Tag Archives: project

Slow Down, Moving Too Fast

14 May

Time is hurtling by me. And that’s a topic that recurs in my thoughts and ramblings with stunning regularity. Time.

How does one find the time to do the things that satisfy, make life worth living, when so much of our time is spent just trying to make a living?

You would think at my age I would have a better grasp of this. Yeah. You would think. But it has escaped me. This road I travel is one of accidents. It’s a take-it-as-it-comes road, good, bad, or indifferent, just deal-with-it-when-it-happens road.

I’m trying to take a right. Signing up for all the festivals and craft shows I feel like I can afford and posting to my Etsy shop and 7 or so other platforms is a beginning. But it is a slow go. And I know I’m not moving fast enough…time is moving too fast…it’s slipping by me and my desire to begin by traveling Arkansas with my wares is becoming a reality in slow motion because I’m trying to fund it the goal without making sales of my wares…but I am building a following one person at a time. I’m making contacts, passing out cards, receiving new invitations to participate…is this how it is done? Is this the beginnings of a success I’ve never known? I don’t recognize it as I have no experience of it.

Time. Do I have time to do this? The spousal unit thinks not. He has no confidence in me. He’s focused on my efforts to find a ‘job’. Yes…I do need a steady income source. But I need this creative outlet. I need to spend time in my ‘happy place’ and travel to the festivals and shows, local and not so local, set up and talk to people, enjoy the social aspects as well as the possibility of success.

Time. I want to add mono-prints and emulsion prints to my inventory. I’m stymied. I reach a point in the day where my energy has waned and I’m ready to immerse myself in a book. I need to learn to pull back from that…Time.

I’ve just indulged in such a self-absorbed rant. My apologies.

Here’s another post to my Etsy shop. It’s time.

4 x 6 Picture swapping photo frame. Rustic little picket fence.

4 x 6 Picture swapping photo frame. Rustic little picket fence.

Picture too. 4 x 6 picture swapping frame.

Picture too. 4 x 6 picture swapping frame.

www.etsy.com/shop/aFrameJob

 

Manic Monday

4 May

Okay. I’ll admit it. I’m graceless.

Saturday I spent a lovely day at the Arkansas’ Regional Innovation Hub Mini Maker Faire. The weather was beautiful. I met lots of people. Showcased my frames and made a few contacts for more events and education. I was stoked!

But tired. So I retired early with my Kindle. Turned all the lights out, snuggled up to Peanut…ahhhhhh.

Then the craving hit. Chocolate. I wanted chocolate. A peanut butter chocolate egg beckoned from the freezer. Now at this point the spousal unit was snoring. But I was undeterred. I closed my Kindle, slipped from under the covers, carefully made my way around the bottom of the bed, tiptoeing cautiously, only to catch my foot on a big, black, hairy dog and go flying into the floor!

Left knee hurts, can’t straighten the right elbow, knocked a small filling from the back of a front tooth, busted the upper lip a bit, and woke the spousal unit. Oh and I’m sore.

Yup. The dog’s on my list. And from now on I will allow my eyes to adjust to the ambient light.

Ah..clumsy is my middle name.

So, here’s today’s frame posting. Thanks for looking!

Photo Swap Frame Pretty in Pink

Photo Swap Frame Pretty in Pink

Pretty in Pink, Another View

Pretty in Pink, Another View

find

.

 

 

 

 

 

Find it here. Only $24.

Fanfares on Friday

20 Mar
My daughter at ten. Frame for sale.

My daughter at ten. Frame for sale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Visit www.etsy.com/shop/aFrameJob

Ah yes. Three in four days. I really have to do something about my awful photos!

Dear daughter:

I needs help with pictures.

Love,

Mom

She and the grand visited for dinner tonight! Such a joy. We’re hanging out a couple of days next week. Oh yeah! Can’t wait.

 

 

 

Up Today

18 Mar

Adding a second display board to my Etsy collection today. Glad to be here and get this done!

Using Ms. Zoe's Pic again. Notice the change in floral color!

Using Ms. Zoe’s Pic again. Notice the change in floral color!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This one is a bit knotty. Love that. Adds character

This one is a bit knotty. Love that. Adds character

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spent a few moments in the barn today and I wore a MASK, hoping to avoid any more sick days due to inhalation of dust, sawdust, and whatever other detritus flies in the face of a 50 plus year old animal structure. It is well weathered and worn, but I do so love it!

Also spent time discussing mono-printing at the local art store. The young man who spoke to me was so full of ideas! Loved it. Can’t wait to get started. A new craft!!! Oh my!!!! Add it to my collection of have-to/had-to try its. This one may be a keeper.

Until next time!

 

Tangle Up Tuesday

14 May

Oh. Hi there. It’s Tuesday and tales are flying. Gossip is rife.

I’m on a roll today. I rolled out of bed, rolled into the shower, rolled around soaping up, drying off, dressing, and drinking coffee. I rolled into work. I’m not sure, but I think I’m still semi-conscious. Help?

I’m in a story telling mood this week. So let me tell you a story.

My name is Beckett. Mom named me for some weirdo playwright. I don’t even know what a playwright is, but there you go. I like my name. I think it suits me. I love to hear Mom whistle for me and call my name. I always answer. I love my Mom. She throws my ball and lets me run after it and catch it and bring it back. She doesn’t try to steal it from me very often. She also lets me snuggle against her on the sofa or the bed or anywhere she goes.
I don’t like snuggling in that car-thing we ride in to the vet’s office. It reminds me we have to go and sometimes he sticks things in my butt and then puts sharp pointy things in my neck. Sometimes he just forces a chunky thing down my throat. I try to be nice to him. I try to be nice to everybody. I love everybody. I love my ball. I love my yard and my house. Oh…there goes one of those car-things.
I’m back. I love the Beatles too. That’s the sound that Mom says comes out of the box in the living room.
Mom says I’m cute. I think so too. So does Felicity. She lives next door. I love Felicity.
Mom says she picked me. She says she picked me out of all the pups in the shelter. I’m a lucky dog.
Mom loves me and feeds me and gives me toes and brushes my hair and gives me treats. I’m a lucky dog.
Mom says adopting a dog from the shelter is the right thing to do.
I think she’s right. I love my mom.
I like to swim in the pool too. I love water. Mom loves water. I love Mom.
Gotta go. Mom’s got the ball! Wheeeeeeeeeee. I love the ball!

Projects, Polyester, Party, and Signs

27 Nov

Today, I’m posting two projects. They are here. This was amusing.  I’m always amused. Sometimes more so than others.

I shopped for new lights to accommodate picture taking this morning.  I’ve been wandering around the house looking for some way to set up a small ‘studio’ and jokingly mentioned under my desk as the perfect spot. Well that’s the spot lights and white board will be calling home. Wooooowhooooo. Picture taking will no longer be a dreaded chore! I can get the project photos any time day or night! Just pick up the camera and shoot those puppies.

Today is the day for, dare I utter the word….senior …discounts at Kroger.

I told Falon this morning that I really hate that word. It somehow implies that I am rushing toward my demise with nary an obstacle in my path. Not a pleasant thought. I have too many projects, too many places to visit, people to see.

There is a sure sign for loss of my mental acuity.  If I lose my jeans and boots and cute little hats, it’s time to shoot me. No polyester and certainly none of those yucky grandma shoes will grace my shopping bags, let alone my body.

I may revert to a sweats wearing slob, but never again polyester. Never again.

My mom made polyester dresses for me when I was growing up. It was the latest in no-iron, care-free fabric. I hated that shit. It’s evolved, I will admit, but visions of a chunky kid in polyester still haunt my dreams. It was a bit thick, didn’t breathe, created impossible static, and clung in all the wrong places.

Anybody else out there old enough to remember that stuff?

It was gross.

In college, I was strictly a jeans and work shirts kinda girl. I did embroider some of my work shirts. Pretty suns and flowers and little trees of thread worked across the back added a bit of a girly touch. And then I would sew outrageous dresses to wear when I worked the theatre front of house. One night I stepped out to the disco, feather boa wrapped and a ‘tattoo’ of Dali’s Capricorn on my shoulder, done in colored makeup by my best bud Michael. That particular night I wore clunky black sandals with lace-trimmed ankle socks with a black backless dress just skimming my ankles. Michael wore a vintage tux.

Geez, were we cool or what?

And that brings us to cooler weather. Mmmm…..I love autumn. Some days are actually cool and crisp here in my Southern hometown. Sweaters and sweatshirts come out of the closet. We do not, however, pack away the shorts. Things can change rather abruptly. I find it rather amusing to go out in public this time of year. You’ll see folks with jackets and scarves, followed by a guy in shorts and flip flops. Lately I’ve spied several women in their pajama bottoms….I have no clue. It must be a new trend. One I will not be following.

It’s time to finish cleaning the house, or go to bed and do it tomorrow.

I much prefer the latter idea.

A Pagan Christmas, Master, and Yard Art

19 Nov

I’m drinking coffee and pondering the Universe.

Now there’s  an endeavor that will push me forward.

I seem to be victim to an inertia I can’t identify.

Trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

Now there’s a serious problem for a woman pushing 60.

Focus.

I was checking online degree programs.  Would I like to pursue a Master’s in Creative Writing? That’s some expensive sh*t.

Don’t I have a way with words?

If I wait another year, I can attend the local university with fees and tuition waived. I’ll be an official senior citizen then.  And the same applies to a writing program just 30 minutes away. The tuition there is quite reasonable for any student. Perhaps start the first semester as a paid student and finish as a senior?

Geez, this just ain’t right. I’m way too young to be a senior citizen. The Golden Years.  It does not compute.

Today is a busy one…this week is a busy one. I’m such a kid about decorating for Christmas. We actually don’t do a big tree anymore. Too many animals. So I do wreaths and hangings, and small trees all over the place. I did bring the Christmas Village down from the attic. It’s waiting to go up.

I look at this celebration in a pagan sort of way. It’s winter. It is a time for seasonal affective disorder. It’s time to let your hair down and enjoy a party with the family, tell them how much you love them, exchange gifts, and eat. Last year I didn’t have time to wrap all the stocking stuffers. Some were too big for the stocking anyway. So I put them all in a huge flannel Santa bag, made my family close their eyes, and passed them out. I really had fun with that one. Might just have to repeat it.

Speaking of the eating part, my tradition for Christmas is a scratch German Chocolate Cake. It’s Zach’s favorite too so we do one for his birthday on December 3 as well. My mom started this one. I love German Chocolate Cake, the best part being the coconut pecan icing. For as long as I can remember, she made one for me every Christmas with a double recipe of the icing. Yummmmmmmmm.

It’s a diabetic nightmare. So pump up the insulin once a year. Cause this is a must have on my list. I have conceded to a recipe and a half of icing. There are some things you just have to splurge on.

I love the lights. I love to turn all the house lights out and sit in the glow from the Christmas lights. I love Santa Clause. My kids asked me if I believed in Santa when they were little. Yes, I believe in the spirit of Santa Clause. I’m kinda sneaky.

Falon is my favorite oldest child. Zachary is my favorite youngest child. Barry is my favorite middle child. Makes them all my favorite.

They roll their eyes at me. Diplomatic relations with children are tricky no matter their age.

I ran across a deer this morning in the yard, but she was startled and took off for the back forty. One of them was almost within touching distance of Bob a few days ago. Dog went ballistic and scared her. She ran too.

The following were stationary when I went to the mailbox, so I got pics.

Sun and Moon on a Cloudy Autumn Morn

Autumn Out Back

Autumn Berries

Pretty Pink Camellia

I is so happy to see the camellia. Did you ever see the movie ‘Camille’? Great movie.

What a segue!

I’m now officially behind on Pinterest inspired tutorials. We’re crafting this upcoming weekend though, so I’ll catch up. I really have to build a Photo Studio and find my floodlights. I may have to make the studio under my desk. The floodlights were lost in the attic emptying.

I’m not going to start an organizing trend again. Just try to stay on track with what I’ve got. After all, a cluttered desk is the sign of a genius at work.

I must have an IQ off the charts.

Space, Diss-organized, Dropsey Drawers

14 Nov

We have nearly 2000 square feet of house, a barn, two sheds, two attics, five acres,  and I’m still trying to find a space to contain my serious amount of sh*t.

I have too many hobbies and too many tools, supplies, and accessories for each hobby.

Anyone got any ideas for me?  Cheap ideas are good. Free ones are even better.

Falon says I just need to finish one project before moving on to another. I think she may be on to something.

That could be the problem. I just hate to admit it. How many character flaws does one have to ‘fess up to in a lifetime?

Tomorrow is a new day. Perhaps I can begin a new leaf, finish all the loose ended projects, and start fresh on Friday. What a thought. Clear the minutiae. Clear the desk. Clear the head.

Who am I kidding? My efforts at organizing are legendary in their failure. Bob just waits until I’m not home and throws stuff in the trash.

I try not to notice. Wonder if that’s what happened to the missing sewing foot?

My friend in South Carolina called this afternoon. She designs and makes wreaths. I asked her about my inability to organize. She knows me well. We’re both suffering from an attention problem. She suggested I do what she does.  Close the door to the workroom quickly before things fall out. I can do that.

I’m still tired of wasting time looking for things, or going to buy more. It is such a time eater-upper. I know you’ve heard of eater-uppers. Right?

My mom used to say people who weren’t too quick on the uptake were eaten up with it. Eaten up with dumb-a$$. I won’t tell you how she defined the ‘f’ word for me when I asked. Suffice it to say she didn’t even come close.

Mom worked as a psychiatric nurse in the state hospital. One day she came home chuckling about something unknown to us. She chuckled occasionally while preparing dinner. We finally heard the tale. One of her co-workers left the ward to go home. Mom was standing at a window as the woman sought her car. Mom noticed her abruptly stop in her walk across the parking lot. She stepped to the side, shook one foot, and bent to retrieve her loosey-goosey panties from the ground where they had fallen and pooled around her ankles. She put them in her purse and continued to her car.

I’d a died ‘fore I picked up them drawers. And I don’t think I would have returned to work the next day. Losing my britches in public is not funny.

Now someone else losing their britches is hysterical.

I is so bad.

Pinterest Project #11, Milk, and Snakes

13 Nov

My daughter is my bestest friend. She’s gone so far as to agree when the time comes and my mental faculties desert me, she’ll pull the trigger and put me out of her misery. Ain’t she sweet?

We actually hang out together. Saturday we spent the afternoon at Holiday House. It’s a huge market hosted by the Junior League. We wandered through the crowds, spent a little money, checked all the marvelous handmade offerings, and tasted the dips and soups and margarita mixes. That last one was way cool.

I blame my inner ear problem for the stumbling gait I developed as we left the convention center. That pesky inner ear has gathered fluid. And that’s my story, I’m sticking to it.

Then we shared a meal. Really. We shared a sandwich and some cheese dip.

Sunday she came over for Craft Day. She is the designer for today’s Pinterest inspired project. So kudos to Alexis (I call her by her middle name…Falon) Sanghera for Project #11, our inspirational Christmas tree. Find the simple instructions here.

O Christmas Tree

This morning I left the house to buy more green paint and a foot for my sewing machine. I lost the one I removed to make buttonholes. I seem to have a penchant for misplacing things. It’s somewhere in there. I know it.

That foot might have joined the screwdrivers, pins, wrenches, various brushes, pieces to my Dremel, my Xacto knife….

Milk was up this morning. I guess the cows have gone on strike.

Have you ever had milk, full cream, brought in fresh off the cow? I think one of my first memories is of my grandfather bringing a galvanized bucket of milk into the dining room of their old farm house. He passed me in my high chair. My grandmother stopped him and dipped a small glass just for me. Mmmmm. He made sausage and grew cotton.

The house was a rock house. It still stands. There was a front stoop with steps on both sides leading to the front door. I remember a root cellar and the weird little knob on the door. It was small and oval and metal and just about the right size for a kid hand.

I remember being sent to the cotton fields with a mason jar of water for Grandpa. I would run across the wooden bridge as though chased by demons. I was terrified and convinced snakes lived in great numbers under that bridge on the banks of the creek.

I hate snakes. I hate looking at them at the zoo. They may be behind glass, but they’re still snakes. Freud might have diagnosed me with an overwhelming case of penis envy.

<big sigh>

We have Copperheads here. I ran over one with the lawn mower about 13 summers ago. When I saw it, I ran like hell from the barn to the house, screaming all the way. Once I regained my breath I realized there was no one to deal with it but me.

I was in no hurry, but the old lawnmower was running.

My skin crawled all the way back to the barn. Of course the snake was pretty much shredded, but I watched closely for some time. If that puppy moved I was headed to the house again.

It didn’t move.

Bob found one shortly after he moved here. He wanted to play with it. I stood on the porch repeatedly demanding he kill it. It got away. I didn’t go to that side of the house for six months or so.

I hate snakes.

Did I tell you I hate snakes?

I have learned to let King snakes go. They kill Copperheads. It only took 40-something years.

I learned to eat turnip greens in less time.

And, no, I will never eat snake.

Biscuits and Gravy, Pessimistic Husbands, and Urban Fantasies

12 Nov

Fall is here.

The bathtub is sinking.

My husband is a raving pessimist.

There are too many books to read.

Too many projects.

Sounds like fun!

Yesterday was a rainy, cloudy day. Loved it.  We noticed Saturday that the leaves are falling with vengeance now. The colors are bright. After the rain the yard is littered liberally with the fallout.   Daughter, Falon, and I made things yesterday. We spent time in the barn cutting our wood. She sanded and painted while I struggled with the software for my Cricut. We cut. We pressed on. We completed our project. More on that tomorrow.

She got biscuits and gravy for Sunday morning breakfast. Cream gravy. Made with bacon fat. Our arteries are officially clogged. Our hearts are in jeopardy. But the memory will live on until the next rare occasion when we treat ourselves to that hearty breakfast.

That’s probably why our ancestors all died young, except for Effie….too much fat infused gravy. But oh, what a stomach-filling breakfast. All they had to do was milk the cow, save the pig fat, and add a bit of flour for thickening. No waste of precious resources in that recipe.

My grandmother Effie, my mom’s mother, was nearly ninety when she died. She did have one carotid rotor-rooter procedure. But that woman ate fat all day, every day. She had sausage or ham and eggs cooked in bacon fat for breakfast. She seasoned her veggies with it. She cooked her chicken, pork chops, ham, squirrel, salt pork, beef, and opossum in it. She made all her gravies with it. Her cornbread pan was greased with it.  She saved it. And she spooned sugar in ample quantity over her strawberries and in her coffee and tea. She drank full fat milk.

I don’t think she ever weighed over 135 pounds.

I was so jealous. I look at food and gain weight. Born at just over 9 pounds, I jumped to 150 3 days later and never looked back.

The absolute horror of it all.

Perhaps that extra weight is the reason for the sinking bathtub. Nah…..I haven’t taken a bath in years. Showers people, showers! But gravity and water damage have taken their toll. So now we wait for that bath to dry out so we can jack up the tub, replace the pipe, the tile, and the backboard. Not exactly a fun time in doing all that. And the pessimist in the house has decided that the underside of the bath cannot be repaired without extensive structural work. Don’t worry. I think we can get by without going there.  If not, we’ll continue to use my shower. He’s such a pessimist!

I don’t know how it happened, but recently I have become a fan of urban fantasy. Guess it’s better than Calgon in taking me away. If you know what that refers to you are of an age. I’m inclined to read for sheer entertainment. I’m too tired for intellectual stimulation.  No way to determine the effects of it on a brain made mushy by long hours and many years of boring work making a living. Ewwwewwwww. My whole head might explode if I allowed myself to engage in a ‘smart’ conversation. That must be avoided. An exploding head would most assuredly make a horrendous mess.

This brings us back to urban fantasy.

I have an urban fantasy. One in which no one is homeless or hungry. Hey, all you rich folks out there. Get together and share with the least among you! They contributed to your wealth one way or another.

There.

That’s my urban fantasy.

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