Crocheted Cuties

So, I was thinking about how blessed I am to have so many crafty, talented friends.  Have you ever noticed how some people just have a knack for certain things?  Today, I'm thinking about Irasema, who has an incredible way with yarn.  She crochets all sorts of cute amiguramis (japanese stuffed toys)  For my birthday, just for me, she made an elephant in a tutu!  I named her Rosealia!  More recently, she made me a teddy bear (called Theodore of course)  And, just to prove how talented she is, while she worked on Theodore, she taught me the basics of crochet.  She's an excellent teacher and I think I'm a pretty quick study.  I can't make fancy animals yet, but I know some people who are definitely getting scarves for Christmas.  The best thing about being surrounded by people with such talent?  It rubs off on you.  Inspires you to create.  Encourages you to try new things.  Thanks Iras!  You rock!

Striving for Balance

Have you ever noticed that when things are even slightly off balance in life you can suddenly feel like a plate juggler with 2 dozen very fragile items perched precariously on your head, arms, hands, knees and feet?  You desperately don't want a single plate to slip and fall to the ground in a splintering crash.  You know it probably isn't possible to continue to hold them all aloft for very long.  So, you have to decide which ones to set gently down onto the table and figure out how to do it without chipping a piece off.  My problem is, I don't want to choose.  I want to hold them all up.  Obviously, I need yoga. 

Home Place

I woke up this morning in the house I grew up in thinking about being home.  Home is an interesting concept and I think it means different things to different people.  If it’s true that “home is where your heart is” then I definitely live all over the place.  I've left bits of my heart scattered everywhere… Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, North Carolina, and even most recently, California.  But my Home Place is definitely in a little, all but forgotten, Alabama town called Fayette.  It’s a place I spent a lot of time trying to get out of, but a place I love to go back to.  It’s comfortable, like an old quilt that’s worn around the edges.  It’s where I learned to write in cursive and to multiply, played kick-ball in the schoolyard, kissed a boy for the first time, went to prom, and where I lived with my grandparents.  There was always life in our house, mostly due to the constant stream of teenagers coming in and out at all hours for a snack or to sit and play guitar.  My grandmother still lives in the yellow house on the corner.  The yard is a little wilder and everything is older, but no less beautiful than in years before.  The Confederate Roses are in full bloom now and they make the air sweet.  I took a Sunday morning drive with my grandmother and the town was so quiet.  Almost like a Rockwell.   I took pictures of this and that, tried to capture the past, to sweep it up into a still-frame.  Tried to file it away in my brain and to remember how I felt for just that moment:  I am HOME.

Saucy Stamp Club

Girls gone wild...well, three out of four anyway!  It was my month for stamp club and somebody had the bright idea to go to The Melting Pot instead.  (see how I'm letting you know that this isn't my fault?)  We had  a way fun night, maybe a little too fun.  The day before I was packing and prepping for California and because I never allow enough time for these types of things, I never made it to bed.  I had some coffee and it was fine, but I left work at lunch to drive to Atlanta to meet the girls and figured I'd just eat when I got there.  In retrospect, this might not have been the best idea, but I was excited and just wanted to get there.  Three glasses of wine later and I totally made an ass of myself by telling the waiter that he was "cut".  Now, in my defense, let me say that I had a little encouragement from my friends.  Of course to be completely fair, I also had B trying to keep me in check.  Which is probably why I didn't act on the suggestion that I ask the waiter if I could drizzle the chocolate sauce on his chest and lick it off. (ok no, I didn't actually consider it - geez it was only three glasses)  As a group, we were bad enough that the manager came over to tactfully handle us.  At least, I think that's what she was doing.  Really, I almost never go wild, so I'm giving myself a pass on this one.  Besides, I'm pretty sure the waiter didn't mind the attention, given the desert plate he brought us...