Finding InspirationSometimes it is hard to find your passion or even inspiration, maybe you have found it but have yet to recognize it although it has been there all along. Inspiration comes in many forms: a color pallet, music or the sound of something, a person or group of people, a fleeting thought, an ideal or belief, the change of seasons, a class or co-worker. Some people find inspiration in their cherished religious texts or in trite sentiments posted on Facebook or Pintrest. Whatever it is and wherever it originates seize it ...dare I say embrace it!
This is a photo of a painting by my great uncle Mario Larrinaga, actually this is a photo of a painting of a sculpture, I have never seen the actual sculpture although I would love to know more about it and know where it is. Growing up I saw this painting several times a month when we would visit my grandmother; as a child I didn't get the point of the painting and I didn't like the colors. Green and gold? And-oh-by-the-way it wasn't even a painting of something real like the ocean or trees. No, as a young child I found this painting to be utterly pointless and a waste of precious wall space. Funny thing is though...I found myself looking at it all the time. I still do. When my grandmother passed away I flew from Hawaii, where we were stationed, to LA with my 6 month old son in tow. We stayed with my father and attended the memorial service and I also was able to see cousins that I rarely have the chance to see. My dad was a tense mess but we needed to head to grandma's "coach" (aka a rather nice double-wide in an upscale retirement community in Camarillo, CA) to sort through some things. It was then that my dad asked me if I wanted anything of hers. "Hmmm...I hadn't thought about it to tell you the truth, but I guess I would like the green painting." The look of shock on my fathers face...really, all I wanted was the green painting? He said no one else did so I could have it, he would have it shipped to me in the next few weeks. When the painting arrived I was actually excited, the green painting was now mine and would grace our home from that point forward. I thought long and hard about where it would hang. I even purchased a light to shine up from the floor which accented the shadows in it. When people came over someone was always sure to comment...they either loved it or hated it. Most people at first didn't care for it but would grow to love it. I even had a few people ask if I would sell it, my answer was always the same, "Never!" My father came out to visit us twice in the 3 years we lived on the remote little base on Oahu, far from Pearl Harbor and well off the beaten path. The last time he came out he told me that he was going to send me one of Uncle Maury's Hawaii paintings for my birthday; I knew exactly which one he meant, it was of a storm blowing in on the island of Kauai. I loved that one, there was no question about it. Unfortunately he died before he could mail it, ironically he died of the same type of tumor that almost took my life five years later. It is because of that connection to my father and to Hawaii that painting has great meaning to me to this day.
Even now I find inspiration and delight from both of these paintings and some days catch myself just looking at them, studying them. They bring to mind wonderful memories but also fill me with inspiration and ideas about color, light and shadow. They are a part of our family, and will forever remain in our family not because of some arbitrary monetary value but because they are a part of who we are. I love to see my various cousins homes because they have other paintings created by our favorite great-uncle-by-marriage... and I love to see how they are on display. I believe that our whole family finds inspiration and even a sense of enchantment in these paintings, the play on light and shadow has a way of drawing a person into the scene.
What inspires you? What brings you joy or evokes vivid memories? Embrace it...cherish it...hang it on your wall. But no matter what don't sell it or give it away...keep it for yourself, nurture it until it blooms anew! Quilts-A Metaphor for Life?A quilt...just that word evokes a feeling in most people's hearts and minds; some think of a warm cozy blanket that may have smelled slightly of grandma's house and mothballs or perhaps a fabulously colored piece of textile art hanging on the wall of a stylish building. I think of quilts as a metaphor for life and they are as much of an art form not unlike cooking. Think about it ... the recipe is as follows:
Life is not so easy, it does get a bit messy and sometimes is harder to clean up. We have cleaning products to aid in the removal of spilled or greasy messes as we cook and since I tend to be a messy quilter, known to just throw scraps over my shoulder, I keep a vacuum nearby as well as a magnet for errant pins and needles. In our home we do have a favorite quilt, the go-to when we are sick, feeling down, stressed or just generally in need of comfort. Truthfully when I made it I really had no idea of what I was doing since I had only learned to quilt a few short years prior. As family lore goes, we had just moved from sunny San Diego, CA to Columbus, IN...in January. We had rented a townhouse to live in while we searched exhaustively for a new home in what we thought would be our new home. Being more than a little claustrophobic when it comes to living quarters, I grew stressed and depressed rather rapidly and the gloomy Indiana winter did nothing to assuage these feelings. One day I made a trip to the local arts and crafts warehouse to peruse the fabrics and stumbled upon a collection that I rather liked (typically, even to this day, I tend to avoid 'collections' because I'd rather be unique if not random in my choices). Ever mindful of our new budget I purchased about one yard of each fabric, went home to wash my new samples and quickly sketched out (yes, I actually took pencil to graph paper) one of my favorite traditional blocks, a star and pinwheel. After the fabrics were dry I ironed them, laid them out to see which colors I preferred where in the star and pinwheel and began to cut and then sew. Since we lived in such tight quarters I could only sew on our dining room table and did not have the luxury of leaving my sewing projects out, so around the time the bus dropped off our children I would clean up everything everyday and have the table ready for snacks and homework. Being so new at the art and craft of quilting I was admittedly not an efficient 'piecer' although I had been sewing for years and had a brand new Bernina that would and could sew through just about anything (it was during this same time that I re-upholstered our boat). So after an afternoon of fighting with my pattern, and my abilities, I had indeed sewn one block (8in x 8in) and was actually quite happy with my results. When I showed my husband later that day he said, "I like it, make it bigger." Ummm... OK I had enough fabric to make a total of four blocks so after a few days I had sewn all of them together and quite pleased with myself I again showed my husband and once again he said, "I like it, make it bigger." Well that meant going back to the arts and craft warehouse and purchasing a few more yards of fabric, then washing, drying, ironing and cutting it all out. About a week later I had made four more blocks and sewn them onto the existing blocks and once again showed them to my husband who again said, "I like it, make it bigger." "BIGGER?" I thought..."OK I will make it bigger but I will not show you the results, in fact I will not even let you know what I am doing!" So for months I washed, dried, ironed, cut and sewed this fabric, pulling everything out as the school bus pulled away in the morning and setting up on the dining table and cleaning it all up before the kids got home from school, knowing that I would present it to him for our 10th wedding anniversary that May. Admittedly, that was not the way to make a queen-sized quilt and I learned so much throughout the process including PLAN, PLAN, PLAN as well as the old adage to "measure twice cut once." When May rolled around I had finished the quilt and wrapped it in a large robe box complete with a big bow. When he opened it the poor guy didn't know what hit him, it took a few minutes for the full impact of what he was looking at to hit him....and then he cried!
It was as I was making this quilt that I coined the phrase. "when in doubt add yellow" because that added little bit of yellow added a needed sparkle. In the ensuing years that quilt has graced our bed (until we up-sized to a California King!), gone on car and camping trips, snuggled sick kids and parents, warmed broken hearts and comforted distressed souls. Despite all the mistakes I made while creating "Dad's quilt" it has held together beautifully for almost 15 years and I have not needed to repair it, not even once! Sure it is faded and a little worn in spots but aren't we all, and face it we are typically better off in the long run. You see, a quilt is a bit like a good meal and a long life...we start with fresh whole pieces that are beautiful and colorful, eventually they get cut apart and put back together albeit in a little different way. The end result is a treat for the senses. All of those crisp edges are now a bit worn and soft but provide the most comfort for those who need it most. The fragrance is savory and sweet and if made correctly needs no other seasonings. Oh, and the secondary pattern, well that is an unexpected treat indeed, much like gray hair and wrinkles...they show up when you are not looking but add such richness and beauty!
Honoring the New Year with a Tribute ShootI have seen the future and 2013 will be a busy year resplendent with opportunities for education, personal growth, meeting new friends, and experiencing both the good and the bad. Babies will be born and loved ones will pass...it will rain, sleet, hail, and snow...there will be tornadoes, hurricanes, 100+ degree days. There will also be beautiful blue skies; tulips, daffodils, and crocus will bloom in the spring and the grass will be green in the summer. God will paint the mountains in the fall with the most beautiful colors and photographers will hunt down the best places to photograph them. Isn't life grand? Along with looking forward to the new year think about honoring those that have faced mountains of challenges in years past. Whether the mountains came in the form of illness, accident, personal tragedy or triumphs let's celebrate the beauty of life in all its forms. The celebration I am referring to comes in the form of a photo shoot or what I call a "Tribute Shoot." This all started just a few years ago with a friend of mine who had faced years of challenges and after knocking on deaths proverbial door she emerged a new and stronger person, and I wanted to honor her struggles and achievements by showing her and the world how beautiful she was inside and out.
A tribute shoot comes at no charge whatsoever to the honoree and lasts about two hours at a location of their choosing (within a two hour drive of the Front Range of Colorado). The goal is to have a fun day of photographing with the result being 10-25 photos set to music, given to the honoree as well as posted on this website and available for prints. The only thing I ask in return is that should you nominate someone for a tribute shoot you help cover some of my expenses for gas etc, there is no set amount so I leave that up to your discretion. Think about who you would like to honor, it could be a well planned celebration of life or a surprise gift for a long suffering hardworking graduate. No matter what you would like to do I will do my best to honor the person! (Please note, this shoot is for the honoree only unless previous arrangements have been made. This is not a free photo shoot for an event or for any other reason other than to honor the person.) So on this New Years day morning, whether you are recuperating from a late night, watching the Rose Parade or planning to watch football all day also be in thought of who you would like to see honored for their extraordinary accomplishments. My New Favorite ChiliAbout 24 1/2 years ago as a new Navy Wife I was subjected to various forms of culture shock, and I am not just referring to landing on the island of Guam at 6 AM only the have the ship's chaplain (who had my husbands pick-up) arrive an hour late with the cab of the truck covered in newly exploded Dr Pepper and no gas in the tank. Looking back there was of course the military in general, and as a wife we were classified as a "dependent wife" aka DW (referring to the fact that the military looked at us as a life sucking force that drained the active duty personnel of valuable time and energy and if the Navy had wanted you to have one they would have issued you one with your sea bag) and we were persona non grata without our husbands Social Security number or at the very least his "last four." Everything has a procedure from the check-in at the clinic to the check-out a the commissary (grocery store), in fact the first time I had ever stepped foot in a commissary I did it wrong, yes it's true I was shopping incorrectly (I didn't know that was possible but I soon found that out after all the well seasoned military wives glared at me and TOLD me that I was doing it wrong). For those unfamiliar with the "old" commissary layout please try to envision a Quonset hut circa World War I or II filled with every food and non-perishable food item the military believes you should need, plus copious amounts of cigarettes squeezed onto tall shelves creating narrow isles and then another isle filled with fantastic delicacies from around the world and available only to military personnel in said commissary. The isles were wide enough for only one cart at a time making it virtually impossible to actually pass another DW if you, for example, forgot something on a previous isle or just wanted something from the World Wide Delicacy Isle to serve at the always popular wives club meeting. Well the commissary being a part of the military was run, well militaristically, and in so doing and knowing how unruly dependent wives can be ( insert sarcasm here) they had a plan to keep us in order in the form of arrows painted on the floor. That's right, and I am not making this up, there were arrows not unlike a parking lot at Wal-Mart, painted on the floor so when you arrived and grabbed your government issued grocery cart you just got in line and followed the arrows up and back winding your way through the store, regardless of what you needed or how your list was written (it didn't take long to learn to write a list that followed the arrows, because Heaven help the DW who forgot something and had to get out of the line and start all over because she forgot the Cherrios but did not realize it until she hit the cigarette isle). Another type of culture shock came in the form of the Military Wife (DW) herself. It was a rare woman who did not, in one way or another, wear her husbands rank on her own sleeve. Early in this journey I met a woman, who lived just a few doors down, would wear one of her husbands 14 kt gold dress medals (a SWO pin to be exact) because she thought it was "cute." Later I met (and became close friends with) a woman who lived near us in Lualualei, HI and referred to the "food chain" of military wives who wore their husband rank, I couldn't agree more and we laughed about that and them many times. Yes, I wore my husbands rank a few times and I am not ashamed to admit to the fact that when the wives would get together at the O' Club (officers club) also known as Top O' the Mar on Guam; I would, with great pride, drive up in our full size green Chevy pickup, windows down (it had no aircon), and Alpine stereo blaring and park in the very front spot reserved for "Any Ensign" (for those unfamiliar with Navy rank, an Ensign is the most junior of all officer ranks and all ranks higher typically look down on the lowly Ensign). Hey, I didn't care who laughed because I was parked up front while the rest of the ladies had to park much farther away, and in that oppressive heat and humidity I would take advantage of that parking spot every time it was available. What truly sticks in my mind when looking back to those early Navy years for me was one woman in particular whose husband had risen from an Army E-1 in Vietnam to a Navy O-4 (no small achievement by any standard), she had seen it all. She was younger than he and older than me by more than a few years and looked sweet as could be, but make no mistake when dealing with her she was as tough as they came. One of her many 'policies' about life was in regards to sharing her recipes with other DW's; when complimented on a dish she brought to a wives club meeting or event she would give gracious thanks but once again, Heaven help the lowly Ensign wife who dared to ask for the recipe! Her policy as she put it, was to NEVER share a recipe with anyone for any reason as long as they were stationed at the same place or could possibly be invited to the same event because after all, they could possibly make it better than she and how embarrassing that would be. She later told me that if she stalled long enough the offending Ensign wife would either forget or give up asking therefore ensuring the safety of her prized chicken-pimento-rice-drenched-in-cream-of-mushroom-soup-casserole legacy. With all of that being said please let me continue to My New Favorite Chili Recipe. Should you chose to make this please be assured that I will neither hunt you down nor throw my husbands rank at you, and if you enter this in a competition and win please give a nod to this old Navy wife and all of the arrows I have had to follow in order to purchase the ingredients and perfect this recipe over the years. While cooking I tend to shoot from the hip, that is I rarely follow a recipe regardless of whether I am baking bread, making chicken soup or chili. I do however wish to share my latest batch of chili with you because it turned out to be one of the best I have ever made and if for no other reason, I don't want to forget what I put into my favorite pot. These measurements are approximate at best: 1/4 pound ground beef 1/4 pound sausage 1/2 onion, diced 2 cloves garlic (combine meat and cook until brown with onion and garlic) Add to that 1 can pinto beans, drained 1 can black beans, drained 1 can chili beans with liquid 1 can stewed tomatoes 1 can crushed tomatoes 1 small jar White Girl Salsa (yes, that is what it is called and I purchased it at Whole Foods) 4 small or 2 large tomatillos diced 1/2 onion, diced 2 cloves garlic, smashed or diced 1/4 cup uncooked grits (or corn meal) 1/4 cup brown sugar 1-2 tsp salt & pepper 1/4 cup Merlot or 1 bottle amber ale
Let simmer all day and serve with cheese and sour cream.
Pondering Holiday TraditionsAs military family holiday traditions become a relative thing, because face it...the relatives are rarely nearby, and my children have not grown up with the same traditions that either my husband or I did. I grew up with a grandmother who lived about 30 minutes away and some cousins who were about 3 hours away (while the rest were quite far) so getting together for the holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter etc) was not difficult and as the youngest of the bunch they were typically quite fun for me! There was one year that one of my male cousins, who happened to have shoulder length blond hair (it was the 70's after all), showed up to Grandma's house sporting a new perm. Yes, that's right, a PERM!! I think we all laughed until we cried at his beautiful golden locks and somewhere I have a picture. We had an uncle (a great uncle actually) who was a small Mexican man, a hugely talented artist, and one of the funniest people I knew. His name was Mario Larrinaga but we just called him "Uncle Maury" and one of his many quirks was to wear his sunglasses in the house, and why would that be? Well despite all the ruckus caused by my cousins, my uncle and my father...he would be asleep on the couch and he thought no body would know because he was hiding behind those glasses (but of course we did!). The location of these family dinners varied, from my grandmothers home in Camarillo, CA, my aunt and uncle's home in Ridgecrest, CA and my family's home in West Hills (then called Canoga Park), CA. That is until we moved to Colorado and about 7 years later I married my husband (who also grew up in Canoga Park) and the Navy then dictated our whereabouts. Our first Christmas together almost wasn't; we were living on the island of Guam and he was at sea 19 months out of a 26 month tour, so no matter how you sliced it we were not together very much (I joke that I was stationed on Guam and he was stationed on the USS White Plains). The ship was scheduled to be out at sea November through April so we would not have been together for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years or Easter, but for some reason (I do not recall why) they came in for 3 days at Christmas. Our first Christmas together and our only new tradition was to survive! I had put up our beautiful fake tree in October so that he could enjoy it when he was home and yes the local newspaper came to my house and did a story on me and I even had my picture on the front page (it was a slow news day for sure!). Many families, I know, have traditions tied to Christmas Eve meals which must be eaten at a certain time like pizza at 6 pm or take out "Chinese Food." Some of the traditions exist for reasons unknown other than that is just what they have always done so they will always continue to do it. Other exist because of church related activities and meal time needs to be easy. My family has no Christmas Eve traditions, some years we let the kids open one gift and other years they had to wait until morning. There was one year that my husband had the "duty' on Christmas Day and would not be home until the morning of Dec 26th, we were living in Hawaii and my father had flown out to be with his grand kids. We had a traditional dinner on base with my husband then my father and I took the kids for a drive to see the "pretty lights," I was grumpy because my husband could not join us but looking back it was one of the best memories I have of my father with our children. A few days later we all went water skiing at Hickam AFB...after all it was Hawaii! My father passed five months later and I am so thankful to have had that time! So today, December 24, 2012... with all of the recent shootings across this country and the 'fiscal cliff' looming please take a few minutes and hug your children, kiss their precious faces until they giggle and scream...call your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and long lost friends. Tell them all how much you love them...cherish your family traditions whether tied to Christmas, Chanuka, Kwanza, or the Winter Solstice. And here's a thought....if you know of someone who beliefs are not the same as yours but you know they will be alone in the coming days invite them over for dinner...maybe that can become a new tradition for both of you! Blessings! |
