met my dear friend elena for a birthday dinner last night. when i pulled up in front of Happiness, her store on south first street here in austin, this amazing present was perched on a green stool awaiting me.
nearly drove into the front of the store just looking at it. loved it immediately, but guess what the topper was.
get ready. the icing on the birthday cake…those flowers are coasters. cartwheels were turned.
coasters!!!! stuck on with velcro. i am now channelling the happiest 1970s hostess in the world. “here darling…..pluck….won’t you have coaster!!” what great birthday present.
elena found it at my favorite Uncommon Objects on S. Congress. My last birthday, nat and andrea bought my studio ducks there, too.
how did i get so lucky. elena has the most amazing eye. and heart.
don’t you love ’em? coasters!! whoda thunk it?
i suspect they were a kit of some sort. dontcha think?
spent tuesday afternoon in the most magical swimming hole. took the children to hamilton pool just outside of austin. spent hours swimming, lazing on the gigantic slabs of limestone gazing up at the ferns clinging to the cliff, listening to the waterfall’s echo, watching the turtles float to the water’s surface for a quick breather, studying the flock of birds who’ve made inverted mud condos on the underside of the grotto and watching my man-cubs splash about.
thanks sooooo much for taking time out of your busy business to stop by.
in case you’re wondering, i create all my botanical character studies using a combination of fresh flowers, a splash of watercolor and a good old fashion digital camera. the “original” piece goes the way of all gorgeous flowers eventually. it simply breathes a deep sigh and quietly wilts away.
so the pieces that you are buying are prints of the original creation that bloomed on my table once upon a time.
there are so many new things blossoming in my studio right now. this bit-o-pink flowerchild en tutu is part of my new upcoming series of FlowerChildren.
i’m also excited about our upcoming online Pippingtooth Bouquets we’ll be offering.
you’ll be able to send gorgeous hand-tied bouquets of fresh flowers to all your friends. and each bunch of flowers will arrive with a piece of my art…or a box of lovely assorted pippingtooth notecards or one of the new line of one-of-a-kind ceramic vases i’m currently working on. working on these is making me crazy happy these days.
if you’d like me to know when new things are introduced, simply send an email to: firstname.lastname@example.org
just put the word “sign me up” in the subject line and i’ll pop you on my mailing list. (don’t worry, i don’t give any of your info out to other folks. promise.)
there are days when i’m sure women have it harder than men. there are the obvious things like glass ceilings and lower pay scales, the fear we instinctively feel when we find ourselves alone in parking garages. and then there are the physical challenges…constant unyeilding gravitational pull, trying on bathing suits, monthly cycles and mood swings that get wonkier as we age. there’s a lot to contend with if you’re a gal.
but there’s a trade off. a big trade off.
having best girlfriends.
there is no other joy like it. nothing can compare to the immediate calm we feel when one of our best friends says, “oh, i know” as she nods in total agreement with us. how can we begin to explain it to men.
how can we describe what it’s like to have a personal therapist who not only loves us unequivocally, but one who heals and advises for free. quite often from the couch in our own living rooms.
when i think of my wonderful girlfriends, i feel like the luckiest creature on earth.
there’s no substitute for the glee of settling in to watch a “girl movie” with your bestest friends. Or the round table energy field created by a group of best girlfriends as they watch a waiter place a bowl of their favorite piping hot queso in their midst. i swear we practically levitate.
and poor men will never know what it’s like to have a best friend scoop you off a dressing room floor and drive you home when a “fat” day reduces you to a puddly mass of insecurity at the mall. there is no greater love.
it’s hard to describe this love. the kind we feel for our girlfriends and from our girlfriends. Eros doesn’t describe it. Agape is a bit too meek. clearly we need another word. maybe femeros. or agirlpe´.
mary and mala are two of my best friends. we bonded over long minnesota winters, freshly kissed babies and bowls of the world’s best wonton noodle soup with gai lan. they know what there is to know about me. and they have recently ruled that there is not enough dirt in my garden journal. it’s a bit too squeaky clean.
i have to agree.
writing an online journal is a tricky thing. it’s a photograph of your life that you intentionally surrender to a big gust of wind. a wind that takes your little snapshot and whirls it half way around the world and back again in seconds. you never know who might pick it up and take a look. and if they take the time out of their busy day to peer into the photo, i haven’t wanted to burden them with dreary mewling.
i know i’ve tried to keep it light. but in keeping it light, mary thinks i’ve lost the heft of truth. that daily truth that women and mothers share and shoulder in hurried lunch hours and in torpid carpool lines across continents and time zones.
so from this point on, i’ll try to real it up. i’ll give you the dirt. the whole scoop.
instead of simply writing about my 15th wedding anniversary and the luxurious surprise stay my husband planned at The Four Seasons, i’ll take mary and mala’s advice. i’ll make sure i add the last paragraph about the glamorous way I spent the next morning back home: in my garden helping to dig up the elusive septic tank lids for the city inspector.
how’s that for real the low down.
for my money, it doesn’t get much grittier than that.
my husband took this picture on our family vacation last year. the guys have just leaped off the top of the boat house and are seconds away from a cool lake plunge. again…that’s from the TOP of the boathouse…
what the picture doesn’t show is me on the upstairs porch of the boathouse. while the boys are flying through the air, i was doing my own emotional tarzan swing between joy and panic. complete with an anxious mother’s tarzan yell. a yell that mixes a gleeful measure of “whoopeeeeee” with the dissonance of “oh my god!”
it’s just the way it is. watching these antics. the best advice i ever received as a nervous-nelly mother was: “if it looks neurological, get involved. if it looks orthopedic, let it go.” i love that. it’s about the only way to live through raising boys i think.
i wouldn’t dream of stopping them. afterall, if they’re ever to leave the nest safely, they have to learn to fly first.
spring is peering at me from behind every bush. it’s still in hiding, but it’s going to pop out at any moment. the forsythia proves it.
i’m crazy for it. i love to have forsythia and quince blossoms bursting into bloom inside during those last drab days of winter.
of course, these texas winters are a cinch compared to the minnesota winters we lived thru. to have anything blooming indoors with 2 feet of snow just outdoors was nothing short of miraculous.
so even tho we soldier thru texas winters in flip flops and heavy linen…forsythia still makes me do a little happy-pants dance. of course, it’s a little more sprightly now that i don’t have 40 pound sorrell boots holding me to the earth.