Can I scream?

I am the worlds biggest klutz with the worlds worst luck. I tangled my warp, and in the process ended up sacrificing 60 ends of warp and a couple of skeins of rayon yarn. That was very sad, but at least I was able to salvage the other skeins and the rest of my warp.

So tonight, I was untangling and balling up the remaining hand-painted skeins. I just finished struggling with the purple, when I picked up the ball, and accidentally dropped it...

...into peanut's cup of water.


I knew the ball of yarn wouldnt dry up well in a ball form. I started to skein it back up so it would dry, when the middle of the ball came undone and proceeded to tangle itself with the rest of the wet yarn. Since it was wet, it didnt want to untangle. And since it was half skein, half ball...well there went another 200 yards of yarn.

Sigh.

I really had trouble keeping my language clean.

I think I need to just go to bed and try again tomorrow.

MMMmmmm Chocolate

Dark Chocolate M & M's are going to be the death of me. It's like eating a handful of chocolate chips, only the candy coating gives that satisfying crunch. They had them in a local convenience store. I thought they were a promotional item and I figured they probably wouldn't be around long. I was mostly right. Apparently they're here to stay (yay!) but it can be difficult to find a bag of dark chocolate M & M's sometimes. That is, until I discovered Staples, of all places, sells them...in large...purple...bags. *drool*

First the family needed some lined notebook paper. Then we were out of pencils. Printer cartridge ink? I can go get that!

Needless to say, I've been finding reasons I must go into Staples.

"Hmm...says here on my sheet I need fifteen copies of a hand-out for my research presentation. Shucks. I guess I'll have to go do that at Staples."

"You could print them off our computer," retorted the Mr.

"Nah, I dont want to use up that expensive printer ink."

"Uh-huh. Sure," he replied unconvinced.

"Mama, are you going to go get some more dark chocolate M & M's?" asked Ruthie.

"Um, why...no...what on earth would make you think that?"

Um, no. I'm not addicted, or anything. I can...stop...whenever...I...I...I...

Does anybody need anything from Staples?

Send in The Clown

When I was four,
and my sister two,
we sat around,
not much to do.

A cat so white,
a canvas clean,
Barbie head make-up,
was it so mean?

Circus we played.
We needed a clown.
The cat was just purrfect
We pinned him right down.

First came the pink,
and then came the blue.
It just seemed so clear;
We knew what to do.

But soon mom came in
and started to hiss.
She didn't fault me;
she blamed little sis.

It was my idea,
later she found,
to make the white cat
into our own clown.

The cat survived,
I'm happy to say.
Our rear ends hurt
to the very next day.
(c) 2007

This semester's projects:

It's my last semester of school, so why should it be any different from the others? Well, if anything, it IS more enjoyable if for no other reason than I only have fibers classes and I LOVE what I do.

Here's what's in the project queue:

For Non-loom, I'm wrapping black bath towels with copper wire. It's part of an on-going series called "Metamorphosis." The concept is to take common items that are used for every day activities and re-purpose them. Whether or not others think they're "beautimous" or not, I cannot say, but I'm enjoying the project. I made two several years ago, one hung in a show this past summer. But the Mr. said I wasn't allowed to make any more of these sculptures unless I could find a way to wrap the fabrics without his help. He held the variable speed drill for me. Hours and hours of wrapping hundreds of strips of cloth. So, I figured out how to use my spinning wheel. Tons of fun. Here's a couple of pics from the first two in the series:


This was the first sculpture, Metamorphosis I. It's made out of wrapped Upholstery fabric. I was imagining stripping a couch down to nothing while I made it.

The next in the series is made from dyed and wrapped T-shirt material. This is the one that hung in a show:


This is me and Eeyore standing next to it. I was told people were touching it on the sly. Every time I went in, the piece was misshapen and the info desk helper told me the why. Now, for a fibers artists, that's a high compliment! I always want my work to look so inviting and playful that people just have to touch it. Or they want to feel it because they want to know what it is made of.

They are purposefully vessel shape referring to the scripture where we are all "jars of clay." The concept is primarily that of transformation when we invite Jesus into our lives and make him Lord. Our minds, thoughts, actions, are completely re-shaped by the Holy Spirit if we allow. We go from something recognizable (i.e. a t-shirt, bath towel, sofa, etc) to the world as something completely different, (the finished sculpture) through God's transforming power. It's abstract, I know, but I kind of think the whole concept of our spirit becoming alive through Christ is rather abstract as well, else why would Nicodemus question what Jesus meant by being "born again?" (John 3:4)

I'm not sure how my next piece will turn out. It's beginning to cost me a fortune. ha ha. Who knew wire could be so expensive!

For Weaving, I'm finishing up my Fatherless series.



I made the second of the series last semester (no pictures of it yet), and at the moment, I'm about to warp my loom at home with the third in the series. The figures are supposed to be somewhat abstract. I purposefully left them featureless, and humanoid looking for several reasons. The child is supposed to be gender-neutral. I want the viewer to be able to insert themselves into the picture. Secondly, the weaving is made from a technique called Spanish Lace. It's rather delicate looking in person. There is supposed to be this feeling of unraveling or disintegration. A normal "portrait" would have all of the features drawn in and be more realistic. The colors are predominantly mono-chromatic because the subject is supposed to be rather bleak.

Why Fatherless? It speaks about two conditions, our physical condition and our spiritual condition. On a surface level, I'm attempting to make a social commentary about our single parent society. Don't get me wrong, if you're a single parent, it's a tough job. But there's this whole mentality in society that says "Dads aren't important." Or if a Dad is portrayed in the Media, he's a doofus or an idiot. Look at the Fathers in Rug Rats, or Jimmy Neutron. Look at the Fathers in any sit-com. When did Dad's become so unimportant? Then you have weekend dads, or those Dad's who are just such good dads they drive all the way to such-and-such a place to get their kids to and from school, and spend a whopping 9 hours a week with their daughter, leaving behind the other daughter because "she's too young yet." So Dad is there, but not there...that's why the portrait is without detail, incomplete. I am hoping to depict an incomplete relationship.

The second, deeper meaning is more spiritual. It is really speaking about the time in my life where, spiritually speaking, I was Fatherless. I ran around waiting for God to smite me with his angry discipline for all the things I did wrong. My relationship with God was like these weavings, fragile, and without detail. Somewhere in my mid-twenties, I came to realize that He loved me. I can't even put into words that discovery. It's one thing to know with my head I'm loved, but its a whole other thing to understand and feel it in my heart that I am treasured, valuable, made this way on purpose for a purpose, "altogether beautiful, there is no flaw in you," "dark but lovely." My responses to Him became less religious (doing it for the sake of being "good" or "right") which failed all the time, to wanting, no deeply desiring to follow his ways because I wanted to express my love back. A love response. When I was going through this time in my life, I began to draw. Those sketches led me back to school as I sensed God wanted me to get them out to the world. So when I went back to school, I ended up starting at the beginning of my sketchbook. My earliest sketches were titled "My Abba, My Daddy." I had a great father, the best Daddy a little girl could ever be given. When I realized that my Abba was even better, well, I just still have trouble fathoming it sometimes. But I felt that before I could depict what the relationship could look like, I had to show what our current condition is.

Each piece is a little more unraveled, a little more unwoven, a little more fragile. It's been very frightening to be so inexperienced as an artist and to try and replicate the same weaving three times.

My last weaving project is not as deep. I'm merely making a very large abstract with Spanish lace and plain weave. Mostly, I'm doing it to work out a few ideas before trying to put imagery into it. Can I make it sculptural? How much work is it to make a gianormous weaving (I'm about to find out!)

I've woven some functional pieces in between, a shawl, a scarf, stuff that I do for fun and enjoyment. Not that my artwork isn't fun, it's just more "work." I have to think, plan, and design more, and sometimes after all that, it doesn't turn out well at all. My functional pieces give me satisfaction that they can be used and enjoyed. My non-functional serve as my therapy.

Hopefully, I'll have pictures later. I'll have to go bug my sister. She's the photographer for the two above Metamorphosis pieces. She has amazing talent, and took my entire portfolio last year. Well, I've made a few more things since then, so it might be time for another mega-photo session. Here's hoping it's not so cold and breezy this time. ;-)

So Yesterday was Valentines Day...

Ugh. Please gag me. My counter-culture artist self cannot stand holidays created for commercialism sake. This is the one day of the year made so that men can forget and women can hold it against their men. Really, if a person needs a day for their love to show extra affection, well, I'm terribly sorry. I guess I'm just horribly lucky. I'm shown a lot of love and affection every day, so to me, Valentines day just doesn't stand out amongst the 364 other days my guy tells me I'm special and important to him, through his actions, and sometimes through his words.

My guy isn't terribly romantic. He doesn't say sweet romantic things all the time. He doesn't do "romantic" things by societies standards. I can't remember the last time I received flowers. (Maybe two years ago?) We don't have a "song." He doesn't leave me sweet little notes everywhere. But what he does do is greater than flowers and chocolate. He loves me, flaws and all. And believe me, my guy puts up with a lot from me, for example, my hysteria when I panic. These are things that probably would have brought another man to his knees.

He cooks. He cleans. He takes care of the kids. He lets me sleep when he's exhausted and needs to sleep too. He sacrifices his needs and comfort to make me comfortable. He reassures me when I'm feeling uncertain. He does laundry. He works hard, day after day, to provide for the family. He allows me to be home with the children and lets me know that my job is just as important as his. He not only supports my art, but he's enthusiastic about what I do and puts aside everything to help me reach my goals. Funny and sweet, he's also very very very affectionate. He's my best friend and someone who I can confide in.

Not that I have a perfect life, because I don't believe anyone truly can. We can make the best of the choices we made, or we can sit around and think negatively about them, how it was, what a mistake we made. Instead he and I spend a good bit of energy keeping each other first, even above the kids (sacrilegious I know!) We have our "couch time" almost every night. And the children know, during that 15-30 minutes that we're "connecting" and catching up on each other's day, they cannot interrupt. We make time to have "dates" even if it means putting the kids to bed and then ordering take-out and eating at home.

After so many years, I have found some who find their relationship boring. For us, we find we're just starting to mesh and that makes it fun and interesting. It's almost a game to predict what is going to happen next. We know each other so well, he knows what my next move is. I know his. He gets a kick out of my being able to predict him. Last night, we had a tickle fight. Calling a "truce," he went into the kitchen. However, after 12 years of being married to this man, I knew he was actually standing around the corner, crouched with one of his weird expressions on his face. I don't remember what I did, but when he realized he wasn't going to be able to surprise me, he burst out laughing. We laughed so hard my sides hurt. Tears were streaming out of his eyes. That doesn't sound terribly boring to me.

When I chose to look at the glass half empty, I was miserable with my relationship. I'd see young love all around me and reminisce about how he used to stop and pick flowers from the side of the road and then think "What happened?" But I forgot to look at the fact that some where in the middle of these past twelve years together, we'd been to hell and back again. The funny thing about going through fire together, it either eats you alive, or refines and purifies the relationship. For us, it has been the latter. Our clay vessel has been fired, tested, and now stronger than ever. I stayed with him for the sake of our kids, knowing I couldn't bear the thought of what splitting up would do to their little psyches. I determined if I had to, I'd be his roommate. At the very minimum we were still very good close friends. I determined I could live forever with this man as a good, close, friend, a mere roommate. But I also determined i wasn't going to just settle for that. And I redefined what happiness and love looked like.

I learned that happiness is a state of mind that can be completely controlled. I could chose to be happy despite my circumstances, or I could be miserable and give up. I discovered that love is NOT a feeling, it is a choice, it is an action. You CHOOSE to love or you CHOOSE not to. Sometimes the feeling is there. Sometimes it's not. It's what people do during the times when that "love" feeling is absent really determines whether or not they are in "love" or in "infatuation." I realized a relationship cannot survive on infatuation alone. I learned that love means loving fully and not holding back anything, even when the other person has cut the heart to the quick. I found that as much as we can love someone, sometimes a line has to be drawn in the sand. I discovered Jesus' love for me, and in turn, I realized I had to show that same love for my guy. I didn't know that the end result of my discoveries would be so beautiful.

So, in the end, I don't really need a holiday to tell me how good I have it. I don't need trinkets and sweet nothings to know that he loves me. He fought long and hard to keep me, and I fought long and hard to keep him. We sacrificed our selfish wants for each other, for our children. And to me, that is a greater gift than something that will wilt and die in a matter of days.

Could we slip and fall again? Sure. Anything is possible if we let our guards down. But that's just how love is, that's why it's an action word and not a feeling. If love isn't fed and cared for, it will slowly fade away until one day the realization sets in that it's gone. But the wonderful thing about love is, it can be found again, and again, and again, if given the chance. It's an everyday thing, not a Valentines Day thing.

Poems

Many years ago all I did was write poems. Mostly, I wrote to allieviate the angst I was riddled with for many, many years. Sometimes I wrote when I was inspired. Somewhere in the midst of college, getting married, having kids, I've left that hobby behind, until recently. So, below, find a recent poem or two, and some from nearly 14 plus years ago.

Eek!

slither! thrash!
thump! bash!
three am
what's in my trash?

eek! a snake!
eating cake
looked at me
half awake

scream and shriek
another EEK!
broom to snake
I feel weak.

slither away
from the fray
back to bed
to sleep till day
(c) 2006

Basic Instinct

So hence, we find ourselves caught up
in this whirlwind of life.
We love our friends, hate our enemies
And state the obvious whether it lies afore or behind.
And then,
we wonder why we were placed upon
this so-called-God-forsaken-planet
if this is our only cause of life-
this pain.

...

Deep within the wells of our hearts
we ache with passions
now unfamiliar to us
while our souls cry out amidst our toils
"Abba! Father!"
only to forget again while peace
surmises to visit.

...

Yet somehow we know,
deep within our being.
our inner-selves,
that there truly is a Greater One.
And by denying ourselves of Him
and believing ourselves the better
we, in turn, lie to ourselves
and in the end



take the knife.

(c) 1993

(Going) Crazy

The Clowns, The Clowns,

The happy, slappy

silly Clowns

...

Go Round, Go Round,

The happy, slappy

Clowns go round

....

A Mound, A Mound,

The happy clowns

go round a mound.

...

They Found, They Found,

The Clowns go round

A mound they found.

...

No Sound, No Sound,

around the mound

they make no sound.

...

Fall Down, Fall down,

Onto the ground

the Clowns fall down.

...

My Head, My head,

the happy, slappy

Clowns are dead.

(c) 1993

Margaret

Even after Spring has fled
will you still think of me?
Remember love as it had led
us on a path from land to sea
and back again so that
my heart knew not when to cry
here nor there. So then I sat
and wondered, pondered, questioned why
life has to be so cruel
and take the one desire
of mine and play me for the fool
to hold the candle's fire
and watch it slowly die
as the mark of time draws near.
Oh me. Oh my, Oh sigh.
I do not like living in this fear...




Now that you have gone
And only a name to think upon.

(c) 1993

Untitled

I caught a rainbow one fine day

to show you all its light.

The colors were so crisp and fine,

and bold and brisk and bright.

...

But the red went through my hand,

as did the blue and yellow.

The purple, green, and orange, pink,

went to another fellow.

...

So all I've got is broken dreams;

no gift to give to you.

For one cannot hold onto things,

not meant to be held onto.

(c) 1992

Untitled #2

The soft, sweet, sounds of Spring
sang smoothly in Sarah's ear.
But silently slithered the Snake
that sought to sell her son to
the Spartan for a small sight of
Serphim.

And sparing only her senses,
she set up on the Snake.
Stepping so, she severed
the serpent's head, saving the
soul for her soup.

And spread it forth onto the sand to be
swept away by the sea
leaving only

the Sins of Man.

(c) 1991

A Sister's Revenge

Rosebud

gently kissed

the thorns

of sorrow

surrounded

by the

sounds of

happiness,

love,

peace,

and

understanding.

But never will

she know

the true

meaning

because

locked in

the vault

of her mind

is the dead

Mr. Kay.

(c) 1991

Meet Ho-ha, our invisible family member

I've mentioned Ho-ha in previous posts. I thought I'd introduce him to the world.

Ho-ha came to live with us when Hannah was about two years old, a rather young age to invent an imaginary friend. It was also the same year she named her purple plush bunny rabbit, "Goat." Ho-ha quickly became a friend for reasons of security. He had to go everywhere with us. Hannah would insist upon it, and cry if we "forgot Ho-ha."

Ho-ha fits into the average sized pants pocket. It's his preferred form of travel. He's mischievous, but has never done anything seriously wrong. He likes to make jokes and play pranks on people. He says very silly things from time to time. Hannah, worried about Ho-ha's ability to stay home alone, carried Ho-ha in her pocket for at least a year until Ho-ha and I could convince her he was big enough and brave enough to be home. He's a bit of a home-body and would rather not go out when he doesn't feel like it. Sometimes he comes with us, but because he can be rather shy, will decide to stay in the car.

Ho-ha doesn't eat a whole lot and doesn't take up a whole lot of space. We just have to be careful not to sit on Ho-ha. Since he's invisible, and rather small, he's easy to miss. Thankfully, he's rather resilient. Even when squashed, he seems to bounce back.

"You sat on Ho-ha."

"No I didn't, he's sitting right there," I insisted in one conversation.

"No he's not. You sat on him. You have to get up Mama," Hannah replied more adamant.

"Look, see. I can see Ho-ha right here. He's sitting next to me eating a granola bar."

"OH!" Hannah answered. " I didn't see that. He's so small. Silly Ho-ha."

Silly Ho-ha. Hannah calls him silly a lot. I wouldn't really know. I don't converse with Ho-ha like she does.

Ho-ha enjoys playing lots of games, tag, hide and seek, games like that. He loves to swing on the swings. Chick-fil-A is Ho-ha's favorite restaurant. Sometimes Ho-ha sneaks downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack. Sometimes Ho-ha is afraid of the dark.

At times Ho-ha goes away and we think he most likely won't come back this time. But somehow he always does. Lately, he's been a little more subdued. Someday, when Ho-ha and Hannah go their separate ways, I think I'm going to miss him. ;-)

You give me fever!

It's that time of year again...sniffling, sneezing, coughing, wheezing...and fevers.

On Wednesday I received "mom of the year" award. I insisted Ruthie was fine enough to go to school. At around 10:30 they called the mr. and he came and picked her up. Her temp was well over 100 degrees. On Thursday, there was no sign of the temperature going down, so I kept her home again. I forgot to call the school to let them know she would be out, so they called me...talk about a new experience. I guess I'm glad to know that if your child plays hookie in the second grade, they're on top of it. What's even more sad, is that there are enough parents out there that don't care if their child goes to school or not, that they have to make the phone calls in the first place. I can only figure there were enough people just letting their elementary school aged children cut that they had to employ this system.

But I digress. So, yesterday, Ruthie ended up spending half the day with my sister. I was planning on canceling Hannah's swimming lesson, but I knew I couldn't cancel our Allergy Shot (not without serious repercussions) and I was hoping to not cancel Joshua's drum lesson. I have a wonderful sister. She offered to keep Ruthie for that long so that Hannah could go to her lesson as well. That made Hannah's day considering this is the highlight of her week. A few weeks ago she told me, "Swimming is MY sport." Hannah owes her aunt a HUGE thank you.

Unfortunately, today Hannah is feverish, so we're both home from school today. I guess I'll get some dying done, as well as some much needed laundry.

Green Faced Monsters?

Ruhtie has been dying to use a mud mask. I have no idea where she learned about them, but she has begged and begged to try one. So, for Christmas, I stuck a tube of St. Ives Mud Mask in her stocking. Instantly, this became her most favorite gift. Go figure. I spent hours trying to figure out what to give her for Christmas, and she would have been plenty happy with just the mud mask.

Unfortunately, we haven't had time to apply the mask until tonight. Hannah joined in the fun. I captured the event with my older camera since my newer camera is still broken. If you look closely, you can get a general idea of what our living room now looks like, though the paint looks more yellow in the picture. It's actually a cream color with yellowish undertones. It's not finished yet, pictures still need to be hung, as does the surround sound. Knick-knacks need to find homes, that sort of finishing touches have to be made. Most of this stuff is still sitting on top of the entertainment center. However, we did unload a ton of stuff at Goodwill yesterday. Ahhhhh that feels good.

Enjoy:

(I'm not sure I can tell who is the bigger ham...Ruthie or Hannah...)