Here Comes A Thought

           Nobody exists for a reason; nobody is born for a sole purpose in my opinion. We are just here for one moment of the world’s history and gone the next.  We have no way of accurately knowing what happens next, but we can try to control what happens with the always changing amount of time we have left here.  It’s what makes us feel safe and powerful in a world where we came stumbling in blind and innocent. We don’t already know how to walk, or speak, or even eat, we have to learn. Just like breathing it’s something you do from the moment you’re born till the day you die. Within the average lifespan of a human, in our time, there is so much potential in every single waking moment to either destroy or create, and it’s all your choice.  If you choose to destroy then there’s no one in your way if you decide to, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any consequences for your actions. And, vice versa, if you choose to create nobody but you  can stop you, just yourself.  The difference is there are no bad consequences from creating, only side effects. This paper is about my experience in life and my urge to persuade you, if you do not want to hear it then I am not stopping you if you do not wish to. If that is your desire then stop right now read no more, I’m not making you. However do you so choose to continue then it is in my best efforts to guide your opinion to align to my vision and saying. Don’t stop creating.

                  I was born a little past 12:00 am a cold December morning on the 17th in the year of 2000. I have no knowledge of when it will end or how. If I so choose I could even stop it right now, then I wouldn’t have to write this paper, or get out of bed every day, or have to deal with the daily challenges ahead of me, but there’s one thing I constantly think about; “What are the possibilities ahead if I choose to live another day?” This mindset has helped me through many hard points in my life. met me in real life know that one thing about me is I almost never stop drawing or daydreaming. Sure,  I have more important things to do and I often have my head in the clouds but I’m creating, and becoming more powerful with every stroke of my pencil; not physically, but mentally.

                   By every imaginary land I run off to while my math teacher bombards us with questions about numbers, shapes and variables, I have just gained another opportunity to do something amazing. Even as the words pour like an endless stream of focus from my hands and to the keyboard, while my finger dance across the worn, smooth,  black, surface of each key to place these words onto this paper  I am doing something. By looking at the black markings spaced and scrawled across this page I’ve put some sort of thought into your mind and by reading this far I, hopefully, have captured your attention. I have literally manipulated you into thinking and doing something just by pressing keys. What a great power creating is.

                There is a harsh reality to the world however; and, in the fifteen years of my adolescent life I’ve witnessed it time and time again; like a bandit or a thief, constantly taking power from you, the power to create. And you’ve done it too, whether you meant to or not. Every time someone created something, taking time out of their ever-diminishing life span, and showed you or someone else you had a choice. You could encourage them, and there would be endless possibilities as to what they do next. Maybe you said the magic words to encourage them for the rest of their life, encouraging them to create something that could change the world, or maybe you just made them feel better, but you never lost anything from saying a few words of encouragement. However, you say something negative, you’ll never gain anything from that. A common mistake among everyone is to accidentally discourage someone and diminish  that possibility of greatness.

                       Most commonly I’ve found discouragement from creativity at school.  Adults  always tell students to be themselves,  to create and to do what’s right, even if everyone disagrees. Then, when you show them that, you are willing to go against what they teach, to do what you think is right, they slap your wrists, and tell you that’s bad. Because once the  system realizes students know that they can’t control you they are fearful, of what you might do. Their fear is valid, but they go about it wrong. Everyone  needs to be encouraged to create in different ways that they can accept. Now, I’m not saying teachers are evil, or even the school board for that matter. The teachers, I think they want us to be free thinkers, but their hands are tied. Out of us, they know most of all.  They see it every day and they watch kids go to school with life in their eyes and they see it slowly get drained out of students as they get older.  It’s haunting, but there’s nothing they can do about it.  People became teachers with the hopes of trying to change lives and inspire and to teach kids, but after signing up that’s when they realize the gruesome truth about the situation; there’s only so much they can do. Teachers want you to create, they want you to succeed, but there’s a narrow margin of allowable change. If they try to change you too much, they lose the job they need to support themselves and their families.  What they were passionate about eroded and their life ruined because the system wouldn’t allow them the freedom to let students create… because they are mere pawns in the fear based way they educate. I respect teachers as much as I would a war hero, because at this point that’s what they are.

                      Now, with my personal story, last year I endured severe emotional trauma and stress from the sudden change of schooling. I wasn’t used to it ; as a result, within the first few months of school I dropped 20 pounds, developed severe anxiety, and almost a constant shake or stutter. For the longest time, and probably the first time in a long time, I had no idea where I was going, I felt I had been knocked off my feet and I was blind, but there was one thing I kept doing, I kept creating. I kept journals and would write or draw in them, describing the misty, pale, mornings of the suburbs I live in. Telling how they made the sky look like an unfinished drawing at the tree line of far off pines, stretching to the sky like a small child, yearning to be picked up by a relative. I’d write about the things that happened, and what I felt, never daring to show a single word to anyone but myself. The cascades of graphite that collided against parchment, forming lines and shapes until I had made an image recognizable, drawing my favorite characters; precious dreams from my unconscious being, where I fondly remember rough and unclear transitions from one scene to the next as I stumble around doing as I please. Dreams with pitch black skies and bright, piercing, neon, light to almost juice like colored soft pink blankness from city lights, and whatever I could see or think of.

                    Then, one early June morning I woke up and didn’t have to get dressed anymore for school or go anywhere or do anything. I could just relax and sort my mind out, which is what I did. Looking back, sometimes I think I may have wasted my summer, but those three short months made all the difference. I indulged myself with countless hours spent in front of my computer screen gliding my pen across the silky surface of my tablet in Sai Paint, making drawing, after drawing, after drawing. I spent hours posting short, fictional stories about what happened after the plot in my favorite game, extending its lessons and beauty further for prolonged enjoyment to my blog as my gratuitous followers waited eagerly for the next word, next chapter and enjoying what I had to offer. And my favorite activity of all, reclining on my comfortable mattress making up short stories or adding on to longer ones in my head like a movie till my mind drifted off into dream stasis. So many hours and days slept away as I frolicked about in an imaginary world entirely fabricated by my subconscious thoughts and fueling my imagination.

                   Slowly, but surely, I started to feel better.  I started to get in the right mind and also, by doing so, I made hundreds of online and real life friends. I took my potential and, in an effort to vent frustration and emotional stress, I created something. Sure, I’ll forget about it in a few years or so, but for one person I’ve changed their life forever, for better or worse I’m not sure but definitely changed forever.

So this is my advice, take time to find a “way to create” that you’re passionate about. You don’t have to be necessarily good, but you have to enjoy doing it. And keep at it, keep creating.  Take all those fond memories and put them to use as an experience that will change someone. Encourage others, many say in this world, “ It’s kill or be killed,” but don’t kill and don’t be killed. You may think that I’m brave and wise for saying all this, but the truth is, even as I wrote these words with such confidence and grace, I was trembling and my hands were clumsily shaking the entire time. But that’s okay; I don’t have to be perfectly determined about what I’m doing, as long as I don’t regret it. Never regret creating, even if it may seem silly. You can go ahead and hide it from others and keep it for yourself. To know that you’ve grown over time, or to rework old ideas into new ones.  But do me a favor and don’t stop. Keep creating. Who knows, maybe something you make will change the entire world.  You can do it.

Heide Presson <hpresson@comcast.net>	6:27 PM (40 minutes ago)
to Ashley

Create!

         Nobody exists for one reason; nobody is born for a sole purpose, nor are we here for very long. Our lifetime is just one moment of the world’s history and it passes quickly.  We have no way of accurately knowing what happens after this brief life, but we can try to control what happens with the amount of time we have here.  Controlling how we want to spend our time is what makes us feel safe and powerful in a world where we came stumbling in blind and vulnerable. We don’t already know how to walk, speak, or even eat.  We have to learn everything. It is the same way with being creative. We have to learn how to make things. It isn’t like breathing. It’s not something you automatically do from the moment you’re born till the day you die. You have to make a conscious decision to create. Within every lifespan, humans possess potential in each and every waking moment to either destroy, do nothing, or create, and it’s all by choice.  If you choose destruction then there’s no one in who can really stop you, but there are consequences for your actions when you demolish the work of others;  and, vice versa, if you choose, really choose, to create nobody but you  can stop you from making something.  Unless you’re destroying others’ work or hurting people somehow then creating is never bad. Sadly though, many people are too lazy to create, or even to destroy; they are content to sit stagnantly while their limited life passes by them. This paper is about my experience in life and my urges to persuade you to create.  If you do not want to read it, then there is no way I can force you to; likewise,  I cannot force you create, only encourage and hope that you listen. Should you choose to continue reading I will present you with my story and describe how being creative has impacted my life.

       I was born a little past 12:00 am a cold December morning on the 17th in the year of 2000. I  know when I was born, but I have no knowledge of when it will end or how. If I so choose I could even stop it right now, then I wouldn’t have to write this paper, or get out of bed every day, or have to deal with the daily challenges ahead of me; but there’s one thing I constantly think about, “What are the possibilities ahead if I choose to live another day? What new things can I create tomorrow?” This mindset has helped me through many hard points in my life. Those who have met me in real life know that one thing about  I almost never stop drawing and I often seem to be daydreaming. Sure,  I have more important things to do and I often appear to be doing nothing while I have my head in the clouds, but this is not true.  My body may be sitting still, but my mind is racing through the universe at warp speed.  With each thought I’m creating new adventures, characters and realities. When it looks like I’m absentmindedly  doodling I am really becoming more powerful with every stroke of my pencil; maybe not physically, but mentally.

       With every imaginary land my thoughts explore I have entered someplace amazing and new. My math teacher bombards my head with questions about numbers, shapes and variables, but I’m not really there sitting in my seat.  Instead of reasoning out proofs for Geometry I’ve just saved an entire species from the brink of extinction. I cannot wait to get home and document my grand adventure.  There, as the words pour like an endless streams  from my hands through the keyboard and into the memory banks of my computer the story comes alive once more. I know that while my fingers dance across the worn, smooth,  black, surface of each key to place these words onto paper, that someone else, should I choose to let them in, can also visit my world.  I AM doing something while my eyes stare vacantly or my fingers draw skeletons in the margins of my paper during Biology. Even by writing this assignment I’ve, hopefully, intrigued you enough to keep reading, and hopefully I’ve captured your attention and opened your mind to what a great power being creating is.

       There is a harsh reality to the world.  In the fifteen years of my adolescent life I’ve witnessed this harshness time and time again.  Parents, friends, and teachers remind us of reality all of the time.  I’m always being told to, “Pay attention” or “clean my room” or “to follow the rules”.  Everywhere I go someone is telling me how to spend my time. It’s like everyone is a bandit or a thief, constantly taking power from you by forcing you to spend precious creative time doing something else.  I’ve done it too.  We all have, whether we meant to or not. Every time someone creates something, taking time out of their ever-diminishing life span, and shows it to someone else, that person has the power to validate and encourage them and the endless possibilities of what they do next, or the person being shown can kill off the creativity by inadvertently suggesting changes, telling someone that their work isn’t good or reprimanding them for not paying attention to reality. I realize that life comes with responsibilities, but I want to try to encourage others.   Maybe  what I say will be the magic words to encourage them for the rest of their life; maybe my feedback will encourage them to create something that could change the world, or maybe I’ll  just make them feel better about themselves. Nothing is ever lost by saying a few words of encouragement,  but saying something negative can destroy part of someone’s confidence.

        The most common place I’ve found discouragement from creativity is at school.  On the one hand we have adults always telling students to be themselves,  to create and to do what’s right, even if everyone else disagrees. On the other hand, when you show creativity, but it isn’t at the right time, or if you question what is taught then those same adults who encourage you to be yourself reprimand you for not sitting quietly like everyone else. I understand that the system needs to cycle as many students as possible through schools with the highest test scores possible in order to be considered “successful” by the state officials.  I do not think teachers are evil, or even the school board or other people in the education system.  I just think that the system itself is flawed. Many teachers encourage free thinking, but their hands are tied by rules.  It must be hard, as a teacher, to see kids go to school with life in their eyes and they see it slowly get drained out of students as they get older.  It’s haunting, but there’s nothing they can do about it.  I truly believe that people became teachers with the hopes of trying to inspire and to teach kids, but even teachers seem to forget about being inspiring after trying to have students pass tests and after being told what they can and cannot teach. What they were passionate about erodes because they, themselves are robbed of the freedom to create.

     Last year I endured severe emotional trauma and stress. I had a change of school that resulted in being in a completely different type of system, as well as being around new students.  As a result of these changes, within the first few months of school I dropped 20 pounds, developed severe depression, and I started having tremors and stuttering. For months I had no idea where I was going.  I felt I had been knocked off my feet and that I would never fit in at my new school. I felt like everyone there was part of a club that I’d never belong to.  I have felt like this before because of my Autism, but over the years I had found ways to cope and at my old school I was able to fit in.  But I had graduated from that school and there was no going back. Now, all I wanted to do was sleep. Even on weekends I didn’t want to get out of bed. The one thing that kept me sane was that  I kept journals and would write or draw in them, describing the misty, pale, mornings of the suburbs where I live. I’d talk about how the sky look like an unfinished drawing at the line of pines far off in the distance. I would describe how the trees looked like they were stretching to the sky, like a small child yearning to be picked up. I’d write about the things that happened, and what I felt, never daring to show a single word to anyone but myself. Cascades of graphite collided against parchment, forming lines and shapes until I had made an image recognizable, drawing my favorite characters to life; the precious dreams from my subconscious, where I fondly remembered murky transitions from one scene to the next, as I stumbled around doing as I please. Dreams with pitch black skies pierced by  bright, neon, lights; where skies faded to juice-like colored soft, pink, blankness from the bright city lights, and whatever I could see or think of.  These recollections and writing about them were my way to escape.

       Then, one early June morning, I woke up and didn’t have to get dressed anymore for school. I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything. I could just relax and let my mind wander. By relaxing, I was able to sort my mind out and begin to feel like me again. Looking back, sometimes I feel guilty, and that I may have wasted my summer, but then I realize that it is not my mind telling me to feel guilty, but the rules of other people’s reality that are causing the guilt. Those three, short, months off from the outside pressure and demands made all the difference in my outlook on life.  I indulged myself by spending hours in front of my computer screen, gliding my pen across the silky surface of my tablet in Sai Paint, making drawing, after drawing, after drawing. I spent hours posting short, fictional, stories about what I thought might happen to the characters after my favorite game with them had ended. I  extended its lessons and continued the beauty of imaginary worlds even further, for prolonged enjoyment of my blog’s  gratuitous followers. I was happy knowing that my readers waited eagerly for the next word, next chapter and knowing that they appreciated what I had to offer. My favorite activity of all was reclining on my comfortable mattress making up short stories, or adding on to longer ones, in my head, like a movie, until my mind drifted off into dream stasis. So many hours and days slipped away as I frolicked about in an imaginary world entirely fabricated by my subconscious.  By being creative I felt rejuvenated. The more I gave, the more I got back.

                Slowly, but surely, I started to feel better.  I stopped feeling hopeless and like I was out of control with my life. I began to get in the right mind; also, by being true to myself, I made many online, and real life friends. I took my potential and, in an effort to vent frustration and emotional stress, I created something new that didn’t exist before. Sure, I’ll move on, and in a few years I will be done with school and with this chapter of my life, but the worlds I create now might just change another person’s life for the better. Being creative allowed me to heal better than any of the therapy or medication did.  My advice to everyone is to take time to find a “way to create” that you’re passionate about. Don’t worry if it is good, but make sure you enjoy doing it. You don’t have to share what you make, but keep making. Use fond memories and experiences and express them in a way that will change someone. Encourage others.  I’ve heard people say “ It’s kill or be killed,” in this world, but don’t kill and don’t be killed. This applies to people’s dreams and creativity too. You don’t have to kill or discourage others from succeeding in order to be successful yourself.  Life is not a contest, but it is brief. If you can, then share your creations, even if you worry about what others will say. You may think that I’m brave and wise for writing all of this, but the truth is, even as I wrote these words, which sound like they are full of confidence and grace,  my hands were clumsily shaking at the thought of someone reading them. But that’s okay; I don’t have to be perfect with what I’m doing, as long as I keep doing it. Never regret creating, even if it seems silly and you’re self-conscious.  You can hide it from others and keep it for yourself. Expressing yourself is empowering and it is fun to go back later and rework old ideas into new ones or just look at where you were and compare it to where you are now.  The point is, don’t stop. Create!

Dear Christmas,

Over the past 24 hours I’ve ranted and raged regarding how much you suck.  There was not time to make candy, write, copy and mail a witty Christmas letter summarizing our year or even properly decorate the exterior of our home.  Gifts are wrapped in yawn-worthy fashion, with no fancy flourishes or festive adornments. Traditional krumkake and spritz cookies still reside in their elemental forms as flour, sugar, eggs, etc., with zero chance of combining and evolving into delectable treats. But all of these transgressions aside, the most heinous offense this year is the disgusting lack of Christmas knitting.  4/5 of one sock is done and the only actual “completed” garment is a lovely, squishy, blue hat… which is MIA.  I’ve turned the house upside down and inside out vainly searching for said hat, but it’s whereabouts remain a mystery.  Of course, having carpet the exact shade of blue do not help when delving into closet corners, but I’ve steeled myself against the possibility of spiders and manually swiped the darkened recesses, to no avail.

Following hours of fuming, complaining and resenting Christmas, I had an epiphany. Christmas falls on December 25th.  Whether or not this is the actual date of Jesus’ birth is not a topic up for dispute, as most scholars pinpoint his birth to be in the spring.  It’s dark and dreary in the throes of winter, so we choose to recognize and celebrate it to brighten the darkness and we do so on the same day. Every year.  That being said, the only conclusion I have is that I owe Christmas a huge apology.  It does not suck.  It has done nothing wrong.  In fact, it’s consistency is a concrete norm to be thankful for.  The reality is that I suck. My planning often far exceeds reality and time management is not a strong point.  

So, Christmas, keep on being your regular, dependable self and maybe next year I’ll be more organized.  My sincerest apologies for the slander (and libel too, because I wrote a few nasty posts on FaceBook). Christmas you rock!

Merry Christmas and God bless us, every one!

And So It Begins…

Christmas decorating began hard on the heels of Thanksgiving.  So far the Christmas Village, lovingly collected over many years by my late mother-in-law, and kept in storage for more than a decade following her death until my girls were old enough to be trusted with it, is again set up.  

The only problem was that last year they did play with it. Dragons rained fire from Mt. Snow. The proper little Victorian people partook in vulgar activities, some posed and jumped from rooftops to their doom. Kittens were tossed in the river. Dr. Who’s Weeping Angel even made an appearance. The girls enjoyed themselves, but their frivolous antics resulted in some broken pieces. To prevent more loss each of them were lectured severely about what would happen should history repeat itself. So far Snow Village remains safe from pillage.

Of course the usual critics inspected the decorating. 

 

Some old world favorites are making their annual appearance. These delightful gnome/elves hale from Finland. They are so very sweet!

The girls all know that to touch the Nativity set is also forbidden.  This set was a gift to me from my late mother-in-law on the first Christmas that we were married.  I’d be heartbroken if anything happened to it.

That being said, and now that the village is off limits, A2 found a way to skirt the “meddling” rules by posting this sign near the Nativity set, but technically it isn’t touching any of the figures. 

For those of you unable to make out the hastily scribbled note (which is probably everyone, considering how sloppy the writing is), it says, “And then God said, ‘Let there be Wifi!'” It sits next to the wireless router.

Getting the girls to school and work seems to be a never-ending task, so I’m woefully behind on Christmas knitting, writing cards, mailing packages, etc.  Only two gifts have made it off the needles.  Here is the first sock in one of three pairs to be completed.

Time to up my caffeine intake.  Cheers, my friends! 

November Post

We (the royal ‘we’) completely skipped blogging during October. This home school schedule completely eats my days… and many nights as well.  Anyway, here are some of the non-scholastic happenings from the past 6 weeks. 

I finished one pair of wool socks,

and one very large shawl. Both are slated as Christmas presents.

A2 and A3 met with friends for a chilly, costumed, picnic in a park.

My DH and I met up with one of my old high school classmates for dinner.

We rescued a sweet kitty, who has been named Niko, who is now residing in a local rescue agency’s halfway house. The story behind her is rather lengthy, but in summary, my DH and I drove past a young girl on a street corner with a sign that said, “Free Cat” that she and a friend found in a dumpster.  She couldn’t keep her and after almost a week of her being in our garage, with no response to a flyer posted where she was found, she went into the shelter’s care.  She has been spayed, vaccinated and is gaining weight.  I visited her yesterday and she was playing happily with a stuffed mouse.

We had our annual pumpkin massacre,

and then we all dressed up for Halloween.

Temperatures have dropped suddenly here, and everywhere else in the country. Lots of yard debris has blown down. I made a half-assed attempt at cleaning, but the winds are expected to continue over the next few days.

 

A growing icicle spotted a few hours ago means we need to check the gutters and downspouts soon.

Yummy new yarn waits impatiently to be turned into more Christmas presents.  I need to shake a leg… er needle.

A3 began creating these adorable little hearts out of paper.  They’re happy, fun, little, tokens to find around the house.

A1 gave Thor a haircut.  Unfortunately, it’s a bit cold for the little guy now to go outside.  We have become one of “those” families who dresses their animals and Thor now wears a coat for walks.  Sorry buddy! 

We’ve not made Thanksgiving plans yet. That would require organization and foresight, both of which are scarce in our home. Hopefully knitting will fly off of the needles and it won’t take so long for the next update. Until then, stay safe my friends!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

First off, let me make this perfectly clear, it does NOT feel like we’ve had a summer vacation.  We went nowhere.  We didn’t learn any new skills.  No novels were written, or even read, for that matter.  That all being said, we did stay busy.  

I had a very small garden, which is still producing tomatoes, herbs and a few zucchini. Enough of the latter was grown that for the first time in a decade I made zucchini relish.  I still need to send some to my brother in law.

I continued to do volunteer work every Tuesday at Furry Friends cat rescue. I do love working with the kitties and I hope to keep helping out for a long time! 

The backyard squirrels had babies, who, in turn, began showing up as teenagers, to the backdoor for peanuts. A whole flock of young Stellar Jays and Blue Jays also appear regularly for meals.  

The event marking the end of each summer for us is Kumoricon.  This year we made the jump from attendees to volunteer staff members.  The month leading up to the convention was still a whirlwind of sewing, building, glueing, etc. that left the house in disarray and tried everyone’s patience.  Some of the costumes the girls cosplayed in were old favorites with updates and tweaking. While there A1 introduced her bf to the world of anime’ and even convinced him to dress up!  A2 and A3 participated in panels, one of them was in a “dating game” and both were in cosplay chess.  I didn’t get many pictures, but here are a few random shots taken both before and during.  

 

A3’s TNT bomb for use when she played a Minecraft Creeper in cosplay chess

    

A1’s Ariel dress, complete with the bulbous, banded snarfblat and dinglehopper.

  

I made A2 a recon corps cape from the anime’, “Attack On Titan” and there was just enough material left over to make a mini cape for Thor.  He sports the recon corps badge too. 

Both the boots and the items in the second picture were used in my Grell Sutcliff cosplay.  The boots were from the Goodwill and I painted the suede with red leather paint.  The “teeth” were made out of a Tylenol bottle and nail polish.  A2 wore them one day and I used something else though.  A lady at a local bead store helped make the skull eyeglasses holder. 

A1’s BF wore a white apron and carried this prop flour sack so he could be Peeta Mellark while A1 renewed her role as Katniss Everdeen. I do not have any pictures of them from this day.

Me posing with some fellows who promised to give me cookies if I joined their club.  Sorry about the awkward pose, I cannot lift my right arm.  It still bends, it just doesn’t go up from the shoulder (Calcific tendonitis). 

My DH in the bright green shirt, working the registration line.  Between the staff and attendees there were 6,824 badges sold for Kumoricon!  Not everyone was there all at the same time though. 

A1 and her BF as Ariel (the Little Mermaid) and Prince Eric. 

A2 as Levi and A3 as Eren from “Attack On Titan”.  A2 made her own blades.  I made the green cloak and A3’s jacket.

The school year is off to a rough start.  Offices in most districts didn’t open until the last week of August, so making changes was a mad scramble.  I wanted to register them in a hybrid program that is part homeschooling and the girls would meet up several days a week at a campus.  A2 was accepted into one of these programs, but it’s about 30 minutes away, but because of her grade level being full, A3 had to return to her former public school.  On September 15th I have a meeting at a closer district that offers a similar program.  I’d love to get both of them in the same school, or at least in the same town. A3 is still working as a nanny.

Not much of a knitter lately, mostly because my right shoulder is messed up and it makes my arm and hand hurt. I did start a shawl, but I’m not really feeling a connection with it. It’s future is iffy.

I have requested surgery to remove the calcium build up.  Hopefully once that is fixed regular knitting can resume.  I miss having something to do.  Cheers!

Lunacy!

A2 took some amazing pictures of the Super Moon last night! 

Lunar influences turned our house upside down.  Here are A3 and I practicing voodoo in the kitchen.

Just kidding!  We were up to antics, but not of the gory variety.  A3 has this strange ability to sit with her shoulder blades protruding from her back above her collar line, so when her head is bent she could easily pass for Ichabod Crane after his run in with the headless horseman.   No decapitation occurred, but her long, thick tresses are now a stunning shade of red!  She has so much hair that two boxes were almost not enough to cover it.  Her eyes look really green now, but she wouldn’t let me photograph her straight on.

A3 wasn’t the only family member to undergo a transformation.  A2 grew tired of darkening her hair so we had it lightened professionally at a local salon.  This is pretty close to her natural hair color (it was almost white when she was little).  Again, another side shot because my girls do not like pictures being taken.

It’s cool because now I have a brunette, a blonde and a redhead!

Before the temperatures climbed too high yesterday I nailed together a new tomato bed, re-planted the tomatoes and then stuck about 100 little trees in around the tomatoes.  This is just a foster home for the trees and I have about 400 more folded into damp towels until I can find temporary spaces for them as well.  I pulled all of the little starts out of the neighborhood road median a few days ago.  I’m hoping that most of them will survive and grow a bit before this fall.  A dear friend of mine has requested that 50 people each plant 50 trees for her 50th birthday.  I hope to provide a bunch of the little seedlings to put towards her goal.

Still knitting on the afghan.  I’m in that stage where no matter how much I knit it doesn’t seem to be growing, so I refuse to take pictures.

I’m on a temporary course of steroids for non- Multiple Sclerosis health reasons and they are wreaking a moderate degree of havoc with me, so I do not predict an exciting week full of hair-raising adventures; however, I’m still hopeful that a meet up with my parents at a lake several hours away can happen and my DH has suggested taking the girls up to Seafair in Seattle to participate in a Cosplay entry in the torchlight parade. 

Cheers!