Author Archives: Emily-Jane

Spotted in Mum’s Garden

Spotted in Mum's Garden

24″ X 24″ Acrylic on Canvas

Frivolity of Youth

tophat

36″ X 36″ acrylic on canvas

Dear Universe, hear my plan…

Image

Sometime after my last son graduates high school we need to move to new digs.  The property taxes in my current home are astronomical and most of the tax revenue goes toward funding the district high schools.  After Jeff is done with the school system, it's obvious we need to move on.

The idea of a new home is both wonderfully exciting and scary at the same time.  The prospect of a new home gives me a sense of adventure and wonderment of what is yet to come.  I have hopes of fulfilling dreams of new things I want in my life, and for my life now that I am fifty.   I want to live simply and make positive changes.  I know that if I want all these plans to happen I must put them out there in the world so the Universe can meld and mold them into fruition.  Here goes:

We want to move to a sweet community not far from where we live now.  It must be easily accessible by expressway. I want to move to the country, preferably with a few acres on a wooded lot.  I want to have trees and wooded paths where I can  walk the dogs and enjoy nature.  A little pond or stream running through would be lovely, thank you.  In addition, I want an open area where we can have yard parties and plenty of space for the dogs and grandchildren to run and play.

Image

My  new home will be a stone farmhouse with divided light windows, a finished attic, possibly four bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms.  It must have a large screened in porch overlooking our property where we can sit and enjoy three seasons.  What means more to me this time around is my surroundings.  I want lots of nature, expansive space, comfort and clean air.

My new home has to nurture the pursuance of my art.   I must have a heated outbuilding suitable for an art studio so I can have the space and privacy I need to treat my art as a full time job.  In this outbuilding/barn I will not only create art but I will use it for showing my work. I will have gallery showings with wine, cheese, and locals coming to mingle, gawk and buy.  This building will also facilitate art retreats and art lessons.  It will also be used for girlfriend escapes, which are a necessary factor in a woman's life-this woman's life.  Most of all, this home will be a place where my family will want to come and spend time, and where friends will flock.

I will give my little parcel of land a name.  It will be an entity worthy of a title.

We will sell our current home fairly quickly and will get a really good price for it.  The money made from this house will fully cover the cost of our new home.  The property taxes on our new home will be 30% of what we pay here in Tinley Park.

So there  you have it Sweet Universe.  I have written down my intentions and I'm sending them out to you.  Please do what you can to make this happen.

Weekly Writing Challenge: A Pinch of You

How does the old saying go — girls are “sugar and spice and everything nice,” and boys are “snips and snails and puppy dog tails”?

Aside from not knowing what a “snip” is, I don’t buy it; we’re much more complex than lollipops and unicorns and toy trucks and frogs. This week, we want a window into the complexity that is you. We want your best recipes.

We don’t mean we want your best recipe for fried chicken (although we’ll take that, too — a good fried chicken recipe is always handy). We want the recipe for all the bits and pieces and quirks and foibles and loves that make you you.

————————————————————–

Ironstone.bowl

To make one over sized loaf of  ME:

This recipe calls for a large amount of strength and sanity.  Don’t skimp on these two ingredients.

4 c. optimism

3 c. spirituality

3 c. kindness

3 c. creativity

1 c. simplicity

1 c. romance

½ c. bitch (any brand will do)

1/2 c. insecurity (finely aged)

½ c. vulnerability

1/4 c. gypsy

3 oz. solitude

4 tbsp. boldness

1 oz. of worry

Snip of anger

1 Jane Eyre novel-shredded

6 Seasons of Sex and the City finely chopped

Squirt of cadmium red acrylic paint

12 Zinnias (assorted colors)

Sprig of lavender

Flavor with a generous amount of Stevie Nicks

1 whole single of New York State of Mind

Rolling in the Deep ground to perfection

2 repeats of Gimme Shelter

A pinch of witch

1 pot of freshly brewed coffee (with cream and sugar)

3 dashes of bawdy humor
Generous pinch of self-doubt

Sugar and cinnamon to taste

TO GARNISH:
1 pair of  black round rimmed specks

1 fresh tube of Bobbi Brown True Pink lipstick

A splash of Lovely cologne
2 sparkly piercings

3 pounds of long blond hair

INSTRUCTIONS:

Combine all ingredients in an extra-large, vintage ironstone bowl. Using an old wooden spoon, fold in ingredients until adequately combined-there will be lumps. Let rise for two sleeps or until mix is ripe and feminine.

Serve with a generous slice of mancake.  Preferably tall, dark and handsome.  

Store unused portion in a cool, air conditioned room, with a comfortable bed.

henri-matisse-nu-allonge

 

(What does your recipe for yourself consist of?   Here’s the link: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/22/weekly-writing-challenge-recipe/#more-31892)

Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror

When I look in the mirror I see someone who isn’t really comfortable with her chin.  (There, that’s better…put the phone in front of your mouth-hide that chin, I think to my self.)  But, in reality, I know I  need to cut this wonderful soul and her reflection a break.  Because despite her physical imperfections, she’s really fun, artistic, smart, and loving, and when the people who love me are with me they don’t see what I see.

hipsta.em.mirror

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

Me and my dad. I hated the hair dryer-it scared me. He came over to make me feel more at ease. The doll didn’t help, either.

Remember those old bonnet style hairdryers?  They made a “whrrr” sound and had a funny smell.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Companionable

When I was in Venice, I spotted these men just sitting at the base of this beautiful doorway-three friends catching a break probably from work.  The were smiling and laughing and seemed to be enjoying each other.  True companions.

3Men.at.the.door

Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting

IN A NEW POST CREATED SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PICTURE THAT MEANS FLEETING TO YOU.

A few weeks ago I was in Venice with my family and as we were crossing one of the many pedestrian bridges I spotted this mime looking up at us.  The pigeon and the mime seem to be keeping each other company, but if only for a moment.

A fleeting moment in time, a random mime and a pigeon.

A fleeting moment in time, a pigeon and a mime.

A little tribute to my father

My father’s eyes were the most beautiful shade of pale blue, like azure crystals. I’ll never forget them. During the time my father had terminal  cancer,  he and I went for breakfast one morning when he was still able to get around.   I remember sitting across the table from him engaged in conversation,  and as I looked at him,  the  thought came  to me, “Remember those beautiful eyes.  Never forget how full of life they are and how they sparkle.  Never forget.” 

                                                                                                                                 Some time in the late 1970’s, myself, my dad, Emil and my mom, Annie

It’s been 30 years since I last saw my father. He was a short, handsome guy who was partially bald. He was the most fantastic man. Everyone loved him and he had many friends. He could fix anything, and he loved to garden and bake.  We lived in Chicago, and the little garden plot next to our house was always abloom with color bursting from the rows and rows of dahlias and gladiolas he grew. My dad was always anxious for the gladiolas to  open up because they were his favorite.  Gladiolas were his August birthday flower and as soon as they were ready, he’d cut a bundle of them and proudly display them in a vase in the middle of our kitchen table. He always grew a large vegetable garden every year and I still remember all summer long the tasty bundles of  leaf lettuce, onions and juicy tomatoes we’d pick just before eating our sandwiches.   My father was Bohemian and knew how to bake all kinds of delicious goodies.  My favorite was baked Houska (sweet braided bread with raisins), and it was so good it even topped the loaves you could buy at the corner bakery.  And when I was small, he always made me my own little loaf in a little, mini pan.  Love.

My father adored me.   I was the proverbial ‘daddy’s girl.’ We got along great, but there were times when he was moody. For instance, I could tell how the day was going to go depending on the tone he used to say “good morning” when I ran into him in the kitchen. And when I’d help him work on small odd jobs he always managed to lose his temper because I inadvertently didn’t do something right and he’d lose patience with me.  Funny, but now that I look back at those times I have to smile because I was kind of dopey!

My father taught me so much when I was a child, but one of the things about him I remember the most is the relationship he had with other people.  It seemed that everyone loved him.  He was funny and generous and good hearted.  He was a great neighbor and on the job he was loyal to his peers and as a Union Steward, an advocate to his fellow factory workers.  He always taught me to treat my guests like gold, and was a living example to me on how to be a good friend.

What I do know more than anything is that he loved me unconditionally. And for that, I’ll be forever grateful. I don’t think I’d be the person I am today if I didn’t grow up with his love and encouragement. One thing I didn’t think would ever happen is that I’d lose him. As a little girl, I remember imagining what would happen if he died and I’d be gripped by the horrible  feeling of how unbearable life would be without him.  He was a two pack a day smoker and I was always afraid the cigarettes would make him sick, I had a gut feeling he was the one, not my mom,  who would suffer from the affects of smoking.  It turns out my intuition was spot on.  He began to get the symptoms of lung cancer during my senior year of high school.  He got sicker and sicker until he lost his battle at the very young age of 52.  And just as I had predicted, life was unbearable without him for a very long time.

There isn’t a day that has gone by since July 24th, 1982 that I don’t think of him. I was 18 when he died, and now, even though I’m now 50,  there are still times when I’m sad and deeply wish he was here with me.  I still need him when times get tough, or when I need some advice only he could give. I wish he were here to hug my children and witness them growing up and  see all I’ve accomplished in this life. I would have loved if he had the chance to have a meaningful relationship with my husband,  and it would have been so cool if  we were given the chance to watch each other grow older. How I would have loved more than anything to have him here with me through the past 30 years.

Dads.grave

To Dad- where ever you might be, I hope you still feel the warmth of the sunshine and are held close to God.  I know He’s got you right there with him-I pray He takes good care of you.  I miss you more than you can imagine   I will never forget you and I love you more than a thousand sunsets-even still.  —Emmy

My European Vacation-top of the waves observations:

My family and I just returned from a 12 day stay in Europe.  We spent 8 days in Italy and  5 days in Paris.  It was absolutely lovely.  Here are some of my top  of the wave observations, which are really just my personal opinion.  You might feel completely different.

We got back on Sunday which made our trip just two days short of two weeks.  I enjoyed Italy and Paris immensely.  We landed in Venice and stayed there two days then bused over to Florence and stayed there two days.  After that,  it was onto Pisa/Assisi for a brief stop before we made way for Rome where we stayed three days.  Here are my top of the waves observations about each country:
In Venice the canals are so charming.  How refreshing to be somewhere without cars whizzing by.  Instead, boats are the auto of choice and necessity.  Lovely, dreamy and resorty all rolled into one.
gondola
Gondola rides: What was once a very romantic thing to do while in Venice, has now turned out to be one of the biggest rip offs in the North of Italy.  It is astronomical to ride one…like 65 euros and up per person.  So what I chose to do instead is stand on the bridges and watch other people (suckers!) float by, a little lighter in their pockets.  Honestly, to see one float  by is sufficient for me.  It’s all so gimmicky.
In my opinion, the junk vendors spoil the beauty of Europe.  The African and Indian sellers are at every well known attraction/monument hawking their cheap, imported crap where they know tourists will be flocking.  It drives me crazy and makes me want to hit them. I will never look at a red rose again with the same level of admiration as I did before I set foot in Venice.
In Italy (and other parts of Europe possibly-I don’t know) the people are very laid back and restaurateurs don’t look at customers the same way the restaurant owners here in the states do.  One evening in Venice, we tried to get a table at a restaurant that clearly had enough tables to accommodate us, but they flat out refused to seat us and discouraged us from even having a hope of getting a table.  They simply didn’t want our business.  I was amazed, and a bit pissed.  I guess we were too fat for their liking or possibly they just didn’t feel like serving us….maybe laziness overcame them.
I love the Italian language.  It sounds so lovely.  My favorite word is “Allora” which simply means “and so” or “therefore”.  Everyone says it…and it sounds so pretty….”Allora.”  Something you say mid sigh when you have nothing else to say.
allora
The leaning Tower of Pisa was breathtaking.  It is this white marble cockeyed tower that is so beautiful and set against the blue skies, it is captivating.
leaning.tower
Florence is beautiful….it’s a Medieval little New York City where Vespas and other scooters replace yellow taxi cabs.  Everyone drives a scooter.  I’ve never seen so many in all my life.  The driving is speedy and reckless and I’m sure hospital emergency rooms treat at least a few people per week that come in bloody and flattened with a tire stripe on their forehead.  :)
scooters
The Statue of David is beyond beautiful.  That 17′ tall marble rendition of a young Biblical king brought my big husband to tears.  I turned around and just said to him, “Isn’t David just so beautiful?” and with tears visible in his eyes, he could barely mutter, “Absolutely.”  Lol…Larry brought to tears over Michaelangelo’s masterpiece.  I love it.   Yes, there IS a God…lol.
David
Kabobs are the Middle Eastern imported Italian junk food version of gyros.  Larry couldn’t get enough of them.  (not me. “Hello, where can I find some Gelato?”)
Bidets.  Bidets are EVERYTHING they are cracked up to be and more.  I figured them out (they’ve always been a bit of an enigma to me) and told all my kids how to use it and after their own experience with one, they reported to me we need to call Dave our plummer and have him install one in our house at once after we get home.  Seriously, they are awesome.  And I DO want one.  :)
bidet
I don’t like Italian coffee.  It’s little 2 oz shots of too hot,  too strong coffee with no milk or sugar.  I searched high and low and rejoiced in the rare times I found a place that served Cafe Americane.  Cappuccino is okay with lots of milk and sugar.  Next to my dog, I missed my coffee.
Speaking of dogs, in Italy and France every good restaurant has one and it is out in the open, seen, slobbering and mingling with the customers.  I kind of like that.
Restaurant.dog
Tuscany has lovely landscapes dotted with wild, red poppies, rose crops and colorful homes painted hues of  watermelon, turquoise and taxi cab yellow among others.
Did you know Italian roosters say “Kee Kee da Kee,” quite different from our American ones that shout, “Cock a Doodle Doo?”  It’s true. :)
rooster
Italian men are the most beautiful creatures on earth.   Liquid brown eyes and chiseled features, holy moley. “Buongiorno, handsome!”
Gelato is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.  My daughter and I were  addicted and tried as many flavors as we could pack into 3 days in Rome.
gellato
I love how the Italians serve water at the table in pretty decanters.  This is something I want to adopt here at home.
Paris.table
Italian.table
Wine is a standard with every meal.  I haven’t been that consistently buzzed on wine in years, if ever in my life.
Art is everywhere in Paris and Italy.  Remember to always look up because some of the best art might be lurking just above your head.
louvre.ceiling
Paris:
What I didn’t like:
 
Air conditioning is pretty crappy everywhere in Paris.
No ice.
No refills on coffee unless you pay (in Italy, too)  Guess they don’t know the meaning of ‘coffee clutch.’
What I liked:
 
The Eiffel tower is actually dark tan (I thought it was grey)  ((Maybe that’s because I have a black and white large canvas photo of it on my wall))
brn.eiffel
The Paris Metro is kick ass efficient.
Did you know Claude Monet, Impressionist painter of haystacks, cathedrals and lily pads actually painted turkeys?  I saw his turkey painting at the Musee d’Orsay in Paris.  Here’s a photo of it.
Monet.turkeys
The city wasn’t any dirtier than any other city I’ve been too….in fact, it might be cleaner.
Some French men make me weak in the knees.  I did see a few that were up to the caliber in good looks as some Italian men I had spotted, our Louvre tour guide was one of them.  You can see him here. Lol
French.tourguide
The Pere La Chaise cemetery is an oddly amazingly good time.  My kids LOVED it-got to visit Jim Morrison’s grave, and roam around taking cool pictures of some of the most beautiful tombstones and mausoleums you’d find anywhere.
It’s France, what’s not to love?  C’est Bon!
What lessons I learned on this trip:
Screw fashion-Bring your most comfortable (but preferably, not white) walking gymmies, and forfeit sore feet.  I brought four pairs of  cute, fashionable shoes and they all hurt my feet and left me cursing my idiocy and vanity.  I was aching for my black Nikes.  Oh. So. Bad.
Bring less stuff.  Even though I took the advice from seasoned travelers, and watched all the YouTube videos I could find on packing light for Europe, I still brought too much.  The crappiest thing was I purchased ‘carry on’s’, with every intention of ‘carrying them on’ the plane to avoid lost luggage and the damn bags exceeded the European airlines limits on carry on size and we still had to check our bags.  Fortunately, we all got our luggage there  with us on the way to Europe, but Jeff’s bag was not put on the plane in Paris for the trip back and ended up having an extra two day holiday in the city of love without us.  Lost luggage sucks.
Bring an umbrella and a short trench coat.
 If you get the chance, please do Italy and France.  It’s lovely.
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 617 other followers