All the Colors of the Rainbow

My lunchtime break from sewing consisted of two delicious soft tacos and a walk to the beach with Woody. It's been gray and snowy here in Union Pier, Michigan. Since the sun is out I set out to find some color in the landscape. It was challenging, but I found a bit of the rainbow peeking out from all the white snow.

Tuesday Poetry Post-Billy Collins

My husband introduced me to Billy Collins way back in the beginning.
He has remained my favorite contemporary poet.
I have many of his creations that I want to share.
I will start
with:

I ask you
by Billy Collins

What scene would I want to be enveloped in
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,
white cabinets full of glass,
the telephone silent,
a pen tilted back in my hand?

It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside--
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

But beyond this table
there is nothing that I need,
not even a job that would allow me to row to work,
or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4
with cracked green leather seats.

No, it's all here,
the clear ovals of a glass of water,
a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,
not to mention the odd snarling fish
in a frame on the wall,
and the way these three candles--
each a different height--
are singing in perfect harmony.

So forgive me
if I lower my head now and listen
to the short bass candle as he takes a solo
while my heart
thrums under my shirt--
frog at the edge of a pond--
and my thoughts fly off to a province
made of one enormous sky
and about a million empty branches.

www.mariekevanderbruggen.com/garden

Sewing in the dark

Last night I made 34 headbands in the dark.
Well, it wasn't completely dark, but the lighting here in Michigan is not so good.

Winter Sweaters and Dog Coats

still snowing.
had a lazy morning.
Woody G in his dog coat
Me in my new Anthropologie sweater.
(a xmas gift from my parents...don't they have great taste!?)

Great Lake Walkers

We just took Woody Guthrie for a walk on the beach during the blizzard




He tried dragging this huge tree branch with him. He's obsessed with sticks.

Merry Christmas, Happy Boxing Day!

This was our first Christmas at home which was such a treat. Christmas morning I woke up early to make homemade doughnuts.


Then we opened presents...

And in the afternoon we went off to my parent's log cabin where we had Christmas dinner during a beautiful snowstorm. Just how Christmas should be, for me.
It was a winter wonderland!

Empanadas, Pompidou, milk & honey

just cooked up some empanadas.
snow is starting to fall outside
drinking hot black tea with milk & honey out of a cup I bought for my husband (then boyfriend) at Pompidou on my first trip to Paris
life is good

Tuesday Poetry Post

My husband is also a fan of poetry, and one day he wrote this poem out for me on a piece of paper towel. I have had it hung up in my studio ever since he gave it to me. Thank you sweet Hubban, and thank you William Butler Yeats.

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

PS-The very first person I thought of when looking for an image to go along with this piece was the work of Karen Ruane. I've been reading her blog http://karenruane.blogspot.com/ for some time, and have been admiring her incredible embroidered works of art. I thought her work to be the perfect fit for Yeats's Cloth of Heaven poem. Please check out her work, it is breathtaking.

A perfect weekend

I had a great weekend. Friday night we tried an Italian restaurant we had never been to before in Lincoln Park called Merlo La Trattoria which was excellent. I eat gnocchi pretty much any time I go out for Italian, and it was quite delicious! Then we headed over to a holiday party at my friend Stephanie's house and had such a good time.

Saturday night I wore my new Anthropologie dress to our friend Heather's 40th birthday party at Japonais.

The food was incredible and we had another fantastic night. My favorite thing to order at Japonais is the Rock. They serve you thin cuts of very nice beef and you cook it yourself on a sizzling hot rock. It was so good.


Today was my last day of work at New Horizon Center. I feel so sad saying goodbye to all the wonderful kids there. I learned so much at that job and feel so lucky to have had the experience. On to the next phase! I'm very excited about the future.

the Japonais "Rock" photo is courtesy of http://thesocietyevents.net

Good-byes

I've got some new exciting changes coming up for me in the near future. I'm leaving one of my art therapy jobs so I can focus more on my company! The down side is that I have to say good-bye to all the students I have been working with for the past year. Tonight I'm working on individual mini canvases I'm giving to each student. I've written one thing I'll miss about each one of them. I've got almost 70 to do! I hate good-byes.

Sweet home Chicago

Last night was dreamy for a regular ole' Tuesday night because we didn't let it be a regular ole' Tuesday night.
First I went to a friend's house and saw her three cute kiddies.
Then I went to heaven Anthropologie on the walk home and got a beautiful sweater for my sister-in-law (I drew her name for our Xmas drawing)


_______________________________________

...and then a little something for me...

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Then David and I met up and went to Wildfire for steaks and wine and discussed poetry and films and took grainy photos of each other next to the delicious bread and butter they served.

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Then we went home and I looked out the window at the cold beautiful city we live in and felt like a lucky woman.

Tuesday Poetry Post

Lately I have been experiencing a lack of inspiration and overall gloom. This happens to me from time to time. When I'm feeling this way several things can lift me up. A good poem is one of those lifters, so I've decided to start a weekly Tuesday Poetry Post, for you and for me.

There was no question in my mind about which poem I had to start with. It has been my favorite poem since I was 16 years old. It's not the best bit of poetry for a blog I suppose, as it is quite long and a bit laborious, but I promise you if you read the whole thing through it's so worth it.

So thank you, T. S. for writing the best poem in the world, to me.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S. Eliot

	S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
	A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
	Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
	Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
	Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
	Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats	5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …	10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,	15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,	20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;	25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;	30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go	35
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—	40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare	45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,	50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—	55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?	60
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress	65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin? . . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets	70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!	75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?	80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,	85
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,	90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—	95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,	100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:	105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . .	110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,	115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …	120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.	125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown	130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown. Illustration courtesy of Amy Farrier http://amyfarrier.com/portfolio_2.html

Our LIttle Family

We are getting ready for David's boss's party and thought we'd do a little Xmas family photo.

ME and D


Me, D, and Woody G

Woody looks thrilled, doesn't he?
I'm wearing my fun flapper dress. I think I should take one of my new fringe clutches with me.

So sew

I've been sewing away all week long! All of these clutches are currently available in my etsy shop.

Marie Antoinette

Here is my latest clutch, inspired by Sophia Coppola's Marie Antoinette.
I am currently obsessed with fringe. (And I've been obsessed with Sophia for quite some time)

Marie Antoinette Clutch $30

The Walls in my Head

Right now I wish I was in a room with Ellen Kooi photos covering the walls floor to ceiling.