Someone was busy in the kitchen!

Brian took a nice long motorcycle ride with some of the helicopter pilots on Saturday, and I took advantage of the time alone to whip up a bunch of goodies in the kitchen!

I started with some simple boxed pudding for Brian's lunches this week. I love my reusable Gladware containers, especially the handy 1/2 cup, single serving size ones!

Then I moved on to a big batch of yogurt. I used the "keep it warm in a crock pot" method with great results at Dad's last month, so I repeated that here. I found out, however, that my crock pot's "warm" setting keeps the pot about 30 degrees warmer than Dad's! The yogurt is still tasty, though, so no harm.

And, of course, if I made yogurt you know I'd have to make granola to go with it! I used the wonderful Savannah Bee Company Orange Blossom Honey that Robyn gave me and it adds a nice flavor to the snack.


Last week I used my bread machine's dough cycle to whip up a single loaf of wheat bread. I prefer the way the bread comes out when you bake it in the over instead of letting the bread machine bake it, but it was still a little on the dense side. So this time I used Mom's old wheat bread recipe and made the whole thing from scratch. Oh, the smell of fresh baked bread! This loaf has a great consistency, and requires very little kneading. Yum!


And, thanks to the Saporita's for this long ago idea: home made ice cream sandwiches! The grocery store I went to Saturday morning unfortunately did not have chocolate graham crackers, so I had to make due with honey flavored. Spread a little Cool Whip inbetween the crackers and you have a home made ice cream sandwich. I did learn, this time, that they are much easier to wrap if you let them sit in the freezed for about an hour so the whipped cream and harden a bit. I'll be keeping my eyes open for the chocolate crackers for the next batch...

Unemployed, homeless and rocking!

Well, I'm officially unemployed. Friday was my last day at CCCS and I can say with no hesitation that quitting a job I absolutely loved was one of the hardest things I've had to do in a long time. I'm also, at the moment, currently sorta homeless. That is I have a home waiting for me in El Paso, and I have all my belongings in a truck on their way to El Paso. I even have a husband waiting for me in El Paso. I, however, am not in El Paso. I'm spending a few weeks with Dad waiting for Brian to fly back so we can drive out together.

Harley seems not to mind staying at Dad's. She LOVES rolling around and lying in the grass. Better get your fill now, little girl, there's not a lot of grass in El Paso!

So what am I doing with myself while I'm waiting to move West? I'm relaxing! Of course, my idea of relaxing may not be what most folks consider relaxing. I spent the first two days cleaning and organizing, which is not only relaxing but also satisfying! But I like projects I can really sink my teeth into (think laying new bathroom flooring). So I decided that now was the perfect time to finally re-do Mom's old rocking chair.

I have no idea exactly how old this rocking chair is, but I know for sure that the fabric is at least as old as I am, and probably a few years more. Mom told me once that when she got this chair it had several layers of poorly applied paint. It took her a lot of elbow grease to get the paint off and varnish it. In some of the corners and hard to reach spots, you can still see hints of green, red and black paint. I remember tracing the patterns on the fabric as a small child, and hours on end sitting in Mom's lap as she rocked me. I'll admit, a small part of me wanted to just fix the loose fabric on the seat and keep the memory intact. But I decided that a fabric facelift was in order.

As usual, the first step to any renovation is destruction. I had to painstakingly pull out hundreds of staples and unravel yards of webbing to get down to the skeleton of the chair.

Then came re-weaving the webbing. I had a small amount of webbing from another project and was afraid I might not have enough. Luckily I was able to re-use the old webbing, which was a nice surprise.

Have you ever looked at your furniture and wondered "How do they get those straight, stitchless seams?" No? I guess it's just me. I have wondered this before, usually when considering a re-upholstery job.

Well, now I know the answer. You use ply grip (also called curve ease)!

Though it looks a little scary, and can leave quite a mark on your fingers if you're not careful, this stuff is totally cool! You tack the bottom down with staples and tuck the edge of the fabric into the teeth. When you fold it together, the fabric is stretched tight and secured, providing a really sharp finished edge. Now that I know about this little gem, I may be inspired to tackle additional decorating jobs...

Lastly, I needed to be sure that there were no loose ends for Roscoe to chew. Using some cambric (or dustcover) I finished up the bottom nice and tidy.

And tah-dah! It's like a whole new chair! I'm pretty excited with how it came out and can't wait to sit in it tonight while I'm knitting and watching NCIS with Dad. I think Mom would approve.

P.S. This would not have turned out so well if it weren't for the awesome website www.diyupholsterysupply.com or the assistance of the Sofa Doctor here in Kingsland.

Two Years

Last night I was sitting in my living room watching an old movie and knitting. I looked down at the project in my lap and suddenly realized: I have my Mom's hands.

I can't tell you how many times I studied Mom's hands when I was a child. I used to watch her create amazing things with her hands. Delicious meals, beautiful clothes and toys, thriving gardens all came from the work of her hands. In church I would play with the rings on her fingers, twirling them around and around. I would trace the lines on her palms and the ridges on her nails. I could tell when she had been working on hand quilting a project because her finger nails would be bent bend from pressing into the thimble.

As I looked at my hands last night, I saw those same ridges on my finger nails and the creativity flowing from my finger tips. Of all the gifts Mom gave me, the desire and skill to create is my most treasured.

It's been two years today since she left us, but I'm still occasionally caught off guard by her absence. There are times when I think "Oh, I have to call Mom and tell her..." before I realize that I can only talk to her in my heart now. I wish that I had saved an old voicemail message, just so I could hear her voice one more time.

A Very Crafty Weekend

What do you do when you have four whole days off from work, a huge stash of fabric, and a somewhat silly need for some fun new clothes? Well, if you're me, you bust out the pattern box, heat up the iron, thread up the sewing machine, and get to it!

A few weeks ago I picked up some leggings at Target for a steal. I don't think I've worn leggings since I was about 8 years old. But I like the look of leggings with a long shirt/short dress, so I bought them. Problem is, I only had one long shirt/short dress! So when I got hit with the sewing bug this weekend, and actually had the time to focus, I decided I wanted to make a few jumpers for the cooler months.

I had some denim that I bought forever ago, but also picked up some corduroy on sale. The denim pattern was a newer purchase and I'm not 100% satisfied. I will have to make some adjustments the next time I use it, but I won't bore you with all those little details.
As I was skimming through my patterns I found this one that I had kept of Mom's. The pattern was printed in 1974! It is amazing to me how some styles really can withstand the test of time (not so much for the fabric choices, though).
I had to make some adjustments to the actual pattern, but I'm really happy with the finished product. Instead of lining the arms and neck holes, I just used double fold bias tape, which was much faster and easier and made the jumper less bulky.

I've been told that red is a good color for me, so I picked up this rich red corduroy. I liked the jumper so much that I decided to use the same fabric to make a cute little matching newsboy-style hat!

Sorry for the quality on this photo, but I took it with my phone. I feel the hat looks cute either with my hair down or up, which makes me think I might actually wear this hat a lot! As cute as it looks on me, my favorite part of the whole hat can only be seen when I take it off: the adorable lining fabric! I think I may have finally found a use for some of Mom's calico stash!!

Two New Challenges

It is a well known fact that I have entirely too much free time. I am always just sitting around wondering "Hmmmm, what should I do? I'm so bored! There must be something I can do to keep busy..."

It's also a well know fact that I am a sarcastic smart-ass...

So, in the interest of staying ever-more busy, I have given myself two new challenges!

The first has to do with my kitchen pantry. I used to tease my Mom about having a soup kitchen's worth of food in her house. Over the holidays I opened my cupboards and, lo and behold, I found a soup kitchen! Not really, but considering the fact that I live alone and don't really entertain often, I seemed to have an inordinately large quantity of food.

So my first challenge is: Use up all the staples in my cupboard before buying anything new. There will still be some shopping required, for perishables and such. But I will attempt not to buy a single non-perishable item until I have used up all that I stored (including the 9 cans of pumpkin that I bought because I heard there a was shortage due to bad weather. Really, who needs 9 cans of pumpkin?).



To reward myself for sticking to a Pilates schedule (6 days a week since October, with just a few days missed when I was sick) I finally bought myself a punching bag!!! I've been wanting one since I lived in CT, but it just didn't seem practical to have a punching bag in a third floor apartment (nor very friendly towards downstairs neighbors).

My second challenge is going to be a lot more fun than the first: Use my punching bag for a minimum of 30 minutes at least twice a week. I signed up for a 5K in February and hopefully this will help build my endurance. Not only will this increase my cardio for the week, but I'm pretty sure it's going to reduce my stress levels, too. There's nothing quite like hitting and kicking something until your arms twitch and your legs quiver to give you that peaceful, relaxed feeling...
I'll keep you posted on the status of both challenges. And if you have any good recipes for canned pumpkin or pearled barley, please feel free to pass those along...

Six Months

Yesterday marked six months since we lost Mom. I've always had issues with how quickly time progresses, but this really hit me hard. Days, weeks, a few months are harder to track, but six months is half a year. It's easier to grasp six months; it's a more solid, quantifiable guidepost. And if you add to that the fact that it had been more than a year before that since I last saw my Mom, well, it makes it even harder. Even with six months to adjust, I still forget sometimes that she's really gone. I want to call and tell her about silly things that Harley does or how my new job is going. I want to show her the cute little knits I'm making, or ask questions about quilting ideas. I want her to try the yogurt I've made and see the new life I've built for myself.

But, like the song says, we can't always get what we want. We can't get more time, or go back in time and change the way things happened. And sometimes the hardest things to let go of are the things we aren't even holding anymore.

I'm still trying very hard to pull my life back together. I have accomplished so much in the past six months: I removed myself from a relationship that wasn't healthy; I found an amazing job that I love and that is rewarding; I moved closer to Dad and Joy and get to see them monthly; I am working on strengthening my personal beliefs and living a life of integrity. And as much as it pains me to say this, I don't know if I would have been able to make such sweeping changes if I hadn't had the transformative experience of losing Mom.

Dan Heumann said "10% of life is what happens to you, 90% is how you handle it." I've always believed this to be true and use this quote to help keep things in perspective: there may be parts of my life that are beyond my control, but my actions and reactions are always up to me.

Crafter's Block

I've been in my new apartment for two months, and I am almost completely unpacked. Almost.

I have hardly touched my craft room. My craft library is unpacked and organized on the bookcases and I set up the craft table, but it is covered with various boxes, supplies and things that haven't found a home yet. The twelve 56-gallon plastic tote boxes are stacked against my bedroom wall along with piles of quilt batting. There is a tower of cardboard boxes with more craft supplies leaning precariously in one corner. Other random items are piled around or stuffed in corners.

I try to justify this by saying that I've been REALLY busy since I moved in and just haven't had time. I've convinced myself "Even if the craft room was unpacked, I don't have time to craft anyway so why make it a priority?"

Dad spent Sunday night and, as we sat at the dining room table eating dinner, I saw my sad little craft area over his shoulder. And that's exactly how I felt looking at it: sad. Crafting, or creating, is so deeply a part of who I am that it made me sad to realize that I've neglected it. I want to be able to spend a few hours a week working on a project, even if it's only a half hour a night. I want to walk past a somewhat-orderly project and feel the joy and anticipation of working on it again instead of feeling anxious and unfulfilled looking at the fabric refugees lurking in piles.

Time certainly has been an issue, but I don't think it is the biggest roadblock. I think I'm afraid of starting a new project because it will be the first time I won't have Mom as a resource. I won't be able to call her up and ask questions or send her pictures of the finished project. It's ironic, really: continuing to create is a way that I can honor her memory, but it's the memories of all the projects we've shared that is blocking me from creating. I miss her more everyday but am still hesitant to return to the activities that will make me feel closer to her.

So I decided to make my craft room a priority. Even though I was tired to the bone yesterday, I organized the plastic totes and started finding a home for all the flotsam on the craft table. If I can just get my supplies unpacked and the room set up, I won't have that hurdle preventing me from getting to work. I have several projects in mind and am going to make a list of things I want to make this year. For starters, Dad just became a great-grandpa again, so there is a baby blanket needing to be made.

Have you seen my religion? I think I lost it...

Religion and spirituality have always interested me. Growing up I went to church with Mom on Sundays, said a quick, perfunctory grace over meals and before bed, and that was about it. Not to say that we were immoral, we just didn't bother God with much outside of those times.

When we moved to Georgia I was exposed to daily, sometimes hourly, religion. People would pray at the drop of a hat about almost everything: classmates prayed about which classes to take, prayed instead of studying, prayed about conversations. It was really interesting to me, this concept of God being a very constant companion. It reminded me of my best friend, Jen, and how we took the same classes, ate in the same lunch block, then went home and talked on the phone all night. I liked the idea of a God who was that available and that comfortable.

I "found Jesus," as they say, while I was at Piedmont. But really, it was more of a catch-and-release encounter. I had some great experiences with some of the Christians on campus, but I also had some really negative ones. I found it hard to buy into the hypocrisy that so many exhibited. It made me question what it really meant to be a Christian, which lead to me question my own beliefs.

When I moved back to Connecticut, I started doing a lot of reading on different religions and spiritual paths. Long story short: I am comfortable with my belief in a higher power (call it God, Goddess, the Divine Spirit, or whatever) but don't ascribe to the human-defined dogma of most major religions. As such, I have been finding my own ways to worship: I create a home that is clean of anger, fear or pain; I give thanks for food and other blessings in my life; I allow myself to be awed by nature and all living things; and I accept the different paths others choose to walk. This allows me to be worshipful whether I am meditating in my living room, walking my dog, or going to a church.

So, I now come to what prompted this posting. Maybe it's because Easter season is coming up and it's a pretty big deal in many religions. Maybe it's because I moved back to Georgia and feel the sway of the church again. But whatever it is, I've been feeling a very strong to desire to find ways to solidify my worship. I don't know exactly what I mean by that, but I guess it means I want to be even more mindful and purposeful about how I give thanks and commune with the Divine. I thought maybe that might mean going back to church.

I know it does not mean going to Dad's church, because I disagree so strongly with many of their tenets. But I thought, maybe another church that is more closely aligned with the things I hold true. On Palm Sunday night I went to Christ Church on Bay Street for their Compline service with Gregorian Chanting. It was a beautiful, candlelight service and I really liked the idea of "singing goodnight to God." While I did find a sense of peace and community, I didn't feel the connection, the awe that I used to feel in a church. And, to be completely honest, they totally lost me with the "I am a poor, pitiful sinner and deserve your eternal wrath" part of the prayer. I just don't believe that we are innately sinful and therefore deserving of wrath and suffering, so it turns me off to be prompted to "confess" this.

But the chanting was lovely and it did bring back sweet memories of leaning against Mom's shoulder during a sermon and smelling her lipstick and perfume. Maybe it's not so much a solidification of worship that I'm looking for. Maybe I'm greiving for the comfort and familiarity that was lost with Mom and Jen. Maybe the best way to honor and worship the Divine is to be whole and present in our loving of others. I will continue to explore ways to worship, and might even end up finding religion again. But I know that whatever spiritual path I find myself on will be right for me, and right where I am supposed to be.

Birthdays

I've never really given birthdays a whole lot of thought. I mean, I've planned parties or made gifts for them, and I do know they tend to come around once a year. But I am not the kind of person to make a big, hairy deal about getting my way just because it is the day I was born. I like to have birthday get-togethers that focus more on my friends and relationships than on me.

So I was thinking, what does it really mean to celebrate a birthday? Here are some of the things I came up with:
~Celebrate your achievements, accomplishments or growth from the preceding year.
~Celebrate the opportunities of the year to come.
~Celebrate the relationships that you have built or maintained since last year.
~Gather loved ones close to you so you can be physically reminded of how they bless your life.

I realized that in coming up with this list, I was thinking mainly about what it means to me to celebrate my birthday. This lead me to think about how I celebrate another persons birthday:
~Do something to let then know you care (cards, gifts, visiting, calling).

Well, what do you do to celebrate a birthday when they have passed away? I was faced with this question twice this month. Well, really three times if you consider Jen's son should have been born on the 2nd: I already had the blocks cut out for the baby quilt which would have been the first of several that I would have made for him.

I thought about Jen a lot on her birthday. I remembered all the things we used to do together and all the birthdays that we celebrated, cards we sent, long phone conversations and later emails and instant messages. I called her parents, since I couldn't talk to her anymore, and I know they were probably having a lot of the same thoughts. Of course, being that we were the same age, it also made me think about my own mortality. Oddly, this is not something that usually occurs to me at my own birthday.

Wednesday was another tough day: Mom's birthday. She would have been 56 years old. Thankfully I was very busy most of the day at work, so I didn't have time to dwell too much on thoughts of missing her. Dad and Joy came up and we had dinner at my house. It was nice that none of us were alone and we could share stories about Mom. I was holding up okay until Dad started to sing "Happy Birthday."

It's hard to describe the difference between singing "Happy Birthday" about someone instead of to them. I realized that celebrating Mom's birthday is really a celebration of her life, and in turn my own. The best gift that she gave me was life, and the best gift I can continue to give her is to live it to the fullest. Sometimes that means bearing the sorrow of losing her and singing "Happy Birthday" through tears. And sometimes it will mean leaving the sorrow behind to rejoice. But it will always mean honoring her memory and legacy.

Taking Control

I never expected that I would end up working out emotional kinks in a blog. I thought I would occasionally post some pictures of neat craft projects or Pumpkin looking cute. I mean, I have a journal for all that messy, emotional stuff, right? While that's true, my journal doesn't provide the same kind of supportive feedback that I've gotten from the friends who read my blog. I guess there is something to say about staying electronically connected.

So, cyber-friends, what have I been up to lately? Well, I made decent progress on cleaning out the house. Still, I look around sometimes and wonder what exactly I have accomplished. There are twelve 56-gallon plastic tote boxes full of craft supplies that I want to keep. Yes, twelve. They are neatly stacked in the garage with the 9 boxes of craft books that I also want to keep. It's overwhelming to think about trying to find an apartment big enough to let me keep all of that AND have room for a bed! But I'll make it work...somehow.

Speaking of finding an apartment... As some of you may know, I was planning on seeing some things through in Connecticut then attempting to relocate to the peachy state of Georgia. Instead of waiting for a tentative, temporary job offer, I decided to take control of my life and just get the hell out of Dodge. I am driving home this weekend and will spend the next three weeks in a whirlwind of purging, packing and saying goodbye to the dear friends I leave behind. Yes, this means I will be moving in the midst of a very cold and snowy winter. But the alternative (paying too much rent with too little money) is even less appealing. I am a bit concerned about going back "home" to my apartment. I know I'll have lots to keep me busy, but I just went through a huge cleaning-out and I hope I have the strength for another. I'm not looking forward to leaving my amazing friends in the area, either. I also have to find a way to reconcile the feelings of failure that come with having to move back home again as an adult. Yuck.

While this change of plans does add a bit of stress to the next few weeks, it also lifts a good deal of anxiety. I can stop playing the What-if Game: what if I don't get the assignment? or if it ends early? or runs longer? It will also get me back in Georgia sooner, which will hopefully mean I can find a job here faster.

I'm still trying to get on some kind of even ground with my emotions. Does it ever really happen? Will I ever be able to walk into a craft store or hear a Bon Jovi song and not get teary-eyed? I've had several different dreams about both my Mom and Jen and while it's great to see them again, it's also disturbing because it usually takes me several minutes after I've woken up to remember that they're gone. It's like picking the scab off all over again. No, it's more like a sucker punch in the gut. The past few days have been especially tough, for no discernible reason. Just the ebb and flow of grief, I guess. But I've felt even more vulnerable than usual. I almost had to walk out on the opening scene of "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (a daughter saying goodbye to her dying mother). I think that scene would have torn me up even if I hadn't just lost Mom, but things being as they are it was almost too much. One line stuck with me: If we didn't lose the ones we love, how would we ever know how much they meant to us? I would like to meet that writer and sucker punch him in the gut.

The Search Begins

Perhaps you're wondering why I haven't written much lately. Did I fall off the map? Have I sunk into a gloomy despair? No, on both accounts...although South Georgia is very nearly the end of the map!

I have been keeping myself busy in Camden helping to clean out Dad's house. There are several lifetimes worth of STUFF that has accumulated and needs to be investigated, sorted, purged and organized. It has taken days to just figure out what kind of craft supplies Mom had, let alone figure out what to do with all of it.

It's a bittersweet chore, to be sure. On one had, the sheer number of works-in-progress is testament to Mom's passion for crafting and creative drive. It's sad, though, to think that she never saw these projects finished. She never had the chance to delight in the finished item or the joy on the face of the person who would have been lucky enough to receive one of her gifts. I know that she was able to find this joy in the multitudes of things that she did finish during her life, and that it was a blessing to her and all those her were blessed to know her.

The hardest part has been realizing that I really can't keep everything. I hate the feeling that I'm throwing away the last few tangible, material possessions that I have of my Mother. Of course I'm not throwing away everything. But even with the hundreds of books, balls of yarn, patterns, yards upon yards of fabric and various other supplies that I will be keeping it still feels harsh and raw to part with anything that was hers. Yet again the battle between the logical (even Mom couldn't use everything she had, how could I be expected to!) and the emotional (I've lost my Mom, I can't lose all her stuff, too!) process of grief is fought out on the battlefield of this little house.

I've borrowed a friend's knitting machine and have been trying to make use of some of the hundreds of balls of yarn that I have found squirreled around the house. Yes, you read that correctly: hundreds. I have donated so much stuff to the Senior Center and Camden House and Goodwill, but it feels like I've hardly even made a dent. It's a good thing I have a few weeks left before I head back to Connecticut...I'll need it!

Speaking of heading back, I've realized that I don't know exactly what I'll be heading back to. I feel like my life as I knew it in November hardly exists anymore. I need to figure out what my new life will look like. What choices will I make? How will I live my life in such a way as to honor the memory of my Mother and my best friend?

I do know that, above all else, I want to live a good life. I want to have a comfortable place to call home, where friends can gather for tea and laughs and tears. I want to spend time in nature, growing happiness within and without. I want to work at a job that leaves me more energized at the end of the day than when I started (this might be a stretch, but it's worth shooting for!). I want to let all those who are important to me know that I value, respect and cherish them.

This post was supposed to be about searching for a new job... I guess I had a few other things that I did realized I would be searching for as well. Like the sermon that Dad is writing at the moment, life is full of beginnings. Even when you feel as though you are surrounded on all sides by endings, it's just a matter of shifting your perspective to see that they are all beginnings.

Spoiler Warning: this is a very sad post

I had barely completed my last post when I got a call from my dad: come home now.

Within 9 hours I was walking off a plane in Florida into the arms of my dad and sister. As we hugged in the airport they told me the sad news: my mom had passed away.

The small blessing is that this all happened so fast that she didn't really suffer. When she drove into the hospital on Wednesday, she thought she would be coming home once they fixed her breathing. She was sedated when her heart stopped, so for all intents and purposes, she died in her sleep.

I admit, it hasn't really sunk in yet. When we were driving today around making funeral arrangements, I kept forgetting that she wasn't at home waiting for us. When we were filling in the details for the obituary and I thought "my children will never know their grandmother" it was still an abstract kind of thought.

I don't know when it will fully hit me. This isn't really something you can study and prepare for. But I do know that I am grateful for the relationship that I had with her, and for all the wonderful and loving people who will help support me through this. My mom was a loving, creative, strong woman and I will miss her for the rest of my life.

Rebecca Jane Cantwell
March 25, 1953 - December 3, 2008
Wake: Sunday, December 7, 2008 from 6PM to 8PM
Funeral Service: Monday, December 8, 2008 at 10:30am