The Day The Earth Moved For A Can Of Spagettio's

When the days are full of blessings and everything is going my way, I can instantly claim control of the day. When the ground trembles around me, I realize that I have the control of a weak bladdered 6 year old on a car trip to Disney. There are thousands of instances that have sent me high tailing back to my creator. Faith, Hope, Love, Live , Laugh, Love. All are nice ~Wall~ words and plagues. But, when I am having a bad day you will not find me standing in front of words on a wall, staring at a refrigerator wall magnet or searching my cabinets for an inspirational coffee cup. You will find me searching comfort from examples of hope. And this is the one I go to. I will forever remember this day almost three years ago. It had been such a busy week. We were living out of and around boxes, tying up loose ends before we moved back to SC. I was finishing a few chores on the road. I took a detour slightly out of the way because of traffic. I notice a grocery store in a corner shopping center that I don't frequent but decided to go in to get a drink and a couple of Avocado's. I grabbed a big buggy and start carousing the store. I realize on aisle five that I already have the Avocado's and drink. What am I still browsing for? It's not like I am in my faves, Whole Foods or Publix, this is a small general chain. I slowly sauntered my way up front, weirdly out of it. Just as I was about to turn into the check out aisle, a young girl about 11 or 12 entered in front of me. I pushed in behind her. I look down at the buggy and realize how ridiculous I look with a big buggy pushing two avocados and a diet coke. Then, to my own amazement I get stupider. I begin to battle the small aisle to get in front of the buggy. "What the hell am I doing? Ok, I made it." Then I turn around to see that I left the drink and veggies in the little front compartment. I just need to go home and go to bed, I am a danger to myself today. Ok, now I have nothing to do but look ahead at the little girl. She places a can of Spagettio's on the counter. The clerk rings it up, the total is $1.33. The little girl timidly hands the clerk her store discount card. Now the total is $1.02. She slides a card through the credit card machine. The clerk leaned over and very quietly told her that the card is declined. The girl lowered her head in embarrassment and almost whispered "Can you put it back?" and turns to leave. I caught her arm and handed her the can of Spagettio's and motioned for the clerk to ring it up with my items. The little girl mouthed a soft "Thank you" and was gone. The nice clerk wanted to chat, but I was ready to hurry and get out of the store to find the little girl. I scanned the parking lot, I searched paths to the left and right of the store. I can't find her. I head for my car frustrated because I could have done more. Why didn't I just hand her some money? Why can't I find her? I was driving down the road still beating myself up over not helping her more. Immediately I felt the answer. (I) wasn't supposed to help her more. My creator showed me that (HE) takes care of his own. In the process I get a very humbling lesson. I immediately think of the story of Gideon and his army of thousands. He could have crushed the opposing army, but then the victory would have been boasted by man. He reduces Gideon's army to 300 and they annihilate the opponents. It was CLEARLY known by all that GOD was the champion of the battle. My visions of this little girl being helpless and hungry after she left were totally unwarranted. She would have another meal and she was in far more capable hands than mine. I am talking about a God that moved the world just a tad today, stopped time, created a traffic pattern and detour that led me to a grocery store that I didn't frequent, made stop lights a little longer or shorter, moved that inner consciousness of mine to get that big buggy and browse through the store like it was a brand new gift shop and finally made me fight that aisle to get to the front of that buggy so that I could actually see and hear what was going on. All to get a can of Spagettio's to a little girl. Confirmation that no matter what I think I am doing in this world ~I~ am not in control of even the smallest of matters. It makes me sad to think that sometimes I am so busy with life that I have let so many of these wonderful moments pass by unnoticed. Just for a nano second I felt like I peered through a peep hole into the otherworld. It is both powerful and humbling to realize in these times of angst that everything isn't just by coincidence.

This may be my next floorcloth creation

Suggested by my friend and niece, I think this would make a great beach house floor cloth!

The Lowcountry's Largest Oyster Roast | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

The Lowcountry's Largest Oyster Roast | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

What Kind Of Artist Am I? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

What Kind Of Artist Am I? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Mixed Media, Mixed Message

Bricoleur:  As used in reference to visual arts, refers to a person who constructs or creates a work from a diverse range of things that happen to be available. I think the laymens' term for bricoleur would be crafty.  As I was choosing a category last week for the blog at CharlestonGrit.com,  I noticed that I always tend to use Mixed Messages. The story may first appear to have a clear and concise category, but by the time I put the period on it, it has run the gambit and I feel that I must use this indecisive category.
Words,my first love. For whatever reason, there were only two kinds of books in our house. A websters dictionary, a Bible and a set of childrens' Bible story books. I remember stating that I would read that dictionary and Bible from front to back and learn every word. I made it to the word aardvark in the dictionary and eventually to the last thin page of King James. I looked for words on objects everywhere. The first big words that I learned was King Edward. He was the dude on the cigar box my mom kept change in. The next was prndl, that's pronounced (purn-dul).  Yes-sir-ee, I was proud when I was able to explain to my mom what happened when my grandmother put the prndl stick into the wrong gear and backed into the tree. So, looks like my path might be forged right? Well, it might have been if not for my second grade art class.
The teacher, my first bricoleur taught me to open my eyes to forms of art all around me that i could use. "There are objects all around you that you can use to create, you just have to look for them." she told us. Nirvanah! Do you mean to tell me that my expression of self doesn't have to end when my tin box of paints dries up? We made Picasso inspired art collages with crushed and dyed egg shells along with 3D art on cardboard backing using beans, rice and noodles. I seriously have never had a boring day in my life again. Well, I thought I would try out this new world of mixed media.  Mom's birthday was  coming up. There's this pretty blue box in the bathroom under the sink, said Kotex. The box had a big white beautiful rose on it. I cut that bad boy into the shape of a card and pasted paper to the inside with a message. There was a small gathering for a birthday dinner that evening at my Aunt and Uncle's home. I brought the card out from behind my back at the kitchen table, a few audible gasp's and then laughs and nervous giggles. Their response was a little different than I had expected. Oh well, it was fun for me. The next week I made a card for my math teacher out of our Captain Crunch box. Mixed media even made it to the kitchen. I was making breakfast for my sister and brother one morning and decided to spice it up a little after reading Dr. Seuss. I cooked the eggs with green food coloring. That didn't go over too well.
The new genius spilled over into all areas of my life and although it doesn't get the accolades of a single defined art, mixed media definitely gets a response. I search in earnest for things that are otherwise deemmed useless and look for ways to give them a new life. Sticks become canes, shells sculpt into christmas tree's. Projects sit in every corner of my home for me to pick up. Some I have worked on for years, some I will need to go to prison to finish.
I used to long to be the person who, when asked, emphatically says "I am an artist."  Which leads to  the inebadable question, "What kind of artist are you?" to which their reply would be.  "Oh, I write,"  or " I'm a sculpture"  or "I'm a photographer."  Not anymore, my answer would have to be in earnest "Well, I am a ADD Mixed Message artist.  I write, paint floorcloths, make soap, perfumes, unusual  jewelry, mosaics, collages and weird handmade books."  Next year the list could be totally different. I am so grateful for that art teacher that expanded my horizon.

My Canoeing and Treehousing Adventure on the Edisto | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

My Canoeing and Treehousing Adventure on the Edisto | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

All Is Well In The Tree's ~ Our Adventure~

I had their link http://www.canoesc.com saved for two years before moving back to SC from NC. I had hoped that one day I would be able to take that 23 mile self-guided canoe trip down the Edisto River with an overnight stay in a tree house. The Edisto is one of the longest blackwater rivers in North America, winding 300 miles from its headwaters in Edgefield and Saluda counties to the Atlantic. I debate the blackwaer, I would describe it as Charleston Tea colored. I took the wishing a step further a few weeks ago and contacted Anne Kennedy of Carolina Heritage Outfitters. I was instantly enamored with her sweet spirit through the airwaves. We set a date. I had a few tummy flops when I thought about the experience for the next few weeks. I confess that on several occasions the soundtrack for the movie "Deliverance" wafted through my brain. And then there was the dream of Noah's Ark running aground emptying itself with every creature known to man on the Edisto River. Everything that goes bump into the night will be to the chagrin of my sweet husband who will go out to check it out in his skivvies with a flashlight, I began to pity him before we even left. Renae vs Wild. Anyone that knows me, knows that the combination can lead to disastrous consequences. Which is why I adore my husband for going through this with me. He knows full well that I can't stay in my house on dry land for 5 hours without getting hurt. Much less add a canoe, water, animals. (did I tell you that we have nver set foot in a canoe or Kayak?) The early morning ride to Carolina Heritage OUtfitters at Edisto River and near Colleton County State park took about 1 hour and 45minutes. My bladder refused to pass any establishment that would have a restroom. I knew it would be days before I would see another and I had gulped two industrial sized cups of coffee. We arrived and met Anne and Scott Kennedy. I instictively knew that they are very interesting people. I could see myself sitting on the banks of the Edisto talking past sundown getting to know them. We also had the pleasure of meeting their friend and our transport guide Steve Bond. Steve and his wife are mural artist and have painted many surrounding establishments which you can view at BiBondArtsonline.com Sitting outside the Carolina Heritage OUtfitters rustic building on benches, Anne explained our map and gave us basic river information. And then it was time to go! We picked up our paddles and loaded the canoe with our cooler and backpack. Steve drove us 23 miles upstream to put in. Once there, I spied with my eye...another restroom! I scampered up the hill while Don and Steve carried the canoe to the landing. When I came back we took a crash course on canoeing safety and paddling. I got into the front of the canoe. I assumed that was the part pointed towards the water. Hubby said his laugh of the day was how fast I put on my lifejacket. And then we were off! The river travels at a speed of about 2 miles an hour. Stopping at a sandbar about halfway, we ate our Pimento Cheese sandwiches, gulped water and rested. We were guided the first 10 miles by a blue heron that we named Ichabob Crane. Every single time Don would pull out the camera he flew away. My favorite raptor, a beautiful Red Tailed Hawk crossed our path several times and I was pleased to be the transport for many dragonfly's along the way. Turtles plopped from fallen logs and large fish splashed as they came up for the surface bugs. There were challenges. Trees down, low river bed rock, running aground on sandbars and narrow passageways. I found out quickly that this wasn't a lazy river. I was proud of our decision making and quick responses to obstacles. 5 1/2 hours after entry we arrived at our treehouse. The treehouses are adorable and rustic. We spent the evening in a large hammock under the tree canopy and later up above watching the river flow by from the patio deck of the treehouse. The treehouses are equipped with propane grill outside and propane cookers inside. Propane is provided. Let me tell you that was the best cheeseburger and can of baked beans I have ever had! Nice Tiki torch lights are affixed to the patio railings and give a sense of primitive peace in the evening. There was no need for me to worry about sounds that go bump in the night. I was totally gone within minutes of lying down for evening. At sunrise I awoke and started gathering things for our journey back. I sat quietly on the deck of the treehouse watching the river sleuce quietly by. It is Sunday, my favorite day of the week. One of my first thoughts that morning was that I was worshipping in my creator's most reverent service. About five miles downriver, I had the most incredible experience.We hit a calm clear patch and paddled softly, letting the river take us for a bit. The sound will reverberate for the rest of my life in my audio hardrive. Faintly at first, my ears leaned in and I quit paddling. A church organ in the distance wafted through the trees, it was surreal. The song was "Softly and Tenderly" We pulled into the landing at Carolina Heritage Outfitters in good time, four hours. Scott greeted us and we talked about the river and our trip for a bit before Anne joined us. Scott and Anne are dedicated to the preservation of our natural resources. I consider it a privelege to have participated in this watery path with them, even for this short stay. To book your own adventure on the Edisto with Carolina Heritage Outfitters, go to http://www.canoesc.com Now, as the novice canoer, these are my layman's terms to describe the level of difficulty of the canoeing experience Rated from a 1 being the least difficult to a 3 being the most. If the extent of your daily exercise is walking to and from frig, lifting your tv remote, chewing food and walking to mailbox.... the level of difficulty will be a three. If you occasionally ride your bike, walk a treadmill, take beach strolls, like jigsaw puzzles and problem solving...the level of difficulty will be a 2 If you tramp through woods without snake boots, love the feel of mud squishing between your toes, could fit all your gear for two days in a breadbox. Hello Daniel Boone, the level of difficulty for you is a 1