grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
Mount Holyoke Memories
During the four years that my granddaughter, Mariesa, was away at Mount Holyok e College in Massachusetts, I missed her so much it hurt. She was on the other side of the country while I was back home in California. However words cannot begin to explain how proud I was of her and all her accomplishments, both academic and athletic. She worked hard pursuing a degree in Biology while also being a two-sport student athlete playing field hockey and lacrosse. After graduating, she had over 30 t-shirts, sweatshirts and socks with the Mount Holyoke Lyons logo, lion's paw prints, inspirational quotes and more. Some articles of clothing had a record of the NCAA championship tournament she participated in as well as the places she went to to compete in. Some of these places included the New England states, New York, Florida and China. When she finally came home, she was going to throw out the old shirts and get on with her career as a personal trainer, but she hesitated because of all the wonderful memories and stories the shirts held. She even had one t-shirt that belonged to her best friend, who had sadly passed away in a horrific car accident. Mariesa couldn't throw away those memories.
By Mary Lou Mazzone5 years ago in Families
About Crochet
I used to think I wasn’t creative. Until I discovered crocheting. I’ve always loved crafts, and making things with my hands, even if it was just Legos, or friendship bracelets at summer camp. But I never found my passion until I discovered crocheting.
By Raegan Garlitz5 years ago in Families
Aspiring to Be a Cut Above
“Don’t you dare use my good fabric scissors to cut that.” It didn’t matter what I wanted to cut. Touching Mom’s fabric scissors was akin to gazing at Medusa or touching the Ark of the Covenant. Do it, and die. So I would instead start playing with toys from my toybox.
By Caryn Turrel5 years ago in Families
project: memories
Image caption: Embroidered pieces. Left: animal skull with purple flowers growing around it and through the eye socket on unstretched canvas. Top middle: a portrait of myself and my late Rara, holding hands, on aida cloth. Bottom middle: the garden embroidered on unstretched canvas in law class. Right: a body and bone study on navy blue satin, silver scissors propped against it.
By Mico McDonald5 years ago in Families
Mimi's Craft
Some peoples craft lies underneath paper scraps and others maybe some fabric for quilting perhaps. Who knows really, the possibilities are endless taking us on a trip through a rabbit hole. It would takes months just to imagine them all. So many crafts one could have, some physical and some not so much. You wonder to yourself how does one even choose, perhaps it even chooses you. You even ask yourself "what makes a craft a craft"? LOL...If your anything like me those compiled questions are just the average everyday norm to even the most basic of questions. Constantly curious I suppose one could assume, and in this case the assumptions would be completely correct. One may even argue curiosity in itself could be a craft...Thankfully in my world anything is possible which brings me to my next thought, and upon this thought upon seeing the spark of inspiration for my story for you all I find myself gazing up into the sky through my minds eye just struck in sheer awe of the warm emotions as reminiscing starts to commence. I can see it all as if it literally just happened yesterday but in reality is was well over 2 decades ago....Oh my Ill let that thought go for another tale LOL. Anyhow, continuing on. There I was my 6 year old excited self- zipping down the poorly designed metal grated spiraling staircase always skipping a step or two catching my big toe as I often did....its a miracle I survived those stairs to be quite honest. I had just finished my every other night bath my Mimi was so adamant on me taking, and boy was it a treat too when I was allowed to skip a night. Tonight was not one of those nights though, tonight was a special kind of night. I had patiently waited all day in anticipation. Every Christmas year we would gather round and wrap 100 gifts or more for the less fortunate. One of my most cherished of all childhood memories. Mimi would buy these small and large gifts for all ages all year round just to be sure she never fell short. There was not one thing Mimi did in fact that was not selfless. That's how she rolled and the universe saw to it she was able to rock it....every year. Anyways...Back then we just simply embraced the good times they were few and far in between as it was. So there I was freshly bathed trying to see my way through the pungent smoke filled air, it was slowly lighting my adolescent eyelids on fire, but that was just part of being at Mimi's back then. If you couldn't stand the heat then get out of the kitchen so to speak LOL.. In fact at any given time there may have even been 2 to 3 cigarettes' lit at any given time. She is what you would have called a true chain-smoker. I can say with all confidence though I do believe this was the only weakness this woman had. God love and rest her soul its also what took her last breath. But again.... that's for another story. Meanwhile, the sound of QVC blaring in the background as Papa had grown weary in his easy chair forced to watch his money being spent . Although he never said a word. LOL she would always get so snippy when he forgot her weekly allowances. I can just here them now. Anyway she always had a schedule and time and place for everything. More like a human computer. That night happened to be "bang" night as well as she would call it. Basically the monthly snipping of my bangs, usually halfway up my forehead. I truly dreaded this day, but being the circumstances this night I didn't create too much of a fuss. I was ready to get to the presents. Immediately entering there she was already prepared for the events. As I took my seat at the gathering table, the smell of fresh ice cold fizzing RC filled the air. Another one of her must haves, although it used to be Pepsi for years and years. I still don't understand after all that time why she suddenly chose to boycott them. Again, she was always so adamant about things, I guess I will never know. LOL. As I proudly took my seat I had on one of those old polyester long sleeved night gowns . Mimi always picked out my clothes, it was always a travesty to say the least. That gown I remember would not stop irritating me- Just plain itchy from head to toe. I was squirming around even as hard as I was trying to sit still because of the exciting things we were about to do. But I just couldn't help it. I just wanted to hurry up with the not so fun stuff and get on with it. I can hear her now "Well Jiminy crickets Pookie what is your problem"? I gazed up at her as she was just starting to bust the trimming supplies out and said, "Its this gown Mimi its itching me all over"! And I was grabbing at the back of my neck trying to rip the thick, again polyester sharp edged tag out. But thought twice because you didn't rip tags out of anything when Mimi was around...I believe that was on her list of top 5 pet peeves. You may be wondering where this story is going but I assure you as I remanence even deeper it will soon make sense. As I said before she had a thing and place for all things, and in most cases multiples of the same things for there own separate reasons. OCD to say the very least. But that's what made her , her. Scissors in this case did not fall short of this theory. She even had a special holder for all of her different pairs of scissors. All different shapes and sizes, all for very different reasons and boy oh boy was she protective of all of them. Even servicing them occasionally making sure they were clean and sharp. If you were gonna use her scissors you better let her know, and God forbid if you used the wrong pair for the wrong thing. This always would perplex me but I never argued with her. I actually felt proud to go fetch them for her. I can't count back how many times I remember over the years up and down those treacherous steps as she would ask for her many styles of scissors for her many unimaginable tasks. Adding to 3 of those tasks that very night..yes I said 3. That's what inspired me to share her love for her shiny blades with you. She truly cherished them. One set of course and Ill never forget , was her hair cutting scissors. Made of what seemed like stainless steel, very weighty. Very shiny....and ohhh so cold. Not to mention intimidating write above the eyes as I'm trying to hold still from the usual burning of the eyelids. Of course the other pair we used all so often as she normally would precut the tags out of any and all clothes anyway, I'm convinced she had a phobia of me ripping tags...LOL as I often did. It would fire her up too . Sometimes Id act like I was going to just to get a rise out of her. OH the good olé days. And yes you guessed it one of her most prized possessions. In the scissors world anyway. Her FISKARS!!! These beauties only came out once a year and she would legitimately get so excited. She took pride in her gift wrapping, as she did with anything she pursued. But this was a different kind of pride. All cuts would be perfect and she'd have a little grin of satisfaction as she heard the razor sharp blade gliding smoothly across the wrapping paper. I'm convinced she was addicted to that sound alone. Ahhh that delightful sound, I loved it myself. And still do to this day. Loud and crisp enough it jolted my Papa out of his sleep. She'd just look over at him with this devious grin she always had and say "What Higgins"? LOL Higgins being there last name. I used to get so tickled at them. True love and passion at its finest. Who would of thought thinking back now as I come to my senses and back to reality as sometimes I can truly get lost reminiscing. So much love within all those different walks and facets of scissors. Each and individually holding their own unique purpose and fully facilitating love within each and every one of there uses. I tell you what no matter how they were used or how many pair she owned she loved each and every one with tender love and care . Her craft was LOVE, and her scissors were just one of many vessels she chose to use to facilitate that. In fact she even loved her scissors as much as what she was doing with them. To me you cant get more passionate than that, and past down from her generation to mine I too choose love as my craft and each and every time I pick up a pair of scissors that love also protrudes through them to whatever I'm doing no matter how big or small. Its truly the small things in life. Who would of thought the impact of a simple pair of Fiskars would have on me and I'm so very grateful to have seen this opportunity to spark up an undying love and such cherished memories to share with you all. I hope the next time you see your self holding a pair of Fiskars or wrapping gifts, cutting out tags, and even cutting your Childs bangs you think of my Mimi and remember no matter how insignificant something can seem to be its truly the love you put into it that's makes such a powerful impact. Love is the craft. Love is the passion. Thanks for reading. Blessed Be and Best Blessings to you all!!
By Brittany Fay5 years ago in Families
I Hope She's Proud of Me
I labeled myself as a fiber artist years ago because trying to tell people I made crafts made me feel like I put glitter on popsicle sticks. It all started when I was a kid. We would go to my grandparents' house and I would make these things called "Fads" with my Uma, which was a monthly mail-order craft box of random projects. My older sister and I would spend a week at their house over the summer; I would embroider and make crafts, she would bake and we would both go volunteer with my Uma at the nursing home; Uma answering the phone and Jody and I eating graham crackers and chocolate milk under the desk.
By Sara Stehle5 years ago in Families
RIP Horse & Hound
Even as I sit here writing this on my weathered laptop, the screen still possesses remnants of chaff and sugar beet; a 'gift' from Dyagilev as I sat on his stable floor catching up on work that was really more suited to an office environment, or at the very least, a desk. His way of checking up on me - his human - was to swing his big beautiful head over to where I was seated on the cold concrete every few mouthfuls, and playfully nudge my screen, prompting a playful reprimand and a kiss to his soft muzzle. I am smiling as I try to scrape the dried feed from my keyboard; he truly has weaved his way into every possible inch of my life....and I owe it all to one very special woman.
By Victoria Cope5 years ago in Families
The Hat Lady
When I was a little girl visiting our grandparents on weekends was something that I looked forward to. Mom’s mom always made wonderful edible treats, perpetually ready for whomever might drop by. She taught me how to cook. My dad’s mom had a huge breakfront in her living room filled with the most amazing hats of all shapes, sizes and colors. She taught me how to sew.
By Karolyn Denson Landrieux5 years ago in Families
My Grandmother's Scissors
Normally a very obedient child, there were some things that I simply could not resist - like scissors. Long before “scrapbooking” became a thing, I entertained myself as a small child by cutting out pictures from newspapers, magazines, and the Green Shield Stamp catalog, and gluing crazy collages into my big red scrapbook. (It came from Wooly's on the high street, and had large grey construction paper pages and a big pair of scissors printed on the cover). I remember being given a pathetic pair of safety scissors to use; small and dull, with rounded tips. I always rejected them whenever I could in favor of the forbidden, larger, silver pair, which were pointed, and much sharper and more exciting. The sound and feel of shearing into the crisp paper was such a thrill for a five year old. (That must have been before they found their way down the back of the sofa and were lost for several years before their triumphant rediscovery, when we had to deconstruct the sofa to empty the stash of hamster food that had accumulated inside it... but that's another story...)
By Helen Oldfield5 years ago in Families
