Prayer Flags

This is a swap from the EC that I recently hosted. The creations were incredible! I am sending out the returns today to the players; I hope they enjoy them as much as I have. Here are three of my own, and a few from the other artists. How lucky am I to get to play with such talented women?






Artist: Corrine Davis

Artist: Kathy Ogg

Artist:Pattie Mosca

Guts

Do you know how much courage it takes to put a picture of your feet up on your blog? I questioned myself a bit before doing it, and wondered about my hesitation. What am I afraid of?
My feet have served me well in my life; I should be proud to claim them. They have allowed me to climb trees and fences, to rollerskate and spring from the high dive, to bicycle and run on the beach, tiptoe into the tide. They have walked me across a stage to my diploma, down the aisle to my husband, and up and down the corridor of the maternity ward once, twice, three times for three sons. My feet are worthy of honor, yes indeed. However, they also deserve to be pampered in a brief Photoshop session to preserve their dignity!


All this because I wanted to share what I made. I saw these creations in various Etsy shops and thought that they were a very cute idea. They are called barefoot sandals. Essentially, a bit of jewelry for your feet. They resemble flip-flops, but are soleless, which I love, since flip-flops hurt my feet, and I prefer to go barefoot anyway.

So, a little gift for my feet, to honor them. I will dress them up next weekend, and they will dance around the fire in the forest where my tribe and I will meet to celebrate the summer.

Another one?

I am very honored indeed, to have been given this award. The fact that my blog is of enough interest to even be read brings me pleasure, but to know it is consider worthy of special recognition from my peers brings me no end of happiness. A heartfelt thank you to sweetmango for the honor. She has two wonderful blogs worthy of your time, especially if you love beautiful art, and if standing up for the oppressed, human and animal alike, matters to you. Here is one of her paintings; isn't it breathtaking?
copyright sweetmango 2008

Now it is my turn to pass this award on to 7 bloggers who inspire me, and whose posts and creativity I think will inspire you, too! Go now, and visit ( and comment!):


Mallory Matson is an exceptionally talented photographer and writer. Don't let her age fool you; her blog is insightful and rich with poetry (and if you are lucky, Jeff Buckley or Joni Mitchell will be playing), and her photostream is riddled with picture after picture of evocative imagery and beautiful faces. I cannot wait to see her continue to grow as an artist; her talents already shine so bright.
copyright Mallory Matson 2007
copyright Mallory Matson 2007

Chrysti has long been an inspiration to me; I consider her a sister-in-art. I am blessed to have her art showcased in rooms around my home, and am forever in awe of her ambition, growth and accomplishments. Be sure to check out her shop on Etsy, and here.

My friend, the wonderful and intelligent Debra, makes the most delicious bracelets and shares sparkly bits of wisdom with the world...you can visit her here and see the wrist-candy here!

For anyone who likes a good giggle and a bit of NY meets Hollywood dish, this is the blog for you. Dish is my bestest friend from wayyyy back (think 80's hair) and is a fantastic NYC writer, diva, and all-around goddess.

Recently Rose honored me with a Web Award, so it is nice to be able to bestow one back. Her blog, A Walk in The Woods, frequently leaves me hungry for a fresh repast, and her Etsy shop has some lovely lovelies to browse through.


One of my favorite people and artists, the talented Gene Black lives in the ever-hospitable South where he paints, doodles, and quilts. Like me, Gene is a Sharpie Scout and chocoholic, 2 of many reasons why he is dear to my heart.

And last, but certainly not least, I cannot describe Spike's blog better than she does, so here it is : "a madwoman's lunchbox" -- a melange of colors, textures, or styles that do not commingle gracefully. "Madwoman's Lunchbox" -- a blog about fiber, photos, and stream of consciousness. because, after all, that's just what the worldwide web needs.

So now each of these bloggers gets the pleasure of selecting favorites blogs of their own to honor!

The rules of accepting are as follows:

1) Put the logo on your blog
2) Add a link to the person who awarded you
3) Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4) Add links to those blogs on yours
5) Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.

Now Go! Read! Comment! Celebrate Bloggodiversity!

The Art of Forgiveness

I am a self-described magpie; I adore shiny, interesting objects. I like to think of myself as a savvy collector of ecclectic items and fanciful objects. There are those in this house, however, who are more likely to say I am a "compulsive hoarder" of piles of "useless crap."

One woman's treasure another man's trash? Fair enough, I suppose.

I had a friend once tell me, "You see potential in everything! I never would have thought to make THAT out of THOSE!" Alas, my skill for seeing potential is not as well-honed as one might think. I have seen what I thought was "potential" in dying houseplants, ugly skirts, broken appliances and unsuitable men. So, instead, I like to think I am some sort of ambassador of Second Chances.

As is with most of us, my life has been frought with moments that really could have used the power of the Do-Over, if that option were available at the time. It has been rife with opportunities to forgive and be forgiven, to give it another go, to reapply for admission, to give back and to recycle.

Second chances (and third, and fourth) are important gifts we give ourselves and others. There is no force more powerful in the universe than forgiveness, and forgiveness is a second chance of the spirit. It is a laying down of burdens. Forgiveness is not condonment or approval when wrong has been done; it is setting yourself free from the weight of bitterness.





The act of forgiveness is simple, which is not to be confused with easy. It can be unspeakably hard. In some cases, for some folks, impossible. The one thing I have found in my own life is that it is a tool I have had to reach for over and over, and it is the one that does the best repairs, yet I am reluctant to use it on myself. Oh, we are hard on ourselves, many of us.

How do second chances apply to art, you say? How convenient of you to ask; I have the answer here. A picture frame for a beloved fellow Circus Freak of the EC, Maggie. Adorned with the flotsam and jetsam of the creative tides that wash into my studio, this piece is a showcase of repurposed ephemerma and embellishments. Broken jewelry, orphaned game pieces, single buttons, used postage stamps, bottle caps, and even a subway token, all share here a common bond: the second chance.

Is there someone you might try to forgive?




Is it yourself?

Humbled

Talk about your nice surprises... I woke today to an email telling me I have been chosen for an Arte y Pico Award, which was created "to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creative energy and their talents, be it writing or artwork in all medias."


What makes it especially gratifying is it is awarded from peer to peer, creative to creative. Mine was graciously bestowed by Rose of Walk in the Woods.I hope you will take a moment to visit each of the five blogs I've listed below which I have found to be inspirational, and perhaps leave a comment letting them know you stopped by!

Rose has presented me with the award and I would now like to present the award to the following five blogs.
To be listed is considered a “special honor.” The Arte y Pico Award is meant to be paid forward to bloggers who merit recognition for their creative efforts.


Zura's Blog (www.creativeclown.com)

Holly's Blog (www.groovyholly.blogspot.com)

Pattie's Blog (www.pjmosca.blogspot.com)

Lani's Blog (www.artistlanikent.blogspot.com)

Amy's Blog (www.amymasart.blogspot.com)


If you have been selected for the award, please pay it forward, following the steps below:
1) Choose 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award based on creativity, design, interesting material, and overall contribution to the blogger community, regardless of the language.
2) Post the name of the author and a link to his or her blog so everyone can view it.
3) Each award-winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.
4) The award-winner and the presenter should post the link of the "Arte y pico" blog so everyone will know the origin of this award.


5) Please post these rules!

The Arte y Pico blog is in Spanish. To read it in English, clickhere. The translation is not perfect.

Happy Creativity to all!

Expect the Unexpected

Nothing feels better than being blindsided by something nice. I mean, life will creep up on us like a thug and knock us flat with all manner of problems, emergencies, connundrums and dilemmas, sometimes to the point where we sit vigil awaiting the next Awful Thing. Which is why the unexpected Nice Thing has such impact, even when they are small gifts from the universe. I wanted to share two that happily surprised me recently.

The first was late in the week when the remarkable Rose of Walk In The Woods let me know I had won her weekly giveaway, and it was a pair of the Spirit Cord necklaces she has in her Etsy shop I had only recently been coveting. They arrived in the mail yesterday. I added a silver lotus pendant I put together to the green one, and love the way it looks. Thank you, Rose!


The other Oh! moment came this morning when, after my walk in the hazy, early morning sun, I wandered my disaster of a yard mulling over my appalling gardening skills. I kid you not, my back yard is like a meadow. I guess nature is ok with the way I let things run amok, though...she surprised me with some out of control wild blackberry bushes that this morning yielded the first harvest. While I was picking them I discovered yet another surprise guest: a gangly Mulberry bush, also showing ripening berries.



Sweet surprise, earth mother; I thank you.

Visitors

" It is June, wildflowers on the table.They are fresh an hour ago, like sliced lemons,with the whole day ahead of them."

- Stanley Plumly

I don't think I could say it better; I won't try. Each morning as I walk, I gather some of the prettier weedlings and herblettes that nod their heads at me from the edge of the sidewalk, or from behind the fences along the back end of the highschool football field. I don't even know most of their names, but am learning. Wild carrot? Red clover? Those I knew. But new to me today: white campion, butter-and-eggs (toadflax), Swamp Candles (Yellow Loosestrife), fleabane, Oriental Lady's Thumb, and Asiatic Dayflower. Identifying these just by online photos is tricky, and some I just have not found a match for. I am grateful though that the internet is giving me the gift of at least some knowledge...to call these by their name is so satisfying, especially now that they are my guests!

Talking to the trees

I sure hope I am not the only one who does it. I may be the only one to admit it.

Each morning I am up at six and stumbling out the door, barely coherent, MP3 powered on, and I am off and walking. The nice thing about six am (some people think there is NOTHING nice about it) is that things are pretty still. By things, I mean, human things. And human beings. Cars and lawnmowers, shouting children; even other walkers or joggers are rare. I like this. I like that most of my town still has its eyes closed. My personal space becomes fantastically large; I can walk backward to look at things longer if I like. I can play air drums along with the music being piped into my ears. I can dance a little, sing under my breath, cross the street in the middle, and do a full-on freak-out if I happen to walk face first into a surprise spider's web, without fear of mortification.

Most of all, I can talk to the trees.

I wish I could find the right words to convey what I draw from the trees. I sense them breathing, almost, their energy permeating the morning, soothing me like a comforting hand. Each one is, to me, like a person, a character. And yes, as I said, I really do; I speak to them. Not outloud too often; mostly in my head. The old-growth elders of the tribe, massive and stately, exuding the wisdom of all that they have seen; I offer them my respect. Good morning, Grandfather Oak. Good morning, Grandmother Pine.

I grin at the young and fresh-faced Dogwoods, their butter-colored flowers open wide like a smile, and the delicate Willow waving shyly. I nod to the elegant Paper Birch leaning nonchantly into the breeze, smile at the dainty Japanese Maples, and almost applaud the scruffy Cedars, because I have a particular fondness for them and their deep, red hearts.

I say their names when I recognize them: Elm, Magnolia and Tulip Poplar, Ornamental Cherry and Arborvitae, Sweet Lilac and Ash. Viburnam, Sassafras, Catalpa, Linden, Grey Birch, Sycamore...I list them like a litany.

I could make poems out of tree-words found in a glossary of tree-terms; to me the words sound like a secret language:
Blade, bract, clingstone, conifer, freestone, midrib, palmate, rootstock...they weave together an incantation of growth.

This morning I approached a grand and imposing tree near the edge of the road, and my steps slowed as I took in the large orange X on its solid mid-trunk. What mark is this? As I neared, I saw a sign, an official town notice, tacked to its bark: Tree Slated for Removal. My heart clutched. Poor, doomed tree. I mourned the impending loss in advance, my hand on its blackened girth. It was clearly ill, discoloration running up its length, but it still radiated strength, solid under my palm. I stood still there for a moment, so I could spend time with this tree, this tree I had been warned would soon be gone. I tried to take a picture with my mind, to transplant it from its roots to its crown, so it could grow in my imagination, not be forgotten, always be honored.

Then, I said goodbye.



I said it out loud.

Contraction

My mother tells me this is what it is. Once there has been an expansion of the self, it is a natural part of the cycle: the contraction. It is squeezing me hard. The last few days, I am increasingly aware that I am slowly spinning downward and inward. It does not alarm me, but it does disappoint me. Leaving the multicolored and manic creativity of the last few months feels like leaving my soul in a locker at the train station. I know I will be back to pick it up again, but…it is hard to move away from it.

My mother says it is part of alchemy; this is the time to mine the gold from all the knowledge I have been gathering. Time to take it out and examine it and go deeper. I am trying hard to find satisfaction in the process but I feel my joy fading out like a dying star, not into sadness, but into…complacency. Ennui. Cynicism.

I am not creating much at all…little to no art, no writing (save this babbling), no poems. It is a beautiful day: the sun is shining, the sky is blue…all is right in my world but me. I know this phase well, and I am trying to outwit it with my walks and my explorations of pagan social events. I remain aware, though, that the veil has fallen heavily and it will be some time before it lifts again. I just need to be patient.

Save a spot for me on the higher plane; I will get back there as soon as I can.

Exploring Beyond the Forest

As many of you may know, last month I went on a 4 day camping trip, attending a pagan Forest Folk Festival in the woods. I went looking for new friends and experiences and came back feeling awake, alive, and eager to learn more about the things I had discovered. Once home, I searched the 'net for local drum circles or other events, and found a group that was hosting a workshop I felt I had to experience. So on Tuesday night, I went to the posted location to see what awaited me there. Here is my tale:

I was a bit anxious, I admit; I had taken a bit of a leap into the unknown. Here I was in a room with 6 strangers, about to embark on my first semi-guided meditation/Shamanic journey. I was not sure what to expect, from this group or from the experience. I only knew if I did not follow my heart and start to respond to the calling I had been feeling for so many years, I was risking my health on every level. The participants all welcomed me to the group warmly, much to my relief, and our guide was encouraging and kind. I was ready to begin.

Eyes closed, feet tucked underneath myself, I followed the instructions to breathe, breathe in deeply and picture warm sunlight on my head...to imagine the warmth and light seeping down, through my face, my neck, flooding my mouth....breathing deeper and drawing the warm light down through my shoulders, my back, down my arms to my hands, into my belly and down my thighs, letting the glow move all the way down my legs to my feet. The voice guided us further, describing a path through the forest, green trees all around, a canopy of rustling leaves overhead. We were brought to a clearing where a large tree stood; in my mind it was clearly the massive grandfather tree with its enormous bent arms I had seen on a recent hike. My mind's eye could see the door sized hole at the base of the tree that our guide described, and I entered as instructed.

Inside, an earthen ramp led downward, lit by a slant of sunlight from above. Deep into the earth, down under a ceiling of roots, I stepped into the dim passageway ahead. For a while it was dark, and I felt my way along, until we were brought into a large cavern with walls of rock, a stream running through, and ground beneath our feet that was strewn with all manner of stones. We were told to pick one up, and at that moment our guide pressed a stone into my open hand and the drumming began. We were left alone to explore, with no more guidance; just the steady heartbeat of a single drum. I let my mind wander...

I surveyed the cavern and was a bit disapointed. I was hoping for crystals, or stones I recognized...instead it was wet, black rock: jagged and dark as coal. The steady thunk of the drum manifested itself as water dripping onto a slab of stone which, as I watched, started to disolve like black sugar under the persistant impact of the drops of water. Like quicksand, the surface of the stone began to cave in toward the center, an hourglass effect with black grains swirling down into an invisible drain. I watched for a while, before realizing the slab of rock itself remain unchanged, and would never disolve completely, so I made an effort to follow the trickling stream nearby instead. As I stepped toward it, a large scarab beetle scuttled in front of me, its gunmetal grey wings opening with a click that sounded mechanized, revealing a vibrantly colored underside. It flew parallel to the water and vanished into the dark.

The water was flowing across a streambed glittering with the same jagged, jet black rocks, wet and gleaming in a light source that seemed artificial, like overhead fixtures, flourescent tubing. I followed the water to where it disappeared through a fist sized hole at the base of the far wall of the cavern. I bent down to try to see what was on the other side, and saw that radiant gold and orange light was shining though the jagged hole. I tried, with both hands, to tear the hole wider, as though ripping open a package, but the rock remained true to its properties, and merely dug into my hands and refused to budge. I thought for a moment and realized that if the hole refused to get bigger, I would have to get smaller.

It was an effort. Like inflating a balloon in reverse. My mind struggled to imagine myself crompressing, minifying myself like Alice attempting to go through the rabbit's door, but at last I was able to duck through the hole, and on the other side I shot back up to my original height the moment I entered the space. I looked around in wonder: this cavern was round with a high domed ceiling, like a a bee skep, with light from the outside making the interior glow. The walls reminded me of what I see when sunlight beats down on my closed eyelids: a rich red-gold-orange membrane, but this time like stained glass, like walls of carnelian and amber. I sensed movement over my head and glanced up, where I could make out the swirling shadows of a figure, an entity...she flowed across the ceiling like a wraith, with long trailing tendrils, like bird-of-paradise feathers, ribbons, or angelfish fins. She rotated counterclockwise, a whirlpooling of deep-shadowed maroon and red. She did not show her face; I am not even sure how I knew she was female...but somehow she communicated to me that she was pleased to see me, and that she was there to act as a guide. My attention was drawn back to the cavern walls, which were now coming off in layers, like sheets of amber-colored mica, in pieces as large as pictures windows. They floated around me, orbiting in rings, some going clockwise, some going counter clockwise. The room abruptly filled with blinding gold light which erased everything around me, and I found myself encased in a grey veil, like a cocoon. I wanted to struggle to get free and see more, but coached myself to wait. Slowly the grey burned away before my eyes, edges glowing like burning paper, and I was facing a soot-blackened wall riddled with fissures that glowed with light. I waited and waited, hoping the cracks would open and I would see some wonder on the other side, but though the light pulsed promisingly, I could not will the wall to crumble. I was disapointed to hear the drum change rythyms, and the voice of our guide calling us back to the room we sat in.


It turns out what I thought was 10 minutes of journeying was in fact 25. I felt myself practically humming with the intensity of all I had felt and seen. We all shared our experiences, and were delighted to find there had been some "bleed-over" between us. A few other's had experienced circular themes, rotations, shrinking and growing. One person had even see the Catepillar from Alice in Wonderland! I was asked if i had ever had taken a journey before, or had power animal experiences. I said my mother, a healer, had done a retrieval for me years ago, and it was a seal. I had gone on a brief journey 3 years ago that my mom guided a few family members on, and I had been met by a badger . Most recently my mother journeyed on my behalf and encountered a peregrine falcon. Our guide suggested I had gone into this journey with three of the 4 elements: water, earth and air. She smiled and said, the entity you saw sounds very much like a fire elemental. Everyone looked at each other and nodded agreement, and a few said in unison: the phoenix. Our guide seemed very pleased for me; she said much of what I saw was typical for beginners, especially things being closed to me or hard to penetrate. She told me to keep practising letting go at those moments. I smiled and nodded, realizing my journey has only just begun; I can hardly wait for the chance to try again!

A different drummer

Next month I am going to have a chance to join a drumming circle...how cool is that?? So I decided I needed my own drum. I got a plain 10" elk hide frame style drum on ebay, and arted it up. It features one of my power animals, the lynx. I am very happy with it! All it needs is a border...

The art of the Doodle, the Doodle as Art

We've all done it.
We've all doodled.
Mindlessly while on hold, trying to reach the cable repair people, the doctor, the bank. In the margins of our notebooks when we were bored in class, daydreaming, distracted.
When I was small, I would doodle on the little envelopes meant for the offering tray at church, using the provided little pencil; to my young mind these items had been placed there solely for my creative use.

It may not seem like mindlessly creating art via the auto-doodle mode would result in full pages of joyous expression, but I intend to convince you otherwise.


The key to a glorious, full-page abstract doodle is to really believe that a doodle can go places, can be more than its seemingly goofy name implies. Here now are some ways to jump start a doodle, enhance and encourage it, celebrate it and magnify it! The techniques for doodling are truly numerous, so these are just a handful of ideas.

One way to create a full page doodle is by connecting random shapes via other random shapes. If you like, practice some basic shapes on some scrap paper to see which ones you repond to: swirls, stars, leaves, eggs, circles, squares, triangles, wiggly worms, flames, teardops. Once you are comfortable with creating shapes, scatter some randomly over the page you are filling:


The next step is to build a web of sorts between these shapes. Lines and wiggles are useful, other shapes can be squeezed in, too. By linking all the shapes together, we fill that negative space with vibrant and active lines that give the whole image a dynamic energy.


Looking for a different launching point? Consider using a word. Your name, a quotation, or just one bold word like JOURNEY, or DREAM. Let the tendrils, lines and shapes grow and build of this basic building block, until the overgrowth becomes a garden of wiggles and squiggles:




The best part about a doodle is it HAS NO RULES. Any material can be used. I myself am partial to Sharpie markers (the fumes are intoxicating; some say inspiring...others say headache inducing. Your mileage may vary!) I love the bold color and the bleed factor of the markers as they soak into bristol board. I have been know to doodle with silver pens, gel pens, pencils, paint, you name it. But mostly for the outlines, I come back to the black Sharpie.

Doodles do not need to represent anything. They do not need to speak your heart or be balanced or have proper perspective. Doodles do not judge. Doodles are the artistic equivalent of humming, whistling, taking a stroll, floating on a raft in the pool. They invite you to let go of expectations and inhibitions and let the lines wander.


Once my page is filled, if I want to take my doodle to the next level, I dress it up with color. Again, I am partial to brights and bolds here, but have done these with sparkling watercolors, colored pencils, markers, even crayons. You can limit your palette to blues and greens, reds and golds, whatever feels right, or go wild with all the colors of the rainbow! The doodles that follow were done with Sharpies:



This one was done with sharpie and watercolors



Here is some doodling used to fill spaces in a collage:


So go take doodling to the next level…let the pen wander and the mind follow….

In progress

These elements are all from the same piece I am working on; it is for a friend so I need to keep any real progress pics down for now...some has to stay a surprise!
Nothing feels like creating something for someone, just because of who they are, just because you love them. That's where art and joy collide.

an introduction

Recently my inner child was invited out to play. She was hesitant at first, because she has not been out much. I think she thought there was no one to play with. Or some her her past playmates had been pretty rough with her. Teased and stuff. Anyway, there are some things about her that have not changed at all, so here is a list of a few.

Being near the ocean makes her happy. Lakes and rivers are an acceptable substitute, but she likes the wind that blows in over the surf, and the roar of the waves, and how tiny the shoreline makes her feel.

Although her bright blue eyes changed their minds at age six and turned green, her love of cats remains the same.
She likes to curl up under the arm of someone she trusts to protect her from bad stuff, like wolves, or mean people.

She believes that if you are going to ignore the wisdom of whole grains and dine on Wonder Bread, it is more interesting to eat when first rolled into litttle balls of dough.

She thinks pigtails are the best. She is proud of her freckles. She loves spontaneous hugs, and her ability to make people laugh. She is proud of that, too.
She believes in things not everyone can see, like magic, and souls who know each other through lifetimes, and she also will keep a secret for you, if you need one kept. She knows some wonderful ones.

I hope she sticks around for awhile. I kind of forgot how easy it is to make her happy. She is good company, and does not ask for much more than love, forgiveness when she messes up, someone to laugh at her jokes and kiss her owies when she falls down and cries about it.

Oh, and cupcakes. With frosting. And sprinkles. The rainbow kind. Pretty sure she will share...

We have a winner!

Happy congratulations to the fabulously talented Kathy Wasilewski, who is the winner of the mirror! Randomizer.org picked her comment number this evening on my behalf (such a great li'l program!) so I did not need to ask hubby to pull a paper from a hat!

This experince, just like last years, was an exercise in pure creative joy. The opportunity (and excuse) to visit blog after blog of heart-centered artists and creatives of all kinds was simply fantastic. Thank you all for being part of the whole process, and to Lisa for letting us in on her vision.

Blessings, all!

One World One Heart!

Once again I am participating in the One World One Heart giveaway! The simple instructions are as follows: leave a comment for me on this post, and you are entered to win the mirror I created for this event!

I will be drawing a winner on the 13th of February, and will contact them either via email or via their personal blog. If you leave an anonymous comment, I will not be able to reach you if you win!

Be sure to check out the (over 130)other giveaways! The list can be seen here.
Good luck, and thanks for stopping by!


A bit about the mirror:
This mirror has a wooden frame that has been collaged with various papers, and then muted with a wash of thinned gesso. The result is a soft, antique white effect. Since mirrors are notoriously hard to photograph, I have snapped pics of some of the details for a closer look. The mirror measures @ 8x10", and can be displayed on the wall or on a flat surface with the stand on the back.

The finished rooms

At long last I can share the finished results of our addition, including the boys' rooms! Technically there are fiddly bits to tinker with yet, like staining the french doors and painting some of the trim...but I will get that done a bit at a time.

New charms

Another charm swap propelled me to give something new a shot. I have not worked with polymer clay too much, so this was a challenge, especially working small...my wrists have been particularly troublesome lately...but I made some Kwan Yin beads. At least, that is what the face said to me...I thought of Kwan Yin as I made them. She is the godess of compassions; her name means "she who hears the cries of the world."

Home Improvement

I have been focused on our house these many weeks, as we are putting on an addition. It is near completion at last so I thought I would share some pics of the new upstairs room, and the murals I did on the walls of the boys' rooms downstairs!

Happy New Year

Aside from Overwhlemed, Way Behind, and Scattered, here are are other interpretations as to

***What Nici Means*** as presented by a Blogthings Quiz

You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals. (Ok, how did they know that?)

You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing.You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long.You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start. (This thing is eerily accurate...)

You are very open. You communicate well, and you connect with other people easily.You are a naturally creative person. Ideas just flow from your mind.A true chameleon, you are many things at different points in your life. You are very adaptable. (Consider me spooked. Everything said here is dead on. Freaky!)

How about you?

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyournameshiddenmeaningquiz/