Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Maureen here. Merry Christmas, everybody.
These cookies arrived in the mail yesterday from my sister Pat. The mail carrier left the package at our door before we were even up. Knowing what was in it, I ripped it open and Leslie and I had cookies for Christmas Eve breakfast.
These are, as you can probably tell, chocolate cookies. They also contain chocolate chips and raisins. Pat used our late mom's recipe, so I could tell the special ingredient was there. There's a hint of brightness or freshness that most people can't place, but I know it's a pinch of cloves.
And there I was, so many years ago, at my mom's kitchen table, helping her roll the individual cookies. Mom made a several varieties of cookies for Christmas time, most of which are recognizable to Italian-Americans. There were these, then three more of the same shape with white dough: one with chocolate chips and walnuts, one with chopped maraschino cherries, and one with lemon chips. The lemon ones were my utter favorite, but I can't find the lemon chips anymore. Each batch of batter made dozens of cookies. Little did I know that rolling all those cookies would prepare me in my adult life for making polymer clay beads. People see the beads and ask how I get them so round and even by hand. Pictured above is the method by which I learned! There were also pinwheels with fig or chocolate filling, candy cane shaped cookies with an almond flavor, and the traditional American sugar cookies (my least favorite).
Mom also made chocolate bourbon balls with a texture much more like a truffle. Despite the well-known fact that I do enjoy a well-made cocktail, bourbon has a scent I cannot abide. When I was living on my own, I converted the bourbon balls to rum balls (Myer's Rum is the best) and taught them to my best friend Deb. One December night, Deb and I went crazy, and in one marathon session we made rum balls, schnapps balls, Grand Marnier balls, and Chambord balls. There was plenty of tasting and testing. When we finally finished, I slurred, "Leshts go out for a nightcap." Deb replied, "Mo, it's a quarter to three." So wisdom prevailed. I went off to her couch for a long winter's nap.
My Aunt Amalia, who was born in Italy, makes these delightful honey balls that I do not know the Italian word for. They are quite small and mounded together in a pyramid. They are set in the middle of the table, and the happy consumers sit there, picking off honey balls and drinking strong Italian coffee and anisette. I always knew when the parental generation was going off into juicy gossip; they'd switch to Italian, so that we kids couldn't understand. This worked until my sister Sheila went to Spain for a semester. She became so fluent in Spanish she could pick up enough of the Italian to understand. My mother was horrified when Sheila interrupted one of these conversations to remark in English, "That's not a very nice thing to say."
The cookies I just photographed are on that plate next to the computer. If I look at them for very long, I'm sitting at the dining room table with my mom and my Aunt Frances, or even my late Aunt Jean. We're eating cookies from a beautifully composed tray, they're drinking coffee, and I'm drinking eggnog. They're laughing about my grandmother's latest drama or I'm complaining because my parents switched to an artificial Christmas tree. And it being Rome, NY, in December, snow is falling outside the frosty windows.
And so I wish (along with Irving Berlin) to anyone who reads this blog: May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Michelle, the closest to a sister I will ever have, called to say he would not last the day. I arrive in Brockton by 2:30 and go straight to the hospital. I spend the time talking to him, singing softly every old song from his era I can remember. I am in a time warp. By 7:45 my two brothers, Dad's caregivers and Michelle and her husband Jay arrive. The room is filled. A nurse comes and takes Dad off the respirator. In minutes he was ...........no right word comes.
We file out. They all seem so sad and yet, I am not. What is wrong with me? I am relieved for him. I am relieved for my brother, Rick who has born the task of managing Dad's care. He lived fourteen years longer than Beverly, his wife. He got to stay home. He ate wonderful home cooked food. I read the obits and I know that eighty eight (minus two weeks) is up there and then some.
I am shocked to realize that I feel freed from my childhood negative imprints. I have seen a life end and I know that in time it will happen to me. From now on I need to make sure that I minimize decisions made that are colored by fear.
And so it is, a month later. I feel more relief than grief. I have a heightened sense of making sure I experience the fullness of each moment. And more than anything, I want to make certain that the rest of my life is more about gratitude and less about fear.
Monday, December 10, 2007
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Friday, December 7, 2007
Another reminiscence from Maureen about Rome, NY. As soon as I had my own car, the McMahon and Samson sisters started a new Yuletide tradition: light lurking. We'd drive around Rome, looking at Christmas light displays. In those days, Rome's population was mostly of Irish, Italian, Polish or German descent, therefore overwhelmingly Christian and mostly Catholic. Hence, lots of lights. Being the
opinionated discerning person that I am, I came up with my own rules governing the design of the displays. Everytime we'd see a house with lights that clearly violated my rules, Sue Samson would sigh, "Oh, dear." She knew I was about to spout off, and it was especially annoying if we knew the people in the offending house. So for your edification, here are my rules for Christmas displays, and I'm warning you, I'm strict:
- Choose your color scheme and be consistent. If you're going to have white lights, then you should have all white, not white on the house and colored on the bushes. And yes, I can see your Christmas tree through the window, so don't think you can get away with white on the house and a fiber-optic tree.
- Your lights should be of a consistent type. I remember when the mini lights were first coming in and people would mix them with the 1950's type big, fat lights. People, were you color blind? The colors were not complementary at all. For example, the old lights had red and blue; the new ones hot pink and teal. And the size difference was jarring. 2007 addendum: you cannot mix white mini lights with white LED lights. The white minis are a warm hue, the LED's a sci-fi blue.
- Discovery made by a certain friend in Irondequoit, NY circa 1978: all red lights make your house look like a bordello. Don't do this. Even if your house is a bordello, do make an effort to be subtle about it.
- Re-read the Gospels of Sts. Luke and Matthew before planning your life-size Nativity scene on the front lawn. With my 12 years of Catholic education, I can assure you, Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph were not in attendance at the manger.
- Another consistency issue: if your lights are going to blink, travel, or otherwise behave as though they are on the Vegas strip, please make sure you don't have some blinking at different rates, some traveling east-west, some traveling north-south. Trust me, you're better off just leaving them on steady. (I remember the one Christmas my dad decided to make the porch lights blink and Aunt Frances told him it looked like Joe's Bar and Grill. And the battle was on!)
- If you're going to violate the rules, then don't just add one strand of LED's to your all white display. Go all the way! Need inspiration? Rent National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation or go to http://www.holidayinflatables.info/ . If in the Boston area, take a drive around Somerville, Medford, and Malden after dark. My sister Sheila and I used to do that for our Massachusetts light lurking and, to our delight, once found a house completely decorated with magenta lights. It was oddly dim and depressing.
- Your display should be over no later than January 6th, Feast of the Epiphany (the 12th Day of Christmas). If you have excessive snow and ice buildup, I will allow you to leave the ladder in the garage and the lights on the house for the sake of safety, but they must be turned off. Don't try pretending they're still lit for Valentine's Day.
- Any display is better than none, even if Rules 1-6 are violated. There's no excuse for ignoring Rule 7.
Two final notes: No, Leslie and I do not have lights up yet. That will happen on Sunday. And I welcome new rules from any commenters who would like to contribute.
Happy Larry Bird's birthday, Celtics fans!
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
One of the things I inherited from my Dad, who just passed away, was my view of the common cold. He did not sit back passively and let things run their course. I have expanded that attitude. How I deal with the common cold is nothing short of the buckshot approach. On the recommendation of my friend, Alexander (who swears his cold came from the woman who poured his coffee at the local caffeine emporium) I am taking Yin Chiao to bolster my immune system. I am only one day into it so it would be unfair to judge it's effectiveness. Janie passed on two types of Zicam which I started at the very beginning. I started with Airborne and have switched to Emergen C. Mid afternoon I begged my neighbor, Ginny for something mainstream. Enter, literally. Tylenol Extreme Cold.
And now the dilemma. I am invited to a party tonight at Susan's house. She is the kind of cook that you can count on to serve the sort of food that will be talked about for weeks. My taste buds, compromised thought they may be, voted, go. But this is day two and I am the human petri dish bearing fresh germs. I ask Maureen who can always be counted on for her true opinion.
So, I am staying home.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
Macbeth, Act II, Scene II
Maureen here. My dog is now a very elderly lady; she has to get up at least once during the night to go out. I am a middle-aged woman; I usually have to get up at least once during the night to go to the bathroom. Our needs do not usually coincide. Thus, I have been stumbling around during the daytime with sleep deprivation.
Thanksgiving night was a particular horror show. Joon had an upset tummy and had to go out five times between 11 and 3:30, then was up again at 6:30. I stood in the yard with her then, looking at the full moon setting over the cove, shining golden in the reflected sunrise, with tears in my eyes from sheer tiredness.
But lo! Last night, we both slept straight through. I had actual REM sleep dreams. Today is chilly and gray with drizzle and fog. And I feel great.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Time to give thanks. Because this is allegedly a fiber blog, I want to give thanks in that context.
Thanks to the angora goats for giving us mohair. Leslie and I have both been working with Lion Brand Moonlight Mohair lately and loving it. (And thanks to the Northeast Angora Goat Breeders Association for the photo at right.)
Thanks to Ocean State Job Lots for selling Moonlight Mohair that normally sells for $8 a skein for $2. That allowed me to make myself a beautiful shawl for $24. (Local readers - don't bother rushing off to the Danvers store after reading this. I bought their last 6 skeins on Monday. Mwa-hahahaha.)
Thanks to Leslie for introducing me to the Essex County Needlecraft Guild. This group of talented women never cease to amaze me with the beautiful objects they bring to the monthly show and tell. They are so modest their descriptions usually start with, "Oh, that's just a simple..." I can't wait until the December meeting; it's the Christmas potluck lunch. Trust me, you don't eat for DAYS afterward. You just sip green tea and smile.
Thanks to Elizabeth Reed for teaching me this year about wet felting in her washing machine. She has no idea what a monster she unleashed.
Thanks to all those Canadian sheep who gave their wool for Patons Classic Merino, my current favorite for felting. It comes in lovely colors, crochets easily with no splitting, and felts consistently.
Thanks to Helen at Helen Parker Textiles (67 Broadway, Rockport - stop in and say hi!) for allowing me to continue felting in her professional washie AND for selling my crocheted and felted bags there. While I'm at it, thanks to Helen and Frank for being good friends and for having me over to watch Game 7 of the ALCS and Game 4 of the World Series. Happy nights for Red Sox fans (And aren't we all grateful that Jon Lester recovered from cancer to pitch and win the clinching game of the 2007 WS?).
Thanks to Grace Murray for being a great role model. Grace is of a certain age (she and Dave celebrate their 60th wedding aniversary today) and knits like a dream. She is also still willing to learn new skills and was in the lace knitting workshop with me at the ECNG last week. Grace, I want to be you when I grow up.
PS. Remember Odessa from previous posts? Thanks to the Great Huntress for catching the mouse the other night.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
I remember years ago the furor that was unleashed by Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ" which depicted a small plastic crucifix in a glass of the artist's urine. This work is often referred to when freedom of speech is being discussed. It has been both praised and condemned by people whose opinions carry weight. I sure am glad he didn't apply to our group.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
It is always good to get a taste of something that you know, even as you are complaining in the moment, down the road you will remember is fondly. So it is with summer heat even if it is technically autumn. Come late October, knowing that it is going to get a lot colder than the current briskness, I will wonder how I could have written these words. Ah, to be able to slip outside without time spent adding layers upon layers of clothing. But today it hot enough to melt motivation in any direction.
Above is Odessa who somehow discovered that the tracks of the glass sliding door would cradle her sleeping form with no effort on her part. By the time I took this photo, the process had roused her from a peaceful sleep.
Now I know why Wegman used a dog.
Monday, September 17, 2007
something you can't throw in the washing machine. The rug in progress
is crocheted from old tee shirts from a second hand store. I bought 100% cotton, men's extra large shirts which I cut from the bottom up in a spiral fashion. Being a knit fabric, the cut strip automatically rolled so there are few raw edges that show. It is soft, thick, quick to make and perfect for a bathroom or a pet's favorite spot. An interesting rug from friend's donated old shirts would give a patchwork look that would warm more than your feet on a cold day.
Have fun with the idea and don't hesitate if you have any questions to email me.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
God Bless the person who invented Spell Check!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
But here is a beginning idea of showing several pins at once. Three show the classic stick method, while the rest are the tab closure.
I would love to hear any feedback.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
I made you this afghan
Call it a blanket or throw
There is so much more in it
I want you to know
Each stitch is a second
With you on my mind
Captured in wool
Frozen in time
In waiting rooms, meetings
Whenever I sat
Watching a movie on TV
Surrounded by cats
So wrap it around you
Feel it warm like a glove
Remember what warms you
Is really my love
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
The Park and Ride lot is on Blue Gate Lane: the mapquest link is here.
Friday, August 3, 2007
When: August 11, 2007 - 9AM to 3PM
Where: Rockport Community House, 58 Broadway, Rockport, MA
Why: Because we wanted to get together with fun people with interesting projects.
Who: Leslie is really the organizer, but I will be there making a purse to felt. Our friend Roseanne Hunter, the magnificent rug maker, is coming. I'm pretty sure Rob Porter will be there with yarn he just imported from China. And members of the Essex County Needlecraft Guild are going to try to make it. So come one, come all.
How: Just show up, bring a project to work on, and a dish to pass for potluck lunch. Another interesting location in the neighborhood is Helen Parker Textiles, right across the street. Helen paints textiles - wait till you see them.
Any further questions? Post a comment here or send me email at maureenmo3 at aol dot com. (You know how to really type that email address - I did that to fool the spambots.)
P.S. Leslie and I heard the Yarn Harlot speak at Borders in Burlington last night. She is just as funny and bright as you would think from her writing, and certainly gave me something to think about: there are 50 million knitters in North America. I'll stop there and let Leslie blog about her if she wishes.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Just then, a bone-chilling sound came from the ridge over the marsh behind the house. "AWOOOOOO-yip, yip yip!" Coyote. Suddenly, I was transported from the New England coast to the New Mexico desert. As Joon and I hustled into the house, it came again, closer, "AWOOOOOO-yip, yip yip!"
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
There is a wonderful variety of offerings. I was mesmerized by a group of women making punchneedle rugs at the Jamaica, VT Fiber Fair this past May, so I look foreword to meeting Rikki Gallagher who is teaching a class on designing for rug hooking. There are several workshops on a variety of felting methods. And spinning, one of my summer fiber goals!
What I love most about the fiber community is the shared love of learning and creating. I suspect there will at times be a blurred line between teacher and student. Expect a full report in the coming week.
Check out http://www.pleasantmtfiber.com
Monday, June 18, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
I must confess that I gave her grief about playing the baby version of Spider Solitaire. But her Sponge Bob scores were double and triple mine. Friend that she is, she actually let me watch while explaining her strategy. Nervous of ending the game, I never advanced the squares to the top. I manically burst small groups of same colored squares hardly keeping up. If I had earned a point for each time my heart beat I would have done fabulously.
So here is the secret: Maureen showed me that by running the squares up to the top and very quickly bursting the bubbles that present themselves, it is possible to click more productively. Being daring actually made it better all around.
I am one of those people that always sees a psychological lesson in anything. So from this I have learned that my natural tendency to play it conservatively undermines my results.
Thanks Sponge Bob!
Thursday, June 7, 2007
The answer may be in my next blog. Stay tuned...
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Back from a hot shower in the very nearby bathroom I use magnets to affix screening to an open window for breezes without bugs. The air mattress and sleeping bag are rolled out thanks to the handy feature that allows the seat backs to fold down allowing access to the trunk from the back seat. I am nestled in with my cell phones' flashlight balanced on my chest allowing me one of my favorite rites of night, reading in bed (or bag). An orchestra of sheep bleat a lullaby. Through the skylight (rear view window) is the Berkshire's summer sprinkle of twinkle. In comparison to sleeping with a multitude of cats, this feels roomy. I had just completed day one of the show and I had good response to my work. Day two would start with a breakfast at a coffee shop in nearby Goshen that opens super early. I am at peace.
Needless to say I signed up for the same booth next year which I will be sharing with my friend, Judy Jacobs (http://ballandskein.com) and her beautiful hand dyed yarns allowing me freedom to roam a bit.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Maureen reporting. Cape Ann is a riot of blooming flowers, aka, pollen producers. A lot of the trees have their grown-up dark green leaves and some still have yellow-green frills. They make a great backdrop for all the blossoms. There's a photo op around every corner, as all the tourists have discovered.Saw beautiful flowers and herbs today when I was at Goose Cove Gardens in Gloucester to pick up some tomato plants for Leslie. A class from the nearby elementary school was there; the kids looked about 5th grade age. Each student was buying one plant, and one of the boys said, "Hee, hee, I got catnip" just as though he'd scored something illegal. So how do you like the picture? I am finally learning how to use Leslie's digital camera and Photoshop Elements. This is Basket of Gold, or Goldentuft, or Aurinia saxatilis. I took the photo around 6:45 pm so that the sunlight would be slanting. I remember from my long-ago photo class that the best times for outdoor photos are very early morning (ha! not bloody likely for me) and late afternoon. My next challenge is to get pictures of the cats without them moving. Stay tuned!
Monday, May 14, 2007
Saturday, May 5, 2007
- The flowers. I'll have sinus headaches from pollen until July, then a couple of weeks off and the goldenrod starts. One of Leslie's friends brought in a bouquet of forsythia the other day, and everyone else said, "How lovely." I thought, "Oh, great. A snot producer." One of the cats ate the blossoms like they were Pringles and then puked under my bed, ruining a beloved Lord Peter Whimsey paperback that had been bedtime reading. I hate the *&^ flowers.
- Ticks. My poor old Joon was diagnosed with Lyme disease three weeks ago and is on a course of antibiotics. She feels much better and wants to go for walks every day; when a bull terrier wants to go for a walk, you darned well better go. And every day when I bring her home, I'm picking more ticks off her. Not only are they gross, I fear for her health. Yeah, I hate the *&^ ticks.
- Rising gas prices. $3.00 a gallon on Cape Ann and rising every 15 minutes. So now those urban legend emails are recycling about boycotting one or more specific gas brands. See snopes.com for why this doesn't work. The only way to spend less on gas is to buy less. So get off your butts and walk more, America.
- Tourists. Yeah, I know the local economy depends on them, and yes, it was a bad winter here. But for pity's sake, could they learn how to drive? One day recently, I was stuck behind a car with (who would have guessed?) Florida plates, doing FIVE miles an hour in a 30 mph zone. I could barely keep my car from stalling and of course, it being Rockport, it was a winding road with no passing and no alternative route. Then last night, as I was doing 30 in a 30 on another winding road with no passing, I was passed by a Jeep with out-of-state plates doing at least 40 and then accelerating once they were past me. Oh, and the library parking lot in Rockport? The one that's posted for residents using the library only? Wonder why one Sunday recently I saw cars there from Utah and New Hampshire? Wow, our little library must be nationally famous. *&^*^ tourists.
Maureen who is honking like Felix Unger with another sinus headache
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Store bought litter has two inescapable problems: the cost and the tracking throughout the house. Old newspaper eliminates both issues (not an intentional pun). Use one section unfolded so that one page at a time shows on the bottom of the litter box. Place a second folded section on the bottom. Keep some folded sections nearby and add them on top if you want later. To change all you need to do is roll the long bottom section starting from the exposed and still clean top of the page. It takes seconds and costs nothing.
So if this blog is not up to the usual meaty, intelligent discourse you expect form me be glad I did not include pictures.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Thursday, March 1, 2007
The last two days here have revealed Mother Nature's secret. She will deliver spring this year. The air is milder, the wind a mere breeze, the birdies are tweeting. (Leslie can identify individual bird calls. Me - I can tell a mourning dove coo from a woodpecker tapping, but that's about it.)
The days are longer, the light in the sky less gray and more mellow, the cove a bright turquoise and not gunmetal gray. The cats have new nap spots for daytime; instead of downstairs close to the propane stove, they're taking over my bed upstairs under the skylight where the sun now streams in. I'm finishing up wool projects and thinking longingly of crocheting with cotton or silk.
Yeah, I know we're supposed to have a storm tomorrow. That's just a conspiracy by the supermarkets and the TV weather reporters to sell bread and boost ratings.
PS. It's now Friday. The rain is coming down in sheets, our street is flooded a quarter of a mile away, and the wind is howling. I still maintain it's a SPRING storm as there is no snow. Hope springs eternal, as they say.
Monday, February 12, 2007
The other benefit it the amazing cast members I met. They represented all levels of acting experience, a variety of ages and professions yet with all that mix there was a wonderful camaraderie. As with the last group, I know I will always feel a special closeness to the woman with whom I shared this time.
So if you ever are presented with the opportunity to be a part of local theater, jump at it! The rewards are unique and lasting.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Well off to find some more LYSs who don't care if it is Monday.
Friday, January 26, 2007
My mom never used a reflector but she gardened and played golf. She literally had a tan line through her shirt from her bra. I remember her regular visits to a dermatologist to undo years of unprotected sun exposure. She began to resemble a raisin. I started using high number suntan lotions.
I spent part of this morning in a waiting room that served many doctors, waiting to see a dermatologist. This was my first visit and I had been warned that I should expect to wait. By the time I saw him I had moved beyond being edgy from the wait to grateful. Sometimes waiting rooms will do that to you. Besides, I live in a small town and there were several people also waiting that I knew. I chatted until my name was called.
He looked: he sprayed; we talked; I left.
Long live the Reflector Queen.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
The Golden Stage Inn was just down the street. My room was cozy and decorated, as was the rest of the inn, in a style to which I aspire. Everywhere was evidence of Susan's creativity. The bathroom was stenciled as was much or the inn's walls with subtle design elements that complimented the fabrics and paint colors. I read, slept and woke early the next morning to be at the shop by 9:00. Sandy and Peter were busy putting out breakfast for the skiers who are fueling up for the morning's caloric demands. I feasted on aplple stuffed French toast, fresh cut up fruit and coffee. The sausages were tempting but I'm still working of the Christmas excess.
I had a wonderful time and met really nice, interesting people. When I get back to Rockport I post my photos .
Till tomorrow, Blog ON!
Friday, January 19, 2007
"Get involved. It's time to give back. Help someone who
can't do for him or herself or volunteer for a cause you believe in."
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Because I am so aware of this now, I find it jarring when I hear people making sweeping statements about themselves that you know are outdated. Many times I hear "Oh, I'm not creative. I'm just having fun It's nothing." Sometimes what they have presented, be it a home cooked meal, a room in their house that they just redid, a photograph they have taken or a smashing outfit they have put together, is really out-of-the-box special. Since I feel the gift of creativity is the best of all, it is sad to me that they don't see how lucky they are.
And my own self-redefinition? It's hard to say exactly where that's going. I just know whenever I hear myself begin a sentence, "I never" or "I don't" or some other sweeping self definition, I stop. I think what might happen if I try a different approach. Curiosity can be a wonderful motivator.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Yesterday I taught my first shawl pin class to the perfect first students. There was a mother/ teenage daughter duo so I had that nice multigenerational crafting perspective. There was a woman from my needle work guild who taught workshops in needle arts so I had her perspective as a seasoned professional. A second woman from my needlework guild in her 70's bowled me over with her quick ability and design sense. I should have guessed since everything she brings to show is off the charts amazing. My friend, Katie earned the wild card award for her pure "throw myself into it and make something way different" approach. And my friend Barb just came to sit with us and polish her jewelry that had been awaiting her attention for years. Her fruit salad was the perfect side to my veggie Mexican lasagna. My oven has been flukie lately and given the Rockport Community House's unflukie one, I was driven to cook. We lunched in.
I first explained that a shawl pin has only three criteria: have no sharp edges to fray fiber and be easy and dependable to use. In my first demonstration with the wire I commented that it is basically the same to make a pin for shawls as a cuff bracelet. That's when I saw "the look" in my youngest student's eyes. Most of us have had it too. It's when you mentally leap frog from "A" to "Z" and think of all the potential in between and where you want to go with it. What a great feeling to know I had sparked it in someone else. Throughout the day there were mini variations of that moment. The biggest thing I noticed was how energized I was. My mind was a Waring blender full of ideas in many directions. All this and I got paid!
I love working from my studio/shop, but it can be tough to be knocked off course by a customer who has come in. Maybe I am in the middle of the great "Aha", about to boldly go where I had never been creatively before. Maybe I am in the middle of a project with a time limit. Once the "Open" sign goes up I have no control. But unless I work at odd times I just have to accept that as the way it has to be.
Meanwhile, I am already planning the next workshop powered by the head of stream from yesterday's experience.