We worked, we laughed, we had lots of fun!

A crafter's poem....

Crafters are a funny bunch,
We'd rather craft than eat our lunch.
The housework, it can always wait.
It will be there on some other date.
No craft is left to be untried,
No creative thought to be denied.
Craft supplies - they're everywhere!
We're never caught without a spare.
Can our time be better spent,
Than practicing our creative bent?
Let it be said when we are done,
We worked, we laughed, we had lots of fun.
                                           by Debbie Garrett


My girlfriends and I all get together once a month, meeting at alternating houses, to craft.
At least, that's what we tell our families.
It's actually therapy for the soul - a little crafting mixed with a little wine and martinis and a lot of chatting. It's a great recipe for keeping our youth.

That's what Jane Fonda recently said when asked how she stays so young, "To stay young at heart, you have to have love in your life," Jane told People magazine. "For me, it's my women friends. They put starch in my spine and make me happy," she said. http://video.lycos.com/news/view/jane-fonda-friends-keep-me-youthful-77415/

We love our little group so much we named ourselves "Crafting Sistas'." And for me, nothing interferes with Craft Night.
Last night was April's Craft Night, and because our dear friend who was scheduled to host April's outing was unable to do so, I hosted it. I almost always "pin" our crafting results onto my Pinterest board, but this time I'm also blogging about it. It's another simple project that requires very little investment.

Frosted Mason Jars

You will need...

... A clean and dry mason jar. We had jelly jars, spaghetti jars, asparagus jars, etc. Any jar will do as long as it's clean and dry.
You'll also need:
Elmer's glue or Mod Podge, small paper cup, paint brush, acrylic paint of your choice, water and some kind of drop cloth.

To begin, put about a tablespoon of glue or Mod Podge into the paper cup and then add about a tablespoon of water. Mix well, then add your paint -- just a few drops. Mix well. It will be very runny.

 

Begin painting the mixture onto the outside of the jar. Be sure to lay out a drop cloth of some kind, because the mixture is very runny. The jar pictured took only one dip of the paint mixture using one of those sponge paint brushes. It takes very, very little. Remember to paint the bottom of the jar, also. When done, turn the jar over to dry.

That's it!
How easy is that?

 

 

Paint a few more jars.
Put a candle inside (best to use one of those new-fangled, battery-powered candles), tie a ribbon or raffia around the top and you have yourself a beautiful new centerpiece. We put handles on ours by wrapping wire around the rim and across the top.

Here's some important information to remember: The outside of these beautiful jars cannot get wet. The coating will wash right off -- which is actually a good thing if you're not happy with it and want to start over.

You can also coat your jars with just the glue/water mixture (no paint). Or you can add some colored tissue paper, then put another coat of the glue/water mixture on the outside of the jar.
I  made one with yellow and red tissue paper circles decoupaged onto the jar and another with strips of white tissue paper decoupaged onto the jar to make a Halloween ghost. After that one dried, I painted on black circles for the eyes and mouth and added ribbon to the top.

The ideas are limitless.

Much like my time crafting and creating, I value my friendships with those of like minds, hopes and dreams. My Sistas' have had my back for many years, never proving it more than during these past few months.

Enjoy and be the blessing.

I have one just like that!

Isn't it a riot when someone says, "I have one just like that -- but it's different."?
I crack up every time I hear it.
But today, while browsing at Sams' Club, I saw something that made me say (in my head), "I have something just like that."

In all honesty, it's not even close.

What I saw was a wire basket-type container that had three little clay pots sitting in it and three herbs growing in the pots. Very, very cute.
What I actually have is a project that my father and I made together when he was in nursing home care because of Alzheimer's disease. As I've mentioned, the best way to keep him happy was to keep him busy and feeling needed. I would take projects with me when I'd go to the nursing home - which was every day - and say, "Daddy, I need your help with something I'm working on. Do you have time?"
And he'd always say, "Let me check with the boss."
Then he'd walk over to the nurse's station and ask them if they needed him for anything. They'd reply, "Not now. "
And he'd answer back, "Well then, it's quitting time."
Then we'd go to his room and set up our temporary painting studio.
I can't even remember all the things we made together: many painted clay pot projects, holiday ornaments and pins made from tongue depressors, pink flamingo ornaments made from bells and pipe cleaners, letter holders made from paper plates, and so much more.
I made the best of the time we had together. It was the only way to cope.

So when I saw the three clay pots at Sam's Club, it reminded me of the three pots Dad and I painted, even though they are not even remotely alike. And I thought I'd show you how to make them.
When I returned home, I rummaged through the shelves in my garage until I found the remaining painted pots. We had made several sets, some using the smaller 4-inch pots and some using the larger 5-inch pots. I've had them for about 12-years, and when I thought of them while at Sam's Club, I decided to buy some small plants and re-pot them.

They're cute, aren't they? Obviously one is a bumble bee, one a frog and the other is a ladybug.
They'd be fun to make this summer with your children and grandchildren.

To make them, you need the following supplies: red, black, yellow, white, light green, dark green and pink acrylic paints (craft paint), three clay pots (you decide the size) and the partner trays, three 4-inch wooden hearts, two 1-inch wooden disks, three wooden dowels or picks, masking or painter's tape, hot glue gun, thin black marker and paint brushes.

For the Ladybug:

Begin by painting one clay pot, one clay tray and the front and back of one wooden heart with red paint. Paint both sides of one wooden disk with black paint. Set all pieces aside to dry. You may want to paint a second coat.

Once dry, mark where you'd like your black dots to go on the pot and then paint the ladybug's black dots, approximately one-inch in diameter, on to the pot. If you'd like, you can paint the word "ladybug" across the top of the pot. You see I did that on the smaller pot, but my father did not do that to his.

Set aside to dry and begin painting the ladybug made from the wooden heart that's been painted red on both sides.

Using this image as an example, decide where you'd like your ladybug's spots to go on the red painted wooden heart and paint them on using the black paint and a 1/4-inch paint brush. Using the thin black marker, outline the shape of the wooden heart in a squiggly line about an eighth of an inch in from the edge, and then do the same down the middle of the red heart.
On the black wooden disk, paint two little white ovals, then paint two black dots for the eyes.
When dry, hot glue the ladybug's head to the bottom (pointed end) of the wooden heart.
Attach the wooden pick or thin wooden dowel to the back of the ladybug using hot glue. Remember to make the pick long enough to insert into the dirt when pot is planted.

Okay your Ladybug pot is finished.

Now on to the Bumble Bee:

Begin by painting one clay pot, one clay tray and both sides of one wooden disk with yellow paint. Paint both sides of a wooden heart with white paint. Set all pieces aside to dry. You may want to paint a second coat.

Once dry, you will paint three stripes around the yellow pot using black paint. You can mark your stripes using the painter's tape, or you can paint them freehand. I painted mine (and so did my dad) freehand.

Set aside to dry and begin painting the bumble bee made from the wooden heart that's been painted white on both sides.

Using this image as an example:
Begin with the wooden disk that's been painted yellow and using the thin black marker, draw two circles for the cheeks, a smile that is connected at both cheeks and a dimple in the chin. Paint the cheeks pink and paint a tiny pink dot in the middle for a nose. Paint two black dots for the eyes and set aside to dry. When dry, paint a tiny white dot inside each black eye and a tiny white dot inside each pink cheek.
When all is dry, hot glue the bumble bee's head to the top of the wooden heart.
Now you'll begin to paint the bumble bee's body. Using the thin black marker and the example above, draw on the white wooden heart the shape of the bee's body, and then paint it yellow.
When completely dry, paint black stripes on the bumble bee's body.
When completely dry and using the thin black marker, draw tiny lines coming out of the black stripes. Then also using the thin black marker, outline the edge of the wooden heart with a thin squiggly line.
Attach the wooden pick or thin wooden dowel to the back of the bumble bee using hot glue. Remember to make the pick long enough to insert into the dirt when pot is planted.

You have finished making your Bumble Bee pot.

Now the frog:

Begin by painting one clay pot, one clay tray and the front and back of one wooden heart with the lighter green paint. Set all pieces aside to dry. You may want to paint a second coat.

The frog's feet are painted at the bottom of the lighter green pot. Using the darker green paint, paint on two one-inch circles and let dry completely.

When completely dry, paint three tiny little white dots onto the darker green spots. That's the frog's "toes." If you'd like, you can paint the word "ribbet" across the top of the pot.

Using this image as an example:
Begin with the wooden heart that's been painted the lighter green. Decide where you'd like the division between the frog's eyes and chin to be and paint that curved line using a 1/4-inch brush and the darker green paint. Using the same brush and darker green paint, paint three-quarters of the way around the rounded parts of the heart. This will form the spacing for the eyes. Decide where you'd like the frog's freckles to go and still using the darker green paint, paint on three dots to be his freckles. Using pink, paint on two dots that are a little larger than the freckle dots for the frog's cheeks. Using white and using the example shown above, paint on the frog's eyes. When completely dry, paint a black dot inside each of the two white eyes. And when completely dry, put a white dot inside each black eye, three tiny white dots in each of the pink cheeks and three tiny little white dots inside each of the three freckles.
Attach the wooden pick or thin wooden dowel to the back of the frog using hot glue. Remember to make the pick long enough to insert into the dirt when pot is planted.

Now you have three of the absolute cutest pots known to mankind.

I'm still amazed with how such a simple sighting can bring back such wonderful memories. Those potted plants I saw in Sam's Club weren't anything at all like the ones my father and I made together, yet it is that sighting that sparked the fire that drove me to dig those projects out of the darkness of my garage and into the light of my kitchen - and write tonight's blog post.
Although my father was in the midst of this horrible disease known as Alzheimer's, and we were all in the middle of our painful and long goodbye, we made the best of those times.

I miss you, Daddy and love you with all my heart.

Be the blessing

Lecture:
One thing I've learned through this process of loss and loneliness -- there aren't many people who really want to hear about it. In other words, those who are willing to help you through to the brighter side are few and far between, whether it's your friends or members of your own family.

In the beginning everyone says, "If you need anything, call." Or, "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here for you." But you're in such an overwhelming place at that time, all you want is to be alone. Later, though, when you're ready to talk about things, when you do realize that it's going to take the help of others to dig you out of your hole, not many - if any - of them are there for you.

Maybe it's because they don't know what to say. Maybe it's because you've overstayed your "welcome." Maybe it's because they are going through their own thing and really can't bear to hear about yours. And maybe it's because they can't and probably never will understand the loving relationship you had with the one who passed.

Some of my friends are of the belief that there's been enough time since Mother passed that I should be "over it," should have "moved on with my life" by now. So, I find myself traveling in some new territory; me wanting to be patient with them, while I'm wishing they would be patient with me. How's that for a twist?

So, in conclusion -- if there is someone you love going through the loss of a loved one, or going through anything that is diifficult to master on their own, figure out how to help and truly be there for them. Don't let them dig deep into an abyss of loneliness. Don't take "No" for an answer from them. Be persistent, be the friend they need, be the blessing.
(Full disclosure: One very good friend did spend several hours with me the other evening, and for that I am eternally grateful.)

Lecture over.

On the lighter side of my own hole, I've been longing for my mother to come to me in my dreams. While I've had dreams about her, and she's been present in them, I've not actually seen her. That, in and of itself, has caused me great pause.

But, last night, she was there. I don't remember what the dream was even about or if there was an actual story to the dream -- but I do know that she finally came to me and held me, and I held her and I kissed her over and over again.

I sure needed that.

Ahhh!

My journey is far from over, but Mother visiting me last night put me in a much more peaceful place today.

Ahhh!

The whole world would be a better place with cheerleaders like my Mom

It's been six months since I last heard her voice. Unfortunately, at that time, it was her calling out for me to do something about her pain. I wish her last words could had been "I love you."

My own words will never express how much I miss my mother. I recently told a friend that regardless of the fact that I'm nearly 60 and Mom was 94, I never imagined my life without her in it. That thought honestly never occurred to me. Even when she was so sick three years ago, it didn't enter my mind that one day I'd be lost without her.

It's been six-months since I returned to my bedroom to change my clothes, because Mom had looked me up and down and then greeted me with, "You're wearing that?" Now-a-days, I do it to myself and think twice before I get dressed.

It's been six-months since I gave her a shower, shampooed her beautiful, shiny silver hair (thank goodness I have those genes) and then carefully blow-dried it out into her signature bob. We both used to joke about how that could be my 'Plan B;' if I was ever unemployed and needed work, I could be a hairdresser, but only for women with bobs. We'd laugh about that, because every time I did her hair, she'd be so proud. No one could get her hair as puffy as I could. Everyone should have a cheerleader like my mom. The whole world would be a better place.

It's been six-months since we ran over each other in the kitchen. In fact, I used to get upset, because that darn walker would be in the way and I'd trip over it at least two or three times a week (you can tell just by looking at my mangled toes). I'd give anything to trip over it, again. The pain from my broken toes is nothing compared to this.
Mother's place was in the kitchen (or behind an ironing board - yes, she loved to iron). She'd have dinner waiting for my husband and me every evening; until about two years ago when she began to tire more easily. Then she started fixing dinner only once in a while. Still, when I'd have parties, Mom would be in there helping me with new recipes and cheering me on when I'd decide at the last minute to add something else to the menu. That's when she'd say, "You're going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers," doubting that I could get it all done. Little did she know that I actually took that strange quote to be words of encouragement.

It's been six-months since we last drooled over the recipes created on "Cupcake Wars" and marveled at the celebrity and professional dancers on "Dancing with the Stars." We'd play the part of the judges for both of those - our two favorite shows that I always made time to watch with her. In fact, on the night before she passed away, it is Dancing with the Stars that we were watching when my mother fell asleep pain free for the last time. Little did I know that the next time she'd awaken, it would be to cry out in pain and that would be the last time I'd see her with her eyes open.
I'm so proud, though, that Mom got to see me dance in a similar show held locally for charity. I danced the Tango, and Mom was my biggest fan. Every time I'd overhear her on the telephone with someone, she'd be telling them about me dancing. That was fun. And when I took her to the same event a year later (only two weeks before she passed away), she insisted that no one danced the Tango as well as my partner and I had danced the year prior. Everyone should have a cheerleader like my mother. The whole world would be a better place.

It's been six-months since we had 'family-day' at Sam's Club. I know how odd that sounds, but my husband and I included Mother in everything we did, and that included our Sunday shopping at Sam's.
My husband would often go in one direction with the grocery cart, and Mother, in her wheelchair, and I would go in the opposite direction - me loading things onto her lap.  On one such visit, I had put so many things in her lap, that you could barely see the top of her head over the pile. And yet, we managed to make additional room for a frozen pizza and a bottle of wine. It was the absolute funniest sight, and so many people waiting in line laughed. Mother was tickled and laughed about it all the way home.

It's been six-months since we spent Saturday together doing whatever we wanted to do: going to the Farmers' Market, visiting the cemetery, shopping, getting manicures and pedicures, going to fashion shows and teas, going to the movies, whatever it was -- we did it together.

It's been six-months since she showed me her beautiful knitting or cross-stitch projects -- literally six-months. The evening before she passed away, Mother went through her knitting bag, showing me the cross-stitch ornaments she had completed for 2012 and some other things she had made. I hope that one day I'm able to talk about that night with my younger sister. I need to tell her and she needs to hear it, but she isn't ready and I'm patient. It was a joyous few hours, though.
Mother could knit. She made me some sweaters that I'll keep forever, even though they no longer fit. She won a blue ribbon at our local fair for a sweater she made me, and then won one the following year for an afghan. Mom did it all. She sewed, teaching me when I was in fifth-grade, and later teaching my younger sister.

It's been six-months since Mom kept me company while I worked in the yard. I was never alone; Mom always sat with me, keeping me company, and often saying how she wished she could help.
When we were growing up in Miami, my dad worked long hours, so there were times when Mom also did the yard work. (Again, full disclosure -- While working in the yard, mowing, pulling weeds, etc., she'd wear these horrible tube tops that she made out of old dish towels and elastic - nothing went to waste. I was so embarrassed when my friends would come by and she'd be out there sweating in those tops. Oh to be embarrassed like that, again.)

It's been six-months since we all went camping together. Yes, my 91 to 94-year old mother went camping with us and loved it. She was so happy that when we bought our little trailer, we bought one with her in mind. I have the best husband in the world. Not many would do what he did for more than 10-years.

It's been six-months since we sat out on the back patio, looking up at the clouds and told each other what we saw in those clouds. Only two days before Mom passed away, she saw frogs leaping over each other and I saw an alligator.

It's been six-months since I kissed her "Good-night" and told her that I loved her, tucked her in for a cozy night's sleep, and then listened for her every movement through the baby monitor that I kept right by my head at night. (Full disclosure - the sounds of her moving around with her walker still awaken me at night.)

It's been six-months since I heard her voice, felt her touch, saw her smile and tasted her meatloaf.

It's been six-months since I accomplished anything - period.
Mother was the purpose to what used to be a very driven life. When you are given the kind of encouragement my mother gave me, why wouldn't you be driven? I just didn't realize it at the time. I didn't always take her words as encouragement, but rather I'd sometimes get frustrated by those words - thinking she was finding fault. That was never the case. I see it now.

Every person should have a cheerleader like my mother was to me. The whole world would be a better place. My bet is that many of you do, and you just don't realize it.
I pray I am that to my son and his wife.
Sure, time has softened the pain - somewhat - but I surely doubt that there will ever be a day, even an hour that I don't think about my mother.

That takes the cake!

From this:

 

 

You can make this:

For these:

I went to a local thrift store and picked up some old plates (one of these is bone China) a water goblet and a candlestick.
I brought them home and used epoxy to attach them together.
Now I can deliver my Dessert-of-the-Month to the birthday girl and not worry about getting my cake plates back. :)

FYI -- Lemon cupcakes filled with white chocolate, frosted with fresh blackberry buttercream and garnished with a fresh blackberry
- and -
Triple chocolate layered cake, fresh raspberry filling, frosted with fresh chocolate (from Nicaragua) icing, topped with fresh Florida strawberries, and garnished with white chocolate - all built inside a rolled wafer wall and tied together with a yellow ribbon.



From Something Bad Comes Something Great

The newspaper for which I work printed my article, which was also my last blog post about Glen Campbell and his decision to allow a feature/documentary film to be made about his struggle with Alzheimer's disease.

I was so honored when I opened the paper to the Opinion Page and saw my article featured. Key word there -- Opinion. Something some of the bravest men and women in this great country of ours  have fought to keep: the freedom to express one's opinion.
But it seems my opinion about the need to put a face to the disease and about how others before Glen could have done the same, but chose not to, ruffled a few feathers, and in so doing, I was accused of being anti-American for saying "such inappropriate things about the greatest American to live, President Ronald Reagan."
When I first heard about the Facebook war being waged against me, I was stunned, as nothing in my post was ever intended to be taken that way. And when a friend shared the postings with me (I'm not a FB friend with the instigator), I was - frankly - devastated. I chose not to comment on any of his rantings, because I didn't want to feed his ego. I took the high road, but it surely felt like the road less traveled for a while.

I've since realized something: A week earlier I attended a luncheon at which this same man (the instigator) sat right next to me. Now, I'm a very fortunate person in that often times I'm treated quite well when I attend some of the many fundraising events in my community. I keep it all in perspective, because I know it's my title and not myself that often draws the attention, and that's okay. Because of my job, I've been able to help so many non-profits garner more attention to their missions, and that's -- as Martha Stewart says -- a good thing. The instigator is likely used to the same type of attention when he attends events, as he has a small radio show in his small town.
On this particular day, I attended this luncheon, because it was going to be the featured story on the cover of my publication's next edition, and everyone there knew it -- so everyone eventually made their way over to my table to meet and greet. It was very nice and welcoming, but I did notice the man who would become the instigator had a pouty face on. Of course, I didn't realize it at the time, but now I wonder if the lack of attention towards him was the true cause of his ruffled feathers.
Just wondering.

I'm pretty sure the instigator has now gone on to stir the pot on other issues. I don't listen to his radio show -- his air waves don't reach me.

Here's the really good news from that day, though.
The event was the Women of Distinction awards luncheon to benefit the Girl Scouts of Southeast Florida, and it was held in a neighboring county. When I asked why they didn't do something similar in 'my county,' the reply was they couldn't get anyone interested.
I was a Girl Scout for many years, and my mother was either the leader or the assistant leader of my troops for most of those years. I loved scouting and - along with my parents - attribute much of who I am today to scouting.

I do believe Mom was speaking to me that day when I was told they couldn't get anyone interested in 'my county.' And she spoke to me for days following. So, in response, I have decided to chair a similar event to be held this time next year to also benefit the Girl Scouts. I'm positive this is what Mom wants me to do to pull myself out of the hole I've been stuck in.

So, you may be hearing from me real soon. I'm going to need as many of you as possible to help me out on this one, and I can't wait to get started.

Rhinestone Cowboy - Living Legend and Icon

Glen Campbell is to be applauded.

This is not about his numerous Grammy and Academy of Country Music awards, his 70 released albums or his 50 million in record sales.

Country legend Glen Campbell, diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease two years ago, has made the conscious decision to live out his life doing what he does best and what he enjoys most. In the process, Glen Campbell, his wife Kim and their grown children have put an iconic face to Alzheimer's disease.

Others before him could have done the same, but chose not to. And I can't help but wonder how much more time and resources would have been spent on research for drugs and an end to the disease that steals minds and memories if American greats the likes of Ronald Reagan and Charlton Heston had done the same. Certainly we would be at least 20-years ahead of where we are today in the discovery of new drugs. But, after being diagnosed, former President Reagan and Mr. Heston chose to live the remainder of their lives basically in solitude. They had the opportunity to help countless others by becoming a voice for those with the disease and for those caring for loved ones with Alzheimer's or other forms of dementia. But, instead of putting a face on a disease that most likely will affect every family in the United States by the year 2030 (only 17 short years away), Ronald Reagan and Charlton Heston chose only to write letters to the American public that held each of them in high esteem.

I had the honor and privilege last night (March 12, 2013) to attend "Untitled: Glen Campbell Documentary" at the Riverside Theatre in Vero Beach. It was the "unveiling" of a new feature/documentary film to be released - hopefully - by the end of the year. The event was a fundraiser for the Alzheimer's Drug Discovery Foundation (ADDF), at which segments of the unedited film were viewed by an audience of about 900.

James Keach (Walk the Line and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman) and Trevor Albert (Caddyshack and Groundhog Day) are behind the film that will raise awareness and funds for ADDF and its continued efforts in the discovery of drugs to prevent, treat and cure Alzheimer's disease.
 

"This is not a movie about Alzheimer's - rather it's a movie about an extraordinary man who's been diagnosed with it and has taught us to live in the moment as a result," said Mr. Keach.
 

The Alzheimer's Drug Discovery Foundation is led by co-chair Leonard A. Lauder of the Estee Lauder Co. In fact, it is the Estee Lauder Co. that pays the overhead associated with running the foundation that has invested more than $60 million to fund 400 drug research programs in 18 countries. Therefore, 100-percent of every dollar donated goes directly to Alzheimer's drug research and discovery.
 

After the film, Victoria Ghost, a country/roots band comprised of two of Glen and Kim's children Ashley and Shannon and Kiefo Nilsson, took to the stage and played several songs before Glen, who had been obviously chomping at the bit to get on stage, joined them. He, on guitar, and Ashley, on banjo, played "Dueling Banjos" as the audience stood and cheered them on.
 

Glen Campbell is an inspiration. His diagnosis has not wavered his passion for music and performing, and his family perseveres through it all. Finally, there is someone willing to put a face to this awful disease.
 

 

I applaud Glen Campbell and his family for this bold move. Others before him should have done the same.

Glen Campbell is an icon.

 

Just like Pooh, I'm stuck, too.

I think it's time for more family-fun crafting. Don't you?
Quite a few of you sent me emails and Facebook comments about the little yellow chicks made from clay pots, so here's another fun craft made with a clay pot.

Remember Winnie The Pooh? One of Pooh's misadventures was getting stuck in Rabbit's hole. Rabbit tries to push and push and can't get Pooh out. Well, consider this craft Rabbit indulging in his stash of honey and now, he's the one who's stuck.

How cute is this little "Rabbit Stuck in a Hole?"

This is another craft I took to the nursing home for my father (who had Alzheimer's disease) and me to work on together. Like I've said, it always made him feel as though he was being helpful, and it made our time together go so much more smoothly. We always made enough of whatever we were working on to give to others; both in and out of the family.

Here's what you'll need for one "Rabbit Stuck in a Hole:"

One 3-inch clay pot        One 3-inch Styrofoam ball

Elmer's glue                    White acrylic paint

Yellow acrylic paint        Pink acrylic paint

1-inch paint brush           One stippling brush

One 1-inch diameter pom-pom

small piece of white felt

small piece of pink felt

small amount of green "Easter" grass

paper plate

 

 

 

Let's get started...

 

 

Put a generous glob of white paint onto the paper plate and paint a little more than half of the Styrofoam ball. Because the Styrofoam ball is so porous, it will take a bit of paint. Set aside to dry.

 

Put a small amount of both the yellow and the pink paint on the paper plate, and begin to stipple the outside of the clay pot with both colors. Set aside to dry.

Using the white felt, cut out the bottom of the rabbit's feet. The three-toed feet are a little less than 2-inches long and about 1 1/2-inches wide. Then cut out six 1/4-inch diameter pink felt circles and two 1/2-inch diameter pink felt circles. Glue the pink circles onto the two white felt feet as shown and set aside.

Once the clay pot has completely dried, apply a ring of Elmer's glue around the inside of the clay pot, approximately a 1/4-inch from the top. Lay the Easter grass inside, then apply a second ring of glue and lay the Styrofoam ball inside -- making sure the painted side of the ball is facing up.

At this point, to some of you, it may resemble an ice-cream cone, but to me, it's definitely going to be a silly rabbit that got stuck in a hole.

Glue the white pom-pom slightly off center. Then glue the two feet just below the rabbit's tail.
You've just completed your "Rabbit Stuck in a Hole." And like I say to all my Crafting Sistas each month, "It's your project, so paint the pot whatever color you want to paint it. Make it a brown bunny instead of a white one; or put moss around the edge of the pot instead of Easter grass.

Anyway you look at it, he's really cute. Be sure to sign and date the bottom of the pot.

Sometimes I feel a little like Pooh and like that rabbit you just made -- I feel a bit stuck right now in my life. I'm not exactly here or there. I'm stuck in the middle of no man's land. I'm not sure where to go in my life, and I'm not even sure I know what my options are or if I even have any. I look around and see God using others all around me. The use of their talents astounds me. I'm waiting it out until ....well, I don't know when.

So I keep plugging along...and praying...and asking God to get me "unstuck." I  wonder how God finds me useful at the moment. I'd like to think that maybe some of my words on my blog resonate with someone who reads them or that my "day-job" helps others. But right now, I find things to be frustrating; not going anywhere.

 

I'm waiting to get unstuck right now. I'm tapping my head like Winnie the Pooh and saying, "Think, think, think!" So far, I'm still stuck in no man's land waiting for the pudge to budge.

 

In the meantime, I'm going to keep plugging away at my blog, because its healing power is good.

 

Happy crafting, happy Easter, and most important, happy family-time! Cherish every moment of it.

Time for Some Spring Family Fun My Little Chick-a-dee

How about a little crafting?

This is something you can enjoy with your children or grandchildren -- or in my case -- I enjoyed with my father while he was in nursing home care because of Alzheimer's disease. Spending quality time with family is a rewarding experience, the benefits of which pay off for years to come. Spending time with your children or grandchildren is so much more important than spending money on them, and this is an inexpensive craft to do together.

Each evening after work for 15-months, I stopped at the nursing home and took something for my dad and me to do together. It was usually an easy crafting project that included painting clay pots. He really enjoyed it -- it made him feel as though he had work to do and he was being helpful. I enjoyed spending that time with him each night, and it gave my mother a break.
Spending time with your loved one that's afflicted with Alzheimer's disease is priceless -- all you need to do is find something you can both enjoy doing together -- engage your loved one and the time with them will be time well spent.

I have quite a few of these cute little projects that Dad and I did, and I use most of them as Easter decorations.

Here's the first one I'm going to show you how to make:

My cute little Easter Chick made from a clay pot, clay tray and wooden hearts.

 

 

 

 

Gather your supplies. To make one clay pot Easter Chick you will need the following supplies:

One 2 1/2-inch clay pot

One 4-inch clay tray that goes with clay pot

2 wooden hearts that are about 3/4-inch in diameter and about 1 1/4-inches long

yellow acrylic paint

blue or turquoise acrylic paint

pink acrylic paint

white acrylic paint

one yellow fluffy feather

8-inch piece of yellow satin ribbon

black thin marker

orange marker

1-inch paint brush or foam painter

One Q-tip

hot-glue gun

 

 

Paint the outside of the clay pot yellow and set aside to dry.

 

Paint the entire wooden hearts yellow and set aside to dry.

 

Paint the inside and the outside of the clay tray either turquoise or blue. 

When clay pot, tray and hearts are completely dry, apply a second coat of paint to each and set aside to dry.

 

On a paper plate, squeeze out a little bit of the white paint and then squeeze out a little daub of the pink paint. Using the end of a small paint brush, dab the end into the pink and make a dot on the outside of the completely dry tray. About a half-inch away, make a white dot. Continue in this pattern until you have painted dots all the way around the tray.

Set aside to dry.

 

Using the thin black marker, outline one side of each completely dry heart and set aside. You can outline the hearts with a solid line, or you can make it look like stitching by drawing tiny little lines around the hearts.

 

Using the thin black marker, draw two tiny little beady eyes.

Right below and right between the eyes, draw the beak - an inverted triangular shape.

Fill the beak using the orange marker. 

To make the cheeks, put a little of the orange marker on the cotton end of a Q-tip and lightly rub the Q-tip on each side of the beak.

 

Heat up your hot-glue gun.

Make a small bow using the yellow satin ribbon and glue it onto the Chick right underneath the beak.

Glue the hearts onto the Chick on each side and slightly above the eyes, making sure the outlined side is facing out.

 

Then glue the fluffy yellow feather inside the drainage hole of the painted clay pot. You don' t have to, but you can put some Easter grass in the tray, then put the Chick on top and guess what?

You're done!

 

How cute are these little gems? I'll tell you...they are super cute!

I had my dad sign his...he wrote the date and my mother's name. You can do the same by having your children sign and date them, then you can give the Chicks to your children as gifts when they celebrate Easter with their own children.



My dad and I did these together on March (I know it looks like an 8, but he had some trouble writing) 15, 2001.

Fun, Fun times!

 

I Lit the Candle and Breathed Deep

The first thing my dog Sam did this morning was walk straight into my mother's bedroom and just stood in the doorway. For at least 10-seconds he stood there, then turned around and looked at me.

Sam looked for "Gramma" everyday for about a week after she passed away. He'd walk into her room, circle the bed, then stand in the doorway for a few seconds. But he hasn't done it since then.
Does he know today marks five-months since last we saw Mom?

This morning when I started my car to go to work, the radio was set to a Christian station blaring a song so loud it nearly knocked my shoes off. I don't listen to Christian radio, but who knows? Maybe I was in the process of 'channel surfing' when I stopped the car, and that's the station it landed on. I own a convertible and I do blare my music when the top is down. But the top wasn't down.
So, who knows?
What I do know is that once I gathered my senses after the blast of shockingly loud music that I'm sure my neighbors appreciated at 6:30 a.m., I caught the last words of the song that was playing:

“You are starting over, you are beginning a new life…have no regrets…be proud…”

I don't know who was singing. I don't know the rest of the lyrics. And I haven't been able to find them online.

But, are they words from my mother? Is she telling me to let go of the things that occurred during her final days that are tormenting me? Is this the message from Mom for which I've been longing?
I prefer to think so.

It comes on the heals of the best visit I've ever had with my younger sister. The kind of visit that would make Mother smile. Period.
We stayed up until 1 a.m. talking and listening - most importantly - listening.
The next day, we played - and still we talked and listened.

In some ways, I think knowing we're going to be okay helped to settle Mom. And I think the song was her way of telling me just that.
Mother loved music. She received many accolades for her melodious voice.
When I was a child, she'd often sing along to her albums while preparing dinner.

With a little creative freedom on my part, here's a portion of a poem I found online today by K. Hardiman that also speaks directly to me:

         

Sweet smile on your face as you sleep the pain away,
Resting in God's arms now, although in the ground your body lay.
He needed another angel in the Heavenly choir and that's why you had to go.
As you promised, you are still with us watching your children here below.

I never would have imagined the end would be like this, me comforting you.
Holding your hand, telling you not to worry was not an easy thing for me to do.
And even in your weakest hours you tried to comfort me, too,
Caressing my face, and calming my soul as only a mother can soothe.

You have always been there through the thick and the thin
No matter what I've done, unconditionally your love never wavering.

I miss you more than these words could ever say.
The pain in my heart is from one unimaginable day.
After I cried all that I could; my eyes still shed countless more tears.
And when I try to sleep, I have nightmares of ten-thousand fears.
I walk in footsteps on an unsure path
At times my load feels so heavy, I'm not sure I will last.

Silly though I may be, I'm afraid of life now that you're gone,
Because I've always had a mother.

I will walk in footsteps you have walked before me
Seeing the path you walked led you, Mom, straight into victory.

So as you sleep Mommy, in the cradle of the Lord,
I am reassured of God's promises you taught me through His Word.
I know that someday  Heaven's gates will open to receive me,
And with your smiling face and loving eyes, reunited once again we will be.

 

I lit the candle today, Frannie!

To Have and To Hold

I have a friend who says he will never join Facebook, because posting to it is no different than standing naked in the middle of a packed football stadium.

My younger sister doesn't normally reveal herself through a social media posting, so when I saw a post about her feeling down I was surprised. In her two sentence, but very telling, post she spoke of missing our mother, but also mentioned that our mother will never know my sister's grandchildren. To be honest, my first reaction, which she will learn about now, was that my niece was pregnant. I was elated.

Mom was placed under Hospice care on Sept. 17. My niece's wedding was scheduled for Sept. 29.

Mom was trying so hard to hold on to life long enough to attend her granddaughter's wedding. She told the nurses from Hospice that was her goal. She told me to make sure she got to the wedding; to do whatever I needed to do to make sure it would happen.
Much to her disappointment, when I realized that she would not be able to physically attend the wedding, on Sept. 25, my son began making arrangements for the wedding to be Skyped so Mother could watch it from her bed at home. I thought we had come upon a great solution -- she would still be a part of the ceremony, witnessing the exchange of vows, and my niece and sister would know Mom was there. In looking back on it now, I realize that's when she gave up, gave in and the true transition began.

Mother passed away on the night of Sept. 26.

Because my sister and her beautiful daughter were so busy with all the things you should be busy doing only days before one of the happiest days of a family's life, my sister was not able to be with Mother the night she passed away. I know that was very hard on my sister; making it impossible to "mourn in the normal ways."
While I was planning Mother's funeral, my sister had to force herself to put on a smile and focus on last minute wedding plans; like the dozens of guests arriving from out of state, the rehearsal dinner, and so much more. I don't know that I could have been as strong - that I could have done what she did.

The wedding went on as planned, and on Sept. 29 my niece married her soul mate in the absolutely beautiful setting of a central Florida lakeside park, with its cool breezes and moss covered cypress trees against the backdrop of one of Florida's always gorgeous sunsets.

My niece and her husband will soon be married for five-months, so when I first read my sister's post, I don't really think is was completely unreasonable for me to think they might be planning a family. But then I read some of her friends' comments and realized this was not a coded message, breaking what could be some of the best news to hear in a long time. It was my sister revealing herself and reaching out for help - in all of her own nakedness.

A tsunami wave of missing Mom hit my sister. Perhaps it's hit her more often than she's been willing to reveal, but this time there was enough emotion to call out for help. I'm so glad her friends were there for her.

Love you, Sissy.

Angels Among Us

Placing my father in nursing home care was the hardest decision my mother, who included the whole family, ever had to make. But because Alzheimer's disease had made it nearly impossible for my mother to care for him, that decision had to be made.

My husband and I only lived about a half-mile away from my parents at the time, so we were on 24/7 call, which we didn't mind. But the true hardship was on my mother, who - at one point - literally locked herself inside with Daddy for about six-months after he wandered off one morning in their car and took a "joy ride" across south Florida. Luckily we found him before any harm had come to him or others, but nothing was ever the same after that. Mother locked all the doors and windows, hid all the keys and when I would go to their house after work each day, she would go into their bedroom and close the door. The job of a loving caregiver is, in one simple word, hard.
The Huffington Post has posted a story (follow the link below) entitled Confessions of a Worn Out Alzheimer's Caregiver, which is a good read:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marie-marley/dementia-caregiver_b_2614194.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false
It's not really the reason I'm writing tonight, but if you are a caregiver, please do read it.

Tonight, I'm trying to ward-off the tsunami. I feel it coming on, again, but I'm hoping I can write about some of the things that are triggering my emotions and "handle" it.

The new bed was delivered on Saturday, so now my mother's room has a queen-sized bed in it for our guests. Mom has settled down and I'm not running into her in the hallway now. In fact, I haven't smelled her since her room was put back together Saturday, which I miss. But while I was making the bed with its new sheets, I got sidetracked (squirrel!) by some of the collectibles on shelves in the room. Angels everywhere!
Here's why:

On the very day we placed Daddy in nursing home care, a tiny black and white kitten showed up at my mother's back door. At first, Mom was completely unimpressed and wanted my older sister or me to take the kitten to the Humane Society. She sat in her chair with the little thing in her lap and began to cry, and we knew right then - despite any protests to the contrary - the kitten had found a new home. Within a few hours, Mother had decided it was a sign, that it was meant to be, and named the kitten "Angel." From that day forward, my mother collected all things angels, and she and the kitten were inseparable.

Here's a photo of sweet little Angel after she had found a way to climb all the way up to the space over my kitchen cabinets! (giving both Mother and me a heart attack)

Poor little Angel died from kidney and liver problems about two years before my mother passed away. Mom's heart was broken. It was her last connection to my dad - her husband of 65 years. I understand that. I really wanted her to get a new kitten, but she didn't want to have anything at all to do with that idea. Still today, I wish she had done it.

At some point, I will begin to box up some of the angels in our house and I'll give them to my sister and brother, my son and nieces and to my cousins -- I'm sure they will appreciate them as much as Mother did.

In the meantime, the angels are all where Mother placed them, and I enjoy seeing them everyday. Because Mom lived with us for so long, there are many things around our house that remind me of her...but the angels make me think of both Mom and Daddy.

Here are the lyrics to Angels Among Us, a song released in 1993 and written by Don Goodman and Becky Hobbs:
I was walking home from school on a cold winter day.
Took a shortcut through the woods, and I lost my way.
It was getting late, and I was scared and alone.
But then a kind old man took my hand and led me home.
Mama couldn't see him, but he was standing there.
And I knew in my heart, he was the answer to my prayers.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.

When life held troubled times, and had me down on my knees.
There's always been someone there to come along and comfort me.
A kind word from a stranger, to lend a helping hand.
A phone call from a friend, just to say I understand.

And ain't it kind of funny that at the dark end of the road.
Someone lights the way with just a single ray of hope.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.


They wear so many faces; show up in the strangest places.
To grace us with their mercy, in our time of need.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.

To guide us with the light of love.

The Red Bird Comes All Winter

Mom's been roaming the halls, so to speak.
Her bedroom, bathroom and living room, as well as my sewing/crafting/office/guest room, are on one side of our house.
She and I have been, almost quite literally, running into each other in the hallway for the past three days and nights. It has reminded me of when we'd clash in the kitchen - not because of differences, but because of her walker, which would sometimes get in the way of our "cooking flow."

I smell her, I feel her, and I talk to her -- yep, I admit it -- I've been talking to her.
But when I tell you why, you'll understand.

My sewing/crafting/office/guest room has had only a full bed in it, and when guests did come and spend some time with us, they were cramped into that small-ish bed. Mom also only had a full bed. She could have had whatever she wanted, and she chose a full bed. (I'm sure you can see now where this is going.)

I've been thinking, for about a month, that it might be time to eliminate the two full beds and replace Mother's with a queen size, making her bedroom the new guest room -- and making my sewing/crafting/office/guest room just "Studio Sydney."

I have no plans to make any other changes to my mother's bedroom; no painting, no replacing of curtains, still not removing clothing from the closet, not replacing any other furniture -- just replacing the bed. (Which, frankly, she talked about doing last year.)

My husband and I dragged the two full beds out of the rooms and into our family room. The next day, a friend with two children who have grown out of their bunk beds came for them.
I was good with that.
After my friend picked up the beds, my husband and I set out on a mission to buy a new queen size bed, bring it home in the back of the big-ass pick up truck and set it up. But, because I seem to welcome new drama, the purchase became an ordeal as we vacillated over the decision to buy a new bed for us and put ours in Mother's room, or just buy a less expensive bed for her room and leave it at that. Four hours later, and visits to more than five other mattress stores in the area, we made the decision to buy a new Stearns & Foster (yippee) for us and put ours in Mother's room. It would be delivered at the end of the week.
I was good with that.

Until we got home.

I went into my mom's old bedroom and her scent hit me light a ton of bricks.
I relished in it, though; sat there in the middle of her floor and soaked it in.
It felt good.

That afternoon, I began reorganizing "Studio Sydney," removing anything and everything that doesn't have anything to do with sewing, crafting, art, creativity - you get the picture. That meant the old domino effect had taken over. Now there were things piling up in Mother's living room that would have to be reorganized and put away, and when I ran out of room in there, it spilled over into the breakfast room.

For two days, as I've worked feverishly to sort through things and downsize,  I've smelled her. And for two days I've wondered why I was such an emotional wreck -- again. I was riding that "missing mom" wave, and it completely drained me this time. I cried and cried all day yesterday and last night. Completely distraught, I decided to take a break last evening and sit outside on our back porch, and that's when everything became very clear to me.

Two bright red cardinals, Mom's favorite bird and the first ones I've seen this season, landed on the branch of a tree in front of me, firing up the landscape (as Mary Oliver would say). For at least the past 20 years or so, Mother and I have called the first cardinal of the season Aunt Anna Louise, after her oldest sister who passed away about then. Yesterday when there were two of them right in front of me, it calmed me and put me in a much better place. For sure, it was Mom and her sister.
When I went back in the house to resume my quest to find organization - "it" hit me. Like Mom's scent had done, "it" also hit me like a ton of bricks. Mom was roaming the halls, because just like me, she can't stand when things are out of order...and things were definitely out of order: no bed in her room, boxes of stuff piled five-feet high in her living room, the broom, mop and dust rag laying on the floor, etc.

She was just as discombobulated as I.

Last night I promised her the mess would be gone by the end of the day today and a new bed would be in her room by the end of the week. When I got home from work, her scent was lingering, as if she was standing over me while I finished the task. And finish it, I did.
I'm so pleased with the outcome, and really glad it has turned out to be another learning experience for me as I grapple with my loneliness for my best friend and mentor.

A view of my newly re-organized "Studio Sydney" with Mom's chair, side table and lamp taken from her living room, my quilt made from her clothes on the back of the chair, and a pillow made by my mother. I love it all, except those pesky computer wires.

I love you, Mom. I'm sure your next visit will be where you tell me you're okay.

Red bird came all winter,
firing up the landscape

as nothing else could.

Of course I love the sparrows,

those dun-colored darlings
so hungry and so many.
I am a God-fearing feeder of birds.
I know He has many children,
not all of them bold in spirit.
Still, for whatever reason —
perhaps because the winter is so long
and the sky so black-blue,
or perhaps because the heart narrows
as often as it opens —
I am glad
that red bird comes all winter,
firing up the landscape
as nothing else can do.
-- Mary Oliver

Chili and Football go together like hotdogs and baseball

We had a few days of cooler weather here in sunny F-L-A, causing me to crave chili; not just any chili, but what I like to say was my dad's "favorite."
Okay, in the interest of true disclosure - it really wasn't his favorite. Truth be told, my father was like Mikey on the old Life cereal commercials; he'd eat anything. And, although he did eat my chili with all the fervor of someone who had been starved for months, he also sat down to every meal with that same penchant for eating. He loved my mother's cooking and looked forward to every meal (especially dessert), often saying he taught her how to cook. Somehow, I can't see that as being true, either, but who knows? Mom was right out of high school when they got married, and I can't remember her ever denying Dad's claims.

Every year, for more than 30 years, a local civic organization of which my husband is a member, has hosted a chili cookoff, with funds raised going to children's charities. BH (meaning before the hurricane season of 2004) members had reached a peak of raising more than $200,000 at the annual event, but unfortunately the back-to-back hurricanes Frances and Jeanne caused much damage to the area, and the chili cookoff faced major setbacks. That's okay, though, because those same members have continued their efforts, rebuilding the kitty and the attendance.

The cookoff is a sanctioned chili competition, meaning that many rules must be followed. One of those rules is that the chili cannot have any beans in it, and another is that it cannot be served with rice or pasta. It can be made using any meat, or no meat at all, but it must stand on its own merit without beans, rice or pasta. And that's how I definitely know it was not my father's favorite. Although he ate my chili and enjoyed it, he preferred beans in his chili and he preferred that it be served over rice, like my mother made it. But I don't. And since I'm the cook with the copy of the recipe, there are no beans and no rice.

My dad did love sports! Give him a team from Anywhere, Illinois, and he'd watch for hours. He was particularly a baseball fan and a football fan. Even after being placed in nursing home care because of Alzheimer's disease, he could watch Cubs baseball and Dolphin football for hours.  He also loved going to the chili cookoff, so what better way to honor my dad than with making a pot of chili for the "big game?"

I have several chili recipes that have come from winning cooks over the years, and the one I'm sharing with you just in time for the super football game is definitely one of  my favorites. It's what I'd take with me to my parents' house for our little game-watching parties.
It's not too spicy, so if you have a hankerin' for smokin' hot chili, this won't be the recipe for you. It's also not thick, but has something more of a soupy consistency. In my opinion, this chili stands proudly on its own, enabling you to savor the flavor of each ingredient. It won one of the cookoffs back in the late 1980s.

Here's the recipe:
4-lbs. ground beef                                  1-lb. sausage
2 stalks celery, chopped                         1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 small hot green pepper, chopped (optional)
4 medium onions, chopped                    15 oz. tomato sauce
24 oz V-8 vegetable juice                      five 16 oz. cans of stewed tomatoes, well chopped
1 1/2 tsp. onion salt                                3 tsp. garlic powder
3/4 tsp. basil                                           4 tsp. cumin (go lighter if it's too spicy for you)
6 tsp. chili powder (go  lighter if it's too spicy for you)
1 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. brown sugar
salt and pepper to taste

In a large skillet, brown the beef and sausage. Drain and set aside.

 In a large soup pot, saute' the celery, peppers and onions.

When complete, pour meat into pot and add the tomato sauce and V-8 juice. Stir well.
Add the finely chopped stewed tomatoes. Stir well.
Add all of the spices and the brown sugar, stirring until well blended.
Simmer slowly - at least two hours - stirring often.

I actually halved the recipe. This photo was taken before it had simmered for several hours.

Dad liked to have lots and lots of saltines with his chili, but I've taken it up just a notch with these cheese crackers made from a combination of grated asiago, Romano, Parmesan and provolone cheeses.
And you make them like this:
You can buy the four cheeses already combined or you can grate the cheeses and combine them yourself. Preheat the oven to 350-degrees. Put a piece of parchment paper on your baking sheet, and then put small handfuls of the cheese combo into stacks on the sheet. (They will look like little haystacks)

Bake at 350-degrees for about 5-10 minutes, depending upon how big you stacks of cheese are. Keep a watchful eye on them, as you don't want them to scorch.
Here's what they'll look like when you pull them out of the oven.

And here's a bowl of chili and some cheese crackers just for you.

Enjoy the game and "Go Noles!"
Oops, wrong game.