The Un-Studio

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. Art, whether I like it or not, is part of me. Sometimes I despise the skill, as it frequently proves itself completely and utterly useless. Other times it doesn't seem entirely worthless. Of course, when someone finds out that you can, in fact, draw more than mere stick figures, they find it absolutely fascinating. Strange. If I find out someone can draw I usually am mildly interested. Perhaps that makes me a bad artist. I did, after all, barely pass art history class...all four semesters of them. Ugh. Boooorrrring. Just sayin'. So basically, art happens for me pretty regularly. Someone always needs or wants something. Does this bother me? Nah. It's a skill and I'm happy to help when I can. Here's the problem: Drawing while sitting on an old cushy couch does not equal a happy back...or neck...or knees...or shoulder...and pretty much all in-between. There was a day when I had a snazzy art desk and a nifty chair to help ease this situation. Oh, I still have the desk. Problem is, I don't have a place to put it. Short of sticking it in our over crowded sun/play room, I'm all out of space for a studio. Plus it's freezing in that blasted room! Who can draw with numb fingers, right? Well...actually...I did draw with numb fingers when I worked as a graphic designer years back. No heat for the starving artist. Lucky me. I'm not willing to revisit that moment in my life. So until the day when me and my trusty old art desk can be reunited, I'll be cozy on the couch with my pencil in hand. I've actually been so busy with art lately that I haven't had much time in the evenings to do much else. (Hence my lack of blogging Aunt Rhonnie. :-) I sink into the couch with my stuff, plop on Vampire Diaries (or something of that nature) and sketch away! My brother-in-law has asked for art for his upcoming Chiropractic clinic. So I'm drawing lots of spines. I must say that not many people can say that they've spent an evening watching vampire shows while holding a spine replica in their hand. It's an odd image to see. A bit surreal actually. How fitting. The most fascinating thing about no studio are the kids. They love going into my bedroom and seeing the new things I've drawn. They don't quite grasp the spine images, but they ask about them. The most frustrating thing about no studio? Well...let's just say that my $1.89 per pencil colored pencils have been found scattered around the house. Just a tip: If you spend hours on end drawing something, never leave it sitting at the level of a 5 and 3 year old. Plain white paper on a flat surface and colored pencils equal one unhappy mama. I don't get mad at them...but I do smack myself repetitively in the head as a friendly reminder to put the pencils higher next time.

Merry Christmas!!

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope your day was blessed and beautiful and as wonderful as ours. From our house to yours...wherever you are...Merry Christmas!!

God Bless,
Jessica, Josh, Alex, & Abby

Hawk Stalker

Look at me...blogging today. More rare of a day, it could not be. I'd like to say that I have a substantial reason for not blogging. I could easily blame it on time constraints, holiday insanity, never-ending bouts of cabin fever...but alas, though it could easily be true of any one of those reasons, the actual truth? Writer's block. Honestly, I've lost a good deal of my inspiration to write - in any form. Perhaps the drive will hit again. But recent uncontrollable life happenstances have rendered the otherwise useful and more imaginative sector of my brain, all but useless. Whatcha gonna do, eh? So it's been a couple of weeks since my last entry and what do I choose to blog about? No, not my kids. Because that would be way to predictable and far more appreciated by most readers. I'm going to introduce you to my stalker. He's brown, beaked, talon-ed, winged and has an insatiable appetite for what I can only assume to be our two helpless, yet impenetrably caged, rabbits. He...er...or she I suppose (sorry, I refer to all animals but cows as male for some reason)...has been a steady 'guest' at our house for over two weeks now. It's a red-tailed hawk. Weird, right? I first noticed him one day when I went out to put the bunnies in their highly unprotected ground pen. Before I got that far, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. On my fence, I see this:


He was just watching me. Creepy. I ran in to get my camera and shot a couple of pictures. Eventually he became bored with me and flew the coop. The red flag in my head said, "Don't put the bunnies out, dummy." So later in the day I went back outside and there he was again! Watching...as if waiting for something. Strange. The next day he was back. And the day after that? Back again. He's always there now. In a tree, on a fence, on the swingset, on the kid's slide climber. Just...ya know...sitting there...watching. He's only been gone one day which so happened to be the one day when it was like 60 degrees outside. Probably hunting. But rain or shine, our hawk stalker is always there. So what did I do? I started feeding him. Yeah. Dumb. I know. It's like sentencing my bunnies to certain annihilation. I started throwing raw chicken out in his favorite places. I can't be sure he's the one eating it, but I'd bet good money it is. Anyhow, my ultimate goal is to train him to come to me when I call and he'll whistle Dixie on command. I shall call him Squawky and love him always. Okay...now I'm just being ridiculous. Anyhow...here's some photos of Mr. Bunny stalker. Weird stuff around our house I tell you. Weird stuff...

The First Program

Well, we had our first school program for Alex last night. I was pretty sure I knew what to expect as I had my fair share of programs back in my school days. And being on the opposite side of the program was really great. I had a blast watching Alex up there with his classmates belting the Christmas tunes to the best of their ability. I pretty much knew what every song they were going to sing was because Alex comes home from school singing songs over and over again throughout the days. They had quite a few songs and did the little motions to the words. Cute, cute, cute! I felt my proud mama face shining last night. I gotta say that Alex doesn't skip a beat when it comes to anything school related. I was going to walk him up the stage behind the curtain and help him get in place like so many of the other moms. He beat me up the stairs and was behind the curtain before I had a chance to say a word to him. So I let him go it alone. *sniff* Just another one of those mom moments I suppose. Anyhow, they had singing and a slide show of school with about a billion cookies and soda after the show. Now, naturally Alex had to eat only the cookies that I brought so it wasn't really that great. As I stared at the hundreds of colorful cookies it felt like one of those scenes out of a horror movie with the high-pitched violin stabbing it's eerie warning in my mind. Food potluck = food allergy nightmare. Not my favorite part of get-togethers. But, Alex does great so I can't really complain. He's a good little allergy kid. So all in all, it was a great evening of our first of many to come school programs. I can't wait for Abby's first one. How fun!

Alex and his school buddies on stage.

Singing a song. I bet you can't guess what song. :)

Abby really enjoyed watching the program. She sat pretty still the whole time.

Alex in his 'fancy' duds after the show.

And earlier that day after church, I made the kids pose for a photo in their 'nice' clothes.

My Brother, Drew Brees

Now, by the title of my blog entry you might be thinking, "Brother?? Wait...what brother? Is Jessica pregnant?" Of course, the answer is no. If you are an NFL football fan in any way, shape or form, you might be asking, "Wait a second...they aren't related to Drew Brees. What is that fool talkin' about?" Let's break it all down before any more confusion ensues, shall we? First thing you should know is that Alex, my sweet little five year old child, is obsessed with football. He talks about it all the time. The kid can spout off names, numbers and teams better than half the adults I know. It's absolutely mind-boggling. The second thing you should know is that before Alex's obsession, I had absolutely no idea who anyone was in the NFL and could recognize about two of the professional team logos. I knew who the Dolphins were because of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective and knew who the Patriots were because my husband would kill me if I didn't. So knowing these two very specific things, you would understand the look of confusion on my face as Alex walks up to me and says, "Hey mom...Drew Brees is my brother!" with a smile from ear to ear. I cocked an eyebrow and stared at him blankly. Yep. That's all I could do. Eventually I found my tongue and muttered, "Brother? Huh? What...who...wait a second...huh??" He then, I kid you not, without so much as a skip of a beat, looked at me and said this: "Drew Brees is the quarterback for the Saints. He's number 9. He's my brother." He then proceeded to smile and run off through the house with his football playing imaginary catch with Drew Brees, his self-proclaimed "brother". This has been going on for weeks now. Still to this day, I have no idea how he came to this conclusion. So if you're looking for an explanation, please let me know if you ever find one. Now keep in mind that on a day to day basis, he learns more and more football stats. Another example of his obsession is as follows. Today he is wearing a green t-shirt and just finished drawing a self-portrait of himself. I said, "That's a nice picture of yourself Alex." To which he replied, "No. I'm Darrelle Revis, mom! See?" I laughed and said okay and he then asked me, "Can you make me brown like Darrelle Revis?" As the light bulb went on over my head about this, I googled Darrelle Revis. I laughed and said, "Oh! You want brown skin because he's black!" He looked at me like I was the dumbest person on Earth and replied, "No. Because he's brown, mom." This is a picture of Alex with two of his hundred drawings of Darrelle Revis:

Let me give you a break down of his drawing.
1. Note the cleverly placed ears in front of the football helmet. Why? So we can see that he has two earrings. Darrelle Revis has earrings.
2. Green. It's all green. Darrelle Revis plays for the Jets...who are green.
3. He's holding a football because he's the corner-back.
4. If you zoom in you'll note that his face is a shade of brown. Darrelle Revis is african american...or 'brown' according to Alex.
5. His name is Revis and his number is 24. (Alex has trouble making the two. It's always backwards.)

So, in conclusion, thanks to my son, I know that Darrelle Revis is the number 24 Cornerback for the New York Jets. He's "brown" and has two earrings and he's "The best player ever!!" Alex's words. And just so you aren't confused...

This is who Alex thinks he is - Darrelle Revis:

And this is his brother - Drew Brees:

Thanksgiving - Rock on, baby!

Thanksgiving Day was beautiful this year. Very strangely beautiful actually, but I'm no fan of the cold so I'll take it! On Wednesday night, we all hopped into the car and headed out, pies in tow, to the great state of Oklahoma. My concerns of driving in the dark during deer rut season were happily unwarranted, as we made it safe and sound, deer collision free. Though on the side of the road, others were not so lucky. The police were very busy that night. Anyhow, I've veered off point. I seem to do that from time to time. Thanksgiving was good this year. We spent it with Josh's family and the dinner was pretty much Alex-friendly save a few minor dishes that he wouldn't have eaten anyways. I, like my mother before me, had pie duty. I spent what seemed to be endless hours baking pies the day before. Lucky for me (and everyone else's tummies apparently) my mom passed along her joy of baking and cooking to me. I know sugar pretty well thanks to her. It was fun for the kids, especially Alex who is always in his element if there are kids around. And Abby was even mildly social this time. Yay for Abby! It was an all around good time and I'm glad we got to share it with Josh's family this year.

Sadly, with every Thanksgiving comes the inevitable story of some crazy family member doing something quite embarrassing and truly memorable. Unfortunately for me, I was that family memeber. What you are about to read is a true...and mildly embarrassing...account of Thanksgiving 2011. We got the pleasure of having our big meal at Josh's cousin's house, which I've never been to before. They had a room in the back of the house that had a card table set up for the kids to eat at. Beside this table were two old, short-back rocking chairs. Yow know the kind, padded for comfort and wooden legs that were built to withhold the many bottoms that grace it's presence. People had been sitting in them the whole time so when the room cleared out and the chairs were free, I happily set my tired butt down and played with an old magic 8 ball with my niece, Linsey. Abby crawled up onto my lap for some down time. My belly was full of turkey and tasty desserts. And the room was quiet and peaceful. All was right with the world. So yeah...that moment of zen lasted about...oh...five minutes. Suddenly without any warning whatesoever, the legs of this timeless rocking chair spontaneously combusted underneath me. The chair legs shattered, pieces of wood flying through the air in every-which direction. I, like the graceful human I am, merely lie there in a strangely humorous position as I push Abby safely away from the now pile of rubble on the floor. My niece is staring at me with a look that said, "Why is my strange aunt turning bright red and giggling uncontrollably from the floor?" You must understand that when the chair exploded, it also made a quite obvious, earth-shattering sound that could, in fact, be heard on the other side of the house with ease. I'm sure at first, there was concerns for another possible earthquake aftershock, but earthquakes aren't known for giggling. Why was I giggling? Simple. I was absolutely, positively, without a doubt...mortified. I'd just finished eating my six helpings of dessert so I'd already felt freakishly overweight as my cheap wal-mart belt groaned at the pressure of my unusually large meal. So naturally, breaking a chair of the host's house was not looking so good. And as soon as the rest of the house heard the sounds of chaos coming from the back room, their natural reaction was to go in to the room, one by one, to see what could have made such a raucous. Now, if efficiency has taught us anything, once one person sees the cause of the loud booming sound, they could essentially turn around and tell everyone else, saving the poor embarrassed soul from reliving the moment over...and over...and over again. But this was not the case. As each person enters the room, I have to explain to them individually, amidst my constant strain of giggles, that I had in fact shattered the rocking chair by merely sitting in it. As Josh's cousins sift through the rubble of a now worthless chair, I apologize and attempt to regain a shred of self-respect. Sadly, I think the remaining shards of my self-respect will forever be lost with the toothpick like remnants that littered the floor. What have I gained from this experience you might ask? Well, I now have a healthy fear of accepting invitations in other people's houses to 'Have a seat.' I also learned that there is, in fact, a correct answer to that age old Thanksgiving question, "Should I have another piece of pie?" The answer would be NO. You definitely should not. As a matter of fact, I think I'll just swear off of pie...for now.

And that my friends....is the rest of the story.

Hoofprints

Wait! Don't click away from the blog! You're in the right place. I swear you are! What was once The Lemonade Stand has changed. Why, you ask? Eh. I got tired of looking at the lemons. Too bright. Okay. So maybe the reason is slightly more significant than that. Basically I've been wanting something, oh...I dunno...more uplifting? Is that the right word? I ain't gonna lie to ya. It's been a rough couple of years. But hey, who doesn't have rough times? Well...I can think of a few randomly famous people, but we'll skip that.

Basically, as I was sitting around thinking of blog titles that I could use that would encompass who I am, what I believe, and just fit a little better, I thought of the poem Footprints In The Sand. You know the one right? Who doesn't? Just in case, you can read it here. Back in February when I was faced with the loss of Daisy, my cow of 21 years, I remember praying with her in the pasture. It was one of those moments that define who you are. I remember knowing that God was taking care of her from there. I also remember how hard it was to take that last walk with her. I pictured the footprints that would be in the sand of that journey. At first there would be two sets of footprints when God walked beside me. But the harder it got to reach Daisy, there became one set of prints when He carried me in that hard time. With faith, I walked again and in the sand were two sets of footprints as He walked beside me. As I began that long walk with Daisy, there were not two, but three sets of prints that day. Two sets of footprints and one set of hoofprints. As I walked with my friend, both of us terrified and hurting, the footprints became one again. Because there on that part of my journey, He not only carried me, but Daisy as well.

That's how life is. Like everyone, the footprints in the sand of my journey are ever changing. There are so many that walk with me. Big footprints, small footprints, pawprints...and of course hoofprints. But like the poem, I'll always know that no matter how many footprints there are, there will always be at least one set - always there to carry me and the ones I love.

So there you have it. I know, I know. Too deep, right? Well...that's how it is sometimes.