Silver Lining

I see a lot of memes on facebook that I totally identify with, and usually just save them to my phone. Occasionally I even print and scrapbook them! This one is just SO the way I feel though, I had to share.
Have you ever struggled with how you are seen by another? Like, it seems so unreasonable, their "take" on you? Boy, I sure do. I think most of my acquaintances see me smiling, a lot, and though I have my beachy moments, in my heart, I am trying to be patient and understanding above all else.
So why does this post strike me... well, I used to be so closed off. I've chosen aloofness and to distance myself more many years, in many instances. But when I met Jaime, I felt it was time to change. I was inspired by her positivity. I think God placed her in my life to show me that, people can change. I know I did. That I continue to evolve. And some people find my kind of cheer irritating, sure. But I'm just going to keep on keeping on, and love them all the harder lol. "Nobody puts baby in a corner," right!?
Since being blessed by so, so many relationships I might not have pursued if I'd remained the same, I've come to appreciate my friendships all the more. I may seem overly optimistic to some, but I'm just trying to share the good news of this life, my meaning of life. Love others, lift them up, look on the bright side. Learn from mistakes, from misfortune, from unbearable sadness. God has a plan for each of us! We know not how each moment impacts the next... if you're ever feeling sad, lonely, unheard, not worthy, please, reach out and let someone like me help you see that silver lining. We all need a little sparkle in our life ♡ #whenindoubtjustaddglitter

RVLife Meets Scrapbooking

There are so many times a day I stop and smile, thinking about how much I love the lifestyle we've chosen. Our space may be smaller but it seems easier to keep clean since we have fewer possessions. When we yell, it's not across the house at each other. When the kids are bored, we can send them outside (or threaten them with more schoolwork bwahaha). Our kitchen is now large enough that Ray and I can do dishes and cook at the same time! There is just one piece of my everyday "normal" that seems to be missing and makes my heart pine for the old place,  and that is...

SCRAPBOOKING.

Not that I don't have supplies along for the ride, oh you know I didn't leave home without them! A lot less if them, yes, but I like to think of that as a great reason to (someday) shop for more. No, what I'm talking about is the luxury I had and yes, took for granted, of being able to make a page at the slightest hint of inspiration. With an open door to my craft room and it's fountain of papers, embellishments and adhesives sitting out at the ready, I could easily start a page on a whim and complete it at my leisure. I loved it when my desk was clean and beckoning to me whenever I went to the bathroom, washed clothes, or, well it didn't matter where I was, the room's siren call would not be long resisted!

Now I must be more thoughtful about how I spend my time when it comes to crafting. Despite having more time on my hands than ever before, I must enjoy that time with my family. I must enjoy the great outdoors outside my door as never before! I have very little time when a hefty baby us not in my arms, and as much as I'd like him to help me, I can't have him touching the things I use i.e. adhesives, etc. It's not a sacrifice I mind making, BUT I do miss the 24/7 make fests I've been in the habit of creating for myself the last decade. I feel like so much of this chapter in our family's life story is being forgotten as it goes undocumented. Guiltily I think, "it's up to me to record all this fun we are having!"

All of this pining made this layout even more satisfying to create. It's the first page I've made since we moved into our moterhime, and the first picture of August I've scrapbooked. This little dude has me completely wrapped around his chubby finger and the sentiment on that large sticker is a nod to our connectivity. On his head he has a small hemangioma that his pediatrician told me is part of his placenta that broke off and was absorbed within the womb... so I like to think we share a special bond and cherish him all the more because of it ♡

So what gets in the way of your creativity? Is it physical, mental, or a combination. I urge you to break the block and "make" some time to follow your passions! Thanks for stopping to get crafty with me today,
♡

Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

Silly Pocket Tag Cards h

My life has been pretty hectic the last couple months, leaving very little "me," i.e. craft time. Crafting isn't just a hobby for me, it is also a source of income and more importantly, a therapeutic activity which my mind finds solace in the act of doing. So, going without has a profound and multifaceted effect; my supplies go unused, my talents are not utilized for the good of my wallet, and my creative urges go unsatisfied, leaving me restless and distracted by my desire to MAKE.
I have two upcoming excuses, er, opportunities to Have to do just that; an upcoming Yoda themed birthday painting party for a boy turning 8-and 15 of his friends!- & the Key Peninsula Cooperative Preschool ' s  now annual CraftWithAnna cardmaking fundraiser at Blend, February 10th at 6pm.
I thought it would be fun to share the 6 cards I designed for the event and tell you how I made them, in case you are looking for some inspiration or just want to know, "how'd she do that?"

My first card to share starts with a white card base. To this I've added a pink doily, offset and adhered to the top of the card in the left corner. The placement does not matter, but the bottom will get covered up so leave a fair amount sticking up.
On a red tag I layered a pink square stamped with red hearts. Through the punched hole at the tag top I tied a bit of red Silly String.
Next I ran my tape runner all along the edge and down the middle of a strip of dark red cardstock. I cut about a forearms length of that same red Silly String from Queen & Co.  I got it at convention a few years back. It's stretchy and shiny and oh so fun to use! When I wrapped the string around, I made sure to keep both ends tight against a gluey area, then I ran some more adhesive over those ends, for good measure. Before I placed this wrapped piece on my card base, I slipped that tag in behind.  Another way to say this would be that I made a paper doily, tag, twine sandwich. .. anyway there is a lot of texture going on here.
You could easily replace the Silly String with any kind of fiber; bakers twine comes immediately to my mind. How about you, what's your go-to string of choice? Do you make your tags or buy them pre cut, tie in a knot or tie in a bow- you know I wanna know, comment below :-)

Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

Mini Me's

Well, baby is growing by leaps and bounds, and my heart was leaping with oohs and ahs when I reviewed these sweet pictures taken in our midwives office at the Birthing Inn of Tacoma. Aren't Sunday and Ray just the spitting images of each other? From their expressions, you can almost hear them saying, "Mom, you can keep dreaming of having a baby that looks like you, but we know better!"
Well, one can dream at least :-)  and really, what better option is there while I fill my time, #waitingforAugust <3

Summer Yum

Do you ever try on an outfit for the day and then say to yourself, I really ought to save this for (insert special occasion here)?  I do this. Constantly! I also do the opposite; try on an outfit that I've pictured so fantastically in my mind, and then look in the mirror and say, Hmm, that's not what I expected! I guess whichever of those choices you feel most inclined to identify with, the fact is, we are human- or at least, I am- and with humanity comes CHOICES.

Many of us learn at an early age that there are parts of our body not to love. What plants that in our forming mindset? The careless phrase of a parent? A more intentionally demeaning comment of a peer? Mental comparisons to the influx of imagery on tv, in magazines, movies, etc? And there are so many parts of our bodies, again we are presented with a myriad of choices about what not to love!

Well, there's one thing I'm loving about this third pregnancy: the "advanced maternal age" bracket I'm residing in has brought the wisdom to hear those negative self-image comments and completely disregard them as being total bullsh*t. Yep, my bras don't fit. Do I want a reduction? No, I want to feed my baby with the nourishing milk I believe I'll have the capacity to offer him. Oh joy, none of my pants now feature a non-elastic waistband. Do I wish I were thinner? Not if it meant my baby wasn't getting the nutrients he needs to live up to his full potential for the rest of his life. You see, I've embraced a new kind of attitude about what it means to be large and in charge :-) In charge of what I think about myself- what a concept!

Do I love it that my daughter's head bounces off that rounding tummy when she runs to give me a hug? Do I love it that I can no longer suck it in? Do I enjoy going through my closet and pulling out another round of "can't squeeze into that anymore" clothes? YES!

I tried to jog to get the mail the other day~ if you'd seen me the way I seemed to feel, you'd still be laughing. Half waddling duck stride, with lot's of arm movement, but only on one side cause I was trying to hold my boobs down. Oh yeah, cute! So, I'm taking a pass on anything more strenuous than strolling.

I tried to get past an chair sticking out into the aisle at a restaurant. Well, I thought for a moment I was stuck until I went up on tiptoe and lifted my belly over the top of the chair back. FUNNY! So now, I ask politely if someone can move their chair in a bit for me to get through.

Every time I stand at the sink to wash dishes, I seem to get Braxton Hicks contractions... well, I still haven't figured out a way to get out of that chore, but you'd better believe that along with my self-perceived body image verbiage, I'm working on it ;-)

Blueberry Hill

When Rainier was quite small and Sunday was even smaller, my mom and I started taking them to the little park across the street from my very first home. Blueberry Park contains hundreds of bushes loaded with berries that are free for anyone who wants to pick them... and seeing as how my family consumes a fair quantity of these anti-oxidant rich morsels throughout the year, we go! 

I love spending time here in the later day, with the setting sun piercing through the shadowed insides, searching for ripe or close to ripe berries with my family nearby. Listening to the chatter of other gleaners as they converse in multiple languages across the fields is soothing somehow. I think one of the best parts about this day was celebrating August reaching an official 6 months of gestation. And boy was it ever rewarding, bringing home that first batch of Yum like we did this afternoon.
I even had a new thrill on Blueberry Hill when I spied a ginormous dragonfly resting amongst the leaves I reached between. Lucky me, it stayed still long enough to show my whole family AND get a few cool pictures to remember the moment with.  Then off it flew, and Dad called out, "Forage on, family!"

Unseen Gifts

With both of our daughters and myself sharing Easter as our day of baptism, I always feels a special sense of wonder and reflection amidst the commercialism of colorful eggs, baskets of goodies, and once-a-year attendance at church. Easter has long been celebrated by Christians and pagans alike in some form or another; as the story of Jesus' sacrifice and out of rejoice after a dreary winter's end.
This week I found myself pondering a new connection to my baptism; pregnancy. Say what? Well, the two subjects don't usually coincide- both of my girls were born at winter's end and were baptized as infants. However, as each year passes, I find my thoughts overlap in remembrances and bring about new reflections, so here it goes!

When I first made the decision to get baptized, I was 18 years old. Every Sunday morning I would drive to my grandma's house and together we'd walk next door to the Lutheran Church behind her house for worship service. I was too old for youth group, and too young to consider myself an actual congregation member; those older people were nice but I didn't relate to them. How could I picture their lives being like mine? At 18, living with my boyfriend, with a barrier of teenage angst between my mother and I, and with little to no money to throw in the offering plate. Without a routine life, there was never a consideration in my mind to don a choral robe and join in the worship service, although one time I did get to light the candles as an acolyte. Although I grew up with the idea that "God loves You," religion wasn't a hot topic at the dinner table, nor did any rules to follow extend beyond "do unto others as you would have done unto yourself," and, say a prayer before large, extended family meals.
At this age, and for many of the same reasons, I was in no way looking to become a mother myself. I didn't have any desire to hold a baby, let alone allow one out of my birth canal! If required to follow through with a pregnancy, I'm sure I would have loudly professed that I needed all the drugs allowed and a cesarean section too. Formula would have been mixed because, excuse me, boobs shouldn't be used for kids. I had no way to identify with Jesus' mother, Mary, and the pain that coursed through her body as her son passed away in agony before her...

Mi familia, 1981

I had no time to consider my own mother's dismay as she watched her bright light of a daughter slip into the abusive, drug selling lifestyle of a boy not much older than she'd been when she herself had become a mother. Hey, "I was 18, if I made it through this year without a kid," I thought, "I'd in fact have a one-up on her"; she sought independence even earlier than I and married at 16. She took me along as her private passenger as she headed towards her graduation ceremonies. Now, I can look back and think what it must have been like for, carrying around that knowledge, developing that secret bond that begins to form that unfathomable connection between a mother and daughter, during the stresses of a working teen's married life. I'm so glad that my grandmother spoke these words to me later in life when I tried to say I didn't ever want to see my mom again; "That's not what Jesus would want."

 with Grandma

 That absolutely changed me. Not all at once, no, just like reading enough through the Bible to pick out the principles of faith that I could relate to took many years, so has coming to terms with and being patient in those relationships that are most challenging to me. They are challenging because they are important; I love those people. Or animals. Sometimes we have intolerable connections we can't live without, and we endure. Bible texts can be quite challenging as well. Ever caught a few phrases from a King James version? Whew! I prefer The Message myself! Perhaps because the message is in fact so clear; do unto others as you would have done unto self.

The choice to get baptized seemed like a good one; I enjoyed going to church, and I didn't want to go to hell. Martin Luther proclaimed on the church door that "spiritual gifts come directly from God to the individual," in other words, one didn't have to talk through someone in order to communicate with God, and that sounded pretty good to me, although I did enjoy my Pastor's sermons. So a few days before Easter, I phoned a few of my friends and invited them to come to church and see this happen. And happen it did, with a new baptismal font and large seashells of water, much agreeing to love and watch over me by the congregation, and a lot of rebuking Satan later, there I was, a Child of God. Except, I didn't feel any different. I had the same troubles as when I walked in when I walked out those church doors that afternoon. I also had a new candle, a plaque of remembrance, and a beautiful handkerchief to remember the occasion by. It took me years to understand that my relationship with my spiritual beliefs was one that required diligence on my part. That God, the energy that is creation itself, is always there. Jesus, our example of saving grace, hears me. It is my own belief that these concepts exist that forms the base of my faith.

 together at the beach

 My Anchor

Meeting Ray and falling in love with the idea of beginning our family immediately has never been one I've regretted. While we didn't take a long time to come to this agreement, but that commitment to raising our children with diligence has manifested itself into two beautiful girls who anyone would say, are sweet, well-behaved, attentive children. But making sure they are in safe environments and regularly fed real foods, feeding their curiosity with solid but multi-faceted educational experiences, that all takes diligence as well. Ray works extremely hard to provide the healthiest options for us. For me. He takes the time to research and discover ways that we can be more thoughtful about our surroundings and what we ingest. For that effort, I am extremely grateful.  I have a beautiful house, the time to spend with our family, the best foods to prepare our meals with, and outlets for my creativity within a large space (read: the entire house) galore. Maintaining that feeling of respect for all that he provides in our lives, remembering the payments he makes daily with his body and health, takes steady maintenance as well.




wait for it...

does that say what we think it says?

You know, not one of my friends who hadn't actually attended my baptism would have known about it if I hadn't told them. You see, finding a way to God doesn't really show externally, it's more of an internal exhalation. Instead of feeling alone and fearful, there is a mental friend to voice concerns with. There is a satisfaction felt upon waking and thinking, "I'm alive! Praise be to God." There are beautiful moments that we thank the heavens for, and terribly painful moments that have us shouting, "help me get through this!" But for me, that hasn't been an outward exclamation. My introductory statements have more to do with selfish praise for my involvements than ones that involve my stance on faith.
Whenever I've found out I'm pregnant, there have been a lot of similarities. Although the knowledge that I'm growing a baby exists, nothing really changes right away. The house still needs to be cleaned, commitments still need to be followed through with, and no one can really tell anything is different just by looking at you. In fact, even your own spouse may not know you are carrying something besides waste products within you belly! So, not much really changes. Except, it does. No more going out for margaritas with the girls, no more blue cheese crumbles on salad, and no more lunchmeat sandwiches, either. It's almost always coincidentally been after a few good parties with heavy drinking and binge eating of crap food that I do find out I'm pregnant, so for me there are lamentations and worry mixed in with the wonder and joy filled thoughts in the discovery of new life within as well.

Then there are those quiet moments where I reach for my womb and shift my energy into an exchange with that being. If you hadn't guessed by now, for the past 2 months these moments have been filling my resting moments. When I wake in the early mornings, which of course with frequent bathroom trips happens pretty much all night long, so I mean early morning beginning around 12:15 am. I rest my hand on my changing abdomen and visualize my new baby's growth. My senses heightened, the responsive flexations of his kiwi sized body twitching within... well, that's actually just gas, I'm only entering my 2nd trimester :-)


blooming in North Bend

Resting and reflection almost lend themselves intuitively to speaking with my best self's highest power. Gratitude, worry, celebration and hopes for the future, remorse for past actions, and shining-from-within joy can all be expressed in sigh when communing with unseen forces. I listen closely for the word of God to fill my head and answer or reassure my heart, but then again, this is all prayer based on the faith that one not need God to do anything but be. Same as he asks of us. To live in each moment knowing that all can change in an instant. That sometimes sacrifices are necessary and for the good of someone more important than yourself.

In my walk of faith, I suffered many set-backs. I've had long periods of thankful, joyful living, with literal arm stretching to the heavens in gratitude. But, sadly,  I've suffered through and inflicted self-and-others damage with nary a thought to the consequences as well. This isn't an easy fact to live with, but it's the truth. And as I've heard, "the truth can set you free." One of my good friends, speaking at a ladies luncheon last weekend, spoke of this when she made the comment, You really have to be broken, at you weakest, and desperate, to lay your life down before Jesus and choose to walk with Him. I know the truth in that, for isn't it always at our most heart-breaking moments that we find it easier to reach for something of a higher power for guidance and protection from life's misery's?
This knowledge of my brokenness reminds me of the trepidation that stems from the experience of miscarriage; that constant concern in the beginning stages of, "will this baby make it?" The fear of, if I tell people, will I have to then share my grief if the pregnancy turns out to be unviable... So for a long time, introductions can only include visible members of the family. When asked, how many kids do you have, there is a little mental voice arithmetic-ing away the unseen child within before it's mentioned. Even though a pregnant woman is connected with another life in a way that others never have an opportunity to experience, there is a loneliness that accompanies the beginning of this pregnancy as I exalt in joy at the life growing opportunity I've been given, while commiserating on my sacrifices of food and drink and whatever emotional and physical changes will be endured in the coming months.

The mental image of one in prayer that was formed in my head as a very young girl was that of a person kneeling... and boy do I do a lot of that at the start of each pregnancy! I honestly do try to enjoy the constant nausea as a sign of healthy development, but those first few months are like surviving a death in the family. Well, in less dramatic form, an extended illness. The fog of stomach discomfort, the overwhelming emotions, the heightened sense of fatigue that can't always be addressed; they are like having the flu for two months straight. Then, lets add to that hormone-prone skin issues, and then every woman's favorite issue: clothes that get tighter and tighter with each washing. And all the while, you're supposed to be happy! But without telling anyone why.  I tell you, its secret keeping at it's unhealthiest looking. Even your family, who knows you have an excuse to look grumpy and unkempt, will accuse you of well, looking grumpy and unkempt!

Here's a particularly Easter-iffic visual: At MOPS a couple weeks ago, the pastor of Way Point church emphasized the story of Mary (not Jesus' mother) pouring an entire vessel of expense perfume over Jesus. While the men gathered around began to grumble, saying, How can you be so wasteful?! they are interrupted by the anointed who says that she is in fact preparing him for his death. If you can only imagine the vials of shea butter, the bottles of avocado oil and the containers of coconut creams that I've slathered on myself in an attempt to enable my skin to remain it's most elastic, you would think I ate the stuff like butter. There is no telling what will happen to a woman's body as it shifts during pregnancy and then rebounds into a new form following, I just rub a dub-dub and hope for the best each time.

Another thought I've had along the lines of being pregnant and being baptized has to do with talking to other people about it. If you mention you're pregnant, there are a lot of questions! When are you due? and What are you having? being the least invasive and most common, they are relatively easy to answer if you've been paying attention to your menstruation happenings. But then there are all the birth stories and predictions that strangers and friends and family all want to share; we can't help it really. Every woman who has carried and birthed a baby will want to share that experience with another, especially if she hasn't had the chance to do so yet, but also if she has. Sometimes the stories are heart warming, and sometimes you won't be able to help but cry over the details (remember, hormones are at an all time high)! At the pinnacle of every single birth I've witnessed- and I used to binge watch DVR'd episodes of A Baby Story- I've cried with joy at the miracle of seeing that new baby's tiny form emerge from it's mother. My favorites are the one's where the baby is born without drug intervention, in the water, like my Sunday was.
The same goes with faith declarations; some people wear their heart for God on their sleeve. Literally! Like, in tattoo form :-) And others include their declaratives on their facebook profile pictures, in meme'd prayers shared online, and through constant mention in conversation. When they find out you've been baptized, they are happy for you and want to know the details, What brought you to that choice, Where did it take place, and, Were you dipped or dabbled? They will want to share their own story, and sometimes they are mundane and sometimes those stories are powerful due to their apparent reconciliations. As tears stream down my cheeks at every single baptism I've had the pleasure of witnessing personally, the feelings of being part of something larger than what we see in this world are so intense by the time the babt-ee turns to face the welcoming congregation, I really do feel like I have committed to watch over that person in prayer. My favorite type of baptism that I could hope to see would be one where someone goes to a natural water source like a river or the ocean, and is submerged :-) So, Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

So that's it, my Easter take on Jesus and Pregnancy, and the big news that our family of four will be expanding to include a baby boy in October. With the same fortitude as his older sisters, he ought to be sitting up and laughing by the time his baptism at Easter rolls around next year, and just as he shared the same body as I and Rainer and Sunday have, he will be able to have the same shell dipping to sprinkle on his forehead water from the same baptismal font as we've had as well <3



(and they all sang,) Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!!!

Lucky

Thinking of some of my angels while driving through Rainbow, CA

All About Those...Shoes

There comes a certain point in every girls life when her feet just, stop growing. This must have happened for me around the 6th or 7th grade or so, coincidentally, I've been wearing a size 6.5 or 7 shoe and ring size ever since!

And, I love this size I've been gifted with. It's a thrill every time I (or my mom) go shoe shopping- almost all the displayed items fit me perfectly so I rarely have to dig through boxes underneath looking for my size. Mom can be shopping 100 miles away and text me a few pairs that I don't even need to try on to know, Yes, I want them!  When I worked at Famous Footwear, I almost always wore slip ons in case I "needed" to try on a few pairs while tidying up the store :-0

 

My feet have been good to me- only for a few months during Rainiers incubation did they swell to grotesque-for-me proportions, leaving me with the fear of shoe replacement shopping. I managed to turn that fear into joy at having to replace the 70+ pairs I owned at the time; reward for a baby delivered lol. But, lucky for Ray I quickly returned to normalcy and it's only through an act of extreme will power that I've been wittling down my "collection."

 

Enter the children's feet... and the fact that, because they are still growing, we get to go shoe shopping! I can hardly believe it when we leave without a pair for mom... I take mine home in photo form, now. This way, I have all the joy of the purchase without it affecting my small wallet, and none of the, I don't know where I thought I'd wear THOSE, guilt.

Hi, my name is Anna, and
I LOVE SHOES!

That's right, guilt over the dust film that forms on the tops of my heels. Guilt that the riding boots don't go riding. Guilt that I've never worn my boots with the fur out clubbin' (ok, that's a lie, but it was like, 5 years after the song was a hit). Guilt that the one pair of boots that actually cost more than $30 get worn?! I know, it's an Anna thing. A shoe lover, that's me!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

Using the F word

Today, I'm going back in time to a piece I wrote last year on how grateful I am for the "f-"word...
 

Forgiveness isn't always easy to earn. I'm sure there have been situations where you've thought to yourself, oh I could never forgive this! And, don't get me wrong, sometimes that's entirely appropriate. But to be on the offending side, thinking you've lost (or inevitably will lose) it all...well then all sorts of reasons why you should be granted amnesty seem obvious.
Forgiveness isn't something you can convince another to give you, either. Sometimes that idea can get in the way of working to repair the damage you inflict until someone reaches the point of saying, enough is enough!
Forgiveness opens a door in your heart that unwise or unplanned decisions, foolish or foolhardy acts, and deceitful cover-ups tend to close. Maybe if we all loved ourselves a little more, believed in our pureness a little more convincingly, we could love others better as well...and I believe there's a book about that!
Having been on the receiving end of heaping helpings of forgiveness in my life, I guess my final thought for now is that, hate hurts. Resentment builds walls. And, sometimes, people (or horses) make mistakes. So open your heart to a situation you've vowed not to allow forgiveness towards, and send love in that direction instead. Learn from those examples that have come to mind as you read this monologue.
This Thanksgiving and holiday season, I wish you pleasant days, however they're spent. And if the food gets burned, your team loses the game, you run out of pumpkin pie and can't have it for breakfast tomorrow,  etc., just remember...Forgive! Forget the hate but not the lesson! (And maybe assign cooking duties to someone else for next year)

 

Table Talk

I'm big fan of what comes from Shimelle.com, and this September she is guiding subscribers through a series of prompts that have allowed me to ponder, what New Thing I have learned each day. I sincerely enjoyed using her daily prompts last year to start conversations with my family about what I was learning, as well as what they have or have yet to learn. There are so many stories I have heard as an older person that may have been quite influential had they been told to me as a younger person...but, then again, maybe not! After all, don't most teenagers think they have an edge over "old people?" Hmmm. Anyway, I enjoyed the process of talking at the table with our children about lessons learned and committed to doing the same this year, once the course, open through and to the month of September, opened up.

Committed... that's what I should be, for thinking that I would be able to follow an even more rigid system of recording thoughts and topics, when even last year's section of spiraled notebook paper fell short of capturing the full 30 days. I mean, how many times have I taken a very simple, effective process and transformed it into a completely uninteresting, utterly avoidable task? The answer reader, is MANY. So yeah, I placed divided page protectors in my working scrapbook album, labeled each one with a easy-peel-off label, and even sectioned off a special spot for our trip to Alaska pictures taken last week. All this was done days before the class even started!
And then, I didn't write down more than two or three of the subjects. In a notebook, on in my planner. Not even on the pretty pieces of patterned paper I specifically put in my planner with which I intended to record upon. 'Cause I didn't write out a single story shared. And, truth be told, I hardly shared a bit of what I read in my emailed PDF's nearly every day (I did read the prompt most every day. Well, more days than not) with anyone else, let alone my family members.
All this not doing kind of, bothered me. I started to do the, why did I even do all that work in my album, mumbo jumbo. Creative process interferers are what those sentences are. My month didn't go the way I wanted it to and the intentions I had fell somewhat short. And that's okay. I've learned that every project, even a repeated one, can be unlike another. I didn't stop looking for lessons, I just didn't validate them with recorded verbiage. I felt them occur, more than made them happen, I guess.
My cardmaking is a perfect example of when this works well in my life; not only can I hardly create two very similar cards, two made to be exactly alike is practically unfathomable. That's actually what makes them valuable to me... each one is made with a person or story in mind at the time. I want each recipient and or sender to feel they have the perfect thing in their hand, to feel reached for, remembered. Which brings me to another great example of creating without standards of exactitude; my scrapbook pages. I can follow the exact same pattern/template/sketch or what have you, but depending on which photo, patterns of papers, color schemes, and embellishments are combined, the feeling of the writing, the wording of the title, etc- they will all work towards a new look that is unique to the layout and not the sketch followed.
So, back to my not following the "rules" for Learning Something New Everyday, which Shimelle repeats, are not in existence. Sitting at the breakfast table with my family on our second day at sea, cruising toward the capital city of Alaska (pictured in the previous post), I laughed when I realized the East Indian family sitting behind me had their very own "Food Saver" brought from home being dished onto the husband's meal.
"Food Saver," you ask? Well, most of know someone who just has to have some Thing on their food to make it palatable- be it black pepper, salt, tobacco sauce, ketchup, etc. My honey has constantly changing add-it-to-all; past inclusions being ginger, nutmeg, Dijon mustard(s), and, for this trip, the cayenne pepper. The food saver! For any meat not spiced well or at all, for the eggs cooked any which way, for a dash of hot lemon water cleansing, or maybe even for fake on the spot tearing up of the eyes! Okay, the last two were just things I thought of :-)

I shared this story of following along in the class, attempting to learn something new each day, the food saver moniker, the laugh I had as I pondered the opportunity to share this very post's contents as I had hoped to do... at the breakfast table, with my family, learning with each other, that sometimes, a simple taste from home can make you feel as if you've not left it.
Then we shared the tale with the subjects, and our new friend Raj's delectable addition was, (wait for it)
 

 Pickled Mangoes, made from scratch and brought home from he and wife Sheila's most recent trip to their ancestral home of India. Sometimes, a lesson to be learned is right where you are! I might mention, I also learned in speaking with this most delightful couple, that unlike English, or French, their native language is, for the most part, pronounced phonetically. Interesting, AND handy to know!

So, do you know the capital city of the great big state of Alaska? Comment below!

 



School's In Session!

Oh, be still my heart, school's out for summer!

 

We wrapped up the year with a picnic in the park. I made a fabulous salad and ate three deserts. Dirt cake, how could I say no?! 

Now, what will we do with that bit of extra time Monday through Thursday...
Did somebody say, "more time for crafting?"

Scrapbooking the Dearly Beloved

We all have those special musical icons in our life whose music becomes the soundtrack our memories playback on. A song for every time and place, decade or direction we've taken; there are lyrics galore that we can identify with. Being a child of the eighties with the graduation year of 1999, it's no wonder I was instilled with a deep purple passion from the very start~ my first crush and favorite artist has always been the legendary Prince.

When the news broke last week of his death, I mourned the loss of a man who contributed countless hits to generations of listeners. Whether he was rocking a pop song or soulfully infusing a ballad with his sensuality, he clearly exhibited a genius approach to capturing the feelings of anyone, be they in love, following a loved one, or getting into the mood for some lovemaking. Or just dressing up in diamonds and pearls for a night of dancing! Prince also produced some of the most popular songs of my generation, including hits by Sinead O'Connor, Chaka Khan, and "Appolonia" of course! 
It wasn't just the music that kept Prince at the top of my World's Best... list. He seems like such a delicate little man, and his high heeled boots were killer (and probably my size). Prince is the only man I knew of to boast a G-string... thanks to my mom's best friend who had a life sized poster of him in little else hanging in her bathroom hahaha. Men were not advised to use her private pooper!  And he inspired many a pixie cut to be sure. But I think what is really inspiring in this day and age is that he seemed to just be a genuinely niceish person. Is it any wonder how much I love the color purple?

It was only a few years ago that my mom was able to fulfill her countlessly uttered promise to take me to see this beautiful man live on stage... it was completely surreal! Did I scream running to the stage when he sang Purple Rain to dance in the confetti falling from the ceiling? You know I did! AND I'm pretty sure he looked at me! Probably because I was crying and laughing with my hands stretched out towards him while hysterically crooning (I swear, I wasn't the only one doing this) lol.
 Did I love the white caftan hat he wore the entire concert? No, but I did adore the idea of his 'do beneath being nice and straight- turns out he was playing a later "cooler" concert in Seattle that night after his purple and gold confetti exit from the Tacoma Dome. And did I want that magical evening of bass, pop, an rockin' out to end? No, because, that guitar was absolutely incredible to hear wailing away a mere 100 yards away. However, I was VERY glad when the lights turned on and we were able to locate my missing phone within the hour :-) translation: no pictures
I am ecstatic to have those memories to share with my mom now that he is gone... and, with my heart too sad to do more than post pics of me posing with my 4th birthday's custom Prince cake on facebook and plan a night of Prince karaoke, I have only been admiring the creative endeavors of other mourners. I only wish I could say I had made one of these gorgeous layouts...

You know, I think it was only fitting that the announcement of the release of the next postal stamps being issued, made this same sorrow filled day, will include another beloved fixture in my life, Mount Rainier. And when I saw that the proposed image just happens to include a heavenly purple hue and majestic swirls of what I'll think of and call diamonds, I knew that a few of these stamps will need to be included when I finally do commit my loss to paper.
Scrapbooking our loved one's can be such a loving way to remember them, as well as one of the most difficult undertakings in the world of scrap. One of the reasons I've found not to complete (or agonize over such incompleteness) my scrapbook albums has been that, when the album is done, the event/year/trip is really over. And so, I will not rush into this memorial page honoring an influential individual, and instead I will "play in the sunshine," have some "starfish and coffee", and yes, "party like it's 1999."

Tena-tive Travels Take 2

This week I'll be blessed to spend time with my beloved abuelita down in her home town of Tenamaxtlan, Jalisco. The last time I went was such a magical, unforgettable time in my life; one I honestly did not think would be repeated. The thought of returning there within a year's time is simply wonderful and I have a few people I'd like to take this blog post to thank for this opportunity at living out another dream come true.

Growing up, I hadn't had much contact with the Hispanic side of my family. Most of my familial influence came by way of my mom's mother, whose parent's immigrated to the Midwest from Norway at the turn of the century. Around my 20th birthday, I made contact with my father, who had not seen me since I was an infant. My life's ambitions not being much at the time, it was almost unfathomable to predict that over the next decade and a half, this "stranger" to my life would become such an important confidant. There isn't a week that passes that I don't think of him and the three sisters I have as a result of his second marriage. 

What a joy to have each of them; their individual personalities, strengths and character traits flavor my life with unexpected beauty. Knowing of them alone was enough to give my life a perspective it had lacked. I no longer lived fully for myself, but as an example for my younger siblings. Never mind that my younger brother never inspired such a reaction from me; after all, he's a boy! And aside from that, our older brother (step brother to me) always seemed to be our guide for what was cool, hip, current, etc. 

Getting back to my father, who came to America as a young adult to make a new life for himself... well, I guess all daughters have an idea of what a father should be, and learn to reconcile what we get from them with comparisons to that ideal image. Do I expect warm and fuzzy accolades and praise? No. I can count on him to tell me what he thinks of my decisions and actions with honesty. Sometimes my feelings get hurt by his words. Yet I know he loves me. Do I expect him to hug me when I'm sad, to tell me Everything is going to be alright, hija... No, I don't think it's reasonable to expect him to treat me as if I were a young girl, living under his roof, to be coddled and comforted. I'm now a grown woman with children of my own... hard to believe but a truth I must face now that I am in my mid-thirties. Sometimes I get emotional talking to him. My voice breaks, or tears leak out and I sniff and snort with abandon as my nose runs and think, How embarrassing! And yet, he continues our conversations as if it is normal ( I guess it is, I do it so often :-) ) In other words, he loves me the best way he knows how. I'm very grateful for that. For the chance to get to know him, to learn from his life's lessons, to follow along with his changing ideals and dreams as he does mine.

A few years ago, my aunt Natividad reached out to me through the power of yahoo email and her type-A+ student son, mi Primo Luis. I have known acceptance and love in a form I had never expected from my sweet considerate Tia and her thoughful, funny son. When I write here, I write to you, to them, to my chosen assembly of family and friends. To share a snippet here and there, and have it read with enthusiasm... to have it shared with my loved ones who don't access the internet... talked about, praised, inspired by... well, it's an unexpected blessing to say the least. 

I have my aunt to thank for the inspiration to pursue the dream that started for me the afternoon Ray took me to eat at a Mexican restaurat early in our dating. As I've written before, on the wall there was a large map featuring the small town of my heritage, Tenamaxtlan. I dreamed out loud that one day I would love to take my daughter to meet my grandmother in her home. He told me then, of course, you will. Little did I know that I would have to little blond hijas, or that political unrest and drug wars would cause such unrest that taking them to Mexico would be considered unsafe for them to adventure along with me to. Regardless of how my dream played out, last year I was given the opportunity to visit mi abuelita and not a day has passed since that I don't include her in my prayers. If I needed permission to want to know more about my family, or maybe just an angel in my corner of persuasion at being given a chance to see for myself the home that she and her sisters-my sisters- grew up in, mi tia is the one I find in my corner, clothed in God's love and light. It seems that whenever life is getting to me, a simple card or note of encouragement from her finds it's way into my heart and uplifts my soul. 

Spending time with my grandmother was fulfilling on so many levels. After years of pining for the simple luxury of holding her hand, in silence, if need be, we finally rested together on her tiny love seat. After so many times of wondering, Why do I seem to be built so different from anyone else in my (mother's) family, I was able to feel with my own hands the same diameter of wrists, shoulders and knees that mi abuelita shares with me. And I was struck this afternoon by the grateful realization that, without my own mother' support, I may not have enjoyd all of this nearly as much. 

She raised me. She has made sacrifices I'm aware and unaware of for my benefit. How many women would be so encouraging of my relationship with a man they had been divorced from for so many years, had not recieved spousal support from, a man who to my knowledge had never followed through with any  attempt to  contact me through my formative years? Does she let the past interfere with my enjoyment of the present gifts of these relationships? Does she warn me that I'll be dissapointed, tell me that my feelings get hurt on purpose, attempt to disuade me from pursung these long-dreamed-of meet and greets? No, for she loves me. 

Just as the best mothers do, she rejoices along with me. She suggests ways for me to show my appreciation, listens to my stories, reads my emotional outpourings here on my blog, answers the phone with all the love I could hope to hear on the other end of the line when I'm homesick to hear a familiar (American) voice, helps me with my Spanglish, and admires my photographs of family she only heard of as a young lady less than half the age I am now. She loves to see my happiness. Her heartfelt involvement allows me to embrace my "other" family with none of the restraint I might feel if I was afraid of her disapproval.

 I get the feeling that, although my parents haven't seen each other in a literal lifetime, they are given the opportunity to see each other within me. They make up for past resentments with each other through their inquiries about my interactions, and being grateful for that gift, I am able to be open with each of them about my own familial concerns, share my stories celebrations with delight, keep a space for them both in my heart~ the place where dreams are born. 

 Follow along with me this week for another emotional journey to la casa de me abuelita y mi padre en Tenamaxtlan, Mexico~ a place where dreams were realized and expanded upon. You can read all about me last trip there under the "Travel" tab up top :-)

Now I want to know- what would be your most heartfelt dream come true? Who would be most impacted by it's realization? Ever met someone you'd only heard of only to realize they were a vital but missing part of your life prior to your introduction? I'd love to read about it, comment below, & live well, friends!

Bob Ross Results

 

 

 Can you find "Bob?"

Okay, so last night I was leading this amazing group of local moms through a "Purdy Inspired" waterscape painting class. I had my examples, my Bob Ross afro, and technical jargon loaded, and a smile on my face as class started. I felt prepared. A few hours of YouTubing will do that to a person :-)

 What I did not expect was the adorableness that describes the enthusiasm of my class. Everyone brought their smile -and their snacks, yum. Despite their protests of, "I'm no artist!" "I'm scared (get that wig away from me)!" and, "What, no wine?" their attention to instruction was refreshing. Happy clouds would be made tonight!

Having no idea what to expect in the way of how experienced the group would be on average was intimidating. Fortunately, my classes are always designed for ages 3 and up, and the format and instructions are based on how well my practice classes with my resident artists go.  In other words, no matter how "bad" at art you are, you should be able to create something awesome if you take a class with me.

So, another thing I was not prepared for, was the talent that came- everywhere I looked I was in awe of what materialized on canvas. Could it have been my entertaining teaching style that produced such works? No, I'm sure the presence of the Holy Spirit was there guiding our brushes into love strokes. As the concentration of creative energy continued to build, the smiles grew brighter. Paint started flying. It was AWESOME.

 And, made even more enjoyable by reading what my friends (I can call them that now) wrote online this morning. They love their art- success story after heartwarming story of family admiration warmed my soul all over again. There is nothing quite like riding home with  big smile on your face and then having it refreshed all over again the next morning, reliving the good times of the night out before...and without the hangover!

 Thank you, God for these women!

Three babies and a "Bob"

Looking for more incredible paint teachings- look for "Mural Joe" and Donna Dewberry and prepare to want to paint Everything You See.

edited to include this following praise:

 

Mommin' Ain't Always Easy...

One of my very supportive, extremely crafty friends recently ordered a card for one of her friends, and, I'll be honest, I do love me a special order. There is something very scary and yet liberating in being asked to interpret another's love into send-ible form. My prompts were, mom of two, and a new born, who is faithful... not much to build on, but that just left the door open for my own vision.

To get in the creative zone, I thought about how, the busier we are, the less time we take to appreciate what fills our life. I thought about how doing something alone, happens so very few times for busy new moms, and when it does, it's for something we never dreamed would be so enjoyable- a shower lol. About how sometimes when we feel overwhelmed, doing so much for other people, a little piece of happy mail comes to show us that someone we love, loves us too. I thought about what a beautiful feeling it is to hold your newborn in your arms... I thought about the vibrancy of the sunrise and how somehow, seeing that beauty can make all the difference when a new mom is up at the crack of dawn for another round of on-demand feeding.
So yes, I did channel my own personal feelings into the card, and of course it's no surprise that I love the way it turned out :-) But, actually , YOU may be surprised to know, I was! First, let me tell you how it was made, and then why I was surprised.
I started with a piece of watercolor paper and, after painting it with water, I floated some sky-like colors over the top and some green on the bottom. Then I went over that with some grey, imagining already the "path" of motherhood. Once all that was dry, out came the stamps, and I even did some masking to create some flower clusters in the grass. One on each side helped to ground the card front and frame my sentiment, and I actually thought far enough ahead of time to plan that out, lol. Then, I used watercolor pencils dipped in water to fill in the images. Last, my silver pen went over the spokes and other metal bits and really brought the bike to life. Of course, a busy mom would not have time to ride it, so it just sits there, kickstand down, and maybe she and her children are nearby putting those flowers in the basket... Hey, I love me a good story behind my makings! It's all part of the creative process for me.
So, why, after all this effort, and storytelling, and the musings of my heart being put into my project, was I surprised to enjoy the finished product? Because for some reason, this much effort usually results in a feeling of disappointment at the turn out. Especially, it seems, when my project involves stamping. I cannot tell you how many times I've labored over a card front, only to later lament how many I could have made- and liked!
This feeling of satisfaction was so foreign, I even offered to make a different card before giving it over to my friend for review... how's that for a selling point, haha. "I don't really think this is too good, but give me $7 for it, please, and then allow me to make ad give you another card that I'm sure you'll like better, for free." Wow. I can just see the repeat sales coming in! Is it any wonder my creative side rules over my business side?
So, will I be making more cards just like this? Not likely, despite my love of the way it turned out~ 'cause, I just don't tend to make anything the same way twice. Will I still take custom orders? Absolutely! Because like I said, I adore the challenge of making for strangers based on their friend's observations. Just imagine how your friends descriptions of you would differ from what you would write about yourself... But, dear reader, will I perhaps be a little more loving to my labored over creations in the future? That, is to be determined...however, my magic eight ball says, "Chances are Good."
Thanks for reading, and please, comment below; what are three character traits you adore about your current bestie? I'll be looking forward to attempting to make something in that description's honor, and posting it here... til then, thank a mom who looks a bit frazzled, and maybe even make something nice for her to show your sympathy <3

Desk Mess-ness

Even a month after the hub -bub of the holidays has passed, my crafting table still hasn't quite come out of hiding. It's almost hilarious how quickly any cleared area becomes covered again... there is plenty of making going on in my living room however, and, as Albert Einstein once said,

 

Talk To Me Tuesday

 I have a few friends who like to get together for a few hours (or days) to "crop." As in, "crop it like it's hot." As in, "What happens at the crop stays at the crop!" Okay, so what is a crop?!

The term crop came into my vocabulary when I started scrapbooking. I had never imagined cutting into a photo before introduced to this sometimes-strange world of cutting and pasting people with papers. So one of the first tricks I was taught was to focus my photos by cropping off parts that detracted from what I wanted to be the focal point,  i.e. white space or foreign objects or a blurry finger over the lens.
There are even tools to organize your stash that are called Cropper Hoppers. See, when you get together with a lot of scrapbookers, you are at a crop. And those organizers do make it a lot easier to tote a massive amount of paper and stickers along with you to those events!

Well the point of this post was to admit that a month or so ago, my scrappy friend Ms. B and I decided we needed to have a crop soon. And that it should be at my mom's house, because she has this incredible space in her basement that will accommodate a large number of ladies and their stuff. Did we mention our plan to her? oh no, not until today, when we decided we should have our crop this Saturday.
I wasn't raised to cut pictures, and I wasn't raised to invite a bunch of people over to someone else's house without first asking their permission...whoops!
Lucky for me, my momma loves to party and to scrapbook so she was excited, and I put up an event on facebook this afternoon. Since she also generously offered us the use of her supplies as long as we bring adhesives, I thought this meme was appropriate:

 

Every time I see it, I smile really big inside. Because, hello, manners matter, people!

Thanks for sharing a little learning and a little laughing with me tonight ~Anna



 

December, Start Your Engines!

Everthing's better in December- Just Add Sparkle

  I gotta hand it to ya....

December is one of my favorite months! It includes my birthday, but that's not til the very last day, so until then I relish the joy of spoiling my honey on his birthday mid month, and our annual family reunion at my grandmother's house Christmas Eve, followed by a casual day at home with our kids, relaxing before the fire and chatting online with our cross country kin. Somehow the hustle and bustle of increased traffic, downpours, dark-end days, and party invites to choose from can kind of wear the cheer right out of a soul though, but I'm doing, and am going to continue to do, my best to do something to prohibit that effect.

 Inspired by Shimelle

 Last year, I joined Shimelle in her Journal Your Christmas class online for the first time. Never have been a fan of journaling myself, but I've practiced quite a bit these last few years, and I always love a good reason to scrap. I've decided to participate again for 2015, so every day I'll receive a prompt that will allow me to reflect on the past as well as the present(s).

Do you hear what I hear?

Now that I am in a family that I've had a hand in creating, there are so many more stories to tell about Christmas traditions. I not only have my own memories, but those of Ray and his family too- East coasters do things a bit different I've found :-) So we usually reflect on the daily prompt as a family over our morning meal. Sometimes there ends up to be a really golden remembrance, and sometimes we think about what we've heard of other people doing, but the best part for me is that we. are. talking.

How often does that really happen?

That we listen with our heart to our most intimately known loved ones... that we share stories that really don't have a point and it's ok... that we ask our children what they think of what we are sharing? That we ask them what they enjoy without promting their answer to fit what we want to hear, i.e "Honey, don't you want to see Santa?" Um, I'm thinking no, Mom.  Cause, to me, the stranger in the red suit you want me to sit with every year- kinda weird if you want my honest opinion.( I've got the cutest pictures to prove it too :-)

Old Saint Nick brought me more candles this year!
www.PartyLite.biz/AnnasCandles

The interesting thing I found about last year's prompted conversings is that it wasn't just contained to our home. Nope, I pretty much chatted up anyone I came in contact with about the ideas of the day. I encouraged my photo app savvy friends to add sparkle to every pic. I listened in rapture as families described their "Best Christmas Ever." I peered into the homes of every newly lit entry way to see what their tree theme would be. Do I remember every conversation? no. Did being available to conversating help me to develop deeper relationships with people I care to do so with? YES!

I also found myself thinking about my family, near and far. About how few cards I was mailing out even as I mass produced them for resale. About the people I've shared holidays with over the years- about friends I no longer see, about relatives whose company I savor because of the rarity of our mingling. Considered the debt-to-feel-good ratio of gift giving. I thought about the decorations that mark the season's start for me...and how would I document all of this while enjoying it too!?

Hoping you have a heartfelt holiday ahead

 I had all the best intentions and filled an album ahead of time. I should have known better- what could be more stifling than staring at an unfinished album before the pictures are even taken lol. This year, I'm going to focus more on the writing and sharing some of those musings here with you. I've got a hardcover journal to record stuff in, and plenty of pretty papers to pull from as the mood strikes.
Today I started setting up a display that will run through the end of the month at our local library- pretty cool, huh? Scrapbook pages, mixed media, even the busts I painted from when I was pregnant will be on display on the Key Center Pierce County Library's main space. There will even be an album with a guest sign in page~ I hope you'll feel compelled to comment, either here or there, friends! And that wherever you are, or how you're feeling about this time of year, a little bit of glitter finds it's way into your day.
 Now, to get my vocals warmed up with a bit of Pitch Perfect... hey, new traditions, right?