Cousin Joy

I believe memories rest within our minds as gradient colors on endless paint chips, the most vivid hues attracting our attention to be called forth and lingered over for the joy it will bring to our day. My Birthday Cousin Joy is ruby red for her vividly colored hair and splash of freckles across her beautiful face. She is also colored red for the unusual love story she has to tell.

Joy was a woman child who longed for the things all women do without the capacity to manage them once in hand. For this reason her mother, my Aunt Rachel, set up a home for her to keep only steps away from her own front door. Finances were managed by Aunt Rachel who kept a running tab of expenditures on a blackboard, chalk hanging from a string. "Tomato sandwich, .25cents." Figures tabulated the end of each month, money deducted from income earned.

With a home of her own a nest needing two, Joy turned her attention to finding a man. Her church, within walking distance, the obvious place to look; a man "come down from the mountains" a perfect catch. Beau was as thin as he was tall to Joy's width as she was short. A factory job found, a doubling of blackboard tabulations, "I do. I do's" exchanged, a place to rest the head.

It was about this time I would get to visit Joy only steps away from Aunt Rachel's door. She was so eager for me to see how she had made a home. We tiptoed across the grass wet with evening dew, "Shh, don't make a sound, Beau is sleeping!"

I was astonished to see Joy pull from a string around her neck, a key that fit a padlock on her door. "Joy! You padlock Beau inside your house? What if there's a fire, how will he ever get out?" To this day I will never forget her response.

"Oh, there's church women who've got their eyes on him. Beau's a catch now he can read! Besides, he's skinny enough, he can slip out the winda if he has ta." I couldn't wait to meet this Beau!

It was such a sad day not many weeks ago to receive a call from North Carolina telling me of Joy's early passing. She was as young as I am old. My mind was immediately filled with the color red and the last conversation I had with Joy. "Beau's done run off with another woman! I should have never taught him to read!"  I do believe Joy died of a broken heart.

Ring a Ding!

Hello, Everyone! The first weeks of May are very busy ones for me as there are many birthday celebrations needing telephone wishes in my husband's family including my husband himself. With seven siblings, the telephone lines simply hum with good cheer.

I especially love when Aunt Joan calls. "Oh Dahhhling! Is the birthday boy there?" Years spent working the accessories counter at Lohmans has given her a distinctive personality. Combined with her passion for Catholicism, you feel like you've gotten a "two for one" as she advises you on which Saint to pray to for birthday overindulgence. 

I thought I was so clever in tucking my wedding date amongst all the early May birthdays as a way of ensuring my husband would never forget. Little did I know all the birthday calls received on the first of May for him would be repeated on the fifth for me.

And do you know I just thought it was a coincidence that Cinco de Mayo always falls on my Anniversary?  Who knew it falls on May 5th every year! (I can only plead my case by stating I took five years of French!)

I knew 35 years ago that my husband was "The One" I would spend my life with by a particular birthday gift he gave to me. When I asked why he had given me a dictionary, his response was that he loved I was smart. Obviously this was before the whole Cinco de Mayo confusion!

So I thought I would pop in to say "Hello" in this small lull before the next round of May birthday calls. Would you believe Aunt Joan and my brother John share the same day? Two peas in a pod, if you ask me!

On another front, May has brought a clarity of decision to my life. It is time for me to set the crafting side of Creative Breathing aside and turn my attention to my neglected home. I thank each reader who has expressed to me their love of my crafts and stories. It has been such a pleasure to share them here with you.

Please know I will always hold close the friendship that was extended to me here, and I hope you will not mind if I stop in from time to time to say hello!

Dorothy Hamill

I am not one easily to anger and am someone quick to forgive, but I must confess there is one grudge I have held against my husband all the years I have known him. Dorothy Hamill is the reason for this grudge.

Dorothy Hamill meant the world to me. She was the reason my parents spent countless dollars and endless hours in support of my love of ice skating. Figures in the stillness of pre-dawn hours, lessons for jumps and spins, practice for perfection long after the sun had set. Olympic glory for one young girl, a person to emulate for another.

Wedged hair and over-sized glasses, white mittens and boots to match. The fastest skater, the highest jumper, I strove to skate like Dorothy. The freedom of movement gliding across the ice to beautiful music let others observe a confidence I couldn't see in myself.

It was this revealed confidence that one special hockey player saw in me, planting the seeds for True Love to bloom. That love found me on the ice I owe to Dorothy Hamil and for sheltered immaturity, I owe to her as well.

Hours dedicated to skating didn't allow for time with peers. Overly sensitive to words not understood or looks that seemed disapproving made navigating First Love so difficult for me. Break-ups and make-ups seemed to fill my days.

How could my heart possibly forgive my boyfriend for taking another to watch Dorothy Hamill on ice during one of our break-ups. She meant everything to me.

In the days leading up to my surgery, I distracted myself by reading a memoir penned by Dorothy Hamill, "A Skater's Life". I was so surprised to learn that she too found relief from crippling shyness through the freedom of movement on ice, but as well found her heart isolated from maturity.  There is so much about our life's stories that are the same.

When the time came to be released from the hospital, I refused the nurses help to dress but found I couldn't put on my own shoes. I motioned my husband close and whispered in his ear, "Will you help me with my shoes?" As he kneeled on the floor before me, his hair now silver with age, the knowledge that he knows of my confidence not always seen by others, washed over my heart and forever erased my one and only grudge. Dorothy Hamill, you remain my hero!


                     ELIZABETH ANDRUS 112 GIBRALTAR CT DELAWARE OH 43015
                                                   elizabeth.andrus@yahoo.com

Here I Go!

 

Well, I guess I am as ready as I can be for my surgery tomorrow morning. My house is spic and span, the refrigerator full, laundry folded and put away, the pets bathed and groomed. Never mind I should be home by 10 in the morning, I like to be prepared!

Already I miss the goings on in our community. If you miss just one day here, you miss a whole lot of cuteness! I will have lots to catch up on by next week. I already can't wait.

I have spent this past week preparing projects to motivate me to wellness.  No gold star needed here, a craft desk filled with characters to paint is just the incentive I need to bend that knee, climb those stairs, paint that smile.

May I tell you this surgery is such a small thing, but my worry about the silliest of things brings me near to tears. Will I have to ask my husband to help me dress and tie my shoes? Of course he gladly would, but it is hard for me to ask.

And so I have distracted myself by making Laura's Teacup Couple. I fell madly for her adorable creation, found here. I don't think I have ever seen anything cuter!

I have had such fun with my State Fair theme, and I hope you have enjoyed it as well. When I return it will be to Rodeo Days. Oh how I love a cute cowboy!

I guess that's it for now, 5am is nearly here. The roller coaster is nearing it's crest, there's no turning back. Did I ever tell you how flexible I am and that I can touch my toes and will surely be able to tie my shoes myself..... Here I go!

Blue Ribbon Nightgown

Before there were the Bobwhites, there was Sherry. She was the daughter of my mother's best friend, Virginia. Auburn hair worn in ringlets behind her ears, freckles across her nose, brown eyes lit by a smile that was always present. We were Halfway Woods friends and Spend the Night Friends and friends who couldn't bare to do anything without the other.

Our mothers purchased matching outfits of stretch pants with heel straps and matching striped shirts that we wore every opportunity we had to be together. Library trips to fill our arms full, pizza parlor trips, a table to ourselves, and 4-H sewing lessons we begged to take.

Plastic raffia sewing baskets filled with supplies, patterns and material tucked under our arms, our mothers dropped us off at an ordinary looking brick house not far from our own homes. We were met at the door by the tiniest and oldest women we had ever seen clothed all in black, a babushka revealing whips of grey hair. She ushered us down her basement stairs where other young girls were huddled together, their baskets and materials clutched close to their sides.

It was then as she assigned us each to our own long table and peddle driven sewing machines that we realized she spoke not a word of English. She communicated by the waving of enormously large sewing sheers, and the flinging about of a yellow tape measure longer than she was tall!

She was all smiles as she patted Sherry's half yard of floral fabric for the elasticized shorts she had chosen to make.

She had nothing but "Mama Mia's" for me as I struggled in vain with the slippery fabric I had chosen to make a slippery nightgown. My fabric simply would not stay put for me to lay out my pattern or stay puddled alongside my sewing machine for me to take a beginning stitch.

  
Week after week I sat hunched over my assigned machine, the teacher always hovering near determined not to let me give up. "Nastro Azzurro" she would cheer as she helped me manage my slippery fabric. I had no idea what she was saying.

4-H registration forms carefully filled out our last evening of sewing class, our garments turned over to our teacher, we didn't hold much hope for any success at the fair. But there was our teacher standing by our class display, her arms spreading first to one side and then to another. "Nastro Azzuro!" she greeted our astonished faces at seeing each of has had won a Blue Ribbon.

Please do not Pin pattern to Pinterest.

HAVE A JOYOUS EASTER! Elizabeth

Junk in the Trunk Banner

The sunshine is so bright today through my craft room window. The snow is turning to fat drops of water that I can hear dripping from the eaves of my roof. Not yet a day to venture outside, a Junk in the Trunk Banner to make a perfect solution!

The crafts you will find here on my blog are as simple as can possibly be. I want anyone to feel they can give something a go even though they may have very few materials on hand. This is the sum lot of paper I have in my craft room, but I am determined to wiggle a banner out of it.

Don't you always have those certain paper you aren't the craziest about? Those are the ones Perfectly Perfect for this project. I have cut my banner shape as many times as I could from my papers. There will be a front, a back, and any others can be deconstructed to use as a contrast.

THE BEST TRICK I KNOW! Anytime you want to back a printed piece of paper, glue it directly to your background paper AND THEN cut your edge border. LOL! It took me ages to figure out this trick for myself, and I get so mad when I forget it.

PLEASE don't forget to sandwich cardboard between your front and back layers of printed paper. It makes all the difference in your finished project.

With just a basic triangle in front of you, it can be perplexing how to fill all the space. My rule of thumb is to divide the triangle's space once with a portion of the triangle itself (blue strip on top), and once with a different shape all together. I had just enough paper to trace a circle from. Now for the fun part, the junk!

I have backed my circle piece in white and offset it's placement to create movement. Greeting card images I like best are what I call "scenery" cards. Not that they are a landscape, but that a scene of everyday life from a past era unfolds itself for you.  Sigh! I love vintage.  I have used flowers from my State Fair projects that were of a larger size and have mimicked the curve of my circle for my Scrabble tile placement.

Remember not to "float" your elements, but rather let them "waterfall" by connecting them to each other. Using a black and white image of this cute couple learning to knit (what a Peach of a fella) makes my banner cute but not cutesy.

I love my Junk in the Trunk Banner! It has turned out wonderfully homespun and makes me long for warm summer days and the coming of my town's County Fair.

"It Might As Well Be Spring"

I often hope that I am not alone in having my personality traits greatly influenced by ritualistic viewing of the Golden Age of Motion Pictures. I speak of the two-hour matinee absorbed through every molecule of my being while perched on the furthermost corner of our living room sofa closest to our fireplace mantle that held our tiny Black and White.

With after-school parents away providing for the "roof over our heads", a brother once noticed and immediately forgotten, a house blissfully silent but for melodic tones of dialogue, I was left to catalog the person I wanted to become. (Holly's wonderful shaker patterns found here!)

I wanted to become Jeanne Crain. I wanted to be plucky like her Ernestine in "Cheaper By the Dozen", and in love with William Holden just as her Margie would be, and most of all I wanted to be beautifully melancholy as her Margy in "State Fair", hopeful that spring would bring with it True Love.

Musical scores known by heart, I would dance my way around our furniture as graceful as any movie actress only to quickly reclaim my place when Jeanne Crain would speak her next line. I didn't want to miss a moment that I hadn't noticed before.

The thought never occurred to me that Jeanne Crain might be anything other than the characters she portrayed in my favorite films or that I would be setting myself apart from my peers by taking on her demeanor. I just knew that I wanted to be wholesome and kind and someone who was plucky enough to end up with the handsome leading man.

And I am happy to say, I am all of these things; and I did end up with someone who was looking for just those qualities.

 Thank you, Jeanne Crain!

Pattern for ant. Please do not Pin pattern on Pinterest