Twice-Loved

There’s crafting – and there’s mending – which is sooo not crafting and almost always finds its way to the bottom of the basket until, in desperation, it’s handed off to Mother.

Yep, 61 years old, and if I needed a pair of pants hemmed or a busted seam fixed up, I called upon my 84 year old mother. My son even bypassed me and went straight to his Grandma though I certainly know my way around a sewing machine and have for many years.

But Mom passed away earlier this year and we’re both lost without her. She will be missed for many, many reasons. Mending- guilty as charged – is but one!

So I’m on my own now and could hardly believe how proud I felt after hemming my first pair of pants! Such a sense of accomplishment!

Am I a complete convert? Not likely. I still shove mending to  the bottom of  the basket, but when MY grandson came to ME last week to repair something when he’d always gone to GiGi before (Great Grandma) ….  By gosh, I felt pretty darn good.

And in he comes today with another little stuffed toy for me to mend! Gotta love it!

So keep on crafting, but keep on mending too. I saw a documentary about the amount of clothes we buy and then toss away. The waste is frightening! These are my son’s old jeans – work pants, patched and ready for another day at the worksite. Repair. Reuse. Recycle. Twice loved!

 

 

 

My Mom was in her fifties, maybe even early sixties, when she began to paint. And she was really quite good. We had several of her paintings hung about the house. I remember showing an acquaintance, who was ‘in’ with the arts, a few of her works. As we walked into my living room, she pointed at a tiny print. “That’s nice. Did your Mom paint that one too?”

“No,” I replied, poker-faced. “That’s a Picasso.” And yes, I think I have a little of the devil in me because I got a great chuckle out of that. Mother and Picasso (Walmart version) on the same page. Too funny!

The lesson here, I guess, is that most of us are not art critics. We don’t know Picasso or Rembrandt or Van Gogh. We just know what we like, what touches us.

My latest art acquisitions are two originals, Stormy Seas by Sam, age eight, and Sunset by Asher, age five. Both love to draw and paint and colour but Sam is the true artist, I believe, because his art brings him so much joy.

Today, he called, quite excited. In looking for unicorn pictures, he happened upon Etsy. Upon realizing that Etsy was a place where you could show and sell your art to the world, he had his Dad help him set up shop. That in itself was an exercise in creativity. I’m not allowed to buy anything, I was told, but I don’t think he’d mind me giving him a shout out here.

 

 

I watch my son prepare school lunches for his three boys and I wonder at the calm with which he packs three bags night after night without totally losing his mind. This week I had to help out a little and more than anything, it was the packing of those lunches that made me feel inadequate. Of course, rarely do the three boys like the same thing and while I know Little Bear loved blueberries last week, this week he doesn’t want to touch them! This week he’s back on strawberries that are going at like about eight bucks for a tablespoon full! And so it goes. Hats off to all the dads and moms and grandpas and grandmas who are out there packing lunches. You have to be creative in a big way to pack healthy and happy without breaking the bank! And if you happened to peek into the boys’ snack bags this week, please don’t be too critical of that plastic tub of cold, plain pasta. They like it! They really do!

We made cupcakes this week to celebrate St. Patrick and all things Irish. The first lot of icing – not so good. Somehow I mistook flour for icing sugar! Two cups in before I noticed something amiss. Didn’t mind tossing the flour but tossing out a cup of real butter … OUCH!  I lay no claim to fame in the kitchen but my littlest grandson, whom I routinely call Little Bear, didn’t seem to care much about quality. As far as Little Bear was concerned, the fun was definitely in the making and not in the eating. I tend to agree. Not quite sure how I got to be so lucky, but I have three grandsons who own great big chunks of my heart. Perhaps with luck like that, I’m more Irish than I realize!

And … In case you’re wondering, these cupcakes are really leprechauns hiding in the green, green grass of Ireland. The grass, of course, is covered with a few sprinkles of rainbow dust. As I’m sure you are all aware, if you are lucky enough to find a leprechaun, you will almost certainly find rainbow dust!

Soooo… May your day be covered with rainbow dust as well – not just St. Paddy’s Day, but every day. Most days are, if we only look closely enough.

My mom hooked rugs years ago. Everyone did, I guess, and while I faintly recall her showing me how to hook, it was a day-long workshop years later that piqued my interest. I did this one little mat, and then, enthusiastic as get-go, and confident in my newly acquired skills, I traced off the puffin for my next large-scale project. I should know better. I always go overboard. I always go big. I can’t have the box of crayons with your eight basic colors. I have to own the seventy-two box with cadmium red and eight shades of blue!

Anyway, this project has been on the frame for four or five years and only recently did I pick it up again. I should have stuck with small. But here it is – a Newfoundland puffin perched on a rock, blue skies in the background. The only thing missing is a big yellow sun in the corner.

I have seen some amazing rugs hooked by some pretty talented ladies. Mine … I just hope to finish. But what a great way to recycle old t-shirts. That’s what I’m using – t-shirts – mostly recycled from my grandsons’ castoffs. And cut into strips with scissors. Reuse. Recycle.

I suspect it will be a while before it’s finished, but I’ve already decided that my next rug will have huge happy sunflowers. Yellow is such a fun color. Perhaps that’s why little kids always have that big yellow sun in the corner, shining down on everyone and everything! Optimistic, happy, they have yet to experience the doldrums of a gray foggy day. Hooking – crafting – helps me find that sun!

Yesterday the Internet lit up here in Canada as Bell Let’s Talk encouraged dialogue on mental illness.

Negative thoughts. I’ve read that most of us have them in excess. So at least I’m not alone. Not that I want these downers running around in my head. But how do we drown them out? music? art? poetry? I think the key is creative engagement. For me, one answer is Lego. Total mindless engagement – if that makes any sense – and it brings me peace, stills the hamsters who turn the wheel.

The grandchildren tell me I’m not much good at it – Lego. I build sets. I don’t freebuild, which is what they prefer. And apparently, you’re not a real builder if you have to go by instructions. I’m like the man upstairs in The Lego Movie. Have you watched it? You should. Huge lessons there on how to let go, be yourself, be a good parent. “Everything is awesome,” all the little Lego men sing, as they work their way through another routine day. But when you break out of the mold, live in the moment….Wow! Everything IS awesome!

In my defence, I don’t glue the sets together! And I do let the boys play with what I build: write their own storyline and totally wreck everything. And I do that over and over and over. For me it’s not the end product that’s important, but the act of building. Total engagement. Though I must say it would be pretty cool to see a whole city rise from all those tiny little bricks.

Negative thoughts. I understand negative thoughts. But mental illness? I’m not sure. I struggle to understand how poor mental health presents and what my role should be in standing up for those who cannot stand up for themselves, or in standing by those who do find the courage to get to their feet. It’s so huge – mental illness – so widespread and its boundaries are anything but clearly defined. What is it that allows one person to cope, yet sees another crumble? I look at myself. I look at the person to my right. I look at the person to my left. We all have our strengths and talents. We all face life’s challenges. Sometimes, in fact, your life looks charmed in comparison to mine. Yet you stumble and crumble. I stumble and push through. It’s difficult for me to be always gentle in my thoughts of you. I’m sorry. But I’m trying. I truly am.

And that’s why talk is important. It breaks down barriers, encourages dialogue, destroys stereotypes .. and invites reflection.

everything is awesome …

Saw this old wardrobe on the side of the road and had my son drag it home for me. Took a few months before I got around to it, but replaced the broken mirrors with wood panels painted with black chalkboard paint and added a couple shelves. A lick of bright, splashy paint, and Grammy’s Pantry is born. The grandsons approved and freely help themselves. As grandchildren should! Total cost of less than twenty dollars and another thing that I should, but don’t want to, let go!

 

 

Twice-loved is the birth child of too much stuff – too much stuff in my head, too much stuff in my house, and this terrible inability to “let go” in all things.

So…..   in an attempt to clean house and mind, I am looking for a new home for all this ‘stuff’.  Wonder how much I’ll actually get rid of.

I sometimes envy those who ‘clean house’ with such ease. Everything gets thrown out. Broken or chipped, throw it out. Doesn’t work, throw it out. Too big, too small, throw it out. Just plain bored with it? Throw it out!

I don’t want to throw it out. I don’t want to let go.  I look at X and I see Y.  That’s not necessarily a good thing because I can’t always invest the time needed to turn X into Y and then, even when I do ….

Beautifully broken… imperfectly perfect.  Life would be so incredibly simple if we could all embrace this simple truth. I’m trying. Truly! But it’s a constant challenge for sure!

Fifteen years ago, to recycle two pieces of glass, I had my friend make me a coffee table.  In packing away my Christmas decorations, I came across the old table in a corner of the shed. I dragged it inside, dusted it off, had a colleague cut me two wooden inserts. A coat of paint, a home-made stencil and voila! Twice-loved!  So much so that it’s here in my living room.