Bee's Nest

the dye-vat.

2012-03-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

There a few things I love more than dyeing fabric. You never truly know what gloriousness you'll end up with.

today.

2012-03-05T11:35:00.000-08:00

Woke up and started painting.

Drank a green smoothie with banana, spinach, mango, brewer's yeast, and ginger.

Listened to a beautiful voice.

Made banana, apple, carrot muffins. Devoured three.

Threw a grapefruit into the mix to make up for that last muffin. (Shhh...)

Put up grapefruit vinegar with said grapefruit's peel.

Finished this little abstraction.

Drinking so much coffee.

Not pictured: four loads of laundry lying around, small child running around, showing off his rear for some reason, copious amounts of aged cheddar, sun-filled flurries, alternating between six or seven different novels.

What are you doing today?

a new dress.

2012-03-01T13:10:00.000-08:00

I can't stop making dresses. It's pretty funny because I won't be able to wear this summery concoction for at least another three or four months.

see you next month, lover.

2012-02-26T06:11:00.000-08:00

That's what my husband and I always say to one another when one of our date-weekend's is coming to a close. "See you next month!" It's a humorous spin on the truth: that for being married and living together constantly, we rarely see each other. It's looking as if he'll be shooting loads of weddings this year, so there's a lot of preparation and meetings that go into that. I'll be attempting to start school, so long as my health stays on the up. And Hayden will be starting first grade later this year, while we try to maneuver his bossy-pants attitude.

This weekend we chose to do some flea-marketing and thrifting, something we both adore and can get lost in for hours on end. It's a sickness. I've got to show you all this place, but alas, I didn't bring my camera. I always do this. I don't bring it on the principal that I'd like to be unencumbered, but then always regret it, passing by a million and one perfect candid moments and beautiful stills. Next time for sure.

I passed by dozens of antique, hand-stitched quilts, piles of old, rusty tools, and very old, well-loved dolls. I was searching for a teapot. And wouldn't you know it--I found one!

This thing is enormous. I swear it weights at least five pounds. But she's so cute, I just had to have her. I also found some note-worthy rings (shinies, oh shinies!), some really nice glass bottles, for all the herb oils and vinegar's I'm planning to craft this summer, and a few peasant-style shirts I couldn't pass up. To bad I couldn't afford the suite of 1700 Victorian sitting room furniture, all black wood and black velvet cushions. I hadn't brought almost a thousand dollars with me...

I'm off to the store; will be getting ingredients for chicken soup. I think I'll start a loaf of wheat bread rising before I head out. Today will be lots of tea, homemade bread with butter, video games with the boy, maybe a few chores, a little yoga, a little bible-reading. Have a good Sunday all.

stitches and words.

2012-02-23T05:45:00.000-08:00

First there was this:

Then yesterday there was this:

I do so love when the inspiration just flows freely. You sit there and sit there and it's just this big white wall in your head, and then suddenly--whoosh!--in come the idea's!

Today's temperature is supposed to reach around sixty (!), so I fully intend spending most of this day outdoors, setting up a spot for myself on an old quilt, surrounding myself with my papers and threads and glues, a few good books, my sketchbook, and maybe a fruit smoothie. Happy Thursday folks!

2012-02-21T09:35:00.000-08:00

Hayden turned six over the weekend. We threw a big party with a giant cake and homemade ice cream and green crepe paper strung up all over. Our house was bursting at the seams with family. Good times. Great times actually.

My husband and I were discussing how, in those first three (yes, three) sleepless years of Hayden's early life, we fantasized of making it to this time, this age, where he would still need us, but also be more independent. Oh, and sleep through the night. We looked forward to that too.

And here we are. I know every mother says this, but I can't believe that we're here. We made it. We have a beautiful, little happy family....such a challenging ride, but so worth it.

**Hop on over to my friend Willow's new website www.theivyplumcollection.com if you have a moment. She asked me to write a bit for it, and it really is the loveliest community of inspiring and creative women. Check it out!

every two minutes.

2012-02-14T11:09:00.000-08:00

In the United States, someone will be sexually assaulted every two minutes.

60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police.

15% of sexual assault victims are under the age of twelve.

While I drank my coffee this morning, someone was being raped. While I brushed my teeth, someone was being raped. While I applied my eyeliner, someone was being raped. Waiting to pick up my son from school: that amounted to five people being raped.

(By the way, I do like Valentine's Day. But I am choosing to get involved and bring awareness to an issue that very few seem to want to discuss. My friend Jennifer has inspired me to get moving.)

This is an issue that is close to me, though not in an expected way. My husband was molested and raped by his half-brother from the ages of six to twelve. I have seen first-hand the devastating effects of such abuse, and how it can literally destroy a person.

Please get involved. Go to www.vday.org, and donate to this cause if you can. And if you've experienced violence against you, please speak. Tell your story. Silence gets us nowhere.

cuppa-cakes.

2012-02-12T11:39:00.000-08:00

Today we made Valentine's Day cupcakes, using this recipe, by Nigella Lawson. This is the recipe I go back to over and over again, especially when making cupcakes with the boy. They're moist, buttery, vanilla-infused confections that can be decorated in any way, for any holiday. The most important detail is to cut off any rounded tops you might get, so that the icing has a nice, flat surface to spread out on.

An added bonus of making cupcakes two days prior to Valentine's Day, is that I get to make something chocolate-laden on the actual day of. Got to have something to wet your appetite, right?

Now go kiss someone you love!

run lola run.

2012-02-09T12:16:00.000-08:00

I first started running in 7th grade. I was sort-of-chubby and had rather large breasts, so it probably wasn't the easiest choice of physical activity to participate in. I was carrying a lot of weight.

In 8th grade I joined the track team. I ran for a year, won nothing, and quit.

The summer before my freshman year of high school, my appendix burst and abcessed into my colon. I almost died/was supposed to be dead. I definitely did not run for a long time after that.

I began to dance when I was almost fifteen. I came to it late, trained ridiculously hard, and became damn good. I really was.

At almost sixteen, I became ill again. In and out of hospitals for months and months. I was diagnosed with possible Crohn's disease, which has since been discredited. So it's one big mystery, even now. Again, I wasn't running. Or dancing. Or really doing anything other than surviving.

I took myself off medication that I was convinced was making me sicker. I slowly became better.

Fast-forward to eighteen. I'm still dancing, working, considering moving to Seattle to pursue dance education. Then I get sick--yes, again--and on top of that, started having more frequents bouts of immobilizing neck pain, mostly aggravated by my dancing.

sigh.

So.

Now, here I am. Recently diagnosed with severe anemia (so severe that the doctor's actually could not understand how I even managed to get out of bed), still having a horrendous time with my neck, and still occasionally sick with the mysterious stomach difficulties. Oh, and my uterus hates me, but that's another story.

I began running again last year, on a whim. I had managed to keep in reasonable shape, through barre work, walking, and eating healthily. But because of my neck I couldn't (and still can't) full-OUT dance, like, REALLY dance. Where you sweat and sweat and sweat and toss your head around and lift your leg over your head and fall to the floor. Yeah, I can't really do that anymore. But I needed something. Not only more effective cardio, but some way that I could physically express my joy with like I did through my dancing.

How the hell do you express joy while running?

I know. It sounds strange. And it definitely wasn't joyous for those first few months. I mean...wow. I was out. of. shape. Terribly. But I stuck with it. Even if it was only twice a week, I stuck with it.

And cried while my calves cramped every night. Ugh. I hated running.

But here I am now. And now means: On the weekend, either Saturday or Sunday, I bundle up and go out in the afternoon for my run. I either go all over my (very hilly) town, or I go a few blocks over to the mile-long rail-trail, where these pictures were taken.

And you know what? I love it. I absolutely love it. My legs are strong, from my thighs to my ankles and feet. My lungs are warriors, no longer huffing and puffing, but breathing steadily. My heart pounds, thanking me. This feeling of strength is new to me. Strength. I am not used to being strong. I'm used to being the weak one, the sick one, the one that always needs help. Some of that is still true, at least some of the time.

But.

I can run. I can't dance, and yes, that makes me sad. Actually, it's devastating. But I can run. And I can run well. How awesome. Me, who otherwise seems to just flounder physically.

I am a runner.

those backward P's.

2012-02-05T15:03:00.000-08:00

Is there anything better than a small boy ever-so-carefully scribbling away at his father's birthday card?

No, I really don't think there is.

One of the things I so looked forward to with having a child was thinking ahead to a time where we would create birthday cards and stories and pictures together. A child's writing is pure magic, in my opinion. All the little squiggly letters, backwards and inside-out.

I mean, c'mon. Look at that. Adorable. Even if you don't have children, even if you never want them, a handwritten "happy birthday" from a child is, I think, on the life list of best things ever, along with dark chocolate, amazing coffee, and handmade art.

The birthday was a success by the way. Just a small dinner at my mother's house, finished off with homemade whoopie pies in lieu of cake. I had two. I really didn't need that last one. At all. They sort of...stick with you, if you catch my drift.

The boy's birthday is in about two and a half weeks. He would like a Star Wars themed festival, replete with a Darth Vader cake and "music with dancing". I am tempted to break out the hula-hoop's. I only want one thing, and that is to not pull my neck out again or break my foot or crash my car, so that I can actually plan a fun gathering. Everyone please pray to your respective deities that this will work out.

ouchie.

2012-01-30T12:22:00.000-08:00

I haven't written anything in length about my life lately because...well, I'm just not sure how truly interested ya'll are in my spine and my meds and my iron levels and things of that nature. Because that's honestly what most of my life has consisted of recently. Which is horrible--I don't think I've ever felt more boring, with the exception of my hospital stays when I was young.

Anyway, long story short, I pinched a nerve in my neck AGAIN, about a week and a half ago, so of course, I've been stuck inside, resting a lot, taking a lot of really terrible medication, not driving, not going ANYWHERE, and just generally pulling my hair out whilst trying to take care of my 5-year-old son. I saw a neck specialist at the beginning of the month who couldn't have been less interested, I'll tell you that, so my options are still up in the air. I'm thinking I may try accupuncture next? I don't know. Have any of you tried this? If so, was it helpful?

I'm a lot better now, able to move and exercise again. Life is tough though because I know, eventually, this will just happen again. It could be tomorrow or three months from now.

I'm going to tell you something else: bedrest is good for getting some painting done.

*sketchbook: critters, watercolor and ink*

*water and mountains: paper, mixed media, acrylic on canvas*

*ink and watercolor on book paper*

And now for what's left after any of my various illnesses and injuries: about seven loads of laundry, the cooking-up of real food for my boys (I feel the need to make up for the amount of spaghetti-o's and mcdonald's consumed), some thrift shopping, and some precious time spent with family.

*Thank God my husband actually DOES things. Lots of things. I can not imagine being married to a lazy bum who doesn't lift a finger to help. Speaking of the husband, his birthday is in 7 days!! Looks like I'll be crafting up some gifts as well.

true story.

2012-01-28T18:38:00.000-08:00

I fell in love with his hands before I fell in love with the rest of him.

self-portrait: january

2012-01-24T13:54:00.000-08:00

2012-01-21T06:23:00.000-08:00

I could live on pancakes. I really could...it's sort of disturbing. Whether they're the healthy whole-grain version, as pictured above, or full of chocolate chips and laden with butter. I could eat pancakes every single day of my life and never get bored. EVER.

Not doing so well folks. Pray for me?

2012-01-12T11:27:00.000-08:00

Whew. I'm sitting down with a cup of two o'clock coffee, a clementine, and a piece of buttered toast, giving my very fatigued arms a rest. It's been a cheerfully busy day--a great morning workout, oatmeal with grated apple and raisins, vacuumming, dusting, sweeping, an egg and veggie sandwich, picking up the forty-five thousand Lego starwars pieces strewn about the house, and putting our new flannel sheets on the bed. Now I sit and realize how pooped I am, listening to the washer chug away. But look at that list! I did all that! Every day I get new revelations that the iron is taking effect, that I am becoming well. I accomplish a whole list of tasks before I've even given thought to it and then--whoosh! I realize that I am actually walking around and doing lots of shit like a normal person. It's a good feeling, one that I can honestly say I've never had before.

Other goodness has happened today: new tires on the car (this makes my husband happier than I, but if he's happy, then I'm happy), putting on the good old Surfer Rosa album, sorting out my ever-growing collection of feathers from small to large, receiving a letter from a beautiful friend, and enjoying the air--oh the air! I keep going outside to swallow it up in big gulps. Cool but warm at the same time and just lovely. It feels like spring.

I think I'll go take the small one out into said air for a walk, then maybe have something fun for dinner--pancakes, anyone? With pecans and banana's? Mmmm. Indeed. After that, the store for a few items, then home to homework and bath/bedtime and a very large glass of wine for this girl.

What are your plans for the weekend?

a gift from nature.

2012-01-10T14:41:00.000-08:00

Found these while running the other day. So far the new year has been no more or less rough than the previous one.

I think God has funny and beautiful ways of cheering us up.

new work.

2012-01-04T10:25:00.000-08:00

"everything has a soul"--acrylic/watercolor/book paper on recycled book cover

i love books. really.

2011-12-31T14:23:00.000-08:00

Check out what I found at the Salvation Army. Have I mentioned I love that place?

A very young guy shopper was checking me out...you know, kind of trying to get me to look at him in return. Of course I'm sighing and trying to telepathically tell him to GET OUT OF THE FRIGGIN WAY because I am trying to look at books.

I wonder if this is why I had trouble getting dates when I was single?

new year.

2011-12-28T17:36:00.000-08:00

*kitchen*

Thoughts are kind of doing a marble-roll in my brain tonight. How 2012 is here. How, without really trying to, I'm handling the promise of a new year in a completely different way. I'm not really making "resolutions" anymore. I used to make lists, like everyone else, of things I wanted to acheive or eliminate and, like everyone else, I never stuck to these lists and sometimes threw them away in frustration.

I'm not sure that I really expect anything anymore. And I don't mean that in a hopeless way, not at all. But...let's just say that I am letting go. I am letting go of having so much damn expectation about everything. I am letting go of hate and trouble and difficulty. I am letting these things fall through my fingers like sand, so that I can make all kinds of room for more good in the new year.

I do have a few things I've been a little obsessed with lately. I'm feeling much better, and there's a good chance my health might continue to improve, so....wow, that right there just opens up a whole new set of doors. The word school is jigging around up there. I'm exploring my options and doing my research, but being extra careful to not put too much stake into anything.

Usually when my brain is so full, I get all frantic and panicky and weird. But this is a different full. It's good stuff. I'm not judging my own experience in any way, and that feels wonderful. (I think that releasing ceremony might have gone a little deeper than I already knew.)

Also, spring will be here before we know it, and there will be flowers again. So that's something to think about, isn't it?

book page ornaments.

2011-12-24T06:54:00.000-08:00

These will be the party favors for my Christmas day brunch. Everyone will get one on their plate, and each are completely unique.

book paper, thread, seam binding, squares of an old pastel sketch i didn't like

Have a good Christmas everyone. :)

bye bye shadow.

2011-12-23T06:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was exciting. I did my very first releasing ceremony and my husband participated with me. I learned from the beautiful Pixie Campbell and her Mother of All Releasing Ceremonies. What an amazing teacher this wonderful woman has become, not just to me, but to so many women around the country (and a few willing men too).

strips of paper for my releasing wishes

in the end, i had quite a few

we gathered our materials: our wishes, lavendar, and tobacco

we put them in the woodstove

release!!!

we said a prayer as the bundles burned. then we watched them turn to ash.

I have to say, this felt really good. What made it even better was knowing that so many other amazing people were doing the exact same thing with the exact same intention. Powerful stuff, I tell you! I'm definitely doing this every year. My thanks goes out to Pixie, for introducing me to this and so many other wonderful things.

And now, rest. Because I have actually come down with a cold.

night-walking.

2011-12-20T07:25:00.000-08:00

health and wealth.

2011-12-16T20:52:00.000-08:00

Well folks, it's official. We are having a poor Christmas this year. I don't even mind it really, except when I'm looking at all these stylish blogs where stylish people are purchasing stylish gifts for their stylish friends. So let's just avoid those, shall we?

Maybe I shouldn't say poor, I should say "handmade". Because that is actually true. This year, I will be hosting a Christmas morning pancake breakfast, and every person will have a completely different ornament on their place setting, made out of book paper, of course. I'll post a picture of those as soon as they're done.

This year we're really trying to put the emphasis on Jesus, especially for Hayden. Explaining that Christmas is his birthday and all that. I'm trying to get him into the whole story, Mary and Joseph and the angel from heaven, and he likes it, but he also likes Santa Claus. And I'm conflicted about this--I don't want to steal that childhood Santa Claus magic. So I'm sort of letting that slide, but making sure I teach him about what Christmas really is.

For those of you wondering--and you were, I'm sure--about the current status of my health, let's just say that I'm improving. Not quite where doctors want to see me yet but that will take more time. I'm still anemic, but maybe just not deathly so at this point. As for my shitty excuse of a neck, I'll be seeing an orthopedic specialist next Friday. I've been praying for the right hands, and hopefully these will be. We'll see.

I recently finished taking an e-course by the glorious Madelyn Mulvaney, and I feel the need to shamelessly promote this woman. Her Persisting Soul course woke something up in me that's been buried for a long while. What can I say? I look back at my life and see a lot of pain. I know, isn't that sad? But it's true. And a lot of pain and sadness can make it a little hard to see the beauty that's all around. I think I just got tired. Like, really, soul-achingly, sand-for-bones tired. I stopped looking. For anything. But I did pray.

"Lord, please send me something to make me feel again."

And then along came Maddie. Just like that. If you need a pick-me-up, or just need to flex some creative muscle, then PLEASE, for the love of whatever, take one of her e-courses. You will not regret the decision, I absolutely promise you.

*taken for Persisting Soul, week 1*

Another thing this course did was got me writing again. The images I gathered inspired poems, which eventually inspires short stories. I'm proud to say that I'm once again sending my writing out into the universe, hoping for a good response. It's been a long time.

So life is good lately. And terrible. And strange. And quite beautiful. Ever-shifting.

ooooohh, i'm still alive...

2011-12-14T20:03:00.000-08:00

That's a song by Pearl Jam, in case you didn't know. Sigh. Dork.

Anyway, I'm still here friends! Just going through a lot of rough stuff. See that? It's underlined. Which means it's pretty major. I don't bother moving my hand to click the underline icon thingy very often.

An update of much more substance coming soon.

starry night.

2011-12-01T09:36:00.000-08:00

mine

hayden's

bittersweet.

2011-11-26T15:50:00.000-08:00

We spent Thanksgiving at my grandparents house. I walked around after dinner, looking at all their treasures, a lifetime's worth of stuff. I couldn't help but have the thought that this could be the last year I get to walk around their house like that. But I hope not.

2011-11-20T06:54:00.000-08:00

As the holidays approach, I like to get busier and busier. I'm working on my first quilt, making construction paper turkeys and christmas trees with Hayden, making healthy chili, adding vintage trims and buttons to some of my worn-out clothes to make them new again, and filling out antique christmas cards. But throughout all this, I'll have to remember to pace myself a bit. I also have a lot of doctor's appointments and medical tests this coming week, which usually means one thing: burn-out. And I don't want to be burned-out for Thanksgiving. There is pie to be eaten.

But today--glorious Sunday--shall be a wonderful day, if I have anything to do with it. I will wear my green dress and plum cardigan and tall boots, and I will drink too much cinnamon coffee, and I will take my husband and son to a Peter Pan show later. We will watch people "fly" and maybe have some gooey grilled cheeses afterwards. At least, I hope this is an approximation of how the day will go. I could really use a good day.

Or maybe I'll just go back to bed.

sail away.

2011-11-15T13:25:00.000-08:00

yellow.

2011-11-11T05:51:00.000-08:00

.

2011-11-05T19:20:00.000-07:00

The sun was shining through the big window, so bright my eyes watered. My skin felt infused with warmth and like it was golden, even though it isn't. I forgot what I'm not and remembered what I am.

Where and how do you feel beautiful?

rosemary loaf cake.

2011-11-02T07:10:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year, this heading into winter, if for no other reason than this one: it gives me an excuse to bake excessively. I find myself giving away cookies and biscuits and halved loaves of homemade bread because there is seriously no way we can eat all of this by ourselves.

One of my favorite cookbooks is How To Be A Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson. Ahh Nigella, you do truly own a piece of my heart with your witty anecdotes and your habit of (very) shamelessly going back for seconds...thirds. She's such a babe, isn't she? Quite bodacious, and her recipes are out-of-this-world delicious, even the more humble ones.

One of the recipes in this book I always go back to is her rosemary loaf cake. This is a beautiful cake, so aromatic and comforting, with an interesting mix of sweet and savory flavors. It goes incredibly well with tea or strong coffee, or, if you're my son, chocolate milk. I've learned over time to let it sit for 2 days before even tasting it--a true exercise in will-power if there ever was one. But seriously, try to wait. It's gloriousness isn't quite there right after its baked. Just eat your weight in cheese or something while the cake sits and becomes amazingly damp and dense. Yum.

Rosemary Loaf Cake

1 cup plus 2 tbsp soft unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 1/3 cups self-rising cake flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
about 2 tsp chopped rosemary needles
4 tbsp milk
1-2 tbsp brown or white sugar

9 x 5 inch loaf pan, buttered and lined with parchment

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Cream soft butter and sugar.
Beat in eggs one at a time, folding in a spoonful of flour after each addition. Add the vanilla. Fold in the rest of the flour, then the rosemary. Thin the batter with the milk. Pour into the prepared pan, sprinkle the top with sugar and bake for about an hour. Cool cake in its pan. Serves 8-10.

~~~

trick.

2011-10-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

the door.

2011-10-24T06:50:00.000-07:00

Every time I go for a walk or jog I pass by this really dilapidated shed/barn hybrid. It has the arched door you see above. The lock has been in that sideways position for as long as I've lived in the area, so apparently no one goes in or out.

So I basically want to break into the place now, just to see what's behind the door. I don't know. I'm a pretty decent citizen, but I've always had a fascination with entering places I'm not supposed to be in. Not to steal or vandalize, but just to look.

When I was a teenager I used to break into old abandoned houses, barns, once even a church (blasphemy!), again, just to have a look around. I was never caught, which is just sheer dumb luck on my part. I think there's a part of me that's always hoping to run into a ghost because I'm stupid.

Oh, speaking of the church. I did that one with a friend. It was all boarded up, but the boards were all rotted through, so we took one off of one window and climbed in. It was a really small, old church, almost like a one-room school house. But here's what I'll never forget: the entire place was black. At first I thought it was painted, but once my eyes had adjusted, I realized that there had been a fire at one time. All the old wooden pews were completely charred, as was everything else. It was incredibly eerie. Also cold, which is strange, considering this was the middle of the summer.

Now I'm a mother and want to set a good example, so I don't break into property that isn't mine anymore.

But I still want to.

2011-10-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

sketchbook--line drawing.

2011-10-15T06:11:00.000-07:00

news.

2011-10-12T06:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was diagnosed with extremely severe anemia. I'm starting treatment and I will let you all know if I start to feel better.

This explains so much...why I've felt so incredibly tired and sick.

If any of you believe in God and would like to pray for me, I'd really appreciate it. <3

slow weekend.

2011-10-09T06:37:00.000-07:00

I've had the flu all weekend. I managed to get some chores done, sitting down in between each task.

Everything feels more surreal when you have the flu. You know what I mean--your head is sort of spinning. I felt like a leaf that could have blown away with the wind. I sat and watched the laundry ripple for a long time.

Our tree out front is finally changing color.

Sometimes I'll throw a blanket down and lay underneath it, especially on a windy day like this one. I like to lay in the spot where the sun shines through the leaves and blinds your eyes for a second at a time. I love that. It makes me think of glitter floating around in the air.

2011-10-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

If I could deliver these flowers to my friend Nina in person, I would.

i am disgusted/thankful.

2011-10-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

art set--found out for the trash by the husband

I have been dumpster-diving and trash-picking for about 8 years and I still can not believe the things that people will throw away.

it's friday...

2011-09-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

...and I couldn't be happier that this week is over. I am going to go sip some whiskey, watch Ms. Pettigrew Lives For A Day, and pass out joyfully.

Happy Friday loves.

recovery/preparation.

2011-09-25T07:12:00.000-07:00

I do not love winter as a whole. I love the first snowfall, like most of us do, I love bundling up and walking outside and hearing...nothing. That quiet that is almost eerie. But I do not love that it lasts for months and that we struggle to keep the house warm.

But I do love the preparation. I've been puttering around the house, cleaning, making broths to freeze, cutting up old felted wool sweaters to make brightly-colored leg and arm warmers, considering making some heavy curtains for our flimsy windows. Nothing too intensive, as my neck is still healing and very, very vulnerable to injury right now. But enough that I feel like I'm useful again.

We picked the last of the tomatoes and I said my final goodbye to summer. It's been such a bloody difficult one--I can't say I'll really miss it.

Today:

- easing myself back into yoga, very slowly, very gently.
- eating tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
- possibly painting something.
- watching an early Harry Potter movie with my small one.
- missing my husband.

only what i can do.

2011-09-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

On days like today, I hurt. I can't turn my head to the left or right. I can't take a breathe without wincing. I can't cook pancakes for my boys, I can't go for my jog, I can't stand, can't sit, can't lay. I am bursting with agony and discomfort. There is not a thing anyone can do.

After a while--maybe because of the immense fatigue that comes with high amount of physical pain--the stabbing feeling just IS. It is there. It is huge. It is not leaving. I accept this, though I don't know how. It's amazing what the human body can physically adapt to. I hurt therefore I am.

There is only what I can do: sit and hurt. Lay and hurt. And watch my boy play blocks. That is all I can do, right now, in this moment. Watch. Notice that his hair is turning the exact same shade mine was when I was small. Notice that he can now write the word "the". Notice that he can get himself a yogurt from the fridge or a pear from the fruit bowl.

I cry. Sometimes in privacy, sometimes out in the open. Pain will lay waste to inhibition, will devastate pride. I have no pride anymore.

breaking up with bitchy.

2011-09-15T10:27:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot happening over the last month or so here. Things that I'd rather not mention in the internet world. I have a fine line of what I share, one that is very loosely defined, but I definitely know it when I feel it. I know what I'll share or explain, and what I'll leave to interpretation.

So let's ignore the what and focus on who. Moi. All of what's been happening has caused me to take a deep and very scary look inward. Not even a handful of days ago, I had a realization:

I do not like who I am becoming.

I realized that I'm turning into the type of woman who, for example, instead of enjoying playing with my son, is instead worrying about cleaning up the mess of play only 5 minutes into building towers. The type of woman who incessantly nags her husband because, hey, he does things a little differently than her. The type of woman who gets annoyed when said husband is listening to music and dancing around joyfully.

I am annoyed by my husbands joy.

What?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with me? Honestly!?1

It's clear to me that I am trying to exert control over pretty much everything in my life. What I can't figure out is why.

Actually, maybe I can.

My father--completely estranged from me--recently found me on my Facebook page and sent me a friend request. I can't say I'm actually that surprised. These days, everyone has a Facebook account. I had even checked at one time to see if he was on there, floating around in cyberspace. He wasn't, not when I looked, but has once again resurfaced in my life at a completely unexpected time.

My father completely unhinges me as a person. That is the honest truth.

This man, who at no other time makes ANY effort to contact me, now wants to have a shallow internet relationship. (I'm well aware that maybe he thinks that Facebook might open up to other things, but he seems to be forgetting that HE HAS TO PICK UP A PHONE AND ACTUALLY DIAL THE NUMBERS TO CALL ME.)

Anywho...I know how scattered and weird this blog entry is and I apologize. I am scattered and weird, so what can you do?

But the above has been bothering me--very, VERY much. I seem to always step into the same box when I'm having my daddy-issues: I become controlling, unattentive, obsessed with the weirdest, most unimportant details, and bitchy. Examples?

Hmmm...oh, you know. Ridiculous crap. Like, "Hayden, put the friggin' M&M's back. You can't have them. You'll turn into an obese person." (Yes, like RIGHT NOW. Like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka. I'm a fucking idiot.)

Or maybe my husband trying to cheer me up by taking me out for lunch or trying to joke around or tickle me. And I just respond SO well. Oh yes! You know, I marvel at my iron will when it comes to this. You could hand me a million dollars and a nanny and a new ass and I would still be a bitch.

So yes...I've been wondering what is wrong with me. Am I imbalanced? Do I have a hormonal issue? Do I consume too much animal flesh and caffeine? (Probably yes, to all three.)

It's enough. If my beautiful little boy asks me to dance with him to Lady Gaga and I refuse, simply because I just don't FEEL like it, then IT. IS. ENOUGH. I can't take myself anymore. I have been so bloody off-balance for a while now, and even though I know exactly what to do to heal myself, I haven't been doing it because I'm a sulky, LAZY ASS.

The remedies are actually pretty simple:

- stop drinking 45 cups of coffee a day. Too much coffee is known to make people extremely irritable, especially when the body is coming down off the caffeine and--BOOM!--crashes hard. One cup in the morning, then green tea or yerba mate the rest of the day.

- get back into yoga. In what reality do I live that I think yoga is not a necessity for me? I am the world's most anxious person, always tearing my cuticles apart and pacing around, and when I do yoga regularly I am actually normal. I am calm. I can think rationally. I did yoga the past two days after not doing it for, I don't know, a month and a half? I honestly wondered how I could punish myself by living without it.

- go vegan. At least for a while. I've never been a full-on vegetarian, but I do like to cleanse occasionally with an all-vegan diet. This I have not done in....I don't know. My body is fueled with the flesh and proteins of other living creatures, a lot of salt, some butter, and ginger ale for the resulting stomach cramps. Very little that is of the earth. To myself I say: Idiot woman.

- journal. Like, you know, a journal that NO ONE reads. Ever. A journal where I am free to spout even more self-indulgently than here. Where I can get it OUT. Whatever "it" might be at the moment. (Ramblings about my idiot-father? Could be!)

That's it. Simple. And I haven't been doing it. I am a moron. I am treating myself and everyone around me like crap because of my negligence. Granted, I haven't been doing it for very long, but I don't care. I was raised in an environment where, if you were tired or bored or unhappy, it gave you reason to treat everyone around you horribly, WHICH IS SUCH UTTER BULLSHIT AND I WILL NOT REPEAT THIS CYCLE.

Today was day one. I danced with my son and chased him with my "scary face" and goofed-off with him. Tonight I plan on actually shaving and seducing my husband. I might even give him a foot massage, who knows?

And--Lord please help me with this one--I am going to stop complaining. I am a blessed woman. No matter how determined I am to be unhappy, there is NO WAY around that fact. I have a home that I painted with any colors I chose. I have enough food to eat--even if there's a week here and there where we live off of pancakes and eggs and brown rice. I have a husband who isn't perfect, but who loves me so much it can make him cry openly (and who also does laundry). I have a brother who is me, if I were tall and male.

No more. No mas. I'm done. I know it sounds corny as hell, but I am breaking up with bitchy.

sketchbook--Alice.

2011-09-11T16:01:00.000-07:00

hayden and the butterfly.

2011-09-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

I love this. I love that when it's just my son and I spending time together, I get to see a beautifully sensitive side of him. No rough-housing, no screaming, no crazy, just him and his amazing curiosity for all things small.

He was very upset over the butterfly's injured wing. Poor guy.

self-portrait: dreaming.

2011-09-04T10:24:00.000-07:00

painting silk.

2011-09-03T14:05:00.000-07:00

I never realized what a dream painting silk is. The paint just gently bleeds into the fabric in such a beautiful way.

smitten: Alexander Tinei

2011-09-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

Alexander Tinei via pinterest

Alexander Tinei makes amazing paintings, often "tattooed" with blue. The one above is my favorite--I truly wish I had it hanging on my wall.

To see more, go here.

first day.

2011-09-02T06:35:00.000-07:00

Usually, my son suffers from a bit of separation anxiety, especially if Daddy is present. So we naturally expected the worst on his first day of school.

Just goes to show (once again) how kids continually surprise. This little guy was jazzed. He did little jigs while he ate his cereal. He got dressed willingly. He strapped that backpack on with pride.

We're on day 3 now and he loves it. Loves school. Loves his teacher. He has something new to excitedly show us everyday.

I am a tired and proud mommy.

today.

2011-08-29T07:51:00.000-07:00

Today there will be coffee. A lot of coffee. We are gearing up for kindergarten on Wednesday. The new Star Wars backpack sits atop Hayden's dresser, waiting to be filled with endless paperwork. We will pick his outfit later, together.

It's been a strange summer, full of violent weather, but I'm still sad to see it go.

sketchbook--strawberries.

2011-08-23T18:20:00.000-07:00

we jammin'...

2011-08-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

Today I am making blackberry jam.

I might also be listening to a mix of Bob Marley, Kings of Leon, and Bon Iver.

I could be trying to cheer myself up.

Sometimes you lose someone close to you--and not in the permanent sense--and you start to see them everywhere. Not "them" in their body, walking around, but "them" in the objects you're surrounded with. The vintage purse, the pair of shoes, the pile of pink fabric that will never be sewn into tiny, little-girl clothes.

Sometimes there is absolutely nothing you can do about the situation. You cry and your husband hugs you for a while and then you decide to eat your feelings so you make some jam and slather it on a thick piece of bread with butter.

You have tea.

You're still sad, but not as sad.

Basic Jam Recipe

Ingredients:
- any quantity of any kind of berries you love
- sugar
- water

Put a splash of water in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and turn the heat to med/high. Put your fruit in and bring it to a nice bubble. Cover the fruit with a thin layer of sugar and mix in. Let it bubble away for about 30 minutes, checking on it to make sure it doesn't burn or stick. You can add more sugar or less depending on your taste. Less sugar will make a runnier jam because it's the sugar that thickens the fruits juices into a syrup.

Once you've got it to the consistency and taste you're looking for, turn it off and let cool before putting into jars.

Life always gets better. Eventually.

sometimes i write (about tablecloths).

2011-08-16T06:04:00.000-07:00

Imagine linen,
not as an object but
as a feeling:
A falling over your hands
and wrists fluidly,
watering you, feathered.
Whisper-soft in
its parachuting down,
sliding off scratched wood.
Carried to the wash room;
armful of plush peonies.
A thousand words and stains
bleached-out to silk.

mommy/wife feelings.

2011-08-08T14:52:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy mommy-blogs. Especially if the mommy's writing them are a little bit like me, creative types who paint/sew/sculpt/doodle/photograph while trying to keep their kids from the brink of insanity and also keep their husbands happy. I love seeing different parenting styles and picking up tips from mom's-who-know about rainy-day activities, and first days of school, and healthy-but-they-won't-know-that meals.

I don't see a lot of the other side though...the struggle of being a mother and wife and trying to keep everyone happy. Not perfect, but happy and functioning and on some type of schedule. And finding time to create and knowing that if you do the house is going to fall apart even more than it already is, and you just have to ignore it. Or not and go into cleaning-nazi mode and be pissed off at everyone because they aren't really chipping in that much.

Sigh.

I feel silly. I love my life but am so annoyed by it so much of the time. Does that makes sense? Actually, I don't just feel silly. I feel like a raging bitch a lot of the time, like I have snakes writhing around all over my head. Hayden don't do that, Hayden don't do that, Hayden stop touching that, Hayden you can't have that right now, no no no, honey, please don't give him that, honey he can't have ice-cream right now, I'm putting dinner on the table. And on it goes. I think I get tired of being the one who scolds alllllllllll the time. If I had a native american name it would be She-Who-Yells-With-The-Scratchy-Throat.

Sometimes though--miracle of miracles--both the husband and the boy are gone at the same time. I KNOW. And then I'll finish up the laundry, and put the final touches on that painting that's been sitting in my studio for about 2 weeks untouched, or I'll go on a sewing marathon, or I'll go for a really long run, or I'll go away and won't tell anyone where I'm going or that I've even been anywhere in the first place. And it feels so good, sometimes I just get down on my knees and thank God for the solitude.

The funny part of this is that usually, no more than two or three hours into being alone, I start to miss them. I start to get lonely and distracted and a little bothered by the silence in the house. I have to laugh because when I'm in the thick of the madness, when it's been one thing after another for what seems like forever, I'll say, "Oh my God, what I wouldn't give for a week to myself."

But I wouldn't even last a week.

i've been busy...

2011-08-01T17:51:00.000-07:00

painting walls in the studio

making/altering clothes

painting (always)

eating delicious, healthy food

and spending a lot of time with these nerds

So the far, it's been a good summer (especially considering that there is no vacation in sight this year). But we're making due--cooking out with friends and family, busting our butts gardening and sprucing up the house. I continue to paint and stitch, hub continutes to click his camera, and the boy torments us (lovingly, of course) through it all.

I don't have too much on the agenda this week. Work on a few new purses and a pair of linen pants, cuddle up with the boy and watch movies, go for some sunset runs. Ambitious, I tell you.

What are you planning this week/weekend?

Today...

2011-07-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

Remember those plans I'd made for taking self-portraits of the clothing I've been making and blahblahblah? Well, they were swiftly abandoned and taken over by an art-date with an old soul whom I love very much. Someone I'm very happy to call "friend".

The wild thing about plans changing unexpectedly is that--at least most of the time--the end result turns out to be exactly what your soul needed.

Nothing more than paint, music, and conversation. (Oh, and maybe a little thrift shopping, just for a breather.)

After a tearful and arduous week, I'm going to bed tonight feeling blessed and relieved.

Happy Saturday to you all. <3

the latest...

2011-07-13T06:40:00.000-07:00

On our side of town:

- my new sewing machine (it's this one) works like a friggin' dream. I finished my first skirt yesterday. I'm really trying to take my time and learn how to do everything professionally, like finishing seams, etc. I'm also really trying not to get ahead of myself, but I can't help but think I'm one step closer to opening up an Etsy or BigCartel shop for handmade clothing.

- we are gearing up to send Hayden to kindergarten. He starts the 31st of August. Everyone keeps telling me that I'm going to cry, but I don't know. Mostly I'm just nervous. I'm also preparing myself for the inevitable week of his crying and separation anxiety that's bound to happen.

- I am loving Hannah's blog, Whiskey Shores. She just finished her schooling in fibers (my kind of gal), and does some really amazing textile work. Definitely check out her online shop too!

- our garden is slowly producing. We have tons of tomatoes, although only one has fully ripened. We also have a teeny baby watermelon, which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. The herbs are in full force, and thankfully so. My tummy has been especially sensitive lately, so that mint and lavender is really coming in handy.

- we are considering a trip to the beach. We had said no to it this year, that we would buckle down and save some money, but that was before an unexpected (and cheap) opportunity for a place to stay came our direction. I'm actually really hoping we can because, well...Pennsylvania winters are sort of long, and a beach trip always seems to soften that blow.

*On another note, I do believe I'm getting this Saturday completely to myself! I know! What I'd actually like to do is model some of the things I've been making and post some pictures, since I'll have the time to screw around. Keep your eyes open--I'd love to hear some feedback.

Chai.

2011-07-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I drank chai tea. Luckily, I was at a very ethereal, spicy-smelling, seemingly authentic Indian restaurant, and the (hot) chai they served was out-of-this-stratosphere. I was spoiled by that first experience, wanting every cup of chai afterwards to taste exactly like that one. But eventually, I gave into the conveniences of the tea-bag, a trend that has continued for years.

So I can't explain why, when, over the holiday weekend, I woke up and inexplicably craved chai--delicious, fattening (because of the cream), fragrant chai. I rummaged through the cupboards and realized I didn't have absolutely every single ingredient, but I improvised, not willing to make a grocery trip on the fourth. This is what I came up with, and while it isn't perfectly authentic, it's still pretty damn good. I had mine iced.

Not-Quite-Chai Tea

Ingredients:

(you can obviously up the quantites as much as you want--I was making this for myself and the husband.)
- 2 cups almond milk
- 1 cup half-n-half (yes, I said one cup. That's right.)
- four tea-bags of black tea (try to get the highest quality you can find)
- 1 vanilla pod
- 2 cinnamon sticks
- literally a pinch of freshly grated ginger root
- pinch of cardamom and nutmeg
- sweetner of your choice (I used stevia and tasted the mixture frequently)

In a heavy-bottomed sauce pan, pour in the milk and half-n-half. Bring the mixture to just bubbling--you don't want to scald the milk. Add the tea bags, cinnamon sticks, and vanilla. Let this bubble away for about 7 minutes, adding just a tiny amount of water to the mixture if you think it's getting too thick. Reduce the heat to a simmer. Add the ginger, cardamom, nutmeg, and sweetner. Allow the mixture to cook for about 5 minutes, then take off the heat and let cool. When no longer piping hot, strain the mixture into another pan or a glass bowl--you don't want any spicy bits floating around in your drink.

To serve, fill glasses with ice and (just because) an extra splash of half-n-half. Ladle the tea into the glasses and swish the ice around briefly with a spoon. I like to leave the cream just slightly uncombined--it looks all swirled and pretty in the glass. But that last part is up to you.

Holy Yum.

always time, on my mind...

2011-06-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

from the sketchbook.

Today there is sunshine and being drunk off of it. There is tomato soup with almond milk and a boatload of sweet greek basil. There is ginger tea iced down with club soda and there is also ice cream. There is picnicing in the yard, under the shade of our big tree, surrounded by sketchbooks and paper and pastels and Sharpies. At this moment, time is limitless and everything else is only at the edges.

self-portrait: struggle.

2011-06-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

taken immediately after an hour of trying to dance.

Oh this neck injury. All I want to do is dance from my heart and I can't.

my feet hurt.

2011-06-26T18:07:00.000-07:00

LOro dell Azzurro by Joan Miro

I am reporting to you fresh from a date-weekend with the husband. And yes, my feet hurt. We trekked 50 miles or so down to the Baltimore Art Museum, where we walked and walked and walked and oohed and ahhed until our ankles were like sausages and our eyes were blurry and dry. It was heaven. I have absolutely no pictures to show you because we felt too lazy to take a camera. Of course, now I wish I had pictures to display and boast about, but it really was nice being unencumbered, so I suppose my memories will have to do.

This weekend, we also:

- were nearly killed on the highway by motorcycle gangs
- sat on the rim of a fountain in the sculpture garden and fed one another dark chocolate (I don't really need porn; my life is a porn flick. ha.)
- sat in bed listening to sitar music, him reading, me sewing up some pencil/brush cases I've been working on
- went for a very long jog

What did you do this weekend?

his last day.

2011-06-24T19:38:00.000-07:00

The sprout finished preschool today. His classmated made him a card and a bunch of drawings which were stapled into a book. I cried.

He starts kindergarten in the fall. I'm not ready.

the funny thing about blogging is...

2011-06-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

completely non-related photo

Sometimes, you are too busy actually living to write about your life. Sometimes you are not at the computer because you are busy pasting a father's day "installation" to your bedroom wall, which said father will be extremely surprised and smitten with when he gets home from work. Sometimes you're out on your front stoop with a cutting board and a scary knife, cutting up the biggest watermelon you've ever seen. Sometimes you're hiding under the covers with your five year old boy, and you plan to write about it on the blog that night but, alas, there is popcorn to be made and Star Wars movies to watch. Sometimes you sit with your fingers on the keyboard and forget what you were going to write so you instead hop in the car and go buy some red lipstick, which you then try on once you're home and proceed to make sexy (?) faces at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes you realize it's officially summer so you sit outside with six to seven books about Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo and you sort of half-ass read and tan your winter-white legs.

Sometimes--what it is I guess--is that actual life takes precedence.

So grateful for...

2011-06-13T17:58:00.000-07:00

the first tomatoes of the season.

handmade cards.

handpainted/printed fabrics.

artwork by little hands.

this man, who is working his butt off to make this house a home.

a new painting (finally).

the gifts from friends adorning my wall.

And gratefulness also lies to the unphotographed:

- a fully-illustrated book of birds, given to me by my grandpa.
- spanish verbs and nouns; how beautiful they feel rolling off the tongue.
- finding thrifted dresses that have never been worn.
- getting back to writing. I'd forgotten how much I need it.

I think this week will likely be all about getting my hands diry, in soil, paint, and glue. And delving into books, sucking up knowledge, bird-watching. Also planning a little father's day surprise for the husband.

Anything you're grateful for lately? Any interesting plans?

2011-06-09T06:35:00.000-07:00

"Metamorphic rocks are rocks which have been changed. Changes may be barely visible, or may be so great that it is impossible to determine what the original rock was."

- Rocks and Minerals, A Golden Nature Guide

I thumb through the old photographs, always a dumb decision. It takes mere minutes for the familiars, the ghosts all their pets to sidle up next to me, poke at me with their sharp instruments. I lay them out across the wooden floor, like an installation, glossy, matte, yellowing polaroid.

In this one, I am riding my first bike. It is pink and white, the training wheels are still smooth and clean. My outfit is ridiculous considering my chosen activity--the frilly, pouffy-skirted dresses I refused to take off for several months. I am pedaling diligently down our gravel and dirt driveway, and he is walking behind me, poised and ready to rescue me from gravity's whim. We are both browned by the sun, our skin exactly matching in shade and color.

This one was taken at a state park in southern Texas, though the name of it eludes me. We are hiking through deep woods, snaking through trails choked with growth, stomping over sturdy plank bridges laid across swampy sections of marshland. He carries his machete, as familiar to me as the rest of him, hacking vines and thorny braches, clearing the way for me to come through, unscathed.

Fast forward several years, where the documentation of events lessens considerably. Dig down to the newer photographs, the ones I hide from myself, only occasionally admitting to their existence.

A few snapshots, corners of our new homes, if you could call them that. I see him, the fracture lines that were always present splitting in earnest now, nothing to strap them together, to keep the structure sound. In this snapshot I am on the side of the world held together, barely, by willingness and forward-thinking. Visiting his side is an exercise in futility.

In this photo, he sits in his lopsided recliner, constantly smoking cigarettes. The room is completely closed and unbelievably stifling. The apartment is a strange mix of things: newly acquired trinkets, movies, pornography, beer, keychains, bottlecaps, cigarette packs, beef jerkey, empty picture frames. The kitchen table is covered in detritus from two different lives, there is no pride in the placement of anything. In my density of that moment I did not understand that bonds mean nothing, as tenuous as they actually are, and that all of that time was temporary, already fading to white-out.

There are no more photographs after that. Lives ended and yet, did not. The dissapearence of him is inexcusable, a perfect example of what neglect looks like. There are no explosions here, only the steady mining of the soul, the chipping away that is slow and first and then suddenly complete. You blink and it's done. There is a sensation of having been visited by a thief in the night; he has taken the jewels you stored in the freezer, inconspicuous in their brown paper bag. There is the discovery of wells that are indeed bottomless, the plink of the pebble is never heard.

The sediment, stone, the plates of your life shift. All settles and you are as layered and heavily clouded as marble. You are strong, you can be knocked around and take it, but when dropped from unimaginable heights you crack down the middle, then outward in a complete circle, then you splinter apart and fly around dementedly. Others have to shield their eyes.

I pack all the memories back in their box, in the past, in the dark, probably where they belong. The ghosts dissipate with one last angry cry, sucked back into whatever hellish vortex they crouch in when I'm not scratching open old wounds. And just as efficiently as I remember, I compartmentalize, I forget. Like all things learned throughout a life, it's an acquired skill.

"...finally the original rock is completely absorbed, and the resulting rock shows no traces at all of what it once was. In structure and composition, it is granite."

a blessed weekend (complete with crepes).

2011-06-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

We are having a very good weekend here. Or perhaps I should be more specific: Hayden and I are having a very good weekend. Vincent is unfortunately stuck shooting a wedding and some other things all weekend long. He's missed some pretty magical stuff.

On Friday, we had my brother over for dinner--a good, homey meal of spaghetti with homemade sauce, meatballs, and garlic bread. After he left, I got a little restless, and took Hayden out to the bookstore for some playtime. He zoomed rockets and airplanes while mommy browsed through her favorite magazines. We shared a giant cookie and afterward walked down to the old covered bridge to see the ducks. At first there weren't any to be found. Then, suddenly, a dozen flew in over our heads, like they were crash-landing, splashing into the pond. Hayden squealed and jumped up and down in joy. I could smell someone grilling steak and see the sunset streaking the sky orange. A good end to the day.

On Saturday I woke up early and found it to be overcast and grey. I got my workout over with and took a long bath while Hayden watched some cartoons. Then I opened the fridge, starving, searching. I didn't know what I felt like eating until a thought popped in my head: crepes. Yes. With the fresh, organic eggs I was just gifted.

Usually, I fill my crepes with mushrooms and cheese and other stinky goodness, but this time I craved sweet over savory, topping them with a honeyed strawberry sauce.

I think I like making crepes because it's such a leisurely process, perfect for the weekend. Oiling the pan, pouring in the batter, swishing it around, and waiting. Over and over, one by one, until you have a stack of beautiful, sunny crepes.

Crepes with Honeyed-Strawberry Sauce

Ingredients:

for the crepes
- 2 beaten eggs
- 1 1/2 cups milk (I used almond)
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tbsp. honey
- juice of 1/2 lemon
- cooking oil/butter

for the honeyed-strawberry sauce
- 1/4 cup water
- 4 tbsp. honey
- juice 1/2 lemon
- 1/2 cup chopped strawberries

Combine eggs, milk, flour, honey, and lemon juice. Heat a well-oiled or buttered non-stick pan over medium/high heat. Ladle in one scoop of batter, then tilt the pan all around until spread thin. Allow to cook until browned on one side only. Gently remove to a paper-towel covered plate. Repeat with remaining batter, oiling or buttering your pan as needed. Make sure to watch your heat throughout the process, turning it down a notch if the crepes are browing too fast.

For the strawberry sauce, heat the water to boiling in a small, heavy-bottomed sauce pan. Add the honey and the lemon juice. Let boil for about 30 seconds, then add strawberries. Stir, then turn the heat down to a simmer. Cook for about 5-7 minutes, then remove from heat and let cool.

To assemble your crepes, select as many as you'd like and fold them into quarters on a plate, drizzling with the strawberry sauce between each one. You can add dark chocolate shavings and real whipped cream if you're eating these as dessert.

As for what's left of the weekend, I will be:

- watching Gnomeo and Juliet with the boy
- finishing a landscape I've been working on
- listening to Bon Iver
- making tuna salad and granola (not to eat together, at least, I hope not)

Hope you're having a splendid Sunday. <3

an ode to solitude.

2011-05-30T07:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I remembered the beauty of solitude and what it feels like to nuture yourself. A day of total tranquility--no husband, no child, no friends--brought me back into my own skin. I'd been feeling displaced and hungry and very, very lonely for a presence I could not name. Now I realize: it's me. I was craving me, craving time spend with the person who is supposed to love me the most.

courtesy of pinterest.com

I've been let down a lot recently, by those who claim to care for me, but never seem to back-up those claims with action. This has left me feeling hurt and miserable and searching. In times of lonliness, I forget that the best friend I will ever have (other than God) is the girl in the mirror. She's the only one who knows.

Knows that I love pink lipstick and that I wear clothes until they fall apart. That the smell of certain flowers fills my eyes with tears for no reason at all. She knows my favorite color is red and that I put too much butter on my toast. She knows that my eyes constantly water when I'm out in the sun and that I see patterns everywhere. She knows my heart when others make no effort to find it.

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the others welcome...

- Derek Walcott, "Love After Love"

6 years.

2011-05-26T15:43:00.000-07:00

He asked if I would marry him. It was the anniversary of his near-fatal motorcycle accident and he was ready for new beginnings. I was very young, unsure of myself, but in my heart I knew.

I said yes.

friday. yes.

2011-05-20T06:18:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I will be spending some much-needed time with the papa. The boy will be off, sugaring himself up at grandma's house. Have a good weekend everyone! <3

spring cleaning and busy-food.

2011-05-17T19:25:00.000-07:00

Whew.

Our house has been a vacuuming, drilling (that would be the husband), teapot-whistling, scrubbing, choo-choo train-chugging (and that would be Hayden), coffee-pot-gurgling chorus. We're purging A LOT of stuff at the moment, not to make room for more, but just to make room for room. In between doing all I can--which I'll admit has been hard for me lately; I'm having several health issues--I've been in my studio/office, slowly organizing and pulling out long-forgotten treasures, and even fashioning a bare corner into an altar and meditation spot for my yoga. It's all turning out quite nicely.

Here's a truth: cleaning makes you ravenously hungry. It also makes you bone-tired. Which is why I've been making what I like to call "busy food"--good, wholesome food, done with short-cuts and downsized in scale. Which is where my Mini English Muffin Pizza's come in.

I make mine with some very expensive ham and ricotta cheese, but you can obviously alter the toppings to suite every person you're serving (an excellent bonus if you have children). And because they're tiny, they're fun. Why is everything more fun in miniature?

Mini English Muffin Pizza's

Ingredients:

- 4 whole-grain english muffins ( I actually really like Fiber One's )
- homemade pizza sauce ( I usually have some on hand in the freezer ) OR your favorite brand of organic marinara sauce
- 1 cup ricotta cheese ( fat content of your choosing )
- 3 spring onions, chopped
- one garlic clove, peeled and sliced in half
- about 3-4 slices of very high-quality ham
- olive oil, for brushing
- sea salt and black pepper

Preheat your oven to 275 F. Separate your english muffins and lay out. Brush with olive oil, rub with the halved garlic, then sprinkle with sea salt and pepper. Place on a non-stick baking sheet and place in the oven for 7-10 minutes. Watch them closely--you're just looking to lightly toast them.
Remove from oven, and leave heat on. Chop the ham slices into strips. Top each muffin half with as much pizza sauce as you like, a dab of ricotta, a few strips of ham, and a scattering of spring onion. Place the pizza's back into the oven and cook for about 10 minutes, until the cheese is gooey, and the edges of the muffin and ham are browning. Remove and serve.
Serves 4 people two mini-pizza's each. (You can obviously up the amounts very easily, if needed.)

Nosh-nosh. :) Enjoy!

breakfast.

2011-05-14T16:04:00.000-07:00

I can't even tell you how much I adore breakfast. I actually go to bed the night before, looking forward to fresh espresso and english muffins the next day. As much as I love food, and all its meals of the day, I have to admit, I get excited about breakfast the most. I always wake up hungry.

My son is 5 yrs. old and is only recently starting to want his breakfast a.s.a.p. Over the years, it's been a progression from breast milk to formula to regular milk to warm milk with cinnamon and a little sugar. That last one has been his "breakfast" for the past 2 years, at least. But now he's all, "I am boy. Food.", much in the way my husband meanders around saying, "I am man. Food. Yum." So in celebration of my son's new hunger pains, I've been looking up breakfast recipes online, and buying gloriously marked-down cookbooks at Borders, searching for those that are kid-friendly. Some of these cookbooks have me mightily confused. I won't name names, but dates stuffed with spiced cream cheese? Baked french toast with caramelized orange liquor? I don't know...maybe these chefs have children with truly adventurous palates. I, to a degree, do not. There certainly won't be any dates in my son's future (har har) because really, they're too weird looking for him.

So--muffins! They're like cupcakes sans icing! Perfect. I found a recipe for Blueberry Bran Muffins in a little golden book titled Just 4 Kids. I tweaked it a little--okay, a lot--and came up with the following recipe:

Chocolate Chip Coconut Muffins

Ingredients:

- heaping 1 cup white all-purpose flour
- scant 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
- 1 tbsp. wheat germ
- 2 tsp. baking powder
- 1/2 tsp. baking soda
- pinch of salt
- 1/4 cup packed raw sugar
- pinch of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cardamom
- 2 heaping tbsp. grated unsweetened coconut
- 1 tbsp. honey
- 1 large egg
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 1 cup milk chocolate/carob chips (use at your discretion, of course)

Preheat oven to 350 F. Line a 12-cup muffin pan with paper liners.
Mix together the flours, wheat germ, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Stir in the sugar. In a measuring cup with a spout, whisk together the honey, egg, and buttermilk.
Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir until JUST combined. I can not reiterate this enough: DO NOT OVERMIX. It makes muffins tough and horrible. If there are a few little lumps of flour floating around in the batter, it's okay. Then with a spatula, gently fold in the chocolate chips and the coconut.
Spoon the batter into the muffin cups until about a third full. Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes, until the muffins have risen and are a light, golden-brown. You can eat these cooled or--my favorite--fresh from the oven with creamy, unsalted butter. Makes 12.

I smell a new weekend breakfast ritual in the works. Right now it smells a heck of a lot like chocolate and spices.

happy friday.

2011-05-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

I hope your weekend is full of all that you love. <3

paper, thread, and glue.

2011-05-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

I hit the mother-load of landfill-bound books a few weeks ago, and have been steadily sorting through them, deconstructing ones far too tattered for the shelf. I really am at my happiest when sorting through a big box of vintage books...their cloth covers, their musty smell, and if the pages are discolored from age or moisture, all the better.

mixed media book page; vintage book paper, wax paper, thread

Lately it has been sunny and beautiful outside, in which case I've been taking my work outside with me. It's great to sit out on the back patio, in full sun, with my stacks of paper and box of tid-bits, and maybe some tea or coffee, working away while hearing the birds chirp and watching Hayden play a few feet away.


embroidered book page; vintage book paper, thread

a peek into my personal art book

Sorry about the poor picture quality, by the way. I said it before, and I'll say it again, I am NOT a photographer. I'll leave that to my husband.

Regarding another subject:

It's amazing to see the mixed opinion after Osama Bin Laden's killing. A lot of people, some close to me, feel that there should be no rejoicing after a death, even an enemy's. I have mixed opinions on this. I'm not going to lie--I was thrilled at the news, and also relieved. I wish this had happened a lot sooner of course, as I'm sure we all do. I also feel that there are hundreds willing to take his place, so do I think there will be some amazing change hereafter? Not really.

Was I dancing and boogying and shaking my junk? No. I had a small toast, all to myself, knowing that a very, very evil man had finally left this world.

Do I think it's wrong to celebrate the exit of any sort of evil? No, I do not. I understand that we don't want more hatred in this world, that we don't want to sing and dance around a bonfire any time someone we "dislike strongly" has a hard time or dies. There isn't much good born out of hatred or bitterness. But am I going to sit around after a man--Bin Laden specifically--is killed, with my hands folded in my lap, ruminating, "Oh that's just too bad" or "What a tortured soul". No. No, most certainly not.

And that jumble is about as political as you'll ever see me get on this little space.

DEAD.

2011-05-01T21:08:00.001-07:00

Bin Laden that is. YAYYYYYYYYYY.

how often i forget.

2011-04-28T19:58:00.000-07:00

journaling.

2011-04-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Tuesday - April 26

It's 7:20am and I'm sitting on the back patio. It's beautiful out here. I have my steamy cup of espresso and the morning sunlight is shining gold-green, highlighting all of springs new growth. I threw my most colorful sweater on before coming out--the one striped with red, light and dark blue, grey, and rich brown. Vince calls it my "coat of many colors".

Flower boxes sit all around the patio's ledge, filled with freshly-planted parsley, chives, basil, lavender. There are more plants inside we dare not bring out until at least mid-May. These extra plants are our back-up plan.

As I'm writing this, a small rabbit is sneaking out from under our neighbors shed. He's eyeing me up, trying to decide if this large, multi-colored creature is a predator or not.

Two things have been occupying my mind lately, in equal measure. One, doing what I can to fix this house up, make it even more beautiful. I want to paint the kitchen cupboards a very bright red next. Right now, they're cream, and that just won't do. I don't even think cream is technically a color. Not in my book anyway. It's white that sat out too long. I'd like our front door to be a beautiful robin's-egg blue, and our railings white instead of black. There's so much work to be done, but it's fun, this process of making a house our home.

My second obsession as of late is travel. I just want to go somewhere. The desire is so frantic in fact, that I could go camping in the wilds of PA, or travel to a crazy, bustling city. I honestly don't care. Maybe what I'm truly craving is a road-trip with no destination in mind. To pack my favorite leather bag with a change of clothes, my sketchbook, a camera, tea and coffee (MUST have the coffee), and a book of poetry. Throw blankets and a tent--just in case--in the back and : away!!

Alas, not today. Nor tomorrow, I think. But we are planning for something soon, most likely this summer. I think all our souls could use a little replenishing.

I've been working with old books again, thanks to a freshly thrown-out batch in the library garbage. Vintage books, nearly falling apart, with beautifully embossed cloth covers. I missed these relics. A break to paint and play with other mediums was needed, but now--back to my true love: BOOKS. <3

Ah, and the wee boy is up. Time to get him ready for school.

it's not enough.

2011-04-22T17:25:00.000-07:00

moon and feathers

The paint, the canvas: it's not enough. I want to dip my hands into fibers and fur, feathers and glue. I want to make ridiculously frivolous and useless sculptures and found feathers and bits of trash of sea glass. It's really insane...I can actually move myself to tears thinking of how much I want, how much I need. Art tortures me with its unfulfilled inspirations and also keeps me in some kind of arousal for this silly life.

it was delicious.

2011-04-17T13:42:00.000-07:00

heaven is a chocolate bar

goat cheese and spinach omelet

olive-oil and lemon loaf cake

This weekend was date weekend. It was also a food weekend. What could be better than cheese and chocolate and sweet/savory cake and snuggling and giggling until 1 in the morning?

Asparagus, maybe. Roasted with sea salt and olive oil.

moments.

2011-04-13T12:58:00.000-07:00

my zen master

art

surprise

Although it's once again rain and gloom here in PA, we haven't been taking the occasional sunny day for granted. The shoes fly off and we head outdoors, to dig, run around, or just lay in the grass. It's a slow process, spring. Or at least you think it is until one morning you walk outside and suddenly, EVERYTHING is in full bloom.

I've been feeling a little creatively jumbled lately. There is so much I want to do: make some new skirts, embroider pretty flowers, make herbal tinctures and tonics, alter all the curtains in the house, cook healthy meals, paint with my hands, get back into making jewelry. I can't choose and find myself frozen in place more often than not. Perhaps I'm feeling the dizzying effect of spring too?

25.

2011-04-07T20:03:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to me.

what we're left with.

2011-04-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

My Aunt Rose died a little over a week ago. What can I say about this woman? I didn't know her as well as I probably should have. I lost touch with her in recent years, so busy I've been starting a family, decorating a home, turning myself into an adult.

My mom was able to go to her funeral (I wasn't) and bring me back little pieces of my aunt's history. She was an amazing woman: funny, lighthearted, an incredible quilter, artistic, lovable. My mom told me stories of how when she was little, it was her aunt's house that she look forward going to the most. It was there that she could blossom and thrive in ways she couldn't at home.

paperweight

I've always prided myself on not valuing material possessions overly much. I don't believe that the things around us are nearly as important as less tangible moments: a kiss from a small child, the smell of wood burning, church bells in the distance. But my viewpoint wavers a bit when I encounter objects from the past, especially when it belonged to someone I knew.

hairpins

When someone we love dies, all we're left with is the things they owned. Or pictures. Both incite memory--we smell them, we feel a weight wafting around the room, if only for a moment. And they're there--alive!--again for just a few seconds, so strongly rendered in sensation that we have to turn around to make sure our deceased isn't standing there.

unfinished quilt square

And the bittersweet sensation that runs through us as we realize--only after our loved is gone--that we shared interests, hobbies even. That if time had been a little kinder, or different, or our clocks could run backward, we could sit together, share cloth and needle and talk of vintage antiques. But we didn't know, and it never occurred to us to ask.

brooch

But this is how it goes with our elders. We get used to the idea that they're here and then--suddenly--they're not.

I'm thankful I have my believe: that death isn't the end, that we will one day look over those we've left behind. That my Aunt Rose can see me, sitting in my living room, running my fingers over these treasures, looking them over with an expression of awe and thankfulness.

I am humbled.

healing (slowly)

2011-04-01T12:32:00.000-07:00

chicken soup, duh.

I'll be honest: I am worn to the bone from how much our family has been sick this winter. We are once again recovering from another cold, and the house is a symphony of sneezing, sniffling, and coughing. The dishes are arrayed train-style across the counter, crumpled-up Kleenex balls are blowing around on the floor like tumbleweed, and my brushes/needle & thread/pens & paper have given up on me days ago.

I have to laugh. I mean, burn-out from a handful of minor cold's? But yes, it's true. I'm friggin' SPENT.

We also recently had a death in the family, my Aunt Rose. I couldn't attend her funeral, but my mom and step-dad did. They were thoughtful enough to bring me back a few things that belonged to her--some hairpins, a small brooch, and a quilt square that just about brought me to tears. I photographed these treasures and will be posting them here soon. She was a very special woman...I'll miss her presence in the family. She always called me "Britty".

Sigh.

Anyway. More hot soup. More hot tea. More steaming. More stretching. More sinus medication that makes me feel like my head is detached from my body. More listening to my son cough through the night. (Isn't that the WORST?!? I mean, he's fine, technically speaking. No fever, perky all day. But the cough lingers, and it sounds worse than I guess it is. But I listen to him all night. I don't sleep. Like, ever.)

I promise that when I'm well I'll post something interesting. Whenever that is.

i am painting...

2011-03-20T12:37:00.000-07:00

Flowers. Because spring is here and all I can think about is gathering bouquets to bring indoors.

I am loving...

2011-03-15T11:46:00.000-07:00

I need some lighthearted frivolousness. Here's what I'm loving this week.

-This photo:

source: film-grain.tumblr.com

-This painting:

Kim Gordon watercolor, source: pinterest.com

-This tea:

so. friggin. good.

-Kate Inglis's fantastically written blog.

-This writer and photographer.

misplaced.

2011-03-12T17:45:00.000-08:00

I'm about to whine. Ready yourselves.

I am twenty-four years old. I am a mother and a wife. I go to the grocery store, to the library, to the park. I make my rounds like anyone else. I just finished sewing a large, hobo-style bag. I just finished painting a canvas of some wildflowers in a vase. I just ate toast with Nutella and had a late-evening cup of coffee--probably a bad idea.

Here comes the whiny part.

I cried myself to sleep last night. I know...as if anything else could make you feel more like a teenager again. The truth is: I am lonely. Oh God, I am so lonely. I'm sure that the real--and somewhat subconscious--reason I'm writing this is that I hope that some other stay-at-home-mommy, somewhere out there will read this and feel the same and comment and I won't feel so damn alone.

I've tried so hard to make friends with young women my age in this town and it.is.just.ridiculous. They're all, "yeah I'm married but I like this guy I used to know back in high school", and "can you watch so-and-so for a minute? I need to take a leak and go have a ciggie". I don't know quite how to describe my situation without sounding like a complete snob.

Maybe that's what's missing. Maybe I am a complete snob and I haven't caught onto it yet.

I feel that I have nothing in common with anyone who lives in this area. I suppose it's the epidemic of any small town....not enough culture or open-mindedness or room to grow. If you don't fit in this box I carry around then you're shit out of luck.

So weeks go by and I don't receive a single phone call from anyone at all just wondering how Brittany's doing. Because, let's face it, there isn't anyone to do the calling. I wish I could say that my family is dependable on that note, but I'd be lying. I don't know...is it selfish of me to want someone to think of me, to just wonder if I'm doing well? I mean, I think about everyone I know, maybe too much. I even think about people I know well online because hey, they're real too and I love them and I care about them.

All day long. Vince goes to work. Hayden sometimes goes to pre-K. I do my routine. I switch it up. I get fucking bored. I switch it up again. I pissily mix a bunch of paint together until it looks like mud. I dance. I cook something. I try to ignore my phone/doorbell that no one calls/rings. I think when you're really isolated, you can only keep yourself entertained for so long before...I don't know. Before you want to run away or scream or break every plate you own.

This is what it is to be misplaced. I am a fucking island floating in the middle of a gigantic fucking ocean and I am tired of ALL THIS FRIGGIN WATER.

And I am done whining now. Thank you and have a swell day.

japan: i honor you.

2011-03-11T08:00:00.000-08:00

source: colourlovers.com

source: travel-destination-pictures.com

source: visitjapannow.com

source: phototravels.net

source: japanupdate.com

source: library2.binghamton.edu

I honor your beauty. I honor your people. I honor your unique culture and customs. It is my prayer that you find your way back to your loveliness.

update.

2011-03-08T09:20:00.000-08:00

The trip to Philly was overloaded with awesomeness. The hubs drove, we hopped around our hotel room like nut-jobs, we met Nina (amazing) and looked at her artwork (also amazing). We went out late with a group of 16 incredible/eclectic people and has sushi and wine and springrolls. We slept like logs, consumed by our freedom.

As I said, I'll be sharing more in due time.

But for now, I'm going to spend the afternoon painting flowers, getting a little purposefully lost, and listening to this:

p.s.--
Did I mention I'm giving up reading books--except, of course, my Bible--for Lent? ......Yeah, wish me luck on this one.

a little trip.

2011-03-03T19:04:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I am off into the urban wilderness that is Philadelphia, to meet the lovely, painterly Nina Schmidt. She's showing her new series at the Burlap and Bean Coffee House.

photo by Nina Schmidt

She is beautiful and down-to-earth and unbelievably talented. I can't wait to meet her. :)
I will definitely be back in a few days with pictures and stories.

Fabric scraps: 2 ideas

2011-02-28T18:30:00.000-08:00

If you're like me, you try to recycle/upcycle whatever you can. In my case, it comes from not having much in the first place, and really having to adopt the "waste not, want not" attitude.

So here are two quick, easy, and not terribly original ideas for using up those scraps of fabric that are just a little bit too small.

Idea #1:

Fabric necklaces.

As I'm sure you're aware, there's no rocket science to this craft. Just braid together strips of fabric that you like to a desired length. Fold the ends over, stitch, and trim. I stitched on ties (which you can't see here) in a coordinating fabric. That way, I can wear it either short or long. Then I made a little flower out of another strip of denim, and sewed a shell button to its center. Ta-da! The nice thing about this is that you can make them to suit your own tastes. You can also use a fabric that doesn't fray as much for a crisper look. I just prefer the organic, sort of rustic feel.

Okay, and Idea #2:

Fabric book-covers.

Remember when you were in school and you covered your textbooks with brown paper bags? To make these fabric book-covers, you're using that exact same method. Just take a rectangle of fabric, lay your book on top (open), and mark where you need to fold. Remember to fold the top and bottom in first, if needed, THEN fold in the sides. I used a running stitch; one straight across the top, one straight across the bottom. Remember to measure the width of the fabric with your book closed. Remember that? How you'd go to close the book and the back cover would pop out of the flap because you never measured the paper with the book closed. So close the book, and use a pencil or whatever to mark where your flaps will fold over. I went back later with a fabric pen (best things ever!) and drew a free-handed design, but you could leave it plain or embroider it or...you get the picture. The possibilities are endless. Slide your book in and--instant style! (If you have the time or desire, making a cover for all your books looks AMAZING on a shelf. The fabric adds a special texture and dynamic that paper just cannot. You could even make them with all the same fabric, which is a great way of tying all those mix-matched covers together.)

There you have it. DON'T THROW THOSE SCRAPS AWAY!! Or I'll find you.

Seriously.

weekends.

2011-02-27T06:48:00.000-08:00

I am enjoying the weekends more than I ever have. Remember how weekends used to be full of party-hopping and concerts and cigarettes and some maybe-slightly-illegal activities?

Of course I'm not talking about the weekends of my youth. I read a lot of books. I went bowling. But I sort of imagine that's what normal, youthful weekends are actually full of.

The weekends of my now are about a trillion times better. We make carob cocoa with almond milk and agave nectar (SO delicious), we pull out the paint--and the buttons, and the stickers, and the pastels, and whatever else. We collage, we hula-hoop, we dance to the Violent Femmes. I make lists for the week ahead that I may or may not actually use. I journal with Hayden, in our respective notebooks (his green, mine a collage-y mess). We read. And if it's warm enough outside, which is actually has been, we venture forth into the world and stomp on melting snow, poke the sludgy milkshake-mud with sticks, and explore strange-looking back alleys and side-streets.

We also struggle a little bit, just a little, on these weekends of ours. Hayden doesn't have preschool, obviously, so he's home--the best place for him to be, but have HIM tell you that...I think about you mama's out there reading this, and I wonder if you're struggling with the same things I am. (His tiny, bad temper, his tiny, rotten attitude, his tiny, defiant stomps across the floor, his tiny, determined assertiveness of himself. There are days I feel that my kid absolutely hates me, though I know instinctively that it's not so.) If you fellow mama's are struggling with any of this, my heart goes out to you, as I hope yours does to me. We need each other.

The days are beautiful--beautiful!--and yet they can sometimes drag on and on and on.

But let's just concentrate on the simple: it's still early, the sun is warming the day, there is paint underneath my fingernails, and my boy is asking for peanut butter toast. Amen.

faith: inspiring words

2011-02-23T15:28:00.000-08:00

"In darkness and amid the many shapes of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir unprofitable, and the fever of the world, have hung upon the beatings of my heart--how oft, in spirit, I have turned to thee..."

- William Woodsworth

I am loving...

2011-02-20T09:06:00.000-08:00

Some stuff I'm loving this week:

Jennifer Altman's amazing collection of beautifully haunting photographs.

The habit blog and its commitment to showing beauty in the everyday.

Pixie Campbell's wonderful, colorful paintings, and her knowledge of animal medicine.

Ninety-nine cent nailpolish by N.Y.C. in Plaza Plumberry.

This couple, and their fabulous relationship with God.

This dress on Mod Cloth. :)

What are you loving this week??

he's FIVE.

2011-02-16T15:47:00.000-08:00

I'm afraid I'll be too busy to post on Hayden's actual birthday, so I'm writing this now.

Five. I think I've asked before--how did this happen?

hayden; feb 2011

And yet, my son is awesome at five, if I do say so. He's energetic and excitable and intelligent and seriously quirky. He loves trains and mommy's dark chocolate stash and going to the Salvation Army. He calls the leaves from japanese maples "tree stars".

tuckered out

For a few years, I thought a little brother or sister would be joining Hayden in his daily adventures. I know now that that might not be possible for me. But if Hayden is it, if he is my first and only child--I'll take that. It's more than enough. I am blessed to be his mother.

I also wanted to show you what I made for Hayden this year. I usually try to do that--make a gift. I find it a lot more meaningful than another plastic doo-dad from Target or Wal-Mart.

before

So I found this stool at the Salvation Army for under five dollars. All the finish was nearly worn away, which is perfect, and its construction is amazingly strong (I jumped up and down on it and it didn't wobble a bit). I'd been thinking Hayden needed a new stool for the bathroom, for help with teeth-brushing and hand-washing. I knew this was just right.

I brainstormed and looked at different colors for a while. Then I finally came up with this:

after

I sanded it lightly, painted it, applied the train image (found it in an antique railroad book), and lacquered it. I think it turned out wonderfully, better than I expected. I hope he likes it, although I'm sure he will. Another thing I love about Hayden is that he's delighted even when the gift in question isn't a toy. That and he's used to mommy making him odd things.

Off to the store I go for cupcake ingredients. <3

whole lotta craftin' goin' on...

2011-02-14T12:43:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!! We honestly haven't partaken in much festivity here...there was a badly botched breakfast of heart pancakes, a big interruption having to do with my husband's job, and a million other issues, so let's just say it wasn't a big, squishy party.

No matter. Crafting always cheers me up. I wanted to show you all a few of the things I've been working on.

chamomile and mint salve

I made my very first batch of chamomile salve last week! This is exciting to me because a) my skin is too sensitive to use commercial products all the time, and b) buying natural products from other producers is waaaaaaay out of my budget at the moment. So I made my own. My feet, hands, lips, etc., are thanking me profusely. (I'll try to post the recipe over the next few days--it's incredibly easy!)

altered onsie

This is a onsie I made for my best friend's baby girl. I actually made it last month but only just recently gave it to her. She loved it! The quilted circle was originally supposed to be a square, but when I placed it on the top it looked sort of strange. So I turned it into a circle instead.

onsie detail

It was still missing something when all was sewn, so I stitched on some vintage buttons. I can't resist adding them to pretty much everything. You DO NOT want to know how big my button collection is...it's sort of ridiculous/obsessive.

free-handed painting in my kitchen

I've also been adding little hand-painted touches around the house, mainly in the kitchen. I love folk art and would like to see more of its influence around our abode.

hand-painted butterflies

I can't stop. Really.

hayden, painting valentine's

And of course, I'm always feeling inspired by my little man, who creates with this admirable reckless abandon. We should all aspire to create like children, shouldn't we?

That's all for the moment. I hope your day was wonderful. <3

10 random facts about myself.

2011-02-13T14:57:00.000-08:00

1. I absolutely, positively, friggin' LOVE elephants. (See above.)

2. My biggest dream in my teen years was to be a back-up dancer for Britney Spears. 'Tis true.

3. I want to one day adopt a child.

4. I hate those super-fuzzy, thick, soft socks. Crumbs and all kinds of nasty get stuck in them and it really freaks me out.

5. I met my hubs while we both worked in a drug-store photo department.

6. My favorite food in the entire universe is fresh spring rolls with peanut dipping sauce.

7. Speaking of food, certain flavors of Jello make me really nauseous. But I can always eat peach flavor.

8. I dream of writing a book, but I'm not sure that I'm committed enough. Right now, I have app. 3 under construction, none of them are halfway done, and they all have shady subject matter. Also, I'm always getting distracted by pretty colors and paper and glue, which I like a hell of a lot more than writing. Oh well.

9. I smoked for years. I have not smoked for almost four. :) I never regret it. I never crave a cigarette.

10. I want to move my entire family to some awesome commune where we can all farm and sew and watch each others kids on date nights and make amazing art.

The End. <3

my baby/my boy.

2011-02-11T11:41:00.000-08:00

You're going to be 5 next Saturday.

a very quiet moment in the living room

How did this happen?
Be still my heart. <3

finished; the dress series

2011-02-10T17:59:00.000-08:00

I've been in the studio. Painting, and I'll confess, crying here and there, for about 3 weeks. Because I've working on something I've been putting off for a long time: the dress series.


the dress series

These paintings have been nesting in the back of my mind for a long time now...I'd say for about 6 years. So why did it take me so long to paint them? It's simple.

Because I don't want to go there.

the dress series - "Invisible"

I don't want to go back to that time. But I have to if I want to paint it.

I was sick for a long time. From age 14 to about 20. And I still am sometimes. I know what it's like to be rushed to the hospital again and again--because you are going to die if they don't get you there. Literally.

the dress series - "Invisible" detail

For me, the balloon has always been a metaphor. I don't assume I'm the first person to come up with that. But like the balloon, there have been times in my life when it's been THERE. It's been all there is, and I'm just this insignificant girl in its background. I am just the vessel that carries the pain.

Then there are the times in-between.

the dress series - "Backburner"

These are the times when I'm better, but the pain and sickness are always there. They're waiting to sneak up on me when I forget to look, and mess up my entire life all over again.

the dress series - "Backburner" detail

And every once in a while, I'd say for a week or two at a time, I triumph.

the dress series - "Triumph"

I am invincible. I am the mother, the wife, the daughter, the friend, the artist that I've always wanted to be because my body will let me do what I need to do. My body will let me live. The devil lets go.

the dress series - "Triumph" detail

Those are the best moments of my life.

But by far the saddest story, at least for myself, is this one:

the dress series - "Prom Night"

I was well. I really was. And then I wasn't, that quick. Prom never happened for me. I suppose a lot of things never happened for me.

the dress series - "Prom Night" detail

So yes, I painted these paintings and I cried my tears. I know the story is sad...a lot of people have at least one sad story to tell. But you know what? This was positively cathartic for me. This is the first time I've allowed myself to paint something that was about my adolescence/teen years. This is a triumph of its own kind. I'm not the worlds greatest painter, not the most talented, but what I always am is honest.

And honestly, I feel a hell of a lot better.

<3 Brit

to do.

2011-02-09T16:43:00.000-08:00


my painting corner; in my "studio"

Over the next few days I will be:

-in said corner, hopefully finishing a small series I've been working on.
-painting/collaging a wooden stool I salvaged, because...
-it will be my b-day present to my boy, who's turning five on the 19th
-which means I have to plan, yes, another birthday party
-and make cupcakes with Thomas the Tank Engine-blue icing
-trying to squeeze in time to just myself throughout all this
-busting out the old sewing machine and figuring out what's wrong with it
-sending in Hayden's papers for kindergarten. (oh.my.)

Whether or not I am actually this productive in reality remains to be seen. My neck is still giving me a lot of trouble, which makes doing even mundane things sort of difficult. I definitely don't want to re-injure myself, so I have to be this delicate flower for a while and do things slowly and with my pinkies lifted.

Hope you're all having a blessed week. <3

a birthday weekend.

2011-02-08T05:23:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, the hubs turned 37. Now, I'm a young pervert so I happen to think that he looks better the older he gets. But men usually do, don't they?

Anyway...

I made these cupcakes at app. 10:30pm, on a heavy dose of Diazepam for my sprained neck. Challenging baking, I tell you. What we ended up with was devil's food with a white-chocolate-PB center, with a chocolate-PB ganache on top. Oh, and they're garnished with crushed Nutter-Butter's.

Hayden helped me make this garland...

and this sign. He did SO good with his letters!

And yours truly finally found a reason to wear the homemade dress. Oh, and...

purple tights. My favs.

Trust me when I say, we had an awesome time. It was just us and my immediate family. There are more pictures lying in wait on my husband's camera that I haven't gone through yet.

On another note, I've been working on a series of small paintings throughout all this sickness and injury we've been going through. I can't wait to show them to you all!

Just a little peek. Have a beautiful day!

Love and espresso shots,

Brit

hi.

2011-02-06T16:19:00.000-08:00

Although I already have a blog, over at good ol' Tumblr (Bee's Nest), I've created one here in order to hopefully connect more with my fellow bloggers and crafters. So here I am, giving in to the blogspot. Don't you make me regret it people.

hearts and other nice stuff,
Brittany