When you receive a hand knit item — or any hand made item for that matter — you’re not just receiving a cozy hat or a loaf of banana bread. You are receiving the time, memories and emotions of the person who made it.
I’m a knitter and a finished piece is a diary of the time I was knitting it. I knit the scarf above for my cousin. [Read more…]
It seems that in the past few years I find myself saying, “Christmas has to be different this year.”
For years, I prided myself on creating the same, classical and elegant Christmas every year for my children. Isn’t that the point — to create memories and tradition? I rejoiced as I strung the tiny blue and white lights and set up the tree and the nativity.
Lately, Christmas has become a minefield of emotion and memory. [Read more…]
I love millennials. I don’t complain about them, I learn from them. By watching this video about decluttering your fantasy self, I learned a) that I have a fantasy self and b) that I shop for my fantasy self.
The concept of fantasy self is new for me; I never even considered it. And the minute I met and confronted my fantasy self I realized that most of my shopping mistakes (and we all make them) have to do with purchasing for my fantasy self and not my real self.
Something happened on my birthday in July. This year I threw myself a party. You know you can do that don’t you? Don’t wait for someone to throw you one…do it yourself and be fab!
It was a magical midsummer night’s eve. An adult version of a kids’ party: a long table studded with flowers in tiny vases, flickering votives, sequins tossed about, streamers winding in amongst the flowers and candles, games with prizes and party favors. Gourmet pizza and fine Italian wine. A spell was cast. [Read more…]
I tend to staycation in August because I like to travel off season when prices drop and kiddies are in school. (Bucket list trip coming up in September!) However, as I click through Instagram, enjoying the photos of people enjoying their glam vacations, I do feel the occasional stab of envy.
Tropica is like France in August: the locals disappear, mostly to their beach homes. The streets of Meriland are left to tourists, wandering blindly in the inhospitable, suffocating heat.
Whoa! If it’s one thing I’ve learned from blogging…people love a whiff of misery. I’m expecting a tsunami of hits on this post. It’s human nature: people like to read about those who are worse off than they are so they can feel better about themselves. Or, we like to read about someone who has the same problem, so we feel we’re in the same boat.
Well, no misery here except, very simply: At this august moment in my life, I can look back and say: I have never been properly, truly loved by a man.