Tea and Honey Bread

Sunday Free Flow

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 16:19:00 +0000

Clears throat and channels inner radio personality, "It's 8:00 am, and what a beautiful Sunday morning it is in the Valley of the Sun. We're blowing off the dust and digging deep into the mental crates with DeBarge's 1983 hit, "A Dream". This goes out to all you gettin' old heads in denial and the silly youngsters who think the melody was stolen from the much later, but still great Tupac. Enjoy."

Eight something; surprising given last night's restlessness. It had to be two, or later when I finally shut down and agreed--after some gentle coaxing from the man, that it was time to retire for the day and from the worry.

My little place of peace is looking exceptionally tidy this morning; Yael is pulling out all the stops in exchange for a much coveted piece of Vampire Diaries replica jewelry. She's been so helpful since my surgery that it sorta makes up for the pubescent insanity that we've been struggling with since the separation.

I feel refreshed and ready for something fabulous today...or maybe I'm just ready for someone fabulous; Michael plans to visit soon. We're returning to center for a restorative breath after a few tender weeks. The distance has its advantages logistically as we're both adapting to major life changes, but there's no logic in love or the 2484.97 miles between us. We're pining.

My container garden is a great source of pride for me right now. Who could have known gardening would be so therapeutic. For so many years, I've been a notorious black thumb. I started the garden in December when Jordan moved out. I needed a distraction, and of course, something to nurture. Since then, I've taken on spider mites (and lost), aphids (and won), germinatin', propagatin', and harvesting. I'm sort of a big deal on the balcony. Laughs.

Coffee's tepid, gotta go.

Peace and Sunshine

Happy Returns

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 15:56:00 +0000

Early last week , I partook in a casual, neighborly chat which later manifested itself into an inspirational message. And, not just any inspirational message, but the push, the gentle nudge and the writing help I believe I needed.

During my morning walk, I came upon my neighbor Joe, a lanky older gentleman with a warm smile, an awkward gait and a plethora of knowledge about the goings-on in our complex. (More on the complexities of complex-dwelling for an introvert in posts to come.) As we made our way and routine niceties were out of the way, Joe cleared his throat and sort of randomly says, "Uh...yeah, I made it to church this Sunday." I smiled- in kind, at the sharing of information, in awkward embarrassment because I am not among the faith-filled, and lastly, in fear that the friendly talks that I've become quite fond of might somehow be thwarted if I don't play this right. (It should be known that I die inside a little each time socio politics, religion, race and education are presented for discussion.)

"Oh, did you, I say. How did it go? Excitedly, he tells me, "wonderfully, it was truly awesome". He said he was "moved" by the message and it really made him "feel great". Before I could vocalize my shared happiness at his experience, his tone and demeanor changed, just above a whisper, he leans in and says, "It's been two and a half years since I've been to church." He then winces, retreats, and I- lost for a moment turned slightly over my shoulder before realizing he was awaiting some sort of ...well, I dunno denouncement, admonishment, a verbal flogging? From me? Laughs. "I see", I say whilst nodding with my brows raised in intrigue.

Looking ahead, I mentally compute our speed of travel- which is nil, and the distance home, and proceed cautiously with, "Well, why not?" After a brief back-story about logistics and his own travails with the evil that is Divorce-asaurus Rex, he says "I just got away from it, and then it got to be so long to where I just got to feeling so bad about it that I thought I couldn't go back." I nodded, with the sides of my mouth down-turned, I find ASL has made my facial expressions more pronounced. As I catch myself doing this in lieu of speaking, I-a little past the cue, offer up a validating statement. "I see", I said, in a flat tone. I did see, and with much clarity.

Writing, and of course reading others' writing, is how I receive my message; it's how I make sense of the thoughts and feelings, the experiences, worries and fears that fill the space between my ears. Like my neighbor Joe, I suffered a few setbacks on the road I'd paved with good intentions and drifted woefully away from my place of peace. I too, felt as though I couldn't come back. I've maintained this blog since 2007, and through the years I have made incredible friendships, coming back has been hard, but staying away was harder. Two and a half years, four months...who's counting?

Peace and happy returns

The changing of my voice

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 14:46:00 +0000

"Soul Sister" earrings by Mary Jane Dodd

I've pretty much been in isolation since the collapse of my marriage. It hasn't been a stagnate isolation however, as I've progressed quite a bit throughout the months. I'd say at this point, as I'm settling into my NEW! apartment, it isn't as much isolation as it is rehabilitation. I pulled back when things got noisy, I'm an HSP, so it doesn't take much for well-intended advice and concern to cross over into agitating cacophony.

I have however, kept a little fairy door open and managed to make and keep some very special attachments on my journey to wellness and becoming whole again. The earrings in the photo above were sent to me by a fellow artist and dear, dear friend to remind me that I am "never alone". There are also, my other soul sisters and brethren who keep a song playing in my heart when I'm deaf with despair. Thank you, all.

And then, there is my partner of whom I can not say enough wonderful things, so I won't. What I will say is that for every seemingly hopeless thing I express, I am being replenished. I am being restored and the Universe has rewarded me in kind. I don't do saints, gods and demons, but I do love, and love is being done unto me.

Everyday is not a bad day, and while the intensity of this experience is discomforting, revolutions are seldom peaceful. If pressed to find the good in the worst days, I'd say it was nightfall and the knowledge that I've almost made it through.

The timing and my decision to go public with all that has transpired over the course of this year is largely in part to the discovery of a strength I never knew possible, much less a strength that I possessed. In the past I've shared recipes and movie reviews, and quips about the perils of parenting pubescent children. I thought it only fair to share the stories which lead to the changing of my voice.

Peace and thanks

Another day, another year

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 15:12:00 +0000

When I wrote this post just a few years ago, this post was a hard blink. Y'know the the blink? You do it when you hear of someone else's misfortune; a blink hard enough to will yourself invisible with hopes a similar fate doesn't befall you. These blinks can sometimes be accompanied by brisk shaking of the head to clear your mental slate of the tragic thought.

November 14, 1988 was the day it all began for Joe and I, it was the official start of our courtship. These days however, it rivals for attention on the calendar between dates like the day he moved out, the day I found out about her, his days with the children and ultimately, our day in court.

I shed a few tears of frustration moments past midnight as the "am" light on my iPod dock turned red, the date changed and I realized that today was another one of the things I forgot to grieve. There are just so many of them, those entanglements of together that I must sort through to re-establish healthy ties in a life apart. I'm ambling through a minefield of memories that woefully still have enough force to burst right through the sunshine of days' new.

"Another day, another year", I tell myself. Time is a great healer.

Peace and time

Saturday morning

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 16:52:00 +0000

It is Saturday morning, yes? I never know.

This has long been one of my favorite songs; a true classic. No matter where I've been in my life, it has resonated with me. Ever since I first heard it in the restlessness and rebellion of my youth and even today as I teeter on the precipice of a revolution.

I've got what I believe to be the flu, and what I know to be a carpet that needs vacuuming and a cat box or three that need scooping. I've also got a far more riveting piece of work in my drafts folder and some checks that need writing on my desk. I'm drinking my second mug of coffee, it's poorly pressed and grinds are settling in rings at incremental stages along the innards of my mug. I sip and swirl, sip and swirl and wonder if I should just abandon it for the perfectly brewed beer that sits in the fridge.

I'm missing a partner this morning, I don't have anything particularly profound to say, and I'm not necessarily in need of a hug, but it'd be nice to have someone on the receiving end of my rhythmic keyboard rappings and rather unpleasant cough. No, I'm not lonely, but the oneness of this Saturday morning is jarring.

Peace

Now, where was I?

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 15:44:00 +0000

It has been some time since my last post, and in all honesty it hasn't been for lack of words to speak. So much is happening everyday on this journey that I simply lack the time, and dare I say eloquence to put it all down for posterity.

My divorce is fully underway, and by that I mean legally and the unfortunate host of fuckery that accompanies a dissolution of this magnitude. Just think,you put your very best face forward for the beginning of times but that mean old ugly one you got saved up for Neverary thirty-second becomes clear and present at the end of times. It is the absolute worst.

I try to compare it to other major life changes and the way we fickle humans conjure up all kinds of excuses and defenses, real and imagined, true and outright blasphemous, to ease and justify our transition. It is a death you see coming and really there is no handbook for fear and grief. So, while it hurts like hell and I feel most days like I must have spent the last twenty-two years in some alternate reality, at day's end, I can simply chalk it up to the horrors of (in)humanity. We really ought to be nicer to each other, go give someone a hug today, smile at a stranger. I'm telling you, your gesture might very well make their day.

The young people seem to be adjusting well, I foster much open communication about the changes they are both witnessing and experiencing. I envy their flexibility and ability to adapt, and just roll with the punches; someday, soon come.

I hope all of you are doing well. I want to once again, thank you for your continued support and readership. If you have noticed I am no longer on Facebook, as I am practicing a little "Save (Face)book". This is not an easy time for our family, and the sensitivity of the matter-unfortunately, seems to be lost on some.

This is where you'll find me go forward. Between us here, I like you all best. Do leave a brief note to let me know you were here and are well.

Peace and friendship

Tiny Deaths

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 15:44:00 +0000

Dust, wipe, polish, price, repeat...it has a rhythm to it in verse and movement. I noticed this particularly catchy cadence whilst I laid preparations to sell the contents of our family home this weekend. As I've written in the past, to everything there is a pruning season, and for our family, this is it. All weak and errant branches must be removed, for we're in the eye of the storm of transition, only the Universe knows how or where it ends.

Whilst speaking with a friend about life, love and the cyclical nature of the two, she made a comment about "tiny deaths" we all must face to grow..."like a garden". She's good at that, for shame, I kill the green stuff. Anyway, it took some time to digest this concept given my present circumstances, although, I fully understood and appreciate the analogy. But, in the still silence of my ever-raging thoughts, I couldn't see past the obvious and, everyone knows the end of a 20 year marriage is hardly a tiny death. I didn't give up trying though; journaling and walking, talking to myself and thinking, and finally it's all becoming quite clear.

With each piece I removed from our walls and tabletops, I welcomed the fleeting presence of the memory attached. I smiled often, envisioning the "shopping grimace" Joe would give as I'd pile tchatchkes into the numerous carts, bags and shopping baskets of our lengthy time together. I went from item to item, segueing from one recollection to the next: repeat, recall, repeat, recall. It then occurred to me, something's missing...something's gone...something has died. Resistance: My intrinsic urge to resist the Universe's plan for me has died a million tiny deaths. One for each attempt, both overt and covert, and in its place, acceptance has emerged, a million tiny blossoms of hope for each death.

To be continued...

Peace and more peace

On Erosion

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:08:00 +0000

CANCER
Aug. 06, 2011

The Grand Canyon is a perfect example of erosion, Moonchild. Many people think of erosion as a bad thing - as the wearing away and disintegration of something. But one look at the spectacular Grand Canyon, and you can see how beautiful erosion can be. You have lost something. The real you - the unique person at your core - is slowly emerging. Painful lessons over the years, and challenges that brought out your true nature had to happen for you to transform yourself. Don't regret what was lost in the process. Celebrate what was left behind.

Every so often, the Universe smiles upon me delivering just what my spirit orders, and sometimes not, and then there's always the other kind of spirits! Winks. Recently, with the dissolution of my 20 year marriage, I have been coming to grips with a heightened level of humility; I've been pruned. I've undergone- in the truest sense- a process of emotional, physical and spiritual erosion. I am by no means the person I was just eight (Wow, eight already?!) months ago.

I've toggled in my heart and mind between what it means to be free as I've struggled to keep the contents of my stomach in place whilst facing my deepest fears of loss and abandonment. I've endured pain that, if physical, surely, my mind would've shut down to spare my body's suffering. And, I've emerged raw; raw with emotion, unscathed in my ability to love and be loved. There's been an unclouding of my intuition; things are clearer today than they've ever been. I've recognized, that with "nothing" I have, and I am enough. I've become one with my core existence.

Peace and recognizance

A writer in motion...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 18:24:00 +0000

I sat, ruminating on the future, breaking my pensive gaze from my frothy mug only to wince fleetingly as the tug of the past seven months dared to lure me away from the beauty of this moment. What a privilege and gift it is to be deeply loved, I thought, as I shook away the still very raw feelings of what the antithesis of this recognizance holds.

It's been so trying the past few months, wanting to connect with my readers, wanting to express my feelings in words, yet wanting to keep the wounds under wraps. I was in a literary stranglehold and, now realize that the only way to breathe again is to look toward the screen, tilt my head slightly to the left and type.

I recently remarked to a fellow wordsmith that I'd felt as though my creative and emotional outlets had been infiltrated by the influence of well-meaning friends and supporters. That, in their quest to help me regain focus and, "find myself", I'd in turn become more "lost", lost in their ideologies and emotions about what was happening in my life. I suppose, I still find my way best in silence and solitude.

Like this morning, whilst checking on my feral friends after a rough, stormy night in the valley. There was this little yellow leaf, stuck to my window. An isolated hint of beauty was the only evidence left of the tempest. It inspired the summation of where I am emotionally at this moment: shaken from my roots, displaced, clinging to hope, yet still filled with beauty and the capacity to make someone smile.

Where are you at this moment?

Peace and words

XXXVIII

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 22:50:00 +0000

Today marks the auspicious start of my thirty-eighth year. If I sound self-assured and confident, it's because I am. I have no resolutions, no bucket list, no promises to fulfill, but one: live it.

My worst fears were recognized as 2011 raced in, and as I struggled to make rhyme or reason of it all, my greatest mistake was recognized: I had stopped living and began the mundane practice of existing.

As my 37th year passes out with the stale summer wind, and the promise of a new year's revolution lies before me, I acknowledge where I went astray and mark that place in my journey as one I never intend to revisit. It was a place of futility and great angst, one of pain and shame and sadness, one of misgivings and mis-forgivings, one of self-deprecation and self-flagellation, versus self-preservation. I assume we've all been there before- like the undertaking of laboring in love or childbirth, it is the final chapter in our old lives which inevitably shapes the next story, a fresh page in herstory.

My fresh page begins here, just 11 days past my 3rd blogoversary, with a dissolved marriage just behind me, a debilitating emotional illness under aggressive treatment, a new love, a fresh promise and a birthday cake baked by my sweet Yael Rose. Life is indeed good. And, getting settled back into my writing chair is even better. I've missed you all, thanks for your continued readership and all of the messages of love and support during some of the more trying pages of my last chapter.

Peace, love and joy

On Pruning

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 14:36:00 +0000

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

-Khalil Gibran

It's been about 6 months since my painstaking pruning -both literally, as you can see from my blooming roses above and, figuratively within the scars left of the excised relationships I write about here.

I'm learning to accept the coming of the seasons by being deeply introspective, aligning myself with nature, her order for things, by being flexible in thought and action, and by practicing acceptance.

Though the protective thorns fill me with awkward reticence, if I am to reap the beauteous rewards of rebirth, it all begins with the pruning.

Peace and rebirth

Reclaiming My Whimsy

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 31 May 2011 15:37:00 +0000

My $8.00, "Happy" dress

I have been battling a major depressive episode since December and while I'm on a series of medications to help me better cope with the symptoms, the disease does require that I do my part in the healing process as well.

I realize my appearance plays a huge part in the cycle of mood traps depressives often find themselves battling to escape. I've been making a conscious effort to keep up with the right amount of food, sleep, exercise, sunlight, grooming, and of course, my wardrobe. NO more heather grey, I say!

I bought this whimsical little dress when my CIO visited to get me out of bed and out of the house in early Spring. I haven't worn it yet, but I have just the event in which to wear it coming up soon.

On June 10th I'll be attending the 2011 Etsy Craft Party Meetup where I'll be showcasing my wares, my NEW! dress and a smile.

Peace and healing

In the garden

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 24 May 2011 15:48:00 +0000

In the garden there are feral friends...

and, a NEW! tiny, baby feral friend.

What a pleasant surprise!

Happy Tuesday!

Peace and new beginnings

601: Let's have some fun

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 16 May 2011 16:58:00 +0000

Peace sign bracelet in brass and jute twine. See [here] for other color combinations

Today is my sixth hundred and first post, what a milestone! During my blogging hiatus it became apparent to me just how essential this social and creative outlet is for me.

I've, since 2011 began, experienced some personal tragedies and through it all my blog friends have hung in there, some of you sending messages of support, others have just joined me despite of my erratic posting schedule, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Over the past 5 months I have gone from a tragic separation to an incredible journey of self restoration, recognizance and improvement. If you are so inclined to join me, feel free to request permission to read my personal journey at 3 Dollars & Six Dimes.

Let's get on to the fun stuff! In finding my inner peace, I designed these summery fun Peace bracelets as a reminder to live peacefully and colorfully. To thank you all for your continued readership and support, I am offering a giveaway of any one (1) bracelet of your choosing to one (1) lucky winner. To enter, all you have to do is leave a comment telling me one way you live a peaceful, colorful life! The winner will be chosen at random, by Yael Rose, my very own random name selector!

Peace and gratitude

Dawn

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 20:39:00 +0000

Darkness

Depression

Dissonance

De-va-station

Disappointment

Despair

Dissolution

Distress

Depression

Depression

Depression

Depression

Depression

Deliberation

Deliverance

Discipline

Determination

Due Diligence

Discovery

60 plus tomorrows later...

Dawn

This post is brought to you by the light of a new day...

Peace and freedom

Charity begins at home...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 04:34:00 +0000

...in the kitchen with the "good" scissors and the big comb.

Yesterday was no ordinary hair day at Mom's salon. Well, there were the usual tears and threats to "leave you looking just like this". But, it was also much more, so much more, some might say it was the best hair day ever.

A few months ago after plans to have her nose pierced were thwarted by a responsible piercer (I say it's adultism...but that's a whole other post.) Yael Rose, looking for ways to express herself-gratefully sans the usual histrionics- spotted a young woman with BIG kinky curls. "Mom, can my hair do that? I wanna do that with my hair!" She was giddy at first sight.

Hair politics being what they are (and in my opinion aren't) I admittedly began deliberations; far more thought than was warranted for a hairstyle, but the pull of familiar thought patterns is strong even if said thought patterns are woven with ridiculous.

Whilst repeating, "It's only hair." In my mind, and at times aloud, it became clear to me that it may only be hair to us, but it is hair, like wow-oh-my-goodness-beautiful-amazing hair to someone in need, and the decision was finalized. Yael could have her cut, and BIG kinky curls and we'd entrust Locks of Love to pass on her generous gift of ooh-girl-thank-goodness-I-don't-have-to-comb-that-stuff-no-more...er I mean wow-oh-my-goodness-beautiful-amazing hair!

And, we did it! Her donation was just under 11 inches when pulled straight. After the big cut, Yael exclaimed, "Well, I'll never do that again"! Already wrought with anxiety, I came from behind to face her and said excitedly, "You regret it?!" She replied, "Yeah. I'll never let it grow that long again!" Heartbeat? Check. One cool kid? You bet!

Note: BIG kinky curls 'grow' upon standing. Stay tuned...

Peace and love

I'm back...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 16:42:00 +0000

"Ovid's Hope" In A People House -T.Allen-Mercado 2011

The winter season has, dear friends, taken me on quite a tour of the whirl variety, not at all to be mistaken for the far more propitious tour of the world variety. Tumult abound, I have been forced to face some painful truths. But, in the darkness of recognizance, I have found light in the infinite promise of hope.

“Hope is the feeling that the feeling you have isn’t permanent.” -Jean Kerr

I feel renewed and resigned-willfully this time- to accept hope as an answer, when all else fails. Thank you, all of you who have shown support here, or via Networked Blogs on Facebook. Your presence, and the realization that my words and feelings therein resonate with so many others is truly a gift.

This blog is a great source of comfort to me, and whilst I've been sucktastically erratic in my posting schedule, being here is one of the things I've missed and needed most. It feels good to be back, and believe me, I am back.

Peace and hope

The Ghost of Christmas Impasse

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 06:40:00 +0000

"Twas the night before Christmas, Christmas day, the day after and another damn day after that, and all the through the house not a kind word was spoken betwixt a wife and her spouse."

Alas I've reached the point of reason...well, maybe not reason but some semblance of cogent thought and articulation, that I might write (Read: purge) what ails me about "special days" and the special pressures they present. Along the same vein as people who bellow out in anguish and upset when their favorite celebrity is revealed to be er...um, human, I have come to find that I have gravely mistaken egg nog as the cure for assholery. Hark, the shame and frustration!

Much like celebrities, special days are just regular ol' days with added expense, pretense and expectations. And boy, did that I ever learn that the hard way this year.

Some of you may have noticed my erratic and harried posting schedule; many days and events' recaps cut from lag between posts and sheer lack of memory. I've been pretty bogged down with my business, my books and some of the less exciting aspects of real life. Why, why then- did I think the twenty-fourth of December would swoop in on a sleigh and bring with it cute mammals adorned in bells -of the un-ringing variety, please, I am a mother, silence is both golden, and scarce- patience, peace, respect, consideration, compassion, [insert other things that don't incite me to full-blown histrionics]. What was I thinking?! Well, whatever it was, clearly it was not a shared sentiment, because my December 24th came swooping in alright, and out of me came words I'm almost ashamed to repeat. OK, so that last part is a big fat lie if I ever told one, but it sounds good...so, let's stick with it.

In truth, it was disappointing, I was disappointed, I am disappointed, and although I'm quite pissed with the Favorite Guy, I may very well be most pissed with myself for having just realized...admitted- Oh semantics, you can suck it too- the obvious."This is no new elephant, Tameka, and you went and put lights and silver doodads on it?! Hell, now it seems larger, and even more ominous"!

Now on the heels of a brand NEW! year, I'm feeling yet more pressure. Yes, in addition to the sad and heavy said glittered elephant has left deep in my craw. "I've got to snap out of this, everyone will be making resolutions and writing lists", I say. Yet, the best I can come up with is a plan for surrender, a white flag, an un-flipped bird, one final act of anything but willful resignation. More pressure, more pretense, more blog fodder. Sighs and sulks.

Hey, how much alcohol do you think it takes to kill an elephant? No, not a real one, silly.

I'll take peace for a thousand , Alex.

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 16:12:00 +0000

Phase One: The 7 Year Itch Project

Can "The Great Tameka" pack, paint, unpack and decorate without going completely mad before Festimas? Stay tuned to find out...

Peace

Thanks Given

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 15:38:00 +0000

Thanksgiving 2010

I hope all who partake enjoyed a happy, healthy Thanksgiving. We shared a quiet intimate dinner at home; just the four of us. This is no easy task with all of the hustle and bustle in each of our daily lives', so we are truly grateful to have been able to carve out this time for reflecting and reconnecting.

Thanksgiving is one of those complicated celebrations for me, as I'm not too keen on its painful historical past. I do however, remain meditatively mindful of the lives, culture and history lost when we gather to savor our own sweet, but fleeting time together.

Peace, gratitude and grace

Finals, Fame, Fun, and Finals...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 16:03:00 +0000

I am finally settling myself after a whirlwind weekend! Friday was the end of studying and the final final exam of the Summer. With Fall fast approaching, the Universe squeezed in a heaping helping of awesome for this weary, worrisome, woman on Saturday.

First, my interview with the sweet, warm and wonderful Jennifer Davis creator of "Indie With..." "Indie With" is a blog and Internet radio show that highlights independent artists/entrepreneurs who have a little (or in some cases a lot) going on on the side. We met this past Saturday to discuss what being an mom, artist, wife, business owner, and self- proclaimed "side-dish slut" means to me.

Thirty-one minutes of fame: although the lines were quiet, Pretty in Peace was buzzing! I received more hits on Saturday than I have since I went LIVE! on Big Cartel this past August. It was a wonderful experience, and the energy shared between Jennifer and I was palpable even through the airwaves. Kindred spirits unite! Have a listen, leave a comment-let's show some support of Jen's new media venture! For more on Jennifer Davis the artist, see her shops here:

Oralgasm:"Chocolate mixed with all sorts of delicious things"

Phineas & Lou:"City life and music inspired knit and crochet" wares

With a school picture-esque smile frozen in place I begin to thrash about in my closet to find something equal parts comfortable and stylish for my date with the Favorite Guy. That's right- same day, new adventure. Joseph and I are fortunate enough, through our respective works, to be neatly tied into the local art and music scene here in Phoenix. Friend and esteemed local DJ Senbad was working the Red Bull Sound Clash with The Roots and Miniature Tigers, and we got in on this SOLD-OUT evening of super. And stupor, in the way that only an energy drink sponsored bar side event can be.

And now, I wait for the final grade of my final class to post. I'm tinkering on the edge of an A. based on my worst-case-scenario calculations, I will need a minimum grade of 88% to hang on to my 4.0 with a 91.910%. Anything lower, and I fall into that grey, subjective area that clearly doesn't fit with my very concrete plan for world domination, now does it?

Sips cawfee, minimizes screen, F5s on grade book and...still nothing. Grimace.

This post has been brought to you by the letter, "F", Peace!

Unfluffy Shtuff

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 16:13:00 +0000

Cosmo at 5lbs and about 3 months old, based on his teeth

A few nights ago, the Favorite Guy and I were sitting up in bed skimming The Cat Encyclopedia and came across a very interesting fact-well, interesting to us anyway. Cats-it seems, don't think they are people, rather they think we are cats. This made for so much restless thinking on my part, as I am currently in the throes of acute misanthropy.

How fantastic would life be if humans could even begin to behave like cats? [I'm already married, I'm allowed to be a crazy cat lady. Please continue...]

Although your cat doesn't ask you how your day, life, kids, spouse, art, work, school etc. is going they also don't neglect to check if you're still alert, oriented and breathing before they go into an hour's long rant about the aforementioned areas of their life only to end the call abruptly without..."Um, yeah...I'm fine, thanks for asking," she says awkwardly, to the dial tone!

Cats know their shit stinks and are conscientious enough to cover it up but not by masking it in perfumed semantics, posturing, transference and defenses. I'm liking this already...

What have you got for me?

Have you been a good kitten, er...I mean, friend?

Peace and fluff

Time, time, time...

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 16:18:00 +0000

In a people house...

Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery

Weaving time in a tapestry

Won't you stop and remember me

At any convenient time

Funny how my memory slips while looking over manuscripts

Of unpublished rhyme

Drinking my vodka and lime

-Simon & Garfunkel-

A few weeks ago I deduced I'd been running approximately 2 weeks behind in life...or was it a week? Either way, I was running behind and the anxiety of impending deadlines felt much like impending death, without the rest and peaceful parts.

I buckled down, (read: neglected everyone and everything that wasn't on a list or whining) and got it all done, and done well. I'm still holding onto my 4.0 GPA with just two more assignments and one week to go. I'm equal parts proud and [insert English language translation of "blah"].

I know this seems awfully existentialist of me, especially since I generally reserve random thoughts for Thursdays, but does the end ever really justify the means? I mean, when you're done doing, you've only freed yourself to do more-and, hopefully if you're lucky- different stuff.

That being said, now that my studies and one craft fair are done, I'm in full out holidays prep and planning mode. The leaf is in the table, the menu is planned, the vegetables have been forewarned and baking anxiety is in full gear. (Baking is evil.)

What have you all been up to in my absence?

Peace and pondering

DIY or Bust: The Halloween edition

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 23:56:00 +0000

"Velma"

Glasses $1.09, Sweater: mine $0.00.

Vintage dictionary: mine $0.00

Skirt (stadium blanket turned into wrap skirt, with only a few expletives) $2.70.

Socks $4.36

"Old Crow"

Spanish Moss: $2.64, skull cap $1.09

Hot glue gun $0.00. Black bird $4.13 (w/coupon)

additional feathers and lashes $5.48

scarf $5.48

Priceless memories

Peace and family fun

DIY or Bust: Craft Fair edition

noreply@blogger.com (T.Allen-Mercado) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 19:24:00 +0000

I think I've mentioned aloud (Sometimes the conversations I have in my head meld with the real ones.) that I've gone completely crazy and entered TWO craft fairs this year; that's twice as many as usual! And, perhaps I may have also quipped aloud regarding having ZERO dollars in way of a craft fair budget. Rebranding has put the kibosh on any disposable Pretty in Peace income. Necessity is, however, the mother of invention and I needed to raise my pieces to make them more readily visible atop a buffet table that is several inches lower than most collapsible craft tables. Amongst a sea of 30 other vendors it was not a step I could afford to leave out of my sales/exposure strategy.

Dons thinking cap and enters garage of doom.

Repurposed cardboard box, bowl of Mod Podge $0.00

Fabric scraps, child labor

Hidden interior: sandwich bag filled with gravel from front yard

$0.00

Felt, grosgrain ribbon $0.00

Clear push pins: $1.09 (tax included)

Success!

Peace and simple living