Wednesday, September 2, 2015

A Wordy Wednesday

Trying to make this a Wordless Wednesday was an exercise in futility. If you want to imagine how hard it was to fail, give imagining a moment of silence on The Real a try, starting with Tamar. I tell you, I believe they're all on caffeine supplements or something, and I'm on board. I like that show. Surprise! Big surprise, huh? Seeing as how I'm not a daytime television person, and round table idle chatter is not even on my list of things to do or get a root canal. Giving it a try when I was bed-bound one day enticed me to watch several days in a row, and before I knew it I was almost a follower.

I have nothing in common with those young women; they do make me wonder if they are representative of today's woman though--and since I lean towards believing that they are . . . Well I can say is, "Well, I'll be." They bring energy to the set every single day. They're loud, yes, but in a funny way. Not like the women on The View. These young women on The Real make me laugh, and I laugh hard. I learn a lot more about modern culture than I'd imagined, although I came to their home audience with no expectations at all. And yes, I watched in secret for awhile before finding my courage to admit it. 

While I'm relieved that I am not of their generation, I'm happy for the women who are. When the camera pans the studio audience I see women from every culture laughing their asses off, nodding in agreement, covering their mouths and holding their bellies because they're really with those five women so closely it hurts. Belly laughs are good! That Lonnie makes me slap my knee every time I hear her. Sometimes, all she has to do is give an eye-roll and my brain chemistry rockets into the good-for-me zone. 

Tamar is definitely the baby in her family. She's loud, proud, and believes she's always in style! I never cared for her before. She came pre-packaged with bad manners, few social graces, too many ill fitting wigs, over the top brashness, and a bag of other bad tricks, but she's funny. She grows on you, sadly enough. 

Tee-tee/Tia? She's such a . . . The girl can't hide who she is, and she doesn't even try. She's naive, innocent . . . Or are naive and innocent the same thing? She's needy, manipulative, obsessive, good-hearted, sly, and her emotions are as genuine as they come, or she's a better actress than she lets on. She made me cry today. I'm talking crocodile tears, and she did it with the simple placement of her head on her coach's shoulder. My God, that position was full of little-girl-trust. It was as trusting as it gets. I'm teary again! Let us come back to this later. Who sings that song about, "I get so emotional!"

Moving on . . . 


I was up late last night. Late turned into early, and I missed my appointment! I slept until roughly twenty minutes after I was due to appear. Horrors! It doesn't matter how early I go to bed; I cannot fall asleep until my brain shuts itself off. Sleeping is impossible if the room is too warm. Ove thinks people who need alarm clocks are pathetic, seeing as how he wakes up every morning at the same time, and has done it for years. Heck, I'll sleep through an alarm clock if it goes off when I'm cycling. I can tell you don't know what that's in reference to, so moving on . . . I did two packages, wrote a single letter and one postcard. Everything was done before midnight. 


Look! It pays to fill out customs declarations before you get to the post office. Take a short stack of the forms home with you if you're prone to sending international mail. I found new wishi-washi tape, so named because sometimes it sticks and sometimes it won't. Sometimes it won't even come off the roll. Does anyone have a remedy for that? 


Flow's little birthday card is too cute to give away, so I used it instead. 


The Book of Speculation over-stimulates my literary saliva glands. I started reading it the night I finished My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry. A copy of A Man Called Ove came home with me the next day. I read a handful of pages but returned to The Book of Speculation. It would not leave me be. It fully engages the reader. This reader, anyway. I almost did something called impulse buying last night, all because of the storyline. Whew! 



The idea began with this beautiful journal my daughter gave me over ten years ago, for a birthday. It lay wrapped in tissue paper, at the bottom of a drawer, because I was too intimidated to use it. I feared messing up a single page, so when I eventually used it I did mess up. Page after page I messed up. On August 9, 2002 I wrote, This has to be one of the happiest days of my life. The next entry was written on February 19, 2003. I wrote, Life moves in circles. The first actual penned words are,  When conditions are sufficient, things reveal themselves." The Buddha

I wish I had the courage to rip out all the pages I messed up with uphill handwriting, dreaded revelations, entries without the year included, and whatnot, but where's the value in that. Besides, other pages would fall out if I did. It's handmade, after all. Instead, I get to record parts of the days of my life in walnut ink, with dip pens. Or not. More often than not I do. I enjoy sitting at my desk to write the way countless other women have, decades before me. And let me add, writing with the cover as a buffer is a magical thing I wish for every letter writer! There's nothing like it. Read about the why of it here:  Antiquaria


How is it Italian leather is always the best? What do they know that we Texans don't? I wonder if tanners ever process leather that bears an intact cattle brand? 


If you ever get the chance to write atop a leather desk blotter, go for it. Try writing a letter with a Pelikan fountain pen that has a gold plated nib, on 100% cotton paper. Your wrist will never tire. May the ink you use be blue! You'll feel like the sky is spilling across your page, making you want to write for days. Keep at least one pen in a Levenger pen case. 


Now comes another magical moment. I found my little wax spoon in another drawer. I tell you again, my studio is full of too-long-unused treasures. Notice how the two match? 



Ta-da! I cleaned some more the other day and . . . then there were two. Both bottoms were covered with soot. I never trust myself to use a little spirits lamp. I'm too careless. The right tools, the right pen friends and the right mood makes for the best letters. You want to write on, and on, and on, until you're caught up. Then you'll write more, all because you're in the letter writer's zone! You're eager to share tips, and goodies, and engage in written conversations more often.


You're interested in looking at life through a third eye once more. You throw caution to the wind, and you don't think twice about making a mess on a page of the most beautiful journal in the world.


You use the beautiful tissue paper you've savored for years. All those little messages speak to you in special ways. They echo what you want to say even out loud. You're free to embellish to the max. Add lots of pretty sealing wax!


Flow makes my creativity flow. I almost gave away these cute cards from the last issue, all because I didn't know what use them for. Can you imagine? Eureka moments are always a thought away. Hence, life is like a merry-go-round. You never know when it will stop. No, it's not a morbid thought; it simply reminds me to have fun while I ride this go-round. The packing paper? From Kaufmann's Mercantile. Waste not, want not. 


In need of stationery that's different from the everyday run of the mill (paper mill!)? Draw yourself into an envelope! Draw what's on your desk. Use a fine gray marker to match the graphite to pen your thoughts, and you'll be a part of the epistolary hit parade. Or not. I'm still trying to send myself to someone. But not just anyone! The recipient must have a sense of humor! 




I've used two of the five envelopes I pre-prepped. That way, all I had to do was add a letter ,a stamp, and a flap lick. That sounds a lot like prepackaged food, doesn't it? But, me being me, even back in the day when I was innocent enough to make Hamburger Helper, I added fresh vegetables. Goodies go a long way towards plumping up a letter that has very little meat on its bone. Not much has gone on in Limnersville this week. We've been busy with the everydayness of living and getting things done that need doing. Oh. That's called making memories. 

See you in the mail, soon, I hope.








4 comments:

  1. wow what a post excellent my dear and love the drawings .... hail to the queen of the post . sorry I could not resist . I had to I insist .

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    1. You're funny. And kind. Thank you. :)

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  2. So much going on here! Will have to check on those book titles as i'm an addict for a good book. I have my 'stash' by the bed and if it dwindles down to less than about 4 or 5 books on deck I start to get twitchy!.
    ps...the wet felting process from my blog is much more involved than I wrote...you can google many you tube tutorials about it if you want a full length version. It equals much more rolling and flipping and turning than I wrote about but I didn't want to bore everyone. Off to check on the mail now!!

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    1. Another reader! :) Hope you will share your titles. I have stacks to choose from too, and if they fail to whet my appetite I head for one of several bookcases. I picked up a copy of The Honk and Holler Opening Soon from the give-away stack and started it on a whim. Could not remember if I'd read it, then fell into it. It feels familiar but the writer has a way of pulling you in to stay until the end. :)

      I've watched videos of felting but never heard of what you're doing. Thanks, will research it a bit more. Live and learn. :)

      Good mail to you!

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