Lessons My Family Never Intended To Teach Me #5: Projectile Defense

Being an immigrant, there is one basic distinction besides language which can really set you apart from your new home country.

Food.

If you saw the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, you might remember the scene where young Toula is asked by the girls in her class what she was eating for lunch.

“Moussaka” was the answer.

“Moose Ka-ka?” the girls jeered.

No matter what country you come from, there is something you eat that is strange to other Americans. The further you are removed from your ethnic roots and assimilated into the American mainstream, the less you are connected to those strange ethnic foods.

Where I grew up, Italian food was “ethnic”. Chinese was so exotic that it was quite the buzz. At least it was to me as a youngster.

More commonplace to me, were dishes such as Schnitzel, spaetzle, sauerkraut, sweet and sour red cabbage, blood sausage, head cheese, a whole host of cold cuts and sausages you might never have heard of, smoked eel, and pig’s ears.

Appetizing??? Anyone??

Yes, pig’s ears.

Let me tell you, I do not like pig’s ears. They are not meant to be eaten by humans. They are nothing more than skin and cartilage. It has a beyond nasty consistency of wobbly, slimy covering over a disturbingly crunchy interior. It feels horrible in the mouth. It smells vile. The taste is enough to make you sick.

To my father, pig’s ears were a lip smacking delicacy.

To make my father happy ( or to shut him up for a while, take your pick), my mom, on rare occasion, would ask the butcher at the local grocery store for a pair of these porcine body parts.

“For your dog?” the butcher would ask.

“No. For my husband.” She would answer.

The butcher would shrivel up his nose and shake his head, not sure if my mom was pulling one over on him.

She would take these vile body parts home and cook them for my dad. Usually, she would just boil it in water with bay leaves, salt, pepper and a little vinegar. She hated it too.

In no time, the house would smell like a rendering plant. If you never had the opportunity to smell a rendering plant, I will tell you that on the scale of disgustingness, it ranks right up there with overly used porta-potties that have baked in the hot weather for a couple of days.

One particular weekend, my mom was making lentil soup which was one of my favorites  (Dinner idea #12 of her 15 meal repertoire). My dad, wanting the lentil soup to be extra delicious, badgered my mom to put the pig’s ears in the soup instead of cooking them separately. My mom resisted best she could, telling him that the ears would ruin the lentil soup.

But in the end, my dad won.

It was lentil soup with pig’s ears for dinner.

The house smelled of the afore mentioned stench. I knew my favorite soup would be inedible. It would taste like the house smelled.

I would have to claim to have no appetite. I would have to claim to be ill.

This did not work with my dad, who insisted that we all ate together (my sister was about 3 at the time and a fussy eater, so she was somehow excused from the experience). My mom pushed the food around and barely ate.

I had a bowl of the lentils in front of me. A small bowl, but without a pig ear…oh wait, there was a piece of pork skin here and there that separated from the ears. Claiming to be ill was not a difficult thing to do, the smell of the pig’s ears helped me look green.

“EAT!!” my dad commanded.

I took a spoonful avoiding the chunks of floating skin. The soup tasted strongly of the pig ears. It was DREADFUL. It was DISGUSTING. It tasted worse than lapping up any nastiness I could imagine.

I tried my best. I ate what I could. A spoonful here. Another spoonful there. Looking sick, I am sure. And worse, I was actually beginning to feel sick for real.

Then my dad decided that he needed to share his delicacy with me. He was going to win me over. I was to learn to appreciate the gourmet delicacy that he cherished. Or else!

He cut a piece of the pig’s ear and put a grey piece of what should never be eaten by a human being into my bowl.

“EAT!!”

“No!! I don’t feel good…I can’t eat anything…”

My mom chimed in.

“Albert….don’t make her eat that shit. You can see she doesn’t feel good. She should go to bed!”

Horray!! I thought, I have an ally!!

“Not until she eats what I gave her!”

What my dad said was law. No one dared argue against him.

“EAT!!”

I feared him. I feared his anger should I not do what I was told. I picked up the ½ ear he put in my bowl and bit a piece of it.

The taste alone was enough to make me wretch. But combined with the mouth feel, it was too much for me. I swallowed hard. I tried to keep it down. Really, I did. But the projectile vomit that spewed from my mouth and all over the dinner table was enough to make my father stop dead in his tracks, pig ear hanging from his mouth.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked wiping the pig ear juice from his mouth. That was his usual question when he knew he was beat, and lost the battle.

“I’m sick….”

“See what you made her do!” my mom scolded. “She should have puked in your bowl, it wouldn’t have tasted any worse!”

With that, she sent me off to bed.

I couldn’t stand the sight of lentil soup for years after that. But my dad NEVER made me taste a pig’s ear again. Ever.

My Lesson:

Puking is a defense that many animals have when frightened. Humans can use it too, especially when forced to do something distasteful. It is a great defense against an iron fisted member of the family who would not give in under other circumstances.

What AM I Working On??

With an Art and Wine Festival coming up at the end of August, I have been working on items for the show (and have put away my Hungarian Costume project).

Here are some of the items I made:

Spanish Border Bracelet


Pattern is available HERE

Llama Bracelet


Pattern is available HERE

Bhutanese Thunder Dragon

Pattern is available HERE

I still have 3 weeks to make more items for sale. I think I will work on one more bracelet and a few pairs of earrings. Then after the show, I can get back to working on the Hungarian outfit.

Book Review: Chains Chains Chains

First, my disclosure....The Publishers at Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing sent me this book to review on my blog. They do NOT pay me for the review, other than the book(s) that they sent me for review.

Chains Chains Chains

25 Necklaces, Bracelets & Earrings

by Joanna Gollberg and Nathalie Mornu

Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing

ISBN  978-1-60059-598-1 Aug 2011

144 pages Soft Cover  $24.95

As the title implies, this book is a project book focused on making various chain based jewelry. It covers basic techniques and also some advanced projects.  The last third of the book has a lot of useful information. The authors have covered topics including properties of different metals, and solders, and annealing. The photos and information on various tools to work metal is very useful.

What I really love about this book are the final chapters: Techniques, Soldering,  and Finishing. Each chapter has a great discussion on all of these topics along with photos to help explain the text. This information alone makes the book worthwhile.

"Synergy"
Hmmm...Some useful elements here?

The books finishes off with a  9 page gallery to inspire those who work with metals. There are some pretty pieces to be found in this gallery.

From my perspective as a seed beader, and perhaps those of you who are seed beaders like me, there have been many times when I needed a chain for what I was creating, or wanted some sort of open metal work (perhaps a metal rectangle) to build seed bead work off of, but could never find the “right thing” in the ready made supplies. While looking through this book, I did find a few styles that got my ideas going. I may not wish to make a chain necklace as the project illustrates, but I could use elements to enhance my seed bead work.

"Euclid"

There are some projects that do not appeal to me at any level because they are much too chunky, and some that I would not at this time try because they would be too advanced for me. But if I had the skill and if I were a metal worker, I think I would enjoy them.

Coming at a dual perspective, best as I can, if you like working with metals I think the techniques in the various forms of chains to be found in this book will be valuable.

"Pinball"
I think this is a really fun design

If you are strictly into beading, this book may not be for you, but if you approach this book with an open mind, an interest in learning new skills and the a thought of taking elements of some of the chains in this book to enhance or integrate with your seed bead work, you should be able to find something to springboard off of to use in your work that no one else has.

That idea alone may make this book priceless.

Lessons My Family Never Intended To Teach Me #4: Hairy Legs

My father was originally from rural Lithuania. According to him, his boyhood farming village had homes with thatched roofs and dirt floors. Cars caused quite a commotion when they did come to town. They were rarely seen.

Of course, there was no TV, or any of the modern conveniences that might be found even in a neighboring big city. To say they were behind the trends and conveniences of what was then the “modern world” was no exaggeration.

Men worked in fields as did the women.  The idea of beauty was taking a Saturday night bath and getting out of clothing that had been worn for more than a day, which when you get down to it, was really just to become presentable for church on Sunday morning.

Backward? Or No-Nonsense-Simplicity?

Well, when you are a pre-teen or worse yet, a teen-aged girl growing up in a household headed by an iron fisted man with such earthy-farm-circa- 1820-even-though- it-is-1972 ideals, it can be quite troublesome.

My mom, on the other hand, grew up in a suburb of Hamburg. Big city values and trends, even during war time Germany had a different influence on my mom. She liked the finer things in life. Lipstick, fingernail polish and other “girly” beauty items were always of great interest to her.

To say my dad didn’t understand the need for such girly things is an understatement.  It was beyond the usual male sense of wonderment when they see a vast arsenal of beauty products. He was down right critical of them. To him, only a certain type of woman would have need of such things. And that type of woman was not a nice woman.

My dad never did convince my mom of the uselessness of her beauty products. He would just shake his head and leave her to polish her nails. He would frown on her weekly trips to the hair stylist. It was beyond his understanding as to why she would do these things, but he knew he would never change her.

So he focused his efforts on me.

Teen-age years are hell. Girls feel the need to become pretty. We all looked up to the pretty-painted models with their make-up just so. We wanted our hair just like theirs. We wanted to become the Cover Girls on the magazines we loved.

These years for me were particularly difficult. In many ways, I could never be like my classmates who experimented with hair styles, makeup and fashion.

Long and Silky Ad, circa 1972

 Fortunately for me, the fashionable hair style was long, straight and parted in the middle. A style I still sport to this day. This sat well with my dad, who felt a girl should never cut her hair. It did not sit well with my mom who thought my hair should never be below shoulder length. On this my dad won. I was so happy when I talked my mom into buying me Long and Silky conditioner. I had a chance to look like those models, at least with my hair.

Make up was totally forbidden. While my classmates experimented with the latest Cover Girl products. I was left to an earthy, no make-up style. I longed to experiment with make up. I wanted to be the girl in the ads who always looked so pretty. But that was not the worst of my fashion backwardness.

Most girls in their teen years begin what most would consider a beauty necessity. A feminine ritual that some would rather die than not do. EVERYgirl does it beginning at age 12, if not sooner.

Except me.

I was not allowed to shave my legs.

Again, my dad believed that only a certain type of woman did this. I was not to become that kind of woman.

My mom did not agree with such silliness. She even bought me a Lady Schick electric razor. I was so proud. It was the best birthday gift ever. My Lady Schick was a white buzzing instrument that would make me so worldly and feminine. Ah….to have smooth legs just like the model in the ad.

Only to have my dad put an end to that. The buzzing gave it all away.

“What are you doing!!?? Didn’t I tell you, you should not be doing such stupid things! I don’t want to see it again!”

I would tuck my shaver away. I would wait until he was outside, or somewhere else and use it then.

This strategy worked for a while, until he caught me again. This time, he took my razor away.

I was in tears. Sure, it was the 70’s when hairy legs were “in” with the earthy crowd. But I wanted hairless legs.

One day, while doing my cross stitch, I looked at my scissors. I looked at my legs. With the fine scissors, I proceeded to clip my leg hairs. With practice, I became quite proficient at this. Sure, I never had silky smooth legs, but at least they were visibly hairless.

Eventually, my hairless legs did not go unnoticed by my dad. “See?” He said. “You have no need to shave your legs, you don’t even have hair on your legs. I  don’t understand why you and your mom made such a fuss about nothing!”

My Lesson:

With determination, inventiveness, a good tool and skill, you can accomplish the hairiest of tasks, and fool even the most critical inspector.

Book Review: 21st Century Jewelry

21st Century Jewelry

The Best of the 500 Series

by Marthe Le Van

Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing

ISBN13: 978-1-60059-521-9

Aug 2011

$30 Hard cover, 420 pages

First, my disclosure....The Publishers at Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing sent me this book to review on my blog. They do NOT pay me for the review, other than the book(s) that they sent me for review.

If you design jewelry at any level, you need inspiration. Where do you turn to? One of my favorite sources has always been books on jewelry, both vintage and contemporary.

I own several of the  Lark Books 500 series (Such as 500 Beaded Objects and 500 Tiles). I often turn to these books for inspiration, even if subject matter is in some craft other than beadwork. I turn to them to study form, color combinations and mood. Sometimes I will lose myself in these books for hours.

21^sst Century Jewelry: The Best of the 500 Series is a book that might just provide some inspiration if you are in a rut. It has 500 beautifully photographed pieces of jewelry encompassing a wide variety of styles all created by contemporary jewelers.

Here are some of my self titled styles that can be found in this book:

Elegantly Simplistic:  

Cherry Solitaire
Daniel Joecz

Classic Sophistication: 

Untitled
Barbara Heinrich

Wonderfully Whimsical: 

Gusz Goosz
Felieke Van Der Leest

Who would wear this and where? (Never mind "why?")

Resin Droplet Neckpiece
Seainin Passi

And

Is that REALLY jewelry? If so, then maybe I could attach a snow globe to my shoulder and be an edgy master jeweler too.

Fragment of Life
Nanna Melland

Ok...maybe I am playing too much of the Boy in The Emperor's New Clothes. Sometimes I just don't get high art or Haute Couture. 

As a seed beader, I find enough in this book to provide inspiration even if seed bead jewelry is not in this book. I love looking at the photographs and thinking about certain elements of design and how I might be able to transform it into beadwork.

While some of the jewelry is far from something I might like to wear, or even attempt to create something of the same style, I think that this book can be a source of inspiration for beaders and certainly jewelers of other disciplines. It is certainly a lot of fun to look at, over and over again. It is a jewelry museum at your fingertips!

Bragging Rights: Amy Allworth Severino

Amy worked up the pattern for Autism Awareness that I created for Michala Riggle's Autism Foundation.

Don't you think it turned out great??

CLICK HERE FOR FREE PATTERN

I Love how she finished it. It is such a cheerful bracelet. Amy has it for sale on her Etsy site. CLICK HERE She will be donating the proceeds to Michala's Foundation. And while you are there, take a look at the rest of Amy's beadwork!!

OMG!!! I Nearly Peed My Britches in Excitement!!!

First, my disclosure....The Publishers at Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing sent me this book to review on my blog. They do NOT pay me for the review, other than the book(s) that they sent me (this is the first of several books I will review).

However, with that said, I will be honest about what I think about the books I review. If I am not impressed/like something, I will let you know.

Over all, I have to say I feel that Lark Crafts/Sterling Publishing always puts out a quality product. I own many of their books (which I bought myself).

So, with that all said....this is is the first review of the books they sent me.

And let me tell you, there are very few books that really get me excited. I can probably count them all on one hand. Classical Elegance by Maggie Meister had me so excited that I....well....um...you read the title of this blog post right??? If you were to read bead books with the same expectations as romance novels...this book would should be sold wrapped in brown paper wrapper and only for those 21 and over, know what I mean???

Yes,  it is THAT GOOD.

I think that part of why I am all ga-ga over this book is Maggie's heavy influence of ethnic jewelry and art which is something I LOVE. She draws her inspiration from ancient cultures and styles. The pieces have a museum quality feel with a modern day practicality. You just can't beat the projects she offers.

Artemisia Earrings

Oplonti

There are 20 designs in this book, a nice balance of earrings, necklaces and cuff style bracelets.  With titles such as: Oplonti (a Villa in Naples Italy), Gaudi Bead (named after Spanish Architect Antonia Gaudi), Kilim Beads Pendant (a Kilim is a style of carpet found in Turkey and other parts of the world), Maggie takes you on a world jaunt with her projects.

Macha

The book starts out with well illustrated basics, which is great if you need a reminder on how to do stitches, and what supplies to use. The introductions to the projects are very informative in the background and inspiration for the designs. The color diagrams illustrating the projects are well thought out and easy to follow. And as usual, Lark does a damned great job with the photography. Then to finish off the book, the gallery of beaded jewelry by Maggie will have you drooling, at least it did me.

While I do not recommend this book for beginners, for the intermediate to advanced seed beader, this book will be a a joy to play with. I think it is fabulous that Lark Crafts has published a book of this caliber for those of us who are tired of simple uninspired projects.

Classical Elegance is just as the title suggests. Pieces inspired by the classical world that are in a word, Elegant!

Maggie Meister's Classical Elegance: 20 Beaded Jewelry Designs by Maggie Meister  Lark Crafts/ Sterling Publishing Co.  ISBN978-1-60059-691-9  $27.95  8.5 X 10 inches, 128 pages  Aug 2011

Bragging Rights: Jane Adam

I think Jane did a wonderful job with The Chinese Goddess of Summer (AVAILABLE HERE). I think the gold frame suits it really well. Great job, Jane!!

But then, Jane does a lot of wonderful work, check out her blog (Click Here) for some terrific "eye candy"

Bead Soup Blog Party Time Coming Soon!

Lori Anderson will be having her Bead Soup Blog Party sign ups from Aug 1-Aug 3, with the reveal date on Sept 17.

Lori pairs up participants. You and your partner send each other a kit of beads, with a focal bead, a clasp and some coordinating beads. You can be as generous as you'd like. In the last party, I have seen some skimpy kits, and some very generous ones. So, you will never know what you will wind up with.

You will then create a project that you can not reveal until the reveal date. You may put up a teaser (tiny detail of it) and everyone shows off their kit. It is a lot of fun to see the beads and finally see what everyone came up with.

I had a lot of fun with it last time. (CLICK HERE to see my bead soup project). I highly encourage you to participate if you are interested. But a major annoyance and disappointment are those who did not finish their projects. Since many participants make their own beads as the focal bead (as my partner did), it is terribly disappointing to have your partner not finish the challenge. So keep that in mind when you sign up.

Here is the link if you want more information:  http://lorianderson-beadsoupblogparty.blogspot.com/

Lessons My Family Never Intended To Teach Me #3: Pea Soup

My mom was never a great cook. She loved to bake, and once had dreams of becoming a professional 

baker. But her cooking was uninspired. I have to put some of that blame on my dad, who was strictly a meat and potatoes kinda guy who didn’t like to venture outside of his very narrow culinary tastes.

This narrowness led to an often repeated meal. One of these was pea soup, especially in the winter. The ingredients were simple: Water, a bag of spilt peas, chopped up celery, carrots, onions and of course, potatoes, and often my mom would add a ham hock.

My dad worked as a machinist. He would work from 7-4. He expected dinner to be ready and on the table by 4:30. No one ate dinner as early as we did, but that’s a whole different story.

My mom worked at night. She worked from 10pm-6am so she slept during the morning to mid afternoon. I was still quite young during this particular pea soup creation and had not yet been given the task of cooking every day as I would in my older years. So this mishap could not be blamed on me.

I remember her starting the pea soup shortly after noon, giving it enough time to cook and be ready for my dad’s desired dinner time. She threw everything into the soup pot, turned on the stove, and that was all that was needed. Other than the occasional stir of the pot to keep the peas from burning, there was little else to do.

Once it was nearly done, a taste to test the seasonings (salt and pepper was as exotic as this soup got) and a simple adjustment would be done if needed. It was during this last step of the pea soup making that I heard my mother scream as if she were hit by a bullet.

I don’t know how she messed up a dish she cooked quite often. But she did. She had thrown in so much salt that it was inedible.  She must have salted it three times. What to do? She didn’t have time to create another pot of pea soup. She didn’t have enough time to cook anything else. Dinner HAD to be done by the time my dad came home. He was not one to suggest going out for dinner.

What is the opposite of salty?

SWEET!!!

She dumped sugar into the pot of pea soup.  It took quite a lot to balance out the saltiness to make the soup edible.

My dad came home. We sat down for dinner at 4:30 as usual. My mom watched my dad dig into his bowl of soup. She claimed to not be hungry, and ate very little. I ate alongside my father as did my little sister, not really understanding what the big deal was.

My dad cleaned up his bowl and went for more.

He never suspected my mom’s blunder. He did complain later that evening of being unusually thirsty, as if he had eaten too much salt. Of course, my mom never told him, not until many years later.

MY LESSON:

Sometimes it is possible that two wrongs WILL make it right.

California Sate Fair

Steve and I went to the State Fair today for a short peak. The exhibits were beautiful There are so many talented artists and crafts persons of all types.

Of course, I had to peak at the beadwork. There was not that much of it. I really expected to see much more, since I know there are a lot of beaders in CA. I didn't take pics of all the work. My indoor pics never seem to come out too good. So I only took pics of the work in my own division.

First place went to Susie Kelly who did up one of Judy Walker's Designs. An astounding piece. My photo is very poor, and doesn't show it off as well as I would have liked.

First Place

My Dragon Robe took second place

Second Place

Third Place was my Japanese Cranes pattern worked up by Janet  Nowicki. She did a great job. Again, the photo I took sucks. This piece is spectacular.

Third Place

 In the jewelry arts Division, I didn't get a picture of the first place winner. The necklace was incredible. It had a ton of seed beads, and must have taken forever. I am kicking myself for not taking a picture of it.

Anyways.  It was a fun day...

Maybe next year, I will enter more than one piece!!

Motivation for Exercising with Beads

I just made my final payment on the trip I will be taking starting late October. HORRAY!! It's a done deal.

But I am stressing a bit. Part of my trip will be a challenging hike to Tiger's Nest Monastery in Bhutan. The Monastery is on a cliff at about 10,000 ft altitude. I think it is about a 3 hour hike. Much of it looks pretty scary. Rocky steps, no railings, probably a little wet and slippery. And this, without considering the dizzing high altitude and getting a bit more than winded going up hills and steps.

Note to self, wear good, VERY GOOD hiking shoes. And become friends, VERY GOOD friends with the stairmaster before going.

Hmm....lose more weight too! Less to have to pack up that hike, you know what I mean.

Maybe I should start making weights out of my beads to strap around my legs to strengthen them? I could use them to work out at home, anytime in addition to the gym. Just strap them on, choose colors to match my mood. I could wear them all day long. Even to bed.  Bead-Fitness while sleeping! Can other products make that claim, I ask??

Maybe I could start a trend. Hmmm...yes, I see a bead-workout video in my future, don't you? "Bead Your Body Fit With Sig" . And if that doesn't work, all is not lost, you can use the "weights" for creating something else. Just use your new fitness method as an excuse to BUY MORE BEADS!!

Simply strap bags of beads to your legs, and lift bags of beads
with your arms, and you will soon be fit...
or you might be confused with a suicide bomber...
Scary thought either way.

Moving Again...

Jas and I loaded the truck all by ourselves!

Boy, the last few days have been tough.

Last Friday was moving day for Jas. I am happy (thrilled) that she has found a good job, teaching third grade. I KNOW she is an adult, and married at that. I KNOW she and Ozgur need to have their own place and be adults on their own.

But I will miss her, and Ozgur, and their two birds.

Jas always looks pretty, even when she is sweaty!

So it was with mixed feelings (mostly sadness) that I helped her pack up the U-Haul (Ozgar is in Istanbul helping with the UC Davis class abroad program for a month). We were laughing at how we were flinging furniture and heavy boxes around as if they were just nothing.

This picture is blurry because Jas was laughing
so hard seeing me muscle this chair all
by myself!

Now there is room in the garage (sort of) again. At least there is room to walk around along the sides. I have major cleaning up to do in there...someday.

It is a 3 hour drive to where she lives now, south of Fresno CA. So it is not that far away, but just a little too far for my taste. She has a nice 1 bedroom apartment, close to shopping. The town seems fairly nice.

I hope that she will love her new job, and finally get back on her feet financially. I know she is always just a phone call away, and a 3 hour drive is not really that bad.

It's just that my house seems sooooo empty.

Anyone want to come over and keep me company? I will feed you(I am a great cook), and we can play with beads, and I will PROMISE to be silly and make you laugh! Just call me, let me know when you are coming, I might even clean the dust bunnies off the floor!

Good-Bye, My Faithful Friend

They told us that they found you, tied to a fence. You were left there alone and afraid. They took you in, put you in a cage and promised to let you stay until someone wanted to take you home. No harm would ever come to you while you were there. Not like it would in those other places.

The day we came to visit to find a faithful friend, you saw us first. Your eyes never once left us as we said hello to all your neighbors. Your interest in us did not go unnoticed. Of all the other dogs in all the other cages, you were the one we chose because you chose us.

I named you Trouble. It was a name that never fit because you were anything but. You were playful, you were always happy. You loved to run and you loved to play. You never bit the cat or chased the parrot. You were a good girl. You only wanted to make us happy.

Remember the time you left for a few days? You got out of the garden and went on an adventure. You must have wagged your tail and licked the man who caught you and brought you to the doggy-jail.

How we looked for you. We put up signs. We cried and worried, thinking the worst had happened. Then it dawned on me, you must be at that jail where those who are brought there do not have long on this earth.

I hurried there. And there you were, third cage from the beginning. You saw me as soon as I saw you. You clambered and trampled on all the little dogs, jumping with joy. You were so happy to see me. I rescued you again. Again, I brought you home. Your home.

I will never forget, how you ran back and forth again and again in the garden. Then with exhaustion, and a happy face, you fell dead asleep. Not even wanting to play with your favorite toy. You must have been so worried. I doubt you slept for the three days you were gone. But no matter. You were back. And we were all happy.

You were always a good sport. No matter how silly we dressed you, or how we teased you, you knew it was all good fun. You knew we were just playing. We were together and happy. That’s all that mattered.

Today, 11 years after you first came into our lives, it was time to say “Good-by” for the last time. This time, you will not come home. We will never see you again. I can hardly see anything at all through my sorrowful tears.

It was hard to say “Good-Bye”. It was hard to see you walk away from us for the last time. I felt I had betrayed you. Couldn’t I have done something for you?

There you were, face swollen, and you could hardly walk. It hurt you to eat. You could never get comfortable. The vet was not hopeful for your future. She suspected some horrible disease. I only hope your pain will end. I only hope that the final end will not be horrible. I only hope that you know how much we all loved you. I only hope that you loved being with us as much as we loved being with you.

I will miss the joy you had when I came home from work.

I will miss how you stared at me through the bedroom glass door waiting for me to get up in the morning, or on the nights you slept inside how your warm lick would wake me up.

I will miss how excited you got when I put on my garden shoes, or picked up the leash.

I will miss how you stood at the edge of the kitchen waiting to sample what I was cooking to tell me if it was good.

I will miss how hard you tried to be a lap dog, despite how big you were.

Most of all, I will miss your ever present love, your constant companionship and your special way of smiling.

I will miss you terribly, my faithful friend.

Michala Riggle's Autism Foundation

My dear friend Lori told me of the Michala Riggle Beat Autism Foundation "30 Day Challenge".
Basically, it is a challenge to string bracelets from a kit this young lady provides. Sell the bracelets and contribute the money to her foundation to build a research center to find a cure for autism.

This is a remarkable cause. See it here

But you know what? Why ask her for the beads? Don't we have enough already? Can't we use our own, so that she can save that money that she would have spent on the beads and shipping for her foundation?

Sure we beaders can!! If we have anything, we have beads! Lots of them. So take part in the challenge! Use your own beads to make simple bracelets. Maybe you can get the card for the information and print them out yourself as well! Or create your own! In the end, it all comes down to helping this cause.

To that end, I have created a bracelet pattern to help. Please use this pattern to help spread the word for this foundation. If you make and sell this bracelet, PLEASE GIVE ALL THE PROCEEDS TO THE MICHALA RIGGLE BEAT AUTISM FOUNDATION.

If you only worked the center design (work in brick stitch), you might even make a little pendant or earrings (if you use size 14 bead or size 15 Delicas) the earring could be smaller). Just more ideas as to what you could make with this pattern.

Make a choker using just the center design!

Click here for the website



CLICK ON IMAGES TO PRINT

Lessons My Family Never Intended to Teach Me #2: Sheep Jokes

My first language was German, but of course my parents wanted me to learn English. My parents would speak amongst themselves in German, and to me in their half German-half English language which they also had in common with their German-American friends. Basically, any word they did not know how to say in English, they would substitute with the German word. Different friends would interchange different words. They all understood each other perfectly well.

Additionally, some words were conjugated in German. This made things especially challenging for those who spoke English only, or German only for that matter, because German words eventually would take on English qualities. For example, “I will watch TV” would come out as “I vill TV vatchen”. All of my parents friends and I thought this was perfectly normal.

Not only was the sentence structure and vocabulary unique, but pronunciation of words was decidedly German too. For example, the letter W is always pronounced like a “V” in German, “ch” has it’s unique throat clearing sound, making you sound like you are hacking up something from your tonsils. The distinction between English ‘ch” and “sh”   (as in “chair” and “share”) was lost on my parents and their friends.

Since my earliest of years were pretty much in the exclusive company of my parents and their German-American friends, my English resembled theirs identically. I never thought anything much of it. I never realized that our “language” was really not understood by those outside of our circle.

That is until I went to school.

I was as perplexed with my schoolmates as they were with me. I sort of understood them, for the most part. But they certainly didn’t quite get what I was saying. They kept teasing me, saying that I ‘talked funny”. Being in an area where there were few immigrants, I guess I did sound funny.

By second grade, most of my “funny” ways of talking had been corrected. I was talking with the best of them.

Except for one problem.

Like my parents, I did not understand the difference between the “ch” and “sh” and used the “sh” sound used for both cases. This became especially evident in my reading class where we had to take turns reading. One day, for me, we read the worst of all possible books.

CHITTY-CHITTY-BANG-BANG

There I was, in front of the class, reading aloud. I did not understand why the class broke out in hysterical laughter when I read aloud the words “Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang”.

The teacher glared at me. “Read that again! This time correctly!”

“Shitty-Shitty-Bang-Bang…”

The class laughed…the teacher got upset.

“Say “CHITTY” the teacher demanded.

“Shitty”, I said.

“No, CHITTY! CH!!” She said with frustration.

“Shhhitty! SHHHHHH!!” I said, still not understanding what I was doing wrong.

This went on for several minutes, with the class laughing and me in tears since my second grade mind had no idea of HOW to make it right. I tried the “CH” sound, but always it came out as “SH”.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in front of a speech therapist.

“She has a speech defect” said my teacher.

The therapist had me run the drill of “sh” and “ch”. Both sounded the same. She looked at me.  She asked me if my parents spoke that way.

I must have looked bewildered. Then she asked me where my parents came from.

“Germany” I said.

The therapist looked at me thoughtfully, then smiled.

“She doesn’t have a speech defect! She is only speaking the same way her parents do!” the speech therapist exclaimed to my teacher.

A few minutes later, I left the speech therapist’s office with a smile. I learned the difference between “Chitty” and “Shitty”. The kids no longer laughed at me, at least not for this. I became just a little bit more like them.

I was proud!

MY LESSON

Sheep Joking

Sometimes being just like your parents can get you into a whole lot of shit, and you could be the source of cheap joking.

Inspired or Motivated?

Motivation.

Inspiration.

Are they the same?

Motivation is the drive or cause to do something. Inspiration usually comes from some sort of stimulation of feelings or the mind. There may be some grey areas between inspiration and motivation. But usually inspiration can be thought of as an emotional drive, where motivation is more of a cause and effect driven action.

So what motivates you? What inspires you?

For me, my inspiration comes from certain art periods such as Art Nouveau, the Pre-Raphaelites. I am inspired by mythology, history and romance. These things take me away from the daily worry and into a magical world that exists only in my fantasies. The joy and excitement I experience from things that inspire me is something I hope to pass on to others through my work. It heavily influences the type of work I like to do.

My motivation is something quite different. Sometimes my motivation is a technical challenge. Am I able to create what is in my mind’s eye? Can I do something that someone else hasn’t already done. Sometimes it is as simple as creating something for a class or for a kit. Building a business is a great motivator for many.

Usually, understanding the difference between being inspired and motivated is not a big deal. Other times, well… it can be trouble from the get-go. If  you see a bracelet that you see in a show, and with pen and paper (or camera) record what you can of it to try to replicated the bracelet, are you inspired by that designer/bracelet or is there some sort of motivation driving you to make a copy of that bracelet?

Inspiration is more of a seed. It nourishes an idea, a feeling, and the source of your creativity. It makes your creativity blossom into something that will take on its on path and life to become something that is yours. It becomes something that in turn may inspire someone else. Inspiration can be contagious to others.

Motivation on the other hand can be destructive as well as a positive thing. It may cause someone to steal, to trample on someone else’s toes and hurt someone. But it can also give you the energy and the momentum to take your inspiration to places you might never have thought of.

Motivation? Inspiration? Keep them working together. Let inspiration come from anywhere you can find it. But keep an eye on Motivation,  make sure  it comes from a good place.

Back to the Daily Grind

It was back to work for me today.


After a nice week off, with the added Fourth of July 3 day weekend, it was not easy to go back to work.

I sure could get used to having my freedom from work. I can think of a lot of things I would rather do.

Yup.....These are things I would rather do than go to my day job.

• House cleaning. Not that I did a lot of it. I did move piles of junk around. Even got rid of a few things.

• Pulling weeds. Did a little of that too. With my Gnomes looking on.

• Watching dust settle. Hmmm. I was too busy watching my toe nails grow to watch the dust land willy-nilly where ever it wanted. If I watched dust settle, I would have to get out the Endust! But still, it would be better than going to work.

• Bead. That's a no brainer.

• Go to the gym. Did that every day. Ok...I skipped 2 days, yes 2 days this week. Oh that's right, I usually go nearly every day anyways.

• Wipe up Bird Poop all day. When I am home, Lucy is out of her cage more. Hence, more bird poop on the floor. Yes, I lay down paper for her to aim for. But no matter what, she always gets it on the floor.

• Planning what to cook, and how I won't eat too much of it. Gotta stay on my diet. Salads were a hit this past week. But then, so was home made bread. Yeast loves the hot summer.

• Go to a store AGAIN...and AGAIN...and AGAIN. Any store will do. It's not that I want to buy anything, I just like the cool air in the stores. Temps hovered around 100 degrees all week.

• Check my Email. I can't do this at work as we are blocked from personal email sites, blogs and the like.

• Guess how many spilt beads there are on my studio floor. Yeah...I would guess...but would I pick up those little seed beads to see how close I got? ARE YOU KIDDING? I'd rather watch my toe nails grow. But given a choice, yes, I would rather pick up the beads than go to work.

My number one thing I would rather do than go to work?

Lay listening to the  radio alarm go off at the usual time in the morning, listen to the morning jocks and lay there knowing I don't have to go anywhere or do anything unless I WANT to! And maybe snooze for a little while longer.

Lessons My Family Never Intended to Teach Me: The Round Bakery Item

Everyone thinks their family is weird. Or at least unique. Growing up, I would have given my right arm to have a family that was “weird” in the usual way. You know, aunt Betty getting into everyone’s business, Uncle Joe always snookered at every holiday, and sibling rivalry.

My family did not fit the normal weirdness mold. There were only 4 of us. Two parents, me and my sister who is 6 years younger than me. No aunts, no uncles, no grandparents. Just us, a world unto our own.

The Four of Us.

Part of the weirdness comes from being immigrants. I was only 1 year old when my parents put me on an airplane and dropped the three of us in Upstate NY. My dad’s plans were originally to live in Florida, land of the eternal summer. How he hated winter. Summer, sun and no snow was his original idea of paradise. But that was not to be.

My mom was hospitalized with Tuberculosis shortly after our arrival. A 6 month stay in the hospital set her back on her feet. In the mean time, my dad looked for work. Being sponsored by the Episcopalian church as a refugee (from Lithuania during WWII), my dad had an obligation to the church.

Once settled, it is difficult to move a family. Especially since my dad was not comfortable with English, and my mom knew hardly any English at all. So we stayed in Glens Falls NY. Oddly enough, years later my sister wound up in Florida, and I am on the opposite coast enjoying the California sun.

In this series, I will present a lesson I learned from my parents, and perhaps even from my sister. These are experiences that were never intended to be learning experiences. But these events have taught me a lesson only in retrospect many years later. Had I known the lesson these little events would teach me, maybe they would not have been so…well, traumatic/embarrassing/not-so-funny to me at the time. Lessons or not, perhaps these experiences have shaped my mind. Maybe not in the normal way that those of you with normal-weird families have experienced, but in the unique, off the wall way that my family has molded me.

I will try to post one “story” per week, on the same day (more or less). The lessons are not in a sequential order according to a timeline or importance. They are random. I hope you will enjoy them. If not, just skip over them. But I bet you won’t.

Lesson 1: The Round Bakery Item

We emigrated to the US from Germany when I was just about 1 year old. My dad had to show some proficiency in English before we could emigrate. My mom didn’t have to know a word of English. Other than “hello” she didn’t know a word.

Once in the US, my mom did learn English, mostly from my dad, from new found German-American friends my parents made, and from total emersion. There were no German TV channels, bilingual publications, or translators on the ready back then. It was sink or swim.

My mother did the dog paddle, so to speak.

Her accent was heavy, as it still is.

It must be hard learning English. It has all sorts of deviations and exceptions from the rules, especially in pronunciation. German is much more phonetic than English. Since Germans are a rule following bunch of people, you can count on the rules in German grammar and pronunciation much more than you can in English. No worries about whether an “a” has a short sound or a long sound. It’s pretty much the same all the time. A combination of the letters “ie” or “ei” always has the  long sound of the last letter of the pair (so “ie” is pronounced “ee”).

My mom struggled with the language much more than my dad since she spent much of her time at home  with me. My dad, having learnt rudimentary English in Germany was using it every day while he was working for a (German) baker and later as a mechanic for VW. My mom was barely getting a grasp on it.

Since my mom was tending to the house and me, she also went grocery shopping. She often went with a list my dad wrote out in English so that she could find the things she wanted. My dad  had discovered “new” bakery item that is quintessentially American. A fruit filled round pastry often filled with apples, cherries or berries. He wanted my mom to buy one for that night’s dinner.

My mom had no idea of what this round, fruit filled bakery item was. Germans do not really have an equivalent of it. But with list in hand, she boldly went to the grocery store with her list of items.

Having trouble locating the bakery item, not knowing what it was, she decided to ask for help.  Armed with her ever growing English vocabulary, she approached a man who was stacking bread in the bread aisle.

“Excoose me, Herr” she said haltingly. “Ver do you keep your Pee? I vant Pee.” (Remember in German the rule is to pronounce “ie” as “ee”, so Pie becomes Pee”.

“Do you need the restroom?”

“No need rest, need Pee.” (In German, the restroom is Toilet there is no association with a “rest”). I vant Pee ziss big” She made a circle with her hands.

Looking aghast at her, the man must have thought my mom was some sort of weirdo.

“ I vant Appfel Pee!” she exclaimed with frustration, wondering what a baked good had to do with taking a rest.

Suddenly the man understood. “Apple PIE!” he said with a chuckle.

She left the store with her prize. Later, as she related the story to my dad, he laughed, and told her what she asked for.

Embarrassed at her blunder she told my dad, next time he wanted a Pee, he would have handle that task himself.

My lesson:

Using the correct words can make a difference of either making someone “P-O’d” or sweet as apple pie.

I Don't Get It

Somewhere in my ramblings on this blog, I have mentioned that I am not a girly girl. I don’t wear make-up, I favor Birkenstocks or Keens over high heels, I have a no fuss (non fashionable) hair style.

I am not a total tomboy. I do like flowery prints, embroidered blouses especially the fashionable (again) peasant blouses. With this fashion trend, I feel like I have been brought back to the 70’s!! I am scooping them up by the armful! Yes, I love this feminine style that is frilly, but still earthy.

I guess I am in the no-woman’s-land between tomboy and girly girl. Not really either one, but happy in my own style.

Since my style can be called the Earthy-Peasant-Girl-Behind-Plowing-Oxen style, or the Sensible-Working-Hippie-While-Impersonating-An-Artist style, I have a hard time understanding the ultra-feminine trends in fashion. Sure, I can understand some of it. I understand wanting to look pretty, and have nice clothes, but then there are other things I will never understand.

The latest thing that has me scratching my head is a style of nail polish. I am not a fan of the fancy nails that some women get in salons. How in the world do any of the women who have these fancy nails do ANYTHING? I keep my nails clipped short. I can’t stand the feel of long nails, let alone have them and be encumbered by their length.

Oh…maybe women with long nails that are all fancied up don’t do anything. Maybe that’s the deal…still, if I were to really work hard at it, I could understand the attraction to this crazy form of “fashion”.

The nails can be sort of fun and pretty, I suppose…

 

But the upkeep! I remember a phase when I did paint my nails. They were always chipping, cracking and started to look flawed hours after my efforts to have freakish red nails. I was always repainting, fixing the cracked look to have my nails look freshly done.

Maybe it is that memory of my short lived girly-girl phase that causes me to not understand “Crackled Nails”. I saw an ad for this on TV the other night. I had to research it. I couldn't believe women would want nails that looked like they needed to be stripped and redone.

Sorry, ladies, I think this looks hideous. Who? Why? Would anyone think this looks good? I think it looks horrible, unless it is part of a Halloween costume, and you are dressed as a witch or ghoul that just climbed out of grave.

Maybe you like it. It’s a statement of some sort.

What do I know anyways.

I bet one day, we will look back at this as a fashion idea gone wrong, sort of like leisure suits.

At least my 70’s flowery embroidered peasant blouse has stood the test of time, and has come back! Crackled nails? I think they will flake away.