Happy Birthday Week, Day 6: For the Love of Family

On this sixth day of my mother's birthday week, I'm appreciative of her passing on her love of being with family.

We likely all have family gatherings for holidays, weddings and other special occasions. Mom enjoyed those times, because there was always so much life, so much excitement, so much fun, talking, screaming and nonsense - no matter what brought us together. I've learned since her passing that she was definitely the glue.

Growing up - between our own family, my sister and her children, my brother and his family, neighbors, and often times old friends of my parents', we'd have a houseful of laughter, a lot of food, practical jokes, eating a lot of food, stories of what's been happening since last we met, more eating, board games, playing outside, and dessert. They were great times that I wouldn't trade for the world.

As we got older and grew apart, I still looked forward, even became dependent upon, those short visits with family - and - as long as mother was there, didn't want the time to end.

One of the "funnest" times was a more recent holiday gathering: Thanksgiving 2004, which we combined with celebrating the end of the worst hurricane season on record. We had been hit with the center of back-to-back hurricanes, only two weeks apart, and the season went through the entire alphabet of hurricane names. It was a tough summer, so we celebrated. My husband's family also came. Everyone brought something that got them through the power outages, the wind, the hunkering down, and they each told the story as to why that particular thing was so important to them. My niece told of making sun-tea, but left it out too long and it fermenting, becoming Hurricane Hooch. It really was great, animated fun, but much better understood had you been there.

I'm so grateful for the Sunday drives we took in our old convertible when I was very young. Our little family of four, together, loving each other and being together. (By then, my older sister was married and my brother was in the Air Force.)

I'm so grateful for all the memories of family gatherings, whether it was for holidays or just Sunday meals. Our house was always full of the scents from Mom's cooking.

I'm so grateful to have been connected to my new-to-me cousins, whom we met this past April. It saddens me that Mother didn't get to see us all meet for the first time, because I know she would have been thrilled. I wish we were close enough (logistically) to get together more often, but thanks to today's technology, we do connect nearly every day.

I'm so grateful for the time I get to spend with my older sister and brother, and I wish my younger sister would come back into the fold. Mother was the glue that bound us and now that she's gone, well, things have changed.

I'm so grateful for my husband and my son and his wife. I love, love, love being with them. Since Mother passed away, my daughter-in-law has taken care to see that new traditions are being created between the four of us. I love her for that.

I'm so grateful Mother taught me to love from my heart.

Some family fun in 2006.

I love and miss you.

Happy Birthday Week, Day 5: Attitude of Appreciation

5 more reasons for me to be grateful to my mother:

1. She taught me how to read. My mother sat me down in front of her every single school night and made me read out loud to her during third- through fifth-grade. I hated it then, but appreciate it today. It wasn't that I couldn't read, it was that, just like today, I was easily distracted and then couldn't always remember what I had read. So, Mother taught me to focus so I could comprehend. I still don't enjoy reading -- funny thing to admit after spending the past 10-years as an editor, but it's true.

2. She never complained.  Her father died when she was only eight- or nine-years old, so her mother (my grandmother) was left to raise six children on her own. From what I've learned, my grandmother was about the hardest working woman in Southern Illinois, working all the time in order to provide for her children. Although my mother wasn't single, it's those lessons in frugality that Mother continued to teach us when we were growing up. When my parents began to struggle financially, Mom went to work in a T-shirt factory, standing on her feet in a sweat box all day in deplorable conditions. But she never complained, and I appreciate that she never made me feel like I was the burden that forced her to work in such conditions so I could go to the movies, buy new shoes, go to football games and all the other demands of one's senior year in high school. Later, when Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and Mom locked herself in their house with him for nine-months before deciding that he needed to be placed in a nursing home, she never once complained.

3. She allowed me to be me. My high school years, especially my senior year, were rough. My parents absolutely hated my boyfriend, and while my father would try to ground me and keep me away from him, Mother patiently waited for me to get him out of my head. Unfortunately, Daddy was right on this one, but I appreciated that Mother wanted me to figure things out on my own. She also encouraged me to "be who you want to be. Don't worry about what others might think."

4. She served the Lord and others. Mom had a voice that others dreamed of, and until her Essential Tremors took that voice away, she sang in the church choir faithfully. She passed that gift on to  my older sister, who sings like a bird still today. Mother volunteered - at school events, as my Girl Scout leader, at church dinners and other gatherings, and later in life, she participated in local non-profit events such as walk-athons. She donated her time, talent and treasure to various causes that touched her heart, especially anything related to Alzheimer's disease (since that's what took Daddy away from us).

5. She taught me how to be a good mother and wife. I am a good mother and I am a good wife. How many women say that out loud? Many of us question our capabilities, time spent with family, etc. But I know I have been a good mother and wife, because I know I had the best example. Am I like her? Not always. Mother waited on my dad hand and foot - I do not do that. She laid out his clothes for him every morning. Do I do that? No. She had dinner waiting for him on the table when he got home from work. Do I do that? Well, in all honesty, I wish I could, and I would if I didn't also work outside the home. She always, always carved out time for us, whether it was to take us to the community pool, to teach us something new, to lay on the terrazzo floor with us for naps or read to us, to huddle with us during hurricanes - and I always loved that time.

On Day 5 of my mother's Birthday Week, these are the things that I'm thinking about and wishing everyone could feel about their mother as I do about mine.

Here's Mom participating in a fundraiser for a local Alzheimer's organization.

Thanks, Mom.

 

Happy Birthday Week Day 4: May Your Bobbin Always be Full

Today I celebrate being able to sew - clothes, home accessories, bed spreads, curtains, pillows, etc.

As I mentioned yesterday, Mom began teaching me when I was in fifth-grade, at the age of nine. On summer afternoons, we'd often set up tents in our carport, using bed sheets, towels, blankets, the card table and whatever else we could think of. We'd fill the inside with pillows and Mom would crawl in and read to us, play board games with us, serve us Kool-Aid and cookies, and teach us to sew. Sometimes, we'd build our tent in the house and she'd put on her gospel records and sing along. Her award-winning voice was so beautiful. I thought she was a opera singer.

 Looking back on those days, of course I realize now how special they were, but I think I realized it even then. I always asked for more; more time to learn to sew, more time to play games, more time to sing, more time with Mom.

The first thing she taught me about sewing was, of course, hand stitching. She gave me a tiny square of fabric and taught me how to make a 'dress' for my Barbie. Since I was going to a church Sadie Hawkins Day dance later that week (Yes, I said Sadie Hawkins Day. If you don't know what that is, Google it.), I decided to make my Barbie a costume for the dance. After sewing together what was basically a tube, I added tiny patches to it and made her a matching scarf to wear with it. She was all set for the dance. It's pictured below on the right.

The next time, Mother taught me how to sew on buttons. So, again, I made a basic tube, but this time it was a wrap-around skirt, held together with three buttons. Then I also made a smaller tube and sewed on two straps, making a top to go with the skirt. (Shown above on the left) Cute, huh? And so coordinated.

Then I graduated to shifts. Mom had me hand stitch bias tape around the neck and arms, and hand stitch the back seam and the hem. If you look closely at the photo above, you can see the stitching.

In keeping with my theme this week of appreciating all the things my mother taught me, I thought I'd show you how to transform an ordinary table setting placemat into a holiday pillow.

What you'll need:
placemats and polyester filling (stuffing)
sewing machine
scissors and thread

I went out in search of some Halloween fabric and saw these Halloween placemats at A.C. Moore for a dollar each. I decided they'd work perfectly for pillows, so I bought four. I already had the stuffing, but it's about $4 for a bag.

I made mine so the ghosts are on one side and the pumpkins are on the other.
With wrong sides together, sew up three sides right along the edge of the placemats. The mats have a finished edge, so no need to sew them wrong side out and turn them. This is much easier.
Fill with stuffing, then sew the open end closed.

Viola' -- it's done!

I know, it's nothing spectacular, but it is simple.
I could show you my satin and lace wedding dress that I handmade with hundreds of tiny covered buttons going down the back, a three-piece suit I made for my husband many moons ago, all the matching outfits I made for our little family when our son was young, business suits from my banking days, a bedspread and matching curtains -- and remember Leisure Suits? I made them, too.

Learning how to sew was the catalyst for all of my creativity. I'm so grateful to my mother for her time. A few months after she passed away, I made a quilt using her everyday clothes and her favorite lap blanket.

Happy birthday, Mom.  I love and miss you. I always will.

Happy Birthday Week D Day: Unconditional Love

Today is my mother's birthday. She would have been 97.

When Hospice came in to care for her about 10 days before she passed away, she looked up at me and said, "I thought I was going to live to be 100." That was and remains the saddest thing I've ever heard, because she was so disappointed. I was accustomed to always being able to take away her disappointments, but this time, I had no control. Only weeks earlier she had been to a County Commission meeting with me where they had recognized a woman who had reached her centennial celebration, and Mother thought it was so special for Commissioners to do that. She spoke about how she looked forward to that one day. And I believed it would happen, too.

Tonight, my husband and I honor Mom with Publix fried chicken (only Publix, no other), mac and cheese and key lime pie -- all things she enjoyed. I know she's smiling.

I have so many memories of celebrating my mom's birthday, but all of them are as an adult. I don't have any childhood memories of birthday parties or even birthday cake for her. So, I went to my sister for the scoop. She assures me there were celebrations, most often at the restaurant my parents owned in Mounds, Illinois. My dad wasn't good at taking it upon himself to buy Mom birthday, anniversary or Christmas gifts. He usually had someone do it for him. So, my sister tells me that my aunt always took care of making sure Mom's birthday was celebrated in a big way.

This is a pic of my mom and a friend working at the little diner

my parents owned in Mounds, Illinois.

Once we moved to Miami, I have no idea how Mom's birthday was recognized. I just don't have any memories of that, but I do have great memories of how Mom saw to every detail of holiday meals. She went all out, long before Martha Stewart came along. We always had a houseful of guests and friends, and Mom made it all. No pot-luck at our house.

Here's Thanksgiving 1976. How beautiful is this table?

Mother spent so much time with us. She taught me to sew when I was just nine-years old. We began by making Barbie doll clothes. We would "build tents" in our carport using bed sheets and card tables, and Mother would crawl in with us and sit there for hours as she showed me how to hand-stitch. She thought the 'real' Barbie clothes were too expensive, so she made all of the clothes for our Barbies. Just look at this evening gown, shawl and suit she knitted for my Barbie.

I wished as a child these clothes could be mine.

Actually, I wouldn't mind it today. Look how pretty that suit is!

We held a huge surprise party for her 89th birthday, not for any reason other than I wanted her to see how loved she was. My brother flew in for the day from San Antonio, my cousins came in from West Palm Beach; everyone was there.

A couple of years later, we took her on a cruise to Mexico to celebrate her birthday. What a blast!

Mom boards the ship in Miami.

Fun in Cozumel.

While I miss her just as much today as I did when she first left this earth, I also know how blessed I am to have had such a loving, caring, attentive and special mother.

I don't care that I'm 61 and still missing your smile, your advice, your love.

Every day I wake up, I always have you to thank. I have your guidance, your warmth,

your love, and your heart: someone who loved me unconditionally, right or wrong.

You will always be my Mom.

It's time to come home.

Happy Birthday Week, Day 2: What Do You See in the Couds?

Tonight I celebrate my mother by appreciating how she taught me to see in things what isn't always obvious.

I'll start off by telling how she and I would look into the clouds; she'd look in one direction and I in the other. Then we'd tell each other what we saw. When I was very young, she'd spread a bed sheet out onto my dad's perfectly groomed yard and we'd lay there watching the clouds form animals, faces and more. Two days before she passed away, we sat in the family room, facing out towards the backyard and gazed at the clouds. When I asked her what she saw, she said, "I see myself feeling better." (I hadn't thought about that until now.)

As you know, Mother was my Girl Scout leader for many years, so she also had the ability to take ordinary, everyday items and turn them into useful or decorative items. For instance (and I sure wish I had a photo of it), in the late 1950s early 1960s, she made a beautiful Christmas tree centerpiece using only Styrofoam balls, toothpicks and spray snow. She poked hundreds (more likely thousands) of toothpicks into I don't even know how many Styrofoam balls, sprayed them with snow, stacked them on top of each other like a pyramid, hung tiny little glass ornaments on it, and put it in the center of our dining room table. I remember it being so stunning. After Christmas she'd wrap the spiny balls in plastic and box it up for the next year.

My husband and I took our baby girl Ginger to the doggie beach yesterday, where she romped and played and I wished I had her energy. It's so much fun to watch the dogs all running, playing and getting along. Oh how I wish everyone could live by that example, don't you? Anyway, the shells were scattered here and there along the beach, so I thought I'd gather some and use them to frame a photo my husband had taken of our baby girl. (In know, I know, it's been done before. But I first did it back in the days of yore when I was a Brownie. Back then, we had to use Elmer's glue and hold things in place until the glue almost dried.)

There usually aren't many shells at this location, but the tide was way, way out

and that uncovered a bunch of shells. I was picky, wanting only certain kinds to go with the crab claws.

I just hot-glued some sea shells, crab claws and raffia around some corners of an old frame. Yeppers, I said crab claws. They were all over the beach, so I grabbed a few. See, what I'm saying? Mother taught me that. Mother taught me to use what I could pick up off the ground.

Here's the finished frame. My honey's going to love a pic of his baby girl. (It'll probably replace one of me, since space in his shop is so limited. ha ha)

Why a photo of our dog?  Mom always loved my Sheltie Prince Sam, but he became ill the day she passed away and we soon lost him. She would have enjoyed Ginger, but she's much more energetic than Sam ever was.

Mother taught me to see the beauty and usefulness in all things. I guess that's why I have such a hard time throwing things out.

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
― Confucius

 

 

 

Thank you, Mom, for all of my gifts. Happy birthday week!

Happy Birthday Week, Day 1: Merry, Merry Take a Cherry

In recognition of what would be Mother's 97th birthday, I'm going to celebrate this entire week by honoring the gifts and talents she passed on to me.

She began teaching me how to cook when I was in her Brownie Troop 612. So, tonight I'm baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies -- but this isn't entirely her recipe. I've tweaked it just a tad to make the cookies a little thicker than hers used to come out. And - have you seen the new Nestle Toll House Delightfulls chips? I accidentally came upon them, not at the grocery store, but at one of my favorite bargain stores - Big Lots. They had four flavors, and the one I'm using tonight is their dark chocolate morsels with cherry filling.

Mom loved chocolate covered cherries, and Santa put a box of them in her stocking every year that I can remember. But here's what set my mom apart from all other moms: I like chocolate covered cherries, too, but not the cherry. I'd let the chocolate melt in my mouth, then I'd suck away the cherry syrup, then -- I'd spit out the cherry. But it wouldn't go to waste. In fact, nothing ever went to waste in our home. What would become of that cherry? Mother would eat it. She would take it right from my fingers and into her mouth. She did that my whole life. Would your mother do that?

Chocolate Chip Cookies
What you'll need:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour          3/4 cup sugar          12-oz. of chocolate chips
1 tsp. baking soda                         3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 tsp. salt                                       1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup softened butter                     2 eggs
1/2 cup 1-minute oat meal flakes

Set your oven to 350-degrees and grease a cookie sheet.
This recipe makes about three dozen 4-inch round cookies.

Combine the dry ingredients - flour, baking soda, salt and oat meal - in a small bowl. (Notice, there is a 1/4 cup more flour in my recipe than in others, and note the addition of oat meal. These two ingredients help make the cookies just a little thicker, but you don't taste the oat meal in the finished cookies.)
Beat the butter, both sugars and vanilla in a large mixer bowl until creamy. Then add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
Gradually beat in the flour mixture.

Okay, can I just say that we could stop right here and I'd be happy. This bowl of cookie dough could be my dinner. Is that wrong?

When combined, add the chocolate chips. The new Delightfulls only come in 9-ounce bags, so that's what I used. (Truth be told: You may have noticed that the bag of chocolate chips was already open. I couldn't help myself. Mom never would have done that; she always exercised complete self-control. I get my sweet tooth from my dad, who always wanted to start dinner with desert.)

Of course, you can add 1 cup of chopped nuts, if you'd like. Mother couldn't eat them, so I never added them, and didn't tonight.

Mom always, always let us lick the mixing beaters.

Nothing's changed there. Yummy!

Using an ice cream scoop, put balls of cookie dough onto your prepared cookie sheet. My baking sheet is a 21-year old, well seasoned, Pampered Chef stone. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Bake the cookies at 350-degrees for about 15-minutes. Keep and eye on them, because you want them to be light in color.

To begin our week of celebrating my mother, Julia Ethel (Steele) Jackson, we'll be having Cherry Chocolate Chip Cookies for desert (and maybe a scoop of ice cream, too.)

“When I sound the fairy call, gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall, cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry, take a cherry, mine are sounder, mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter for the eater, when the dews fall, and you'll be fairies all.” ― Emily Dickinson

Happy birthday week, Ma!

Looking for Balance

I'm in one of those phases when my life feels enough out of control and order that I wish I could take a month off of work (paid, of course) and get everything tidied up with a sweet little pink bow keeping it all together; everything nice, neat and perfect.

Dream on, right?

I'm the first to admit that I "get like this" every so often, but usually it's because I've over-extended myself so much that I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. When I was still the editor of a social magazine, I was constantly on the go, day, night and weekends, and rarely found time for myself. I don't have that excuse this time. Sure, I'm busy at work. Who isn't? And, yes, the pressure to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars can be distressing at times.

I "get like this" when I have too much on my plate and it becomes difficult to separate the items. I "get like this" when my head is telling me one thing and my heart is telling me another. I "get like this" when I'm overwhelmed with grief, brought on this time by a visit to my friend, whose mother bears the same name as mine - whose mother is unsteady on her feet as was mine, whose mother was wearing the same shirt that evening as my mother owned and often wore, whose mother lives with my friend just as my mother lived with me. (Need I go on?) I was there to help my friends make plans for their wedding, but I was so overcome with grief that I'm not too sure how helpful I was. I do know that my friends were so completely understanding as I wept off and on for three-hours.

That was the catalyst for this emotional turmoil; feeling out of balance. Weighing heavy on my heart and mind these days is the need to organize what's left of my parents' belongings and, frankly, the rest of my house. I know, I've written in the past that I had given my siblings photos and other items, but I still have things that need to be divided. (My fear of letting go of their things is overwhelming in and of itself. If I give those things to my siblings, will my parents "be gone?" Does keeping those things to  myself assure their presence, always and forever?) And I have closets that have things in them that haven't seen the light of day for years. So, in my mind, if I could just get all of that "in order," then everything else would fall into place; the skies would be blue, the birds would be chirping and I'd be singing in the shower.

The funny thing is, if I was granted that wish to have a month to myself, I'd most likely nap it away or start a project that has nothing at all to do with organizing my life. Just today I got home about an hour early and, instead of tackling the immediate need to clean off the shelves in what used to be my mother's living room, I literally napped on the sofa with my Baby Girl Ginger. When I awoke, I felt so good, since I didn't get any sleep last night. But it also felt so wrong, since projects are waiting. (I can't redecorate that room, put on a fresh coat of paint, bring in a twin day-bed, add the touches of a patchwork bedspread, etc. until everything in there now is removed.)

Clearly, many of us are looking for that elusive "balance" in our lives. I go to bed feeling guilty if I haven't been productive the majority of the day. As I've said many times, I'm like a dog seeing a squirrel - easily distracted. I know it's the choices I make; choices to walk away from the things that need to be done, that might take several days to complete, and replace them with things that are more fun and easily accomplished. And, yes, then I fret that I haven't been productive enough.

I know I'm not alone. Maybe we just can't win.

In any event, I do know that I'd much rather have too much going on in my life than too little ("The more things you do, the more you CAN do." - Lucille Ball), and if that means things are a little out of balance once in a while (or maybe even most of the time), then so be it. I guess I can live with that.

I did, finally, finish redecorating what used to be Mother's bedroom. I know she'd love it, but I'm the one who really enjoys going in there and looking at all the old photos hanging above the bed. I took the time to go through our box of old pics and framed shots of my husband's grandparents and parents and my grandparents and parents. Then I re-purposed a yellow jacket of my mother's, making it a throw-pillow for the bed (I knew I had been holding on to it for a reason.) Back in the corner, placed in the yellow chair, is a pillow made from one of my dad's shirts. This room comforts me, but it also excites me as my sister, brother, cousins and I take our journey into our ancestry. And, because of their commitment to research, I'm able to identify folks in these old family photos.

Not For the Faint of Heart

I'm no artist, but I do love learning new art-forms and new crafting techniques. So, when I saw a photo of a new twist on an American flag, I knew I wanted to make one. (It's that time of year.) I looked online for instructions, but all I could find was an artist on etsy.com selling kits to make them for $220 and a blogger through pinterest.com that had photos of many different flags. Since paying $220 wasn't an option, I studied the photo until I "got it."
Usually the crafts I write about are fast and easy to make; many times for the whole family to work on together. This project is none of the above. It is not for the newbie, not for the faint of heart. It's not that it's hard to do, it's just that it will take time and patience and you'll have to figure most of it out for yourself. But in the end, it will be well worth the effort (and money), because this is the cutest flag -- EVER!

What you'll need:
*  navy blue fabric -- it can have stars on it, or you can paint some on, or you can sew buttons on as stars, or whatever you decide is best for you
*  lots and lots of red and white ribbons and fabric strips -- I used lace, ribbon, yards of pom poms, strips of fabric scraps, and you can also use strands of beads and more
*  a dowel
*  cording

From this point, everything you do is dependent upon how you want your flag to look; how wide you want it and how long you want it to hang. I don't have measurements for anything. I just guessed as I went along with my project. I already had the fabric scraps and a lot of red and white ribbon, but I wanted to include lace and pom poms, so I had to buy them.

After deciding how big I wanted the blue starred fabric to be, I laid the whole project out, cutting and layering the ribbons and lace until I was satisfied.

It's easy to already see why I fell in love with this, isn't it?
Then I began sewing the shorter strips of ribbon and fabric to the navy fabric.
After that, I sewed the navy fabric to a strip of binding I made from a scrap of white fabric.

Then I began sewing on all the other longer pieces of ribbon, lace and fabric strips.
I sewed down the binding, put a dowel through the casing, attached the pretty cord for hanging and called it a day.

Isn't it really cute? Even my husband remarked about how nice this is. He wants to hang it in his shop!
In full disclosure, it took me four nights (after dinner and dishes) to complete it. It tested both my patience and my math skills, and I likely wouldn't do it, again.


Since leaving the comfort of a job I had for 16-years and taking on a whole new career, which is still very new to me, I've been kind of stretching my limits in new-to-me ways. Everything was on auto-pilot where I worked prior to becoming the development director for a non-profit medical and dental clinic for those in need.

I'm learning more than I ever imagined I would, especially at my age. From the intricacies of  today's healthcare system to the dirtiness of local, state and federal politics, my brain is taxed. From the pressure of raising funds to support this free clinic to the distress of trying to save the jobs of those I've grown to appreciate, my heart aches.

Don't think for a minute there aren't days when I'm ready to concede and let "them" win.
Luckily, those days are few, thanks to the energy fueled by the sudden desire to learn and become an expert in my field, which is not at all for the faint of heart.

A question on an application for membership into the Association of Fundraising Professionals asked, "What do you expect to get from this organization?"
My response included being provided with the tools I need to help me succeed, but I also said that I want to be the best at what I do; rivaled by others in the field.

I've never felt that way, but it's true today.

Well, that's all for tonight. I do hope you'll try making the flag. You'll see lots of examples of it on Pinterest.com


Love you, Mom

Celebrate Summer with a Bouquet of Brightly Colored Tissue Flowers

When I was in grade school, the go-to "art project" around Mother's Day was always tissue carnations. Led by our art teacher, we'd take one Kleenex tissue and fold it back and forth like a fan. Then we'd get a green pipe cleaner and wire it around the middle of the folded tissue. Once it was tight, we'd start pulling open the plys of the tissue -- then our teacher would come around and spritz them with her perfume.
I can't even remember how many of those tissue carnations were given to Mom from me and my sister, but she enjoyed everyone of them.

Today, tissue pom-poms are trending at bridal and baby showers, wedding receptions and birthday parties. You see them all over Pinterest and Facebook. My niece had them hanging at her wedding, and thanks to that, I have a huge supply of tissue paper.

So, I decided to whip up some tissue flowers (half of a pom-pom) and make a brightly colored bouquet to set on the dining room table during the summer months. Now that Studio Sydney is all cleaned up, I can actually see what I have and where it all is. This is a fun and easy project to do with your children, grandchildren or the whole family.

What you need:

I had a pretty little bowl that looks like a watermelon, but the finished flowers can also go into a vase. You'll need tissue paper (not Kleenex, but the kind of tissue paper you use inside boxes when wrapping gifts) in any colors you choose, wire wrappers (like the kind used to tie up bread), skewers (or pipe cleaners) and scissors.

How it's done:

Step 1 -- Cutting the tissue
Each of my flowers is 8 layers thick and is 6.5 inches wide by 7.5 inches long. You can make yours whatever size you prefer. The larger the paper, the bigger the bloom. Remember that larger blooms will require more layers of tissue paper.

Step 2 -- Folding the paper
Starting at one of the 6.5 inch ends, begin folding the paper back and forth, like a fan or an accordion. Fold at 3/4 of an inch and it will come out even at the end.

Step 3 -- Attaching the wire
Attach the wire in the middle of the folded tissue and then round the ends cutting in a curve.

Step 4 -- Attaching the skewer
The skewer is attached simply by wrapping the ends of the wire around the top of the skewer. I used skewers, because I wanted the length, but you can also skip the skewers and wrap a pipe cleaner around the middle of the accordion.

Step 5 -- Unfolding the tissue paper
Very, very gently begin pulling the tissue layers apart from one another. Do all of the layers on one side, then repeat on the other side. The tissue paper is very thin, so be careful not to tear it, but don't have a heart attack if you do tear them; it's bound to happen. You can usually hide them.

Step 6 -- Fluffing out the bloom
Now make them all come to life by fluffing out the blooms and place in your container of choice.

See how easy they are? If everyone in the family makes one, you'll have a full bouquet in about 15-minutes.

 

 

I'm going to get the rest of my summer decorations down from the attic in a few days, but these are going on the dining room table tonight. I hope if you make them, you'll tell me about it. Enjoy!

 

 

Love you, Mom.

Studio Sydney - My Place for Re-nourishment

Is there someplace special you go - a physical location - to feel the presence of another person?
Like the presence of a loved one passed? Or the comfort of someone who's miles away from you?
Is it a particular chair? A room? Your church? The beach? A mountain top?
Is it a place where you find peace and tranquility?

I'm not at all embarrassed to admit that sometimes I need to chat with my parents. I'm sure all of you have experienced that same desire; to reach out to someone gone from this earth. Where I go to connect to my father and mother are two very different places, but at both locations I find peace.

Even though my parents are buried side-by-side, I only feel my father during my monthly visits to take new flowers to their graveside. That is where I'm able to talk to him and know that he's listening and ready to give advise (He was always ready to give advice. Dad had an answer for every question.) Maybe it's because he never stepped foot in this beautiful house in which we now live that I don't feel his presence in my home. Who knows? I just know that standing over his graveside is a place of peace for me.
Mother, on the other hand, is with me here. She's in every part of the house, but in particular still in what used to be her bedroom. Everything has been redecorated with new paint and new furniture, the clothes that were in her closet have been replaced with my cocktail dresses, and her double bed has been replaced with a queen for guests - yet she's still there. She's not at the cemetery; hers is an empty hole. So, it's to her bedroom where I go to talk about things that my husband tires of hearing, find solace and re-ground myself; my place of peace.

I also find comfort in my "Studio Sydney." It's not the kind of place to go for tranquility, because right now it's an explosive mess. But it's definitely my place of re-nourishment. I believe everyone should have a place to go to fuel their creative juices. Even if you think you aren't creative, I promise, you are.

I really shouldn't be admitting this online for the world (okay my close friends) to see, but this is what my studio looks like right now. (It's was actually worse that this picture shows.)

What a freaking mess.

Feeling energetic and ready to take on a new project (because the ba-zillion unfinished projects aren't enough), I walked into Studio Sydney this morning and realized why I haven't felt connected lately. Look at this mess! How can anyone think straight in this?
I've been neglectful (no kidding) in putting things away as I use them, and all too ready to start something new (can you say, "Squirrel!?"), when I haven't even finished what I was already working on. (I know. I've written about this problem I have in a previous post.) It looked like an atom bomb exploded in the northeast corner of my house.
It was time to re-organize and clean up, which is what then lead to the distraction of writing this blog (another squirrel).

I got to thinking about the emotions that are invoked when I am in certain places; how even the different rooms of my own home lead me to different feelings and discoveries within. For example, my small formal living room is a great place to crack open a book and sit and read; silence. My kitchen is definitely a place of electricity; I love to experiment, create and bake. Being in our camper/trailer sparks an excitement that takes me back to when I was a young Girl Scout; camping under the stars, telling ghosts stories, cooking on the underside of a giant tin can, and checking off requirements for badges. Bicycle riding equates to freedom.

I could go on and on.
The words at the top of the all in my craft room say it all.

But how about you?
What is your place of solace, peace, re-nourishment, re-birth?

Now that Studio Sydney is cleaned up and re-organized, I can concentrate on some of those unfinished projects, that I'll be sharing with you here on my blog. If you look closely, you can see them lined up on the desk.

 

Love and miss you Mom and Dad.

I Touched a Mexican Wrestler

Ha, ha.
I knew that would get your attention.
I did fist bump with a man dressed as a Mexican wrestler while in San Antonio, but that really doesn't have anything to do with this post, which is all about family.

After all the waiting, anticipating and planning, the Stith-Sheets-Steele Cousin Union has come and gone. The next time we get together, it will officially be a re-union.

Although not everyone who said they'd be making the pilgrimage actually made it, and although some just couldn't make it this time, I know I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I'm very thankful for the opportunity to have spent that week with my brother, sister, cousins and families. In particular, my brother, sister and I are closer than ever.

Our parents were siblings, born between 1904 and 1920, and raised in Southern Illinois. Their father (my grandfather) died in 1928, leaving their mother (my grandmother) with six children to feed, clothe, educate and raise as upstanding citizens. She did an incredible job, as all six of them grew into adulthood with good family values, impeccable work ethics, respect for others and a love for the Almighty.

When they were all grown and married, they grew apart physically; living in California, New Mexico, Illinois and Florida. But their love and support for one another never, ever wavered. The brothers lived in California and New Mexico and saw each other often. The sisters lived in Illinois and Florida and saw each other every summer. And when it came to their brothers, they were in lock-step to defend them.

It's that closeness that also confuses us.
They held a reunion in 1971 in New Mexico and then again in 1978 in Southern Illinois, but as far as any of us can recall, those are the only two times they were together after moving from Southern Illinois.
Why didn't they all get together more often?

We surmise it's simply a matter of logistics. "Back then" (or as my husband and I like to say, "Back in the days of yore"), air travel was quite costly and mainly limited to the elite, it was definitely too far to drive, and long distance phone calls were exorbitant. Plus they were all busy raising their own families. That left letter writing.

It doesn't explain why one of the cousins didn't know anything at all about the aunts or their children. And that's one of many questions that will remain unanswered, as our windows to our pasts have closed.

I thought there would be a lot of time spent reminiscing and chatting about our parents. I thought I needed that. But, instead, we spent time together - getting to know each other, showing photos of our families and talking about our children and grandchildren. It turns out, that's what I needed.

I didn't need to hear others telling stories about Daddy and Mom in order to feel closer to them; I needed to get to know my extended family.

One of us was worried that we'd sit around like old people and just talk. Well, that didn't happen. We strolled the River Walk, dined at restaurants, hiked caverns, drove through a safari, visited a local winery and more.

 

 

One cousin had family T-shirts made for each of us, one gave everyone a copy of an extensive history of the ancestry, one gave each of us a copy of the family crest, and one gave everyone a copy of a family tree drawn by an artist friend. It was a lot to take in.

 

On our final night together, we lit Japanese lanterns and released them into the night sky in memory or our family members who have passed.
Moving.
It was beautiful.

All in all, it was a great week, with laughter filling the spaces. Plans are now underway for us to do it all, again - in two years. We'll be heading to California, so those of you reading this who are part of the Stith/Sheets/Steele ancestry, keep an eye out for details.



I love you, Mom and Dad. I don't even need to say that I wish you had been there, because I know you were.

Excited by the Anticipation

In only a matter of weeks, I'll be meeting some of my cousins for the first time, and I can't even begin to explain how exciting this is. For the past year I've had the privilege of getting to know one of my cousins whom my husband and I visited in November, and recently I've been getting to know others - thanks to Facebook.

Some of the cousins, back in the days of yore, with Gramma.

Actually it's Facebook and Ancestry.com that have brought us together. Social media, used for the common good, is a great thing.

My older sister has been researching some of our family's history - on our mother's side. (Dad's is next.) I've been compiling her found statistics for a family tree. And even my brother has gotten in on the fun of learning about our past, by contacting genealogists in Southern Illinois.. (Thank goodness we haven't uncovered any serial killers.) With very click of the mouse, with every keystroke entered and with every response, I feel closer than ever to Mother, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother and Great-Great-Grandmother.

My mother's parents

In her excitement, my sister reminded me, "Do you realize that Abraham Lincoln wasn't even president, yet?"

It's amazing to learn how our ancestors made a living, how many times they were married and how many children they had. I sometimes sit and fantasize about their lives and how they survived without the comforts of electricity, air-conditioning, fast transportation, modern washing machines, telephones and more.

But I also think about how simple - how local - everything was. There was no such thing as a global economy. Supporting local businesses meant local families could pay their local bills and have local food on the table. It meant everyone in the "hood" took care of each other, without any worry of a lawsuit. It was a time when everyone was accountable for his or her own actions or lack of action and took responsibility for their behavior.

I remember stories my dad told about his childhood and how he would leave the house in the morning and fill his day with friends, swimming, etc., and not come home until dinner. It was safe; life was safe.

I'm thrilled at this opportunity to meet new-to-me cousins. I wish more could join us, but perhaps they'll see our photos on Facebook in a few weeks and decide, "I'd better be there next time." For sure, we'll be posting, tweeting and selfie-ing the whole time we're together.

Oh, Mother, how I wish you were here to see this. You'd be thrilled.
I love and miss you, both.

Listen to What Your Body is Trying to Tell You, Then Share it With Your Doctors

Hearing update -- still can't hear, but doctor says I need tubes. Yes, like children have to get. So that's coming up next week.
Coughing update -- tried Vicks Vapor Rub on the bottom of my feet with thick white socks and it seems to have worked. Who knew?

I have a St. Patrick's Day wreath to share with you, but I think I'll wait another day.
Today I must take this opportunity to write about something that's usually not discussed or shared with others...
Please read it through to the end.

In mid-December, I fell into the deepest, darkest depression anyone can imagine. I simply chalked it up to it being the holiday season and missing my mother, and I pushed it back. Who has time for that nonsense?
At the same time, I noticed sores inside my mouth; blisters and a roughness all along the inside of my whole mouth. Some of my little taste buds were swollen. I simply chalked that up to eating all the wrong foods over the holidays and just figured it would go away on its own once I started eating more protein and less junk food.
I also noticed that my neck was slightly swollen, and I chalked that up to possible thyroid changes, making a note to see my doctor after the holidays.

Well, the holidays came and went, and by mid-January the depression was over-whelming -- to the point where I turned away friends, withdrew my involvement in outside activities and just tried to drop off the face of the earth. I was too embarrassed to face anyone, yet I also didn't care who I hurt. Other than to go to work, I really didn't leave the house much at all. The swelling in my neck had also worsened, and the sores in my mouth were larger, but because of my depression, I ignored it all.

At the end of January, I had a standing appointment with my cardiologist. When he asked how I was doing, I said I was fine. He's not a psychologist, right? He's not a dentist, right? He's not my endocrinologist, right? So why tell him all those things that were "wrong" with me? He's just going to refer me to a psychologist, the dentist and the thyroid doctor. I don't need him to tell me that. Ten-minutes later, I was out the door and on my way back to work.

My mouth got worse and worse. I finally made an appointment to see my dentist, and when he saw my mouth, he was very concerned. He thought it could possibly be a type of yeast infection called candida, but he began asking me questions: Have you been on any antibiotics? "No." Are you taking any new medications? "Well, yes. I've been taking a new-to-me blood pressure medication since early December."
He then asked if I knew what it was and because I was in a do-not-care mood, the only thing I could think of was that it began with an A. He got my cardiologist on the phone to see what it was and then my dentist -- yes, my dentist, began looking up the side effects of amlodipine.

Remember -- every one of us is completely different. How one person reacts to a medication might be very different from how another reacts. And the majority of us don't react at all. This is not a warning about the use of amlodipine -- it is, however, a warning about knowing your body, listening to it and telling each of your doctors (because none of us has just one doctor anymore)  EVERYTHING!!

My dentist discovered that I was the rare person to have nearly every side effect of amlodipine. The sores in my mouth, the swollen glands in my neck and even the depression could all be rare side effects of this blood-pressure medication.

I immediately called my cardiologist who changed my prescription. I didn't want to begin taking anything new until I began to feel better -- which I'm happy to say is finally here. (Okay, not including the bronchitis)

It took six-weeks to begin to feel the difference.
I'm no longer in that horrendously dark place of aloneness and despair. My mouth has healed and the swelling in my neck, which got worse before it got better, is gone.

Lesson learned -- I will tell every doctor I see about every little thing that is going on with me from now on. I will never again assume that I can be the one to decide what's important to talk over with my doctor and what isn't. They are going to hear it all, and they can decide what's theirs to fix and what should be referred to another.

Thank you Dr. Gehrig!

Wish you had been here to take care of me, Mom.

Therapy Session -- Stepping into the Life of my Mother

Imagine not being able to hear your child cry out in need.
Or hear the birds chirping each morning as your feet feel the warm rug beneath them.
Imagine being in a room of 100 people and all you can hear is the low mumble of the conference speaker.

My mother was deaf. She lost her hearing while in her early 40s, and although she had surgery to correct the problem,  the procedure wasn't successful, forcing her to wear two hearing aids for the rest of her life.

I feel as though I entered into her world this week, as the remnants of my bronchitis have left me with some kind of ear infection - leaving me without any hearing at all in my right ear and very little in my left. Of course, the difference is that once I get in to see my doctor the day after tomorrow, I'm sure I'll be fine.

How ironic, though, that today as I embark on Part 3 of my at-home therapy sessions, I am thrust into her world of silence. Today, I begin the task of going through Mother's box of old family photos.

 

My intention has always been to share them with my siblings; I just needed to find the right time (whatever that means). 

 

I've donated my mother's clothing to charity, removed what used to be her bedroom furniture, painted the room and redecorated, and now it's okay to remember my parent's past and the stories they told by going through these old photos, news clippings and Christmas cards.

 

It's actually caused a bit of a domino effect. I've called my older sister and brother to ask questions about certain things I see in the pictures, and because we're planning a Cousin Union in April, even more questions are being asked. My sister has joined Ancestry.com and has begun some very interesting research. I'm sure she'll uncover the timeline of our lives, our parents', grandparents' and great-grandparents'.

 

Here's a photo my sister located through Ancestry.com -- my mother's parents are the two to the far right. Our grandfather, a lineman for the power company, died in his early 40s after being electrocuted during a line repair. My mother was only 10-12 years old. My grandmother died on my third birthday while she and I were playing Tea Party. None of us have ever seen this photo.

 

Like I feel as though I stepped into my mother's life today, I'm hoping my sister gathers enough information for us to step into the lives of our ancestors, if only for a moment.

I love and miss you, Mom and Dad.