Memorials of war - far away, close to home...

Preface: 
I wrote the original post yesterday after visiting the replica of the Viet Nam Memorial, recreated here in my home town for Memorial Day.  As all memorials to war, it was moving to see, stirring up emotions and memories.  I felt the same way when I walked the cemetery in Normandy...

I cried for my father, though he served far away in the Philippines. And I could barely hold my composure walking among the barren cement sculptures of the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin...

I woke this morning thinking I should tone my post down a bit, but I decided against it.  Memorials are markers of our past history, and they serve to remind us of our collective inhumanity to man.  Though we move past them, somehow we never forget, nor should we.

War is Hell...

I lived through Viet Nam, only because I wasn't there. But I, like so many other young people from the 60's and 70's, remember its horror well.  We remember watching the young men sweat out a letter from the Draft Board...tentatively watching them digest their "number". We remember the letters from boot camp, the teary phone calls, the white faced shock of the words "Riverboats". We watched the protesters passively, wishing we had the courage to pick up a sign ourselves. We all watched and waited.

If they lived, they came back scarred anyway, forever changed.  We remember the bad dreams, the shakes, the dubious coping mechanisms and the ill-fated attempts at normalcy.  We remember praying for sanity and strength, peace and forgiveness. A lucky few of us watched heroes overcome the horrors, seemingly unscathed and make their peace with life. But many more watched helplessly as the demons of the aftermath won the final battle. And we, like collateral damage, somehow survived.

If they fell, their names are etched on this memorial, carved with care, for the remembrance of strangers passing by on a sunny day. May we never forget their service or their sacrifice.

Today I am also remembering Red, my father who served in the Philippines; Kenny and Ellis, my uncles who fought in Korea; and Ron, who rode the riverboats in Viet Nam.

I am grateful for the service of my sweet Dave for flying his "Connie" during Viet Nam, my three brother for their Navy years, Joel for his service in Afghanistan and our other veterans, friends and family who served their country. Thank You.

Laurel. God Bless Our Troops!

Bad Night

Magpie Tales

Mag 170

Ponytail by Last Exit

She dreamed she drowned again
Twisting, writhing in the deep
No one to help her
Nothing to grab hold of
Water so thick it coated her limbs like latex paint
rendering them useless in the onslaught...

Tossing, turning in the loudness of the quiet
Approaching a hole in the abyss
Clasping the last edge before nowhere
As her ponytail was snatched from the fray
Dragging her body behind her
She woke on the downy pile
Her bed mate snoring peacefully beside her.

Laurel. Ambien maybe? 

A little Settings Change...

Is anyone else getting Spammed by bozos who want to sell you something?  They drop into one of my older posts, and leave some Anonymous comment that has nothing to do with my post and then refer me to their website or blog to cure my erectile dysfunction or my paunchy stomach???

Whatever!!!!  I have changed my settings, so approval is required on comments.

I dislike these people intensely!

But here's a nice photo for you...

Laurel.  Just Sayin'....

Senior Ball...

I love it when my granddaughter asks me to take photos of her. This photo shoot was for her Senior Ball, the last formal dance of her high school years. I barely remember my Senior Ball, but I can say for sure that I, nor any of my friends, looked anything like this!!

I used Pic Monkey to edit these photos...I like all the effects you can get and it is infinitely easier to use than my Photoshop.

But when someone is as pretty as this girl, who can miss? Yes, I am a proud Grandma!!!

My daughter (hairdresser) did her up-do and the wonderful red color!!!!

Laurel. And she's a beast on the soccer field...

Totally Random...

My blogging friend Nancy at A rural journal invited us fellow bloggers to participate in her regular Friday link-up where participants share 5 random facts, events, whatever...

So, since I am feeling very "random" about blogging these days, here are 5 things that I have been remiss to share in the past few weeks, assuming you really are interested...

1.) I made this incredible seviche from the Mexican cookbook of Rick Bayless and took it to a Sunday Cinco De Mayo gathering.  Lot's of yummy dishes from a lot of awesome cooks.  I think mine held up pretty well to the scrutiny...

2.) I go to a certain Goodwill outlet (I call it "nasty Goodwill") where junk is just piled into giant bins. Imagine my joy to find this beat-up chandelier in a bin.  It was originally wired with little lights - I ripped its little guts out, bent it back to shape and re-purposed the arms to hold little tea lights...my patio loves Nasty Goodwill.

3) I am basically somewhat demented. My granddaughter posted a cross-eyed picture of herself on my iPhone when I wasn't looking, so I texted her back this photo of me, telling her I crashed my car after seeing her photo on my phone. Oh yeah...Ketchup smells bad when applied to your face.

4) Some days I have no sense of what looks good on me.  Colette told me that this sheer pink jacket wasn't going to work, but I made it anyway. One should be careful with pink, i.e., I think the hubby might like it over a teddy.... was that TMI???

5) I am currently suffering from "Road Trip Deprivation". I need me some of this:

Laurel. Guess I'll go knit, then.

In search of bluebonnets...

I don't really need a scientist, doctor, transcendentalist or psychotherapist to tell me of the virtues of being on the water.  An evening boating on a lake, one of America's great pastimes, is proof enough of the healing, recuperative powers of water.

With Spring in full force and summer around the corner, we were once again drawn to the lake.  There is something magical about floating across the waves, drifting slowly by the green hillsides, still Spring fresh, and taking in the fragrance of the lake air, ripe with California Lupin.

It's Dave's boat, so I guess I have to say that we went out on the gorgeous Sunday afternoon for Pu-Pus and wine, and to see the "bluebonnets". I had seen them earlier this month all along the roadside on the way up to Mom's.  They are luscious and plentiful this year, so I had an inkling that the shores of the lake would be equally decked in the fragrant blue blooms.

We were not disappointed. I tell you, there is nothing better than being on the water with good friends, a nice chardonnay, some BBQ ribs, fresh orzo salad and a host of other treats....floating past the banks, adorned with Dave's Texas bluebonnets.  You had to be there...it's music for your soul.

Laurel. He says bluebonnets, I say Lupin...but who cares?

No Dove on my face, BUT...

Beauty: Noun \ˈbyü-tē\

1) the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit : "loveliness"

I am forever intrigued by the minds of the people in advertising, both the genius and the somewhat warped. Knowing that we are but pawns in the minds of a group of brainiac nerds ramped up on Red Bull who dream up ways to move our feet to  the stores and our pocketbooks to give up their cash.

Despite the momentary intrigue of "how did they ever come up with that", most ads leave us flat. They are fodder for the fast forward button. We are not moved. However, there are moments in the world of marketing ploys and sales gimmicks that grab us by the heartstrings.  It doesn't happen very often because we are so jaded by the general sense of falseness and mistrust that we have come to expect after years of spending money on cleaning products that don't clean, knives that don't cut and lotions that don't magically erase wrinkles.

Like millions of women, I was struck by the latest online video from Dove, that soap with "one quarter moisturizing cream in it". Dove launched a "real beauty" campaign back in 2005 as they found that so few of us women consider ourselves to be "beautiful". The video shows a forensic artist who draws some women without ever seeing them based solely on their own descriptions of themselves.  He then asks another person to describe that same women and he creates a second drawing.


The resulting drawings when compared side by side show how distorted our visions of ourselves have become. Clearly, we don't see ourselves objectively, and certainly not like others see us. One subject even credited her mother's view of her "big" jaw, another spoke of her big forehead, another of her protruding chin. All negative. And why is that, I would ask?

The naysayers of the video believe that we spend far too much time defining ourselves by how we look and bemoan our efforts to constantly "fix" ourselves.  There is a thread of truth in that view - the giant cosmetics industry is proof .  But more to the point, we don't see ourselves realistically, beautiful or not. I admit that the video caused a little twitching in my soul and a tear to my eye, as I realized that like so many women, my vision of myself has been largely impacted by my gawky growing up years. Because I never "felt" pretty on the outside, it took years to undo the negative self talk that had become my habit over the years.

Though the Dove ad may outwardly focus on being "more beautiful than you think", its undercurrent message hits at the heart of the issue.  It's about how we have learned to drill down into our flaws and make them who we are. Like it our not, there are precious few of us women who can see past the crow's feet and age spots to the beautiful women we are. Plain and simply put, our outward beauty comes from within. And ultimately, if more of us saw ourselves as God sees us, we wouldn't worry so much about it anyway.

Laurel. A beautiful mess.

Jewelry for a good cause..

Every once in a while I am asked to donate a piece of my jewelry to support a worthwhile non-profit organization, usually for an event or gala. Though I haven't been making much jewelry lately as I have focused on dressing Colette and knitting, I am happy to do it.

A friend asked that I donate one of my one of a kind necklaces and I just happen to have several worthy contenders.  The event is a fundraiser for the Performing Arts of Roseville to be held on April 24 at Sammie Hagar's restaurant at 238 Vernon St., Roseville, CA 95678. Live music, great food and some silent auction items.  That where I come in. (In fact, if you're in the Sacramento area, you may just want to grab a bite at Sammy's that evening - a portion of your check goes to benefit the performing arts.)

One of these lucky necklaces will be there and hopefully find a new home with an enthusiastic "patron" of the arts!!

1). Fused Glass (yes I made it) with free-form bead work...

2.) Hammered silver wire with turquoise

3.) Stunning bejeweled fob with tiny leaves...

4.) Turquoise and red jasper with one of my twisted wire pendants..

5.) Long necklace with wire wrapped glass, turquoise and jasper...

6.) Turquoise, copper chains and bobbles.

7.) And if they want the big guns ($$$), there's my pearl and shell extravaganza...

So, which one should Lori choose for her event??

Laurel. Support the performing arts!

"Spring has sprung, the grass has riz..."

"...I wonder where the flowers is..."

It's not my favorite time of the year - you all know I'm a "Fall"- but Spring is a close second.  True to the craziness of the weather around the globe, the Valley isn't getting much rain.  While other areas in the East have been digging out of snow piles, we are drying up here like a raisin.

Though they promised rain on Easter Sunday, it was sunny and warm.  Mother Nature dumped a couple of inches of water on us the night before, amid huge claps of thunder and quite a lightening show - just enough rain to wet down the yard and allow for some great mud tracks on the carpet (that's what vacuum cleaners are for:)

Spring is a sign of renewal.  Spring is the color green. It's fresh...and what looked dead actually comes to life again...

Our first rose...

The frost has killed this banana tree every year, but it forges on...

I love to add some Spring touches around the house...

I'm not traditionally a big "Spring Cleaner", but I tried that cream of tarter paste thingie that I saw on Pinterest on my grimy toaster...like all Pinterest hints, some work, some not so much.  I'll give this hint an 8 out of 10.

And of course, with the warmer weather, Colette needed some new fashion...

I love Stone Mountain and Daughters fabrics in Berkeley, CA. I'm headed down there again next week with an old friend to pick up some more knits for summer.

And finally, a poem for you...for Spring.  I wanted to write it myself, but I am fresh out of wit this morning. This classic below, although considered rather "melancholy", actually gave me a little snicker...

Spring

By Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892–1950

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. 

Laurel. Bring ye the flowers, O yard...

"Oh, just shopping for pin cushions.."

I was talking to an old friend last evening on the phone and we hadn't touched base in several months. Our conversation was interrupted several times by the small voice of her sweet little grandson who evidently wanted her undivided attention.  She did the thing that all of us grandmas do..."Say hi to Laurel, honey".  And he does the same thing all kids do when presented with a mandatory courtesy..."Hi Woral!" You try to start a conversation but their attention is fleeting, and they are only on the line long enough to melt your heart. (Cute as a bug, this kid!)

When we resumed our conversation, she asked me what we'd "been up to lately", and I found that I struggled to find something interesting to tell her.  We haven't been on an exciting vacation...we haven't bought a new car...no body's getting married...no new grand kids. It occurred to me that as I ran the litany of recent events over in my mind, I didn't have anything more exciting to relate than working in yard, knitting and sewing, etc. I elected not to mention the three hours I spent sorting beads or my recent TV fixation on Project Runway, Chopped and The Good Wife.

To say that I am beginning to settle into senior living might be an overstatement, but I have to say that to most people, my life is not very exciting. The irony of it is that I have spent most of my adult years pushing through a myriad of activities and work going 100 mph, so I am often surprised how much I love this more relaxed time in my life. I still have to work at slowing down and enjoying the moment - a lifetime of Type A behavior is not easily changed.

Just this past week, I set out early one morning with a list of boring errands in hand, determined to check them off my list - there's that hurry up Type A creeping in. After several hours of buzzing around town, I drove by a little shop on Sutter Street in old Folsom that I have been eyeing for years, but never visited. Kudos to me as I was able to "recalculate", turn the car into a parking area and stroll across the street to this adorable little vintage shop fully loaded to the hilt. The visual feast of pretty lace things, china and home accessories was overwhelming, but strangely calming.

Amid some delicate tea cups on a shelf, I spotted a little pin cushion adorned with several corsage pins. It got me thinking that during my recent flurry of sewing activity I have been totally frustrated with my pin holder (when you get older, your brain starts working in this disjointed way!).  Anyway, my pin holder is magnetic and I've dropped it twice this week, splattering the pins across the carpet - I guess the magnet is tired.

The little cushion in the shop was very cute and very soft, however it was tiny. I have tried other pin holders and cushions and they all have that aspect in common -  they are too small or they are too hard.

For instance, I love this Mary Englebrite cushion, but it's too small.

And forget these old fashion tomato cushions...Just goes to show ya, they just don't make 'em like they use to.  These newer cushions are hard as a rock - you need a hammer to push a pin into them and they slide all over your table as you try to manhandle the pins into them.

As I wandered around the shop, suddenly focused on pin cushions (again, that senior brain is easily distracted) I spotted this small pink pillow in the baby area. I looked at the tag and it was originally from Nordstrom, so I rather doubt that it was technically vintage.  But it was "weighty", meaning it I would not have to hold it in place every time I stuck a pin it it.  It was soft, yet firm enough to hold my pins.  And, I reasoned, it would look so cute beside my sewing machine!

So the next time I chat on the phone with an old friend, I'm wondering how impressed she'd be if I told her I found the most adorable pin cushion? Probably not too much. But It made my day!!

Laurel.  It's all about the little things in life.