The last of the leaves flutter like snow flakes to the ground.
Bright collard greens recall traditions born of need.
The evangelist, Charlie Brown, reminds us of Love in the midst of all the other things that are true.
And, in this moment, Peace reigns.
May the blessings of this season be yours,
Sue
Bill and I were out for lunch. A nice change from the ongoing Furniture Yahtzee game. Also, warm and dry, which was definitely not true outside.
As we left, we passed a sign a lot like the one above. I wanted to stop and take a photo but the traffic (on a six lane road) was terrible. It was very grey and still raining. So, I decided to make my own. I’ll need your help, though. The actual sign had garlands of gold tinsel all across the top. If you’d just imagine them into picture, that would be great.
Thanks!
Now, I suspect that many of you are wondering why this sign? Why now? And perhaps, WTF??? I hear you.
Today, I am bowled over by the miracles of modern science. Or, specifically, modern publishing!
Let me start by admitting that I’m one of those odd folks who exists, nicely, without a microwave oven. I’m fine with slow-cooked food. Pots and pans. And an actual stove.
No judgment, here. Just what works for me.
Today, however, I am in awe. The UPS guy–the one who isn’t afraid of the dogs–brought the proof for the paperback version of Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope in the bright, shiny, new 2nd edition. A couple of clicks on the website and a fast call to the CreateSpace help people later and the 1st edition is retired. The 2nd edition is available on Amazon, all updated and expanded.
I did something this week that I haven’t done for a while. I went on an Artist Date. A favorite practice from Julia Cameron’s The Artists’ Way, the rules are simple.
Take yourself off to a place that inspires you. Parks. Art museums. The quilt store on a day when you don’t have 12 more things that have to be finished by Christmas. Or, in my case, Kudzu. A local hangout for movie set designers and house flippers and folks like me who prefer an unexpected vibe in their spaces.
At least that’s what Mom says. If she’s right, I must be doing a good job!
Oh, sorry! You don’t know me, yet. I’m Phoebe. Sarah is my sister. She says I’ll be good at blogging like she is. I’m supposed to start by telling you my story.
I’ve been here about eight weeks. Here is really good. I was in a couple of places for just a little while on my way here and they helped me, too. I guess I needed a lot of help.
It’s been a big holiday for parades! On Thanksgiving morning, my girls and I snuggled up and watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was the 90th anniversary of one of my clearest holiday memories from childhood. The same no matter where we moved.
Of course the parade, itself, was not the same as I remembered. Lots of singing and dancing. New huge balloons unheard of in my childhood. Bullwinkle nowhere in sight. But, still, the excitement of the crowds. Time with people I love. And Santa. All in that mythical, magical place called New York.
I was blessed to grow up with the love of two grandmothers. On my mom’s side of the family, Mary Elizabeth Blandford Algren. Granny. On my dad’s, Elsie Hannah Royce Boardman. Gramma. Occasionally, Gramma Board.
Each of them, in the current vernacular, badasses.
Granny was a wife, mom, and grandmother who worked outside the home in the late 1940’s and 50’s. She looked like a model. Almost like a pin-up girl. She loved dancing and card games and Jeopardy.
