Up and Coming

Last night, as the 5 YO could not sleep from inexplicable ear pain, and we fruitlessly tried to comfort him, I wrote a gorgeous post. I mean. Gorgeous.

Then, sleep came to all of us and with it went my lovely little vignette. I wish I could remember what it was to be about. I got nothing. Not even a clue...could have been community, Bible Study, self-talk, finding my niche...who the heck knows.

Since I want to keep my writing mojo going (or to get it started....) here is a little list of goodies I've been working on. Pictures forthcoming...someday.

Totally cool vinyl wall speech bubbles with a cutout of my kids' names. The coolest part is? I can write on them with chalk. Chalk. I know! So each kid has a bubble on the wall in the kitchen and their weekly schedules are posted and updated. And? And? The wall color shows through where the names are cut out. Totally.

Next up I have the cutest oilcloth monogrammed mini yard/garden flag. Is there no end to the cute? Pray tell me no! The one I made for our yard is a big background of black gingham, with a smaller cut of hot pink lace on top of which sits an even smaller slice of black dots boldly emblazoned with a hot pink L...you know for our last name.

Putting the Sweet in Sugar Lake

The Lake. Sugar Lake. A tiny little patch of happy in Pennsylvania where our family has had a cottage, this cottage, for 109 years. I can still see my bare feet, blackened from the hot tar from the road, running up those stairs, a stinky hot mess of a kid loving her summer.

When I'm there, when I think of it, images float into my mind. This is what I see.

• Playing Trivial Pursuit on the screened porch
• Tin cups in bright colors
• Fighting over who would get the turquoise towel
• Carving our names into mushrooms Grandma found with us.
• Wearing my first bikini
• Swimming in the lake, standing on old inner tubes, playing king
• Eating all my favorite foods, nary a thought to my waist line
  

Makes me smile.

Now I live 1000 miles from this childhood idyll and being there is worth ever hard earned mile. My joy comes from two sources. The first is simple remembrance. Some people who have enjoyed the cottage are no longer living, some I haven't seen in over 20 years. The whole family doesn't always get there every summer but no matter who is there, we still, ALWAYS play Trivial Pursuit. Walking in the slamming back door into the kitchen is entering a family museum. My dad's high school art work, my aunt's books, old fishing rods. Even the curtains, made by hand by my great grandmother, still hang.

I'm awash and downright glowy with nostalgia. I've smeared vaseline on the lens of history and only the beautiful remains. But whatever.

Because the second source of joy in being there is watching my kids. Five of the seven cousins scrambled around the yard all day and well into the night on July 4th. The ambled from one activity to the next; from art on the porch to swinging, races in the yard, smoke bombs, fishing, bug catching. The whole bit. They wake up and play. All. Day. Long. And they go to bed tired.

It may sound like I'm romanticizing a pile of wood and glass and nails. Maybe I have. Nothing wrong with a little childhood idyll.

Make New Friends and Keep the Old?

photo credit: Simon Howden

Remember that song? My kids learned it in kindergarten. The song asks us to make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other gold. What if the old friends are also the new friends?

I found myself asking this question all day Tuesday and into Wednesday. My family loaded up the car and hurtled from Tulsa toward Pittsburgh, PA (City of Champions). Since this trip is over 1000 miles, we stop on the way to presevere parental sanity and some semblance of routine; usually we stay at a hotel with a pool. But this year, after reconnecting on Facebook with a long lost friend whose home was almost a midway point, we planned to stay with her.

My emotions jiggled inside me; I was nervous, excited, anxious, giggly, happy and curious. I met Kristin when I was 19 years old, almost 20 years ago. We had an intense friendship over several years of college and wrote and spoke regularly. Then we graduated, married, had babies and lost touch. I wondered during our drive to her house what seeing her again would be like.

I knew the big chunks: kids, marriage, struggles, the usual. But did she still love music? What was her husband like? How about her kids? Would we have anything to talk about? Would my husband feel totally out of place?

Turns out, Kristin, like me, is different than she was all those years ago. And strikingly the same. Thoughtful, intelligent, deliberate and kind. I honestly can't remember what drew me to her in the first place, but I do know what draws me to her now. So I find myself with a brand new old friendship. One that I hope will grow.

Happiness in a Mug

We all have it; that terribly incessant inward groan. Must. Have. Chocolate.

BUT.

It's summer. It's hot. You don't want an ENTIRE cake, just a bite. A nibble really. Microwave cake in a mug to the rescue. Ready in five minutes and guaranteed to meet that chocolate need.

My mother sent me this recipe. I have no idea of its origin. If you do, then do tell. Thanks.

Microwave Chocolate Cake in a Mug

In a large, microwave safe mug, mix
4 Tablespoons flour
4 Tablespoons sugar
2 Tablespoons cocoa

Mix well
and add
1 egg

Mix well again

Now add
3 Tablespoons milk
3 Tablespoons oil
3 Tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
and a splash of vanilla

Mix well and place in microwave. Cook on 1000 watts for 3 minutes. It will rise up in your mug. It's all good, no worries.

Remove from oven and allow to cool for a few minutes (yeah, right!) It will slide right out of the mug and you can start placing it in your face. hothothothotswallow.

You can even share it. Again, yeah, right!

Made one this morning. Kids loved the idea. I love the taste. Let me know if you try it or have variations.

One of the Eight

Earlier this summer, I posted 8 promises I made to myself, thanks to magpiegirl and her fabulous blog.

Here we are, nearing the end of June (!) and I pat my back with some progress. Sadly, some of my progress means grieving. Our sweet dog, Chewy, had to be put to sleep on June 9th after 12 fantastic years with our family. Chewy, you might remember, was a huge old Rotty who thought he was a cat. I called him "E's dragon," because he always slept at the foot of our 5 year old's bed, protecting him.

Sparing the details, suffice it to say his demise was quick and relatively pain free (as far as we know). In a shocking twist, I was charged with this final task, a day of vet's visits and finally the putting down. I say shocking because I am pet-ambivalent. Critters populate this house because I am a sucker for my children. I make sure there is food and they get outside for personal business but that's all they get from me. Love and petting and all that, they get from three happy children.

Turns out, this putting a dog down business is tough, even for the "pet ambivalent." I suppose I find Chewy's connection to our family on a broader plane. My sister-in-law who adopted him witnessed Chewy's birth. He was present and loving when my mother-in-law passed away suddenly and he was a solid soldier friend to my father-in-law in that painful hour of grief after her loss. Chewy seemed like a connection to the past, to people and memories and times that only exist in the ephemera. And so saying goodbye to him was like releasing that tenuous grasp on those vague figures.

I cried like a baby. I blubbered and blubbered. I even took his collar! I stayed right by his big old sad face until he was still and then I stayed some more. I felt a shift in my heart, and I could finally admit that I loved that dumb old dog.

So you see? I am making progress on my 8 promises. I am embracing my inner pet owner. Or maybe the pets are embracing me?

On a Long Leash

If I don't get up at 6(ish) every day to run with our rescue dog, Cooper, he leaves enormous and smelly "presents" for me under my sewing table. No where else in the house. Always directly under where I sit. Since I spend at least an hour a day in my studio I like it to be poop-free. I know, crazy!

I paid the price today. Slept til 7. The rascal left his surprise. I didn't want to risk another, so I laced up the old sneakers and took him out. Running with him is a lot like trying to shop for groceries with a toddler and thank God I'm not doing that anymore. They have to touch everything, explore, pull stuff out, run around, get lost, have tantrums.

Cooper bolts out the door and promptly stops to smell the mailbox. He then eats a few grass blades from the neighbor's yard. There are some flowers down the street he simply must mark. Because he is young dog, and because I have seen his crazy morning excitement, Cooper runs on a leash that extends and retracts. This works best for both of us: I don't have to wait for him and he doesn't have to wait for me. We are always connected.

That's the idea behind a leash. It keeps two parties connected. One of them must hold the leash, keep it stable, make sure the other end doesn't get wrapped around a pole or run off unhindered. The leash holder must know the path, must know when to spur the other on, must know when to stop and wait for the "leashee" to smell that pretty flower or chase that taunting bunny.

This morning as I ran with Cooper I was reminded that as Christians, God gives us a pretty long leash. I don't want to get to literal or too wildly metaphoric about it, but it's true. It's easy for me to get distracted by the next new thing, or what those people over there are doing. I want to go check it out, see what they're up to.

At the end of the day, I'm still on that leash. And I'm cool with that. It's a guide, it's a comfort, it's an anchor that tells me where home is, and that I'm safe, that I'm headed in the right direction. And it's always there. All I have to do is turn around.

I Been Busy

Angela wants a sushi belt for summer. A "sushi belt?" you ask. Yes, a sushi belt. I ordered some sushi fabric up from an etsy seller in Hawaii and made this sweet number. Ribbon lined and interfaced with stiff facing to hold its shape. Two silver toned D rings make the belt fully adjustable.

These little ladies are for my friend Laureen who prefers tea but does not prefer it when her tea bags get sucked into the bottom of her purses. Tea bag wallets are fabric envelopes that will hold your favorite brews in four little pockets. You could probably fit 2 bags in each pocket. Held closed with a ribbon and button.

When I moved to Oklahoma from Pittsburgh, PA, City of Champions, the one thing I could not get used to is the use of the word "sack" for every bag-like apparatus. My spine tingles, and not in a good way, when I hear this word. In honor of my new hometown, Tulsa, I made these poop sack sacks, because, well, they make me laugh. Or the name does. Poop sack sack. Just what it says it is. Clips onto a leash and carries 3-5 disposable bags for poop picking up. Could also be for "diaper bombs" as my sister calls them or even your car for trash. Whatever you need a "sack" (ew) for.
My friend Mary asked for a fabric, behind the door hair doodad organizer for her daughter. She wanted clear pockets and a place for headbands as well. Here is my iteration of that. It hangs on a rod, has a ribbon tool holder (center) and four large vinyl gusseted pockets (and 2 small ones on either end). I thought the hair holders and barrettes would work in the pockets and the headbands could slip into the ribbon. Also, another ribbon or two could be added, as well as more pockets. It can be monogrammed or otherwise customized, and more pockets might make a nice addition as well. Of course, this is just the sample but if you want it, let me know.

Also, the image placement here is giving me a headache, so sorry about the weirdness.

Leave a comment to win a poop sack sack.