the Kitchen Shelf

My mom gave this oven mitt to Joseph for Christmas. I rediscovered it and hung it over the kitchen shelf. I love it. The heart shape and the warm color fills the shelf up with lovely feelings.

Judy's Gunning for Me

This is Judy. 

As a designer, Judy comes from humble beginnings.  She was the first one who said that if we ever had a friends’ version of the hit show, Project Runway, we would have to make it a Barbie doll challenge because she would never make an outfit big enough for a real person. Since then, Judy has sewn circles around the other designers. 

The first challenge in 2009 was actually a series of four challenges that each designer earned votes for each design.  At the end of the four challenges, whoever had the most votes would become the winner or Barbie Project Runway 2009.  Judy’s first couple of designs had merit.  

But in the third challenge, Judy tied with me for the win with her wedding gown made of tissue paper and pasta.  And the fourth challenge was a clear win for Judy with her Drag Queen.  This design captured who Judy was as a designer: meticulous and clean with lots of hand-touched details.  But because the four challenges were a tally of all the votes, I won and Judy was just behind me. 

In 2010, our designs featured gowns that would make it on the red carpet.  Judy brought a cream colored gown with hand beading and Oscar inspired accessories.  But my vision in purple won over the voters again.

 

In 2011, the challenge was to create a look based on a fairytale.  And it looked like Judy was all set to win with her look based on Cinderella.  My look, based on the Little Mermaid, received no votes, because (as Judy so graciously informed me) one should not add feathers to a look based on a mermaid.  But Angela swooped in from left field with a look based on Little Red Riding Hood that absorbed most of the votes. 

And in 2012, the challenge was to create a modern look inspired by the 1984 Barbie Doll, Peaches n’ Cream.  Judy brought her usual thoughtful design with its hand placed glitter and frothy, creamy feather details.  But I had found my stride in this one and won the challenge. 

I know Judy is gunning for me, now.  The Barbie Project Runway challenge for 2013 is on.  The challenge is to create a fantasy look, and it will be on Judy’s home turf.  It’s time to do or die, because Judy is not going to pull her game.  It is on.  

Dandelions

The sun was shining brightly when I woke up.  I sat under the cherry tree in the yard, smelling the cherry candy scent of the blossoms already promising to overwhelm the yard.  This, I reminded myself, is the season of renewing, refreshing, and rebirthing. 

Why, then, was I shocked when Joseph told me he felt our rented three bedroom house and two vehicles was living above our means?  The man thought we might get back to basics, simplify, and save money by trimming the fat.  Believe me, compared to twelve years ago, Joseph and I do live a little more comfortably than we have.  And maybe it is time to take stock, get rid of pieces of ourselves that no longer apply to who we are, and move forward. 

I used to want to be a hippy.  I wanted muddy rain boots, fresh garden earth, and laundry hung on a clothesline.  I wanted Joseph and I to entertain ourselves with books and music and be happy on sunny spring days.  But Joseph was never this way.  I adore dandelions and he uses weed killer on them. 

Spring always reminds me of what I wanted, when what I wanted was simple.  I’m not too far from that version of me, even with all these years stacking up between us.  I just don’t put as much effort into being that person anymore.  I dream about it all the time when the sky is blue and the birds are singing.  Sometimes I look around myself and I can’t see the life I love: the butterflies and the frogs, the lavender and the apple trees, the mason jars full of jam and the baskets full of knitting.  I miss those messy glasses of paint water when I used to dream on canvas.  I miss the mess of creation in a life that is becoming more and more planned and organized.  I miss the Frank I used to be. 

Is that progress?  Is that growth?  Is that success?  

The Blue Butterflies

It was the summer of 1988.  “Rain Man,” “Die Hard,” and “Beetlejuice” were changing pop culture as they played in the cinemas.  U2’s Rattle&Hum became the first double album to top the US’s charts in eight years.  And wildfires were ripping through Yellowstone National Park.  But the best thing that happened to me was getting a stamp in the Lucky Charms cereal box. 

©2013

Randy, my younger brother, had one, too.  Mine was a stamp of a butterfly with a green pad of ink.  Randy’s was a tiger with a black pad of ink.  And as soon as the cousins came over we started stamping our buddies and created two gangs: the Black Tigers and the Green Butterflies. 

©2013

The Black Tigers were a motley crew of cutthroats, thieves, and dirty boy cousins.  They used weapons aplenty.  They had machine guns, knives, and machetes.  And thanks to our allowances and close proximity to the Army Surplus, only a few of these weapons were actually toys. 

©2013

The Green Butterflies consisted of me and all of the girl cousins, including the Carrot Tops—ginger cousins fresh back to Idaho from their stay in Wisconsin.   Since we had all girls (and me) our weapons to fight the rival gang of Black Tigers consisted of magic, wisdom, and the awesome power of LOVE … which, according to most fantasy movies of the time, was the force that pretty much kicked butt.  The Care Bears had it.  My Little Ponies had it.  He-Man and She-Ra had it. 

©2013

As the Black Tigers retreated to the small fort in the woods of our Grandma Alice’s house, we Green Butterflies took to the trees, in a tree house made by Uncle Tex long ago in ancient days.  Being slightly older than the Black Tigers, and much more feminine minded, most of our time was spent passing laws, bylaws, and philosophizing on why we were better than the Black Tigers.  It was in such a meeting that Nikki, my cousin with cool curly hair, said that we should change the Green Butterflies to the Blue Butterflies. 

I pointed out that our official stamp was green.  But Nikki shrugged and said we could use a blue marker to color it instead, and that blue butterflies were more rare, and therefore more worthy of our admiration than green butterflies.  Since blue was Nikki’s favorite color, I guess she would know. 

A vote was passed, and from that day forward, we were the Blue Butterflies, champions of Truth, Justice, and the Awesome Power of Love. 

©2013

I’m pretty sure the Black Tigers were spying on us when we made this decision.  Whatever. 

After that summer, the clubs disbanded.  But they were always a fond memory as we navigated adolescence and began making the transition into adulthood.  Later, when Nikki was suddenly going by Nicole, and she and I were going to college, we found ourselves together as best friends and allies in a world that wasn't always fair.  We rekindled the Blue Butterflies, a club for just the two of us.  We are Blue Butterflies to this day.  Where ever we are, where ever we go, we’re always there for each other:  birthing babies, grandparents dying, weddings, holidays, lonely days, and happy days.  Always. 

©2013

Blue Butterflies Forever.  

Born to be a Butterfly

The year was 1984, astronauts had the first space walk under their belts, Vanessa Williams had surrendered her Miss America crown, the Red Hot Chili Peppers released their first album, and I was six years old.  I had just started the first grade.  I was easing myself into the shocking realization that I was the only boy in my class who played with My Little Pony toys, when my mom asked me to make the most important decision of my life, “What do you want to be for Halloween?” 

After a few seconds of deliberation, I said, “I want to be a butterfly!”

 ©2013

My cousin, Nita, heard me and said, “Me, too.”  And as Nita was both older and a girl, I knew my choice was the coolest choice I could have made. 

My mom, who was crafty to a point, looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment.  You see, in 1984, asking a kid what he wanted to be for Halloween meant they picked a plastic panted bag of a costume with a tie in the back that had a logo of some cartoon character or TV star, which came with a mask I am fairly certain was made from some sort of poisonous material.  This presumably toxic mask had an elastic band that ripped out your hair and cut off circulation to your brain.  The insides of these masks always became wet with breathing, but all the kids had them.  I had been a Care Bear the year before.  Why I came up with a butterfly is beyond me, maybe I was starting to feel that anything was possible now that I was in the first grade, big boy school. 

©2013

Now, for those of you who were born ten years after me, you won’t understand why my mom was so concerned.  You see, this was well before butterfly wings were manufactured.  We live in a golden age of costume shops now, but back in the day no one had ever imagined that a wire hanger and nylons could be used to make wings, let alone for a one-time use for a six year old boy. 

©2013

My Aunt Sis, Nita’s mom, owned and operated ninety percent of the small Idaho town we lived in.  And when I say town, I mean it consisted of a closed down elementary school, a day care, and my Aunt’s gas station-slash-convenient store-slash-arcade-slash-video rental-slash-bar.  Needless to say, everything from beef jerky to He-Man videos were shipped to Aunt Sis in a cardboard box.  Mom and Aunt Sis got to work.  Mom drew out a wing design which they traced onto cardboard after measuring Nita and me carefully.  Nita’s wings were proportionately bigger than my wings, but they were both beautiful!  They were spray painted black, with silver edges, and psychedelic spots of color done in as symmetrical a pattern as spray paint will allow. 

©2013

Mom dyed a pair of my long underwear black, which actually turned them a charcoal gray.  She made antennae from a couple of gold pipe cleaners and a piece of black elastic.  Nita and I utilized the shimmery rainbow body and hair spray that came in a big aerosol can, and we were to lash the wings on with some awesome shoe laces spangled with rainbow-colored stars.  My wings were too big to take on the school bus with me, so I had to wear my long underwear under my clothes with a glittery, iridescent face, and go to school sans wings. 

©2013

I waited for Mom and Aunt Sis to come all day.  After lunch, all of the kids were given the time to change into their costumes, and I debated taking off my outer clothing and putting on my antennae, but thought better of it.  A wingless butterfly would be a little too morbid for me, even if it was Halloween and none of the other kids would understand it.  Then we all had to line up, and have a parade, where we all walked through the classrooms to show off our costumes.  I wasn't dressed up, but I had to go in the line.  I was put in the back with my friends who didn't dress up by choice because they were Jehovah’s Witnesses.  They were forced to walk with all the pageantry just like me, and all of us were pretty glum about it, albeit for different reasons. 

After our parade, candy was passed out by our teacher and my Jehovah Witness friends got to sit in their special table away from me so that I was the only one in the main group with regular kid clothes on. 

©2013

Finally Mom and Aunt Sis showed up.  Aunt Sis had had to run a few errands that went long, and Mom apologized.  They strapped my arms to my wings at the wrists and elbows via star-spangled shoe laces, and I fluttered all around my class.  My teacher made a big show of bringing me to the front of the class and taking my picture next to the caterpillars in their cocoons that we were trying to hatch for the sake of first grade science class.  I knew my costume was the best in the whole class.  My wings were so huge, if a gust of wind had hit me just right, I might have flown. 

©2013

I knew I was born to be a butterfly.  And, as we have seen, I was a butterfly so long before it was cool, the wings weren't even invented yet.  

A Wedding to Aspire to

On August 25, 1885, Laura Elizabeth Ingalls married Almanzo “Manly” Wilder.  She wore a black dress she had already been making with her mother before Almanzo proposed.  The couple took a trip into De Smet, South Dakota, and were wed in a small ceremony held in the parlor of their local pastor.  Upon returning to Laura’s parent’s house, they were treated to a homemade chicken dinner, and Charles Ingalls, Laura’s father, gifted the couple with a milk cow. 

That’s the wedding I want.  I want it to be sweet, homemade, and very, very simple.  With a guest list of fifty-ish people, I suppose I should be slightly more grand than a dinner and a wagon ride home with a milk cow in tow.  But the simplicity of Laura and Manly’s wedding is something I must remember and aspire to when I feel things are getting too complicated. 

And besides, I need an excuse to wear my sunbonnet!  

Rainbow Ombre Omelet

I was in the mood for springtime and colors and exciting things like planning gardens and weddings, when I spotted my drab little white eggs in their cartons.  Back when we moved to Vashon Island, I took it upon myself to be a creative housewife type.   (Which meant being a messy housewife, but why split hairs?)  And when spring rolled around, I dyed all of the eggs in my refrigerator, and kept them dyed for months. 

Joseph got home after I had dyed my first batch and panicked because he couldn’t believe I would boil all of our eggs.

“I didn’t boil them,” I said, “I just dyed them.  I’m not stupid.” 

Joseph got used to the colored shells, and I loved seeing the confetti-like flakes in our compost pile. 

So I dyed my eggs today.  All of them.  I made a Rainbow Ombre Omelet. 

And as I was dying those eggs, the mail was shoved into my mailbox.  And guess what I got!  Only the Spring 2013 edition of Brides Magazine!  Thanks to my friend and “bridesmaid” Judy, I will have a year of magazine love. 

This is shaping up to be a colorful day!