PRAYING FOR A WIN . . .

"Please, God. Let my team win. Please, please, please . . .", is one of the prayers being sent skyward this week by football fans across America. These prayers remind me of what it was like when I was a little girl and I would pray for God's help when I had done something I would be punished for . . . if my parents found out about it. I would pray, "Please, God! Don't let Mommy see that I broke her vase," or when I was a teen, "please don't let Daddy notice I used all the gas in the tank," when I was supposed to just drive the car to school and back home . . . not go joy-riding after school. I'd bargain with God and ask Him to let me off the hook one more time. I'd promise to behave and not break more vases or break the rules for using the car. It's the post-season playoffs for the AFC (American Football Conference) and the NFC (National Football Conference) in the NFL (National Football League). If this is news to you, then you must not watch your local news or read the feed on your internet news and social media . . . or live in Western New York, the home of the Buffalo Bills football games! After the year that just ended, this might be the sole thing in many Americans' lives that gives them joy . . . and heartbreak. But at least it is something familiar to them and not something that creates fear and confusion as they try to navigate their way in this pandemic-ravaged world. Praying is part of being a fan. Any fan will tell you they have sat on the edge of their seat, hands folded and head bowed at times during a football game. With the exception of a few lucky fans, the rest of the football-viewing world watched the games this season on TV. What a huge change this has been for them, the teams, the networks, the advertisers, the restaurants and other retail establisments that count on the revenue from the football season. But, that topic is for another blogger to sort out. I will focus this post on faith.

When it comes to faith, football and fans, there is an obvious (to me) connection, a fan believes in his/her team and has faith in them even when disappointed. Every team has fans and when they are let down they cry, get mad, walk away, yell at the TV . . . and in the end, they stay loyal to their team. They come back to the stadium or the TV again and again. They donate to the team's local charity drives. They are faithful. They will defend the team and take anyone to task who speaks negatively of them. They don't jump ship and run off to cheer for another team. That's not what a dyed-in-the-wool fan will do. It's not a whole lot different than my relationship with God. I thank him every morning for the gift of a new day. I ask for his guidance as I maneuver my way through it. There will be circumstances that require me to make decisions based on what I know, or based on some research on my part, or based on faith. I thank him for the big and the little things and likewise, I pray for the big and little things. I look for ways to support His work. And when I'm disappointed, I try to remember that all prayers aren't answered in my time. I need to be patient. Prayers are answered in God's time . . . like the lyric in a Garth Brooks song, "some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers". 

Even if you aren't a football fan, you've probably found yourself being thankful in 2020 for things you'd never have expected you'd even be thinking about. How many times did you go to the store or online and give out a squeal of joy or do a little happy dance when you actually found toilet paper to put in your shopping cart? Praying for disinfectant wipes . . . at least one canister . . . still isn't all that unusual. And, of course, the prayers that are lifted daily for those whose loved ones have been sick or taken by Covid-19 and for those working in the trenches of our medical facilities. Prayers, big and small are part of my daily life. When I can't find something, I usually go straight to God and ask him to lead my hands to whatever it is that is lost. And everytime . . . yes . . . everytime . . . He answers my prayer and I find it. Prayer and thanks are a big part of my days and part of many other people's across the globe. 

So when I sit on the edge of my seat this weekend and watch the playoff games, I'll be one of those praying fans. It feels a little funny to me to pray for a football game, but I will be praying and I will feel just like I did when I was a little kid, except I won't be bargaining with God the way I did then. I won't promise to be a better fan because I am already faithful. And I'll accept the outcome . . . hopefully the one I will be praying for. Now, if I could be as fanatical about my faith . . . but thinking about it is a start. 

Thank you for taking the time from your day to read this post. As always, your questions and comments are welcome. You can leave them here on my blog or on Facebook. I will read them and I will respond. It is my sincere wish that you and those you love are healthy and safe. And . . . for my football congregation . . . Go Bills! 🏈

Emmy

Picking the Tree

It is the first week of the new year and for the first time ever my husband and I are both ready to start taking down our Christmas decorations early. As it is, we didn’t really get them put up until Christmas Eve. And, it wasn’t like we didn’t have time this year to decorate. No. That’s not why we didn’t get the house decorated early . . . like we thought we would. I mean, with being sequestered in our home and keeping ourselves isolated from the rest of humankind, we thought it was a sure thing that we’d be sitting by the fire in our warm robes all of December, especially this Christmas of all Christmases! But human nature is a funny thing. We couldn’t seem to get off the dime. Hauling the bins of decorations down the stairs and putting up the tree and getting the lights on it seemed like a gargantuan task. By waiting until the week before Christmas, it was a lot easier to put up just the necessary and most precious decorations. I think our psyches needed simplicity and that’s what they got. Sparsely decorated mantels, a simply decorated tree in traditional red, gold and silver . . . without the lush garlands and over-the-top floral picks I am so prone to poke in every bare spot I can find in the tree.

So, just a couple days after Christmas, I was ready to take down all the decorations. I didn’t know how my husband would feel about it because he absolutely loves all things Christmas. In fact, he is one of the jolly elf’s ambassadors. He has been Santa on many occasions for almost 40 years. When I really had enough of our decorated house, I asked him how he was feeling about still having the decorations up and to my surprise, he said he was also ready to take them down because Christmas this year hadn’t had the same feeling as it usually does. 

As I started taking ornaments off the tree, I remembered a quaint expression my mother always used when it was time to take down the Christmas tree. She called it “picking the tree,” and when I was a kid, it always made me giggle. As I picked the tree this week, I thought a lot about my mother. Like all of us, her Christmases weren’t always the same and there were some holiday seasons that were less festive because of events that happened that year. She and my father both lived during the pandemic of 1918 and two world wars that took the lives of friends and neighbors, the Great Depression, family tragedies and personal things she never disclosed to me. 

As I get older, I feel more of a kindred spirit with my mother. As different as I used to think we were, I have discovered we were more alike than I ever realized. As we begin a new year filled with uncertainties, I hope I can muster up the fortitude my mother had. She lived a life full of personal challenges and triumphed beyond even her own expectations by sheer determination. From being so small when she was born that she wasn’t expected to live, to being unable to sit up or walk until she was 4 years old and so many other things she endured. (I wrote about my mother in a previous post. You can read it here: https://studioemmy.blogspot.com/2018/05/as-mothers-day-approaches.html?m=0) I hope we can all do likewise and come through this difficult time with an appreciation for each other and what is truly important in our lives . . . to survive in ways we never would have imagined we’d find necessary in our lifetime. I wrote about “hope” last week and today, my closing thoughts are about “fortitude”. Let’s all strive to be strong and have courage.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. It is my hope that you and those you love are healthy and happy. Your questions and comments are always welcome here on my blog or on Facebook. I do read them and will respond. And until we meet again, may the Lord bless you and hold you in the hollow of His hand. 

Emmy

2020 . . . and Hope

Two of the many masks I've made during the pandemic. I gave them to family, friends and instacart delivery reps who were willing to shop for us. When elastic became scarce,  I used ribbons for the ties. There's a pocket in the masks I make where you can insert a filter. Come 2021, I'll be making many more of these.
 They'll be part of our lives for many more months.

As I reflect back on the year that just passed and think about the one we are about to begin, my confidence is a bit shaken. My beliefs have been tested. My perceptions have been altered. The global community is connected in a way that has brought us closer, but keeps us farther apart.

When I think of the hope that a new year promises, it doesn’t mean the same to me today as it did a year ago. But, perhaps that is part of living during a pandemic. I need to fine tune what hope means to me. Three words that come to mind as I consider this are acceptance, appreciation and anticipation. I wasn’t going for alliteration, it just happened to turn out that way. And maybe that is part of the shift that I need to make in my thoughts on hope. Perhaps it is a shift to a new understanding and that sometimes . . . things just turn out that way.

If I accept the situation I am now living in, then I can move forward while living in isolation. One of my doctors asked me how I was spending my time, where I was going, if I was always wearing a mask and practicing social distancing. My response was that going to doctor appointments was the highlight of my social life. Otherwise, I have remained home except for necessary trips to a few other places and talking to the curbside staff from a distance while they load my groceries in the hatchback of my SUV. And, yes, I always wear a mask. I keep one at the front door so it is handy in case the doorbell rings . . . which it rarely does! My doctor urged me to stay connected and involved. He said, “that is what Facebook is for”. I agree. Listening to podcasts, watching YouTube videos and joining Facebook groups who meet weekly in real time have helped fill my need for social interaction. Learning new things has kept my mind occupied, and like just like about everyone else I know, experimenting in the kitchen has expanded my recipe file. Good old fashioned phone calls may be passe in this day and age of texting, but I love talking on the phone. Checking in with someone and hearing their voice means more to me than reading a few sentences punctuated with emojis and abbreviations that I need to look up on Google! Then there is Zoom. Where would we be without it? I have enjoyed seeing friends and relatives on Zoom and am thankful for the technology that keeps me connected to others. This is how we live our lives now. This is acceptance.

Getting organized is a January tradition that many of us, including myself, partake in every year. Without fail, I make lists, set goals, empty cupboards and drawers, clean closets, and purge my belongings that no longer serve me. Purging is the hard part. I get attached to my stuff and have a hard time letting it go. But going through the exercise of organizing gives me an appreciation of the things I have. Many of them are associated with memories of the people who gave them to me or of the places I found them when shopping in a little boutique while on vacation. This is appreciation.

This is the first blog post I have made since last mid-March. Every time I sat down over the last nine months to compose a post, I didn’t feel like I had anything to write that was as important as what each of you, my dear readers, were going through in your own lives. Many days seemed to just morph into the next, and that was a recurring theme that I kept seeing on social media and on TV ads. But this is the end of 2020 and we are all about to enter into a new year . . . one of hope . . . however you define it. This is anticipation.

It is my prayer that you and those you love are healthy, happy and safe. And until we meet again, may the Lord bless you and hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

A season unlike any other . . .

As spring approaches we as a nation and as a global community, are faced with changes in our lives unlike any we have experienced in the past. While I listened to the morning news on the television, I had a visceral reaction to what was being broadcast. COVID-19 is in our thoughts, in our conversations, and in the news. As I reached for the half 'n' half to pour some in my morning coffee, I thought about how much I cherish my morning coffee ritual. In light of the world-wide Coronavirus pandemic, I wondered how much of what I consider to be a normal day will change in the near and distant future because of this event. I won't list the things that came to mind, because I am quite sure you, my readers, have your own list of concerns. I will write instead about what I learned from my parents about the times when they needed to tighten their belts and their purse strings just to survive.

My father was born in 1898 in Titusville, Pennyslvania. His childhood was spent on farms where his father was a tenant farmer. They moved from Pennsylvania to Alexander, NY when he was very young. They didn't have a lot of money, but I don't think they were poor. I believe they even had a little extra money to pay for piano lessons for his sister, or they traded produce they grew on the farm with the piano teacher for her lessons. As an adult, my father lived through WWI and WWII. There were limits on what they could buy. There were gasoline rations, travel bans to save on rubber and fuel, and sacrifices at home and on the battle fields. He learned at an early age to be thrifty and a saver. Later in life, it paid off. He and his father and brothers were able to purchase a farm and during the post WWII era and they became profitable. As a result, I lived a very comfortable life as a child on our farm. My sister and I had nice clothes, toys, and plentiful food.

Circa 1930.
My father's family poses for a photo.
My grandparents are on the far left. My father is standing next to them.

My mother came from more modest beginnings. She was born at home in 1909 in Wheatland, NY.  Her parents rented a farm until they were able to purchase a small farm in LeRoy, NY. They never had enough money and the small repairs to their home and barns were done out of necessity, more than for esthetics or modernization. My mother and her parents peddled eggs and butter to the local village and community and my grandfather raised hogs that he sold at the local livestock market. During the Great Depression, my mother's family "made do" with very little. She and her sisters took jobs as mother's helpers and worked long days chasing kids, cleaning houses and doing laundry for $3 a week. In my mother's diary, she wrote that she received a card of hairpins for Christmas as one of her gifts from her parents. During WWII, she used the sugar rationing coupons given to her by her aunt to bake cakes and cookies. The family that lived up the road from her had 13 children. The three oldest boys went to war. One came home. Of the 10 children who remained at home, those who had jobs in town were given butter on their bread, but the kids who didn't have a job didn't get any butter and ate their bread plain. Those kids who lived up the road from my mother all lived long lives...some well into their nineties. They were survivors.

Circa 1930.
My maternal grandmother on the right.
The neighbor with 5 of her 13 kids, and my mother and her sister are the older girls.
Photo was taken on the west side of my grandparents' house.

When my parents got married in 1948, they remodeled a very old farm house that was built in the early or mid-1800's. They added indoor plumbing. I think they may have been the first on either side of their families to have a bathroom with a tub and toilet. The convenience of a septic system was a big deal to them. I grew up taking these things for granted.

I used to watch my mother cut the buttons off of my father's old shirts and the buckles off of his well-worn bib overalls. She saved the buttons and buckles in jars and she cut up the shirts and overalls into rags for cleaning or for the men to use on the farm. Nothing was wasted and just about everything in our home had more than one life. It was how they were raised and they raised me the same way. It has taken a lot of re-training for me to use something as simple as a paper towel. My mother would use a dishtowel or a rag when something needed to be wiped up.

So, as I look back to the beginning of this post, and my thoughts about half 'n' half, I think of the food and water the cows need in order to produce milk. I think about the farmers who need to buy grain and hay for them to eat and straw to bed them down. I think about the farmer getting paid for the milk his/her cows produce and the employees that need to get paid for their work on the farm, and the effects of the changes that are occuring now and will in the future, based on COVID-19. I think about the stories that were passed down to me from my parents about what happened in their lives due to the two world wars and the depression. I never talked to either of them about the 1918 Flu Pandemic, so I don't know how it affected them or their family's lives. I hope that in a couple of months, our world will be past the worst of the effects of this virus, at least health-wise. The economic effects may be with us for a long time.

I had planned to write a post today about something that is currently on my studio work table, but this topic was on my mind and in my heart. It is my hope that you and those you love are well and safe. You always remain in my prayers and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

Seasonal Hobbies . . .

I have come to the conclusion that many of my hobbies are truly seasonal. Spring arrives in March, if you look at the calendar, but the gardens are not in flower quite yet. April is a good time to do the prep work, though, and rake out all the leaves and debris that have blown into the gardens over the winter. So while I wait for my gardens to wake up, the paper crafting season blooms forth in my studio. This year it was a challenge, once again, to move things around so I could comfortably reach all the paper stacks, paints, stains, bobbles, beads and equipment that this crafty season requires, since I had filled my studio with the large bolts of mesh, wire forms, signs, florals and spools of ribbons that I need for making wreaths.

After a white-knuckled drive home in wind and snow on slick ice-glazed roads from Rochester last Thursday, following a three-day continuing education class that is a requirement of our real estate licenses, we hunkered down for part two of the storm . . . more wind and snow! I plunged into finishing a journal I had started few weeks ago,but was completely stumped on how I wanted to proceed. You can view a photo of the journal in it's first stage with stain applied at:  http://studioemmy.blogspot.com/2020/02/2020.html. It took several days for the metallic stain to cure. I buffed it to a sheen and made a mental note to use an acrylic paint the next time.

I like to plan out my mini albums, journals and greeting cards, but since I was stymied, I decided to just try to go with what I had in front of me. I pulled out a favorite paper collection. I had saved it for something special and I decided it was special to just be inside where we were safe and warm. I had noted on the package that I brought it home in April of 2017. It was indeed time to stop admiring it and cut into it. Any of you who are quilters, paper crafters, knitters or crocheters might identify with this phenomenon. For me, it is buying something beautiful to use in a quilt, a mini album, a journal, a wreath, or a knitted scarf, but I can't bring myself to begin. Is it the fear of not measuring up to my own expectations? As if there is only one chance to make this kind of piece in my lifetime? As my encouraging husband reminds me, "Just use it! You will find something you like even better the next time you shop." He's right. And that is why I have a paper and fabric hoard that fills two closets! Truth.

So, as the weekend storm continued, I chipped away at my project and started to enjoy the freedom I gave myself to just go with the flow and complete it. After all, it is for me to use and enjoy . . . that includes the construction phase. Below are photos and captions beneath the photos. Tap on the photos for a clearer view.

The cover.
The journal measures approximately 7" x 9"
I used fussy cut papers from DCWV's Le Tres Chic collection and from a postcard advertisement I received in the mail.

I tried a new-to-me binding method.

On the inside cover, I used a beautiful tag that a crafty friend in a Facebook group sent to me several years ago in a swap. Thank you, Rachel! I tucked a couple tags behind it. 

On the right, the first of five booklets. Each booklet has 12 pages for journaling.

Left: A die cut holds a couple tags.
Right: The second booklet sports a cutout from the paper collection. 

Left: a couple cutouts from the paper collection.
Right: The cover of the third booklet with more cutouts from the collection. 

Left: A cutout postcard from the collection is tucked behind the Eiffel Tower.
Right: I used a cutout for a pocket to hold a couple tags on the fourth booklet.

Left: A cutout used for a pocket to hold a couple tags.
Right: Two tags behind a tuck spot and a fussy cut dressform from the paper collection on the fifth booklet.

Left: A couple tags tucked behind a cut apart from the paper collection.
Right: Flaps that open to reveal a tablet of paper. 

A tablet with places to journal on the flaps that fold in to keep things in place.

A tablet for recording my thoughts.  

The back of the journal.

The interior of one of the booklets.

The tags and cutouts.
These are blank on the back so I can write on them.

You may wonder how a journal like this is used. There are many ways to use something like this. It can be a planner, a place to record dreams, story ideas, or to document ordinary and extraordinary days. I've come to the realization that writing things down helps me organize my thoughts and is well worth the time it takes to do so. And if it can be done in something pretty like this, that I've made with my own two hands, that makes it all the more enjoyable and meaningful.

Thank you for stopping by to read my post. Your questions and comments are welcome. I will read all of them and respond here on my blog or on Facebook. As always, you remain in my prayers, and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

2020

By now you have probably seen so many Facebook posts, and media stories about the new decade, that your eyes glaze over when you see the numerals "2", "0", "2" and "0" linked together in a headline. Well, here's one more for you to read . . . my two cents on 2020!

Hindsight is 20/20. We have heard that expression countless times. It's not the same "2020" we all might be thinking about as the new year starts, but it struck me when I was considering the close of the old year and the beginning of the new one that I could benefit from a look back at the past year, and even the past decade, as well as some prognostication in the way of realistic goal setting and a little foresight. 

Overall, 2019 was a pretty good year and the last ten years have been a mixed bag of memories. Some were great, others  . . . not so great. Yet, in the big picture, they have helped me develop into who I am today . . . right now. And next year, or in one more decade, if I am fortunate to still be on the planet, I will have learned more things, experienced more things and developed and changed. In my case, change has been good for me. Has it been easy? Not always. Expected? Not always. Inevitable? Always.

One big change for me that has been more of an evolution than an intentional one is the way I spend my time. I used to love to be on the go and viewed being home as though I was missing something important that was happening elsewhere. It was almost as if I didn't like my home enough to stay there for very long. I would find reasons to go out the door and run so many errands that I would come home exhausted and grouchy. If I had a 50% off coupon for a store or saw that something was on special at the grocery store, I took off for town. Not every purchase was really all that much of a bargain, either. In the back of the pantry I still find outdated cans that were part of those shopping trips, which tells me that both the time I spent shopping and the money I spent were both wasted. By finding things I truly love to do at home, this past year helped me develop a desire to be home as much as possible. I now am among the ranks of those who call themselves homebodies. I could never understand the concept until it became part of my own development. And I am so happy that it has. 

I started 2019 on a mission to do some serious deep cleaning of long-neglected corners and closets and found that to be a very rewarding job for the winter months. When spring arrived, I was glad I had met that goal and I could go outside and tend my gardens without the self-imposed guilt I used to carry around about needing to clean my house. Spot cleaning and tidying was really all I needed to do in the summer, since my husband and I spent much of our time outside. I now put off going to town for as long as I can and it feels very natural. That was real growth for me.

The feeling of accomplishment from meeting some of my goals for the past year has given me the confidence to forge ahead into 2020. One goal that has been a moving target is getting my boxes of old photos out and looking at them to enjoy the memories and to make notes on the back to indicate where and why they were taken and who is in them. That task has been on my To Do List for decades. I would wistfully mention to others that it would be a good thing to do on a wintery day, but those days have all come and melted away. The idea is more concrete now, especially after attending calling hours recently for my cousin and viewing the slide show of photos of her that were on a TV screen at the mortuary. I witnessed how impactful those photos were for the bereaved family and friends, and soon I will . . . not hope to . . . but will get those photos off the shelf and begin the process of sorting and documenting them. I plan to share them with the people in them and a few may end up here in a future blog post.

I have started to do some papercrafting again. My supplies were hidden behind my wreath-making supplies, so I had to figure out . . . yet again . . . a useful storage arrangement for all of my various craft items. Now it is easier for me to grab a little time in between other things to sit down for a short spell and play with my pretty papers and embellishments. It doesn't make sense for me to spend money on beautiful paper and ribbons and lace and bring them home and put them in a drawer and out of sight.

The beginnings of a journal I am making.
This one is for me to record my thoughts.
I will use some of my beautiful paper and embellishments to create something special just for me!
(To enlarge the photo, click on it.)

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. I appreciate your comments and questions and I will read them and respond. You can leave them here on this post or on Facebook. 

As always, it is my wish that you and those you love are safe, happy and healthy; and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

Wreaths in my future . . . and maybe in yours!

If you  have followed my blog, then you are aware of how much I like to make wreaths. This has been something I have enjoyed as a casual endeavor for over a year now. As I have been honing my skills and giving my handmade wreaths to family members and to various local charities for fundraisers, I have been asked by several of my readers if I ever sell the wreaths I make. The answer is "yes", but I haven't always had more than just a few to choose from. Now that we are beginning a new year and I have discovered that there are many people who like the wreaths I make and would like to buy them, I am going to go forward with sales on line and possibly at local events. I will be increasing my wreath inventory and will be posting them for sale locally here on my blog, and on my Facebook page.

I put a lot of effort into my designs and choosing the materials. I make each wreath with skill and care and owe much of my work ethic to the people who I have learned from, including my Aunt Mabel who taught me to sew and crochet, and my quilting instructors who have taught me about accuracy and finishing techniques. The wreaths I make are ones that I am proud of and would hang on my own front door. The people who have purchased wreaths from me have been very happy with them. These things, along with the support of my husband (and sometime design consultant) give me the security to take the next step to selling to the public. Online sales are in my future, so please stay tuned for that during the coming year. You may not realize it, but when you show interest in what I make and comment on my blog posts, it means a lot to me. So, as I start out on this venture, I want to say "thank you".

Now that the holidays are over, I can post photos of wreaths I made as gifts. If you want to view the photos closer, you can click on the photos and it will enlarge them. There are captions under the wreaths that describe them. Both wreaths measure approximately 24"x24" and are about 6" deep.

A gift for a big fan and his family.
It is now proudly displayed on their front door in anticipation of a successful run in the AFC wildcard playoffs.

My college-age grandson expressed an interest in the wreaths he saw me making when he visited this past summer.  He surprised me when he said, "if you make a wreath for me, I will hang it in my dorm room". So, of course, I was sure that he would receive a wreath. I used his college's logo for the sign.

Gnomes aren't just for the garden!
Gnomes were everywhere this Christmas season and my sources tell me they will remain popular for next Christmas season, too!
Approximately 24"x24"x8" deep
$65
Local Sales Only.
Pickup or delivery location to be arranged within approximately 30 miles.

Let It Snow!
This  little snowman will greet your winter visitors with a friendly smile.
Approximately 24"x24"x7" deep
$65
Local Sales Only.
Pick up or delivery location to be arranged within approximately 30 miles.

Thank you again for your interest and your moral support. Your questions and comments are welcome here on my blog and on Facebook. I read all of your comments and reply. As always, it is my wish that you and those you love are happy and healthy; and until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy