tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401947651046773052024-03-13T01:57:41.804-07:00Brandy Cupcakes Makes ThingsMy name is Brandy Cupcakes, and, I like to make things. And buy things made by other people too.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.comBlogger275125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-76584900272189330602018-02-07T10:26:00.002-08:002018-02-07T10:26:36.349-08:00A Little Bit Blue, A Little Bit BirdsWe've officially reached that part of an Iowa winter where we start asking ourselves(only half jokingly) why the heck we still live in this place. Everything is cold, dry, dusty, dull, and every shade of sad imaginable.<br />
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Yesterday, the sky was so pale it pretty much matched the snow. Even the sun was no match for the power of the great cold colorlessness. Kinda hard to feel anything but a little bit cranky, tired, and bored.</div>
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It is amazing what a little bit of color and few dozen big, majestic birds can do to lift the spirits though. We drove to the river this morning, with steaming cups of espresso spiked, blackberry hot chocolate and watched bald eagles, who were perched in the trees and diving and swooping over the river. Those big, beautiful bodies against a background of blue sky and puffy clouds was a soothing balm for our winter worn souls. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful blue sky. And the dam.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not an eagle, but still beautiful!</td></tr>
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Sometimes I really dislike the cyclical nature of small town living. Every year is marked by the same repetitive events. New event ventures often fail because people don't seem to like to stray outside of their annual schedules of events. I find myself dreading highly celebrated annual festivals and craft shows because they are just the same thing over and over year after year. However, I will NEVER get tired of these gorgeous creatures making their annual appearance. They mark the beginning of each new year, and are a signal that winter's days are numbered. They have a gracefulness and elegance that is mesmerizing, and they are capable of magically lifting your spirits when they lift their wings.</div>
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I could never get tired of that. </div>
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-29625401425684625082018-01-21T12:59:00.000-08:002018-01-21T12:59:05.072-08:00Hydrox's First Bread Loaf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, the first one he's made in front of me, at any rate. Milestone! </div>
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And then also this.<br />
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He wasn't born in a tuxedo for nothin'.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-24584591850753904202018-01-20T12:48:00.000-08:002018-01-20T12:48:52.170-08:00The Week In Pictures<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: 12px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 16px;">This month marks 15 years since I graduated high school. FIFTEEN YEARS. I think this means that I am officially an old and out of touch geezer?!</span><br />
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Maybe not quite yet. It does feel like some of my generation are starting to get there, though. Their eyes seem to become more and more critical of the younger generations with each year that passes. I see them complaining about "kids these days..." on Facebook and I'm just over here like, "Were you the least bit present during your own teenage/early adult years? Because you don't seem to remember them as well as I do, and I was only a bystander/onlooker..."</div>
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*sips Hot Cinnamon Sunset tea from prissy bone china tea cup while rolling eyes*</div>
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Any who, I graduated a semester early. </div>
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And I did not attend the graduation ceremony the following May. </div>
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Quietly rebellious. *winks*</div>
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I don’t know where I thought I would be in fifteen years, but I do know it wasn’t here. I was always an artist, and California or New York seemed like the places to be to pursue that career path. Definitely NOT here. </div>
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Here is probably a better place than I thought I would be, though. I’m sitting on the couch under a cotton quilt with a cup of hot chocolate tea(topped with marshmallows AND whipped cream!) listening to my oldest kid read the first Harry Potter book to the youngest as I sketch booth designs(for markets/shows) and we wait for their Dad to get home. I am warm, safe, comfortable, content and mentally healthy. I am pursuing my art at my own pace, on my own terms. I don't think I would have been strong enough to survive art school/the big city/new relationships had I made such a big leap straight out of high school. I was too mentally and emotionally frail, what with all my undiagnosed acronyms, emotional baggage and all. </div>
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Ultimately, it isn't really worth spending too much time thinking about. A hundred million different things could have happened. There's no way for me to know, 100%, what the "best" decisions at any given time were. Or are, for that matter. It was what it was and it is what it is. </div>
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I'm still hoping to make it to California and New York for art purposes though. I don't feel like I am "there" yet. But someday. </div>
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When I wasn't ruminating on the trajectory of the last fifteen years this past week, I was reading, stitching, planning out my booth for show season, receiving sweet art from sweet kids and watching over Hydrox Heartnose, our new kitty. He had been popping up in the yard for a month or so, and we initially thought he might belong to somebody in the neighborhood, but as the snow and cold crept in, it became obvious that nobody was caring for him. So we took him in a week and three days ago. It has been a bit of a transition period for him. He feels safe in the wood shop(an enclosed back porch attached to the house), so he's mostly been out there, but each day he stays in the house a little bit longer. Today is the first day he's been comfortable enough to actually snuggle up on the couch and sit awhile. He's usually always on the prowl. Progress! </div>
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He's gassy, he drools, His ears and tail are just a tad too long for his body, he climbs the trim on the walls/around the doors, he seems to know what "no" means but he just doesn't care. I think he's going to fit in just fine here. </div>
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And we're pretty excited to have his stank butt hanging around, since our beloved fluff puff Jigglypuff passed away last summer. </div>
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All in all, it has been a pretty lovely week. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Current reading list. I'm not very good at reading just one book at a time. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8v2q89_ugT2Hlp1LpfIU8KdYInT6M6ApQTLDEkC6V2gbXF4ZAlAjSX4hFTlPCOWtSckD1OJkMjJz_27Ov1wuvX5IycT_jqL5-5N1vNyK-kq7OEBmjbUFtCl9SLSbBYjuL7X5xbdVth8/s1600/IMG_0595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8v2q89_ugT2Hlp1LpfIU8KdYInT6M6ApQTLDEkC6V2gbXF4ZAlAjSX4hFTlPCOWtSckD1OJkMjJz_27Ov1wuvX5IycT_jqL5-5N1vNyK-kq7OEBmjbUFtCl9SLSbBYjuL7X5xbdVth8/s640/IMG_0595.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Un unfinished sketch. Because they're all always unfinished. How I roll. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sg0hiGiMzwIk5z0YbkxtSOf7HMaoQz4w6_A4x8kWp2ZzQ0-UQC10qRB0-iHrL34TsOt2S84UqBcKz-jm9oT4cUqSkgJA8VMY5Wz6WcTdc-pMn_Gzi3X7HNk7Bo7juwYJBzLaCa8haLs/s1600/IMG_0602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sg0hiGiMzwIk5z0YbkxtSOf7HMaoQz4w6_A4x8kWp2ZzQ0-UQC10qRB0-iHrL34TsOt2S84UqBcKz-jm9oT4cUqSkgJA8VMY5Wz6WcTdc-pMn_Gzi3X7HNk7Bo7juwYJBzLaCa8haLs/s640/IMG_0602.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little cat skull WIP.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG46Oy3zgCdMnFxUAlkDDwNfC2UBfkUASgjaXgqRtsZpoWA38xxgFVAympxlnlGwJ5dz_84vXntgup07AAUgBEUWo-Oa2aTVrEg5lHbPXEg8H_p8lRZa9GYx0nGf42yNVTrVNGK8CCbE/s1600/IMG_0604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieG46Oy3zgCdMnFxUAlkDDwNfC2UBfkUASgjaXgqRtsZpoWA38xxgFVAympxlnlGwJ5dz_84vXntgup07AAUgBEUWo-Oa2aTVrEg5lHbPXEg8H_p8lRZa9GYx0nGf42yNVTrVNGK8CCbE/s640/IMG_0604.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished up this French knot piece, just need to stitch up the back. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0hoQprT9shg_xL3Mxti9YHXgBctrV8XwpGwrr2Hf6mB7yfqEKeIy3o8fxOkzgMkRR619f3Ahag1UMV0CNtmOmbmQXHa8znbxaqH6wMwWP15_R19IVo7TvAJgC1BmP3sqyQcLxOQ2Svo/s1600/IMG_0617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0hoQprT9shg_xL3Mxti9YHXgBctrV8XwpGwrr2Hf6mB7yfqEKeIy3o8fxOkzgMkRR619f3Ahag1UMV0CNtmOmbmQXHa8znbxaqH6wMwWP15_R19IVo7TvAJgC1BmP3sqyQcLxOQ2Svo/s640/IMG_0617.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids made me this cool book of drawings and uplifting comments. Is this not the cutest?! They put aside their usual bickering and worked together to surprise me with this handmade gem. I am so touched and impressed. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5M0-ga0KHg-e5fLEFbRxkiq7e0fNGags5Ua2aCll146uF9vAgaqslr_hqXuvCnK0I1g9Zhq5FmHbuEFEsncMALGxT7xl-r_iTODGL-h5hUGVbc0uknH1KzaCHg8_dyOv4ehyphenhyphenSI641-c/s1600/IMG_0627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5M0-ga0KHg-e5fLEFbRxkiq7e0fNGags5Ua2aCll146uF9vAgaqslr_hqXuvCnK0I1g9Zhq5FmHbuEFEsncMALGxT7xl-r_iTODGL-h5hUGVbc0uknH1KzaCHg8_dyOv4ehyphenhyphenSI641-c/s640/IMG_0627.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I crocheted a blankie for the new sibling of a couple of kids I teach at school. They brought me some paintings and a sweet note from their momma on the back of one to thank me. I may or may not have cried a little in the car after school...<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<b>AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT:</b></div>
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<b>A series of artistic portraits of Hydrox Heartnose(Or, "Can you just, no, ok, I mean if you could just hold still for a moment, that would be great-ope, nope, that's a little too close, back it up, not that far though, oh I give up! Wait-yes! That's it! Thank you Kitty Meow Meow!!! Thank you!")</b></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhN76yrNfso793kcAXwenHI-6BZLP-96eVIq0lH_ughlDkqoaygnkQF6DyhjoedNxQil4WYZcOuFYlo6oM8pB1_s83H652uOD379L5axjk0ENSrU4hxjcUipvt4n81obAtnLJVwL5k5E/s1600/IMG_0633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhN76yrNfso793kcAXwenHI-6BZLP-96eVIq0lH_ughlDkqoaygnkQF6DyhjoedNxQil4WYZcOuFYlo6oM8pB1_s83H652uOD379L5axjk0ENSrU4hxjcUipvt4n81obAtnLJVwL5k5E/s640/IMG_0633.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
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And then, for just the briefest minute, he finally curled up right beside me. My heart melted like hot wax, I tell you. He was comfortable enough to fall asleep.</div>
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But only for a minute. Then he remembered to wake up and be on alert.</div>
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I look forward to the day when he feels comfortable enough to nap in the same room as us. The vet told us he's about a year old, and already neutered. So who knows how long he had been on the street, or what disappointment and distrust humans have previously sowed in him. It will take some time for him to realize that we love him. </div>
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And we do love him already. I mean, just look at the mug on that goofy little cookie. And those sweet little socks. How could we not love him?!</div>
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I apologize in advance for the copious amount of cat photos that are about to hit this blog... </div>
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Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-6017840267801337232018-01-01T18:20:00.000-08:002018-01-01T18:31:57.703-08:00Has It Really Almost Been A Whole Year?!Yes. Yes it has.<br />
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Yikes. But, so much has happened in that year! I was busy! Doing the things, and like and as such!<br />
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When you're a kid, a year feels like FOR. EV. UH. And then you grow up and have your own kids and good Lord is it already a new year?! I'm still trying to stop writing 2015 on my checks...<br />
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In all seriousness though, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I know this time of year is not fun or pleasant or hopeful for some people, and those people have been on my mind a lot over the past few days. As some people people celebrate the amazing 2017 they have had and excitedly ring in 2018, other people feel like they are jumping out of one personal dumpster fire and into another. It can be hard to watch other people celebrate the gifts the universe has bestowed upon them when you feel like the universe has been using you as its own personal toilet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But hey, if you are one of those people, you should know that you aren't alone. I’ve been there too. Last year, I was really REALLY there. I wasn’t sure I could survive another year. I was in physical, mental, emotional and spiritual pain that caused me so much aguish, I wasn’t sure that I could make it through each new day, let alone a whole year. Seeing others celebrate their victories and accomplishments and joys left me feeling bitter and hollow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over the course of the year though, things started to change. Despite the dumpster fire shit storm fiery car wreck over a cliff that has been America in so many ways this past year, I had a really positive, enlightening and love filled year. Some of this was due to happy surprises that were unexpectedly dumped in my lap, and some of it was due to conscious changes that I made in how I live my life. Over this past year I really started to examine where I was investing my energy, and what the returns were on those investments, and I realized that I was wasting too much time and energy on endeavors that weren’t bringing me, or anyone else in the world, any joy or positive growth or personal contentment, so I made adjustments. These adjustments, in addition to some diet adjustments(I discovered that gluten in not a friend of mine. So much so that ingesting it was causing me severe physical pain, and depression. But that’s a blog post for another day) have had an unexpectedly invigorating impact on my mental, physical and spiritual health. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So though I don’t make New Year’s resolutions(because they feel too much like rules and I DON'T NEED YOUR RULES MOM! Even though, I am Mom, that's my name now, I don't remember what my old one was.)I do resolve to continue to pursue these avenues of energy investment in order to feed and nourish my mind, body and soul. I share them, well, just to share. Because I enjoy when other people share their stories with me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;"><b>Grow green things year round</b></span>: I have made a really conscious effort to keep green things alive this winter, as a friend gave me a lemon tree this past summer, that had to come indoors once frost hit the area, and I desperately did not want to disappoint her by killing off her gift to me. I have never had much success with indoor plants, and did not expect this lemon tree to do much of anything, but by god, the precious little thing has lemons on it, and I can’t tell you how magical that feels to hold a growing lemon in your hand when wind chills are thirty below zero outside! And while removing gluten from my diet has had a significant positive impact on my mental health, there is still a bit of sadness tinged cabin fever that comes with snow and cold that is noticeably lessened by having a bit of living green mementos of summer hanging about the house. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: purple; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">“If you wish to make anything grow, you must understand it, and understand it in a very real sense. 'Green fingers' are a fact, and a mystery only to the unpracticed. But green fingers are the extensions of a verdant heart.”-Russel Page</span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #38761d;"><b style="background-color: white;">Make things</b></span>: This seems like an obvious thing, I suppose, since I am, in fact, an artist and by nature that occupation typically requires usage of the hands to make things(with the exceptions of some very unique cases), but even as a person who sacrifices sleep in order to work her craft, I still spend too much time browsing social media, and addicted to the physical act of eating. And while I make my money by making art, I frequently get so caught up in the business aspect of making art that I forget to take time to make other things that are of a more practical value. Right now, my sewing machine is dusty, and the chisels I bought to learn to carve wood with have long since been swallowed up by the cavernous depths of the junk cabinets in my kitchen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Recently the husband and I finally got around to upcycling some kitchen hardware that my brother had given us, and some lumber scraps, into jewelry/kitchen towel hangers, and it felt so good to make something that served a practical purpose!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: purple; color: purple; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="background-color: white;">"People who buy things are suckers"-Ron Swanson</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am also currently crocheting slip covers for a pair of unattractive, utilitarian storage ottomans that we’ve had for a few years(That’s the kind of furniture you buy when you have a maniacally destructive two year old!), using a bunch of cotton scrap yarn, and honestly it just feels so good to see this little project come together, knowing that it will bring coziness and cheerfulness to our everyday environment, while also still being thrifty with our pennies. There's a real sense of value and self worth that comes from making things for yourself. That's part of why I volunteer teach kids art, because learning to make things gives them(well, let's be honest, <i>some</i> of them) such a sense of empowerment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;"><b>Do with less so that others might have more</b></span>: When I was a young woman, I was very much into acquiring “stuff”. Some of that was due to undiagnosed and untreated borderline personality disorder(impulsive behaviors can function as coping mechanisms in BPD patients, for me personally, binge eating and shopping have historically been the impulses I struggle with most), and some of it was this subconscious belief that acquiring things was better than acquiring people because things would never hurt me or let me down. At some point it morphed into thinking that my things made me more interesting, sophisticated and attractive than other people. My things were the proof that I(or alternately my partner) were hard working, successful people. We DESERVED our things. If other people didn’t have the things we had, it was because they weren’t working hard enough, or were making poor decisions, or in one way or another just weren’t as deserving as us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then life handed me an unfortunate obstacle and took me down a peg. And then another, and another, and another. And I began to realize that maybe life wasn’t the easy formula to the American Dream that I thought it was. And my stuff held no value compared to health insurance for my children or a job opportunity for a recently unexpectedly unemployed husband, and no meaning when compared to the sudden death of a loved one. I realized that my stuff, in the end, wasn’t really even mine, but only mine for a time. You can’t take it with you, as the saying goes. And so I went from believing that everything I had belonged to me by right, to realizing that almost nothing really belongs to me, when I really think about it, and anything that does could easily and swiftly be taken away at any moment. So why cling to all this stuff and things, then? If my family's basic needs are met, then that is all we really need to be contented and comfortable, so why continue to hoard stuff and things when there are plenty of other people in the world who are doing without basic necessities? A stack of expensive designer shoes in my closet feels obscene when there are people in the world going for days without meals, shelter, water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Does that mean that we never treat ourselves to items that are outside our temporal needs? No, of course not. It just means that when people are in need, we do what we can to help them. We don’t stop to sift through their entire life’s history to determine whether or not they deserve our help based on how they vote, or where they live or the number of “bad” decisions they have made versus the number of “good", we just do our best to help them, and we value helping other people more than we value accruing an arsenal of material items for ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: purple; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>When you have more than you need, build a bigger table, not a higher fence.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #38761d;"><b>Simplify your life</b></span>: In America, we suffer a constant hunger for more, more MORE! More excitement, more stimulation, more news, more stuff, more speed, more prestige, more content, more accolades, more money, more food, just...more everything! It is absolutely overwhelming and exhausting at times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For example, sometimes I go to the grocery store and stand in the oil aisle staring at olive oil bottles for 20 minutes because I literally don’t know which of the 30 different types is “the best”, and I also can’t decide which “best” is the “best”. Best price per ounce? Best type of bottle for keeping the product freshest the longest? Best place of origin? Which "best" do I go with? And then I just end up with coconut oil anyway because there’s only two or three brands of that to choose from.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that’s just the olive oil. It gets worse when you have to make big decisions like buying a house or a car, or insurance for those things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If I am going to be faced with those kids of time consuming decisions outside my home, then I definitely don’t want to lose twenty minutes of my life each morning trying to determine what shoes go with what outfit, or two hours of my life dusting all of my stuff each week, or an hour each day hollering at the kids to pick up their ridiculous number of toys. I don’t want to be a slave to decisions and things that don’t really matter in the long run or the grand scheme of things. All of that time adds up, and there are other things that I can do with it. I’m much happier, and much more productive when I keep our routines, our belongings, our wardrobes, and our home environment on the simple side. And I’m not the only one. It works for the whole family. So long as our needs are met, we are genuinely happier with LESS. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">“Be as simple as you can be; you will be astonished to see how uncomplicated and happy your life can become.”-Paramahansa </span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yoganandya</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #38761d;"><b style="background-color: white;">Do more kind things for other people without expectation of reciprocation and do them without the guaranteed social media hearts and likes that filming yourself doing an act of kindness provides</b></span><span style="background-color: white;">:</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> It is true, we are living in some dark and scary times, and people desperately need good news, but can we maybe start hearing about acts of kindness from the people who benefitted from them rather than the people who provided them? Can we please stop exploiting another person’s financial or emotional anguish for the sake of our own social media standing? If you do kind things only for the sake of the camera, are you really all that kind or are you just in it for the personal marketing? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: purple; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>‘'Like most of the superficially decent things I do in life, my motivation was to impress women more than to aid the suffering.'’-Russell Brand</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Social media makes it so easy for us to take our good deeds and turn them into public monuments to how charitable and kind we are, but it doesn’t challenge us to examine our intentions when do this. Are we posting this because we were unexpectedly blessed when we blessed somebody else, and we want to share that experience with people we love? Or because we are so excited about a particular opportunity for giving that we want to share with those we love so that they might participate too? Or are we posting it because we want to be publicly commended and we recognize the inherent theatrical and emotional value of giving a suffering human being some unexpected relief? There's a big difference between filming your kids' reaction to an unexpected Christmas puppy and filming a hungry, homeless man walking barefoot down the road, then filming yourself buying him shoes, then filming his reaction to you giving him the shoes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> While some would argue that it doesn’t matter WHY the good deed happened, just that it did happen, I find myself disturbed by the idea of a world where people only treat each other kindly in order to achieve social media points. (And yes, I have totally seen the "Nosedive" episode of Black Mirror. If YOU haven't, what are you waiting for?! That series is fantastic!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When you give of yourself without fanfare or expectation, you remove the energy that dissection of the deed afterward requires. You give, and then move on, as opposed to give, and then anxiously wait to see what kind of response you get, so you can then expend more energy by responding to the responses. In other words, doing kind things for others without expectation of reciprocation or improved social standing is really just anther way of simplifying. You conserve your various types of energy, because you do not expect a return on your investment for yourself, and therefore you do not waste any energy trying to determine if you have received it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That being said, there is a difference between kindness and letting yourself be used and abused. You have to make sure that you are intentionally giving, rather than being taken from and convinced that the pillaging of your resources is actually you being generous. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It took me awhile to effectively sort out the difference between the two. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like, 30+ years. Which is a big part of why this new year is so much more hopeful for me than the last one was, and why I want to impress upon you that even if things feel super sucky for you right now, things can almost always change, in some way or another. I was once so utterly hopeless, that it was impossible to even imagine being so hopeful as I am now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Please, don’t lose hope. And please don’t let yourself get bogged down by comparisons of your life’s journey to anybody else’s. What works for me might not work for you. These things that have helped me are just that-things that have helped ME. I share them because they’ve had a positive impact on my life, and maybe they’ll help somebody else as they journey along their own path to peacefulness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or, ya know, maybe I’m a fruitcake. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or maybe, I don’t even actually exist. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe this is all just a Black Mirror style simulation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who the hell knows? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Simulation or not, though, if you are not having a happy new year, I send love and peace and strength and light your way, and I hope this season of your life will soon give way to one that wraps you in joy and floods your spirit with hopefulness and happiness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here’s to a new year, may it be full of profound growth, peace, meaningfulness and contentment for us all. </span></div>
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Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-27457150479469409832017-02-09T10:34:00.003-08:002017-02-09T10:34:32.605-08:00Stitching For My SanityWellllll....<br />
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It has been QUITE the winter, hasn't it?!<br />
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The world is on fire outside my window, but I'm still in here cleaning up cat puke, packing my kid's school lunches, and trying to convince the kids I teach at school, one afternoon each week, that art is still not only a "thing", but an important thing.<br />
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Meanwhile, I find myself quietly questioning my own work and whether or not it is all a waste of time at this point. Should I be focusing my energy in other directions? More important directions? Or is playing the part you've been given the most important action you can take?<br />
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And when I'm not being devoured by the news, parenting, the historical biographies I have recently become obsessed with, or, you know, an existential crisis, I am elbow deep in fibers. Knitting, spinning, and more often, crochet. Yarn work has become my winter sanity saver, since I can't be in my garden.<br />
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So today I'm sharing a few of the things I've made over the past couple months, in vain attempts to beat back the paralyzing grip of anxiety.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-EQaTsCFASuopvHdlL8gOO6dqbAOcuUzovzZTxvWJ-MYOzSx4p67WxPu1r-PZfxF8URtdfkFkNVqPvrXDrbj4Ms6-YA4GbFtOyaov5WInKF6TJY_E5o84QayAZ1kkFg4HZqPm0CoVP0/s1600/IMG_3175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-EQaTsCFASuopvHdlL8gOO6dqbAOcuUzovzZTxvWJ-MYOzSx4p67WxPu1r-PZfxF8URtdfkFkNVqPvrXDrbj4Ms6-YA4GbFtOyaov5WInKF6TJY_E5o84QayAZ1kkFg4HZqPm0CoVP0/s640/IMG_3175.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEfTZFH13S9Vflyt-l7i8Y49mhngC5s3zppXRev4eWoiziEBngfxNiFyt4b-6ZhzJ_Qw1BKlW4QntsEqXNzS3qd-GxcT-cBbOUC23LWON0w_ms-wZJP6edkkqp2QyN3CyXQvQ1EyOTgA/s1600/IMG_3176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEfTZFH13S9Vflyt-l7i8Y49mhngC5s3zppXRev4eWoiziEBngfxNiFyt4b-6ZhzJ_Qw1BKlW4QntsEqXNzS3qd-GxcT-cBbOUC23LWON0w_ms-wZJP6edkkqp2QyN3CyXQvQ1EyOTgA/s320/IMG_3176.jpg" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgbXU-0wTDdmb8OmBkKYwFGprGfI8UjglY-wXHoAIh8nG5p6ThkVspWioGBp7-6W9_yZ2YFlOYiYiR_5bm9KeT5q3q7occq3d6T9P5Y_SSZeNuxr_8emEMIIlnTUQ6v9X8Je36D7d7Wk/s1600/IMG_3178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgbXU-0wTDdmb8OmBkKYwFGprGfI8UjglY-wXHoAIh8nG5p6ThkVspWioGBp7-6W9_yZ2YFlOYiYiR_5bm9KeT5q3q7occq3d6T9P5Y_SSZeNuxr_8emEMIIlnTUQ6v9X8Je36D7d7Wk/s320/IMG_3178.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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This is a granny triangle shawl made with variegated cottons, plus a band of variegated acrylic scrap yarn. I used Morale Fiber's <a href="https://moralefiber.wordpress.com/2016/10/28/scrappy-granny-shawl-pattern/">pattern.</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWcS7mgEFIK4OG2EB9aDf1wEhTan4Pvd7Ur7OEoxgbZWP6URhShooats9RMOAkualZKZcNS7DraVv8HCJ7Tjld_lIqv2MemXfDRSpjiy7PDluqzuqSA5Be7wcB2WnxQD8DsG3hyphenhyphenMsNAo/s1600/IMG_3183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWcS7mgEFIK4OG2EB9aDf1wEhTan4Pvd7Ur7OEoxgbZWP6URhShooats9RMOAkualZKZcNS7DraVv8HCJ7Tjld_lIqv2MemXfDRSpjiy7PDluqzuqSA5Be7wcB2WnxQD8DsG3hyphenhyphenMsNAo/s640/IMG_3183.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM669a9SK_GsKPvU8VDicq0jC46us7LZuteXKC0nvnmvsLCAqfkuADsLJoraiQD2lvvCczVvpj_P5F48EyYmnjP9tjDqgNuM0ky7vXLDkGzAyswfFqp-QtoEP5gT2t73Teq05QcFwlNIw/s1600/IMG_3187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM669a9SK_GsKPvU8VDicq0jC46us7LZuteXKC0nvnmvsLCAqfkuADsLJoraiQD2lvvCczVvpj_P5F48EyYmnjP9tjDqgNuM0ky7vXLDkGzAyswfFqp-QtoEP5gT2t73Teq05QcFwlNIw/s640/IMG_3187.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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This is a granny square cocoon shrug made from a nice, neutral color cotton. Neutral color?! ME?! Shocking, I know. I didn't use any specific pattern for this. You just make a square, fold and hem it to create the sleeves. But if you really want a pattern, you can search etsy and find quite a few.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxkvOuvbRk1Vs-W2WnWXr0ix7Qkz4rKkSUPKNHf0sYWmaqYHLLTZ9aTeZLnKYTvUJ6B8FawZFN2DSq7bVh2seVM5XEXOuGaOBLaZvAYfZxlewtZTe13PJKMv0KycLnUKpbUgvPfuua4s/s1600/IMG_3192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxkvOuvbRk1Vs-W2WnWXr0ix7Qkz4rKkSUPKNHf0sYWmaqYHLLTZ9aTeZLnKYTvUJ6B8FawZFN2DSq7bVh2seVM5XEXOuGaOBLaZvAYfZxlewtZTe13PJKMv0KycLnUKpbUgvPfuua4s/s640/IMG_3192.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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This little shrug is just a nice crocheted rectangle of triple strands of cotton which create a nice ombre effect. My mom had sent over a crochet flower a while back, and after noticing that it matched this little piece, I turned it into a shawl pin. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6E4NWexkYlXt3WvYyYpJ-HpokG1p-osgc8ntIzwRwmDniKE8k61Us2HJVvZw7DaLSGSrXZoErylLcg3D5mz3sF-EcC0Z1EJRNI8cbdoM6IReeaEqxlnaNeAC56ciE-c74wyVrStfXSvY/s1600/IMG_3204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6E4NWexkYlXt3WvYyYpJ-HpokG1p-osgc8ntIzwRwmDniKE8k61Us2HJVvZw7DaLSGSrXZoErylLcg3D5mz3sF-EcC0Z1EJRNI8cbdoM6IReeaEqxlnaNeAC56ciE-c74wyVrStfXSvY/s640/IMG_3204.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">This is the granny triangle, without fringe, crocheted in triple stands of size 10 crochet thread. For each band of color, I carried ecru and mint thread, plus a third color. </span></div>
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This is just a scrap shawl, but honestly I think scrap shawls are my favorite projects, because my stash is always rainbow colored, so my stash projects always look like rejects from a community theatre production of <i>Joseph and the Amazing, Technicolor Dream Coat</i>. Or, <i>Jesus Christ Superstar</i>. Which is totally fine by me, man. </div>
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Little cotton hats that I donated for children Christmas boxes. </div>
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And I made my first pair of arm warmers! Which were super easy to make, just a rectangle stitched together at the sides with a hole left for the thumb, but I'm still excited, because up until this winter, I didn't even think I was capable of making any of this stuff. I didn't think I could follow a pattern, or count rows or stitches. There was a mental block there that I really had to go out of my way to defeat.</div>
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I am an artist, through and through, but it does feel really, really good to be able to make practical, useful things too. I've got my eyes on several different charities that accept these types of handmade items for babies, veterans, children, battered women and refugees, but I don't feel like my stitching(and tail weaving) is quite up to the standards that giving them to other people would require(Except for the hats. I'm pretty comfortable with that particular pattern). I mean, I don't want to send shoddy work out into the world, right? But, I'm getting there. And pretty quickly too, thanks to all the anxiety causing upheaval currently happening around the world. </div>
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So for now, since I, insignificant little human, can't offer the madness of the world a giant cure, I keep on stitching, in hopes of keeping bodies warm, and I keep on making art, in hopes of keeping souls warm. </div>
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-83706392795149717712016-12-04T12:27:00.001-08:002016-12-04T12:27:06.938-08:00Roses In The SnowWe had our first snow of the season, and I'm obsessed with the cold and colorless contrast of it against my still very much alive and colorful rose bushes.<br />
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Also, I keep hearing Bette Midler's song "The Rose"playing on repeat in muh brain.<br />
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I am filled with such beautiful sadness when I see these ladies start to go. I love these roses. They have been the most aggravating, obnoxious, surprising and gorgeous plants I have ever grown. Each fall as snowy weather approaches, I find myself wondering if these prissy beauties will make it through the winter and return to their former glory the following spring. So far, each one has persevered, though it has been a harder row to hoe for some than it has been for others. Half of them appeared dead well into Spring this year, but made Lazarus like comebacks by Summer. One even came back a deep red climber, whereas it has been a coral colored Marmalade Skies rose when first planted.<br />
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If I had it to do over, I don't think I would mess with ornamental roses. I'd use the space for something less finicky and more edible, that really earns it keep.<br />
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On the other hand, I don't think I have ever grown anything which has beaten me upside the head with beauty and scent and wonder until I had absolutely no choice but to appreciate it's temperamental nature as a part of it's unique and worthwhile thumbprint on the earth. Because if we're being honest, you gotta admit, roses just make a person happy. And bees and butterflies and Japanese beetles too.<br />
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So today I am admiring my ladies in their new coats, and bidding them sweet dreams as they prepare to enter their well earned states of winter slumber.<br />
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Here's hoping they(and I!) will awaken next Spring with all the tenacity and vigor that surviving another Iowa winter brings.<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-33409164660624458942016-08-01T07:23:00.001-07:002016-08-01T07:28:55.675-07:00Happy Braided Textile NecklacesI keep saying I'm going to start doing craft/art shows agains, but life just keeps getting in the way. I'm cool with that. I'll go back to full time creating someday. It is hard to stay focused on much of anything while my son is at the age he is at, so I just keep making things and putting them in storage until "someday" arrives.<br />
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Lately I've been working on some braided textile necklaces. I made one for myself on a whim one day-<br />
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And I liked wearing it so much that I started making extras to add to my etsy shop and take to shows. Only I haven't done either of those things yet. Soon.<br />
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I like these pieces because they are so easy to wear. Fabric makes them soft, lightweight and flexible yet durable-perfect for traveling or when you have a kid who pulls at your jewelry. I like that they can contain so much color yet not come off as obnoxious too. Because sometimes I want something really bright, but uncomplicated, that I can just throw on before heading out the door.<br />
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These are also great for layering. You can add twice as much color for much less weight than when layering chunky metal or beaded pieces.<br />
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I've got plenty of ideas for braided head pieces and bracelets as well, but those are probably going to exist only in sketch books for awhile. I'm currently spending as much time on my herb garden and putting up fresh herbs and produce for the winter as I can. Oh and there's all the end of summer and back to school fun stuff with the kids too.<br />
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Although I have to say, you know you're a parent when your mental image of summer goes from being one of sweets and splashing and sunshine to one of survival. Ha. I kid. But seriously.<br />
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Braided necklaces. Way cool.<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-71087892493463292642016-07-31T21:14:00.000-07:002016-08-01T08:28:22.312-07:00The Week In Pictures-When Depression StrikesThis past week has been one of restoration and taking it slow-bouts of deep borderline personality disorder depression tend to have that affect on me.<br />
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I've learned, as I've grown older, that when depression strikes me, the best thing for <i>me</i>, personally(I can't tell you what's best for you-I'm no doctor, yo) is to just let go of all the things that can wait and, as the Beatles would say, let it be. I get through bouts much more quickly if I just let go of any expectations for the foreseeable future and just let myself work through it without putting any extra pressure on myself. Sometimes that means I sleep more than usual. Sometimes it means I get lost in books, I let the housework go, I spend more time outside or I eat a bunch of cake and drink a bunch of tea and watch a bunch of movies with my kids.<br />
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Depression flicks a switch in my body that makes me unbearably weak. I cave under the weight of my own self hatred. One week I was doing an hour and a half of the strongest yoga I've practiced yet, almost every night. The next week(this past week), I tried downward dog and crumbled to the earth in a sad heap, because I just could not hold myself up. I don't pretend to fully understand the mechanics of my disorder. And I don't beat myself up over it anymore. The depression goes away much more quickly if I just work around it and do what I can, rather than fight it with strategies that often make me feel even worse because I can't execute them in a manner that magically makes the depression flee.<br />
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So this past week, when depression sank her sleek, icy claws into my spine, I rolled with her. A few nights I couldn't sleep, so I binge watched season 3 of <i>Parks and Recreation</i>, which always makes me laugh. A few nights I went to bed at nine and woke up at seven with the kids, which is more sleep than I usually feel is respectable for a crazy, obsessed artist. One morning I was too exhausted to bake breakfast, so the kids had leftover chocolate cake. <b>They were not upset by this</b>. I even managed to paint the living room, I just did it so slowly, it was like something out of a lame prank pulling television show. Three walls literally took me all day. I would paint a quarter of a wall then sit down and watch part of season three of <i>Justified</i>, or read the next chapter of <i>An Echo In The Bone</i>(Outlander series), then get up and paint the next portion. My kids were at their grandma's house, so I had the luxury of being able to take all day. I didn't spend any time feeling bad about the molasses dripping pace or the intense fatigue, I just held on and went for the slooooooooowwwwww ride. And with lots of meditation, cuddles from my kids, chocolate, tea, and nature it was over almost as soon as it began. And I'm still here. And we all survived just fine.<br />
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In fact, my daughter commented at one point, "Daddy bought us a cake instead of you baking it because you're extra tired and sad right now, right?" And she said this as if it were no big thing, as if I wasn't baking it because I had a cold, or a migraine or the flu. And honestly, I think that's great. I shed tears at that observation, because it means my kid, who can't yet really fully understand depression(and we have talked about it at length), can at least understand that it is as normal a part of life as any other malady, and that the best course of action when dealing with someone who has depression, is just acceptance and love. Maybe she can't understand why I have this thing I have to deal with, but she can understand what having a bad cold is like, how it comes out of nowhere and makes her weak and not herself, and because she understands that, she can accept that depression is something that I can't help, or fully understand myself.<br />
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So here are a few snapshots from this week. I chose only happy ones, because despite this being a week of depression, there was much beauty and love and happiness to be found.<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I spent last weekend binge watching </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Game of Thrones,</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> so I had to start the week off by sketching something cute and sweet to try and shake off all the icky feels that </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Game of Thrones </i><span style="text-align: justify;">always gives me. </span><br />
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Is there any show less pleasant to binge watch?! So much hatred and violence and murder. Ugh. <i>Outlander</i>(my favorite!) can be equally as violent, but at least you have the underlying love story of Claire and Jamie to make you feel warm and fuzzies, in your belly. </div>
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I found these cute ice cream cone pens in the back to school section at Target. I know they are Chinese plastic junk, but I fell victim to their shiny, candy colored cuteness. I'm not proud.<br />
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I will keep them forever and refill them, though.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">This little spider hitchhiked in on the mint I picked one morning. I joked that she was my doppleganger-so white she's translucent with a big ole booty. </span></div>
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My herbs have been a great comfort to me during times of depression. They smell wonderful in the garden, especially after it rains, and they give me something very methodical to do with my hands, a task that I don't have to think much about but can always feel good about when I have completed it. As I sort my dried herbs into their respective glass jars, I think of the warm tisanes to come and the comfort they provide, and I am granted peace and happiness and joy. </div>
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A friend told me that she had learned in an Indigenous Peoples class, that seeing a white spider means that goodness is coming, packaged in chaos. I find this terribly beautiful, and completely appropriate for my life. It also made me glad that I had returned the little lady to her residence in the mint patch.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KqvZNfHB-j4blOV025W-f5zQpS3sDvR-83SKKhyP5bcIznuiBo_X8qqU8MMzhczXxPYa9rBJebTOQ2_itjKEXXSk9lxa8AmDOWMGMMPrt4wTmAdi7MApDO958vWtsKy4fNNpsnFX_NY/s1600/IMG_7269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KqvZNfHB-j4blOV025W-f5zQpS3sDvR-83SKKhyP5bcIznuiBo_X8qqU8MMzhczXxPYa9rBJebTOQ2_itjKEXXSk9lxa8AmDOWMGMMPrt4wTmAdi7MApDO958vWtsKy4fNNpsnFX_NY/s640/IMG_7269.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Is there anything that sprinkles can't make just a little bit better?</div>
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My kids don't seem to think so. </div>
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These banana walnut chocolate chip coconut gluten free muffins didn't have enough crap in them, so the kids demanded sprinkles. I admit, they made everybody smile. </div>
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I drink lots of tea and tisanes when I'm depressed. Partially for the uplifting and soothing effects of herbs and honey and steam, and partially for the chance to use all my shiny, happy tea cups and tea pots. They are good reminders that there is silliness and color and joy to be found, even in the dark depths of depression. I try to surround myself with bright, happy things and colors, because my happy places are alternately super gaudy or super natural. I'm a libra. We're all about balance. Ha.<br />
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Cheesy french toast and turmeric spiced broccoli made me feel a little less guilt about all the chocolate and cake.<br />
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Sunday is Goodwill day. </div>
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Books are something I often don't take time for these days, so when I'm experiencing all encompassing darkness, and the fatigue that goes with it, I sometimes go buy books. If I can't get out of bed, I figure I might as well find something that I can do from there. </div>
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This week I found an extra super interesting stash of religious and philosophical texts. I think maybe someone must have been unloading their required readings from college courses. </div>
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How wonderful that so much education and enrichment can be had for less than a dollar a pop! </div>
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Sunrise and sunset, these things I take time out for on a daily basis They are constant and steady, and yet no two ever look alike. There is something very comforting and reassuring about that. </div>
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And my very best bet for getting through a bout of depression with as little damage and turmoil as possible? Hands down, it is nature. I live in a Mississippi River town, and though we make jokes a plenty about how dirty the muddy Miss is, I love the river. I love watching barges lock through the dam, I love hunting for rocks along the shore, I love examining the basic ecology of the river in depth and up close. I love picking up litter. I love it all.</div>
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Time stands still when you're listening to the waves lap against the sand or rocks, and the lazy shrieks of gulls or the brassy honking of geese. Especially when the river is high and particularly noisy-you can close your eyes and almost forget that you are sitting in little ole Iowa(or Illinois), and not on some exotic coastal beach a thousand miles away. It really is wonderful.<br />
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So I gathered up all the energy I could muster, and I went to the river with my little family this weekend. And those last little fingernails of depression reluctantly broke off, skittered down my spine, fell into the waves and rolled away from me, like so many tiny bits of broken shells and rock, dancing in the water as it crashed around my legs and feet.<br />
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I always bring a few small rocks home with me. They are beautiful reminders of where I've been, and how sometimes being lost and tumbled in the waves polishes out your sharpest edges and can make you even more beautiful, strong and accessible than you were before you were submerged in the chaos.<br />
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Depression is no joke, in any form. And though I wouldn't wish the symptoms of borderline personality disorder on anyone, I sometimes think that I am lucky to experience the all consuming, viciously dark and scary lows that I do, because it makes me appreciate and treasure the simple beauty of life and love and why all the more when I finally come into the light.<br />
<br />
And mercifully, thus far, I have always made it back into the light.<br />
<br />
<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-44471749028345533052016-07-26T21:01:00.001-07:002016-07-26T21:01:46.730-07:00That Time I Lost My Kid And Felt Like The Worst Parent In The WorldFair warning: This post is words. Lots of words. Not many pictures.<br />
<br />
Or, not any pictures at all. None. Zip. Zilch.<br />
<br />
Ok, so for those of you who don't know, there's lots of thing that people don't warn you about before you have kids.<br />
<br />
Like, how good the odds are that you will end up with your child's poop, pee or vomit in your mouth at least once before they turn five. Or like, how the odds of your child ending up with their own poop in their mouth at least once before the age of five are even better. OR, like how there is a very good possibility that your child, yes YOU, person who is highly educated, successful with above average intelligence, YOUR CHILD is likely to paint on your walls with their own poop, at least once, before they turn five.<br />
<br />
For your sake, I hope they do it before the age of eighteen months, because it only gets bigger and stinkier from there, y'all.<br />
<br />
And then there are the <i>really</i> scary things people don't warn you about. Things like third degree perineal tears, postpartum depression and how you aren't allowed to make any mistakes as a parent.<br />
<br />
That last one, well that's a big one. Social media and the internet, I really feel, have created a generation of parents who are terrified of every decision they have to make in regards to parenting, because making a mistake these days isn't just a personal learning experience, or an opportunity to be an example for those around you to learn by. No, making a mistake these days sometimes creates an opportunity for the entire world to create a lynch mob and come after you in a matter of hours or in some cases even minutes. Even if <i>you</i> don't put your story out there, it is all too easy for someone else to do it for you. And it seems like <i>everybody</i> has a quick opinion these days. Not only that, but so many people feel it their <i>personal duty</i> to go a step further and not only <i>have</i> an opinion, but to make sure the person who inspires the opinion <i>knows</i> that they are inspiring opinions. And some truly industrious souls not only go out of their way to make their opinions about other people known, but they take the time to hand down virtual judgements, sentencing and punishments as well.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to share this story, knowing full well that in the eyes of some people, it will make me look like a bad parent. Like a parent who deserves to lose their kid because they are terribly neglectful. I'm going to share it because I know that's not true, and because maybe there are other parents out there who are beating themselves up tonight over close calls, near misses or even horrible mistakes. You need to know that you are not alone. We all make mistakes. I'm convinced that most of us probably aren't even fully aware of just how many we actually make, and the fact that any kid makes it to adulthood is a miracle. Truly.<br />
<br />
I couldn't sleep last night after watching the DNC coverage, so about midnight, I started combining paint remnants into a single can so I could begin painting the tannish colored walls of my living room. I'm an enormously paranoid person, and I have OCD, so this was a slow process(once you add it in, you can't take it out man!), adding yellow to blue a little at a time, and then a shade of brown and peach until I arrived at a green I liked. Around 2 a.m. I had this conversation with myself:<br />
<br />
"What THE HELL are you doing? I mean, really, it is 2 a.m. And you're mixing paint. The kids will be up in like, four hours. You're gonna be so damn tired..."<br />
<br />
"I know, I know. What's new? But, I just can't look at those walls anymore! So uninspiring."<br />
<br />
"If you go to sleep, YOU WON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT THEM!"<br />
<br />
"Ugh, why are you always yelling at me? Lame."<br />
<br />
"Look, ok, I can compromise. Paint a big swatch and then let's meditate and go to sleep."<br />
<br />
"Oh alright. But I'm doing it under protest."<br />
<br />
So I painted my swatch and meditated and finally fell asleep.<br />
<br />
My three year old was up before the sun.<br />
<br />
He was pissy. I was pissy. Then the seven year old came downstairs and the three year old made her pissy which made me even more pissy, so we were all thoroughly pissy until nap time.<br />
<br />
Naps did little to help defuse the pissiness. At that point I had had enough. It was time for cookies. Because dammit, when everybody is pissy, cookies and sprinkles never fail to make things better.<br />
<br />
So we made cookies. And everybody was magically happier!<br />
<br />
And then the three year old peed on the potty, and I mean literally ON the potty-it was like watching a monkey with a fire hose-that shizz was going everywhere, but I didn't care that I had to clean it up because he's actually trying and that's a big milestone!<br />
<br />
This is how the day went on, just the normal ebb and flow of emotions and events that any stay at home mom experiences during summer break with more than one child-small moments of misery(tantrums and fighting) mixed with victory and joy(all the other stuff).<br />
<br />
I've been doing a major possession de-stash over the last couple months(goal is 75% of our possessions to local charities), and was in the middle of cleaning out our small appliance cabinet when their dad decided to go to the library. He left and called me a few minutes later to ask if I wanted to read the next installment of the Outlander series. I said yes and walked from the kitchen to the dining room with the phone in one hand and a book that needed to be put away in the other. I noticed my son trying to put my tall, back rubber boots on.<br />
<br />
"I don't think you wanna do that, Dude, you're gonna hurt you thighs," I remarked as I passed him on the way to my pie cabinet, where the book was headed. I walked back into the kitchen, phone call finished, and that's when I noticed my son was gone.<br />
<br />
We have a fairly large home. It used to be a duplex. So when my son is not within sight, I holler so I know where he is, then go check on him if he isn't with his sister or in the next room where I can easily check on him.<br />
<br />
I hollered. And waited. And hollered again. He didn't answer.<br />
<br />
This is not unusual. So I started going through the rooms(there's 14), and I hollered up to his sister. I assumed he was up there(where he isn't supposed to be during the day, unless I am with him).<br />
<br />
But he wasn't. And he wasn't answering. At this point I was starting to feel panicky. He's hidden from me before, if he's found a piece of candy or something he isn't supposed to have, but he usually gives himself away pretty quickly because he's terrible at hide and seek. Even when he hides in the house though, I worry, because he could choke on something and suffocate or who knows what else(paranoid person here).<br />
<br />
My daughter started searching for him at that point, and I could tell that she could tell that I was starting to freak out. I went back to the kitchen thinking maybe he had lured me out so he could hop the counter to the candy jar, and that's when I noticed that the back door was wide open and my boots were gone. A glance out the back door showed me that the gate to the fence was open as well.<br />
<br />
And that's when the literal panic set in. I barreled out the door, screaming my son's name, fear gripping my heart and lungs and throat like a vice.<br />
<br />
All of this happened in the span of less than five minutes, but it felt like an eternity as every worst case scenario I could imagine ripped through my brain like the claws of a thousand tiny demons. You see, I am not that parent that lets their kid wander the neighborhood. I am that parent who doesn't let my kids out of my sight for fear of sex offenders, sex traffickers and rabies carrying stray cats. My kids don't even play in our fenced in yard unless I am outside with them.<br />
<br />
I almost collided with him, for as I was running out the gate barefoot, he was plodding his way back towards my voice, wearing my black rain boots up to his thighs, a diaper, a tie dye shirt and a grin.<br />
<br />
As I scooped him up and clutched him, arms quivering and hands shaking, a torrential rain of tears<br />
soaked his shirt and mine.<br />
<br />
He found it hilarious when my voice cracked as I said only the words, "You scared me!" before whisking him into the house. "Please don't ever do that again!" I croaked, as I held his squishy face in my hands.<br />
<br />
"Oh-kaaay."<br />
<br />
He sighed this, like he was doing me a big favor that he didn't want do, but would do so long as it didn't inconvenience him too terribly.<br />
<br />
And even now, several hours later, my eyes are full of tears and I feel absolutely sick to my stomach because I know all the ways that the situation could have gone wrong. I've gone over all the "what ifs". He could have been kidnapped. Or bitten by a dog. Or hit by a car. Or wandered into any one of the abandoned houses in our neighborhood and been hurt, or worse.<br />
<br />
He didn't. But he could have.<br />
<br />
And how would I have looked, having to explain to the police that my three year old literally walked out the door, out of my yard and into the dangers of the world, completely alone, with nobody stopping him? <br />
<br />
Because he didn't endure or cause any harm(beyond almost giving me a heart attack) this will likely end up being just another of the many, many, MANY, funny anecdotes we look back on someday(less embarrassing to him than the myriad poop and penis stories, I'm sure), but the thing is, the fact that no permanent damage was done doesn't change the fact that a mistake was made in the first place.<br />
<br />
Had this story ended in a different way, there's a good chance that in this day and age, I'd have people sending me death threats, calling CPS on me, telling me that I don't deserve to have kids, that I'm the worst parent in the world, and that I should go to jail, because of a very simple mistake that a very intelligent and opportunistic child took full advantage of. And I am in NO WAY blaming my child, he's three FFS, but I think sometimes we forget that children aren't little dolls that you sit and pose in a doll house, with full control over their every move. Even the most on guard parent gets one-upped occasionally. And if it has never happened to you-congratulations on your perfect life, man. Or woman. Some of us are human, and have human children, and we make mistakes.<br />
<br />
Which is why I'm even bothering to write this post. There's so much pressure on parents these days, especially moms, to be perfect. Which makes the punishment for mistakes of every size, even if only in your own head and conscience, so much more severe.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, my wayward son's father is not 1/10th as concerned about the incident as I am. He carries no internal pressure to be perfect, and thinks I am making a big deal about nothing. "These things happen." he said. And that's that. Can you tell he doesn't visit the interwebs much?<br />
<br />
But me, I'm beating myself up over it all. Totally.<br />
<br />
But only for tonight. Because you know what? I love that kid, and his sister, more than life itself. I have never been so scared as I was in those moments when I was frantically searching for my kid, thinking there was a possibility that I might never see him again. And I have never been so relieved as I was when I found him. I'm not a bad parent, just an exhausted one, who let one thing out of a thousand slip by her today, and who will pay better attention to the doors from now on.<br />
<br />
I'm also that parent who will put herself out there for the other imperfect parents. Yo, you made a mistake and want to talk to somebody who won't judge you? I'm your girl. Let's do this.<br />
<br />
And if talking about it doesn't make you feel better about life, we can always make cookies.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-22815318537674348312016-07-24T19:55:00.000-07:002016-07-24T19:55:22.893-07:00Weekend SkiesThe sky has been doing some rad things this weekend.<br />
<br />
Yesterday the sun pierced through a heavy patchwork of clouds like candlelight through a punched tin lantern.<br />
<br />
And today, tropical colored stormy skies.<br />
<br />
I am ALL about this stuff. Nature produces the most beautiful art there is.<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-78821599924835707342016-07-22T13:16:00.000-07:002016-07-22T13:16:40.991-07:00The Simple ThingsMy best friend passed away in November of last year. I've not addressed it here on my blog because I'm still not ready to yet. I can't condense my thoughts and feelings on him and his unexpected death in a short, sweet blog friendly manner, so I'm just not going to try yet.<br />
<br />
However, I must at least acknowledge it, because it has been the catalyst for so much upheaval and change in my life over the past 8 months.<br />
<br />
Losing your best friend at such a young age, well, to call it a reality check is an understatement. There were so many things left unsaid and undone and they added to the already impossibly heavy burden of all consuming grief. I became angry. Over so many things. Over <i>every</i> thing.<br />
<br />
I realized that I wasn't living the kind of life I wanted, or being the person I am deep down inside, or showing people the kind of love I actually feel for them. My life was not not positively contributing to the world in any meaningful way. I was a zombie. I wasn't being who the universe intended me to be.<br />
<br />
More importantly, I realized <i>why</i> I wasn't.<br />
<br />
Fear.<br />
<br />
Fear of repercussion, of rebuke, of disappointing people, of being preached at, and of being laughed at, of being alone, of being a failure, of being reproached and believe it or not, fear of being condemned to hell. By the people who are supposed to love me. <br />
<br />
And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if I died today.<br />
<br />
How did I want to be remembered?<br />
<br />
As a person who did her best to maximize her potential to be a positive influence on the world in all areas of her life.<br />
<br />
How did I want to die?<br />
<br />
Not wishing I had done more to put good things into the world.<br />
<br />
And so my anger over losing my friend began to morph into a sort of resolve, to be the best version of myself that I can be. And though it is obviously a journey that can only be ended by death, and some days have better weather than others, overall, I feel more like myself now than I ever have in my entire life.<br />
<br />
The best part is that it hasn't taken any crazy products or life style changes or commitments to make this happen. Just love and kindness and simplifying my life. The simple things are so much more satisfying when they become the major threads through your life and not just some novel concept that you occasionally take note of for a well timed social media photograph.<br />
<br />
I know it sounds cliche, but it is so true.<br />
<br />
Love, especially, comes in so many wonderful, simple forms.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it is in the form of little handmade gifts, like this peppermint flower bouquet I made for my best friend's mom. I used a crochet flower my mom made and a piece of ribbon saved from the wrapping of an etsy purchase, to pretty up an empty Martinelli's apple juice glass. This literally cost me nothing to put together, but it expresses love as much as much as anything I could buy at a store, because it required time and thoughtfulness to assemble and deliver.<br />
<br />
And because self love is important, I also made one for myself! It brings me so much joy as it sits on my kitchen counter and blesses me with wafts of sweet pepperminty scent as I buzz about the kitchen.<br />
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Baking is another way I like to show people that I love them. Like this fruit crisp(and quart of purchased ice cream) I also took over to my best friend's mom. Her son used to bake for her, when he was still with us, and so in some way, I feel like he moves through me when I bake for her. It is keeping his spirit alive by carrying on his traditions. Because the crisp was made with peaches and blackberries that I grew, it was not only tasty but had extra special personal meaning to it.<br />
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Yesterday I was blessed by a friend who brought over a bag of little bitty pears to share with me. This too is an act of love. She didn't have to go out of her way for me, but she knew I would enjoy her home grown produce, so she brought me some. And my kids and I were blessed. She didn't ask for anything in return, but I knew she had liked a couple of my embroideries, so I sent them with her, because I wanted to be sure she knew how much I appreciated her thinking of me. The world needs more of this-love and bartering.<br />
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Organic gardening has become an important part of my simplified life. Growing herbs and fruits and vegetables is not only mental and emotional therapy, but a form of love. Love for the earth, for myself and for my family. I make sure to harbor realistic expectations though, or else it becomes a source of stress and a reason to mentally beat myself up because I tend to feel like I should be doing more than what I am capable of. I try to focus on just one or two areas at a time. Like seed harvesting coriander and radishes during blackberry picking season. As my children grown and I have more time to devote to food production, I'll add more plants to the garden and be able to produce and preserve more things.<br />
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I'm focusing on eating more simply too. This year I am learning about all sorts of new foods that are already present in my garden-like radish seed pods and day lilies and dandelion greens! I am also growing my own herbs like peppermint and echinacea, then drying them for use in tisanes and tea mixtures come this winter.<br />
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I've really freed myself when it comes to the art pieces I am making, too. These newest pieces fully embrace the chaos that comes from mixing elements together in completely unrestrained ways. The message I am trying to convey is when you embrace the chaos of your life, instead of always trying to control it and rid yourself of it, sometimes beautiful, happy, bright things occur.<br />
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More than anything, though, I'm making myself slow down and really open my ears, eyes and heart. I do yoga and I meditate almost every day. I enjoy the ritual of tea with honey, not just a hastily chugged, refined sugar filled cup. I make a point of looking for the moon, quietly observing the birds and bugs and bees, gazing at the stars, watching the sunset with no distractions around me and using what I already have to make love gifts for others, to entertain my kids and help them find ways to entertain themselves.<br />
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Less movies we've already seen a thousand times, and more making things together. Less Dairy Queen and more home made blender ice cream. Less whining about the things we want, and more satisfaction from feeling blessed by what we have and doing what we can to share our blessings with others.<br />
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Simplicity.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXawuBdLOjDwIdDnrwxGMN8DOO9qRLMOPFmqoj1lwlzl6PyFl4U-_CZDAeV9eHyNfqNIPrDGSPH3dyO1cBUaQJ5lWhHFD5pEJm7XqnFse8RnKNXzpDUagyoB3oFBPMnCP1pvv1Jd94PFk/s1600/IMG_0072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXawuBdLOjDwIdDnrwxGMN8DOO9qRLMOPFmqoj1lwlzl6PyFl4U-_CZDAeV9eHyNfqNIPrDGSPH3dyO1cBUaQJ5lWhHFD5pEJm7XqnFse8RnKNXzpDUagyoB3oFBPMnCP1pvv1Jd94PFk/s640/IMG_0072.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsYaTtt4LYHc78X__Pj4ITsiKYVKxYo8EcIxFOotZsmz4t8ESdv_EF8a2HTB_EdeSxqMFcUs-q0AeWfDF2vte_fpn4Nfl5nKaCMoSXrn5fna_LrC-CwwNrVmVcgz9ZiCrUi6I5pED9hM/s1600/IMG_5316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsYaTtt4LYHc78X__Pj4ITsiKYVKxYo8EcIxFOotZsmz4t8ESdv_EF8a2HTB_EdeSxqMFcUs-q0AeWfDF2vte_fpn4Nfl5nKaCMoSXrn5fna_LrC-CwwNrVmVcgz9ZiCrUi6I5pED9hM/s640/IMG_5316.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the rainbow?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyVI6XPORM7_X2GPFQiyuzplptjBZVEG9NDs7lKG1jSa1ilDBtJcYCc6P91cQ5LtWNF6Epn_lbwsmUR8cai4SfsK6BZXWJ9tF_84GjumQ7I6TEPq14yeCTHAt5Z3eOVEWmh0F7Xdra8c/s1600/IMG_6258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyVI6XPORM7_X2GPFQiyuzplptjBZVEG9NDs7lKG1jSa1ilDBtJcYCc6P91cQ5LtWNF6Epn_lbwsmUR8cai4SfsK6BZXWJ9tF_84GjumQ7I6TEPq14yeCTHAt5Z3eOVEWmh0F7Xdra8c/s640/IMG_6258.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpshBEOivdWWMrKf4zqacDUcYcNBU86o6o2G2xPHO2yxKqZs8DYXMUSnapLiPknseY94Sb3Yv5hyphenhyphen9gA2JA6DzWlEh3gyAuwH9C6RjNZMjjFzKWVyKA_TvtuCjKd2AbtyHtDUOdpVO4BDk/s1600/IMG_7022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpshBEOivdWWMrKf4zqacDUcYcNBU86o6o2G2xPHO2yxKqZs8DYXMUSnapLiPknseY94Sb3Yv5hyphenhyphen9gA2JA6DzWlEh3gyAuwH9C6RjNZMjjFzKWVyKA_TvtuCjKd2AbtyHtDUOdpVO4BDk/s640/IMG_7022.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you see the little moon?</td></tr>
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<br />
There are so many beautiful, joyful, peaceful, exciting, wondrous, magical and lovely things all around us, waiting for us to enjoy them, and be blessed by them, if we just open our eyes and hearts and minds and souls and spirits up to the possibilities, and to the fulfillment that simplicity brings.<br />
<br />
So that's where I currently am. And as I move forward, that's what I hope to continue to offer you- love, laughter, hope, peace, joy, encouragement, community and creativity.<br />
<br />
Because in an increasingly scary world, those things often feel like they are in short supply.<br />
<br />
But, they definitely don't have to be.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-51188079753454731932016-07-21T13:23:00.000-07:002016-07-21T13:23:01.617-07:00Apples And ToastBefore I had children, many moons ago, I used to fancy myself an amateur photographer. I was really into beauty makeovers(I was in beauty school after all) as well, and I'd line my friends(and more so, myself) up for makeovers followed by impromptu portrait sessions.<br />
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Sometimes these took place inside of Walmart.<br />
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In the Halloween aisles.<br />
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Or the toy department. <br />
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Or the bath sponge aisle.<br />
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Yes, I was one of those.<br />
<br />
And probably still would be too, if I had more time.<br />
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But alas, I'm a parent now. I don't have time for those types of shenanigans. Instead, I now have a whole photo album of stuff like this on my Mac-<br />
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<br />
What is this?<br />
<br />
This, my friend, is the food that my three year old screams and whines and tantrums for, in the exact places that I find it in. An hour, a day, a week later.<br />
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Why? Why do I take pictures of this stuff?<br />
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I have no idea.<br />
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But since I do, I think I'll make one of those snappy little Shutterfly photo books for him and give it to him when he gets older.<br />
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"Congratulations on your graduation from college, Son. Here's a picture book of all the apples and toast that you wasted when you were three."<br />
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*Blank stare from son*<br />
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"Yeah, I don't know either. Insomnia made it seem like a good idea at the time."<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-57658043205333601592016-03-28T06:03:00.000-07:002016-03-28T06:03:30.158-07:00Yesterday Once MoreI took a few snaps here and there yesterday, to show you the types of things I do when I'm busy and I can't afford the time to really get "in the zone", so to speak.<br />
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Sketching. That's basically what I do. Sketching and doodling and idea writing.<br />
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But first, let me just give a shout out to sequins and glitter, which make my word go round, even on Easter Sunday.<br />
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Sometimes, when you're riding around in the passenger seat of a car and you want to draw, all that's available to you as a writing utensil is a stinky, lime green Mr. Sketch marker.<br />
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Or maybe that's the type of situation only I encounter.<br />
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What to do? You take the marker and run with it. Until you can locate a crappy, intended for kids colored pencil.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4Cr5EpRfxkuCDgHe71O9YuccO2uZklMHmTwWhWCy3eaYeEywllb39ex7XCWvOnMW2f03kNXi_Qd_paJJUOpE7whKkD1Voe0folrvOAmEPBG-N7_zD9DXhDtS_sm_H-R-VW-ZDPdbjrc/s1600/IMG_2554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4Cr5EpRfxkuCDgHe71O9YuccO2uZklMHmTwWhWCy3eaYeEywllb39ex7XCWvOnMW2f03kNXi_Qd_paJJUOpE7whKkD1Voe0folrvOAmEPBG-N7_zD9DXhDtS_sm_H-R-VW-ZDPdbjrc/s640/IMG_2554.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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Then you sketch your son's pouty Easter face.</div>
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And you bear the burden of kids cracked out on sugar from the three Easter baskets a piece they received that day, until you can tuck in later that night with embroidery, tea and macarons. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5RkYbLNcosdQOmO_L30gWuEZx2GwUXZaAIs9Xiv1MLNkhXOY2Mn10xpL1jxK9r-6Oi3_jBYnInb0P5BEQa6dsqLyglqdPD-Q4wtYar_jdUtvX62o4tfjD96Alrf7qiQ3xmEMmdRtCig/s1600/IMG_2564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5RkYbLNcosdQOmO_L30gWuEZx2GwUXZaAIs9Xiv1MLNkhXOY2Mn10xpL1jxK9r-6Oi3_jBYnInb0P5BEQa6dsqLyglqdPD-Q4wtYar_jdUtvX62o4tfjD96Alrf7qiQ3xmEMmdRtCig/s640/IMG_2564.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I've recently made it a personal rule not to eat anything after supper each day, but dude, sometimes you just have to break the rules. Especially when you've spent 12 hours with chocolate fueled Mr. Hydes, who turned you into the Candy Nazi.<br />
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"No candy for you!"<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-36663082853494895052016-03-25T08:26:00.002-07:002016-03-25T08:26:35.481-07:00New Work-Strawberry Bubblegum AfroPortraits are my favorite. Painted, stitched, photographed...I adore them all. So you're gonna see me posting quite a few over the next few weeks because I am in an "all portraits all the time" mood.<br />
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You've been warned.<br />
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I love portraits, and I love big hair. Like, gravity defying hair. So you're gonna see quite a bit of that too.<br />
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Here's a lady with a sweet pink afro I recently completed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgP-Bt8Wyv6Z3FLbnPJUqqnZhAA3qKzML7EL2ZZ6AaHkKYvlmH1qbhPLWgRsOiBXntpmny92IxNM_B_VRe0uCb1mwrqyPNMxEztkR88nf2BHV6aHpgzVX7OBEe3IUFGuyjuqWJx79zqWM/s1600/IMG_2373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgP-Bt8Wyv6Z3FLbnPJUqqnZhAA3qKzML7EL2ZZ6AaHkKYvlmH1qbhPLWgRsOiBXntpmny92IxNM_B_VRe0uCb1mwrqyPNMxEztkR88nf2BHV6aHpgzVX7OBEe3IUFGuyjuqWJx79zqWM/s640/IMG_2373.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I freehand my portraits, because I like them to look a little bit wonky. It is too easy to just transfer a photograph onto a piece of fabric and go from there, so I like to challenge myself by free handing. I think pieces are more unique that way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqS-QXCa7KJ8EPawKfnv3UBjXuEfnr4fAU0yhPdEH239vXLqAHowZB8_wPqLaJFx2xCX-8ViwfK1JZvoiWBRrcWzynY3c4YybyeXYK0l5cJz_F-2uYyabfNSCTZKLKTWtNlhnR-3nEcw/s1600/IMG_2376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqS-QXCa7KJ8EPawKfnv3UBjXuEfnr4fAU0yhPdEH239vXLqAHowZB8_wPqLaJFx2xCX-8ViwfK1JZvoiWBRrcWzynY3c4YybyeXYK0l5cJz_F-2uYyabfNSCTZKLKTWtNlhnR-3nEcw/s640/IMG_2376.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This fine lady's magnificently pink do is a gathering of neon, rose, bubblegum, wine and strawberry milkshake pink french knots. French knots are probably my favorite stitch, and I might overuse them. Might.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf70ygs-7P8b6v-3YOfwCtfxeT9LDH8cVOdzWHZGZ4Y3jZEW_lQOG1TLVEHg9T47jD3Ys7lpLsQ_tEylQ8-qw_9dNWuiOxc3SG9HU6gCiuaBNnCgLSGkN89Lktp9B7SvWoA04kt13nE0/s1600/IMG_2381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf70ygs-7P8b6v-3YOfwCtfxeT9LDH8cVOdzWHZGZ4Y3jZEW_lQOG1TLVEHg9T47jD3Ys7lpLsQ_tEylQ8-qw_9dNWuiOxc3SG9HU6gCiuaBNnCgLSGkN89Lktp9B7SvWoA04kt13nE0/s640/IMG_2381.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am tempted to keep this sassy lady, but then again I always think that about every piece I make. And then the piece finds a home and the delight of the new owner gives me enough feels to be glad I didn't hoard it. I usually make things that make people happy, and that in turn makes me happy.<br />
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Not a bad way to spend a life, if I do say so myself.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-77547335630002236712016-03-22T06:57:00.002-07:002016-03-22T06:57:43.899-07:00Asiago And Garlic French ToastThis looks like an unassuming piece of french toast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD8BYL1IsukLTO3uUQxhx__RM5-IkJLgBzbFvyHMkVmezm-xO8_Tc2LKXCGdIOTP_s0mvrm9aNwJEXdeyMUMUyMQStklKJLHRDaLuZa4IT4MFpdIrq-MKrnL_PsSdROAHbqnVxobMB2E/s1600/IMG_2371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD8BYL1IsukLTO3uUQxhx__RM5-IkJLgBzbFvyHMkVmezm-xO8_Tc2LKXCGdIOTP_s0mvrm9aNwJEXdeyMUMUyMQStklKJLHRDaLuZa4IT4MFpdIrq-MKrnL_PsSdROAHbqnVxobMB2E/s640/IMG_2371.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, TWO unassuming pieces of french toast.<br />
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But they have a secret. They are <i>far</i> more delicious than their humble appearances would lead you to believe.<br />
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We make french toast once a week at our house, because it is one thing that both children will reliably eat. Usually it is sweet, and I have a million ways of making it sweet(bananas, orange cinnamon, almond maple), but sometimes I just don't want sugar for supper.<br />
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So last night, I threw some grated asiago cheese and garlic powder(we didn't have fresh) into the egg mixture, cooked in melted butter, then grated more asiago over the hot, cooked toast and holy Moses! Deliciousness. Totally simple, but totally satisfying deliciousness. And super quick to make. And the kids loved it. Because who doesn't love bread, butter and cheese?<br />
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You're welcome.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8N8D5qOzWuhh_rvMALOwewOMxcd17Z5yUO6JxOFceKJlFO37IbrQSBUDipboAGfrz_nD_K8nr8Ekmfc-4FLaop6N3AmCp-8BQBDdRICAjrIeEYuIrk1sF7bno-k-N1vfC6_1UaTygEA/s1600/IMG_2360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8N8D5qOzWuhh_rvMALOwewOMxcd17Z5yUO6JxOFceKJlFO37IbrQSBUDipboAGfrz_nD_K8nr8Ekmfc-4FLaop6N3AmCp-8BQBDdRICAjrIeEYuIrk1sF7bno-k-N1vfC6_1UaTygEA/s640/IMG_2360.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-33505698709837853722016-03-20T19:01:00.000-07:002016-03-20T19:01:00.187-07:00New Works-A Warm Gun And A Blueberry Sea UrchinHUZZAH For Productivity!<br />
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And seriously. I cannot believe how productive I have been lately. It is the Law of Attraction, I swear. It works, man. I'm telling you.<br />
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I watched <a href="http://www.banksyfilm.com/synopsis.html?reload" target="_blank">Exit Through The Gift Shop</a> last night, and was so entertained, inspired, amused and blown away that I made my own little street art inspired embroidery. If I were into graffiti, this is the type of thing I would paint!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45d5JjaEFqydwN9q9oFm-kG419qeB2y2_gKNkrhpiB4sBTOBhzU9QpoWsm6YdfBtoJ_UIHV01FQtTjPpZaDy-8GiMbEPItdTY5AakNWSLUhlcFyGJUyvXQiZc9QTqJEwQ0JgnQmY60zY/s1600/DSC02212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45d5JjaEFqydwN9q9oFm-kG419qeB2y2_gKNkrhpiB4sBTOBhzU9QpoWsm6YdfBtoJ_UIHV01FQtTjPpZaDy-8GiMbEPItdTY5AakNWSLUhlcFyGJUyvXQiZc9QTqJEwQ0JgnQmY60zY/s640/DSC02212.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I have these thrifted soldiers hiding out all over my house, so I'm always looking for new things to do with them. I like this piece so much I'll likely make a few more.<br />
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This one is available now in my etsy shop. *wink wink*<br />
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I made this next piece last night, although I hardly remember doing so. I was watching, <i>A Room With A View. </i>At 2 a.m.<br />
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Which has absolutely nothing at all to do with this piece.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlpiH_dgrknMCYbxgpnIBmCjaHnorjk6n4XdN1mgA9R5prYnFuBLVrkcgjD9W1iZdesAS9wE5xDGxLZt6cst8otVPy4UTXu_-yOTtiLDnX0Ld_dCN6_5e89P764XOBeo4JLuXPEP8VGw/s1600/DSC02281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlpiH_dgrknMCYbxgpnIBmCjaHnorjk6n4XdN1mgA9R5prYnFuBLVrkcgjD9W1iZdesAS9wE5xDGxLZt6cst8otVPy4UTXu_-yOTtiLDnX0Ld_dCN6_5e89P764XOBeo4JLuXPEP8VGw/s640/DSC02281.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It reminds me of blueberries. And a sea urchin.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7_LjFP1dBwB91To6q6kZrBvUt-z-PfNdtfndGUf1HeCsqYBId1zA33n4AfPNBGzCUNq9EglOAo0TQnMWeDZl6705mtf2BBlOXv8zP8ODJ023UbQSZLg094Njs9KPou2z0Z3YeI1C7Rs/s1600/DSC02276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7_LjFP1dBwB91To6q6kZrBvUt-z-PfNdtfndGUf1HeCsqYBId1zA33n4AfPNBGzCUNq9EglOAo0TQnMWeDZl6705mtf2BBlOXv8zP8ODJ023UbQSZLg094Njs9KPou2z0Z3YeI1C7Rs/s640/DSC02276.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Those long appendages are some plastic jewelry making junk I found at Goodwill. Brand new, never used. Perfect for making mod meets modern art.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvvMP4HSR_0PjY6MiZjQhpOc7hmxNnfzWTD2pp6fxxptPYvnAE4HZoUjcI59ln0UwcjDkX59a6tWqovrQXe75ctwpM3vP8WMrkc0PXWuxGY-rQrzW70ywSeNQxxWX0q6U_0d8I7E2vsA/s1600/DSC02277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvvMP4HSR_0PjY6MiZjQhpOc7hmxNnfzWTD2pp6fxxptPYvnAE4HZoUjcI59ln0UwcjDkX59a6tWqovrQXe75ctwpM3vP8WMrkc0PXWuxGY-rQrzW70ywSeNQxxWX0q6U_0d8I7E2vsA/s640/DSC02277.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This too can be yours, if the price is right!<br />
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In my etsy shop.<br />
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Come on, you know you want a fabulous blueberry and electric cheddar cheese colored creation to groovy up your walls...Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-15966536783542864912016-03-19T10:33:00.000-07:002016-03-19T10:33:11.735-07:00New Work-Popcorn And Candy Sour StrawsI started and finished this piece, over the last couple of days, as a distraction from a bigger piece I am working on(and so close to being finished with).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAsVD_rEuZMXP-UvlJuM_uD0aHWS2SNOaX-QsfgXcboW87C3glBF6SO3dM45Lcy3gu_G4iMEdkxGA35tylbhSHRWBQvxNy-xC1MEC494OlQdfNBiz8MTH8IJNJTXOrFZoQNgMwHsbjrA/s1600/IMG_2305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAsVD_rEuZMXP-UvlJuM_uD0aHWS2SNOaX-QsfgXcboW87C3glBF6SO3dM45Lcy3gu_G4iMEdkxGA35tylbhSHRWBQvxNy-xC1MEC494OlQdfNBiz8MTH8IJNJTXOrFZoQNgMwHsbjrA/s640/IMG_2305.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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The colors remind me of buttered movie popcorn and those neon colored, licorice style candy straws that taste like, and resemble, plastic. Probably because they are, like, 63% plastic.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOtnZq6vU3wOkblGu2c7IYSaffBYkkj1IrWiDFQyOEmsN64SpCKHFz7oG8te9Gx-P-JaEVsTY7CNCI4qLFcRaV8MjERw8BK4-saByfRwdMizi0Fr50-DLhaugmoqi9kxET7kbCgPg0ww/s1600/IMG_2289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOtnZq6vU3wOkblGu2c7IYSaffBYkkj1IrWiDFQyOEmsN64SpCKHFz7oG8te9Gx-P-JaEVsTY7CNCI4qLFcRaV8MjERw8BK4-saByfRwdMizi0Fr50-DLhaugmoqi9kxET7kbCgPg0ww/s640/IMG_2289.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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I love the neon pink and plastic shininess contrasted with the organic feel of the shapes of the piece.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8DeLnhfKtpubtwJcn_AIR4Z0G0jj6taTXFWffzw-mnXcEwbiYR4nBJ96N2xzwLWWwRHjpXqT_j5LUIhBgdURdUzEC9-0JwmIilXqi7Wf2Lvsdb9dwpDP77xDBxJfXCj8CeghdRuOnsY/s1600/IMG_2294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8DeLnhfKtpubtwJcn_AIR4Z0G0jj6taTXFWffzw-mnXcEwbiYR4nBJ96N2xzwLWWwRHjpXqT_j5LUIhBgdURdUzEC9-0JwmIilXqi7Wf2Lvsdb9dwpDP77xDBxJfXCj8CeghdRuOnsY/s640/IMG_2294.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is a small but weighty piece, made from a three or four inch vintage hoop, vintage unbleached cotton, vintage/thrifted buttons and vintage hot pink "S'getti Strings". As far as sustainable art goes, my pieces don't get much more sustainable than this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnIIuV0LH_io-ddA8XIsjJQmIJFEUO707i9kzjKfMuoJrc2QZxZYon6q26yWa1nyJbNjOxZZQE5oSwDe9MTEiGSax3tHbogxRrNQKk21PAlJGKm-63vbjy1d_900cNc2cBGOcoqS3ng4/s1600/IMG_2282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnIIuV0LH_io-ddA8XIsjJQmIJFEUO707i9kzjKfMuoJrc2QZxZYon6q26yWa1nyJbNjOxZZQE5oSwDe9MTEiGSax3tHbogxRrNQKk21PAlJGKm-63vbjy1d_900cNc2cBGOcoqS3ng4/s640/IMG_2282.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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I think this piece would be fantastic in a child's room, a sunny kitchen, a playroom or a bright and happy living room. It would work wonderfully in an eclectic apartment or enclosed porch space as well!<br />
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Annnnnnnnnd, my button pieces are perfect birthday, Mother's Day, whatever day gifts, especially for the person who has everything. Just sayin'. *Wink Wink*<br />
<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-88623121586361637872016-03-19T09:25:00.000-07:002016-03-19T09:25:09.596-07:00Pee Wee, A Pee Wee and Pee WeesHow's that for confusing?<br />
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So did you watch the new Pee Wee Herman movie last night? I did! Nothing will ever top the original, but I did delight in Joe Manganiello's contributions to the piece.<br />
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And I made myself do a five minute sketch of Pee Wee.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwL8rWvI_sf3oQFSMrtqS4QZht5wBvJIO5X7uZU64JIf4zC_UUicBwkahavYc3gOs1xv3DjCz5x3GME32hSudFptEHe3t7o6oXHfWHRw8hPk2rnbLbTnS7miYRdVsT-_cpNssYmbkMFyI/s1600/IMG_2258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwL8rWvI_sf3oQFSMrtqS4QZht5wBvJIO5X7uZU64JIf4zC_UUicBwkahavYc3gOs1xv3DjCz5x3GME32hSudFptEHe3t7o6oXHfWHRw8hPk2rnbLbTnS7miYRdVsT-_cpNssYmbkMFyI/s640/IMG_2258.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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It was a short mental break from all the stitching I've been doing. I try to make myself do several of these quick sketches whenever I have a movie or show on. The idea is just to capture a sparse likeness, not to do a detailed and accurate portrait, although I think this sketch is a reflection of the contrasts that are Pee Wee, an eternal boy with physical traits that betray his mental age.<br />
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I also finished up this fountain pen sketch of my boy that was started in the car a few days ago while waiting for his sister to exit her school.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJv5ocTm_2jF790UADpkYGQbtLp3SbZ-NvYJRuVdVOjwS2Jlj1crDeeNtof2KHWnArlA-CzTjbeFH9E7F1gLinEyx_dhiGulWPWSIR8iCku-PwB0y3VOcbXkZCuesaMrH1VtL8tZqkskc/s1600/IMG_2265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJv5ocTm_2jF790UADpkYGQbtLp3SbZ-NvYJRuVdVOjwS2Jlj1crDeeNtof2KHWnArlA-CzTjbeFH9E7F1gLinEyx_dhiGulWPWSIR8iCku-PwB0y3VOcbXkZCuesaMrH1VtL8tZqkskc/s640/IMG_2265.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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Awhile back my husband gifted me with the <a href="http://www.zebrapen.com/product/v-301-stainless-steel-fountain-pen-1pk-wbonus-refill-2/" target="_blank">Zebra V-301</a> fountain pen, an inexpensive little oddity at the local drugstore. I fell in love with it and quickly drained the first ink cartridge. They are my new favorite pens to sketch with.<br />
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I still stick to Copic for my "real" illustrations. These three ladies were recently added to my ACEO stash, which I am committed to finally listing in my etsy shop, because I am constantly asked, "Why don't you sell your illustrations too?!"<br />
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Soon, you crazy diamonds. Soon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTYZlCnRxZa0wzJ4Qy_CEQfdabLMkBw0K1mThU8q0XZyiYeWzO4FDIvWFtuEeKZvMmN8aUVFlX7WvojpF7WrDDnzuNoo0C6gUmWfVOifxSb_CQ2H6T_yF6NHz_g7JjT1l-BstEuXa4s/s1600/IMG_2316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTYZlCnRxZa0wzJ4Qy_CEQfdabLMkBw0K1mThU8q0XZyiYeWzO4FDIvWFtuEeKZvMmN8aUVFlX7WvojpF7WrDDnzuNoo0C6gUmWfVOifxSb_CQ2H6T_yF6NHz_g7JjT1l-BstEuXa4s/s640/IMG_2316.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Lastly, I'd just like to say, FYI, sneezing while oil pulling is a terribly stupid thing to do. I'd suggest you avoid it. At all costs.<br />
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Unless a nose full of germ infested coconut oil is your kinda thing.<br />
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Just ask me how I know.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-78096081820753178582016-03-17T08:49:00.000-07:002016-03-17T08:49:00.109-07:00Things That Make Me Smile-Wednesday March 16, 2016Yesterday we went for a drive by the river and saw this badass goose with only one leg.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cbuXmIkqd_hZF7B3WtYHUIIUr8mS3xzNvA8BJ2qSX0_oziDg_EfalNoQpZREA_s-19zdrt2kSnzqvXXXLZTme09ezhOcKk3O6MxmqVJE3NidPzIG8rZjrc9t2uuy4tUKWnnHjKN9NbQ/s1600/IMG_2204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cbuXmIkqd_hZF7B3WtYHUIIUr8mS3xzNvA8BJ2qSX0_oziDg_EfalNoQpZREA_s-19zdrt2kSnzqvXXXLZTme09ezhOcKk3O6MxmqVJE3NidPzIG8rZjrc9t2uuy4tUKWnnHjKN9NbQ/s640/IMG_2204.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomKrXqPVOTnEbXwic2M6nq-fCwdBcleuil04tNT7jJMTAA_AlrUvvbxI3SgJm2a5vp-athR_yu-Vqp7npU78FQ0BtMwhEvhi2KkzbsGOwsXoB9plFZls6ahhdPaCSJ4NP7oiAig_0eCw/s1600/IMG_2207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomKrXqPVOTnEbXwic2M6nq-fCwdBcleuil04tNT7jJMTAA_AlrUvvbxI3SgJm2a5vp-athR_yu-Vqp7npU78FQ0BtMwhEvhi2KkzbsGOwsXoB9plFZls6ahhdPaCSJ4NP7oiAig_0eCw/s640/IMG_2207.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Pretty sure that if I was a one legged goose, I'd be sitting on my bum all the time, moping about my absent appendage. But not this guy. He's all like, ""I'm gonna stand here, on my one leg, yogi goose style, and seemingly defy gravity by holding my round bobber body up with my one stick leg, because I'm a total badass. Go ahead and stare human. I know you're impressed. You whiny loser. Go take a freakin' shower. You stink of weakness and complacency." </div>
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I was definitely impressed. Goose has got game.</div>
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Across the street from the goose was this-</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhfMSuBP7i_EN4yvaruCqgmTbKIVO5arg_TPTLcnvqa_W4MJVo6MWPKmza9sDi3BhMYmtPp5Vo-IVJAaF5SzQRL7VFWg1lqmVt161Ue0sA7TL2WkS3UbGkfjEUetA2O5t1AF3dBueDcU/s1600/IMG_2211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhfMSuBP7i_EN4yvaruCqgmTbKIVO5arg_TPTLcnvqa_W4MJVo6MWPKmza9sDi3BhMYmtPp5Vo-IVJAaF5SzQRL7VFWg1lqmVt161Ue0sA7TL2WkS3UbGkfjEUetA2O5t1AF3dBueDcU/s640/IMG_2211.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIsewsO9o1QYqEmGavn3CxaoAcoWEiWKfE8dI5fxzuaZhA2irkQU7Jl9JLnS1Q4wXBH6rcbx9rpXwYXHH9Ur_8zvI8HL28q39uROdJ-03lk_NUB7LuBDDz52HMegQ0_aQShDUfxAzt-U/s1600/IMG_2227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIsewsO9o1QYqEmGavn3CxaoAcoWEiWKfE8dI5fxzuaZhA2irkQU7Jl9JLnS1Q4wXBH6rcbx9rpXwYXHH9Ur_8zvI8HL28q39uROdJ-03lk_NUB7LuBDDz52HMegQ0_aQShDUfxAzt-U/s640/IMG_2227.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I laughed when I saw it, because we see a hefty amount of train car graffiti which is mostly comprised of totally silly, sloppy work, and this seemed like a nerdy attempt at sounding ironic. Like hipster graffiti. </div>
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But then I googled <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/XV_International_Brigade" target="_blank">"Abe Lincoln Brigade"</a> and found out that the Abraham Lincoln Brigade was a thing. Like, a real <i>thing</i>, thing. An actual <i><a href="http://www.alba-valb.org/history/spanish-civil-war" target="_blank">historical</a></i> thing. </div>
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And suddenly this became the most interesting and intriguing graffiti I have ever seen. </div>
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So I did some more research and discovered that, as I had begun to suspect, the "Abe Lincoln Brigade" in this context, is a group of <a href="https://apictureofpolitics.wordpress.com/2012/04/18/freight-train-graffiti-gets-political/" target="_blank">politically motivated graffiti artists</a>. You can see their flickr stream <a href="https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=relevance&text=graffiti%20abe%20lincoln%20brigade" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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I don't necessarily condone people putting graffiti on objects that don't belong to them. Context is really important, in my opinion. Sometimes doing the wrong thing can be the right thing. I think artist Ai Wei Wei really embodies that concept. He defies his government, however I'm not aware of him really vandalizing things. I don't want to get too political, but I do feel like people who spray paint things that don't belong to them often alienate people they could be reaching out to. </div>
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I guess this is the part where I inject my own personal anecdote. When I was a teen, I received my first big commission-to paint a mural on the side of a local restaurant. I was a couple days into the project, painting and sweating buckets in hot summer sun, when I received a call one morning, to inform me that a couple of my high school class mates had drunkenly celebrated a birthday and tagged my wall with all sorts of stupid and offensive crap images and words. The owner of the pizza place was thoroughly upset by the experience. He had been trying to do something unique and happiness inducing for the tiny little community and really felt like he had been crapped on. His enthusiasm for the project was completely killed and he called the project off. I never got to finish my mural, and I never got paid for any of the work I did do. </div>
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I've known quite a few people who have tagged things. It was usually done on a selfish dare or a whim, without any thought as to who the tag might affect. I can't get behind that kind of work. </div>
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I often find myself wondering how those who tag the property of others would react if their property was tagged...</div>
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I will say this though-I was reminded of the power of art by this particular train piece. Because what started out as a seemingly silly tag, turned into an unexpected history lesson and a short education on the politics of freight train art and the history of a specific group of artists. And personally, I live for those types of completely unexpected experiences. I'm a big fan of that which expands the mind.</div>
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-69887554958756730262016-03-16T09:44:00.000-07:002016-03-16T09:44:04.054-07:00New Work-Candy HandyI love this itty bitty piece so very much.<br />
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Baby hands that seem to say "I love you", neon candy dotties, and an absolutely precious size.<br />
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There's an element of sadness buried under all the circus colors, but I'll not delve deep into that. It will speak to who it wills.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVKptuHP3z3uDUAP8ue0J0_fCYAwdt5pI8oygo9wkvknDNlypIpL1EU0x6RqyIlK23dafO7gFjLSO756sCygOHysFNxoSgOqN45pv8b8Vpv8xwWEMCwzF5OWPkLPAD9R-litw3Xdo25Q/s1600/IMG_2116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVKptuHP3z3uDUAP8ue0J0_fCYAwdt5pI8oygo9wkvknDNlypIpL1EU0x6RqyIlK23dafO7gFjLSO756sCygOHysFNxoSgOqN45pv8b8Vpv8xwWEMCwzF5OWPkLPAD9R-litw3Xdo25Q/s640/IMG_2116.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwMCzonBSCqWXUvevqYo4Uk2eQRVyW2W1RDIiXdQysMftcR8grWiiDd6NsjS7VnXDWYg1VLVIIfm1Dl_VF-b3GQhDHnACSvH3Hjhl-RXrP2Teg_hbvtkVjtoiLbTd7ir7ZkwSLtXcONc/s1600/IMG_2114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwMCzonBSCqWXUvevqYo4Uk2eQRVyW2W1RDIiXdQysMftcR8grWiiDd6NsjS7VnXDWYg1VLVIIfm1Dl_VF-b3GQhDHnACSvH3Hjhl-RXrP2Teg_hbvtkVjtoiLbTd7ir7ZkwSLtXcONc/s640/IMG_2114.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiUHRXOQ2-g6HJ2NalS6EaNA_vuZeA7QyNM5Y4ECSsTVlSS7zW6R9fqKDSw71tm2RM5QUjH6hFlvyRcxcXRothzXKfQHj7Ob59mb-Bo4tpLiAhNdIlfwmTw1woZmRJhBa4j2ol2oNrRk/s1600/IMG_2124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiUHRXOQ2-g6HJ2NalS6EaNA_vuZeA7QyNM5Y4ECSsTVlSS7zW6R9fqKDSw71tm2RM5QUjH6hFlvyRcxcXRothzXKfQHj7Ob59mb-Bo4tpLiAhNdIlfwmTw1woZmRJhBa4j2ol2oNrRk/s640/IMG_2124.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2clLHteuI7cf9edJgFxvvSDGZ7IDX0qt21obyoPAq_LlpCzBt1GvOOoMhFQDuA9uIvBcHbtDkvD1hiZPrGUmGQ2rYhelFUr6lhyAq9xGPLiK-e4QCE3bJxpMLtKr6lcLt5UhF1riwLKo/s1600/IMG_2131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2clLHteuI7cf9edJgFxvvSDGZ7IDX0qt21obyoPAq_LlpCzBt1GvOOoMhFQDuA9uIvBcHbtDkvD1hiZPrGUmGQ2rYhelFUr6lhyAq9xGPLiK-e4QCE3bJxpMLtKr6lcLt5UhF1riwLKo/s640/IMG_2131.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfT1EKN0OWIBzSAL88faHFFhc8FwcLkCXo49ZWh6sUmzbSOkWQfqH0jl4zL9AI5Z8kG525hGtnSC6-osUWXA7s54Z9-ShyphenhyphenftVUsr1nu8MY9lCW0LDQmteieb9WiimcLySbY0B4PB7fdCk/s1600/IMG_2135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfT1EKN0OWIBzSAL88faHFFhc8FwcLkCXo49ZWh6sUmzbSOkWQfqH0jl4zL9AI5Z8kG525hGtnSC6-osUWXA7s54Z9-ShyphenhyphenftVUsr1nu8MY9lCW0LDQmteieb9WiimcLySbY0B4PB7fdCk/s640/IMG_2135.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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Listing soon. Because these sweeties need to be united with their soul mate.Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-59738641985013829482016-03-15T16:32:00.004-07:002016-03-15T16:32:43.782-07:00Technically, It Is STILL WINTERFor like, another week, right?<br />
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You can't tell if you judge by the weather.<br />
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Today was 70+ degrees warm outside. After school, the kids played outside while I worked on weeding some of my garden beds and went ahead and planted some radishes. After a couple hours, we came in to shower and get ready for dinner.<br />
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That's when a loud alarm sounded in my home and I about peed myself, because I had forgotten what my weather radio's warning was like after so many months of it being silent.<br />
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We were under a tornado watch. Or warning. My radio said one, my internet said another.<br />
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And then this happened-<br />
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Hail. Not snow, but hail. Lots of hail. Hail that was bouncing around my back yard like ping pong balls in a fish tank. Hail that knocked a little footstool plum off its perch on a decorative chair, then buried it under a blanket of icy balls.<br />
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Hail that was piled high and heavy enough that it took me several attempts to get my back door open.<br />
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Hail that lasted for what seemed like an eternity. I don't think I'd ever experienced hail that lasted more than a minute or two. This went on for a good ten minutes. Just pummeling all the green things growing in my yard.<br />
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Just goes to show, life is full of surprises. This maybe wasn't one I would choose, but I do think it is good to be awestruck by nature once in a while.<br />
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Even if it means you have to replant your radishes.<br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-30278211191549936022016-03-15T09:23:00.000-07:002016-03-15T09:23:47.877-07:00New Work-A Sophisticated Something Or OtherI've really thrown myself into my stitched mixed media/embroidery pieces lately. I've been sketching too, but mostly stitching. Stitching while cooking, stitching while watching the kids play outside, stitching while half sleeping...those pieces are always super fun to wake up to!<br />
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Spring is basically here-I've got bulbs pushing leaves through the ground, and my herbs are all sprouted. I'm going to be wrapped up in my gardens soon, so I think this sudden burst of creative productivity is the last big push before the art making part of my spirit dies down a bit for the growing season.<br />
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I've also been studying the Law of Attraction too, but that's a whole 'nother story. Which I will share in due time. Because it is one of those crazy things that affects how I work.<br />
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This newest piece was one of those 11 p.m. "Hey-I think I have an idea for a piece!" things that I hardly remembered even starting when I woke up the next morning after only a few pitiful hours a sleep. I was impressed by it, as it feels like a little bit more "sophisticated" piece than what I usually make. The colors, I mean. I'm all about gaudy, bright, candy colors. The candy colors in this piece are balanced out by the dark gray.<br />
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That's my opinion, anyway. <br />
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I love these random(or not so random) globs of vintage and thrifted buttons, and how they form a chaotic yet controlled mess.<br />
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Something about this reminds me of the juicy interior of a split, ripe peach.<br />
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And I love peaches. Picking the first peaches from my first peach tree was one of the happiest, most rewarding, most exciting moments of my life. There is just nothing like growing your own food. Or letting nature grow it for you. I guess I really don't have to do too much to take care of the peach trees. We are so far North though that peaches aren't a guaranteed thing. One late frost and snap-no peaches this year! So each crop is magical.<br />
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I really do think the colors in the piece would suit a more "sophisticated" home decor style that what I typically create for. And it is so small, it can effortlessly float from a bookshelf, to a kitchen to a bedroom or a fireplace mantle.<br />
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It'll be available in my etsy shop soon. I've got about 10 pieces hanging out, waiting to be listed, but I'm waiting to do it until I experience creative burn out and need a change of pace. Gotta keep it all balanced, man.<br />
<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-10824734420574526822016-03-05T15:55:00.000-08:002016-03-05T15:55:22.618-08:00Miss TEAI just finished this piece today, after having started it last semester. Sometimes I gotta let things fester a bit before I decide what to do about them.<br />
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The base of this piece is Egyptian cotton with a plastic tea label stitched to it. I peeled the label off the glass jar the tea came in, in one long spiral and couldn't bear to throw it away, so I stitched it onto this fabric.<br />
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And then it sat and sat and sat, because I knew it wasn't finished, but I just didn't know what the heck to do with it.<br />
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Until today, when inspiration hit and this neon little lady was conceived and birthed.<br />
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She's a bit abstract.<br />
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And I love the juxtaposition of the shiny, plastic label and the brightly colored, but flat cotton floss against the expensive Egyptian cotton(which is from my husband's old stash of quilting fabrics).<br />
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She is a portrait, but a portrait that reflects feelings rather than physical reality.<br />
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I let the ends of the hair and neck strands hang loose, and a couple of them are quite long, though you can't really tell from my photos. I just didn't have a good place to hang it up and snap a picture. I did this to symbolize dragging of the feet, breaking of the rules and existing outside the perimeters that the world establishes for us.<br />
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This piece, like many pieces of small size, is difficult to appreciate from a distance of more than a couple feet away from it. It is a blur from across the room, but as you draw closer, the details begin to emerge, and what may at first seem primitive and simple, reveals itself to have a louder voice than what many would believe a gaudy piece of trash should have.<br />
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The inner physiatrist in me says maybe that's the story of most of my pieces.<br />
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Because maybe that's the story of me. <br />
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<br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-72618651273311605342016-03-05T15:22:00.004-08:002016-03-05T15:22:59.861-08:00Sketchbook March 4, 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I meant to post these yesterday, but I never got around to it. I fell asleep at the tail end of several hours of Conservation Biology homework.<br />
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I feel like some of the eyes are responses to me previous statement...<br />
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<span id="goog_1438722855"></span><span id="goog_1438722856"></span><br />Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-840194765104677305.post-51246586963572020872016-03-05T15:20:00.002-08:002016-03-05T15:20:20.688-08:00Snapshot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When your son's Samurai demolishes his gluten free biscuit with all the aplomb of a drunken college student...Brandy Cupcakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06085953457866392068noreply@blogger.com0