Dear Santa: A Time Machine Please

      Yes, I need a Time Machine. I do not want to go into the past, although it would be good to be able to go back and correct my mistakes that haunt me today.  I do not want to go into the future...it is coming fast enough.  That is the problem.  I want a Time Machine to slow time down.  It is almost the  middle of December and I am frantically attempting to complete the hand crafted Christmas cards that I started making last Christmas!  Ah!  "Procrastination"  my critics say.  I am not denying that, but what about my great-grandchildren who are growing up all to quickly?  Can't I slow that down a bit?  There are little boys I  never had the chance to cuddle, who are now too  big for that sissy stuff.  Beautiful girls turning into beautiful young women  that I would like to still be buying dolls for.  Daughters who  now are grandmothers.  It was just the other day I was sewing prom dresses.  I am aware I have an allotted time here on earth, but please, dear Lord, couldn't that time be slowed down a bit?  Yes, my very own Time Machine would work quite well--will it fit in my stocking?

IT'S ME AGAIN!!!

     Two years ago at this very same time of year I became afflicted with Polymyalgia Rheumatica (PMR). I won't go into detail about the symptoms of PMR, except to say it is very painful and debilitating.  Anyone really curious can "Google" it.  The remedy was immediate large doses of steroids--Prednisone.  The steroids make one's face puffy.  Since I have a round, fat face anyway, I looked like a Halloween pumpkin.  After the initial large doses of Prednisone, it is given in diminishing quantities until  one is weaned off it. Two years later I am down to just one gram, a single pill, a day.  This morning when I looked in the mirror I could actually see  my cheekbones and jaw line!  I'll never again look like I did at thirty and fifty pounds ago, but at least I no longer will be mistaken for a chipmunk!

The Sprit is Willing but the Flesh is Weak

     Last night I had a revelation!  For several months, with the encouragement of artist friend, Betty Miller, I have been working on, although rather listlessly, two projects of art to submit to the Houston Art Convention held in July, where, if accepted, I would teach them.  Betty wishes so much that I meet her in Houston, as she and I have been good friends ever since we met at the Las Vegas Creative Painting Convention several years ago.  It is not financially possible for me to go to Houston, unless I teach in order to pay my way.  The deadline for submissions is today, December 1.
     Yesterday evening as I was clearing the dinner dishes from the table and putting the leftovers in the refrigerator,a tremendous feeling of fatigue came over me.  Taking a step or holding my back upright seemed a tremendous effort.  It was necessary to retire to my recliner, turn the  back heat on, and just rest.  After an hour, I was able to get up, finish my chores in the kitchen, and head for bed.
     As I lay in bed, after the lights were out, I thought, "How ridiculous for me to even consider standing in front of a class and moving about the classroom  for three or four hours teaching an art class!"  This is not the first time I have been overcome by fatigue such as this in the past year.  Let's face it!  My mind and spirit is young, but my body is wearing out.  As much as I like teaching my art to others, I would be a fool to try to do it in a formal setting.
     Four years ago, I taught two three-hour classes at Creative Painting in Las Vegas.  During the second session of class, I had experienced the same sudden fatigue and back pain.  At that time I blamed it on the fact that I had shoulder joint replacement surgery just two months before.  Now, looking back, I realize it was an omen of things to come.  I have had seven joint replacement/repair surgeries--now I need to get in line for the first total body replacement!
     My prototype art I prepared for teaching will now become gifts.  I will continue to create, but without a deadline hanging over my head--and only for my own pleasure without thought of needing monetary gain.

NOTE CARDS

UNIQUE, FUN, FAST & EASY

"When I am an old lady, I shall wear purple..."

Watercolor w/Pen & Ink
Embelished mat for framing
Jenny Joseph's poem "Warning"

                                                   

Visions of Christmas Past

My youngest daughter had the misfortune of being born on Christmas Day.  As she was growing up, we always tried very hard to make sure she was not "short changed" when it came to birthday gifts and Christmas gifts.  However, just recently she expressed  that her memories of Christmas were that explanations were given to her that Santa "forgot".  Her older sibling, ten years older, and I both expressed surprise as neither of us were aware that the baby of the family with the unfortunate birthday ever got short shift at Christmas/Birthday time.  There was a Christmas that one of our children experienced a very disappointing Christmas morning, and it was not the youngest one.

The year was 1962, Kathy was 10 years old.  Barbie dolls were the big toys of the time.  And, of course, clothes to dress them in.  I was working; full time, plus still nursing our year old daughter, plus all the duties of housekeeping and caring for a home.  A neighbor, who was sewing Barbie doll clothes for her daughter and another neighborhood child, came to me to ask if I had any fabric scraps that would make suitable doll clothes.  Of course I did!  And, I also had patterns for Barbie doll clothes.  The neighbor said she would make dresses for Santa to leave at our house in exchange for the fabric and the use of the patterns.

Just a few days before Christmas, our son, Jim, had an emergency appendectomy. Between being at the hospital with him, working, being a wife and mother, I had precious little time to even think.  The day before Christmas, I went to the sewing lady's house to collect the Barbie dresses she had promised me. "Oh", she exclaimed, "I am so sorry, but I just didn't  have time to make your doll clothes.  Here is the left-overs of the fabric you gave me.  Do you mind if I keep the patterns a while longer?"  "Yes, I mind", I replied.  I must now go home and try to sew some doll clothes between now and tomorrow morning!"  I must have shown how angry I was because we were never very neighborly after that.

We brought our boy home from the hospital and had a little Christmas Eve birthday celebration with ice cream and cake.  I should  mention at this point of my story, that Jim's birthday was the 24th of December!
After everyone was finally tucked into bed, I burned the midnight oil sewing a doll dress.  I remember it still.  There was enough of a navy blue silk brocade left to make a Chinese style sheath dress.  I remember groggily sewing little crystal buttons on the shoulder about the time the sun was getting ready to come up.

Christmas Morning!  Kathy expressed her pleasure at the new dress for her Barbie.  I do not remember any of the rest of the holiday.  Many years later, Kathy told me how hurt she was when she went to see her friends to compare Barbie clothes.  She had the one new dress, and they  had five or six new dresses all made from fabric Kathy knew had come from my stash.

This memory of Christmas Past still haunts me today.  I would sew her a hundred  doll dresses if it would change anything. This wonderful girl, although deeply disappointed, has never expressed a grudge against me.  She has constantly expressed her gratitude to me for the things I have managed to do for her over the years.  Is it any wonder that I love her more than life itself?

A November Morning Glorious Adventure

       Heavy frost on the picnic table at 5:30 AM. George is getting ready to go deer hunting.  He brought me my morning cup of coffee and the newspaper.  Hazel knows he is going someplace and is prancing around excitedly, hoping she will get to go.  Sorry, little dog.  George is gone.  I read the whole newspaper and ate cinnamon toast. 
       Hazel went out after George left, and cleared all the rabbits and stray cats out of the "back forty".  When I thought she had been out longer than usual, I went to look for her and caught her running along the outside of the front fence, trying to sneak back into the yard.  She stopped short when  she saw me.  I used my meanest voice to scold her and as she ran through the opened patio door, I managed to get a good whop on her backside with the leash strap that I had in my hand.  She went straight to her kennel.  After a while, she came out, all wiggle waggles, with that "see what a cute good girl I am" look on her face.  All was forgiven, and she spent the rest of the morning snoozing by my feet.
       I spent the morning painting iridescent autumn leaves on quilt blocks and listening to Josh Grobin, Susan Boyle and Simon and Garfunkel melodies.
It is cold outside, warm inside.  I am perfectly content.  This is exactly how I imagined old age and the winter of my life should be.  I do not have to go any place, do not have to do any household chores unless I choose to.  I am still in my nightgown.
       Our beloved Crystal sent us a message on Facebook today, telling us she is out of the hospital, living in a residential out-patient unit, and doing well.  There are two new pictures of her on her Facebook page.  In one she looks just like her Mother.  In the other, she is the exact image of her Dad.  How does she do that?  No matter who she is resembling at the moment, she is beautiful.  I remember her as a little girl with dark curly hair and silver  hoops in her ears--our little Gypsy Girl.
     This may not sound like much of a glorious adventure to anyone else, but it is very satisfying to me.

Yesterday, the mail person brought me the loveliest present.  Cute "Thank You" notes from the twins for birthday cards and money we sent.  But best of all, the package also contained pictures of the boys.  I tried to post these pictures on my Facebook wall but could not get them to download.  Hope I have better luck with this Blog.

THE TOLMAN BOYS

Design

Just finished doing things to my openeing page.  Have spent the whole morning (another day wasted) playing with this Blog.  I am wondering if it is really goingto be worth the effort?

Beginning

In my first attempt at blogging, of course, as usual, I encountered a major glitch on the way.  I spent my Sabbath morning creating my first blog, and then invited everyone on Facebook to look in.  Somehow, nothing I wrote that day was saved.   For those who visited, all that was there (here) was a blank page. Grr-r-r!  When all else fails, read the instructions--my  motto for life!  I went to the Blogger site, downloaded the "Getting Started Guide", actually read it, and here goes for my second attempt.  For anyone joining me, this will  give you an inkling of what to be prepared for with my journaling.  Can anyone give me advice on getting the "Service Unavailable 503" thing?  I went to Blogger/help and all I got were umpteen thousand other posts complaining about the same thing, but no solutions offered.

Well, here goes.  I am starting this journal with the encouragement of my dear granddaughter-in-law, Kala, and the inspiration of my other granddaughter-in-law, Alyssa.  This is a picture of me and my dear companion of 58 years, George.  More about him later.  All my life, I have been encouraged by my church to keep a journal, and except for a few special incidents, I have pretty much ignored the advice.  But, here I am, at the age of 78 (in a few more days) opening my mind to the world.  I am not sure the world can handle it.   How fortunate that this site has a spell-check feature.  What learning shorthand (in high school) did not do to affect my spelling ability, studying French, and learning to "get by" in Spanish finished it off.

I am trying to think of some interesting things to but in this blog.  Things that might be interesting to others, besides myself. 

Creativity:  I spent every morning last week experimenting with making pictures to put on the  front  of note cards.  When I really should have been folding laundry, ironing, or some other long neglected household drudgery, I was very happily creating little miniature pictures with watercolors, marking pens, crayons, and pen and ink and cutting and pasting and making a big mess on my desk top.  George said not a word about the time I spent (managed to get supper on the table on time).  He thought I was relaxing.  Actually, I was making a set of cards as a thank-you-gift for a friend, and getting cards made to use as prototypes to submit to a an artist convention with the idea of teaching a class using my techniques.  This coming week, I must sew.  I will talk about that project next week.