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Every once in awhile you stumble upon a piece of art that speaks to you in a hushed voice, asking you to tune out the white-noise of life and to just LISTEN.  Pino’s “Maternal Instincts” has done that for me.  And appropriately so.  I’m always amazed at life’s magical way of syncing with my Soul Song.

This morning was one of those rare and priceless Mommy-Daughter moments that will remain embedded in my heart and mind for all time.  We somehow got on the subject of dreams coming true and Cali asked, “What do YOU think about sometimes when you dream?”

I told her I thought about ways to be a better Mommy…a better wife.  A more soulful artist…a more revealing writer.  Then she hit me with:

“How do you know you’re an artist?”

Aha!  Big Life Teaching Moment!  So I immediately stopped what I was doing and sat on the floor with her.  The conversation went a little something like this:

ME:  I know I’m an artist because it’s what I HAVE to do.  If I don’t, then there’s a big yucky gunky pile of junk around my heart and I get sick.  I know because it’s the one thing I do that makes me feel complete (besides being your Mommy).  I don’t have to work at it.  I create because it’s my authentic self.  What do YOU do that makes you happy inside?  That gives you a warm oozy feeling in your belly?

CALI:  My music…and dancing.  That’s what I do when I’m happy.

ME:  Then you’re a singer and a dancer.  Right now, it’s what you have to do, right?

CALI:  Yeah, but I don’t wanna go to dance class anymore and be scared on the big stage.

(She’s referring to her Spring recital.)

ME:  You don’t have to be on a stage in front of people to be a singer and dancer, Cal-Belle.

CALI:  No?

ME:  No.  You just do it.  Who cares if anyone sees or hears it.  But don’t you dare stop if someone stops to watch or listen, okay?  Don’t ever be embarrassed to do what you love.

CALI:  What’s that smell.  Did you toot?  Nahhh…I think it was Tess.  Tess tooted!

Life lesson complete.  But the more I think about that conversation, the more I think the lesson was just as much for me as it was for her.  Maybe even more.

“You don’t really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around – and why his parents will always wave back.”  ~William D. Tammeus

Oh, get your head out the gutter.  When I say “Pants on the ground!”, I am speaking of Larry Platt’s little diddy, instructing all homies to pull their friggin’ pants up.  Some lyrics for your pleasure:

Pants on the ground
Pants on the ground
Lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground

With the gold in your mouth
Hat turned sideways
Pants hit the ground
Call yourself a cool cat
Lookin’ like a fool
Walkin’ downtown with your pants on the ground

Get it up, hey!
Get your pants off the ground
Lookin’ like a fool
Walkin’ talkin’ with your pants on the ground.

Get it up, hey!
Get your pants off the ground
Lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground

Now I promise you this.  Unless you’re tone deaf, the tune of this song will be stuck in your head so bad that not even a lobotomy could remove it.

Btw…Larry Platt is a ripe ole 62 years of age….which only adds to the allure.  I predict it’ll be the first big hit of 2010.  Let’s just hope American Idol doesn’t get hold of it and bubble-gum it to death.

Here’s Larry now with his bad self.

I grew up during the 80’s. Literally.  I was a teenager growing out all over the place.  I’m pretty sure I wore every single fad all at once.  Shoulder pads, jelly bracelets, jelly shoes (with heels!), big bangs frozen in time with Aqua Net, white framed shades, Lip Smackers lip gloss, Rubik’s cube in one hand and a Shasta cola in the other.

Now.  The following picture was taken when I was around 15 years of age…somewhere around 1986.  (Note the shades.)  What you can’t really see in the picture is the horse I’m on.  Nor can you see my entire family and a horse guide laughing their butts off up on the ridge above me.  I was in a gully because my ignorant horse got a burr up its hiney to run (full speed!) down a cliff so he could have himself a drink of water from an old rusted out bathtub.  I believe I screamed for my Daddy the whole way down.

Also..note the bangs.  We were “primitive” camping that year and I nearly passed out at the thought of being without my curling iron.  So.  I somehow got hold of some extension cords and drug them all the way back to Camp Angus, quite pleased with my ingenuity.  There’s a picture of me taken the morning of the horse incident…where I’m straddling a red igloo cooler, got my mirror stuck up in the bark of a tree and I’m curling those bangs, hunny.

So tonight my husband and all his little Facebook cronies were spouting off Napoleon Dynamite quotes and someone commented on Napoleon’s boots.  I mentioned that I had owned some boots and gloves that changed colors in the cold.  After about a five second pause, my husband started laughing like an idiot and then mocked me openly.  Naturally none of his elderly friends knew what I was talking about.  There’s an age gap between my husband and I.  Not a big one…but big enough to separate us when it comes to style and music.

The gloves I was referring to were called Freezy Freakies.  Only the cool kids had a pair.  Here’s a pic:

Old people, go have yourself a cup of tea by the fire….this ain’t for you.  For everyone else, let’s take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?

We got our King Cake yesterday….I’ve already secretly embedded the creepy plastic baby and we’ll be having our party in the next day or so.

So what in the world is a King Cake Party, you ask?  What’s with the creepy plastic babies?  Let me see if I can break it down for you:

Day of the Epiphany falls on January 6th.  Christians mark this as the day Jesus was visited by the Three Kings.  You cannot, will not, shall NOT make or partake of the King Cake prior to this date.  I’m not sure what’ll happen if you do…I’ve never been bold enough to try it.  Maybe you’ll get flogged with Mardis Gras beads. Who knows.  At any rate, from January 6th until Ash Wednesday, you can party all night long with your King Cake parties.  While cakes and parties are the grandest thing ever, there’s actually alot of sacred symbolism behind the cake itself.

Traditionally, the cake is an oval or circle – this representing the unity of all faiths.  It’s then slathered in white icing and decorated in traditional Mardis Gras colors:  Purple for justice, green for faith and gold for power.  The plastic baby which is baked inside of the cake represents Jesus.

The person who receives the slice of cake with the plastic baby inside is considered lucky.  Lucky AND responsible for bringing the cake to the next party….which could be that night, the next day…whenever.  And these parties just keep go-eeng and go-eeng until Lent rolls around and everyone has to swear off sugar and starch.

A very cool tradition indeed.  One I intend on keeping up with.  If you’re interested in more Mardi Gras/King Cake faqs, Mayor Nagin will do what he can to answer your questions here.

Now go forth and plan your party!

I decided to feature Lisa’s work today as one of my top 5 inspirational sources.  I stumbled across her work about a year ago and fell in love with her work.  Now I regularly visit her website and Etsy shop to see what she’s up to.

If you get a few minutes, go check out her website and Etsy shop.  Even better, support her business with YOUR business!  Here’s a small sampling of her work.  It’ll bring out the girly kid in ya!

We got Cali this Peter Pan pop-up book for Christmas and found the Wizard of Oz a couple of weeks ago.  Both are designed by paper engineer, Robert Sabuda.  I have never in my life seen such enchanting books.  They make you feel like a kid all over again!

You can visit Sabuda’s website here and he has several pop-up projects you can print out and try for yourself.  The following pics don’t do the books justice, but you can get a general idea of sabuda’s work.

“The pencil of God has no eraser.” ~ Haitian Proverb

This morning I watched footage of a news reporter standing on top of a huge pile of rubble, listening to the desperate cries of two women trapped deep below, sadly reporting that there was no way possible to extract them…no machines, no diggers, no tools….no way at all to remove the debris to save these trapped lives.

This whole tragedy takes on a more personal note as a close friend of ours tries desperately to reach his brother who was visiting family in Haiti….the earthquake hitting only a day before he was scheduled to return home.

There have been countless images of children wandering the streets looking for their parents, children huddled beside the bodies of their parents.  Stacks of corpses are beginning to line the streets, making it difficult to even walk.  The true severity of the situation became stark as I watched Rene Preval, the President of Haiti, tell a CNN reporter that he had no idea where he was going to sleep or seek shelter because the presidential palace and all government buildings had been reduced to piles of rubble.

My love of photography always pulls me towards those images that capture the pain and strength of the human soul.  Pictures that don’t need captions or subtitles…..when the story is written on faces and reflected in their eyes.  I’m sure in the upcoming weeks, more and more tragic images will flood in….here are a few that stood out to me.

Please remember our family friend in prayer and positive thought as he continues to search for his brother.

Yeah, baby.  I’m bringing back the penny loafer.  Remember all the crap Katie Holmes got a couple of years ago about sporting pennies with baggy jeans?  Two words.  TREND SETTAH.

I say bling the things out.  Screw the pennies….put jewels in there and whatnot.  I’m not doing the whole baggy jean thing though….I’m thinking skinny jeans with pennies.  I got me a pair of Converse skinny jeans right after Christmas and I’m practically sleeping in them.  They’re becoming kinda like Amy Winehouse’s ballet shoes.  Ew.  I know, right?

Here’s a tribute to The Penny.  Try to open your mind.: