As Long as I'm Dreaming or My Bad Self

I loved reading your hearts' desires.  Now, since Tessa requested, I will share mine.  And I will confess that I pilfered a few ideas to add to my list.

First, world peace and an no hunger
and all that blah, blah.

Sure, I want the altruistic and peaceful ideals, but I also want some stuff.

 

If money were no object:

An exotic vacation for all 3 sides of my extended family.

I want to go to a beautiful place.  I want to spend time with people I love.  And, if money truly, truly were no object, I would pay for everything.  Bora Bora would be nice.  Where would you go?  

A new camera.

One that does not require me to wedge the lens cover open with my fingers.  But really I need two new cameras.  One that is small enough to tote around with me, and one that has more creative options. This one appears to be a realistic combination of both needs.  Do you have other recommendations?
Panasonic Lumix DMC-GF1

A MacBook.

I want my own MacBook (but with a regular keyboard attachment, I can't seem to type on a laptop keyboard very efficiently).  I want Leopard.  I have a fantasy that I would spend less time on the computer if only I had the newer program and its easier photo manipulation.  Is this true?

New dining room chairs.

The marigold cafeteria chairs I thought would look so clever in my dining room are not the right scale for my table.  IKEA chairs, like the ones in Amy Butler's studio, would be so nice.   I need eight.  In white.

Truthfully, I'd just love to have Amy Butler's studio.

Or Anna's.

They are entirely different, why do I love them each so much?
I think Amy's represents the me I wish I were--spare, orderly, efficient, uncomplicated.
Anna's is the real me.  Full of color, stuff, family and possibly some chaos.
There's a psychoanalysis opportunity here.
Which do you prefer?  Is there a happy compromise somewhere?

I want boots.

Like these Vivienne Westwood Pirate boots:

Or, Frye Boots.  Almost any kind, but these are all lovely.  What boots do you want?

An authentic motorcycle jacket.

Like one from a Harley shop.  Maybe?  Could I really pull it off?

Do you notice a theme in my clothing dreams?  Is the bad girl trying to come out?  I swear it is because I love the juxtaposition of soft and sweet.  Or do I love a Harley?  Am I a little rough around the edges or just trying to toughen up a little?  Like sandwashing my saccharine self.

Doug says it is "my bad self." 

A trip to NYC.

I would love to go with my husband to see the Christmas lights, like Amy did on her date night.  And I do love the crowds.  There's more people watching to do when there are more people.  Wouldn't a new camera capture this for me?  Have you been there at Christmastime?

But, since money is an object, I would love for my kids to have something on their lists that makes their eyes light up.

ha ha ha ha ha

And, I'll take any of these:

Steve Madden riding boots
Steve Madden Reinaa

 

 or tough girl boots like Steve Madden's Buck

or Piratey boots like Steve Madden's Winddy

Black Chuck Taylors (my high school boyfriend's name is Chuck Taylor.  Don't misunderstand which is on my list).   I like this Red version.

A Russian Sailor shirt like the one Meg Ryan wears in French Kiss (and can be found on ebay from real Russians.  Size M, if you are wondering).

A new cardigan.  Something frilly and girly from Anthropologie (to balance my bad self).
I like this one.

The Sartorialist Book

Anna Maria Horner dishtowels

Eckhart Tolle The Art of Presence CD.

Prisma pencils.

Any spa goodie in lavendar or eucalyptus.
Africa Spa dry oil from the Body Shop.
Running clothes, including socks.

And, finally, a Diet Coke and a magazine would make me really happy.   Because it is not about what is in inside the gift, right?  Right?

Okay, okay, and I do want to see the light in the children's eyes.  Really.

This dreaming is dangerous...

Lucky, lucky you

Jennifer won the contest!

Okay, I confess that she was the 2nd winner.  I went to random.org and this was the first random winner:

which just happened to be my darling daughter, Rose:

(not to worry, I will let Rose choose a pair, too)

The 2nd "random" try came up with this:

Am I a cheater?

Or just sharing the wealth?

So, Jennifer, go to Tallulahs to pick out your earrings and I will get them to you in time to admire the wrappings under the tree.

This is Rose on the Tallulahs home page.  You see why it would seem unseemly to let her win...

I think I can I think I can

I am a big talker.

Until it comes down to the wire.

With shipping deadlines approaching and the beautiful lace cowl I was knitting now just a puddle of noodles, I am searching for the joy in the children's eyes.

Too bad my child has been sent to her room for inappropriate behavior...

I can do this.

So can you.

Don't forget to enter to win a pair of Tallulahs earrings by leaving a comment on Dec 7th's post:  What Your Little Heart Desires.

Simplify, simplify, simplify

I have the greatest memories of Christmas as a child.

back: Dad, Mom, Clyde.  front: Julie, me, Kevin.  1965

For years I have felt the importance of creating these memories for my children.  I worried that they would be disappointed if I left out one tradition (and yet I was still adding more!).  I wanted their gifts to fulfill every wish and fantasy (even though I knew it was important to not place an emphasis on material things).  I wanted them to feel the magic of Christmas (and yet know that it really is about Christ).  And I wanted my house to represent my love of creating beauty around me (without spending a lot of money or getting stressed about decorating).

Do you see my contradictions  in thought and action?

Do you see how impossible I made these expectations?

I wanted to pass my childhood Christmas memories on to my children.

Kevin, me and Julie.  1968

This year Eddie told me that he didn't want to help decorate the tree because I forced him to do it last year and it was a bad memory.

Blow.

to.

my.

gut.

Did I really?  Maybe I had just been having a meltdown about the boxes of ornaments and decorations cluttering the house.  Didn't the tree need to be "done" so I could have the boxes put away and we could enjoy the season?
Or maybe I was having a bad day.  Or season.

I heard this quote recently:

In response to several friends talking about how stressful Christmas was for them, an elderly Marjorie Hinckley "listened patiently, and then without the slightest edge of criticism in her voice said,

'I love Christmas.  It is the most joyful of all seasons.  I love seeing the eyes of little children light up on Christmas morning. I love giving gifts. I love being with my family. We just need to simplify and remember what we are celebrating.'" (quoted by Janet Lee).

Rose and Lanae at Grandma's. 1995

"I love seeing the eyes of little children light up."

And then it hit me.  Like a brick on my head.  Or a feather in my heart.

That was my real memory.  My mother loved the children's enthusiasm and anticipation.  She loved their laughter. She loved seeing their eyes light up.

Me,  Julie and Mrs. Beasleys all around.  1969

Santa, Kevin, Julie and me.  1970

When I reflect on it, the Feeling I had at Christmas when I was a child is the thing that really formed my memories of childhood Christmases.  This was the time of year my mother was most happy.  She loved teasing us with the anticipation of gifts, laughing when we thought we knew what we were getting, looking at the lights on the tree and having a fire going while we drank hot chocolate.  She loved putting the Santa and reindeer scene on her giant living room mirror.  She didn't stress about it.  She loved the process.

 Eddie, Nicole and Jackson at Grandma's 1997

 So this year, I will not care that the ornament boxes are still in the living room.   That the clutter of Christmas wrappings are around me.   That I didn't get all of my handi-work completed.
I will instead focus on the smiles, the eyes and the anticipation.  I will let my children know the things I love about Christmas so they can see how happy I am.

And I will be grateful for Christ's birth so we can celebrate these joys.

Mom with Ben, Nicole and Rose, 1993

I miss you, mom.  But I will try to carry on the happy memory of Christmas for my family.

And I will notice the eyes of the children.

Pretty packages all tied up with string or Judging by the Cover

More about my love language...

Let me just state up front:  I have a gift wrap station.  I have tried to hide this fact for years, and now it is out there in cyberspace.  Someday it may be a whole room, but for now it is a tall and shiny silver table that makes me happy.

I love a pretty package.  

(photo by my lovely and talented SIL, Jen)

Even if I am only buying a bar of soap at a boutique, I float out of the store when my bag has tissue and ribbons.  Barbara and I knew this when we started Tallulahs.

We wanted our customer to always float away with a pretty package.

We laugh when we tell customers that even if the item is for themselves, they can put the beribboned box on their pillow at night and feel loved.

After years as the two lulus, it is still flattering to hear how much others look forward to receiving our little black pinstriped box as a gift.

I am happy to spread the joy.

 

(photo also by Jen)

My love of gift wrap started as a child when I wrapped our family Christmas presents.  Many friends complained about this chore.  I secretly enjoyed it.  And cafeteria spinach.

Maybe the joy of wrapping was from creasing the paper, or tying the ribbon (even though my family always had the cheap kind that wouldn't really tie), or maybe it was thinking about the anticipation of someone else opening it.  (Or could it be I liked knowing what everyone else was getting that year)

Does it get any better? 

It naturally followed that my first job was gift wrapping at a "mom and pop" department store in a little Idaho potato town.  Good times.  Seeing the packages leave the store and thinking about them under the trees and about the anticipation that goes with them...

well, I could get a little sappy here, but I've already gone on too long.

You can tell my passion for packages is a little warped.

And, since you've spent this long reading about my packages, jump on over to Lorinda's blog.  She wrote about Tallulahs' packages being one of her favorite things.  I am a little embarrassed about all the kind things she says, but I am willing to share this information with my good friends.  And to share a glimpse of one of my favorite people.

(one more confession:  I like my Christmas packages to coordinate and to have a theme.  You may call it a sickness.  I call it a joy) 

Now, I'm off to wrap some gifts.  Lucky me.

And don't forget to leave a comment on the previous post to be entered to win your own pretty package.  I will draw a name on December 16th and ship it in time to put under your own tree (or on your pillow).

What your little heart desires

My love language is "Gifts."  No surprise is it?  The thing is, a good gift is not about what is inside, or how much money was spent.  A good gift is tangible evidence that the giver was thinking about me.  How well does the giver "get" me?  How much time was put into the thought?  (so is my love language really "Quality Time?"  hmmmm...ponder later) 

Doug once brought me home a Diet Coke and a magazine when he was out and thinking of me.  He was thinking of me.
That was a great gift.
Don't you love the "no reason at all" gifts?

The other thing is, love languages are also how we show love.  For me, it's not just about getting gifts, but also giving gifts (but I am not altruistic enough to say that I would rather give than receive--I choose both). 

What is it about the apple and the tree?  Olivia has had her gifts purchased (or made) and wrapped for over a week.  She loves this stuff!

 This morning I was daydreaming and wondering what my OMA might want if money were no object.  Then I got wondering what my list would look like if money were no object.

What would you have on your list?

And what do you really have on your list, since money is actually an object?

Gimme some feedback.  I'm desperate enough to hear from you that I am going to give away a pair of Tallulahs earrings to one of my friends who actually shares a daydream with me (hey, this little gimmick garnered Anna 1174 comments so far...).
On December 16th  I will draw a name from the comments posted.

Seriously, I'd love for us to daydream together.

 If you win, you will receive a pretty package in time to put under your tree.  Just in case you don't get what your little heart desires...

(and just know that it will be really embarrassing if I don't get any comments)

I can't fix everything

I admit it.  I often cringe when I hear the word charity.  It conjures up in me images of all that I am not doing.  I often feel helpless when I think of the pain in the world that I cannot fix.  I have a very clear memory of seeing a homeless man on the street when I was 18 and feeling bereft.  How could I help all of these suffering people in the world?  This led me to a degree in Social Work (which by no means helped my feelings of inadequacy and the inequity in the world!).

 St. Augustine as represented by Botticelli, ca. 1480

I have carried this quote by St. Augustine with me for years:

"Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who, by accidents of time, or place, or circumstance, are brought into closer connection with you." 

It has comforted me and reassured me that there are things that I can do.  I can't do it all, but I can do something and focus on those within my realm.

This year my realm is in greater need.  I look around me and see the pain and fear and hopelessness that those with whom I am in closer connection are experiencing.  And I can't fix it.   

 

Photograph of Anne Morrow Lindbergh by Cordes of New York. Missouri History Museum

Anne Morrow Lindbergh said,

"My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds."

Well?
In the past, this quote was one of my favorites. 
This year it just seems to represent my limitations.
And?
Breathe.  Just breathe.

 Marvin J. Ashton

Last night a new quote touched me, it is by Marvin J. Ashton (1915-1994): 

"Real charity is not something you give away; it is something that you acquire and make a part of yourself.  And when the virtue of charity becomes implanted in your heart, you are never the same again."

I will ponder this.  And I will not cringe this year when I hear the word charity.  And I can do only what I can do.  But I can do.  And I can care.  And listen.  And love.
And pray.

 Thorvaldsen's Christus by Bertel Thorvaldsen (19 November 1770 – 24 March 1844)

Charity, the Pure Love of Christ

(This one from The Book of Mormon, Moroni 7:47):

"But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him."

Is Anna here?

Again, inspired by Anna's The Color of Stew I took photos of my garden.  I wonder if this is what Anna would see if she were here.

anna

Her writing makes me cry.  Her photos make me sigh.  Her fabric makes me want to sew.  Her baby makes me want...wait.  It stops there (but he does make me remember my babies fondly).

 In confess.  I am often inspired as an artist by other artists.  And I am inspired as a bloggist by fabric designer Anna Maria Horner.  She writes, she photographs, she creates, she mothers, she runs a successful business.  And she beautifully represents this life of hers on her blog:  http://annamariahorner.blogspot.com/.

She feels like my friend.  She will feel like your friend, too.

(photo and stew by Anna Maria Horner)
Anna recently took Fall photos and posted an entry entitled The Color of Stew.  As I was walking through the woods with my children, I was taken by the colors (and some lack of color, which has its own beauty  to me because I am from Southeast Idaho).  It made me think of Anna's entry.  My pictures (and writing) in no way compare to Anna's, but my memory of the moment is lovely.  And so are my children.

Trudy the camouflage dog.

I want Anna's stew for dinner.
Tacos anyone?

(Hopefully it will taste better than it looks.
Hey, I was walking in the woods, not cooking.)