A Mother's Day Sentiment
Happy Mother's Day to my Mom, my own personal angel.I totally lucked out when God gave me to you. Thank you for teaching me to love unconditionally, to be loved, and to love who I am. Thank you for teaching me about perseverance and how to dust oneself off when life knocks you down. Thank you for teaching me about joy in the simple things...Like fresh picked strawberries, or swimming out to the deep end, even if you're scared, because the water is cooler there, and there's nothing like floating on your back in the middle of the ocean.
Happy Mother's Day to my Grammie, who listened to me tell stories where Princesses rode giant panthers through dense forests, and for helping me spy a leprechaun when out for a walk. Thank you for always having an ear, or a story to tell of her own.Thank you both for teaching me to always find time to dance - to throw up my arms and spin and it's OK if you've got two left feet, there's Grace in that.
love always,me
Grandmother's House She Went
This weekend while in Tampa I went and stayed with my Grandmother. I'd not seen her in two and a half years so it was great to finally see her and squeeze her and love on her for a bit. 
For those of you who know me, or who've read my blog for a while know how much I adore my grandmother and how I've missed her. I found her in good spirits, but for the first time in my life she seemed old. I mean, it's too be expected I suppose, she is 83 after all. It's just that when you haven't seen someone in a while, its almost like seeing them for the first time. You take note of all the things that have changed, and what has remained the same and although she's still the same person I did find her somewhat changed. Not in a bad way-just different. Much like when you see a movie again for the first time since you were a kid and although it was still pretty darn good, you find that you may have enhanced things a bit in your memory.
My memories of my grandmother haven't changed my perception of her has. I've always viewed her as this "Rosie the Riveter" type of person. Strong, capable, a person who could do anything she put her mind to. Now, she seems frail, like a newly hatched chick I found myself wanting to baby her like I do my own children. I tried not to ofcourse knowing that would not be to her liking as she still likes to think her self the completely independent person she always was. I came away from my weekend with a new appreciation for her and a desire to bottle up every little ounce of information that's stored in her long memory.
Hallo'Tattoo!
Happy Halloween!
Last night my family and I attended a Halloween Bash at a friend's house in our old neighborhood. We had a grand time, but pulling up to the street and not turning into the drive at our house felt a little weird...We quickly got over it when we thought about the stress involved with selling the darn thing! Pictured above is me in my Halloween best. I made the tutu myself (you can expect a tutorial sometime soon). I dressed up as the Night Sky.Yesterday I also got the tattoo I've been wanting. Remember...I told you about it-the one to honor my grandmother...Here's a close up version.
I am absolutely pleased with the result and the tattoo artist (he's the husband of a pal of mine) is truly an artist. You can check out both of their work on their blog The Horse and Hare or at their Etsy shoppe.
To Inspire...
My friend Donna (who I've not had the pleasure of meeting in real life) wrote me on facebook the other day to tell me the post I wrote about my grandmother inspired her to write about her own grandmother. I can't think of a greater honor than being someone's inspiration no matter how big or small.Thank you for reading and for allowing me the privilege of lending a bit of inspiration.love and inspiration,
Photo: weheartit.com
My Grandmother...
Is in the hospital. This summer hasn't been the greatest for her and I can't express enough how much I wish I was near her. As I type this its just after three in the morning. I can't sleep. A few things are bothering me, namely a series of dreams I had last night that left me awake and crying into my husband's shoulder. You know the cry-the kind that is not pretty-the one filled with hiccuping, and runny noses, and seems never ending. I was dreaming about her of course and they made me feel my absence from her that much more.
It was one of those dreams that feel so real you're not sure what was real and what wasn't when you first regain consciousness. The sort of dream when you finally do realize it was only a dream you're either relieved or a little bit heart-sick.
Last night, I found myself in the latter category.
In my dream I was a little girl again spending the night as I often did, with my grandmother. At the time she had two twin beds in her bedroom which meant I got to bunk in with her. Before bed she'd regale me with stories (at my request) of her youth. Long tales depicting forays into the city, where she would go to the cinema with her sister in Boston, about lockets, and boyfriends, and dances. Stories about hard times, growing up poor, musings where she wondered how her mother-my wonderful great-grandmother could manage to spread a pound of ground beef amongst her six brothers and sisters-the secret to which she had never really mastered for her own four children. About cold, blistery winters, and snow. Stories about Christmases past, about a beautiful sister she missed. About dressing up, and curling her hair, about laughter and heartache, and all the other small moments that made her, who she is.
After she'd finished sharing her life's stories with me, I'd go about telling her some of mine. Stories filled with princesses or mermaids, about vagabonds with knives, or wishes upon stars, and the Easter Bunny.
My grandmother-always the practical no-nonsense sort never told me I was silly to believe in magic or unicorns. In fact she encouraged it. Along with crazy superstitions about penny's that brought luck when found on the sidewalk face up.
My grandmother who loves to dance. Who, when a tune she liked played on her radio she'd get up and dance, often times pulling me along and twirling me about the same way my mother would often do with me, and how I now do with my own children. Who I can see holding my plump little hand as she took me out for an ice cream cone. Who, after I moved away I would sit and chat on the phone with three or four times a day...It's amazing how one dream, can spark so much emotion and remind a person of things they haven't thought of in what seems like forever.
From that moonlit night in my dream, where I can still see her round silhouette laying across from me I next found myself out for a walk with her. When I was little my grandmother and I would go on long, adventure filled walks. Where I'd skip along jumping over cracks (to not break my mother's back) where she'd stop to talk to a neighbor or a stranger we met a long the way.
My grandmother has the penchant for conversation and could strike one up with anyone, anywhere at any given moment. My little girl-self couldn't recognize this amazing gift and instead would wait rather impatiently for her to finish-sometimes rudely grabbing and pulling at her hands while exalting "C'mon Grandma let's go!" She'd smile down at me and say, in a minute and I'd wonder off a bit to do a cart-wheel in some-one's yard or to pick a hibiscus flower for her.
When we'd finally be off on our walk we'd sometimes go down a long quite street that led to the most magical of places. A park on the ocean, where I could wonder through a wooded area searching for fairies or leprechauns, where I could scale a great coral rock mountain on an adventure, or where we could sit quietly, hand in hand and just stare out at the sea.
My Grandmother's Flowers
You know how certain things can immediately remind you of a person when you see them? African Violets do that for me with my grandmother. As a child I remember her keeping them in various places through out her home, which was practically my second home. My grandmother and I have a very close relationship, I love her and miss her dearly. Up until my early twenties when I married and moved away from home I saw my grandmother nearly every day and certainly spoke to her on the phone daily. When I moved away our daily telephone chats continued, and have remained the same up until very recently.I don't know if it's her older age or that I've suddenly become much busier with my two boys (and participating in time sucking activities like living on facebook and twitter) but our telephone conversations have become less frequent.I miss my gram. I miss her a lot.I have a yearning to be home (and by home I mean Florida) and most of that yearning is surrounded by my desire to be near her.She can drive me absolutely crazy sometimes, but I realize that the people whom I love the most tend to do that.I think one's ability to drive another person bonkers is directly correlated to how much you love them. I really do.For the last month or so I've been noticing the African Violet more and more when I spy them in the flower section of the supermarket or while admiring the orchids at Lowes. When I see one I am immediately drawn to them and my childhood...and her.I've wanted to buy one for weeks but for one reason or another I'd been putting it off.Until today. I purchased this little beauty while at Lowes buying some caulk for our bathroom. On Monday I spray painted the terracotta pot and saucer to match the chairs I painted a few months ago. I plan on keeping it on my dining room table.It comforts me, much like my gram did when I was little when I'd sit on her lap and she'd tell me stories of her childhood growing up in Massachusetts. Or when she'd spin me around in her living room while tunes wafted up from this ancient radio doohickey she had, (I didn't realize how cool it was until years later when vintage became chic instead of old junk.)I can't tell you how much I wish I could curl up on her couch right now and listen to her tell me about going to the cinema for $.10.