Gregory Peck

The best thing ever in the entire history of the whole universe has happened!  You may ask, "Amy, what so amazing has occurred for you to use such hyperbole?"  If you ask that, you are indeed an idiot and no friend of mine...  Of course, I am talking about the Gregory Peck stamps issued by the United States Postal Service!  Oh, Greg, now you are mine forever.  "But, Amy, the price of stamps is constantly increasing.  Some day they won't be good to mail a letter!"  Wrong!  These are "Forever" stamps!  I can use them whenever I want, even fifty years from now.  As if, I would even use them.  If any person values his or her life, best stay away from my stamps.  It was all I could do not to shout for joy as the kind postal worker handed me this piece of paradise.  First chance I get, this baby's going into a frame.  If only they could fit in my pocket without being ruined.  Oh, well, Gregory Peck's already with me everywhere I go, in my heart.

I could not believe God's grace in this present.  I went into the Postal Office a few days ago to mail a package to my sister Whitney and came out with this little piece of His kingdom.  As soon as I got into the car, I sent this picture to Whitney so the world could know my good fortune in God's goodness!

 

Now for other news.  Regarding my "business," I have been trapped in a few quandaries.  The house is a lot cleaner at the expense of me not making anything for the past few days.  Breaking my last usable sewing needle yesterday did not help- I have new ones and will, fingers crossed, get cracking this afternoon.  And then a couple of days ago the realization came over me that I only half-enjoyed the items I've been making.  Please do not misunderstand, I am proud of how what I have made, but sometimes I look at stores on Etsy that are very successful and more fully realized.  I mean this in the sense that the owners seem to know what they want to make clearly and do so, whereas my status is not so certain.  Soo, this dilemma led me to contemplate if I could make anything what would it be?  What would it be?  What would I want to define me?  What excites my interests?  These questions were not immediately answered, and even now there is not one path that I have discovered but maybe I've found a clue...

 

My BFF posted this picture of her son- my godson- this morning on instagram.  Yay, he's sitting up!  As any good godmother would do, I "liked" it.  Right as I did so, the picture became more clear to my sleepy eyes, and I noticed what he was wearing: a white onesie with a fairy dinosaur followed by a trail of star dust.  You know, typical baby clothing design.  "Amy, how do you know what that is?  It's so obscured by his bad posture."  First off, come on!  He's just learning to sit up, cut him some slack on posture!  Secondly, it's my job to know, I'm the godmother.  Also, I drew the design as a activity at one of Charity's baby showers...  This is all to say, looking at this picture reminded me how much I enjoyed decorating the onesie aaannnndd how much I. LOVE. DINOSAURS.

Proof:

 

In my recent trip to DC, I ventured into the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History expecting nothing more than maybe making the decision to become the jewel thief.  The Hope Diamond will be MINE!  Well, that is until I ventured into the magical room of dinosaur bones.  Good thing it was loud in there with all the people because I definitely shrieked with joy.  The only thing that did not work in my favor in that moment was that I was alone and therefore could not get my picture taken with the T-Rex pretending to have short arms and a mighty roar.  However, my fellow museum visitors were kind to offer disturbed looks as I inexplicably composed dinosaur noises while walking around the exhibit.

More Proof:

I misplaced my favorite painting of Cinjenachel protecting the world from Pacman.  Until I find it, these pictures of her I drew this morning will have to suffice.  Oops, I spelled her name with a "g."  My bad.  I just noticed that.

My last year of high school, I needed a "whimsical" picture for an English project.  Not finding a magazine picture to satisfy my distinguished tastes, during art class one day, I painted one.  It became a "fairy dinosaur" named for my three friends at the art table with me that day: Cinthia, Jennifer, and Rachel.  And thus Cinjenachel.  Saving the details, my fairy dinosaur has remained close to my heart through the years, even as I sometimes neglect her.  However, she and her cohorts may lead to my further satisfaction in creating fun and Amyrific handmade goods.  We shall see, eh?  I'm just thinking over this stuff now...  But what I do know for certain is that I love dinosaurs.  Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. 

Blue Bell

I am having a huge problem with my dog, Blue Bell.  There is the allowance that she is a dog and does not fully understand what she is doing and why it might be wrong but still...  So, as soon as a wake up, I see Blue Bell curled up on the bed being all super cute.  And then when she realizes it's breakfast time, she gets all excited and stretches and runs around being all super cute.  And then she will follow me around sometimes and chill while other things keep me preoccupied being all super cute.  And so on and so forth.  Finally the point comes where it is taking all of my being to hold in my annoyance.  But even that does not last long and the rage comes out of me, "I get it, Blue Bell.  You are super cute.  Stop beating me over the head with it.  Can you chillax for one moment and stop being so super cute!"  Little buttface that she is, she blatantly does not obey!  What can I do?  Oh, well.

What is with her?  Trying to take a picture of a bag for etsy and she has to get her mug all up in it.  I have had it up to here.

Independence Day

Happy Fourth of July!  I have already had a fun-filled weekend before today and am a bit ashamed to mention my plans for celebrating our country's independence.  But not too many people read this, so here goes.  Like any typical Monday, it is Laundry Day, and the kitchen is a mess.  And maybe later I will ring some bells and shoot off some warning shots in honor of Paul Revere. 

Went to Caddo Lake for a little bit Saturday with Dad and Blue Bell.

Now, I have a concrete goal to work towards instead of meager ones that I fabricate for myself.  And its a small goal, so it suits me fine.  July 26th is the Art Walk in downtown Longview, so I will be there with some original creations in tow to dispense of at a reasonable profit.  When I first got back from Washington, D.C., last Sunday, I had all sorts of ideas for making and selling and what have you, but that was disregarding my other responsibilities.  And hence the kitchen- and the rest of the house for that matter- are in disarray, to say the least.  And this is my life.  Like anybody, I cannot focus on just one thing.  There has to be a balance between everything: cleaning, sewing, crocheting, taking care of Blue Bell, staying connected with friends, going to the gym, and a hundred other little things that add up.  There must be people that can do all this because people do more than this.  Oh, well.  I am in a certain season of my life that is not too exciting, and that is alright.

Redaction

I hate to do this, but I have to redact anything that I have ever said before in my entire life...  Perhaps not so extreme, but I will tread upon a subject that only yesterday I was already cringing at.  But only for a second.  I am not a wizard...  And I move on to explain without using any magical terms. 

The house I live in has four air conditioning units.  I am the sole user of one of these units since I am currently the only occupant of the upper floor in this said house.  This unit cools the room I sleep in, the room I work in, for they are the same room.  And now the room I sweat in.  Sad but true.  I hear the air conditioner, but I do not feel it. 

There are many serious implications for this predicament that I do not wish to go into in print.  But I will tarry for a moment in this realm hoping that it might alleviate my frustration... The long and short of it is that my mom took care of these matters before her death and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to manage them now.  Twice the mechanic has come by, working hard, and leaving with the assurance that all was well, and twice have I sat in anticipation to feel a cool, artificial breeze only to be disappointed.  I can imagine what God's intention might be in all of this.  If anything to get me to stop making wizard jokes.  Or to remind me of what I do not fully grasp about my mom's death.  She is gone, but His love did not die with her.  I just want the a/c to work.  I failed my goal to have five complete bags today.  Instead there are just two, and maybe I don't want to finish the others.