Art on Marshmallow Ranch

Parking on the Freeway

Sat, 12 Apr 2025 01:30:00 -0600

I forgot…April is the beginning of Orange Cone Season. Ugh. We lost at least an hour or two in stop and go traffic. (OK…maybe is was twenty minutes. I don’t remember. 🙄) My brain was zoned out. We stopped at the brand new rest area on the West Virginia Turnpike. Hokey smokes…they spent a gazillionty-teen dollars on the new Tamarack Travel Plaza. Located adjacent to the Tamarack Marketplace which broke ground on August 8, 1994.

Forward-thinking Governor Gaston Caperton had a vision. He wanted something more than the usual bathroom and vending machine rest area. He envisioned a place that would house artisans from around the state. An open area in the center of the building houses designated areas for artists and artisans to seek their wares. Surrounding the shopping are walls and halls for gallery exhibits. (The quilts and art are to die for!)

As the population of Appalachia ages out, fewer folks were stepping up and learning the skills of our forefathers and mothers. The Tamarack Marketplace offers educational opportunities. The works are juried to “insure [sic] quality and authenticity of WV-made items.” The food service is provided by The Greenbrier Hotel. It’s definitely a must-see place to visit should you be driving the I-77 corridor through our fine state.

Anyway, back to the new Tamarack Travel Plaza. The official Grand Opening was December 30th with the Governor and other officials present to usher in the $60M state-of-the-art facility. The building houses the only Popeye’s Chicken in Southern WV. Starbuck’s and Wendy’s are also housed in the building. There is a convenience store area on one end and at the other end, a small Tamarack Marketplace shop offers just a few of the beautiful items from the larger venue nearby. It has the usual fare of travel plazas…fuel and restrooms. FANCY restrooms. While the minimalist design didn’t appeal to me, the sinks were over the top. I’ve never seen anything like them. The faucet is a modern “wash bar” design. On the left end is the hand soap dispenser, in the middle the the water faucet, and to the right is the blower-style hand dryer. All motion-sensor, and resting over an angled sink with a slit for a drain at the back. I wanted to stay in there a play till my hands got pruny, but Mr. FixIt was waiting for me so I finished up and went out to meet him. (Pictures: Before and After, credit to sources on the internet.)

We drove through a lot of rain on the way and Fancy Gap didn’t disappoint with its pea soup fog. We only saw the evidence on one accident…a semi on its side in the median near Wytheville. It didn’t look like anyone was injured. I was so happy to pull into the campground last night. Oak Hollow Family Campground is beautiful and right off the interstate without sounding like a war zone. It was a fun drive. The further south we went, the more beautiful it became. The flowering trees are majestic. Our dogwood trees got bit by the hard freezes of the last couple of weeks, but they escaped that fate farther south. They look all the world like dotted Swiss fabric lying here and there against a black and new spring green backdrop. The azaleas are in bloom as are the magnolias and camellias. Stunning!

We arrived in plenty of time to have a light meal and stretch out on our comfy memory foam mattresses for a well deserved rest. Too late for a nap, but restful just as well. Today we’ll enjoy a nice breakfast and head to the Outer Banks. Tonight we’ll go to sleep to the sound of the ocean waves!

We don’t have to be in quite the hurry today as we were yesterday. If you aren’t checked in at the campground by 7:00pm at Oak Hollow, they lock the gates and you flat out do not get in. That kinda puts a fire under you. But it’s a totally different deal at the beach. That means we don’t have to be on the road quite so early. Which is fine by me!

🚙💨

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭4‬:‭8‬ ‭NLT‬‬

***Gratitude Journal***  Today I am grateful for safe travels…and that I didn’t scare Mr. FixIt more than once. Maybe twice. 😘

Mondays are for Knitting

Tue, 20 Feb 2024 02:30:00 -0600

Forgive the color…the light in my lamp is so yellow.

Our knitting group met yesterday and as always…we had a lovely visit. One of the gals is just learning how to use her circular knitting machine so there was a lot of teaching going on. My time as shopkeeper and a student in the needlearts has paid off over and over. I love to teach people new skills. If we have an opportunity to create beautiful things that will outlive us, we’ve given the world a gift and part of us lives on. Enabling others to do the same is a duty and a privilege.

My dear friends Gail and Janine and I have a group chat where we touch base every day. Janine is the creator and Camper-in-Chief of Girl Camper. Every spring Girl Camper has a fundraising raffle benefiting the Hold You Foundation. They provide funds for things like utility bills and gas money to the families of ill children so they have one less worry. Gail and I will make some handmade items to contribute. I started knitting a pair of woolen mittens yesterday. This is my favorite mitten pattern…so quick and easy.

Mr. FixIt had an appointment in town midday so I had the afternoon to myself. While I would have loved to sit and knit, I got the jump on taxes and updated my online banks account. Online banking has made the old way of balancing a checkbook nearly obsolete. At any given time you can access your bank account and see exactly what’s going on. You can easily pull reports that list transactions to use when filing your taxes. There’s much to be said for the conveniences computers bring to our lives even as they can be misused tools of destruction. I actually have friends who wouldn’t know thing one about using a computer for anything but email. And a smartphone would make them apoplectic. In some ways, I envy them the simplicity of a life unplugged.

I remember when I crossed the threshold into cyber life. I was working on the computer and I very clearly knew I was at a crossroads. I could step off the edge of the cliff and learn things I couldn’t dream of…or I could hit the off button and tend to my knitting. Given that I am here, writing to you every evening, is a clear indicator that I jumped with both feet. Maybe someday I’ll pull back, but for now…I’m in the thick of it and not nearly ready to disconnect from you all. What a tiresome life it would be without knowing all of you beautiful people!

🩵

”Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.“
Isaiah 64:8 NIV

God’s Paintbrush v My Own

Tue, 26 Sep 2023 01:30:00 -0600

I’ve watched “influencers” reveal how they make everything look perfect. They clean a four foot section of their kitchen and it makes you think they live like that. Here, you’ll see that there isn’t a cover on that outlet behind the toaster. It’s way far away from water and any of my activity. It’s been like that since I moved in here in 2017. It’s just one of the things we’ll get around to when we get a “round tuit!” Anyway, when you squint, the painting looks sort of realistic. I painted it plein aire on top of Ajax Mountain in Aspen many years ago. ?

I’ve dabbled in art all my life. Being a creative is wonderful. Being a creative who is also a Gemini is crazy making. Because…I want to do ALL the things! And when I want to do ALL the things, I need ALL the supplies. And by the time I’ve gathered ALL the supplies and proven to myself I can do the THINGS fairly well…I’m bored with it and once again head out to learn ALL the things. It is a vicious cycle and a treadmill I struggle to keep from dying on.

“Mahi Mahi” The Big Island of Hawaii, 1997 - Colored Pencil on Bristol - I caught a 27# Mahi Mahi deep sea fishing off the Kona Coast of Hawaii and was so sad to learn, when it dies…it turns grey.

I notice art in all things. The soft curve of a baby’s ear. The way a spider’s eyes sparkle in the dark. The way clouds make hearts and unicorns in the sky. I struggle to recreate what I see because I so want to be an “artist”. My dear friend Marion is a very talented artist and she wisely told me, “The way to become an artist is to print up business cards and put ‘Artist’ under your name.” I still suffer imposter syndrome about much of my talents, but I’ve gained a lot of confidence since I started writing this blog.

An Angelfish of some sort I spotted snorkling in the Caribbean.

I was looking for a box that has doilies and dresser scarves in it the other day when I came across a portfolio of some of my drawing from the ‘90s. I was desperately trying to find myself back then. I was in my 40’s, with bookend babies…one 16 years old and the other a newborn. I started writing poetry and short stories but lacked the confidence to pursue it. What art I did usually ended up in the trash can or in this portfolio. I must have liked it because I kept it even after purging my personal property after Mr. Virgo died.

“Peace Through Understanding”, c. ~1997, Colored Pencil on Bristol

“The Girl’s Room”, c. 1997, Colored Pencil on Bristol

“Seeking Hashem”, C. 1997, Pencil on Rag Paper

I am not sure I’ve ever shared these with you so I’m stepping out on a limb. Some are quite amateurish…others, not too bad. God gives us all gifts. Of all sorts. But nothing will ever compare to the art of God’s own hands that He blesses us with every single day. So, before I chicken out…I’ll post some of them here. Picasso I am not. Neither am I Shakespeare. But, my work is my own and it makes me smile every single time. Someday, my grandkids’ grandkids might smile, too.

And now…”God’s Art, My Camera”

? ?‍? ?️ ?️

“We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us…”
Romans 12:6 NIV

#Gifts, #Art, #God

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hello Fall…Hello October!

Shop Now

It’s Your Story

Fri, 21 Oct 2022 01:30:00 -0600

Everyone has a story. If you can still your ego and actively listen, you hear the most amazing stories. Funny stories…scary stories…tragic stories. Stories with a moral. Stories with a lesson. Stories with a purpose. Our stories are how we integrate with the world. They track our mission in this life and help us relate to others. Stories are sensory word bombs we drop on the souls of others.

“Maybe stories are just data with a soul.”
— Brené Brown

I come from a long line of oral historians. That’s common in Appalachia. In times past, our ancestors were often illiterate and even if they weren’t, writing supplies were dear and there may not have been funds available to keep them at hand. My mother spent the last decade of her life writing down the stories and information handed down from as far back as anyone could remember.

So these long, rambling stories I share here were born of that tradition. I always loved to write and tell stories. I wasn’t always encouraged by those I deemed important in my life. I didn’t really apply myself in school. I nearly flunked Senior English which would have kept me from graduating with my class. My interest in writing waxed and waned until Mr. Virgo died. Then I hit that with a vengeance.

Just when I think maybe I’ve written all I was meant to write, along comes someone who makes a heartfelt comment that makes me cry. Then I know…that’s God’s way of telling me to keep going, keep talking, keep writing and sharing and loving on people. Because we ALL need this. This world can be a dark and scary place, but there are so many bright and shiny spots in it if we just keep looking…keep trying…keep moving forward.

There was a long and dark space in my life when I was lost. So many things were going wrong and I had no idea how to change it and make it better. It was one of those things that I just had to ride out and pray for the best outcome. During those years, my stories were as dark as my spirit and no one wanted to listen to them. That’s because I was heavily invested in dragging yesterday’s crap behind me like a big ol’ hefty bag of trash.

I’m telling you…after a while, yesterday gets pretty darned heavy. Maybe it was getting “to a certain age” that changed me. Maybe it was losing Mr. Virgo so unexpectedly. Maybe it was just flat out exhaustion, I don’t know. What I do know is, I finally laid that junk down and kept moving on down the road. And the further I went, the less weight I felt in my chest. Oh, I forget from time to time and attempt to pick it up again, but yesterday is heavy, y’all.

Just put it down.

“With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.”
Mark 4:33-34 ESV

Day 276: A Pig in a Poke

Tue, 15 Dec 2020 02:30:00 -0600

There are a lot of country saying in WV and I think my grandma said every one of them at least once. And there are words commonly used when I was growing up that today might cause one to scratch your head. I remember when I was very young, my uncle asked me if I needed a poke. I just stood there and stared at him because I wasn’t at all sure what he was asking me. Did he want to hurt me? Was he teasing me? What was he going to poke me with...a stick? Ouch! Thank goodness my mom overheard and told me that was a word for a paper sack.

Then, it depends on how the word is used. For instance, if you got “a pig in a poke.” The term originated in the 1500’s Old English, which influences a lot of Appalachian colloquialisms. It means buying something you haven’t seen before. In olden times, farmers sold piglets in a sack and you didn’t see it before you bought it. You might get it home and find you bought the runt of the litter.

Which brings me to the story of the present I bought for my friend, Diane, for Christmas. She isn’t really hard to buy for, but I always like to find unique gifts for her. When a Facebook friend of mine posted last week that she had some of her original artwork for sale, I just fell in love with one. It was a painting of a hummingbird and had the look of mixed media, which I love. I thought it would be perfect for my friend who is an animal and bird lover who lives in the country.

I bought the painting and paid my artist friend through PayPal and waited. Mr. FixIt came in with the mail yesterday and there was a small padded envelope in his hand. I opened it up and there was the painting of the sweetest little hummingbird. Delicate, mid flight, hovering near a flower with other artistic elements in the background. It was exactly what I wanted!

Except...

It was SOOOOOO tiny!

I do not recall seeing any mention of the dimensions of the painting. I was imagining it at about 6”x6”...a typical small painting size I’ve seen frequently. I could do nothing but laugh. I had bought a “pig in a poke.” Not a BAD pig, mind you. I mean, the painting is exquisite! But still...kinda the “runt of the litter.” I was a little concerned Diane wouldn’t like it because she has three cats and I could see if I put this little painting on an easel for a table top, the cats would have a field day! I decided to confess my misgivings to her and lo and behold...she LOVED it. It turns out, another friend gave her a butterfly painting the same size and it will go with it nicely.

This is a good lesson, though. It will serve as a reminder to look INSIDE the poke before I buy it!

“Jesus answered, “Anyone who starts plowing and keeps looking back isn't worth a thing to God's kingdom!””
Luke 9:62 CEV

Sweet Caroline

Mon, 09 Mar 2020 01:30:00 -0600

Memories are like pictures in a shoebox. Sometimes you get to find out what happened to that girl.

She was just a little girl when I first met Caroline. Two years my junior, I felt ever so much older and worldly than the little girl with the long, straight hair. Caroline had an older brother about my brother Gary’s age. Our brothers both went to the “special school” in our home town. Our moms knew each other through the Easter Seal Treatment Center where the boys both received speech and physical therapy. My mom was the secretary. Caroline’s mom volunteered whenever mom needed envelopes stuffed for the fundraisers that were held periodically.

I never really knew Caroline. Our ages were just enough different that our paths didn’t cross through school, but I remember seeing stories about her and her brother and parents in the newspaper from time to time. She always had that long, straight hair. She went on to become an artist and lived in New England. But, so many times over the years, she and her brother would come to mind and I’d wonder how they were.

Last night, as Mr. FixIt was at the bowling alley with his buddies, I went to Panera to write my post. As I pulled out my iPad, I looked up at the woman sliding into the booth next to mine. I smiled. It was Caroline!

I caught her eye and smiled.

“I’m sure you don’t know me, but you would know my mom and my brother.”

Turns out she did remember and we had the most lovely conversation...comparing notes of lives lived and times past. Well, as much as you can in a few minutes in a restaurant. I’m afraid our conversation took up much of her dinner time, but I was so happy to have connected with her.

Her brother is in a care center now and really doing as well as can be expected. He seems to be happy and content where he is and there’s a lot to be said for that. I invited Caroline to find Marshmallow Ranch. I hope she does. It’s so wonderful when you can dot some “I’s” and cross some “T’s” in your life. It closes an open loop that has run through my mind over the years.

What a treat it is when there’s some completion to a story.

❤️

“and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."”
John 8:32 ESV

Immersion Therapy

Sun, 19 Jan 2020 02:30:00 -0600

“The whimsical art of Robert LaDuke totally intrigues me.”

I have been totally consumed by the camping world this week. We are heading into the final push for the Charity Trailer Raffle, I was on the news, and I drove the camper into the mall and set it up for display. It’s clean and shiny and I’ve spent the last two days “camped out” in the mall, answering questions, showing it off, talking about Girl Campers and the HoldYou Foundation, and meeting tons of people. I was amazed I only saw two people at the mall that I actually know. Mr. FixIt, however, is a different story. He knows everyone, everywhere! He is a gregarious man.

When I was browsing Pinterest yesterday for inspiration, I stumbled upon an artist who caught my eye. Robert W. LaDuke paints in a mid-century modern, semi Art Deco style that not only intrigues me, but stirs something in me. Maybe it’s the fact that this ‘50s chick came from that mid-century modern era. His art gives off a sort of “Girl Camper meets Roger Rabbit” kinda vibe and I love it. He does a painting of a blue pickup truck I am particularly enamored with. I just had to share these campers he painted.

Becoming immersed in something, in and of itself, isn’t a real problem...unless you get carried away with it. I’ve been known in the past to get into something and work it hard till I totally burn out. As I have aged, one of the things that has changed for the better is my ability to set something aside and take a break when I need to. Hence, tomorrow we are heading out with family to do something fun that was part of our Christmas present.

Taking a break from things is always a good idea. Even when you are grieving, there are ways to give yourself tiny spaces away from the intensity. When Mr. Virgo died, my daughters were staying with me in the days leading up to the funeral, and we took a trip to Target. We went to the electronics section and bought an armload of funny movies on DVD. While I don’t remember which ones we watched, I do remember clearly sitting on the sofa in our living room with my two loves...laughing. It was therapeutic and cathartic and so necessary.

As time passed, there were more opportunities for mirth...and there were sometimes fleeting feelings of guilt that accompanied them. I’d feel guilty for laughing and having fun when I was supposed to be overcome by grief. Then I learned that wasn’t true. There isn’t a rule book that says this is normal and that is not. You feel what you feel and it is human to feel joy...sometimes at the same time you feel deep pain. Grief is a confusing, crazy, deep place full of conflicting emotions...and it’s all ok.

There came a time when I had to stop immersing myself in the pain part of grief and move into the flow of life. Grief became the undercurrent for a period of time, then it became the ripples in the pond. And now, it is almost always the reflection of a beautiful sunset on the still, calm water my life has become.

I don’t know why...I can’t quite articulate it...but Robert LaDuke’s art distills that whole process in my memory when I see his campers. There is a slight darkness that hangs over the paintings...as if you are looking through the haze of a faded memory. Whatever it is...they speak to me and I don’t always find that feeling in art. One may find it a bit sill to get that kind of reaction from paintings of campers, but it is very much appreciated when art makes me feel something.

❤️

Robert W. LaDuke Art

“He has filled them with skill to do every sort of work done by an engraver or by a designer or by an embroiderer in blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen, or by a weaver—by any sort of workman or skilled designer.”
Exodus 35:35 ESV

Working Vacation

Tue, 18 Jun 2019 01:30:34 -0600

“I can’t think of many places that are prettier to write than at the beach!”

If writing is my “job”, then I’m always working…every day…365. It doesn’t FEEL like work. They say if you find something you love to do, you’ll never work another day in your life. And I do love to write. I once tried to calculate how many words I’ve written since Mr. Virgo died. I stopped at a million. That was a long time ago.

Everything I see or do becomes “blog fodder”. An opportunity to tell a story, share an insight, or discover new places together. I love telling stories. Where I find my stretch is in writing “content”….a disconnected observation without personal viewpoints involved. It’s more like news reporting. I have been contracted to do some of this type of writing and it doesn’t come nearly as easy to me.

Back when I first attempted writing, I asked a press writer/photographer to read some of my work and give me an honest opinion. He told me it would never be publishable. I put too much of myself in my writing. In his defense, this was before blogs. But still, he was the wrong person to ask, or take and opinion from. If I hadn’t have listened to him, I might have been writing for the the last twenty years instead of the last six.

Part of this new project does use my writing style, and I am most grateful for that. I am blessed that I have a husband who knew from the get go that my writing is as much a part of me as my arms or legs. He isn’t the kind of guy that needs babysitting or entertained on an ongoing basis. He has his own interests that he pursues when I sit down at the keyboard. I am careful to keep things balanced, but when I am working on a deadline, I have to get in the zone.

Can you think of a prettier place to sit and write than on the beach? My only problem this day was the wind and my shorter haircut. The wind slowly sent my beach umbrella listing at a forty-five degree angle. And it had my hair in my face and eyes to the point of utter distraction. I packed up and moved up to the pool area. Much less wind and reflection on the screen of my iPad, but by then, my battery was low.

At that point, my only option if I wanted to get this thing knocked out was to go back indoors. It was a good thing Mr. FixIt was ready to go inside, as well. A pitcher of ice tea was made. Some peanut butter and crackers and a bowl of berries were consumed. And my sweetheart headed off to Walmart for a loaf of bread and a jug of milk so I could get back to work without distraction.

I write. It’s what I do. I’ve said it before…I can’t NOT write. I’ve tried. Those of you who have been with me all along can surely remember the times I’ve said, “Hey! I’m going camping and I’ll be off the grid for a few days…see ya when I get back!” Yeah, not so much. I will drive to the top of a mountain to find enough cell signal to post a story. It’s a sickness. An obsession. An addiction. But it’s one I have no intention of walking away from because the benefits I have gained from my writing has far outweighed any inconvenience it has caused.

Till tomorrow…be blessed!

❤️

“Beautiful words fill my mind, as I compose this song for the king. Like the pen of a good writer my tongue is ready with a poem.”
Psalm 45:1 GNT

Girl Camper Quilt

Tue, 21 May 2019 01:30:55 -0600

“The Girl Camper Quilt is almost finished!”

I spent the day yesterday at Schoolhouse Quilts. I finished sewing the border on the quilt and Carolyn did the machine quilting. I sat and visited and looked at quilting books for inspiration while the quilt was in the longarm. They make these things so fancy these days. First, she scrolled through the different patterns the machine could quilt in, then you simply put it in the rollers that hold it and push go. You do have to kind of keep an eye on it, but it’s pretty amazing how fast you can machine quilt. I think there’s probably 12 hours of work in this quilt. I do still have to hand stitch the binding down yet. It will be a prize in a giveaway we’ll be doing soon so stay tuned for details and how to enter to win!

We slept in the camper again Sunday night. I am not kidding…I could sleep in my camper every night of the year. I love it that much. I love CAMPING that much. I was going through my calendar yesterday and realized the next Girl Camping event is in sixteen days. The time really flies once warm weather gets here, doesn’t it? It seems like it crawls all winter.

The weather is so beautiful right now. We had rain and I swear, between the rain and the heat, you can actually HEAR the grass grow! I know starting today, we’ll have to start the next round of mowing. I don’t mind mowing, really. It’s fun to get out on the riding mower and let my mind wander as I watch the fields become groomed lawns. But when you start having to mow twice a week, it does get tiresome.

Still…with all the work, with all the heat and humidity and bugs and mowing…I wouldn’t trade this life for anything in the whole world! This week we clean and open the pool and mow and hoe the garden. I also will sew the binding on these two quilts and maybe even knit a little on the socks I started at camp. That plus keeping up with my writing schedule and I’ll be one busy Mountain Mama!

❤️

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23-24 NIV

Another Peaceful Day

Sun, 17 Feb 2019 02:30:01 -0600

“Deer grazing outside my window in TOW-Wanda.”

I have now spent eight out of the last ten days in TOW-Wanda and I have to tell you…I feel like a million bucks! Usually by this time of year, I’m ready to pull my hair out with boredom. I usually become less content with each passing day, even though the daylight is becoming longer…the long, dark nights shorter. The only two things I have done differently this year is leave the tree up and spend long hours in my camper.

There is a reason girl campers like their little houses on wheels. They offer us a safe sanctuary in which to create. Some of us haul our sewing machines out to the camper in the fall and sit out there happily sewing quilts, clothes for the grandkids, linens for the home, gifts for family and friends. Some knit and crochet, weaving prayers and stories into their creations. Some cross-stitch or needlepoint, creating marvelous pictures from colorful threads.

Some gather friends to join us for tea or drinks, showing off our fancy little playhouses. Some have sleepovers with the grandchildren, bringing up the next generation to adore our little campers in the same way we have. There are as many different varieties of girl campers as there are travel trailers and we celebrate each and every one of them every time we tow.

Me? Well, as you well know…and I’ve told you repeatedly this week…I write in TOW-Wanda every chance I get. I turn on Pandora, find the Nature Sounds channel, and listen to raucous rainstorms, salient sea breezes, flighty feathered friends chirping in the forests. I’m instantly transported from the chill of wintery West Virginia into another place, another time. My little twinkle lights glow above me…the view out the windows revealing a stoic blue heron near the creek or a browsing herd of deer making their way across the lawn. Yesterday, I watched the moonrise over the hills to the east of the Ponderosa and I counted my blessings in that very moment.

I’ve written 30,560 words on my book as of last evening. Words that take me to corners of my mind I sometimes wish were never there. And to places and times that I cherish dearly. These words stir something in me…always. But they are just feelings now. They aren’t happening in this moment. That’s how I keep them from poking me now with little barbs…trolls with sharp sticks…fairies with tiny wands…giants with hammers. They aren’t happening now and God is bigger than any poking thing in our lives.

30,560….encouraging words, painful words, funny words, sad words, terrifying words, loving words. This thing is happening! ❤️

“A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”
Proverbs 15:4 ESV

Winter Wonderland

Thu, 20 Dec 2018 02:30:59 -0600

“My favorite entry in the Gingerbread competition at The Blennerhassett Hotel…three little gnome houses on “stump” cakes!”

One of my favorite places in my hometown is The Blennerhassett Hotel. It is the finest hotel and restaurant in town and I have had the pleasure of visiting it many times. It’s the place where my gal pals from my high school class gather for coffee. It’s where they have the parade of trees. Then the gingerbread houses. I marvel at both. The innovative ideas for the Christmas trees always leaves me smiling at all the creativity. And the gingerbread houses are just flat out amazing. This year, my favorite was the one with three little gnome houses on tree stump cakes. Camping was a big theme, as well.

“Camper Gingerbread House…SO cute!”

The Blennerhassett is where our High School Reunions meet on the second night. It’s where I sought refuge in February 2015 when I was living in my camper high over the banks of the Ohio River. The temperature got down to -25 wind chill, my refrigerator stopped working and all my food was ruined. I went to The Blennerhassett and took fifteen bubble baths in two days and came back refreshed and ready to face the rest of the winter. There is often live music in the bar on Friday nights. And there is a Farmers Market one day a week in the summers. It is truly one of my favorite places.

“Camping at Christmas Ginerbread House”

This year, Mr. FixIt and I were downtown paying a bill and ended up wandering into the hotel to walk around and marvel at the exquisite gingerbread houses. There is a competition and the prizes are the big rosette ribbons like the ones I earned when I baked competitively in Colorado. There is also a People’s Choice Award.

“Another little camper gingerbread house!”

Yesterday, I made about 12 dozen Rolo Pretzel Cookies and knitted dishcloths. We cleaned in preparation for the big family gathering Friday night. Tonight is the Thursday night bowling league Christmas party so we’ll be making beef noodles to take. I’m baking a Hummingbird Cake today. And, I’m going to bake up a big batch of Pepperoni Rolls…West Virginia’s state food! So, watch for pics and recipes tomorrow! ❤️

“Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
John 6:35 NIV

Say “I Love You” With a Little Yarn & a Lotta Love

Tue, 18 Dec 2018 02:30:47 -0600

“Hand knitted dishcloth with the ASL sign for “I Love You” in the pattern.”

Yesterday’s post had me thinking about quick, last minute gifts for the holidays. I was in town Sunday afternoon so I stopped at Walmart and picked up some cotton yarn. Those cute patterns for dishcloths had me thinking I’d like to whip up some.

Mr. FixIt had to go to town yesterday to help a friend build something and do a little Christmas shopping. I elected to stay home. I asked Alexa to play “Soft Christmas Music”, turned up the stove in the family room, grabbed a cup of coffee, and curled up by the tree. I pulled up the fox fur blanket that I had made from the coat Mr. Virgo gave me years ago. And I set to knitting.

In the comments on yesterday’s post, my friend Jamie told me someone made her a dishcloth with the ASL symbol for “I Love You” knitted into it. I asked for the pattern and her friend sent the link. I still have the remnants of grief brain so I had to really concentrate on the pattern. I had to take out a row every now and then when I couldn’t remember where I was in the pattern. But before too long, I had one finished! I’ve started a second dishcloth from one of the pattern in the link I included yesterday.

The other day, Daughter #2 called and said she missed my cooking. I asked her what dish she loved the most. Turkey Tetrawhatzit…my version of Turkey Tetrazzini. So, before Mr. FixIt got home, I put some of the frozen turkey from Thanksgiving in a pot with a little water and simmered it till I could shred the meat with a fork. In an electric skillet, I sautéed half an onion, some sliced mushrooms and celery in a little butter. I added a drained can of mixed veggies. When the turkey was shredded, I tossed it in the skillet with about a pint of the drippings from the pan I roasted the turkey in. While that simmered, I cooked some egg noodles. I mixed up some flour in some of the broth and thickened the turkey mixture, stirred in a cup of sour cream, and brought it just to a simmer then added the drained cooked noodles. Topped with a little shredded Parmesan and…voila! Turkey Tetrawhatzit! Comfort food at it’s best…and it made me think of my daughter. Mr. FixIt said…”Send her a picture!” I did…then called her so she could “join us for dinner!”

It was a lovely day…peaceful, comforting, homey, warm with a big dash of “I Love You!” ❤️

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Psalms 23:6 ESV

The Pleasure of Needlearts

Sun, 16 Dec 2018 02:30:08 -0600

“A lovely display of vintage hotpads and dishcloths.” Photo Credit: Pinterest

Staying out at the farm brings out the nostalgia in me. My grandma didn’t have fancy things. And when she sewed, her aim was function, not fashion. She mended sheets, shirts, and work pants. She often used old blankets, and even old quilts, as the batting for new ones. She sandwiched the old between fabric if she had the money…sheets if she didn’t. Then she tied them with colorful yarn or perle cotton every few inches. I found a pair of knitting needles and some yarn in her work basket but she said she had never mastered the craft.

Every once in a while, someone would give Grandma a pretty little handmade potholder like the ones in this picture. She hung them on the fridge with a magnet and never used them…they were too pretty. She also had hand-knit dishcloths. Those she used. And I love them! When I first really picked up knitting, I practiced by making dishcloths. They are soft and absorbent and you can have a simple one made up in an hour. They make lovely hostess gifts at the holidays. Here is a page with twelve easy dishcloth patterns. I use a cotton yarn called Sugar and Cream for my dishcloths. ❤️

“As soon as he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”
1 Samuel 18:1 ESV

https://www.allfreeknitting.com/Dish/Learn-How-To-Knit-With-a-Knit-Dishcloth-Pattern-Patterns-For-Beginners

The Farm: Sharing My Happy Place

Sat, 15 Dec 2018 02:30:12 -0600

“I knitted this little beaded evening bag many years ago.”

There is only one thing better than spending time at the farm. Spending time at the farm with Mr. FixIt! I asked him Thursday if we could go out for a couple of days and he is such a sweetie. We don’t quite have the amenities at the farm that we have at the house, but he’s a real sport. Usually we pack enough stuff for a month-long safari, but we’re getting better at it. Dinner was Hamburger Macaroni (SO simple…brown 1# hamburger with a med. onion chopped, stir in a can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes and a can of drained corn, add a few cups of cooked elbow macaroni and a couple slices of Colby cheese, a little red pepper flakes, garlic salt, pepper, and oregano…stir and serve. Comfort food when served with homemade peanut butter cookies! Yummmmmm!

I was going through some of the things I saved and brought with me from Colorado. I chatted with my knitting buddy, Gail, yesterday. I told her about a little purse I knitted many years ago. When I was going through a box, I ran across this pretty little beaded bag. I remember the day I went to the Convention Center in downtown Denver for a bead show. There was a lady from Evergreen selling reproduction silver plated purse handles, Japanese silk, seed beads, tiny little double-point needles, and patterns for the most darling little evening bags. I bought enough supplies to make four.

This was the first one I made. It was tedious to make, I will not lie. To start with, you have to transfer all these little beads to the silk. The beads come on something called a hank. It’s several strands of beads in a loop, and the ends of the threads are all tied together in a knot. Each loop had to be very carefully removed from the hank without dropping one end. If you drop it, alllllllll the beads slip off and go everywhere. Don’t ask me how I know that. ?

When you slide the beads from the thread to the silk, you sometimes find a bead whose hole is too small for the silk. In that case, you take a pair of pliers and gently squeeze the bead till it breaks. You have to be careful because the sharp edge of a broken bead can cut the silk, then you’re in a serious mess. Strand after strand, you slide and pull them along till you have the required number of beads on the silk thread. Once the beads have been threaded on, you wrap them around and around the ball of silk ill you get back to the beginning. You have to stop and unroll this often and slip the beads further down the thread so you have room to knit. Did I tell you it was tedious?

I made this one and another just like it for my cousin’s daughter. She was born with cancer in her spine and had major surgery and treatment as a very young child. When she turned sixteen, I made her the little bag to carry to her first formal. I have enough to make two white purses…one for each of my daughters. The intent was to give each their purse for their weddings. The oldest has been married since 1995. Her purse isn’t finished yet. Did I tell you they are quite tedious to make? I thought I did.

I love having this. I used to display it in a curio cabinet that now sits in Colorado waiting for me to bring it here one day. Maybe next summer I will tote it home. In the meantime, it sits on the dresser in our room and I pick it up every now and again, just to remember I once did very tedious work. ❤️

“as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little.””
2 Corinthians 8:15 NIV

Collaborative Art and Community

Sat, 24 Nov 2018 02:30:20 -0600

A Collaborative Effort…Original Art by Lauren O’Neill with Augmentation by Ginny McKinney”

I came late to the Twitter party. I started a Twitter account ages ago but never used it. I never really “got” it. It seemed like it was just people spouting off on politics or sharing vacation pictures or advertising whatever work-at-home business they were promoting. Then, about two years ago, I started a Twitter account for Marshmallow Ranch.

You know and I know, Marshmallow Ranch has been a blog about grief and life and all it entails…but the name doesn’t really reflect that. I’ve kept the name because it’s catchy and people remember it. But it got totally lost in the shuffle on Twitter. Sometime early this year, I had a brilliant flash of a name. The Grief Maven. Maven is a Yiddish word that means expert. I started another Twitter account and it has taken off like gangbusters.

I’ve been “meeting” some really wonderful, supportive people and never dreamed grief counseling in 280 character sound bites could be so helpful. It’s quick, to the point, and easy to read. I’m really enjoying it.

There are some groups on Facebook that I enjoy as well. One is Wild Women Sisters in Creativity. It’s a group of over 31,000 free spirits to share their art. It’s nice to connect with creatives and take my mind off writing and onto creating. Yesterday, a gal posted a painting she was working on, seeking input. She was kind of stuck. She felt it needed something. When I saw the original piece, it was the red and blue background with the two shadowy figures alone on the canvas. It immediately made me think of what it feels like to walk this path without our person. Dark and lonely. And the longer it goes, the more they fade out into distant memory. I thought about what I would do with the painting.

Immediately, I thought of the light of the full moon we are experiencing right now. My life has a lot more light in it now. It’s not a harsh, glaring light. It’s the soft, glowing light of peaceful contentment. Then I thought of a bird. To me, it represents the newness of this life, like a songbird in the woods. I have a fun app on my phone called “Over”. I use it every day to add my logo to my photos for the blog. I also use it to create memes when I need one. I took the liberty of saving the picture of the painting and popped a pale, full moon and a stylized bird on it. It immediately spoke to me. It gave the painting balance and a sense of movement.

I contacted the artist. Lauren O’Neill. I showed her what I had done and she thanked me so much for taking the time. I told her a little bit about what I do and would she mind me using this collaborative art in my blog. She was happy to let me do so. It was fascinating to read all the suggestions people made regarding what the painting “needed”. I’m the only one with the audacity to post the augmented version back to her. Someone said, “This is too crowded and changes any intended meaning.” I love how art speaks to each person in their own language. To her, I ruined a perfectly good painting, and she had lots of company. Many thought the painting should stand as is. But many others made suggestions as to what the painting “needed”….a giant thumbprint, a moon, a plane, poppies, hearts. One said she lost her son three weeks ago and it reminded her of them together. Another said she senses energy and the figure on the left wasn’t balanced. It was amazing to read all the different interpretations.

This is my first collaborative effort on a piece of art. I think I may have just started something! ❤️

“Do two walk together unless they have agreed to do so?”
Amos 3:3 NIV

The Artist

Fri, 23 Sep 2016 01:30:28 -0600

I once asked a framer when you can consider yourself an artist. She said, "When others recognize you as one." I asked my artist friend, Marion (whose work I greatly admire) the same question and she said, "When you order business cards with "Artist" under your name. The same goes for writer, speaker, gypsy. I am all of the above.

Mr. Virgo turned 60 in 2010. I wanted to give him something special to commemorate such an auspicious occasion. We were living in Denver at the time and my husband missed living in the mountains. Not far from our mountain house sits Mt. Sopris...a 14,000+ foot icon towering over the town of Carbondale. He saw this mountain every day on his commute to Aspen to work and loved the way the light changed it through the seasons. He was absolutely thrilled with his gift and immediately hung it over his highboy where he could see it when he came home at night.

I've been playing with an app that turns pictures into paintings. I wondered what it would do to an actual painting so I created these images yesterday. I love the different styles and it reflects how the light changes over the mountain. I thought I'd share them with you today.

I'm glad I have this painting. I'm not 100% certain, but I'm thinking I might be able to stay at the farm. I'll know more in a couple of weeks. I will find a place to hang this painting so I can see it every day, too. It is a warm memory. I have lots of warm memories of the love God has brought into my life. It's time to celebrate that.

God continually blesses me!

❤️

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.””‭‭
Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Past

Mon, 05 Sep 2016 01:30:12 -0600

I have many friends I have never met in person. I have met them through speaking and writing and they are as dear to me as those I have coffee with on a regular basis. One such friend is Susan. Susan is a photographer, a real estate agent, and a really cool NYC diva. She shoots these great, well planned photo series and shows in galleries all over. She has an idea for a series and wants me to come to NY for a photo shoot which I'm really excited about. Susan also happens to be a widow.

I first heard from her the day the New York Times article came out. She had gone to yoga that morning and during her practice she had a vision for this project. She came back to her apartment, fixed her coffee, and sat down with the Times. She noticed my article right away and read it. And, she suddenly felt compelled to contact me. She found Marshmallow Ranch and sent me a private message. We ended up chatting for a couple of hours that day and really hit it off.

Yesterday, I went down to a local historic hotel for coffee and the paper before church. As I was sitting there, I noticed Susan was online so I sent her a message to catch up. Mr. Virgo came up in the conversation and she asked me several questions about him. Finally, I told her I wanted to thank her for asking about him. It's been over three and a half years now since he died and people just don't ask about him. No one says, "Hey...tell me that story again about the time_______". It makes me sad. It makes me feel like he's invisible, fading from my view. Fading from the view, and memories, of others. I love it when people ask me questions about him. It brings him to the front for a while so we can revel in the memories.

I don't want him to live in the front all the time any more. But it's awfully nice to visit him once in awhile in the company of another. It reminds me he may be gone, but he's not forgotten.

❤️

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Condensation

Mon, 25 Apr 2016 01:30:57 -0600

Condensation means "to be reduced to a simpler form".

I was sitting in Church yesterday, listening to our Pastor speak passionately about God coming back to help us, over and over and over again. And the love He gives us isn't just for us. It's for us to give away, to help the next person up. God's love is a gift we are given with the specific purpose of giving it all away. Such is the nature of love.

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Love comes in all shapes and sizes, all colors and descriptions. I love the color blue. I love rock and roll and country and classical music. I love the paintings of Renoir and Van Gogh and Leonardo DaVinci and my friends Marion Mayer, Rande Brewer, and Fred Haberlein. I love the sculptures of Rodan. I love fishing and being out on any body of water. I love to travel. I love to fly and drive. I love my children and grandchildren...my brother, my family, my friends. These are all easy to love. Loving my enemies can be a challenge, I suppose. I can count on one hand really, the number of people who I genuinely dislike. But...while I may not go out of my way to have contact with them, I still love them.

When you condense everything, every little thing in this world, the lowest common denominator is love. It is the essence of life. And...while it is the baseline of all things, it is also the apogee of our life's purpose. I love, therefore I am. When I love, I give my whole heart. This has been known to come back and bite me on occasion. But I would rather love with everything I have...even if it's unrequited...than to never experience the feeling love gives me when it rushes out of my heart.

Nothing but love.

❤

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-13 NIV

Make a Joyful Noise

Sun, 06 Mar 2016 02:30:57 -0600

I went to watch a friend sing karaoke Friday night and man, was that fun! I love to sing and three of us stood in as "Glady's Pips". Then last night I went to friend's to listen and sing along with some really good musicians.
I sang in choirs when I was in school but the rest has been in church, my car and the shower. I am building up my nerve to sing solo at karaoke next time. I push my limits. I push out my boundaries to do things I've never done before.

A change is coming. Next Saturday is the three year angelversary of Mr. Virgo's death. We'll be talking this week about where I am now on this grief journey and my goals for the next year...so stay with me!

❤️

“The Lord our God said to us at Horeb, “You have stayed long enough at this mountain.”
Deuteronomy 1:6 NIV

Sister Mavis

Mon, 15 Feb 2016 02:30:00 -0600

No, really...I was a DJ for about a year or so. Man, that was a fun gig. I had a weekly show on KDNK, Public Radio for the Roaring Fork Valley. Located in Carbondale, KDNK (named after the Dinkle Building where it is housed) was a bastion for alternative programming. You could hear any manner of DJs from stay-at-home-moms to nurses to members of City Council.

I joined up at the urging of my good friend, Ryb. She had a great show where she played music from the '60s, '70s and '80s. This was back in the days of vinyl. My show was every Wednesday. I played all new release music. Record companies sent us albums all the time so I would come in, grab an armload, and sit down at the sound board...the two turntables to my left. I listened to a record and chose the first song while the show intro played. Then I would listen to the next on the other turntable to choose a song with the best segue.

I was never as good at it as my friend, Ryb. She was awesome. She had a great speaking voice. She had secured good sponsors for her show. She was immensely popular and I always listened to her, and Flash, Ribo, Steve Skinner. Those were some fun days.

One of the best parts was when I was asked to fill in on Sister Sister, an improvisational comedy program that was on air once a week. It seems I gravitate to Sisters, be it comedy or 'on the fly'.

'Sister Helen', 'Sister Edith Hurdle', 'Little Sister' and myself...'Sister Mavis', regaled the airwaves with stories of life in the laundromat with polyester mumus and bouffant hairdos. They even had commercials. One of their 'sponsors', my particular favorite, was Cellulite Spackle. This was a fictitious product you spread on your thighs before you put on your pantyhose.

There was also a weekly episode of....Mascara Nightmares. The girls would discuss their most horrifying makeup experiences. I clearly remember the one where Little peeked in the oven to see if the biscuits were done and the heat fused her lashes together. She thought she was going blind!

Ahhhh...the halcyon days of youth when we owned the world. It was a special time in a special place with such special people. You couldn't recreate it now if you tried. So, I'm left with these really great stories and fun memories.

❤️

“A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?”
Ecclesiastes 2:24-25 NIV

Monday Morning

Mon, 08 Feb 2016 02:30:16 -0600

Such possibilities! Another week...a fresh start...our own little mini do-over we are gifted with 52 times a year. What new thing will you tackle this week? What masterpiece will you create? Will it raise the world and those occupying it to a higher level? Will you build up or tear down?

I'm an instant gratification kind of gal. I want to see the results of my labor in a timely fashion. That doesn't always happen. Sometime the things we pour our hearts into never see the light of day. A labor of love can be as grand as a person's life work or it can be as small as a fine orchid on a windowsill. But, no matter how invisible your accomplishment appears, there are always at least two people who know it exists...you and God.

These masterpieces can remain buried till years after the creator has passed. Artists often only become renowned posthumously. What a lovely thing it is when a treasure built with love and hard work is recognized in the person's lifetime. To witness the joy your work brings to the world is the rich reward every maker deserves. I recently stumbled upon a video that bears witness to just such an event and I was charmed.

Sir Anthony Hopkins is the well known actor most famous for the heinous role of Hannibal Leckter in Silence of the Lambs. One has difficulty looking at him without thinking of fava beans and Chianti. Mr. Virgo served Sir Anthony and his wife on numerous occasions at the Hotel Jerome in Aspen. He said he was a very kind and unassuming man. Gracious to a fault.

I had no idea this man of many faces was also a composer. I have attached a lovely video to enjoy with your morning coffee today. It shows Sir Anthony hearing the waltz he composed 50 years ago for the first time. It is quite beautiful...both the music and the reaction of the man who wrote it. Enjoy...and remember, create your best masterpiece with your day. Someday you might be given the gift of seeing the joy it brings others...but, you will surely be given the gift of knowing God sees.

CLICK HERE

❤️

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.”
Psalm 51:10-12 NIV

Star Struck

Sun, 07 Feb 2016 02:30:02 -0600

I would have made a great groupie back in the day. Living near Aspen for nearly 30 years taught me they're ordinary people with high profile jobs. So, I'm careful about approaching celebrities. But, I could have been a great groupie because I love going to concerts.

I've been holed up writing for the last week, pretty much. When I received the group text declaring the need for a girl's night out, I jumped at the chance! Benton Blount played at a local music venue last night. He was a contestant on America's Got Talent last year and man...does he ever have talent! He and his band put on a great show. I especially loved the version of Jolene. He was a very humble, down to earth young man. We talked about his little boy getting a new tooth this week that's making him cranky and they have a new baby girl coming in four weeks.

I hope he is wildly successful. And, I hope he remains humble. He was quite endearing.

❤️

“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.”
Psalm 131:1 NIV

The Fields of Gettysburg

Sat, 06 Feb 2016 02:30:32 -0600

Mr. Virgo was a Civil War buff. When he was a little boy growing up in South Philly, he was in the Boy Scouts and they went on a field trip to Gettysburg. They were taking a tour of the battlefield and trying to find a particular place. Mr. Virgo kept pointing over the edge of a hill, insisting what they were looking for would be found there. Finally, the adults listened to him and, sure, enough, it was exactly where he said it would be. When asked how he knew, Mr. Virgo told them he had been there before. His dad was on the tour with the boys that day and overheard the conversation. When they got to the car, his dad asked him what he was talking about. He told him he had been there before. But his dad said he hadn't ever been there. Mr. Virgo said, "Yes, I was. It was when I was a soldier!"

Last night, The Fields of Gettysburg was being performed at the newly refurbished People's Bank Theater. It's sort of like Jesus Christ Superstar for history buffs. Written by John Walsh, a local musician, I thought it was a brilliant concept and the original score was excellent. It followed the story of six people and how their lives intermeshed, both on and off the field of battle. I was particularly touched by "Ghosts on These Fields" and "Bread Alone". I am so glad I went. Mr. Virgo would have loved it.

I love surprises and this was certainly a pleasant one.

❤️

“So Saul said to his attendants, “Find someone who plays well and bring him to me."
1 Samuel 16:17 NIV

Home, Sweet Home

Tue, 19 Jan 2016 02:30:18 -0600

Home is where the heart is. Home is where I park it. And home isn't always where I live. The concept of home is evolving within me. I was steadfast all my life in saying West Virginia is my home. And, by all rights, besides being where I was born, it is the home of my heart. As my grandchildren grow and my family thrive, my home is with them which happens to be in Colorado. And, my house is my home and it happens to be on wheels so home may be in South Dakota or a driveway in Arvada or a beach in South Carolina or a bluff overlooking the Ohio River. My view of "home" is expanding. It is fluid yet at its core is love, comfort, security. That security is my family, including my son in law's family.

This "home" that I've come back to is on the banks of the Ohio. I love it here. But man, is it ever cold!!! I got in this afternoon and cuddled under the electric blanket to warm up and promptly fell asleep. Then visited with a friend.

The two speaking engagements went very well this weekend. As a matter of fact, after the Salon was completed on Sunday my friend, Marion, gifted me this painting of my view of the Ohio! I am so touched! What a beautiful gift I'll treasure always and give a prominent display space in TOW-Wanda
My hostess, Jamie, was an absolute charming woman. She has been a widow only slightly longer than me. I was so happy she was with me at the Salon on Sunday. She always adds such insight to conversations. And her beautiful fur babies, Reba and Maggie made me almost wish I had one of my own.

And now there is some very intense work to be done in the next few months. I'll be doing a ton of writing, editing, and rough drafts. I'll be learning about introductory letters and proposals and writing real life blogs. I'll be learning how to optimize social media exposure. There is a great deal of infra structure that has to be built in order for the books to be released seamlessly. In the midst of all this, I will try my very best to continue writing daily as I always have. But if you notice a little slip in quality or content, I do apologize in advance and I do hope you will stick with me as we go through some inevitable growing pains the next few weeks and months. I promise, the results will be worth it!

❤️

“How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.”
Psalm 137:4-6 NIV

An Afternoon with the Wyeths

Thu, 14 Jan 2016 02:30:50 -0600

I spent yesterday afternoon browsing the Wyeth exhibit at the Denver Art Museum. I've always admired Andrew Wyeth's work but was unfamiliar with that of his son, Jamie. Having been trained by his own father, Andrew Wyeth went on to train Jamie, so it is no surprise there are similarities in their styles. I took the auditory tour as I do like to hear the back story of certain pieces of art. This particular tour was a delight as there was quite a bit of audio commentary by the artists themselves thus giving a glimpse into their lives and their thinking at the time a particular piece was created.

From Jamie's pet pig, Den Den, to Andrew's stunning nude studies late in his career, this exhibit was a feast to the senses. I was not wrong when I stated that Western Ohio - Eastern Indiana made me feel I was walking through an Andrew Wyeth painting, even though both artists painted in Pennsylvania and the rocky coast of Maine.

Whenever I come out of an art exhibit, play, opera, musical, concert, or symphony, I walk with a different step...a new perspective, a renewed sense of purpose, an urgency to create some sort of legacy of my own. This always changes something deep within me...a paradigm shift. If you have the opportunity, I would definitely recommend a trip to your nearest art museum or gallery this weekend. Give your brain some soul food and devour some art.

❤️

“He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers.”

Labels

Mon, 10 Aug 2015 01:30:14 -0600

I went to a frame shop many years ago to have one of my pieces framed. I'm always hesitant when I do that because it seems a bit vain to me to frame something that many would not consider "art". I asked the framer at what point you are considered an "artist". She said when other artists recognize you as one. I was crestfallen. My artistic endeavors, while valiant, are sure to fall short of such a lofty goal.

I was relating this story once and my high school friend, Marion (whom I consider an accomplished artist) called me on the carpet. She said "You are an artist when you order business cards with your name and "Artist" underneath it. She's right, of course. But I always feel like maybe I'm cheating a little. I didn't get a degree in art. I didn't take lessons. I didn't "pay my dues". After all, I wouldn't call myself a doctor or a lawyer without going to medical or law school so how could I claim to be something I didn't study for? I'm not putting letters behind my name. I'm expressing my identity. I create artistically...whether it's via pastels or antique silverware jewelry or the written word. Besides, no one has to justify who they are.

Live boldly and tell the world who you are.

❤️

"Do you see someone skilled in their work? They will serve before kings; they will not serve before officials of low rank."
Proverbs 22:29