Angels in Disguise

Following the shooting at Fort Hood, I heard a retired military officer -- it might have been Jack Jacobs -- tell a TV commentator, "In the end, it's the community that can tell quicker than anything that you need care."

He was referring to others noticing but not mentioning or urging more attention to the mental health of the shooter.

When I initially prepped this post a week ago, I said he could have just as easily been referring to me and to my recent pulmonary issues that have been worsening, acknowledging the community of my colleagues and Rick to urge more proactive care. The idea of the post was to tell you that I am slow checking blogs these days, but please keep coming back as I'll have some posts here and to be patient with me if I don't comment on every item of yours. (And fyi, the new meds are helping; not to worry for now.)

But that's small potatoes compared to what happened this weekend when Rick was in a bicycling accident. He'll be fine. And he's very lucky. More on that in a minute.

I have long felt that the visual image of angels is beautiful and we like to think of our guardian angels watching over us. But no one really sees diaphanous beauties in long white gowns with feather wings flying about us when we're having a bad time. If we believe in such things, and I do, angels are a matter of the heart. Faith.

But I also believe that angels walk the earth. We all can be angels, while at the same time we never know when the angels we need will come our way. To get a real-life human glimpse is a breathtaking, almost heart-stopping moment.

This weekend I met two of them. In bike clothes.

Some of you know Rick is a passionate cyclist. He used to be a racer and rides long rides and often. He's a good rider, a good handler. Sure, he's crashed and been hit like a lot of folks who have been riding for 40 years, and some of those have been hairy (both before and after I came in on the scene). He topped 6,100 miles this month and would be closer to 7,000 if we hadn't had rain most of October.

So, when we had one of those glorious, Indian Summer days -- a true rarity for a Michigan November -- you can bet he'd be out on his bike, savoring every second as we anticipate the long northern winter.

He had companions this day. One, Jef Mallett, you may know as the cartoonist who draws the comic strip "Frazz." The other, Jimi, is a detective with Michigan's State Police. Both are triathletes and both have had EMT training. You can read Jef's account of this at this blog.

The guys were cruising down a country road about 20 miles from Lansing. There was no traffic and apart from gravel edge, the road was pretty nice. Bopping along at a brisk 24.6 mph, they were having a great ride.

That is, until Rick hit a piece of petrified horse dung a little larger than a croquet ball. There was no "give" and after struggling, went down.

"In the end, it is the community that can tell quicker than anything that you need care."

About that community -- or, as I see them, angels -- Jef and Jimi kept him going when his breathing was failing -- he was "out" for a good five minutes and struggling. Jimi wrote later: "I have seen quite a bit of death as first responder to head on accidents and such in the UP. He fought hard to stay alive for those first 5 minutes. You are doing something right as he just didn't want to let go."

The paramedics, generally not close to this area, had been on training runs and responded immediately. He was taken to the hospital where a scan showed a small brain bleed in the head, a badly cut eye area (14 stitches) and lots of bruises. The bleed subsided by the next day and he's home with me now after a night in Neuro ICU and lots of outstanding nursing care. More angels.

Jef and Jimi both came to the hospital (they also rescued Rick's bike, which wasn't badly damaged and next to being alive and kicking, probably his greatest relief.) They filled me in on the details, which were scary to say the least. But they also said Rick did as fine a job of handling the bike under the situation as anyone could. And, that the passers by (including a doctor and someone who blocked the road with his car so no one would interfere) were a real testament to positive, non-gawking help. More angels.

Jef also brought his wife, Patty to the hospital, too. I have a photo of them so you can see a real-life angel in the flesh. I don't have one of Jimi, but believe me, he's a vision, too. And it was good to have hugs because I really needed them at that moment.

You see, we never know, do we, when someone will happen into our life to save it, to make a moment easier, to change our perspective -- something that makes a major difference to the rest of our life as we live it. (Below -- the good side; some photos are best not posted.)

We never know when or if we'll be that person who is the angel, either. Sometimes we don't even know after the fact. We just go on, do our best, try to say the right thing or be with someone at the right time.

Those angels help us find our inner angel. I believe we all have one.

I just want to thank all of you in the family or Facebook loop who have already responded, sent get well wishes, and shared your concern on behalf of both of us. Your thoughts, prayers and positive energy are great comfort to both of us. Keep 'em coming. The initial problems may be under control but the recovery isn't going to be fun.

Rick's exhausted (me, too) and sorer than anything. But he's the toughest guy I know and I suspect he will move heaven and earth to get in another ride (or more) before the snow settles in. (Just as long as I can keep the pet therapist from jumping on his sore spots!)

As regular readers know, this is my month to focus on gratitude in all my Marmelade Gypsy posts. I guess it would be redundant to say what all I'm grateful for in this one -- I think you already know. I'll visit you as I can.

On a related note, if you want to see a real-life angel in the flesh, those living in the Lansing area are invited to stop by Schuler Books and Music in Lansing (Eastwood) at 7 p.m. on Thursday, November 19. It's a book release party for Jef's most recent book, Trizophrenia! He says there will be great food, too! I know we'll move heaven and earth to be there, too!

All Work and No Play...

...makes Jeanie a cranky and dull girl!

So lately I've joined a couple of things -- a new book club and an art group formed by Jane Rosemont. This past Sunday we gathered at Margabeth's art studio to play with glass.

Our "bring along" assignment was a name tag. I made mine two-sided (they never stay the way you want, do they?). I picked the house motif because house and home is so very important to me. This is one side.

The door reminds me of the blue doors to my friend Jerry's courtyard in France -- heavy, wooden, wide, with wonderous things on the other side.

I just liked the rusty fence (which I bought at Artiscape two years ago), and the cat is a titanium pin from an art fair eons ago, the back long broken off. (Yes, there must be a cat!)The letters are cork stickers.

This is the other side.

Over the base papers, some wallpaper, me (about age 3)and some buttons. I used copper foil around the edges. I loved this particular photo because at that age everything is new, exciting, opening up. With this wonderful collection of creative women, I get that same feeling of excitement, discovery and learning new things.

After munching on finger foods, we started to play in the glass. I did this once eons ago at a workshop. But it's very new to me. It all began with a big pile of colored glass and some base pieces that were clear that we could use if we wanted.

Then came the fun! Stacking glass bits on top of one another, not really having a clue how they would turn out.

I came up with three. Two had holiday colors -- but our guide, Margabeth, warned us that red could come up yellow, orange or pink! We'll see.

The other was more neutral tones. I built it around the brown piece which reminded me of a guitar.

And here are some of my friends' pieces.

Margabeth will fire them and I'll show you a before and after when I get back the finished pieces!

I'm so very grateful I have creative friends here as well as online, so I can make art with people!

Grateful for Pet Therapy

As many of you know, I have been having some medical challenges in recent months that have been trying and scary to say the least.

Sleeping is pretty tough and I'm not pleasant to be around with constant coughing so my regular bed buddy (aka Rick) has been sleeping down at his house.

Meanwhile, I have a pretty darned wonderful Bed Buddy remaining -- The Gypsy!

Mr. Gyps , I think it's safe to say, operates in great part on the base level of Maslow's pyramid. Give me food, give me shelter, give me a litter box, give me love.

Not surprisingly, this can make for a very sweet friend. Sometimes excessively so -- I have learned to knit with a 15 pound cat on my lap, read while being pawed and sleep through having this lump jump on or off the bed. I learned a long time ago that I can put on make-up better if he's not sitting next to me on the bathroom counter, meowling but having his breakfast instead.

Who's the master here?

I do this freely and fully of joy because he's the best pet therapy ever. Lay in bed struggling to breathe and reach out to feel the thick, soft fur laying beside you. Lay your head close to his body and hear his rhythmic purr. Breathe to that rhythm. Works for me.

Gypsy came into my world about twelve years ago, a six-week bundle of fur who had been dumped and decided my window well was as good a place to live as any. He and Stimpy enjoyed long cat conversations through the glass. It took time to get him to come to me, to allow me to pick him up. For some time, he lived in a wooden box affixed with a light bulb to keep him warm -- till a possum moved into the box and Gypsy moved into the house.

He was the tiniest thing I'd ever seen.

I named him Gypsy Rose after the Sondheim musical "Gypsy" and because he was a wanderer. When I finally officially adopted him and took him to the vet, I learned he was more like a Gypsy King -- it's harder to tell on kittens. Now he's uncommitted.

He and Stimpy were a dynamic duo till four years ago when we said goodbye to our orange and white angel boy.

I'd had intentions of finding a friend for him. Now, I'm pretty sure that would be a bad idea -- he's very possessive.

As an executive assistant, he's close to useless, sleeping on the job or continually disrupting my typing by trying to be a kitten on the keys.

He's also had a penchant for eating paper and chewing on yarn. Or chasing it. If yarn is near, Gypsy will find it.

Others would be fired for this behavior.

Traveling isn't his strong suit and his green thumb could use some improvement.

His avocation is bird watching. Not much skill required there.

No, his greatest skill is as therapist. Who listens better? Who loves unconditionally, doesn't ever erupt in anger, and realizes having his tummy rubbed is a win-win situation?

Yes, I'm grateful for pet therapy -- especially with this bundle of love.

A Gift

Do you remember hearing about how after World War II, the Berlin Airlift dropped candy and sweets down on children in post-war Europe? (And food, I might add.) To those little ones, deprived of anything not essential (and even some of that) for so long, it must have felt like the greatest gift of all time.

Sunday was like a gift that Mother Nature gave our community. Trust me when I say November in Michigan never brings 60 degree weather. But Sunday was the exception, with a brilliant blue sky, unending sun and warmth.

One can't stay inside on a day like that (even though I did manage some art time indoors!). So, I went off for my walk to the ditch (thank you, Rick), unwilling to give up a moment of this beautiful day.

I couldn't help thinking of that super candy drop. Or of leaves that seem to pop out on the trees in the spring like magic. The leaves of early bulbs, shooting out of the ground.

That's what it was like -- people were everywhere, as if by magic. Children took over the streets on their bicycles. Men and woman walked dogs around the ditch, while others fed the ducks.

The ducks. They knew a good thing when they saw it!

I've never seen one like the big white-chested one before. It was larger than the others, so maybe it was a form of goose.

I don't know -- I just know that the little boy who fed these guys was quite possibly the most popular kid in the neighborhood.

Neighbors took the opportunity to do yard work they'd put off during the damp, cold days of late October. Piles of leaves seemed to mount up between my departure and return.

And everyone said hello, even those who were "plugged in." (For a great post on being plugged in, visit Shoreacres this week. It is spot on.)

Even Mr. Gyps got a walk in the yard! (Definite not aerobic exercise!)

Sixty in November? Am I grateful? You bet!

Grateful for Life

As I was bloghopping on Sunday, I stopped by Shoreacres who has an extraordinary post that is primarily centered around a poem by Carl Sandburg that is absolutely gripping. It struck me with particular relevance, as our city is reeling from unemployment, the end of manufacturing autos as we know it, and so much more.

In the comments section, Janell mentioned a scene from "Our Town" (Thornton Wilder), which I will print below. In the play, Emily has died and making her goodbyes.

Emily (in deciding to return to the grave:) “Good-bye, good-bye, world. Good-bye Grover’s Corners…Mama, Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking…and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

(Then, to the stage manager) “Do human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?”

Stage Manager: “No.” (pause) “The saints and poets maybe. They do some.”

As I continue giving thanks this month, I am so grateful for all that is life and beauty in this world. Even our most challenging days, our most troubled times have some joy and beauty if we look hard enough to find it. But really -- is it that hard?

The kind word that someone give you when you're down or the band-aid provided when you fall and skin your knee. (Thank you, Rick.) Oh, and learn four days later that you also broke your arm that day. Bad week. But grateful for the band-aid!

Being held and told it'll be OK, or we'll get through it, even when that seems almost impossible.

The long walk, when it's not too hot, not too cold; crisp, lovely and just right.

The sound of the rain -- which even on the upteenth-million day in a row of gloom and wet -- still sounds so relaxing and so healing.

The last of the flowers -- for you know they'll be here again next spring. Grateful for something to look forward to.

Music. Especially when it's played just for you.

You get it. And isn't it wonderful, really? I suspect -- even on the worst days -- you're a little bit grateful for those things, too.

(I have a new book commentary over on Chopsticks and String -- stop by if you're a mystery fan! And all three articles on creativity and style are there too. The most recent has some good links to some creative bloggers!)

Leaf Grief

I love beautiful trees with their brilliant autumn leaves. The towering yellow maple in Rick's yard is my favorite.

And I love shuffling my feet in the leaves as I walk.

I'm always happy to walk in wooded areas, where my camera can capture the changing seasons.

Having said that, I'm grateful my trees have tiny leaves that don't need to be raked. Or else I'd have lots of these!

And really, I'd rather do something else!

Postscript on shuffling: Fun as it is, I'm not recommending it! I've always believed in shuffling your feet as you walk through leaves, letting them rustle, hearing the sound. After all, if you have to take care of them, you may as well also have some fun.

As some of you know, I shuffled along and tripped over uneven walk on Rick's patio (it was covered by leaves and I was dragging my feet).

The result? A fractured "radial head" in my forearm. No surgery needed (sometimes this is the case, I'm told) -- and I'm grateful for that. But have to be careful with it. (He said he wouldn't splint it if I followed order. Yes, sir!)

Pick up your feet!

Meeting My Creative Muse -- Again

As I continue my month of celebrating things for which I am grateful, I have to throw in a bit of gratitude for some art time!

Although I have a half dozen journals in varying states of completion on (or near) my art table, I did manage to finish two of them.

The color isn't very good on this -- the beigy scallop shell wallpaper covers the composition journal, with a bather in maroon, a deeper beige embossed paper, and a section of a decorative paper with a shell motif. The "Wish You Were Here" words echoed my thoughts -- I wish I could be with that bather! The other elements are some shells from Myrtle Beach and some striped ribbon picking up the colors.

This little fellow is on the cover of a gardening journal. The base is a painting technique learned in my Artiscape workshop featured on The Gypsy here. Using a packing tape transfer of the definition of "garden," I added some text, dulling down the tape and its boundaries with rub on metallics. The rusted spade came from Ben Franklin, and ribbon is attached at the side.

Maybe there is more to come!

Grateful for Something Pink!

Today (and every day) I am grateful for my blogging friends.

You give me a present every time you visit and leave a comment! And I have learned so much from visiting you.

Annie recently gave me this "Pink" Award. The pass-along is that you send it on to 15 blogs you've recently discovered. (Thank you, Annie!)

The rules for sharing are simple. If you accept the award, just post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.

The other part of this award is to pass it to 15 other blogs that you’ve newly discovered. I simply couldn't choose, so I encourage you to visit my "Blogs I Visit" list on the right, and if there's someone you haven't visited yet, stop by for a second! While it probably could use another update, I did recently add some new links, so it may be worth a look!

If you site particular bloggers with this award, remember to contact them so they know they've been chosen.

Isn't this a pretty graphic? I'll look forward to adding it to my sidebar. Thanks Annie!

Something to be Grateful For

November is the month of Thanksgiving, and I for one, think we should be grateful more than one day a year, but each and every day.

I used to fill pages and pages of a gratitude journal. Now there isn't a night that I go to sleep before enumerating at least five things a day I'm thankful for.

Sometimes -- on those very bad days -- it can be a stretch.

But once I shake off the "bad," I realize that in every day -- even the most trying -- there is something for which I am grateful. (More often than not, it's the orange furball sharing bed space with me!)

So, in every post this month, I'm acknowledging one thing for which I am thankful -- even if there's nothing else in the post!

Today -- as you can see by the photos here -- I am thinking I am grateful for my friends Linda and Larry, with whom were supposed to be spending this weekend.

Earlier this year, I mentioned Lin was one of my "notables" -- people who have been a powerful influence in my life. If you didn't follow the Marmelade Gypsy back then, you can read about Lin in this post.

Unfortunately, I got some bug (not the flu), enough of one that Dr. Lin suggested I would be better off home in bed (and I really felt that, too, not wanting to spread crud across state lines.)

So, why am I grateful? Well, after determining on Thursday night that traveling was a bad idea, Lin -- dear Lin -- called me the next day and we talked for a good hour. And I have to say she really listened to my frustrations about being sick all the time, my disappointment in not coming to visit, and my fears and concerns with having chronic lung issues. Listened, shared, allowed me to pick her wise doctor brain (or offered without my having to pick) and opened her warm compassionate heart.

And when we were finished with the conversation, I thought, "I am so grateful -- once again -- that this woman is part of my life and has been for more than 40 years."

Who are you grateful for today?

ALSO: Now on Chopsticks and String, "Burned Out: Part Three, Keeping Fresh." Here's a peek -- after you comment here, c'mon over and continue the discussion! And get a few shout-outs to bloggers whose work is fresh, inspirational and/or diverse!

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When does style get in the way of growth? Or does it? Or does it really not matter? And how do you bring in creativity to your own style? How do you keep it fresh?

In the past two posts we've talked about style -- and repetition of style. I call it redundancy when I'm being critical, but it's also what we "do." more

A Halloween Party!

The Marmelade Gypsy invites you to a Halloween Party!

Step inside! There is fun and fancy...

Spookiness...

Black cats...

Pumpkin cats...

Mentally disturbed cats...

Glittery cats!

And Marmelade cats with an attitude!

Pumpkin people...

And lots of decorations!

Creative memories from friends afar...

Ghosts and goblins.

And very scary boy cats!

And when all is said and done, it's time to take off the costumes and go home!

I hope your Halloween is filled with goblins, ghosties and beasties!