shining egg

almost

gee. you all know how to make a girl feel better. even when her finger is throbbing and black and blue and really, really ugly. your words of kindness and wishes for healing are so very much appreciated. it's like being wrapped up in a big blanket of caring. it is.

the stitches are almost out. the house painting is almost finished. and this month of march is almost a memory. almost, but not quite.

first, the finger. it's feeling much, much better. i've managed alright this week, with only nine fingers. dishes can be done with one hand. (there is a lot more wasted water, but it can be done.) washing my face was no problem at all. showering was not as hard as i had feared. my mother fed us a lot of dinners this week. (thanks, mom!) it's been alright. the hardest thing, i've found, about living with nine fingers: putting tights on a five-year-old girl. that was hard. she wore a lot of pants. (the sacrifices we make.)

the stitches are supposed to come out today. i'm pretty much avoiding that. putting it off until the last possible moment. working up my courage. yeah, that's it. i'm working up my courage.

the house painting is almost finished, too. one last little bit of hall left to be painted today and tomorrow. the whole space - it's practically all one room: the living room, dining room, entry area, even the hall - is now antique white. with white trim.

it's so light. and bright. and wonderful feeling. clean, spacious, ripe with possibility.

while we're on the subject of painting: in a sudden and surprising move, our guest room is getting some new paint this week, too. except that it's not going to be our guest room anymore. over the weekend, we moved the guest bed to the basement (also challenging with nine fingers), and we're turning the guest room into a, um, creative space. i feel shy even saying it here, so gigantically exciting does it feel to me. i've been hoping for this for a good while, but - very suddenly - it's happening! there's a lot of work to do, but i can't wait. i really, really can't wait.

incidentally, i was planning to paint this new creative space white. as in simple white. a perfect backdrop, i think, for all sorts of creative endeavors. the painter thinks it will make the room seem small. any thoughts on this subject from you, my creative friends?

and just so you know that my whole house isn't painted white, i offer you these photos of the also-recently-painted bathroom

and little girl's room.

a certain boy has pointed out that every single room in the house will have been painted except for his. oy. i guess i'll have to fix that. soon.

and finally, here we are at the tail end of this month of march. it's been a doozy, this month. with the painting and the plastering and the house all taken apart. and the finger. and both the birthday and the passing-on-day of my father, who died nine years ago. it's been a lot, these last few weeks. i can't say i'm sad to see the month go.

though that might be just a wee bit self-serving, since the month of april brings my birthday, a big trip, and some new beginnings. i can't wait.

during

thank you! for your kind and encouraging comments about my paintings. your words are so very much appreciated. truly. several of you asked whether the paintings will be for sale. the answer is that i don't yet know. but i promise to tell you when i do. and really, thank you for inquiring. you make a neighbor feel good!

today, just a few scenes from the work in progress that is our home.

dust.

and more dust.

but everything is moving along.

and really, i'm thankful to notice - and to capture - the spots of beauty and texture and light that can be found in the midst of the dust and the hassle.

i'll be away from this space, now, for the rest of the week. seems that life around here requires a bit of extra attention in the midst of the tumult.

enjoy these days, friends.

junk.

[i feel that i ought to warn you, at the outset, that this is a long winded post devoted to my dislike for little plastic toys. i'm not referring to legos and playmobil and the like; we've got plenty of those and we love them. and i'm not condemning plastic altogether. today's post is specific to a certain kind of plastic toy that i just don't care for. and, as always - and i truly, truly mean this - these are my feelings about what works for our family; i fully respect and appreciate everyone's choices about what works for them. really.]

my children have recently come into some, um, junk. junk. those little colored plastic whosamajigits that you get when you go to the dentist and they let you pick a prize (or three) when you're done. a whole bunch of those. and some squishy foam cubes, a blue bear-guy, a shiny stuffed orca whale, and a blow up airplane.

it's carnival time around here. next week we'll be celebrating the jewish holiday of purim, when we'll read the book of esther and rejoice at the bravery of queen esther and how she saved the jewish people from death at the hands of the persian king. it's a very festive holiday, with all sorts of dressing-up-in-costume and merriment and the like. and there are carnivals for kids. the kind in the synagogue basement where you pay five dollars and your kids can play unlimited games and win lots of junk prizes.

that, and we went to the dentist.

so we've come into a goodly amount of colored plastic whosamajigits in the last few days. which has caused me to reflect on how it is that i handle this junk - how i used to handle it (not at all, allowing it to take over and proliferate into every far-flung corner of our home), and how i handle it today.

i'm not very nice, on the great mama scale, about the junk. i don't like it. i don't like how it's made who-knows-where out of who-knows-what. i don't like how it creates all sorts of conflict and desperate last-minute-before-bed searches for its little plastic-ness. or worse, last-minute-before-school hysteria. i don't like how its little pieces wind up, invariably, under my bare feet while i'm walking to the kitchen for a late night glass of water. i don't like how it breaks in ten minutes and causes otherwise perfectly reasonable and angellic little beings to break into uncontrollable sobs.

i used to "disappear" the junk, along with a variety of other items like scribbled-on papers and tattered baby books that my children could not bear to part with. i would send d. and the kids to the playground on a sunday afternoon, and hunt through the house for all of the offending items and dispose of them (double-bagged and placed in the outdoor cans to avoid any chance of discovery) before the kids returned.

and though most of the time nobody noticed anything missing, all of that "disappear-ing" did lead, invariably, to some questioning. "have you seen my bright-pink-whosa-ma-jiggy? i'm sure it was on the dining room table." or "where is that paper-mache volcano i made in pre-school when i was four?" and that questioning ultimately led to me saying all sorts of things like, "hmmm. haven't seen that for a while. wonder what happened to it!"

but one day, a few years back, i got tired of the game. tired of the chase, the secrets. tired of the lying and the hysteria. i got clear about my problems with the junk. and i decided to trust myself and my kids.

so i sat them down and explained it to them: these toys are junk. they don't last. they're going to break. they take up space in our house. they take up space in our heads. we have so many wonderful, creative, lasting things to play with and enjoy. and i want to limit how much of this we keep in our home.

and do you know what? they got it. they absolutely got it.

we purged the junk. together. and they were happier, lighter. it was better, for all of us, being able to find and focus on toys with real potential for play. not having the constant hunting for the green alien with the parachute and hysteria about the orange plastic bookmark with the googly eyes. less mess. less stuff. so much better.

of course, they still love their junk. (and, i'm happy to say, we've devised a marvelous system for managing the junk that we do keep.) last year, at the purim carnival, when l. opened her bag of prizes at the end of the afternoon, her eyes got wide and she looked up at me with delight, and said, "it's junk!!!" but we sorted the junk on that march day last year, and each child kept their few favorite bits. the rest went out that afternoon. we kept just enough to enjoy, keep track of, and appreciate. and that was that.

this past sunday, when i told the kids we were going to the purim carnival (the first of several), b. said, "we'd better plan some time this afternoon to sort the junk." (can you se me, there, beaming with pride and joy at my boy?)

we haven't sorted yet. and we've been to the dentist, in the meantime. so we've got some work to do. but for now, the kids are enjoying their little plastic bits and bobs. and i haven't stepped on anything. yet.

watercolors

l. has been wanting to paint with watercolors for weeks. i don't know why it took me so long to bring out the paints, but finally, after school yesterday, we got down to it.

you'll notice that i'm not showing you any photographs of the kids painting. bad mommy. i was having too much fun with my own watercolors!

and i continued this morning, after dropping the kids off at school, while waiting for the county inspector to come for a silly electrical inspection.

fun, fun. i think we'll be back at it tomorrow. i know i will. i hope the kids will join me!

it takes a village

i've been bursting to share these acorns since sunday.  but i have this thing about the hierarchy of blog posting.  i couldn't share this until i had first posted about pay it forward and the mail.  and then there was the birthday.  is that weird?  i couldn't just throw this in with another post (gasp!) or mess up what seems to be the natural order of things (inside my brain).  so finally, here it is.

i've been wanting to try this project since i first saw it over at leslie's weeks ago.  you know how i feel about acorns.  and these beads, well.  how could i resist?  the kids have been excited, too.  only first, i had to find a bunch of really big acorn tops.  luckily, there is this tree right outside of my painting class that drops enormous acorns.

so every week, when i'm walking into class carrying my large cardboard portfolio, my bag with my lunch and my camera and my water bottle, not to mention my purse, there i am, bending over, crouching down, bags tumbling all around me as i gather acorn tops and stuff them into my pockets.  a pretty sight.  yeah, that's me.  the squirrel-painter.  (do you know this book?  about a squirrel who paints?) 

anyway, i digress.

sunday morning was the perfect moment.  we got out the newspaper and the glue, the acorns and the felt balls.  and we went to town.  i'm not sure who had more fun - me, or the kids.  there was sorting and matching and gluing.  seriously, what's not fun about gluing?  and then, when all of that was said and done, there was the naming.  yes!  the naming.

the kids - all on their own, i take zero credit for this - named their acorns.  they created an acorn family.  there was a grandmother and a grandfather.  there was a baby.  one was called naomi.  the king was nicholas and the queen was catherine (that was only after the king changed his name from robespierre).  there was even a pope named leo and a bishop called john.  i'm not kidding.  and you know we don't follow the pope and the bishop at our house.  that's my eight year old son for you, in a nutshell.  or an acorn shell, as the case may be.

 

after the naming, there was the village built using wooden blocks and train tracks.  there was the church ("you know, mommy, i built a church and not a synagogue because i have the pope and the bishop but no rabbi."), the apartment building, the school.  everybody's got a car.  of course. 

and then there were the desperate moans of children who needed more acorn caps.  because they didn't have any teachers.  who was going to work at the school?

so there i was, on tuesday again, stooped over with my painting bags dangling around my face, gathering (wet, this time) acorn caps and stuffing them into my pockets.  they're dry, now.  and ready to be turned into teachers.  firefighters.  and more.

i can't wait.  what fun, what fun.

a blip

remember this?

it happened again.  the fallen, laying-on-the-wire, smoking part.  same spot, a few feet down the line.  yesterday.  complete with fire trucks.  only, did you know that the fire department can't do anything about trees on wires, even if they're on fire?  they just stand there and watch until the electric company arrives.  really.  thankfully, the smoke was limited this time.  and there were no flames.  and the electric company responded super quickly. 

power was back on before we went to bed.  but we've had no cable or internet.  and the wires are still laying across the yard, along with the remnants of the tree.  until the electrician comes.  and the tree chopper-upper people.

you'll have to look at the photos from last time. it really looked quite the same.  except this time it was already dark.  so no photo opportunities.  and the remnants this morning - not much to see.

i am immensely thankful that nobody was hurt.  that no children were playing in the yard when the tree fell.  that the tree was far enough away that it didn't hit the house.  even my garden wasn't badly hurt.  i'm thankful that we were all able to see the power-outage as an adventure (the kids suggested "no-power-night" every tuesday!).  that we're all safe and well.

i hope to be back here tomorrow with some things i've been making, some things i've been contemplating.  and to check in with all of your blogs to see what you've been up to while i've been eating pizza by candlelight!

november 2 (how did that happen!?)

oh, these last few day, they have been intense.

on tuesday night our travelling man returned, much to the delight of two small children and one tired mama.  his trip to china and hong kong was successful and inspiring.  and he returned with suitcases filled with gifts for all.

there were the dress up clothes and the paint brushes and the chinese doll, the tea and the painting paper and paints, there were the bits of fabric, the maps, even the pocket change was received as treasure.  we were, all of us, thrilled to be reunited - just in time for halloween.

the purple pumpkin costume was finished over the weekend, and i'm happy to say that it met with the approval of the pumpkin herself.  i was so proud of her - for imagining this creative idea, for sticking to her choice when her friends were dressing up as princesses and fairies and angels (oh, i do hope this four-year-old self-assurance lasts her whole life long).  and i was just as proud of myself for executing her design.  i wasn't able to get her to stand still for a proper photo shoot - what with candy calling, and all - but you can catch a glimpse of her here.  [i just re-read this post and realized that it sounds as though i object to fairies and princesses and angels.  not one bit!  it's just i was glad that she stuck with her original choice and was not swayed by peer pressure.  that's all.  really.]

and her brother, the fierce chinese warrior (wearing a costume brought home in a carry-on bag, just in case the luggage was lost - what a good daddy!), he came down with a fever and had to come home from school after lunch on wednesday - missing a neighborhood halloween party and trick-or-treating.  a major disappointment.  luckily, the sad little warrior was not deprived of candy.  the purple pumpkin, she's generous and shared with abandon; and the parents, they made an extra trip to the store for a bag of chocolate bars and peanut butter cups just to be safe.  (of course, i ate the majority of the peanut butter cups and now feel ill!)

in the midst, there's been a bit of drawing and painting, and even sewing, too.  all of which i'm eager to share next week, along with some deep thoughts swirling around in the back of my head.

but for now, on to the weekend.  i'm hoping to do some yard work, preparing the garden for the winter.  and some raking, big piles of leaves for jumping.  and also some simmering, hot cider on the stove. 

a wonderful weekend to all of you.

home (cubes)

my kitchen is white.  all white.  white linoleum floor (cracking in several places).  white formica counters.  white laminate cabinets with white plastic handles.  white walls.  stark white.  i'd show you a photo, but there's nothing to see, really.  it's a sea of white.

the kitchen has been at the top of our list of "things to do" since we moved into the house almost five years ago.  in addition to the white-ness, there's the ancient stainless steel frigidaire cooktop - so old that only two burners are working (so old that it's from before the days when you could unplug the dead burner and plug in a new burner, so sold that the size of the cooktop is no longer a standard size for cooktops).  there's also the awkward layout.  and the bench.

it's one of those benches.  with vinyl cushions (white, of course).  a bench in a spot where nobody sits.  a bench, but really a dump.  you know?  the place where everybody drops their backpack and jacket and lunchbox and laundry basket and dirty sweatshirt and toy-that-i'll-be-right-back-for and markers and unfinished art project and pine-cones-collected-while-walking.  the bench was the dump.  oh, how i wish i had a photo to show you from before.

last fall, a brilliant friend suggested some alternatives to the dumping-bench.  and with that, the vinyl cushions were gone and we've been living with these cubes ever since.  they're white.  but the bins inside are not.  they're square.  but the baskets on top are not.  the bins are particleboard from ikea.  the baskets are kaisa grass, woven by artisans in bangladesh.

a spot of color, of line, of order.  a spot of contrasts in my kitchen.

i love mail

i'm still aware of the blanket of fog surrounding me - though there are breaks where i can see through to the sky.  and i am reassured, knowing that the sky is out there, waiting for me when the fog lifts.  i'm attributing the continued fog-i-ness to lack of sleep leftover from earlier in the week combined with solo parenting, an almost-recovered-but-still-a-bit-off little one, three days of cloudy skies (which have brought most welcome rain), several projects hanging over my head.  as sarah so wisely said, there is a spot on the horizon where the sun is shining warm and waiting for me.  i'll keep moving patiently through the fog until i get there.

in the meantime, i haven't caught the right moment between rain drops in which to take a photo of my mailbox, but i'm sharing my recent mail anyway.  i can't stand to keep it to myself any longer.

the first package was from sarah.  a while ago i had admired her leaf cards, and asked if i could purchase some.  so she sent the set i ordered, along with some beautiful extras (those brown and chartreuse cards in the back - aren't those colors wonderful?).  all wrapped up with bakers twine.  lovely cards (three already used for writing notes and mailed away!) from a lovely blog friend.

and then last weekend, on my doorstep, there was a package from amy.  we had agreed to swap acorns - those texas ones looking so different from the ones here in the mid-atlantic.  not only did she send us acorns - she sent us a pressed leaf, some seed pods, and these lovely magnolia buds (are they buds?  i'm not sure what to call them, really) - all sorted and classified in baggies!  and, she sent some little moo cards - the first i've ever held in my hands!  the leaves and seeds and acorns were carefully examined by the budding scientists in our family.  and they're now gracing a tray in our living room (the rain making it too dark to take pictures - that will have to wait for another day).

finally, yesterday i came home to find these fabrics that i had ordered from sew, mama, sew.  some lovely textile inspiration.  i have plans for them (well, some of them anyway!) - but before i can get started, i've got to finish making a costume for a little girl who insists that she must be a purple pumpkin for halloween.  hmmm...

happy weekend.

home (jiggity jig)

home again, home again... isn't that how it goes?

thank you, all of you, for your kind comments about my poncho. i do love it, and it's keeping me warm. and pleased. thank you, too, for your well wishes on the wedding - and my gocco!

the wedding was absolutely lovely. the flower girl and the ring bearer (and, of course, the best man) were precious and executed their responsibilities perfectly. the bride was stunning, the flowers were breathtaking, the food was tasty, and we have a new brother-in-law in the family.

the whole weekend was delightful. the weather was outstanding - clear, cool, crisp air. i even wore a hat in the mornings! i forgot how much i love my wintertime hat. delicious food, delicious family and friends. far too few pictures were taken by me - funny, considering how many photos i take on an average day.

and now we're home. my cousin has gone. there are still a few obstacles to overcome before life really (please, i hope) settles down - another visit, later this week, by grandparents travelling back home after the wedding, a father (and husband, of course!) travelling to china for business next week. but already, i'm feeling myself sinking into this home place where middle-fall has set in and calls me toward the rhythm of the season.

today, i cleaned the kitchen (which had become a dumping ground for all sorts of things - from library books to science projects to packages waiting to be returned - over the last few weeks). i put everything back in its place. i'm always amazed by how much brighter the kitchen looks when all of the clutter has been cleared. so bright.

this tidy kitchen counter is my favorite spot today. it just smacks of the rhythm i crave, of the promise of this season. i was up at six, baking muffins to put into lunch boxes. a cooking project is planned for after school. a sweater, keeping me toasty. yes, fall has come to me.