Artella Cafe

Contemplating the Thought for the Day

soozwillamuse — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 14:16:00 GMT

I used today's "Thought for the Day" in the Daily Muse Calmics as a "stem" for writing today's blog post.

"Begin doing what you want to do now --- we are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake." (Marie Beyon Ray)

So I sit for a moment and ask myself whether there is anything I wanted, which I have not yet done. I have lived an extremely blessed life, and from the age of about 17, began taking initiative --- getting a part-time job, saving money, getting my own bicycle, joining a gym, changing or learning new careers, working my way up the job ladder, learning to put my foot down about friendships that didn't seem right (ooh, that particular one was pretty long and painful, actually...but I did finally achieve it and still work at that NOW). Taking on some of my dreams, overcoming my fear of dogs, learning to speak up in groups, gaining confidence to stand up against my "slightly outspoken" husband ... oh, and taking on those week-long survival trips ... and the week-long "introduction to horses" in the wilderness of the Colorado Rockies (and what an "introduction" that was ! ). Learning to quilt. Writing my life story.

Yes, I've been one to constantly assess --- what I desire, what I accomplished toward those goals.

My eyes move up to my LIST that is posted beside my computer on bright pink paper: my 2008 goals. Just about three-quarters of the things are crossed-off because they've been accomplished. I finished the blue-green quilt as a gift to my older sister; made a table-runner for my brother and his family in Omaha; am working on The Great TDR People Project; got a shredder for all the old paperwork being stored in the garage and barn; cleared out closets and donated regularly to Goodwill; re-vamped my kitchen garden; am keeping my car neater; attended an art retreat (Asilomar in April); tried altering a book; and most precious of all, made several new women friends who meet my "criteria".

But what remains? Surely I am not done, yet --- not already! No, if I stop and think, there are still some things that I've always wanted to do.

I've always wanted to do an exploratory trip of about a dozen very unique areas in the United States: for example, the Florida Keys, Georgia, the Appalachian Trail; New England, Montana and staying in a little cabin looking up at the Glaciers; I'd like to design 4-5 days in Omaha, where I have a brother living, staying in a hotel downtown and getting around by rental car, seeing all the cool city stuff that I have found online about Omaha; Wisconsin and the Great Lakes area; Austin ... you know what? I am inspired. I have a huge book on my shelf; here, let me go find it... Ah, here it is: "Amazing Places to Go in North America", with beautiful full-color photographs. Wow, that's just the ticket!! I'm going to start this book right away!

I've found my next big thing to do! What a great way to start my day today; I feel invigorated!!

DISTRACTION

PoeticJava — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 13:37:00 GMT

on my laptop

the screen radiates light

words methodically dance

and inside my head, thoughts

of you ravage my sanity

as I try to think clearly

but can't

sentence fragments speak loudly

I growl in frustration

the music plays

I am also playing, foraging

amongst form and speech

searching for the perfect phrase

punctuation and images move

highlighting, bolding, italicizing

I veg and play with the tongue ring

that creates a melody on my teeth,

hoping against hope that a poem will come,

regardless of the havoc you are wreaking

Love is Like That...

bspimas — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 02:29:00 GMT

Two properties down is a horse, who spies me from afar and comes to greet me, magnificent and supple in every motion, bringing me his large dark eyes and velvet nose. He seems more interested in what I have to feed him, than in me. I turn my pockets inside out but he is unimpressed, and takes a mouthful of my red fleece coat. "Hey," I say and pull away laughing. "Not so rough." I put up my hand to stroke his forehead, but he nips at my fingers. I am quick-I haven’t forgotten about horses altogether--and he does not come away with a snack. He seems petulant and impatient with my wish not to feed him whatever I’ve got, including my own flesh. I back up. "I’m sorry. I don’t stay with anyone who tries to bite me," I say, walking away. It took me two ex-husbands to learn that. Behind me the horse races away, kicking and bucking and having a tantrum. Funny, my ex-husbands did that too.

Today as I walk, I pluck an apple from a low-growing tree and put it in my pocket for the next horse I meet, hoping for better manners. I am not disappointed. Fenced in next to weathered red and white outbuildings stands a horse with rough, dappled good looks, his straw-colored mane flying in the wind. This one is gentle, and waits quietly, head bowed, as I stroke above his nose. He snuffles his muzzle against my cheek and I fall in love. "Would it ever work," I ask him quizzically. He arches his head away from me as if to think about it, and holds his neck still, at an angle, looking serious. Then he turns back. I take the small apple from my pocket and offer it, a love gift. "It might," his eyes tell me as he delicately scoops up the fruit from my hand. I promise to come back tomorrow and he walks along the fence with me until our paths separate, looking longingly after me as I head back. I like to flatter myself that he is already pining for me, but I’m guessing he is wondering what was in the other pocket. Love is like that too.

NO LONGER LOST

PoeticJava — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 13:35:00 GMT

In the deep silence of knowing

where you have come from,

where you are going,

a calmness washes over you

when the compass and someone's hand

guide you through the forest

You are now no longer lost

caught somewhere between understanding and none

with the desire for something better...

Because you are

How-To for the Desperate

soozwillamuse — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 19:02:00 GMT

How to Insert a Photo into your Blog

for Total Non-Professionals (Attempt at your own risk).

I have spotted one or two members, here and there, who sound as lost as I was regarding how to insert a photo into a blog post. After much stumbling about, and using my street resourcefulness, I discovered a way to insert a picture into my blog post. Here I must disclose that I have absolutely no idea what I am talking about, but you may be just desperate enough to get a photo of your latest thing into your post that you are willing to try my method.

Here is what worked for me:

(Note: I have a Dell computer, and my photo management program is Corel.)

I like getting my photo all ready first; then, after I write my blog post, I’ll be ready to insert the photo when the time comes.

Open Corel Photo Album (I have Version 6). Using “Find” or “Organize”, find and “select” the photo you want to post.

Along the toolbar, click “Photo”, wait for the drop-down menu, and click “Resize”.

A “Photo Resize” dialog box will open. Under “Dimensions”, you will see a field with the options to choose “Pixels” or “Percent”. I chose “Percent”. Then you need to enter a percentage. I chose 15% (don’t enter the percentage sign).

Now you do not want to save the reduced image over your “original” photo on your hard drive, so I have chosen to save it someplace else. Note the box below “Dimensions” that says “Output Location”. In the first field, click the arrow to select “To a Different Folder”. Then use the “Browse” function to choose someplace to put your new file. Since this is the only thing I will use the reduced photo for, I just put in on my “Desktop” (and will go back to the Desktop and delete it in a day or two).

Now, click OK.

Go to your Artella Blog and begin your normal new blog post (“Write a new Blog Post”). When you get to the point where you want to insert your photo, I recommend hitting the return key once, so that the photo will not appear all smashed up right against the last letter you typed.

Look along the top of the “box” where you’re posting for a little icon that looks like a Monopoly Deed. Mine is to the right of an icon with a little green tree, and to the left of a smiley face. If you just point your cursor at this icon, a little bubble might pop us that says “Content Selector”. Click on it! A box will burst open which says “Select Content”.

In the lower right area of this box, you’ll see a place where you can “upload file”. Click on the little “Browse” button, and locate the reduced image on your Desktop. Double click on the image file name (usually a number assigned by your camera, followed by the file extension “ .jpg “. The entire file location and name will appear in the “Browse” box. Now, click the dark button marked “Upload File”. Soon, you will see the desired image appear in the upper right-hand area of your “Select content” box. “Select” on the image here, and then click OK on the very bottom right of the whole Select Content box.

The photo should appear now in your blog post!

AFTERNOON PEACE

PoeticJava — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 13:56:00 GMT

(I really hate that we have become so dependent on technology that even on vacation I feel the need to post to my blog then get frustrated when I have no internet access to do so. I do at least write every day, but geez, when you've become used to sharing your stuff with friends (and them commenting on it) you really feel lost when you can't post because the place where you are staying doesn't have wireless access *pouts*)

Each afternoon, favorite pen in

my hand, I look at nature's

perfect painting.

Trees is greens, golds and reds

dot the landscape with flowers in

yellow, orange and pink

and as the day turns

from blue to dusky purples and fiery red and fuchsia,

as the travelers head home

after a long days work

I watch a squirrel's ministrations

and find amusement in the roundness

of his cheeks, as if

his one thought of the day

was to make people smile.

NATURE CURE

bspimas — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 02:46:00 GMT

In the middle of the morning

a toad or frog

outside my cottage

interrupts me,

calling out

in an impossibly measured

and rickety voice,

and I notice

a little bit of sun peering in,

which makes me smile.

The rickety croak comes again,

and then in a few minutes again.

It is the most ridiculous

and wonderful sound

I have heard yet and I laugh.

A moment ago, I wanted to weep.

Funny how the woods around me

are like that,

always interrupting my plans

for a blue mood

with a flash of odd humor

or a gently coaxing a smile.

“You win,”

I tell the rickety echo.

with a smile,

and get up to make tea.

Much later,

a brilliant

yellow and black butterfly

drenched in sunshine

hovers inches

above my

outstretched hand

as if to say "hello,"

Over head

a baby red squirrel

peeps out at me

from the birdhouse

his momma comandeered

for a nest

and I laugh at his

curious little face...

I no longer remember

why

I was blue....

July 17, 2008

arthiss — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 05:19:00 GMT

Life: The Summer Reading Club at The Little Library always generates a lot of buzz from my little patrons. This year is no exception. So far, over 230 little folks have signed up to read (or listen to) 20 books they have never read (or heard) before. But some of my older patrons imagine themselves too advanced or sophisticated for my "little kid" incentives and prizes. Evan F. (10) is a case in point. He comes in this week with his mom and younger sister Abby (7). Abby eagerly signs up and receives her sticker chart, and I give her a gold star with her name on it for the space mural. Evan stands off to the side, and announces that he has signed up for the Mayor's Reading Program with the Public Library, has a goal of 40 hours of reading, and won't have the time to join The Little Library's Reading Club. But after about 10 minutes of browsing the chapter book section, he comes to the desk with several selections. "I guess I can handle both Clubs," he sheepishly admits. I smile to myself. When you are as good a reader as Evan, it's hard to pass up a couple of interesting titles, no matter what the prize!

Love: I hear the H. family as they come in the front door. They have been coming to the library since John, (8) and Amy (6) were 5 and 3. Little brother Reggie (2) is just learning to talk, and comes clammering up the stairs calling, "K! K!" Everyone calls me Mrs. K. at the library, and Reggie has already got it down pat! It's so amazing to watch the children begin to claim the library as their own -- they love "their" special books, "their" favorite characters, "their" chairs and stools and tables. They claim me, too -- as their own personal "library lady." What starts as "K! K!" turns into words, then sentences, then sharing, then conversations, then questions -- all about themselves, their families, their lives, and ultimately the books they are discovering at the library. "Their" library is my joy, and a huge responsibility. It sits heavily and happily on my shoulders.

Laughter: All little boys (and many little girls) have a love affair at some point with fire trucks, and consequently, my fire truck books are very popular. I shelve them all together for easy access, except for a few fire truck board books which sit across the room on the board book shelves. Today Jacob H. (3 1/2) finds one of these board books, and runs joyfully to show it to his mother. Sister Lucy (2) is engrossed in her own book nearby. I listen in on their conversation and realize I am probably overhearing a re-hashing of an oft repeated exchange. <Jacob: I can drive a fire truck when I get bigger. Mom: That's right, Jacob. Jacob: When I'm bigger like Daddy. Mom: That's right, you can drive a fire truck when you are big like Daddy. Jacob: When my legs are longer. Mom: Yes, your legs will need to be longer. Then Lucy pipes up (who knew she was even listening!): An' diver licen'. Mom (laughing): You're right, Lucy, he needs a driver's license, too.> Here's yet another reminder that 2-year-olds hear everything, retain everything, and will forever make life miserable for their older brothers!

Baby Idol

MarneyM — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 19:17:00 GMT

Thanks to Photoshop, here's Baby Kai practicing to win Baby Idol 2008...

Real Life Fairy Garden

isabella — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Here is the latest project hubby and I have been working on. My very own fairy garden! I have a nice collection of fairies that I can rotate in and out of it. It sits to the side of one of our decks at the back corner of the house. The sun rises on this side of the house, so they are bathed in light first thing in the morning. I'd say that's a great way to start the day! So now I have my own little magical spot to gaze at each morning when I have my coffee. The two stones didn't photograph...(read more)

MOMMIES

bspimas — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 03:16:00 GMT

Dear Little Cheryl, I write in my journal after a particularly painful therapy session.
I have no illusions, that I could have done a better job than my parents of giving you the love and care you needed. I cannot promise anything about the past. I don't know where this path will take me, so I can't make you promises about the future. I can tell you how I feel about you today, and what I can do today.

How DO I feel about you, I wonder silently? "She must have been a nasty wicked child," I hear a voice in me say.

"Why do you say that?" I ask the little voice. "Just look at her," the voice insists, hissing again, "nasty wicked child." Suddenly I see my mother clutching me tight and whispering harshly. It is February, deep in a North Dakota winter. I am almost three and a scene suddenly unfolds in my mind. Someone turns the light on. I wake up and rub my eyes. Mommy in the doorway. Curt voice. "Up!" Little room under the slanting eaves. I look in Mommy's face. Is SCARY Mommy here? No. FLAT Mommy. She dresses me roughly. It is cold and I shiver. "Stand still!" I try not to tremble.

She picks me up, not patient enough for me to follow-holds me on her hip leaning away from me. We go downstairs. My older brother Herky (almost four years old), and my younger brother Timmy (eighteen months) are already at the table. Daddy isn’t home and the house is cold. I look again in my Mommy's face. FLAT Mommy. I shiver. My mother catches the look and the shiver from the corner of her eye. She flies across the room, swinging her arm to slap me, knocking me off the chair, all in one motion. FLAT MOMMY disappears. Monster MOMMY is here, big eyes and heaving chest. "DON’T YOU DEFY ME!" she screams. I put my soul in a little pocket behind my heart and get very still. If I cry it will bring ruin.
It is as if someone has frozen the frame and we all stay still for a minute.

SWEET MOMMY (my least favorite for she always comes after monster MOMMY) is here to break the spell, pick me up ("Did you fall down? You’re okay now.") and help me onto the chair. My brothers are looking away, gone to their own safety hatches. My chin just rises above the table and it is hard to eat but there is only one highchair and it is for Timmy. I try to eat my oatmeal without spilling but it is hard. The sweet brown sugar on the warm oatmeal seems pleasant and soothing. I spill a spoonful and freeze. FLAT MOMMY is back. Nothing registers. I try to clean it off my corduroy jumpsuit but it makes a mess. "You’ll have to wear that all day," Mother says evenly. "Not enough clothes to change you every time you do something stupid." She turns back to the dishes. Is that good or bad? I can’t tell. The oatmeal is now cold and slimy and seems to get on everything. "Come here." FLAT MOMMY yet. Always check which mommy first. I slide off the chair and toddle over to her. She has a cold washcloth and she roughly scrubs my hands, face and bangs (oatmeal there too). Abruptly she turns back to the sink. Blank MOMMY. I stand still. You have to be where she left you when she comes back or monster MOMMY comes.

She lifts her head and looks at me. I have a sudden surge of panic as I realize I am the closest to her. That can be fatal. Cheerful MOMMY. I like this one. "Let’s go out and play in the snow,” she says. There is a smile in her voice as well as on her face. She bundles us into all our snow gear, endlessly patient with all the zippers, snaps, buckles. I am smiling too, basking in this rare sunshine. It is so upsetting when cheerful MOMMY goes away. I try to be very good when cheerful MOMMY is here but I always forget and do something wrong and cheerful MOMMY leaves. Then I never know who will be there.

We go outside into the crisp white wonderland, the air still and tingling on my cheeks. Snow is piled high on the bare limbs. "Look," cheerful MOMMY says, "they are wearing muffs!" I think this is funny and laugh. We play outside for a long time. My hands are cold but my heart is warm. I wish cheerful MOMMY would stay. A neighbor stops by to chat. Oh oh. Cheerful MOMMY disappears. I hate the man for stopping. Polite-but-oh-so-cold MOMMY is here. "I have to get the children in the house," she says politely, "they're freezing."

We go back inside. Which mommy will be inside? Busy MOMMY. We get out our toys in the living room and mother “gets busy.” "I better get busy," she always says. She cleans and scrubs and picks up and cooks. "I’ll never get it all done," Busy MOMMY says. "Didn't I just do this?" Busy MOMMY says. Sometime later before lunch I see blank MOMMY come back (I am always watching to see when a different mommy will come so I will know what to do). I freeze. You have to be where she left you when she comes back or monster MOMMY comes.

Suddenly I realize time has passed and I have forgotten to stay frozen and watch BLANK MOMMY. Herky and I are in the hallway rolling a rubber ball against the door.
Blaamm! Monster MOMMY grabs me by the hair and grabs Herky by the suspenders. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU KIDS TO PLAY QUIETLY!" she yells all in one word. I freeze in fear. What were we doing wrong? She grabs me under the arms with one arm (the other has Herky) and picks me up. She goes back into the living room and drops us (smack) onto the floor.
"NOW STAY THERE!" she screams, kicking out at us. I duck, Herky ducks.

SWEET MOMMY. Tears in her eyes. "Why do you do that?" (flinch away) she says, her voice breaking. "You know I would never hurt you." She runs up the stairs to her room and I hear her crying. The baby is crying but no one hears. Herky and I try to play very quietly, with exaggerated care. Eventually she comes back downstairs. Guilty MOMMY. She sits down on the floor with us. "I'm sorry," she says, trying to look in our eyes, "I’m sorry. Sometimes it's just too much for Mommy," she says with a sigh. "Would you like a cookie?" She gets us a cookie and milk and starts to fix lunch.

Busy MOMMY. Busy MOMMY is here a lot during the day and she is my favorite. She ignores us, but she isn’t scary. You might think Cheerful MOMMY would be my favorite but the loss of her is too hard to bear. Busy MOMMY stays around until it is nap time. Up in my room it is cold. I stare at the wallpaper. Where is Daddy again, I wonder. I wish I could crawl under the covers but Busy MOMMY would be upset to see me undo her work. That might bring out monster MOMMY. I shiver and try to curl into a tighter little ball. I’m too cold to sleep it seems but I nod off.

Curt voice. "Up." I wake up with a start. FLAT MOMMY is the one who says that and FLAT MOMMY usually comes before one of the Mommies that leads to monster MOMMY. For some reason today this makes me want to cry and before I can stop myself, I begin to sob. FLAT MOMMY closes the door and leaves without a word. Now I really start to cry for I am abandoned as well as cold and scared. A long time later the door opens. SWEET MOMMY. "Are you feeling better now?" she says smiling. SWEET MOMMY only smiles on her face, not her eyes. "Come on, you're a big girl, why don’t you get up now?" I crawl out of the bed and go over to her. I reach up my arms to be picked up, but she ignores me. I put my arms around her legs and I feel her stiffen. I forgot. You can’t touch SWEET MOMMY. She stares down at me. Oh God. Blank MOMMY.

This time I stand very still but put my arms at my side. In a minute Busy MOMMY is there hustling me downstairs for a cup of cocoa. Herky is playing in the living room. There are tears on his cheeks. I wonder which mommy got him up from his nap. Busy MOMMY goes back to work washing clothes on the back porch putting them through the wringer. The air is moist but warm now so that the clothes will dry. No Daddy for dinner. I’m not sure where he goes. I eat carefully at first but Cheerful

MOMMY is here making funny faces and calling the food funny names. We all laugh and laugh. I love cheerful MOMMY but I am always waiting for her to go away so when she does it doesn’t feel so bad. A knock on the door. Oh oh-cheerful MOMMY is gone. polite-but-oh-so-cold MOMMY will answer the door. She comes at a moment’s notice when other people come around. She can even interrupt monster MOMMY. Because of this I am in awe of her. It is a friend of Mommy's from church. They come back in the kitchen. I don’t like this woman. She pats us all on the head. Her voice is shrill. She brings a casserole because Daddy is gone I guess, I don’t know. She chatters on and on. Blank MOMMY is here but the lady doesn’t notice for a while. Inside where it doesn’t show I freeze. You never know who comes after blank MOMMY, unless of course, you are not where she left you. Although monster MOMMY never comes when we have company, I'm not taking any chances.

"Henrietta?" The lady sees blank MOMMY for an instant. Polite-but-oh-so-cold MOMMY is back for a minute saying, "It's been such a long day, so nice of you to come by, the casserole will really help, but the dishes need doing and then the children need putting to bed...." The lady nods and smiles in sympathy, pats us all on the head and leaves. I hate it when she puts her face right in mine and says silly things. The door closes. Busy MOMMY does the supper dishes. Tonight we have baths. Fill the big basin with heated water. The water feels good but FLAT MOMMY is rough with me and it hurts between my legs because she scrubs so hard. When did I get it dirty?

She picks me up and wraps me in a towel. She holds me against her under the arms facing outwards. It feels as if she might drop me. She slowly climbs the stairs. "Wicked child," she hisses. Oh god, SCARY MOMMY is here. I am frantic to get away but I am trapped, her arms pinning me to her chest, my toes dangling. "You are a nasty (uh) wicked (uh) child," she hisses, one phrase for each step. "You are (step, uh) a nasty (step, uh) wicked (step, uh) child." I am terrified of SCARY MOMMY. Monster MOMMY just hurts me. SCARY MOMMY hates me. She wants me dead.

In my room Busy MOMMY is back. She helps me into my pajamas. I clutch my favorite teddy bear. Later she comes back with Herky from his bath and we all pile onto my bed. I see it is Cheerful MOMMY. She often comes out at night to read us a story. She reads us the story of Hansel and Gretel. I see that they have a SCARY MOMMY too.
When the lights are out she comes back and sits on my bed. I can’t believe my good luck, because I see it is my REAL MOMMY, with clear, warm eyes, and gentle hands. She strokes my hair away from my forehead and it feels very soothing.

"My little rosebud," she says and kisses my forehead. "I love you," she whispers, her breath warm in my ear. Then she leaves closing the door softly.
I tell you true, that it is this MOMMY I wait for. She isn’t here much, but she is here enough for me to survive. I cling to those few moments when they come as if they are treasures. These moments are not much against all the rest now, but they are like a seed which, as in the fairy tales, I will plant one day and grow my own love.
I wonder which mommy will wake me up tomorrow.

(This happened when I was growing up in norther North Dakota; I was about 3. My mother was mentally ill at the time. This memory came back with such clarity, that it startled me, and has remained indelible - Cheryl bspimas)

Say It to Mean It

copper cat — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 22:09:00 GMT

When I was a young child, I knew I was an artist regardless of what family or family friends said. Unfortunately, I listened to adults for far too long and lost my will to create until I went to college. That became another brick wall (hmm, there's a pun not intended!) when illness entered my life. I also continued listening to adults and completely shunned my creative side, that is until this year.

If you've ever heard of speaking to the Universe what you'd like for yourself, here's a good example, although for me it is speaking for myself and the Creator of the Universe. I remember when I joined Artella in late December last year. I was particularly downtrodden because I had been in several ATC swaps and just didn't feel like I belonged, whether I could create at the level of others or not. When Y2K plus eight turned, I finally determined in my heart that Yes, I am a writer, a poet, a photographer, an artist of my choosing. I compare myself to myself and not others.That was a hard determination to make, and even harder was speaking those words to other people. I remember the first time I stammered out the words, "I'm a writer." in hushed tones to my physician, and the look on her face that harkened so much to my childhood days - a look that said, you've got to be kidding, kiddo.

Today, I say those words a little louder and with a little more confidence. I also took a chance and submitted an article unrequested to the Write in Style section of the Musepaper. It will be published, along with a little piece of my art, August 1st, 2008. To say I'm honored doesn't even begin to touch what's in my heart.

Crushed, broken

I once had a dream

Forgotten

Restarted by hope

Life unfurls

Character

May my realities be the stuff of dreams.

SUNSET

PoeticJava — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 13:06:00 GMT

Sun

sets

on the

horizon

not of the earths sky

but of my own rattled heartstrings

as I struggle to maintain a facade for others

in the hopes that even my fake smiles will help them to find a happiness within.

Meet my friend Amanda

auntbobby — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 03:43:00 GMT

Hey, guys -- have you noticed a new name among those who are being published in the Muse? Check out the Sunday Poem & Garden Section, and let me know what you think of Amanda Buck and her poems. I am encouraging her to get a Blog, and also to start responding to the Forums. I think she will be a great addition to the Artella family!

Hugs ~~ Aunt Bobby

Grandma's Birthday Gift

Tammy — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 21:36:00 GMT

Here's the latest creation - I actually finished it up a couple of weeks ago and sent it off to my grandma for her birthday! This piece memorializes her grade school marble champion title!

A Place to Write - Part "Do"

Wozzie — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 19:39:00 GMT

I was successful in my venture to locate a place that could become my go to venue for all things writing. All I had to do was become a bit of a wanderer -- a goat if you will. Like this: There is a cute little coffee shop tucked away in the Whiteaker District, not too terribly far from where I live. Every night this past week I have gotten in the habit of hopping on my bike and peddling over to The Wandering Goat . Here I find a hip little place with high top tables, vegan pastries, coffee galore...(read more)

Such a long time!

AriCuryll — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 18:57:00 GMT

Wow...I can't believe I've let such a long time pass since I checked in here. Eek!

Still, it's been a busy, creative time. I have been making progress on my writing, at least on reworking my novel plan. I have some people interested in forming an in-person writing group, and we're getting together for the first time next week. I've been working on some embroideries. I have my studio space cleared out, and it's starting to be a really inviting place. *And* my studio has space for me to set up my oil painting stuff! After ten years, I am finally going to have time (I hope) and space to get back into it! I am really excited. I also found a teacher here in Portland who works in a similar manner to my old teacher, so I may arrange to take some classes in the fall. But for now, I'm going to jump back in from what I remember along with some refreshers from a few books I have out from the library. I am *really* excited about this--I didn't even know I missed it that much!

That's most of what's happening here. I am getting ready for the Willamette Writers' Conference the first weekend in August. I am working out a good routine to get me back into regular writing. So, life here is good. And now I've checked back in to Artella, so it's all even better! :) I really do enjoy Artella a lot, so I'm glad I remembered to stop by. I must make more of a habit of this...

TEACHINGS

PoeticJava — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 13:27:00 GMT

I learned from my mother how to

be strong (for in my eyes her weakness

motivated me); to help those you can

and empathize with those you can't;

to always have food and wine

for visitors. I learned to save jars

and boxes and other containers to hold

precious treasures; to de-bone fish

and remove scales so the skin is slick.

I learned to snub family who wronged me,

stay close to those who didn't and keep

in contact as necessary just so they know

I'm alive. I learned to speak my mind.

Why lie about how I feel or hide

my thoughts.

I learned that no one will believe

in me if I don't.

Like an artist, I learned to create

shoulders big enough to bear

the weight of all and not complain

when people abuse that...even family.

To every broken soul, offer healing words:

a card or poem, a sentiment that

comes from the heart.

Wee Little Graces

MarneyM — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 05:56:00 GMT

Well, Kai is 8 weeks old. I wonder how long am I supposed to be counting his age in weeks? I guess if, years from now, you read a blog post that says “Well, Kai is 936 weeks today and is about to graduate from High School...” I guess that is too long. (Not to mention that by then, I am sure blogs will be as outdated as the HAM radio…)

Anyway, two months into parenthood, I can definitely say that being a Mom has been harder work than I thought it would be. I’ve had some physical challenges since labor/delivery, but even that aside, I must admit that it’s just harder to take care of a baby than I expected. But, there are also so many wonderful things that I couldn’t have expected, either, like…

- I never knew I’d be able to notice so many new, wonderful things about him every single day, and that these little tiny observances would bring me so much joy.

- I never knew I’d be able to see so much of myself in him, already.

- I never knew what it would feel like to watch Kai and his Daddy together. I wonder if that kind of happiness should even be legal. My heart feels so full I think it might burst!

- I didn't know that Kai would be so patient with me, as I’m learning along with him.

- I never knew I’d have such instant kinship with all moms, everywhere…from my local playgroup to my long-distance friends, and, especially, my very own Mom!

- I could never have known what a grounding, humbling, peaceful experience it is to be so connected to a being so pure and simple, and so obviously connected to Spirit. I am certain he is far wiser about life that I am because he knows things I have forgotten.

Kai's little graces are filling the corners of my home and my heart, and I'm a better person because of it. And, as tiring as it is sometimes, these blessings far outweigh the challenges. (Now, just remind me to read this at the next 3 a.m. feeding!)

Here are some new photos:

FLIGHT

PoeticJava — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 14:35:00 GMT

What hides inside us, those thoughts

that either soothe or confuse,

motivate or hinder,

give us pause

to change our life's direction.

But the soul needs, the wants, create

solace of the heart

and strength to keep dreams alive.

Words become our savior, some decide

our fate, if only we let them fly.

TO BE

PoeticJava — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 23:32:00 GMT

The mind asks acceptance first

and then the will to survive

and then to be able to live with pride

and then finally, release from pain

and then to give in

and then to move on

and then if it should come to pass,

the hopes of dreams and wishes,

the chance to BE.

Ring around the Rosy

chameleon — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:06:00 GMT

I'm five years old again. We’re in a circle, our hands clasped together, giggling and swinging our little arms in unison while chanting this popular song:

Ring around the rosy,
A pocket full of posies.
”Hush-a, hush-a”
We all fall down!

Kate Greenaway 1881

Nursery rhymes were not originally written for children, but reflected events that occurred in history. Believe it or not, the nursery rhyme 'Ring around the rosy' alludes to the bubonic plague that ravaged Europe during the Medieval Era. The symptoms of the plague included a rosy red rash in the shape of a ring on the skin (ring around the rosy), and violent sneezing. Were we thinking about the plague that day? Definitely not.

The more I sat around reminiscing about these rhymes the more I came up with, surprised at the sheer variety that there was. Most were cheerful and sometimes with a message meant just for children. You probably remember learning some of them when you were younger, using them in playing games, learning to count or read to you at bedtime. I have fond recollections of this jump rope rhyme we played during recess at school:
Cinderella, dressed in yella
Went upstairs to see her fellow,
How many kisses did she get?..one...two...

Anne Anderson date unknown

Determining who was "It" or who was going to be last or first were difficult decisions that had to be made quickly and fairly. No one ever wanted to volunteer. Think about it for a moment: did you ever want to be “It”? The last one left in is “It” in this playground favorite:
One Potato
Two Potato
Three Potato
Four
Five Potato
Six Potato
Seven Potato
MORE
O-U-T spells OUT
So Out you must Go!

Author n/a 1985

Many of these little rhymes are hundred of years old, and have been passed through many generations. Even in ancient Greece and Rome, some 2000 years or more ago, little tots played at counting games and sang little verses of that era. Another familiar jingle that will never grow old is Hey, Diddle, Diddle:
Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon

Randalf Caldecott 1882

Allowing my mind to drift, I was back in my childhood when life was simpler, when all I knew were colors, multiplication tables, and snippets of nursery rhymes. What games did you play and can you recall the rhymes? “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands….”

Life's Ridges

soozwillamuse — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 14:06:00 GMT

Many of you in the Artella Community saw a few of my wild and crazy posts and prayers this past week concerning my annual visit from 12-year-old nephew and it's attendant stress. I THANK YOU for your patience and support as I struggled, galumphed, sputtered, and bumped my way through those turbulent days. Now that the crisis is past and I have my wits back about me, little status report and follow-up, and then I will put the matter to rest.

My nephew has come to stay with us for a month in the summertime, each year for the past three years. He normally lives in a tiny apartment in the city with his mom, my youngest sister. This was Bob's and my gift to my sister and to Carmel each year, for this is a totally different environment than the city. We can provide a wonderful rural environment; really interesting and well-mannered Christian kids for neighbors, who have lots of interesting animal and agricultural interests to share; and our home, a nice private room and bath for him, and many pets to spread lots of love.

My life, for a variety of reasons both in and out of my control, did not provide me with kids of my own, but I have always enjoyed kids, had kid friends, participated much with children of friends and family, and so on. Whenever I get the opportunity to have a child in my life, I throw myself into the relationship and have a lot of fun planning a balance of activitiess, plus trying very hard to give them space of their own, always thinking about the impact of things, the examples we're giving, yadda yadda yadda. It's possible --- yes, it's true --- just possible that I take the whole thing a bit too seriously or too personally, or something. I'll keep looking at that, in my journal, as I decompress this week.

This summer, my nephew would be turning 12. I don't know what goes on in his life in the city, although I have inklings from knowing my sister, communicating with her, and knowing her particular style of mothering. My nephew also visits his Dad in a different city on the weekend, every two weeks, and I don't know what he participates in there, or where he gets his ideas, and what he emulates. There really is a lot I can't know going on here. At any rate, our visit this year did not go well. In fact, yesterday, after only one week, I delivered him back to his mother. I am crushed about the whole chain of events.

Could I have done differently? Could I have made a difference in my nephew's life? I kept wondering: with enough love and patience, can anyone or anything not be changed? The answer is yes, possibly --- but the humility and compassion and understanding comes with understanding that --- alas --- for the moment, I only had what I had. My own feeling; my own heart; my own stage of growth along this great path of life, and in the end, I have to honor myself; for otherwise, what good am I to anyone except some sort of puppet? Yes, if I were more wise, more patient, more compassionate, less emotionally invested, I might have been able to accept, handle, and deal with this complicated situation. But as one sweet potato said to another, "well, I yam what I yam". About fiften years ago, in conjunction with the beginning of some very big changes in myself, I made a contract with myself: I listen to my feelings, I express them, and I ask others for support. A lifetime of stuffing my feelings and staying quiet had turned me into a bowl of mealy oatmeal; I'd completely buried any ability to articulate things I was feeling, to the point that maybe I didn't even want to feel things anymore. And, so, here I am.

Do I have regrets that I couldn't fix this situation? Sure, I do. Do I feel great sadness for my 12-year-old nephew, for lost opportunities, for his future, for our relationship? You bet your bottom dollar, I do. But I did the only thing that I, at this point in life, where I am, the best I know, could figure to do.

"Finish each day and be done with it ... You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it well and serenely. " ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Crocosmia

Black Cat — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 11:56:00 GMT

I got up close and personal today in my English garden with some Crocosmia Lucifer. The beauty of Nature never fails to inspire me! Has anything inspired you outdoors today?

Artella Cafe

Contemplating the Thought for the Day

DISTRACTION

Love is Like That...

NO LONGER LOST

How-To for the Desperate

AFTERNOON PEACE

NATURE CURE

July 17, 2008

Baby Idol

Real Life Fairy Garden

MOMMIES

Say It to Mean It

SUNSET

Meet my friend Amanda

Grandma's Birthday Gift

A Place to Write - Part "Do"

Such a long time!

TEACHINGS

Wee Little Graces

FLIGHT

TO BE

Ring around the Rosy

Life's Ridges

Crocosmia

LIFE STORIES

I write of life

And of experience of the world

All around me-

The love of a man for his woman

And the generosity

With which he gives of that love

From the depths of his soul,

The deepest state of his being-

The hate from a babe all alone

In a world of savages & unshed tears

Where lost dreams overpower happy times

And a grave is the hole that your life is in

And you’ve no way to climb out-

The dreams of a world of peace

Where buildings & bridges are built,

Not crumbled

And where every table has food to nourish,

Each head has pillow to lie on

In a home filled with love, honesty,

No threat of abuse nor scorn-

The passion of spouse for their mate

And of parents for kids abound,

Exquisite art & poetry & life in itself,

Of nature & work,

For things you can change

And someday will-

I write for the sheer joy of writing,

For the worlds experiences are mine

And behind every one experience,

There’s a story to be told.