lady cordelia

I will save you.

 

I like to save things from an otherwise shabby life.  An abandoned kitten- the runt of the litter, or an old ugly dresser with "good bones." 
Over the weekend I bought this low 2-drawer  chest for $4 at a seemingly weak garage sale down the street.  White and dirty and piled with junk, I could imagine it looking real pretty in a corner of my bedroom in a very certain blue. I bought it, brought it home and found the color I wanted on the Benjamin Moore website (Picture Perfect.).  Ordered it from the paint store.  Voila.  Bada bing, bada boom.  There you have it.  $4, folks.  Plus the paint of course.  But that gets used on other things too.  Until The Brad says..."more blue, huh?" when he sees me in the garage painting the frame of a mirror, some old file cabinets.  Eh Beey, he says.  (That's how we say "Oh Boy."  We say it a little different around here.   Because...we are a little different.)

So.  Wait.  I'm not finished.  Then I was a little, shall we say, hormonal.  But.  Let me preface what comes next with this statement: "hormonal" doesn't make me all that different.   I don't DO certain things I wouldn't normally do because I'm a little hormonal.  I just cry about those things when I would usually have the wherewithal to hold it together. That is the difference. Tears.

So, what I'm telling you is this: Either way, I would have gone to the humane society yesterday.  No, mom, I didn't come home with an animal. But I did walk through the isles and touch most of the dogs through the gates.  Several were in the play yard so I played with a few.  Some were nervous and wondering who I was.  Just another seemingly nice woman making deep eye contact and then walking out of view.

People I know, pretty much everyone, would find me crazy for visiting the humane society in my current "full-house" situation.  A friend I ran into later that day borderline berated me for doing it.  Well, I don't expect everyone to understand.   She may not pick a $4 dresser up either.   Not many people would be so into saving dressers or animals that have been neglected. It's just how I am. For better or worse.

The Brad understands.  Perhaps more about the animals and less about the dresser. You want to save them very badly, he said.  And someday- we will save more.  Someday we will have more land.  More space.  I want to save the animals, too. he said. 

I told him what a friend told me yesterday on my blog: Saving one animal won't save the world, but it will save the world for that animal. Oh.  How that blew me away. I hate bumper stickers, but I would wear that one proudly. (Thanks Amanda.)

When I walk around my house, I pass two funny labs who want to be taken to the park.  So I take them.  I may momentarily feel irritated at the prospect, but then we are in the park, in the fresh air.  Always good. When we get home I go to my chicken and duck coop- and sure they're a little noisy.  They're excited to see me.  They know I will be bearing treats and talking to them about this and that as I gather the eggs.  As I come back in the house I almost trip over the cat.  I pick her up and squeeze her, make sure she has fresh water.  I love all of them.  It's not for everyone, but it's for me.  My house is clean, my family and animals are happy and well-fed.  There's a lot of us and plenty of love to go around. Plenty of Love. And that's how I like it.  That's the ship I run.

Brad understands the depths of what it feels like to want to make a difference in the world in this way, saving lives. He may have to hold me back a little here and there (or try to at least), he may be more logical about the reality of constraints, but he understands my feelings- the depths of the feelings.  The endless depths I row along in...an old dresser, an abandoned kitten, a forgotten dog... I see the potential for love.  And so I turn my sails towards love.  And I always will.

XO

 

heart reunion

Wow.  I thought I was just going to blog on as usual today.  About a great thrift find.  Cookies.  And things of that nature.  But then my friend Tracey from Clover sent me a link she thought I might like. 

Tracey knows I love elephants.   She knows I love them very much.  It is virtually painful to love something so unconditionally, so infinitely.  And that is how I love elephants.   Humans have misunderstood them and mistreated them so deeply, so very deeply. And my heart breaks open when I think of that.  It breaks into a million pieces.   But within each broken piece is my connection to the elephants, my love, my hope and my gratefulness to those who have and are making a difference for them.

Every single month I donate to an organization called The Elephant Sanctuary.   Every. Single. Month.
I only hope that someday I can give them a lot of money every month instead of just a little.  What they have done and are doing is so wonderful.

These videos are about a 55-year-old elephant named Shirley and what happened to her when she finally made it to the Elephant Sanctuary.   Watching both videos combined will take about 15 minutes.   If you have older children, grab them and bring them to the computer to watch.  Go get your spouse, your friends and your neighbors too.  You must watch both videos or you will rob yourself of the full impact.

Simply, we are to blame for the state of our world and the sweet creatures who inhabit it.  But we can make a difference too ...for the rest of the "Shirley's" out there.   Where there is a will, there is a way.

Elephant Reunion Video 1

Elephant Reunion Video 2

 

Source: rosencrown.blogspot.com via Lani on Pinterest

joy moments

joy moments:

dressing up brown dog.  happens frequently.  she's an interesting dog- moderately devoid of personality.  so when we can make time to fancy her up a little, it's real good for everyone.

 

white dog: more personality, way lovable, but total pain in the a**.  we dress him up just to bother him a little and get him back for all the times he annoys us.  of course he totally goes with it.  he's solid with wearing pink. I love that about him.  and yea.  I made the scarf last christmas.  made it for my neighbor who found it too short and made it a hella huge cowl. she may not be too amused that I dressed the dog with it before giving it to her.  it was only for a quick photo shoot.

of course I have a thrifting joy moment!  these plates are so gorgeous.  but I took the photo with a weird iphone photo app and now you can't tell just how rad.   4 of them for $6.  a tad bit steep for my thrifting eye, but I traded for something I had and didn't want.  see.  that's how I roll.  did I tell you about the huge handful of early 1900's silverware I found the other day?  $3.  la te da te da.

another joy moment: the egg poacher from yesterday's blog. 

and check this out: my 5-year-old says to me this morning: momma, if a mom is mean to their kid, and then that kid grows up and is mean to her kid and then..well it just goes on and on and on and on, right? And I told her: yeah.  that is basically the worlds biggest problem.  that is why everyone needs a nice mama and dada.

I'm so glad I'm a nice mama.  And that you are a nice mama (or dada.)  I think we can change the world together. don't you?

Have a great weekend!

linking with this moment and joy pockets.

 

lookie what I got.

Look what a friend got me at the thrift store.  A vintage egg poacher! I know you're not supposed to put in eggs with the shell on (duh!)  but I had just gotten these eggs out from the coop.   Aren't they pretty?  The egg in the upper left is a first from one of our young hens.  I'm so proud of this hen for laying her first egg.  I picked her up and gave her a little squeeze and said Congrats Hen, nice egg, good going.  Then I put her down and she looked back up at me like..Thanks for noticing, mom. These are the moments that make farming all worth it.  I can't bear to tell her I'm not her real mom.  We don't know who her real mom is and that can be really rough on a chicken.

Anyway, this friend who brought me this egg poacher...what a friend!!!  I met her not so long ago through another friend.  And I went to my new friends house for the first time and I was like: Wow.  We really have some things in common. We are both into "flea-market style."  I'll have to ask her if I can take some pics of her cool finds someday and how she has them displayed.  Way rad.  Plus: we are both side-of-the road-furniture vultures! She has found some amazing things on the side of the road!  I'll see her and I'll ask her: So, E, what do you want to find on the side of the road these days?  And she'll ask me the exact same thing. 

She loves that I make little quilts for my girls because she appreciates the days of old when women had to make quilts to keep their families warm.  You couldn't just run to Target, you know.  That's what she says.  And I love that she says that.  And you would hardly ever catch her in Target.  Unless, I am guessing, it was for underwear or something along those lines.  Because we live by the same credo: thrift shop til you drop.

My friend doesn't really read my blog because she can't get over how personal I get.  She's such a cutie that way.  But I'm going to show her how much I love my egg poacher pan by sending her a link today. 

I hope you also have a friend who thinks of you when she sees vintage egg poachers from the thrift store.   I really hope you do.  There's not a lot of friends like that to be found, you know. But they are out there.  I know from experience.

"Shine"- a song by me.

                                                                                                                                                              
My heart is this: my family, my kids, my husband, my home.  That's it.  The rest of life is the rest.  But that does not mean it's not meaningful or important.

I've worked towards things in my career, taken time off, things have gone up and things have gone down.   And up and down.  You know.  I've ridden a lot of waves. Right now my motto is: keep flying, keep writing. 

Here is a new demo that I'll share with you called "Shine." 

So you know, a "demo recording" is a recording that is not in a complete or final state for one reason or another. 
Oh, and yes I wrote it.  Yes it is me singing.  This is what I do for a job.  You know.  Basically.  I try to sell these little suckers. Ya.

And so. Well. By the way, if you know any established artist out there that might want to re-record this ditty, or a sitcom that needs a theme.... a commercial that needs some meaningful music...you know....just ring my bell.

I'll be right here.

Enjoy.

Download Shine

Photo Source: bigpicture.in via Heather on Pinterest 

Photo Source: longlivejava.tumblr.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: longlivejava.tumblr.com via Lisa on Pinterest

 

hello buttermilk cake, good bye paper towels.

Buttermilk Cake (with Pears.)  

Quick.  Easy.  So yummy. Light.  Not too sweet. Good with a little cup of coffee.  Or, how the girls had it last night with fresh whipped cream on top.  (My three-year-old begged for whipped cream, I made it, and the whole way through eating her cake she said.."I love whipped cream!  Then, after her plate was licked clean she looked at me and  said: "I hate whipped cream.")

Anyhoo: I used the recipe from Swanson's book but found a very similar one online at her site. Almost the same recipe I used but it features a different fruit than the book version, which was plums.  I used pears.  So see, you can use almost any fruit.  The online recipe also calls for salt (instead of sugar) to sprinkle on the top.  (Really?  Salt? I would use sugar.  But, then again, that's just me.)

So.  There is that.  

And.  That is that.

Here's my big news: Ready?  K.  Hold on to your seat cause this is heavy: We've decided to stop using paper towels.  Ya. Ya.  [nodding].  Maybe all of you are already fully grooving non-paper-towel users and I am late on the bandwagon.  Or.  Maybe you are like I used to be (up to last week that is ): you use plenty of paper towels but have a bit of a mental eco-block about it.  

Sure, sure, I hear you: one uses more water washing the cloth towels that replace the paper towels. Ya, Ya.  I hear you, I get it.  But, life is not perfect.  One must choose the lesser of two evils.   If I  just throw a few dish towels in the laundry with each load is it really wasting water?  No.  So: NO paper towels in the house.  

None.  Not even one roll. Because if I had even a little "emergency" roll  in the house, it would be dangerous.  Know what I mean?  I'd be all: "Oh, jeez, one paper towel won't hurt.  I just need to clean this spilled yogurt off the table."  But then, you know...before I know it, I'd be totally out of control again and, once again, a full-on paper towel junkie.  That is what I was.  A junkie.  Well, a moderate junkie.  But a junkie none-the-less. Yes me!   I come off so eco-consious but know this: it's really a work in progress for me.  

I am deconstructing myself and reconstructing myself one day at a time.  There are pieces of my consciousness that are still rock hard.  The paper towel piece was so...you know, so formed and almost unchippable it seemed.   But then, I take away the paper towels and I find I'm living closer to the source of my joy.  Closer to the real me.  And I love that. Ya.  I solidly love that.   I love it so much.  When I see a dishtowel lying around now I just kind of say to it "Hey, you."    And I kind of just take a deep breath and shake my head a tiny bit in a thoughtful way.  You know.  I just do that.  So.  Yeah.  I feel good about it.   Really great.  I could just go on and on. 

 

joy moments

joy moments... a combo of joy pockets and this moment

::watching this cute little face eat lunch.
:: the finishing of the top of big girl's quilt (see previous post)
:: Finally.  Curtains for our bedroom for $2.  Ya.  Ya heard me.  $2.  Cause that's how I roll.  Of course thrift store material.  I just had to cut and sew a tiny bit. One turned out a little longer than the other.  Just about 12 inches.  It's sooo in style to have one one curtain a  full foot shorter than the other!  You don't know that?  Silly you.  Gosh.  You need to brush up on your sense of style.
:: wasting too much time on Etsy the other day and wanting these. Don't know why.  Just do.  Ho hum. I visit them on line every few days and just talk to them. 
:: enjoying cold weather so I can knit a few more hats and scarves and not feel too silly about it.  I feel silly about so many things, it's a nice relief to not feel silly about everything.

 

i am not the measurer.

This is a work in progress.  Getting close to sewing on the backside and then the edging. Months in the making.  Many thrift store trips to find more material.  For my elder daughter's new(ish)twin bed.  She is five. 

I love making patchwork quilts but since I never measure a thing, it's always a wonder if it will fail or not.   I just go by feel.  A long strip here, a row of squares there.  Sometimes the same material ends up squaring together.  C'est la Vie, baby.  Sometimes I sew seams the normal way (so you don't see them) sometimes I sew them on the outside for the sake of "funkiness." 

I've worked this way for all of my life.  Never measuring.  Planless.  I go by my heart.  I got the book Growing Up Sew Liberated for Christmas- I had wanted it.  Oh did I laugh when I got it.  I so respect people who can sew such wonderful things...but never could I sew something with that much math involved.  For better or worse, my creativity and sense of patience don't flow that way.  I think it's just how I was born.  And so far, it doesn't seem to limit me. 

By the way- I will trade someone the aforementioned book for either a yard or two of darling little girl material or  a small bag of scraps in pinks, whites, yellows, puples, oranges....  (I need a pillow case to go with the blanket.)   Ya.  It's not a gift giveaway, it's a barter.   First person interested gets the deal.

*** first commenter, Amanda from Blue La Reve won the "barter" but hey- I think this barter thing is rad.  I'm going to start doing it more.

XO

a weekend visit to my home

come in and see a little bit of my home taken with iphone photo apps that make everything look weird.  i didn't clean up for you because i didn't want to get everything all tidy and then make you feel like a totally clean house is normal and therefore you are abnormal.  i hate that feeling.

above: see now. that's a  herman millar chair i found in the dumpster next door.  well, it was actually in a dump truck, and not a dumpster. i don't pull things out of dumpsters, only dumptrucks. it's this rule I have.  usually.  but not always.  also viewable: electric guitar from the past & a nice, little woman who is usually up to no good. appears innocent as heck though.  takes after mama. plus she is super huggable.  i love her way more than earthly measure.

this is where we eat, talk, play, drink coffee, drink wine, watch dance performances, go over bills, knead bread. We bought this solid wood table on sale at World Market when we started our family almost 6 years ago.  i would never buy at World Market now, cause i would thrift it instead.  luckily the table is wearing beautifully and i can be proud of it.  i am slowly trying to replace the chairs with all vintage ones that i love.  they must all be the same height.  and they are not so now.  so.  not so easy.  K?  this thrifting stuff is not for the faint of heart and dont ever tell me that is is. you can see the blue chair I scored in the forefront.  $9.  the right height.  the Brad finds it "whatever."  i am shocked & apalled he would feel/say such a thing. almost packed his bags, showed him the street. 

old mexican cup.  windowledge.  window is covered in a vinyl material so we don't need to see the neighbors load of junky cars. sigh. don't get me started.

 see that chair?  that's where I write the blog from.  see that thick knitted blanket on the chair?  was on my bed as a kid. see that coffee?  must have first thing every morning.  see that bed?  ya.  I didn't make it for you.  see that vintage-y torn wall hanging?  $8.  yesterday.  flea market-ish sale.  I've been wanting to find an antique headboard/bedframe on the side of the road. but.  haven't seen one yet. so, the torn vintage thing must do.

do you like these?  authentic retro butterfly chairs (don't be fooled by the reproductions.).  i got the frames for free from someone who was getting rid of "junk." i've been looking for covers for them for nine months but not wanting to spend any money.  last night a friend told me to ask another friend of ours.  that friend had some extra covers.  i texted her.  she brought them to my house today and gave them to me.  batta bing, batta boom.  done.  amazing and simple.  that's how life works sometimes.  see?  

thanks for visiting today!  it was a short visit.  but, you really should get on home now.  

xo

weekending with A.

This Is Life

It's easy to write about baking and thrifting.   My little tiny farm.   Even my children, or various shades of my personal history.  But it is far harder to write about the deeper layers of things.  The personal questions that are tied into the realm of existence.  The same existence I would never claim to understand exactly, at all.

I'm a songwriter.  You know that.  I talk about it here and there.  It's one of those things I could go on about, but I hardly do.  I don't like to talk about myself in that way.  I'd rather talk about my adventures in baking.  Places that I can be messy, nonchalant and it doesn't matter.   

I contacted an old music business friend several months ago because I have some songs I'd like to sell.  I've taken years of time off from the music industry at large and at this particular moment know few "heavyweights" in the biz.  But he is one I know, knew from my past, back then, he was my attorney.  We emailed back and forth.  I said I would be in touch with the songs.

Yesterday I emailed him again and found out from his office that 6 weeks previous he had been in a severe accident.  Sudden.  He had barely made it.  Was in a long-term induced coma and just coming out of it now.  He has begun  tracking people with his eyes, moving his fingers.  This is his progress.  And all I know.

It was such a shock to hear.  
I couldn't imagine him anywhere but behind his big desk.  Smart. Strong. Healthy.  Very busy.
But that is life.
And that is that.

I thought so much about him yesterday.  His new wife, who I've never met.  I thought about them all day in fact.  Until I felt I knew them intimately.  Like the back of my hand.  Loved them like family. Was in the hospital room.  Right there.  I knew all details of the accident and his to-the-moment prognosis. It felt like that. 

But I was not there.  I was at a field.  With my kids and dogs.  I was not running around, like I often do.  I was quiet.  Watching them run.  Watching the clouds move in and the sunlight pierce through.

And that is life.
And that is that.