Tuesday, July 31, 2012
new artwork, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
It's all part of the plan
It's been nearly a year since the last blog post?! So much I could tell you about, but I choose my most favorite: growth in my small business, and in my faith.
In 2007, we left Mississippi and moved to Mobile's Eastern Shore--an art mecca, which I'd never realized before. When we bought our house, it was from a sweet elderly lady, whom we immediately bonded with. She was in her seventies or eighties, but was as sharp as someone decades her junior. She was selling her home and making plans to move to Tennessee with her son and his family. Telling me she wouldn't need it, she offered to leave the dining room table and chairs, and its matching china hutch. It was one of those tables with a finish you couldn't hurt if you tried! It was not my taste in the least, but it was being gifted, and it filled up a room that would otherwise be empty. So, I graciously accepted, but really just to be polite. For three years, that table sat there, mostly unused.
Fast forward to tonight, five years later. I've turned that rarely-occupied dining room into an art studio. Late 2010, I began painting again and in 2011 made everything official, opening my own business selling my artwork. I am amazed at how it's taken off, but even more so at how little things lined up in my favor. That table you couldn't hurt? It's my paint-smattered work station. That hutch? It's full of small paintings which I've arranged to look like a little gift shop. The walls hold a dozen or more large paintings. The lady also left a four-drawer file cabinet (another thing I was so sure I wouldn't use) which holds all my files and shipping supplies.
All those things I was so quick to dismiss quietly became invaluable pieces to my puzzle. It took me forty one years, but here I sit, exactly where I'm meant to be. I'm finally doing what I was created to do. All these things were lined up for me even before I knew I'd need them. God's plan in action. He provides everything in its perfect time.
So, it's with a heart of gratitude that I share this story with you. Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose." Thank you, Jesus. Just thank you for all of it.
What's tugging at your heart to do, to become?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Manci's
Well, friends....my daughters and I finally went to Manci's in Daphne for lunch. I've always heard their food was good, so today was the day to find out for myself.
We had the sweetest waitress who was on top of her game. She was very kind to the girls and even complimented them on their manners. She told me she would take them anytime over some of the children she'd waited on before.
After our meal, Liv took Marilyn to the ladies room. When she came back, Liv smiled and whispered, "There was a statue of a naked man in there. All he had was a fig leaf. Marilyn kept asking me what it was." I smiled and told her the joke about the nun in the ladies room that lifted the fig leaf to take a quick peek...and when she came out of the bathroom, the whole place cheered. (When she looked under the fig leaf, the lights blinked, letting the whole place know what she'd done.)
Next, Ava and I went in and luckily Ava wasn't as interested as Marilyn. I was so temped to look, but too chicken about what the consequences might be. On my way out, I admitted to our waitress I was so tempted to lift the fig, but chickened out. She giggled, and send me right back in there: "Oh, honey, you can't come to Manci's and not take a peek...go ahead!" With Ava hot on my heels back in the bathroom, I bit my lip and slowly started to lift the fig leaf. I bet I didn't get it lifted a centimeter when the LOUDEST ALARM(slash)SHIP WHISTLE(slash)FIRE STATION BELL screamed out filling the bathroom AND entire restaurant!!! I hollered and laughed...then had to face all the people still left in the restaurant. Of course, they were all staring and smiling -- obviously they'd peeked at least once, too. Our waitress said smiling, "It rings outside the building, too." It scared Liv, Marilyn and Ava...then I had some explaining to do once we made it back to the car.
So, if y'all ever go to Manci's, and you've got the guts, LIFT THE LEAF!
--dpg
We had the sweetest waitress who was on top of her game. She was very kind to the girls and even complimented them on their manners. She told me she would take them anytime over some of the children she'd waited on before.
After our meal, Liv took Marilyn to the ladies room. When she came back, Liv smiled and whispered, "There was a statue of a naked man in there. All he had was a fig leaf. Marilyn kept asking me what it was." I smiled and told her the joke about the nun in the ladies room that lifted the fig leaf to take a quick peek...and when she came out of the bathroom, the whole place cheered. (When she looked under the fig leaf, the lights blinked, letting the whole place know what she'd done.)
Next, Ava and I went in and luckily Ava wasn't as interested as Marilyn. I was so temped to look, but too chicken about what the consequences might be. On my way out, I admitted to our waitress I was so tempted to lift the fig, but chickened out. She giggled, and send me right back in there: "Oh, honey, you can't come to Manci's and not take a peek...go ahead!" With Ava hot on my heels back in the bathroom, I bit my lip and slowly started to lift the fig leaf. I bet I didn't get it lifted a centimeter when the LOUDEST ALARM(slash)SHIP WHISTLE(slash)FIRE STATION BELL screamed out filling the bathroom AND entire restaurant!!! I hollered and laughed...then had to face all the people still left in the restaurant. Of course, they were all staring and smiling -- obviously they'd peeked at least once, too. Our waitress said smiling, "It rings outside the building, too." It scared Liv, Marilyn and Ava...then I had some explaining to do once we made it back to the car.
So, if y'all ever go to Manci's, and you've got the guts, LIFT THE LEAF!
--dpg
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Got Kids?
My inspiration comes from my sweet, carefree, friend, Joy H. I love to read her Facebook posts and her blog, "Confessions of a Southern Socialite". She tells of the parties she attends, and of the places she travels. Her hair always looks great in the photo evidence of said events and she's always smiling. I can't say for sure what kind of vehicle Joy drives, but I have a hunch it's not a mini van. How does she do it all, while remaining perfectly coiffed and accessorized, you ask? Joy does not live with children.
I will wager whatever coins are in the console of the van that her week didn't include the following:
* A stuffed cat, hog-tied with the extra seat belt that hangs from the van ceiling, dangling up high over the back seats and in plain view of all surrounding vehicles.
* A rotten, half-eaten apple tossed into a TJMaxx bag that hung on a bedroom door knob for a couple of weeks...on top of two items that WERE to be returned to the store, but instead went straight into the trash.
* A Mario Brothers doll in the freezer.
* Grease on her leather couch.
So, my sweet social butterfly...you enjoy those homemade tacos, rice, popcorn and movie without interruptions. You enjoy not vacuuming up tacos, rice, and popcorn. We'll be here in the trenches...secretly waiting for your call & offer to babysit. Or raise them. We're not choosey. ; )
~dpg
I will wager whatever coins are in the console of the van that her week didn't include the following:
* A stuffed cat, hog-tied with the extra seat belt that hangs from the van ceiling, dangling up high over the back seats and in plain view of all surrounding vehicles.
* A rotten, half-eaten apple tossed into a TJMaxx bag that hung on a bedroom door knob for a couple of weeks...on top of two items that WERE to be returned to the store, but instead went straight into the trash.
* A Mario Brothers doll in the freezer.
* Grease on her leather couch.
So, my sweet social butterfly...you enjoy those homemade tacos, rice, popcorn and movie without interruptions. You enjoy not vacuuming up tacos, rice, and popcorn. We'll be here in the trenches...secretly waiting for your call & offer to babysit. Or raise them. We're not choosey. ; )
~dpg
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Walk of Shame...
While she was away on vacay, my oldest offspring calls me from another phone to let me know her cell phone is not working. Days pass and she is without her life line! She starts to get a little antsy about how much longer it will be until we can have it checked out.
She said, "I've tried turning it off and on again, but after a few minutes, it freezes up then the screen goes black." She assures me that it's fully charged, too.
So, finally I went to the phone store. Wheeled right up to the front door. What luck! We're the only customers and we are helped right away! Phone Guy takes a look at it. He pops out the battery, the SIM card, all that jazz. Phone Guy hands it to Offspring so she can type in her passcode and unlock the phone. After typing in 20-30 digits, Offspring hands it back to Phone Guy. "It's a cell phone, not Fort Knox," I whisper to Offspring. Aha! Phone Guy has found the problem! Already?? Wow.
"Ma'am," he says with a straight face. "It's not charged."
The look I bored into Offspring said it all.
I thanked Phone Guy sheepishly, gathered the rest of my chicks and took that long walk of shame from the counter to the door. The salt in the wound? That I was piling back into my soccer-mom minivan. The only thing that could have shamed me more was wearing one of those plastic cones a dog gets from the vet.
--dpg
She said, "I've tried turning it off and on again, but after a few minutes, it freezes up then the screen goes black." She assures me that it's fully charged, too.
So, finally I went to the phone store. Wheeled right up to the front door. What luck! We're the only customers and we are helped right away! Phone Guy takes a look at it. He pops out the battery, the SIM card, all that jazz. Phone Guy hands it to Offspring so she can type in her passcode and unlock the phone. After typing in 20-30 digits, Offspring hands it back to Phone Guy. "It's a cell phone, not Fort Knox," I whisper to Offspring. Aha! Phone Guy has found the problem! Already?? Wow.
"Ma'am," he says with a straight face. "It's not charged."
The look I bored into Offspring said it all.
I thanked Phone Guy sheepishly, gathered the rest of my chicks and took that long walk of shame from the counter to the door. The salt in the wound? That I was piling back into my soccer-mom minivan. The only thing that could have shamed me more was wearing one of those plastic cones a dog gets from the vet.
--dpg
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
You Found What Where?!
I hope I'm not alone in this ritual of escapism I've developed. The one where I sit here zoned out in front of this computer when I should be cleaning, organizing, and just being a productive member of society. Gah, it makes me tired just typing all those verbs.
I used to be so energetic! My house was relatively cleaned on a routine basis, I used to cook big country suppers every night, laundry never got taller than my knees, and I even exercised. What happened??! That once-perfect apartment I kept so chic and smelling good with candles burning? History. I know now that having a small space can be a blessing! This house is three times bigger than that apartment and I've acquired three times the headache keeping it ....no, I'm not even going to type "clean" because that's just not how it is. I remember being soooo excited when I finally got that extra-deep stainless steel kitchen sink! Reality check: that just means you can pile even more dirty dishes up before you're guilted into loading them into the AUTOMATIC DISHWASHER! File that little tip away under 'LAZY'.
Let's talk about my other nemesis: laundry. Where the hell to I even start with this one? God love my best friend, because she is the only one outside this house that knows first-hand that my hallway IS my laundry basket. She never judges. Still, it's easier to keep up with the Kardashians than to keep up with our laundry, and here's why. It's July...summer vacation and hot as hades, yet in the hamper I find a winter coat and long school uniform pants. I'm not done. I also find a pair of scissors, two stuffed animals, a doll head, a kitchen fork, a Pull-Up, and the lid to a cardboard box. If I'm lying, I'm dying. The two youngest "cleaned" their room, and now I see how they made so much progress. I could go on about this subject but you don't have the time and I don't have the energy.
Alright, so if eeeeeverything worth having is piled up in the hallway dirty, what in the world did the girls wear to town today? Let me simply say nothing matched and I didn't care. It was clean and covering all necessary parts. I used to see Those Moms before and think, "Ugh...I'm gonna dress my kids sooo cute all the time."
Pffft. You'll wear whatever you have that's this side of being arrested and doesn't need ironing. Frosty spilled down the front of your white shirt? Aw, nobody will even notice. You say your wearing two different flip flops? That's great! We only have to go to the bank, grocery, and Lowe's. **insert sarcastic face here**
I do love being a parent, but there are days when I just have to put the brakes on.
I just wish there could be a better balance the majority of the time. Putting things back where they found them might help offset those times when I find they've honest-to-goodness wrapped the dog in an entire spool of tulle in the backyard, and one end is tethered to the swing. If you think I'm making up any bit of this, I invite you to come spend the day with us. I dare you.
~DPG
I used to be so energetic! My house was relatively cleaned on a routine basis, I used to cook big country suppers every night, laundry never got taller than my knees, and I even exercised. What happened??! That once-perfect apartment I kept so chic and smelling good with candles burning? History. I know now that having a small space can be a blessing! This house is three times bigger than that apartment and I've acquired three times the headache keeping it ....no, I'm not even going to type "clean" because that's just not how it is. I remember being soooo excited when I finally got that extra-deep stainless steel kitchen sink! Reality check: that just means you can pile even more dirty dishes up before you're guilted into loading them into the AUTOMATIC DISHWASHER! File that little tip away under 'LAZY'.
Let's talk about my other nemesis: laundry. Where the hell to I even start with this one? God love my best friend, because she is the only one outside this house that knows first-hand that my hallway IS my laundry basket. She never judges. Still, it's easier to keep up with the Kardashians than to keep up with our laundry, and here's why. It's July...summer vacation and hot as hades, yet in the hamper I find a winter coat and long school uniform pants. I'm not done. I also find a pair of scissors, two stuffed animals, a doll head, a kitchen fork, a Pull-Up, and the lid to a cardboard box. If I'm lying, I'm dying. The two youngest "cleaned" their room, and now I see how they made so much progress. I could go on about this subject but you don't have the time and I don't have the energy.
Alright, so if eeeeeverything worth having is piled up in the hallway dirty, what in the world did the girls wear to town today? Let me simply say nothing matched and I didn't care. It was clean and covering all necessary parts. I used to see Those Moms before and think, "Ugh...I'm gonna dress my kids sooo cute all the time."
Pffft. You'll wear whatever you have that's this side of being arrested and doesn't need ironing. Frosty spilled down the front of your white shirt? Aw, nobody will even notice. You say your wearing two different flip flops? That's great! We only have to go to the bank, grocery, and Lowe's. **insert sarcastic face here**
I do love being a parent, but there are days when I just have to put the brakes on.
I just wish there could be a better balance the majority of the time. Putting things back where they found them might help offset those times when I find they've honest-to-goodness wrapped the dog in an entire spool of tulle in the backyard, and one end is tethered to the swing. If you think I'm making up any bit of this, I invite you to come spend the day with us. I dare you.
~DPG
Friday, April 29, 2011
Pointers from a fed-up Mom...
So that I don't loose what's left of my mind, I'm about to brainstorm here on my "blawg". Here, I'll make a few suggestions - off the top of my head, of course. Nothing pre-meditated here.
10) From now on, glasses will not be used at the dinner table. The kids can either sip the milk straight from the table surface or suck it straight out of paper towels.
9) Two cups of acorns, a palmful of pepples or 15 cents in pennies shall be added to all loads of laundry, thus making a wet, exploded Pull-Up inside the washing machine seem like a walk in the park.
8) A 50-ft water hose will be run straight from the back patio through the den, kitchen and hallway straight into the guest lavatory for all baths and/or showers. This way, gallons of water in the floor won't be a surprise.
7) 25 will be the new default volume on all televisions and radios. This will serve as Deafening Noise Bootcamp. Afterward, Parents can boastfully attest that the screams, yelps, and blood-curdling tattling will not even register.
6) All meals will sauce, melted cheese, and/or sticky glazes shall be consumed in the family minivan. Wet Wipes available on request.
5) Should said minivan be at the detail shop for 10 consecutive days for cleaning overhaul,
slippery meals such as noodles, rice, etc. will be served on slippery melamine plates. Children will be encouraged to fix their own plate. Bonus points for tipping the plate as they walk to the table.
4) Sanford & Son reruns shall play on a continual loop, therefore mapping out a specific plan for how much more crap will be required for littering the front lawn. Bonus points for out of season clothig items. (i.e. wool winter coats in the summer; half of a bikini in the winter.)
3) Large, classy objects d'arte shall be replaced throughout family home with small, sharp knick-knacks and bric-a-brac. Think "Jacks" and "safety pins". Extra point if found in hallway carpet...in the dark.
2) Dry, in-tact rolls of toilet paper shall be off limits. All toilet paper must meet these requirements: *on the floor; *shredded; *damp, preferably from bath water, and so on.
1) Forego any stops at the 181 Shell station's "Beer Cave". Buy in bulk from Sam's.
DPG
10) From now on, glasses will not be used at the dinner table. The kids can either sip the milk straight from the table surface or suck it straight out of paper towels.
9) Two cups of acorns, a palmful of pepples or 15 cents in pennies shall be added to all loads of laundry, thus making a wet, exploded Pull-Up inside the washing machine seem like a walk in the park.
8) A 50-ft water hose will be run straight from the back patio through the den, kitchen and hallway straight into the guest lavatory for all baths and/or showers. This way, gallons of water in the floor won't be a surprise.
7) 25 will be the new default volume on all televisions and radios. This will serve as Deafening Noise Bootcamp. Afterward, Parents can boastfully attest that the screams, yelps, and blood-curdling tattling will not even register.
6) All meals will sauce, melted cheese, and/or sticky glazes shall be consumed in the family minivan. Wet Wipes available on request.
5) Should said minivan be at the detail shop for 10 consecutive days for cleaning overhaul,
slippery meals such as noodles, rice, etc. will be served on slippery melamine plates. Children will be encouraged to fix their own plate. Bonus points for tipping the plate as they walk to the table.
4) Sanford & Son reruns shall play on a continual loop, therefore mapping out a specific plan for how much more crap will be required for littering the front lawn. Bonus points for out of season clothig items. (i.e. wool winter coats in the summer; half of a bikini in the winter.)
3) Large, classy objects d'arte shall be replaced throughout family home with small, sharp knick-knacks and bric-a-brac. Think "Jacks" and "safety pins". Extra point if found in hallway carpet...in the dark.
2) Dry, in-tact rolls of toilet paper shall be off limits. All toilet paper must meet these requirements: *on the floor; *shredded; *damp, preferably from bath water, and so on.
1) Forego any stops at the 181 Shell station's "Beer Cave". Buy in bulk from Sam's.
DPG
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Cycle of Good
I'm a firm believer that anything good you do always makes it's way back to you. As a Christian, I live by faith...faith that God loves me more than I can even fathom and that He will always meet my needs as the arise.
Just recently, I was reminded of the story of God's people searching for their promise land. As they were in the wilderness, they were taken care of but not all at once. There was no "stockpile" of blessings. The Bible says it rained manna from heaven, but only enough to take care of them until next time. That kept their eyes on God and their faith strong. If they'd had enough to gather and save, they might have rested on their prayer laurels a bit and thought themselves sufficient, inadvertantly putting God on the back burner so to speak.
In my life and with what I'm doing in the current chapter, I'm trying to be sensitive to the whispers of they Holy Spirit. I guard myself from doing what I think is best and remember to just let God choose for me. That's as good as going directly to the front of the line.
I've had some really good breaks lately and a few doors have opened. I'm so excited and I know that it's all from above--modern day manna. Thanks to my friends and family for their supporting roles and thanks to my Heavenly Father for lining up all the events and players. My heart is full and it gives me the desire to share these good feelings and keep the cycle moving.
DPG
Just recently, I was reminded of the story of God's people searching for their promise land. As they were in the wilderness, they were taken care of but not all at once. There was no "stockpile" of blessings. The Bible says it rained manna from heaven, but only enough to take care of them until next time. That kept their eyes on God and their faith strong. If they'd had enough to gather and save, they might have rested on their prayer laurels a bit and thought themselves sufficient, inadvertantly putting God on the back burner so to speak.
In my life and with what I'm doing in the current chapter, I'm trying to be sensitive to the whispers of they Holy Spirit. I guard myself from doing what I think is best and remember to just let God choose for me. That's as good as going directly to the front of the line.
I've had some really good breaks lately and a few doors have opened. I'm so excited and I know that it's all from above--modern day manna. Thanks to my friends and family for their supporting roles and thanks to my Heavenly Father for lining up all the events and players. My heart is full and it gives me the desire to share these good feelings and keep the cycle moving.
DPG
Monday, March 28, 2011
Profiled at "the Walgreens"
I couldn't decide which emotion to feel just now leaving Walgreens: humor or insecurity?
You know those machines at the checkout register that spit out (more like vomit) those coupons? One day it cranked out SIX coupons, with a line of impatient people behind me. The cashier kind of guilts you into waiting around for them, and I really like to do my part to keep peer pressure alive, so I stood right there like a doofus until it was done. With the exception of an occasional "$1.00 OFF" they are never for the products that I actually use. For example, you buy milk and get a coupon for bunyun pads. I've often wondered why they are so random and polar.
And then there was today's trip: vitamins. Lots and lots of vitamins. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I used my time to research vitamins for this and that. I have self-diagnosed a biotin deficiency (thank you, internet.) I found a great hair, nail and skin formula and since they had lots of others on BOGO sale, I stocked up on iron tablets. I guess that was the OLD LADY vitamin-combo jackpot, because that stupid machine gave me three coupons, none of which were for vitamins.
I got one for HAIR COLOR -- because Coupon Machine Programmer assumes if I'm on a supplement binge I'm getting gray, too? One for ADULT DIAPERS -- because if I'm graying, surely I must be "lauging and leaking"? And finally, one for CAT TREATS -- because if I'm gray and wetting myself, certainly I live with a house full of cats??
I really need to write a letter of complaint, but one of those three is correct. :P
DPG
You know those machines at the checkout register that spit out (more like vomit) those coupons? One day it cranked out SIX coupons, with a line of impatient people behind me. The cashier kind of guilts you into waiting around for them, and I really like to do my part to keep peer pressure alive, so I stood right there like a doofus until it was done. With the exception of an occasional "$1.00 OFF" they are never for the products that I actually use. For example, you buy milk and get a coupon for bunyun pads. I've often wondered why they are so random and polar.
And then there was today's trip: vitamins. Lots and lots of vitamins. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I used my time to research vitamins for this and that. I have self-diagnosed a biotin deficiency (thank you, internet.) I found a great hair, nail and skin formula and since they had lots of others on BOGO sale, I stocked up on iron tablets. I guess that was the OLD LADY vitamin-combo jackpot, because that stupid machine gave me three coupons, none of which were for vitamins.
I got one for HAIR COLOR -- because Coupon Machine Programmer assumes if I'm on a supplement binge I'm getting gray, too? One for ADULT DIAPERS -- because if I'm graying, surely I must be "lauging and leaking"? And finally, one for CAT TREATS -- because if I'm gray and wetting myself, certainly I live with a house full of cats??
I really need to write a letter of complaint, but one of those three is correct. :P
DPG
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Little Ladies vs. Jail Bait
When I became a mom, gone were the days of acting on impulse and impromptu shopping trips. Now, even for a trip to the grocery store, I've got to dress three people. Thank goodness because it used to be four with Liv. Sometimes I think it's not worth the hassle and consider ordering everything online from deoderant to bread.
Today, after (once again) not being able to find anything I was looking for that the girls could wear to town and NOT embarrass me, I vowed to buy them both enough nice outfits to last a week without doing laundry. I was ready to melt that bank card if it came down to it. As is always the case, you either have the means but can't find a thing, or you see endless possibilities and have a very limited pocketbook.
I dragged the girls through JCPenney, Kohls, Belk, Dillards, and finally Old Navy.
I should have returned home with a steamer trunk full of precious things for them, but never have I been so disappointed. Who is in charge of buying for these stores?!
I expect to see tacky crap at Walmart, but the department stores? I had my heart set on some adorable seersucker capri sets. Inventor of Seersucker, oh how I put you on a pedistal! You rescue me from that menial task of ironing, and let me fish things out of the dryer and sling them directly on my kids! Where was your genius today?
All my eyes could see store after store were these tacky, cheap, short, jail-bait looking clothes...for preschoolers! Just take a stroll through the little girls department next time you're out. Everything has glitter. No. Everything has something metallic plastered across the front. NO! Who is designing this stuff? They obviously don't have female offspring--can't have. Did anybody do market research for this customer base? "Hello, ma'am...tell me, what are you looking for when you dress your toddler?" (insert Walmart dialect here) "Waell, I like those slip on tattoo sleeves (BTW, I actually saw these in Walmart!) lots of black, metallic, attached chains, and some lace to make it fru-fru like that Hanner Montaner."
Today, I almost took a picture of a t-shirt that said "I ♥ WOLVES". Huh?? Other t-shirts I saw that will never be seen on my daughters: "Juicy", "Naughty but mostly nice", "I'm Purrrr-fect", "Rock It", something about "I've got happiness growing in my garden", and other suggestive slogans. Seriously? That's so stupid. I'm knocking myself out trying to raise little ladies and everything out there is trying to mold them into potential jail bait. I never wore shorts that looked like panties, and my daughters won't either. A three year old doesn't need to work a mini skirt, either.
I did find a couple of really cute things at Belk today, but since it was an early stop on my list, I scoffed at paying the still-high sale price. I guess the laugh is on me because it was the classiest thing I saw all day.
So, I guess I could have taken the easy route and come back with a few bare-back ensembles, but I passed. No new spring attire, however, my solace is rooted in the hope that they will never have a mugshot.
DPG
Today, after (once again) not being able to find anything I was looking for that the girls could wear to town and NOT embarrass me, I vowed to buy them both enough nice outfits to last a week without doing laundry. I was ready to melt that bank card if it came down to it. As is always the case, you either have the means but can't find a thing, or you see endless possibilities and have a very limited pocketbook.
I dragged the girls through JCPenney, Kohls, Belk, Dillards, and finally Old Navy.
I should have returned home with a steamer trunk full of precious things for them, but never have I been so disappointed. Who is in charge of buying for these stores?!
I expect to see tacky crap at Walmart, but the department stores? I had my heart set on some adorable seersucker capri sets. Inventor of Seersucker, oh how I put you on a pedistal! You rescue me from that menial task of ironing, and let me fish things out of the dryer and sling them directly on my kids! Where was your genius today?
All my eyes could see store after store were these tacky, cheap, short, jail-bait looking clothes...for preschoolers! Just take a stroll through the little girls department next time you're out. Everything has glitter. No. Everything has something metallic plastered across the front. NO! Who is designing this stuff? They obviously don't have female offspring--can't have. Did anybody do market research for this customer base? "Hello, ma'am...tell me, what are you looking for when you dress your toddler?" (insert Walmart dialect here) "Waell, I like those slip on tattoo sleeves (BTW, I actually saw these in Walmart!) lots of black, metallic, attached chains, and some lace to make it fru-fru like that Hanner Montaner."
Today, I almost took a picture of a t-shirt that said "I ♥ WOLVES". Huh?? Other t-shirts I saw that will never be seen on my daughters: "Juicy", "Naughty but mostly nice", "I'm Purrrr-fect", "Rock It", something about "I've got happiness growing in my garden", and other suggestive slogans. Seriously? That's so stupid. I'm knocking myself out trying to raise little ladies and everything out there is trying to mold them into potential jail bait. I never wore shorts that looked like panties, and my daughters won't either. A three year old doesn't need to work a mini skirt, either.
I did find a couple of really cute things at Belk today, but since it was an early stop on my list, I scoffed at paying the still-high sale price. I guess the laugh is on me because it was the classiest thing I saw all day.
So, I guess I could have taken the easy route and come back with a few bare-back ensembles, but I passed. No new spring attire, however, my solace is rooted in the hope that they will never have a mugshot.
DPG
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Don't Bury Your Talent
I've knowN since the third grade that I've had an artistic talent. It was then that my teacher suggested to my parents that I be given art lessons. Never happened. I didn't get an opportunity again for classroom artwork until my first year of college.
Off and on, I've burried and used that talent, never being consistant with either.
Recently, I've decided to change that for the good. (Makes it sound like a superpower when I say it like that, huh?)
After nearly six months of sewing up a storm, my sad little Singer has been pushed to the the back corner, literally. In it's place, an array of paints, brushes, canvases, charcoal vines, and of course my trusty easel. Finally, everything has a place and stays scattered just like a real studio should look. For once, a disheveled room in my house that's supposed to look that way.
My office and studio space sits behind two silky burnt-orange panels of fabric that hang across the wide opening of an 'intended' dining room. (A waste for the All-American family we are, eating every dinner parked in front of the TV.) The curtains give me privacy when I work and provide a hiding place from my organized chaos. Recently, I treated myself to a small CD stereo with a REMOTE! Perfect for the girl who can change her musical mood on a dime. I've tried FM radio - too many commercials. I've tried CD compilations that I've burned, but none compares to my old standby: Rod Stewart. The Great American Songbook album is so....je ne sais quoi. It's smooth, romantic, playful, raspy. I love it; Jason says he just keeps waiting for Rod to clear his throat. :/ Whatever. I just seem to get lost in the melodies and can paint effortlessly to it.
"Painting effortlessly" is not something that I do of my own accord. I must give credit where it is due, and that is to my Heavenly Father. This talent that comes through my hands is from God and I recognize that. It fulfills me like no other task I attempt and it pours so much joy into my life. It feels so good to create works full of vivid color and movement seen in the brush lines. When I finish a painting, I have usually formed an attachment to it. Crazy as that sounds, it's so true. It's something that I've grown to love as I've poured over it, making it 'just right'. If I don't love it, it's not ready to go. Selling my first few paintings recently was bittersweet - I loved them so, I didn't want them to leave. However, knowing that someone else connected with what they saw made my heart full. Another person found something they wanted to treasure. You cannot ask for a better reward.
I do paint from my heart, about things that I love, and things that inspire. If you know me at all, you're already aware of the stories behind certain symbols in my work. Besides bright colors, I've always been drawn to curvy lines and scrolls; can't really explain that one. Pineapples have been something I've collected for nearly twenty years. On a trip to Jamaica, I bought my very first pineapple carved from wood from a young boy on the beach. I have a countless collection of them now: glass, wood, copper, enamel. They symbolize hospitality and what self-respecting Southern girl can deny that? Fleur de lis always remind me of my sister, Susan. That seems to be her thing and she has her own collection scattered throughout her home in Starkville, MS. The peacock feathers will always represent my Memaw. No, she was not a peacock, nor did she collect peacocks. :p She did, however, have a huge clay vase in her hallway chock FULL of shimmery peacock feathers. If you were to ask the kid in me, "she had a million". Every visit I made to her house (and there were many) I'd ask (more like plead) for just o n e feather. I was shot down every time, too. Now that I've got kids, I know why she said no. If I got one, we all had to get one. She wasn't about to dole out a fist full of feathers to rowdy kids who would likely be 'over it' in mere minutes. Plus, I'm kind of "partik'lar" about my stuff. When I get something arranged, don't touch it. Kapish? The sweet ending to that story, though, is that on my 23rd birthday, she gave me her present (don't even remember what was inside) and taped to the top of that box was...a single peacock feather. When she died, I don't know what happened to those feathers, but what I wouldn't give for them today.
So, the next time you look through my paintings, please know that I'm not just painting to be painting. It's coming from my heart - memories, love - and hopefully finding it's way right into yours.
What talent are you sharing with others?
DPG
Off and on, I've burried and used that talent, never being consistant with either.
Recently, I've decided to change that for the good. (Makes it sound like a superpower when I say it like that, huh?)
After nearly six months of sewing up a storm, my sad little Singer has been pushed to the the back corner, literally. In it's place, an array of paints, brushes, canvases, charcoal vines, and of course my trusty easel. Finally, everything has a place and stays scattered just like a real studio should look. For once, a disheveled room in my house that's supposed to look that way.
My office and studio space sits behind two silky burnt-orange panels of fabric that hang across the wide opening of an 'intended' dining room. (A waste for the All-American family we are, eating every dinner parked in front of the TV.) The curtains give me privacy when I work and provide a hiding place from my organized chaos. Recently, I treated myself to a small CD stereo with a REMOTE! Perfect for the girl who can change her musical mood on a dime. I've tried FM radio - too many commercials. I've tried CD compilations that I've burned, but none compares to my old standby: Rod Stewart. The Great American Songbook album is so....je ne sais quoi. It's smooth, romantic, playful, raspy. I love it; Jason says he just keeps waiting for Rod to clear his throat. :/ Whatever. I just seem to get lost in the melodies and can paint effortlessly to it.
"Painting effortlessly" is not something that I do of my own accord. I must give credit where it is due, and that is to my Heavenly Father. This talent that comes through my hands is from God and I recognize that. It fulfills me like no other task I attempt and it pours so much joy into my life. It feels so good to create works full of vivid color and movement seen in the brush lines. When I finish a painting, I have usually formed an attachment to it. Crazy as that sounds, it's so true. It's something that I've grown to love as I've poured over it, making it 'just right'. If I don't love it, it's not ready to go. Selling my first few paintings recently was bittersweet - I loved them so, I didn't want them to leave. However, knowing that someone else connected with what they saw made my heart full. Another person found something they wanted to treasure. You cannot ask for a better reward.
I do paint from my heart, about things that I love, and things that inspire. If you know me at all, you're already aware of the stories behind certain symbols in my work. Besides bright colors, I've always been drawn to curvy lines and scrolls; can't really explain that one. Pineapples have been something I've collected for nearly twenty years. On a trip to Jamaica, I bought my very first pineapple carved from wood from a young boy on the beach. I have a countless collection of them now: glass, wood, copper, enamel. They symbolize hospitality and what self-respecting Southern girl can deny that? Fleur de lis always remind me of my sister, Susan. That seems to be her thing and she has her own collection scattered throughout her home in Starkville, MS. The peacock feathers will always represent my Memaw. No, she was not a peacock, nor did she collect peacocks. :p She did, however, have a huge clay vase in her hallway chock FULL of shimmery peacock feathers. If you were to ask the kid in me, "she had a million". Every visit I made to her house (and there were many) I'd ask (more like plead) for just o n e feather. I was shot down every time, too. Now that I've got kids, I know why she said no. If I got one, we all had to get one. She wasn't about to dole out a fist full of feathers to rowdy kids who would likely be 'over it' in mere minutes. Plus, I'm kind of "partik'lar" about my stuff. When I get something arranged, don't touch it. Kapish? The sweet ending to that story, though, is that on my 23rd birthday, she gave me her present (don't even remember what was inside) and taped to the top of that box was...a single peacock feather. When she died, I don't know what happened to those feathers, but what I wouldn't give for them today.
So, the next time you look through my paintings, please know that I'm not just painting to be painting. It's coming from my heart - memories, love - and hopefully finding it's way right into yours.
What talent are you sharing with others?
DPG
Monday, March 14, 2011
Navy SEAL Girl Scouts
**WARNING -- THIS POST CONTAINS A BAD ATTITUDE. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED**
I'm not necessarily in a bad mood or anything, but I have got to air a gripe. When the crap did Girl Scouts of America get so dang bold and annoying? They just don't quit and they are everywhere you don't want them to be! Now, before anybody out there gets up on their high horse, I need to tell you that as a former GS (and Brownie, thank you very much) I feel I have the right to speak on this subject.
It had to be the late seventies or early eighties when I was in the GS mix and sold those saaame cookies. Although back then, you didn't have to take out a small line of credit to order several boxes. I barely remember selling them door-to-door, but can tell you with much assurance, these timid brown eyes DID take no for an answer. There was no "push"...no "pressure". You knoked, got an order(or not)then schlepped along to the next house. That's not the case of the GS of today, at least not in Baldwin Co. They are everywhere, like a little army. Complete with Sniper Girl Scouts. Those are the ones that are NOT dressed in any sort of uniform identifying themselves. They're the ones that catch you off guard with their drill-sergeant voices booming in your face, but all giggly in the same breath: "Wanna buy some cookies?" Where is your mom/leader anyway? Oh, wait, I see her...holding up that terrible homemade sign on the side of a busy state highway outside the Lowe's.
Tell her that her arm flailing and jumping doesn't win me over. It only makes me take the long way around.
So, there they were crawling all over at Lowe's, but I escaped. I went about running my errands and I was getting pretty tired, but I still had another stop to make: Sam's Club. I despise having to shop there because it takes forever and a day to check out. Whomever I meet after that may as well consider themselves behind the proverbial eight ball. You know what I'm gonna say, too. Thankfully, their table was only at one of the three entrances and I was not about to be captured by their little army. I'd even let an elderly civilian lady face the brunt of the mob when we both happened to walk in at the same time. Oh, well...she should have worn her good compression socks and walked a little faster like me. On the way out, Sniper GS cornered me: "Would you like to buy some of our cookies? This is the last weekend." "Hell no, I don't want any cookies...didn't you just see me come out of Sam's where I can buy 1,000 for $10?" *eyeroll* Okay, I didn't really say that last part, but I sure wanted to.
Just seeing them everywhere I went that day was grating on my nerves, and I don't really have a particular reason. No, wait, I do. It just irks me that these little girls are so aggressive and have an in-your-face sales approach. Do they really go to boot camp? Whatever. I was tired and I since I hadn't had one in a while, a beer sounded good. It was dusk now, as I pulled across the way to the Shell station.
"Shit! Girl Scouts!" I kid you not, there was a minivan backed up to the front door, truck door flung up to heaven and they were still hawking cookies!! "Ma'am, do you want to buy some GS cookies?" "Nope", I answered without flinching and sashayed right on into The Beer Cave to get what I (now so desperately) needed.
Plus, cookies and beer doesn't have the same ring to it anyway. Pbbttt. It's out of my system now, at least until next spring.
DPG
I'm not necessarily in a bad mood or anything, but I have got to air a gripe. When the crap did Girl Scouts of America get so dang bold and annoying? They just don't quit and they are everywhere you don't want them to be! Now, before anybody out there gets up on their high horse, I need to tell you that as a former GS (and Brownie, thank you very much) I feel I have the right to speak on this subject.
It had to be the late seventies or early eighties when I was in the GS mix and sold those saaame cookies. Although back then, you didn't have to take out a small line of credit to order several boxes. I barely remember selling them door-to-door, but can tell you with much assurance, these timid brown eyes DID take no for an answer. There was no "push"...no "pressure". You knoked, got an order(or not)then schlepped along to the next house. That's not the case of the GS of today, at least not in Baldwin Co. They are everywhere, like a little army. Complete with Sniper Girl Scouts. Those are the ones that are NOT dressed in any sort of uniform identifying themselves. They're the ones that catch you off guard with their drill-sergeant voices booming in your face, but all giggly in the same breath: "Wanna buy some cookies?" Where is your mom/leader anyway? Oh, wait, I see her...holding up that terrible homemade sign on the side of a busy state highway outside the Lowe's.
Tell her that her arm flailing and jumping doesn't win me over. It only makes me take the long way around.
So, there they were crawling all over at Lowe's, but I escaped. I went about running my errands and I was getting pretty tired, but I still had another stop to make: Sam's Club. I despise having to shop there because it takes forever and a day to check out. Whomever I meet after that may as well consider themselves behind the proverbial eight ball. You know what I'm gonna say, too. Thankfully, their table was only at one of the three entrances and I was not about to be captured by their little army. I'd even let an elderly civilian lady face the brunt of the mob when we both happened to walk in at the same time. Oh, well...she should have worn her good compression socks and walked a little faster like me. On the way out, Sniper GS cornered me: "Would you like to buy some of our cookies? This is the last weekend." "Hell no, I don't want any cookies...didn't you just see me come out of Sam's where I can buy 1,000 for $10?" *eyeroll* Okay, I didn't really say that last part, but I sure wanted to.
Just seeing them everywhere I went that day was grating on my nerves, and I don't really have a particular reason. No, wait, I do. It just irks me that these little girls are so aggressive and have an in-your-face sales approach. Do they really go to boot camp? Whatever. I was tired and I since I hadn't had one in a while, a beer sounded good. It was dusk now, as I pulled across the way to the Shell station.
"Shit! Girl Scouts!" I kid you not, there was a minivan backed up to the front door, truck door flung up to heaven and they were still hawking cookies!! "Ma'am, do you want to buy some GS cookies?" "Nope", I answered without flinching and sashayed right on into The Beer Cave to get what I (now so desperately) needed.
Plus, cookies and beer doesn't have the same ring to it anyway. Pbbttt. It's out of my system now, at least until next spring.
DPG
Monday, March 7, 2011
Fulfillment
I feel like I need to reintroduce myself, I've been away from my blog so long. I am happy to tell you that I've been busy doing something that I love down to my bones, and that is making art.
When we bought this house four years ago, it belonged to a very sweet older lady who'd made it her home for twenty-plus years. She had lost her husband a few years before and was planning to move to Tennessee to be closer to her son. She had the sweetest spirit and you could tell lived many happy years under this roof, which the husband built, literally. As soon as we walked in to look at the house, it felt like home. It didn't have all the flashy bells and whistles of the newer houses we'd been looking at or even the modern feel of our rental house. Still, it had a great big kitchen, a shady covered patio and a beautiful full-grown oak adorning the front yard. This was the place for us.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Myers told us that she wanted us to have her dining room furniture, which was an 8-foot table (you know, one of those tables you can't hurt?), six chairs and a china hutch. It wasn't my taste, but it was so generous I couldn't say no. Turns out, that space has evolved into my office and art studio. I've put up some gorgeous draperies across the entryway for privacy...mainly to hide my projects in progress. That big table I thought I'd never use has been the very spot that I've set up my sewing machine, where I cut out dresses and skirts, and also where I mix paints on my palette to create my artwork. This weekend, I put a small CD stereo on top of the filing cabinet and I listened to Rod Stewart's "Stardust: American Songbook" while I painted. It's taken four years for that light bulb to turn on, but in hindsight, I recognize this as one of God's mysterious ways -- He provided, through sweet Mrs. Myers, a place for me to nurture and utilize the talents He placed in me.
Not long ago, Mrs. Myers passed away. She was in her late eighties. I think about her gift to me and how much more it's come to mean. All the little things slowly came together to create a sense of fulfillment in me and I am ever grateful for the process. I hope my journey will be long and fruitful as was hers, and I hope that the things I create and leave behind will inspire or help someone else along the way.
I am just happy as a lark to be creating things again. My Daddy had to get in his "I told you so" when I called to tell him I'd sold four paintings last week. He's been my biggest fan for years. Only time will tell where this will take me, but I'm doing what I love, making a little money along the way, and that's really just good enough.
~DPG
When we bought this house four years ago, it belonged to a very sweet older lady who'd made it her home for twenty-plus years. She had lost her husband a few years before and was planning to move to Tennessee to be closer to her son. She had the sweetest spirit and you could tell lived many happy years under this roof, which the husband built, literally. As soon as we walked in to look at the house, it felt like home. It didn't have all the flashy bells and whistles of the newer houses we'd been looking at or even the modern feel of our rental house. Still, it had a great big kitchen, a shady covered patio and a beautiful full-grown oak adorning the front yard. This was the place for us.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Myers told us that she wanted us to have her dining room furniture, which was an 8-foot table (you know, one of those tables you can't hurt?), six chairs and a china hutch. It wasn't my taste, but it was so generous I couldn't say no. Turns out, that space has evolved into my office and art studio. I've put up some gorgeous draperies across the entryway for privacy...mainly to hide my projects in progress. That big table I thought I'd never use has been the very spot that I've set up my sewing machine, where I cut out dresses and skirts, and also where I mix paints on my palette to create my artwork. This weekend, I put a small CD stereo on top of the filing cabinet and I listened to Rod Stewart's "Stardust: American Songbook" while I painted. It's taken four years for that light bulb to turn on, but in hindsight, I recognize this as one of God's mysterious ways -- He provided, through sweet Mrs. Myers, a place for me to nurture and utilize the talents He placed in me.
Not long ago, Mrs. Myers passed away. She was in her late eighties. I think about her gift to me and how much more it's come to mean. All the little things slowly came together to create a sense of fulfillment in me and I am ever grateful for the process. I hope my journey will be long and fruitful as was hers, and I hope that the things I create and leave behind will inspire or help someone else along the way.
I am just happy as a lark to be creating things again. My Daddy had to get in his "I told you so" when I called to tell him I'd sold four paintings last week. He's been my biggest fan for years. Only time will tell where this will take me, but I'm doing what I love, making a little money along the way, and that's really just good enough.
~DPG
Monday, February 28, 2011
Chicken Salad and other good stuff
I love good food and I don't know a soul who doesn't feel the same. I enjoy the prepping and cooking almost as much as I do the sampling. It's just as important to me for my plate to be visually appealing as it is to taste good. The adage that you 'eat first with your eyes' rings true - maybe it adds to the overall appeal of your meal. I know that once I ordered stuffed shrimp at The Chimney's on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and when they served me just four shrimp, I bet five bucks my neck did a ghetto roll. I'd already eaten those shrimp "with my eyes" before that waiter left my table good, and I was still hongry. (No, that's not a typo. Some of you know what hongry is, and it's way worse than hungry.) Admittedly, I couldn't even finish the last stuffed shrimp! They were so rich and like Mamaw Reid used to tell me, my eyes were bigger than my stomach. Restaurant - 1, Dana - 0.
Now that I'm all grown up, I get to play restaurant for real. I have four regular customers: three of the cutest little girls you've ever seen, and one tall, dark, and handsome man. He eats 2 out of 3 meals a day here! (I think he's got a crush on me.) I really like to make our meals interesting and tasty, and part of the way I do that is to serve the food on visually appealing plates. I pick up odds and ends at Ross and TJMaxx when I see something that I'm drawn to. I'm so over everything being matchy-matchy...like when I was a new bride umpteen years ago.
Guess how many dinner parties I've had on all that good china I registered for? These days, I'll throw one of those fine plates in my microwave and zap some hotdogs without batting an eye. My point is (new brides, I'm talking to you) mix it up and have some fun.
I've been craving some good homemade chicken salad ever since my good friend, Joy, blogged about a favorite café she haunts. Finally, I whipped up some just for ME. I put in all the stuff I like: freshly cubed chicken breast, mayo, sour cream, poppy seeds, apples, walnuts, pecans and sweet relish, along with some spices. OMGosh, was it good! It nearbout killed me, but I took the time to prepare a crisp lettuce wedge, topped it with two scoops of chicken salad, and washed some ripe strawberries as a side. The colors were so appealing together and it just made me want to dive right in. As soon as I got my Mason jar full of crushed ice and some Arizona Raspberry tea, honey I did! I have to give credit where credit it due: every time I make chicken salad, I think about a lunch forever ago that my best friend's mama, Sybil, put together. She plated chicken salad, a bakery roll, some pineapple spears and plump red grapes...and apologized for it being "so simple". All I know is it must have made an impact on me, because I copy and reinvent her menu over and over. Thanks, Mama Syb. ♥
Next time you're at Sam's, buy the good cheese. Serve a dipping sauce in a little cup on the side of your plate. (a cute plate, too...don't embarrass me) Serve your dessert in a martini glass. Just spoil yourself once in a while in the best restaurant ever -- HOME.
~DPG
Now that I'm all grown up, I get to play restaurant for real. I have four regular customers: three of the cutest little girls you've ever seen, and one tall, dark, and handsome man. He eats 2 out of 3 meals a day here! (I think he's got a crush on me.) I really like to make our meals interesting and tasty, and part of the way I do that is to serve the food on visually appealing plates. I pick up odds and ends at Ross and TJMaxx when I see something that I'm drawn to. I'm so over everything being matchy-matchy...like when I was a new bride umpteen years ago.
Guess how many dinner parties I've had on all that good china I registered for? These days, I'll throw one of those fine plates in my microwave and zap some hotdogs without batting an eye. My point is (new brides, I'm talking to you) mix it up and have some fun.
I've been craving some good homemade chicken salad ever since my good friend, Joy, blogged about a favorite café she haunts. Finally, I whipped up some just for ME. I put in all the stuff I like: freshly cubed chicken breast, mayo, sour cream, poppy seeds, apples, walnuts, pecans and sweet relish, along with some spices. OMGosh, was it good! It nearbout killed me, but I took the time to prepare a crisp lettuce wedge, topped it with two scoops of chicken salad, and washed some ripe strawberries as a side. The colors were so appealing together and it just made me want to dive right in. As soon as I got my Mason jar full of crushed ice and some Arizona Raspberry tea, honey I did! I have to give credit where credit it due: every time I make chicken salad, I think about a lunch forever ago that my best friend's mama, Sybil, put together. She plated chicken salad, a bakery roll, some pineapple spears and plump red grapes...and apologized for it being "so simple". All I know is it must have made an impact on me, because I copy and reinvent her menu over and over. Thanks, Mama Syb. ♥
Next time you're at Sam's, buy the good cheese. Serve a dipping sauce in a little cup on the side of your plate. (a cute plate, too...don't embarrass me) Serve your dessert in a martini glass. Just spoil yourself once in a while in the best restaurant ever -- HOME.
~DPG
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Olivia Cecile's 12th Birthday
Yesterday, February 25th, was the birthday of my oldest daugher, Olivia. It's hard to believe it's been a dozen years since then, bearing truth to the adage that time flies. I often tell her thanks for making me a mom for the first time and that always gets a little grin out of her.
Maybe it's just that the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be, but just looking at the packages (plural) of streamers and balloons begging to be put up made me flat out tired. Was I really gonna have to get up and transform my living room? I just took down Christmas decorations! Settle down...I did it. An hour, a step stool and four ibuprofen later, it looked like we were hosting the Spanish Fort prom.
I bought a disco light and everything. Now, we just needed the sun to set and it would be O. N.
I bet I love to plan a good party better than anyone. There is some decorating-DNA tangle in me that makes me crazy; I can easily get a little carried away. I did ease up on the control-freak tendencies and outsourced the cake and supper. Thanks, Donny at Dominos. Anyway, it freed up some time for me to pack a LOT of fun stuff into the schedule. Our plans were to skate for an hour and a half, go to the Mardi Gras parade, then home for supper, cake, presents, and Wii Just Dance.
I wheeled into the parking lot of the skating rink and was so pleased with myself for choosing a time that was obviously not crowded. We all schlepped out of the van and went inside. I eased up to the counter, my preteen entourage behind me, and told Skate Guy I needed to pay for three girls, please. He looked at me all confused and said, "Uhh, there's a private party going on. I can't let you in." Excuse me? Pop out your retainer and repeat that, Skate Guy, because it sounded like you just told me we would not be skating. I'm sure it's a mistake, seeing how I've got a schedule planned out in my head, and I've made the effort to refresh my makeup. "Sorry, ma'am. But, I tell ya what...we open at 7pm. You could just come back." I really thought I was gonna snap his skinny neck like a potato stick. I've got three uber-chatty pre-teens behind me and you're telling me I've got time to kill? How about I kill you for practice? **HUHHHHH** Thanks but no thanks, Shaggy.
So began Plan B: we went to Target.
I picked up a new pink DVD player to put in my younger daughters' room (well, I'd saved all that money by NOT skating, remember?) and a new DVD. This purchase will ultimately buy me some quiet time next week, so really it was justified. I felt a little better after buying something in lieu of the almost-murder. The girls had just as good a time walking around without The Mom. Didn't hurt my feelings. I was shopping in peace and quiet. Plus, all Liv's friends gushed about how cool I was. Nicely played, girls. Now begone!
We racked up at the parade: a dozen or so stuffed animals, Moon Pies, and enough beads to alter your posture. They smell like fresh spring water, too. I love the smell of the beads. Just like I like the smell of old library books.
I turned everybody loose once we got home with all the pizza they could choke down and of course CAKE! PARENTS: always, always buy enough birthday cake to go with your coffee the next morning. If you'd seen the wedge I cut for myself, you'd wonder why I didn't just go ahead and smear it directly onto my thighs. The girls stayed up until 3am. 3AM! I remember what that time looks like, but all I care about seeing at 3am now are the backs of my eyelids.
I'm worn out, but now that it's behind me I can tell you it was worth every penny and ounce of energy it took to make it happen. Olivia was delighted in her celebration and that's all I ever wanted anyway. I love that girl.
~DPG
Maybe it's just that the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be, but just looking at the packages (plural) of streamers and balloons begging to be put up made me flat out tired. Was I really gonna have to get up and transform my living room? I just took down Christmas decorations! Settle down...I did it. An hour, a step stool and four ibuprofen later, it looked like we were hosting the Spanish Fort prom.
I bought a disco light and everything. Now, we just needed the sun to set and it would be O. N.
I bet I love to plan a good party better than anyone. There is some decorating-DNA tangle in me that makes me crazy; I can easily get a little carried away. I did ease up on the control-freak tendencies and outsourced the cake and supper. Thanks, Donny at Dominos. Anyway, it freed up some time for me to pack a LOT of fun stuff into the schedule. Our plans were to skate for an hour and a half, go to the Mardi Gras parade, then home for supper, cake, presents, and Wii Just Dance.
I wheeled into the parking lot of the skating rink and was so pleased with myself for choosing a time that was obviously not crowded. We all schlepped out of the van and went inside. I eased up to the counter, my preteen entourage behind me, and told Skate Guy I needed to pay for three girls, please. He looked at me all confused and said, "Uhh, there's a private party going on. I can't let you in." Excuse me? Pop out your retainer and repeat that, Skate Guy, because it sounded like you just told me we would not be skating. I'm sure it's a mistake, seeing how I've got a schedule planned out in my head, and I've made the effort to refresh my makeup. "Sorry, ma'am. But, I tell ya what...we open at 7pm. You could just come back." I really thought I was gonna snap his skinny neck like a potato stick. I've got three uber-chatty pre-teens behind me and you're telling me I've got time to kill? How about I kill you for practice? **HUHHHHH** Thanks but no thanks, Shaggy.
So began Plan B: we went to Target.
I picked up a new pink DVD player to put in my younger daughters' room (well, I'd saved all that money by NOT skating, remember?) and a new DVD. This purchase will ultimately buy me some quiet time next week, so really it was justified. I felt a little better after buying something in lieu of the almost-murder. The girls had just as good a time walking around without The Mom. Didn't hurt my feelings. I was shopping in peace and quiet. Plus, all Liv's friends gushed about how cool I was. Nicely played, girls. Now begone!
We racked up at the parade: a dozen or so stuffed animals, Moon Pies, and enough beads to alter your posture. They smell like fresh spring water, too. I love the smell of the beads. Just like I like the smell of old library books.
I turned everybody loose once we got home with all the pizza they could choke down and of course CAKE! PARENTS: always, always buy enough birthday cake to go with your coffee the next morning. If you'd seen the wedge I cut for myself, you'd wonder why I didn't just go ahead and smear it directly onto my thighs. The girls stayed up until 3am. 3AM! I remember what that time looks like, but all I care about seeing at 3am now are the backs of my eyelids.
I'm worn out, but now that it's behind me I can tell you it was worth every penny and ounce of energy it took to make it happen. Olivia was delighted in her celebration and that's all I ever wanted anyway. I love that girl.
~DPG
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Dumb Things Done in Haste
I've been sewing again the past couple of days. I took a hiatus once I had all my Doll Whiskers holiday orders done, thinking I'd pick it up as soon as the new year began. Guess what I didn't do? There was only one project that I actually turned on my sewing machine for, and that was done in haste. I paid the price, and I want to share with you the cost.
For all my girlfriends out there, you know what a big deal it is to shop for, and find, a bra. There's no quick solution to that shopping trip -- it is a royal pain. I always end up sweating in the dressing room like a crazy person and more often than not, I leave with nothing except a bad attitude. Somehow, one of those psycho shopping sprees finally produced a bra. A cute bra, at that! And all God's amply-endowed children shouted, "AMEN!"
Like any unpleasant experience, this story has it's fuzzy parts and the vividly detailed parts. I won't bore you with the former, because the latter is so much better. I was getting ready to take one of the girls to the doctor and was slinging it together quick to make the only appointment they had open. (Define "slinging" as screaming down the hallway at the kids to move it!) Everything was done: makeup, hair, outfit ironed, new bra ON. Then the straps started falling. Now, I'm a pretty sweet girl (most of the time) but there are some things that just set me O.F.F. and this is but one of them. With little time to spare, I was still determined to have the upper hand in this situation. Now, are you noting the fact that I'm getting an attitude with an inanimate object? Good, just making sure you're on the crazy train with me. I swear I even said out loud, (really pissy) "I tell you what..." (read as "I'll show you")and I marched down the hall half naked (read "nekkid", unless you're a Yankee) to my sewing machine. My wise butt was about to fix this problem...sort of.
I took my scissors and cut the straps off at the back...and criss-crossed them. I added just a few inches of ribbon to lengthen the straps (I could always tighten them if they were too loose, right?) and sewed it all back together. I was thinking about how genius and resourceful I was. Pat - pat - pat on my back. Then, I put it on.
OMG.
I wish you could have witnessed that struggle. To say I misjudged how long to make those new straps is a gross understatement. It was so tight, and so high...I had to tuck stuff in from the bottom just to get those puppies sacked up. Horrible! My boobs haven't been that high in twenty years. The criss-crossing was all up on my neck! My shoulders were practically hiked into my ears. I looked like an idiot.
The straps now played pee-a-boo out of my neckline, but buddy they weren't slipping.
I sucked it up through that entire doctor visit, but that sucker came off the minute I got home. I'm about to get started with today's sewing. I bet you can guess what's first in line.
Have a wonderful day and stay supported.
~DPG
For all my girlfriends out there, you know what a big deal it is to shop for, and find, a bra. There's no quick solution to that shopping trip -- it is a royal pain. I always end up sweating in the dressing room like a crazy person and more often than not, I leave with nothing except a bad attitude. Somehow, one of those psycho shopping sprees finally produced a bra. A cute bra, at that! And all God's amply-endowed children shouted, "AMEN!"
Like any unpleasant experience, this story has it's fuzzy parts and the vividly detailed parts. I won't bore you with the former, because the latter is so much better. I was getting ready to take one of the girls to the doctor and was slinging it together quick to make the only appointment they had open. (Define "slinging" as screaming down the hallway at the kids to move it!) Everything was done: makeup, hair, outfit ironed, new bra ON. Then the straps started falling. Now, I'm a pretty sweet girl (most of the time) but there are some things that just set me O.F.F. and this is but one of them. With little time to spare, I was still determined to have the upper hand in this situation. Now, are you noting the fact that I'm getting an attitude with an inanimate object? Good, just making sure you're on the crazy train with me. I swear I even said out loud, (really pissy) "I tell you what..." (read as "I'll show you")and I marched down the hall half naked (read "nekkid", unless you're a Yankee) to my sewing machine. My wise butt was about to fix this problem...sort of.
I took my scissors and cut the straps off at the back...and criss-crossed them. I added just a few inches of ribbon to lengthen the straps (I could always tighten them if they were too loose, right?) and sewed it all back together. I was thinking about how genius and resourceful I was. Pat - pat - pat on my back. Then, I put it on.
OMG.
I wish you could have witnessed that struggle. To say I misjudged how long to make those new straps is a gross understatement. It was so tight, and so high...I had to tuck stuff in from the bottom just to get those puppies sacked up. Horrible! My boobs haven't been that high in twenty years. The criss-crossing was all up on my neck! My shoulders were practically hiked into my ears. I looked like an idiot.
The straps now played pee-a-boo out of my neckline, but buddy they weren't slipping.
I sucked it up through that entire doctor visit, but that sucker came off the minute I got home. I'm about to get started with today's sewing. I bet you can guess what's first in line.
Have a wonderful day and stay supported.
~DPG
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Good Deeds
There is something evolving at my house, and I'm going with it. For a few weeks now, it's been my determined purpose to do something good everyday -- for someone else.
I spend a lot of time in my head. Even as I go through the motions of being a mom and a wife, my mind is a whirlwind of randomness. I think about reicpes, bumper stickers, sewing projects, my filthy microwave, what I'm going to paint next, do I have stamps?, why so many dentists have bad breath, and if bathing the cat is really worth the risk. There is never any rhyme or reason to my thought process, and thankfully my husband is the same way, so he totally gets me. I might ask him something about Criminal Minds (that we watched last Friday) while I'm brushing my teeth or tell him all about the new laundry detergent during supper. ???
I say all that to tell you that these random thoughts are peppered with purposeful thoughts, too. Every morning, I pray for an inspiration and seek out at least one way to do something nice for someone. I know I run the risk of piquing someones skepticism, and I'm assuming it's because people have lost a little faith in unsolicited good. Usually things or deeds come with strings attached. I'm setting out to change that, in little ways at a time.
Lately, I've begun including my little girls in my "secret missions". It's my hope that it will fend off some of the selfish instinct we all possess. They often struggle to share with each other, but love doing something sweet for others. I say give it time, and it will become second nature to them in all their relationships.
Now, we're not saving the world here. What I'm talking about are things like cards, flowers, compliments, simple gifts, and so on. It's usually something relatively inexpensive, but big on thoughfulness. Ava has come up with some doozies, many of which would require a bank robbery, so I have to scale her back. Still, she's getting the idea. Kindness is good for the giver and the receiver. I want my children to have a heart for others and I want them to be aware of the world around them. Being nice to someone may be the only 'nice' they get. More than anything, I just don't want to raise TAKERS. Society has plenty of those already.
Find somebody today, a friend or better yet a stranger, and do (or say) something kind. Next time you're talking to someone, really listen...listen for the little things they will inadvertantly share...and take note. I love doing this. Did they mention something they need? like? collect? It really has made me happy to be this way on purpose and I fully intend to keep it going. I don't worry so much anymore about people being skeptical of my actions. I know that I'm doing what I want to do with pure motive: to show God's love through me.
PS--just so you don't think I live in a bubble with rainbows and classical music, I write this from my dirty computer table, two more loads of laundry waiting, and I haven't showered yet. My kids' rooms look like crap, and there is cat hair all over the recliner, but that's life. I'm just a believer in positive thinking. : )
I hope you have a really good day.
~Dana
I spend a lot of time in my head. Even as I go through the motions of being a mom and a wife, my mind is a whirlwind of randomness. I think about reicpes, bumper stickers, sewing projects, my filthy microwave, what I'm going to paint next, do I have stamps?, why so many dentists have bad breath, and if bathing the cat is really worth the risk. There is never any rhyme or reason to my thought process, and thankfully my husband is the same way, so he totally gets me. I might ask him something about Criminal Minds (that we watched last Friday) while I'm brushing my teeth or tell him all about the new laundry detergent during supper. ???
I say all that to tell you that these random thoughts are peppered with purposeful thoughts, too. Every morning, I pray for an inspiration and seek out at least one way to do something nice for someone. I know I run the risk of piquing someones skepticism, and I'm assuming it's because people have lost a little faith in unsolicited good. Usually things or deeds come with strings attached. I'm setting out to change that, in little ways at a time.
Lately, I've begun including my little girls in my "secret missions". It's my hope that it will fend off some of the selfish instinct we all possess. They often struggle to share with each other, but love doing something sweet for others. I say give it time, and it will become second nature to them in all their relationships.
Now, we're not saving the world here. What I'm talking about are things like cards, flowers, compliments, simple gifts, and so on. It's usually something relatively inexpensive, but big on thoughfulness. Ava has come up with some doozies, many of which would require a bank robbery, so I have to scale her back. Still, she's getting the idea. Kindness is good for the giver and the receiver. I want my children to have a heart for others and I want them to be aware of the world around them. Being nice to someone may be the only 'nice' they get. More than anything, I just don't want to raise TAKERS. Society has plenty of those already.
Find somebody today, a friend or better yet a stranger, and do (or say) something kind. Next time you're talking to someone, really listen...listen for the little things they will inadvertantly share...and take note. I love doing this. Did they mention something they need? like? collect? It really has made me happy to be this way on purpose and I fully intend to keep it going. I don't worry so much anymore about people being skeptical of my actions. I know that I'm doing what I want to do with pure motive: to show God's love through me.
PS--just so you don't think I live in a bubble with rainbows and classical music, I write this from my dirty computer table, two more loads of laundry waiting, and I haven't showered yet. My kids' rooms look like crap, and there is cat hair all over the recliner, but that's life. I'm just a believer in positive thinking. : )
I hope you have a really good day.
~Dana
Friday, February 18, 2011
Spring, is that really you?
It is a gloriously sunny and warm morning just outside my window! ☼ How incredible that sunlight can have such a strong physical and emotional effect on us. Thank you, Lord, for this simple delight.
I realize I am in the minority in actually embracing the winter season. As a hot-natured girl, it's a welcome relief to have days and nights that are cool. I also love that we begin evening rituals of eating supper in front of the fireplace. It's so cozy and romantic...the ambient light, the smell of real wood smoldering, and the soft crackles and pops. I hang onto those moments and don't want them to end. Then, after so many gray days, the sun rises and makes everything so bright and warm. It doesn't take me long to come around to the idea that spring might not be so bad after all.
It's exciting the way God renews the earth with color and temperature every few months. (Sometimes every few weeks, it seems, in the South.) Just as I like seeing the colors of fall, I'm also just as excited to see the first buds on the oak tree out front. I love the way there is a surge of people at Lowe's on that first pretty weekend. I am content as I can be when I get to replant the flower beds and the big pots on the front porch. Doesn't it make you feel refreshed and like you've got a clean slate?
Looks like it's going to be That Weekend, beginning today. Maybe I'll take a little stroll over to Lowe's, even if it's just to buy something non-committal...like striped monkey grass.
"This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it."
Y'all enjoy it, too!
~DPG
I realize I am in the minority in actually embracing the winter season. As a hot-natured girl, it's a welcome relief to have days and nights that are cool. I also love that we begin evening rituals of eating supper in front of the fireplace. It's so cozy and romantic...the ambient light, the smell of real wood smoldering, and the soft crackles and pops. I hang onto those moments and don't want them to end. Then, after so many gray days, the sun rises and makes everything so bright and warm. It doesn't take me long to come around to the idea that spring might not be so bad after all.
It's exciting the way God renews the earth with color and temperature every few months. (Sometimes every few weeks, it seems, in the South.) Just as I like seeing the colors of fall, I'm also just as excited to see the first buds on the oak tree out front. I love the way there is a surge of people at Lowe's on that first pretty weekend. I am content as I can be when I get to replant the flower beds and the big pots on the front porch. Doesn't it make you feel refreshed and like you've got a clean slate?
Looks like it's going to be That Weekend, beginning today. Maybe I'll take a little stroll over to Lowe's, even if it's just to buy something non-committal...like striped monkey grass.
"This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it."
Y'all enjoy it, too!
~DPG
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Keeping Your Word
Twice today, in two different situations, someone did not keep their word with me.
One thing was minor, and the other a little grander on the scale, but the outcome for me was the same: disappointment.
I know that things like this happen every day, all day. These were both business situations, and nothing personal, which is why it won't sink it's claws into me. Still, it got the wheels turning and gave me pause on the subject.
I am teaching my daughters to always make good on their promises. If they commit to something, then they are to follow through, regardless. Keeping your word garners you respect and fortifies your character. These things are not to be taken lightly.
I must remind myself to always treat others as I'd have them treat me. Imagine how refreshing that would be if honesty were the norm rather than the exception.
Today's lesson was not lost on me. Regardless of these slights, it reminded me that I have to watch myself carefully and pay close attention to how I treat others. Even the smallest details matter.
~Dana
One thing was minor, and the other a little grander on the scale, but the outcome for me was the same: disappointment.
I know that things like this happen every day, all day. These were both business situations, and nothing personal, which is why it won't sink it's claws into me. Still, it got the wheels turning and gave me pause on the subject.
I am teaching my daughters to always make good on their promises. If they commit to something, then they are to follow through, regardless. Keeping your word garners you respect and fortifies your character. These things are not to be taken lightly.
I must remind myself to always treat others as I'd have them treat me. Imagine how refreshing that would be if honesty were the norm rather than the exception.
Today's lesson was not lost on me. Regardless of these slights, it reminded me that I have to watch myself carefully and pay close attention to how I treat others. Even the smallest details matter.
~Dana
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Happy Birthday, Guella
I was in the first grade when my little brother was born. It was February 16, 1977, and I proudly shared with Mrs. Autry's class my exciting news!
When my sister was born, I was two, so of course I don't remember a thing about that. It was different with Michael. I was facinated with him and always wanted to hold him. I confess (now) to once pulling his hair just a litte -- to make him cry -- giving me reason to pick him up and hold him. That went over about as well as you'd imagine.
Growing up, of course we fought, but nothing ever serious. We always seemed to share a special bond, which remains still today. When he was little, I called him my BayBay. I don't know why...c'mon, I was in grade school. Somewhere along the way, he inherited the nickname "Guella", which is even more ridiculous. I totally made it up, but that's what I still call him. I think it's sweet. ♥
He always loved his money. Even as a kid, he kept his dollar bills straight, neat and all turned the same direction. Once, just to be mean in a fight, I took one of his dollars and crumbled it into the tightest ball I could form with my evil middle-school fingers...and he "went ham" on me! (haha--I just learned today what "going ham" on someone means and here I am using it in a sentence. I am so cool.) Appropriately, that little boy with the money OCD became a banker. I'd like to think I helped him commit to that career path by torturing him but I really can't put a good spin on it.
I am so proud of the life he's made for himself. He's happy and healthy (he's a marathon runner now!) and he has a vast sense of humor. He totally gets that from me. ; )
Happy Birthday, Guella. I am so proud to be your big Sis and I love you with all my heart. Watch your mail in the next few days...I'm feeling a little bit compelled to mail you a crisp, new $1 bill.
~Sis
When my sister was born, I was two, so of course I don't remember a thing about that. It was different with Michael. I was facinated with him and always wanted to hold him. I confess (now) to once pulling his hair just a litte -- to make him cry -- giving me reason to pick him up and hold him. That went over about as well as you'd imagine.
Growing up, of course we fought, but nothing ever serious. We always seemed to share a special bond, which remains still today. When he was little, I called him my BayBay. I don't know why...c'mon, I was in grade school. Somewhere along the way, he inherited the nickname "Guella", which is even more ridiculous. I totally made it up, but that's what I still call him. I think it's sweet. ♥
He always loved his money. Even as a kid, he kept his dollar bills straight, neat and all turned the same direction. Once, just to be mean in a fight, I took one of his dollars and crumbled it into the tightest ball I could form with my evil middle-school fingers...and he "went ham" on me! (haha--I just learned today what "going ham" on someone means and here I am using it in a sentence. I am so cool.) Appropriately, that little boy with the money OCD became a banker. I'd like to think I helped him commit to that career path by torturing him but I really can't put a good spin on it.
I am so proud of the life he's made for himself. He's happy and healthy (he's a marathon runner now!) and he has a vast sense of humor. He totally gets that from me. ; )
Happy Birthday, Guella. I am so proud to be your big Sis and I love you with all my heart. Watch your mail in the next few days...I'm feeling a little bit compelled to mail you a crisp, new $1 bill.
~Sis
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About Me
- Gault Girls of LA (that's lower Alabama, y'all)
- I'm very happily married and have three daughters. Since moving to Mobile's Eastern Shore, I've also become a full-time artist and I am in heaven when I paint.
