Keeping My Head Above Water And Merry Mermaid Musings

Hello dear friends,

The weekend came and went like a shot.

I have a nice little post for the blog about some sprinkled ways to help you dear folks like me that have also lost someone very special to your heart. But alas, I didn't want to come with hefty feelings of woe on a Monday. So I feel that sharing tomorrow might be a better selection for posting. So shall we have a chat and a cuppa and talk about the weekend.

Hey ho, Saturday whisked through like a humid wall to wall rainstorm; the Mr and I faffed. A truth well fixed is that when one is having a jolly time at life, moments seem to slip through rather quickly, do they not?

Jeffrey Shawn and I spent all Saturday nestled up cosy, reading and enjoying our empty nesting. We are both older in year's if 50 and up is an older number to you. Actually, I will be 50 in February, but ya know who's counting? Jeffrey Shawn never tied the knot before me, but he is a father. On the other hand, I was married for over two decades (24 years), having all four of my little cherubs before 27. Our children have all flown the nest. I rather like the feeling of remaining young at heart and having still a long life ahead of me to occupy (God willing) and fulfil my long-awaited childhood dreams. I always knew that's how my lifes voyage would navigate. I jolly well believe in our predetermining of how we like things to press on. I'm also optimistic enough to carry on those sentiments, rose-coloured glasses and all. I was always told I live in a fairytale world where I couldn't possibly remain so naive. I've never felt I'm naive, but more so an eternal optimist. We can choose to be chuffed or sorrowful, and selecting the latter seems utterly revolting. If we have a choice, why the latter? I'd rather be a pocket full of sunshine than a snarling slice of dread, wouldn't you?

At the weekend (what is a weekend? granny Violet from Downton Abbey would ask), I went through some old photographs, and the ideas for the cottage did not disappoint. In fact, I had such a creative flow that I couldn't sleep a wink last evening. You know I've spoken to you on many occasions about how having a dream and ideas is very different from the execution portion, right? So that's what I am toiling away at now. It's being patient as things unfold. I'm fairly easygoing, but wild horses can't keep me when the iron of creativity strikes hot. I've been like this my whole life long, and the one truth you'll come to know if you haven't already it's that it (creative inspiration) comes in rare moments. This ole' forest of fools tries entirely too hard to schedule creativity, and this is the reason (in my opinion) folks struggle with producing beauty. It's like someone having to clean their house before they can craft, relax or read a book. In all honesty, I do know why this occurs, though. It's because the world is chock full of control freaks, and every little thing is treated as if people are a timely mechanic on one's wrist to move this way and that if you please.

I woke up Saturday with all the plans in the world to finish staining the chicken coop, but nope. I didn't do a thing to it; however, I deadheaded the flower garden and clipped herbs to hang for storing in the cottage rafters. I have lemongrass, rosemary and mint. My other herbs died a slow death, and I've yet to replace them.

All the Christmas shopping is complete, and this week I will be elbow deep in flour as I bake confections and goodies to give as gifts.

I'm not sad about it, but it looks as though our little bunny book will still be released; however, not the date I anticipated. I'm not stressed about it being published for the world before Christmas. It will remain one of my most charming books ever, regardless. I'm not the kind of bird to worry about barmy deadlines. I used to, though, oh boy did I ever. Deadlines are for folks that carry a desire to override their intuition and have to control things. So there ya go, I'm constantly telling on myself (but that's what this blog is for, confessions and remaining transparent.) I also realised another reason for a deadline, as it's a way a person tries to prove their value through the production of ‘things.’ As if producing is proving ones worth and value as a woman. Hey ho, I was like that many moons ago, but thanks be to gawd no longer. There's a holiday on, and we mustn't have everything controlled. Where's the leisure, where's the flirty romance of allowing? Has it all been done away with? Shall we resurrect it!

I wanted to tell you a spiritual moment I had at the weekend. As I was painting the illustrations for our bunny book, I had the strongest impression that I should release The Tale of Sawyer Lamb by Easter. Lambs and Easter, oh my! You know I've had the book (The Tale of Sawyer Lamb) written since Sawyers passing. However, I didn't feel inspired to complete the illustrations for it (until this weekend.) I'm now ready, and I'm going to release it as a gift to the world. This little book will remind you of Beatrix Potter's writings; I'm telling you again that she and Sawyer wrote the book. I feel I was an instrument, but I had such a natural flow that when you read it, you'll see a parallel notion to Beatrix’s writing style. Also, the other beautiful thing about it is that it's fictional but also has the elements of trueness. It's literally about Sawyer. So many of the little experiences in the story actually came from real-life moments when he was alive. 

I have plenty enough time and feel entirely relaxed about the notion of my dear boy’s little book. I also wrote 5 more chapters on the nonfiction manuscript, and I plotted out the middle portion of The Tale of Two Bad Mermaids. Look at this picture (below) of Mermaid St. In Rye, Sussex, sent to me by my friend T. I am going to paint this scene into my book somehow. I don't know how exactly, but it'll come to me. I have the pencil sketch of mermaid street in Scarlette Rose cottage. It's one of my favourite pieces.   

Well, I must love you and leave you. Toodle pip, darlings.

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx