Who Knew?

Have you ever thrown yourself a surprise party? If not, you don’t know what you’re missing! Before you worry that I’ve finally lost it, let me explain. You’re skeptical about how one could throw a surprise party for oneself. It’s a reasonable question, but let’s not let reason or logic get in the way of our fun.

Let me describe how today’s surprise garden party happened. (Mind you, I’m piecing this together as I go, since the planning part is still a mystery to me, the planner.) I’ll explain this in reverse order, as that’s how the whole thing was revealed to me.

 

A few minutes ago I decided to pull some plants out of a flower bed. They were getting very long and sagging onto the ground. I decided they might grow better if given a pre-spring haircut. I pulled out several feet worth of flowerless stems, and discovered something hidden under all the long stems. It was a 5 or 6” flower pot with something growing inside. What? Where did this come from? I don’t remember putting a pot here, although sometimes I toss bulbs into a pot and let nature be her own time-keeper. Nature is a lot better than I am at remembering her schedule of when to plant and when to water. I must have put bulbs into some dirt a few months ago because today when I unearthed the pot I discovered several healthy green shoots popping out of the soil, their curled leaves tapering into a point, like on a calligraphy pen.

 

Upon further investigation I found there were twelve shoots. Who knew? You might think that I, the gardener, knew. But the great thing about planting something and forgetting about it is that you get to enjoy the surprise in several stages! Since I love plants, today’s discovery did feel like I’d thrown myself a surprise party—one of which I was completely unaware! (Not just anyone can pull that off. You have to be quite busy, fairly forgetful, and have a garden that is not immaculately manicured. See what the completely organized people of the world are missing? The absent-minded among us are the ones who can genuinely enjoy their own self-designed surprise party!)

I’ve rambled before about how much I love plants. You know I have a garden at home and that I participate in a local community garden. So today’s happy surprise in the garden is right up my alley. I think gardening has been in my soul for a long time. When I was little, Mom read to my sister and me each night and one of the books I remember clearly was The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. (If you haven’t read it, go to your library right this minute and borrow it. It is wonderful!) I bought a copy five years ago and although it had been decades since I’d first known this book, the wonder of it came right back to me as I read each page. The book was published in 1911 but it resonates with people more than a hundred years later. It truly is timeless because the joy of growing plants is timeless. In the book, a young orphan named Mary discovers a walled-in garden that has been locked up for more than ten years. Although she knows nothing about gardening, she is fascinated by the garden, and begins to tend the plants inside. It becomes her refuge. Just as the flowers and trees wake up and bloom that spring, so does Mary. There, her body and spirit become stronger and her life changes.

My discovery today made me feel like Mary, when she first entered the garden. It’s exciting to discover something you didn’t know was there. It’s a thrill to realize that something has been growing on its own, waiting to surprise you. I think these may be young tulips. I do recall buying tulip bulbs a while back but I’d forgotten until I found the pot hiding under the long stems above. A present from me…to me! It’s not exactly spring time (even in San Diego) but my garden is always working on something new for me to discover. My garden throws me a surprise party every day!

 

 

 

 

Get Your Jingle Bell On!

In case you’ve missed the thousands of tv, radio, internet and print ads, the lights on houses, the snowmen on lawns, and the red-and-green decorations that went up in stores on Sept. 1, Christmas is coming. Soon.

It’s two days away, specifically. Like many parents, I still have loads to do. You see, although Santa Claus does a lot of the work to make Christmas magic, parents still have a lot of behind-the-scenes preparation as well. I’ve been very busy with Christmas events at school, getting cards out, making lists (and checking them twice or twenty times)—and the messy state of this house is proof that when December comes and parents go into overdrive, Santa doesn’t send elves to help put away laundry or wash dishes. Yesterday I would have loved one of Santa’s helpers to help me separate our outgoing cards into the following piles:

Addressed, stamped and sealed;

Stamped but still needs address;

Addressed and needs hand-delivering;

or

Addressed but needs double-checking that I have the husband’s name right.

You might think that it’s strange that I’m blogging when I have so much Christmasy stuff to do. Yes, this may seem contradictory. But sometimes a tired Mrs. Claus mom needs to do something completely unrelated to her long to do list in order to have a shred of balance in her life!

Besides, I wanted to share with you a few fun photos I took this month, when I was able to sneak away from Santa’s workshop. (The big guy in red runs a tight ship but he does follow labor laws and I did get the mandated coffee breaks.) If only I could figure out how to charge for overtime, then I’d be set…

 

I like how this neighbor decorated the tiki carving that adorns their front lawn. They incorporated the tiki head into their holiday decorating scheme. It’s an element of the unexpected, which is always fun.

 

 

These next photos show a house that epitomizes holiday cheer. The homeowners start in November, putting up a small building on the lawn where the master of magic sits, selecting music to play in coordination with the changing light display on the lawn. I have never seen so many lights and decorations at one house. They have a giant arch at the parkway strip, at least fifteen feet tall. Every character imaginable is perched on the lawn, contributing to the celebration. There are thousands of lights overhead, lights at your feet, music swirling around your head, over your shoulders, and through your arms, lifting them until you find yourself dancing with abandon to “Jingle Bell Rock.” Icicles glow and snowflakes spin. Reindeer in every color of the rainbow nod their heads to the music. Old friends like Charlie Brown and Mickey Mouse grin from their stations. Even a smiling Grinch has converted and is part of the festivities. Cars cruise slowly by, taking in the wonder. The man behind all this magic sits in the booth he’s put up for this season, wearing earphones and studying his playlist. Children’s faces glow with excitement. Adult’s faces beam at the spectacle. It’s better than Main Street at Disneyland. And it’s there for everyone to enjoy. It’s one homeowner’s gift to the city, an oasis of color and light on a dark December night.

I’m so glad I saw this house of splendor. In a season filled with long to do lists but short on time, this house was a good reminder to slow down for a minute and to savor the excitement. Whether you think of it as a religious season or a time of giving to those you love, it’s a special part of each year, one to enjoy. Let’s take in the colored lights, notice the scent of pine, and appreciate the music and the cheer. Let’s revel in this winter time celebration. After all, in a few days, the stores will be putting up the July 4^th decorations!

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Garden

Today I walked out my front door to the quiet that only Sunday morning guarantees. I was on my way to the community garden I joined last summer. The street was sunny and silent. Most people were still sleeping or just opting for a slower pace. The only movement on my block was from a few houses down. My neighbor Jean was standing in her driveway. I said hello and we chit-chatted for a few minutes. I don’t see her very often and I asked how she was doing. She’s seventy or seventy-five and had heart surgery a few years ago. She said she is mostly fine and I thought she looked and sounded well. I reminded her that we’re just a stone’s throw away and to call if she needs anything. We said goodbye and I continued my walk.

A short time later my phone rang. It was Jean and she made an offer I couldn’t refuse. She said she had some stuff in her garage that she was never going to use. She thought I might be into crafts and wondered if I wanted to come over and get some fabric she’d bought when she still sewed. Did I want fabric? Do fish like water? Heck, YES!

Jean has lived in her house for forty or fifty years. Like most of us, she has some stuff in her garage. Not a crazy amount, really, for having been there so long. But she’s ready to part with things she no longer uses and I was thrilled to help take the unused fabric off her hands! We looked at some of the fabric together and I knew I’d love to have some of it but wouldn’t use it all. Certain colors or prints didn’t appeal to me but I had an idea. I asked Jean if she’d be interested in my donating the fabric I didn’t plan to use. When I learned to use my sewing machine I took a free class through the community college’s continuing education department. In the corner of the sewing room was a table with free pieces of fabric on it. People brought stuff in that was no longer needed. It was like the penny plate you see near cash registers. Take one if you need it or leave one for the next customer. A simple gesture of goodwill. (Hey, the world has plenty of strife and we should appreciate small acts of kindness when they come our way, and then pay them forward.)

After thanking Jean again and again, I brought two big boxes of fabric home. Giddily, I sorted through the stash and squealed with joy over some of the pieces. Some I would not use, and they went into a huge plastic bag that I can bring to the sewing room next week. But I want to keep some pieces and I’m excited to find a project for each one. There are all kinds of fabrics and a number of them may have been sitting in Jean’s garage for several decades. There are patterns from the 1960s! There is stretchy fabric for ‘70s pantsuits. Pieces of lime and tangerine chiffon. The boxes are time capsules and I’m having a blast!

Today’s fabric buffet gives me a picture into Jean’s world, too. Seeing which hobbies a person chooses, and what’s in her garage is like a sociology study. Fascinating! Today’s surprise gift makes me feel happy about being a good neighbor and having friendly neighbors, too. Neighbors help you out when there’s a problem. You lend neighbors tools. They give you fruit from their trees. You pick up their mail when they’re away. In a world in which we’re more self-sufficient than in the past, small acts of neighborly kindness are happy reminders that while we may not need neighbors in the way people once did, we still benefit from being a nearby friend, and from having people who want to help us, too. Two boxes of fabric have brought me some happiness and have cleared a small area in Jean’s garage. It doesn’t have to be a big thing that brings people together. We are social beings and we are happier when we have contact with others. So go on, love thy neighbor! You’ll get something from it, too.

It's a Sign...of Something (Maybe)

When something unusual happens people sometimes say, “It’s a sign.” I’m not sure if I believe in that stuff but I’m not sure I don’t.

Take yesterday, for example. I was walking on the sidewalk when I glanced up at a small airplane flying lower than usual. The next thing I knew, I was in a crumpled heap on someone’s grassy parkway strip, clutching my ankle. It was sprained and it hurt! Naturally, it was the same ankle I’d sprained badly exactly twelve months before.

Some people would insist that my ankle injury was a sign. Of what, I’d ask? A sign that I should watch where I’m walking? (This argument does hold some water—or in this case an ice pack—because last December’s ankle sprain occurred when I waved at a neighbor and managed to turn my ankle off the sidewalk and onto the parkway strip.) Of course, I can’t buy into that sign because I’m female and therefore I multi-task. Usually I can walk and do something else at the same time. Furthermore, the point of getting outdoors is to experience what is there, and I cannot subscribe to a life spent staring at the sidewalk.

So was yesterday’s fall a sign? Maybe it’s a sign that December will hold injury for me. Period. It’s a busy month. Maybe I’m extra distracted because I’m extra busy getting ready for Santa’s arrival. Perhaps I need to clad myself in full body armor between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Injury happens. Be ready.

Some people might interpret yesterday’s fall as a sign that I need to slow down. Pfffft. I think not. I need to speed up! I have tons to do and not enough time! Of course, some might say that falling, and thus needing to ice the ankle, could lead to my finishing projects I can do while seated. It will force me to catch up on my many half-finished projects. Hmmmm. There may be something to this. But is it a sign? No, but it might be a silver lining.

Maybe it’s a sign that I need to live in a neighborhood where there is no drop-off between the sidewalk and the parkway strip. I need a gently-sloped ramp going from the sidewalk to the street. Edges are problematic for people like me. Being that I’ve banged my shoulders and hands into door frames a million times, I think I also need to live in a curved, padded house and maybe a cornerless universe!  

Who can say whether my injury is a sign? I’m just relieved that my ankle isn’t sprained as badly as it was last year. It isn’t swollen and bruised, like last December. It’s no picnic but I’ll deal. Maybe Santa could let me borrow the sleigh for a few weeks since I can’t walk as well as usual. I would return it by Dec. 24.

I guess my New Year’s resolution could be to pay a tiny bit more attention to uneven surfaces below my feet. 2013 is only a few weeks away. Although some people are superstitious about the number 13, maybe it will be my luckiest year yet. Maybe I’ll be injury-free. I need to go look for signs. Does anyone have the horoscope section?

Lend me an Ear?

No, I haven’t vanished into the Witness Protection Program, but I’m flattered that you’ve noticed my recent absence from blogging. I’ve been busy making earrings. My new short hair has prompted me to pay more attention to my ears. When you have shorter hair your ears show more and I’m realizing the opportunity to wear fun, expressive earrings again to go with my fun new ‘do.

The last two days have been a whirlwind of hot gluing, a little sewing and even some work with my jewelry pliers, which I haven’t used in years. I created eight pairs of earrings and fixed another pair that I’d made years ago but had broken. Materials included film negatives, paint, colored Duck tape, Legos, feathers, felt, rayon fabric, beads, tiny glass pieces, thread, plastic Shrinky Dinks, and doilies. Found objects galore! Plus, since I had all the materials in my creative stash, these nine pairs of earrings were free!

 

                                                         

                           

 

You know you are avoiding folding laundry excited about a new creative project when every pair of earrings you make leads to another fun idea for more earrings. All this inspiration must be a sign from the heavens that housework can wait but ear ornaments should not.

When I stop to think about it, maybe it’s a little strange that people voluntarily poke permanent holes through their ears so as to fasten jewelry. Who first regarded earlobes as convenient spots for attaching baubles? Who knows? But this trend is likely to stick around for a while, and my renewed interest in earrings comes from a desire to make art and to wear things that show my true spirit. Earrings can be small pieces of art and you (the wearer) are the mobile gallery!

A Passion for the Peculiar

While walking in a favorite neighborhood I came across something that halted me in my tracks. It was a purple house on wheels. Love it! Who paints an RV purple? Clearly these are my people!

 

It’s probably circa 1967 (or so), according to the online photos I’ve consulted. This seems particularly fitting as this cheerful vintage vehicle conjures up a song from approximately the same era, Sheb Wooley’s “One-eyed, One-horned Flyin’ Purple Eater."

Don’t you love these fun surprises? You turn a corner and something unexpected makes you laugh or smile. It’s the little things that can make your day…

The Big Switch

I’ve been contemplating the big switch.

No, not gender reassignment surgery, but that was a good guess.

I’ve been mulling over a major haircut. The idea popped into my head about a month ago but I needed to be sure I was ready for a big change.  I almost never wear my hair down. But I needed to be certain this was not just a post-full-moon whim.

What’s brought this on, you wonder? Several things. In the last month or two I’ve come across a number of women who have short hair and a ton of style and confidence and I’m drawn to that, and to them. They are fearless! They are bold. They follow their own drumbeat rather than trends or societal expectation. I’ve had very short hair before. Was it time to revisit that look? Some women look great with short hair. It takes some confidence and your face is more exposed. What I’m after is kind of rock-and-rollish, but with a 1960s mod bob vibe, and definitely not Carol Brady soccer mom hair.

For many of us, our hair is a barometer of how we’re feeling, how we see ourselves, and the version of ourselves we want to be. I wanted my hair to go with how I feel on the inside: spunky!

Today was the day. Gabby did it. She’s been cutting my hair for eight or nine years, and she’s amazing. I need to grow the bangs out a little more to get the look I’m after. But it’s a change and I was past ready for something different. I can’t say the family is used to it yet. The kids literally are calling it “boy hair.” Hmmm. Boyish? Can’t they see I have false eyelashes on? Clearly a feminine look!

Oh well. You can’t please everyone. But you should be able to choose your own haircut. This is America, after all!

Change is energizing and I’m glad I did it.