Thoughts on windows and people

"People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."

                                                    - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

 

I think people are also fragile like windows, easily broken. Even the most beautiful, perfect window can break. We sometimes look at others and think that they have their lives together, free of problems, but inside, we're all the same-- fragile and breakable yet beautiful. There is beauty in everyone if only we look hard enough and long enough. We must be kind though because there is also that part that is delicate and precious inside everyone that must be protected, nourished, and fostered. That's where our light comes from that can shine in the darkest of times. We must never give up on others.

More wisdom from chocolate

ROY G BIV

Taken from Refdesk.com's Fact of the Day:

You can only see a rainbow when the Sun is shining behind you and it is raining in front of you. Rainbows form when sunlight shines through millions of raindrops. Sunlight is a mixture of colors. When it passes through a raindrop, it is refracted (bent), and the light splits and spreads out into seven colors. All rainbows are part of a circle, but you can usually see only part of it, because the Earth is in the way. If you are lucky, you may see a complete circle rainbow from an aircraft.- Provided by The World Almanac 2012

The Times They Are A-Changin' (or maybe it's just me)

It's mid-winter break and my girls are spending a day with Mim, L. and M.'s (and formerly A.'s) babysitter. They wanted to go and even though I wasn't in need of a "break" as so many modern parents seem to be these days, I let them go. I had my children by choice, strive to teach them good behavior, and allow them to be bored in order to inspire their creativity so, overall, I don't mind spending lots of time with them. Many parents feel trapped by parenthood, but I was a different kind of single person, a different sort of newlywed, a different sort of person all together, so having children wasn't leaving my "old" life behind as it is for so many people. Having children was simply part of the continuum of my life as it unfolded.

Children and parenthood are not the topic of this post though. This day's silence and the activities I've pursued are. After the children were off with my husband, I researched hiding knots in hand quilting for a while. Then, I searched for an easy to knit cowl pattern for myself because I really want to make myself a cowl sometime soon. After that, I ventured into the kitchen where I started putting together a batch of pillow bread (my second this week). I washed dishes from last night and ventured into the laundry room a few times to turn the mountain into a mole hill.

As I kneaded my bread dough, I thought of things as I always do. Kneading bread is like meditation for me. Now that I've done it enough to know what I'm doing, the muscle memory takes over and time passes in a blur. Today my thoughts turned to many things starting with homemade bread. I've got the whole family on board the homemade bread wagon now. Yesterday, at lunch, L. declared her ham sandwich made with the last of this week's first batch of pillow bread to be delicious. She was my last hold out. She asked me to make more pillow bread rolls which is why I'm making bread again today. A. and I are particularly fond of a bread called WHO bread. W(heat) O(at) H(oney) bread is especially delicious with a spread of some sort. My husband likes jam (homemade of course). A. likes peanut butter, but I love it with Nutella. No surprise there, right? I call it WHO-tella and it makes me love myself for having made that bread. I think I could eat it everyday of my life. I might try it for a while and see how that goes.

I thought about why I've decided to stop buying store bought bread. Homemade bread takes time. It's tricky and moody depending on the temperature and humidity, but I love the smell of rising yeast bread and the effort of taming it's temperamental ways. The flavor is crazy too. In fact, flavor is one of my problems. I never realized how bland store bought bread was until I got used to only eating bread with flavor. I can't figure out what to do about grilled cheese sandwiches. The bread for a grilled cheese sandwich shouldn't have flavor. I'm not sure grilled cheese would be quite the same on pillow bread or any of the other breads I've made. That doesn't bother me as much as it did a month ago. I think that's because I'm thinking of making my own cheese...

A trip to the laundry room made me realize I should probably take advantage of this day to make more laundry soap. I've been using homemade laundry soap for a few months now and I love it. It leaves no heavy smell on the clothes. I can't smell it at all but I have a bad sense of smell in general. I hate perfumed laundry soap smells so this is a big plus for me. The cost is pennies per load. I've probably spent $12 total on laundry soap making ingredients since I started this little experiment. Before, in the same space of time, I would have probably spent $50-$60 on pre-made laundry soap not to mention the waste that would have been created from the plastic jugs and other containers that laundry soap came in.

Waste is another issue for my family lately. Friday is our garbage and recycling pick up day. This morning, we put out two bags of garbage, one recycling bin full and two extra containers full of other recycling. That's pretty normal for us. Even M., at the age of 22 months, understands when we tell her to go put something in the recycling. I forgot my reusable shopping bags the other day when L. and I were going to the store and she gave me a horrified look when I told her. Then, she tried to console me by telling me that one time would be okay and we could recycle the plastic bags so it wasn't too bad. Yeah, I think it's safe to say our family is very conscientious about waste and our children understand that in their own ways.

The other day, I made skin toner. I've had skin problems ever since M. was born. They're hormonal but everyday is a challenge. I've always hated makeup and chemical laden "beauty" products. That's why I thought it was so fabulous when I found out how to make my own stuff from natural, cheap ingredients. Besides, how could I not be amused that the main ingredient says this on the bottle? With the 'Mother'! Ack, it amuses me to no end!

Now, if I could just find organic coconut oil to make my own skin cream, I'd be set...

I ordered a book the other day from Amazon to help me in my homemade endeavors. I got the sample of my Kindle but decided that a print version would be easier to use because of the charts and graphics. The content came across a bit confusing in digital format. I'm so excited about this book though. It tells you how to make your own hair care products like hair soap and gel as well as a ton of other stuff people think they have to buy from a store. I am so pumped about this one. (I know this makes me odd. You don't have to tell me. This entire post is about letting my oddness out for the world to see. As a side note to this side note, who do you want to be with if a disaster should beset the world? Me! Your hair and skin will still look good in addition to having mended clothes, fresh bread, homemade jam, etc., etc. etc.)

After lunch, during the second rise of the bread, I'm going downstairs to work on L.'s quilt. I didn't finish it by her birthday and that's okay. I've decided to do all the quilting by hand and that takes time. L. gave me the okay to surprise her later several days before her birthday. She still had a fabulous day even without the quilt.

Remember the Little Prince. It's the time we spend on things that makes them important. I spend time on bread, time on details, time, time, time. I swim in the vast sea of humanity believing in myself and realizing that other people's thoughts, ideas, and values are not my own. We live in a world full of abundance and consumables. We've lost the ability to appreciate or use time well. We've lost faith in our own abilities and instincts. We've lost the knowledge of our forefathers. We rush around, running hither and yon, searching, searching, always searching for that which we cannot find. We're like the people on the trains in the Little Prince. We listen to others so much on T.V., in magazines, in conversations, etc., that we no longer know how to listen to ourselves. We don't know what we're searching for, why we're so unhappy nowadays. I've rediscovered myself though in the kneading of my bread. I've found my own thoughts in the quiet and it has made me realize that I haven't been living the life I want, not completely anyway. I've had bits and pieces of that life stuck within my "real" one, just enough to make me almost happy. I'm tired of it though. In the kneading of my bread, I've learned so much about me and what I want. I've started making plans, voicing my real hopes and dreams, trying to help my family find their own selves. I can't wait until we get there. I'm already beginning to see the difference in our life. It's the little things, like L. liking my bread, like my husband saying he loves the smell of our clothes, that are changing who we are, changing the world we live in for the better.

What will you choose to spend your time on? What will you choose to make important? What is your happiness? Is it truly your own or are you a sheep following others' desires? What will make your world a better place for yourself and those you love?

In case you didn't get the reference in the title:

The Times They Are A-Changin' (lyrics by Bob Dylan)

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

L. turned 4

I go a little insane with planning birthday parties for my children. I'm pretty sure it's my way of not feeling sad that they're growing up. I'm too busy to dwell on that fact because I'm doing crazy things like stamping polka dots on bags and taping 200 circles to my walls (with a lot of help from A.). Then, after the party is over and the punch bowl has been washed, I feel the sadness begin to creep in. I love my girls. They're growing into beautiful little ladies. Miss L. in particular has her own distinctive sense of style, a flair for the unusal and unexpected, and a keen intelligence.

Happy birthday my sweet girl. I can't believe you're already 4.

*Sorry for the fuzzy picture. The moment was there. The outfit was adorable, but a steady hand was not present. This was the best of the lot.*

Coping

I'm having a problem. It's with my right wrist. If only it were my left or I wasn't so crafty, it wouldn't be as much of a problem. I have a ganglion cyst on my right wrist that comes and goes. It appeared last July and grew in size and pain until my husband finally said enough is enough and made me go to the doctor right after we moved. All in all, ganglion cysts aren't that big of an issue. No one knows why they start but they grow in size with heavy lifting, repetitive tasks, etc. Hmm... packing and moving and a penchant for handcrafts like crochet, sewing, and knitting... yeah, I can see why this happened to me.

Anyway, my doctor drained it. The needle was large. He told me it was something to try but probably wouldn't make it go away. It didn't, but I'm not really that into surgery. It was still there, a tiny little knot on my wrist. I was careful with it though. If it started hurting, I wrapped it in an Ace bandage and took it easy. Throughout the fall and into the Christmas season, everything was fine.

It came back though. Over the last few weeks, I've had problems with the pain almost every day. I'm sure it might be related to my quilting escapades but other tasks have exacerbated the situation as well. It's to the point that emptying the dishwasher makes it start to hurt. I've got to live my life though so I've developed methods of coping thanks to Google and Walgreens. This storm shall pass and I'll be better able to handle any future storms after this.

Compression is the key. When I'm crafting, I wear this attractive beauty that applies gentle compression during my repetitive movements such as hand applique and knitting.

The picture doesn't do it justice. It's actually a brighter blue if you can imagine that. Who picked that color? Not me. It was the only color they make.

For everyday use and especially when grading, entering grades, typing, etc., I wear this fabulous almost flesh-colored glove thing. It has an adjustable wrist wrap that adds a nice bit of compression. This is also the only one I can sleep with if it's hurting at night because my hand tends to swell with the others. 

This white wrist support is useful when my hands might get dirty or if I'm doing a lot of lifting (like putting plates away from the dishwasher). White was a bad color choice, but again, the only color available.

If none of these things work and the pain truly starts, I'm back to the Ace bandage. That makes me feel injured, so I try to avoid that. People ask about a brace but a bandage makes them question your well-being. This is hard enough to explain as it is.

Overall, I'm a little paranoid about my wrist. I find myself putting on the glove or the wrist support just because I'm nervous it will start hurting and I have X, Y, and Z to do later on. Of course, when I decide to take it off and using my Smart Slate makes it hurt after one set of flashcards, I think my fear is reasonable. I'm doing okay though. I'm coping. Thanks for all the advice Google. I couldn't have done it without you.

Practical intelligence

"When the next batch of hurricane hits and the oil wells run dry, whom do you want to wake up next to?  Someone who can program HTML or someone who can help a cow give birth?  Do you want someone with Bluetooth or someone with a tractor?  How can someone who makes food out of dirt not impress you?"

-Lou Bendrick

I've always felt that practical skills were necessary and important even in our modern world. We live in a society where children don't understand what it takes to make bread, nor do they have the skills needed to make their own bread or most other things. I keep taking one step back, building my skills bit by bit. Bread is on my brain lately, but there are many other things where I'm building my skill set, fabric production, homegrown produce, laundry soap, facial moisturizers, etc.

Now, this doesn't mean that I'm going to make everything myself. That just isn't practical in my life at this point. I have a medium sized family, a demanding job, and a small yard in which to grow essential ingredients. I don't have the time or resources to produce everything my family would need. However, I believe it's important to know where things come from and to share that knowledge with my children. The starting point of dinner isn't a box or a frozen bag or a can. The origins are much further back. I buy store bought pasta but that doesn't mean that I can't make pasta one day with my children to help them understand the process (next project!). It's like using a calculator. Calculators are fantastic devices but they're horrible if you don't understand the processes that the calculator is performing in an instant. Lack of knowledge, ignorance, is fixable. I'm on a mission to fix mine. What about you? Is convenience making you stupid?

A little credit where credit is due...

Many years ago, when I married my husband, I had an image of yellow calla lilies for my wedding. My wedding was at a time when they were almost out-of-season, so they had to be special ordered by my florist. Needless to say, they were expensive but they were beautiful. It was my vision as reality.

Fast forward a few years and a few extra months and my husband gave me this for Valentine's Day. (I prefer potted plants. They don't die as quickly, a much better symbol of love in my opinion. What does a dying flower say about your devotion to someone?)

They're not yellow like the ones at my wedding, but rather lovely all the same.

Also, I received a box of chocolate that was much larger than my head. This was due to some heavy prompting on my part. My darling husband doesn't always understand that I truly mean the absolute largest box of chocolate he can find. I have different ideas about chocolate than him.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you


here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart


i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) "


                               - e. e. cummings

Happy Valentine's Day!

 May your day be filled with love, crafts, and good chocolate!

(The girls' Valentines were Tootsie Roll pops turned into flowers. The entire time we were making them, A. kept saying, "These are just so clever." Finally, someone appreciates me!)

Getting dotty in my old age...

L.'s birthday party is next Saturday. The theme is polka dots. (The quilt's not done. I'm having problems.) It feels like circles of various sizes are everywhere I look. Here's a snippet from Saturday evening.

There are so many polka dots in my life right now. There are polka dot plates, polka dot napkins, polka dot confetti sprinkles, polka dot cupcake wrappers, polka dot clothes, polka dot invitations, polka dot bags, polka dot garlands, polka dot everything! I'm going dotty a.k.a. crazy but it's been an interesting trip.

Time Warp (not the one from Transylvania)

I'm currently planning three birthday parties kind of simultaneously in my head. That's what happens when you plan pregnancies like I did to accommodate a teacher's schedule. My party planning skills border on obsessive. Being obsessive takes time so even though there exists a period of several weeks between each birthday, the planning overlaps because papier mache takes time to dry and party perfection requires homemade pinatas people (along with many other homemade touches in addition to homemade presents, cakes, etc.).

The time warp in my brain is really struggling this year. How is L. about to be 4! And little Miss M. will soon be 2! The worst of all is this one though.

When did she grow up? I remember it but it doesn't seem like 6 years should have passed so quickly. Where did the time go with my sweet little A.? Someone please tell me how to rewind life. It's going way too quickly for my liking.

Note: That's the first time she tried on her Daisy vest after I attached all the paraphernalia. She's so proud to be a Girl Scout. I'd be more proud if her troupe were doing regular cookie sales instead of a booth sale but I didn't get to decide that matter.

Things in Bowls a.k.a Other Signs of Insanity

Exhibit 1: Homemade laundry soap

Why? Because I felt like it and now I can't stop. It's so cheap!



Exhibit 2: Homemade Bread (2nd rise)

(It was in a bowl before I dumped it on the towel)

I've decided to stop buying bread at the store. I've bought a little bit recently because I was perfecting my breadmaking techniques. However, I feel that I've reached a turning point. This is a picture of a rustic no knead bread. I've also been working on a whole wheat everyday bread. The big winner though is pillow bread-- crazy name, crazy delicious. We have a winner! I find the long, slow process of breadmaking to be cathartic. It pulls me away from the hectic world we live in and plops me squarely down in a slower time. I love it. (It also brings me one step closer to being the one you want to be with if modern life should come to a screeching halt and we're forced to fend for ourselves. I've got it covered people. )

Late Night Activity and Perceptions

I've got a little problem except that really, it's a big problem. It happens all the time. First, I get an idea. Then, I start planning. Next, I do some research. (Thank you Google.) I draw up some plans and I procure materials. The next logical step would be to start whatever project I'm planning, but surprisingly, I don't. This is where I start doubting and thinking way too much. Then, I begin altering my plans, the plans that make sense, but for some reason, I can't do what I've already decided to do. I add to the plan. I elaborate. I complicate. I hesitate. After this period of time (which sometimes goes on indefinitely), I begin. At some point, when I've done too much to turn back, I realize that my plan is crazy but I have to keep going and finish. It happens to me time and time again, but each time I come up with a new idea, I don't think it's crazy at all. It is though. They always are by the end.

Here's my current example. I decided to make L. a quilt for her 4th birthday. I imagined a simple quilt of large squares with a few circles sewn randomly to represent polka dots. The quilt would be twin sized. Then, I started looking into quilt dimensions. I planned my squares. I bought cloth. I even drew a diagram! Then, the troubles (insanity) took hold. A full sized quilt is close in size to a twin. I reasoned that a full sized quilt would be more useful to own in the end. I wasn't creating a child's bedding here. I was crafting an heirloom! I decided to add a few blocks to make it larger. Then I added a few more because I hate quilts that don't cover the mattress. What if my child has a thick mattress as an adult? I would have failed her! I added a few more blocks. I realized I didn't have enough cloth. I bought more. I started cutting blocks. I started running out of time. (Her birthday is February 19. I started cutting January 28.) I cut and cut. I made my wrist start hurting again. I wrapped my Ace bandage on it and plowed on. I began sewing. It was nervous, precise work. I got a crick in my neck and a cramp in my lower back. I continued. Last night, I finished sewing the last of the blocks together. Mind you, this is only the background. I still have the circles, backing, quilting, and binding to go. Most of that is handwork. I'm in trouble. Here's a picture.

I know it doesn't seem impressive. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal, right? I should mention that each block is 12 inches square. You're looking at 56 square feet of quilt top. In my mind, it didn't seem that big. It is though. It's huge. Wacko perceptions. 

I'm insane. It's certifiable now.

I'm also in trouble. 18 days. Good gravy!