Author: Emily

Tonight I found a recipe for chicken breast that called for using light Italian dressing in the pan instead of oil. I searched my refrigerator and all I had remotely similiar to Italian dressing was this:

La Rue (The Street)

A few years ago, I went to Toulouse Lautrec and Montmarte, a special art exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago. My friend Cindy and I spent a good afternoon meandering through the exhibit. I was bedazzled at the beautiful paintings and lithographs by various artists, many, I’d never even knew existed. I turned one corner of the gallery and there, hanging completely solo on a huge wall, was La Rue. The colors are amazing in this piece of art. I was especially taken with the woman on the left in the foreground holding the basket with the green gingham lid. If you click on the picture and enlarge it, notice she is wearing brown polka dot stockings. Fun! You can just sense the hussle bussle on the busy, mid-day streets of Montmarte.

This huge composition was a litho done to advertise a poster company. The class types of people is diverse from working-class women-a nanny, a laundress, maid and delivery girl along with male manual laborers mixed in with bonneted upper class and a business man wearing a top hat. I would say this litho spans 4 ft tall by 6 ft wide. It was truly beautiful. I hope you enjoy it, too.

I would have airy, cheesecloth curtains on the windows that looked just like these…

The walls of my special art room would have vintage look wallpaper like this, and I might just have a dress like that hanging on the wall….after all, we all need some lovelies to look at now and then, don’t we?

My wide, multi-purpose table would be like this, so my artistic friends could sit at the table and join me in a special project. Of course, there’d be a fireplace just like that one to keep our toes warm on those cold, winter nights when we lost ourselves in the joy of artmaking.

I would have a long wall of built in shelves just like this to house all my favorite books and of course, there would be a sofa like this one to curl up on if I just wanted to page through books seeking out inspiration. No art studio would be complete without a place for the cat, and my attic abode would have several baskets and pillows for my special feline friends.

I wish I had a place to call my own-a place where I could keep my supplies apart from my home. I long for a finished attic room, with old, vintage wallpaper in aqua and white. This attic room would have sunny windows with cheesecloth curtains and they would open up to the breezes swirling about my house. I wish i had a place to call my own, a place where I’d be free to dream up new art, an escape to where my thoughts could process. I wish I had white vintage cabinets to store my fabrics, paint and other dabbling supplies and a long wall with cubbies to house my most precious books and my lovely skeins of colorful yarns. I wish I had a big vintage table with a comfy chair on wheels so I could spin about from here to there in a flurry of creative frenzy. I’d fill my attic room with music and immerse myself in all things colorful and pleasing to the eye.

Attic rooms remind me of being a young girl. I had an attic playroom in the home I grew up in. It was magical, a bit dirty and somewhat cold, but I loved it because it was mine. I do long for a place that feels cozy-like being a girl again.

Maybe it’s the cooler weather setting in that’s giving me a feeling of wanting to retreat to a warm, creative nook. Maybe it was Granville’s old homes that set my heart a-flutter. What ever it is, I wish.

Over the last week I’ve been reminded of things I really love, and I’ve discovered some new things. May I share them with you?

Fletcher, as you all may know, is my favorite cat. I love him so much more when he exhibits his true sense of humor.

This hat starts awaking the knitting bug in me…

I love the dress next to the aqua wallpaper. It reminds me of Tiffany box blue. Wouldn’t this wallpaper be lovely in an attic bedroom? What I wouldn’t give for a room like that!

This knitted-looking basket texture seriously sets my heart skipping a beat. I wish I could find thick yarn just like it. I would knit up all kinds of things that looked like these baskets.

Fancy, colorful, textural yarns are catching my eye these days. Doesn’t this just beg you to reach out and touch it?

My absolute favorite apple, now in season-the Honeycrisp. Delicious, perfect and overpriced. Worth every bite.

This guy was killed in a propeller accident a few days before this photo was taken. When the photo was developed, the men verified it was a picture of the guy who had died just days before. Looks like he showed up for the picture regardless of the fact he was dead. Very eerie.

I can’t resist this one, folks. It’s Halloween eve and I have to put this out there. How many of you have seen or have people in your family or have friends who have seen a ghost and have an authentic story to tell? I’m on the fence about this, but to be honest I think I’m about to hop off the picket and into the graveyard and admit I do believe. I’m a big fan of Ghost Hunters and enjoy watching the shows. I’m always hopeful I’ll see something that helps me cement the fact there really are ghosts. I’ve been pretty impressed by some EVP readings I’ve heard on some episodes and also by some other things in the show that point to the possibility of a ghost being present.

Personally, for me, it’s difficult to think there aren’t ghosts. It’s a fact the Catholic church participates in exorcisms, which points to the fact there are demons, so if there are demons, there surely can be other types of paranormal spirits out there wreaking havoc on common people. At least I like to think there are.

Back in 1982, just after my father died, my mother and I had what I would consider a form of contact with my father’s spirit. My mom and I were sitting on the floor of my bedroom going through a box of his possessions. Above the doorway of my closet hung an air freshner in the form of a stained glass butterfly (Remember Sparklers?). My mom and I were on the floor just in front of my closet, under the butterfly. While we going through this box, we suddenly heard a violent tapping noise and we looked up and the butterfly was banging into the moulding of the closet door. There was no breeze to cause this, it was just doing it by itself. It scared us both, but we sat there, heads up watching it. I said to my mom that it must be dad trying to get our attention. If I remember right, I said something to the effect, “We see you dad…we hope you are okay!” It was bizarre. A few days later, the hospice nurse came to our house to finalize papers and pick up her things. We mentioned this incident to her and she seemed very calm about it. She said, from working around dying people, she sees this kind of thing a lot. She believed it was my father signaling us. The one thing I will never forget is when she said, “It’s funny how it was a butterfly. He’s showing you he’s free.” That gave me such peace. I was happy, even though I missed him terribly (and still do).

After that, I never had any other contact with him. Maybe he went right to heaven. But if it was my dad, he succeeded in what he was trying to do-to let my mom and I know he was there and he was okay.

Do any of you have a story to tell? Please tell me below in the comment section of this post.

Happy Halloween!