Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Ecriture Feminine Aplogie

Not only do I not speak or read French, I cannot seem to speel it either. *sigh* I posted this to my mail art blog last yesterday. I used it last night. It's addressed and bears a stamp. Am I glad I didn't post it! The worst part of this entire mess is I had the word right before me. It is on the bottom of the card--right before the little truck to the right. It's from a 12 x 12 7gypsies sheet of stock. I googled the words out of curiosity. Today I read a bit about the term. Boy, was I shocked. Fifty Shades of Gray, The Fear of Flying, The Women's Room anyone? Well, definitions can change, right? But not the spelling!

So. Please, I hope you will forgive me, all of you who speak French, are French, or are Francophiles. I googled francophile in case it was Italian. Franco? Turns out Franco is Spanish. 

It is so cold in Katy. How cold is it, you ask? It's cold enough for a bear to wear a stole with a down jacket. Well, it's just that cold. Deliciously cold. It's a brrr kinda cold. It's turn-the-thermostat-up cold. It's my kind of cold. Mama said it snowed in Dallas. Finally. I'm the only one of the two of us who's happy about it. A freeze is predicted for the night here. That means all the green things will finally allow themselves to be tucked in for the season. Mom Nature puts us to bed with a patchwork quilt in our neck of the world, while her northern children get a downy blanket. It doesn't matter, really, as long as everything's asleep that's meant to be asleep. Some of them, and their eggs, will die from the cold. There will be fewer pesky bugs and insects come spring. I try not to complain about the weather unless I forget. It's human nature, I suppose. 

How often do you talk about the weather in your letters? Recently, someone wrote the temp at the top of their first page. I like that, and would do the same, except I am not one for keeping up with the weather. JC has a thermometer on the back of his closet door. Here I am, talking about the weather when mail is my topic. Well, one good thing about winter is, it puts you in the mood to be creative. Actually, it gives you an excuse. If you need one. Like me. Cold weather gives me an excuse to create. It's interesting how humans create when Mom Nature puts the rest to sleep, huh? I'm on #13 in my 365 mail art challenge. I'm going strong. 

Remember this? Well, I made new postcards from this little Conte crayon drawing. I made five. I still have these clogs. They're old but are still my favorite. Have you seen, "My Left Foot?" Well, this is my homage to the movie. It's titled, "My Left Clog." Actually, it's black. The right heel's lip is worn down to the foam. Oops, wrong foot. Maybe I'll draw the right one to show what I mean. Oh, my stars. Like someone wants to see my old shoe!

Anyway, I stopped making my series of fun postcards long enough to write the first letter I have ever written to my niece. She's my sister, Mina's youngest. She wrote to me a week after her mom died. I "misplaced" the letter, and found it last night. I regret not getting to know her better through writing after the months that have passed, but I cannot change what happened. Since I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and everything has its season, I can let go of regret now. For what is it except a verb that says I "feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity?" I missed the first opportunity to share the gift sent some months ago by a caring person who knew I'd like the clipping from an article about quilts and stamps. I tell you, I remind myself of the man with the fly in his soup. *sigh* There's no cause to miss a second. I forget who actually, but I have an idea. Thank you, my friend. I wish I had one of my grandmother's handmade quilts to sleep under. Since I don't, I will snuggle under my factory-made cover, and write on.

Goodnight all.

P.S.  See how I am? I forgot to tell you about ecriture feminine. Next time, maybe?

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