COZY LITTLE HOUSE

From The Eyes Of The Doe

2012-02-27T13:20:00.000-06:00

I have my daily work schedule down pretty well now. Seven days a week, in the mornings I eat my breakfast cereal and drink my cup of coffee while answering emails.

Sometimes this process takes about 2-3 hours, give or take. Before I begin work on my new shop items.

Here's what that work looks like today. What is awaiting me.

Pillows, waiting to be seamed closed.

Wounds, waiting to heal.

I have read many stories over the past months. Some are horrifying. Some shake you to your core. People can do terrible, unimaginable things to other people. And often they are those they profess to love most.

You would think it would give us better insight into how other people tick. But then not everyone ticks the same way. You have to account for that.

I am honored to read these true stories, shared across the miles. It gives me hope that we women can and do survive some wretched things that life hands us.

And that we become stronger for having done so. I have learned it is so much easier when we do it together.

In my little pretend world here, according to someone I once knew, I have gained support and friendship. And it is real, and much appreciated. And that cannot be taken away from me.

I was told recently by someone very wise that I needed to go ahead and let myself grieve. For my kitties that I miss every single day. For my home that I so loved. For the gardens where I poured so much of my energy. For my neighbors that were my support group.

And most especially, for a dream from which I was finally shaken fully awake from. To the knowledge that, yes, it was just a dream and nothing more. So you grieve for the death of that dream, or you can't go on, I'm also learning.

So tears become another part of your daily ritual. And you let yourself feel the magnitude of it, so that you can let it go.

And the hope I poured into so many years, I am finally letting go of too. For it was very much alive, and now it has died. I am making myself watch as it swirls and finally disappears down the drain.

It's hard to take hope from someone. You cling to it with everything you have. It has to be forced from your clenched hand.

That is the human spirit.

"How strange a thing is death,

Bringing to his knees

Bringing to his antlers

The buck in the snow...

Life, looking out attentive

From the eyes of the doe."

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sunny Sunday & Dog Haircuts Gone Awry

2012-02-26T11:34:00.000-06:00

I got my order in from Bev at 44th Street Fabric, and mighty fast, I might add. I just found these too precious to pass up.

Bev also has a blog at 44th Street Fabric. Talent for color combinations must run in the family. As her daughter has a lovely Etsy shop as well. She sells beautiful "dishy art" pieces at Gina M. Studio. If you like color, check them both out.

I cut and sewed 20 new Lollipop pillows yesterday. It was dark when I finally finished, so today I will have to turn and iron them. Then stuff and embellish. I will have them up soon.

Which made for a good day for me. I felt productive. And I am always happiest when creating. With whatever medium.

I also gave the poor dogs a long-needed haircut. But...I didn't do them justice. I can cut fabric, and as you can see, I should stick to that...

Here they are cuddling up here underneath my desk. Trying to keep one another warm, I suppose, given their short cut.

Abi...

Charlie Ross...

Poor things. Mama tried.

I need to fit in a bath for them. But I have pillows waiting.

Pillows from this fabric will likely be in the next batch after the ones I'm currently working on.

A dear reader who always manages to warm my heart sent me this today. She is a talented photographer with her own business...Vickie Cunningham Photography.

Love ya, Vickie!

Admitting What I Can't Fix

2012-02-25T10:16:00.000-06:00

Many of you have emailed me wanting to know how my doctor's appointment went Thursday afternoon. Well, it didn't.

I handed them the massive paperwork they'd sent me to fill out. My driver's license, insurance. "That will be a $200 co-pay for your deductible," the receptionist said.

I jerked my debit card back, and asked if I'd heard right. I had. I said "forget it" and walked away. I can't afford to spend money like that right now when I don't know where more will come from. And toward a deductible on insurance I am losing.

I made myself be angry. Sometimes it is the best way to cope. To get the adrenalin pumping. Adrenalin drives you, keeps you putting one foot in front of the other.

Medical insurance in this country is a disgrace.

I'm sure you're asking yourselves: Why don't I just go out and get a job?

I'll explain something the best I can that is rather embarrassing to admit. I have never really addressed it even to myself. Because to do so makes me feel like a failure.

I have panic episodes. Sometimes I can be fine in a store, for instance. But then hear a sound, and I am either led to another dimension of my brain. Or I am struck with panic. I start sweating, breathing hard, shaking.

I don't know what triggers it, what sets it off out of the blue. But the obvious choice to me has been to limit going out at all.

Have you any idea how embarrassing it is when people begin to stare at you, wondering what is wrong with you? And if I'm in line to pay, a clerk will ask if I'm all right, which will direct even more attention to me. When all I want to be is invisible right then.

When I'm under strain such as I am right now, knowing my ex has lost his job, and likely now will never be able to get another, it is heightened. The worry of losing my house, means of transportation, financial support and health insurance is overwhelming.

That I will probably have to pack up and move yet again so soon after getting here is draining.

It is not feasible for me to go out into the world on a regular basis and be around people. The only way I can avoid the panic is to stay home.

That does not make me a likely candidate for an outside the home job.

Which is why I'm doing what I'm doing.

I would like it very much if you would promise me something. Please do not judge people afflicted with such problems. Please don't assume that what you can do, they can do.

For heaven's sake, please don't tell them to just get out there and get over it. That will send them cowering into a closet.

Don't tell them they are talented and educated and therefore should be able to overcome this.

Just because you can't see fear and depression and pain, please don't think that means it isn't there. That is the worst thing you can do for yourself, your friend, neighbor or loved one who is suffering.

Please give them your support. Trying to make them overcome this by themselves without help is pure folly. If you aren't a mental health professional, you are treading on thin ice. You may only make them feel more desperate and alone and ashamed.

And if I'm describing you, please know I understand completely. You cannot fix this by yourself, as I well know. Don't beat yourself up about it, because it is beyond your control. For whatever reasons. (And yes, I beat myself up about it, so I'm preaching to the choir.)

And now, with that being said, I am going to start sewing more Lollipop pillows. I function pretty well inside four walls.

Someone gifted me these gorgeous whimsical fat quarters.

I am going to immerse myself in their cheerful colors, and do something that brings me happiness and a feeling of aptitude. Where I feel safe.

{Note: Please email me privately if you have questions about this post.}

Welcome Wagon Friday 2/24/12

2012-02-24T09:25:00.000-06:00

It's already the end of the week, when we welcome new bloggers to our neighborhood. Up for you this week I have...

Fresh Vanilla For C...

Love the plates and old shutter. And what a gorgeous photo with the tulips and soft background.

Mobile Home Living...

This blog is about the ins and outs of mobile home living. This fireplace in a mobile home was given a complete overhaul by one of our bloggers, Teresa, at Magazine Your Home. (We read one another's blogs. And she doesn't know I'm putting this on here. Hi, Teresa!)

Outjunking...

What a beautiful display of color and shadows. And blooms!

So get your Welcome Wagon Friday beverage and snack up to your computer. And head out visiting. They will all appreciate your calling on them, I know.

Thrifty Living 2012: Daycations

2012-02-23T07:10:00.000-06:00

This week the Frugal Five are exploring Daycations for Thrifty Living 2012.

Most of my daycations seem to involve shopping junk stores or exploring nature.

For me it is extremely gratifying to drive out into the country and explore. To take pics of barns and livestock and trees and pastures. And...it's free except for your gasoline. Since gasoline is rather high right now, I haven't taken one in awhile.

But then nature's beauty is all around us. If gas is too high to hit the road, how about taking a long walk. Good exercise too. And it's completely free. I love to do this.

And I often meet new friends along the way. Which makes it extra special.

And then there's the junk stores and garage sales. I found this old wash tub and the bucket inside it at a junk store. A day spent junking fills my heart with gladness for sure!

Sometimes I may not have much money. And I may not even buy anything. But it's the hunt that is fun. The sights and history and inspiration I gain.

I found this fun and colorful old sign while junking too.

And maybe you can have the best of both worlds. On your way junking or going to garage sales, take your camera and bring some pasture scenes home with you to enjoy.

Pack a picnic lunch and head for the open road. It will cleanse your soul and you can leave the city behind.

Joining the rest of the Frugal Five...

Claudia

Elaine

Jen

Diane

Lollipop Pillows Debut

2012-02-22T10:34:00.000-06:00

www.etsy.com/shop/cozylittlehouseshop

...Once upon a time, twenty years ago, there was a quilter that attended quilting bees. At one of these meetings, she saw her first old Singer Featherweight sewing machine. They are small but very sturdy. She was enthralled. But the prices for them were way out of her budget. For they are much sought after.

Then a few years ago, she was in her local sewing machine repair shop, and spotted one of these gems in his crowded little shop.

She could not afford the $350 price. But the owner, an older man, let her put it on layaway. After several months time, she was able to pay it off and bring it home.

I will always remember the man who sold me my beloved machine, though he has now died.

I sit down at my sunlit table covered with red and white oil cloth, and magic seems to happen with this little work horse. It is my inspiration, for it just keeps on keeping on. Day after day.

As dusk falls, and I lose track of time, I am sure passersby on the street catch a glimpse of me through the window sitting here, hunched over my old Featherweight. Humming a tune to the dogs to keep them entertained just a little bit longer.

And here, right here, this old 1947 Featherweight and I create whimsical creations together.

_____________________________________________________

Each of my pillows are made of my own design from start to finish. This line is called The Lollipop Line. I named them this because of the many colors, and the flowers reminded me of lollipops from my youth.

Each pillow is filled with new fiber fill and stitched closed. The pillows are sewn with a double seam for strength. They are made to use horizontally or vertically.

The flower embellishments vary. The ones with fabric have had their edges treated with No Fray.

The felt and fabric embellishments were hand sewn on after the pillow was made and stuffed.

I plan to design and sew other lines of pillows and various things for the home. Decor that would fit into any cozy little house.

This is the day I've been busily stitching for. I hope the bright cheerful colors brings a smile to your face.

More On Parties & The Therapy Of Blogging

2012-02-21T09:29:00.001-06:00

I just read all the comments on my previous post. And I wanted to clarify a few things.

First, I think blog parties are fun. I enjoy them myself. It is a way of feeling included. As I said yesterday, everyone loves a party. And the wonderful thing is, anyone can join.

I was in no way saying I have anything against joining weekly blog parties. Nor was I saying we shouldn't host our own link-up blog party. I was simply saying that there are so many now that I find it somewhat overwhelming. The first years after I started blogging, this was simply not the case. There were a few weekly parties. And the occasional seasonal party.

I was reminiscing about the "good old days" (shows I've been around the proverbial blogging block awhile now!) And that happened to be a time when we visited one another more one-on-one. We got to know the ins and outs of one another's lives. To me it was a very pleasant time. And I miss it.

I just sit here and sigh in futility when I see a party and literally hundreds of link-ups. I know I cannot possibly read them all. So I feel guilty reading any at all. That is a real time-sucker. So I just move on.

I feel I am not getting to know the blogger when they only post on days when they put up their link-up for their party. I fully realize how busy their lives may be. So I perfectly understand their rationale in doing this to stay afloat. And perhaps they don't want us to know more. They may just want to include themselves in the social aspect of blogging, and leave the rest of their lives out of the picture.

I understand, as well, bloggers joining up with parties to gain more coverage for their blog, while meeting up with others of like interests.

I find writing very therapeutic. But I realize, knowing the differences in people, that others don't feel this way. That is fine. We all have something to bring to the blogging table.

I just wanted to say that I truly "miss" these bloggers that only join parties and host parties. And don't post much otherwise. But that may be all they have right now.

Let's just lay it out in the open: parties bring lots of hits.

That being said, I realize the time commitment blogging takes. And if that is what they can fit into their schedules, then I'd rather see them occasionally, than not see them at all.

Now, I've got to get to photographing pillows.

Have We Lost Our Authenticity?

2012-02-20T10:48:00.000-06:00

This morning as I sit stuffing pillows I sewed yesterday, my mind roams to various topics. I started thinking about what blogging was like just a few years ago. And how it has changed.

When I started blogging, there were a few blog parties. But the proliferation of them grew rapidly. Now everyone loves a party, right? But a vast amount of them slotted every day of the week kind of boggles my mind.

Now I sometimes go to a blog I love to check in with, and it is just a series of weekly parties. And no blog posts in between. I know life gets busy. But I for one don't go to see you for your parties. I go to visit you as a blogger/person. I will just go ahead and say it: I miss you.

Somehow, I can't help but feel that we as individual bloggers have somehow lost our own unique "voices", as we keep our thoughts to ourselves more and more. And instead just sign up for the day's many parties.

I don't know about you. But I am feeling overwhelmed when I go to a blog post to read it, and it is linked to literally dozens of parties. And there's nothing wrong with that practice.

But what about our authenticity? What about our blogs being a place where we go day to day to keep a journal of sorts? And share our thoughts, and join hands to help one another across the blogosphere.

I get emails nearly every day from bloggers, asking me whether they should tell the truth of their lives in their blog, or just post pretty pictures with happy thoughts? Because they are afraid their friends will abandon them in their time of need. And this truly makes me sad.

Our blogs are our other homes, in a way. Our "safe" refuge. And to feel that we must always hide behind smiles, or no one will like us anymore, just breaks my heart.

Life is made up of so many things. Parties are one of them. But life most assuredly is not always a party, if you get my drift. And if you disagree, that is fine. Our differences are what makes the world go round. It brings about discussion. And that is good.

No one says you must share your joy and your pain. But the sheer amount of emails I get on this topic tells me that we have shoved "truth" into a closet and shut the door.

Our voices, our very own voices, are so unique and special. There is no other exactly like the one you have.

Please bring them back. I so miss hearing those authentic voices.

I welcome your thoughts...

Chocolates & Fried Chicken

2012-02-19T17:20:00.000-06:00

My two daughters came over today and brought some KFC. Good old fried chicken. Hey, it's my 55th birthday. I get to have some greasy chicken and mashed potatoes with that famous gravy.

One brought me a big box of chocolate covered cherries. My real weakness. A reader sent me chocolates the other day too. Well, I'm stocked up on chocolate for awhile. What's a day without chocolate, I ask you?

The other brought bags of stuffing for my pillows. That was what I requested. And some fabric.

I have been keeping myself busy with getting ready for the Etsy shop to open, hopefully early next week. Fingers crossed.

My youngest daughter and her husband will be moving, I found out a few days ago. Just when I get here and get to see her a lot, things change. So I am a bit sad about that.

Anyway, I'm stitching away at my little 1947 Featherweight, treasured friend that it is. And I shall be introducing my "Lollipop Pillows" line as soon as possible.

Blessed With Friendships

2012-02-18T09:21:00.000-06:00

Judy, from 20 Northora Etsy shop, brought this cutie to my door on Thursday. It immediately brought a smile to my face. Isn't it darling? She knew I admired these that I'd seen often on foreign blogs. Not sure what they're called.

And some flowers. Red blooms of course.

Yesterday these things were sitting at my door...

Twyla, from Two Crazy Crafters, had crocheted this for me in my trademark red and blue colors. Thank you so much, Twyla. I love it!

Gina, a reader from San Antonio, sent me some family heirloom linens. Gina, I will cherish them and give them much love. Gina may well be my longest term reader!

A beloved reader named Pat sent me a box of goodies I've placed in this basket. So many things I didn't know where to begin looking first!

I keep staring at it in awe, amazed at her generosity.

After I've spent time at the sewing machine making pillows, I often come in here to sit with the dogs and cut out my embellishments.

Which go into these...

I am ever so grateful for all your wonderful comments and emails full of support. Don't know what I'd do without all of you.

I hope to have my Etsy shop open in a few days.

Welcome Wagon Friday 2/17/12

2012-02-17T09:36:00.000-06:00

It's that time of the week again. When we welcome new bloggers into our midst.

Up for you this week I have...

Summersoul...

Ah, gorgeous pink blooms in a galvanized pitcher. And a beautiful pillow draped in light.

Poppi Linn...

Love the starfish against the paisley fabric.

And some good-looking food that is good for you...

Posy & Co...

How pretty these hearts are, in a hue I wouldn't have thought of. But oh, so elegant.

And what a clever way to display them!

Please go over and visit these girls. Spread some sunshine on this almost end of February wintry day.

Frugal Grocery Buying Strategies

2012-02-16T08:24:00.001-06:00

This week on the Thrifty Series 2012, we are looking at ways different families buy groceries to feed their families.

Please visit the other members of The Frugal Five:
Claudia
Elaine
Jen
Diane

I am one of those compulsive people that buy pretty much the same thing every time I go to the grocery store. The same thing for breakfast every morning. Cereal with fruit. And then I normally have two cups of coffee.

For lunch I eat my main meal of the day. And for supper I eat oatmeal or yogurt, and then usually a bowl of cereal with a banana before I go to bed.

For a single person, buying groceries just means me and the two dogs. I try to find their food on sale, and stock up a few weeks.

They also like to snack on those Quaker cereal biscuits, so I get that for them. And buy more than one when they're having a sale at the grocery store or Target.

I rarely have coupons. I don't get the newspaper. And I'm so bad about losing things I somehow doubt they'd make it to the store!

My weekly groceries are just what I need. Which is usually fruit and fresh produce. About once every ten days I spend more time in the store and buy more staples.

Sometimes I eat the breakfast TV dinners for lunch. They are cheap and filling. And have some cranberry juice with it. In the mid-morning or afternoon, I will have yogurt.

About twice per month I will buy enough to make a big meal, and then eat part of it the rest of the week. And freeze the rest for later.

When I buy roast, I eat some at one meal. Then I cut the rest up and freeze it for barbecue sandwiches or stew. Then I usually freeze some of the stew!

I don't have the problems of feeding a big family, so my buying is quite simplified.

I don't buy much in bulk. I simply don't have room for it.

One tip I find useful is to stack my food in my shallow kitchen cabinets. (I don't have a pantry.) This means nothing gets shoved to the back. I can see right away what I have and what I need.

I buy generic brands as well as regular brands.

I guess my main tip is not to go to the grocery store for just a few little things very often. Because those few little things often somehow turn into a basket full.

Also I have learned the hard way not to go shopping for groceries when I'm hungry, or haven't had my breakfast or lunch. A recipe for disaster!

More Trouble On The Horizon

2012-02-15T10:57:00.000-06:00

Since I wrote that post yesterday, a lot has happened in my life.

Yesterday afternoon, I got an anonymous email from a person at the psychiatric hospital where my ex-husband works, telling me that he'd been forced to resign. And had then collapsed. He was taken to the hospital.

I tried to call him, but he has not answered my voice mails. I do not know his condition. But a neighbor called to say she'd seen him in his garage this morning. So I guess he made it through.

I guess I must have known deep down that it was too good to be true. That I would make it out of that life, find a cozy little house, resume living and feel safe.

And he would go on with his, hopefully finding love and peace with his new girlfriend. And I would have a few years of his paying me monthly in order for me to bounce back and save.

His losing his job means I have virtually no income. I know I need to see a doctor before I make any other big decisions or plans in my life. I need to be leveled out and feel in control of my thoughts again.

Yet time marches on. My car will most likely be repossessed. He pays the payments. It is not worth what is owed on it. I have not had time to save enough money to find a little place I can afford, hopefully out away from the noise of the city. Someday, I tell myself. Someday. In some place possibly as yet unbeknownst to me.

I'm not going to let this house mortgage, which is in my daughter and son-in-law's name, fall to them. They are having a very tough time financially, and could not begin to handle it. So if necessary, I will go someplace so they can at least rent it out and cover their mortgage payments. Where, I have no idea.

So I'm staring at this screen, and wondering what to do next with my life. It seems a big decision among many. Make my second cup of coffee? Do laundry? Stare out the window at the rainy gray day outside?

Everything seems to be too big a decision to undertake. So I sit here and stare at the screen. Hoping answers will somehow magically appear.

Believe me when I say that all your support has meant the world to me. For nearly a year you have been lifting me up when I thought I couldn't put one foot in front of the other.

I cherish you all for that. So now, with no answers appearing magically on the screen, I guess I will take the path of least resistance. And go make myself that second cup of coffee I normally have.

And then I will stare out at the rain, the droplets clinging to my windows, and hope that my cats are all right. And that life gets better.

Please Excuse Me While I Let It Out

2012-02-14T10:28:00.002-06:00

Last week a reader emailed to ask why she hadn't seen photos of Clyde lately. Perhaps she missed some of the posts about the divorce. I explained to her what had happened.

I have this photograph of Clyde with Bonnie, who went mysteriously missing in the spring of 2010. Clyde is now nearly 14.

I dust this photo every week, but I don't allow myself to look at anything but the frame most times. I just can't do it without breaking down. I keep thinking that over time I will find the fortitude to smile at this image. But I can tell that isn't going to happen anytime soon.

If you're squeamish about things, or juiced up for a saccharine-sweet post about everything pretty, head on out of here now.

I can't hold it in anymore. I have to put it someplace. And I'm going to begin right here.

***

Oct. 24, 2011: I got up and told myself not to look around me as I went through an abbreviated morning routine and took my shower. I ate some yogurt with a plastic spoon so there wouldn't be dirty dishes, and told myself not to look at the kitchen I decorated while I ate it.

The neighbors had all come over, one by one, the night before. We had hugged and cried and said our goodbyes. I miss them very much. I knew I couldn't see them that morning, and get emotional all over again, and still make that long drive.

I tended to Emily, still cloistered in the guest room. (I hear now she's all over the house seeking attention, watching TV with them. So I guess it was the dogs that frightened her. I am glad that she has come out of her self-imposed exile. Even if it wasn't for me. But another woman I've never met.)

I fed her, gave her water and her medication, petted her and told her how very much I loved her. And that her dad (who I knew she loved) would be there soon to be with her. I told her I'd miss her and would never forget her. I turned and walked out the guest room door and told myself I didn't have time to fall apart.

I let the dogs out for the very last time, and told myself to avert my eyes from my beautiful gardens and pond and pavilion.

I should have had my usual cereal and left a dirty bowl and spoon, I realize now.

I got the dogs in the car and hoped we'd make it to Tulsa in one piece. I talked to them and tried to make it sound like a giant adventure, as the dogs have never been in the car very long. Certainly not all day.

They had been on an emotional roller coaster for a long time, just as I had. They clung to me all the way here.

They knew something was amiss because we had slept on my ex-husband's sectional in his man-cave living room the night before. Because the furniture we were taking was long gone on a big truck headed to Oklahoma.

I couldn't bring myself to sleep in the bed we had once shared. I'd been sleeping on the guest room bed for months. Nope, the man-cave sectional would have to suffice. So we snuggled up together under an afghan there for our last night in our home.

I got lost a couple of times during the drive. I'm not good with directions. I didn't let myself cry as I drove farther and farther away. Just as I didn't allow myself to look back at my house, my beloved home, not one time as I put my Pathfinder in reverse. And left part of my life and a pretty good-sized chunk of my heart behind.

I made it to Tulsa without incident. My kids came out the door to greet me. They were still painting on the little blue house. It was the first time for me to see it in person. I was so grateful I had someplace to go. Someplace to hide. I put a smile on my face and, a dog under each arm, walked through the five rooms of our new home.

Over time, I unpacked and smiled at the antics of my grandchildren and enjoyed time with my daughters. I arranged the furniture and prettied up the place. I went out to lunch with my girls, telling them how great it was to see them whenever I wanted. And it was, it is, great.

I wrote every day in this blog, and you all were so proud of me. You praised me for my courage and told me to forget about him. He wasn't worth my tears, you told me. Just move forward. I tried so hard not to let anyone down.

***

I want to tell you something. When I left that house for that other woman to come live in, I left the sliver of my Dove soap in the soap holder in the shower. I left my razor I shaved with on the side of the tub. I left some of my Suave shampoo there too.

I did not clean the house. I have never in my life vacated a house without cleaning it spic and span. Until then. I left dust bunnies and dirty floors, and told myself it was her problem now.

I hoped she would have to be the one to move my sliver of soap. To throw my razor and shampoo in the trash. And to realize she was taking over my home while she did it.

I hoped she would have to take the trash to the curb that held my things. I wanted her to think of me while she tried to wash the last vestiges of me away. And become the new woman of the house.

But later I learned they had a housekeeper come in and do all that. So she didn't have to touch one thing that had touched me. I was sad about that. Mean Girl's Club, come sign me up.

I wanted her to realize that she was taking another woman's house away from her. That she was taking her from her neighbors and friends and cats and gardens. That it hurt something fierce. And it would be a very long time that the wound would bleed. It still has a band-aid on it, by the way.

He had replaced me years before I knew about it. He had had many women, he boasted to me before he went to live with her in the apartment they'd gotten.

On the Sunday afternoon before he was to move in with her on Tuesday, our first court date, he nonchalantly told me he was going to JCPenneys to pick up a few things for their apartment. He didn't come home until very late.

I laid awake in my garden room, worried he had been in an accident. I almost called the police. I told myself that was crazy, worrying about a man that had left to shop for his mistress.

What would I say to the police? "Please look to see if there's been any car accidents involving a fire engine red Audi? My husband went out to shop for his new home for he and his mistress, and he didn't come home once the stores were closed?"

All the same, when he came in, I was a trembling wreck. He said he'd just been driving around, thinking about things. "This is hard on me, you know," he told me in all sincerity, then went to bed.

It didn't seem so hard on him when he got up in my face over and over and told me how his lady friend tasted. I put my hands over my ears, but he just said it louder. He wanted it to hurt. And it did.

It sliced me open and it sucked me dry. And he smiled when I cried. He said he liked to watch me cry.

He never cried. How can you never cry?

Now please excuse me while I go hold my dogs and let it flow. And then I'm going to dry my tears and commence working on my pillows.

***

You know, writing all that felt pretty damned good, if you want to know the truth. I may just write some more later.

I want to say that I really do want the best for my ex-husband. I truly wish him happiness.

At the very same time, I want to have someone else hold him while I go up to him and pound on his chest. And ask him why, why, why???

Yes, there have been emails that have been nasty and vindictive on my part. I won't claim there haven't. But I am trying to meet this with something akin to grace as time wears on.

I hope none of this makes anyone uncomfortable. For that was not my intention.

I just have to put this someplace for safekeeping while I let myself mourn. I can see that pushing the thoughts and memories away are not going to work. They are forcefully pushing themselves out anyway. And right now I just don't know what else to do with them.

Snowy Days & Mondays

2012-02-13T11:23:00.000-06:00

The dogs and I woke up to this.

Charlie Ross stepped out onto the small back porch, looked around, and started growling. His environment had changed and he wasn't happy with an intruder in his world.

I think I kind of know how he feels.

I finally this morning got an appointment with a doctor for the 23rd. I felt like someone had just thrown me a rope as I flailed about in the water, growing more tired by the day.

Hopefully a medication change will help. The other issues will take time.

Someone asked where I keep the framed words that came in the mail. They are here, right next to where I type. I look at them often.

So many emails. So much pain out there. So much fear because loved ones don't understand. I reach my hand out to you in commiseration. It is a hurdle we can face together.

This morning I woke up, and it took me some minutes to figure out what period of my life I was in the midst of. Was I young? Was I old? Where was I? I seem to do that a lot these days.

The numbness is much easier than the weepiness. I seem to vacillate between the two every few hours. I tell my brain to go to its special place. But so far it isn't listening. I'm assuming it has its own time table.

I wonder if what is happening is not uncommon? That you come out of a troubled situation, buoyant with your success. Fed and stoked with adrenalin. And then suddenly the air in the balloons that have held you up above the fray for so long suddenly burst.

You find yourself in a new place. But the months there are somewhat vague. Like they happened to someone else, and you were out to lunch.

Then you came back, and the whole thing smacked you in the face.

That you'd probably never see your cats again. That you would not see the spring bulbs break through the dirt in your garden. That all of that was lost to you.

I have my daughters, my grandchildren, that bring me joy, yes. But that doesn't dispel what I've lost. What I've yet to deal with.

And suddenly, without an invitation, the mourning began.

The Light Glowing Through

2012-02-12T10:41:00.000-06:00

It is quite cold. But there are some rays of sun today. They send thin lines through my windows and stripe my furniture with their glow.

See the yellow-gold tablecloth that came in the mail yesterday? Draped over the sewing machine table by the easy chair? I ironed it and proudly put it there. It is the exact shade I was looking for to accent this room.

And then of course the sweet red and white one. Displayed next to my child's chair with teddy bear.

The dainty red and white cup and saucer. So sweet I could kiss it.

I brought my cobalt blue jars in from the kitchen to display in front of my spur-of-the-moment flannel curtains I sewed last week. I love to see the light glowing through them.

I am trying hard to find that light. To grasp hold of it and hold it still. I see it in the blink of an eye. But I am thankful just to see it.

I have had so many emails about depression since writing that post yesterday. Feel free to share your story with me. We are comrades in arms. I answer every email that comes to my inbox.

Because, in the midst of your own dark days, if you are somehow able to join hands with someone else who feels lost and afraid, that is cause for celebration, isn't it?

And that is the reason I share my own demons here. Because it is such a solitary place to find yourself in. I don't want anyone else to feel alone in this struggle.

Which I suppose is why this Robert Frost quote is my favorite. And I say it aloud to myself often these days...

"The woods are lovely,

Dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

And I'll keep repeating it until the light surrounds me.

Linking up to Sunlit Sunday at My Little Home And Garden.

The Gift Of Friendship

2012-02-11T10:17:00.000-06:00

This morning when I woke up, the air was heavy with the cold temperatures. And my feelings of late.

Like a robot, I got up and went through my morning chores. Then sat down here at the computer with cereal and my beloved cup of coffee.

I have been trying to find a doctor to get a medication check, but the process seems like walking through molasses. I can't seem to get anything finalized. You wait for phone calls that don't seem to materialize.

The days creep along.

I am as familiar with this as I am with my face in the mirror. I can feel myself sliding down into a place I have known all of my life. I have done everything I know to do. I know it is time to see someone.

A few minutes ago, sitting here at my computer, I saw the lady who brings my mail park in front of my house through this window. She started walking toward the porch with a package.

I hadn't ordered anything. I wondered what it was.

I brought it inside and opened it at the kitchen table.

Inside the box were two beautiful tablecloths. In two of my very favorite colors. One the color of sunshine. One the spirited red I so love.

There had been tears in my eyes all morning, held barely in check. But now they overflowed.

And then I unwrapped these...

In case you can't read it, here is what the framed words say:

"Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you;

They're supposed to help you discover who you are."

- Bernice Johnson Reagan

How to explain the gratitude I felt right then for my blogging friends and readers. Somehow they seem to know when I need a little lift. Because that is exactly what I've been feeling of late: paralyzed.

Look at this precious tiny red and white cup and saucer.

The note said: Sometimes our days and weeks just fly by and you wonder, "what happened." Anyway, I finally got these things together. I used these for years and they were always special to me...I hope they will be for you as well.

Hoping these will brighten your day.

I stood in my kitchen and stared at the tableau in front of me in amazement and gratitude.

Now I want to start a discussion on a topic we often avoid...

Depression

I want to explain something to you, for those of you who may not know someone with severe depression. Or have turned away from them because they make you feel uncomfortable.

Life events trigger the sliding scale of depression for those who suffer from it. But what's important to understand, is that it is always there, lurking just underneath the surface.

Please, if you have a family member or friend with this disease, here are some of the things you should not do:

1. Do not tell them to pull themselves together and get over it. If they could, they most certainly would. They are not thinking clearly. Their decision-making processes are right now cloudy.

2. Do not sigh with aggravation and tell them to do what you would do. Yes, you may think they should react to things as you would. But their brain is wired differently. That is why it is a disease.

3. Do not try to propel them too far out of their "comfort zone" without the proper medical help. You will only make them feel more desperate. And likely to do something impulsive.

Here are some of the things you should do:

1. Tell them you care about them. And that you are there for them for better or for worse.

2. Steer them toward the proper medical help, if they seem incapacitated. They may not at this time be capable of seeing the forest for the trees.

3. Remember that they are suffering, even though you can't see the source of their pain. This is not a reflection of anything but the chemicals not functioning properly in their brain.

I know no one likes to think about these things. But likely most of you know someone who suffers from debilitating depression.

But you may be able to make all the difference in the world to someone who has gone deep within themselves. And cannot find their way out.

We as women must reach out and help one another. Talk to one another.

Do you know someone with severe depression?

In Need Of A Rainbow

2012-02-10T16:02:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was grocery buying, bank depositing, and hair cutting day. All of which I can do in the same shopping strip in one shot.

Immediately when I walk in the door to the grocery store, flowers beckon. I am drawn to the colorful displays like bees to honey.

I tell myself to go on over to the bananas nearby. But I am stuck in place. Bananas, I reluctantly tell myself, you can eat. Flowers you cannot.

Still, I'm rooted to the floor with the array of beauty beckoning to me like a rainbow after a storm.

I pick a bouquet up, then put it back. It has been a particularly tough week, worrying about the recent news that my ex may possibly lose his job. For there goes my current income as well.

I'm saving as much as I can. But I need more time to build a nest egg while I receive this money from him.

I have tried to be upbeat since my move here. I told myself that if I kept saying I would be able to glide over the rough, choppy seas, and smiled while saying it, it would somehow transpire.

The fact is, everything that has happened didn't just go poof! And magically disappear. There are still many land mines in my head that I deal with every day. That trigger other things that haven't been properly dealt with.

So all is not roses. And I'm saying this now because I don't want to give anyone else who's been in my situation some sense of false hope. That you will leave behind what happened in that other place when you leave town. That the miles will dispel all the hurt and anxiety and disappointment.

A mere move to another place does not make the stuff in your head evaporate. Nor can you leave it behind like a box filled with memories you don't care to take with you.

But, I tell myself as other women congregate beside me, obviously equally drawn to the flower displays, Valentine's Day is right around the corner. And my birthday five days after that...

I have spent the week in a perpetual state of worry over things I have no control of. Just like so many other folks out there worrying they won't be able to keep their homes in hard times.

I have come to the conclusion that I can never afford to buy this house. If something happens in the near future, my choices will be limited. So I tell myself, don't allow yourself to love it too much.

But if I have enough time to save and build my savings account, maybe I could buy one of those tiny houses on wheels. Or an older mobile home, or some other living quarters that might be within my budget.

Life is really just a series of changes. Nothing stays the same. I have moved so many times I don't even want to count. Why is a home always so elusive for me, I ask myself in the dead of night, staring at the dark ceiling?

Why do I keep letting myself love a home, when something always seems to happen and I have to leave it?

Maybe that's just the way of things in life. That what you yearn for the most is the hardest to grab onto.

Obviously before I pick out bananas, I get what I can grasp of my rainbow, and stick it in the grocery cart.

I tell myself it is tangible proof that miracles do happen.

Welcome Wagon Friday 2/10/12

2012-02-10T09:25:00.000-06:00

It's that time of the week again. The day we welcome new bloggers. Up for you this week I have...

La Belle Epoque Home...

Oh, how I'd love to have one of those in my sewing area!

Beaux R'eves...

Love that pillow! And the girl knows how to layer.

Bliss Ranch...

Don't you love the above photo? The effects are dazzling. And oh, I'd love to have that wire basket for a shelf in my bathroom!

Take some time and fix some hot tea or coffee. Sit a spell on this wintry February day, and visit these gals. I'm sure they will appreciate it.

Thrifty Living 2012: Frugal Entertaining Ideas

2012-02-09T08:34:00.001-06:00

Today the Frugal Five are sharing their ideas for frugal ways for entertainment. It's pretty easy for me, because I'm easily entertained!

Please go over and visit
Claudia
Elaine
Jen
Diane

I'm not much of a TV-watcher. I just don't care for the line-up of shows the past few years. I'd rather get out my laptop, sit in my comfy chair with the dogs and an afghan spread over us, and read blogs. Now that's fine entertainment to me!

Movies, books and such are always available at your local library. I made use of the library the whole time my kids were growing up. I loved going there and being in a quiet place. And taking my kids for story time.

I adore books. I very rarely buy them. It's easy enough to sign up to review them for book publishers and book review sites. That way you get your book free. And then you can pass it along to your friends or family.

I enjoy the outdoors immensely. Walking and taking photos is high entertainment for me. With cropping, sometimes I can get two or three photos cropped from just one. Whether it be birds or trees or just something that catches my fancy, I'm quick to raise my camera to catch a quick snapshot.

When I'm feeling particularly inspired, I use a little gas and take a drive in the country. I love taking photos of old barns and livestock. But I'm very conscious of gas prices, so it's not as often these days.

I love rearranging vignettes. I can while away hours moving things about and achieving a new and fresh look in my rooms.

I love sewing. So sitting down at my 1947 Featherweight Singer and creating something new is fun for me.

I keep favorite magazines around to inspire me. Sometimes when the stack starts getting high, I'll tear pages out and put them in notebooks so I have more of what I love to look at in one easy place to find it.

In warm weather, I like to create fairy gardens. You can do this in containers big and small. It's fun to get the grandkids involved as well. Make up stories about your little fairy world.

Sometimes all it takes is lighting a candle, putting something sweet like a pan of brownies in the oven, and sitting down with a cup of coffee. I look about me and realize that my home is my favorite form of entertainment.

Candle Warmth

2012-02-08T15:01:00.000-06:00

It's been another cold wintry day. So dark I lit the candles to feel a bit of coziness.

I guess we just equate candles with warmth. With home and hearth.

One of these days I am going to learn to make candles. And soap. Always wanted to learn that as well.

Maybe pick up some yeast and ingredients for bread and fill the house with the unparalleled aroma of baking bread. Nothing better. Cut a slice, smear on some butter. Melt in your mouth good.

While the gray days continue. One moving right along after another. Barren winter branches, stark and looking forlorn.

Gnarled and twisted into scattered patterns against the sky.

But it's nice and toasty in here. My steady and loyal companions are with me. And that is contentment.

Adorning Walls

2012-02-07T07:39:00.000-06:00

Today in our Defending The Small House series, Claudia and I are talking about walls. What we put on them, how we choose to decorate them.

I could never be accused of putting too little on my walls. Whether I have had a large home or a tiny home, my walls have always been filled with things I love to gaze at. It is merely my nature.

Tip#1: Inspiration boards are easy to make and usually cheap. They provide constant inspiration. And you can change them up whenever you please for a different look.

You will see quilts on my walls.

Tip#2: If you have a pretty quilt folded up and stuck in a chest somewhere, bring it out to enjoy.

Often you may see themes congregated on walls.

But they might seem a little cock-eyed! Here the theme could be considered nautical. After all, there is a Monet (fake of course) on the wall depicting a sea scene.

And to add to that, I hot-glued seashells on old washboards I've been collecting for years.

I know, a little bit strange, I must admit...but I like it!

Tip#3: If you want to hot-glue seashells on washboards, or whatever you want, don't be afraid to just do it. You live in your home. You have to look at your walls every day. There are no rules!

And then of course there is the collage windowpane I decorated and hung on the wall.

Tip#4: A frame doesn't have to go around a painting. You can add a frame you like to most anything to give it a bit of presence. To accentuate the piece.

I hung a clock in the living room. Then added, on a whim, a dark red frame I had.

You can decorate with sets of things. Or you can mix it up.

I like plates on walls. These two below were eBay wins. I think plates look great on any wall in your home.

Tip#5: Plates can be a cheap source of wall art. And the roundness breaks up the square look you normally see on walls, such as paintings.

It's nice when you have a piece of furniture you just couldn't live without. And can add collections of dishes and such to liven up that wall. No need to think about what to put on this wall!

This wall below has an adornment that is utilitarian and serves a purpose.

Tip#6: Even if you're putting something on the wall to serve a purpose, decorate around or inside it just for fun. Utilitarian doesn't have to be boring.

There is no rhyme or reason as to what you can or cannot put on your walls. It is simply objective. Whatever pleases you is the recipe.

Tip#7: Ultimately, the beauty of what should be on walls is really just in the eye of the beholder.

Here's a few more tips if you don't have much money in the budget for things to put on your walls:

1. Buy a pretty calendar this year with pages you'd love to frame when the year is over.

2. Get some of those embroidery hoops at the craft store. They're real cheap. And put some lovely fabric inside to hang up. Put them in groupings.

3. If you have an old gate, iron or wood, you might consider hanging that up. Put a wreath on it. Decorate it as you wish for the seasons.

4. Take an empty frame and put a collage of things you love inside it.

5. Copy some favorite quotes, print them out in a large font, and frame them.

Over and out from 1010 square feet in the little blue house in Tulsa. Now head over to Claudia and Don's house in New York to see her ideas for walls.

Dogs, Sewing & Monday Nonsense

2012-02-06T12:19:00.000-06:00

The sun is shining today. Don't know if I could have taken yet another gray day. Sunshine, so vital to our mental health.

A day of sunny dispositions and reflection.

More sewing on the agenda. I hope.

Seems that February is whizzing by so fast.

What do you think Charlie Ross? Ready for spring?

I took down the drapes. The dogs kept barking at the college kids' vehicles that they park in front of my house. For some odd reason, their empty driveway does not prompt them to park there...

And then I had to get another sound machine from Bed, Bath & Beyond to put in here. So the dogs could not hear them as well, when they're standing outside talking to the many people that visit there.

Took these curtains I'd made out of the office/craft room and put them in here. Hoping the dogs would not know their cars were parked in front.

Oh, if only we could pick our neighbors...

Abi is remaining on guard for any activity.

Tomorrow Claudia and I have our monthly Small House series. We will be talking about decorating walls.

Meet Ms. Dottie

2012-02-05T17:21:00.002-06:00

This is what I've spent my day doing. Creating Ms. Dottie. I'm tired. Hence the name. It's not very original. She has polka dots and she's Dottie.

Here's how she began...

This is not rocket science. You simply take a pencil to muslin and draw a head with a body, arms, and legs.

Then after awhile she looked like this. Pardon her nudity. As you can see the room is a mess while I'm working on something.

Then I grab some fabrics and start making her something to wear. I simply draw a dress and cut it out.

And before you know it she has an apron. Red buttons on her feet (don't ask me why), and blush on her cheeks. Then black embroidery thread for her eyes and hair.

I used what I had on hand.

There's no going out in the car right now. It's being hijacked inside the little blue garage. I misplaced the garage door opener days ago. There's no other way to gain entry.

Yesterday evening I found the opener. I'd somehow left it outside on the top of the trash can. It had rained on it all night. And it will not work.

A good thing I'm a homebody. This is a good way to save on gas, my friends. Let your car get trapped in the garage!

I Hear A Symphony

2012-02-04T17:18:00.001-06:00

Today is the flat somber gray of typical winter days. One day in a monotony of many. In a season of volatile winds, and often a decline of one's spirit.

Until spring comes tiptoeing in, hesitant. At first so unsure of its presence.

My youngest daughter and I had lunch, which we often do on Saturdays. And ran a couple of errands.

Then commenced a lesson in record keeping and checkbook management from my 33 year old daughter. Who possesses a Masters degree in things that look like gobbledy-gook to me. Which means numbers.

I am not at all gifted in what to me is a paradox of endless numbers. I can clearly recall being in first grade, and knowing from the get-go that numbers would somehow be my nemesis. Somehow a list of numbers never made sense, all lined up in their perfect symmetry. They mocked me in their rigid stance.

My dear late friend Charlyce, a college professor, use to tell me that creativity is the highest form of intelligence.

Sounded good. But then what do you do about the parts of your life that have $ signs in front of them? There are ? signs that I'm sure light up in my head anytime I am faced with $ signs that...oh sigh, must somehow be dealt with.

My daughter has always told me that she loves math because there is always a true and exact answer. One that cannot be debated. She can lean over ledgers with $ signs attached to them for hours and not lose her sanity.

Me, I'd probably be torn between tearing off my toe nails. Or barring that, pulling out my hair. One graying strand at a time.

I can sit down and make up a pattern for a doll, let's say, sewing happily as I go. And my brain is not taxed by this effort.

Hand me a checkbook and a calculator (yes, she made me buy one today), and I want to curl up in a fetal position. Covering my head until the numbers have been dealt with (hopefully by someone else), and jauntily march off like soldiers.

I am encapsulated in a world that involves words. Words swim in my head happily. They seem to form sentences of their own volition, without any real effort on my part.

They flow in a seemingly never-ending ocean. Waves of words bob gently across the surface as far out as I can see.

I love words.

As a child, I enjoyed writing down words I'd find in the dictionary. While other children were outside climbing trees and running with abandon, I was inside with a notebook and pencil.

Words running up both sides of a page. I would choose a word at random, and sound it out as I so carefully wrote it down alongside its definition.

Words make sense to me. They insulate me.

In an often "senseless" world that surrounds me, words still come to my rescue. They provide a port in the storm.

I write down my feelings and thoughts. And after the period at the end of the last sentence, I have found a certain sense of security.

I am soothed by the outpouring of words that I equate with rationale. When I am happy, I feel the need to write. When I feel angst, I also need this outlet.

But $ signs make me feel resigned to squeezing the square form that is me into this impossible round shape that is constricting and claustrophobic.

The very same ones that my daughter depends on to keep her world tilted so perfectly on its axis. I find ornery and irascible. Defenseless and unarmed in front of a bucket of slithering snakes that form $ signs.

Give me similes and I possess poetry. It is music in my ears, silent but intoxicating. Like love, it is a many-splendored thing.

"Just as my fingers on these keys
Make music
So the self-same sounds
On my spirit
Make a music too..." (Wallace Stevens)

Words. Just words. Make my world make sense. Even if it's a symphony only I can hear.