Retreat-ing...

Hey howdy...

I'm in the middle of my annual springtime scrappin' retreat but wanted to pop by and write a little, since I've been missing it, and y'all.  :)   I hafta say, I'm really excited for how productive I have been this retreat, so far.  I will be sharing what I've made but at the moment, everything that I've made just happen to be gifts and I can't show pictures until they're all delivered.  I know, I'm such a tease!

I will, however, show you something I did a while back at a scrapbook weekend in February... my first handmade journal, from start to finish.  

I took a free Book Binding 101 course from Effy Wild and this was the result.  I was so stinkin' pleased with it!  When I was making it, a friend saw the finished product and asked me to make one (with dragons instead of butterflies) for her son, for his birthday next month.  I finally finished that one, and feel safe enough to show you as neither she nor her son read my blog...

I was thrilled with how it came out! 

So, see?  My fingers have not been idle, they just haven't been typing much.  Which, to be honest, I'm sure my laptop appreciates since by the time I'm done with these journals, my fingers are pretty inky.

Anyone out there doing anything fun and creative lately??

Just One Thing...

So... today I really was going to share with you all the artsy things I've been dabbling in.

And... with the best of intentions gone awry, I have had no time to take the photos and share with you what I wanted. 

So today, on this very rare, overly warm, beautiful spring day, I offer you one thing that is making me happy right now.

Happy Daffodil Day!  :)

Room for One More...

I have had a teddy bear collection for as long as I can remember.  Over the years it has grown from a few to... a room full.  Once I reached adult-hood I had mixed feelings about these stuffed and fuzzy friends.  Should a grown woman have a teddy bear collection?  Isn't that childish?  Won't people think I'm weird? Do I really want to carry these bears everywhere I move?  (And we won't even touch the surface of my before-Toy-Story-existed feeling of my toys coming to life and won't-they-hate-me-if-I-give-them-up?)

With these recurring mixed feelings, every so often, I would "cull" the group.  I would let go of the bears won at carnivals or through quarter-games, hand-me-downs or ex-boyfriends.  But the family would soon grow again as people bought me teddy bears as gifts for birthdays, Christmas or just as a way to say, "I love you."

Once more, I was compelled to "quit" my collection.  I told family members to stop buying them for me.  I told my mom that I was "done" with teddy bears.  Yet, as we wandered through the mall, shopping near Christmas time, we inevitable ended up in a stuffed animal section of some store or another.  And every time I would touch and feel and hug the bears that whispered to me, "take me home". 

On this one particular shopping trip, I found a happy bear with plaid paws and a ribbon - Christmas colors.  I held on to him as I walked around and my mom said to me, "I thought you were done with teddy bears."  I remember responding, wistfully, "there's always room for one more."  But I put the bear down and walked out and continued on with our Christmas shopping.

I didn't give him another thought.  Until...

That beautiful teddy bear, with the plaid paws and ribbon, end up as a gift to me, from my mom.  Attached around his neck with another ribbon was a note that read, "Someone once told me:  'there's always room for one more.'  Merry Christmas."

Through the years I have again, and again, culled my teddy bear collection.  Most recently, a couple of years ago, I went through all of them, photographed  most of them and packed them off to Goodwill.  But there's still one among the select few who still share my home with me... my stuffed and fuzzy family.... Mr. Room for One More.

This little piece of nostalgia brought to you by Sian's Storytelling Sunday: My Precious edition.  For more stories, please visit here.

Fear of Failure

Historically, I have let fear of failure hold me back from way too many experiences and opportunities.  I struggle with it still.  A discovered a recent saying that has resonated with me and thought I'd share... for anyone else who struggles as I do...

"You've failed many times, although you may not remember.  You fell down the first time you tried to walk.  You almost drowned the first time you tried to swim, didn't you?  Did you hit the ball the first time you swung a bat?  Babe Ruth struck out 1,330 times, but he also hit 714 home runs.  Don't worry about failure.  Worry about the chances you miss when you don't try."

-- United Technologies

The Joke Was NOT On Me...

I just wanted to share a little funny-ha-ha with you... because, personally, I can't stop giggling about it.

This weekend, I was dog- and cat-sitting for some friends.  They live a bit of distance away, and I need to run over there very early in the morning (typically before 7am), then in the evening again.  Sunday morning, I set my alarm, got up when it went off and just quickly dressed and ran out of the house.  The Hubs was still sound asleep.

I took care of the furred-ones and then on my drive home remembered I had to pick up something that another friend said she'd leave out for me on her deck, so I happily drove over to pick that up.  The entire drive home I was craving... pancakes.  This is SUPER weird for me because... if anyone really knows me... most of the time pancakes make me gag!  But anyway, I figured The Hubs wouldn't get up to go out with me... and we didn't have the makings for them at home... and they really aren't all that healthy... so I just headed home.

After I parked in the driveway, I gathered up my things and reminded myself to be quiet as I entered the house, so as not to wake The Hubs.  Boy, was I startled to turn around and see the front door swing open and The Hubs walking out of the house.  I jerked to a stop when he said, "What are you doing home?"  Immediately I responded with my own question, "Where are you going?"  He bent down to pick up the newspaper and toss it inside (may I just mention that we ONLY receive the newspaper on Sundays).  Standing up, he looked at me and said, "I'm going to work!" Like I was dense to ask...

I had to think for a minute.  Was he on call?  No.  Did he tell me he was going in today?  No.  Would he go in this early if he did?  No.....

We looked at each other, a pause growing and finally I said, "Honey.... It's Sunday."

My poor guy.  He had heard me leave in the morning to take care of my foster dogs, turned to look at his alarm clock and thought he hadn't turned it on and was "happy" he had heard me leave, prompting him to turn it on.  When his alarm went off, he woke up, showered, shaved and dressed for his Monday morning at work.

How fortuitous that I happened to drive back up to the house at that exact moment!  Just a minute or two later and he would have already been driving to work.  I wonder what his facial expression would have been when he reached that empty destination.

We walked into the house together, the look of confusion still clear on his face.  "Honey, that's the Sunday paper you just picked up.  I was just taking care of the foster dogs."  By this time, I couldn't hold back my laughter and was giggling uncontrollably.  Thankfully, he found the humor and started laughing too.  Unwittingly, he had played an April Fools joke on himself, albeit a day early!

Since he was all dressed and spiffy... we went out to breakfast.  A rare treat.

And I got my pancakes.