The creative and spiritual journey of a (textile) recycler. . .

I have thought about starting a blog for a long time now. I just couldn’t seem to get started. I thought. . what would I say, what would I do and really . . . . . who would care.

Last year I had the great fortune to witness a ‘happening’. As a spouse at a reunion (I know, groan) I was both an observer and participant. This reunion was attended by some of the most creative and talented people on the face of the planet. Really, no exaggeration! But many were holding onto life long insecurities. They didn’t think they were talented enough and embarrassed to perform in front of each other for fear of . . who knows . . . finger pointing, whispers, laughter, ridicule of some sort for sure. Once it was revealed that many shared the same feelings, the healing began. And I was the lucky one. I got to witness it all and benefit as well.

So, the message is that we all think we are not good enough compared to someone else, but we are. Don’t let your fears and insecurities stop you. We can’t measure our own success by someone else’s talents.

This revelation and the kindness / support of strangers has propelled my creative journey to a place I had given up ever getting to. Tho I thought my creative juices were dried up forever, they have merely been reawakened. Many thanks to all involved in my process, including in-part . . Victoria B, Mrs. W., Charles Mc., Claudia H, Mary B, Cindy G, Sandy B, Traci B., Kat C, and my IAA family. So, thank you. I dedicate this blog to all of you!

Monday, February 25, 2013

Margarita Monday

One day I had lunch with Pops at his senior living home. I did that a lot of days, but on this one in particular, he was quite agitated about not getting his second ice cream. You see, every day and night he smiled and hugged all of the girls so he could weasel out of them 2 ice creams at lunch and 2 more at dinner. One was the max allowed. But he got his 2, twice a day, every single day. He was out growing his clothes, so I tried to get him to curb his neapolitan overload. He wasn't very thrilled about it either. To cheer him up I reminded him that there was ice cream in the bistro... a little old fashioned cafe with a juke box and popcorn machine right next to the dining room.... AND that day was margarita Monday. He looked at the ground and mumbled.. "stay here, I'll be right back".

I tried to ask where he was going but he wouldn't answer and just shuffled off. He was gone an unusually long time and I was starting to get worried. As I got up and moved toward the elevator, he stepped out of it. I was pretty shocked. He had changed his shirt. When I asked why he exclaimed with a big smile, " Well, it's Margarita Monday!" 

So here he is with is special, as he called it, Florida shirt and margarita in hand. This was our last margarita Monday.

Less than a week later he was in the hospital and three weeks after that.... he was gone.

We really miss you 'Pops' and think about you every still make us giggle.


  1. What an AWESOME journey! I am happy you have the memory of MARGARITA MONDAY! Your Pops is simply delightful!!!


  2. I've just found your blog via someone else's...and read this. How very dear. It brought tears to my eyes.