Before The Rush

It is Thanksgiving eve, and in homes across the country, the mad rush in the kitchen is about  to begin.

I will post pictures of our first annual Thanksgiving breakfast on Friday, but for now I want to focus on life and the things for which I am grateful.

A couple of weeks ago I had breakfast with a good friend and very wise observer of the human spirit.  As we were discussing life and what we want from it, he asked me a very interesting question.  He asked, "What have you always wanted to do?"  I went to the typical answers - "Well, at first I wanted to be a teacher, then I wanted to be an interior designer."  He clarified, "No, what have you always wanted, what is your purpose in life?"  I had a classic light bulb moment - without hesitation I said, "All I ever wanted to be is a wife and mother."

I have spent more than half my life as a wife, but I never was able to be a mother.  At least not in the biological sense.  Without hesitation he looked me straight in the eyes and said, "There's your answer.  The kids (my 3 granddaughters) are living in your home for your sake."  I never thought about our living arrangement like that before.  I saw allowing my stepdaughter and her young girls to live with us as a favor to her.  What my friend showed me is that God is allowing me to experience that one thing I always wanted but never got.

Suddenly the screaming at 5:00 in the morning because Savannah doesn't want to wear shoes isn't the worst thing in the world.  The peace and quiet I claim to want is really the sound of emptiness.  The toys on the floor, sippy cups everywhere, and girl emotional outbursts are just a part of the life I am being allowed to experience.  The scales have been removed and I see life through new eyes.  Thank you, sweet friend.

So, this year I am especially thankful for my noisy family.  I have the privilege of helping to raise my grandchildren.  I get hugs every night, I see the minute changes that happen to children every day as they begin to discover the world around them.  What a gift.

Cottage Inspiration: Random Lace Wall

I love to daydream and plan.  Sometimes I like it more than the actual carrying out of the plan.  This  picture is one of my plans.  I want to make a random lace display in my cottage.  I will have a rotating selection of designs, displays, and color themes; lace will definitely be apart of the plan.

I found this photo on a search of window display images.  I don't have any claim to it and wish I could remember where it came from.  I find it absolutely delightful and inspiring.  

I have started collecting vintage crochet doilies from antique & thrift stores.  I can picture expert fingers, dainty cotton thread and a minuscule crochet hook working in unison to create lace from a pattern passed down for generations.  The fingers are gnarled from years of hard work, yet given the right tools they produce strips of delicate beauty.  They are someone's history, their art.  I feel an obligation to save them, preserve them and pass along to the next generation an appreciation for a craft fading from our world.

Until next time,

Sheryl

Modern Jane

I love, love, love this look.  Clutch purses are my absolute favorite bag to carry.  They aren't always practical, but they are infinitely feminine and the perfect accessory.

Another thing I love to do is combine looks - lacy and feminine with a bold bracelet.  I don't want to wear head to toe frills, I just want a touch of glamour.  

If you want to summon your inner Modern Jane Austen, what would you wear?

Modern Jane by sherylmeans featuring vintage jewelry

Free people dress
$128 - revolveclothing.com

Fogal crochet stocking
€22 - pret-a-beaute.com

Luna pink shoes
$20 - product.madeinchina.com

Givenchy clutch handbag
$1,945 - barneys.com

Manumit hammered jewelry
£12 - fashion-conscience.com

Dorothy Perkins tahitian pearl jewelry
£6.50 - dorothyperkins.com

Alcozer J vintage jewelry
$245 - forzieri.com

Finding The Beauty

I sit in the same place everyday and all I can see is a bunch of stuff.  On their own merit, these things are beautiful.  As I said last week,  I have collected and inherited many beautiful things.  In this I am very fortunate.  What I am having trouble doing is maintaining a unified sense of beauty in my home.  


As we have made room for our extended family to live with us I have just shuffled stuff around from room to room and, at some point, I gave up.  This isn't their fault, it is mine.  I grew up with a mom who flew off the handle whenever we made a mess or broke something; and I now live with a husband who reacts in much the same way.  Determined not to follow in her footsteps and make things more important than people, I have allowed the pendulum to swing too far in the other direction.  Oh, and for the record, mom has mellowed greatly with age.


Back to the subject of beauty in the home.  I have used the kids and our tight living arrangements as an excuse to let the house go.  Because I don't want them to spill, scratch or break these things I hold dear.  Somewhere between living in a museum and a warehouse must be a beautiful life worth living.  My challenge is to find that place.


The first step is to teach mother and children about how to care for things while providing a safe place where they can eat and play with messy stuff.  Then I can feel comfortable decorating our home.  Providing a beautiful and safe home is the job of the woman of the house.  Yes, I am just that old fashioned.


Here is a montage of some of the things that I consider the beautiful components in our home.

1940's era chair and a book case.

Slipper chair, recently recovered.

Marble top table.

Gentlemen's windsor chair that I found in a group of stuff destined for the trash.
After refinishing it is fabulous.

Antique writing desk in need of refinishing.

I am surrounded by beauty...it is up to me to create a home for my family that is filled with love, beauty and memories.

Live in love....

Sheryl

Forced Sabbatical

What began as a fun evening out with our granddaughter - to celebrate her 8th birthday - ended with a trip to the emergency room and a very clumsy splint on my arm.  Water on a stained concrete floor in a darkened mall combined with fast past walking and high heel boots is nothing less than a recipe for disaster.  The fact that I am able to type is a miracle.

The preliminary diagnosis is a severely sprained left wrist.  Tomorrow, after a follow-up visit to an orthopedic doctor, I will know if it is more than that.  More importantly I will know how long I will have to wait before I can knit or crochet.  My need for constant creativity is forcing me in another direction.  Actually, I am going in reverse, back to one of my pre-yarn passions: home decor and collecting vintage items that speak of a time gone by.

Several life events caused me to suspend the decorating and nurturing of our home.  Those events are not important now, what is important is that I have a renewed interest and passion for nesting.  The first step will be to build an addition on our house so that our daughter and her children will have a space of their own.  Then, I can reclaim our house as our own.

I am fortunate enough to have inherited many beautiful pieces of furniture and decorative accents.  Most of these I have put away to protect them from three small children.  I feel like I have had a breath of new life has filled me as I anticipate this new phase of our life.

I have found many new and wonderfully inspirational blogs to follow.  Through these blogs I am reminded how much I love things that are used, white, chipped, and worn.  Things that tell a story.

Intellectually, I love things from so many eras - 1940's post war bright and cheery, mid century cool, as well as modern traditional comfort.  I like to look at them, but they don't move my soul.  The look that generates a visceral reaction is the visually complex layers and textures of the Victorian shabby chic genre.  My version is pared down with interesting vignettes, soft neutral colors with accents of black and aqua.  This is the direction I plan on taking my living room.  A large "great room" popular among home builders of the 1980's.  There will be a formal side and a more casual side unified by color.  A neutral black, cream and gold will be accented with aqua on the casual side and aqua with a touch of pink on the formal side.





Sound bizarre?  I think it will be a challenge to pull it off, but have the foundation of some beautiful furnishings and a pair of Art Deco style lamps from the 40's.  These were my mother-in-laws and I loved them from the moment I first saw them.  Now they, along with her Duncan Phyfe sofa are the cornerstone of my vision.




There are other pieces of furniture and other rooms, but that is for another day.

Until we meet again...

Sheryl

Passages

We had a new front door installed on our home this week.  This was a decision years in the making and the final choices were agonized over and made very carefully.  We will be looking at this door for the rest of our lives.  It needed to be right.

I'm not sure when it happened.  If I press myself to remember I would say that it started many years ago while driving in the country; I needed to clear my head and make sense of a very emotional situation. 


I love to get into the car and drive, stopping to take pictures - artsy pictures as my husband calls them.  Looking through the lens of the camera I can create a reality that is all my own.  No one else will ever view the scene in exactly the same way that I do.  It is mine and mine alone.

To enter or not to enter, that is the question.

At some point, on one of those drives I became enamored with doors.  Oh, the stories they could tell.  Doors allow people in, keep the weather out, and give clues about the people inside.  Doors can be utilitarian or decorative.  But, the one thing that all doors have in common is that they provide passage.  Passage in and passage out.

Very old building (1600's) in Montpellier France.

There are doors we all walk through as we pass from one phase of our life to another.  Some of those doors are beautiful and others are not.  There have been some deceptively beautiful doors in my life that I wish I had never opened.  I often wonder, what was behind those doors I ignored?  I'll never know - this side of heaven anyway. 

Never being a risk taker,  I have I probably walked past more doors I was to have opened, than going where I didn't belong.  These days I try to choose my doors wisely, asking and trusting God to guide me according to His plans for me and my life.  All I can hope is that I listen and trust in what I can't see more than I believe in what is visible.

The Right Tools

This past week I treated myself to a new set of knitting needles.  Owning a yarn shop allows me to indulge my hobby with near reckless abandon.  I tell myself it is market research and it is, after all, my obligation to be in the know.  My customers depend on me...right?  All rationale aside, I have been wanting these needles for years.  The manufacturer sold them directly to the customer through mail order and the internet.  Just recently they decided to sell wholesale to yarn shops.  Yippee!  I could now own these beautiful wooden needles and not just stare longingly at them from afar.

We fiber folks are tactile...very touchy feely.  Our yarn and tools must not only perform a certain task, but they must feel good in our hands and be pleasing to look at as well.  When I sat down to knit with these needles my hands relaxed, my grip loosened and the work began to flow from the needles.  I thought it was just the initial rush of a new toy, but I cast on a second project and again the same sensation.  I was, once again, enjoying the process.  I am a process knitter.  I knit for the pleasure of the process.  I love the projects, but if the process is not pleasurable then the chances of completion are nil.  That is just how I am wired.  There is a psychological/physical/emotional connection in knitting.  My needles get into a rhythm freeing my mind and spirit to soar.

It is in these zen moments that my mind roams aimlessly, occasionally stopping to ponder more deeply the things of the world.  Most recently I began to wonder why it is that I can't remember s_ _ t.

I am really not that old, and yet if I am this forgetful now what I am going to be doing in 20 years?  Good thing Cheyanne loves her Mimi because she might have to remind me where I live someday.  I am really not making light of this serious situation.  I talk with many ladies during an average week at Yarntopia and this seems to be a very common condition.  Do we just live in a world of sensory overload and this is our brain's defense mechanism?  I'm hoping so.  I don't think my brain stops working, even while I sleep as I often wake feeling exhausted.  I only seem to feel rested when I am away from home.  Hmmm, I am seeing a connection here.

I think it was Erma Bombeck that said "getting old isn't for sissies."  Boy, she wasn't kidding.  So, how can I slow my brain down and get the mental rest I so desperately need?  Knitting helps as long as I'm not trying to crank out a project for the store.  Listening to music, particularly classical or jazz is a definite.  But those are just bandaids.  I think I need to check with the Manufacturer for a recall notice. Surely God didn't intend for us to feel this way.

Then I remember, "Relax the grip, allow the flow."  Could the answer really be that simple?  Relax the death grip I have on all the details of my life and just let the life God placed in me flow through me to others.  It's worth a try.  God has given us all the tools we need for life, it is up to us to use them in the process of becoming the product He designed us to be.

Don't worry, be happy.

Ok, so God didn't say that but it makes a great ending.

Hugs,
Sheryl

A Good Day To Walk

We are experiencing our annual last cold front of spring and it is glorious.  The morning temperature is in the 50's with daytime highs of 70ish with the added bonus of low humidity.  I know that the heaven that God has planned for me is more amazing than the human brain can even begin to conceive of, but, if I could choose heaven weather - this would be it.  Today is last day of March, and in my corner of Texas that means that hot, humid weather is just a breath away.  I detest hot humid weather.  I have lived in Houston for 32 years, one would think I would be used to it by now.  Can one ever get used to living in a sauna?  I think not.

Cheyanne considers walking to school just one step away from adulthood.  Ah, the independence and freedom of the open sidewalk.  I knew the we would wake up to good walking weather, so I decided that today was going to be the day.  Low humidity means I won't break out in a sweat before I even take a step; my fingers won't swell before I get to the end of the street, and most importantly, I can enjoy the process.  So, last night I gave her the good news.  She could barely sleep for the excitement.

It is amazing how focused she can be when properly motivated.  Without prompting, she got dressed, fixed and ate her breakfast and was ready to leave 10 minutes before our scheduled departure.  As we walked out the door for our adventure we were greeted by cool dry air which I found refreshing and stimulating.  Chey, with her skinny little body, pushed her hands down into the pocket of her hoodie and trudged forward as though this was the frozen tundra.

Midway down the street she pauses to say, "This is your idea of a good morning to walk to school?"  I gave her the chance to ride in comfort, but there was no turning back now.  She was committed.

Around the corner and down the street, I asked her if things looked different walking rather than riding in the car.  At first she couldn't tell any difference then she excitedly said, "Look, Mimi!"  I followed her gaze and saw a mother duck with six baby ducklings walking across the front yard of the house across the street.  We paused for a moment to just watch the momma and her babies.  It was such a sweet sight.  I told her that we probably wouldn't have seen them if we had been in the car - so it WAS a good day to walk to school.

She thought I was going to let her walk the rest of the way to school alone, but like the momma duck I had to make sure she was safe, so we continued to the end of this long street.  At the last corner I let her go.  Once she turned the corner and walked a few feet she was on school property and I felt safe to let her feel like a big kid.

She is ready to be grown up and I am hanging on to each moment because before I know it, she will be grown up and gone.  I am learning to walk slowly through the days of my life, savoring my sweet grandbabies as long as I can.  These are the moments that make our tight living arrangements worth the sacrifice.  So, I came home, took an Aleve, drank a cup of coffee and enjoyed the quiet.

The Tao of Spongebob

Living in a multi-generational household presents me with a plethora of writing material.  

Every morning Chey and I watch Spongebob before school, and recently I have found myself quoting this happy little yellow sponge and his friends in Bikini Bottom.  Who knew?

• Have fun everyday.
• Work is fun and good.
• Be nice to everyone.
• Be a good friend.
• Never give up.

Yesterday I walked in the front door and was greeted with a frantic seven year old running up to me, trying so hard to get her story out that she was babbling.  "Mimi, we didn't go to the book fair until the afternoon, and I forgot Mimi.  Mrs. Evans was helping me and I forgot Mimi.  I looked at the books and I just forgot, Mimi."  Ok...at this point I had already figured out what had happened, but I wasn't going to make it easy on her.

Flashback twenty four hours.  Sitting at the kitchen table Chey and I perused a flyer for the school book fair.  To put things in perspective, Chey's main goal in life is to be famous.  She has a serious type A personality, so we don't put anything past her.  She is also a very good reader; reading above her grade level so we don't have to work to get her to pick up a book.  However, she tends to be hyper focused and has to be forced to expand her horizons.  Currently, her obsession is Justin Beiber.  With this as a backdrop I told her that she could choose a chapter book, picture books, and anything else the librarian deemed appropriate (no "Monster High"), but she was not to spend $9.99 on a picture book about Justin Beiber.

Back to the present.  She continued to plead her case without really telling me what had happened.  I just wanted to get on with my evening: change into my jammies and eat dinner, so I stopped the hemorrhage of words and confronted her with the reality, "You chose the Justin Beiber book didn't you?"  "No, I just forgot."  Sobbing ensued.  

Thus, we arrive at the wisdom of Spongebob: "Admit your mistakes."  

Learning to admit and accept making mistakes and failing to live up to the high calling is not easy but it is vital.  There is a reason she reacts this way.  Before moving in with us she got in serious trouble for every little misstep - including those normal kid things that should not be the end of the world.  The road back is a difficult one.  We try to teach her that mistakes are a part of life with the facts that there are natural consequences of her choices and we love her no matter what she chooses to do.  It is hard when those beautiful blue, tear filled eyes are pleading with me for reassurance that she is still loved.

Haven't we all felt this desperate need for reassurance?  I know I have.  Sometimes I find myself going to the wrong places for reassurance.  I still fall in the popularity trap.  I always wanted to be a part of the "in" crowd and with the advent of social media like Facebook and Twitter there is now another way to feel "in" or "out."  I find myself checking my friend list and my Twitter followers to see if someone else has decided that I am witty enough or interesting enough to "friend" or "follow."  It is exhausting and futile.

Then I hear a little voice whispering to me (no, this time it is not Spongebob) reminding me that I was knit together in my mother's womb and that I am loved by my Father and saved by His Son.  How much more special can a person be?  All of that done for me?  Blessed Assurance.

Hugs,

Sheryl

Thanks For The Memories

I spent the better part of the afternoon scanning photos from my childhood and family.  For now, I will only post the previously promised Jr. High memories.

These are my band buddies - the 2 Ednas and the "greatest bassoonist" in the band.

Kay, Edna and Cheryl rejecting evil in any form.

Our friend, Manuel, moved from Harlingen to San Antonio after 9th grade.  We met in band in the 8th grade. He played alto sax and I played the flute.  Due to the seating arrangement, much of the time we sat opposite each other so there was plenty of time to look up from our music making to gaze at each other.  

Oh, the innocence of first love.  What I remember is a funny, smart and kind young man with a gentle spirit to whom I could talk for hours.  I also remember that he was the center of a bit of girl competition.  

It broke my heart when he moved, but everything happens for a reason and life has taken its prescribed course for both of us.

Through Facebook I have recently reconnected with all these people.  It is so fun to see familiar faces (albeit 38 years later) and feel the years slip away.  It is all too easy to wonder what if...what if he didn't move, what if my family hadn't moved the following year, what if I had pursued music, what if.....

Spending too much time on the what ifs of life causes one to miss the reality that we are who we are because of our choices and the consequences they bring.  For those of us trusting in God we know that He guides and protects those who trust in and lean on Him.  

Life is a blessing not to be taken lightly.  Embrace yours and those you love.

Hugs....

Sheryl

Jr. High 38 Years Later

Jr. High School.  What do those three words mean to you?  For me they represent the very best time of my life prior to 1989.  This is especially significant because I was born in 1958, in Jr. High from 1970-73, and at various places from '73-'89.  Hands down, 1970-73 were peak years for me.

As 6th grade - a part of elementary school back then - drew to a close I worked very hard to convince my parents to let me play in the band.  This was no easy task.  There was a great deal of concern that I would not stick with it.  I can't fault them for their concern.  I am sure my gnat-like attention span was firmly in place long before I realized it myself.  I found an incredible love for music through learning to play the flute.  To this day I can still remember being on stage surrounded by others as we worked together to play music.  It was an amazing feeling.  Being a band member not only gave me the opportunity to grow as a person it allowed me to belong.  Band became my life and the place where I learned many important life lessons. 

I learned that hard work leads to excellence; failure is a part of life; competition can make or break a friendship; working well with others is important and fun; and lastly, I learned that I am totally incapable of marching and playing a musical instrument at the same time.  Sadly I have absolutely no sense of rhythm.  I faked my way through a few Christmas parades but, being a part of a real marching band - not going to happen.  Thus, my musical career ended with 9th grade in 1973.

I thought the friendships forged during these years were lost forever due to moving and life in general. Thanks to Facebook, this week I was reunited with four friends from those days.  It is amazing to reconnect with people I thought I would never see again.  In some ways those 38 years have melted away, then I look in the mirror.  Oh, yeah, I really am 53.  

Pictures to come this weekend.  I'm going digging around to see what I can find that will stir some memories without humiliating anyone.  If you were a part of my world at Coakley Jr. High in Harlingen Texas...stay tuned!

New Year, Clean Slate, Fresh Start

I started a post about our vacation.  Then I started a post about Christmas.  So much time has passed since all of that that I decided to skip right up to the present.  One of the beautiful things about a blog is being able to record life as it happens.  Thanks to the movie Julie and Julia, one year ago I vowed to blog everyday.  Well, that got me nowhere; when I began to slack I just gave up - my personality in a nutshell.  I realized that I didn't have enough interesting stuff to say everyday.  So, this year, I am trying for a weekly blog entry.  Hope springs eternal.

As I look into the new year I have no idea what will come our way.  On January 1, 2010 I had no idea that by the end of the year we would be sharing our home with our daughter and her three children or that I would be a few signatures away from owning my own home (yes, we own our home, but this time I get to help choose the house!).

I can look into the year and plan what I would like to happen, but only God really knows what will be coming our way.  I plan, but always defer to His wisdom, grace and love.

With that introduction, here is what I hope for, will plan for, and focus on in 2011:

Health for all those I love - I know that is generic and not very creative, but without good health nothing else matters.

I want my grandchildren to have a stable home - this is why I am getting another home, more on that later.

Quality time with my husband.  When we actually have time to ourselves we really have fun - what a refreshing thing to discover.  What has always caused difficulties in our marriage is the outside forces of others impacting us.  Couldn't we just live on an island?

Time and space for creativity.  This is my lifeblood.  If I am not creating I die inside.  

A new home - this is actually the first thing that I hope happens this year.  With this all the above can happen as well.  I have never been a part of choosing the home that I live in.  I chose apartments, but for reasons I will not go into, I have not chosen houses.  I want to choose my "forever house."

Earn money.  For many years now I have gone without earning any money.  I am blessed to have a husband who makes a good living and thus far I have not needed the money.  But, I would really like a monetary reward for my hard work.

I want to give back.  I will find a charity that touches my heart and not only give money but also of my time.  This is an important part of life that I have neglected of late.  Because of my dad, military causes always touch my heart as does hospice - those are amazing people.  And, of course there are the animals, the creatures God entrusted to our care and are so often neglected and abused by people.  I can't adopt them all (maybe a new kitty for the new house?), but I can find ways to help.

Well, those are my hopes and dreams for the new year.  Where will 2011 take us?  Only God knows for sure.  See you same time next year and we'll compare notes.  

God bless us one and all.