Whoa, Nellie, You’ll Never believe What I Just Saw!

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A mind that has been stretched will never return to its original dimension.”  ~ Albert Einstein

Creativity

Most people, I would venture to speculate, consider CREATIVITY as a desirable trait.  Arguably  though, it is also one of those intangibles that is hard to pin down with words, but youknow it when [you] see it just like pornography.

For me Creativity is the spice of life; the flair that draws my attention; the spark that touches my heart, my soul, my funny bone; the unique thought that sets my wheels a’ turning; the impetus that moves humanity forward in its endless journey.

Whether it takes form in the imaginative works of writers, artists, photographers, poets, musicians, dancers, actors, humorists/comedians, chefs, cartoonists, animators, architects, designers, poets, philosophers, scientists, inventors, scholars, teachers or factory workers thankfully, it is everywhere. We need just look around us.

Of course, Creativity is a subjective creature and one person’s imaginative expression can easily be interpreted by another as blight (sometimes labeled vandalism or graffiti) or poor taste (tube tops, when there’s gracious plenty tubage coming out of le top).

When my best bud lamented to me that she was NOT a creative person (meaning that she felt incapable of whipping out something she’d sell in an art gallery), I looked at her like she had lost her marbles. She, in my opinion, is one of the most exuberant and creative people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Her fashion sense is like none other. Plus, what comes flowing directly out of the woman’s mouth always makes me scratch my head and go, “Hmm, hadn’t thought of it in that particular light before.” Dining out with her can turn into a trip through Wonderland and I’m always on high alert to pickup useful pointers. This is the woman who introduced me to sushi and escargot. Clearly, to me anyway, Creativity can manifest itself in a multitude of forms.

Why, you may be asking yourself, am I trotting down this creative pathway? Because Sue at Incidentally has been so terribly kind as to nominate me for the Kreative Blogger Award. (And because I am forever cursed with the “For What Purpose Gene.”)

Given the many ways in which a person can exhibit their Creativity I decided to Focus on Fashion and Fiber Arts with the Fun Factoids about myself and with the Kreative Bloggers that follow. (Okay, the fact that the majority of my Lucy-moments contain at least a  peripheral component of wardrobe malfunction did figure into my logic.) I hope you enjoy these creative musings.

  1. I have a Harry Potter scar upon my forehead. The source, thankfully, is not a sorcerer’s foiled assassination attempt, but merely an auto accident. And although most people would not consider it a fashion statement, it has long shaped the fashion of my hairstyle. I once was bound by bangs, but no more. Scars be damned, I have now freed myself of restrictive forelocks! Thank you J.K. Rowling for making facial scarring fashionable.
  2. I was ALMOST a ‘stewardess’ for Delta in the early ‘70s. Back in the day, a stewardess’ small body mass was of utmost importance. I applied for the job, was flown to Atlanta, interviewed and weighed. For one day, my driver’s license weight was accurate and it seemed that my dreams of flying to exotic locales would come to pass. However, relocation and leaving Mot (boyfriend at the time) was not part of the dream. In hindsight, the limiting wardrobe choices should have been my first clue that stewarding was not in the cards for me.
  3. In my 8th grade class’ Who’s Who I was voted Best Dressed. Of course, the class only had 32 students and half of those were boys, so one probably shouldn’t read a great deal into this particular vote of fashion savoir-faire.
  4. In my twenties I fantasized about being a carpenter. During this carpenter phase I was want to wear roomy coveralls of the long and short length varieties. Stripes and solids. It may also be noted that during this phase no children were born to my husband and me. You may draw your own conclusions here.
  5. I taught myself to sew. One of my first sewing projects was a plaid reversible plunging V-neck jumper. I was ambitious and obliviously clueless (probably riding on an ego high from the Penmanship Award). If you don’t sew, let me clarify for you: (a) Plaids are difficult to match-up properly and look like crap when you don’t. This I know for a fact. (b) Reversible means you hide all the messy inner workings of a garment. Let’s just say it’s challenging and not in a good way. (c) V-necks. Eeeek, make me sweat just thinking about them. To execute a sharp, crisp, acute inside turn with fabric requires the skills of an expert seamstress. That was my first and last V-neck garment.
  6. Never one to let abject failure deter me, at an 11th grade dance I whipped out a little something-something from my first Vogue pattern. It was a fashion forward empire waist jumpsuit with long gaucho pants of ivory and gold lame`. Its Juliet bodice was seductive. In other words, it smooched my boobage in and up creating an unnatural fullness at the top. Also, one leg of the pants was longer than the other, so I had to pose dramatically with one leg in front of the other to avoid detection. Yet another vision of loveliness moment.
  7. One of my earliest fashion memories was from a Christmas 55 years ago. My mom had purchase two evening gowns from the secondhand shop for my cousin and me to play dress-up. I don’t know if our ‘borrowing’ her slips and crinolines to play ‘bride and broom’ prompted this present or not, but I do know that I was crazy mad for my gown…and it was a GOWN, not an evening dress. Scrumptious, luxurious, glamorous.  Heavy emerald green satin clung to my 5-year old frame from its delicate spaghetti straps. There was ruching in the body of the gown that gave a theatrical swag effect like an Austrian drape. Each fluid rise was accentuated with a furry white and black tipped ermine tail. (Sorry, PETA, but it was a gift and secondhand!) The gown even had a train. Well, it might not have been designed with a train, but on my childish body it had a grand train. With my gown, opera-length gray gloves, Cinderella slippers and pill-box hat with the net veil I was runway ready and Yves Saint Laurent had nothing on this bon vivant!

Denver Art Museum, Yves Saint Laurent: The Retrospective

Unlike yours truly the seven or eight bloggers below have fashion chops galore. I salute their Creativity and pass along the Kreative Blogger Award (with the sincere hope that they view this as a blessing and not a curse).

Kreative Blogger Nominees:

Sun and glory – Annie is one talented and inspirational young soul. She’s a freelance wardrobe stylist in LA. Her interests are varied and she shares it all; a treat for the senses. (The gluten free coconut cake recipe makes my mouth water!)

Katherine mavridis - Katherine is an up and coming Sidney fashion designer. Watching her transformation and viewing the sources of her inspiration is a pleasure.

Country girl couture - I don’t know a lot about Country Girl except that the pencil skirt and belt that she sewed and styled look amazing, especially with the thrifted t-shirt and sweater.

I love green inspiration - Marinella is an Italian architect and interior designer who “loves fashion, dance, art and whatever is creative.” Rich, colorful, a visual festival.

Elsie Marley - Elsie is a young mom with three adorable munkins. She sews, she cooks, she writes, she travels, she’s a hoot.

Eat, sleep, denim - Jennine Jacob is a California girl in NYC who has a clever eye for all things denim. She even made denim overalls look appealing! Plus, she has another blog The Coveted with “focus on vintage and indie fashion.”

There was a toss up for spot #7. Georgeina in the mom of an adorable toddler who keeps her quite busy, but she finds time to sew and knit and blog. AND Queen Twee is a fashion design student in the UK worth watching.

Here are the rules for those nominated:

  1. Copy the Kreativ Blogger Award logo and place it in your post.
  2. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
  3. List 7 things about you that people might find interesting.
  4. Nominate 7 other bloggers for their own Kreativ Blogger Award.
  5. Leave a comment on the blogs you nominate to let them know about the award.

Here’s hoping you have a very imaginative day!

A Study in Gnarly

I have a playful appreciation for words that sound as if they were crafted expressly for the object that they represent or describe. And whether one chooses to call it onomatopoeic or ideophonic or autologic, the phenomenon both amuses and amazes me when I perchance upon a perfect fit.

The tree-lined street outside our Denver, Colorado B&B fascinated me with it maple trees. The trunks were twisted and knotted and shaggy and distorted and ever so very cool!  GNARLY. That was the perfect descriptor for these unusual specimens.

Yes, they were gnarled.

Yes, they were misshapen.

Yes, they were remarkable; outstanding.

Yes, to some people they may have been unpleasant or even disgusting.

Yes, they were covered with knobs or knots.

Yes, they were crooked, twisted, rough, marked by bends or angles; not straight or aligned.

Yes, they were very good or excellent!

Gnarly, Man!

Is My Man Card Safe?

This blogging stuff is really cutting into my quality television viewing time EXCEPT on Monday nights. No, not Monday Night Football (Seriously, does that still come on?), but Dancing with the Stars.

Yes, Dancing with the Stars is that mesmerizing. So much so that it’s even affecting my marriage. After the double elimination on May the 7th Mot (Mr. One Track) asked me, “Nikki, I don’t have to surrender my man card for liking Dancing with the Stars, do I?”

Being the reassuring spouse that Mot has come to depend upon I laughed guffawed and said, “No, Babe, as long as Donald Driver, Mr. NFL blah blah blah, is still in the competition I think you are safe. Considering the athletic abilities required for this contest, I’d say it is easily the equivalent of watching ESPN; certainly more manly than golf.

“Hey, and it IS a competition…and those ménage a trios were smoking hot! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that much shaking of naughty bits before in my life. It was mind boggling! I’d be more worried about you if you didn’t like watching all that hoochie choochie.”

Mot replied, “Right!” and we high-fived to punctuate the moment, given chest-bumping is just so darn difficult to execute correctly from a reclining position.

If you don’t believe us, click on the image here and hold on to your hats.

Assignment of a Lifetime

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I’m sitting on a stack of story-starts and I’m STALLING on the most important writing assignment of my life.

I’m organizing and re-ordering. Making lists. Grouping together phrases and thoughts that pertain to each story. Shifting and sifting. Sifting and shifting. Sorting odd bits and reflecting.

Like my cooking, I find I must clear the clutter from around me before any creating can begin. In order to release my OCD emotional self to see the raw ingredients at hand and connect them to my knowledge of what’s tasty and fine, my field of view must be unobstructed. What ingredients will bring the warm glow of satisfaction from my diners? What combination of tastes will produce that magical effect of pleasure that lets the love shine through?

I MUST mentally file compartmentalize discipline quarantine my loose ends. This assignment counts!

Our daughter and her heart’s desire have wed and Mot (Mr. One Track) and I are joining them and their friends for their joyous celebration. We’ve been planning and making arrangement for months now and I thought that I had accounted for all the vital stuff UNTIL….

Driving south on I-65 Mot interrupted my snoozing meditation with a loud throat clearing. I turned my head in his direction and opened my heavy lids. He tentatively returned my glance with a squirmy look, a tight smile and then haltingly asked, “Uh, you think maybe you could help me put something together for the party in Colorado? Or reception or whatever we’re calling it? Uh, you know, like a toast thing?”

Eyes wide open now, I sprang to attention and said, “Oh, oh, OH! It never crossed my mind! Of course, I can. Oh, Golly, I’m so glad you thought of this!”

Mot said, “Uh, I thought it could be from the two of us? It doesn’t have to be a formal speech, just you know….”

I do know and so, now I’m sweating and worrying about how to tell our daughter and the wonderful man she married just how happy we are that they found each other; how much they mean to us; what our hopes, dreams and aspirations for them are AND impart words of advice for a successful marriage…in 5 minutes or less…in front of 50 strangers, family, in-laws and friends! No problem.

Like I said: THE most important writing assignment a mother and father can have.

Sifting and sorting, examining and ruminating – through all the Gertie stories in my inventory. In front of me are the story-starts I had labeled “Top 10 Life Lessons Gertie Taught Me” and “The Many Charms of a Smooth Operator.” I’m stuffing them all into the top of my memory funnel and waiting to see what filters out the small end. Words that will speak the love in our hearts and our prayers for their future.

Do we go with humorous and touching nostalgia? Like:

The first time Mot held Gertie – the nurse gently placed the tiny bundle in his stiffened, sun charred  arms. His weathered, hazel eyes crinkled at the beautiful, perfect little person staring up at him. Her soft oval face was luminescent; the pink heart-shaped mouth formed an angelic pout; the bright eyes probed inquisitively and Mot spoke these prophetic words, “She’s not dating ‘til she’s 35!”

Can you say Daddy’s Girl?

Well, maybe that says more about Mot than it does about Gertie. Nix that one.

Okay, definitely the story where Mot says, “She’s smarter than we are; we’ve got to get our bluff in on her early!” U-m-m, that probably speaks more to our questionable burgeoning parenting skills?

Yes, minions, you may pull me to the destination of my choice.

Oh, I’ve got one. How about the one when she’s 3 years old and has us tied into emotional pretzels trying to get her to sleep in her bed, in her room? We both finally ran hid retired to our bedroom, flopped onto the bed in a frazzled heap and I exclaimed, “God help the man she marries!” and then burst into hysterical laughter. No? Maybe the wrong occasion.

Who, moi?

Okay, now I’ve got it. I’ll list all the qualities we adore about the two of them and see what shakes out.

Gertie                                  Bert

  • Passionate                                          Loving
  • Focused                                               Talented
  • Creative                                               Creative
  • Fun-loving, silly                               Laid-back
  • Loyal                                                     Kind, compassionate
  • Quick-witted                                       Brilliant
  • Brave                                                     Handsome
  • Intelligent                                           Nice person (to everyone)
  • Graceful, cat-like                              Healthy and health conscious
  • Kind, compassionate                      Strong, steadfast
  • Beautiful                                               Hard-working
  • Sense of humor                                 Sense of humor
  • Sensitive                                              Sensitive
  • Insightful                                             Open
  • Energetic                                             Adventurous
  • Poised                                                   Out-going
  • Loving                                                   Affectionate

Enough! They’re perfect for one another. Anyone with eyes can see the respect, the playfulness, the love they hold for each other. Try another approach.

GOT IT!

When this force of nature that we named Gertie was sharing my body I remember people asking if I wanted a boy or a girl. I always replied, “As along as he or she is healthy, we’ll be happy.” In my prayers, however, I added two more blessings to my wish list for this miracle we created.

#1 – I prayed for good health.

#2 – I prayed that our child would be a person capable of feeling and giving great love to others.

#3 – I prayed that our child would KNOW the love of others in return.

With a grateful heart I can see that our daughter has found that special someone whom she loves dearly and whom she chooses to share a lifetime.

With a heart, full to overflowing, I can see that our daughter has found that special someone who treasures and loves her deeply for who she is now, for who she can be and for who she dreams she’ll be.

It is the perfect answer to this mother’s prayers. Thank you, God.

The actual “Mot’s Toast” is to be posted in June 2012.

Best Mother’s Day EVER

Magnolia grandiflora, native to the southeastern United States

The plodding and planning was complete.

  • Menu set – check
  • Invitations extended – check  
  • RSVPs noted – check
  • Headcount counted – check
  • Times determined – check  
  • Transportation arranged – check 
  • Presents purchased – check
  • Lunch cooked and plated – check

It was now official: the Mother’s Day smack-down could begin! It was a modest little affair with only a handful of immediate family.  My mom, the star attraction, was giddy as a child. She loved family gatherings; it didn’t matter the occasion. The food, the laughter, the bull, the bickering – it went hand-in-hand and she LOVED it all. The ceremony of  ‘Family’ was a magnet she could never resist.

Gertie, my cash-strapped college daughter, was one of the last to arrive. She had made the 80-mile trip home despite the stress of finals week, end-of-the-school-year packing and high gas prices.  For weeks I had been telling Gertie that her presence would be present enough for her grandmother and me. Hugs and kisses were our preference of gifts.

The Sunday had dawned fair and mild – just the way we had planned it. Around noon the house began to fill with bodies, young, old and in between.  The transition between arriving and feasting had just reached the uncomfortable stage when we heard Gertie sing out from the foyer, “Hey, anybody home? I got some bod-i-e-s who want to meet you.”

As a group, we moved toward the sound of Gertie’s voice and there she stood – tall, beautiful and thin as a waif with an overloaded camera bag on one shoulder and two tiny balls of white and caramel fluff cradled in the crook of both arms. Innocent orbs of cuteness stared out at us and our hearts melted.

My mom, a crazy cat lady from way back, lit up like a Christmas tree and reached for a kitten offering.

We soon discovered that Gertie had rescued a litter of kittens from the crawl space of the 100-yr old Victorian where she was living. A stray had given birth to the litter and their fate was rather bleak without Gertie’s intervention. She brought them into the apartment, away from the aggressive Toms and the parasites. She feed them mostly by hand, but invited Little Mama to nurse them whenever she could coax the stray inside.

However, the apartment was also the fiefdom of Possum Pete, feudal feline lord of all things Gertie. Pete and Little Mama did not gel well.  Her visits were usually brief and noisy. Pete was soft, by nurture and by nature, and Little Mama was rough, by nature and by nurture. When they were together they went “Rolling, rolling; Rolling ‘round the apartment” with his highness licking his wounds afterwards.

Grandmother and Sir

Our Mother’s Day gift was one day’s heaping helping of bewhiskered curiosity and affection offered by the two remaining kittens from the rescued litter.

Sly and Sir, so the kittens had been named, turned out to be a double-barrelled love machine. They immediately attached themselves to my mom…as a collar of fur. Their purring could be heard across the room and her look of delight was unmistakable. As we prepared to eat, Mom detached her fur fashion accessories, gently placing them upon a cushion, and then started toward the table. They were having none of it. The Furry Brothers grasshoppered along behind her and when she stopped briefly they scaled her legs, her bottom, her back and then settled on her shoulders again. Their claws were so soft and small that they acted like Velcro and she never felt a thing until they reached their clavicle landing pad.

We laughed until we cried. We tried taking turns at holding and petting the Furry Brothers, but they always scampered back to free climb Mount Beverly and planted themselves on her cushy plateaus. Sly even succeeded in conquering the summit once and sat smugly atop Mother’s head.

Despite the climber’s code of “minimal impact” the Furry Brothers left an indelible mark on our hearts that day. Three generations of cat lovers – besotted by overwhelming kitten love. It was our The Best Mother’s Day EVER .