• My granddaughter Luci.
• Watching my neighbors walk their two little girls to school each morning in their STM uniforms, just like we used to walk my daughters to school.
• Commune member Sally, who came up with the hilarious idea to give my husband '60 beers for 60 years' for his birthday.
• Weaving on my loom.
• Thinking about weaving on my loom
• The pictures my sister Mary Claire sends me of her hair growing in.
• Talking on Sykpe with my daughters (Sara, it's your turn please)
• Seeing one of Sara's former classmates walking into the the teachers' lounge at the school now that she's teaching there for six weeks as a sub.
• Work. Yes, work. Seriously.
More later. In the meantime, think of me smiling.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Out of the Deep Fryer and into the Fire
Hold on...just a minute...where is that damn thing? Oh, there it is. Be right back.
Okay, got it. Had to find my soapbox and drag it out of storage. Yes, it's time for me to climb up on it again. But this won't take long. In the meantime, if you'd really rather not listen to me rattle on about what's currently bothering me, well, then the Olympics are on. Go watch. I think someone won a gold medal today, lessee, who was it? No, I'm not going to tell you who won today and spoil your viewing fun. But seriously, if you'd rather not deal with my rantings (not that this is much of a rant tonight), I give you permission to go. Come back later when I'm not on my soapbox and we'll have some fun.
Right now though I really need to make a few points about the whole Chick-Fil-A brouhaha.
1. Chick-Fil-A, a private company owned by a very, very conservative Christian family, is in the deep fryer over the fact that they actively donate to conservative Christian groups who actively oppose gay rights.
2. Chick-Fil-A, in donating to these conservative groups, is perfectly within their rights to do so. It's their money and they can do whatever they want with it.
3. Some people feel strongly about the money they spend on lunch not going to these conservative groups, who actively oppose gay rights. And they are refusing to do business with Chick-Fil-A. Which is also their right.
4. One of the people who has a problem with Chick-Fil-A's donations to groups that support discrimination against GLBT people (that would be Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual and Transgender) is the mayor of Chicago, who is opposing Chick-Fil-A opening stores in Chicago because of the owner's conservative views/donations.
5. Can or should Chicago try to legislate what types of charitable/non-profit donations made by any company are acceptable? I think not. That's a little too big brother for my taste.
6. Do I personally think donating to groups that actively lobby for laws that discriminate against GLBT or quite frankly, any group or person, is a truly Christian act and morally responsible? No, I don't. I personally think it's morally reprehensible.
7. Does that change my belief that Chick-Fil-A has the right to donate their money to who they want to donate it to? No, it's their money and they can waste as much of it as they want.
8. Will I be giving any of my hard earned cash to Chick-Fil-A knowing that this is the kind of charitable donations they make? No, they've lost my business. Because it is my right as a consumer to choose where I spend my money, based on my own personal moral code.
9. Do I have suggestions for Chick-Fil-A on some better uses for their charitable donations? Why yes, I do. How about funding vaccinations for children in the poorer parts of America and the world? Donating to literacy groups. Donating to food banks? Or anything that would genuinely help their fellow man rather than to groups who want to beat down anyone they consider to be 'different.'
10. What else? Oh yes, I'd like to point out to the owners of Chick-Fil-A that contrary to what they think, keeping America free is not about keeping it free of anyone whose lifestyle, religion, or sexual orientation they disagree with. Keeping America free is about ensuring that everyone, and I do mean everyone, has the same rights as the person standing next to them or across the cultural divide.
Okay, got it. Had to find my soapbox and drag it out of storage. Yes, it's time for me to climb up on it again. But this won't take long. In the meantime, if you'd really rather not listen to me rattle on about what's currently bothering me, well, then the Olympics are on. Go watch. I think someone won a gold medal today, lessee, who was it? No, I'm not going to tell you who won today and spoil your viewing fun. But seriously, if you'd rather not deal with my rantings (not that this is much of a rant tonight), I give you permission to go. Come back later when I'm not on my soapbox and we'll have some fun.
Right now though I really need to make a few points about the whole Chick-Fil-A brouhaha.
1. Chick-Fil-A, a private company owned by a very, very conservative Christian family, is in the deep fryer over the fact that they actively donate to conservative Christian groups who actively oppose gay rights.
2. Chick-Fil-A, in donating to these conservative groups, is perfectly within their rights to do so. It's their money and they can do whatever they want with it.
3. Some people feel strongly about the money they spend on lunch not going to these conservative groups, who actively oppose gay rights. And they are refusing to do business with Chick-Fil-A. Which is also their right.
4. One of the people who has a problem with Chick-Fil-A's donations to groups that support discrimination against GLBT people (that would be Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual and Transgender) is the mayor of Chicago, who is opposing Chick-Fil-A opening stores in Chicago because of the owner's conservative views/donations.
5. Can or should Chicago try to legislate what types of charitable/non-profit donations made by any company are acceptable? I think not. That's a little too big brother for my taste.
6. Do I personally think donating to groups that actively lobby for laws that discriminate against GLBT or quite frankly, any group or person, is a truly Christian act and morally responsible? No, I don't. I personally think it's morally reprehensible.
7. Does that change my belief that Chick-Fil-A has the right to donate their money to who they want to donate it to? No, it's their money and they can waste as much of it as they want.
8. Will I be giving any of my hard earned cash to Chick-Fil-A knowing that this is the kind of charitable donations they make? No, they've lost my business. Because it is my right as a consumer to choose where I spend my money, based on my own personal moral code.
9. Do I have suggestions for Chick-Fil-A on some better uses for their charitable donations? Why yes, I do. How about funding vaccinations for children in the poorer parts of America and the world? Donating to literacy groups. Donating to food banks? Or anything that would genuinely help their fellow man rather than to groups who want to beat down anyone they consider to be 'different.'
10. What else? Oh yes, I'd like to point out to the owners of Chick-Fil-A that contrary to what they think, keeping America free is not about keeping it free of anyone whose lifestyle, religion, or sexual orientation they disagree with. Keeping America free is about ensuring that everyone, and I do mean everyone, has the same rights as the person standing next to them or across the cultural divide.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Heroes
I have a small confession to make: I have a sort of litmus test for people. Basically, if they say their hero or one of their heroes is Princess Diana, I tend to put them down as people who are, shall we say, a bit shallow. Nothing against Princess Di. But based on what I know about the late princess, I have a hard time thinking of her as a 'hero.' In the interests of complete disclosure, I admit I do have a bit of a fascination with the British Royal Family. As in, if I see a news headline about them, I am more likely to read the article than I am to pass it up. Yes, I am shallow that way. But are any of them my heroes? No. And are they or any celebrity ever likely to be?
No. I have higher standards for heroes than mere news coverage or wealth. And my standards, as vague as they are, are high enough that if someone had asked me last year who my hero is, I would have been hard pressed to come up with an answer. But the months since this past February have changed that. I can honestly say that I do have a hero now. It's my little sister, Mary Claire.
In February, Mary Claire was diagnosed with cancer. I was with her when she got the news and let me tell you, my heart still stops when I think of that day. Because the news was awful in the truest sense of the word. That day was the day when the bottom dropped out of my family's world. Many people, hearing that diagnosis would have simply given up. Quite honestly, that was one of Mary Claire's choices. But she didn't take that choice. Instead she chose to fight the cancer cells that invaded her body with everything that she had.
Over the past six months, I've watched my sister transform. She readily admitted that she well may have done this to herself with heavy drinking and smoking. She told me early on, after she had first found that telltale lump near her collar bone that, "I knew I shouldn't be drinking and smoking this way, but I couldn't be bothered to stop. I had my fun, now I have to pay the price." But instead of deciding that since the damage was done, she might as well continue to enjoy her vices, she gave up her vices. Cold turkey the night before we received the news. Some might say that she took the easy road and it was too little, too late. But I have been there with her and I can tell you that my sister looked at the fork in the road before her and she did not choose the easy path. Even though she has made it look easy.
As she has made much of this ordeal look easy. From the very beginning, Mary Claire has looked this disease in the eye and faced it with grace and courage. When something she's facing does get to her, she has her cry and moves on. As she did one day when she was told that the new chemo mix they were going to use would require her to stay in the hospital for five days instead of three. She cried, but then later that day when I called to check on her, she told me, " Oh, I had my pout and I'm over it now."
Even when we were children, I knew Mary Claire had that core of courage. She could outrun everyone in the neighborhood. She would dive off the high diving board at our local swimming pool without hesitation. She did not let her fears get in her way and she hasn't let them get in the way of her fight to get well. And she is getting well. She has amazed her doctor with the way she has responded to the chemotherapy and with how rapidly the tumors have shrunk.
This past week, Mary Claire was rewarded with a respite from all the chemo. She is not yet in full remission, but she's made such incredible progress, that her doctor has decided that she can have a break from treatment for three months to rest and get her strength back before hitting the remaining cancer with whatever it takes to take it out. We were stunned. We cried. We hugged. And we rejoiced.
At some point in time, Mary Claire will resume chemo treatments. When she does, I'm sure that she will continue her fight against cancer with the same determination she has shown so far. And I'm also sure that she will get well.
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No. I have higher standards for heroes than mere news coverage or wealth. And my standards, as vague as they are, are high enough that if someone had asked me last year who my hero is, I would have been hard pressed to come up with an answer. But the months since this past February have changed that. I can honestly say that I do have a hero now. It's my little sister, Mary Claire.
In February, Mary Claire was diagnosed with cancer. I was with her when she got the news and let me tell you, my heart still stops when I think of that day. Because the news was awful in the truest sense of the word. That day was the day when the bottom dropped out of my family's world. Many people, hearing that diagnosis would have simply given up. Quite honestly, that was one of Mary Claire's choices. But she didn't take that choice. Instead she chose to fight the cancer cells that invaded her body with everything that she had.
Over the past six months, I've watched my sister transform. She readily admitted that she well may have done this to herself with heavy drinking and smoking. She told me early on, after she had first found that telltale lump near her collar bone that, "I knew I shouldn't be drinking and smoking this way, but I couldn't be bothered to stop. I had my fun, now I have to pay the price." But instead of deciding that since the damage was done, she might as well continue to enjoy her vices, she gave up her vices. Cold turkey the night before we received the news. Some might say that she took the easy road and it was too little, too late. But I have been there with her and I can tell you that my sister looked at the fork in the road before her and she did not choose the easy path. Even though she has made it look easy.
As she has made much of this ordeal look easy. From the very beginning, Mary Claire has looked this disease in the eye and faced it with grace and courage. When something she's facing does get to her, she has her cry and moves on. As she did one day when she was told that the new chemo mix they were going to use would require her to stay in the hospital for five days instead of three. She cried, but then later that day when I called to check on her, she told me, " Oh, I had my pout and I'm over it now."
Even when we were children, I knew Mary Claire had that core of courage. She could outrun everyone in the neighborhood. She would dive off the high diving board at our local swimming pool without hesitation. She did not let her fears get in her way and she hasn't let them get in the way of her fight to get well. And she is getting well. She has amazed her doctor with the way she has responded to the chemotherapy and with how rapidly the tumors have shrunk.
This past week, Mary Claire was rewarded with a respite from all the chemo. She is not yet in full remission, but she's made such incredible progress, that her doctor has decided that she can have a break from treatment for three months to rest and get her strength back before hitting the remaining cancer with whatever it takes to take it out. We were stunned. We cried. We hugged. And we rejoiced.
At some point in time, Mary Claire will resume chemo treatments. When she does, I'm sure that she will continue her fight against cancer with the same determination she has shown so far. And I'm also sure that she will get well.
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This is my sister. And she's my hero.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Call Him Dad
Note: I meant to post this last week on Father's Day. But on Father's Day I was in Connecticut, reconnecting with one of my sisters, looking at fireflies and generally enjoying weather that was at least 20 degrees cooler than it is in Texas. Plus I couldn't figure out how to log onto this damn little notebook that the tech department at work had given me (yes, basically user error). So instead this is going up today.
It is sometimes hard to believe, but my son Michael is now a father. His daughter is a little over two months old and it still takes me by surprise when I see Michael and her together and realize that he helped create this little miracle and is responsible for her.
As it turns out, Michael is a wonderful father. And watching him with his infant daughter is a gift that brings great joy. The love and caring I see in him for his child is remarkable. To see my son grown up and being such a caring, loving father is one of the great joys of my life.
Some of this is because I lost my own father at such a young age. I really don't remember much about my father. I know that he was in many ways a traditional father of his time (the late 1950s and early 1960s) who didn't actually do things with or for his children. The day to day care of children was very much the domain of mothers back then. And my father made a big mistake leaving us to our mother because he missed out on a lot with us. And we, or really I, was left with few memories of him when he died.
I don't worry about Michael missing out. He is fully vested in taking care of this daughter and any other children he may have in the future. I see this commitment every time he takes his daughter into his arms. His love is unconditional and real. He is that truest of men. A man who knows that there is more to caring for his child than simply providing material goods for her. A man who understands that merely saying "I love you" to his daughter is not the only way or even the best way sometimes of demonstrating that love. A man who will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to help his daughter, be it a diaper change when she is a baby, helping her with her homework in grade school, saying no to that party she wants to attend in junior high, teaching her how to change a tire when she is a teen, or being on the other end of the phone to just listen when she goes off to college and is homesick.
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It is sometimes hard to believe, but my son Michael is now a father. His daughter is a little over two months old and it still takes me by surprise when I see Michael and her together and realize that he helped create this little miracle and is responsible for her.
As it turns out, Michael is a wonderful father. And watching him with his infant daughter is a gift that brings great joy. The love and caring I see in him for his child is remarkable. To see my son grown up and being such a caring, loving father is one of the great joys of my life.
Some of this is because I lost my own father at such a young age. I really don't remember much about my father. I know that he was in many ways a traditional father of his time (the late 1950s and early 1960s) who didn't actually do things with or for his children. The day to day care of children was very much the domain of mothers back then. And my father made a big mistake leaving us to our mother because he missed out on a lot with us. And we, or really I, was left with few memories of him when he died.
I don't worry about Michael missing out. He is fully vested in taking care of this daughter and any other children he may have in the future. I see this commitment every time he takes his daughter into his arms. His love is unconditional and real. He is that truest of men. A man who knows that there is more to caring for his child than simply providing material goods for her. A man who understands that merely saying "I love you" to his daughter is not the only way or even the best way sometimes of demonstrating that love. A man who will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to help his daughter, be it a diaper change when she is a baby, helping her with her homework in grade school, saying no to that party she wants to attend in junior high, teaching her how to change a tire when she is a teen, or being on the other end of the phone to just listen when she goes off to college and is homesick.
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Happy belated Father's Day Michael. I love you.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Best Friends
Forty-four or forty-five years ago, sometime around when I was in 6th or 7th grade I met the person who would be my best friend for life. Sara's family had moved to the hell hole which was the small town where I had grown up during those times and at some point in time in high school, the two of us clicked. I'm not sure why. In many ways we are two very different people. But I've been grateful for years that we did indeed click. Because in many ways she has shaped the woman I have become.
When Sara met me back in junior high, I was basically like most young girls of my age who were growing up in small towns in South Texas. In other words, I was an idiot. I cared way too much what other people thought of me. I was obsessed with being considered popular or cool, something I was not in any way, shape, or form. And I didn't understand at all what real friendship was about. Basically, all I wanted back then was to fit in with people who were, to be honest, not worth fitting in with. It was pretty much what every other girl in that school cared about too. So Sara was a revelation to me. She didn't give a damn what people thought of her and being 'popular' was, to her, the definition of hell on earth. If she did actually care, she hid it well. Her philosophy was, if you don't treat me well, I don't need you in my life and if you want my respect, you have to earn it. Thankfully, she saw something worthwhile in me and we became friends, never dreaming that we would still be friends all these years later.
As it turned out, Sara had a lot to teach me. Such as how to be a real friend. And that I was more than what people, who did not know me, thought of me. She truly opened my eyes to the fact that there was a world outside of the small town we lived in and that the people who really cared about you were what mattered, not the superficial idiocies of adolescence that seemed so incredibly important at the time. She taught me to laugh at myself and, ultimately, that high school was not the high point of our lives. Real life was what was going to happen when we left that little South Texas town. Looking back, it took an impossibly long time for me to learn what she had to teach me. But she was right and I'm grateful she didn't give up on me.
Through the years we may not have been in constant contact, but we both know that the other one is there if needed. We have other friends, and what Sara taught me about friendship enabled me to make friendships that are based on respect and caring.
But Sara is a friend like no other because she is the one person who knows, not just who I am, but who I was. She knows me as no one else will ever know me because she's known me the longest. I hold that same knowledge about her. And I know, that if I ever need to, I can call her up and pour my heart out to her, just as I did all those years ago when all I was pouring out was the dregs of teen angst. And I hope she knows that I will always do the same for her.
Today is her birthday, a fact she will not thank me for pointing out to the world. Sara does not like being the center of attention. But I'll risk her displeasure because today I want to make sure she knows how happy I am she is here and that the world is truly a better place because she is here: caring about what is real and what is important.
Happy birthday Sara. Love always.
When Sara met me back in junior high, I was basically like most young girls of my age who were growing up in small towns in South Texas. In other words, I was an idiot. I cared way too much what other people thought of me. I was obsessed with being considered popular or cool, something I was not in any way, shape, or form. And I didn't understand at all what real friendship was about. Basically, all I wanted back then was to fit in with people who were, to be honest, not worth fitting in with. It was pretty much what every other girl in that school cared about too. So Sara was a revelation to me. She didn't give a damn what people thought of her and being 'popular' was, to her, the definition of hell on earth. If she did actually care, she hid it well. Her philosophy was, if you don't treat me well, I don't need you in my life and if you want my respect, you have to earn it. Thankfully, she saw something worthwhile in me and we became friends, never dreaming that we would still be friends all these years later.
As it turned out, Sara had a lot to teach me. Such as how to be a real friend. And that I was more than what people, who did not know me, thought of me. She truly opened my eyes to the fact that there was a world outside of the small town we lived in and that the people who really cared about you were what mattered, not the superficial idiocies of adolescence that seemed so incredibly important at the time. She taught me to laugh at myself and, ultimately, that high school was not the high point of our lives. Real life was what was going to happen when we left that little South Texas town. Looking back, it took an impossibly long time for me to learn what she had to teach me. But she was right and I'm grateful she didn't give up on me.
Through the years we may not have been in constant contact, but we both know that the other one is there if needed. We have other friends, and what Sara taught me about friendship enabled me to make friendships that are based on respect and caring.
But Sara is a friend like no other because she is the one person who knows, not just who I am, but who I was. She knows me as no one else will ever know me because she's known me the longest. I hold that same knowledge about her. And I know, that if I ever need to, I can call her up and pour my heart out to her, just as I did all those years ago when all I was pouring out was the dregs of teen angst. And I hope she knows that I will always do the same for her.
Today is her birthday, a fact she will not thank me for pointing out to the world. Sara does not like being the center of attention. But I'll risk her displeasure because today I want to make sure she knows how happy I am she is here and that the world is truly a better place because she is here: caring about what is real and what is important.
Happy birthday Sara. Love always.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Show and Tell
I was uploading some photos from the camera and realized that there are a few things I've done over the past few months that I haven't shared here. And since I'm a little bit proud of my efforts, you'll all just have to put up with my little show and tell exercise here.
First up is the portrait I did of my sister Julia and her dog Pirate. This was done for a Prismacolor drawing class I took last fall from Rice University's Glasscock School of Continuing Education. It's been decades literally since I drew like this. As in since I graduated from UT. So, I wasn't sure if I could draw anymore. I am extremely grateful to Kathryn Klauber, the instructor, for showing me that I could indeed still draw. And I intend to keep on drawing.
Next is the baby blanket I wove for my first grandchild, Luci. Luci arrived on April 5 and I will be talking about her a bit more in future posts (consider this your official warning that I will be gushing about her). This blanket was my first project on my restored loom and I loved making it.
Finally, we've been working quite a bit on our yard, planting lots and lots of flowers. Among which are these lovely little geraniums which are creating a very nice ombre effect when they are in bloom.
First up is the portrait I did of my sister Julia and her dog Pirate. This was done for a Prismacolor drawing class I took last fall from Rice University's Glasscock School of Continuing Education. It's been decades literally since I drew like this. As in since I graduated from UT. So, I wasn't sure if I could draw anymore. I am extremely grateful to Kathryn Klauber, the instructor, for showing me that I could indeed still draw. And I intend to keep on drawing.
Next is the baby blanket I wove for my first grandchild, Luci. Luci arrived on April 5 and I will be talking about her a bit more in future posts (consider this your official warning that I will be gushing about her). This blanket was my first project on my restored loom and I loved making it.
Finally, we've been working quite a bit on our yard, planting lots and lots of flowers. Among which are these lovely little geraniums which are creating a very nice ombre effect when they are in bloom.
Aren't they pretty?
In between these projects, I also taught my daughter-in-law to sew and helped her make items for Luci's nursery, completely redid my daughter Sara's room, which involved a lot of paint and some sewing, and did a few other things.
Currently I'm winding a warp that I hope will result in three shawls, the beginning of my inventory for an Etsy shop! I'll post photos of that project in process on the loom once I get that far.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
More Pie!
I think Maria Antoinette really should have said, "Let them eat pie." I like cake, but I love pie. This past weekend, I finally made a pie recipe I found last August in Bon Appetit. This pie spoke to me. Basically, it said, "Make me and your friends will LOVE you." It was right.
I mean, wouldn't you love me if I sat this in front of you and said, "This is dessert."? A lime blackberry Italian meringue pie?
You can find the recipe here: Be forewarned that this is a labor of love. One doesn't make something that takes the time this takes if you don't love the people you are making it for. Or need them to do you a very, very big favor. I did, as usual for me, pushed this one to the limit. Which is why my dinner guests ate grilled eggplant and zucchini, rather than the eggplant, zucchini and tomato stacks I had originally planned. Something had to give and it wasn't going to be this pie. (For the record, I made the right choice.)
One tip: Since I was running a bit short on time, I opted to toast the meringue by using a butane torch instead of putting it under the broiler. It was an interesting choice since I don't possess a fancy butane torch of the type sold by Williams-Sonoma or Sur la Table. Nope, I just grabbed a basic long handled lighter and used that. It worked perfectly. Oh, and I didn't use the pie crust recipe given in the magazine with the pie. I opted to use my tried and true pie crust recipe that comes from the Woman's Day Desserts cookbook. (Came out several years ago and worth looking for just for that pie crust recipe.)
I mean, wouldn't you love me if I sat this in front of you and said, "This is dessert."? A lime blackberry Italian meringue pie?
You can find the recipe here: Be forewarned that this is a labor of love. One doesn't make something that takes the time this takes if you don't love the people you are making it for. Or need them to do you a very, very big favor. I did, as usual for me, pushed this one to the limit. Which is why my dinner guests ate grilled eggplant and zucchini, rather than the eggplant, zucchini and tomato stacks I had originally planned. Something had to give and it wasn't going to be this pie. (For the record, I made the right choice.)
One tip: Since I was running a bit short on time, I opted to toast the meringue by using a butane torch instead of putting it under the broiler. It was an interesting choice since I don't possess a fancy butane torch of the type sold by Williams-Sonoma or Sur la Table. Nope, I just grabbed a basic long handled lighter and used that. It worked perfectly. Oh, and I didn't use the pie crust recipe given in the magazine with the pie. I opted to use my tried and true pie crust recipe that comes from the Woman's Day Desserts cookbook. (Came out several years ago and worth looking for just for that pie crust recipe.)
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Miscellaneous Mischief
For my dear conservative or apolitical friends, you might want to skip this one. Yes, I'm going on a tear. A long overdue tear. So, following my tradition of giving you something to read that won't offend you, I offer up tonight Emotions with Jon Hamm. A brilliant bit of online craziness created by Tricia, who is a rising creative marvel. Loads of people love this blog (well, maybe not Jon Hamm, but hey, his loss). So enjoy and come back to me soon.
Now, on with my rants...er points of view...
Bye bye Rick: Act II. Rick Sanctimonious – er Santorum, finally saw the writing on the wall and bowed out of the race for the Republican presidential nomination. Which leaves only three options: The Newt, Ron Paul, or Mitt. Given that Mitt has about ten million more delegates than The Newt or Ron Paul, it's pretty obvious that in November, republican voters are going to have a the choice of a man half of them are convinced either isn't a US citizen or a Christian (Muslim being the predominant thought if you can say these people are thinking) or both or Mitt who is a Morman. Depending on just how desperate they are, they may just go for the Morman.
Disclaimer: I personally don't care if our president is a Christian, Jew, Morman, Hindu, Muslim or atheist as long as he does have the ability to lead our country, which I really don't think any of the current crop of Republicans do, except for maybe Ron Paul. And I feel obligated to point out here for the uneducated that technically, there is absolutely NO requirement that an American president be a Christian (aka a member of a Protestant or if no attractive Protestant is a viable choice, then a Catholic). It's called freedom of religion people. We can worship as we please. And that right to worship as we please extends to the President of our country.
Speaking of Ricks, it seems that Texas Governor Rick Perry has decided that Texas legislators should be required to take an oath of loyalty to his policies. Or some such nonsense. Since I just love it when the governor of our state makes us look like a bunch of idiots for electing him over and over again, I want to thank all those who continue to make His Holy Hairness' reign possible. Do us all a favor during the next election y'all: Forget to renew your voter registration cards and stay home so we can finally vote this bozo out of office. Oh, and also any bozo in the Texas legislature who is stupid enough to vote for this stupid loyalty oath of Ricky's.
Next up, our intrepid secret service agents, who seem to have forgotten that scouting out the local prostitution options in preparation for a presidential visit to a foreign country stopped being necessary after Clinton left the White House. What truly amazes me is how these guys got caught: by being so cheap that they 'shared' a prostitute thinking that they were going to get the two for one deal. So, the prostitute called the police, who then called the US embassy on these bozos. So, not only were these guys stupid enough to actually hire prostitutes and take them back to their hotel rooms where they had classified info laying around, but they were cheap stupid bozos.
Finally, no rant on the idiocies of the week would be complete without the ultimate idiot of the week: Ted Nugent. I just don't know what to say here. The mind boggles at how Nugent's mind works, or rather, doesn't work. I'd advise Mr. Nugent to stick to music, but based on what I know about his musical skills, I'm not sure that's a viable option. I certainly don't have any of his music (if you can call it that) on my iPod. So, maybe the best advice I can give him is to crawl under a rock and hope that his most recent outburst will be taken for the random ravings of a lunatic. Because I'm betting that the secret service would love to have a reason to take Ted into custody and look like the good guys bringing a gun-toting, serious threat-making lunatic to justice right now in order to detract people's attention from that little problem in Columbia.
Now, on with my rants...er points of view...
Bye bye Rick: Act II. Rick Sanctimonious – er Santorum, finally saw the writing on the wall and bowed out of the race for the Republican presidential nomination. Which leaves only three options: The Newt, Ron Paul, or Mitt. Given that Mitt has about ten million more delegates than The Newt or Ron Paul, it's pretty obvious that in November, republican voters are going to have a the choice of a man half of them are convinced either isn't a US citizen or a Christian (Muslim being the predominant thought if you can say these people are thinking) or both or Mitt who is a Morman. Depending on just how desperate they are, they may just go for the Morman.
Disclaimer: I personally don't care if our president is a Christian, Jew, Morman, Hindu, Muslim or atheist as long as he does have the ability to lead our country, which I really don't think any of the current crop of Republicans do, except for maybe Ron Paul. And I feel obligated to point out here for the uneducated that technically, there is absolutely NO requirement that an American president be a Christian (aka a member of a Protestant or if no attractive Protestant is a viable choice, then a Catholic). It's called freedom of religion people. We can worship as we please. And that right to worship as we please extends to the President of our country.
Speaking of Ricks, it seems that Texas Governor Rick Perry has decided that Texas legislators should be required to take an oath of loyalty to his policies. Or some such nonsense. Since I just love it when the governor of our state makes us look like a bunch of idiots for electing him over and over again, I want to thank all those who continue to make His Holy Hairness' reign possible. Do us all a favor during the next election y'all: Forget to renew your voter registration cards and stay home so we can finally vote this bozo out of office. Oh, and also any bozo in the Texas legislature who is stupid enough to vote for this stupid loyalty oath of Ricky's.
Next up, our intrepid secret service agents, who seem to have forgotten that scouting out the local prostitution options in preparation for a presidential visit to a foreign country stopped being necessary after Clinton left the White House. What truly amazes me is how these guys got caught: by being so cheap that they 'shared' a prostitute thinking that they were going to get the two for one deal. So, the prostitute called the police, who then called the US embassy on these bozos. So, not only were these guys stupid enough to actually hire prostitutes and take them back to their hotel rooms where they had classified info laying around, but they were cheap stupid bozos.
Finally, no rant on the idiocies of the week would be complete without the ultimate idiot of the week: Ted Nugent. I just don't know what to say here. The mind boggles at how Nugent's mind works, or rather, doesn't work. I'd advise Mr. Nugent to stick to music, but based on what I know about his musical skills, I'm not sure that's a viable option. I certainly don't have any of his music (if you can call it that) on my iPod. So, maybe the best advice I can give him is to crawl under a rock and hope that his most recent outburst will be taken for the random ravings of a lunatic. Because I'm betting that the secret service would love to have a reason to take Ted into custody and look like the good guys bringing a gun-toting, serious threat-making lunatic to justice right now in order to detract people's attention from that little problem in Columbia.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
A Bedtime Story or Why You Should Dream Big
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a young girl wrote a letter to Santa. In addition to asking for a doll and the usual toys girls of her age in the mid 1960s asked for, she also asked for something different. In the Sears Roebuck Catalog, she had seen a small weaving loom, made of wood and, according to the copy, capable of producing real cloth. Being an rather unusual, artistic sort of child, the idea of being able to weave cloth appealed to her.
But that Christmas morning, though the little girl did receive some lovely things for which she was very grateful, the little girl also had cause to be annoyed. Because evidently a major mix-up had occurred at the North Pole. Instead of a small wooden weaving loom that looked and worked just like real weaving looms, there was this little metal square thing and a bunch of knitted loops with which to make potholders. It was a real bummer. The little girl was sure Santa meant well, but she didn't want to weave potholders. She wanted to weave a scarf. That she could wear. And while she made several potholders, it just wasn't the same.
The little girl eventually ditched the potholder maker and went back to drawing and painting with watercolors for her artistic outlet as she grew. During high school, she renewed her interest in cloth by teaching herself how to sew. But always in the back of her mind was a fascination with the way cloth was made. While attending art classes at the University of Texas, the girl would sometimes linger near the huge room-sized floor loom stationed out in the hallway on the second floor of the building hoping to see it in action. But there was no time to actually learn to weave as she was already planning to work in graphic design some day.
The girl graduated from college, married and moved to a big city in Texas. She started working as an art director in ad agencies, had three children, for whom she sewed baby quilts, Halloween costumes, Christmas dresses, and graduation dresses. She forgot about wanting to weave cloth. Then one day, after she had started working for a school designing their print materials, she went to a big second hand sale. At at this sale was a small 4-harness table loom in need of a little loving care, for $50 dollars. Since it was near her birthday, the woman bought the loom as a present for herself. When her co-workers asked her why she would buy such a thing, she replied, "Because I have always wanted to weave cloth and now I finally can." She brought the loom home, fixed the few small things that needed fixing and bought a book on how to weave. Her first project was pretty awful, but she eventually got better and made some nice scarves and a few shawls with her loom. But it wasn't enough. The little loom could only weave fabric that was 18 inches wide and the woman wanted to do bigger projects. She wanted her shawls to be bigger. She wanted more.
Unfortunately, looms as big as the woman dreamed about are very, very expensive and the woman did have three children in private school and college. She was also fairly certain that it would do no good to write Santa about a bigger loom as previous experience had taught her that Santa really didn't understand the first thing about weaving equipment. So she dreamed of bigger looms. She also got on the internet and started looking for a second hand floor loom she might be able to afford. Once or twice she even saw where someone was giving a floor loom away, but whenever that happened, she was always too late when she called. Until one morning when she went online to find a brand new ad from someone who needed to find a good home for their floor loom and was giving it away for free. Kind of like a kitten from a litter of ten.
The woman immediately called and emailed asking if the loom was still available. Much to her delight, it was. But the loom needed some repair in order to work. Sure she could handle it, the woman committed to taking the loom.
Once home, it took a long time and a lot of work to make the loom functional again. At times, the woman didn't think it would ever happen. But finally, all the work was done and the loom was put back together. The woman immediately went to work putting a warp on the loom. Ever the over ambitious one, she decided that she would immediately start on weaving a blanket for the expected any day first grandchild rather than the practice project she had thought about doing first. After much hard work, winding the warp, placing it on the loom and threading it through the harnesses and the reed, she was finally able to weave. And it was just as wonderful as she had hoped it would be, watching the cloth take shape under her hands.
Now the woman just has one thing left to do. Write a thank you letter to Santa for not bringing her that little loom she thought she wanted so long ago. Because if he had, the little girl that she was would probably have gotten frustrated and lost interest in weaving instead of discovering the joy of it as an adult.
But that Christmas morning, though the little girl did receive some lovely things for which she was very grateful, the little girl also had cause to be annoyed. Because evidently a major mix-up had occurred at the North Pole. Instead of a small wooden weaving loom that looked and worked just like real weaving looms, there was this little metal square thing and a bunch of knitted loops with which to make potholders. It was a real bummer. The little girl was sure Santa meant well, but she didn't want to weave potholders. She wanted to weave a scarf. That she could wear. And while she made several potholders, it just wasn't the same.
The little girl eventually ditched the potholder maker and went back to drawing and painting with watercolors for her artistic outlet as she grew. During high school, she renewed her interest in cloth by teaching herself how to sew. But always in the back of her mind was a fascination with the way cloth was made. While attending art classes at the University of Texas, the girl would sometimes linger near the huge room-sized floor loom stationed out in the hallway on the second floor of the building hoping to see it in action. But there was no time to actually learn to weave as she was already planning to work in graphic design some day.
The girl graduated from college, married and moved to a big city in Texas. She started working as an art director in ad agencies, had three children, for whom she sewed baby quilts, Halloween costumes, Christmas dresses, and graduation dresses. She forgot about wanting to weave cloth. Then one day, after she had started working for a school designing their print materials, she went to a big second hand sale. At at this sale was a small 4-harness table loom in need of a little loving care, for $50 dollars. Since it was near her birthday, the woman bought the loom as a present for herself. When her co-workers asked her why she would buy such a thing, she replied, "Because I have always wanted to weave cloth and now I finally can." She brought the loom home, fixed the few small things that needed fixing and bought a book on how to weave. Her first project was pretty awful, but she eventually got better and made some nice scarves and a few shawls with her loom. But it wasn't enough. The little loom could only weave fabric that was 18 inches wide and the woman wanted to do bigger projects. She wanted her shawls to be bigger. She wanted more.
Unfortunately, looms as big as the woman dreamed about are very, very expensive and the woman did have three children in private school and college. She was also fairly certain that it would do no good to write Santa about a bigger loom as previous experience had taught her that Santa really didn't understand the first thing about weaving equipment. So she dreamed of bigger looms. She also got on the internet and started looking for a second hand floor loom she might be able to afford. Once or twice she even saw where someone was giving a floor loom away, but whenever that happened, she was always too late when she called. Until one morning when she went online to find a brand new ad from someone who needed to find a good home for their floor loom and was giving it away for free. Kind of like a kitten from a litter of ten.
The woman immediately called and emailed asking if the loom was still available. Much to her delight, it was. But the loom needed some repair in order to work. Sure she could handle it, the woman committed to taking the loom.
Once home, it took a long time and a lot of work to make the loom functional again. At times, the woman didn't think it would ever happen. But finally, all the work was done and the loom was put back together. The woman immediately went to work putting a warp on the loom. Ever the over ambitious one, she decided that she would immediately start on weaving a blanket for the expected any day first grandchild rather than the practice project she had thought about doing first. After much hard work, winding the warp, placing it on the loom and threading it through the harnesses and the reed, she was finally able to weave. And it was just as wonderful as she had hoped it would be, watching the cloth take shape under her hands.
Now the woman just has one thing left to do. Write a thank you letter to Santa for not bringing her that little loom she thought she wanted so long ago. Because if he had, the little girl that she was would probably have gotten frustrated and lost interest in weaving instead of discovering the joy of it as an adult.
Dreams really do come true.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Leaping Around
I feel the need to write something. It's Leap Day and one should always seize this extra day. But I'm not really feeling creative. So, I'm taking the easy way out. Bullet points.
• My mom turned 90 last week. To celebrate, all the siblings and the grandchildren got together and spent the weekend together. It was great. And all this week, I've been missing my family and wishing we could have had one more day. Which is much better than feeling it would have been better if it had been shorter.
• Also in February, my youngest child turned 21. Which means that all of my children are now officially grown up. Doesn't mean I've stopped telling them to be careful or to call me when they get home. That will never stop while I'm drawing breath.
• Want to increase the visits to your blog? Include the word 'lust' somewhere. I recently wrote a bit about how I cannot wait for my first grandchild to arrive and entitled it 'Granny Lust.' I am still getting hits on that particular entry. Who knew? I am a bit sorry for all the people in Russia, China and a few assorted third world countries who ended up on my blog thinking they were going to see/read something vaguely pornographic, but then again, I may shamelessly use that trick to increase readership at some point in the future. Maybe I'll write about how I lust after various china patterns.
What can I say. I have no shame.
•
Speaking of shameless, here's a shameless plug for my little sister's
stores in Rockport, Texas: The Bay Window and The Bay Window Home. If
you are anywhere in the vicinity, you really should stop by and do a
little or a lot of shopping. Julia has just redone both spaces and while
we were there last weekend for Mom's birthday, we helped Julia and her staff unpack
some of her recent purchases for the store. It's great stuff and you
really should go and buy as much of it as you can carry away before
someone else beats you to it. I myself brought home a couple of little art
pieces that are now hanging in my studio. Every time I look at them, I smile. I also brought home a fabulous pair of white pants, a pair of earrings, and a darling pair of crocheted baby bootie/sandals for the new grandbaby.
• Congratulations to my friend Tricia, creator of the blog, Emotions with Jon Hamm, for her recent mention in Esquire magazine in an article about Mr. Hamm.
• In the last month, I've redone my daughter Sara's room as an official guest room. Said project involved lots of paint – both on the walls and on assorted bits of furniture, and sewing pillow covers for Euro pillows. Before and after photos will appear here at some point. Probably with the word 'lust' somewhere to increase readership.
• I've also been teaching my daughter-in-law Sarah how to sew. The projects we've been working on are curtains for the baby's nursery and a crib skirt. Curtains are done. Crib skirt should be finished this weekend.
• Last night I officially finished restoring the 40" Macomber loom I was given a couple of years ago. I am awaiting delivery on a bench to go with this loom and am also planning my first project for it. I can't wait to start weaving. Photos will also appear at some point of the restored loom.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Life
Life is happening a lot to me lately. At home. At work. Within my family. Some of it is absolutely wonderful. Some of it is extremely stressful. And it is coming all at once.
But that's okay. That's life. Sometimes it goes smoothly and sometimes it doesn't.
The next few months are going to be an adventure for me. There is great joy ahead and a great battle to be fought and won. (Make no mistake, we will win that battle.) I will be in major nurture mode for several reasons. But that is okay. One of the things I do best is to nurture others. I can do this. I can make a difference. And we will face it all with love. With laughter. With courage.
Because there is no other way to live.
But that's okay. That's life. Sometimes it goes smoothly and sometimes it doesn't.
The next few months are going to be an adventure for me. There is great joy ahead and a great battle to be fought and won. (Make no mistake, we will win that battle.) I will be in major nurture mode for several reasons. But that is okay. One of the things I do best is to nurture others. I can do this. I can make a difference. And we will face it all with love. With laughter. With courage.
Because there is no other way to live.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Granny Lust
In one of my favorite series of books, (The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon, specifically Drums of Autumn), one of the characters describes a condition known as 'granny lust,' which evidently is the desire for grandchildren of one's own. I truly never thought I'd have to deal with that problem until this morning.
As I may have mentioned, I am about to become a grandmother. Said grandchild is due to arrive in approximately 8 weeks, give or take a few, and while I was getting ready to go to work today, it hit me all of a sudden, that this little girl we've been talking about and planning for will very shortly be here with us. I'll be able to hold her, love her (actually I love her already), tell her scurrilous stories about her father, sing lullabyes to her, and read to her. It hit me quite hard. It was a physical longing to hold my grandchild.
But I had no clue at that point just how strong the longing for her was. Until mid-morning, when I walked down to our coffee bar to make a cup of tea. And standing there was a prospective parent who was holding a tiny baby girl. I oooed and aaahed over her, found out baby girl was just 7 weeks old. And all the while I was carrying on a conversation with this unsuspecting mom, I was restraining myself from grabbing that poor baby so I could hold it.
Scary. Very, very scary.
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