On My Desk - Fudge

The official On My Desk photo meme has ended.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

But I enjoy this idea so much that I'm going to continue it on my own. It may not be every Wednesday or even every week. But every now and again, I'll post an image of the project that's high on my priority list.

Today, we're back in the kitchen for Five Minute Fudge!

Fudge Makin's

This is the third year that we're making fudge wreaths as our gift to extended family, friends and neighbors. We'll make a dozen this year! All the makin's are ready to go. Dale and I hope to do two per day over the next week or so.

It's ho Ho HO Time!

Dreams into Reality

This still happens to me. It did again last night.

I liken it to Harry Potter, trying to learn occlumency, trying to keep Voldemort out of his mind. But when his defenses are down, especially when he's sleeping, the evil creeps in to Harry's brain. His dreams are as vivid as consciousness. He awakes screaming. It all feels so real.

Sometimes my memories reawaken as dreams in the night. I feel the presence of the other. I feel all the emotions. It's vivid. I shake myself awake, a part of me aware that my mind is going down a dangerous path. In my half-sleep state, I talk to the person involved. I whisper things aloud that I wish I had the courage to say face to face. I practice being brave and whole. I forgive both of us again.

I'm getting better at shaking these dreams off. But sometimes, they are just too vivid; the emotions too persistent. If I can't return to sleep in an hour, I ask my sweet husband to awaken and help me. His gentle presence, his deep voice, his rhythmic breathing, woos me into the present, places my feet firmly on the ground -- or more precisely, my head gently on my pillow -- and I sleep soundly for the next few hours.

Often, reality is much better than dreams.

Set it Down Like It Matters

One of the life-changing days I had in counseling had to do with the essence of this message.

I'd told my counselor the story of something that had happened which was extremely traumatic for me. Someone I loved and was once very close to said something to me shortly after my father's death that was so offensive and false, that it wounded me to my core. Why? Deep inside, I was afraid what was said was true. I believed this person more than I believed what I knew about myself.

The trauma lived over and over in me, repeating itself each time the memory arose. It wasn't like it was something that happened back then, it was like it happened over and over and over. All those conflicting emotions boiling to the surface. So it was hard to tell my counselor about it, and have to live it again, on purpose.

[ That is, of course, a tell-tale sign of post traumatic stress. ]

I thought about that confession to my counselor over the following week. On our next visit, I tried to back pedal. I tried to make the person who hurt me not look like such a demon. That person isn't all bad. Lots of people like this person. This person tells great stories and is often funny and charming. This person has a good heart. This person is sincere.

My counselor looked at me and said, "I didn't see that person as awful. What I heard you say was that this person hurt you."

I burst into tears.

Yes. Exactly. Nice as that person is most of the time, that person hurt me in a way few others had. Finally, someone saw it and acknowledged my pain. I was heard. I was shown the compassion I needed in the way I needed to hear it.

My counselor and I worked forward from there. Now that incident does live in my past instead of striking terror in me in the present.

It's so darn important ...
'for someone to see the hurt done to them, and set it down like it matters.'

A former college classmate of mine, Kim Barnes, did this for herself. She's written two memoirs, the first of which was a runner up for the Pulitzer Prize. Her writing is like liquid gold. Gorgeous, lyrical prose. Beautiful, haunting descriptions.

Kim had a rough time growing up. So she wrote it out. Like it matters. The telling of her story spoke to the hearts of many.

Last month, I got a chance to talk with Kim for the first time in about 25 years. I told her how brave I thought she was to be able to 'say all that stuff out loud, to write about it.' She told me she wasn't brave. It was something she just had to do. She's a writer; she writes! Later, when inscribing the copy of her book I just bought, she wrote, "Remember that your story is sacred."

Those words have stuck with me. They've given me courage to share more of my own story here on my blog. I do it, I suppose, not so much for you readers (though I hope that some of my words will spark some reflection of your own). More, I do this for myself. I am finding my voice. My own version of courage to set down what I've learned in my 51 years ... like it matters ... like it's sacred.

Because, to me, it is.

*-*

If you want to read Kim's exquisite memoir, you can find it at Amazon.com

In the Wilderness: Coming of Age in Unknown Country
by Kim Barnes

A Portion of Thyself

The same sentiment as yesterday, only much more succinct.
Thank you, Uncle Ralph!

Dawn of a New Day

Storm at Dawn

This is what was going on in the east, while this happened in the west.

A Secret Worth Sharing

I first read The Secret Life of Bees in February 2006 after I heard folks from a book club talking about it on Good Morning America. I'm so glad I picked it up. It's now one of my favorite books. I reviewed it at the time, and then passed the book on to my former counselor. I dropped it off at her office with a note that let her know how so many of the issues faced in this book were things we had worked on together. I thought it was worth a read, and that perhaps she'd eventually recommend it to some of her other patients who dealt with the same kinds of problems I had.

I didn't need counseling for a while, but started back last year to work on some newly-cropped-up issues. A couple months ago, my counselor asked me about the book. She said hadn't read it yet, and wondered if I still recommended it. If so, could she find an audio version? I told her I did still think it was worth her time, and that if it was available on audio, that would be a fantastic way to absorb it.

I went home and found the audio version available at On The Go Books (a service that's like Netflix for audio books). I finished listening to the book again this week. I fell in love with it all over again. There were so many passages that were on target! I will share them over the course of the next few weeks, starting today.

Choosing what matters. Lifting a person's heart. Letting things that don't really matter play a less important role. That takes discernment. Maturity. Awareness. It takes stepping back for a bit and asking, "How important is it?"

I considered these questions where a Christmas gift is concerned. Each year at Quilters we have one big bang-up potluck and party. That's at Christmas. We pick names and buy a single $10ish gift for another member of our group.

This year, I picked the name of a gal who I like a lot, but don't really know all that well. She's got a great sense of humor. Makes gorgeous hooked rugs from wool strips. Has grown children. No husband ... so many of our members are widows. She recently fought a bout with cancer. Today she was talking about 'making it to 65 before falling apart.' She finally has some health insurance now.

These ladies ... they have full lives. So many are lonely. They don't really need more stuff. But we do need each other. Friendship. A listening ear. An activity where we work collectively for the benefit of others. With that in mind, I contemplated what kind of gift to give. I think I've hit on a good idea. It will be in three parts:

1. I like to give something handmade. So I hope to embroider a redwork design and turn it into a stocking. I found a cute pattern online.
2. I'll fill the stocking with a bottle of bubbly ... in this case, some sparkling cider.
3. I'll add a gift certificate, of sorts. A handmade invitation to take her out for lunch after Quilters at the start of 2009.

These gals live simply. They don't get to eat in restaurants often, so it's a treat for them. But more importantly, I want to give her time and attention. I want to learn about her family, her life. I want to listen intently. I want to do something that matters. I want to give her a chance to lift her heart.

In The Secret Life of Bees, August took a lot of time teaching Lily about the bees, giving her space to regroup, listening to her sadness and pain, and helping her see the goodness she already had inside. August figured out what matters, and gave that gift to a young girl. I hope to turn that around and give the same gift to one of my 'aunts.'

The movie version of The Secret Life of Bees is out now. Can't wait to see it.

If you'd like to purchase the book, it would make an excellent Christmas gift!

I'm OK, and You?

So today's phrase doesn't LOOK like my usual phrases. That's because I ran across this excellent tidbit on the FOUND website this morning. Be sure to go look at the original posting! The context of this find was pretty interesting.

I really like this statement!

You see. I have a problem. It's called honesty. When someone asks me, "How are you today?" I rarely just say, "Fine! How are you?" the way most of society around here does.

I find myself stopping and considering the question as if the person asking really cares! Then I answer accordingly. Yeah. Way TMI.
[too much information]

I actually have to consciously make myself say something more mundane. If I'm not really up to par, I've come up with "Fair. And you?" On really bad day? "Hangin' in there."

On super good days, I'm a heck of a lot of fun. I'll fling my arms open and hoot, "Excellent!" or "I'm the king of the world!" You get the picture.

But using the above definition, perhaps when the nicety of the question "How are you?" is asked, I'll be able to answer, in all honesty. "I'm OK."

In my own head, I know I'm implying that my faults and emotional problems are not going to paralyze me today!

Macro Monday - Underbelly

Macro Monday is easy to play,
snap a macro (or close-up) photo,
post it on your blog
then go to Lisa's Chaos and sign Mr Linky.

Underbelly of a 'Shroom

I found this mushroom a few weeks ago ...

... kicked over in the park as I went for a walk

Love the texture on the underside

Christmas Gifts

I spent some time over the last three days doing some online Christmas wishing. I saw some things I'd enjoy having (though relatively few). I bought some hard-to-find-locally items for my family. I sent a Christmas wish or two to some friends.

The rest of the hours online were spent catching up with my favorite blogs. Most of these blogs are related to my interests in crafts, design, needlework and photography. But a few I read just for the humor and insight. One of my favorites by far is The QC Report: notes from the underwire.

(Thank you, Kathryn, for pointing me to it!)

Quinn's post from this week is about Christmas being a time where things enter your home that are desirable right now, but become "crap" within a year's time. As she sorts out her daughter's closet, she considers five truths about the Christmas season. The essay is well worth the read.

The point that most struck a chord with me was #4:

THIS ONE HOLIDAY ISN’T GOING TO FIX YOUR CHILDHOOD

That's the source of the above quotation. It's so good, I had to pluck it.

I suppose that it rang on tone because, for me, fixing my childhood is not just about Christmas. As I traveled through counseling and my Creative Journey, it seems what I was trying to do most was come to terms with uncomfortable things from my past. To examine the details of my life. To Fix My Childhood.

And what I'm learning deep down in my soul is the simple truth that it can't be fixed. It can inform my life. I can (and do!) learn lessons which I use to build my future. Yet try as I might, repeat those post traumatic stress episodes as often as I choose, I can't rearrange the events of my past, the events that shaped my life. Those need to be understood within the context in which they happened, and then be accepted. I need to remember that not only did I experience those events, but that I got through them alive and (mostly) well.

Perhaps the most poignant part of the phrase for me is:

trying to spackle over some really ancient sadness

ANCIENT being the operative word.

So this year, I'll try not to worry about the amount of gifts under the tree or how much/little money I have in my checking account to spend. I'll be less concerned with what the 'picture' looks like (the literal and the metaphorical picture). This year, I'll try to focus on being truly present to my girls and my sweet husband. This year, I'll make the time I give the people I love more important than the physical objects.


By the way, Quinn has a book that's about to be published!
Notes from the Underwire: Adventures from My Awkward and Lovely Life
Check out the pre-order on Amazon.

This is one item that did land on my Wish List.

Stand Alone

Alone at the End of the Season

My Life in Blogland

I'm taking time today to travel around Blogland. I love days like this. My sweet husband and I sitting across from each other at the dining room table, our laptops open between of us, sharing some food, and little exclamations when we run across fun items online to show each other, enjoying the calm of early winter and the aroma of new-brewed coffee.

But I digress.

What I enjoy so much in the circle of blogs I travel through worldwide is the ease with which I flow in and out of the lives of other artistic, creative women like me. Women who are raising families. Many work inside the home. Many have big ideas that mostly have to be put on hold while they do the Good Work of bringing up babies, enjoying and being worn out by the early years, holding tongues through the teen years, and reveling in the joy of the little arms of their grandchildren.

These wonderful women who, in the midst of busy lives, allow some of their ideas to ooze out. They share their talents, inspiration, creative ideas, finished projects ... sometimes for sale or trade ... emotional upheavals, triumphs and heartbreaks. Who knew community could grow with the seeds of pixels and and the water of tapping fingers?

I found the above quotation on Calamity Kim's blog this morning. Her words echo my thoughts. So many of us, sisters under the skin.

Sunday Secrets: December 07, 2008

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard. I find it to be an amazing sociological experiment. This morning, three secrets caught my attention.


I don't do this, but I appreciate the sentiment for two reasons:

1. I LOVE wrapped gifts! I enjoy wrapping them. I smile looking at them. I revel in the anticipation of wondering what is inside gifts with MY name on the tag.
   
2. I can buy something, then just look at it for a week or two [or longer!] before using it, happy in the knowledge that something pristine, new and all mine is waiting for me. I think this comes from being from such a huge family [11 kids] and having SO many hand-me-downs.
   

This pulls my heartstrings ... that it took so long to come to that realization ... that the dream of a happy, working marriage is over ... that anyone has to feel so lonely while living with others. I've been through divorce. It sucks. I came out so much happier on the other side. If you've tried ALL you can, done the incredibly hard work in counseling, negotiated to the nth degree to make a difficult marriage work and you're still desperately unhappy, it's worth the journey. But ... ouch.


Relieved, yes. But do I revel in it, definitely not. I wish I could be on good terms with them all. At the same time, it is good to live without the drama some of the extended family carries with them. Some relationships work far better from a distance.

Moonset

Full Moon at Dawn - October 22, 2008

At the end of October, the full moon was setting in the west just as the sun rose in the east. I didn't have my tripod with me, so the shot is a little wiggly. I think the wobbles add to the soft effect of this image.

[ Be sure to click on the image for a larger view. ]

Mmmmmmmmmmm

What more need be said?

Sunday Secrets: Nov 30, 2008

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard. I find it to be an amazing sociological experiment.

Already Friday ... and I'm only now posting last week's finds. There were four that rang true.:

I'm still not sure it was 'abuse'
I can accept the term 'sexual exploitation.'
It was definitely attention. I needed that.

The help HELPS.

I love to read. I'm seeking the ideal chair:
A wing back with ottoman.
From Post Secret France

I didn't know it would happen when I started,
But I write this blog to tell my story.
These cards help reveal my secrets.

Another September Dawn

Another sunrise from last Autumn's archive ...

Daybreak on the 16th Green

Changing Perspective

There are times when I need to mother myself as well as I mother my own girls.

This afternoon I received a phone call from my daughter Julie. I usually do talk with her every day, though generally in the morning. So when I heard her voice after lunch, I was a little surprised. And saddened. She'd caught me in the middle of a (frustrating) task, and I normally would have begged off a chat. But I heard something in her voice that caused me to sit down and listen.

Poor Ju had a rough day. First, she had to deal with a person that zaps the life out of her ... someone she used to be close to but had a major falling out with in the Fall. Then she told me about her class presentation that did not go as she had expected because she forgot to be explicit in her instructions to the students.

My girl was feeling defeated.

At first, I was just going to listen and advise. But then I got a brainstorm. She was walking home as she talked on her cell phone, so I encouraged her to stop, look around, and describe one small thing that she saw. She told me about some blue-colored berries on a bush whose leaves were crispy and falling back. That plant spoke volumes about winter's approach.

My idea was that if Julie could step out of her frustrated mind for just a couple minutes and look at the world right in front of her eyes, she might be able to break her discouraged mode of thinking about what went wrong earlier in the day and return to the present moment.

After we talked about the plant, we returned to the subject of "where do we go from here." Good food. Good rest. Good medicine. Good refreshment. Know what you're resonsible for and what is someone else's responsibility (boundaries). Blah. Blah. Blah.

By the time we ended our conversation, Julie was seeing past the roadblock and had a direction in which to forage.

Now! If only I would listen to my own advice!

I had one of those days with a too-long To Do List. I was trying to do one thing at a time, but kept running into roadblocks of my own. I had six jobs started and none complete. That drives me batty. One of the jobs was to balance my checkbook. Rare for me, I found an overdraft! Argh! I'm usually so careful with money that I tend to kick myself quite a bit when I goof like that.

One thing leading to another, I could feel my agitation grow. Here's where I should have taken my own advice!

Even smart folks, like me, misstep sometimes.

If I had but looked out a [metaphorical] window (it was dark outside, after all) to see beyond my own sphere, I could have had an easier time changing my perspective. As it was, my sweet husband gently told me not to sweat the small stuff. "That's what overdraft protection is for, Hon." he said, pragmatically.

Then he heated up some soup and breadsticks and helped me fill my tummy with good food. We watched some episodes of The Daily Show for good refreshment. AfterI finish writing my blog posts, I'll get the good meds and good rest part in.

And we'll begin again tomorrow ... with a fresh new perspective.

Matting Idea

I've been trolling through some of my older photographs this week, trying to get my files organized so I can back them up on my new external hard drive
(a birthday gift! Thanks, Dale!)

I ran across these two photos that I took at the county fair last August. The images are a little rough due to the glare of the glass. I don't think it will detract too much from the idea I want to share.

This cross-stitch piece had a most interesting idea for matting. From a distance, it looks pretty much like a regular double mat and frame, right?

But check out the close-up!
[ click images for greater detail ]

It looks like the design was stitched on a 14 count aida.

Then mats were cut from two other pieces of fabric!

The dark brown inner mat looked to me like a 32 count linen. The lighter brown outer mat appears to be a 25 or 28 count evenweave. The various thread counts and textures added to the visual interest.

I marveled that though the fabric mats were not finished in any way on the inner edge, the fabrics were not at all raveled. In considering how this was done, I'm wondering if the mat fabric was first attached to a fusible interfacing, then the oval shape cut out of it. The 'glue' on the back would keep the fabric from raveling and give the fabric mats some body.

There is a chance that the fabric mats were actually bonded to a piece of card stock with a spray adhesive or fusible web (a fusible web would be easier to work with). That way though it only looks like it's fabric, it's really cardboard covered in fabric. From what I remember, though, I don't recall seeing the edge of cardstock as I pressed my nose within a 1/4" of the display.

The gal working the needlework room at the fair claims this was professionally framed. Perhaps. But it sure looks like a technique that would be fun to try at home!

How about it? Do any of you stitchers know how this matting was actually accomplished? Have you had a pro do this for you? Have any of you tried it yourselves? I'd love to hear your ideas on how this was achieved so that we can attempt to replicate the technique.

Final Portrait

As I wrote back on November 11th, my daughter's 12 year old cat, Rolly, took his last breath. He and Julie grew up together, so it was a sad, sad day.

This photo was taken that morning ...

Julie and Rolly
November 2008

Rolly was a one-person cat. He was never happier than when Julie was in the room. Their symbiosis was good for Julie, too. Rolly was her baby and her best boy ... even when he got to be a grumpy, gray-haired old man that shed each time you touched him.

A few years ago, Julie asked me to take her high school senior portraits. We had two or three photo shoots, some in the great outdoors of Idaho. But the one she chose to duplicate and give away? This one:

Julie and Rolly, 2005

Bye, bye, Rolly.

[ Hope you don't hiss at the gatekeepers in heaven! ]

I Want to be a Gymnast

This morning is wide open. All kinds of interruptions and opportunities can come knocking on my door. I hope to go with the flow today.

Hmmm. When's the last time I tried a back bend?

This is It!

Nope.

It's the real deal. The only one we're breathin' in.

Use it well.

Share life with those in your circle.

Be a Life Giver ... not a Life Sucker.

We only have this one chance, let's make the most of it!

My Black Hat

I made myself a new black hat!

The one I crocheted last year was fine, but a little short around the ears. I used my knitting loom to whip up this bad boy.

It's huge. Covers my ears. Practically covers my neck.

And it's warm. I was sweatin' up a storm by the end of my photo shoot.

The part you can't see in this photo? It [accidentally] has a bit of a pointy top!

Call me Conehead. Cameo Conehead.


p.s. Did you know it's fairly hard to take a hand-held photo of yourself and your hat and keep it all in focus without your nose looking way too big for a human's face?

Now you do.

On My Desk - Christmas Cookies

If it's Wednesday, it's time for another installment of On My Desk

Today's desk? Back in the kitchen!
[ really ... it's not my favorite room in the house ... only, my studio is atrociously messy! ]

What craters have we here?


A stack of some kind of yumminess ...


The first batch of our favorite Christmas treat!
Pizzelles

Get Your ... Together!

:: Raising hand ::

Ready for Christmas? What do you mean, ready for Christmas?

Eye Candy - Temari Balls

Oh, the joys of touring Blogland!

Look what I found today:
Japanese Temari
by Kiku Designs

The entire site is interesting, but be sure to check out her Gallery.
To drool for!

I made these three Temari Balls several years ago ... one of them resembles a Level 2 ball on the Kiku Desings website.

[ Click images to see greater detail ]

On Being a Writer

I'm trying something new on for size:

Margaret M. Davaz, writer

Hmmmm. How does that sound? Writers are artists, right? And I've always wanted to be an artist.

As that goes, I suppose that photographers and needleworkers are artists, too.

Recently I related a story to my psychiatrist about a trip I made to Moscow to hear an author give a reading. This author is someone I went to college with and had not seen in over 20 years. We were English majors together. It was an important day in my life ... maybe I tell the whole story here before long. But, I digress.

After I told my doc the story, he asked, "Do you write?"

I replied, "I blog everyday. I suppose you could call that writing."

"What do you write about?"

"Well, my needlework. And I post photos. And I write about my recovery."

Then he asked how many readers I have and noted that it's hard to get a following, blah, blah, blah, reading blogs takes a lot of time, blah, blah, blah. When I handed him one of my 'business' cards that reads CameoRoze's Stitcher's Studio, he chuffed something about "stitching."

I've been pondering that conversation for the last week. And I decided something.

I AM a writer!

As students and potential writers, our instructors said that the best advice to be given if you want to be a writer is to write. Daily. As part of a routine. Make it a normal part of your life, as simple as breathing.

I never really wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be an editor. So I didn't practice writing. Well, except in my journals. And I did write there daily for years ... then I'd quit ... then I'd take it up again.

But since this world of blogging has come along, I've been inspired by other writers and needleworkers and photographers to add my voice. Daily. As simple as breathing.

So ... that qualifies me, right? There is no quality control here or anything, right? Who's to say that I'm NOT a writer?

I AM a writer.

Margaret M. Davaz, writer

I like the sound of that.

Macro Monday - Giraffe Mugs

I've decided to join the fun with talented photographers in this photo meme, Macro Monday. The rules?

Macro Monday is easy to play, snap a macro (or close-up) photo, post it on your blog then go to Lisa's Chaos and sign Mr Linky.

Here's my first attempt. I received these two mugs for my birthday. Thank you, Becky!

She knows I like giraffes. Nice print, eh?

Can you see the handle peeking through? It's the giraffe neck!

Such a graceful curve of the neck.

What you lookin' at?

Reminded Me of my Own Life

A while ago I was watching an Oprah show titled "Women Changing the World," on which guest Gloria Steinem appeared. She said one phrase that resonated in me and has stuck to me like Velcro.
She said she lives in an

Embarrassment of Riches

Oh, my! So do I!

I'm 51 years old and haven't needed to work outside the home for over two-and-a-half years. I used to justify that by calling myself an 'at home mom.' But with two grown daughters and the third a teenager that I'm lucky to see three hours a day, that title doesn't hold water any more.

I spend my days taking care of my home, upgrading the goods we live with, writing and reading blogs, participating in online discussions on needlework, stitching and doing charity work as my way of giving back to the world.

In these times of economic hardship, I have not yet felt the pinch. My husband works in an industry that can actually benefit from these times. We have retirement accounts (yes, they have shrunk) and some cash backup that could last us a year should the worst happen.

I listen with compassion to those who are tightening their belts out of necessity. Yet I know with certainty that should my family's economic situation worsen, I could get by because I've done it before. I have the benefit and wisdom of experience.

So as I did my Home Blessing this morning, listening to The Writer's Almanac podcast, I heard the following poem. The truth of which echos my own life, and I am eternally grateful.

*-*

Sometimes
by David Budbill


Sometimes when day after day we have cloudless blue skies,
warm temperatures, colorful trees and brilliant sun, when
it seems like all this will go on forever,

when I harvest vegetables from the garden all day,
then drink tea and doze in the late afternoon sun,
and in the evening one night make pickled beets
and green tomato chutney, the next red tomato chutney,
and the day after that pick the fruits of my arbor
and make grape jam,

when we walk in the woods every evening over fallen leaves,
through yellow light, when nights are cool, and days warm,

when I am so happy I am afraid I might explode or disappear
or somehow be taken away from all this,

at those times when I feel so happy, so good, so alive, so in love
with the world, with my own sensuous, beautiful life, suddenly

I think about all the suffering and pain in the world, the agony
and dying. I think about all those people being tortured, right now,
in my name. But I still feel happy and good, alive and in love with
the world and with my lucky, guilty, sensuous, beautiful life because,

I know in the next minute or tomorrow all this may be
taken from me, and therefore I've got to say, right now,
what I feel and know and see, I've got to say, right now,
how beautiful and sweet this world can be.

*-*

David's latest book:
While We've Still Got Feet
available at Amazon.com

More Music of Hope

We Need One Another!

It's a New Day

Hope Sings

[click image for the video]

Thank you, will.i.am