Tiny Dancer

After seeing the pictures of the Mamma Mia party I did a few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked if I would help her with her daughter's birthday party. After my friend presented a few of our collaborations to the birthday girl, she decided she wanted a ballet themed party. I haven't seen this friend in many years and we have had so much fun reconnecting while planning the party. Here's what we came up with:

The Invitations

(I made them, complete with the little rhymes at the bottom, I even impressed myself!)

The Birthday Banner

The Cups

The Food Labels

(I used dance steps and matched them with the menu.)

Here's how it all fell together, it turned out TUTU cute! ;)

I also took pictures of all the tiny dancer's while they were at the party. I thought they turned out cute too. 

I love, love, love that I was able to reconnect with a childhood friend while helping to plan this party for her baby girl! She and her family are such dolls! I know that we will not let so much time pass before we are able to get together again!

Your Heart Will Lead You Home

"Sometimes', said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart." 
~A.A. Milne

The other day I took one of my stars to see Winnie the Pooh at the movies. After the movie, we were holding hands while walking out the door of the theater and she looked up at me and said, "You are like Pooh and I am like Piglet."  I said, "We are? Is it because I am stuffed with fluff like Pooh and you are little like Piglet?" She said, "No, it's because we are best friends, silly, just like Pooh and Piglet." I said, "Oh! You are right, we are!" My heart melted right then and there. 


Sometimes in life the little great things make the big bad things a little more bearable.

True

Killing Me Softly

"I felt all flushed with fever

Embarrassed by the crowd

I felt he found my letters

And read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

Have you ever heard a song that spoke more than words to you? As if the song writer tip-toed through your thoughts and wrote your whole life on paper. And then if reading it wasn’t enough, they put music to those words and sang the contents of your soul for the entire world to hear.

I have been listening to Adele’s album “21” for the last couple of months. While I admit there have been a few “Bieberbreaks” while running errands with a star in my sky, for the most part Adele has been on continuous play on my IPod. When I buy new music I usually buy the whole album and end up with 2 or 3 winners in the good song category. “21” far exceeds my expectation. Every single song on the album was as if she wrote the song from a desk located in my mind, like if my little pea brain were calling out my feelings and thoughts and Adele was sitting there diligently taking notes. 

“Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds, 

You made a fool out of you,

And, boy, she's bringing you down,

She made your heart melt,

But you're cold to the core,

Now rumor has it she ain't got your love anymore”

"I won't let you close enough to hurt me,

No, I won't rescue you, you to just desert me

But there's a side to you

That I never knew, never knew.

All the things you'd say

They were never true, never true,

And the games you play

You would always win, always win."

"Some say I'll be better without you

But they don't know you like I do

Or at least the sides I thought I knew"

"Didn't I give it up,

Tried my very best,

Gave you everything and no less."

"Nothing compares,

No worries or cares,

Regrets and mistakes,

They are memories made.

Who would have known 

How bittersweet this would taste?"

"Nevermind, I'll find someone like you.

I wish nothing but the best for you too.

"Don't forget me," I begged.

"I'll remember" you said.

Sometimes it lasts in love

But sometimes it hurts instead."

Obviously, I'm not be the only unlucky girl in the world that has had her fair share of brushes with men that teach monumental lessons in their wake. This shows me that if Adele, who is beautiful and talented beyond measure, deals with the same caliber of rascal's that I encounter, I am in pretty good company.

Every time I listen to this CD the words tug on my heart and force me to deal with my thoughts and feelings. What strikes me is Adele writes most of her own songs from her own experiences. How can she get up every night and sing such personal thoughts, exposing such intense emotions in front of sold out audiences? I know I would not want to relive my past mistakes night after night in front of the world's stage. So, in my opinion Adele not only has the best voice out there (my blog, my opinion), she also has my respect for being able to face the world with an open heart and open eyes.  

Count on Me

Happy birthday, little baby brother!

My youngest brother is turning 25 today. He is generous, kind, intelligent, creative, loving, and funny. His crazy spin of optimism inspires me to be a better person on my worst days. He is eager to learn, slow to judge, and quick to lend a helping hand. He is absolutely the most self-less person that I have in my life. He is someone you can count on. He does for others beyond the normal call of duty. He actually stops and helps random people on the side of the road. Who does that anymore? My brother does. 

Chivalry is not dead; it lives in my dear, sweet brother.

Happy birthday! Your big sister loves you. 

(I just want to) Fly

The Way You Look Tonight

Someday when I’m awfully low, 

when the world is cold,

I will feel a glow just thinking of you…

My Grandma, 2 of my cousins, my big baby brother & me, 1982.

These days, I feel so damn ordinary. With William off the market, reality has hit that I will probably not marry into the royal family. At age 31, I have come to the conclusion, that I won’t be a millionaire when I’m 30.  And with a B average in high school chemistry, I concede in not being the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Medicine by discovering the cure to Cancer.  All of these revelations made me think about how I don’t feel special anymore. Sure, I have a whole cast of family and friends that love me, but it doesn't make me FEEL special.

My daddy’s mama always had a flair for turning everything she touched into something special. An everyday lunch, just a regular peanut butter and jelly sandwich was special if she served it at her table. First of all, it was a “Peanut Butta’ and Peach Preserve Sandwich”. Then of course the crusts would be cut-off, the sandwich cut criss-cross, served on a tray with gold-rimmed china, a real cloth napkin, homemade thick-cut potato chips, a dollop of ketchup, and juice served in a wine glass. Lunch fit for a princess! And when I say princess, I don't mean the loosely used term of this generation, every little girl is called Princess these days. This was different. She didn’t say, Oh you’re Grandma’s Princess. She made me feel it.

One summer, my brothers, my mama, and I came up to stay with her at the family beach house. The first day we arrived she sat my brother’s and I down and made a list of rules for us. Most of the rules were typical beach- kid rules, (example: don’t go to the beach without an adult) but I remember the last rule she wrote down, was , “Leave each room just like you would if President George H. Bush were coming for a visit.” Right now, that prospect isn’t quite as glamorous as it sounded to nine year old ears.  But when she said it as she wrote it, she made me BELIEVE that there was a possibility of President George H. Bush just happening upon our house and stopping for a visit, just like we were old family friends. All summer long I picked up my toys and clothes out of the bathroom just in case the President decided to come for a visit.

That same trip she bought some acrylic paint and some paper plates. One rainy afternoon, we painted scenes all afternoon on those paper-plates. That night after we went to bed she hung the paper plates all over the house with little brass thumb tacks. She woke us up the next morning saying we were going to an art gallery. Before breakfast, she took us all around the house, touring our little art gallery in our pajamas. She’d walk up to one of our paintings and say, “Oh, the Artist’ Elizabeth painted this masterpiece. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

My Grandma always knew how to put the extra touch of pizazz on everything. When she cooked it was always, over the top. One of her signature dishes was Hungarian Goulash.  I will readily admit that the kids in my family weren’t the pickiest of eaters back then, but Goulash? If you aren’t familiar with the dish, google it… it’s not the most visually appealing meal. However, while she was preparing this alleged Hungarian Goulash, she would regale everyone that listened of the little old woman that passed this recipe along to her. I remember having the vivid image of a woman wearing a scarf over her head walking to the river every day to get water. I pictured a woman that made her own pottery and slaved over a hot fire cooking this Hungarian Goulash for her family of ten.  She painted such an elaborate story, by the time dinner was ready, the kids at the table were invested in her little story. We’d all gobble the goulash feeling pretty special that we didn’t have to walk down to the river to take baths and wash clothes every day. We wouldn’t even notice the dinner in front of us looked a whole lot like a regurgitated hot mess.


It was always a grand adventure of the mind when Grandma was around. Whether the adventure was new place we’d never been, a push to do something we’d never been exposed to, or an ordinary meal spiced with sassy stories and immersed in culture, she weaved a web of colorful memories that still visit almost 20 years after her death.

The other night, I was making pink mashed potatoes for a Pinkalicious Slumber Party for one of the stars in my sky. I realized how Grandma must have felt while she was the mistress of marvelous. As I put a drop of juice from the Pinkatastic Papaya Tree (red food color) in the “Master Taters” (mashed potatoes), I watched a pair of eyes sparkle and dance with amazement… and I felt oh so damn special.

Independence Day

"Freedom is never given, it is won."

Thank you to the men & women that have served our country ensuring that our freedom continues. Your service to our country is beyond-compare. Thank you doesn't quite cover the gratitude I feel for your sacrifices. Also, to all of the military families left to keep the home-fires burning; your loyalty & resilience inspire me, thank you for your service to our country as well.