Animal Shoes for Will

Last spring, I designed twenty six different pairs of shoes to be shaped like animals. Some of the designs were tested by customers, some I tested. Tonight I completed two more sets of those designs; the giraffs and pirate pigs.

The photo shows them completed except for elastic, which I will do later. I was just so excited I had to share. Overall, I like the design. I will probably make the snout and nose section smaller on both.



Here is another set I made up this month for Will's birthday, sheep. When I went to Will's room to retrieve the sheep shoes I could only find one. You know how those damn sheep are, they never stay where you put them.



All the shoe designs have cute legs and/or tail designs on the back of them too. So, without further adue, here is animal butt.

A Toast to Becky

Today was my sister's birthday, she would have been 38. Becky committed suicide in October of 2008.

Last year I was so entrenched in my grief that it was hard to attribute any new, additional, or different pain to the occasion of her birthday. It all hurt; her funeral, Halloween, Thanksgiving, her birthday, Christmas, the New Year.

Thankfully, time has dulled the pain and allowed me to begin to live again, but there are still stumbling blocks. Mothers day, my birthday, Thanksgiving . . . her birthday. Days when I think of her more than others. Days when I feel her loss, and the continual loss of her, more than others.

Like most families that don't live in the same town, we tended to have more to do with each other during holidays or on vacations. So it is those occasions that I miss her most.

Every year I've made a point to send her two presents in the month of December, knowing how often she got overlooked due to having a birthday so close to Christmas. This year I didn't. I told myself I'd go visit her grave site for her birthday. I didn't. I wanted to buy her a concrete angel to sit beside her grave this year - she had a fascination with angels. I didn't.

In fact, I've been so wrapped up in the upcoming holidays, finishing off presents, Bonnet's upcoming visit, Will getting out of school . . .

It wasn't until about half an hour ago that I realized it was the 20th already. I spent the entire day doing things, running errands, playing with my son, visiting with Charlene and Tori . . . living.

Now I sit alone in a quite house as tears run down my face and accept that in living and pursuing my life I am taking baby steps further and further from the sister I lost last year.

I know it's healthy, normal. I'm suppose to move on. But it hurts to realize she is already slipping away from me. How much longer until I don't think about her but once a month, twice a year, when I visit the town she's buried in?

She deserves to be remembered and I fear there are few that will remember her. She left behind no husband, no loving parents; just a son she didn't raise and four siblings - the oldest of which forgot her birthday the first year after her death.

Oh well, there is some whiskey in the kitchen. While not Jim, Jack, or Johny (Becky's boys, as she called them), it will do.

A toast to Becky on her birthday;

To shared laughter and shared tears.
I love you.

Follow the Star

For an area that has been in the worse drout for twenty years, it's been raining constantly the last six weeks. Right after Thankgiving, late one evening, I was driving to a super Walmart to pick up some milk and noticed that I could actually see a star.

It wasn't until that moment that it dawned on me that I had not seen a single star in almost three weeks. I looked around and only one star was visible and it glowed so bright it was nearly blinding.

With Christmas music playing on the radio, and the streets decorated with holly and lights, it wasn't suprising that my mind recalled the star the wise men followed to the manger and baby Jesus.

I'm not a religious person by any means, but I thought the star they followed must have appeared to them like this . . . so bright there was no doubt on their parts as to where they would go.

Smiling at my fanciful thoughts, I pushed the star from my mind and completed my trip to Walmart. As I pulled into the parking lot I was overwhelmed at how packed it was. I had to park way out on the edge of the lot and people were streaming into and out of the store.

Oh, Christmas shopping. I'd forgotten.

As I climbed from the car, I looked toward the store and was shocked to find the single bright star appeared to be sitting directly over the peak of the center of the Walmart store.

All I could think was how glad I was the wise men weren't looking for Jesus tonight.

Snow Globe Ornaments

Will and I took something that has been over-running our home, vending capsules, and made snow-globe ornaments yesterday.

We sprayed the tops of some of them silver to cover the odd coloring, used foam to raise the floor, glued in a small ornament and added glitter. A small gold string was attached to the top and covered with a glass bead and some more glitter.

Will got to help the entire process. He had a blast.



We also made some that he simply filled with glitter and added stickers to the outside. They came out awesome too.

If you are just dying to make you up some cheap plastic ornaments, here is a link to the ehow article I wrote detailing the process.

Peas and Lizards -- and Snakes

Will sit on his stool in the kitchen watching as I prepared dinner tonight. I opened a frozen bag of black eyed peas and was pouring them in a pot when he asked, "What's in there? Peas and lizards?"

I almost poured peas all over my stove. A quick glance at the bag showed a photo of black eyed peas with a few random green beans, no lizards.

Why is it that you can attempt to teach a child something by using repetiviteness and it only seems to work sometimes. But you have one occasion when a lizard is accidently frozen in some green peas and they never forget it.

True, it is a little shocking and my response at the time no doubt burn the memory upon his little mind. As I think about it, I realize that even three years after the incident, I still get the willies when sitting under a tree at a restaurant - expecting a snake to fall from the tree and land on the table in front of me. (Yes, it really happened. Twice actually. The same day, the same location.)

Maybe the secret to enforcing a memory has to do with being scared. Or reptiles.

Random Weirdness

I haven't had anything big to blog about, but occasionally something odd comes up that I'd like to share. So enjoy my montage of random weirdness.

Tomato Juice
At some random store Will found a squishy tomato that you throw at the wall. It splats, sticks for just a moment, then reforms and falls off the wall. I'm positive we paid no more than $2 for it.

For weeks it was his most prized possession. He'd play with it until it got dirty, then we'd wash it off. He took it in the car, slept with it, and bathed with it. The night before his birthday, he took it into the shower and came out crying hysterically. It had a hole and the liquid had all drained out. He cried for half an hour. It was heart breaking.

While he was at school the next day I ran to four different stores looking for a replacement, but didn't find one. Will and I both looked at an additional five stores over the next four days. Nothing.

During this same time period, Will and I were at the grocery and happen to walk through the produce department. He saw a tomato and made the ugliest face. I was like, "What is wrong with you? You've never even tasted a tomato." He informed me he had bitten his tomato and the juice had been YUCKY!

(Oh yeah, we finally found him a replacement.)

This is Not a BAR!
Crossing the parking lot of our local grocery store the other day, I was shocked to hear a woman cussing casually during a conversation with her friend. She wasn't just saying "damn, shit, or hell". No, this woman used the big "f" like it was going out of style.

"And I told that mother "f" asshole that if he wanted to ever "f" see me again, he'd better "f" get his "f" shit straightened the "f" out."

And that was only one sentence. She was loud enough I could hear her four cars before we got even with them, and four cars past them. The entire time my five year old is listening. If that wasn't bad enough, the woman with Lady"F" had two small children of her own.

I shot the lady a dirty look and hustled Will along as fast as possible. But I couldn't help but think how rude and unacceptable her behaviour was. What the "f"? It wasn't like I was at a "f" bar, tattoo parlour or strip joint. She had no "f" right to be talking that way in front of my "f" kid!

I Can Hear You
I am AMAZED at what people will discuss on their cell phones in public. Apparently, in their little world, talking on the phone limits the range of their voice to just those meant to hear it.

I was sitting two table over from a woman at Chick-Fil-A the other day. Will was playing in their tiny playscape and like most of the moms, I was sitting at the table waiting on him.

I had to listen -- really, there was no option but sticking my fingers in my ears and humming -- the woman tell someone over the phone about her visit to the doctor that morning. Oh, that's not the bad part. The bad part is what she had to see the doctor for; feminine dryness - which apparently is normal while nursing.

Damned with Faint Praise
I grew up hearing this phrase, but it's never been as real to me until I hit my forties. I don't know if it's because I am not around people as much, and therefore more aware of exactly what they are saying, or if people are just getting stupider.

Tonight, I was talking on the phone with an insurance representative about health insurance. After talking about 10 minutes, the lovely feminine voice on the other end asks for my age. I tell her - it's 43. Her response?

"Oh, you don't sound that old."

A little "Ho"

I didn't start celebrating any holidays or birthday until I was 23. Prior to that, nothing. No birthday celebration, Christmas. No hunting Easter eggs or going trick-or-treating. Nada. Zip. The big "O".

So when I did start celebrating I had over 20 years, and a child's heart, full of holidays to make up for. Not only was I celebrating holidays for the first time, I was learning about them, and teaching my children how to celebrate them. It was HUGE. Every thing you could celebrate I did to the extreme. I home made very Halloween costume, decorated the house and YARD just shy of North Pole ornamentation, hid hundreds of eggs, etc.

When Steve and I got together, I was still going strong. Yet as the 30s passed me by, I sort of lost my enthusiasm for holidays. Each year I found myself doing less and less. Skipping those small holidays. Ignoring people that didn't live close to me for the Holiday.

One year, I sent out over 13 individually picked Mothers-Day cards; to ex-mother in-laws, grandmothers, mother, sisters, elderly friends, in-laws, etc. I haven't sent a single Mothers Day card out in years.

By the time the girls were six or so, they were my compatriots in crime when it came to holidays. Just as crazy as I'd ever been. We decorated the house together, made ornaments together, baked holiday cookies and handed out to the neighbors.

But as they left home, so did some of my enthusiasm. Looking back, it may have started to wane before that. But they drug me along and my love for them made me enthusiastic about spending time with them.

With a toddler, raising any enthusiasm for a holiday became harder. With depression it nearly ceased to exist. With the death of my sister it became impossible.

Last Christmas, left on my own, I would not have put up a tree. Not bought a present -- okay, maybe one for Will. Steve came through and drug the stuff from the attic, pulled out the tree, and preceded to piss me off by doing everything wrong. So I had to get off my ass and fix it.

This year, I've been so-so about it. I pulled down the tree and put half of it up; shoved it against a wall. Half the ornaments. Half the room decoration. I haven't even mentioned to Will that the outside lights are still up and all we have to do is plug them up. They've been up for 7 years or so and are more pinkish/white than red, and quite a few are burned out. They would still tickle him, but I just don't want to mess with them.

But the other day, when Will had me decorating the tree, I was revisited by holidays of the past. We lit candles, loaded the CD with Christmas music, danced around as we put up ornaments and hung stockings. I was surprised.

Yep, there is still a little holiday spirit left in me after all.

Not an entire Ho, Ho, Ho; just a ho.