Swinging heads

Crazy kids.

Palette: Strawberries & Chocolate

I am colour-obsessed. Especially when found in simple nature.

As such, I will be offering a weekly palette for those who adore colour even nearly as much as I do.

This week’s palette inspired by:
Today’s berry-picking, and berry-eating, excursion with the boys.

“Strawberries & Chocolate”: Pantone 578, 363, 4695, 186

Already bored.

Today is the first day of Summer vacation.

My seven-year old son, Quinn and a couple of his buddies were just sittin’ around on the front lawn lookin’ for somethin’ tuh do. I’m trying to replicate their pathetic ho-hum attitude.

Lame Mother that I am, I tried to engage them in conversation. How idiotic I felt when they just looked at me and rolled their eyes.

So I march inside the house to the blue room, my office/craft room/retreat, and haul out an assortment of beads — the most boyish ones I could find. “Okay guys, c’mon over here! We’re making chokers.” Surprisingly, they came quite willingly. The three of them jammed those beads on the cords to create very random, very uncoordinated creations in less than 30 minutes. Because we know they had more pressing things to do.

Word got out about my impromptu beading workshop. Two little eight-year old girls came over next. I went back inside and returned with more girly beads. Well, they poured over those beads for a good long while — laying them out symmetrically, matching colours and textures, and comparing designs. With their dainty fingers, beads were strung one by one. Designs were changed, wrists and necks were measured, stories were shared. In more than twice the amount of time the boys spared, the girls had created elegantly structured, precisely crafted and beautifully coordinated necklaces and bracelets.

One afternoon down, 67 more to go.

Twenty-two years

Last night I hosted a Tea Party. Ten women came to my home to sample and purchase a variety of teas from a new Canadian company called Steeped Tea. It was a wonderful evening. Though it would only have been half as wonderful if a dear friend from another life hadn’t surprised me with her attendance.

The tea presentation had begun. I assumed everybody who was coming, had come. I was settled in nicely, listening intently to the health benefits of green tea. Curious by the creaking of my porch door opening, I leaned forward just enough to catch a glimpse of the woman standing there. As if nobody was in the room, I jumped from my chair and ran, waving my arms and screaming “It’s Jen! It’s JEN!!! I haven’t seen Jen since I was a kid!” Without giving her face another look, I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed tight. I stepped back, held her at arm’s length and she answered the question I didn’t even have to ask. “It’s been twenty-two years”. We were about 13 and 14 the last time we saw one another. High school. Eons ago. Twenty-two years.

We excused ourselves for being so rowdy, and hushed ourselves to the two remaining chairs in the room. They appeared to be reserved just for us. We spent the next five minutes glancing at each other every few moments, as if to be checking to make sure we were really where we thought we were. She beside me and I beside her.

The evening was spectacular. Steeped Tea offers an exquisite collection of loose teas. You must sample, or at least smell, as many as you can, as soon as you can. I seem particularly drawn to their Rooibos teas, from South Africa. Glorious, rich teas with a heavier, more coffee-like impression. Interesting, as I am not a coffee-drinker, though I do love its aroma.

I digress.

Jen is one of a very select group of people who I have thought of a zillion times since our last connection. As kids, we don’t understand why friendships fade and, when they do, how to nurture them back. After a regrettably long period of time, you figure it’s too late. If she hadn’t come looking for you, and you hadn’t gone looking for her, it was done. The friendship was one of childhood only, and in that vault is where it would stay. But you continue to wonder, be filled with curiosity, longing and sorrow. That friend was special. And if you hadn’t been such a lazy kid, she would still be your friend today. Probably one of your very best.

But that wasn’t my path with Jen. It took a social networking website, okay FaceBook, to bring us together again. I had searched for her several times since joining, to no avail. Then one morning I had a message in my Inbox. From Jen. Just like last night when she walked through my front door, I jumped from my chair and ran, waving my arms and screaming “It’s Jen! It’s JEN!!! I haven’t seen Jen since I was a kid!”. Andrew (my, until now not mentioned, husband) thought I was nuts, but appreciated my excitement, for he too wonders about long-ago friends.

What struck me most about Jen, and what spoke such a strong message to me all night and much of today, was that she is exactly the same person. Not just her brilliant smile full of glorious, straight teeth (I always loved her teeth. I don’t think she ever had to endure orthodontics), her twinkling eyes, her gentle yet bubbly voice... She was in every imaginable way, the same character of the girl I adored as a kid. The very same.

Funny thing was, she said the same about me.

And to think I have done so much in the last twenty-two years (appreciating you are just getting to know me, I’ll fill you in on my life story another time). How could twenty-two years and just as many major life experiences not fundamentally change a person? But I really don’t think it is possible. Again thanks to FaceBook, I have reconnected with other long-ago friends. My best friend for the first seven years of my life, is now openly gay. A major life change, but he is still essentially, fundamentally Chris. Finola, a dear friend in high school. Married, two glorious daughters. Again, significant life changes, but she is still thoughtful, sweet, wondrously intelligent Finola.

So for Jen to say I was still the same had me glowing. I know who I am now, but I seem to have forgotten — or did I ever really know — who I was as a kid. Perhaps being told I haven’t changed gave me a clearer insight into the ten-year old me. Which somehow helps to establish a stronger sense of myself now.

I think we could all use a stronger sense of self. So go ahead. Find those long, lost friends and let them tell you you haven’t changed. It feels incredible.

Thanks, Jen.

Sadly, no bacon.

Remember those long, tedious days in college, when you’d be fighting with every ounce of your being just to stay awake through class? Or sometimes the opposite is true. You are so busy running from place to place (both physically and mentally), that you realize at 1:30pm you haven’t deposited any form of nourishment into your pie hole.

Today is one of those days. I’m not exhausted. I just need a major boost. And since college, when that happens my thoughts — and taste buds — turn to the same old fix I discovered then: creamy peanut butter and crispy bacon on a toasted bagel. Disgusting.

Actually, no. Unless you are allergic to nuts (sorry Derek, and oh so many more of you), this surprisingly delectable, and ideal combination of carbs and protein will send you hurdling though the afternoon slump and slide (you know, when your butt gradually moves further and further down your office chair when all of a sudden your knees hit the floor and you jump back into an upright position, quickly looking around to make sure you have no witnesses).

So I’ve just licked the last of my peanut buttery fingers, and dabbed up the few remaining sesame seeds from my plate. The deli drawer offered no bacon today, so I had to make due with two out of three ingredients. Still, I feel satisfied and energized.

Easily prepared and portable, this sandwich makes a mean lunch to scare away the zzzzzz’s, the tummy grumbles and those poor, poor allergic-to-nuts people.

Next week’s grocery list: bacon.

Divided Trays

Yep, I’m a Mom. And on days when I am responsible for feeding the boys lunch, I find divided trays exceptionally useful. Not only do they limit the typical battle of “he got more than I did” thanks to their inherent portion control, they also encourage me to provide nibblings from all four food groups: four sections, four food groups. Done.

And so it begins...

Today I was inspired. I can’t recall exactly how I ended up there, but my browser happened upon an interesting blog written by a woman about my age — a web designer in fact. As I read her words, and gazed upon her photos, I was struck by our similarities. And it occurred to me: I can do this.

JoeGirl. Observations and inspirations. I’ll call them observations and inspirations... little bits of life from my perspective, my world — ideas, moments, opinions, images — revolving around design, style, craft, and all things which fascinate. Which quite simply, is just about everything.

Stay tuned.

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