Posts from the ‘Patience’ Category

“Goals that are not written down are just wishes.”


“All great masters are chiefly distinguished by the power of adding a second, a third, and perhaps a fourth step in a continuous line. Many a man has taken the first step. With every additional step you enhance immensely the value of your first.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Rétrofuturs (Hulk4598) / Stéphane Massa-Bidal

“The elevator to success is out of order. You’ll have to use the stairs… one step at a time.” Joe Girard

Photographer Unknown

…and for my husband, as he is known to NEVER pass up a good Star Wars reference:

“Luke Skywalker:  “I don’t believe it.”
Yoda:  “That is why you will fail.” ” – Star Wars

I have many irons in the fire right now, some for personal need and some for community need, but I choose to “DO”, as Yoda would say- I am sure my husband is grinning right now, upon reading that bit! – and not falter or fail.

May you all find that strength that sits within you to keep going forward toward your health, strong relationships, community, and last but not least, your dreams; for dreams are there for a reason. Just remember that and take the word “can’t” out of your vocabulary, when it comes to that first step or accepting the opportunity that the Universe is putting before you. Go ahead take the challenge, which is being given to teach you your own strength and fortitude. You might just surprise yourself! ♥

“It is better to take many small steps in the right direction than to make a great leap forward only to stumble backward.” – Chinese Proverb
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Scooter Love: Vroom Vroom


As you probably guessed, by seeing some of the links on the sidebar and my avatar, I LOVE scooters. You know, the two-wheeled, gas-engine kind. Think Quadrophenia and Roman Holiday with the wind in your hair (or rather rushing past your helmet, of course), and feeling more in contact with your surroundings than a “cage” (aka four-wheeled vehicle) could ever allow you to feel…ever.

My Scooter Love affair started when I was sixteen-years old and never died. But the love affair had to be more of a crush, a fan-based crush, for twenty-four years, as I wasn’t allowed to obtain a scooter for various reasons. First, my parents feared, as any good parent would, that I would kill myself on two-wheels. Then, as I grew into adulthood, my worry replaced theirs and financial reasons got in the way. I drooled over others’ scooters, the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. And I could only dream about owning and riding my own. Or so I let myself think. The power of thought is a fantastic tool, for good or evil.

I had been to scooter rallies in the U.S. and the U.K., rode pillion (on the back) of scooters and motorcycles for years and then, finally, at forty-years old, I met a few local scooterists and decided that it was “now or never” time to purchase my own scooter. I had to or I felt like I was going to regret it until the day I died.

My cousin, Barb, lives her life to the fullest. While I was going through a personal crisis in my thirties, feeling like I was wasting my life, she told me that forty was even better and not to worry. She truly lives her life: rides a motorcycle; became the president and CEO of her family company; the first female president of the local contractors’ association; and goes on adventures when she can fit it in her busy schedule. She is an inspiration and an incredible woman. She was correct about turning forty.

Maybe my love of two-wheels also was ignited by my mother. I remember my parents going out into the wilderness, when I was a child, to ride dirt bikes with their friends. Mom’s dirt bike was purple, if I recollect correctly — with a matching, sparkly helmet, of course! Hey, it WAS the 70s! She often would let me ride on the back of her bike during short, slow, and safe rides.

Only having flashbacks of standing in a dusty clearing of the woods, waiting for the other riders to return, I had forgotten all about the riding along part. But one day — during my drive-everyone-to-insanity scooter search — she smiled, kind of chuckled and reminded me of those rides. Laughing, she said it was probably her fault that I had such a passion to find my OWN scooter, not just ride on the back.

Fast forward to 2004, I met and fell in love with a mod/scooterist in England at the first ever Modstock, while on vacation. He owned (still owns, hopefully) two beautiful scooters: a P-series, T5, 172Vespa and a Lambretta 200 Special (SX200),  both faithfully restored and GORGEOUS. Sadly, I only was allowed a few rides on the Vespa, as a pillion, before we parted ways. There are not enough words to describe riding through the English countryside, your arms wrapped around a cute guy, feeling connected and alive with everything whizzing past you. You can smell everything, feel the wind on your face, the rumble of the scooter below doesn’t hurt, and people SMILE at you as you ride by. Now try that with about a hundred scooters riding together, during a rally, and people stop and take pictures. It’s magic!


To be fair, my first ride on a scooter, as a pillion, was on my friend Nick’s Vespa. He named her “Vicky”. Cute, eh? Nick and I took off from his flat on a crisp, English morning and rode down some narrow, ancient streets, onto the motorway and made our way to a scooter get-together in the town centre of Birmingham. I still remember one stop where we had a quick snap taken by a couple of men standing on the sidewalk, and he leaned back a bit to yell over the engine’s loud putt-putt-putt, “Don’t you just love being a Mod?” I had the biggest grin on my face at that moment. Scooter LOVE! (Check out his amazing scooter art here. He takes commissions too!)
– Update 2012: Links broken – trying to get new info to link-up. If you would like the info now, remember Google is your friend.)

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The Diva and The Jedi


Did I ever mention that I have a living alarm clock (LAC)? Yes, it is true. Somehow, I can never get it set to the appropriate time for my roll out. It has a mind of its own and it has decided that any time between 5:30 and 6 a.m. is a perfectly fantastic time to go off every single morning.

Even on the weekend, it refuses to let me use the snooze button. On the rare occasion that is doesn’t try to rouse me at the aforementioned time, somewhere in my (obviously, messed up) subconscious I get concerned that the LAC is broken. I then wake up at its “set” time anyway, just to check. The LAC knows how to “set” me, not the other way around.

Given that it is of the feline persuasion, I guess that is to be expected. Someone fed the LAC once, maybe twice, at 6 a.m. and now that is de facto breakfast time; no excuses. There are no “snoozes” without being bothered constantly. The torture can go on for hours. Trust me; I have tested various ways to shut my LAC off, to gain those few, extra, precious hours one might get to sleep in on the weekend, with no luck.

The LAC has a step-by-step procedure that ensures its success (a full tummy) and my grumbling first thing in the morning, every morning. It begins with the sweet “stare at mom intently right near her face” bit, then the famous “whiskers are for tickling mom’s face to wake her up” trick. Now, you have to give LAC credit for being gentle with me at first. That is a very kind gesture, but the torture progresses.

The previous actions are followed by the infamous “I’ll just give her a light tap on her nose, maybe her eyelid” and then (if the alarm clock is feeling extra-fancy) “If I add just a little claw to that pat thing, she will stir, I know it.”; both LAC patented moves. Lately, “Let’s nip at her fingers that gets her stirring.” has been added to the repertoire. Good one, LAC. Good one.

Sleeping with the covers over my head doesn’t work, as I can’t breathe under there and the LAC loves getting under the covers. Also, bumping (ahem,I meant gently nudging) her off the bed and saying (well, really, whinging) “Nooooo…Go awaaaay….I am trying to sleep.” never works. (Note to self: Yeah, like that’s ever going to work.) She just snuggles under the covers to continue the bothering or jumps back up and resumes her step-by-step attack at point one. Now, I may be complaining, but I wouldn’t give up my LAC for the world. I would feel lost without my living alarm clock. Even as I am composing this post, she is repeatedly begging me for a few of the treats “hidden” in the night stand drawer. Her name is Pandora and she has been my “baby” for sixteen years. Read more…

Shadow Box Art and The Art of Finding Patience


For years, I have been interested in shadow box art. (Please note that I said art and not display. They are two different things in my book. Though, sometimes, a display unintentionally becomes art.) Maybe it came from the dioramas made in grade school; maybe from my love of collecting odd knick-knacks and bits of visual art that I found fascinating. Who knows?

As I progressed to college, Joseph Cornell entered my vision. He was a curious, quiet man, a bachelor, who lived with his mother, and created wondrous assemblages, like those I dream of creating. His boxes remind me of finding treasures hidden away in attics, antique stores and junk shops. They are strong, yet quaint.

A few of my graduation year projects involved using shadow boxes and boxes of all sorts, but in a less decorative or narrative style than Cornell’s. I focused on lighted triptychs and “finding hidden pasts”, using words and images in a different manner than he did. There was a simple message that I wanted to express and I believed too many visual segues would distract from that message.

Lately, though, my interest in these little assemblages has been reignited. Each a seemingly-homegrown object d’art – layers upon layers to ponder and sometimes, it would appear, just capricious fairy tales, per se – created with such detail and devotion. Ahh, the patience. Do I have the patience, I wonder? Yes, I am tenacious, but patient…?

I get easily distracted from one project to another. *Oh, look, a squirrel!* There are so many things that I want to try and do, the list is endless; so much to create…read…experience. Do I have the patience required to sit down and pull the pieces together and lay them out, assemble them and finish the “labor of love” without the piece looking thrown together? Will I just set it down for “later” and never return to it until years later, if ever? Maybe, I am still that little girl that would hurriedly finish a paint by numbers project, just to get it done, bored with it already. Or, am I still the little girl that could sit for hours, creating and hand-sewing outfits for her dolls? That is my challenge to myself. We shall see.

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…and just because we all appreciate old photographs:
Joseph Cornell Family in his Youth with His Family

Want to Learn more about Joseph Cornell. recycled art and assemblage?:

“Shadow boxes become poetic theaters or settings wherein are metamorphosed the element of a childhood pastime.” – Joseph Cornell’

Richard Haymes