Below you will find evidence that I have an amazingly smart, witty and loving family. It is also evidence that they are crazy.
Below you will find evidence that I have an amazingly smart and witty family. It is also evidence that they are crazy. Warning: You may not want to be drinking hot coffee when you get to the end.
Cast of Characters:
Cathryn Simmons – my mother – who co-owns a local soap company.
Sloane Simmons – my sister – and co-owner of STUFF (with me).
Lori Buntin – artist at STUFF and co-owner of the soap company.
Harl Van Deursen – my brother in-law – Sloane’s husband and our tech guru at STUFF.
Dakota Van Deursen – my nephew – Sloane’s and Harl’s son.
I am totally hooked on Instagram. I am a visual person. I guess that is pretty obvious to anyone who has been to STUFF or has ever met me. So, I believe Instagram was made for…
I am totally hooked on Instagram. I am a visual person. I guess that is pretty obvious to anyone who has been to STUFF or has ever met me. So, I believe Instagram was made for ME. And all my visual friends…which is pretty much everyone I know.
Earlier today I was experiencing the Friday blahs, and I thought, “I don’t feel like working. I just want to sit around and play with Instagram.” Here is where the big fat idea bulb went off….
Commissioned art piece by Lori Buntin for STUFF.
This is my first Instagram image blog. I have this ingenius plan to post them anytime I feel like being inspired at my own store. Enjoy.
April Wallace little painting.
Amy Meya SculptureCabin Vase CollectionDash & Albert rug samples.
Today we learned that one of our amazing artists – Lori Hale – passed.
Today we learned that one of our amazing artists – Lori Hale – passed. She battled cancer with the heart of a champion. She was inspiring to us all. We were so deeply blessed to be chosen to share her creative spirit, ideas, joy and work with the world. We will miss Lori. We will miss her little company Blue Raven. We will miss her art.
I tore this image from a magazine last week. Sadly, I don’t remember which magazine, so I can’t give credit to them for featuring this nifty room.
I tore this image from a magazine last week. Sadly, I don’t remember which magazine, so I can’t give credit to them for featuring this nifty room. I pulled it because I really like the wave painting.
I would have wanted the bench to face the painting, but often that doesn’t work in homes. I often have that challenge in my home.
I would like to own a piece of this artist’s work. Maybe I will come across the artist one day.
Meanwhile, I will just have to enjoy having this in one of my many scrapbooks.
My sister Casey and I spent some time this morning at work writing the fine print for an upcoming giveaway. We tried to write it using as few words as possible, but it is never few enough for me.
My sister Casey and I spent some time this morning at work writing the fine print for an upcoming giveaway. We tried to write it using as few words as possible, but it is never few enough for me. “Lawyer speak” steps in and before you know it, you’ve written 100 words to give one great thing away.
In my previous post, I shared a few signs that made me happy or smile. These signs – spotted after lunch today – just cracked me up. I guess whoever placed them there thought six signs could tell the story so much better than just one concise one.
I am beginning to almost embarrass my family with the camera I carry in my purse. I whip it out for the semi-serious family shots, but mostly I’m trying to capture things to not forget. The color of something. The mood of a moment. Whatever catches my eye.
I am beginning to almost embarrass my family with the camera I carry in my purse. I whip it out for the semi-serious family shots, but mostly I’m trying to capture things to not forget. The color of something. The mood of a moment. Whatever catches my eye.
In the past two weeks, I have had to take shots of signage I think is so ridiculously obvious. But it does make me pause to wonder what the impetus was to have the sign made in the first place. Something had to have gone horribly wrong to warrant a specialty sign.
Like this one at on the wall at the parking lot at the orthodontist:
Duh.
Or this one that just plain cracked me up:
With so many non-working buttons to chose from, it would be hard to choose without the written help.
Last night I started a journey towards improving my writing. I recently joined a small band of women who will meet weekly and work on each other’s projects of the pen.
Last night I started a journey towards improving my writing. I recently joined a small band of women who will meet weekly and work on each other’s projects of the pen.
This morning, my son – who knew I left the family circle last night to retreat to my office to start my 5 pages that are due this Friday – asked how it went. I told him I was pleased with the piece I had started but that, so far, I was falling one page short of the the 5 page minimum. I am too old to play the “adjust the margins” game or to pretend I didn’t hear the “please use 1.5 spacing” and resort to double spacing. Clearly, I have more to do before deadline.
Upon hearing this news – being short a few hundred words – this was my son’s advice, and I quote: “Mom, just go back and start adding in the descriptive words. Like the ‘deep brown walls’, not just ‘walls’. That will help.”
Portrait of My Genius
After all these years of letting loose with this blog and scribbling in many journals the ideas for my “Great American Novel”, I was finally taking the jump towards opening myself up to the power of other women writers from my own community. This was going to be challenging and thrilling and difficult. I was ready.
I obviously could have just turned to the 15 year old and my thesaurus. And saved myself the extra work.
Today I exhaled. It took a trip to Houston – and good news – to realize that I had been holding my breath for a year. And I had been turning blue.
Today I exhaled.
It took a trip to Houston – and the receipt of good news – to realize that I had been holding my breath for a year. And I had been turning blue.
Today we found out that my Dad finally has his lymphoma on the run. It’s not gone, and he’s not in remission. But it is being shown the door.
Yesterday in Houston. My step-mother Vickie, Casey and my Dad.This past year I have been breathing, just not deeply. I had been taking shallow breaths and waiting for the good to arrive. I had been hoping that my life wouldn’t experience great loss. I had been holding my breath while moving forward and all the time wondering why I was winded. Why climbing the stairs was such a strain.
M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, Houston
Because when you are hoping beyond hope and wishing beyond the stars, you really don’t have time to take a deep breath.
But today I did. I reached the bottom of my lungs, held it there to feel the burn, and then let it all out.
Last week I went to my niece’s art fair at her school. It is for the students in grades K thru 8, and it encompasses all pieces from their year in art class.
Last week I went to my niece’s art fair at her school. It is for the students in grades K thru 8, and it encompasses all pieces from their year in art class. I went to this show for nine years when my son was at the same school, and it is my favorite event. Children pull their parents – tugging really – to their artwork. God help the parent that has more than one child, because they risk bone dislocation.
This year, this piece was my favorite in the entire show:
The colors weren’t captured well in the softly lit gymnasium. It was captivating and is the work of a 4th grader. I don’t know what the process was, but it struck a chord. And what’s not to love when mounted to colored construction paper?
This was my niece’s favorite in the entire show. Clarification: her favorite that wasn’t of her own hand.
Her favorite of her pieces is here:
She called me out on the fact that my favorite wasn’t one that she had labored over. I talked myself deftly out of that by letting her know I had to take her pieces out of the running in able to even be able to vote at all. I didn’t go into the ethical practices of jurying an art show – something I use in my work on occasion.
