The rosettes I promised to post, all three of 'em. I used real buttons on the black and white ones, a sticker button on the white and pink one.
The backs are ugly, but who cares, they'll be stuck to something anyway. I think these would make pretty brooches as well as decorations for scrapbooks, cards, and the like. I attached the white one to the envelope of a birthday card, stuck it amongst a vase of flowers for the birthday girl and it was a hit. Oh, and I also tried out the border die and I'm happy to say I luff the results!
The gift of this Vagabond is going to be one of my all-time favorites, can you tell?
Even though I've been fighting this dang flu thing (cough, sore throat, stuffy head, no energy), I managed to do a little crafting.
This is probably my most favorite card I made so far. Dawn bought me different-sized acrylic people buttons, so I used one of the ladies, isn't it fabulous? I threaded it with some twine (from the Christmas Advent calendar goodies, see December) and tied it in a little bow.
I am in love with that twine, can you tell?
The "Crafted by" is a rub-on. I like how it looks like it's printed with glossy ink.
I also made Deni a Valentine's Day card. It's a bit on the gaudy side, but he liked it anyway.
Valentine's Day is also the anniversary of our first date, so I made up this silly ditty for the inside. "Roses are red, violets are blue, today is special, cause it's our anniversary, too!" I'm such a dork.
The polka-dotted frame and little tag on the back was cut using my Vagabond and a Nestabilities frame die. The hearts were made with a Martha Stewart punch. (Dawn made a heart banner for one of her co-workers' birthday by threading them on thin ribbon and it turned out adorable!) I could have printed out the text, my handwriting is just awful, but I think it gives it a more personal touch.
Next time I'll post photos of the rosettes I made, I'm so excited to have the die!
I told myself I wouldn’t post
about it this year, but it was a night that changed mine and my
daughters’ lives forever. How do I not acknowledge it somehow?
Some may think I’m giving it power over me, but I feel as though every
time I talk about it, that power weakens and makes me a stronger person.
Two years ago today a man committed suicide by walking into the path of our car.
It was a little after 8 p.m., my daughters and I had just left a
shopping center we rarely went to because it was a bit of a drive.
Shortly after getting on to Highway 101, I had settled into the far-left
lane, Dawn sitting in the passenger seat to my right, Valerie in the
back seat directly behind me. Traffic was light, it was very dark, no
lights shine on that particular stretch of highway. In a flash, I saw
the man as he stepped across the line from the middle lane into mine.
There was nothing I could do, all at once I heard myself make a noise
(of disbelief, a person!), slammed on my brakes, held tight to the
steering wheel and turned my face toward my side window and away from
the windshield’s glass and dirt from the highway that hit us full on as
this person made impact and then tumbled along the length of our car.
I managed to get my window down so I could see where I was going and
pull the car over to the median. We didn’t spin out. We didn’t flip. We
were alive! Dawn and I were spitting out shattered glass and dirt, and I
kept screaming, “I hit a person! I hit a person!” and Dawn kept looking
at me like she wasn’t hearing me (later she said her brain told her it
was a tree or a pole or something). We couldn’t wrap our brains around
what happened. I wouldn’t let anyone leave the car because I’d heard of
people getting hit by passing cars. Or maybe I was frozen with fear, I
don’t know, but when we saw headlights pull over behind us, we finally
crawled out of the car, all of us covered with tiny shards of glass
(weeks later we were still finding it in our skin).
Valerie, my brave Valerie, told us to stay where we were and walked
back toward the headlights of the CHP, the man’s body silhouetted on the
ground in front of them. We watched as she spoke with the officer,
watched as he bent down to check the still figure on the ground. When
she walked back to us and told us the man was dead I felt like I had
lost my mind, the grief was so all encompassing. It was a night that
When I would hear about people having some type of catastrophic
experience I’d think, oh, man, how awful, those poor people and then go
on with my life. But now I look at them in a whole new way, I know the
terror, fear, grief doesn’t stop when the incident is over. We have yet
to find the right counselor(s) to help us work through this properly.
It’s better, but we’ve all been left with PTSD
and still struggle with what happened. The nightmares are less
frequent, but I still have them, and sometimes I can’t get it together
enough to get dressed, cook dinner, clean house, let alone go anywhere. I
especially don’t like to drive, but I do it because it’s such an
integral part of my independence.
But the thing that makes me feel the saddest is how it took away the
innocence of my daughters, that joy that is innate in all of us before
something tarnishes us. We are working to bring some of that joy back
into all of our lives. We are broken, but who isn’t to some degree? We
will be okay.
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but
not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not
destroyed.” 2 Corinthians 4: 8-9
Killing yourself may end your pain, but it only creates more for
those left behind. If you or anyone you know is having suicidal
thoughts, please, seek help, 1-800-SUICIDE, that’s 1-800-784-2433.
Thank you for taking the time to stop by! I post things I craft or make in the kitchen and sometimes talk about my family. I'm the mom of identical twin daughters who are all grown up now, and I've been married for almost 40 years. My life isn't very exciting, but I like it that way. Whether you are a subscriber or not, I hope I've shared something you can relate to and feel at home here in my little house out back.
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