Saturday, February 28, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Here's the first before, with packaging from something I got in yesterday's mail cluttering the bar.
And still another view of the mess. And now the afters:
All I did was put away the pots,
Pick up the mess,
Put away the groceries,
And cut some greenery from the yard. Tidy makes a world of difference! So would flowers have done, but I only had a bit of lavendar, some red bush tips and African iris leaves.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
First opinion: Should I list the purse now or wait until fall? Should I even list it? Does it look like something someone might actually carry? What about the flower? Should I include it? (BTW, for those interested, the closure is a vintage Bakelite button.)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
And this--Now this really looks like Alice in Wonderland, which I guess is why she called it Alice and the Psychedelic Dream.
I have a print of Van Gogh's Sunflowers on my breakfast area wall. Wouldn't it enjoy keeping company with this? Six Sunflower Cats
Here's a corner of the room. I like this corner. It's got Max's scratching post, the rocking chair Tom got when he retired, the parrot that's his donation to our decoration and a wedge of my fave vases. (Remember, Maria moves things around when she cleans. Sometimes I don't get things back where they belong until just before she comes back the next time!)
Monday, February 9, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
What are you?
Myers-Briggs Type Indicator is a personality inventory based on the Myers Briggs model of personality. According to Myers, "Whatever the circumstances of your life, the understanding of type can make your perceptions clearer, your judgments sounder, and your life closer to your heart's desire."
Take the test at http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
Per Keirsey.com, we Counselors make up about one percent of the population and can be hard to get to know. We tend not to share our innermost thoughts or our "powerful emotional reactions" except with our loved ones. We are highly private people, with "an unusually rich, complicated inner life." Yup. Gotta love that inner life!
Keirsey goes on to say, "Friends or colleagues who have known Counselors for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that they are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them."
Don't I sound cool? Heck, I'd like to know me better!
Something I've found--not surprising, just interesting--is that most people read their Myers- Briggs profiles and go, well, yeah, who wouldn't choose to be like that? It's sorta like the supposition that if all the ills of the world were put in a hat and you could pick any one, most would choose his own. Your burden, your ill, is something that's familiar, something you know you can deal with because you already are. And your personality is mostly what it is because that's what you're comfortable with. Or do you become comfortable with it because that's what you are? Chicken, egg?
I truly believe that, genetics aside, much of our personality traits we choose, one of those choices you don't realize you're making. You are who you are, yes, because of genetics but also because of the experiences you've had in your life. I believe the fact that I was one of eleven children was a contributing factor in my preference for solitude. If you were to ask my siblings you'd find most also prefer solitude. Well, except Ginger. Ginger's our special one. (Not special that way. She's just special.)
I like being with my siblings, I like being with my friends, but I love coming home! I call myself an isolationist. Keirsey calls it being a private person. But what easier way for an isolationist/private person to connect with people than through blogging?
Thanks for letting me connect with you today.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
I think the lyrics apply to so many creative types (I know he didn't mean us; I don't care.):
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
(A lot of his lyrics are vaguely political, a lot very Zen-ish. They suit me.)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
P.S. Oops! I forgot to ask you to leave contact info if you don't have a blog or Etsy account. Most of you have--guess you're more experienced at blog giveaways than I am. If you haven't, I'll post the winner here next Tuesday so at least check back then.
1.) I am super-clumsy. I have fallen onto my butt on ice so many times I can't even count that high. Once, living in Pittsburgh, circumstances were such that I wound up in my regular shoes after a snowfall--don't ask. Tom dropped me off at a bus stop on the corner--he didn't drop me off at the corner, understand; he was turning left, so I had to cross the street to get to the corner. Not a big thing, right? I only made it halfway before I went down. And--another don't ask--I had on pantyhose with no underwear. Honest, it was only because of a weird set of circumstances. So the pantyhose were sheer, all the way to the top. It was the '70s, okay? Plus, it being the '70s, I was in a mini skirt. And this time I didn't fall on my butt; I went face down.
Enough said, right?
2. I used an aka--Kate Maguire--for many years on the 'net. When I decided to switch from writing romance to mysteries, I figured it would be better to change names--because of course I'd sell a book immediately rather than...well, never so far, and that readers would identify my name with romance. Some of the friends I made back then still call me Kate, some 'Ancy Kate.
And that takes me to number 3, the 'Ancy part. I once had a dear friend many years my elder--she was only a few years younger than my mother. (I'd still call her friend but she died several years ago.) Inez gave me a place to stay when my marriage was breaking up, and her grandson--2 years old--called me 'Ancy. And he did it a lot. I'd hear him coming up the stairs to my attic bedroom, calling me repeatedly, then when he got to the room, he'd sigh and say, "'Ancy."
My sister still often calls me that.
4. While divorced, I set two goals for myself, the first to go to Europe, the second to go back to school. I did both--at the same time. My English lit class spent two weeks in England, a week on the continent. I was poor as dirt, but I never regretted making one payment on that three-year loan. Food and lodging were included in the cost of the trip and I so very much miscalculated what I needed for incidentals. In this, as many other things, Tom saved the day for me--he wired money to London. I still made it back to Dallas with only a quarter in my pocket, just enough to pay the toll to get home.
5. Though I probably don't tell him often enough, my husband is my hero. I walked away from him once, but I'd never do it again, even though he can still push my buttons. I just see him better now.
6. I dearly love my cat Max, but the love of my life--my soul cat--was a Maine coon named Murphy. For almost a year after he died, I could feel him jump onto the foot of my bed, feel the weight of him as he tucked himself next to my feet. And I'd pray not to wake. Dreams were a better place for me that year. Finally, when he was gone almost a year, Murphy came to me--in my dream--nudged my face, then jumped off the bed. I think he said goodbye that night. I never dreamed of him again that way.
7. I'm a morning person, but sometimes--like tonight--I just can't fall asleep. Back in the day, that's when I'd write. Now I get on the 'net. Writing would be so much more beneficial, but it would also be more wake-making. Even retired, I need to get some sleep cuz I'll be waking six-ish tomorrow morning regardless.
8. My mother's family came to the colonies from England in the mid-1700s. Tom's grandparents on both sides came to the States from Germany in the late 1800s--he's a second generation American. By the time my siblings and I came along, my family had really become an example of the melting pot, with Dutch and Irish and Scotch and American Indian all mixed in. Tom's straight German all the way back. I was the first speck of foreign matter in his family tree!
That's my eight. Now I'm supposed to tag eight. Since it hasn't been that long since I tagged people, I think I'll just do three:
Jenny at ArtsAfire
Heather at Misty Ridge Designs
Daynodos at I Rob Banks
Check back tomorrow for an Etsy spotlight.