CARROT MAN

So this is a new member of the family, my son's "Carrot Man", as we have been calling him. Picked him up at a local arts and crafts show. I told Luke that it reminded us of him, what with the crazy baby dreads he's been working on, and we had to get it. Truth is though, it reminds me of one of my favorite books that I read to Desi all the time, The Carrot Seed. He loves this book.

Have you read it? You must. I'm a sucker for kids' books, plus I have a soft spot for simple and sweet, and this book nails it. The illustrations and writing are wonderfully simple, with a message about perseverance, facing adversity, hard work, and faith.

Basically, a little boy plants a carrot seed, and not once does he let what others think keep him from believing (and working hard at the task) that he'll someday see a carrot come up.

How great is that? I mean, seriously?! It makes me think of the kind of person I strive to be and the attributes I hope to instill in Desi - someone who believes and works hard towards a goal, the kind of boy who's unaffected by what others think or say, whose faith is unwavering.

Does anyone have any recommendations for other kick-ass kids' books?

Sidenote: I thought twice about using "kick ass" and "kids' books" together, but I feel good about it, and I really like the alliteration. And I think I just secured the title for a new reoccurring thing here on the blog : )

FRENCH COW

This post subject kinda sounds like it could be a put down. Like, "you're such a French cow." Which then makes me picture a really fabulous looking cow that's reading a copy of "French Women Don't Get Fat".

The French word for today is "la vache" which literally means "cow", but I've read it can have a lot of meanings and uses, but we're keeping things super simple. So we're sticking with the literal moos-and- swats-flies-with-its-tail meaning of "la vache".

These cows are not French cows, but instead good ol' Oklahoma cows. My Dad's cows. He started out about 15 years ago with just three cows, one named after me and my two best friends. We were flattered. And although he has a whole lot more cows now, he still has those original three, and can still pick them out of the crowd. I'm still flattered.

La vache = cow

BEING CREATIVE

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."
       - Pablo Picasso

I can't help but think of Picasso's quote when I see this picture. That's my little Desmond. It was his first time "coloring". I broke out the big pad of paper and crayons. We got crazy that day. There may or may not have been a taste testing of different crayon colors.

I also can't help but think of my own life. I've always loved to come up with creative ideas, write, make stuff, and the such. My mom's an artist and when I was growing up she was always sculpting or painting. Still is, actually. It was normal to open the stove and see one of mom's masterpieces cooking. She was always good about letting me and my brother make stuff, too. She'd give us some sculpty clay and let us create little people. A couple of years we even entered our little people into some art competitions and won.  That year I sculpted my grandparents and my brother scuplted my dad. Oh, the memories. And I think it's clear from the pic below that I've always had issues with my hair. Dang you, Keri Russell from the Disney Club! Just FYI, a perm will not look just like Keri's hair, and I don't think you're supposed to brush curly hair.

Anyhoo, back to creativity. It's something that I've realized I need in my life. Like I need a good sweet tea. It just feels right. There was a time growing up, like Picasso talks about, where I was an artist. I loved to draw, and art class was my favorite. And then as I got older I noticed that I wasn't as good as some other people, and overall just got self-conscious. And I stopped creating like I did when I was young. Which is just kinda sad. I hate the fear of "is this good enough?" "what will people think?". And I still deal with those fears now, too, often. In fact, I just freaked out a few weeks ago when a sign I made for our fall festival got wet in the rain and smeared. Oh man, the fear of it not being good enough... me not being good enough... totally shot to the roof. My husband, ever calm with me, chimes in with what he always says in these moments "Everything's going to be alright". And I want to be like "bite me, Bob Marley!" Oh, the anxiety and fear, how they can mix to create a really-not-cool me. Bless Luke's heart.

Speaking of Saint Luke, he, like my mom, is a really talented artist. Something I realize is not happenstance. God knew exactly what he was doing when he put us in one another's paths. If there's one thing I'm sure of, we make an awesome team. Where he's weak, I'm strong. And vice versa. And he's so good at encouraging me and helping me follow my ideas. And he's good inspiration, too, that one. He's always trying something new, never afraid to fail or look silly. I wanna be a little more like my husband in that way. Yes, Luke, you read that right.

So, here's to writing more, dusting off the sewing machine, finishing those books I want to write, making those shirts ... and the million other ideas jumping around in my head. And if you don't have your very own Luke, let me be the one to say, You're idea is great! Just try it. What do you have to lose?

UN CHAPEAU

I have a ton of hats. I'm talking literally, not figuratively, because as a woman we all "wear a lot of hats", but in this instance I'm talking about all the hats that fill up my closet - ball caps, winter hats, fun hats, cowboy hats, summer hats ... ok, I think I've read one to many Dr. Seuss books lately. The Desi in the Hat.

It's funny though, I don't wear hats all that often but boy do I have a bunch to choose from when I happen to get a wild hair, pun intended, because that's typically when I want to wear a hat. Wild hair that's greasy, been in a bun one day too long, desperately needs a dye job, or it's decided on its own that "frizzy" is the new beachwave. 

Un chapeau = a hat

HOME IS WHERE THE GRAFFITI IS

So we went shopping this weekend for a travel trailer. Something comfy, unique, a real eye sparkle. And we found it.

  

Ok, you got me, not really. We're totally not in the market for a travel trailer. But check out this thing. It's like my husband and his sharpies had their way with it. And he would totally roll in this, too. So who knows, he might be getting some ideas in that crazy head of his and we could own our very own graffiti home on wheels. You just never know.

FRENCH MAN

Bonjour, it's Pardon-My-French Friday. Today's word is "un homme" which means "a man" in French.

When I was in France I loved seeing the "quintessential" French things you hear about and see portrayed in movies - a bunch of older French men playing bocce ball, a French baguette sticking out of a bicycle basket, pituresque lavender fields. And don't forget about the French men. I remember walking down the street and having a random guy pass me and tell me that I have beautiful blue eyes. Not in a creepy way, just in a passing-flirty-I'm-French-so-it-sounds-romantic-doesn't-it kind of way. 

I found this cute little sticker while cleaning out the catch-all room in my house. I think he looks French. That stereotypical French guy. I guess he's just missing his striped shirt, scarf, and baguette. Which when you throw in some Nutella, he sounds like my kind of guy.

WHITE OLEANDER AND PICASSO

"A magician came to entertain us, and I was mesmerized by his beautiful hands, his fluid, round gestures. I couldn't stop watching his hands. They were better than any of his tricks. He pulled a bouquet of paper flowers out of the air and gave them to me with a courtly bow, and I thought love was like that, pulled out of the air, something bright and unlikely."   - Astrid, White Oleander

 

I've always loved this Picasso painting. I've had it hanging on my walls for 10 years and I used to have a little worn yellow post it note stuck in the corner of the frame with the above quote from the book White Oleander. It's such a beautiful string of words, paints a perfect picture. And White Oleander is that kind of book you just have to read again every so often. I just picked it back off my shelf and wanted to share it with you. Such beautiful writing must be shared!