Handmade Love

I should be straightening up my studio, but I couldn’t resist writing this post based on a feature I saw on the  Etsy blog today, asking people-“If your house was burning, what would you save?” (Everyone-including pets, are safely outside.)

I would save a rag doll.  My daughter made it for me-and this is reason enough, but there is more to it than that.

It was during Thanksgiving, several years ago.  In the midst of out of town company, friends visiting,  and trying to get organized and prepare Thanksgiving dinner-I hit overload-and I got really sick.  I felt like I had a sudden case of the flu, and all I could do was crawl into bed,  feeling useless and miserable.

Amy came upstairs to see how I was doing, and then she disappeared for awhile.  When she returned a few hours later, she placed beside me  the most precious doll I had ever seen—complete with patchy braided yarn hair that stuck straight up in places, crooked features sewn on with a great deal of thread,  and wearing a dress from a discarded baby doll.  And on Amy’s face I could read a mixture of expressions.   Anguish- over seeing me sick, and expectancy- waiting for my reaction to this gift—and apology too.  “It’s not very good,” she lamented.  “Oh Amy,” I  whispered.  “She’s beautiful!  You made this for me?”  She nodded.  The doll was to help make me feel better and keep me company.

I love my daughter, but there are times when the emotion is so raw and overwhelming that I want to cry out-almost like I am in pain.  It’s hard to explain-but I bet every parent out there has felt this way.  It’s like you love your child so much-that it scares you.  Because you realize at moments like these,  that without this child, you would not be able to exist.   This was one of those moments.

This rag doll of mine always makes me smile, and sometimes when I look at it, my eyes get a little misty.   When I picture Amy sewing this doll-the hours she spent on it, and the great care she used in making it…all because she  loved me…forget the diamond rings,  or photo albums, or whatever.   My rag doll is  priceless.

Thanks, but no thanks!

I know Halloween was just a couple days ago, and it’s a little early to be thinking seriously about Thanksgiving-but I thought I’d share some of the funny and quirky things that have happened on Turkey Days in the past.
Our very first Thanksgiving after we were married, we excitedly planned to cook our first holiday dinner-and then found out in the newspaper on Thanksgiving morning that our turkey had been recalled due to some food poisoning concerns.  A quick trip to the grocery store revealed that our turkey was actually ok-but still,   “A little heart attack with your stuffing, anyone?” ( Or,  how not to make a good  impression-make your guests ill.)
There was the Thanksgiving in New York.  We had just moved there, and we were still getting to know people.  We invited a serious young couple-Jean and Jim- and their small daughter Sarah over to celebrate the day with us-the “ us” being Stuart, myself and our Bassett Hound Maggie.  We tried to make a good impression.  We tried to make everything perfect.  And I didn’t want to appear  rude, but I honestly couldn’t understand what Jean was trying to tell me, making only whimpering noises, until she pointed towards the living room-and there was Maggie, with the entire cheese ball in her mouth.  No body wanted any appetizers after that.
Then there was the year that I decided to try to get the kitchen as clean as possible while some of the food was still cooking so that after dinner there wouldn’t be a gigantic mess to clean up.  I grabbed a  measuring cup full of grease and bits of turkey, and dumped it down the sink.  I realized my mistake when Stuart asked what had become of the turkey “drippings.”  Goodbye Thanksgiving gravy. (This is why you always want to have gravy mix on hand, I realized.)
Two years ago, Stuart, Amy and I went to my parents house for Thanksgiving.  Thursday morning we decided to attend Thanksgiving Day services at a quaint little church near their home.  During Communion, as I prepared to take a drink of wine from the large cup I was offered-it flew out of the Communion assistant’s hands and spilled all down the front of my sweater.  “Oh I’m so sorry!” she gasped.  “Don’t feel bad.”  I shot back.  “I like wearing my wine!” and at that holy moment instantly felt like the most blasphemous person on earth.  Afterwards, though, she came up to me and joked as well-“People will think you’ve been hitting the bars early today!”  and we both laughed.  And luckily  my sweater was red wool, so no harm was done.
Later that day, after we’d finished our delicious dinner and we were relaxing, I suddenly had the sinking  feeling that I hadn’t  unplugged my own iron (an older model-one that didn’t have auto shut off) at my own house--100 miles away.  I quickly dismissed the thought as irrational and put it out of my head.  But you guessed it-when we got home after that Thanksgiving visit-and I looked in my sewing room-there it was-my iron- STILL PLUGGED IN! 
This year-we are having Thanksgiving dinner at our house again.  And getting through the day without any surprises—for that I will be truly thankful!

That Old Holiday Feeling

First of all, thank you for visiting my blog-I am truly grateful! And second, I’ll give you a minute or two to try to identify the object in the picture………….
It may not really look like one-but it’s a turkey. I made it in school when I was 5 or 6 or so (hopefully not MUCH older than that!) I vaguely remember thinking at the time that it was the most artfully crafted turkey ever to be created by anyone, and I’m sure I was prouder than punch the day I took it home and showed my mom and dad. These handmade decorations that children make are certainly the most precious kind of decorations, and my dear Mother saved them all-the orange blob of a jack-o-lantern and the Santa’s boot complete with cotton “fur” among others.
I remember that this time of year was so magical back then. There was always much to get done, but it was fun and not something to be endured and gotten through. And I’m sure that the amount of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was a lot longer when I was a kid, or at least it sure seemed that way. The days were a happy blur of baking all kinds of cookies, writing Christmas cards, decorating the house (I still remember gazing at the boxes containing Christmas decorations in the middle of summer-longing for the holidays to come), wrapping presents, getting a tree-and all my memories are framed in red and green and the scent of pine and sugar cookies.
I want this feeling back-I want to feel the anticipation I felt when I was a kid (though not the feeling of eating so much at Thanksgiving that I wanted to die!) I don’t want these fleeting days during “the most wonderful time of the year” to be spent grumbling over getting cards sent, or ornaments hung, or cookies baked. I don’t want to get irritated because I’m running out of shopping days, and finding it a chore to pick out everyone’s presents. It’s hard-I’m an adult and life is not as simple as being 9 and only worrying about whether I’d forget my lines in the Sunday School Christmas program. But I’m going to try really hard to be childlike this year- eat leftover pumpkin pie for breakfast, use too much glitter, put cookies and milk out for Santa, build a snowman, marvel at a tiny baby nestled in a bed of hay, maybe even make a few clay reindeer. I’ve got plenty of time too, if I start right now!

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Bitter and the Sweet

The end of summer has come and it’s quiet around the house today. My daughter Amy started back to school (8th grade!), and I miss having her around. Besides being mother and daughter, we are the best of friends too. I truly love her company and we do lots of things together. Last night there was a flurry of activity as she prepared for today-she retrieved her back pack from the closet where it had been hidden away since last June. She filled her new binder with all the usual and necessary school supplies-pencils, pens, paper. She picked out her first day of school outfit (all new clothes, of course!) And while I baked cookies for her lunch, she watched a favorite old movie-taking her mind off the inevitability of today a little longer.
But the end of summer is good too. This is the time of year that I take a few green tomatoes from the garden and make mincemeat-that classic blend of green tomatoes, apples, raisins, sugar, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg (I don’t put any meat in mine.) After hours of cooking, this mixture is reduced to a dark, sweet, spicy concoction that I put up in jars and then put away for the upcoming holidays. To me, no Thanksgiving or Christmas would seem complete without a mincemeat pie-it’s as much a tradition as roast turkey or a Christmas tree.
Amy may be back in school now, and she won’t have as much free time as she does in the summer-but one thing won’t change. When it comes time to make mincemeat, my favorite helper will be by my side.