Computer hangups and letdowns

Its been an unsettling week for me as far as my computer goes.

It's the fifth time it's been completely wiped out within six months. Shouldn't a computer be more dependable than that? It's only two years old. I believed in my computer once The Apple Store installed a brand new logic board in it. Now they say it has an unstable hard drive and an unstable power button.

I trusted in my computer like one trusts a friend. I gave of myself with no second thoughts. Pure trust. No cross-examination. No scrutiny. I took it for what it seemed. I believed in it's authenticity.

It's like pouring your heart and soul into someone who you thought believed in the same meaning of loyalty and friendship as you do. Only instead, they take all your hopes and return them to you in an empty paper bag.

How does one learn to trust again?
Should I just go out and buy a new hard drive before I lose everything all over again? Or.. do I ride it out. Backing up everything... preparing myself for the inevitable and final upheaval.

Walking on eggshells is never fun. Eggshells will break in the end.

I collected photos and stacked email letters in neat folders on my hard-drive as if I would have them forever. I created bookmarks to my favorite blogs. I stored my favorite people's addresses that are now lost until they track me down again. Not to mention illustrations and designs I was working on. And, like a friend who has let me down, I blame myself for my own naivete and willingness to trust and my friend for inconsistency.

Two weeks ago, my brother gave me three trees to plant, but I only planted two. And, on Saturday morning as I laid there in my bed in those moments between asleep and awake, I thought of that last tree sitting in an upheaval in a pot between my house and the neighbor's driveway, forgotten and unwatered for two weeks. I went out there to look at it and it was so beautiful and had such a determination to live. So I dragged it into my backyard, dug another deep hole and placed her in it. She is thriving. So happy. I believe she will live for a hundred more years.

A tree that's determined to live against such odds has a long future.

I wish my computer had the same sort of drive.

You did it again

Just when I started to trust you again.

Just when I believed I could depend on you.

Even though I knew you were probably still unstable, I began to feel more comfortable with you. I believed you wouldn't let me down like you did before because you have good logic which you lacked before.

But. You did it again last night.

Shame on you Mac. You lost your drive.

You've had two logic boards put in you already and now Apple is saying your hard drive needs to be replaced. And you might be losing your power. You are only two years old Mac.

I think you are a bit fat lemon. I just can't rely on you anymore.

You are no longer the Apple of my eye.

I planted a tree

The first book I ever read on my own as a child was The Carrot Seed by Ruth Krauss.

My mother let me pick out any book I wanted and for some unknown reason, I picked out The Carrot Seed... a yellow book with a little boy on the cover dropping his little carrot seed into the ground. Maybe I picked the book out, because the little boy looked similar to another book I enjoyed called Harold and the Purple Crayon.

The Carrot Seed is a story of a little boy who plants a carrot seed, despite his mother, his father, and his big brother repeatedly telling him every single day, "I'm afraid it won't come up."

But everyday, he watered and weeded it. And his care, patience, and unshakable belief are rewarded when, one day, up pops the tall leafy green part of the carrot above his head. The final picture shows him wheeling away a huge, dark orange carrot— it has come up "just as he knew it would."

Over the weekend, I actually planted two trees. it was such a spontaneous and major act of commitment to do.

On Saturday afternoon, my brother had three chinese pistache trees growing between the sidewalk and the street of his home and he was pullin' them up to plant maples.

"Ya want 'em?".
"naww.."
"My mom, the tree lover, gasped, "Whaat?! Are you crazy!? Your naked yard needs trees! GET them!!"

So I got them home and quickly flipped through my Sunset magazines hoping to find a backyard that was shaped exactly like mine so I could copy the exact location where they planted their trees. No such luck. I had to actually make a decision. I didn't think I could do it. But I did.

And now they are planted. The photo above shows one of them. It's the prettier of the two I planted since it has some leaves.

About an hour ago, I hammered down the steaks and tied twine around them and the tree to secure them from the strong winds we are having and before long, I will have a canopy of shade in the summer.

Or not.

Someone said to me yesterday, "You didn't plant them in grass did you? Then it won't come up."

Another said, "Make sure you create a ring around the roots so you can dribble water in there twenty minutes a day for two weeks. Otherwise, it won't come up."

"Do you have good organic mulch around it? And those types of trees can't drink just regular city water ya know..." replied another shaking her head feeling sorry for me, when I looked at her bewildered.

I can't help but notice all the happy wild trees that are growing just fine, but I am like a worried mother. Going out there, and watering them with my city water and talking to them and seeing if there is any new growth to the slim tiny twig branches.

Maybe they're right. Maybe my trees won't live. But. They also could grow into fine adult trees. For now I'm doing the best I can without a lot of know-how. (Google isn't helping me much in tree planting). But... I'll keep you posted whether or not... my lovely two trees... will ever grow up. And they just might do that.

Just as I knew it would.

Riding shotgun with the bearded lady

My tow-truck driver was Ronnie. I could see she had been in a few brawls and she hadn't shaved in months.

She told me stories how she likes rough men. Men with missing teeth. Especially those she has kicked out with her own boots. "That's how I like men!" she said in her low, raspy voice. She tosses me a small bag of Hershey's Reeses Pieces. "Here! Eat some candy!"

No way would I insult the driver by declining, so I ate her candy as we travelled thirty minutes down the road while she told me stories of her fast-pitch softball days, her various sport injuries, and life on the road as a Tow Truck driver. She wants to write a book of all the crazy experiences on the road. I told her about the NYC woman cab driver who blogs her experiences and is now publishing a book. She felt inspired by that. "Look at my goosebumps!" she said. Her arms were covered with them.

Driving through town, she pulls over halfway in the middle of the road at a post office. "I'll be right back. Watch the rig..." and she runs in the post office to mail her rent check.

And then minutes later, it was all over. The ride had ended. We were at the shop.

"Take care of the little lady now," she hollers out to the mechanic. She turns and gives me a wink as she lights up her cigarette. "Nice ridin' with you!" she says as she drives off, kicking up a splattering of dirt and gravel on way to her next adventure.

TMJ is such a pain

Being a pain in the neck is one thing. Having a pain in the neck is another.

And having my face, teeth, jaw and ear ache as well, is a real kill joy. My right side of my face feels like it is clamped tight to a vise. My right ear, oozing of warmth, feels like maybe a sun-drenched jar of mayonnaise is slowly rippling down inside my ear.

Isn't that lovely?

It's been going on since mid October. Some people are claiming it to be TMJ. (TemporoMandibular Joint).

I believe them.

I can barely eat a ripened banana without breaking small pieces off and poking it into my mouth with my finger. And you know that crunchy part of the lettuce? Nope. Can't eat that at all. Too big. And you can forget about a hamburger or a sandwich.

I remember a few years ago I could listen to me chew and think how much it sounded like a bag of potato chips. I sorta got a kick out of it. Wondered if others who sat within ear shot of me got the same enjoyment.

Then there was that fun way I could move my jaw around, as though it was disjointed. "LoOoK what I can do!" I'd happily show off.

Last summer while waiting to board the ferry to San Francisco, I decided to have a sip of my bottled water. In the corner of my eye I noticed some folks near me in line watching me, so I decided to entertain them by drinking it all at once. Give them a bit of a show of sorts.

When I was finished, I noticed my jaw was very sore and I had trouble opening my mouth. I should have known better. I've experienced repercussions before in showing off.

That was the beginning. Though the pain only last a few days, it was intense and most unbearable.

It was sometime in early October when I noticed my jaw was sore again. I think it was right after I chewed a very hard bazooka bubblegum. Though in time, I managed to soften that fabulous pink gum, the texture was thick and difficult to chew. It's now been six months and I still can't even even lick my lips or run my tongue over my front teeth like the seductive young woman did in those 1970s Pearl Drops Tooth Polish commercials, while moaning, "Nnnnnnnnnnn .. it's a grrreeeaaat feeeling!"

I have an appointment with my dentist on April 24th. I scheduled it in December but April was the earliest appointment he could get me in with all his patients.

With that sort of patience, I hope he has time to wait for me while I try to open my mouth for him. The rate I'm going, I could be sitting in that chair for another six months before it opens fully for him.

Enjoying my life

i am enjoying today. And me.

I've been laughing at myself for who I am.

Didja know? I blunder my way through life most the time ... flying by the seat of my pants.

I am Harriet the Spy, I am Miss Bashful, I am Class Clown, I am Ms. Story Teller, I am the Dumb Blonde annnd the Hard Worker. I am known for saying, "yeahh, maybe that WAS a stupid thing I just did, but it sure made a good story!"

I second-guess a lot:

What will they think of what I just did?
Could I have better phrased what I just said?
Will i regret what i just did?
Will someone think less of me because... ?

Always tripping over how others will think of me instead of just being freely me and walking clearly ahead unabashed.

I am in the process of learning to not be so hard on myself.

Because life is short. We hear it over and over again. Ya gotta live it like there's no tomorrow and yet also live as if you'll live to be a thousand years. That's a quote somewhere. Couldn't tell you where I heard it or who said it. But I try to live my life that way.

The bottom line, after all is, "was i kind?" That's how we all should live, I think.
Did you injure anyone? Can you repair the damage you caused?

I hope so. It's never too late. Ever.

I had an appointment with my accountant and longtime friend today to go over my 2006 income taxes. He told me a story how he sadly lost two friends this year. One friend he had since 1978! Another since 1995. One stole his gas credit card. Another stole his tools in his garage. It hurt like hell. He said, "Ya know what Shawn? If any of them calls me to apologize.. I would forgive and welcome them back. Because they were my good friends. But. They haven't! That is what hurts me. That is what burns such a huge hole in my heart... "

My heart stung hearing his story. He was hurting more than the the ones who wronged him.

So. Today. If I didn't hurt anyone, and if I can go to bed at night and feel good about the day I just lived, then I've lived a day in my life that is filled with quality and goodness and love and kindness. And hopefully with a bit of spunk and fun and adventure, too. Then I can live happy. And I am.

I wish you the same.

"You drove off with the gas pump..."

I'm back.

--I think from all that bouncing off the walls prior to my leaving, caused me some short-term delirium as I set off for my trip.

Just less than two hours on the road, in a small town called Livermore, I drove away from a gas station passing a large crowd of people waving and jumping up and down at me and pointing wildly at my car.

My traveling friend turned to look back and said to me as calmly as saying, "you have parsley in your teeth..."

"You drove off with the gas pump.."

Indeed, it looked like a giant snake gripping on to the back side of my car for dear life. It's long thin body flipping and reeling as I drove through the lot.

I drove back to the scene of the crime (despite men waving me to "KEEP DRIVING! THEY'LL NEVER CATCH UP!")... and walked back inside, standing in line, waiting my turn to tell the man with the thick accent that I had driven off with his gas pump. Expecting to sever an arm and a leg to hand over to him, it turned out okay. He didn't charge me... and we were back on the road in no time.

We laughed all the way to the Los Angeles town where our hotel waited, only for our smiles to vanish when I realized I had forgotten to bring the confirmation paper and directions to the hotel who's name I couldn't remember. After an hour or more driving up and down darkened, empty streets looking for the hotel with a familiar name, I blindly walked into a hotel lobby asking if I had reservations there. (Of course not. That would have been too easy!) Finally, a helpful woman behind the desk at the Marriott did a google search for me and was able to point me in the right direction of the hotel across town.

A part of the trip, I stayed at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood. You would love it! It's in a prime location along the Hollywood Walk of Fame and across from the Grauman's Chinese Theatre. And it has a storied past. Host to the very first Academy Awards, the Roosevelt has been the playground of stars such as Clark Gable, Carole Lombard, Montgomery Clift and Marilyn Monroe. Now the poolside Tropicana Bar attracts the newer celebrities. It was so fun and yet so wildly different than the ultra cool mid-century modern hotel in Palm Springs.

Sitting poolside in Hollywood, I felt flawed sitting next to the young self-absorbed Hollywood elite. In Palm Springs, it was a much more gentler crowd. Where we'd sit around and exchange stories. I even met another woman who shared my first and middle name.

I called Valerie Walsh while I was in Hollywood who happily agreed to meet us for dinner in beautiful Malibu. She is an amazing artist who I met on Illustration Friday. She is so beautiful. Inside and out! And she is such a delight with all her colorful stories. It was the shortest three hours I have ever spent.

My vacation was much too short. I am so grateful for my job. Don't get me wrong. But what I would give, to have my three-month long summer vacations again. Just like when we were kids. Three work days and a weekend just isn't enough time.

Road Trip

House is locked up.
Car is packed up.
And the traffic is backed up.

(Actually, I'm not sure whether or not the traffic is backed up, but I liked the way it sounded).

I'm leaving in a few of hours to drive down to Los Angeles and Palm Springs for vacation. I'm bouncing off the walls I'm so excited. The last time I was in L.A., I accidently pulled between the Osbornes and the camera crew as they drove down the street during their reality show. The last time I was in Palm Springs, I happened upon Anna Nicole-Smith (and Howard and Kimmy) on her reality show. I wonder what's in store for me this time.

See you when I return!

Kids Week

print & pattern is a website I enjoy looking through several times a week and can you imagine my delight when I clicked on it today and saw this?!

I'm working on more Dick & Jane designs now for another release.

Lives lost

I have lost two cousins within a month.

One from a short, unexpected illness. The other from a tragic car accident.

The accident happened on Sunday night. I heard about it on the radio. A fatal head-on collision. The road was closed for two hours on both sides. Whenever I hear sirens or news like that, i always whisper, "oh please god, help them be well..." you just never know when it might be someone you know. I would hope someone would whisper that for me if I were in that situation.

His father died the same way. He was my dad's younger brother. Driving along on his own side of the lane when a car came out of nowhere and killed him head-on. My cousin was 43. His father was just 46.

Three of my friends have also lost a parent these past two weeks. And a long time family friend passed away this morning.

My mom called me and told me. She said, "Ya know, I was wanting him to do tile work in my bathroom. I've been meaning to call him. And I didn't. Just goes to show you, you just never know..."

I remember going to his out-door garden wedding in a small country town in Boonville, California when I was maybe only 10 years old. He appeared so old to me. But now I'm guessing he was only in his thirties.

Within a month ago, all of these people were alive in this world. Living their life, making plans. Putting things off until tomorrow. Now they are not. Seems so sudden. So final. So unfair.

I am so grateful to be in this life. I do belong in it. For however long, isn't promised to me. I hope I make it as full as I can.

It is so beautiful outside. Spring is exploding with so much fragrance. I can hear someone hammering in the distance. I see two quail outside my window strolling quietly along on a date. And there is a fly buzzing up against the window behind me, wishing to escape back outside into this glorious weather. I wish it would, too.

I love this time of year. I wonder how many Springs I will enjoy in my lifetime. I hope to enjoy at least 50 more. Though it doesn't seem like nearly enough. No not nearly enough. Life is short.

I'm off to make the most of it.

Every snowflake is unique

Will you take a look at these photos of frozen water?

The photographs are the result of Mr. Emoto's research in freezing drops of water and then examining them under a microscope and taking photographs of them.

It is so amazing. If you have had any doubts at all that your thoughts don't affect everything around you, then this just might profoundly change your mind. It really makes you wonder doesn’t it? If words can do that to water, what are they doing to us?

The possibilities are truely endless. . .

Dick and Jane lunchbox

Here is a Dick and Jane lunchbox I designed. It will be available in stores in a couple of months. It will be filled with the perfect amount of Dick and Jane fabric to create a quilt with.
It will also have the quilt pattern inside with directions.

I don't sew.

Well. I took a sewing class in 8th grade. Miss Anderson was my teacher and she always wore chopsticks in her hair. Or maybe it was large knitting needles.

I really only remember three things about sewing :

1. The thimble.
I got such a kick out of wearing a thimble in class. I would draw a smiling face on my thumb and pretend the thimble was a hat for my thumb. I called it my "thumb buddy". "You're nobody until Thumb Buddy loves you," I would say. (cringe)

2. The pin cushion.
I loved the sensation of sticking pins in the cushion. It was a guilty pleasure.

3. The sewing machine accelerator.
I loved to press down on the accelerator of the sewing machine. I would pretend to be driving a car along a bumpy, gravel road watching the needle move up and down faster and faster. The shift would be the level in the back that I would lift to raise the needle up.

No, I didn't learn to sew very well. But it certainly satisfied my craving to drive a car just a tiny bit.

I wonder what I will do with my Dick and Jane lunchbox. Maybe I will store tubes of paints in it. Or carry my lunch in it to work. With all the warnings about different food needing to be promptly stored in the refrigerator, its a wonder none of us as kids got food poisoning from leaving our baloney and mayonnaise sandwiches out in the warm classroom for so many hours. Especially when we saved half the sandwich for after school.

69,982.8 miles

So. I got a letter from my car insurance company asking me to write down the mileage on my car and the estimated miles I expected to drive in a year. It seemed to be a very important letter because it stated that if I didn't send the sheet in within thirty days they could (or would) raise my rates!

So not wanting that, I quickly enter the garage, open my car door and look at the mileage.

It reads: 70,000 miles.

No kidding.

Not a mile more. Not a mile less.

So I walk back into the kitchen from the garage and return to the sheet.

I think for a minute before writing anything down.

And then I write: my mileage: 69,982.8

. . . because I was worried they would think I was lying if I wrote down the truth.

Believe it or Not!

Do you remember Rodney Allen Rippy from the Jack in the Box commercials a zillion years ago and he couldn't talk because his jumbo jack burger was too big?

Well, he wasn't born in my hometown, but believe it or not, Robert L. Ripley was! Yup! He was born in Santa Rosa and is buried here. too. And, in fact, I walked past his birthplace and his final burial ground just this afternoon. See those photos? He was born in that house and is now buried less than a mile way. (Notice the orbs? I sware.. I never heard of an orb until a month ago on my blog!) Now they're everywhere!

I walk past his house quite a bit on warm evenings.

He was a talented, self-taught artist and sold his first drawing to LIFE magazine when he was just 14 years old! He at one point, nearly became a professional baseball player but he broke his pitcher's arm while playing his first professional game.

As you know, Charles Schulz also lived in my hometown and his drawings were first published by Robert Ripley in his "Ripley's Believe It or Not!" back in 1937.

Read more amazing facts about him.

Just say No

"What will you charge to design a business logo / t-shirt design / an ad for me? I don't want you to spend any more than twenty minutes on it..."

Do you know how many times I have been asked that?

A few months ago I was asked, "Can you do 30 high-end illustrations for my book I hope to publish? I don't have any money but can pay you once it gets published. If. it. gets. published."

My backbone just got a bit tougher today.

Just say no.

Let me tell you about a recent experience. I was hired to do a lot of illustration work for a large toy company. I was thrilled! It was budgeted for $300 for the project and I started working on it at once. It sounded fun and easy enough and I thought I could design it between five and seven hours. What I didn't take into account, was that the creative director was difficult to please and after excessive and relentless amount of changes, it took me 43 hours and I only ended up making $6.42 an hour for the completed project before taxes.

Last week the creative director called me in a panic: "Shawn! I need your help again! I need more artwork! Much like the previous one you did! Can you do it!? I need it on my desk first thing in the morning!"

I cancelled dinner plans and went to work on it right away. I took her art direction from the previous job, and created work I was proud of. I worked through the night and uploaded the project an hour before she downloaded it. Mission accomplished. It felt good she could count on me. I told her I wouldn't let her down and I didn't. I was so excited to hear how her meeting went. I sent her a ton of well wishes.

She sent me off a quick email. "Looks great! Thank you!!"

And then I sent her an invoice for both projects.

I charged her on the agreed price of $300 for the first project that ended up taking me 43 hours and $300 for the similiar project that took me nine hours.

Last night I received a rather cool email from her that left me feeling dehydrated. She coldly remarked that the second project which I worked all through the night was only budgeted in the price range of $75.

Her words made me feel sad and used up. I wrote her back immediately but did not back down on my price.

Freelance business can be a tough business. I've done it off and on most of my life and happily for me, I am employed now and only do freelance on occasion. But it's so easy to say yes to accepting low paying jobs with unappreciative or difficult clients because it pays the bills and it will look good in the portfolio.

About fifteen years ago, I videotaped weddings for a living.

The daughter of a doctor-friend I respected a great deal hired me to videotape her wedding but cancelled at the last minute due to going over her wedding budget. She invited me, instead, to attend the wedding. As a kind gesture and excitement of attending the wedding, I went ahead and with my crew, we videotaped her wedding, anyway, as a wedding present. It didn't cost just our time, but it cost me quite a bit of money in tapes and mics and rental fees and gas for the 3-hour trip. Two months later, I got a call from her brother who I didn't know. "Can you videotape our wedding on the beach in Malibu in September?" I was so excited!

"Of course!" I told him.

For a moment there, I actually believed that my doctor friend who I so loved and admired, would want me to be paid this time around to videotape her son's wedding. I thought it was so obvious, because she knew the endless hours and energy and expense it took to create her daughter's wedding videotape a few months earlier. But. Somewhere during the conversation, he said "I'm so glad! My mother said you'd probably love to do it for free and we don't have any money to pay you for your travels or the hotel... so I appreciate you saying yes..."

I stood there with the phone to my ear, stunned. I could barely speak. Somehow, I managed to choke out the words "I will not do it for free..."

It would have cost me several hundred dollars to do it for free out of my own pocket. I was young and vulnerable and charged cheaper rates to get the job. But I believe my cheaper prices was the very reason why they didn't respect me in the first place.

I stopped that business after one last wedding I had booked and that was it for me.

After last night and much contemplation today, I have decided to be much more selective of my freelance clients. I want to work with people I like and people who value my creativity. Too often in my past, I felt obligated to work on a project simply because I was asked to do it. And because I would feel guilty for turning down a paying job no-matter-the-price.

Being self-employed can be absolutely wonderful and it is for so many artists. It can open doors to great opportunities and financial success and lots more freedom. But it can also be full of distractions and tempting choices that take you away from the very activity that you really want to make time for.

We can get too caught up on doing mundane and low-paying work that pays the bills, but we run out of time to do what we really dream about. At least, it has certainly been that way with me many times.

Today, even though I feel used up and depleted, I'm so grateful I have a fulltime creative job that I enjoy and don't need to rely on outside jobs to put food on my table. And I will focus on that. I will be grateful for the job I have. And for now on, I will only do freelance work that I love by those who value my work.

How many of you?

Have you ever googled your name? I do on occasion. Sifting through a myriad of names to recognize if any are me. And then I discovered this site. And I learn there are 272 others in the United States with my same name. And, nearly 90% of these people are men! I figured that. I have to jump through hoops to convince folks I'm really Shawn.

"We can't give you that information over the telephone without Shawn's permission", they tell me smugly. "Please have him call us directly for the balance on his credit card."

How many of you are out there with the same name? And, have you ever met anyone with your complete name before?

My Backyard Makeover

In September, we transformed my dumpy backyard into a spectacular party place showcasing a line of our fabrics. It's being featured in Quilter's Home magazine this month!

Kate

Kate.

Only one hour old. My niece forever. I watched the nurse give you your first bath and wash your hair and press your tiny feet into ink to mark your foot prints. You are adorable. You are Tyler's younger sister. And, I already love you. You fill my heart.

Duck, Duck, Goose!

Remember that game as a kid? We'd sit down in a circle facing each other and the person that was it walked around the circle behind us, and as they did, they tapped our heads and said whether or not we were a duck or a goose. Once someone is the goose, they'd get up and chase it around the circle trying to tap that person before they are able to sit in the gooses's spot. If the goose isn't able to do this, they become it for the next round and the game continues.

I loved that game and would sit there on the grass, repeating, "pick me, pick me, pick me..." while my heart beat out of my chest. As soon as they tapped my head, I would be up and running in a flurry. I was a fast runner and would often catch up to it. But other times, I didn't want to catch up to it, because by not catching up, meant I got to become . . . . it. That was even more fun. So I would run as fast as I could just behind it, but never tap their head. So though I lost, I won because I was able to play in the game a bit longer. I would skip around the circle a few times over.. not being able to make up my mind who I wanted to call goose. And if I felt like I wanted to stay in the game longer, I would tap on a head and run slowly to be tapped, so I could play it again! I never understood why no one else stole the game like I did.

I thought of that game after I got tagged by Jannie Ho. Let me tell you something about her that I just discovered this past week.

I have an old box filled with printed out artwork by certain artists whose work has inspired me over the years.

I haven't looked through this box in a few years, but last week when I thumbed through it, I paused at something adorable. Then I caught the name of the artist. I wrote her name on top of the page: Chickengirl Design / July 2004. Imagine that!! That's Jannie Ho! A wonderful artist I just happened upon nearly three years ago!

I had no idea I even knew who she was back then. And now we're playing the same game and she tapped me on the back of my head!

She tagged me to write a list of six weird things about me. That was a hard one for me, believe it or not, but friends of mine had no problem reminding me what they are, so here goes.

Six Weird Things About Me:

1. I have this terrible habit that I'm hardly aware of until someone points it out to me. Whenever someone is talking to me with a really thick accent or in broken english, I respond talking the same voice back to them! I am like a miner bird!

2. Having the soul of a toon, whenever I sneeze, I say "AwWw-Cho0Oo0ooo" and when I knock on someone's door, I knock to the the tune of, "A shave and a haircut, two bits".

3. I unconsciously describe everything by putting the word "little" in front of it. It can be a mansion and I'd say, "That little house is the biggest mansion I've ever seen!"

4. I really don't know how to boil an egg. I have to ask someone first, "Do I put the eggs in when the water is still cold or do I wait til they boil? And, for how long after they start to boil?") I never ever remember.

5. I can find cartoon faces in every day objects.

6. I memorize telephone numbers pretending they are dates. For instance if your number is 389-0704, I would see it as March '89 July 4th.

AwWw-Cho0Ooo

I was fast asleep when in the distance I awoke to a sneeze. It sounded at least a few houses away.

Nothing huge and explosive. Just a polite, sweet little.. "choooo". I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling wondering if I whispered god bless you would that person hear it? If I could hear the sneeze. Then, couldn't he hear my response back?

I was nervous to find out, so I rolled back over and fell back to sleep.

I told that story to a friend and he rambled on and on about how sound travels on cool, windless nights and that a low noise could be heard as far as six miles away.

Six miles away!

I mentioned that to another friend who thought that was absurd!

But, I didn't.

Because there is nothing more resounding than an expected phone call that never rings.

Or the deafening silence that follows the question, "you still love me, don't you?"

Or hearing a heart shatter into a million pieces after hearing a loved one has died.

So ... no. All of a sudden, six miles doesn't seem so far away.

Suggestions anyone?

In this month's Sunset magazine, there's an article on Palm Springs. Have you read it yet? I'm going to to take that issue with me on my upcoming road trip down south. I've been there a few times and have always enjoyed it. And at the beginning of Spring, I'm taking an out-of-state friend with me to that desert town where she has never been. She's also a fan of the cool, retro 1950s/1960s style that Palm Springs is so well-known for.

She already booked the hotel in Palm Springs. "I worry," she says to me. "I need to book everything two months in advance..."

I tend to go through life by the seat of my pants. This trip I don't want to do that. (Well. She doesn't want me to do that). My job is to plan two nights and two days anywhere in the greater Los Angeles area.

As soon as I pick up my friend at the airport, we'll drive straight down to L.A. I'm thinking of booking our first night in Santa Monica. There's a hotel I've stayed at before, but it could be fun to go somewhere new. I tend to only go to the same places whenever I'm down there. On the last day before we head north, we will also stay in the L.A. area.

I'm curious. Can I trouble you to suggest places to see or stay? A restaurant to people-watch or a place to eat with a view? I want to know about the tourist-places as well as those places only the local know about. Do you know of any fun stores to browse through but not malls.

In other words, if you were going to entertain guests from out of state, where would you take them? If you feel more comfortable sending me a personal email, please do, but if you want to post a comment, I'm sure others could benefit as well.

Even a link to a website would be helpful.

I really appreciate it. Thank you!

More fabric

This was a fun and easy design to do for fabric. This is classified as a coordinate fabric to go along with the Dick and Jane fabric I designed. Ya know what made this most fun? I put in names of friends and family members. Can you spot your name? The fabric is a bit blurred because I snapped this photo off a bulk in our NYC office and felt bashful so took the picture without a flash. This pattern comes in a zillion different colors... including various pastels and primary colors.

James Brown

My mom leaves me the funniest phone messages sometimes. Here is one I received today:

"Shawwwnnaa Maria! Shawny! Shawwwwnnnyyy! Are you there? It's nothing important. But I was just gonna tell you.... Can you believe John Brown's body.... or whatever his name is.... is still at his house?! He died at Christmas! And they're just gonna move it some other place and it's been in his house this whole time! Man! I can't imagine! I just can't imagine such a thing!

Okay. I just wanted to share that important message to you. Okay. Talk you later. Bye!

These friends of mine

Ever wonder if your life is random or deliberate? Are we all living out a script that has perhaps already been written for us since time began?

I've been telling people since I was old enough to talk that I picked my mom to be my mom before I was born. I still believe that.

There are people I meet who are so familiar to me. My soul recognizes them instantly and there is a rich, deep connection. It's as though I have known them more than a lifetime. They are friends of mine that have always been.

I squint my eyes and think long and hard and try to remember them from before I met them.

Sometimes when I'm walking down a crowded sidewalk I wonder if I could have met or seen any of those people before. Masses of seemingly unfamiliar faces passing me by completely unaware of my presence and me of theirs. But perhaps I have connected with a few of those faces before. Perhaps we met while on vacation somewhere. Or maybe we have driven behind each other on the highway or they are a cousin to someone I know or I went to kindergarden with them or I read their blog or we've exchanged emails back and forth.

A friend and I have an agreement to pay the other person $20 if either of us runs into someone we know while we're on vacation together. It will happen at some time or another. I really believe that. I want to be the one who wins.

(not for the $20 but I want to run into someone I know in some obscure place far, far away.)

In 1987, I drove up to Seattle from San Francisco all by myself. Between Shasta, California and Centralia, Washington, I noticed the same car passing me at times and other times, I would pass them, but we drove alongside, behind and in front of each other for a long stretch of hours. They were my traveling buddies. Then... without any warning, they exited off the highway without even a wave or a toot-toot of the horn.

I remember missing them the rest of my drive. I thought they could at least motion to me through the window that they were exiting. Give me the option to exit, too. I laughed when I just wrote that. What a silly imagination. But their traveling beside me really did help me feel safe and the journey didn't seem as long. They were like my angel friends. Unknown people who help me on my way.

I believe our life is lot like that journey. There are people just like the travelers, who come into our lives at a particular time and they complete the job they are supposed to do and then move on. Others stay the course; we can not imagine not having each other in our lives at all times.

There's another set of friends we disconnect just for a time. Be it a marriage or a move or a life change that has distracted us being friends for a time. I really believe we will all be connected again.

Have you ever dreamed of someone you haven't thought of in years, and the following day you bump into them at a grocery store. Or they call you on the phone. See what I mean?

A couple years after I solo-drove to Seattle, I was flying home from a business trip in Chicago ... but stopped in Denver to spend New Years with a friend in Aspen. It was a fun flight; the plane was nearly empty so the flight attendants passed out complimentary champagne to everyone while we sang auld lang syne. I sat next to a woman who worked for Hewlett-Packard. Two years later, I am on a flight from Seattle to San Francisco and in mid-flight, she turns around in her seat and sees me sitting there across the aisle and behind her one row. She says, "Weren't you on that fun flight to Denver with me?!"

Such a small world! We talked a few minutes, waved and went on. But that wasn't the end of it. Maybe it was another year or two that had passed and I boarded a crowded airport shuttle to take me home when I see her sitting there next to an empty seat. We both recognized each other instantly and she motions for me to sit with her. She still worked for Hewlett-Packard but had gotten a job transfer near my home. What a coincidence! Again! She handed me her business card and I told her I would show her around town. I meant to call her. But. I got busy and the house needed cleaning and I had to do laundry and go on that road trip and eventually I misplaced her business card and time went on.

Later that year, while reading the newspaper, I read about a horrible car accident and a woman was killed. I recognized her name as the same woman I kept meeting over and over again. The shock and sadness soaked my shirt.

Who was she? Why did we keep meeting in so many different places? What did that mean? Would my life be different if we ever became friends? Is my life already different because we missed that connection?

Friends in my life. Friends for all time. Friends still unknown and unmet. You and I. We are connected. And I appreciate you. More than you'll ever know.

Hungry for more

I walked into a deli to order a sandwich when a sweet voice asked, "Is there a seat I can sit where it is warmer?"

No one responded to her, so I turned to look toward the voice and instantly recognized her being blind. "Noo, there aren't any seats any warmer than the one you are sitting in." I said to her.

"What's your name?" She asked me, eager for conversation.
"My name is Shawn." I replied. "What is yours?"
"My name is Suzie." She smiled. "Are you enjoying your day so far, Shawn?"
"Yes, " I replied. "Are you?"
"Oh yes! I come here once a week for a sandwich. Do you come here often, Shawn?"
"No, it's my first time."
"Did you have a nice Christmas, Shawn?"
"Oh yes! Did you?" I inquired.
"Yes! I got leg warmers!"
Right then, the guy behind the counter told me my sandwich was ready.
"My sandwich is ready. I need to go now," I said to her.
"Shawn? Before you go, can you see if I've dropped any food on me? I tend to get so messy..."
I look down and there is a scattering of crumbs and tomato slices and lettuce remains. I ask for napkins behind the counter and cleaned her blouse off. "Thank you, Shawn. What do you do for a living?"
I said, "Today I'm designing fabric."
"Oh Shawn! I LOVE fabric!" she said.

I know she was more hungry for friendship than she was for her lunch. But I felt I had no friendship to offer a blind woman. I felt instantly small and puny and selfish.

I said goodbye and wandered out into the parking lot and as I drove off, I turned back to peek inside the deli window where Susie sat all alone. The napkin where I cleaned her off, was still crumpled in my hand, reminding me of what just took place.

I thought about Suzie and wondered how she got up the courage to eat at the deli each week by herself. I thought of her seeing a person as they really are without judgment. And I thought of my judgement without really seeing the person. I wondered how much more she sees than most of us ever will see.

I ate my turkey, bacon, avacado sandwich and when I was through, I looked down at the empty wrapper, still noticeably hungry for something more.

The haunted house

Everytime I walk past this house, chills tingle down my spine. Whenever I walk along the sidewalk out in front, I feel frightened. It feels ... well, it feels haunted to me.

I never stop to linger. I walk rather quickly along my way feeling nervous and afraid feeling the hairs on my arm rise.

I'm never sure what street this house is on, but whenever I'm on a walk and notice it, I cross and walk on the far side of the street.

I went on a walk with a friend last night. We had our cameras with us and he spontaneously decided to snap the photo of this house I fear.

He sent it to me in an email stating he didn't know what those round things are in the photo. They didn't show up anywhere else on his other photos.

In google, I typed in ghosts and clicked on a site and couldn't believe what I saw!

Do you believe in ghosts? I think for now on, I'll trust my instincts and I'll just miss this street altogether on my next walk. Well, wouldn't you?

Buzz (around)

I love the word Buzz.

It has an assortment of all sorts of meanings.
For instance, you can say "give me a buzz" to someone you want a phone call from while sitting in a barber chair and walk out with a completely different haircut than you intended.

"There's a buzz in the room" could mean... "do you hear the excitement in the air?" or it could mean "watch out and don't let that bee sting you."

And, feeling a buzz can mean something different, too. You won't want to feel a buzz if you're putting in a new light fixture. But a buzz is kinda nice when you're sitting in front a fire with an adult beverage.

Another meaning of Buzz is to move. Zip around. Scoot around. Buzz around.
So here is my scooter girl buzzing around Paris with a buzz in the air and one in her hair.

Beginning a new year

What a year this has been!

I didn't write down any new resolutions, because I do that all the time. I call it my wish list. I carry this small black book around with me everywhere I go and jot down my hopes and wishes and dreams every time I think of one. It's not every day. It's not every week. But it's always there for me so I don't forget it when the wish happens to me.

I have loved 2006! I know I will always look back on this year and feel warm. My Nana used to say every Christmas. "We're all here this year and we need to give thanks because we never know who might not be with us next year."

As a child, my eyes would dart around the room staring at everyone there, wondering their fate. Worried. For a moment, I would forget about Santa and his reindeer and presents. I would run and hug them all.

"Please don't leave me!" I would silently pray to each of them.

As I get older, I worry about that much more.

I am knowing too many sick people. Cancer is a thief. It steals time. Our days are already short with worry. Then comes this relentless disease, unfair as a hailstorm at harvest time. I feared it for myself this past summer. Now I know a handful of people I love dearly who are battling this.

This I know for all of us: Life is short. Days spin by much too quickly.

Take more time to be with those you love. Let this be a year of slowing down this maddening pace we all live in. S--L--O--W down. Look up at the moon. Use your best china. Soap yourself with that fancy soap shaped like a rose, collecting dust in your fancy unused soap dish. Light your unused candles. Call that friend you swore never to call again "because I'm always the one who calls". Don't hold a grudge. Don't resist a "thank you" because someone's behavior is what you expected and felt deserved. Say "i'm sorry" more and "you owe me an apology" less. Enjoy your friends. Be grateful for those who love you and treat them with care because there will be days you will need them the most and you will have been glad you didn't shoo them away. And be. Simply be. Be grateful. Laugh hard. Remain sensitive. Seek out the beauty in things.

I will be doing the same.

Carrots left behind

Santa has come and gone. My 2-year-old nephew shows me the remainder of the carrots the reindeer left behind on his front porch from the night before. In his tiny hand, he shows me the teeth marks that remain on the half-eaten carrots.

He was so worried Santa would get stuck in their fireplace. But he made it just fine. --We all did.

Oh the magic of Christmas.

Christmas Eve

Whew.

I just spent most of my morning and part of my afternoon digging around the tape with my fingernail looking for the end so I could tape and wrap gifts that looks like a one-armed-blind-person has wrapped.

I'm out of tissue so the shirt I am giving my brother looks quite bare and cheap, folded in that large box. Except for the tags attached, it almost has that used look to it. I'm out of gift tags so I'm writing on the wrapping paper. Every other gift is missing about an inch of wrapping paper on the bottom because I underestimated how much to cut. As I neatly placed the many items for my college-age nephew in a box, I thought so long and hard for ... now looks like a lousy idea so I added a $20 dollar bill along with it to make it look more valuable. The earrings I am giving to another, wrapped in tissue without a box looks like I found it in my own jewelry box. How old am I? By my wrapping job, I would guess about eight.

Oh, I know in the end, when I go to bed tomorrow night, I will look back on Christmas and think back to the wonderful day. They will hardly notice in the excitement of opening presents that my gift wrapping wasn't just right. Inevitably, someone will accidently open the wrong gift addressed to another. And another gift will have gotten thrown out by accident when someone becomes over zealous throwing out the wrapping paper to clean up the mess.

Every year I vow to plan sooner. To buy gifts through-out the year. To take more time with the gift-wrapping. Each year comes and goes... and I still haven't made good on my intentions.

I admire those who had their shopping done a month ago and who have time to decorate and have clean houses and perfectly wrapped gifts and entertain guests.

One year in my early 20s, I decided to make cookies. Bad idea. After spending about $80 in ingredients, I ended up only giving out a pathetic plate of 4 or 5 cookies to each person. "Those cookies cost me about $5 each!" I wanted to tell them... and I probably did tell them.


When I was 6 years old I gave my mom a box of love . She opened it up and said, "Shawn, there's nothing in this empty box." I said, "Sure there is! It's a whole box full of love!"

She still has that box. If I had known she would keep it a lifetime, I would have decorated the inside of the box a little bit nicer.

I'm off to the stores for a tiny bit more shopping. And I've procrastinated enough... wishing you all peace and joy.

Merry Christmas.