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“In order to change the world, you have to get your head together first.” Jimi Hendrix
Change has been a big part of my life for the past few weeks professionally and personally. It’s been buzzing around my head like a cloud of pesky gnats. I need some time and space to get my head together and move forward. Unfortunately, life and obligation don’t recognize I have some thinking to do.
My company has been working through a massive reorganization on many levels with everyone being assigned new titles with new responsibilities – in some cases it’s a whole new world. That would be me. We took several hours discussing the things we needed to “stop doing” and the things we needed to “start doing” during our week-long training for the new process. As I contemplated these lists, my prevailing thought was: “If I stop doing all that, WHAT will my day look like? I need to THINK about this for at least a week.” Out came the stone tiles I had brought along with me. (FYI: TSA doesn’t much like stone in your carry on) They were to be gifts for my daughter’s bridal shower. Each with a different Zentangle design, sealed and cork-backed. In other words, coaster sets. Throughout the week, I tangled, listened and internalized it all. I have to say, this is the first time I have used Zentangle in this way, and it helped me focus. I was getting distracted by all the commitments that I would have to honor, yet were not part of my new duties, and the need to flip the switch right away. Tangling helped me put those concerns away and focus on what I needed to hear. I work for a wonderful company and my boss (luckily I get to keep him) is completely fascinated by Zentangle and understands how I use it. Plus I gave a few mini-lessons to co-workers – spreading the love around.
Once I got home, personal commitments took over. I had one day to prep for the bridal shower, but I did it. It was a wonderful success and we had a great time. That night, my oldest daughter fainted at work (ER nurse) and knocked herself out for about 15 minutes and dislocated her jaw in the process. She did scare the wits out of a drunk driver she was giving a lecture about drinking and driving. Tests are ongoing, but it appears that she is now susceptible to concussion after her injuries from the accident last year. Add lack of sleep, extreme stress from work that night and dehydration – and there you have it. Since she isn’t allowed to drive till the last tests are done, I am now driving Miss Daisy. That’s what she told me earlier this year when I was having trouble with my eyes and not allowed to drive – so turnabout is fair play. I’ve started working with Linda Allred to stop my procrastination habits – perfect timing. I need all the focus I can get through the rest of this year. Wedding plans are taking over and we are in the home stretch.
So here I am. It’s Friday and my calendar is wonderfully blank. I have been waiting for this day – a big block of time to think, assimilate and get my head together. And you can be sure I’ll be tangling away while I do it.
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- Bridal Shower
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- The chocolate tasting bar at the bridal shower. I wish you could smell – it was divine!
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- My granddaughter at her second football game as a Dancing Mustang. She continues to amaze!
“There is something about a wedding gown prettier than any other gown in the world. ” Douglas Jerrold’s Wit: A Wedding Gown; Douglas Jerrold, 1859.
Today was the big kickoff for the rush to the wedding – bridal portraits. And what a day it was! Our Bride absolutely hates to have her plans go awry or to be late for anything. The demands have been wearing on her for a few weeks now, and what started out on track had begun to derail by early afternoon, leaving her weepy and stressed.
We settled on a late afternoon photo shoot at an incredibly beautiful local plantation – Houmas House. I had toured the home a few years ago with my granddaughter and the grounds are a photographer’s dream (the photos below were from that visit.) Things began to slide with her hair and a last-minute change of mind to add some curls. Her hair is waist length and doesn’t hold a curl very well. When the stylist began to comb through the curls, the product he used began to flake and had to be plucked out – won’t be doing that on the wedding day. She is now 30 minutes late for the make-up artist, catching every red light and calling me every few minutes to cry. The makeup artist – Lauren – was great and she was FAST! She calmed her down and did an amazing job to get us back on track. I loaded everything in the car and we had exactly enough time to get there, under normal circumstances. Just as we turned out of the neighborhood and she is fretting that she didn’t check that everything was in the car herself, the skies went black and the flood began. The photographer called to say he was in the parking lot, waiting it out and it was much worse there than what we were driving through. We can’t pull up to the house, I discover my grandson took my umbrella out of my car, and we have a trek to get to the dressing area and then another to get to the house. I buy an umbrella in the gift shop to hold over her, it’s okay if I get wet, and we start hauling. The rain gives us a little break when we head to the house and the photographer sits her on a lovely antique settee. “Katrina, everything you just went through never happened, the sun is shining outside and you look beautiful.” He was great! The extra time in the house allowed shots he never took before, tourists from all over the world were peeking around doorways raving over the gorgeous dress and stunning bride. “Your groom will pass out when he sees you for the first time!” The docent was in love too, suggesting places for great shots around the house. We finally made it outside, hiked to the front of the home, spread a sheet to protect the dress (not) and started snapping away. I feel raindrops and head back to the house to get the umbrella. As I look back, she is framed by the oak trees with the light shining through her veil, throwing her in silhouette. It is amazing. We need to get this one, so I wade into the grass and across the massive lawn shouting to the photographer he needs to frame her from the opposite direction. He wades out to meet me and agrees, this one HAS to be taken. I just know this will be a favorite. The over-cast sky, thunder clouds, wet foliage, slate and ornate wrought iron garden furniture with the oak trees and the soft light shining all around her – stunning! Good call Mom! Exhausted, sweaty and a picture in contrasts – her still pristine and me looking like a wet, half drowned rodent – we load it all up and head home. We have some great mother-daughter time and memories from this one. It is a story that will be fun to tell in the future. I assure her, the post-thunderstorm light was great, the photos will look so serene and perfect – and she can look at them and remember the rain, stress and sweat running down her legs and laugh that the crazy day doesn’t even show.
As we were finishing, a huge group of senior couples arrived for dinner at the home. They were enchanted to see her standing with her dress in her arms and telling her to take a look at them because they are her future. I know they were joking, but that future is exactly what I want her and her groom to experience. A long and love-filled life together – I live that dream every day and it’s wonderful.
“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children.” –President George W. Bush, November 11, 2001
Each year, on this date, I relive those awful moments in time. Even though so many years have passed, I cry each time even though I am not one to cry easily. I never watch news footage of that day, it is just too much for me. I feel the same way about Hurricane Katrina. This year, I broke with that and watched the interview President Bush gave to National Geographic about his thoughts and actions that day. It was an interesting insight into the transformation of our leader with a single event. Now, as then, I feel grateful for his leadership at a crucial time in our country’s history. Seeing the footage is even worse all these years later. Why would that be? Maybe because the shock is now gone and I have had time to truly understand the losses suffered that day. My heart breaks for those families forever changed on that day.
My Zentangle this morning seems to reflect my unease. The jumble of Paradox with Mooka in blue ink captures my mood today. Sadness over past events and worry as my brother flies home from S. Korea, today of all days. There’s hope there too, just around the edges, ready to grow and hide the chaos over time. But never forget, it is always there, deep in our hearts.
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- Our Girl
”Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.” Welsh Proverb
Twelve years ago I was blessed to become a grandmother for the first time. She was a true gift from God for me. I almost lost her last year, but God gave her back, just as perfect as she was before. She was in my thoughts as I worked on tiles for the Diva Challenge – mono tangle tiles using only Paradox. It is one of my favorite tangles because it takes a lot of focus and concentration. Since I am not much of a cook anymore, I thought a tangled cake would be in order and the tangle is fitting. Our girl is very much a paradox these days as the wild mood swings of the pre-teen years take hold. That’s okay, she’ll grow out of them and we are ever grateful she has that opportunity.
I am such a lucky Kacki to have my Maggie Moe. Love you my Mags! Happy Birthday!
Geaux Tigers!
“There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full.” Henry A. Kissinger
A few years ago a friend was describing the various criteria she used in shopping for a new car. This very intelligent, no-nonsense woman went on at length about the importance of a good cup holder. Her experience was that most were just too small for a “Big Gulp” and that was unacceptable to her. I teased her about it at the time, but she never wavered from her convictions. Fast forward to this week…
My week was booked solid with appointments starting at 8:30 and running through to 5 pm and beyond. On Thursday morning, exhausted and stressed from the intense schedule, I noticed my husband prowling around the house – searching. When asked, he explained he was worried about his Mom getting in his truck. He was taking her for a doctor’s appointment that day so he was searching for something to help her step up and into the truck. His Mom had a stroke some years ago and his concern was well founded as her mobility is not very good. I suggested we trade vehicles for the day – he could take my car and I would take his truck. Problem solved — for him.
I hate driving the “Bubba Truck” and should have known I was in trouble as I struggled to climb into the truck in the skirt I was wearing that day. Hubby leans in and warns me: “Now this is a FORD truck. Remember there is about a 3 second lag when you shift to reverse.” Yeah, yeah, I won’t be driving in reverse. I am a little early, so I decide to stop for my favorite drink, a 44 oz. diet coke from Sonic. It’s not the drink, but the ice that I love – plus it lasts all day and I needed the caffeine. I rumble into the local Sonic and order my drink. Uh-oh, no wallet in my purse, no money, no license. Hubby had taken it out looking for a gas card. Paying the carhop with all the loose change I could scrounge in my purse, I head back home to get my wallet. As I turned out of the drive thru, my 44 oz drink went airborne, covering the passenger side of the truck, narrowly missing my LSU purple Coach purse. NOW, I am going to be late and call to warn my team to start without me. I pull in the driveway, leave my phone ringing in the truck and rush into the house to find the wallet and get a towel to clean up the mess. First bathroom, no towels. The second has so many, that when I pull out a beach towel, the whole stack spills onto the floor. Darn, I just organized all that a few days ago. Finally, wallet and towel in hand, I am out the door and on my way. I was only 30 minutes late for my meeting. Not so bad, all things considered. Once I got to the meeting site, I pulled out my Zentangle supplies and started working on my Diva Challenge tile for the week as I listened. By the time I had finished the tile, my focus was back and the day went on as planned.
I called my friend to share the mornings antics and let her know I have a new respect for her cup holder obsession. We laugh together and I wonder why my husband didn’t have the good sense to tell me about something as important as his crummy cup holder when he warned me about a 3 second lag for reverse. I mean, where are his priorities!
“Don’t find fault, find a remedy.” ~ Henry Ford
I seem to find myself increasingly looking for the remedy as others find fault. Tempers flair and reactions are quick and unproductive resulting in a nasty knot that seems to have no beginning or end. It’s a good thing I like puzzles and take pleasure in finding the remedy that allows all parties to keep their dignity and self-esteem intact. Sometimes we become so caught up in our own situation that we can’t gain perspective. Hands reaching out to help become threats and words offered with the best of intentions are tainted by the emotion of the moment.
Empathy is the foundation of my approach in these situations. I work hard to see all sides, present them fairly, and help everyone else do the same. Once we get there, the problem is usually pretty clear and a team approach to resolution prevails. Goodness knows, it doesn’t always happen that way, but it seems to work more often than not. Luckily for me, I had a team who wanted find a solution and they were willing to help each other succeed.
I thought about all this as I completed a few Zentangles this week – clearly I needed the perspective gained in working through the various tangles. The Diva Challenge this week was to use the new tangle designed as a birthday gift to Maria from Rick called Assunta. I used my sketchbook to get a feel for the tangle, it has quite a few nuances as you learn the strokes. Even with the practice, I struggled with this one on my tiles. Mine seemed to fall short of whatever it was I was holding as the ideal in my head. Then I reminded myself, this is not about fault. It is about moving forward from where you are and finding the remedy that feels right. When you think of anything this way, it’s really not so difficult after all.
“One of the good things that come of a true marriage is, that there is one face on which changes come without your seeing them; or rather there is one face which you can still see the same, through all the shadows which years have gathered upon it.” ~George MacDonald
Last week I had lunch with a business associate I hadn’t seen for several years. The thing I noticed first was that he was clean-shaven where I had always seen him with a beard. He told me it was mostly gray now and since he couldn’t bring himself to color it, off it went. A little surprised, I realized that my husband’s beard is mostly white now. When did that happen? I’m sure it has been a gradual change over our 34 year marriage, but I just never saw it.
My husband has always seen me through rose-colored glasses. For him, I am forever the sixteen year old girl he fell in love with so long ago. Don’t get me wrong, he knows I am older and not nearly so slim as I once was, but somehow he sees past those changes. I have several friends who enjoy long marriages and I can tell you, their husbands seem to have those same rose-colored lenses. Pondering the phenomena of my husband’s gray beard, I realized that I must have a pair myself. To me, he will always be the charming guy with the great sense of humor, sparkling eyes and wonderful smile who asked me out on a bet.
Our daughters always say we are silly for each other. Now I think I understand what they mean by that statement. They see the us as we are. They’ve never known the young couple who fell in love, married and still shine with the help of those rose-colored glasses we wear only for each other.
“So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.” Gaston Bachelard
Usually, I hate those times when insomnia visits me. I toss and turn in the futile effort to go back to sleep, then ultimately surrender and get out of bed. Once up, the challenge is deciding what to do with myself. Noise is a consideration since I don’t want to wake my hubby. Putting on a load of laundry is always a safe bet. Get the coffee brewing, check. Now what? This time I noticed some packages of Scratch Art I had purchased several weeks ago as I was wandering around my local Hobby Lobby. I wasn’t feeling in the mood for regular Zentangle, but this might be interesting…and oh so quiet. As I began to scratch away the velvety black to reveal the rainbow beneath, my mind went back to third grade.
My third grade teacher, Mrs. Hebert, was very young and I just loved her. She was the first teacher who seemed equally concerned with our creative as well as academic growth. She had gone to Hawaii for her honeymoon over the summer and she brought that trip into our classroom. We spent weeks learning about poi, hula dancing, volcanoes, island life and making toilet paper leis. Her bulletin boards were artistic and unique – inspiring for me. I carried it all home and worked to make my bedroom walls look as wonderful as those boards. Many family members got toilet paper leis as gifts. She was the one who introduced all of us to the fun we could have with crayons, paper and toothpick. First, we would get out our favorite colors – at least four or five. Then we would color big blocks of each on our paper in random patterns. Next, we colored over the whole thing with a black crayon. I quickly learned it was best to get a good thick layer of crayon on the paper for this technique. The goal was to have no color at all showing – no mean feat if you’ve ever tried it. That took forever and chewed up quite a few black crayons. Finally came the magic, carefully scratching away the black with our toothpick to reveal the color beneath. The simplest line drawings became wondrous works of art when done this way. At least in my third grade eyes. I went through many boxes of crayons that year and was forever looking for more black ones. It’s a good thing they didn’t make Scratch Art back then, I would have spent every penny of my allowance and had to resort to selling empty Coke bottles to support my scratch habit. I just wish I had known about Zentangle back then, cause this is very 1970’s groovy. My third grade self is pretty proud of this one.
“As in nature, as in art, so in grace; it is rough treatment that gives souls, as well as stones, their luster.” Thomas Guthrie
I have often referred to my use of Zentangle as a favorite tool to manage stress and work my way through assorted life challenges. That has never been more true as I wrestled with a problem over the past couple of weeks. Sometimes, we find ourselves on the wrong side of shabby treatment by someone we consider a friend. These situations offer ways for us to shine along with lots of places to exhibit just how childish an adult can become. I was at one of these crossroads and needed to find a resolution that would allow me to feel good about my own conduct. I hold myself to some pretty high standards, so for the most part, I am able to rise above these situations and act graciously. Not so this time. My inner child really wanted to throw a humdinger of a tantrum in protest of the injustice.
I started the Diva Challenge early this week. The paradox of straight line string with curvy tangles and curvy strings with straight line tangles turned out to be a lot of fun. I had one of each done by Tuesday morning. By the end of the day Tuesday, I had been on the phone for eight hours straight and found myself with a huge new, rushed project on my plate that I have no idea how I will manage. And then came the call that put the cherry on that stress sundae, confirmation that I had a relationship in the ditch and headed for the bayou. Trying to shed the problems of the day, I sat in my favorite chair to relax and realized that just wasn’t going to happen. What to do?? What to do?? What to do?? I thought about starting a new tile, but just couldn’t find it in me. Then I spied the tiles I had “completed” earlier. Without really thinking, I picked up my pen and kept going. Very slowly and very deliberately, stroke by stroke. As my mind finally quieted, the path was clear and precise for me. Not easy, but the right thing to do. I took a look at the tile and realized I had thrown the Diva Challenge out the window, but that’s okay. Friendships are too valuable to squander and worth the sacrifice. There’s always another tile.
“There are no such things as limits to growth, because there are no limits to the human capacity for intelligence, imagination, and wonder” Ronald Reagan
Limitations have been on my mind a little since I barreled right into one of my own this weekend. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I have learned to manage it and I rarely have a really bad flare-up anymore, especially since I began Zentangle. But, I got careless, let a few things slide and got a wake up call from my body on Saturday.
Feeling much better, I took some time today to watch the movie Soul Surfer with my granddaughter. This young woman, Bethany Hamilton, loses her arm in a shark attack, yet goes on to become a pro surfer. Amazingly, she was back in the water only a few weeks after the attack. Her determination and spirit proved to be more powerful than the loss of her arm. She found a way to overcome the limitation and achieve her dream. By the same token, I see my eleven year old granddaughter captivated by this story, when her own is pretty inspiring. Within two weeks of emergency brain surgery for what should have been a fatal head injury, she was back at school, adamantly refusing home schooling suggested by the psychologist in the hospital. About half of her skull was replaced with titanium and an unforseen effect of the brain injury was a hypersensitivity to sound. Few environments are noisier than a middle school classroom. Each day, you could see the toll it took on her physically. Worried about how it was affecting her, I voiced my concern. The answer she gave was: “Kacki, I can’t make the world shut up just because the noise bothers me.” Soon she found a way around it. Ear plugs. She slowly acclimated herself to the noise with them – first both, then one, then none. Once again, an incredibly determined little girl with the heart of a lion finding a way to overcome a limitation.
When you take the time to look at people who amaze and inspire, there is often a limitation that provided the catalyst for moving beyond those limits to something much better than they would have accomplished before. I know that is true with interior design. So often, many of the most amazing interiors are born from the very real limits of budget, space, time, resource, etc. The limits that form the basis of Zentangle serve the same purpose. Each tile is small, 3.5″ square. You draw a border and a string, then tangle in the spaces using a black pen. There are no erasers. These limits are the power of Zentangle. The average person isn’t intimidated by that tiny tile. It takes away the pressure to be creative. But as each person grows with the art form, the limits get pushed aside and creativity begins to grow. Soon, the person who “can’t draw a straight line” is producing very beautiful artwork. Limitations give us a goal to strive for and ultimately an obstacle to overcome with our own brand of creativity, intelligence and imagination.
Tangled Tranquility 