Knees and Paws

First in the Heart is the Dream

2012-02-09T07:57:00.000-05:00

Today I'd like to share an excerpt from a poem called Freedom's Plow by Langston Hughes.

When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.

First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.

The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man’s dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.

*****

Today I am excited to share that we've had our first local customer, who also happens to be our friend! The beautiful child who wears Knees and Paws in this picture wants to be a puppy when she grows up. Yesterday she visited our home and fell in love with Ozzie. When it was time to leave, she patted his head very gently and said "I'll never forget you."

I can assure you I'll never forget that. Ever.

What have I seen that I can't forget?

2012-02-08T08:19:00.001-05:00

What have I seen that I can't forget?

I have seen hot air balloons fly over my head in our back yard in Michigan. Ballooons so close I could hear the burner and the people talking. This happened several times during my childhood. We lived near a huge field that was a regular landing spot for the Captain Fogg Balloon company. The grass was green and soft under my bare feet as I ran to follow the floating orb of red and blue, feeling like Alice when she's small. I remember lifting up my arms and waving like mad to the people inside. They used to wave back. I wished that I could keep running with them, but a busy road prevented me from crossing into the field. I think I might have been disappointed to see the deflated result.

Every year after the Thanksgiving turkey wishbone had dried, if it was my turn to wish, I wished for a hot air balloon ride. I have never achieved that dream, but being so close to the balloons when I was a child was an experience that lifted me over the trees in my imagination.

Sometimes I would dream that I had the power to fly. With outstretched arms I had the sensation of soaring above the tops of trees that were in the peak of summer, fully rounded out with green. I flew over a white chapel with a steeple (now that I think of it, that chapel has appeared in my work!) Near the end of the dream, the sensation of flying became a little scary as I approached the ground. Everything got closer and it seemed that my speed was increasing rather than slowing down gently. But somehow I was able to regain control and land on my feet without dying. I'm not sure if that dream is something I've truly "seen" but I can't forget it.

That dream is something that connects me to hang glider pilots everywhere. After my first lesson, the instructors said that they rarely see students who are able to get much lift or land their first flights. They asked me if I flew in my dreams.

Put on a Smile

2012-02-06T06:43:00.004-05:00

I was wearing a matching set of exercise clothing with a puffy vest over the whole ensemble. My hair was flat and my face was devoid of makeup. As I stepped into the vehicle to take Elliot to a class, I mentioned that I felt like I looked like a complete nerd. Elliot said, "Mom, just put on a smile!"

A moment later he asks, "are you wearing any makeup?"

"No."

"I can tell."

*****

A day later, while he's sitting in his new acting class at the cultural center, the teacher asks the children to say their name aloud to the group and tell one thing about themselves such as a favorite color, or if they like to sing. Elliot is sitting next to the only other boy in the class, a boy who is too shy to speak to the group. The teacher asks this boy at least three times to share his name. Then Elliot says "He's shy. He wouldn't even tell me his name." The teacher responds by asking Elliot if the boy is his friend. Elliot says "No, but I'd like to be."

And that shy little boy put on a smile.

New and Improved!

2012-02-05T08:39:00.003-05:00

It's new! It's improved! It's Knees and Paws in a basket! The following is a series of images of a set that I've created to send to the Bearable Gift Program for the Children's Cancer Recovery Foundation. After discussing the complicated issue of packaging with Richard, we came up with a solution. Since I am now able to make stuffed animals, we imagined a puppy in a basket style dog bed with the various Knees and Paws components underneath. The completed package will arrive looking like this:

And when it's opened, the contents are layered as follows:

My "work" focus is now shifting to the process of duplicating this package in various forms for each set of Knees and Paws in the Etsy shop.

*****

Perhaps I should save the next bit of news for a future post. But something wonderful is happening in Greensboro and I get to be a part of it! Some of you might remember my emotional post after discovering a Ben's Bell last September. My bell is a treasured gift and the story behind it has stayed with me. Imagine my delight at discovering that the Art Alliance of Greensboro is organizing a Ben's Bells workshop, open to the community! I just received the confirmation that Richard, Elliot and I are now registered for the event. It will be a day spent together making the clay parts for the bells. After they are finished, we may be invited to distribute the Bells throughout the community. Here's a picture of my beautiful Ben's Bell; it hangs in my kitchen and has been a great conversation starter, as well as a reminder to spread kindness to perfect strangers.

May you be blessed with kindness every day!

Internal Security Service

2012-01-29T07:25:00.004-05:00

I came into this world equipped and programmed with a system that is still functioning today. I'm naming it my Internal Security Service, or ISS for short.

Just this morning I recognized how it is affecting my life.

You see, like all people raised in a family with the community support of church and school, I am programmed.
For the most part, this programming has been to my great benefit. It has shaped my conscience and behavior and allowed me to enjoy a content life in society.

The ISS has helped me to develop a life that feels relatively comfortable, stable and happy. On the other hand, it has constructed walls and doors with alarm buttons to warn me of dangerous territory. Discovering these doors is a brand new awareness.

Today I discovered my first door, with a giant red alarm button. The name of the button is intimidation, and whenever I act in spite of experiencing a feeling of intimidation, the alarm goes off. If I am brave and walk through the door and keep on walking, the sound fades and I find myself in a new place. It's disorienting at first.

Let me explain. I'm beginning to recognize why I've created patterns of living that have become my circumstances. In some ways I've been negatively influenced by society and have developed the response of wanting to huddle in a sanctuary. All of this home-making business is about creating a peaceful, comfortable sanctuary. And I enjoy this part of my life very much. While enjoying my home, I also recognize that I'm easily intimidated by certain issues. Talk of money is one. My financial health has been stable because of the work my husband does every day. And that's okay with me. As long as I don't fall into the trap of wanting extra material things like new carpet and kayaks. I would like to be a Buddist and release my need for anything, but I'm not there yet.

Someone can say the word "taxes" and my ISS button sounds the alarm. I immediately want to run for cover. My mind rolls out a litany of complaints: "Taxes! Oh no, please let's not talk about taxes! I am ignorant about taxes and I know it involves numbers and you know I nearly died of severe anxiety attacks in math classes!"

It's a fact. Somewhere during my lifetime, I was intimidated either by a math teacher, my parents, the text books or the tests. I developed a strong distaste for all things number related, except for my phone number and address. Today I realized that this is the stupidest fear I continue to feed. I want to kick that door open and keep on walking despite the anxiety and the alarm bells ringing.

Let them ring! Today is the day I'm going to look at my taxes.

There are lots of other things that set off my ISS system. In my new awareness of how the system works, I intend to keep busting through those doors until only the sight of a Tsunami intimidates me.

I'm simply tired of letting things my ISS says limit my life. Self control is healthy and normal. It is safe. It is also sometimes the thing that holds me back from experiencing extraordinary moments.

Today I woke up an ran under the cold stars at 5:30. It was dark and so fresh. It felt like being home in Michigan. There was no traffic and I felt more alive on that dark road under the dim streetlamps than I have in months. When I came home, my face was cold and my heart was happy. What had that ISS been warning me about? That it's dangerous to run in the dark? I kept on going through that door while the alarm bells rang and rang.

I can't wait to notice when that old feeling of intimidation happens again.

Cram-Packed Full Life

2012-01-26T21:44:00.000-05:00

I don't know how it happened but I'm starting to feel busy all the time. This is unusual for me. I feel most comfortable when I only have one or two things on my calendar, per month. It's out of character, but lately I keep dividing my time and adding more activity.

Maybe this means I'm gradually joining the land of the living after being a hopeless, insecure closet smoker.

In any case, being out in the world is good for me. And for Elliot too. We've done so many wonderful things this week that we're sleeping great and waking up refreshed and ready for more.

After joining a home school group, we were invited to lunch on Monday, which led to a visit and playdate on Wednesday. We had Tae Kwon Do on Tuesday and Thursday. Elliot is also taking a pottery class and an acting class at the downtown Cultural Arts center. Surprisingly, I've managed to divide my work-outs to two per day, which is easier on my joints than spending an hour or more in one running session on the treadmill.

The weather has been so beautiful that in the evenings we've headed out to the woods. I was uplifted by the realization that my stamina is returning, along with a feeling of deep appreciation for our trails again. For a while we were going out so much that I was beginning to feel bored and uninspired. Nature should never feel that way and I'm happy to say that my sense of wonder is returning. I can't describe the freshness of the air or the fragrance of newly emergent life on the decomposing leafy floor. It is aroma therapy of the best kind.

Still, through all of this, I can't seem to shake the nagging internal critic who has been ruthless in her abuse of me. She keeps telling me to get a make-over. In the afternoon, she begs me to buy nice new clothes, to cut and dye my hair, to buy new make up and wear it every day. She keeps nagging me to redecorate the sad looking rooms in my house and to put that sewing machine to more practical uses like making new pillows for the wretched couches and drapes for the scandalously naked windows. She keeps telling me to buy some house plants and put pansies in the pots instead of weeds. I really have not been able to silence her. She wants it all done and she wants it done right now.

Someone once said to put all of that stuff on a list. Maybe that would help. But I also wonder if that inner critic is trying to tell me something important. Maybe she's trying to encourage me to be just a little more self indulgent, because she knows that it's not in my best interest to play the martyr game. She knows what can happen when everything starts to be too much. Maybe she's recognizing that self destructive behavior is on the horizon unless I start to do something totally self indulgent, right now!

So there wasn't much time for blogging this week. Which was probably a relief for my sweet friends who visit so often!

Something good is happening today. I hope it is for you too.

Where there's a will...

2012-01-23T06:39:00.003-05:00

....there's a way.

Last year, Richard read Lynne McTaggart's The Intention Experiment. He enjoyed it so much that as a family we began to think about the power of positive intention as a way to actively participate in shaping our lives. I did attempt to read the book, but the density of scientific jargon left me with a mere glimmer of an idea about how this is supposed to work. In any case, while I was entering the realm of an online business for the first time, I practiced intention to the best of my ability. The theory is that our thoughts will manifest themselves. So with intention, it's very important to be positive.

Without going into too much detail on that (because frankly, a lot of it is lost on me), I think it's actually working. Two years ago, I had the intention that Knees and Paws would somehow make their way to children in cancer recovery.

With that intention in mind, I actively sought a way to make that happen. I researched hospitals in my area and discovered that I couldn't just show up with an armload of goods. There were policies, closed doors and lots of confusing things to get through.

Then, last week, I received a phone call. The caller explained that they represented the Children's Cancer Recovery Foundation, and wondered if they could count on me for a contribution.

My response took this caller by surprise. "You won't believe me, but I have been waiting for your call! Thank you so much for reaching out! I have been attempting to do just what you're asking for two years! Do you have contact information for the corporate office?"

Before too long, I had everything I needed. Knees and Paws now has a cause.

My intention, or next step, is to create sample sets with professional looking packaging and mail them directly to their location in Hershey, PA.

I also have a few books to put on my reading list, as the founder of the organization sounds like an amazing person. Here's a peek at the mission and background:

Our Mission
Children’s Cancer Recovery Foundation assists children under age 18 and their families who are facing the hardships of a cancer diagnosis. The Foundation focuses on improving the mental, social and emotional well-being of these families while helping to minimize the devastation that cancer can cause. A national footprint allows the Foundation to make a difference in communities, large and small, providing a helping hand wherever needed.
The Foundation delivers gifts to thousands of children each year through the national Bear-Able Gift Program. Items such as board games, toys, crayons, coloring books, markers, video games, puzzles, teddy bears, craft kits… all sorts of things that make children smile and laugh… are distributed to hospitals across the country. The Bear-Able Gift Program is the largest supplier of gifts to children with cancer in North America.
Families of children with cancer often face financial difficulties. Suddenly, household bills become overwhelming; utilities are in jeopardy of being shut-off or an eviction notice is received. The Helping Hands Fund provides emergency bridge payments directly to the utility companies and landlords, ensuring that each child has a warm, safe place to call home while recovering from cancer.
The Camp Scholarship Program allows children in remission to reconnect with friends and activities in which they love. The program provides funding for a camp of their choice; sports, music, art, science, horseback riding, skiing or whatever activities they missed most during treatment.

Our Founder
Cancer Recovery Foundation International (CRFI) is a group of global affiliated charities, founded by “The Wellness Authority” Greg Anderson in 1984. Cancer Recovery Foundation’s mission is to help all people prevent and survive cancer through “integrated cancer care” which Anderson pioneered. The Foundation is currently established in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom and Germany. The organization is recipient of the “5-Star Best in America Award.”
Greg Anderson was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer in 1984. His surgeon gave him just 30 days to live. Refusing to accept the hopelessness of this prognosis, he went searching for people who had lived even though their doctors had told them they were “terminal.” His findings from interviews with over 16,000 cancer survivors form the strategies and action points for what has become an international cancer recovery movement.
Anderson is the author of eleven books including international Best Sellers The Cancer Conqueror; Cancer: 50 Essential Things to Do; and The 22 (Non-Negotiable) Laws of Wellness. His writings have been translated into 31 languages.

I hope you are all having a great start to your week! Thanks for stopping by.

Meet Gumbo

2012-01-20T06:34:00.003-05:00

Gumbo is a Morkie. I think that means that he's part Maltese, part Yorkie. In any case, it means cute. And fiesty. And wet. (Gumbo is very exited to make friends with everyone, and to show his love, he offers a wet sprinkle.) He loves Richard the most, who has to change every time Gumbo comes for a visit.

Gumbo is the proud owner of our favorite family in Greensboro. He's also Ozzie's best doggie friend. This week, Gumbo had to have some minor surgery and we hope his recovery is going well.
As you might guess, Gumbo's human family hails from New Orleans. I think this must be a great place to grow people...because I've only ever met two genuine New Orleanians and I love them both to pieces! (That includes you, Sush.)

Today is Friday. And Friday means I get to teach our writer's workshop. This week we're going to be talking about character development. I want to thank Shelly for all the wonderful advice and for allowing me to borrow one of her stories for class today. It's going to be the best lesson I've ever taught!

Have a great weekend friends!

The Gift of Grace

2012-01-19T06:27:00.000-05:00

During one of the most liberating and alternately devastating times of my life, I told my new friend Richard that I felt that God did not love me anymore.

Richard's response was to hug me and speak this phrase softly in my ear. "Of course God loves you, Jenny."

And even though I had been going to church nearly every Sunday of my life, for the first time, I really believed that truth.

That statement helped to restore me to a state of grace that I felt had been irrevocably lost.

In fact, it was the nicest, most empowering thing anyone has ever said to me. The effect of it is still working in my life on a daily basis.

And sometimes relationships are complicated. Sometimes we can end up saying things that hurt. Sometimes it's difficult to find a true place of forgiveness in our hearts. It's difficult until we remember that the person we love and who loves us has said hundreds of other kind, loving things in the past.

Valentine's day is on the horizon.

And instead of worrying about what kind of material gift I could come up with for Richard, I'm going to focus on remembering all of the loving things he's said and done for me.

This week I've posted a Valentine house in the shop with a sample poem that reads:

"In your light I learn how to love.
In you beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest,
Where no one sees you,
But sometimes I do,
And that sight becomes this art." --Rumi

ww

2012-01-18T06:29:00.001-05:00

The Test

2012-01-17T06:54:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday, Richard and I were invited to watch Elliot complete his Tae Kwon Do testing for promotion to High Yellow Belt. I was caught up in the energy of this exciting event. I was also completely nervous for Elliot, even though we knew he had been practicing and was confident that he would succeed.

A Great Read

2012-01-16T07:07:00.001-05:00

Trying to stay "unplugged" is more challenging than I thought it would be. Yesterday's back story and photos weren't part of the plan. So today I'm going to make an attempt to talk less. Lover of language that I am, talking less sometimes translates into reading more.

I once read an amazing story that helped to open my eyes to the world, particularly the middle eastern part of it. Don't worry, I'm not going to head east and adopt a veil. But this story is the most accessible avenue I've taken into at least trying to understand a culture and a people who are currently "the bad guys" in our media. If you enjoyed Khaled Husseni's The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns (I bawled my eyes out!) then you might enjoy Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran.

The back cover reads:

Every Thursday morning for two years in the Islamic Republic of Iran, a bold and inspired teacher named Azar Nafisi secretly gathered seven of her most committed female students to read forbidden Western classics. As Islamic morality squads staged arbitrary raids in Tehran, fundamentalists seized hold of the universitites, and a blind censor stifled artistic expression, the girls in Azar's living room risked removing their veils and immersed themselves in the worlds of Jane Austen, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry James, and Vladimir Nabokov.

My favorite quote comes from a scene in which Azar is having a deep conversation with "her magician" (a male friend who she had to meet secretly due to the risk of being seen with a man who was not her husband...but a man who was known as a family friend and a colleague). Azar's magician says,

"Do what all poets do with their philosopher-kings. You don't need to create a parallel fantasy of the West. Give them the best of what the other world can offer: give them pure fiction---give them back their imagination! You keep talking about democratic spaces, about the need for personal and creative spaces. Well, go and create them woman! Stop nagging and focusing your energy on what the Islamic Republic does or says and start focusing on your Austen."

Everyday Dramatic Play

2012-01-15T07:52:00.004-05:00

This morning I discovered a great site for preschool teachers and families with young children. It's called Teach Preschool: Promoting Excellence in Early Childhood Education. The topic today is dramatic play in the classroom, with an opportunity to share links.

Knees and Paws began in just the kind of classroom highlighted today in the Teach Preschool blog. As a parent I observed children entertaining themselves and learning through an ongoing game they had made up. They were so involved in playing cats and dogs that parents started saying things like "my daughter has worn holes in the knees of her pants because even after school she'll come home and play this all over the house. The only knee pads I can find are for sports and are too large for her tiny legs." So, without any sewing skills, or even a sewing machine, I set out to make pairs of slip on knee pads for the children. During the time I was working on these, I noticed that they were also using doll socks from the housekeeping center as paws. So I added some furry paws and Knees and Paws were born. Richard delivered the first basket of these sets to the classroom and the children grabbed them up and wore them so much that within two weeks, the teacher said that they needed some repairs. (Since that time, the quality has greatly improved!)

I began thinking about children and how important it is to encourage their imaginations, but also their physical activity. Intuitively I felt that many children go through a phase of life where they pretend to be animals. I didn't know how long this phase lasted. If it lasted a week or so and passed into different forms of play, then maybe it wouldn't be worth sharing with a larger audience. I felt that this type of play was significant and important for healthy development, despite that it might seem to be something not to encourage (parents might not like to see their child behaving like an animal!) Through their game, these children were learning important lessons about boundaries and fair play. The more each child respected the rules of the game, the more fun everyone had. They were entirely self regulating in this game of their own making. No one was bitten or scratched, and when the game ended, they emerged from their game with flushed cheeks and ready for naps. And though it might not be recognized, internal lessons were learned: by imitating someone or something else, children begin to have a sense of their own identity in relation to the imagined counterpart. They were also learning a sense of compassion for animals in that they now understood what it feels like to see the world on all fours. This game taught them what it would be like if you could only communicate in barks and woofs. They learned through playing cats and dogs that domestic animals are completely dependent upon others for food, safety and affection.

Here are a few photos from customers who have been overwhelmingly supportive of my project, and some from my recent collections.

Thank you for visiting Knees and Paws. May your day be full of play!

Language as Rain

2012-01-14T15:57:00.001-05:00

I just read the most beautiful passage from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia by Inayat Khan, translated by Coleman Barks. On the subject of Hafiz:

Consider this metaphor for his poetry. The sound of rain is language being used. Silence is an orchard when it's not raining, the ground moisture being quietly drawn up into the fruit trees. Then there's the Hafiz-place, in between silence and speaking, when it's quit raining, but a rain-like dripping continues in the orchard. His poetry is a peace so fine it keeps overflowing, as though from nowhere.

This week and maybe the next, I plan to let the things that I like speak in place of my words. The daily writing of my thoughts is something I enjoy, particularly because on some occasions a discussion in comments is sparked. But I sense that what I really need during this time is enough quiet inside my own mind to remember what I like without taking too many other thoughts in, or sending too many thoughts out.

During the next week, I might share a picture that I've taken, or a song that's playing in my heart. I might have nothing at all to share. Comments are welcome but not obligatory. I'm going to live as though the ground water is being quietly drawn upwards.

Today, I have a song.

Blogging and Identity

2012-01-13T05:35:00.002-05:00

One strand of thought that runs through this blog is related to my unresolved identity crisis. Post modernists would say we all suffer from the condition of the fragmented identity. I think this must be a Western way of thinking. Recently I've had a serious craving for poetry and am rediscovering my love for that 13th century street rapper, Rumi. Rumi says that only a complete personal disolving into the larger energies of God can bring the satisfaction that the heart so desperately seeks.

There was never any need to be a single me, and better to be a whole lot of little things that blend and flow and mesh. Like a phytoplankton bloom on the surface of the ocean.

Discovering my blogging friends has helped me to feel a part of the larger energies of God.

They are unexpectedly thrilling, deep, lighthearted, soul filling connections.

Today I want to thank Diane at Southhamsdarling for a comment she made months ago when I was once again whining about "who am I, really?" She commented, "what I really think you want to do is teach."

And it was true. So even without all the formal certifications to do so, I made a proposal to teach a writing workshop at my local Y. Today I am expecting a class of seven kids!

And blogging for me has been enriching in so many other ways. Recently I posted a comment for Sush at First Do No Harm and said that blogging has made me aware of other people in an electrifying way. I can see people in the grocery store and suddenly recognize that there's a whole life of experiences within that person, cleverly disguised under their outer appearance. Of course this is obvious that people have life experiences, but what I mean to say is that I have a heightened awareness to it now. The lady with the green bag in aisle three is as complex and interesting, or sadly as boring, as me.

Through blogging I have discovered Shelly at La Tejana. Shelly feels like a kindred spirit and I'm in love with her writing, her stories of life, school and her enthusiasm for people. I would love for her to be my mentor and my close friend.

And Tom at Shady Dell Music and Memories. I know that almost everyone here loves him too! Through him I'm listening more and rumi-nating less. I'm learning to love music that I never even knew existed. And that story of the Dell...I long to see it on the big screen! And I wonder what ever happened to his good friend Gilly.

I used to whine about not having many friends. I thought that people in the south were turned off my my northern accent. Although it's not quite Canadian or Yooper, it is something distinctly north and I've yet to assimilate with phrases of "y'all" and "you do the same." Ten years into my exile, and I can stand in line in the Post Office and be confronted with "you're not from around here are ya?"

No, I'm not from around here. But I got here as fast as I could!

On Men and Faith and Politics (YIKES!)

2012-01-12T08:09:00.003-05:00

Despite what the title says, this post is not about romantic relationships. Please bear with me while I work through a controversial topic. Usually I try to keep this blog upbeat and free of politics. I'm not trying to say that I'm right and that the following quote is wrong. And while I agree with a part of this kind of thinking, in other ways my experience leaves me unable to raise my knuckled fist in solidarity.

Sometimes it's not easy to be different in a group of like minded individuals. Most of you know that the Religious Society of Friends is my adopted faith and so I'm approaching it without a great deal of experience. Last Sunday, this quote appeared at the top of our bulletin:

"Fundamentally all social andpolitical questions are economic. With equal wages, the male worker would nolonger fear that his female colleague might put him out of a job, and men andwomen will unite to effect a complete transformation to the industrialenvironment… A woman needs economic independence to live as an equal with herhusband. It is indeed deplorable that the work of the wife and mother is notrewarded. I hope that the time will come when it is illegal for this strenuousform of industry to be unremunerated."

Charlotte FrenchDespard, 1910

Okay, so to provide a little background, sometimes when we gather for worship, the topics arise from a combination of Scripture, faith and the practice of living out our faith in the real world. Quakers believe that religion is the whole of life, not contained in a single place. This might make some of you wonder why we even gather on Sundays to worship. The following will help to shed some light:

COMMUNION AFTER THE MANNER OF FRIENDS

Meeting for worship is the gathering ofthe community for the purpose of being together in the Divine Presence. Thiscan’t be done by ourselves. It requires the gathering of the community ofFriends. It is dependent upon the interaction of other people in the context ofworship. Of course, we may experience the Presenceby ourselves as we gaze at beautiful mountains or lakes or sunsets, and thesecan be deeply moving experiences. But the corporateexperience of meeting for worship is different. It is a reminder about thatwhich resonates deep within us: the spirituality of life and our dependenceupon others for this worship experience.

I have experienced something during meeting that is unmistakably the presence. It feels like an electric current that runs through my heart and is so powerful that it feels like I could explode on the inside. The only way to relieve the feeling is to stand up and speak aloud the message. In this moment one becomes the carrier of the message and everyone listens. I have carried a message on several occasions, and doing so makes a deep impact. On days when I've been "prompted" to carry a message, I go home and feel incredibly at peace, but also exhausted. Last Sunday, after hearing the quote from Despard, I was sitting between my two favorite guys in the whole world, and the current of electric presence arrived. Friends are also instructed to wait for a little while during this almost agonizing experience to be sure that the message is meant for the group. Sometimes it's message is just meant for the person who is experiencing the heart thumping "quaking."

People, I was raised in the Catholic church. And let me say that sometimes I miss the simple following along with a formulaic Mass!

While I could explain why I've adopted this faith, I'm going to save that story for another day.

In any case, while my heart was pounding furiously, Richard released my hand because he sensed that I was about to stand up. Thankfully another person stood up and the moment passed. The message was just for me.

But here's what I felt. I was going say that I can't imagine what my relationship to my mother and my father would have been like if I had known that they were paid to be my parents. I don't think I would look at my mom the same as I do today. And it made me think about all the struggling to not only be a good mom, but to be a financial helper.

I wouldn't want to be paid in a financial form for being a mom. Alas, I am not a socialist or a true feminist.

And I look at the men in my life who I love. My father, my brothers, my husband. I'm not jealous that they make lots more money than I do. I don't feel like I need to be "equal" in that way. Look at them! They are loving, giving, hard working people who have influenced me in life affirming ways!

And I think that they would choose to stay at home and be full time caregivers if they could. It's difficult to leave the comfort of your home and go out into the world and bring home the basic needs plus lots of extras.

When my Dad retired, he was sad and bereft not because he didn't go to work everyday and make lots more money, he was sad because after all that time he could finally stay home, but his children had grown up and moved away! He needed to be a caregiver again, and so he brought home a puppy with special needs.

The men in my family are real men, intelligent and kind and incredibly nurturing. They are strong and skilled, educated and generous.

I don't think it's unfair that parenting is not compensated in financial terms. We are a family and we love one another.

In fact I think it's harder to be the one who has to leave, the one who cannot have more adventures and visits with family because they have to be committed to their jobs.

My best teaching day

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

Forgiveness is freedom for the wounded.

So today the only poem I'm going to share was written by Elliot this past September.

Water Park

Jumped off a pirate ship
Cold liquid
Sharks swim around me
Scary water slide.
100 miles an hour
Having fun too!

Hot sun
A raft
For 3 of us
Like riding on a zooming
Alligator

When we removed Elliot from public school he was a struggling first grader. Writing was his most difficult subject. That he wrote this poem several months ago is a big deal. I remember it as my best teaching day. We had been reading from a book of poems called Cold Stars and Fireflies by Barbara Jester Ebenson. Elliot and I sat outside on our sun deck in the back and read each poem aloud, sometimes more than once. When it was his turn to write, these poems were fresh in his mind, as was the idea that a poem is about taking the memory of something very special and making a picture with words.   He liked that writing a poem was less labor intensive than writing long sentences. I put the poem in a collection of his work and only recently rediscovered it. Holding those sheets of lined paper and remembering where we began, I felt uplifted and encouraged that what we're doing is valuable.

As the months roll on through our little home school, I'm gaining momentum. A feeling that this is a natural way of life is starting to set in. Just this week I received the news that we'll have two more students attending our Friday writer's workshop. Will teaching begin to feel like riding on a zooming alligator? Probably not. But I'm thankful that it's now starting to feel more like a river rafting ride than a journey on a sinking Titanic.

Today we'll be reunited with Elliot's three cousins who are also home schooled and who travel the country as a family. They surprised us last night, arriving with armloads of pizza and filling our house with rigorous play. Because Richard's family is mostly in Missouri and mine is mostly in Michigan and Ohio, family visits are a huge event.   The adults had an equally great time, sharing stories of faith, work and parenting. I went to bed feeling restored. Had angels brought them to us, in my time of miserable whining? To show me what an extraordinary time of life this is? If so I'm truly thankful.

The Guest House

2012-01-10T06:30:00.000-05:00

I'm struggling. It's January. The weather is mild but suddenly I'm starting to have an incredible load of feelings. So I'm running to bury myself in poetry for a little while.

The Guest House by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

People Who Live in Glass Houses

2012-01-09T08:21:00.000-05:00

Hi Friends,
It's a rainy Monday morning here in North Carolina. It must have rained through the night because today I'm awake feeling deeply rested and strangely younger. I have no idea how it happened that I woke up with no pain, which makes me realize that lately I have been suffering with a total body ache through my bones. It has been painful to walk down the stairs every morning. This aching is accompanied by periods of cranky and tired. I'm sure I would feel better about relationships, my work, home school and the day to day running of the household if I felt better.

Is this new painful me a result of habits? Too much time online followed by driving myself into exhaustion at the gym to make up for the sedentary hours here? Or do I simply need to make adjustments in diet and vitamins? I'm learning that aging is a process of figuring out how to feel better.

Just when I needed it, a healing therapy is arriving.

We are going to build a garden.

It will nearly fill our entire yard. Richard has designed an amazingly beautiful plan that includes a series of raised beds and a GREENHOUSE!

We found all of the glass at the Greensboro Architecture Salvage at an amazingly affordable price. Some of the glass is broken, but we will be able to make repairs. The glass has come in the form of windows from old houses that were demolished, and now they sit just waiting to be given a new life in our yard.

Some of you remember that in my working life outside of home I was a garden center manager. So this event in my life right now is a dream becoming a reality; an intention evolving from a long buried hope.

Sunday Morning Pancakes

2012-01-08T08:33:00.001-05:00

Elliot and I are up early, sharing a breakfast he made, while Ozzie waits patiently for an offering.

Elliot can cook in his sleep!

He likes his pancakes to have a nice "tan"

A Spiritual Path

2012-01-07T06:32:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,

Thank you so much for the supportive comments in response to yesterday's post. I am comforted by your friendship and insights into the meaning of the word "business person." Grumpy Grateful Mom was wise to ask about the context of the conversation, because only through context can we gain a better understanding.

The person who made this observation is very close to me. I'm happy to say that I'm not letting it harm the solid and caring relationship. In fact, I was brave enough to share with that person that my feelings were wounded and that I was taking some time to process the statement. During that time I wondered if there was truth to be discovered, and whether that truth could help me in the long run. I ruminated at first if it would be best to admit defeat and move on to another path.

The thought of starting over in a new endeavor made me weak, while the thought of simply letting everything "business" related go to concentrate more on home, family, garden and pets was overly idealistic.

I like to have contact with a variety of people and simply living at home makes my life feel incredibly isolated. A happy life for me involves finding a balance between solitude and community.

I think it's true that I'm not a business person. And I'm okay. This revelation is possibly a very good thing. With a little time to gain perspective, a feeling of relief is flooding in. This relief has led to gratitude. I'm thankful and I accept it without any residue of the little wounded child who only wants to be fed compliments and positive reinforcement.

I'm happy knowing this is not an identity I ever need to strive for. (Goodbye little vision of me in business attire in a board room, or an office with my name on the door and the little wire waste basket!)

In the beginning I walked this path in response to a spiritual prompt. I'm on a spiritual path of learning to do something that I never believed was possible. There are many spiritual nudges that happened along the way to bring me here.

I'm following what Quakers call a leading.

The trouble will following a leading is that there are no accompanying textbooks. Each interaction is an opportunity to learn something from another person, or to share something from my mind, my heart and my hands. That's what this is about for me. And while I sincerely enjoy making handmade things at my sewing machine and paper crafting, the first thing that I'm really excited about in the morning is to come downstairs and spend my day with Elliot and Richard, and also write this blog.

From this blog I've learned that the world is not what the evening news told me it was. From this blog I've learned to open up and make friendships, which enrich my life so much more than funds in the paypal account.

Because I'm experimenting, I am free to keep trying new things and open to learning new skills. What if I had been stubborn and continued to only do the things in which I excelled?

One of my English tutors at college who is also a brilliant poet once said,

"I chose this discipline because I feel that I will never master it, and that is what keeps me intensely interested and engaged."

For me, creating is a spiritual exercise that allows me to find that inner quiet place where I can listen to those inner prompts and work through the jumble of feelings about my day.

I don't think that there is one title such as business person that will explain who I really am.

So I'm going to let that mind game go, and remember this quote from Isaac Penington in 1681 who wrote

"Give over thine own willing, give over thine own running, give over thine own desiring to know or be anything, and sink down to the seed, which God sows in they heart, and let that be in thee and grow in thee and breathe in thee and act in thee and thou shalt find by sweet experience that the Lord knows that and loves and owns that and will lead it to the inheritance of life, which is God's portion."

When You're Struggling

2012-01-06T07:28:00.001-05:00

Hi Friends,

Thank goodness the weekend is nearly here because I'm ready for some down time. It's a myth that people who work from home get to sit around in their jammies all day drinking coffee and chatting with their friends with no interruptions or a multitude of other responsibilities.

Sometimes I struggle.

Especially when I hear things that have the effect of making things I work at seem absolutely worthless. Someone recently said that I'm not a business person. I tried not to let this bother me because I spend a lot of time learning how to make my own version of a business. It probably looks like a weak and pathetic attempt to the skilled and experienced eye.

It is a blessing to live in a time where a creative person doesn't have to be a big important somebody in order to engage in the great exchange of handmade goods. It's true I don't have a stamp of business person authenticity. I'd rather just be a person.

The individual who said this to me followed up the comment with this little token of comfort:

"but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have a business."

If I think about that too much I might revert to my cranky, irritable, sullen state of mind. A state that was just recently starting to melt away.

What do you do when you're struggling? Sometimes I look outwards for courage and inspiration to go forward. Sometimes the practice of sitting in silence and solitude is helpful.

I'm going to remember this quote from Soulseeds and move on:

"I’ve been thinking about what it means to live with no strings attached; giving yourself fully to each moment with no expectation that your efforts are going to be rewarded, or even noticed, planning your next steps with no certainty of the outcomes, pouring yourself into a cause without knowing where it will take you or if it’s going to be effective." Ian Lawton

And also this one:

Popularity is a false measure of merit ~Amy Tan

Elliot and the Beave

2012-01-04T07:13:00.002-05:00

Recently I've made a new blogging friend that I'd like to share with my family and friends. Shady Dell Music and Memories is a blog that feels like a living place, where the music is always playing. While songs of a treasured past roll out, a story scrolls down... of people building community in an extraordinary way. The Shady Dell was essentially a teen club where heady adolescence was allowed to thrive in an almost entirely self-regulated environment. Although the building and the founders are gone, it now exists in memory...a memory that comes to life each week with nostalgia for those who shared this journey, and discovery for those who came later.

Shady's blog reminds us that in our culture we tend to look to the future for our knowledge and entertainment. We're all about what's happening now, and have a collective amnesia about the existence of our past. When we think of history, we sometimes think of it in terms of "academic" history...the history in text books, ancient history or the stuff that's reported to us on the History channel. How often do we sit with someone who lived just a little bit earlier for a living account of how the world was for them? In listening to our past, we have a great resource to enrich our own lives in this moment right now. This week on Shady's blog there's a clip from Leave it to Beaver. I realized that Elliot would appreciate this show and allowed him to watch it on lunch break yesterday. In our house we have something called "broadcast cable" which is just enough channels to get the evening news and PBS. So even though Elliot is aware of Nickelodeon and Disney, 24 hour a day cartoons are not available. Maybe his limited exposure to tv has made an impact, but whatever the reason, he was instantly enthralled with the black and white images on the screen.I found a longer clip of the Leave it to Beaver pilot show, where Beaver is experiencing second grade. I was instantly endeared to Beaver's pronunciation of words and his sweet face. Elliot liked that Beaver was a second grader. His first reaction to the show was to continually ask me questions:

"Is this about Justin Beiber?" (he's never seen Justin Beiber, but has heard the name from his friends)

While a girl in Beaver's classroom read a story about a picnic, a story in which every sentence ended with the word picnic, Elliot said in a sing-song voice "Annoying!" And I said, "she's learning how to read. Aren't you glad you had different kinds of books that had interesting sentences? School is different now." Then he wondered aloud if my classroom was like that. I said that it was similar, but that Beaver's class was probably more like Grandma's classroom.

When Beaver came home and had a dialogue with his parents about school, Elliot said "he has nice parents." Then for a little while he stopped asking questions and got swept up in the story of how Beaver was afraid to give his mother a note from his teacher, and how he and Wally pretended to take a bath. He immediately picked up on the double standard of talking about dishonesty (Beaver hiding the note and how Wally said that's not a good idea) and only pretending to take a bath. He said, "is this a lesson show?" Then he spent the rest of the time picking up on every little dishonest act as Beaver's lie about the note grew bigger and bigger. Unfortunately we could not find the conclusion of the pilot on YouTube so we're left not knowing how it all worked out.

Hours later in the day, while we were driving around town, I realized that Elliot is at an incredibly moral stage of life. He fully believes in keeping the Ten Commandments, and has gone so far as to interpret "bear false witness" as "lying." He'll often say "thou shalt not lie is one of the ten commandments." Elliot struggles with his own morality and has since he was a small child. In our Quaker preschool he was introduced to pacifism and the dilemma about war still leaves him conflicted. The truth is, Elliot is very attracted to war, and soldiers, and his Star Wars movies and games. After sitting quietly in the car for nearly 20 minutes yesterday, he said this: "If I went to war and only killed droids, it would be okay. That way I wouldn't be killing God's creation. So I finally found away around that one!" And I was blown away that for the last four years he has been trying to untangle the inexplicable knot of war and peace to his advantage. Of course, we carried on this conversation at the dinner table, and Richard wisely pointed out that the only way to be truly moral is to not engage in any kind of war no matter if you are just killing droids. Because as soon as you take on the mindset of destruction, you are at war and that is not peace.

And my son accepted this with grace. But knowing Elliot, I don't think he's finished trying to work it out. Too bad there's not a show that can help him out with that!

Homesick Heart

2012-01-03T07:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I began the day saying that something good was going to happen. And it did! Actually, lots of good things happened throughout the day, and if I had not said that magic phrase, I might have taken them all for granted.
Over the holidays, I made time to clean and sort all of our educational resources for homeschool. This resulted in a good day for Elliot, who now has a folder of work for each day of the week. The daily folder worked like a dream. He has a manageable, predictable set of tasks and I no longer feel the pang of guilt about whether we're not doing enough or if we're attempting too much. While he worked at his desk, I was free to sit at my post here, not too far away, and read your comments and posts. It was a great way to start the day. It felt so good that when our "recess" time came, I went out to play ball too.

When school was done, Richard came home and after a little rest and time with Elliot, he helped me while I worked to photograph my new items for the shop AND made dinner!

I've named the paper house collection "Homesick Heart" because they can be used to send a message of light and love to those who are away from home. There is a space under each roof for a heartfelt message of encouragement or sentiments of love. Of course they make lovely decorations for a mantle or nightstand, but I like that they can have an added meaning to someone who is either away at college, in a hospital or nursing home or stationed overseas. Each one was hand cut by me, so the windows are sometimes a little crooked. Richard wants to try one of the Cricut machines because he likes things to be exact...but I'm waiting to see if that would be a worthwhile investment. I don't know if the machines will allow you to create your own designs or if everything is preset.

It was a full day, and I'm not completely finished with capturing the night shots, but here are a few that I like.


I'm always homesick for the Outer Banks of North Carolina


This is a copy of the Little White Chapel we brought to Elizabeth in Meadow View...but I think they would also make a nice handmade wedding gift...or a way to propose!

Listening in for the New Year

2012-01-02T07:25:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year Friends!

Something good is going to happen today.   I'm not sure what that is yet, but saying it now will help me to notice when it happens later on.

As soon as the last gift was unwrapped this Christmas and I saw a picture of myself looking rather plump in my chair, and still at this moment, I'm battling a severe case of Irritable Jenny Syndrome.

This week I have felt the pangs of holiday let-down and it's partner ennui.
I went to the gym and doubled my work outs and avoided most of the baked goods that I'd worked on before Christmas day. I was cranky and said things that weren't nice.

I wondered if it would have been better to travel to see extended family no matter the cost. Perhaps it was better this way...they were spared!

Scrooge and Grinch and the worst of me took up residence in my heart and I've been fighting it for a week.

Something has gone wrong in my happiness wiring and so this New Year brings me to a humble state of mind. While I was generally cheerful all season (that manic time between October 31 and December 25) somehow the momentum was lost. And it's not a good place to be when blogging.

I want to write the good things, the happy things, the positive, lovely or beautiful things.

So today I'm going to include a passage from a writer whom I admire. Her name is Brenda Ueland, a prolific American journalist who wrote hundreds of articles, essays and a newspaper column for the Minneapolis Times. She's also known for her book If You Want to Write...which is on my list of books for this year.

In the following article taken from Strength to Your Sword Arm: Selected Writings, Ueland writes about listening in a way that I had never considered. She claims that listening is a creative force.

On the fine art of listening, she says,

   "Think how the friends that really listen to us are the ones we move toward, and we want to sit in their radius as though it did us good, like ultraviolet rays. This is the reason: When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand. Ideas actually begin to grow within us and come to life. You know how if a person laughs at your jokes you become funnier and funnier, and if he does not, every tiny little joke in you weakens up and dies. Well, that is the principle of it. It makes people happy and free when they are listened to. And if you are a listener, it is the secret of having a good time in society (because everybody around you becomes lively and interesting), of comforting people, of doing them good."

"When we listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that we never get tired of each other. We are constantly being re-created."

     "Now this little creative fountain is in us all. It is the spirit, or the intelligence, or the imagination---whatever you want to call it. If you are very tired, strained, have no solitude, run too many errands, talk to too many people, drink too many cocktails, this little fountain is muddied over and covered up with a lot of debris. The result is you stop living from the center, the creative fountain, and you live from the periphery, from externals. That is, you go along on mere will power without any imagination. It is when people really listen to us, with quiet fascinated attention, that the little fountain begins to work again, to accelerate in the most surprising way."

"I have a mystical notion about this. I think it is only by expressing all that is inside that purer and purer streams come. It is so in writing. You are taught in school to put down on paper only the bright things. Wrong. Pour out the dull things on paper too---you can tear them up afterward---for only then do the bright ones come. If you hold back the dull things, you are certain to hold back what is clear and beautiful and true and lively."

"Now, how to listen? It is harder than you think. I don't believe in critical listening, for that only puts a person in a straitjacket of hesitancy. He begins to choose his words solemnly or primly. His little inner fountain cannot spring. Critical listeners dry you up. But creative listeners are those who want you to be recklessly yourself, even at your very worst, even vituperative, bad-tempered. They are laughing and just delighted with any manifestation of yourself, bad or good. For true listeners know that if you are bad tempered it does not mean that you are always so. They don't love you just when you are nice; they love all of you. In order to learn to listen, here are some suggestions: try to learn tranquility, to live in the present a part of the time every day. Sometimes say to yourself: "Now. What is happening now? This friend is talking. I am quiet. There is endless time. I hear it, every word."

"The true listener is much more beloved, magnetic than the talker, and he is more effective, and learns more and does more good."

I wonder what Brenda would say about blogging...and all the "talking" of the internet. I think she would recognize bloggers as some of the greatest listeners, because while we have these little, or big, boring or imaginative things to say, we continue to create new posts with energy especially when someone leaves a comment, no matter how brief. It is the stamp that someone listened. People who comment have the affect of allowing that life within us to spring forth in a creative way; it is wonderful to feel listened to. So as I walk into a Monday morning on the second day of 2012, I'll be more aware of the many good things that are happening. And embrace my need to listen.

Christmas Morning

2011-12-26T08:14:00.000-05:00

Each Christmas is the same in so many ways, which is comforting and good. But each year, there's also something unexpected...


This is my original Christmas Stocking from 1971. Ozzie ate through the toe and heel to eat the entire contents. He did save me one chick-o-stick. I guess it was time to let the past go!


I also remembered to make time for my new hobby.


This was my favorite gift to Elliot from my brother Ken. It's a night light called "the moon in my room" He can turn it on and off with a little remote control. It will also cycle through the lunar phases.

I hope you are all enjoying this holiday with your loved ones...

When memory lives on paper

2011-12-22T20:55:00.000-05:00

I have a strong memory rising to the surface, of a cold night in Michigan after a fresh snowfall. My brothers and I are out, exhilarated by the joy of sledding in our toboggan. The stars are bright and our noses and cheeks are red. The world's noise has been silenced by the insulation of snowfall, even the occasional car that passes makes only the sound of rubber squeaking over the hard packed layer of white. We live for this time, to play outside in the winter, while the grown-ups turn on the kitchen light and gather for card games that will go on until midnight. There are cookies and chips and pop on the counter, and the tree is lit with colorful strands of lights. I can walk into this night when I sit down and draw us as we were. Jenny, Roger and Kenny, all bundled up in our snowsuits. I remember and I yearn to go back to those years. It's raining in North Carolina tonight. But in my mind the snow is falling all around.

It's Wonderful at the Carolina

2011-12-21T07:17:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure why I never saw It's a Wonderful Life when I was young. Maybe it was so I could appreciate the story as an adult, when this classic has more relevance today than ever. Last night I was completely captivated while sitting close to Richard and Elliot in the grand old Carolina Theater, surrounded by a full house of people who audibly responded to this emotional story; a response that made us feel like we were a part of something bigger than ourselves.

Sometimes the answer to our present challenges can be found in our collective past. We are all connected in ways that we cannot see from our limited view.

Today marks the beginning of our stay at home Christmas vacation.... and mine from the very tempting and ever available land of blogging...

Until next time,
Merry Christmas with love from my family to yours!

Look up, look down, look all around!

2011-12-19T07:46:00.004-05:00

For a little while, I let myself feel the blues of Christmas. Then I realized that anticipation is part of the driving force behind joy. And sad stories can help us to appreciate the abundance we enjoy in this moment. It's okay to have the blues, but even better to be lifted into the light of joy. Sometimes that happens when we pause long enough to remember things from our past.

As a child, there was a little joke we used to tell each other. It was a test to see if we could fool our friends. It goes like this: You look your friend/cousin/sibling in the face and say, "look up!" (if they are younger and gullible, they respond to your command and look to the sky). Then, you say "look down!" As they look at their feet, you then say "look all around!" While their heads are spinning side to side, you say really loud "YOUR PANTS ARE FALLING DOWN!" Then laugh like crazy because in their foolish reaction they have then made a motion to pull up their pants, which have been securely in place the whole time.

Maybe we should still be saying that little joke. Because it's a call for awareness...and sometimes looking up, down and all around can make a big difference in someone's life.

When I was young, I was painfully heartbroken when I first experienced Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl. Living in the north, where snow is measured in feet and not inches, I was especially sensitive to the story of a child who freezes to death on the coldest, darkest, last night of the year. As I read the story again today, I now understand why I feel sadness during the New Year's Holiday. It was ingrained in me as an ending and not a beginning, despite the fact that the little match girl is guided to heaven by her grandmother, coming ever closer to her from the light of the flaming matches.

My memory of this story has triggered a long buried memory I have of a girl I knew from school. One winter in fourth grade, we were outside on the playground. It had recently snowed and I was warmly outfitted in a pair of outrageous moon boots, a snowmobile suit, mittens, scarf and hat. Then all of a sudden, my friend appeared. We chatted for a little while, and during the pause in conversation, I looked down to see her feet, which where bright red and nearing a stage of frostbite. She was wearing a pair of slip on dress shoes with no socks. Why the teachers allowed her to go outside like that is still a mystery. We enjoyed three recesses every day, and the one after lunch was thirty minutes long.

The sight of her red feet surrounded by snow stayed in my mind all day.

When I came home, I told my mother. (I've often been accused of tattle tale-ing, but in this case it was a good quality). Thankfully, at our house we didn't live like minimalists and kept things "just in case." After hearing my story, my mom went down to the basement and came up bearing last year's "snowmobile" boots. They were waterproof, with a lining that could be removed for drying on the register. Although they might have still fit me in fourth grade, I was embarrassed to wear them because they had a Mickey Mouse symbol on the side.

The next morning at school, I nervously presented a brown grocery sack with the boots to my new friend. I expected that it might be a difficult gift to accept because the Mickey Mouse symbol would mean more teasing for a girl that was already bearing the weight of being different. But my friend was a gracious reciever, and wore them the same day, and every snowy day that winter.

I'm learning this year that this Christmas is more than a celebration of traditional activities. It is a a reminder...a call...to Look Up! Look Down! Look All Around!

God's love is falling down!

Emotional Holidays

2011-12-16T08:43:00.003-05:00

Recently my friend at Gems and Rhinestones posted a one hundred word essay on depression during the holidays, including a moving sketch of a woman posed in grief. For me, it's New Years Eve that brings out a hollow, mournful feeling that I just can't seem to shake. But I've also had Christmases tinged with sadness, being separated from loved ones who have died, or family who live far away. I know that one of the unspoken rules of blogging is to "keep talking happy talk" as my friend Sush invites us all to do. But I couldn't forget to acknowledge that for many people, the blues of Christmas are a real event, part of the spectrum of feelings we share despite the joyous cacophony of media, marketing, and cultural tradition.

This year, I've been enjoying an upbeat, happy season. I still miss my father, who loved Christmastime more than anyone. His childhood poverty meant abundance for his children, and every year we had the biggest real Christmas tree he could find. He decorated the outside with huge tubs of lights. He invited family and friends for open house Christmas celebrations. He visited cancer patients in the hospital (all through the year actually, since he was a survivor.) Friendly visiting was his cause. He spread hope and comfort to the sick, contributed his experience with support groups and attended more funerals than anyone I know. He made a point of sharing unknown stories with grieving families about their loved one's last days. These stories were usually surprising as they revealed hope and faith) At his own funeral, I learned that my dad believed his cancer was a gift. In fact, my father's cancer was one of the best things that had happened to him, because it gave a new dimension to the meaning of his life. It made him feel connected to more people on an intensely personal level.

What devastates us is also a reason for celebration and gratitude. Hard times and challenges have the effect of bringing out the best in people.

If you are sad this year, because something very difficult is occurring, I understand.

In the darkest night, if you look hard enough, somewhere there is a pinpoint of light.

Christmas isn't just for kids

2011-12-15T08:19:00.000-05:00

Christmas isn't just for kids. Last night we visited Meadow View, bearing gifts of a lantern house for our friend and neighbor Tom, and a little white lantern church for Elizabeth.

Someone had been working very hard in the last week, because the place smelled fresh (er) and was decked out in pretty Christmas trees. When we arrived, we found that Tom's hearing aid was being repaired, so communication had to take place in a flurry of writing on a spiral notebook. Richard and Elliot climbed up on his bed, surrounding him with their love. We soon discovered that Tom's back was very sore, because his room lacked a chair. He spent most of his time sitting upright in his bed with his feet dangling over the side. So, while I went out to request that a chair be brought in, Richard gave Tom a good back rub. Every so often, we saw a smile rise up from the corners of his lips.

After a while, seated in his new comfy chair, a meal that looked like green baby food arrived. He said he didn't want to eat that and we probably wouldn't want to watch. So we left with handshakes and promised to come back soon.

Next, we stopped my the room of our new friend Elizabeth to say Merry Christmas and to set up the little white Church on her nightstand. What a thrill to surprise her! She was so delighted with that paper church....calling us Santa and Angels. She wondered how we ever thought to make such a thing. Then she told us stories of her daughter who is a preacher, and how God has been guiding her path since losing her other daughter and her husband. Even being stuck in a place like Meadowview, she continues to praise God and to be thankful. She smiled nearly the whole time we were there. Remember when I was touched by her claim "just me and God?" Well, looking around her room, I discovered that Elizabeth indeed has a loving family who regularly visits. Her shelves were packed with fresh flowers, her board covered in cards, a wreath hung on her wall, and pictures of her family were crammed in every available space. Of course she would be loved and cherished. So I learned a secret of life, that's really no secret at all...gratitude is a lifestyle, a way of life that we can choose. It's the way I want to be. And after last night, one of my long standing fears melted away. I'm not afraid to grow old.

What it feels like to fly

2011-12-14T09:38:00.002-05:00

When I first stepped off the ground and was lifted into flight by a hang glider, I lost my head. Literally I did not think of anything. The experience was pure sensation. Only at the prompting of my instructors to "FLARE HARD" did my mind register language and thought. Unbelievable to me and to the amazement of onlookers, I landed my first solo flight on my feet. Taking those first steps into thin air sends waves of pleasure through the body and has the after affect of an extremely great buzz. If I were able to live in the air, I would.

After that first flight, which was my graduation gift from Richard, I came home to the reality of being grounded full time. I took a job at the library and tried to get comfortable with my new identity as a working mom who hoped to make a living as a professional somebody.

Then, while closing up the library one day, a homeless man attempted to strangle me. In my shock, I ended up laughing and telling a joke, which had the effect of saving my life.

Several months later, a man with a semi automatic weapon came into the library parking lot, opened his car door, and aimed the gun at the teens and librarians who were near the entrance.

I awoke to the realization that I was surrounded by a culture of gangs.

And Elliot was not even old enough for preschool.

So I came home and tried to figure out what to do. My illusions were shattered. Yet looking back I realize what a gift is was to come home and discover who I am and what I want my life to be like.

There are no certainties. I fumble around a lot. I try to make things. I try to write little things. I try to supply my son with a quality home education. I'm learning not to be so terribly hard on myself for failing to be a professional somebody. Because professional somebodies don't have what I have.

They don't have you.

In order to understand flight, the scientific explanation of Bernoulli's principle is somewhat helpful:

Bernoulli's principle can be used to calculate the lift force on an airfoil if the behaviour of the fluid flow in the vicinity of the foil is known. For example, if the air flowing past the top surface of an aircraft wing is moving faster than the air flowing past the bottom surface, then Bernoulli's principle implies that the pressure on the surfaces of the wing will be lower above than below. This pressure difference results in an upwards lift force.^{[nb 1]}^[22] Whenever the distribution of speed past the top and bottom surfaces of a wing is known, the lift forces can be calculated (to a good approximation) using Bernoulli's equations^[23] – established by Bernoulli over a century before the first man-made wings were used for the purpose of flight. Bernoulli's principle does not explain why the air flows faster past the top of the wing and slower past the underside. To understand why, it is helpful to understand circulation, the Kutta condition, and the Kutta–Joukowski theorem.

This year, my blogging friends have been my lift force. You have the biggest hearts and continually bless me with your presence here. Thank you so much for helping me to remember what it feels like to fly again. Today my wish is for you all to have a blessed, peace filled and beautiful Christmas...full of the love that you so generously send out into the world.

Love,
Jenny

Jenny's NOW list for getting the heck out and doing something crazy.

2011-12-13T07:43:00.000-05:00

P.S. Remember my self made stereotype? The one where I am a homebody who loves the comfort of safe activities? This week I put some thought into breaking that mold and made my NOW list. Despite never seeing The Amazing Race, I was inspired by Phil Keogan's book No Opportunity Wasted. So the structure of the list is based on Keogan's structure.

For those of you who are familiar with my irrational fear of Black Bears and hiking in wilderness areas where they are plentiful, you'll know how difficult it was for me to commit to the first entry:

1. Face your fear: Embark on a back country hiking trip where Black Bears are known to roam.
(I need to eradicate my phobia that was developed over the course of a five day hike in the Shenandoah where we encountered 17 bears, their den, and even a mother with a cub while on the way to the outhouse). More on that story here and here .

2. Get Lost: I was lost on the streets of Paris when I was sixteen, a situation that ended well because of faith. I don't enjoy being lost; in fact I have experienced severe anxiety attacks in situations of disorientation. To actively pursue the feeling of "lost" makes me weak. So for this exercise, I'm going to need a plan and an idea...I'm completely lost on this one! If you're interested in my Paris experience, click here to read my memoir in post it notes.

3. Test Your Limits: Become a certified hang gliding pilot. Click here to see me in training!

4. Take a Leap of Faith: Start a new business with the lantern houses.

5. Rediscover your childhood: Take up roller skating on a regular basis.

6. Shed your inhibitions/express yourself: relearn my French horn and play for an audience. (I wonder if a little video on the blog counts?)

7. Break new ground: Write a book on risk taking and romantic love in marriage.

8. Aim for the Heart: Help someone to achieve a dream. (I'm not sure who or what this is yet.)

Enjoying the Season

2011-12-13T05:55:00.003-05:00

This year we are enjoying the season of giving. Although I still have yet to decide on a gift for Richard, I feel the spirit of the holidays in my heart this year. Last week we took a small group of children to our favorite historic theater for a free movie and popcorn. Here's a few inadequate photos that don't do justice to the old grandeur of the Carolina...but I wanted to share a sneak peak at the ballroom we discovered over the summer. It's small, but in the dark when you're alone with your husband on date night, it's lovely and romantic.

At the end of the film, the Carolina Theater gave away sixteen bicycles to families with children.

Santa spotted! I disturbed his nap by accident...I had no idea he was up here while I walked around taking pictures.

If I had a theme for this holiday season and for the upcoming winter, it would be small lights in the darkness. I am discovering that the early darkness is a blessing. It makes our evenings cozy with the addition of strings of lights and fires in the hearth.

We are hoping to go to the ballet this year, a first for Elliot and Richard.

This photo didn't turn out as I have yet to learn how to take pictures in the dark without a flash...but I just love how it feels to sit and feel small inside the cavernous theater, with thick velvet curtains and sculpted dancers.

While going out is wonderful, this season it's so nice to return home again. The new project I'm working on means that I'm not baking very many (any!) holiday goodies. Maybe next week I'll get to that.

I hope your holidays are full of light and love.

Animal Play and Best Ideas Blog Hop

2011-12-09T17:14:00.001-05:00

At our house, we love to climb trees, take adventure hikes and learn about the animal kingdom. We regularly engage in an ongoing dialogue about wildlife biology with our seven year old son. It is a conversation and a journey that began in preschool, when he began playing "animals" with his classmates. The children in that class played cats and dogs so much that the parents started to complain about holes worn in pants. The more I observed the children's pretend game, in which they would use doll socks for "paws" an idea came to mind. What if I were able to make a set of slip on knee pads that would mimic fur? Then I added the paws as a companion set and Knees and Paws were born. The children in that first class scrambled to put on the sets I had brought to class in a big wicker basket. At that time I was still learning to sew and the teacher said that they played with their Knees and Paws so much that they already needed mending. As time went on, I got requests for matching ears and tails. And with lots of practice and many mistakes, I feel much more confident about sharing the handmade sets that are intended to encourage and enhance imagination.

This Halloween was our biggest event to date. It was so big that I really needed a couple of weeks of rest. Taking a break from my sewing has been a great choice. Great because I returned to my workshop with fresh ideas and a desire to improve. Today is a milestone because, as some of you remember, I tend to be a teensy bit stubborn. So stubborn that I haven't felt the need to tinker with things. But after a little experiment, I'm happy to say that I've thrown away the old and tired paw pattern. The new paws will have longer sleeves, and more colorful contrast. Going into the third year, and I finally decided to make a change!

Playing dogs and cats is one of a child's first imaginary games. It can get noisy and energetic when a group cooperates for a game of fetch or tag. Dramatic play is great indoor exercise on a rainy or cold day. Sometimes it's also a quiet sort of play, with most of the action taking place within the imagination. Supplying a child with a touch of realism enhances their experience by stimulating the senses. Knees and Paws allow a child to feel like they have fur without overwhelming or overheating the body. They encourage dramatic, cooperative play while also boosting self sufficiency skills. Being able to slip them on an off without help from a grown up is a big step for little ones! In my experience, these sets have appealed to children as young as three and as old as ten, although the older children like to use them during Halloween as costume accessories. Each set with knee pads are custom fitted by request and this is recommended to eliminate slippage. Our newest sets include soft fleece collars with personalized "tags". And for kids like my son who love the limitless variety of the animal kingdom, there are plenty of options from Panda Bears to Ring Tailed lemurs. At our house, we love to climb trees!

The Self Made Stereotype

2011-12-07T06:39:00.001-05:00

Hi Friends,
It's a beautiful spring-like morning in December, balmy enough to go out before sunrise wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. I have been meaning to go running in the dark at five am, and today the conditions would have been ideal. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember that I actually do want to leave the comfort of home for a little while, to kick start my day feeling alive and refreshed.
During my recent pause in blogging, I've made time to read a book.
Nearing the end of it, I'm inspired to share an insight that has been affecting my life without my conscious awareness. On one level I've constructed a life, and continue to construct my life, around a self-made stereotype.

What I mean to say is that the things that I've discovered about myself along the way (I'm creative, I'm introspective, I'm a home-body) have reinforced patterns and also created ruts. Efficiency and mastery are prized and valued in our society (such as homemaking skills and parenting), but they can be extremely limiting in terms of our willingness to experience life in a vibrant and open, risky and thrilling, awe inspiring, too big for words kind of way. They can and do limit us, especially when we allow ourselves to be dominated by routines and our commitment to the dominant ideologies of how we are in dire need of economical constraints. We've limited our imaginations in how to afford adventure. Adventure seems now to be a packaged deal, available only to the careless wealthy.

Recently I had an experience that opened my eyes to something that I thought I could turn into a large writing project. After that experience, I decided that research was in order, and so I ordered several books on that topic from the library. Out of five books, only one held my attention and was more in line with the epiphany that challenged me to seek out and experiment. The epiphany is this: taking a risk with someone you love is a deeply bonding experience. Everything that couples do to create safety and comfort in their lives, such as a home and a career (or two) are naturally good, but can also have the affect of killing romantic love if safety and security are the only goals. Romantic love is based in risk. That's where the thrill lies. And once we are safely in love, and the children arrive, risk becomes a dirty word. Now, everything becomes a quest for protection.

I'm so thankful that I have a husband who enjoys adventure, and who wants to include me in his sometimes wild and crazy ideas. Otherwise, I might still be baking bread and cleaning toilets, thinking to myself how "good" of a wife I am.

My personal stereotype is that I'm extremely cautious and often afraid to try new things. Hang gliding on the dunes doesn't count because contrary to popular belief, that activity is safer than driving around town.

Here's a quote to follow my point, taken from No Opportunity Wasted by Phil Keoghan:

"Even if you've been quiet (another self imposed stereotype) for the past 20 years, it doesn't mean you must be quiet for the next 20. There are lots of little ways you can begin to make a racket. And every little noisy act of defiance will break down that stereotype some more. If making noise seems out of character for you, well...that's the whole idea. There's no reason your character, and by extension your life, must be predictable and one-dimensional. A person can be both quiet and loud. A very responsible mother of two can also ride a motorcycle."

Consumed Part Two

2011-12-03T11:08:00.001-05:00

Here's a look at the finished house...

Strangely, I almost like the unfinished house better!

Festival of Lights

2011-12-03T07:41:00.001-05:00

Last night we were out on the town, enjoying Greensboro's annual Festival of Lights. It was a mild night and the streets were packed with smiling people, who gathered in Center City Park for the tree lighting ceremony, live music, caroling and ice skating.

Growing up in a rural area, I find my life near our city to be exciting and strangely comforting. Reflecting on my past ventures into cities like Flint or Detroit, the cities of my childhood lack a certain vibe that exists here. Of course, both of those cities I mentioned have a huge reputation for violence and economic hardship, but as I'm from Michigan they are places that shaped my worldview. And while I have an idealistic and romanticized view of my adopted city of Greensboro, I'm even more in love with North Carolina's state capital, Raleigh. This year we have made plans to take a train to Raleigh on New Years Eve to experience the cultural explosion of the First Night Festival. It is becoming a family tradition that we all love.

Do you have places that you visit during the holidays that help you feel connected to your community?

Consumed

2011-12-01T22:03:00.001-05:00

I do this to myself every year. I get it into my head that the Christmas season is the season for making things. Blame it on my Grandmother and my Mother. Every day in December (excluding Christmas eve and the big day), their kitchen tables were covered in newspaper with a scattering of crafting odds and ends. I remember making jeweled tree ornaments with my Grandma, the kind that required sticking straight pins in the center of sequins to cover syrofoam teardrops. We made little things with lots of parts that were tedious. My grandfather would also make things in his woodshop, mostly brightly colored whirlygigs for gardens, or pretty bird houses. When the crafting was complete, we'd begin the baking. My grandma seemed to have a recipe for every known cookie in the Western Hemisphere. Her buckeyes would send me into a sugar haze of lipsmacking bliss.

After all the years of school, jobs, college, family and technology, it's the habits of my mom and grandma that have shaped me the most. I grew up in the peak of the American auto industry, and quite simply, we were a family who made things.

This week I am consumed. My pretty dining room is now covered in a project that I hope will continue long into the future. I've been making use of the french cotton watercolor paper that came my way. After months of working at my sewing machine with fibrous plush, it is absolute bliss to work with paper. Everyone needs change. I'm not saying that my new romance with papercraft is going to mean the end of my sewing, but it's energizing to embark on a new project.

The first pictures show a little paper house I made that is not yet painted. I plan to add color tomorrow. The scenery behind it is a painting I made and then shaped the paper into a semi circle so that it would stand up without support. Everything glows on the inside due to the fantastic invention of LED tea lights.

Shutterfly Holiday Christmas Cards

2011-11-28T21:30:00.001-05:00

Tonight I worked on our family Christmas cards (AGAIN) and discovered that if I share them on Blogger, I will receive ten dollars off my next order! After using a Target Promo code, this first set of cards came with a $20.00 discount. Looking back, I wonder if the 20 dollar coupon was included in our order because the clerk felt sorry for us...as we were obviously blind and unschooled in photo editing basics. I'm so glad that life sometimes affords do-overs!

Photo Card

View the entire collection of cards.

I write for my friends

2011-11-28T06:53:00.001-05:00

Wise professors once instructed, "ask first, who is the audience?" This thought is the door I walk through during blocks that turn white pages into content. I have difficulty keeping up with a regular paper and pen journal because the audience is boring old ME, who's brain is already full of my voice. It is easier to begin writing when I address the top line,

"Dear Friend,"

Writing is about reaching out into the void, connecting oneself to another. It is about sharing the beauty of one's imagination, desires, philosophy. Writing is a brave act. It is the stamp that says

"I was here."

To write a book that is published in a publishing house, a physical book with paper pages and a binding, must be the ultimate validation for the writer's existence. The problem for me with this type of writing lifestyle is that while buried in a huge writing project, the physical world fades. I don't go outside much. Family and friends hang in my peripheral view, not front and center.

During the beginning of our romantic journey as friends and lovers, I wrote for Richard. Long letters, poetry, post it notes, greeting cards. The rest of the world fell into a haze. For the first time, I was experiencing something only read about in books, yet intensely real and three dimensional. It used to be that a good book would satisfy my mind and emotional well being for weeks. I haven't read anything that did that in a very long time. Perhaps my tastes have changed. Perhaps I've discovered that I no longer need my armor of books to live a brave, experiential life. I looked for love in books. Occasionally I discovered it in a secondary kind of way.

Emily's middle school English teacher once said, "books are my friends. They have been my friends all my life."

At the time, I related to that statement. Not today. Today, books are books. They are not my friends, although I do enjoy being entertained by writers and the classic authors. Books are not friends.

People are.

And this is why blogging is a good habit for me. Whereas books brought me to more books, blogging is bringing me to people. It is helping me to answer that question, "who is the audience?"

The audience are my friends. They are light hearted, faith-filled, inspiring people. They have helped to shape a new world view; one that is not dominated by the news media's lens that shows only a dangerous, fearful world, perpetually on the edge of self destruction.

So that question, "who is your audience?" is now answered in a way that I did not expect. I write for my friends, although I did not know they were my friends until I reached out into the void.

And they write for me. It is a gift to receive their stories, pictures, humor, and thoughts on life.

My Dog Needs Pants and Other Musings

2011-11-27T07:05:00.001-05:00

If it weren't for Richard's attention to detail, the following photo, in it's unedited version, would have made center stage on our 2011 Family Christmas Card. In fact, the cards were printed and ready for envelopes and shipping.

Now I finally understand why people put clothing on their dogs. Ours needs a pair of pants.

Richard must be psychic because he seems to find this situation hilarious before he even realizes what's going on.

***


Afterthoughts When I was younger, the holidays made me cranky. This year is already different, because I'm learning to let go of ingrained tradition and experience the flow of abundance that surrounds us. This Thanksgiving weekend was full of love. Perhaps it is selfish not to travel, but staying home allowed us to make time for friends and neighbors. Our friend Tom is now in a rehabilitation center, receiving care for a complication due to a tumor in his throat. In between the days of feasting, cuddling, dancing and leaf raking, we were able to visit him in Meadow View, where there are no views of a meadow. It was the only place where he could receive care for his trachea. I know he did not want to go to that place, and as his son Gary related,
"tears were shed at the thought of it." We will return to that place, as often as we are able through the holidays and beyond. Two days before Christmas, Tom will be receiving another dose of Chemotherapy, a dose that might send his heart into cardiac arrest. While in Meadow View, we walked the halls. Elliot covered his nose, and hid behind me when one lady approached him with her arms out. It was a startling situation, as she seemed to have no boundaries even from her chair. The rooms and halls were full of people in really unfortunate conditions, and it nearly sent me to my knees in sadness. So many stroke patients. So many whose gaze drifted to the ceiling in a state of unknowing. Then, we saw Elizabeth. She was dressed in a matching purple sweat suit, with her hair pulled back. Her eyes were bright and sparkling. Within that ancient face, weathered and soft, her smile beamed when Richard held out his hand and said hello. We followed his lead, and held out our hands out too. We asked her name, and then introduced ourselves. She noticed Elliot hiding behind his dad, and said "may God bless you and that baby." She told us her story of being the last. Her children grown and "gone away". Her husband dead, her friends gone too. "Me and God, just me and God" she said. I know I'll never be the same after being blessed by her prayers for us. Through Elizabeth, I felt God's love. For a fraction of a second, I could see her face surrounded by light. It is not often in my busy life that I remember how close the afterlife is to all of us. Her love sent me to that place of silent reverence for life now, for life to come.

Giveaway Winner Announced

2011-11-25T08:55:00.001-05:00

True Random Number Generator Min: Max: Result: 2 Powered by RANDOM.ORG

Congratulations to Thisisme at Southamsdarling! To accept your prize, please send an email including your shipping information to Jenny at kneesandpaws@yahoo.com. I look forward to sending the hand warmers your way!

* * *

I hope you are all enjoying the Thanksgiving holiday. I had a beautiful day full of love and wonderful food.

I'll always remember this year's Thanksgiving, when Richard was the first one to turn on the Christmas music and prepare our turkey with dressing. He prepares our bird every year we are home together. There's something about this holiday that makes my hard working husband extremely happy. Riding the wave of his good cheer, we sang and danced in the kitchen while the aromas of roasted poultry and a cherry wood fire burned in the hearth.

I don't know why I'm so blessed...

Holiday Giveaway

2011-11-22T10:21:00.001-05:00

Hi Friends,
I hope you are all off to a great week. Today I'd like to share a new seasonal item in my shop. These hand warmers are trimmed with silky novelty plush fleece and made with ultra cuddle polar fleece. They slip on easily and are so soft that they inspire lots of hand holding, which is important during this often stressful time of year. Please leave a comment to be included in the giveaway. The winner will be chosen using a random number generator on Friday, November 25. Prize includes one Mrs. Clause Hand Warmers, and one pair of Grinchy Green Plaid Hand Warmers. If these will be a gift for someone you love, I'm happy to include free holiday gift wrap and a card with your personalized message.

I'm truly thankful for my blogging friends. You have enriched my life with your gifts of friendship and love.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Elliot's Fifteen Minutes of Fame

2011-11-20T06:31:00.001-05:00

I wish I had a video to go along with this post. I'm certain that words will not be enough to convey the amazing event we experienced on Saturday.

Richard, having a love for adventure, signed us up to compete in a race to win a Chevy Sonic.
I really had no idea what this was going to involve, except that it was a scavenger hunt, in which we would earn points by completing challenges at certain areas around downtown Greensboro. It was to be a race on foot that would last approximately three hours. (Thank goodness I've been keeping up with my running!).

Before the race began, a local radio station was there to energize the crowd of over 200 competitors. This radio station kicked off the day's event by hosting an impromptu dance contest to win a fifty dollar gift card.

I love to dance, and Elliot was with me, so we joined a handful of people willing to make complete fools of themselves in public.

Elliot was the only child that was competing in the day's event with his parents. I think most people felt that their children might slow them down, or that it would be too exhausting for a kid to run all over town for three hours. Knowing that he could keep up as we've included him on long hikes in the mountains, we weren't concerned. I think the radio DJ thought it was cool that a kid was going to compete. So Elliot and I were chosen to dance first.

When the music started, Elliot blew up the place with his moves. Inside I was thinking "Wow! I can't believe it! Since when.????"

The crowd cheered him, loudly and with lots of clapping. My jaw must have been hanging open while I lamely tried to keep pace. The poor sops who danced afterward said, 'Geeze, who can follow that!'

The last dancer to perform also sent a wave of cheering and clapping. Suddenly, Elliot and I found ourselves having to dance again for a tie breaker.
And he blew us away again...and ended it with a front flip.

I am not kidding. My son did a front flip and landed it, without having practiced. I had no idea he could do that.

With that stunning finale, the crowd went crazy! But in the end, they cheered louder for the last dancer, who we discovered later was a professional night club dancer.

During the race, people who were competing for the car would stop to tell Elliot that they rooted for him.

Even though we did not win the car or first place in the dance contest, all of us left feeling incredibly uplifted from the experience. I think I may have to search for a place where Elliot can dance with a group or a class.

Living my dream, one hour a week

2011-11-18T17:25:00.001-05:00

Underneath my photo to the right, you'll notice that I've included "teacher" as one of my personal adjectives. This week, I've questioned whether or not I should use that word. It was my life long dream to be a classroom teacher, a dream that was wishful thinking. I wonder if by using that term I'm misrepresenting myself.
Fellow blogger Shelly from Le Tejana is a real classroom teacher. The kind of person who gives her heart to many, many kids on a daily basis, year after year. Her stories are uplifting, and sometimes incredibly tragic. I thought about Shelly in her classroom this morning and I tried to imagine myself in that role. After considering the enormous responsibility and expectations, I began to see why I've not taken the next steps into that role. It's just too big for me at this point in my life.

Maybe I should change the word "teacher" below my picture to "home educator." While it's true that I took on a teaching role as licensed child care provider, taught preschool for several years and also worked as nanny, the time I've spent teaching in a public classroom is limited to my hours either as a volunteer or as a college student earning hours for my Ed Studies concentration. Which was supposed to be my major.

In the middle of that, along came Elliot.
And I wanted to be with him more than I wanted a license. I hated that torn feeling. Hated it. Having to keep searching and trusting various care givers so that I could keep taking classes was difficult. I was not willing to seek a full time day care situation so that I could complete student teaching. It was a selfish act. Elliot was my baby and I wanted time with him.

One day, my compassionate English professor and academic advisor suggested that I could finish my undergrad degree and return for my teacher's license later, when Elliot was older. This idea sent a wave of relief through me and I took it and ran...

Then I was left with a fresh diploma and the desire to work a little. I was eager to use my new skills and confidence that was brimming inside. So I went to the library and worked second shift.

Which was great. But still it was not teaching.

And the little teacher flame still burned within.

I know I could be a substitute and do this every day.

Yet Elliot and Richard and I are happy with homeschooling. Everyday I learn more about the kind of teacher I am. Because my son loves wildlife biology and the natural world, my mind has opened up to a whole new discipline. It's an intensely fascinating journey. Last night I thought it would actually be possible to book a cruise to the Bahamas and arrange for Elliot to meet the amazing Doc Gruber, who is currently compiling the largest data collection on lemon sharks in the world. I appreciate the freedom that I couldn't have in a brick and mortar school.

I have this other little thing...this homeschool writer/illustrator workshop.

There are four students now. They have all bonded with one another and have asked me to organize things to do outside of our class, and also to keep going with it next year. One of my students said today,
"I love this class. It's more fun than school!"
For one hour a week, I feel like a real teacher in a real classroom. I feel validated and uplifted by their enthusiastic participation. It fulfills me in a way I cannot really describe.

It was a big risk to make up a course and pitch it to an administrator. I can't believe it was accepted and that I'm actually doing this.

Have you lived a dream in a big or small way? How did you make it happen? Or was it completely accidental?

Rushing the Season

2011-11-17T06:12:00.001-05:00

What is the rush? The day after Halloween, Walmart was playing Christmas music.

This year, I was ahead of the folks at Walmart in the race to Christmas glory. Our outdoor lights have been up since last year!

Another reason for my happiness today is that in a very small and humble way, I've reopened the shop. While taking my work vacation, the idea of reopening kept nagging me. What a relief to just have it over with. It was painless because I've decided to keep things very simple. During this stressful time of year I intend to offer only what I have already made and not accept further custom orders until after the New Year.

Lately I've also been thinking about ways to simplify this Christmas. The thought crossed my mind that I could bake salt dough gingerbread boys for our tree and skip the whole unpacking of boxes in the attic. In case Elliot would miss seeing some of his old favorites, I could send him up with a flashlight and allow him to go on a scavenger hunt. And Diane, if you are reading this I can hear you say EEEK!

Since the Christmas lights are already up, I only have to find an extension cord and plug them in.

I could order a pizza and invite my family to help with all of the Christmas cards.

I could buy our tickets for any upcoming holiday shows now, so that by mid December I'm not disappointed that I missed everything.

In the end, the big season is going to arrive and I'll never be fully ready for it. But then I wonder:

Why are we racing? With whom are we competing?

This week I'd love it if you would share the ways that you will keep things simple this holiday season. I hope to remember this Quaker saying "don't do something, just sit there!"

Swirling Leaves and Wild Wind

2011-11-15T06:10:00.001-05:00

We are having an incredibly beautiful fall this year. The sunny dry days have illuminated bright reds, yellows and orange leaves that are gathering in heaps around town. The early darkness is inspiring more dinners with candlelight, and nights of quiet sleep as windows stay shut against the cooler temps.

This morning I woke early enough to make a dash for coffee before Richard went to work. Driving with the windows down, the cool fresh wind rushed in while leaves swirled around the road ahead. Suddenly I realized that my appreciation for life in all it's changing seasons is more complex. The young version of me would have wished for more sunlight, the older me enjoys the colder darkness. I passed a runner and thought that it wouldn't be so bad to wake at five am and greet the day before traffic clogs the air with exhaust. It might be thrilling to run in the dark, and comforting to return and see the light of our kitchen window, where Richard would be waiting.

Today is the day that I plan to reopen the etsy shop after a nice long break. Today is the day I'll stop procrastinating.

I hope it will be different this time; that I'll make more time to stand in swirling leaves and wild wind.

This Blank Page

2011-11-14T06:34:00.001-05:00

It's Monday morning, and the bright white of this blank page is searing my eyes. Perhaps that's because I spent the night being interrupted by Elliot and Ozzie. Elliot watched a show on Sunday morning called Mystery Hunters, which is supposedly for a young audience. He was intrigued by the "mysterious" aspect but then unnerved by the subject of Alien life forms and the possibility of them hiding here on Earth. The whole morning was spent discussing his fear and how to manage it.

Perhaps feeling confident that fear is a manageable emotion, in the evening he decided to watch the Jim Carrey version of A Christmas Carol. This made me a proud mom, as he has always loved this Dickens classic, yet irritated because I was again reminded that the holiday season looms.

Finally at bedtime, having spent the day filling his mind with aliens and a terrifying ghost story, sleep for Elliot would not come. So, despite Richard's grumbling, we all piled in our bed and tried to sleep. After a few minutes, my guys were snoring away, while I attempted to balance on the edge. Ozzie, feeling left out, decided to join us on the floor, but made sure to keep jingling his tags every so often.
When all was quiet, I crept into Emily's room. Then Ozzie followed. Too groggy to care, I fell into a light doze and then woke again at midnight when Richard carried Elliot back into his room. Upon waking with the sudden motion, he asked for his light to stay on all night.
After more doggie jingling and finally a short nap, morning arrived.

The only coffee is left over from yesterday.

I know I have plans and expectations for this fine Monday morning, but there's not enough organization or focus between my ears.

Every day is a fresh start. Even one that has to begin with stale coffee.

Maybe Monday should begin with a walk in the woods.

Creative Business, Creative Family

2011-11-13T07:17:00.001-05:00

Soon after writing a few goals down for the near future, things around here got busy. One of my goals was to find or create new packaging for Knees and Paws products. During my research on packaging, I discovered several wonderful books on box design with templates, while Richard showed me the amazing Container Store website. In the end, I chose to use our webcam box as a template. It was just the right size with a window. I used a manilla folder for the prototype, and when it was finished I realized that it could be converted into a finger puppet theater by cutting a round hole in the back.

This was a project that Elliot helped with, and I love his suggestion that we make a pet house design around the hole in the back. Our new packaging now has three uses: one for housing Knees and Paws with a matching finger puppet, one use as a mini theater, and one as a pet house for tiny stuffed pets. When it's no longer useful, it can be recycled with other cardboard and paper products.

An unexpected result of starting a handmade business is that my family has become more creative. We now work out many problems as group projects, which builds a strong sense of togetherness. I used to be intimidated working on anything with Richard because he likes "exact" details. I know this is a consequence of working on airplanes all day. He has to be exact in his job for the safety of people who fly. Sometimes at home, I've felt intimidated by his skills and expectations for high quality. When we began to paint the outside of our house, I decided to bake pies instead of work side by side with a brush. There were just too many instructions and expectations. After an hour or two, I just gave up trying.

Things are different now. I did not write this down as a goal, but Richard and I are now able to work on projects together...in the same room, at the same time. This weekend, we put the finishing touches on our updated dining room, which had been empty for months. Last winter, our new dog Ozzie and our cat Annie had a territorial pissing contest on the carpet. Ultimately we had to lose our carpet and subfloor, and Annie had to be relocated to the covered porch in the back.

When it was finished, I sat down and felt a complete sense of peace. I realized that I'm never going to be the kind of person who can sit in an empty room to achieve a meditative state of higher consciousness. I need a cozy home with candle light and pictures of my family.

My experience with goal setting was positive in some ways, and I plan to keep moving forward with it. However, I noticed that while I was accomplishing a great deal, inside I felt a little manic. It was unsettling to have so many ideas for projects going on all at once. And now that the holidays are approaching at WARP speed, I need to remember that I need plenty of time for rest and activities with no "end result."

Like taking naps.

And rollerskating.

And reading books.

And sitting in candlelight.

I think you can do this

2011-11-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

My teacher friend once shared that learning is like a spiral. We continue to move out and upwards by revisiting familiar concepts, and stretch our range of understanding in ever-broadening circles on the climb.

For some of us, riding new learning curves takes great courage, combined with the belief that extraordinary achievements are possible. As a child I was thrilled by rollerskating in the basement, taking the same route over and over again like a hamster on a wheel. This activity made me supremely happy. It didn't matter that three feet of snow was piled outside, I was sweating and flying around listening to the vinyl version of Jan and Dean's Dead Man's Curve. I never wondered about taking lessons or imagined that I could challenge myself by switching to ice skates and learning spins and jumps. If someone had said these magic words

"I think you can do this"

My life would certainly be different today.

This post isn't really about how I regret not making skating my lifestyle. It's about understanding how to get the mule inside me to move on, to take action towards something that I'd really love to do.

I was thirty seven before I learned that in the south, female donkeys are called Jenny. My ears might not be quite as long, but the stubborn part is right on.

Five years ago I was required to make a web module for my senior capstone class. I had no trouble with the research and writing portion, but when it came to working with Front Page, I choked. Anxiety dominated my days and sleepless nights. I experienced periods of anxiety so fierce that I lost my ability to listen to my family members and have telephone conversations. At the time, Richard was recovering from knee surgery and I was useless as a caregiver.

In desperation, I finally called my professor and asked for help. She suggested that I contact one of my classmates to set up a tutoring session. Feeling comfortable with the person she suggested, I found a scrap of courage and explained my situation to this fellow student. He was kind and agreed to meet me in the computer lab on the lower level of the library. When I sat at my screen I was wondering how to explain that the only things I knew how to do were to perform searches, write papers using Word and check email. That was the entire extent of my ability. I think I just said,

"I can't go forward. I don't understand how to do any of this."

And he said, very quietly,

"Jenny, I think you can do this."

And then, the donkey moved forward.

Was or are there things that you needed to learn but never did?

Friend, I think you can do this.

This month I need to learn how to set goals. Yet I'm stuck here at the screen, completely resistant to pen, paper and a calendar. (The IRONY!) Maybe there's an online tool for goal setting and planning that might help. Maybe you have learned how to do this well. I'd love to hear what works for you.

Falling Back in Nashville

2011-11-07T08:12:00.001-05:00

This was a fun activity, jumping from bale to bale at the Department of Agriculture Park near Nashville Tennessee. It was fun until Elliot made a last leap and didn't quite make it. In a split second, I watched in paralyzed horror as his head hit the last bale and he slid like a rag doll between the hay. Richard picked him up and for a fraction of a second his neck seemed too relaxed, his body limp. Then, all of a sudden he looked around and said,

"Cool! Can I do that again?"

I almost fell to the ground in my relief and thankfulness.

It was the weekend to "fall back" for daylight savings...but we remember it as the weekend Elliot fell back on the hay and his daylights were saved.

If the Department of Agriculture folks were there to witness this, I'm sure they would have restricted this area of the farm to the public. I don't know why I didn't take a proactive stance and insist that jumping on hay bales this large is dangerous. I must have been overly confident thinking that boys need to be free to run, jump and play without nerve wracked mommies prohibiting their natural desire for risk taking and adventure.

Enter a new phase of motherhood: coaching an adventurous, athletic, curious boy with a fascination for extreme sports and a body that loves to climb and jump.

Otherwise, the weekend was full of love with a bittersweet ending.

My brother has lived in Nashville almost as long as I've lived in North Carolina. This month he'll be moving back up north to take a job with the State of Michigan. A visit was long overdue. I still had a cold but knew that if we didn't go this weekend, we might not see him again until spring. Elliot loves his uncle with a passion that melts everyone's heart. On our drive over the mountains, he was imagining spending a day watching football and eating chips with Uncle Roger. Suddenly I recognized a new Elliot; a more mature version of the child who once begged for extra time with his uncle to build with legos and play video games.

This weekend he wanted to play soccer, to sit close and have conversations, to watch football and to play guitars. When it was time for us to head back over the mountains, Elliot wrapped his arm around Roger and refused to leave. We all stood for quite a while, simply feeling the weight of that sad goodbye.

And then it occurred to me that I could help my son cope with difficult, sometimes painful situations. I used this teachable moment to introduce the empowering skill of making a goal and planning for something good. I wanted him to understand that goodbyes and endings can actually become wonderful new beginnings.

I told Elliot that what we needed was a plan. For my part, I would make good on my promise to purchase a new web cam and install it. His part would be to set up a time to have weekly Skype calls with Uncle Roger. He could use that time to have a guitar lesson, to talk about life or just to say I love you.

This thought was the only thing that motivated him to get in the car. I know it seems like bribery...but the idea of having a plan helped so much. Elliot was quiet for a solid hour in the car, saying that he was "sad all the way to heaven." But after a while he talked about all the good memories of our weekend together.

Like seeing the horses at the farm.

Having long conversations...

...and investigating new places.

A Great Day to Be Alive

2011-11-02T20:31:00.001-04:00

Today I'm down with a cold, but I refused to let it affect my experience of a glorious fall day. My mom shopped for ingredients for chicken soup and made a large pot for all of us. After enjoying a steaming bowl of some delicious broth I perked up and went out. On a whim, we visited the campus of Guilford College to view some fall color and the incredible stickwork art of Patrick Dougherty. Elliot was enthralled with this castle made of sticks and asked if we could return every day. This masterpiece is currently inspiring the development of a stick fort in our back yard. Visiting the sight of Dougherty's castle is a great way for Elliot to discover that artistic expression is not confined to paper or digital media.

While we walked, Elliot remembered visiting the campus when I was a student and then later as an employee. He wondered,

"Mom, where are all of your old friends?"

Even with temps in the mid sixties and trees bursting with color, not many folks were out. We decided to venture into Hege Library, a building that is a sacred space for me. Eight years ago as a new student, the library felt intimidating with its stacks of complicated, dense and dusty books. By the end of my academic journey in 2007, the library had become my sanctuary and a rich resource for writing. Later, as a member of the staff, Hege became my home away from home. Although I left my position in order to venture into business, being the library's housekeeper was a spiritually fulfilling experience. I'm drawn to libraries the way some people love to be in church.

For months I've wanted to return to Guilford. Yet I needed time to shed the last residues of that uncomfortable "I used to work here and I'm just a tiny bit resentful and ashamed of my status as a common laborer" feeling. Staying away for a substantial amount of time helped to restore those wonderful feelings that attracted me to the campus from the very beginning. Today while walking under protected and revered trees, I felt a deep appreciation that Guilford College was a part of my life's path. There were years of slow going struggle and triumph, of excruciating choices between books, a new baby and a new relationship. My constant companion was an all pervading sense of anxiety, of being judged and evaluated. There were tears and joy in learning to write deeply and critically. An unexpected benefit has been the gift of being able to confidently speak publicly and to ask more from life. Years later, I'm still discovering that it's okay, that it's essential, to take the leading role in changing my personal circumstances and life path.

From Guilford I also received a new faith practice and now enjoy the bliss of silent worship.

Today even the harsh memory of overly critical and demanding English professors did not make me feel small and insignificant. I'm no longer more of a "reader" than a "writer." I no longer feel like a worthless, impoverished single mom starting an academic journey with no connection to anyone. Those days are thankfully behind. I am not the cleaning person. I am not even the greenhorn graduate who is clueless about job searching, networking and letters of recommendation. Today I was June's daughter and Elliot's mom and we were out together, smiling and taking photographs on a great day to be alive.

A Festive Night for Friends

2011-11-01T15:33:00.000-04:00

Holidays are meant to be shared. In my past, the worst Halloween nights were those when Emily and I ventured out together in search of just the right neighborhood for trick or treating. I was new to Greensboro and being anonymous meant that there were no invitations and no recommendations for fun locations.

This year there was no reason to be alone. After spending the day making homemade chocolates and carving pumpkins, we donned our costumes and set out for an evening of fun with our friends, who live in a friendly, beautiful neighborhood. (Our street is a dark county road with no sidewalks, and therefore no trick or treaters.)

The evening was chilly but sparkled with festivity, as people decorated their yards with strings of colorful lights and kid friendly, and some not so kid friendly, decorations. It felt like a return to the traditional Halloween of my childhood, with neighbors gathering outdoors to share in the excitement of children filling the streets. Being in the crowd of families made me wonder why we don't close our streets one night every week...or even every month, to let the children play.

To play outdoors at night has a bigger appeal than candy. While children will remember the taste and smell of trick or treat goodies, this holiday's real meaning lies in the community it creates. Halloween brings families with children together with their friends and neighbors.

Is it the season?

2011-10-30T10:30:00.000-04:00

As the leaves begin to make their bright and scented carpet on the trails, I feel myself folding inward. Into the private me who is a part of this world yet who embraces separation from the crowded jostling.

I'm caught between wanting more and wanting less. Between the desire to be an instant success and the secret fear of having too much all at once.   Between wanting to take my time with everything, yet needing a fast result. When everything in society is about high speed, I'm here in the land of SLOW DOWN.

In this altered state that has me sitting in a crock pot of my mind, I'm at peace.

Yet, there are a million things I could be doing with my life if only I were willing to take more leaps, more risks.

It was a minor risk to create the homeschool writer/illustrator workshop, a bigger risk to make my proposal and set a price. It was a scary risk to sit in the nearly empty classroom on Friday mornings and wait. Elliot wondered. I wondered. And now there are four of us.

We draw pictures. We chat. So far, a little writing has also been accomplished. Afterwards, I leave feeling amazed that a path is being opened. It used to look like a dense, impenetrable forest. But I keep taking slow steps and the woods keep opening up.

Over the weekend, I was able to go out dancing with my prince charming. I also discovered a secret that is probably not a secret, but something that arrived as an epiphany to me. I learned that taking healthy risks together can deepen intimacy.

Perhaps I have taken "happily ever after" to mean a life long attempt for safety and security. Within all the striving for stability and a sanctuary in the conventional ideal of an American family, it is the loss of shared risk taking that can have a negative impact on the romantic aspect of a relationship.

After all, the beginning stage of romantic love happens when two people agree to take a risk together with no certainty of outcome. They are vulnerable together. As time goes on, and risk subsides, intensified feelings of euphoria inducing love slows down.

And slow love, like slow food, is healthy and good.

But an occasional risk brings intimacy back to the forefront. I'm not talking about taking a life threatening risk or making unhealthy choices like abusing substances. Sometimes its about new music or exposure to something that you once were afraid to try.

With this epiphany, I'm now faced with a challenge. The challenge to respond to the feeling of being afraid as a potential avenue for growth.

Apple Store Field Trip

2011-10-27T15:19:00.000-04:00

Hi Friends,
Things are so busy this weekend and we are excited. My mom has arrived safely after driving over 700 miles in one fell swoop. Elliot is over the moon with happiness having his grandma here. It was difficult for him to leave this morning to go on our scheduled field trip to the Apple Store. Perhaps I should have let him stay home while I enjoyed meeting other home educators. I'm learning to trust and reach out more as we go along. I made several potentially great friends today, then had the joy of coming home to one of my lifelong friends, who just happens to be my mom.

While we had breakfast and before we left for our field trip, Elliot told his grandma about all the yucky, scary Halloween stuff that he's seen in the stores this month. I asked him what we should do when we're out trick or treating and we see a house with lots of scary decorations. I nearly choked on my oatmeal at his response:

"Well, throw up in their driveway."

"That way, when they leave in the morning they will say, "what's this yucky stuff on my wheels?"

So, for all the folks in the adjacent neighborhood...think twice about putting out the gore!

Anticipation

2011-10-25T07:57:00.001-04:00

I have been experiencing a much needed break as the Halloween rush ends today. The dust in the house has been cleared and the laundry put away. I've reorganized my work station and this alone has sent me into the upper echelon of happiness. With the new sewing machine that Richard gave me (thoughtfulness is his strength) I've also made time to work on a costume for myself, not knowing if we would find a place to go out as a couple. It felt wonderful to discover that I can successfully make a dramatic alteration on an item of clothing. The process was fulfilling in a way that I cannot describe. To make evening wear for oneself is liberating, but also risky as mistakes can send an entire day's work to the trash.

The Cinderella within is rising to the surface, because now that my dress is hanging, I want to go out dancing with my prince. The search for an evening event has proved to be a bigger challenge than I anticipated. I'm having difficulty finding just the right location. The last time we had a date night, the evening was a great success. On a warm summer night while walking under the street lights of downtown Greensboro, we discovered the historic Carolina Theater. A summer film festival was underway. While images of the Pacific Ocean captivated me during Point Break, we couldn't help being a little bored with the acting, so while sneaking around the theater, we discovered a ballroom on the top floor. I'd like to return to the same theater for our upcoming night out, but they're playing The Rocky Horror Picture Show with Cast...and I'm afraid to go.

I've never actually seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but know a little about the craziness of it...
It just sounds kinda yucky.

I'm not into the club scene. I'm not a ballroom dancing type either.
The dancer in me usually ends up dancing at home to music that I like, away from the inebriated public.

I'd considered throwing a little party but then there really isn't enough time. Most people like to make plans and aren't impulsive.

Then, this morning an event popped up on facebook that has great potential. My college is hosting an alumni Barn Dance that includes beginning dance lessons at the start, cider, doughnuts, a band and hay rides.

So, maybe there's hope for another great Date Night.

Pictures to come soon!

Emily

2011-10-22T20:29:00.002-04:00

I think of her often yet write about her sparingly. That's because I feel like it would be awkward for a teen daughter to have a mom who writes online. So I choose silence. Yet she's in my heart all the time and to neglect her here seems to leave the blog terribly unbalanced. I wonder if she reads it, notices her absence and thinks that I don't love her.

There are moms of teens and adult children who can write about their growing and independent families with great sensitivity and skill. Perhaps I just have too many emotions wrapped within the blanket of my mother/daughter relationship. It is like a rare gift that I don't easily open.

Maybe it's enough to start with a milestone. Today Emily took her ACT exam. It's hard for me to believe that soon she'll be out of high school and making her way in the world...

I still keep an entire wall of her childhood art. Now that she's not my tiny, curly haired toddler or my sweet kindergartener, now that she's not playing soccer at the Y or meeting friends at the playground, she's still the same in so many ways. She's maintained the same sweetness in the way she gives hugs and the kindness in her voice when she says "I love you mom." She's artistic and intelligent, compassionate and funny.

People say parenting is hard. It's not hard in the way you might expect. It's not hard because it takes time, patience and resources. It's not hard because there are sometimes conflicts and power struggles. It's hard because children are destined to become independent. It's that paradox that is the most challenging: that we must give them the tools to survive on their own. We must be attached and at the same time let go. So I can't hold her on my lap or sing her lullabies. I have to hold her in my heart and be there in a different way.

How can I begin to write about my children and not be sentimental? They are the brightest lights in my heart. The ancient dilemma of how to write about the emotion of love still exists. I suppose poets can do this well through a carefully chosen metaphor. I don't have a metaphor for this thing called motherhood. It is joy. It is heartbreak. It is everything in between. My daughter is no longer a child. Yet I hope that she always will nurture the child within. The one who gave my life meaning and direction. The one who changed everything for the better, just by being herself.

What my hands are busy with

2011-10-21T17:02:00.002-04:00

It's almost over...the Halloween blitz that arrived at Knees and Paws! I'm planning to take a much needed break, which will be a "working" break on all the things I've neglected over the last three weeks.
One big problem I'm going to attempt to resolve is that my storage space through picasa (the one blogger uses) is completely full. Which means either I start deleting old posts, old pictures, or attempt to resize all the ones taken with my new camera. I'm not sure which will be the better path. Anyone who knows the best course of action, please share! It seems that pictures under 2000 or so pixels don't count towards the free storage, so perhaps I need to

resize every one before uploading to the web. Another hoop to jump through!

I hope you're having a great weekend!

~till next time,
Jenny

Beating my personal best

2011-10-20T15:17:00.001-04:00

Hi Friends,
You've probably noticed that I've not been writing frequent posts or visiting as often as I'd like to. I'm sorry for that, and wish I made more time to keep up with my blogging. October arrived with an extraordinary amount of pressure for me, as I've worked very hard to keep up with requests in the shop, homeschool, Elliot's Tae Kwon Do, my home, the house,our pets, my personal relationships...
Being at home, it turns out, is a more active lifestyle than I once thought it would be. In the midst of all the activity and the striving, I made time to get back on the treadmill and start running again.
I'm excited today because I beat my personal best. I ran a seven minute mile and I didn't die! I've also lost six lbs and feel better than I have in months. My goal is to lose nine more.
I had no idea that I would ever run like I did today. In high school, it was a requirement to run the mile for our gym class. I think my time at age 15 was eleven minutes. I guess you could say I loved to sit under a tree and read books more than I loved to play sports.

I hope you are all doing well and feeling good. I miss reading about your lives and hope to be able to catch up when things start to slow down again. My mom is going to be with us one week from today. We are excited and happy that she'll be able to visit. While it's good to live here in the south, I do miss my family and sometimes even the snow.

Take care....until next time,
Jenny

Migrating Monarchs

2011-10-18T08:20:00.000-04:00

We are fortunate to live within walking distance to miles of wooded trails. On the very edge of a city with 300,00 people, we are lucky enough to enjoy the feeling that we live in the country. One reason for this is that our home is close to a lake that is protected from development. As one of the city's water reservoirs, swimming and large motor boats are prohibited. Which makes it ideal for quiet activities like bird watching, hiking and kayaking. I know that living in this location has had a major influence on Elliot, who is still committed to his ideal of one day studying wildlife biology as a profession. It's a great place to explore, observe the seasonal changes and wildlife. Last spring, we read about the life cycle of the Monarch butterfly and visited a farm where they are encouraged to reproduce. We learned that Monarchs depend on perennial milkweed and how vital this plant is for their survival. This week, to our great surprise and delight, we found large patches of milkweed growing in a clearing between the woods. And along with the milkweed, a great number of fall generation Monarchs on their way to Mexico.

This book is an amazing read.

Milkweed blooms

While we were walking and enjoying the beauty around us, one butterfly discovered Elliot and was so curious that it circled him at least twenty times!

In addition to us having some warm sunny days, I've also had a great rush of customers in the shop. The strange thing is that I never intended for my items to be Halloween costume accessories. The initial plan was to make plush knee pads and little paws for those preschoolers who liked to crawl around pretending to be dogs. But since Etsy allows customers to directly communicate with sellers, I started filling requests for ears to go along with the paws. Then, they asked for tails. Then came requests like, "can you do a unicorn?" Or monkey? And on until suddenly the whole thing is different from my original plan. Strangely, I've been able to let go and adapt, without too many hurt feelings that my original idea seems to be buried among an abundance of other people's ideas.

I sometimes wish I had more time to make practical things that my family and I can actually use. I've recently learned to make hats and slippers. Elliot has requested a pair of gloves with non slip grips on the fingers so he can climb trees in the winter...

Perhaps the best bit of news is that we're in the process of developing a new family friendship. Through Tae Kwon Do, we've met another family who are in the same stage of homeschooling. It has been a blessing to have another mom who understands the great insecurity that goes along with the first year of home education. Elliot is delighted with his new friends and so am I.

Holding the Ladder

2011-10-12T08:56:00.001-04:00

I once entertained myself with a grand fantasy of fully embracing my creative side. This fantasy turned into a desire and then a distressing need while I was working with bleach and scouring pads in college dorm rooms. When ninety degree heat, harsh chemicals and sleep deprivation combine, they have an affect on the brain! Sometimes I found myself believing that it would be possible to make a living by sitting in a quiet room with my thoughts, making something. Somewhere in this fantasy I was also writing something instead of letting those important insights and epiphanies fly to the moon, lost forever.

I am here now. In the quiet room, making something. Writing something.

My husband is supporting me.

I think he would do that until the end.

He's holding my ladder.

I once listened to a preacher who told a story about his personal journey to success. He described himself as a go getter. A man of action. He worked long hours and over committed himself. In college he soared. In his professional life, he did everything he set out to do, and then some. Then came a time when his parents began to need more help. They came to stay with him for a while. On his way out to an important meeting, he passed an alarming sight: his elderly father was up on a ladder with no one to support the base. Knowing that it would make him late, or possibly miss the entire appointment, he stopped to hold the ladder for his father. The task took a long time. The need to burst out the door to make even a portion of the meeting was brewing in his gut. It was difficult to pause and reflect on priorities. Later, that moment became a significant metaphor for an ethical path: sometimes in life, you just have to hold the ladder.

I've been thinking about what motivates me now. I was once motivated by a fantasy. A daydream. A dream which I acted upon and a dream which became a reality. Perhaps it is a consequence of my childhood in the country, but my ideal working conditions involve a feeling of personal safety, peace and contact with nature. I can have all of that now. But realizing that I dreamed my way into reality, I'm finding that it's important to keep dreaming. To keep evaluating what I hope for. To ask questions. Do I need more money or more time for walks, books and projects with Elliot? Usually in the end, I choose time.
Time to hold a ladder....

I choose time so that I'm not the only one who gets to be creative. On a rainy day, in the middle of the busiest season for Knees and Paws, I stopped sewing long enough to help Elliot make an Ewok Village out of various gathered materials. I know I'll remember this more than I will the number in the bank account.

Was there a time when someone held a ladder for you?

Lactose Free Dark Chocolate Zucchini Cake

2011-10-09T08:23:00.000-04:00

This year my fortieth birthday came with a new challenge: how to take milk out of my diet. After weeks of feeling uncomfortable, I finally did a little test to see if I was lactose intolerant. In the realm of health issues, it's a rather minor inconvenience, especially since the invention of Lactose free milk, cottage cheese and sliced cheese. However, I'm still waiting for new lactose free items to appear on shelves. Until that time, I have to reinvent recipes along the way. Nearly everything that is processed has milk in the ingredients. So, baking from scratch is my new hobby. This week I discovered a delicious recipe that can be amended for those with Lactose problems. It's taken from the Pure Dark brand of chocolate bars.

Dark Chocolate Zucchini Cake:

1/2 c butter flavored Crisco
1/2 c vegetable oil
2 c sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 c lactose free milk + 2 tsp white vinegar (add vinegar to milk as a substitute for buttermilk)

2 1/2 c flour
1/4 c cocoa powder

1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 c grated zucchini
4-6 oz dark chocolate baking squares, cut into small pieces
walnuts (optional)

Directions: Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Heavily grease and flour a 9x13 or large Bundt pan.

In a mixer, cream the butter, oil and sugar (about 2-3 minutes). Once creamed add the eggs, vanilla and milk and mix until fully incorporated.

In a separate mixing bowl sift all dry ingredients together. On a low speed, mix the dry ingredients slowly into the wet until completely combined.

Fold in grated zucchini into the cake batter and spoon into baking pan.
Sprinkle the chocolate baking bar pieces onto the top of the batter.

Bake fro 45-55 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool for at least ten minutes before serving.

Sprinkle walnuts over top.
Top with warm glossy chocolate sauce for an added chocolate kick:

In a small saucepan, heat 1 1/2 cups light corn syrup with three ounces unsweetened baking chocolate.
Heat on low until chocolate is melted. stir in 3/4 teaspoon vanilla.

Fresh red raspberries make a wonderful garnish for this fantastic cake!

The Heaviness of Being Successful

2011-10-07T08:15:00.000-04:00

In the labyrinth of information technology, I tend to walk a circular path. I walk around the familiar hang-outs, the ones we all love. Sometimes a scrap of information from the living, breathing outside world finds me by complete accident.

Like the fact that Steve Jobs has just died of pancreatic cancer. I was listening to the radio on the way to the post office when I heard his voice for the first time. He was hours dead, yet living on in the recorded version of his 2005 commencement speech at Stanford. The words he spoke and the soft tone of voice had me sitting up straight, listening like a hunting dog in the field. After the audio clip had ended, an annoying commercial attempted to distract me but I was focused on committing to memory the words from that speech. The ad kept chattering on and I asked myself why I was still listening to noise and clicked the dial off. As I walked into the post office with several packages, the words were already starting to drift away. But I remembered the name: Steve Jobs. I made a mental note to look this guy up.

It's okay to laugh at me now....as I admit that I did not know who Steve Jobs was. I fail completely at keeping track of who's who. Of course I've heard the name before, but did not connect the name and the brand for which he is known. If his name was Steve Macintosh then it would have been easier.

I've never owned a Mac. I don't have and iPhone. I'm largely ignorant of all the fantastic things these inventions are capable of. Steve Jobs is obviously a stellar individual to bring so many changes to our world. That day in the car, it felt like he was speaking directly to me when he said,

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

And then at home, when I looked up the text version, I uncovered these beautiful, thought provoking gems:

"I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life."

"And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle."

This thought suddenly helps me to forgive my past...all the jobs I've tried and left seem more like a brave, experimental period in my life. The truth is, I'm still experimenting. It's difficult and challenging because I've started from scratch and have to take baby steps in everything. Yet being a beginner is truly freeing. I'm celebrating this creative period in my life. The freedom to work with my hands and my heart. It probably won't change the world but the truth is I act on my heart and intuition every day.

The Ben's Bells Project

2011-09-28T17:38:00.002-04:00

Hi Friends,
Thank you for understanding during my recent writing slump. I chuckled at the comments from my last post because while I said that I felt I had become boring, you said that my post was "interesting." Not one of you said, yeah, right! Boring as dirt! So, thank you for being such good blogging friends.
Today I took Elliot out for a science lesson. It turned out to be one of the best homeschooling days we've had so far this year. And we've had lots of very good days together. Today was good because while we were free and in the wild out in the woods, searching for animal tracks to make plaster impressions of, my sweet boy said "I love homeschool, Mom."

I told him that I loved it too. Especially because we were doing this together, as a family. And because on beautiful sunny days we get to go outdoors for our learning. And although the purpose was for Elliot to learn something new, it was actually me that got a lesson. I learned that random acts of kindness really do happen. As we made our way to the lake, I found this hanging from a branch:

Attached to this beautiful, handmade wind chime is this note: "You have found a Ben's Bell. Take it home, hang it in your yard, and remember to spread kindness throughout our world. Remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end." At the end of the note there is a web address, which you can visit by clicking here.

In case you haven't extra time to visit the Ben's Bells Project, I will share that I was deeply touched by the story behind these chimes. Two loving parents lost their three year old son Ben...and when this happened they wanted to die too. But because they also had another son, they had to go on living. They chose to do something positive in their grief. They began making these beautiful gifts and hanging them around their city of Tucson, Arizona.

The message and the kindness and the bells are spreading. I feel very lucky to have received this gift. I am now committed to carrying that message and that kindness outward in some way. I'm not sure how this will happen, but I'm certain to be more aware of ways that kindness can be shared between perfect strangers. I think there's a difference in being kind to our family and friends..it's a given and it's expected...but to be kind to unseen strangers, when no one is around to see it...that is very special.

I have to say that being gifted melted away the last residues of my blue and boring feeling. I suddenly feel excited and happy again. It's amazing to me how really small things do make a big difference.

Have you ever been in a financial pinch? Well, that's been a familiar feeling for me as an independently employed person. But I'm finding new ways to "see" how really I'm completely blessed with abundance.

Another "gift" I recently received came to me after I committed to teaching the writer's/illustrators class. The first session is quickly approaching but I feel like I'm in a holding pattern. I've often been worried that no one will show up, and so far there are no students. While browsing our local Goodwill, I discovered a brand new, still in the plastic, block of 100 percent cotton cold pressed watercolor paper from France. This stuff sells for $65.00 at our local art store. I paid 2.99 plus tax. There's really no explanation for why I was there that day...but my intuition tells me that the discovery of this paper is a sign to have faith.

And so I'm feeling "full to busted" with the generosity of unseen people. It's helping so much to restore my sense of purpose and joy. I hope that your days are happy and full of this good feeling too.

Sunday Afternoon Eternity

2011-09-25T19:13:00.001-04:00

Here's a confession: I feel boring. Not bored, mind you-- but boring. Not only boring, but low. Down low. Singing the blues low. Low and hollow at the same time.

I once wrote of this irony: the perfect and happy images that people send out into the world have unexpected effects. Many times, instead of inspiring people, it brings them down. We like to compare and this is a problem.

I'm not down because of my friend's good fortunes or happiness. I'm down because, well, it's difficult to explain. And I know you are not my counselors or mental health professionals.

One of my favorite people, Patch Adams, once said "mental health professionals would be out of work if everyone had at least one good friend." And I have many, many good friends.

But still it exists, this sense of boring that is close to pathos. It has been raining here for several days in a row. I know I need to go outside and embrace the damp. Take a long hike. Ride my bike. Plant some flowers.

So maybe I'll do that tomorrow. Today is passing into night. I've done the laundry, fixed a meal. I've called my family and even had two lovely conversations with Emily.

Perhaps this all comes from forgetting how much I have to be thankful for. I'm not sure.

Remember being a child on a Sunday afternoon, when everyone went to church and had a big meal? Then the adults would take long naps and everything was quiet? Sunday afternoons wore on like a peaceful eternity. It would have been nice except for that hollow feeling. The feeling you get when you are intensely homesick.
I'm familiar with meditative practices that teach how to empty ourselves in order to receive. I'm feeling this today.

In these small moments when things just take on a feeling of empty, I wonder if I'm being prepared for something. I should be thankful because boring is a quality that's better than "dangerous" or "evil" or "risky." I'm a slow train clacking through the open fields...wishing I was a plane.

Saturday Scraps

2011-09-24T07:46:00.001-04:00


Saturday Scraps is a Blog Hop! Play along today by adding your link at the end of this post.

Good Morning Friends! I'm up a little later than I wanted to be, but that's because we were out late last night. One of the "scraps" I have to share today is about that experience. At this time in our lives, we don't often take time or use much of our budget for entertainment. So when we do something together as a family, we hope that the activity appeals to all of us. Often, that means either a special dinner out or a movie. Last night, we went to the late night showing of Dolphin Tale.

This movie rocked my heart with a story of loss, reclamation and love that beats anything I've seen in years. Perhaps it has effected me deeply because I am a mom to a growing boy who dreams of one day being a wildlife biologist, a boy who struggled in regular school. More than that, I think I loved it because it engaged me on several levels. There were stories within stories, layers of interwoven human experiences that will ensure it's mass appeal. And since this post is about "scraps" I'm not going to tell anymore about it...but if you happen to find yourself in line to buy tickets at the theater, this one...this one...this one!

I also would like to share that I'm officially in contract with our local YMCA and will begin teaching my first eight week course called the "Home School Writer/Illustrator Workshop." On Thursday the director shared that the course is now advertised on their electronic marquee, posted in key areas by the locker rooms and at the info Kiosk.

I am nervous about teaching. Underneath my excitement, I avoid purchasing supplies, secretly convinced that no one will sign up. On the other hand, I think for once I am following a part of God's plan for me, and not exclusively "my" plan for me.

Last, I'm having a very busy surge of activity in the shop. Most everything has been fine, except for two recent experiences with individuals. I'm a little shocked to be reminded of the viciousness of some people. The artist part of me is very sensitive and easily moved to tears by these frustrations. However, I'm getting stronger and more able to cope with disappointment and also to stand up for myself without fear.

I hope you've had a wonderful week, full of love and adventure.

Growing Frogs, little boys and me

2011-09-21T21:14:00.002-04:00

It was a warm and rainy day here today, and Elliot had just finished the last of his school work. He ran out to play and not long afterwards I heard squeals of excitement and was shocked to find him holding this enormous frog. Since we put in the little pond in the back, we've had regular visitors of frogs and birds. I've suspected that some of the frogs simply decided to stay as I've heard them making little chirping noises from time to time as I pass.

In the spring, Elliot found this tiny fellow that was no bigger than his six year old fingers.

Then, over the summer, he turned seven. And the frogs must have been growing too.

Time is passing. It's become better for me lately. This awareness of change going on while I stay at home working and teaching. Just now I've come back from reading the most beautiful interview on NPR with one of my favorite writer/illustrators, Maurice Sendak. Here are a few quotes that I connected with on a very deep level:

"Those two lines are essential. 'I'll never be 10' touches me deeply but I won't pretend that I know exactly what it means," says Sendak. "When I thought of it, I was so happy I thought of it. It came to me, which is what the creative act is all about. Things come to you without you necessarily knowing what they mean. (I'll never be 10" is a line from his latest book Bumble-ardy).

The creative act being something that comes to you is dead on. I didn't spend my life thinking up things to do. They just come to me, and for some reason I've decided to take those gifts and do something with them, instead of dreaming at the windowsill.

I might not be very talented or skilled in those areas but that is why I think they are gifts. Because God knows how much I love to be challenged and to learn.

Sendak went on to say,

"When I did Bumble-ardy, I was so intensely aware of death," he says. "Eugene, my friend and partner, was dying here in the house when I did Bumble-ardy. I did Bumble-ardy to save myself. I did not want to die with him. I wanted to live as any human being does."

When the idea for my business came to me, my father was dying of cancer. I had been spending the month of October with him. Elliot was with me too. We were all sad. I came home needing to fill the void with something hopeful because at that time, there just was no hope except for his release from this life.

And this last thought helped me to think differently about the way I've been working on the development of the shop and it's marketing.

"I feel like I'm working for myself at this point. If it's publishable, fine. If not, it makes not too much difference. Because I claim that this time is for me and me alone. I'm 83 years old."
"I'm writing a poem right now about a nose. I've always wanted to write a poem about a nose. But it's a ludicrous subject. That's why, when I was younger, I was afraid of [writing] something that didn't make a lot of sense. But now I'm not. I have nothing to worry about. It doesn't matter."

As an inventor of something new, I often feel that I'm working with "a ludicrous subject." But thank goodness I am reading Sendak's feelings about work now, while I am somewhat young. I would love to be able to really feel it deep down that I truly work for myself. That if what I make is sellable, fine. If not, it makes not too much difference. Because I want to claim that this time is for me and me alone.

I get so many request for different things from my customers that suddenly the original plan has gone from something new and original to something that people are familiar with. I feel like it's become more of a costume shop than a shop for little ones who simply like to pretend every day. The basic simplicity has gone out of it. And while I'm amazed at how I was able to diversify and stretch my self taught, bumbling skills, there is a part of me that just wants things the way I want them and if they sell or not, so what. I have done my best and will continue to do my best with that thing that just came to me...that gift of an idea.

I seriously hope that Sendak publishes his work on the ludicrous subject of a nose. I will order a brand new copy and keep it forever on my desk.

Knees and Paws first TV commercial Bloopers

2011-09-20T20:14:00.002-04:00

Hi Friends,
Here's our first made for tv commercial, care of my brother Ken LaRock. This is the outtakes version which is a series of bloopers. The little white dog was originally not invited to participate, which I now see as a shame. So, Mom, if you are reading today, this is dedicated to the memory of your wonderful companion Snowball. We still miss him so much!

Projects, Purpose and a New Me

2011-09-20T08:51:00.003-04:00

I am different. I have changed. On a daily basis I don't easily recognize this, but I am very different from who I once was. No one can really tell this by looking at me. I'm generally the same on the outside besides gaining a few more pounds, gray hair and more lines on my face. I am different because I have a new purpose.
There have been many times when I've questioned my decision to write a patent application and begin an independent adventure. Looking back, it was a leap into an unknown void, taken at a point in life when internally I felt my options for a successful career would never materialize. It was a lonely, scary shot in the dark.
I am not earning a wage or paying bills yet. And the products are continually changing. Once I was certain that slip on knee pads combined with paws would be a hit with kids who love to pretend. Now I've loosened my conviction about that and expanded into other areas.

I recently had an experience which stands out as a flag marking my divergent path. I was suddenly left with 2 hours to myself while Elliot was at a birthday party.
I was expecting to stay, but on arrival realized that at big kid parties, the parents disappear. So I went shopping in some of the retail stores in the area, completely aimless.
There was nothing that I wanted.
So many items in these stores came from China.
I had no reason to be meandering through the aisles. And that bothered me.
At one time, I used to fill hours with that shopping/browsing activity with no purpose. It didn't seem to bother me then, but it does now. Now when I go out, I'm searching for something that I need.
There is a new urgency to be frugal. To maximize time and finances. To find quality items that are useful.

I felt irritated that I was wasting time.

Projects with long scopes are important for our development. I wish I had known this from a younger age. Projects without an endpoint or a concrete plan are also vital for expanding our lives. They teach us to be open to new people and experiences along the way.
They challenge us to learn new skill sets and ask more questions. To reflect and to practice imagination.

Any activity that results in the combination of love, work and play is vital for feeling energetic, useful and expansive.
In your life, were there times when you clearly recognized a change within? Did it happen as a result of a big event or something more stubtle?

Saturday Scraps

2011-09-17T23:04:00.002-04:00

Saturday Scraps with Knees and Paws

In order to participate, copy the code in my right sidebar and post it somewhere in the body of your post titled "Saturday Scraps" Then add your post to this blog hop by clicking on the "add your link" button at the end.

Hi friends! Today I'm introducing the first Knees and Paws Meme: The Saturday Scraps is a writing and/ or photography prompt designed to celebrate process, fragmentation ad friendship.

(yes, I'm aware that today is Sunday, but maybe instead of being a day late, I'm actually posting six days early!)

This post is actually a preliminary test. I welcome your thoughts and ideas and would love to include your suggestions in the first "real" Saturday Scraps blog hopping meme.

The inspiration for this meme is taken from my observation of a master storyteller when he taught his craft to a small group of writers. He said,

"if a writer is like a quilter, his second job is to put all the scraps together. If that's the second thing to do, what is the first?

And the group answered "gather all the scraps."

Quilts cannot be made without scraps...and in linking our scraps together we may start to see the beginning of a blogging friendship quilt.

I have an abundance of scraps: fabric scraps, plush scraps and paper scraps. Any kind of scrap that I can collage with will find it's way into my work zone.

I also have plenty of memory and information scraps. And I'm interested in those scraps too.

Like the following stuff of life scrap: over the weekend I had and argument with Richard.

After which I was suddenly left with the house to myself for several hours.

And I'm reminded of the wisdom of Fred Rogers when he said

"Love isn't a perfect state of caring. It is an active noun like struggle."

He also said,

"Anger makes us feel so isolated."

So, although I was gifted with a few hours of solitude, I comforted myself by catching up on sold items. Yesterday was a milestone for Knees and Paws. We had our 100th sale. It was the Lemur Tail and it's going to someone in Los Angeles California. (How exciting is that? Maybe it will find it's way into a film!)

To celebrate, I spent some time making a few things for myself.

Our kitchen renovation is a decimal point away from being completed, so I felt inspired to sew a tablecloth, napkins and place mats for our dining space. In the first phase of remodeling, I used a picture of a kitchen with brick walls as the inspiration for all the color choices. The colors we used are dark green, rich mahogany brown, and white with copper accents. We also have a beautiful wrought iron pot rack that our neighbor Tom made in his workshop. Hanging above the table is a wrought iron light fixture. The brick that I loved in the picture never became a reality...until I discovered a large scrap of fabric with a brick pattern. This is what I used to make the tablecloth and napkins.

Remember the antique baker's table we found at the salvage shop? Richard created a new top for it and conditioned all the wood to bring out the color.

Here's what we started our renovation project with...the rubble of wood scraps.

And a century old baker's table that fits my height requirement.

After ^^^^

Before

I was so excited about having a new kitchen, I wanted to spend the rest of the evening at our table. So I lit some candles and started a new watercolor painting. The inspiration for this work was taken from a photograph on Driftwood Rambling's Blog. Desiree's adventures in South Africa leave me with a longing to visit this beautiful part of our world.

I started with a simple sketch.

Then I tested the colors by making a "rough draft" painting.

And then working with a larger sheet of water color paper, I attempted to put less pressure on the brush and let the colors drop and meld together for the final...

To see the real photograph that inspired this painting, click here.

Do you have scraps to share? I'd love to read your thoughts and stories.

Are you hot or cool?

2011-09-16T07:38:00.001-04:00

As time goes forward, I'm finding that my interest in a variety of topics is expanding. One topic that I've always loved to read about are theoretical discussions about human development, learning theories and play as a scientific discourse. As my business and faith in this journey grows, I've yet to find the book that explains why I am so compelled to invent and market my handmade children's products. Until now.

As a college student, my art teacher handed out a packet of learning theory and told us it was the course "bible." Nearly everything we learned had a meaning that could be drawn from that work. If Knees and Paws has a bible besides the Christian Bible, it is David Elkin's The Power of Play.

I was particularly interested in the following explanation of the impact that media has on children, but I realized that all people might relate to this (so I'm sharing it today). Elkin references the work of media mavin Marshal McLuhan who explains the spectrum of media as hot to cold:

         Any hot medium allows of less participation than a cool one. As a lecture allows for less participation than a seminar, and a book for less than dialogue...high definition or intensity engenders specialization and fragmentation in living as in entertainment, which explains why any intense experience bus be "forgotten" or "censored" before it can be learned or assimilated.

From that springboard, Elkin further explains,

     With respect to content, high-definition, high-intensity, "hot" content is more fully engaging but demands less viewer participation than does low-definition, low-intensity, "cool" content..presentations that are stimulating, visually arresting, and passivity inducing are at the hot and end of the spectrum. Presentations that are slow paced, quiet, and visually interesting are on the cool, activity inducing side of the spectrum.

So, what does this mean for people like me? Well, it explains quite a lot about who I am. I guess it's now a scientific fact that I'm cool! I love cool media...the low intense kind. For example, it is uncomfortable for me to go to the movies and watch Transformers because of the intense action. People who like hot media loved it, while those who like cool media would not.

It's an interesting personal discovery to understand that I am attracted to cool media such as watercolor paintings, children's books and television with cool content such as Little Bear or Milne's Winne the Pooh, or lovely pastoral themes in movies such as Fly Away Home.

This concept also explains why I believe in Knees and Paws. They are playthings that promote imaginary play that exists away from media and screens. They are accessories to play that can be used to "weave a story tapestry of the child's own invention."

If you're still with me, thanks for sticking it out. I wanted to share this information to explain how I'm expanding my inner courage and potential on this journey of creating work from scratch.

And so I'm off to school at here at home (in the next room)...but I wanted to ask this question: Are you hot or cool?

It's the climb!

2011-09-15T08:59:00.002-04:00

You Were With Me All Along

2011-09-14T12:27:00.002-04:00

Hi Friends,
Just a quick note to say that I'm behind on my commenting but will visit as soon as possible. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments this past week. I'm happy to say that I've finally figured out this new interface. In order to see what you've written I have to click on "awaiting moderation" Imagine my delight at opening that today and seeing 27 of your thoughtful comments! It makes the sun shine brighter today.

Fabric Store Clerks

2011-09-14T08:19:00.001-04:00

Several years ago I worked behind the checkout counter in an outdoor gazebo selling blooming plants and garden supplies. The owners of this garden center instructed all of their employees in exceptional customer relations--- believing that people are more important than the bottom line. They taught us that it was more important to make a friendly connection than to enter the numbers correctly on the cash register. We were taught to greet the customer with kindness and offer help whenever needed. This included customers who called the shop with ordinary questions. If you were ever caught being negative to a customer the result was dismissal. This was sometimes challenging if there happened to be a rush on seasonal plants and a long line of hot, impatient people. I loved this work, being outdoors, engaging with people, watering and growing crops of new flowers. It was challenging to learn the latin names of plants, shrubs and trees and also extremely physically demanding. There were days of unloading trucks filled with heavy potted trees, 50 lb bags of mulch and manure. It made me athletic and energized and happy.
       Since that experience I have retained the habit treating all people with the same positive, friendly attitude. No matter if they are a customer with money to spend in my shop, or if I am a customer with money to spend in the fabric store.
       It is a consequence of fussiness, perfection, and poor customer relations training that the ladies who cut fabric for me do not return my sunshine. In the script of my life, they are characters I've come to love for the entertaining and predictable response I get every time I lay a bolt of faux fur or novelty fleece or cushy plush on the table.
     Now, one would think that people who work in fabric stores have a very easy job due to the simplicity of their tasks. The main requirement of a fabric store clerk is to be able to use scissors. One doesn't even have to cut a perfectly straight line, because the raised metal strips on the long tables act as a guide.
    It's probably to my financial advantage that I dread going to stock up on my supplies. Less trips across town save gas and help me to maintain a low overhead. One day, I will be able to order everything in big fat bolts online without having to scrimp on fractions of yards of the most wonderful furry stuff....but until then,
I stand and wait for the arrows that fly my way...

    "This stuff is messy"

     "Phew! it goes every where"

Then they stand there brushing themselves off in a huffy sort of way, sometimes bringing out a duster to collect fibers, swishing it in arrogant strokes like a mother cleaning up her children's mess.

It used to bother me that just by laying down a bolt of fabric, I had the power to turn someone into a grump.

Now I just laugh inside and stand there in complete silence. I never feel the need to apologize for their discomfort.

Now, this happens every time, no matter what, at both fabric stores in my city. At the one furthest away with the best prices, there is a short elderly woman who looks just like the smoking dead lady in Beetlejuice.
She is positively wizened, with a little hump on her back and a raspy voice. She wears large frames with thick lenses to magnify her round, popped out eyes.   She's my favorite and I love her...that's not sarcasm I promise. If you knew her you'd love her too. Once I brought Richard to help me shop and he charmed her. In fact the only way I get past the fabric table with kindness is if I take him with me. Those women would cut the hide of a dead rhinocerous without complaint as long as he keeps chatting to them and smiling.
Yesterday I didn't have my handsome man with me and had to face it alone. And guess who was there...my favorite character of all.

And when I plopped that bolt of long black faux fur on the table, with no restraint, she said

"I HATE this stuff. What a mess. Do you wear contacts? Don't wear contacts when you're working with this stuff. YOU"LL SCRATCH YOUR EYEBALLS OUT!"

Which reminded me of A Christmas Story when the department store Santa tells Ralphie "you'll shoot your eye out kid!"

And today, with both of my eyes unscratched, I sit here writing and chuckling, excited about the season that brings the parents and grandparents of children to Knees and Paws, searching for items that they won't find at Walmart.   Like this Ring Tailed Lemur Tail that I made with black and white faux fur.

***To my wonderful customers, I assure you that once the fabric is sewn together there is little or no shedding...it's only when it must be cut that the fibers are loosened.

Life is motion

2011-09-12T23:37:00.003-04:00

I'm not sure what's wrong but I seem to have lost my writing bug. We are having the most wonderful weather and it fills me with the urge to do everything I want to do all at the same time. I want to work in the yard, mowing, planting new flowers and setting up a little birding garden. I want to keep adding new and unusual things in the Etsy shop. I want to clean the house from top to bottom and to spend those first four hours of everyday in our classroom. I want to ride my bike and run three miles and start making plans for Christmas. I'm not sure where all of this energy and time is going to come from but while attempting to do all of these things I must make time to practice my lessons for the writer's workshop.

I spent such a heavy-hearted weekend watching the 9/11 memorial coverage that I woke up today with the continued awareness that life is so short. Busy activity seems to cover up the fact that someday I'm going to die. I keep working to ignore that we all have to do this one. last. thing.

And try not to be too sad about it.

But watching the families grieve and the nation come together to remember was something that I'm still carrying in my heart.

Living in motion, feeling the pause...

You know you're having fun when your hands are dirty!

2011-09-11T18:08:00.004-04:00

"You know you're having fun when your hands are dirty" said Elliot, while making a mud lake in the space that used to be the garden.

Later, he holds up a fat white grub between his forefinger and thumb for me to examine.

"I think I found a grug. Does daddy know what these things are?"

"Yes, and so do I. You found a very nice sized grub."

"Can you eat grubs?" He asks, while thrusting the creature towards my nose.

"Yes, but only if you're starving. We don't eat grubs around here."

"How about fried?"

"No, Elliot, we are not going to eat that grub. He's very good for the garden."

"I think he's dead. Wouldn't it be okay to eat him if he's dead?"

"Elliot, I'm not hungry for a grub and if you keep insisting on this, please take it up with daddy."

Now, I know I'm in trouble when I say this because Richard is an extreme survivalist. He could live in the wild, and has in the past, with very little provisions and a few simple tools. He plans to teach Elliot how to find edible things in nature. Which can be dangerous, especially when foraging for mushrooms.

I realize that this is a wonderful skill to have. Especially since we love to take Elliot hiking. But thank you God, for the daily BREAD.

A New Discipline

2011-09-10T00:05:00.003-04:00

A few weeks before my father died, I was blessed with one last good phone conversation on his birthday. I remember his voice saying "discipline is a routine that comes to feel natural." I was struck by it then because I had never thought of the word discipline in that way before. Until that time I associated discipline with authoritarian, corporal punishment which usually came with a heap of shame. This conversation with my father was a gift in many ways, but especially because I now have a new way of developing my potential. Through practicing challenging tasks until they come to feel like an ability I've always had, my life is taking on new shapes and internal comforts. Developing new disciplines also helps me to set and keep a routine, which I find helpful as I'm independently employed. The artist side of me usually resists routine, because it wants fresh images and experiences. Yet since keeping a new routine of writing three long hand pages per day of a "morning pages" journal, I'm creating more.

This week, we started a new routine of going back to school, while also signing Elliot up for Tae Kwon Do. For those of you who remember that I'm a peace loving Quaker, I've decided to let my personal philosophy be something that I arrived at...while allowing Elliot to enjoy the discovery of his own beliefs. The new discipline of his class has been a great blessing for us. Two days ago, his master gave him a bright and shiny new uniform with his first white belt. Elliot is thrilled with it, and has already made a new friend who instantly engaged me after class with a request for a play date.

Elliot acts taller in his new uniform and walks with a big-kid brand of confidence.

And while he's in class learning his first basic forms, I've gone back to running on the treadmill. Writing and teaching, not to mention blogging and sewing....sometimes comes with an ever expanding stomach! So it's a great feeling to run again. When I first started running over ten years ago, I was only able to run for five minutes. Since then I've been strong enough to keep going for over an hour and I know that if I really want to, there will be even longer runs in my future.

So if you have something that you've always wanted to do, think of developing that new discipline no matter that the first steps are wobbly and awkward. Soon you will fly!

Generous Gifts

2011-09-09T10:44:00.002-04:00

Yesterday a package arrived from my friends Odie and Linda from The Simple Life. I was surprised and delighted when I opened the heavy box. Inside appeared item after item of thoughtful gifts, from a collection of the most heavenly smelling scents, a fall delicacy fit for company, lovely notepads and energy boosting vitamins. Elliot loved the Crazerasers, especially because they are like little toys he can also use as school supplies. He used to be dismayed about making mistakes in his spelling, but now he's having fun erasing errors with a barn and a tractor. Receiving this box of love made me realize how generosity grows from receiving. I realized that I have not been as generous as I could be with my family and friends. Receiving instilled a sense of gratitude, a mind set of abundance and propelled me into thinking more about generosity. With all the negative talk about a devastated economy, I think I've developed the habit of walking around with tightly clenched fists, just trying to hold on. Perhaps I've been like Ebeneezer Scrooge.

So today I want to send a big thank you to Odie and Linda for hosting the giveaway and for being so thoughtful. Many of you who visit me here also know and love them too.

In other news, I have received the official contract for the writer and illustrator workshop for homeschoolers and will meet with the director to sign my name on the dotted line! I can't believe this is real. Also, things are picking up in the etsy shop, as it is the season for costumes. I hope to keep all of these different activities in balance and still make time to breathe, to love, to absorb life going on and the change of seasons. The woods and parks are calling to me from my window, with gentle temperatures and dappled sunlight.

The One Inch Picture Frame

2011-09-07T07:26:00.000-04:00

Wow, I have a lot of catching up to do! It's been a week since I last posted but it feels like a month. I've missed everyone so much. Part of the delay was caused by my ignorance of the new blogger thingamadoodle...I did not understand how to find comments or see posts in the reader. Today is the first time that I've been able to see that you have visited. Thank you so much for all the kind things you continually say. Honestly I cried today, just now, while pressing the "publish" button. That sounds so sentimental and sappy, but it's true. I'm here sniffling and smiling because I have such awesome blogging friends.

Yesterday we went back to school. During the first hours I had surges, tidal waves of insecurity about teaching homeschool. I wondered if this journey is a completely arrogant decision. How do I dare to believe that I can provide a solid education that's not based on whimsy and intuition? I actually felt weak, afraid and nervous. I felt these waves of doubt despite the fact that I've discovered a wonderful curriculum that meets and exceeds national standards. Never mind that this year we spent time creating a beautiful classroom with a chalkboard that I made, a classroom with maps of the world, a room with a big table and a science lab, a room with colorful lanterns that hang from the ceiling. It's a happy space with a cat and a dog to keep us company. Despite being prepared and planning for a good year, I kept wondering about this one question: if Elliot doesn't thrive and learn with my guidance then what? I could send him back to regular school but I don't want to just yet. I kept thinking about the whole long journey of school, from kindergarten to senior year. It was too much.

I was not thinking about the one inch picture frame.

In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott writes about a tool she uses for wriggling out of writer's block. She keeps an empty one inch picture frame on her desk. When she glances at this prop, she remembers that to get started she only needs to fill a once inch frame. She can go forward with the writing of her stories and books just by filling this one inch frame with a character description, or a scene in a park. The important thing is that she begin the actual writing.

And so today as we go back into our classroom I'm going to remember to teach this way. A single one inch picture frame at a time. We will examine small things closely, together...and take our time. There are so many words to learn to spell but we will do them one at a time. No need to worry if it takes all year.

I am also about to have some very good news about the writer/illustrator workshop. To this date there is a contract being drafted with my name on it. I'm very excited but am trying not to act like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Back To School

2011-09-01T07:21:00.000-04:00

It's almost back to school for Elliot and I...here's a picture we took at REI while we were trying on backpacks for our AT Hike. I love his sweet kindergarten smile. When we buy backpacks for our son, it's not to send him away on the bus, but to take him on a hike! That's why we've named our homeschool "Learning Free and In the Wild."

I'm not political or funny

2011-08-29T08:15:00.000-04:00

Please bear with me today. It's Monday. I've missed a few hours of sleep but it was worth it. Last night we stayed up watching Date Night with Tina Fey and Steve Carrell. I rented it because on occasion, people who I meet suggest that I bear a resemblance to Tina Fey. Please excuse me for living under a rock, but I have never seen a full episode of 30 Rock. I did manage to see one of Fey's Sara Palin skits on SNL. I love her wit, her funny northern accent and the way she works with randomness. Like Robin Williams (but not quite as outrageous), she slips in and out of alternate "voices" and inserts odd, random ideas and images into the flow of conversation.
Her comedy is like soup with unexpected flavors. She's alternately a boring potato and a red hot chili pepper.
When people mention that I look like Tina Fey, I'm glad it's the Tina version and not the Sara Palin version (thank God my hair is no longer big and I dumped the wire rims!)

When people say "you look just like Tina Fey" I say "It's too bad, because I'm not political or funny."

But sometimes I can be a little of both. Unfortunately I haven't figured out how to write funny here on the blog. Here I seem to work with insights and memory, not comedy. I remember a time when my words brought an audience to a sustained, rolling laughter. It was a powerful experience.

Like the time when I felt called to deliver a message during Meeting For Worship. Those of you who have never attended a Quaker Meeting should know that during silent worship, the Holy Spirit sometimes prompts a person to stand up and speak to all who are gathered. The prompting feels like an electric current through the heart, and the more resistant one becomes to standing up, the more current one feels. To resist is to experience a feeling like one's heart will burst, it pounds so hard. Hence the term "quaker." Officially, the name for those who gather in this way are participating in The Religious Society of Friends.
In any case, I was new to our Meeting for Worship and the topic was about faith and stubbornness.

At the word stubborn, my heart felt fluttery. I was afraid to stand up, and after much resistance I popped up from my seat and began to say "I connect with this idea of stubbornness. In fact, I am 37 years old, and for the first time in my life I understand that the name "Jenny" is the southern name for a female donkey."
After a great pause, the congregation laughed. The laughter paused and I stood there. Then they laughed again, louder, with more voices joining in. This went on through another pause. I'm not sure what I said after that. I think it was something about my bull headed determination and my holding on to things that I should let go. Later, someone spoke to that message saying that being stubborn is sometimes a very good quality.

So I am not funny on a regular basis, but I think I could learn to see myself and my habits in a more humorous light. My life is funny in it's own private way. If you could see what I look like before I sit here in the morning, and what goes on thirty minutes before I stick my fingers to the keyboard, you might wonder if I was Rowan Atkinson's sister (Mr. Bean).

My life is comedy of the physical sort. It's getting up at 6:00 am and trying to get through three long-hand pages of stream of consciousness journalling while the dog and cat alternately interrupt this process with food and bathroom needs. In between my service to them, I try to manage filling the coffee pot and toast a slice of bread. I sit down for a moment only to stand up again with the prodding of a doggie nose or the sight of the cat rapidly pawing the window as if she could rub a hole through the glass.

It is a life that is as boring as a potato, but sometimes as exciting as a red hot chilli pepper.

Family Date Night

2011-08-28T08:02:00.001-04:00

Hi Friends! I'm up this morning with happy memories of a full yet relaxing weekend at home. Hurricane Irene has left North Carolina, and while I worried about the people and the beautiful beaches of the Outer Banks, the hurricane did not directly affect us. We only had a few drops of rain and some wind. For all who are affected, we are praying for safety and recovery.

Here are a few photos of our evening at the ball park. The night air was warm and breezy, perfect for lounging on a blanket in the grass.


Downtown Greensboro is one of my favorite places. I love the happy vibe of people and traffic, historic buildings, culture, events and especially this beautiful ball park.

Elliot was the smallest boy in his preschool and kindergarten classes (also the youngest). This year he grew like a beanstalk on miracle grow.


The game went into extra innings, and we were too tired to stay until the very end.

Ozzie and Me

2011-08-25T08:07:00.001-04:00

It's all John Grogan's fault. If he hadn't written Marley and Me, this place would still be a one cat household. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. I grew up with dogs, dogs as house pets and dogs that were my father's hunting companions. Then, several weeks after moving in to our house, I was viciously attacked by a neighbor's dog. This attack happened in the presence of the owner of the dog and several other people. When the dog attacked my behind, puncturing it nine times, the neighbor's other five dogs formed a circle around me, barking loudly. I felt that they had formed a pack mentality and would drag me down and tear me to shreds. The owner of the dog remained seated in her lawn chair during this dramatic event, either too afraid to act or characteristically evil and malicious. (Now that she is a TSA official I have a tendency to think she's not only afraid, but evil too...)

Thankfully, the man next door (who's residence I was visiting) grabbed the attacking dog by the neck and threw it over the fence. The remaining dogs disbanded at this action.

I ran home, in rage and in tears. My in laws were visiting us for the first time in our new home. My father in law was a Catholic Deacon. To my great shame, I released a spew of swear words to make a sailor blush. The attack was vicious and the circumstances frightening...but in stead of crying, I seethed rage. HOW dare they keep a dog like that? If my son (who was then one) had been there with me he would have probably been killed.
In fact, the reason for my visit that day was to make them aware that during the day, the dog would come to the fence and harass us with barking, biting the fence and shaking it so hard that the caps on the posts fell off. He would do this regularly whenever we went into our yard or when I would hang laundry on the line.

I suppose he had been warning me. But I was invited by the neighbors to come over that day, and saw my opportunity to kindly make them aware of the situation.

After my wonderful in laws and my husband got the full story, I went upstairs to assess the damage. Already large bruises were forming around the punctures. I went down stairs for ice and to my surprise, found the woman who owned the dog standing in my kitchen.

I'm so sorry to admit this, but in front of my kindly, spiritual and completely loving in laws, I said the f word. Very loud. In fact I might have let it slip several times in my blast of rage.

Later, I was spared shame because it was revealed to us by another neighbor that this dog had attacked or bitten neighbors on five other occasions but no one reported these instances out of some type of fear from the owners, or because the bites did not require medical treatment.

Mine did. And so when I saw my doctor, he said that he would not treat me unless I promised to report the incident to animal control, to which I gladly agreed. The dog was put down and that side of the neighborhood does not speak to me in kindness anymore.

Well, the fake kind of niceties are exchanged if we happen to meet. Sometimes even pacifists have enemies.

Afterwards, I spent the next three years afraid of dogs and their teeth. Can you imagine how I felt hiking with the black bears?
People think I'm unreasonably afraid. Well, it's not that I'm afraid of bears and dogs as creatures, but of the potential harm that they are capable of inflicting.

It got to the point that I would wince if I was taking a walk past a fenced yard and a dog would bark while charging the fence.

It is amazing to me now that I was so afraid for so long. I needed some kind of therapy, and it came in Grogan's bestselling book, Marley and Me.

After loving the book and enjoying the movie, I was able to put away some of my fear. Then, we were blessed with seeing my parent's chocolate lab Bear, who is a gentle giant. Bear helped me to trust the presence of a dog again. When we offered to pet sit while my mother recovered from surgery, the last of my fears melted and I considered myself a recovering dog lover.

Last fall we began a search for the right dog for our family. In my mind I hoped this dog would be medium sized, quiet, obedient and gentle.

My wish came true. Ozzie was born after his mother's human owner had passed away. Ozzie's mom attempted to survive with her pups alone. Unfortunately, all the puppies in this litter contracted Parvo. Ozzie is the only surviving member of his family. What that must have been like for him to watch all of his siblings and his mother die, one after another, with no one to help him....

But he lived, and was eventually rescued. He is afraid of people the way I am afraid of dogs.

He is our steady, loyal companion. A gentle, sweet dog who loves toast, long walks and cuddle time. He likes our cat, Annie and would love to play with her more, and she has gradually come to befriend him.

Two days ago, we took him for a walk and discovered a neighborhood where people gather in the late afternoon to let their dogs play in a common area, free to romp in a clearing, unleashed. These neighbors were kind and invited us to let Ozzie play. After a little while, a boy came out to play with his dog, and suddenly Elliot made a new friend.

I was so delighted with the sight of Ozzie playing with his new friends, and Elliot playing with his new friends, and my husband talking to the neighbors, that I forgot to be afraid of dogs and their teeth.

Letting go

2011-08-22T07:49:00.005-04:00

I had to let her go back. There was no choice. We've been sharing her since the divorce 10 years ago. She'll go back to her dad, and it's okay. But we cried. We cry every time. I hate this for her, the traveling back and forth every summer, every holiday.

One more year of school, and then maybe she'll be here with us, attending college and entering the beginning of her adult working life. I do not know if this will happen, and so I try not to think too far ahead. For now, our house is a little messy but a lot more empty.

So I know what my mother feels. What my father felt.

Enter one of the trickiest words in the English language, the biggest hurdle on my path of faith.

Trust.

Trust is what we must do in order to move forward. I say a little prayer if I'm in a scary traffic situation, or if someone I know is going through a difficult time. I say "angel wings over my love (s)". This helps me to sink into the mindset of trust. I'm saying it now for Emily. That every day, unseen angel wings give protection over my lovely daughter. She has experienced pain and frustration in her young life, along with many happy times and adventures. She's experienced things I never would have imagined for her when I held her as a baby, so small and soft with big beautiful eyes and blond curls. I have to keep trusting that God has given her everything she needs to live a happy life here on earth.

On our last day together, we attended the wedding reception of my friend Sandie and her new husband Danny. The party was hosted by Danny's brother and sister in law, who for many years struggled with debt from law school and life in general. In the evenings, this couple worked on a patent. They had an idea about a collapsible pill. This pill was supposed to help sick pets take their medicine without feeling a round cumbersome pill disguised in a treat. The idea was pure genius...they worked on it at their kitchen table, truly a home made invention. A big company bought the rights to their patent for millions. At the time we received our invitation, we had never met this couple or heard of their story.

We arrived at the party dressed in our best (thankfully I decided to let Emily give me a make over! I even wore my heels). As we stood with our mouths nearly agape at the sheer size of the estate, I worried a little. I hadn't expected the party to be in a grand house with a small party of guests that I barely knew.

But the party was a smashing success, and we all enjoyed ourselves. In fact we were made to feel like a part of the family. Sandie and I were very close friends in school, and those feelings of intimacy, love and respect have survived through nearly twenty years of absence. I was delighted to see her mother and father, her sister, brother and nephews. It was like a family reunion. Their presence put us all at ease. I enjoyed watching my children relax and have fun, swimming in the pool and making new friendships. It was a fantastic event to give closure to our summer with Emily. It was like a happily ever after ending to our time together.

With my heart full of love and happy memories, I return to my work and ordinary daily life. The ordinary actually brings a sense of purpose and calm. It is Monday morning and there is much work to be done. Fall is the busy season for Knees and Paws. I have several sales to ship out today, and more work to do on the Writer's and Illustrator's workshop. The YMCA director has agreed to meet with me about my proposal for a class. I am scheduled to make a presentation on this Thursday. It will be an amazing opportunity to teach a small class of my own creation and I'm nervous and excited at the same time.

Thank you for visiting and for the wonderful comments. I look forward to catching up on your adventures this week!

Life without written words

2011-08-20T08:32:00.000-04:00

Hi Friends,
My week of reading deprivation has come to a close. I'm feeling refreshed and full of life experiences. It was difficult to stop my habit of reading, and at least once I gave in to peek at your comments (thank you for your wonderfulness!)

While away from the world of text, time slowed. I recognized the arrival and release of various emotions. I felt less distracted and enjoyed reconnecting with my husband, children and neighbors.

On Thursday, Richard and I decided to have an adventure downtown. At Cheescakes by Alex, we shared conversation in the fading light, enjoying the sights and sounds of passing traffic and people. At heart, Richard is a philosopher and I get wrapped up in the way his mind unfolds.

It felt like we were in Europe. At a sidewalk cafe, he enjoyed a scone and tea, while I munched on an Italian biscotti and coffee. After our desert, we walked leisurely with hands clasped, under streetlamps, over cobblestones. Passing great old buildings, we found ourselves admiring the marquee at the historic Carolina Theater. We had arrived just in time to catch one of the summer film fest movies. Inside this grand, old theater with huge marble pillars, we were carried to a past era of grand ambition. We sat in the balcony, feeling small in the vast space that was lit with low lights on the side balcony seats. The place conjured images of opera, of live theater and symphony.

We sat enthralled, watching ocean waves and surfers on the screen. The film was Point Break with Keeanau Reeves and Patrick Swayze.

What else could a girl ask for? I've always had this longing to go back in time and meet Richard in our younger lives. Watching an eighties movie helped to make that illusion feel real. Like teenagers, we skipped the boring parts of the movie to explore the theater and found a ball room on the third floor. While the movie played below us, Richard twirled me around the dance floor in the dark. The only light came from frosted glass windows, giving the illusion it was snowing outside.

After the movie ended, we returned home to the kids, all cuddled up and ready for sleep.

Today we are spending the last full day with Emily. Yet we'll share a closing adventure as a family. We have been invited to a wedding reception in Raleigh. We've booked a hotel in our State Capitol. I'm looking forward to wearing my new green dress, to seeing my high school friend and her prince charming.

Last night I dreamed that Elliot boarded the plane with Emily. I ran around the terminal searching for my son. Then, around a corner appeared a security officer, waving. Elliot was running to me, and slammed into me with wide open arms. It was a message to appreciate the child still left to me. That although I must release Emily for a while, Elliot is still here and is feeling this loss too.

We will do it together. Make it though until we are together again.

Filling the last five days

2011-08-15T07:42:00.000-04:00

This is goodbye week for our family, as Emily will fly to Michigan for her senior year of high school. I have intense feelings about this. However, when thinking about all the parents who are sending their teens to college this year, I feel a sense of hope and comfort. I have hope that when the time comes for higher education, we might be having a homecoming instead of a tearful goodbye.

But a year is a long time, and there are many paths to choose. I realize that one day I'll be standing here and they'll both be off living adult lives.

Staying present in the everyday moments is all I can do. The truth is that sometimes I practice avoidance because I feel nagged.

So I'm here and not here and it's okay.

I might have to avoid the blog while we make this transition.   I once read that a good way to prime the artist's well is to go on a reading hiatus and to absorb images and feelings instead of text. The end of summer seems like a good time to experience a week of reading deprivation.

I look forward to reading your posts and comments on my return, because you will be missed!

Travelling Insights

2011-08-13T18:40:00.003-04:00

Once and a while, going away affords new perspectives and inspiring thoughts.

             We have just returned from a lovely camping adventure in Virginia's Fairy Stone Park. While there we enjoyed gentle breezes, sunny skies, a cool fresh water lake, funny stories, laughter, ice cream, hot dogs and toasted marshmallows. On the afternoon of our second day, a group of families with 10 children under age seven arrived. Elliot enjoyed making new friends and sharing the freedom to run, bike and play spies. At night while the orange flames of campfires danced, children wearing headlamps ran giggling through the trees. While viewing this delightful sight of uninhibited joy, I thought they must be magic firefly children.

     Just as we were feeling sleepy, a thunderstorm arrived, bringing gentle rain to douse the fires. Elliot reluctantly came in, anticipating the morning with his new friends. While he slept and we dozed in our sleeping bags, a terrible sound cracked the quiet night with its gently falling rain. A child had fallen into a campfire and burned his hand. We prayed in our tents as he kept wailing in agony. We all felt helpless and sad. After an hour, we wondered why they had not taken the child to ER. In the guise of a trip to the bathroom, we approached the scene. The child was being cared for by two doctors and a nurse who were part of the group. After another hour, they decided that the boy could not be comforted and finally took him to the hospital.
Afterwards the campers next to us complained loudly about a missing flip flop. When I finally fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep, I was awakened by Emily, who said that her side of the tent was under water and could I make room for her on the air mattress. I spent most of the night like a crayon shoved in an overfilled box.

     Today I'm a little sleepy and recovering from our adventure. The neighbor's loud complaint about an insignificant flip flop so soon after after the sound of a child suffering intense pain has stuck in my mind.

I've decided to leave my annoying, neurotic fears and stop complaining about inconsequential things like aging or what to do in my professional life.

     While we were camping, I also felt a new feeling that the universe is friendly. I realized that in the past I have invested a great deal of time imaging that things will be much worse than they actually are.

In that spirit I'm making plans to teach a writer/illustrator workshop for home schooled children at the local YMCA. Once I've made the lesson plans for an eight week course, I plan to reserve a classroom at the Y and to advertise.

As part of the course, students will enter a writing contest that is sponsored by our PBS station, which also hosts an awards ceremony for all participants. This ceremony takes place at Great Wolf Lodge and includes a free admission for the writer and their family to the water park. I have a vision that long after the course is finished and the stories submitted, the children and their families will gather as a group for this event.

I've decided that it's time to teach my first real class and expand what I've begun in our home.

I've also decided to regularly contribute items for the etsy shop. Elliot suggested that we make furry slipper paws. Since he thought of this fantastic idea, I intend to pay him for every set of slippers we sell.

Thank you so much for your recent visits and kind comments. I enjoyed coming home to your happy words of encouragement!

Photo by Elliot Hoppins

Confronting Age Through Self Portraits

2011-08-11T09:21:00.002-04:00

The truth about fear is that it goes away when you confront it. I'm afraid to age. This is one of my secret anxieties. There are three things that help me to walk on this path of growing older. The first is to take a walk or a run every day. The second is to occasionally take pictures of myself without make up. The third is to keep moving forward with my decision not to color my hair. Recently I was introduced to a young woman who had made this choice. Her decision to go gray and to be her natural, authentic self had the effect of highlighting her youthful, happy face. Instead of having young looking hair with an older face, the old looking hair made a stunning contrast to a young face.

So in order not to be afraid of growing older, I'm going to share a few of the self portraits I took this month. They are unedited and taken in the morning light on my back porch.

Your Back Stage Pass

2011-08-09T07:46:00.001-04:00

Anxiety. Stage fright. The proper word for "worry." Not quite fear or paranoia, but the little nagging feeling that you're going to be judged by something or someone with power, that this judgement will be negative, and that your work is substandard and weak. It doesn't matter that you actually enjoyed the process of the work, the outcome may in truth be absolute junk.

Don't believe it. If you take care of the quantity, God will take care of the quality. Think about that for a minute. Especially if you have children. People are literally filling the earth with new babies right now...and God is responsible for the quality. My first attempt at making a paw came out looking like road kill, but I kept making more...and am happy that the result of letting go of the desire for perfection brought me here.

The cure for anxiety in creativity (or whatever work you do) is to let God take care of the quality while you work on producing the quantity.

For someone who feels blocked creatively, I needed this cure. (Have you noticed how few of my posts actually relate to the shop?) There are two reasons. The first is that I'm not really producing new items. This comes directly from anxiety, a kind of long term suffering that says I need to slow down on the making of insignificant stuff and get to work on other things. It's like having a psychic virus. I worry that people will think I'm a complete fool for doing what I do. The other reason is that readers don't want to be advertised to. I respect my friends here so much that I do not want to offend them with spammy ads. So I have a dilemma.

How do I include my creative work here while writing the bits and pieces of my reflections? I have decided to create a new blog page and to keep filling it with pictures and thoughts about the material items I'm sharing. It is my hope that you will check that new page now and then to see the many changes that I feel are on the horizon. This page will be called "Your Back Stage Pass" Behind the daily monologue you read here, things are going on behind the curtain that will fuel and sustain this blog, my life and my career.

So far, no one has actually come out and said that I am a complete fool, except me! In fact most of my wonderful friends here are incredibly supportive of my journey and understand the deeply rooted conflict I feel about being an artist mom at home versus a professional in an office or classroom. I am happy to share that yesterday I knew for certain that being an artist mom at home was the best possible gift! There was no conflict for my attention; my family ended up hanging out with me on the couches and chairs around my work station. It felt like family togetherness and a business and fun all at the same time. We listened to music and talked about wishes and the Japanese translation of Ribbit (kero kero kero, guap guap guap!) and simply enjoyed one another. Today I am excited because I have more ideas to create and list in the shop.

I hope you are filled with energy and happiness, and that something good will happen today.

Life is full like this

2011-08-08T08:14:00.000-04:00

Life is full like this...

Full like driving around with Emily, trying to catch the light of the golden hour.
And her laughter.

And discovering that since we'd last visited Guilford's campus, artist Patrick Dougherty created this fabulous stick castle.

Like remembering that we were mad at each other in the early afternoon, but finding a way through the mad to the good, happy place we hold in our hearts.

Life is full like this.

Full of images. And Memories.

Of simple, unplanned moments stolen from the daily grind. Shared moments stolen from our compulsive, habitual living.

Something good is going to happen today. I expect it to. I believe it will. I know it's happening right now while the house is quiet and my children are sleeping.

But sometimes in saying these words, I find myself facing a dilemma. Is it self deception to continue to wake up every day with this intention? We are currently in the midst of a family tragedy. On the day that I wrote the "something good" post, Richard's nephew died unexpectedly. It has become difficult to keep up my Pollyanna cheeriness. It's a devastating loss and I have no idea how Richard keeps going on to work, functioning and hurting and wanting to be at home with us while wanting to be home with his family. I understand that torn feeling and the confusing vertigo. We are praying that God helps make a way for him to go.

We are remembering to enjoy the smaller moments that make life full. Remembering to notice the good that keeps popping up in every day, even when we are sad.