Back to the Bonfire

A lot has gone on since I abandoned this space. The most important being that my depression finally became so deep, so dark, so desperate that even I finally recognized what was happening to myself and my family. So, I found a decent doctor and got on medicine that works well to overcome the genetic infinite sadness that I inherited from my Grandmother. So, I'm a lot better, nearly whole. And my family unit is much better, and feels very whole, which is vital as the years of expensive infertility treatments added quite a lot to my depression and my family didn't feel whole and I didn't feel whole and the whole thing was really falling to pieces around me as I struggled to keep them glued back together.

Now Chris, and E, and I are the glue that holds everything else around us together. In a very good, very happy way.

See? Glue.

Along with becoming happy and whole, I started my own company! A little copy writing business that I love very much, and that is growing all the time. For the many friends who have been wondering where I am and why I never answer the phone and rarely return calls, here is the answer:

Chris made the logo; I love it! I have intentions of having that little inkwell tattooed above my elbow.

Which proves that I did NOT turn into a medicated zombie, and that I am indeed still my regular, fiery, The Flaming Maiden: Nicole! self. I turned 30, and my Mom gave me this for my birthday present:

That, my lovelies, is a tattoo on my right shoulder. It is a large (to me) fiery lion. As a matter of fact, it is THE fiery lion that pulls a fiery chariot that carries a fiery Prince, WHO, it turns out, is in fact my very fiery son.

He has learned how to ride a bike this Spring.

Though I don't have as much time as of late, we do still craft. I am currently working on lots of socks, and an afghan for Chris that is a tiny bit like one his mother made him when he was a boy. It rained Sunday, so E and I had time to hole up in the art studio.

I tried to make a pincushion from scrap fabric. I need to reopen it and add some stuffing-- the bottom is rather poky.

Chris's Granny has recently been in the hospital, and very on our minds and in our prayers (she is recovering). A combination of that, and a giant pickle jar induced me to come up with this:

I used a piece of a quilt top that I inherited from Granny's old sewing stash, then I sewed it- wait for it--- using zigzag stitch all around the edges to a piece of-wait for it--- that sort of grippy shelf paper! Do you know what I'm talking about? The shelf liner that keeps the rims of glasses from chipping? Only I have very pretty grippy shelf liner! So now we have a very pretty kitchen grippy for opening jars! And it pretties up the giant pickle jar too!
As an added bonus, Chris informed me that his Mama used to have a quilted jar lid cover that she used on giant pickle jars. Mine is grippy to make it easier to open jars, but it's the same concept. Folks, that's like two sweet things for Chris in one!

Also, he gets to eat the pickles. Unfortunately, we are crazy for giant pickle jars and Ezra and I need Chris to eat two of these jars of pickles as quickly as possible. I hope he's up to the challenge. To be fair, Chris started it. He uses a giant pickle jar to store corks for the miniatures that he carves. I have one giant pickle jar that I store ribbons in (it's so pretty!), and recently had a reason why I need another, though I can't remember just at this moment what it is. Yarn, maybe? Ezra wants one to fill with "pricklies" that he collects on his bike rides around the neighborhood. They are some sort of large, prickly seed pod that falls off, I think it's a ginko tree, maybe. Anyway, he collects them and wants a jar to store them in. He also has plans to grow one of these trees in our yard so that we will have a never ending supply of pricklies. I think we should start it growing in a pot so that it can grow into a sapling before we plant it in the yard so that it doesn't get cut down by the lawnmower.

See? Whole.

Rose

It never ceases to amaze me how you can set out to help somebody and end up being the person who gets helped. This morning I set out with my dear friend Regan to volunteer at a free medical clinic being put on by several churches in our community. Neither Regan nor myself are church members, but my neighbor had mentioned this clinic a couple weeks ago, and Regan and I both jumped at the opportunity to get in a day of service.

Which brings up another curiosity. Regan and I both attended Transylvania University. Regan and I are both members of Alpha Omicron Pi. For four years each, we did mandatory volunteer work-- we had to get a certain number of volunteer hours each semester. We both have histories of volunteer work from our high school days. This begs the question-- do we enjoy volunteering now because we learned this behavior, or do we continue to enjoy volunteering due to some innate characteristic? Either way, a hearty day of volunteering leaves you feeling full and complete, and worn out in the best possible way. Like you've earned the right to sit in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, and fall asleep absurdly early. And it's worth falling asleep early because you know you will sleep well.

But back to my original point. I left out of here this morning intending to help somebody, intending to briefly enter a stranger's life and make it somehow a little bit better. Instead, I think I'm the person who was helped. I was assigned as an advocate, or buddy-for-the-day slash tour-guide, to a couple: Rose and James. They are your average lovely people, quite down on their luck. Absolutely the type of situation that breaks your heart and makes you entirely grateful for just how easy your life truly is. It seems Rose had a mini-stroke a few weeks ago, and has been living with it for weeks. She now uses a cane, and unfortunately all the clinic doctor was able to do is recommend that Rose go to a hospital for an MRI. Luckily, Regan and I were able to give Rose the peace of mind that when she goes to the hospital, there are programs in place to pay the medical bills. I hope that helps her. I hope knowing that somebody (me) cares deeply and desperately wants her to get help somehow helps her. I hope I was able to help Rose feel validated, like a deserving person. I just don't feel that I did enough to help her.

Rose did a ton to help me. Like I said, this clinic is a missionary outreach by several churches. In our morning's training, we were encouraged to proselytize (sp?) to our hearts' content. Uh-oh, I thought. My thoughts on Jesus are conflicted at best. I believe in God, but I also believe in Science. How am I going to lead people through this day when I'm expected to do it through faith that I might not have? How am I going to do the thing I am being asked to do? What if the people assigned to me are totally Godless? Will I be in trouble if I don't pray with them? What if they want me to give a prayer? Gosh, I hope don't freeze up.

But what happened instead is that I was assigned to Rose and James, who live a life steeped in deep faith. Instead of prostelitizing to them, they prostelitized to me, which was quite fine. All day long, I heard the word of God as translated by Rose and James. Some of it was questionable, but the point is this-- God reached out to me. And I really needed it. Then, quite at random, while standing in line for lunch, Rose told me to become a writer. I explained that it was a funny statement to make, particularly because I am a professional copywriter. A few minutes later, in chatty conversation she asked me a question about my husband's job. A question that does not match his current job, but totally matches a job that he interviewed for yesterday. I told her this, and she said "Oh, it must be one of my visions-- the job (with this particular characteristic) is his job, and though it will be new, he will excel at it. That's his job, and you all will be very happy."

So, I wanted deeply to help this woman, and instead God reached out through her and gave me the exact help I need. A boost to my Faith and a knowledge that everything really will be okay. I can't wait to find out if Rose is right about the job.

2 Down, 4 Left

Today marks the end of the second week of the job search. Mister has a phone interview this evening, and we're praying he gets some face to face interviews next week. Google announced this morning that it is laying off 200 people.

I openly admit-- I am scared stiff.

Are We There Yet?

I know I have been a bad blogger as of late, what with the not updating. Due to the poor economy, The Mister finds himself in the position of needing to find a new work position in the course of 5 weeks. As you can imagine, this has the entire household stressed to the max, what with the phone ringing off the hook and the iPhones beeping that Mister has email constantly. It's noisy, and stressful, and at the end of the day we all just want to collapse but the phones just keep rattling.

Which is great, we're just thrilled to have a sense that things will all work out alright in the end. But it is a long road to getting there. There are some very big decisions that must be made- like do we move and have to sell our house in this awful market when a comparable position is likely to be offered right where we are? If we move, with our sense of adventure flying like large red flags, will we regret it in a few years, only to find ourselves in a location with a smaller job market and longer commute? Perhaps most importantly, if we move to said location, can I have fancy-pants chickens? Where can I get some of those wooden shoes so they don't peck my toes when I feed them?

(Thanks to Curious/Funny Photos/Pictures for this guy.)

In the meantime, I am attempting to consider some Spring sewing that I had planned. I am currently coveting Weekend Sewing by Heather Ross. All the sewing bloggers are going wild over it, and I really, really want this book-- on top of the clear instructions and detailed information explaining the point of what you are doing, it comes with actual paper patterns! Paper patterns! Say it again: Paper patterns! I am waiting for Mister's job mess to get cleared up before purchasing this fantastic wonder of a book, because I am a responsible adult like that. Geez, I hope it is very, very soon.

Happy Inauguration Day!

Okay Universe, now that a new Era has begun, let's chill things out a bit.

I am blessed enough to have been invited next door to watch the Inauguration with friends, both old and new. I did indeed make a new friend today, a woman whom I think I have much in common with. It was just what my Inauguration Day needed. :) The hope of a new friend.

I thought that the poem Praise Song For The Day, by Poet Laurette Elizabeth Alexander was perfect. Perfect for America, and perfect for me right now. You can read the poem over at Posie Gets Cozy.

Congratulations America!