I See the Light

We all deal with goodbyes differently.  This weekend, we're saying goodbye by sharing our creativity!

My daughter is moving next week--about 6 hours away from us.  Before leaving she came to visit for a couple of days and we decided to do some crafting and creativity while she was here.  She decided to antique a frame to hang above her bed at her new place.  Here she is, pausing her painting to pose for a picture.

So beautiful.

She then painted my lampshade for me while I was painting the base.  I found this on clearance at the Big Store, and plan to use it in my kitchen.  (Actually, we began our weekend by meeting up at a local store that specializes in primitive and Americana style--right up my area.  Bretty's has some great stuff, and you should definitely check them out!  It was there that I was inspired to move forward with my plan to ROOSTERNIZE my kitchen!!)

The lamp met my criteria: it was small, and it was cheap.  $4 cheap.

(Let's not talk about the lovely King Tut Gold paint the way it came....)

I began by taping off the black base.  I wanted to keep the project within my budget of $5, so I used the paint I had at home:  Spray paint left behind by previous inhabitants.  But since the paint was a brighter and more orange-y version of fire engine red, I also used some of my son's flat black paint that he used to paint his bicycle.

Painting the lampshade.   

Let dry overnight.  Then I stamped using Close to My Heart's Friendship Bouquet set (page 142 of the Spring/Summer 2012 Idea Book) sunflowers.  Let me say, the stamping was awful!  Lots of problems there, but in the end, I love it.

Just remember as you create:
          we create with LOVE and JOY,
               not with perfection.

She's Gone

Is it too early to say "She's Gone?"

I just watched my daughter drive away, heading back to her grandparents' home.  She'll be there another 4-5 days and then will leave for Louisville, Kentucky.  Five hours thirty minutes.  Three hundred fourteen miles.  Two interstate highways.  Two states.  Away.

I want to sink down to the floor and bawl my eyes out.  If I were in a movie, I'd have done that.  Grabbed a box of tissues, leaned against the front door and slowly and gracefully sllllliiiiipppppped my way down to the floor, pulled my knees up to my chest and began to weep.

After a while I would have blown my nose loudly and let my head roll to the side of my shoulder.  I'd close my eyes for just a moment, and take a deep cleansing breath.

I'd open my eyes, and it'd take a moment for them to focus, as my head is still sideways, but I would find myself looking at my bookshelf where -- miraculously -- sit photo albums displaying images of her life.

I'd open the album that caught my eye and I'd see her as a baby.

There'd be a lovely montage with equally lovely music as I peruse the photos.  They would end with a fabulous picture of her wedding day, where the photographer caught a special moment exchanged just between the bride and groom, allowing the on-looker a small glimpse of the joy and adventure that await them.

In the movie,  I'd close the album and hug it in my arms, tightly to my chest.

And I'd smile.

The music would continue to fade as the scene fades black and credits begin to roll.

But this is no movie.
And my body shape won't allow me a graceful slide to the floor.
And I'll be in my grave for years before I'm able to pull my knees to my chest.

So, what I actually do is stand on the porch with my door open, letting out the airconditioning and watch her drive away as far as I can see her.

I come in, take off my shoes, take a deep breath, tell myself I'll see her on Wednesday--it's her birthday, afterall.  I can cry then.  I take another deep breath, and refuse to allow myself to crawl into bed with her dad and break down.

Instead, I run into my craft room to record this memory here.  Because my baby is leaving.  And threehundredfourteenmilesisveryfaraway.

But I am proud of them, for who they are and who they will become.  For facing this adventure despite their anxieties.  For going forth and LIVING their lives, not watching it out the window or on the television.

Proud of them for not settling for jobs that just make money, but for wanting more out of life.  For knowing what they want to become, and working their way to get there.

Good bye for now, Goose.  Mommy loves you.

My babies:  Vanessa and George.  At cousin Angie's wedding in June 2012.

Left Behind

I'm sitting here in my craft room, making out my wish list for Close to My Heart.  I don't have a comprehensive list and am sure I need one.

A little bit ago, my son came in the house and asked for permission to ride his bike to the gas station downtown for some jerky.  This is a momentous thing for an eleven year old.  A couple of his buddies were going and even though his dad said there's too much traffic, I felt that he was ready for the responsibility.

I gave him a couple of dollars so he could buy a bottle of water at the store: I knew he'd be thirsty.  It's still about 90 degrees, and it's 8 PM here.

He kissed me goodbye and was off with his buddies before I could see them ride away.

I sent him a text telling him to let me know when they got there and when they were on their way back.  I heard nothing from him, but wasn't worried.  I usually reach panic mode, but wasn't there yet.

Then a bit of red caught my eye out the window.  It was his two buddies riding up the incline on the sidewalk that leads to our drive way.  And I don't see George anywhere.  I watch the boys.  One looks behind him, but the other doesn't even look.  They are on a mission.  Heading home, or to the first boys' house, which they are known to do.

And 30 seconds later, I see my son.
Riding along at his own pace.
And I say a small prayer:
"God, please don't let him feel like I feel for him."
Like he was left behind.

Hot and Cold

Hot and cold used to refer to coolers and insulated thermoses.
Now it refers to me.

Meno-pause.  Mental-pause.  Men-Oh-Pause.

It's wonderful to be over forty.

Right?

Pinterest. Need I say more?

Pinterest.  Now that's a word that no one would have thought about using in daily life even a year ago.  Today, most of the women in my life think about it.  And once they get on it, they get sucked in.  And they come out of the zone an hour -- sometimes more -- wondering what they've been doing for all that time!

And you can lump me into that pot. 

I'm always multi-tasking.  And Pinterest helps with that.

For example, I'm currently posting on Facebook with my cousin's daughter, Morgan.  Talking about living close to your family.  I'm also instant chatting through FB with my Uncle Lonnie.  Chatting about Aunt Mary eating ice cream and me wishing I was there.  I'm also building a wish list for Close to My Heart products.  Their new stamping and scrapbooking catalog will be released August 1.  I want to hold and close a party by August 2.

I'm also texting with Tammy.  Lots going on there.  She's a joy to me.

I'm also creating a log of the CTMH stamps I've already purchased.  You do not want to know!!!  :)

I am also trying to upload a pin to Pinterest and it won't go through.  Maybe the file is too large?  So I figured I'd post it here on Porch Swing and then pin it from the Internet. 

And so I've wasted about 30 minutes here (now I'm also chatting with my sister).  So I'm going to attempt to post the photo of the card I made here.  Wish me luck.

This is the card I created from my Close to My Heart "Friendship Bouquet" (S1205) stamp set.  I sent it to my sister, but I'm dying to use it on a dish cloth!