April Showers

Available tomorrow, April 1 exclusively at Glitter and Grunge. Updates on my website on April 8.

Pulp Non-fiction.

Made from pulp paper using vintage-style chocolate molds. They're available at The Primitive Gathering (check out all of the other artists too) beginning April 1, no fooling. More of my pics coming soon.

I'm "It" Again, Twice

No. . . make that three times. My friend The Samstress over at Gollywobbles tagged me for the Make My Day Award. Thanks so much. And if you haven't been by her blog--rush right over. It's so much fun! The rules for the “You Make My Day” award are to re-present it to those whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel happy about blog land. Let them know through email or by posting a comment on their blog so they can pass it on. Beware you may get the award several times, and if you do, consider yourself really, really loved. So to pass it on and keep the love going.

Blondie tagged me to come up with a six word memoir. I've pondered and thought and pondered some more over this one for several weeks. Here's the best I have (and it's not 6 words. Sorry Blondie) :
"I always choke under pressure."

My other tag is to write 5 things about myself. I've done this one before. You can read it here and here.
1. My Dad once performed successful reconstructive plastic surgery on my pet gerbil because somehow I had pulled the skin off of his tail leaving just the exposed bone. I was heart broken, but the gerbil survived and lived a long full life with only a stub of a tail. My Mom on the other hand, threatened to wring my Dad's neck for performing the procedure on her kitchen counter using her sewing kit. *
2. I don't like green peas. Can't even look at them or smell them. Yuck.
3. I was more excited than my kids were at watching our tadpoles grow in a giant pickle jar. (Until they became cannibalistic. The tadpoles, not my kids.)
4. I've never watched an entire Star Wars movie, ever. What was with Princess Leia's hair anyway?! Just not my kind of movie, even if Harrison Ford was cute back then.
5. When I was a kid, I once hid my green peas under my plate so I wouldn't have to eat them. Refer to #2. (Sorry Mom, you probably knew it, but thanks for letting me slide this time. At least I didn't do surgical procedures on your countertops.)

There are so many who qualify for the "Make My Day" Award (I check in regularly with all those listed on my blog--so if you're listed, consider yourself "awarded"). And I'm having a hard time finding people who haven't been tagged with one of these others lately. So, if you're interested, take your pick and take the tag-plunge.

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*P.S. My dad is a real doctor, which I'm sure the gerbil appreciated.

A Rose by Any Other Name

I've been tagged by Tattered Cow Wings to tell how I came up with the name of my blog. So here goes:

I am a city girl transplanted to the rugged country life of rural Georgia. Growing up in Nashville, we rubbed elbows with a bunch of country music people but none of it rubbed off on me and I was just about as non-country as a person gets. I didn't own a single pair of cowboy boots. I couldn't yodel. I was not a member of the FFA. And I never even listened to country music--ever.

After getting my degree in graphic design at the University of Georgia, I worked in Atlanta and then Athens before marrying my dear husband and moving to his family's farm in rural northeast Georgia. I honestly had no clue about country living. Once I was invited by a friend to help her family harvest their potato crop: "Sure, I'll help ya'll pick potatoes! Should I wear my Calvins or my Sassoon jeans?" The day did not go well, and I found out that designer jeans are not appropriate attire for farming and I also found out that potatoes do not grow on trees. So before marrying, I did extensive research on the country life by watching reruns of the early reality TV shows like Green Acres, Hee Haw and Pettycoat Junction and then took the plunge. I left the glam behind: smog, hectic meetings, passive/aggressive co-workers, high heels, designer clothes, working lunches, vacations, long meetings, deadlines, bosses, resumes, and "rush" hour (and I use that term loosely because in Atlanta there is not much "rushing" to rush hour. It's mostly just sitting.)

The glam was replaced by a dirt road about a million miles or so from anywhere, chickens and cows and the fragrant smells that accompany them, and an entire dialect and accent which I'm sure is English, but one I'm still trying to learn to translate. [While I've yet to hear someone around here say the word "vittles" ala Beverly Hillbillies, I have found out some words have entirely different meanings. In the glam world, a "boot" is something one wears on her feet; here, it's the space in the back of your car where you store luggage, ie. "trunk". Go figure?!] Eventually this new glam included mountains of diapers, strep throat marathons, very little sleep, gangs of deer thugs who aren't afraid to rumble with the best of the mini-vans (and my left fender is living proof of that), party lines (yes, the phone kind of party line, not the dancing kind), gremlins in the DSL line, bats, rabid skunks, and stalker cats named Friendly. And for a couple of years I spent so much time at our pediatrician's office that they must have thought that I was an employee. Rush hour now means running out at break-neck speeds to our only grocery store before it closes to grab poster board because one of my kids just remembered a project which happens to be due the next morning. But my new life also included long, lazy carefree walks in the woods with our kids (and stopping to smell the roses along the way), watching wild turkeys, listening to crickets and whippoorwills at night, blackberry picking, lizard hunting, star gazing, mud puddle splashing, firefly catching, tadpole raising, and countless tea parties. I've never regretted the choice. I never even looked back, unless I was making sure I didn't have baby puke running down my shoulder.

And so, here is "Tadpoles and Teacups": my eclectic little piece of the blog-world (and besides, someone had already claimed the name, "Martha Stewart.")

New Things on the Way

Hope to have pics soon!

Good Friday

"The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep." John 10:11

A Cup of Kindness (Blast From the Past 4)

I was picking up my girls from school and caught the end of a baseball game yesterday-- I love baseball and Spring and the sound of the metal bat when it makes contact with a fastball and I was reminded of one hectic afternoon many years ago. So in honor of Spring and baseball season and my promise to bring you my randomly regular blasts from the days before Al Gore invented the internet or even global warming, here's the latest installment of Blasts From the Past.

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I remember that I was struggling to get my son ready for his Little League baseball game one Saturday afternoon. As you recall, I had a passel of kids (that's a country word I've learned, along with "yonder") and things never ever ran smoothly. On this day the clock was ticking and we were just about to leave when panic set in because our son could not locate the most important piece of baseball equipment a kid owns. Nope, it was not the baseball glove, not the hat, not even the bat. This item is one rarely seen by the general public unless the general public happens to be a mother who does her son's laundry. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that if I was planning to have any grandchildren, we could not leave the house

without this all-important, "don't-even-think-about-playing-infield-without-this" vital piece of body armor.

"Mom, where's my cup!? I can't find my cup anywhere!!" [Moms are somehow supposed to know where everything is at all times.]

The family scattered and five of us frantically looked in all the usual places (and by usual I mean all the places a 10 year old files his really important treasures: under furniture, in the laundry, behind his dresser, and under his bed). During the mad-dash to find the necessary piece of equipment, my 3 year old looked on with fascination and finally offered her help too. [Now you have to know that on occasion my baby was known to help "clean" for me and often put things is odd places. There's a part of my vacuum cleaner that I've never found and once she even locked Friendly in a cabinet and then remembered him several hours later. It didn't help that we were 30 minutes from home at the time.]

Anyway on this day she looked on with an odd sense of incredulity at all of us scrambling around, and then opened one of my kitchen cabinets, reached in and said, "Here's yo' cup, Bruther." Relieved, we all turned around, but instead of the missing baseball equipment, she was holding an ordinary plastic drinking cup.

Eventually we found the right cup, made it to the ball field on time, and my chances of having grandchildren are still intact.

Toto, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

But our family is safe--thank the Lord. Our daughter who is in school in Atlanta had just made it home on Friday when the tornado hit there (Atl)--she lives in the heart of downtown not far from where the tornado touched down. We are so grateful that she was already home for Spring Break. Atlanta traffic is scary enough without the threat of bad weather! :)
On Saturday there were reports of tornadoes spotted all around our little town and we were under several different tornado warnings throughout the day. So I spent most of the day glued to our weather radio. It didn't help that 2 of my kids were in 2 other areas where the tornado warnings were being issued also and I was stuck at home with the weather radio -- one was with a friend at a track meet, and the other was at work at a golf course. They're both fine and were able to find shelter before any really bad weather came their way. Thankfully, most everyone around here only experienced some strong winds and lots of hail, and one church not far away lost a roof.

Our hearts go out today to those west and south of us where the damage appears to have been much worse.

Our little community experienced a direct hit from a tornado a few years ago--it's really amazing and frightening how much damage can occur in just a few seconds. I was in my car and actually saw it go over head and didn't realize what I was witnessing. I remember looking at a grove of pine trees and marveling at how far they are able to bend with the wind--Duh! It was only later that I realized what had happened when I saw trees down, mangled metal wrapped around an electric pole, a tractor trailer overturned, a path of woods mowed down like grass, roofs off of many buildings, and the home of one of my neighbors completely gone. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries in our area. And everyone rallied around those whose property was most affected. So many folks helped and I didn't even see my husband for close to 3 days, because within minutes after the storm cleared he (and so many others) and his truck and his chain saw went to work clearing trees and debris.

Go Ahead, Make My Day

Annette of Huckleberry Arts gave me this award a few days ago. The rules for the “You Make My Day” award are to re-present it to those whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel happy about blog land. Let them know through email or by posting a comment on their blog so they can pass it on. Beware you may get the award several times, and if you do, consider yourself really, really loved.

I'd like to pass it along to a couple of ladies I've met recently through the blog world. One is Niki at Jo Kaniki's and another is Marilyn at The Cutest Cottage Lamps. I hope you'll find time to stop by their blogs for a fun treat-- they are both very talented!

The Bunny's Out of the Bag (Don't look if you haven't opened your box yet!)

I think I can post this pic now since mine was supposed to be the first box opened today in Heather's Hippity Hop Swap. It's a papier mache "chocolate bunny" with crepe grass and vintage paper flowers. Can't wait to see what everyone else did. And thanks so much Heather for organizing such a great swap.

Blast from the Past -- Part 3 (Guest Appearance)

[Editor's note: The following was written a few years ago by my middle daughter. I thought it would be cool for you to read about our boring life here in Georgia from the perspective of someone else in our family-- which really translates to just sheer laziness on my part. Plus, I've got a mountain of really important stuff to do today like blog surfing. . . er. . . keeping up with current events.~c.n.]

Last summer my dad bought my family a golf cart. We have a lot of land to ride it on and he said it would be easier to get around. About the second day we had it, I was giving my little sister driving lessons--things like how to brake, how to steer, when to brake. I had just told her that she needed to slow down on this one hill because we don't know if my mom or dad's car is parked at the bottom. I don't think she listened to me though, because she went really fast and the next thing I knew was BAM. We had hit my dad's car! We sat still for a second, then I went to get my mom. My sister started crying. My mom told me to go get my dad. [Editor's note: Yep, that's what I did--surveyed the crunched bumper, then promptly sent for the Big Guy to handle it. After all, he's the one who gave the golf cart to them anyway, and then in perfect wisdom decided to let our 12 year old teach our 9 year old how to drive. Stellar. Or. . . maybe it was just payback for letting a "moth" into the house. ~c.n.] I told him that mom wanted him outside, quickly. He didn't know about the accident. When we got outside, and my sister saw him, her eyes got huge, and she ran up to him crying, "I didn't mean to, Daddy!" She went on and on. My dad was so confused he didn't know what had happened and why she was crying so much. He began to laugh, until I told him what happened. He looked at the wreck and I backed up the golf cart for him. His bumper was dented and the golf cart's windshield fell off, but he was glad that we weren't hurt. You may think I'm crazy, but I still let my sister drive me around. I think she learned her lesson. At least, I think.

Friendly

I was tired of seeing the fashion pics so heeeeeeeeere's Friendly (and no, he's not) . . . no doubt plotting something to keep me on my toes.

Which reminds me of an incident early in the Friendly Occupation of the Nash house. If you remember, I had quite a handful of kids born about 7 years apart and Friendly was a stray cat who "found" us and lured my husband into bringing him home by pretending to be "friendly." In that time there was never a dull moment, and for close to 12 years I cannot remember a single day when I was in our house completely alone--ever. So, on the very first day of my new-found independence, when my youngest was finally old enough to go to kindergarten, I decided to have a little "me" time and savor a long, long, long hot uninterrupted shower. No one banging on the door to ask me something very important like "Where's the milk?" or to tell me that someone was bleeding, or that someone was cleaning the toilet with my toothbrush. I almost felt guilty. . . almost. As I was just finishing the luxury of actually completing the "repeat" part of the lather, rinse, repeat cycle of my shampooing (something I can't say I was able to do very much for those 12 years prior), I opened my eyes to see the shower curtain suddenly begin throbbing toward me reminiscent of the shower scene from the Hitchcock thriller Pyscho. Imagine water and shampoo and arms and legs and slipping and sliding and my heart skipping about 18 beats as I screamed. I cannot tell you all the thoughts that flashed through my mind, but when I was finally able check to see if I was still alive, and carefully peek outside the curtain-- there sat Friendly in all his smugness, something like the picture above. Somehow in all the hustle and bustle of getting four kids and one husband dressed and out the door on the first day of school, he'd sneaked into the house and decided to keep me "company."
Very big of him.

What Am I Missing?

These are the latest fashions from France. And I promise I am not joking. I saw it on Yahoo recently. [By Japanese fashion designer Junya Watanabe for his Fall-Winter 2008-2009 ready-to-wear collection presented in Paris.]

And I think my daughter summed it up when I asked her if she was ready to go shopping : "Dude, [she calls me "Dude" sometimes, even though she knows I'm not a dude.] that's what I want. . .to look like a mugger with a massive tumor on my panyhose-clothed face. Lovely. Just lovely. I give it a solid 10!"

It might do for a bad hair day, or bad face day, or bad arm day--I could give up my makeup, my mousse, and my free weights. On second thought. . . there just might be something to these new designs.

Here we go (part 2). . .

Some of my new things which will be available at Glitter and Grunge starting today. Be sure to check out the others represented at G and G while you're there: many, many talented artists with wonderful Spring items for sale.

[And one note: we must have passed the tight Little League security screening because today my daughter was allowed to participate in the official softball tryouts, and not a single person asked for my i.d., the top secret softball password, or where we lived. Ahhh, the world is right again.]