this tradition started. Back in the dark ages, I had a boyfriend that told me when he heard this one song, he always thought of me. A funny thing happened. Whenever I heard that song from then on, I thought of ME not him. Years down the road, another boyfriend told me the same thing except it was a different song, of course. As a result, I have two songs. Whenever I hear either of them, I think of ME and neither of those guys. However, that is my nature. It is my nature to move on and move past. I am still here and they are not. Therefore, it is logical that I would think of me and not egotistical or narcissistic.

Can you tell I am tired? ie. all of the rambling about nonsense? That is another trait of my nature. Rambling nonsense when I am tired but not stopping. No, not ever. I am the energizer bunny. I will give up when the battery finally goes completely kaput. I have never written about my late Claude's song. I will save that for another night. Back to Henry...his song. I am sure I have written that Henry always acts like he does not quite fit in here. He always seems willing to be last or to wait his turn while Ollie and Nigel go bananas wanting to be first for everything. I am sure I have mentioned how I have worried about Henry feeling as if he doesn't belong. I was listening to the radio on the way home and I heard his song. I have heard it many times before but it was the first time I realized it was talking about my Hen. It is a song by Pink called "Perfect". There is a profane version of the song but of course, my Hen's song is the clean version. The words that really speak to me about him are "Pretty, pretty please don't you ever, ever feel that you are less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel that you are nothing. You are perfect to me."

Hen is perfect to me as they all are.