Adelia

Story inspired by writing prompt at Stampington.com

Appologies ahead as I do not know how to link up to the exact web page as I am working on my iPad (my computer is in the shop).

Photography by Andrea C. Jenkins featured in Life Images 2008

"Well good morning Sunshine!"

"Hi Mommy"

"Where are you off to so bright and early?"

"I'm going to the bay. There's a ship waiting for me. It's going to take me to a far away land where the magic lives."

"Oh my! A magical land. Sounds perfect. I see you wore your favorite sweater."

"Sometimes it gets cold in Adelia."

"Adelia, huh? Did you remember your toothbrush?"

"You don't need toothbrushes in Adelia, Mommy! The toothfairy lives there and she has all her helpers clean the kids' teeth."

"Well isn't that convenient! So, if you're wearing your favorite sweater, and you don't need to pack your toothbrush, what's in the bag?"

"Books."

"Books?"

"Yup. Books. And my paint. And paper. And a paintbrush. That's all you need in Adelia. Books and paints."

"Hmmm... that doesn't sound like much. What will you eat? Where will you sleep? What will you wear if your sweater gets too hot?"

"That's easy. It's all in the books. Books are magical in Adelia. They come to life. You just read them and they come true."

"So if you get hungry, you can just read 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs'?"

"Yup"

"And if you get hot, you can read a book on winter to bring back the cold?"

"Or a book on princess clothes so I can wear a fancy gown!"

"Oh listen to you giggle! I think you're on to something good!"

"Yeah, Adelia is good. It's all good. I only brought good books too."

"So why the paints?"

"Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case I don't have the book I need... or if I miss you while I'm there."

"What happens if you don't have the right book, or if you miss me?

"If I get scared, I can paint a blanket to keep me safe. And if I miss you, I will paint you and then you will be there with me."

"So everything you read and everything you paint becomes real in Adelia?"

"Yup."

"Wow. That does sound like a magical place. I sure would like to visit a place like that some day."

"You wanna go with me?"

"I would love to go with you Honey, but Mommy has work to do around here."

"Silly Mommy! Time stands still in Adelia. You can come with me and when we get back, all your work will still be right here waiting for you!"

"In that case, I would love to go with you."

Taking her mother's hand, "Mommy? Why are you wiping your eyes?"

"Because my love for you is overflowing, my wise little princess. You opened my eyes so wide, the love leaked right out."

"I love you Mommy."

"I love you too Sweet Girl."

Be Positively Positive

It's Friday.

Yay!!!

Woke with a song in my head this morning.

The song everyone loves to hate.

Rebecca Black - Friday

I have an eight year old daughter.

She loves the song. Loves the girl.

My daughter is about the sweetest girl you could ever meet.

And she likes the song everyone loves to hate.

Why do people love to hate it?

Why do people love to hate in general?

What happened if you don't have anything nice to say,

don't say anything.

I'll admit it's not my favorite song.

Not even close.

But I would never berated and hate on a young girl trying to live her dream.

I would never publicly insult her or say nasty things toward her song on a public forum.

Opinions are like assholes.

Everyone has one.

It doesn't mean you have to share yours.

Sharing something positive and constructive?
Brilliant!
But why! Oh why! Do people feel the need to be so hurtful?

If you don't like it, don't watch it.
That simple.
Keep calm and carry on.

 

My daughter loves the song.

She finds it fun and catchy.

She's eight years old. Perfect audience for a song like this.

Different strokes for different folks.

I went to a movie with my kids a year ago.

They had a preview for Justin Bieber's movie.

You should have heard the comments that came from the mouths of parents

in the audience of that theatre.

"I swear that kid has to be gay."

"God I cannot stand that idiot! He has zero talent."

"If I have to hear one more thing about Justin Bieber, I think I'll shoot myself."

Really people?

Really?

This is the way you talk in front of your kids.

Negative Nellies the lot of them.

Read any Yahoo article out there.

Heck, read my hometown paper online.

The comments section are ferocious.

Everyone hides behind the screen and throws daggers and shit at the screen.

Why are we such an unhappy and negative society?

Is everyone so full of toxic hate that they can't help but spill over?

It makes me sad. It makes me scared.

Scared for my kids. Scared for future generations.

I say we start now.

It's a new day.

Let's start a movement of positivity.

For every negative comment out there, post a positive.

For every hateful word, share two words of love.

For every bit of nonacceptance, tell someone you love them just the way they are.

No one's perfect. If you feel the need to rip, do it with your spouse.

Have fun poking with a friend. Get it out of your system and move on.

Don't post it permanently.

Don't put it where it can hurt others.

 

Let's change this world and choose to be positively positive.

I dedicate this post and song to my darling daughter who is

loving 

kind

accepting

and

positive.

She makes me want to be a better person.

Apologies

 

 

My apologies in advance for the ten tons of snow.

I woke this morning and looked outside.

It was pitch dark and as still as the pages of a bible in an atheist's bookshelf.

But it's coming.
Oh boy is it coming.

I owe an apology to everyone living even remotely close to me.

Darling daughter made me do it.

She read it in a book (children's) so you know it has to be true.

She forced me into a snow dance.

The book said, if the weatherman predicts snow,

in order to guarantee a good amount, before bed you must...

 1. 

put your pajamas on backward and inside out

2.

put a spoon under your pillow

3.

tape a penny to your bedroom door

4.

get up on the bed and do the craziest dance you can imagine.

You should have seen us!

It was partay time at our house!!!

I got so wrapped up in the fun, I forgot the point.

Snow? Oh nooooooo!

We shouldn't have danced so hard!

But we did.

So.

I apologize in advance for the snow.

Conditioned Thinking vs. Freedom

 

con·di·tioned

[kuhn-dish-uhnd]

adjective

1. existing under or subject to conditions.

2. characterized by a predictable or consistent pattern of behavior or thought as a result of having been subjected to certain circumstances or conditions.

3. Psychology . proceeding from or dependent on a conditioning of the individual; learned; acquired: conditioned behavior patterns.

think·ing

[thing-king]

adjective

1. rational; reasoning: People are thinking animals.

2. thoughtful; reflective: Any thinking person would reject that plan.

I struggle daily with discovering my authentic self.

Darling Daughter IS her authentic self.

She is creative, caring, generous, gentle.

She is fearless with her self-expression.

What an example.

What a teacher!

She creates and often...

it is hard for Husband and I

to allow her freedom of expression.

"Why?" you may ask, "would you ever STOP

her from freely expressing herself?"

 

Conditioned Thinking

We were taught there is a right and a wrong way 'to be'.

There is an acceptable and an inappropriate way 'to be'.

We were taught to fear judgment.

We were taught to fit in.

We were taught embarrassment, limits, conformity.

Our struggle to allow her to express herself freely

is an internal struggle. We do NOT halt her creativity

nor do we stop her from expressing that creativity

(unless of course, there would be some REAL danger,

not the man-made, fear monger, judgment danger).

 

She's young. I want to support her freedom.

I want to support her amazing creative mind.

She has no fear and no worry of judgment.

NONE

I could put it in her head, but why?

If someone doesn't like what she creates it doesn't seem to phase her. If I try to nudge her toward a different way, she takes or leaves my opinion, so why should I push?

 

You may disagree with my way of parenting.

You may worry she will be hurt by others (words/judgments).

I say, "so what?".

I fret and worry and conform and use my conditioned thinking to care about what others think entirely too much

and I am hurt all the time FOR it.

If she hears negative comments, who doesn't?

Everyone deals with negativity in life.

There are so many Negative Nellies out there

just dying to give their opinion.

Why let them win?

 

No. I will let her be.

She is an artist. She is a free spirit. She is creative.

She is my teacher.

I am learning from her. I am learning freedom of expression.

I am learning sheer joy and happiness.

I am learning how to "be" me

by watching the master.

 

Don't worry. I will always protect her from harm.

I would never let her do anything that was

genuinely dangerous or absurd.

 

 

 

Darling Daughter decided she wanted to create an outfit. I told her I would sign us up for a class as I have zero sewing experience (minus the attempted pillow case or straight curtain). She had her own idea in mind (pattern and all). We went in the basement and sought out some fabric. Why I have fabric when I don't know how to sew? Because I LOVE fabric and hope to someday learn. So down we went. She found some suitable flannel. I ironed it and she went to work. First with a skirt. She hand sewed the sides and I stitched them over with the machine (her request). I folded the hem in the bottom and sewed. We sewed a big hem(?) on the top for a ribbon waist. We figured that if we had a square skirt and pulled it in at the waist, perhaps it would look skirt-like. Guess what? I forgot to leave holes for the ribbon! We cut holes and found an appropriate ribbon in my ribbon stash. She insisted on a shirt to make it "dress-like". I begged her to wait for a class as I have NO CLUE how to sew a shirt. She said She knew what to do! She cut two holes for arms. I then saw her vision as she wrapped it around herself so I helped her lay it out, make the holes uniform and cut the edges so they were all straight and even. She proceeded to go back to my ribbon stash and cut an appropriate length pink ribbon to tie the shirt on. Little did I know she had plans to wear it to school today!!!! Yikes!!! I told her that probably wasn't a good idea in case it didn't hold together. "That's okay," she said. "I'll wear a shirt and shorts underneath in case I need to take it off." She was dead set on wearing it. I had to admit it was a little a lot adorable. What was I to do? She was dead set on wearing it and Oh So Proud of her creation. She had back-up clothes. It wasn't a nightmare outfit (or I would have drawn the line - I'm not a heartless monster you know!) So... off to school she went this morning in her handmade outfit. My little fashion designer. Cute, eh?

skirt (obviously)

 

(skirt + top = complete ensemble   *    notice the added matching cloth choker)

 

(back of outfit with cloth choker draping)

 

(every outfit must be tested with a twirl!)

 

Sweet Freedom!

Took this shot while riding a roller coaster

with Darling Daughter this past weekend.

Aaaaah!

The feeling of sweet freedom.

What makes your soul fly free?

Capture it. Follow it. Do it.

Special Project

Darling Daughter has been wanting a secret room.

She's been scouring the house for possibilities.

We set up temporary camp in biggest brother's closet

(under the stairs)

but biggest brother was not amused.

Yesterday we went to the fabric store and bought this.

We are going to attempt to make this.

Lil Blue Boo patchwork tent tutorial

I own a sewing machine but don't know much about sewing.

This gorgeous play tent looks simple enough for the beginner.

What are your creative juices up to today?

Photo Friday

Darling Daughter's Hair Salon

Waiting Area

 Gossip

Good Things Come In Two's

 -1-

I would like to introduce you to my daughter's blog. She is seven years old and itching to share her art with the world. I have shared some of her pieces (along with her brothers) over the years and now she has a place to call her own. A place for her to express, to inspire, to feel proud. I know she would be tickled to have some followers (besides her mother).  Introducing...

Paper Magic Maker

-2-

I love to write, rarely share, and never delve in fiction. My normal genre for reading and writing is non-fiction or poetry. Lately I have been back in the saddle of devouring fiction books and studying the art of fiction writing. Writing is something I have been in love with since I first put pencil to paper. It is also something I don't allow myself the time to do. From this day forward, I vow to allow myself time to write and the freedom to share.

I joined two amazing blogs to help me gain confidence, knowledge and practice in the art of writing. The blogs are The Magpie's Pen and The Red Dress Club. I am sharing a piece of my writing below. The prompt was given by The Red Dress Club and will be revealed in green at the end of the piece. Thanks for reading!

p.s. the piece is currently untitled.

 untitled

I can’t believe I made it to Friday. Getting through the past week has been a nightmare. Attending the funeral of my best friend last Saturday was the hardest thing I have done in my life. Cassie was young and beautiful and always so full of life. She was one of those free spirits who floated effortlessly through life. How could such a vibrant and inspiring young person be taken out so prematurely? It left me pondering some of life’s biggest questions.

What is the purpose of life? If Cassie, who was always helping people and had such a promising future could be taken out of the game of life so early, why am I still here? My life is boring, simple, monotonous. The parts that Cassie didn’t touch, that is.

How can life be so fragile? Cassie was here one minute larger than life, then gone in a mere instant, reduced to meager memories.

Perhaps the biggest question of all, how could anyone possibly think her fall from the window of her art studio be anything but an accident? Suicide? Cassie? No way! That’s the way the report was written and that’s the way it was confirmed. Suicide. Death by intentional fall.

The funeral was beautiful. Her favorite flower was lily-of-the-valley and the funeral parlor had placed gorgeous potted arrangements and cut flower bouquets everywhere. As loved ones walked in they were given a single sprig of lily-of-the-valley with a white satin ribbon tied around the stem. Encouragement was given to go up to a mic at the front of the visitation room and share memories of Cassie. The casket was closed due to the nature of her demise.

I had known Cassie for fifteen years. We met in fourth grade when she moved to our tiny Minnesota town from the warm and glamorous Los Angeles. She walked into the classroom so sure of herself. Not an ounce of fear in her. She was dark haired, sun tanned and had the most stylish clothes. Everyone in the classroom was whispering and pointing but Cassie just walked in, head held high, bright smile on her face and sat confidently in the only available chair, which as fate would have it  was directly in front of me.

Fifteen years of friendship. Fifteen years of girlish boy crushes and shared secrets to the more adult experiences of college and career. How could she be gone? More importantly, how was I supposed to function without her? She was the one who gave me confidence. She was the one who taught me to dream, to live life to the fullest. For the past week I have been left to wallow in loss and self-pity.  

This afternoon I arrived home from work and trudged out to the mailbox to retrieve today’s mail, most likely consisting of bills and junk mail. As I pulled the mail out of the box, I grabbed at the post the box is perched upon to keep from falling over. There was a pink postcard at the top of the stack of mail. It was addressed to me in curly, fancy writing. The “i”’s were topped with little hearts where dots were normally placed. There is only one person in my life with such happy and artistic penmanship. Cassie.

How could it be? Perhaps the suicide theory was correct as stated and this was her last goodbye. The card must have been lost in the mail. How else would it have taken so long to travel across town?

After gaining my balance and my emotional footing I flipped the postcard over. The back contained one simple sentence. “I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's Pizzeria. Tell no one.”

Overwhelmed with happiness I fled as fast as my stocky legs could carry me and burst through the front door heading straight to the counter to snatch up my purse and keys. I gleefully patted my cat Charlie on the head, slammed the front door and hopped into my VW bug. Reminding myself to drive the speed limit, I headed to the pizzeria.

Could it be? Could it really be? Cassie is alive? Boy does she have some major explaining to do!

Prompt: One week after attending the funeral of a close friend, you receive a postcard in the mail with the words, 'I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's Pizzeria. Tell no one.'