Spring break: Rejuvenating my muse

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There is no place for grief in the house which serves the Muse.
– Sappho, Greek lyric poet

A portrait of Kathy's daughter Fiona, surrounded by her mask (in frame) and vintage collection of vessels.

A portrait of Kathy’s daughter Fiona, surrounded by one of her handmade mask (in frame) and vintage collection of vessels on the desk.

On my last visit with my friend Kathy five years ago, we had talked about writing a renga together – an ancient Japanese form of poetry comprising a series of short verses linked into one long poem and composed in a collaborative fashion. When I returned to the Bay Area, she sent me detailed instructions on how to write a renga, along with a beautiful blank book. The idea was for me to start the first verse, consisting of three lines, and then send the book to her, and after she wrote her lines, she would send it back to me, and we’d start the process all over again.

The book sits on my shelf, blank. Even the band around it has never been removed. The rules of the renga seemed too complicated for me at the time, and then I was overwhelmed by my work and constant, snowballing deadlines and family obligations. When I reminded Kathy about the collaborative project, she didn’t remember. Despite the failed attempt to creatively collaborate and inspire one another, with the blame rightfully on me, this time we parted with another poetic project to dive into, though it was purely an act of spontaneity (more on this in a later blog entry). My stay with Kathy was meant partly to lift my flagging spirits and find my muse again. Little did I know that Kathy would be my muse this past weekend.

Kathy's mural in the living room.

Kathy’s mural in the living room.

New music to listen to
I listen to the same limited playlist of artists – okay, mostly nostalgic bands from the 1970s and 1980s – on Pandora when I hop on my wind trainer-equipped bike in the early mornings. As the rain came down outside in Mount Vernon, we listened to what Kathy categorized as indie folk music. She introduced me to a handful of her and her son Patrick’s favorite artists via YouTube: John Butler Trio, The Decemberists, Mumford & Sons, and Zoe Keating. We were treated to John Butler’s Ocean on YouTube, and later on Skype Patrick, who had spent months learning the song, played it for us. It’s an amazing piece of music and quite the workout for the fingers.

Taking a peek inside Kathy's homemade sketchbook.

Taking a peek inside Kathy’s homemade sketchbook.

New books to read
Kathy is a voracious reader, and through the years she has recommended books to me. She has a penchant for fantasy, and I remember some of her favorites in high school and college were The Hobbit and Richard Adams’ Watership Down. This time around, Kathy recommended poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Woodridge and Buffalo Yoga by Charles Wright. I was most interested, however, in Indiespensable, a membership program she belongs to through Powell’s Books. Every six weeks, she receives a newly published book, with a nod to independent publishers. The book is signed by the author, slipcovered, and accompanied by a unique surprise. One book had some connection to honey, and the book was packaged with a jar of honey. Another surprise was a box of chocolates. What a great program and a way for an indie bookstore to differentiate itself from the likes of Barnes & Noble and be just as mighty.

Steampunk-inspired wall art in Kathy's living room.

Steampunk-inspired wall art in Kathy’s living room.

Kathy's latest sketchbook, which she bound by hand.

Kathy’s latest sketchbook, which she bound by hand.

When we were at Village Books (1200 11th Street, Bellingham, 360.671.2626) a few days earlier, I relished leisurely walking through the store – something I haven’t done in years. I picked up the latest novel by Ruth Ozeki, Tale for the Time Being. It was signed and the clerk told me Ozeki had just given a reading at the store the weekend before! One of my recent favorite novels is her All Over Creation, which dealt with genetically modified organisms, among other themes. I made a vow to Kathy that I would dedicate time for reading, which means I have to schedule it, put it on my to-do list so it doesn’t get pushed aside by other pressing tasks.

Detail of the mural Kathy did for 1st Street Cabaret and Speakeasy, Mount Vernon, Washington.

Detail of the mural Kathy did for 1st Street Cabaret and Speakeasy, Mount Vernon, Washington.

The cover of Kathy's hand-bound present to Peter.

The cover of Kathy’s hand-bound present to Peter.

Binding books by loving hands
Lastly, I was inspired by Kathy’s artwork, which is displayed all over her home – paper mache masks, murals, a wall hanging constructed of fiber and other mixed materials, an easel holding the early stages of a portrait of her 22-year-old daughter Fiona. She has painted murals for various community organizations and her most recent one is on display inside the 1st Street Cabaret & Speakeasy (612 S. 1st Street, Mount Vernon, 98273, 360.336.3012). Kathy took a class in book binding, and now binds her own sketchbooks. She recently finished her sixth book, which features a picture of her mother in a frame cast out of clay from another frame. She has covered other sketchbooks with thrift-shop finds – leather from old jackets and knits from sweaters, complete with the label tag on the cover. My favorite is a hollowed-out “book” she made for her husband Peter. Titled Peter’s Midnight Musings, the book features a working light, a notebook nestled in a box, and chains and gears, giving it a steampunk vibe.

The inside of the book Kathy made for her husband Peter.

The inside of the book Kathy made for her husband Peter.

I’m in awe of her talents and creative energy. My restful time in Mount Vernon seems long past, now that I’m in the middle of deadlines, soccer and baseball practices, an orthodontist appointment, tae kwondo lessons, tax season, and trying to squeeze in time for a blog. As Kathy and I hugged goodbye at the airport, my muse took a long drink from the well before diving back into my being. Refreshed, I meet those obligations head-on, muse on my shoulder.

Saying goodbye at the airport, while my muse leaps from Kathy back to me.

Saying goodbye at the airport, while my muse leaps from Kathy back to me.

With sad eyes and flattened ears, Jeely, the family dog, says goodbye.

Meanwhile, back at the house in Mount Vernon, Jeely, the family dog, says goodbye with sad eyes and flattened ears.

 

Skagit Valley: Tulip fever and antique sleuthing

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I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
– Claude Monet, founder of French Impressionist painting

A sea of Skagit Valley tulips.

A sea of Skagit Valley tulips.

April 1st marked the beginning of the month-long Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. Kathy forewarned me that seeing the fields of tulips would likely be marred by tourists – from Canada, other parts of Washington, and far-flung places – who would create a parking lot out of the two-lane road to the picturesque town of La Conner, our eventual destination. We were “saved” by the rain, which never really let up most of the time I was visiting. While the rain deterred us from taking hikes along the waterfront or in the mountains, it not only kept the tourists at bay in the tulip fields but it was ideal weather for catching up with good friends over mugs of hot tea.

Farm workers harvesting tulip bulbs.

Farm workers harvesting tulip bulbs.

It was a little early for the tulips’ full glory, but the rows of vibrant colors – red, yellow, purple, and pink – were still breathtaking. We didn’t have to fight any crowds over the views while snapping photos. And we had a little respite from the rain as we stopped at one of the gardens on display, Tulip Town. I didn’t know that the area was known for its tulips, which were first grown in 1906 with Dutch bulbs. The tulips became part of the seed production industry that included beets and cabbage. Taking advantage of the increasing crowds that were coming every spring to view the spectacular colors, the Mount Vernon Chamber of Commerce created the festival in 1984, and in 1994 it became its own entity.

Nasty Jack's Antiques' impressive building.

Nasty Jack’s Antiques’ impressive building.

Visiting La Conner
Along the way from Mount Vernon to La Conner, we were treated to fields of yellow daffodils in full bloom. We had a nice leisurely late lunch at the La Conner Brewing Company (117 South First Street, 298257, 360.466.1415) – enjoying a hummus plate and wild coho salmon filet sandwich with thick-cut fries and coffee and tea, of course. We meandered in and out of the myriad rooms that comprise the large building that is Nasty Jack’s Antiques (103 East Morris Street, 360.466.3209). If you’re looking for old magazines, unusual vintage furniture, steel and wooden type set blocks, and reproduction badges, bottle openers, and key chains, this antique shop is for you. It’s also a great place to window shop.

Bold and beautiful earrings handmade by Miao Chinese artisans.

Bold and beautiful earrings handmade by Miao Chinese artisans.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to go to the La Conner Quilt and Textile Museum housed in the historic 1891 Gaches Mansion (703 Second Street, 360.466.4288) before they closed, but this museum will be a destination next time. To help celebrate the tulip festival, the museum hosts a quilt or fiber art piece tulip festival challenge, a fundraiser that benefits the building of its Commemorative Brick Pathway. One of Kathy’s favorite shops is the Caravan Gallery (619 South First Street, 360.466.4808), which has an unbelievably large and colorful selection of jewelry, handicrafts, and artifacts from overseas adventures – from multi-colored beaded cuffs and long, multi-strand, gold-beaded necklaces crafted in Bali to silver earrings and bracelets handmade by the Miao Chinese, and ethnic minority living in the southwestern mountains in China. The shop features a garden patio and waterfall, which is a great place to sit down, take a deep breath, and relax.

The soothing waterfall and garden at Caravan Gallery, La Conner, Washington.

The soothing waterfall and garden at Caravan Gallery, La Conner, Washington.

Antique sleuthing
We ventured to a few more antique shops in downtown Mount Vernon, particularly Dilly Dally Antiques and Collectables (501 S. First Street, Mount Vernon, 98273, 360.336.8930). On the lookout for chatelaine pieces, Kathy spotted a pencil – with the lead intact – in a slim silver case that was attached via a very thin, working retractable chain to a round silver pin with an etched floral design. The tag described it as a sales clerk’s pencil, which was approximately 3 ¾ inches long. It was quite an unusual find, as we’d never seen such an item. When we got back to Kathy’s house and were on opposite sides of her dining room table, our respective laptop and tablet before us, we began a spontaneous quest, trying to find out more about these pencils.

Vintage pencil pin: Who used it? A librarian, sales clerk, or gal on the dance floor?

Vintage pencil pin: Who used it? A librarian, sales clerk, or gal on the dance floor from yesteryear?

Kathy had introduced me to Pinterest the day before and was looking at images on that platform. She found a handful on Etsy and eBay, some with different descriptions – 1940s dance card pencil and librarian mechanical pencil – both of which made sense to us. While the one at Dilly Dally did not have any markings on the back of the pin, many that we found were produced by Ketcham-McDougall, of East Orange, NJ. One had a patent date of February 24, 1903 (coincidentally, that’s my birth date!) and was manufactured in 1910. It definitely looked like an antique, whereas the silver pencil pin had a sleek mid-century sensibility to it.

Personally, I subscribe to the more romantic description of the dance card pencil from the 1940s and 1950s. Perhaps Violet Bick used it to try to get George Baily to sign her dance card the night that he laid eyes on and instantly fell in love with Mary Hatch in It’s a Wonderful Life. It is imagining who had this item, what they were like, and what kind of life they led that makes learning about, collecting, and appreciating vintage and antique items so enjoyable, particularly from a writer’s perspective. It was a fun exercise spawned by a vintage find and made special by having shared it with a dear friend.

A respite from the rain in the tulip fields.

A respite from the rain in the tulip fields.

When it rains in Bellingham, antique shops beckon

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The best mirror is an old friend.
– George Herbert, Welsh-born English poet, orator, and Anglican priest

Kathy and me, Village Book Café, Bellingham, Wash., April 2013.

Kathy and me, Village Book Café, Bellingham, Wash., April 2013.

The last time I saw one of my best friends from high school, Kathy, was five years ago, when my kids were seven and five years old and we spent their spring break visiting with Kathy’s family in Mount Vernon, Washington. My kids are on their spring break now, but while they are back home with David, I am on a much-needed girlfriend trip to uplift my ragged spirits. It’s been five years, but really good friends pick up the conversation as if no time or distance has separated them at all. Such is the case with Kathy and me.

The heart of Old Fairhaven in Bellingham.

The heart of Old Fairhaven in Bellingham.

We have always shared a love for books and reading, writing poetry and fiction, art, the lost art of letter writing by hand, and thoughtful conversation. That has certainly not changed. But through the years, we – Kathy earlier than I – have developed a love for vintage and antique objects. She shared with me a beautiful Art Nouveau cast-iron inkwell, which was an earthy green color, with women with flowing long hair on either side of the inkwell, and the trademark sensuous curves and lines. There were other treasures, too, including pieces of a chatelaine for housekeepers, which date back to the 1700s – a miniature notebook with an Art Nouveau stamped silver cover on a chain and a silver needle holder that both attach to a brooch or belt – and vintage books.

Fairhaven Antique Mall in Old Fairhaven, Bellingham, Washington.

Fairhaven Antique Mall in Old Fairhaven, Bellingham, Washington.

We drove to Bellingham to have a nice meal with her youngest, Patrick, who is a freshman at Western Washington University and who was in eighth grade when I last saw him. We had planned a nice long scenic walk along the waterfront, but during our meal at the Village Books café the light drizzle turned to rain and then a downpour. That determined the remains of the day – seeking shelter in some of the historic buildings whose shops showcase local artists. And then Kathy took me to the Fairhaven Antique Mall (1201 11th Street, Bellingham, WA 98225, 360.922.7165), which is run by owner and buyer Lisa Distler and features more than 20 dealers. A lot of antique malls can be overwhelming, but Fairhaven Antique Mall was fairly well curated. (You can check out its Facebook page here.)

Art Nouveau hand-tooled handbag.

Art Nouveau hand-tooled handbag.

Distler has been in the antique business for more than 15 years and knows her stuff, having researched brands the old-fashioned way through books. I love hanging out in an antique store when the people who work there talk knowledgeably and lovingly about the treasures you fall in love with – because they love them, too. And in true antique spirit, Distler said her family hasn’t had a TV in the house since the 1980s, doesn’t have a computer, and writes out receipts on one of those thick and heavy steel boxes with a window and a slot to pull the receipt out of. For one fantastical moment, I considered this four-foot-plus trophy with a golden woman standing atop an open sphere with a base of long, blade-like mirrors and also a pink alarm clock with double-bells on top made in West Germany.

The etched cover of an antiqued compact purse.

The etched cover of an antique compact purse.

If you recall the hand-tooled purse from Feathers in Austin, you will understand my immediate attraction to a similar purse, which Distler explained was from the Edwardian era (1901-1910), though the Feathers purse was supposedly from the 1930s or 1940s. You can definitely see the Art Nouveau decorations on the front. It is missing its matching mirror, which the Feathers purse has, but this beauty was in excellent condition, from lining to latch to whipstitch. There were other beautiful purses, as well, a 1940s beaded purse with a hard frame and floral needlepoint, a flapper-era beaded purse shaped like a drawstring bag, although the opening was a metal cap that when lifted allowed the steel accordion frame to fan out and allow you to access the contents, and a sweet, small, beaded ivory purse with a kiss-lock metal frame that sported a ring, which women wore while whirling around on the dance floor. Another beauty was an antique compact purse, with slots for nickels and dimes, powder, and calling cards, and a mirror. I began imagining removing the chain and replacing it with another chain.

The inside of the antique compact purse.

The inside of the antique compact purse.

Whiting and Davis gold mesh purse.

Whiting and Davis gold mesh purse.

It was raining even harder when we left. We returned to Mount Vernon by way of the Red Door Antique Mall (111 Freeway Drive, 360.419.0811), where Kathy got her inkwell. There were a lot of interesting and beautiful items in this mall, including an old-fashioned percolator that I imagined could have a second life as the base of a lamp, a 1950s mint-condition Samsonite luggage, a pleather (though now it would be described as vegan) very shiny bright burnt yellow rain coat with wide lapels from the 1970s for only $19. I tried this coat on a few times but eventually put it back, unsure if I could pull off cool rather than kitsch. Buyer beware, as in one dealer’s display cabinet one silver metal trinket box had a Ross-like store tag on the bottom that listed it as $6.99, but this was priced at $42. Hmmm. But you can always trust well-known markings, such as this gold Whiting and Davis mesh purse and a brand that I now know – Crown Lewis purses, which were made in the 1930s and 1940s.

Crown Lewis fabric handbag.

Crown Lewis fabric handbag.

Vintage glass perfume bottle.

Vintage glass perfume bottle.

The antique malls in the area have incredibly reasonable prices for both vintage and antique. Kathy knows, having gone through antique shops in Los Angeles, and I know having compared prices from antique and vintage goods from the Bay Area with those in the Central Valley. While you’ll find a lot of similar and therefore uninspiring items no matter where you are in the country, it’s especially sweet to stumble upon really unusual pieces such as the antique compact purse. At the end of the evening, Kathy and I looked at one another, smiling and content: Today was a really fun day poking around in antique shops with not only a dear friend, but a partner in crime. The trip thus far is definitely uplifting my spirits. And yes, I’m still thinking about that super bad rain slicker – so bad that it’s rad.

1970s, wide-lapelled, gold-buttoned, shiny rain slicker: So bad it's cool. Or not?

1970s, wide-lapelled, gold-buttoned, shiny rain slicker: So bad it’s cool. Or not? Cast your vote!

Easter reflections

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What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
– Kobayashi Issa, Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest

Last year was the first Easter we celebrated without my mother. In the past, when my son was a toddler, we drove down to San Diego to spend the weekend with David’s sister’s family and his parents. After my daughter was born, we took them to Folsom to spend the holiday with my sister’s family and my mother. We still went to Folsom last year, even though my nephew, who was a freshman in high school at the time, finally won out and no longer had to participate in Easter egg hunts and the interest within my kids was also waning.

Calla lilies in our garden.

Calla lilies in our garden.

After my mother’s passing, I told David that we needed to spend more time with his parents, who are in their early seventies. I am acutely aware that I didn’t spend enough time with my mother in the last few years, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistake. When the kids were babies and toddlers, I made many a weekend trip to Folsom, but all that changed when my son got involved in sports in the second grade – baseball and basketball. He has since given up basketball, but his baseball schedule used to be every weekend from February through mid-August. My daughter joined a soccer team last fall, and now our Saturdays in the falls and springs are spoken for.

This past Christmas, David and his siblings got his parents a surround sound entertainment system, which David and one of his brothers set up. David needed to finish up the job, so he had to come back after the holidays. By the time a weekend could be found, I was out of town on a business trip. But my daughter ran a temperature on the appointed weekend, and then had another virus the following weekend, which was when the rescheduled trip had been planned. We were all set to go two weekends ago, and then his father called to tell us a good friend of theirs had caught a secondary infection while in the hospital after contracting sepsis, following a procedure to eradicate a spot on his liver. He was not expected to make it through the weekend, and David’s parents thought it best if we didn’t come.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Their friend passed away that Saturday evening, and his funeral was set for the following Saturday. David’s dad was scheduled to eulogize his long-time friend. Our weekend was booked for my son’s first baseball tournament of the season. On the drive home from the games that Saturday afternoon, David’s brother called. David listened to the voicemail message when we got home: His parents had been hit by a car crossing the street at a four-way stop. The driver had stopped, but then proceeded to turn. He later told the police officer that the sun was in his eyes and he didn’t see them. My mother-in-law was knocked to the ground and thankfully only suffered bruises, but my father-in-law’s head cracked the car windshield. He had broken two vertebrae in his neck and his forehead was stitched up. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer a concussion.

We came that Sunday sans the kids, and we were going to come the following weekend, when he would be home from the hospital. We ended up coming Easter weekend, which seemed a better time to spend with them. Two of David’s brothers also came. It was a 24-hour visit, as we left after my son’s baseball practice and my daughter’s soccer game. It was a short visit, but we had a nice dinner and breakfast. The kids played a Mexican domino board game with their “noni,” their uncle’s girlfriend, and their dad. They weeded the backyard for their “noni,” which she paid them for their services. We watched a little bit of March madness, some Sharks hockey, and the original Pink Panther movie in surround sound.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

At night, we watched an amazing lightning and thunderstorm play out from David’s parents’ bedroom window. It was quite a display of theatrics, which none of us has ever seen before, including David, who has seen his share of Tennessee thunderstorms. It made us realize how small we humans are against the force of Nature. It made us appreciate the power of Nature. Then we went to bed, and time flew by. Time flew by – It’s a cliché I find myself referencing with greater frequency. There is an equal sense of urgency that accompanies the acknowledgment, the inevitable.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

It was a quiet Easter, but an important one. I’m glad the kids could share the holiday with their noni and papa and two of their uncles. Like spring, Easter is a time for renewal and rejuvenation, for being amazed by and grateful for life, which is the ideal response to the events of the past few weeks.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Empowering our daughters early on

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The robb’d that smiles, steals something from the thief.
– William Shakespeare, British playwright

Here I am, at 51, having to deal with girl problems – my daughter’s, that is. One day she’s in; the next day, she’s out. At 10 years old, in the fourth grade, she is experiencing what many friends of mine who have older daughters have told me would happen. She will come home, complaining of various transgressions committed against her, though the usual scenario is that she and another friend weren’t allowed to play with a trio of other friends.

Feel elegant and powerful in a full, flowery dress, sleek faux fur jacket, ruffled bootie, and crossbody bag (perfect for our school auction buffet - hands free for finger food and glass of wine).

Feel elegant and powerful in a full, flowery dress, sleek faux fur jacket, ruffled booties, and crossbody bag (perfect for our school auction buffet – hands free for finger food and glass of wine).

When I first heard her stories of woe, I cringed, remembering my own painful past. My best friend in elementary school and I were in the same class from kindergarten all the way up until fifth grade. That year we were in different classes, and then I lost my best friend to a new girl in town. I made a new best friend in my class, but the following three years (I attended a K-8 school) were spent battling to stay atop and not be ousted from the threesome that comprised my old best friend, my new best friend, and me.

High school can be brutal, but thankfully I was blessed with big-hearted best friends and a circle of other good friends. My first best friend, Kathy, moved to Washington State when we were juniors, and my other best friend, Kimi, and I were inseparable until she got her first boyfriend our senior year. College had its bumps, but I was most surprised that I have encountered mean girls throughout my adult life. Up until the last few years, even the slightest cruel comment would dwell in my head for days. It was a step up from feeling mortally wounded by such a comment when I was younger, but not something I felt a woman my age should still be bothered by – if at all, if raised and emboldened with healthy self-esteem. I told myself, however, that no one is too old to learn a life lesson.

Show off strong arms in a sleeveless dress. Booties, as opposed to strappy sandals, give off a tough vibe.

Show off strong arms (use hand weights to keep your arms toned) in a sleeveless dress. Booties, as opposed to strappy sandals, give off a tough vibe.

Learning by teaching my daughter
I decided that I would give my daughter coping mechanisms and tools to deal with mean-girl behavior – something that I wish I had been given when I was a girl. First of all, I told her she had better not be a mean girl, particularly by not excluding someone from the group. Invoke the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Unless you’re a masochist, if everyone lived by this rule, we’d have a more compassionate planet. Next I told her if she witnessed mean-girl behavior, she was to defend the girl on the outs and let the others know it’s not nice to exclude anyone.

The harder part was giving her tools to defend herself when she was on the outs. How do you convince a girl to not let mean comments hurt her feelings? To not cry? Some girls are hardwired and hardy, and they can naturally withstand such assaults. For many of us, however, it takes a few years, many years, or even decades to master invulnerability, depending upon our upbringing, mentors, and other factors.

Reclaimed vintage earrings (Gorgeous & Green, Berkeley), my mother's vintage ring (given to her by her parents), and Jan Michael bracelet (Philadelphia shop) and necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley).

Reclaimed vintage earrings (Gorgeous & Green, Berkeley), my mother’s vintage ring (given to her by her parents), and Jan Michael bracelet (Philadelphia shop) and necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley).

So I told her it takes practice and more practice. Telling ourselves over and over again until we mean it. I told her mean people say mean things because they want power over you. When you cry, when you crumble, when you get angry, when you say mean things in return you have given them power. Don’t give them power! You don’t have to kill them with kindness, either. You either call them on it – that’s not a very nice thing to say or do – or you walk away and completely ignore what was just said or done.

This lesson must be sinking in. While I was away on a business trip last October, my daughter was walking to school one morning with one of our friends and her three daughters. The youngest girl told my daughter she wanted to be a hot dog for Halloween, but she was afraid the other kids would make fun of her. My friend related to me that my daughter’s adamant response was, “If you want to be a hot dog, be a hot dog. Who cares what other people think?” Amen.

When I came across the Shakespeare quote, it embodied exactly what I have been trying to teach my daughter – as well as my son. Turn the tables, and don’t give that person your power. I tried to explain what the quote meant to them during a dinner conversation, but I realized it would be another year or two for her to fully appreciate what Shakespeare was saying. I could have said, instead, “Don’t let your emotions become your bit*$,” but I’ll save that for when they are in college.

Combining florals, faux fur, red leather, insects, reclaimed vintage, and vintage jewelry.

Combining florals, faux fur, red leather, insects, reclaimed vintage, and vintage jewelry.

Gone fishing

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The time to relax is when you don’t have time for it.
– Sydney J. Harris, American journalist, Chicago Daily News and Chicago Sun-Times

Having hit the proverbial wall by doing too much in too little time and sacrificing sleep to accomplish my goals, I am partially taking David’s advice of letting go of my Wednesday posting. I’m giving myself permission to take the day off and not write, but still post pictures. Happy Wednesday! Take heed and be kind to yourself and give yourself permission to relax. As Lama Thubten Yeshe once said: “Be gentle first with yourself if you wish to be gentle with others.”

It may be spring, but it's still a little chilly. An all-black outfit is the perfect backdrop or a faux snake skin leather jacket from Urbanity (Berkeley, CA).

It may be spring, but it’s still a little chilly. An all-black outfit is the perfect backdrop for a faux snakeskin leather jacket from Urbanity (Berkeley, CA).

Go simple with accessories - Carmela Rose drop earrings and Tiffany ring for my 50th birthday from David.

Go simple with accessories – Carmela Rose drop earrings and Tiffany ring for my 50th birthday from David.

Faux snakeskin pattern can be overwhelming, so stick with an all-black outfit (simple knit dress, knit scarf, and tights), black booties with studs for added texture and interest, and simple silver jewelry.

Faux snakeskin pattern can be overwhelming, so stick with an all-black outfit (simple knit dress, knit scarf, and tights), black booties with studs for added texture and interest, and simple silver jewelry.