Princess fabric!

Here are a few more fabrics I designed. This was specifically designed for chidren's sleepware and possible bedding. It sure was fun creating these.

Cat Scratch Fever

So, my lovely Max -- the stray cat who has camped out on my front porch since last July --snuggled up behind me and laid down at my feet while I was watering my row of boxwoods.

I didn't see him.. and I stepped back to water at a better angle and .... CRUNCH!!!

He bit into my ankle to let me know I had him penned between my shoe and the sidewalk!! His teeth slicing into my bone was painful! But I didn't look at my own injury until I checked out Max's injury... feeling every inch of his sweet, purring body, I felt confident he wasn't in any pain so I went inside and took a good look at my injury.


By morning I couldn't put any weight on my foot so I called the doctor and they told me to come in right away.

I was given a tetanus shot and a week's supply of antibiodics and three days later, my cat bite looked like this:



I'm feeling much better now. The two fang bites are still healing, but please, if you experience a cat bite and it swells up, please contact your doctor at once. I don't know if I had Cat Scratch Fever but I did have a serious infection. And they say it is much more common than we think it is. Now I dare you to say cat scratch fever without singing those lines.

Go ahead.

Couldja do it?

I couldn't!!!!

Green Light Jerky

I received a really nice email the other week from Green Light Jerky Company.

They somehow found and read my gruesome bad beef jerky experience from a few years ago while vacationing in Austin. While hoping I hadn't given up on beef jerky altogether, they asked if they could send me a free sample of their own to see if they could possibly persuade me into eating beef jerky again.

Well, hell yeah!!! How could I refuse!? I sent them my address and last night the package arrived in my mailbox.

Not only is it delicious, but it doesn't have any preservatives in it, such as nitrates or MSG and stuff like that.

And they seem like a really fun group of folks! They even have a Monthly Raffle!

All you hafta do is submit a picture of yourself with a bag of their Green Light Jerky. (even an empty bag is fine with them!) And if you're selected, you'll receive a free bag! Pretty cool, huh?

(Oh. And by the way, the small stick of jerky I'm holding up in my hand isn't that tiny. The rest of that delicious stick is in my mouth!)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to submit my photo.....

Small beginnings

A friend of mine keeps sending me pictures of his vegetable garden. And each time I see it, I am surprised by how much it has grown. He sent me a box of some zucchinis last week and I have been enjoying them immensely. He emailed me last night and said, "more on the way!"

So it was no surprise when I was walking into Safeway the other day and saw tomato plants for sale outside the entrance to the store, that I quickly scooped one up for my own.

I haven't done a thing to them but they sure are producing fine tomatoes. I picked a few this morning and will enjoy eating them with my lunch.


There is something very nurturing about having one's own plant to eat from.

More rugs

While browsing through a family's photos on the internet, I nearly missed seeing one of my very own Hot Wheels rugs I designed laying there on their living room floor! It really caught me off guard. I came really close to not even seeing it because it was so familiar to me.

Here is my actual artwork:


Then, out of curiosity, I googled Thomas the Train rugs, and when I did, another one of my rugs showed up! This rug is 40" x 40"!

I created this and nearly all my work in Adobe Illustrator.


I was really excited to find these. Too often, I sit way too long behind the computer working on designs that I never seem to have time to stop what I'm doing for even a short time so I can see the finished work. And it's so important to do that.

Because. ... When you don't do that. And when you just sit there and pound out the work day after day but never see the end result, you never see what you have actually accomplished.

And when you never see what you have accomplished ... then you never ever feel that sense of completeness. You never see the dream fulfilled. And you need to see that. You need to see that your work is valuable. You need to embrace there is only one of you in this world and when you design your art... it comes up from your own unique self.

Embrace it.

Just another Race Track rug

This one is just your basic race track. It's for a rug where young kids can roll their own cars along the tracks and play. These rugs are pretty large. You've probably seen something like this before in someone's house. Maybe you might even own one... (I've designed quite a few of these... I'll show them from time to time... along with new fabric I've been designing...)

Hot Wheels Rug

Besides designing fabric, I've also been designing children's interactive rugs. This one is a licensed artwork for Hot Wheel.

Flat and fat and who's path am I on anyway?

I've been feeling so monotone lately.

I think I'm going through the change.

That's what my mom calls it. "Going through the change".

I used to think that was something that happened to women in their 50s or possibly even in their 60s .... but ... apparently... I am wrong. Women are becoming peri-menopausal as early as their 20s these days! Not that I'm anywhere near my 20s....

I haven't written nearly as much as i have wanted, because ... to be honest with you ... whenever I sit down to write, I stare blankly at my computer's monitor for seemingly hours without a word to say.

The only thing I seem to accomplish is to breathe in deep and exhale a gust of air and watch my bangs blow upward toward the ceiling as I wait for just the right words to pop into my brain. But the only words that do surface are words like whatcha-macallit and thinga-majig or that doo-hickey.

What happened? My brain was once full. And now.. it's like someone gathered up all my passion and fun and excitement and drive into one large empty grocery bag and then tossed it into the nearest garbage bin.

For a while now, I've been self-reflecting and evaluating my blog, my life, my friends, and pretty much everything else that happens to find it's way across my path. Is this the right path for me? Is there a better one?

Everything that once was, seems to be no longer. The only thing predictable now is the unpredictability. My body is not playing fair anymore, either. I'm not liking it. It's almost as if the simple smell of food seems to be enough to pack on a coupla pounds around my mid-section. It's nothing short of hormonal terrorism.

My life feels like it's passing me by in a galloping pace and I want to jump in and start living in it more. I want to feel excited about things again like I once did not that long ago ... when it's 2 am and I'm super wide awake but who cares, because this is so much fun! And then I wake up early because I can't wait to start doing whatever that is again.

I'm not recognizing me much these days. My stories don't seem to have any rhythm to them. In fact, I don't feel like telling them. Sometimes I begin and then after a paragraph, I fear the story is not interesting enough and I need to stop. I want to show a project I've been working on and even that seems puny and silly to share.

I think, perhaps, my Muse has packed up her bags and bought a one-way ticket out of town.

Hang in there with me. I'll be back sooon. The me that once was.

Isn't that right? Those who have traveled this path before me? We really do come back as ourselves, don't we? Please say yes....

... and then I turned 12

When i was 7, I couldn't get enough of Clifford the Big Red Dog, the Encyclopedia Brown series, Amelia Bedelia, The Little's Take a Trip and Harold the Purple Crayon.

When I was 9, I moved on to Charlotte's Web, Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, Harriet the Spy, The Great Brain and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

By 11, I was reading Of Mice and Men, Little Women, Gone With The Wind, Mystery at Thunderbolt House and Mrs. Mike.

And then I turned 12.

Something happened. It was called Assigned Reading.

I had to read whatever I was given within a short period of time and then write about it.

Or worse!

Stand in front of the classroom and speak about it publicly.. making sure I gave the entire class the proper eye contact and project my voice across the classroom.

One of the books I had to read was The Red Badge of Courage. In my assignment, I had to point out the emotional symbols in the book. Such as ... Henry sees a lot of blood (emotional symbol) and death (emotional symbol) and this causes him to run away from battle (emotional response) which makes him feel ashamed (another emotion).

Something shifted inside me during that time, and, no matter how hard I tried to read, the words would just fall off the page and into my lap.

I suffered quietly.

I cheated my way through book assignments and public book reports from that day forward.

Sometimes, when I could, I falsified my own book report with make-believe characters and created summaries or stole them from short stories out of a magazine and lengthened them into any novel I wanted it to be.

Because in truth .. by then, the only things I read were the back of cereal boxes, Tigerbeat magazines and my mother's National Enquirers.

I envy those who join book clubs and those who spend their weekends by the pool reading their books expanding their minds by what they read.

I have read two books in the past three years or more. Fried Green Tomatoes and The Secret Life of Bees. Both books brought me so much joy. I remember how I felt between readings. I missed the characters and I looked forward to delving back in and reading. And I felt so sad when the book was over.

That's how all books should be.

Do you have a favorite book that I would perhaps enjoy reading? A book where the words stay in place and don't slip down the page and onto my lap? Summer is quickly approaching. I would so enjoy joining the others around the pool with a book in hand instead of my People magazine.

I'm interested in all types of books in all different categories. Or so, I would like to think that.

Just as long as there are easy-to-read short chapters with medium size text with lots of paragraphs just incase I wanted to stop reading between chapters, it would be a nice resting place.

(smile)

It is never too late....

"Everyone is afraid they have missed the boat. We worry that we are too old, we missed it, it passed us by ... or we fear we might miss it if we are not looking all the time. But the truth is, you ARE the boat. No matter how old or young you are, you are the boat. You can't miss it! If you are still alive, you have things to do!" ~Carolyn Myss

It is never too late to sail. Do it today. Lick you finger and figure out the wind. And just head in that direction. Your fate will carry you.

Inside other people's fridge

I'm not sure why, but it just feels wrong to be a guest in someone else's house and open the door to their refrigerator. Even if they ask me to take out the gallon of milk, my eyes stay fixed on the milk carton and I don't allow them to wander anywhere else.

It's as though I've been asked to grab an extra roll of toilet paper in the master bedroom's bathroom or grab a coat from someone's closet.

I thought it would be fun to take pictures of the inside of refrigerators. A place that feels so private. A place we sometimes fear to venture.

100 B.C. (100 years Before Cowboys)

When I was a small child, I somehow got this notion that B.C. meant Before Cowboys. First there were indians that roamed our land. And then the cowboys came and chased all the indians off to the southwestern states where they were corralled into indian reservations or sold arrow heads in New Mexico.

So if someone said, "it was the year 100 before B.C.".. I imagined it being a land of indians and buffalos and colored corn.

When I was between 3 and 4, i played cowboys everytime i had the chance. I used to carry my baby bottle in one of my holsters as I rode merrily through our house on my play stick horse!

When I was 5, I would play at Kathy's house and hop on her rocking horse.. It had a pull-string with a ring attached at the end and I loved pulling that string up toward my shoulder to hear the horse winny.

When I was 6, we tied a shoe-string across our stingray bike's handlebars and maneuvered the string to steer our bikes as if it were the reins on our horse. Other times, we'd loop a rope around someone's chest and under their arms and by holding the ends of the rope, we'd steer our horse from behind.

I remember playing Bonanza when Chucky jumped out from behind a tree and told me to drop my gun and put my hands up. I did. He shot me anyway.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I leaned over holding my gut. "ooh. You got me!" I gasped and staggered a tiny bit before collapsing onto the grass, directly on top of my toy metal gun. I still wear the scar on my left knee.

And then one morning when I was 7, Terry came running over to my house in her brand new indian suit with war paint on her cheeks and feathers in her headband. And we never played cowboys again.

From that day forward, we played indians.

I loved the way the water color paint would dry out and feel pulled across my cheeks. My indian suit was my old Daniel Boone suit but Terry swore she would never share our secret.

And she didn't.

We'd run around in bare feet. We shot bow and arrows. We carried rubber tommyhawks in our belt. We made our teepee by hanging a large sheet from the clothesline and then spreading out all four corners using books to place it firmly on the ground.

Playing cowboys sure was a lotta fun. But, so was playing indians.

And, then again. So was playing pirates. And pretending to be little people. Or Swiss Family Robinson. Or Lassie. And Harriet the Spy. Or playing army or pretending to be The Monkees. Growing up as a kid back then sure is different than growing up as a kid today. And I'm grateful I was born in such a time as then.

Friendships that move on

Ya know how it was when you were a kid and you'd hang out with your friend and you didn't hafta do much.

Maybe just read Archie comic books together. Or watch tv. Or hop on pogo sticks. Or listen to records or go on bike rides through the neighborhood. Or wander down to the creek to catch crawdads or pretend you were stranded on the island just like Gilligan and the gang.

I have a friend who I did just that with.

No penciling in on my calendar weeks in advance. He was my automatic friend. My automatically be there friend.

"Hi! Ya wanna hang out? it's such a beautiful day!"
"Sure! You wanna go on a picnic?" He'd say.
"Yes! I'd love that!"
"I'll pick up some snacks... see you in about 15 minutes!"

"whatcha doin'?" He'd ask.

"Oh, " I'd say, "I'm thinkin' of painting my gutters..."
"Ya need some help? I'll be right over and bring my ladder!"
"That's great! See ya when ya get here!"

"Hey what are you doing tomorrow?" He'd ask.
"Not sure. What are you doin'?" "Ya wanna go to the A's game? We can barbecue there in the parking lot before the game!"
"Sure! That'll be fun! Let me know what I should bring!"

We had an easy, spontaneous, always ready friendship. We hung out together a lot and all the time.

"Ya wanna come over and watch LOST?"
"I'll be right over."

"Hey! I wanna go on a walk, ya wanna join me?"
"Sure! I'll see you in five minutes!"

Such an easy friend to say yes to. And now he is gone.

He moved away two weeks ago. Three hundred long miles away.

This morning I needed to pick up dirt to fill up sink holes in my backyard. Normally, I'd call my friend, "Hey! Whatcha doin? Ya wanna help me bring in some dirt?"

He'd say, "Sure! See ya there!" And he'd drive up in his truck and we'd haul that dirt out to my backyard.

But this time he wasn't there.

The air felt so empty.

The day felt longer than it used to feel.

I called up another friend with a truck and asked the same question. He never returned my call.

Friendships. Really comfortable friends are golden. I didn't always need my friend to help me in my chores. More often than not, we needed each other for fun and adventures and to share a laugh with. We didn't hafta pencil each other in a month in advance. We were instead, the ever-ready spontaneous friend who was always available for fun.

He will always live in my heart.

And I miss him.

Especially today.

My Sister, my hero.

Photo by J. Andres Vargas

My sister just ran 233.6 total km covered over six days. A total of 33,800 ft of elevation was climbed and it was calculated that she burned over 30,000 calories.

She ran through the jungles and rainforest of Costa Rica, along mountain trails, single track across ridgelines and coastal ranges. She's 50 years old and came in 3rd place among the women.

She is amazing.

She wrote this to us:

I just finished my second day and I am now in 3rd place. The heat and humidity is staggering. This is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. It is also the most incredible thing I have ever done. What can I say about the first two days? Heat, humidity, mud, snakes, swamp, lots of no trails. Just straight up the rainforest. At times it is a little scary, but it is simply amazing. I told one of the race directors today, that if I died after this race, it would be okay. My life would be complete. It rained alot yesterday and the humidity was horrible. We got up at 330 am today and the heat and humidity was horrible. It is like being in a steam room 24-7. This race is not for everyone, that is for sure. It is hard to stay organized and putting the tent up in the pouring rain is quite comical.

I miss you all. Mom, please don´t worry about me. I am having the time of my life. Tomorrow is a very hard day. It is hard to imagine running in this terrain again. I am feeling good though. The people here are great. Matt is rafting down a river today and I hope he is having fun. I love you Caleb, Chelsea, and Courtney. Hi Angie, Wally, Tyler and Kate! Hi Shawn, and Mom!! I say your notes today. Thankyou they really help. They made me almost cry. I love you all and can´t wait to tell you all about this incredible adventure.

and this:

well, the race is over and i am so happy to be finished with this adventure. the coastal challenge was the hardest race i have ever done. they didn't tell us that we would be swimming and bouldering, and running up steep muddy rainforest trails. actually they were not trails, we had to navigate straight up through the jungle looking for course markers. the heat and humidity was outrageous. we saw snakes, alligators, and lots of monkeys. they kept telling us that they had plenty of anti-venom in case we got bit by a snake. that was reasurring. one day we swam for 2 hours through a large river with our packs on before running for 7 hours more. on that day, i ran alone for 8 hours in the rainforest. it was exciting and exhausting all at the same time. camping in the middle of nowhere is interesting too. there was no downtime and the spiders in our make-shift cold showers were as big as softballs. i came in 3rd. the two women who beat me are in the 30s, so i can't complain. if you thought i was skinny before, well baby, look at me now!! wow, what 6 days in the jungle does to the bod!! thanks everyone for all the support. i love you all.

----

Kelly is my hero. I know she can do anything. Brenda says she can be in the Green Berets. I think she could be in the Pony Express. (If they still had the Pony Express). Kelly truly believes in mind over matter. I started to wonder what has been my great challenges in my life have been. I know we all have them.

I have always been a great believer in listening to what makes our heart sing with joy. Finding exactly where our inspiration lives and then moving forward towards it. If you open your heart you will hear something that is devinely right for you... and life-fulfilling. Kelly has found that. So have I in a different way.

I have found it in my art.

We can spend endless hours in what brings our heart joy. That's when you know you have found it.

You can read more about my sister on her blog here.

A Simple Way to Make Soup

"It's really simple," she told me. "You just take whatever jar of spaghetti sauce you happen to have in your cupboard.. and dilute with water and that becomes your tomato base. Then you simply cut up whatever vegetables you have in the fridge.. and there's your soup!"

What a brilliant idea! Ever since I put in my new kitchen, I imagined myself cooking delicious dinners in it. But if you recall my 5-minute egg or my tuna casserole, you'll know I am not a very good, imaginative cook. 

Last night, I poured in the Prego Pasta Sauce (the expiration date was 8/31/07 but it smelled okay when I opened it up) and added water and soon I was cutting up potatoes, carrots, asparagus, green beans, bell pepper, onion and even poured in some rice.

And then a little bit more rice since it had dropped to the bottom of the pot and I couldn't see it. I waited about five minutes... stirred it... didn't see too many flakes of rice, so I poured in some more. I wasn't sure how much I had poured in. But within fifteen minutes my soup had turned into a more of just a rice dish.


I nearly broke the spoon trying to stir through that sludge of rice. If you're hungry, come on over. I have enough to feed an army.

More fabric to show!

There was a month or so where I was hammering out all kinds of fabric designs, but wasn't in a place to show them until now.
This is another new release for Michael Miller Fabrics called Jungle Jam.

These were a lotta fun. The large piece was done several months earlier and we had the artwork thumbtacked to our design wall. I had nearly forgotten about it when Kathy asked me to design a few coordinates to go with it... "let's send it out by the end of the day tomorrow..."

And I put my foot on the excellerator of sheer adrenaline and simple passion of of illustrating and design and this is what I came up with.

i sure love my job.

facebook

Facebook has been a strange phenomena for me.

Suddenly I am connecting with friends I haven't seen since I was a teenager doing missionary work and its stirring up all kinds of various emotions for me.  I haven't gone to church since that time, and I have mostly lived my life worried what my missionary friends would think of me knowing that about me. Afraid of disappointing, and fearing the feeling of judgement.

At the same time, it was such a long time ago that many of my friends who are in my life now, have no idea that I was ever in full-time ministry. Just like the people I knew back then, don't know about my un-churched life now.

Such a criss-cross of interractions and experiences in my lifetime.

During the time I served as a missionary, (making $19 a week)... I spent weeks in the roughest, most brutal neighborhoods of Harlem and in Flatbush and Bushwick districts of Brooklyn, NY, Portsmouth, VA, Tacoma, WA and Dallas, TX --and even in women's prisons.It was such an adventure.

We spent hours praying for the lost that they might find Jesus. But deep in my heart, where I was afraid to look myself, I wondered and worried if I had ever really found Him.

"Please God," I would pray. "Please reveal Your love to me in a mighty way." I prayed that same prayer everyday. With my eyes closed and heart pounding, I would be afraid to open them in fear of what I would find. Would I see Him in all His glory? Would I fall on the ground from the force of His love? Each day, I would open my eyes and each day I woudn't see anything except for what was in front of me and simply believed in faith that "yes, Jesus loves me for the bible tells me so."

During my stint as a missionary and afterwards, I feared I would say or do something that wasn't perfectly right or good. My insides were constantly swarming with emotions. Always conflicting, always feeling less than. Always admiring others' beauty and shaming my own.

And now that portion of my past has reunited to my future. All blending in, side-by-side in facebook, like an outdoor picnic with friends from all different walks of my life, I need to let it go and let life make its own history.

So. Here I am. Thank you for those who still remember me and want to friend me. This is me. Living my life the best I know how. I have a long way to go, but enjoy moving along with you.. toward a deeper spirituality and being a better person in this life of ours.

So. Let's start the charcoal. Lets unthaw the meat. The party is about to begin and you're all welcome to participate. Its gonna be party of a lifetime.

Winners and Losers

I grew up in the age where there were winners and losers. 

Not everyone received a trophy for coming in 5th place. There was only one winner. 

Now a days, no one comes home a loser. (I see it a lot on talk shows, like on Ellen for instance). They all are winners. 

I understand why they do that. It doesn't discriminate. It doesn't create any feelings of shame for the loser. But it doesn't really create any kudos for the winner either.

I've been a winner and I've been a loser. Either place, it has pushed me forward. 

As a loser, I learned by falling short of my goal pushed me to want to do better and so I learned how to strategize. When I won, it was my hope fulfilled. It propelled me to believe in my dreams and inspired me to continue further. 

The other day it was pointed out to me that my Tot Town fabric was shown on the website TRUE UP as Best Juvenile Print of 2008!

I feel really satisfied by that. 

I think everyone fears not fulfilling their potential. Not maximizing all that we are meant to accomplish.  

This new year I am focused on living the life my soul intended. Just like you are wanting to live the life your soul intended. We're really not any different after all.

Here are two of my fabric designs. One is from the Bot Camp line. The other goes along with my Sea Monkeys. You can visit our company blog to see more. You'll really enjoy Kathy's blog, filled with lots of fun ideas and free tutorials. Just remember when you're hangin' out there, to remember to come back here, too.

I'll be waitin.

And suddenly there was nothing left of December and the year 2008 slipped right out of my hands like a sudsy bar of soap.

December was a very busy month for me. As I know it was for you.

I spent the second week in New York City upgraded to an apartment suite overlooking Times Square. It was beautiful. Snow fell the size of snowballs. I went there on business to work and to also attend our company end-of-the-year party in SoHo. It was such a wonderful, magical week for me.

And then Christmas zipped around the corner in a rapid pace and I was busy focused on that. Afterwards, my best friend flew out here to visit me for a week and suddenly it was 2009. And then that sped by in a blur and soon it is now a week after that.

Happy New Year!

My wish for you this new year is for you to discover some sweet magic in places and in people you'd never expect it. And with this glimpse of enchantment, your life will feel softer and more beautiful.

I will be back soon.

The Red Balloon

Recently, while sitting in a dark theater, waiting for The Secret Life of Bees to start, I watched the movie trailer of Pixar's movie UP . Watching the balloons raise the old man's house and carry him away, reminded me instantly of The Red Balloon. Did you ever watch it as a kid?

I did.

I loved movie day at school. My heart would jump out of my skin with excitement whenever the teacher rolled in the movie projector. I would quietly and slowly inch my desk to the right or the left so I wouldn't see a single silhouette of a head sitting in front of the screen to block my view.

I think I watched The Red Balloon in the second grade and then maybe again in the third grade and perhaps again in the fourth grade. It was an old film... made in the 1950s but it felt it was much older than even that.

If you haven't seen it, the movie is about a cherry-red helium balloon who loves a young school boy. It follows him to school and waits for him until school is out and follows him home again. They are best of friends.

And what third grader can't relate to friending a balloon or a stick-horse or even a security blanket for that matter.

The red balloon is so adorable, it's like your favorite puppy. And then one day, a bunch of bullies ganged up on it, pelting rocks at it ... and .... eventually popping it.

yeah. Popping it.

I have to admit that for me, the slow, sweaty deflating death of the read balloon was absolutely gut-wrenching. My eyes swimming with tears would spill out and down my cheeks and it would embarrass me sitting there at my desk in school. I instantly wanted to run home and hug my mom. And my dogs and cats. And my dolls. And my bike.

I'm quite sure that is the reason even today, I feel sad when a light bulb burns out. Or when the Christmas Tree who once stood so tall and green, adorned with such beautiful decorations is now laying naked on the curb waiting to be carried off to its final resting place.

I blame it all on the red balloon.

That young boy who played the leading role and who is now a much older adult was being interviewed on NPR radio last year and he said he genuinely believed during filming that the red balloon was alive. He said, "The Red Balloon was my friend." The guy interviewing him asked him, "When you were filming it, did you really feel that way?" And he responded, "Yes, yes, he was a real character with a spirit all his own."

You might find this funny, but I believe him.
I believe in the red balloon.

I just might create a bumper sticker with that on it.



Oh. By the way.

At the end of the movie, (as best as I remember it) all the balloons in Paris escape children's little hands and balloon stores to scoop up that young grieving boy and carry him somewhere.

Somewhere I never knew.

I think that was the happy ending. But if you're sensitive like me, I wanted them to pick up his grandmother so he wouldn't be alone. I worried that living a life with helium balloons may not be the best place for him in the long run.

Ya know?