Not Alone

Snow builds up.

Snow melts away.

In between evidence is left behind.  [I have a band of squirrels who hang at my house.]

 We gather.  Even though we are each melting away.  It's nice to know we're together.

I just heard that my dad's best friend "Flinger" as he is called has really aggressive cancer. Ugh. I know people aren't supposed to live forever, but I hate to hear they have to fight to live. Didn't I just learn the lesson of fighting to live the hard way with Eli?  Or my aunt's brain tumor? Or do I still need to learn that lesson and that's why it continues to show it's ugly face?

My dad passed away when I was a year old. When my mom gave me all her keepsakes, my dad's wallet was one of them. My grandfather, his father, made it for him.  I knew it was special, a piece of him.  Not until I held it in my hand just before writing this post, did I wonder why he wasn't buried with it? Weird. Thinking about how many times I pull out my wallet in a day it makes me feel closer to my dad.  Remembering back to when I first saw his wallet, both my sister and I were amazed with the button and of course the three old wrinkly dollar bills.

I am not sure when my dad got the 'I am Loved' button or who gave it to him.  It lived in his wallet for what seems like an eternity with the letters rubbed off almost completely, wore a couple rings in the opposing side and was smashed flat from I'm guessing his butt squishing it.  So cool to see something my dad loved and all of the abuse that button took.  Much like our hearts, I wonder if they would look the same: rubbed raw, worn and smashed?

On another day I am not sure when, my mom gave my sister and I each a button to carry in our wallets.  I am passing my button on to Flinger so that he knows he is loved by everyone here and where ever my dad ended up and one day they will be up to their shenanigans again.  I would love to corner Flinger and hear all of the wild stories he has about my dad, but I guess it might not be politically correct to ask at a time like this.  Ah heck, I asked anyway, maybe this is the perfect time. 

Not until today while I was trying to find a replacement button did I know how it all started and now it only makes it more awesome, guess I need to share our story too!  Better collect a few more details before I do.

Dust

 While on my drives to Stanford I have a lot of time to think, and by a lot, I mean an hour.  The other day, I passed a cloud of dust.  After further investigation, I realized there was a dirt road someone had just travelled.  It made me think that the dirt road and the creative life I want to live are very similiar.  

Dust collects on things that have not been used in a while.  A load of dust does not pile up over night, it forms in layers upon layers due to neglect.  The creative life I want to live is victim to dust.  For far too long I have been watching ladies through magazines and blogs make their creative dreams come true.  Whether it's designing, creating daily or running a creative business - ladies all over the place are making it happen.  Why can't it be me, oh because I'm not an artist, a certain religion, in a big city, fill in any excuse you can think of, I've had it.  As I have been admiring these creative gals my own creative path was becoming covered in dust.  Rarely did I dust off my skills to become one of those creative gals myself.  NO MORE!  There will be quite a bit of dusting before I am able to polish what I am meant to do in my creative life.  Two weddings helped me remove some dust and continue down my own road to creativity.  It felt good to dust off my skills and put ink to paper. 

Kickin' up dirt and leavin' dust clouds!  I am on a creative journey, my own road.  Kickin' up dirt that people may or may not see and that is not the point.  Getting on the road is the point, making dust clouds is just a perk.  Time to dust off my skills and create.

   

Bittersweet

My cousin came home from some 'stan' place. It was good to see him safe at home. He came home early because his brother-in-law passed away in a car accident. Ugh, my heart goes out to them. It's nice to have my cousin home. But knowing why he is here makes it a bittersweet return. When he got off the plane everyone was waiting to greet him. He mourned with her family first, was welcomed home by my family and finally the guard thanked him for his service overseas. So many things are swirled with good and bad. There is good in everything. Sometimes it is just hard to focus on that good because the bad is staring you right in the face. I hope they find the strength to keep moving to find the good.

Techniques a plenty