Tag: tiny tuesday

Tiny Tuesday!


Doing research for the Saga yesterday and needed to find inspiration circa 1975. That’s how I came across copies of “The Game of Jaws.” I read about it and don’t remember what ages the game was marketed toward, but it probably included children who were too young to have seen that movie.

I did a deep dive into the film because even though it forever changed my relationship with water (and not just salt water, any water that wasn’t safely contained in cement), I was crazy about both the novel and the film Jaws. My research opened up an unplanned and light way to start the new section of the novel.

The summer of ’75 was a bit chaotic for me, and as is usual, the only person who was damaged in the long run was…me. One of my favorite lines from the remake of Freaky Friday is the mom (Jamie Lee Curtis) calling out to her daughter (Lindsay Lohan) as she drops her at school, “Make good choices!”

I made bad choices that summer. But I still remember it with great affection because of the big version of this wee shark taking a bite out of a coloring book, instead of me. It’s the way I prefer my sharks’ diets.

Tiny Tuesday!

I just finished reading this novel from Ann Patchett, Tom Lake (which was really good and made me cry at the end), and in the process of reading, I discovered a small bookmark I’d forgotten (to add to the Sunday Sundries bookmarks I’ve already shared).

Lisa in Iowa (aka “Nurse Lisa”)’s two dogs (gone years ago to the Rainbow Bridge), featured front and back, from a holiday photo shoot. They were such good girls and provided a lot of stories and photos back in the day on LiveJournal.

Sophie

 

Phoebe

Tiny Tuesday!

During May’s power outage, I colored every day during the sunlight hours. Coloring gave me the opportunity to think of my characters and what I wanted to write when I could get back on the Internet and my computer.

I was feeling way more stress and anxiety during this weather event and its power outage. For the first time, I decided to take my anxiety meds, though only in half-doses. Just an attempt to take the edge off.

I also opted to read instead of color, choosing comfort books. I stuck with one of my favorite authors since I was a teenager (my mother, sister, and I all shared and devoured these novels). I’ve reread my favorite Mary Stewart books many times, so I decided to begin with books I don’t remember reading at all, but if I did, it was only once.


First up on Tuesday: Thornyhold. Not so much her usual romantic suspense, this one had a little more magic, a fun change from a small paperback.

Tiny Tuesday!


In April of 2020, I posted about this idea I found: The Coping Skills Toolbox. I shared the above photo of the box I put together to help me with quarantine anxiety (not only was the world gripped by a pandemic with no preventative medication and few effective treatments for some populations, including my own, but I was laid off from my job of six years due to the pandemic).

Looking back at that post reminds me that I’ve been forthright on this site for at least the last four years about how anxiety has been a lifelong struggle for me. I was prescribed medication for it when I was eighteen that I never used. In 2022, I was prescribed medication on an as-needed basis, which I used very little of. I will occasionally take medication to help me sleep.

Medications are rarely my first option. What I have to take for my physical health, I take. But I’ll always try to manage anxiety in other ways. This is not in any way a judgment about people who manage their physical and emotional health through medication. For a variety of reasons, it’s simply not my first choice.

I still have that “toolbox.” I’ve long-since rewatched the comfort movies and reread the comfort novels that were in it, so they’re no longer in there. It still holds my Magnetic Poetry Journal that I sometimes put poems in, along with the magnetic board I can use to arrange words. It still holds a small coloring book and two tins of coloring pencils. The toys–Superman, Batman, and the tiny plastic cars–are still in there. The bottle of bubbles is not.

After looking at the book I often use as ideas for my Tiny Tuesday posts (shown above, on the right), I decided to add to the box again because of two things I found listed in the book.


This morning, I added my Magnetic Poetry Haiku Kit and a movie. I don’t know if Sliding Doors is a classic at twenty-six years old, but it’s a comfort movie for me. I watched it earlier, and it inspired the haiku I created which is now written in the journal, too. As you can see from my photo below, all the words I wanted weren’t available to me, so I added them to the photo. The haiku goes with the theme of the chapter I’ll be writing when I can get my brain directed that way again.


There is a quote from the movie that’s one of my favorites, when one of the characters says, “I’m a novelist. I’m never going to finish the book.”

Hope you’re all having a good Tuesday and being kind to yourselves.

Tiny Tuesday!

A new action figure from FCTRY has arrived at Houndstooth Hall.


It’s Mayor Pete!

Meanwhile, a question for Blue Sky Boy: Lurking in the background, is this the Katnip you were inquiring about in comments to the Sunday Sundries post?

ETA Wednesday morning: Tom: “Did you mean to put water in that vase?” Becky: “I wondered why those roses looked so sad last night.”

Explanation: One of the roses was broken, so at the same time I was starting a meal in the crockpot, I went to get that small silver vase from a cabinet, cut another rose to the same length, and put them with water in the silver vase. However, I forgot I’d never put water in the cobalt vase before I moved it to the table. When you are older, these are the moments that make you question, Is this the beginning of [dementia, Alzheimer’s, whatever]? And hope it’s just a sign of doing several things at one time.

Tiny Tuesday!

Because of something I wrote recently in the Neverending Saga, I repurposed another of the illustrations from my old 1981 calendar, coloring a kitten and a tiny chick hatching. Putting the page in my “coloring book” reminded me of an exchange in comments between Mark and me in which I talked about how Tom is always helping me figure out how to make ideas reality or find solutions for problems or projects I take to him.

It began with this oversized sketchbook I bought once at Ross. I don’t know why, because I don’t sketch. I’m not sure how artists use sketchbooks, but I assume after sketching, they tear out pages and do something with them (for example, I have a nephew who’s an artist, and sometimes he sketches when he’s in a restaurant or coffeehouse, and then gives the sketches to his servers, which I think is very cool).

Since I like to fill empty sketchbooks with my coloring pages, and many of my coloring books are oversized, I decided to use the large sketchbook for that purpose. I wanted it to have a more personalized cover, so I collaged it. The collage is full of things that reference memories, friendships, interests, and my fiction. Since the front cover of the sketchbook was of very thin card stock, I glued a sturdier sheet of cardboard on the inside front cover so the collage wouldn’t weigh it down and damage it.

I began to fill it up in 2022 and 2023 with the coloring I did. I used only the front pages, and when I came to the end of those in May of this year, I didn’t want to stop using the book. I still felt very attached to my collaged front cover. I decided to start at the end of the sketchbook and put new coloring pages on the back sides of every page until I got back to the beginning of the book. This is the last page in the book that I did when I was coloring up a storm–I mean, literally coloring pages during daylight hours when the storm knocked out our power for six days.

Here’s an example of how using the backs now provides two completed pages to view at once.


However, that flimsy front cover began tearing at the holes on the spiral binding. When I’d reinforced the cover in 2022, I hadn’t considered how the unreinforced holes would bear the increasing weight of the sketchbook.


So while the power was out, I showed Tom the problem, and as always, he devised a solution. He removed the front cover, cut another strip of the cardboard, glued it on the edge leaving extra space to punch holes, and put the front cover back on the spiral binding. I think this will hold until I finish filling the book. Maybe by then, I’ll have enough images to collage the front of another sketchbook–and when I do, I’ll pick one with a sturdier front cover.

Tiny Tuesday!

I was putting something away in the living room display cabinets when this caught my attention. A small silver box, in the shape of a star, that’s badly in need of polish. (I will take care of this.)

I had a vague recollection of its contents, so I pulled it out, opened it, and first found this disk, about the size of a quarter.

Not sure where I got this, although my friend Sarena, whose business had “serenity” in its name, could have given it to me. Trying to help people find serenity was a big part of both our businesses in the 1990s, and remains so for her. (Not that I wouldn’t still like to give people serenity, but I no longer operate a business for that purpose.) On the back side, the disk says Peace Of Mind.

I’m also not sure where I got the star box (Lynne?), but it did contain what I thought it did: this necklace.

The pendant on the right, containing a quartz crystal with amethyst and small bands of smoky quartz, has a little compartment on the top (with a tiny amethyst set in its top) that opens. I may have bought this in Yellow Springs, Ohio, on a family visit. I remembered there was once a note in the compartment. It’s still there, and it reads: Forever in my heart…Steve and Jeff. Steve is the first friend I lost to AIDS, in 1992.

The pendant on the left, with a small stone of either smoky quartz or topaz, also once contained three green tourmaline sticks. The sticks symbolized, to me, Steve, Jeff (who I met through Steve), and me. I was at work one day in 1995, looked down at the necklace, and realized one tourmaline was missing. This was when Jeff, from whom I was estranged (his choice), was really ill, and I felt like the missing crystal was a harbinger of bad news. People at work searched, with me, offices, the atrium, and other rooms I’d been in, but the crystal was never found. Not too many days later, our mutual friend Tim R called to give me the sad news that Jeff was gone. Several years later, I went with my friends Amy and Richard to the house that had been Jeff’s, where I’d spent so many happy times, and buried the remaining two tourmalines, which had been cleared then programmed with love and good energy, in one of Jeff’s flowerbeds.

I no longer remember where I got the middle pendant: an amethyst, with a unakite disk above it that has a small garnet in the middle. I’m sure it had significance connected to these friends–Steve, Jeff, Tim R, and John–but some memories remain more vivid than others.

The love, however, endures.