Missing Targets and Such....

            who knew that the closing of a retail store could inspire a blog post...?                      

                                     the lamp and poster in daughter's bedroom...(from Target of course!)   

I happened to have a few errands to run on the first day that Target Canada was having its closing out sale.....:)
After having announced a few weeks prior that Target stores were closing... I anticipated this happening with mixed emotions...

The parking lot indicated I wasn't the only one. 
I hadn't  seen it like this even around Christmas!
Having a Target in fairly close proximity, I had  developed a retail relationship..:)

I managed to find a shopping cart that a shopper had just finished with, the others were all used, and in every aisle were people milling about anxious to save a few dollars on purchases they may or may not have really wanted.
I made my way to the home decor aisle....I had  found so many great deals here in it's short life.... decor items...clothing and craft supplies...(I look  around my home and see reminders everywhere....)
                                                                                                                                   

Now I felt like I was attending a funeral of sorts.... all of us offering our condolences if you will, to a situation and a decision out of our hands.

Although Target's demise was not a surprise; the gigantic store seemed unable to compete with people's expectations for lower prices and great selection.It  seemed evident from the beginning that its days here would be numbered.
The lack of regular, loyal patrons was the bottom line.

It made me ponder humanity and how  someone can be larger in death than in life.
How dying seems to somehow brings them a sort of fame...
How suddenly the deceased is an icon, someone to revere...
Don't get me wrong I am all for honouring and bestowing kind words to the remembrance of a departed loved one...
Memorial services should be beautiful tributes to the life someone lived....

but life really is for living...for appreciating the people who are in my life.
For a bouquet of flowers now, not a coffin loaded with them later...
For a kind word spoken gently;  not a eulogy  they will never hear.
For eyes expressing  understanding and empathy, 
not for tears on a lonely grave.......


                                                                                        

                                                back home with the candle I purchased...

                  Yes Target you did bless my life for a time...I am grateful.
               But even more for the timeless lesson that your passing revealed.

Of Corn and Other Tragedies

                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                                 

The phone rings and I answer it. I have just come inside to grab a knife for the corn I am husking for the freezer. 
I assume it is my Jasmine wanting to let me know about pick up time for the high school introduction day she is attending.
It isn't. It's my oldest daughter Brittany, the one who was recently married here. 















"Hi Mom,
 I was making cinnamon buns and when I took the pan out of the oven just now, it shattered and broke into a million pieces."
I listen to her and offer my sympathies as best I can. We discuss how and what made this happen; to not much avail. (I can only reason that the pan was either cracked or something because it just seems too odd!)
 I understand how terribly frustrating something like this is, especially when you are at the end result of something that is SO labour intensive as yeast baking is.
I advise her that No it likely is not wise to eat them, no matter how delicious they appear, glass could have still gotten in there somehow. 
I know she knows this, but in catastrophic moments such as this sometimes good judgement calls are waned.
                                              

We hang up and I head back out to my lawn chair in the sun. This afternoon has provided me with some rare time alone. 
This is not a natural commodity in the summer.  My  kids have all left for some time with friends before school and routine. I welcome the quiet even if it means I am stuck husking corn by myself.

My sister's daughter moved away to school yesterday. My thoughts have been with her and her family much today.
 I recall the day three years ago when my eldest left for school. The empty spot they leave and the way their vacancy is not easily replaced.
Now my daughter has graduated. She has married and moved on. Heart strings have expanded and stretched in all sorts of amazing ways.

I am glad for this time alone to be introspective. 

My knife cuts off all of the sweet,juicy kernels  that we will enjoy when the snow flies.

                                                                     

  




I think about mothers  and daughters. The tenacity that this relationship has. I send my daughter a text to console her as she cleans up shattered glass and resists the urge to sample warm cinnamon buns. 
Back outside in the warmth of the August sun, I can't help myself; I laugh!



                                                           

Breaking Up Isn't That Hard To Do

I am having a little fun this morning because you know laughter is the best medicine.....
I know if my kids read this they'd roll their eyes ..."oh Mom and her corny sense of humour..." but they don't read this blog to my knowledge so I don't need to worry:)
I hope it makes you smile just a little.....

Dear Winter,
I hate to do this to you but I must be honest and end  my relationship with you.
It was always rather seasonal anyhow.

Things between us have been cold for a while now and I cannot ward off your chills anymore.
Please know I have not always felt this way.

                                                

Those  days  you romanced me with finery;sequined snowflakes and  glittering sunshine were glorious.

                                                                 

              But glittering is just that and seems rather profuse and vain.

I opt for that stable and secure knowing. That to me is hot. 
Up and down and all over the place makes me dizzy. Now I want comfortable. 
I want bare feet and  green grass. 

The elegance of white is over rated.

 A golden field of dandelions would melt your icy veneer and I would not be sad.

Because yes dear winter we had fun. You gave and I took. Now my fling with you is over.
  It's time to bow out graciously. I will remember you even though you have over stayed your welcome.

 Apple trees want to bloom.

        these photos ( in collage)I treasure were ones taken by daughter Katrina, not living here at present and missed:)



May your week be sunny and bright, whatever the weather.

Reasonable Angst

There are two things that evoke a measure of anxiety that range in close proximity with one another. One is getting my hair colored (or highlighted in my case), the other is paint. 
Standing at the paint counter and sitting in that chair and realising there is no turning back. This is it baby.

Both require trust in the abilities of somebody else who I do not really know, and who really knows very little about me.

It's funny really because I generally have a pretty clear picture in my head of what I am after. Why is it then, or is it because of this, that I could regale you with at least a few instances of my complete and utter shock at how my hair or my room turned out.

Are we idealists our own worst enemies? Do we create our quandaries or do they create us?

On to painting my room last week. Finally after agonising over which colour to paint this large, rectangle of a rec room in our basement. 
Don't get me wrong I am glad for the space! But let's just say it has some rather weird  unique features. One cinder block, two mirrors inserted into them, and three a lot of colour happening with stencilling and fireplace plunked in the centre.

My usually creative painter side of me was feeling uninspired about a colour.
 I ended up asking someone who works in the field as she was conveniently here one day to pick up her children. She advised me on a colour that everyone loves and looks great everywhere.

         before... it was green... for almost twelve years! time for a change...

 Finally with a vision in front of me my paintbrush got pep. I rolled and brushed confidant that the stark white of this colour would somehow transform into a soothing hue.(it really was a beautiful colour on the sample, but for some reason on my wall it vanished:)
                            

After  a day's labour and verdicts from my family that weren't helping to boost my waning enthusiasm. I decided this shade was not working at all, figuring I had nothing to lose I took matters into my own hands and began dumping some brown and some turquoise into the can. Eventually I had a colour I felt I could live with and I tackled my project anew, which included scraping the paint off of the mirrors which I had covered up. ( I discovered I rather like the quirkiness  of them and the way they add sparkle.)

As I was doing all this painting I had a lot of time to think and ponder and I couldn't help but rejoice in the fact that unlike we humans who second guess ourselves and continually mess up our lives with the wrong colour. 
our God has a plan for us from the beginning. He created us and knows us better than we know ourselves and even though we don't always get the colour right,  His grace reaches us there and He is not offended at our admitting of our mistake.
When we acknowledge that His design of our lives is always right we can live, embracing the color around us.

He knows we are like that wall; which is likely to get another colour someday.

That continual work in progress, that continual striving of finding the right shade.
                                 after...a bluish gray I think...

 Some walls take longer and are a lot more work than others but when the paint brush is  put away, we can admire the way the colours compliment each other, and look forward to a potentially clean slate.
 We can move forward knowing that as long as we are here on this temporal abode; paint and hair colour are never permanent.

Garage Sale Full

                                 

Hello! I am still here. Life these days has been full. Full of good, busy, bustling goodness.
June is indeed a flurry of activity including gardening,cutting grass almost every other day (not quite:)and school activities and trips, piano recitals, birthday parties and garage sales.yes that full:)
Speaking of garage sales, I had one this past weekend. It has been a while since I attempted this as I usually donate any usable items to the local thrift store. But this spring as I was cleaning out closets, cupboards and such I thought I'd try one again.I forgot the tremendous amount of work it is! Can I just say- I would way rather go to garage sales, than have my own!
Confession here..I actually slipped out to a couple while mine was happening!
I know I need help:) 
and no, it wasn't overly busy...(we live in the country beside a fairly busy road but I think everyone had a destination.)
I did manage to sell some things though, and my girls had fun with it.
Somehow we managed to attend a birthday party and a piano recital midst it all! 

                           sitting and waiting for someone to stop:)

     the bric-a-brac that brought me to this place....I was so happy I sold that bed,well actually I loved that bed my girls had shared, but we have squeezed single beds into their room and THEY couldn't be happier:)and the lady that bought it was very happy too:) here is the way it looked then...

One observation...your own garage sale can make you feel very vulnerable...
blogging about your own garage sale... even more vulnerable! (should have remembered this when my son asked what vulnerable means!)

It was fun, but next time I think I might take it all to the thrift store :))



619-June,the beauty of it,620-Father's and the difference they make,621-my own father and the example he was,622-my children's father and the way he leads our family,623-our Heavenly Father and His grace and mercy,624-goosebumps songs like this one 625--my hubby's backache is much better!626-chiropractors,627-finding 'important' papers that were lost,628-babysitting those darling children once again,629-daughter painting camp props,630-flowers blooming profusely.

A Tale Of Two Sisters

                                                      

Once there was a mother. She had two daughters. She loved them very much.
  

        They were as different as night and day...


                                                         

    But one thing they shared was a bedroom and it was a royal mess!


                                                         

                          
                                                                

This caused their mother many deep sighs when she would venture bravely into their domain.













Their mother recalled a favorite story when these two were little...




Their mother wondered what she could do to motivate her daughters to live more neatly and how to encourage them to use drawers and hangers for intended purposes.


                                  

She considered charts. She considered fines. She considered threats like taking away phone.


                               

She considered dropping the matter, after all when there is so many bigger tragedies and trouble in life a messy room seems rather insignificant.



But than she did what all concerned mothers would do. 
She asked her friends if they've ever had similar issues,and if they did what did they do about it?
She  wrote a blog post about it; and she felt a lot better.

                

Urging April

APRIL,you  summon spring like no other month can,eventually spring  relents to your winsome ways.

April,no fooling around please
for I am earnestly waiting  warmer weather to engage  in nature's serenade,and coax the grass toward green.
                                                           via

April showers,you bathe my spirit and refresh my soul, as first signs of life pushing upward,cause tingling elation.

April's breezes, so perfect to dry lines of flapping clothes and 
fervent farmers' fields.

Oh yes April, you are welcome here. I salute your winning charms and I feel honored to be privy to your secrets. 

a little ditty to express how patient I am being as I wait...:))                                      

   this picture was taken on the weekend.we had a few days of sun and warm temperatures. It didn't take my girls long to haul out the chairs and get comfy...but that was then..
now it is back to cold winds...


487-Easter:the TRUTH,488-long bike ride on the weekend,489-rains washing the world,490-birthday cards,491-personality differences,492-clothes line,493-trampoline jumping,494-plans for summer,495-shopping at Target,496-good days with my kids,497-prayers prayed and answered,498-waiting without waning.499-smiles from strangers,500- fun friendships.

To Summarize and Commiserate With An Artist....

I can't say I consider myself an artist. After all artists are more flamboyant and free than I think of myself. I know I'm generalizing here and I do realize Artist is a very broad term- ...I do believe...We are all creative in some way...and everyone is an artist in their own life.LM~
One facet of art I am drawn to is writing, and that is a skill I would love to hone and own a little more freely... I love words, pondering words, hearing new words,and no dear hubby I do not make up words...:)
These two books entered my life recently and I've been delving into them intermittently..

Amy, had mentioned Rumors Of Water on her blog and recently I purchased it and have so far enjoyed it's lilting flow and subtle humor.

Letters To A Young Artist was one I picked up at a thrift store.An older,experienced artist,is writing letters to a younger artist struggling with many emotions, including turbulent self doubt,ego and fear.This book is brutally raw and honest,and while I can't 
argue that it is written from a Christian stand point, there are certain times she alludes to God, his plans and His ultimate creativity.

I hope you like this excerpt as I did;
Dear X,
You write, the odds are stacked against me.Let me be blunt.I think the odds are a drink of emotional poison.
No one invokes the odds who aren't trying to keep you from committing creativity.For one thing your odds of succeeding immediately increase if you try succeeding.You may think I'm being facile,but I think I'm simply responding to spiritual law; God helps those who help themselves."Ask, and you shall receive, even, Knock and it shall be opened to you."
When we believe the odds are stacked against us, we are choosing to believe that the odds are more powerful not only than our own gifts but also than God. If the tiny mustard seed can become a tree,if the acorn can become the oak, why can't our ideas flourish into mighty manifestations? It comes down to the question of self worth doesn't it?We tend to believe we must  deserve good fortune, but what proof do we have for that notion?
 Did the lilies of the field earn their place in the sun? No, it was God's nature to care for them,and it is likewise God's nature to care for us and our brainchildren.
When we see our work as an extension of God's work, and not as an act of ego, it is easier to believe that their may be a plan of goodness for it.
If we believe not I, but the Father doeth the works"than we really do not need to worry about the question of odds do we?(Julie Cameron)

Congrats, if you read all that:) I really liked the way that was put. Artists (everyone) have many inner struggles,and so much of our success is dependent on us placing our trust, in the One who created us ... and us doing His work for Him.

as I handed Jasmine her laundry pile I said"you could do a spring sock clean, if there's any with holes throw them out..."a little later I heard the sewing machine...this is what I found on the couch this morning...

there must of been a LOT of holey socks:)apparently they all have names too!
reminded me of this quote....

Every child is an artist. The problem is staying an artist when you grow up.
                   ( Pablo Picasso)

now....
449-my lunch duty job,450- daughter's birthday and surprising her,451-tea kettles,452-the wonderful feeling after  exercising,453-cheese and crackers,454-a balanced life,455-glasses for my vision,456-vision,457-creative children,458-daughter taking bus home last week,459-food to make lunches even on days the cupboards seem empty,460-paying bills,461-credit card statements with a 0 balance,462-my camera,463-acceptance of things I can't change,464-snow is melting,465-Oliver,the cutest little boy at school and the way he came up to talk to me yesterday made my day:)466-coffee with a friend yesterday,467-a good nights sleep,468-happy daughter who was accepted to a mission she had applied to,469-the peace that I feel about it, (mostly)470-how God created us,uniquely!