Creativity

Creativity

I Remember a Tree

“People don’t remember each tree in a park but all of us benefit from the trees. And in a way, artists are like trees in a park.”

Yoko Ono

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Carmel Valley Ranch

Dear Reader:

There once was a tree. I remember it well…a large oak, in the center of a parking lot, that regularly shaded my car. Unfortunately, the beautiful oak reached the end of its life a few months ago. I remember the day; the entire property looked different without its grand  presence.

The tree is once again part of the landscape in the form of a bench. I’ll remember a particular tree every time I pass by or stop to rest on a particular bench.

Michele

 

 

Creativity, Inspirational Women, The Color Pink

My Blogging Friend

Dear Reader:

Back in December, I was on Maui Time reading Blog Inc. by Joy Cho and deciding if I should go public. Googling me yielded no results. I had no Facebook page. I had only just begun to read blogs.

The surf and the sand mixed with the Christmas carols, and Joy’s assurance that blogging could give me “friends I never knew I could have,” gave me the motivation I needed to launch fromthepinkshed.com.

Less than four months later, I can already say that it has been fun and fulfilling and I do have friends that I never imagined I’d have! One of the first connections I made was with Tamara Jare at My Botanical Garden. Her photography and original art inspired me. She resides in Slovenia and if it weren’t for WordPress we’d never have met.Today, I received a beautiful piece of her work that I’ll be framing and hanging in my pink shed.

Social media is as imperfect as the world it resides in, but I’m glad I decided to join the conversation. As I always told my daughter, most people are wonderful! I’m so glad to have discovered a whole new set of friends.

Michele

 

Creativity

Instructor Did NOT Like My Work

Dear Reader:

“My Favorite Kitchen” did not earn high praise. This does not crush me; in fact, it rather excites me. It gives me the impetus to ask: Why do I write? It fires me up! It makes me thankful that I’m 57 years old and so I can see that it doesn’t matter that my instructor didn’t appreciate my essay. It makes me think about other writers; it makes me think about readers.

First, I write because I’ve always admired writers and loved books. I write because I enjoy the challenge of it and I am so elated when I feel I’ve got it just right. Nathaniel Hawthorne said “Easy reading is damn hard writing.” Yes, it is!

Sometimes I write because I hope I can help someone. I always turn to the page when life becomes difficult for me. I look for advice and comfort and I find it. When I wrote about my brother’s death, my decision to be a stay-at-home mom and the benefits of Prozac, I was reaching out to you, dear reader.

I also write because it’s more fun than cleaning, jogging, golfing, cooking….etc.!  In other words, I enjoy it. And, it is nice to think that others enjoy reading my posts. With you in mind, I  keep my entries as short as possible and as entertaining and truthful as possible.

When I was asked to write 750 words describing a kitchen…I thought:  What? Why? I don’t want to write that. (BTW…750 words just happens to be my self-imposed max limit: I figure if I can do death, marriage and antidepressants in that many words, I should be able to convey most ideas within that word count!)  So, I improvised. I didn’t adhere to the word count. I didn’t offer generous details of how the kitchen looked (I can’t remember what color the walls were or how the countertops looked). I tried to make the topic work for me and this venue.

I decided to publish the work here because I thought it might remind you of your own grandmother or inspire you to allow someone to linger in your work space, and I added the recipe because I thought you’d like that!

Off to make some coffee,

Michele

 

 

 

 

Creativity, Eat, Drink and Be Merry

My Favorite Kitchen

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Dear Reader:

I started another writing course this week through Stanford Continuing Studies; I’m having trouble with it. When I write to you, I decide on the topic. But, today,  I’ve been given a writing prompt that I must adhere to!  You, dear reader, now have the opportunity to read my first submission to the class: an essay about a “memorable kitchen” with a bonus recipe!

 

I’m not much of a cook, but I do love to eat so it seems appropriate that the only kitchen I ever really loved was a kitchen that I did not cook in. It was very small and it existed in a different time. One could move between the sink, table, stove and refrigerator with just a few steps. It was brightly lit with three windows counting the one that occupied the top half of the back door that led to the herb garden. There was no dishwasher or microwave, but the phone resided there on a tiny table adjacent to the stove.

This kitchen was alive. I can not picture it empty and yet, of course, it was …when Nonnie slept. I had many meals there and, without exaggeration or exception, they always satisfied me. I could tell you about the dough that was handmade, rolled and cut on the kitchen table or the sauce that simmered on the stove all day. I could try to convince you that a simple vegetable soup with a bit of pasta and meat could be a culinary delight. Or I might conjure up the image of crispels frying in a pan of oil until crispy and then covered in powdered sugar or warm honey and enjoyed with coffee.

My grandmother spent most of her days in this room. It delighted her to cook for family, friends and, of course, the clergy. She prepared meals for the priests at her church often and the bishop was thrilled when his visits coincided with her food deliveries. (Priests lined up to give the eulogy at her funeral!)

Her kitchen was akin to an artist’s studio, but she generously shared it. It was calming and reassuring to simply sit and watch her mix, roll, cut and fold. She completed these repetitive tasks with great joy and precision. She did not require participation in the task at hand, but she was glad to have you step outside to pick the herbs she needed or to allow you to take over the task of frying or filling.  Often, I just sat, though, and fully appreciated the warm companionship she offered while she worked.

Truly, I loved everything Nonnie cooked and baked, but it is a small meal in a mug that I remember most fondly. I would love to share the recipe with you!

 

Nonnie’s Beaten Egg Breakfast

Ingredients:

  • strong coffee
  • egg yolks
  • brown sugar
  • milk
  • and a loving companion

Brew the coffee while warming the milk slowly in a small saucepan. Crack and separate the eggs placing a yolk in each cup. Add a bit of brown sugar and beat the yolk and sugar together. Slowly, while stirring, add the hot coffee to the eggs to temper them slowly. Finish with warm milk to taste.

 

I remember many mornings spent with Nonnie enjoying this simple, sweet pleasure. I lived with her for several months after my parents divorced and I started college. Those coffee mornings gave me the sustenance I needed to pursue my future independently and the love my grandmother gave me remains with me to this day.

Thanks for reading!

Michele

 

 

 

 

 

Creativity, Flowers, Quotations

Lavender Blue for You!

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Lavender in bloom at Carmel Valley Ranch

Dear Reader:

I love the site, smell and taste of lavender, and there is no better place to enjoy it than at Carmel Valley Ranch. I also love this old English nursery rhyme dating back to the 17th century.

Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green,

When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.

Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?

Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.

Wish I could send you a bouquet,

Michele

 

 

 

Creativity, Eat, Drink and Be Merry, Family, Friends and Neighbors

A Party in the Pink Shed

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Me, my tech consultant, Kristin and her daughters Gio and Julia.

Dear Reader:

From the Pink Shed was launched six weeks ago and yesterday we celebrated in perfect 75 degree California sunshine. My blog has reminded me how exciting it is to learn something new and how rewarding it is to live a creative life.  More than that, though, and quite unexpectedly , it has been simply another reminder of the beauty of friendship. Thank you for reading, my friends, and thank you for the support and encouragement.

Courtney and family-I love all six of you! Thanks for introducing me to:

Kristin-Couldn’t have done it without you! Your family is as lovely as you are.

Beth-Thank you for your generous comments and photographic contributions.

Ann-YOU can cook…thanks for the delicious Thai treats.

Tom-You can rock a bright pink polo!

And, to the other partygoers who made my day:  Marietta and Frank, Rosemary and Mary, Fred and Carol, Peter, Fred, Catherine and Keith, Franzi, Kimberlee, Christina and Odysseus and Malcolm.

Thanks also to Laurie, who could not attend, as she is still on Mars, and my daughter, Natalie, because she’s “proud of me.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, I think, spoke truly when he said,  “The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.” Yesterday, my home was decorated beautifully with all of my treasured friends.

Michele

 

Creativity, Inspirational Women

Guest Post: Painting Barbie by Beth Bordelon

Dear Reader:

Our “From the Pink Shed” hostess Michele asked me why I paint Barbies. The easy answer is, “ I just thought it would be fun.” But when pushed to consider the question a bit more deeply a few things come to mind.

For inspiration, I often take or find photos of subjects I might like to paint later. One of my largest photo files is the Barbie folder. Not just any Barbie, but the vintage original Barbie dolls that Mattel introduced back in 1959. For some reason, later Barbies seem frivolous and maybe a bit tacky to me,  yet the original Barbies seem classic.

When my daughter was growing up in the late 1990s, I intentionally never bought her a Barbie. I felt that those unrealistically shaped, perfect glamour girls would be unattainable or improper role models for her. When friends or family members gave her a Barbie as a gift, I would go out and buy the doll a doctor’s outfit, a basketball uniform or an art studio in order to give her something productive to do, something that made her more than just a pretty face.

I think part of my interest in painting Barbie dolls (and other retro toys) is due to my 14-year career as an advertising art director. I created many a layout for clients’ products or services—hamburgers, soap, cameras, clothing. Paintings can turn objects into heroes. Think of Andy Warhol and the Campbell’s soup can. Painting a Barbie feels a little like creating an ad for her without the need for a headline!

Ironically, growing up, I never owned a Barbie.  My parents gave me a Tammy doll with her very own carrying case instead. (I still have both!) I liked her and certainly had plenty of opportunities to play with my friends’ Barbies, not to mention Midges, Kens and Skippers. So am I now trying to compensate for my “deprived” childhood? My amateur psychoanalyst self says I don’t think so.

If I was to be totally honest —and I’m embarrassed to admit this—there’s a part of me that relates to this perfect long, tall gal. We both came into the world in 1959 — Mattel started selling Barbie five days after I was born. She’s long and lean and so am I, at 5’10” with a 33” inseam. She’s perfect, and I’m, well, a perfectionist. I’ve fought hard to let that label go, but hey, it’s a process! Who knows how many more Barbies I’ll paint. Perhaps she’s out of my system. We shall see…

Beth

My friend Beth’s work can be found at Bordelon Artworks. In addition to being a very talented artist, she is a very dear friend to me. You can reader more about Beth and our friendship here.

Creativity, Physical Fitness, Mental Health and Growing Older

Period. space, space.

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Dear Reader:

This is, at once, an explanation for my errors and a defense of my sanity.  Since I launched fromthepinkshed.com, I’ve received comments, criticisms and suggestions from those nearest and dearest to me. There is nothing I like more than constructive criticism…well, unbridled enthusiasm is nice! But seriously, how can I improve if I don’t know where I went wrong?

Here is a partial list of the mistakes I’ve made as illuminated via lengthy text messages from friends and family:

  • You haven’t been alive for a “century”…insert “half.”
  • There is an extra space between the first sentence and the second sentence.
  • The “Bachelor’s” name was Nick, not Chris.
  • There is an extra space between every sentence in paragraph 2.
  • Um, your link doesn’t link.
  • There’s an extra space after, LITERALLY, every sentence in your post, Mother!

What’s with all the extra spaces? Period.  space space.  Period.  space space.  Typing, I thought, is kinda like riding a bike…you master the skill and you never forget how to do it. I learned how to touch type back in 1976 when I was in high school; I topped out at a swift 80 wpm! Fast. I was fast. I’m still pretty fast! I can type faster than I can think.

When readers began pointing out my “spaciness,” I was bothered. Are the extra spaces the first indication that I’m at the top of the hill and will start rolling down very soon. NO, definitely not. The answer came from my daughter, as so many other good things do!  She called one day to say that after a class in typography as part of her Graphic Communication major, she had the answer to the riddle.

Here’s the explanation. Typewriters, it turns out, are very democratic machines. Every character is given the exact same amount of space on the page. That means that the letter ” i” is given the same amount of space as the letter “w,” even though it clearly doesn’t need it. This is called monospaced typesetting. An extra space between sentences was needed to delineate the beginning of a new sentence because the spacing between words was uneven on a typewriter.

Computers use proportionally spaced fonts, which adjust spacing to the size of the letter. There is no need for two spaces between sentences as the print is readable with only a single space.

It’s a simple as that! I’m old. I was taught to double-space. Turns out typing is not just like riding a bike. I’ll need to focus and proof-read or I may drive my daughter crazy!

Michele

 

Creativity

Ideas are Very Cagey Things

Dear Reader:

Get to work before it’s too late!

That idea 

catch it

before it slips away 

An idea is a very cagey thing.

First you’ve got it

then you’ve lost it.  

Where did it go?

 Is it with someone else?  

Is that the idea?

 Does it wish to be caught

 expressed?

Surely.

It zips around alighting here and there until someone sees how splendid it is

how witty and wise

She catches it and puts it on paper or canvas or a blog.

There’s another.

Grab hold of it.

Reach out to it 

 Where does it carry you  

Do you fly or swim or float or glide or skip?

Ideas are very cagey things.

Have fun,

Michele