We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. 

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete…

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

By Jenny Joseph

You are going home to your home of winter,
To your ho…me of autumn, of spring, and of summer;
You are going home to the Land of the Living,
To the restful havens of the waveless Sea.

Peace of the Seven Lights be upon you, beloved,
Peace of the Seven Joys be upon you, beloved,
Peace of the Seven Loves be upon you, beloved,

On the breast of the Mother of Blessings,
In the arms of the Father of Peace.

Slán agus beannacht leat

I got to thinking, when was the last time I wore  a petticoat (or slip)? I do still have one (as I discovered on investigation), not a full slip,  but a skirt petticoat, for wearing under a skirt…naturally. Now, I don’t wear skirts any more, but, when I still worked full time and wore a mid calf length skirt, I would wear a petticoat as it stopped the skirt catching my legs and bunching up.

But, I got to wondering, does anyone wear  petticoats or slips under dresses and skirts anymore as a day to day item of clothing? I certainly don’t think little girls do, and I don’t recall seeing them in Marks and Spencer’s in the children’s section. In fact, when buying new bras recently, I didn’t notice  many in the woman’s section either. Is it a piece of lingerie that has finally had it’s day, and been relegated to the same  class of obsolete underwear as the chemise and bloomers (or rather ‘directoire’ knickers as my Grandmother called them)?  Or is it now considered a ‘recreational’ item of clothing.  I rather liked petticoats and slips, they were pretty, and allowed the dress to hang better. I looked through Etsy and Google, and there were flouncy 50′s style petticoats a plenty. So the traditional petticoat is still popular as a ‘dress up’ item of clothing it would seem.

Thinking about it, I remember being pulled up by my Grandmother (or sometimes any older woman) if my petticoat was showing. And I can remember once when shopping with my Grandmother, her looking at another woman and whispering to me “tsk, look a that…her petticoat is showing’, because for ones petticoat to dip below the hem of ones skirt and be visible, was considered ‘unseemly’. Hahaha, how times have changed, now a common site to see a woman’s bra clearly through her clothes, and even the top of her knickers above the waist of her trousers.

I wonder what my Grandmother would have made of that.  How times have changed.
I think though, I am going to buy Orla a pretty slip or petticoat to wear under her party dress, as all little girls should have a flouncy petticoat.

I will take pictures over the course of a week of myself (or even just one), or something that is meaningful to me, e.g a portrait shot, a setting, a still life shot, outdoors etc, but always themed, and then post to my Flickr account and the 52 Week Project Flickr Group.

I will also blog it here every Saturday. The photos may be just portraits, or myself in situations, or a featuring a concept,or an object.  We shall see.  It will be a process of exploration and see if I can learn anything new about myself, or…just learn something new.

I would love you people to join in with me, and if you decide to, then just leave a reply. And yes Rona, I will do a blog badge

So, my goals for 2011 are thus.

1. Get fit and start riding my bike again.
2. Paint and create every single day.
3. Take my cameras out, every trip.
4. Take more time out to read.
5. Spend less time online.
6. Don’t shout.
7. Count my blessings every day.
8. Be a good Mummy…all the time.
9. Be more forgiving and let things go..
10. Stay optimistic.

That’s it. Not earth shattering. Just simple.

Not been very active on here lately, or on my Art blog, or even been working much doing anything.

Since Gladys died and consequently ‘some’ contact with my estranged parents, plus menopausal episodes, ergo…hot flushes (yes I know, everyone says I am a bit young to be having them, but it doesn’t make it any less of a bother),  I have lost my creative mojo to a degree. So, have not been doing a lot of artwork lately. I have done some sketchbook work and revisiting some subjects and ideas from the past, like letter art and pen and ink line art.

So, I am working hard to get it back, and try to keep my mood levels consistent. Sadly, not always easy. I have good days and bad days. On good days I am able to work, and on bad days…I worry about getting older, having to deal with health ‘issues’, having to cope with anxiety and OCD, and all the other attendant psychological crap.

But, I remind myself that it could always be a lot worse, and pays to count ones blessings. So….I do.

Anns Hallway

I want to tell you a story about a friend of mine.  A friend who worked and saved hard for her dream home, and had that dream shattered.

Many of you may have seen that show “Cowboy Builders” on five, whenever I have seen it I have sat aghast at the sheer devastation these unscrupulous people leave in their wake. It’s not only the buildings they destroy but very clearly the lives of the people/families who they prey upon.

Sadly, a friend and designer-maker Ann of handmade eco homewares Snowdrops and Daisies and The Tea Cosy Shop and her family have fallen prey to just such an unscrupulous builder. The house, which was meant to benefit from a beautiful new extension, now lies in a total shambles: no electrics in the kitchen, wonky floors, windows that open inwards instead of outwards, in some areas no protective material on the outer skin of the extension, exposed gas pipes and electrical wires in outside walls, garden used as a building materials dumping ground….I could go on. You can read the whole nightmarish ordeal here on Ann’s blog.

What WE can do to help Ann and her family:

1. Spread the word!! Obviously Ann cannot name the builders in question for legal reasons but by telling Ann’s story and raising the profile of this all too common issue we can help! So, get blogging, twittering and facebooking about this.
2. Subscribe to Ann’s blog, just click the “subscribe” button;
3. If you live nearby (South Lanarkshire, Scotland) donate your time to help them out. If you have specialist skills (electrician, plumber, carpenter, plasterer etc) even better! Ann says there is room to camp if anyone is willing;
4. Donate something: If you are an artist, designer-maker, crafter Ann and her family would welcome donations of your work to make their house feel like a home again. They won’t have any funds left for little luxuries like these as their funds will be wiped out with trying to fix the botch job they have been left with;
5. Buy something from Ann’s shops: Snowdrops and Daisies and The Tea Cosy Shop.

Read more details of how to help here.

Ann's Cup Cosy

Lorrie 1997, aged 35.

Those who knew me more than fifteen years ago, or even ten or so will remember I was a pretty girl. I wasn’t terribly vein I don’t think. In fact, until I was about 30, I really didn’t think I was anything special at all. But, I was slim, had long silky hair, pale with green eyes that held a somewhat steely glint at times, and…I was pretty. I took it for granted, and at times enjoyed it. It was not the most important thing to me certainly, and why I didn’t spend too much time on it.

I held my looks I think until I was about 40. Certainly when I look at my wedding photos I look good, and definitely not 40, lucky me. Sadly, with the birth of Orla, recovering from a traumatic and gruesome delivery, her colic, sleepless nights without end, her illnesses, and nary a full nights sleep in five years etc, have taken their toll.

I don’t know when it was exactly that I suddenly looked old and tired, and most definitely not young and pretty any more. I also can’t seem to remember when it was that I lost interest. I was photogenic when I was young, and loved having my picture taken. Now, I avoid the camera at all times, and stay behind the lens if I can rather than in front. These days, unless carefully composed, it’s almost impossible for me to get a good shot of myself without looking old, tired drawn, exhausted and a face that looks positively sagging. Being overweight doesn’t help I know. I look in the mirror now, with the knowledge that on this day, this is as good as it gets, and this premise will apply for every day here after.

This is not a whine tough, it really isn’t. For after all, what can I do? Starve myself and end up looking like an old chicken, fill my face with poison and look like a piece of sweaty playdo?  And indeed, what I got in exchange was infinitely more wonderful than looks. I got my little girl, who I could not live without. The most amazing, vibrant, exciting, loving, funny, clever and adorable little creature that brings utter  joy to my life.

No, one must accept it, and I do. Beauty is purely subjective anyway, and being a middle aged woman is now become quite trendy and cool, but, I do sometimes miss being young and pretty.

Let’s just say I got a little carried away. Normally in Specsavers I would point at a rack and say ‘how much are these’ etc. This time I just started grabbing frames and trying them on, accompanied by ‘oohhs’ and ‘ahhhs’ and, ‘aren’t these pretty’. I found a pair I liked and that felt comfortable. ‘How much are these’  I asked, ‘£180′ was the reply, which meant added to the cost of my eye test, I would be paying over £210. ‘They are made of  Titanium’ was the response to my silence, ‘not gold then?’ I replied.

So, given they are important for my work, I accepted with good grace, and paid the deposit, rang my husband and gave him the happy news. A week later we went and got my new glasses.  When they handed me the glasses in their case, my first thought was that the case had probably cost as much as the glasses.

Oh well. They do look nice, and I got a free makeup mirror as well.