New In The Shop

...the latest in my "Mercy In The Middle" She-Art series:

(click on image, to see it slightly enlarged...)

At the bottom, it says, "In her life, youth and old age met in the middle and clothed her with strength and honor..."

All around her (who is you, my beautiful middle-age friend) the hand written script says, "Strength and honor are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come..."

She is 10x20, gallery wrapped, rendered in Pan Pastels, acrylics, oil pastels, Marks-All pencils, and charcoal...in shades of lavender, cream, blue, and burnt umber...on a background of truly antique book and hymnal pages (versus digitally reproduced) and vintage wallpaper.

She is also trimmed in beautiful upholstery tacks, all around her edges.

She'll be priced at $175, shipping included to all lower 48 states. If you are out of the country (as several of my customers have been) just email me and I will see what shipping charges would be for your country.

A Little Instagram Love on My Birthday

I plan to assault you with random, unrelated Instagram shots today. I can hear what you are thinking, "Whaddya think this is? Your birthday?"





As a matter of fact...




It sure is. And look what the Lord has given me, already!




...and this...




Love that "Kelvin" effect on Instagram. It's my favorite.




I am literally sipping this, right now, hand delivered by my Pastor. He's caring like that.




Today is also my son-in-love's biggest art show of the year. There was a beautiful write up on him in the paper this week, as he is also FEATURED ARTIST in said large art show. That is an original Jonathan Howe hanging there. With my harvest wheat. And a wooden apple. And candle. And art calendar that features an artist quote and painting every day of the year. And if you've ever hurt me, real bad, you will never be able to have a J. Howe original. We're clannish like that.

Have regrets. Have deep regrets.

Actually, if you just say sorry, he'll paint one for you, too. Far be it from us to hold a grudge. We're friendly like that.




My living room walls are no longer harvest gold! They are the faintest whisper of fog/gray/blue/misty morning. I heart them. And the giant clock. And that houndstooth patterned mustard yellow throw covering my feet in the corner of this shot...



My bed, as it looks most mornings. I know, right? This keeps on getting more riveting with every wanton picture posted.





Slice of life, friends....slice of life. Why is this on my Instagram camera roll? Not entirely sure. I was probably artfully finding the beauty tucked away in the every day, and finding One Thousand Ways to give thanks.

(gratitude to Ann Voskamp for all the stupid pictures I have instagrammed all in the name of #onethousandgifts. Ann, you are my thousand-and-oneth gift. Can't wait for your DVD study!)




Speaking of gifts and gratitude...




He's already a Bible Thumper, just like his Pop Pop.




This was the little grin she saved just for Mimi, late last night. Babysitting this one is a joy...and a challenge...she literally will not let me out of her sight.




Enough about me...





What do you think about my hair?????


I love my birthday. My whole family spoils me rotten, and I am ready to head full tilt into all the festivities, which, from what I can smell, are about to include breakfast in bed.  (Post edit:  The Preacher was actually just making coffee...he took me out to breakfast, instead.  I had a breakfast panini with asiago cheese and egg and bacon.  And more coffee.  Amen.)

My pastor serves me well.

Vintage Jewelry Jackpot

Today, in between laundry, working an 8x8 canvas, a 5x5 canvas, buying candy for a Halloween outreach, and having lunch with a Certain Handsome Preacher, I finished almost four jewelry collections for my shop. I am so excited about these vintage pieces.

In the picture above, you are only seeing about a third of the haul I made this past weekend. I was told about an estate sale, and it turned out to be the Vintage Jewelry Jackpot. Seriously....there is so. much. more. I bought a lot. It was not cheap...but these pieces are gorgeous.

I have deconstructed all of it. Every bit. Friends...that took chutzpah on my part.

I ain't gonna lie, I was scared to take stuff apart. I redesigned the pieces to create my very first jewelry collection....actually, four new collections. Pieces of vintage bracelets have become rings. Brooches have become beautiful pendants. Watch faces that were broken will be embedded onto canvases as art. I've mixed vintage with new in everything...four different sets (so far) that, while not mitchy-matchy, go together so well.

One of history's top designers once said, "Matching is for amateurs", and I see the truth of that statement, the more I paint and create and design. To "match" is boring, and boring is the kiss of death. To haphazardly not match is just as bad.

But to purposefully and soulfully and imaginatively mix high and low, luxury and rustic, unexpected colors, prints and patterns, yin and yang...

....well, that is an art.

And mixed media must somehow truly be my heart and soul, as an artist (did I just now finally own that calling?) because I am mixing "medias" in my jewelry designs...gold and silver, crystals from chandeliers, pieces of leather, torn fabric trims, shiny with matte, old and new.

I have been thinking hard about the model I want to use, when I photograph these pieces. The Preacher wants to put me in a black turtleneck and jeans, and take the pictures himself. He thinks I would be the best model for my designs, but I have someone way younger and skinnier and cuter in mind. We'll see.

Can't wait to share these collections with you! I have truly poured my heart into them...I've worked so hard, all week, and there is so much more to be done before I can put them in the shop! I have to get pictures that do them justice. I also have to design the packaging for them...it must be vintagey, perfect, beautiful.

Hopefully, they will be available in a week or two...

A Gentle Encouragement...

Begin each day well...











Feed your spirit well. Feed your body well. Not necessarily in that order.

Country Living? Nah...

I say I live in the "suburbs"...and I do...in a declining, probably now a lower-middle-class neighborhood. And I live here with a precious grandson whose parents bought a house across the street from me. My other daughter, her husband, and baby girl live almost inner city.

Though my home is in a suburb, it is smack-dab in city limits. With a pawn shop and a liquor store and a Pilot gas station and a drug rehab center and a Strike N' Spare bowling alley, all within walking distance.

The other day, there were two attempted robberies in "my" grocery store. I was there for one of them. The manager confronted a really large, braless, belligerent black woman about some stolen items in her purse.

Three steps away from my Cracker, under 140 Pound Self.

She threatened the young male manager, also white, and smaller than (even) me. Then she bolted towards me. I literally ran away, pushing my buggy. She ran past me, only to be blocked by a few male employees, who tried to form a human enclosure, to contain her until police came. It was loud and scary.

Depressing stuff, I won't lie.

But then I read stuff like this.


(A wonderful blog post that will challenge your ideas about the sweet country farmhouse/Catholic school/private school/home school life you think you want to give your children...)

And like www.flowerpatchfarmgirl.blogspot.com and her entire October "31 Days of Going"  series.

This stuff will mess with you, if you read it. You might want to leave it alone.

On a bad day, I still want to go all Pioneer Woman, and move to the country, milk cows and live in benign seclusion.

But then I hear my neighbor's granddaughter, abandoned by her mother, living with her grandparents - my neighbors - and she is loudly singing in the yard under my window. Someone has to admire her 5 year old soprano, and show her the love of God. I sorta want the job.

Deep thoughts, here at the cottage. I am proud to be a NOT country blogger...a NOT wealthy, suburban grandmother...proving every day that I can be earthy and wise and eat from farm to table without property and livestock. And I can be politically aware, and don black sunglasses and carry a Michael Kors bag without living in a hip urban loft.

I am more like most of you. We can do this thing...we can live lovingly and compassionately and artistically right where we are. Right where we are, we can be a fragrance of Christ.

Daughters, Sons-in-Love, Sons, and Grandchildren

Jonathan, Sarah (one of my grown, married identical twin daughters), and Aidyn Esther....






Justin, our "other twin" Hannah, and the never-still Timothy Paul (The Preacher's namesake)...this picture says it all!





Hannah and Timothy. Oh, those two year old boy eyes!

The Preacher and I have known our share of heartache...we have sons who are "working on their testimony", and the stories about that...aside from the stress of ministry...would drop your jaw. How is it we are still friends and still in loving relationship with sons who have pulled what our boys have pulled? How is it we have managed to raise the bar (in terms of our Godly standards) instead of lower it, draw lines where lines should be, yet still exhibit grace? Still preserve relationships?

At great cost. By grace alone. Living by the law would be way easier. Like...way, way.

The Gospel. Living of the Gospel. That is how we do it. Our relationships with our children (and their spouses or Significant Others...and our grandchildren...and our friends) are infused and suffused with grace. Perfectly imperfect.

I am, like seriously, sloppy blessed. Still living a dream I have not earned and do not deserve.



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Of Jaunts and Junkets

The Preacher and I "slipped the surly bonds" of chores and counseling and obligation yesterday...we couldn't finish errands until the afternoon, so our jaunt lasted only for a few hours; we were back home working on mowing and church manuals and preparing for overnight guests by 7.

But guess what I found?







The most adorable vintage (circa 1960's) children's books...two of them, three dollars apiece, and in almost new condition. Every page with a winsome, beautifully rendered animal (in one) or an illustration of a nursery rhyme (in the other).

Even the lady at the cash register was jealous. I was firing off questions at The Preacher, as creative ideas tumbled out..."Is our flatbed scanner big enough to scan these pages? They are public domain, now!". "Will these images print on cold press watercolor paper, you think?"

She asked me what I was going to do with the books, and I explained how, as a mixed media artist, I intended to share these gorgeous children's books with the world, reincorporating them into art, while fully preserving the original books themselves.

She looked me in the eye, and said, "You totally just scored. I don't want to sell them to you, now. I want to do what you are describing. They are beautiful books, and your ideas are amazing. I wish I had thought of them."

Then she grinned and gave me her blessing.

Not that she had a choice. I was prepared to punch her in the neck, and run away, yelling brilliant artsy rhetorical flourishes at her as I exited the shop. Much like Grandma Moses might have done.

Never get between an artist and her muse.


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