Velvet Verbosity

Internets, I am buried under 10 feet of snow to shovel, presents to wrap, work to do, meals to shop for, and so on.  You know the drill!  So expect a hiatus from 100 words until after the New Year.  See you then!

That’s just how it is in my world these days.  “These days” meaning the last seven years.  I think all “merry “and “deck the halls” and stuff, but the reality is some tinsel thrown around the living room in last minute desperation, and presents wrapped in newspaper sealed with chewing gum because I didn’t buy enough wrapping paper, and where the heck did I put the tape again?

I used to LOVE sending and receiving Christmas cards, writing a personal note on each one while playing Christmas carols and drinking something cheerful and holiday-ish.  Like eggnog.  Spiked.

And Christmas cards weren’t even the half of it!  There were beautifully packaged gifts under a lovingly decorated tree.  There were lights strung along the front porch, twinkling in the snowy darkness.  There were home made cookies for Santa. There were beloved Christmas stories read every night.

Norman would’ve been proud.

Yeah.  Back when I had TIME.  Back in the days of marriage and being a stay-at-home-mom.  When children went to bed before 11:00 and I had a partner to turn to and say, “Honey, you’re turn, I’ve got Christmas cards to write out”.  Now I have seven boxes of Christmas cards tucked away in closets.  Seven boxes because if I don’t have time to WRITE on and send Christmas cards, do you really think I have a clue where I store them?  I don’t even look in my closets anymore.  I just open them a crack and throw things in, and someday that act will come back to bite me.  Namely, the day I move.  So every year, I buy a new box of cards, because Internet, I’m WELL-INTENTIONED!

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Alba was helping herself to some Christmas M&M’s when she saw this year’s box of oh-so-cute Christmas cards I just bought, and she smirked at me.

“What? I’ll send them”, I said.

“Uh huh”, she said grinning as she walked away toward her bedroom with her hair all freshly coiffed.  Because she has time for crap like that!

Whatever.  Best laid plans.

Solo parenting bites, and it means Alba’s probably right.  Who am I kidding?  No way I’ll have time.

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The other day on Twitter someone was making a plug for holiday help for a single mother she knew.  Her plea was earnest, and if I had two dimes to rub together myself, I would’ve sent her a big old box of presents.  I know what it’s like, not having enough money, not having enough time, not having enough resources or energy.  Let’s face it, humans were NEVER meant to raise children solo, never mind raising them solo while having to work full-time and deal with the complexity of what modern culture has become.   Our ancestors didn’t have junk mail, or 40 hr a week jobs, or doctor/dentist/therapist appointments, or school conferences, or blogs, or recycling, or Facebook!  Ok, so they didn’t have the greatest health, or their own teeth very long, but STILL.  There’s a lot to DO in a day, and never enough time.

Yet I still buy Christmas cards every year, hoping that somehow time is going to stretch out just a little longer, just this once.  All I want for Christmas is a 30 hour day, Santa, and I’ve been damn good!

So, if you’re on my Christmas card list, you’re just going to have to feel all my Christmas spirit, because your card has less than ten days before it joins the legions of stored-in-closets-that-should-never-again-be-opened.

Happy Holidays!

With love,

Good grief Charlie Brown, another holiday approacheth, and as usual I’ve backed myself into the last-minute corner.  Yay me!  It’s been a virus-charged fall so far in the Verbosity household.  All things conspiring to keep me from writing my first great novel.  Sigh.  It will make for a killer New Year’s Resolution.

Speaking of writing, are you on Twitter?  I’ve been having a swell time, 140 characters at a time, getting to know some tweety, bookish, writer types.  Also geeky-sexy big brains who share all the latest on brain science and other oddities.  You’re probably not interested in the latter, but if you ARE interested in the former, and are on Twitter, or want to be, look me up.  We have all sorts of fun in various Twitter chats, like #litchat, or #blogchat, or #writechat, or #writelines, and if you suddenly feel like you’re missing out, then my job here is complete.

On to the 100 Word Challenge.  If you are a newcomer, learn the (loose) rules of play here.  The challenge for this last week was, THINKING. (For the NEW challenge, scroll down.)  The honor of pick of the week (subject to my whimsical fickle opinion of course) is Patti because, well, my sentiments exactly! (Patti, I hope you don’t mind, but I edited to add two missing “be’s” I think were meant to be there.  If I’m wrong, you can’t sue, but you can send me a message and I’ll fix right away.)

 Thinking Out Loud

If ever I go missing,

I won’t be out of town.

I won’t be in the office, the kitchen, or

Wandering about in my nightgown.

I won’t be up to my ears in paperwork

Or my elbows in flour or dish soap.

I won’t be battling calories or crowds,

Or the feeling there’s just no hope.

I won’t be in a hurry,

A tizzy or a snit.

I won’t be out of my head, or

Out of energy and ready to quit.

I won’t be off my rocker, or

In a fit of pique.

If ever I go missing,

I’ll be in Martinique.

The 100 word posts just keep getting better and better.  See for yourself!  In other words:

• “Behind the walls of memory…by Night Blogger
• The Harshest Itinerary - No Kidding by Lori
• Shut Up and Drink Your Beer by LCeel
• Thinking of a Change by Mary
• Thinking to Avoid by Bibliovore

That wraps up last week.  With Hanukkah under way and Christmas fast approaching, participation may be slim, but the challenge must go on!  In honor of the holidays, and the BlogNosh Loads of Hope blog carnival, I thought it would be fun for us all to write 100 words on:

Hope

Go ahead, make it sappy, make me cry, be merry and hopeful, and do a good thing by mentioning the Loads of Hope Blog Carnival, AND be sure to add your link to the growing posts there.  (As usual, leave your link in the comments here too.)  Bloggers are on the road with the Tide Loads of Hope truck, bringing help to New Orleans and other disaster areas.  And you know what?  That kind of thing?  It’s what’s good about social media.  All of our collective little voices out here on the plains of the interwebs join together sometimes to make a whole lotta noise that produces some really awesome things.  So let me hear you. Raise up those voices in 100 words on HOPE.

Happy writing!

With love,

Everyone has a mum, and I’d like you to meet mine.  I have an ulterior motive internet, but it is a noble one, I assure you.  (Hang in with me on this one, there’s bound to be tears.) You see, for years I’ve watched my mom struggle and sacrifice.  I’ve also watched my mother pour love into handmade things, and then break her back selling them at small town craft fairs for a quarter of what they are worth in material, time, talent, and quality. So I’ve decided to build my mother an Etsy site for her crafts.

……….

Scroll down to the last paragraph to see how you can help me spread the word to help get her shop off the ground.

………..

In fact, I’ve watched my mother work hard all her life, make sacrifices for others, and all for little reward, though she manages to be a happy little bugger despite the struggle.

I’m setting out to put an end to that struggle, today.  I want my mother to be able to R E T I R E!  I want her to create things she loves, and have them valued and treasured by other families who appreciate the craft.  I want to know that someone who has been nothing but hard-working, decent, and kind her whole life gets rewarded in the end.   I want her to grow old with a decent life.  Not one of indulgence, but for heaven’s sake, at least one of decent comfort, like heat set to no less than 65 degrees, and being able to buy a little something for herself now and then. Criminy!

Readers, I’m not asking you to buy anything out of charity.  If this were that, I’d just set up a donation box.  No.  I want to introduce you to my mother, to all that she has gifted me, and to her talent.   My hope is that you’ll feel inspired to pass this story along.  This is a story of a woman who is talented, but not technically savvy, and without the means to hire someone who is.  This is a story of a woman who lives in an area where monies are spent on four-wheel monstrosities that kick up mud, farm equipment, and big hair-dos, NOT beautiful crafts.  This is a story of a woman who doesn’t have it in her to be snobby or dishonest, and therefore undersells her talent and her time.  This is a story of a woman who has been creating things all her life, from hand-knit sweaters to hand-built pieces of furniture, and everything you can imagine in-between.  This is also the story of a woman who has sacrificed for others, gone without, and struggled through many hardships.  This is a story of a woman who deserves more than life has given her so far.  This is a story of circumstance.

One day, several years ago, I went to visit my mother, and she came into the living room with a large piece of cardboard.  She said, “I’ve decided to try my hand at painting, but I didn’t want to spend the money on a canvas until I knew if I had any talent.”  She turned the cardboard around and revealed an exquisite scene of a pond and gazebo with delicate swans floating on the serene surface.  This was her very first painting, and it was lovely.  It was on a piece of cardboard!

Internet, please!  Why is my mother painting on a piece of cardboard?

That’s where I come in, the daughter who didn’t say thank-you quite nearly enough.  I have enough technical savvy, and extended networks, to maybe give something back.  This is my chance.  So Mom?

• Thank you for always believing in me, even when I couldn’t.  Now it’s my turn to believe in you.
• Thank you for breaking your back, on your feet hours every day to keep us going.
• Thank you for making our crap-tastic apartments look beautiful with your loving hand; sanding floors, papering walls, painting, and building things even if all of it would be only temporary before we moved again.
• Thank you for always making me look beautiful at my most important events. Especially that pink hand-crocheted floor length gown for my third-grade spring concert that made all the girls turn green with envy.
• Thank you for biting your tongue all through the fashion-wreck of the 80’s.
• Thank you for holding my hand while I brought my own first born into the world.
• Thank you for teaching me a woman’s place is where she wants it to be.
• Thank you for teaching me what kindness is.
• Thank you for always leading by example.
• Thank you for Joni Mitchell (that’s a WHOLE other mom story), and Ayn Rand.  I needed them both for different reasons.
• Thank you for encouraging my mind and my talent more than my packaging.
• Thank you for the hand-made complete redesign of my room every few years to satisfy my favorite color fickleness.
• Thank you for teaching me how to use my reason, while keeping the connection to my heart.
• Thank you for letting me live my own life, but still being there when I falter, without ever saying, “I told you so”.  This is worth gold.
• Thank you for my wedding dress, my bridesmaids’ dresses, the flowers, and my god, all the planning and patience you put into a wedding you didn’t have your heart behind, but you did it all because you loved me, all the while weeping as you worked, unbeknownst to me.
• Thank you for letting me live through the teen years.  God knows anyone else might have knocked me out for being such a selfish sass.
• Thank you for always emphasizing how important family is.
• Thank you for celebrating me every chance you got.
• Thank you for loving my Dad, cause he’s pretty awesome-sauce too.
• Thank you for loving my sisters, my children, and theirs, because we are all better for it.
• Thank you for lending me your favorite shawl, knowing you wouldn’t see it again for months, because that’s the kind of sacrifices you always make for the happiness of your children, and it’s kind of ridiculous, and we’re kind of ungrateful wretches when you think about it.
• Thank you for knowing me better than anyone else, and knowing when I need you.
• Thank you for being there, every damn time I’ve needed you.
• Thank you Mom, for all of it.

I love you.   There will never be enough words to tell you how much.  This is for you.

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Ok, you with the wet eyes, back to logistics for a moment.

My mother crafts primarily with recycled, vintage materials, in Shabby Chic, Cottage, and Victorian styles.  Right now, many of her crafts have been sold, or are out at craft fairs (where they will sell for far too little), so when I proposed this idea to her, all she had on hand where some handmade lavender sachets.  There are only two up at the moment, but I will be adding more over the next few days.  Not that these aren’t adorable and delightful for those who love girly, romantic, nostalgic frou-frou stuff!  Just that there will be more.  I hope for there to be lots more over time.  Handmade ornaments, stockings, and wreaths for next Christmas.  Delightfully sweet little romantic kibblets for Valentine’s Day.  (Don’t ask me what a kibblet is, I just made it up while thinking about tiny kitten faces, and tiny vintage buttons, and cherubs with pink cheeks.  You’re welcome.)  Hand-bags, and various other what-nots, along with special orders.

How you can help:  In the meantime, I’m hoping that all of you will visit her shop, leave her a note of encouragement, share this story or her shop through your Twitter, Facebook, StumbleUpon, and Blog account.  The gift I want to give my mother is the gift of getting her stuff out there, helping it to gain a following and attention, so that she can focus on doing what she does best: creating and making art.

If this happens, my blog will have served a wonderful purpose.

P.S. I’m excited to announce that the shop will have one-of-a-kind Christmas stockings up next week!  Just in time.  Whew.

P.P.S. I’m ALSO excited to announce that this post is now part of the Loads of Hope Blog Carnival, and if you haven’t yet experienced Blog Nosh, you really really should.

With love,

Internet, oh. my. god. The computer problems I’ve had over the last three weeks are on the level of epic.  Seriously.  It finally came down to buying a new computer, and that’s what I did two days ago.  A new MacBook Pro.  And before we get into this week’s 100 word challenge, can I just say that Apple has done several things right, but one thing they’ve done exquisitely right?  Packaging.  Opening my new MacBook Pro was like opening a fine piece of jewelry.  Classy, elegant, understated.  That 30 seconds of opening the box made the whole purchase worth it.  Incidentally, while I was opening the box, I was on the phone with the owner of a small independent Mac shop in town, and I was gushing about the packaging, and he said, “I know, orgasmic, right?”.  So I’m not the only one.

As for this week’s 100 Word Challenge, let me start out by saying, if you are a newcomer, you might want to bring yourself up to speed here.  The challenge for this last week was, Kaleidoscope.  (By the way, you guys were fast this week!)  It is getting more difficult to choose a pick of the week, and I reserve the right to dispense with that tradition should I feel all pressured and awkward.  For now, the honor of pick of the week goes to LouCeel.  I like the message of rebuilding anew with the pieces one has been given.  See for yourself:

I had a dream once
a place to go
a path to follow
foot set on the golden way
but it was shattered
like a broken stained glass window

broken hearts
broken loves
broken minds
broken dreams
children lost
and never recovered
the shattered life became
shards that cut deep
wounds were healed
with too much drink and
the salve of other lives
made just as miserable
they opened again
in the cold sober light of morning

but I have learned
in beautiful ways
when life shatters
into a thousand little pieces
pick it all up
And make a kaleidoscope.

In other words:

• Newcomer Jackie
• Remembering childhood by Jessie
• Kaleidoscope Children by Mary
• The Weather Report by Pattiken
• Ribbons by Niqui
• Shattered by newcomer Lori

Is that it?  Did I miss anyone?  Lawd I hope not.  This week’s challenge comes from One Hundred Years of Solitude (P.S.), by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  Comes highly recommended from an English Lit professor, and I’ve just started reading it.  Anyone else read it?

Thinking

Happy writing!

With love,