After all the Christmas hoo-ha, hopefully, painting will start again tomorrow.

In the meantime, just to inform the readers of this blog, there is a new member in our family. The vision of beauty in the photo is a YELLOW 1973 Schwinn Breeze 3 speed. Remember that Reese and I went to Workshop Houston to fine tune our old bikes last summer? Well, Reese is now a regular volunteer. Workshop Houston has a program called Earn-a-Bike. The way the program works is that one first tears down an old junker bike that is not worth restoring. The second step is to fix a flat. Third, the participant has to re-cycle a wheel. And fourth, the volunteer/participant re-furbishes a bike for charity. And lastly, one can re-furbish a bike for oneself.

Reese has been volunteering just because he likes being there and learning about bikes. One day, according to Reese, a lady pulled up in front of the bike workshop with a whole truckload of bikes to donate. As Reese and Matt were unloading the bikes, one particular bike caught Reese’s eye. It was grimy, covered in filth and rust, but Reese knew that this was the bike for me. So, instead of working towards a bike for himself, the Amazing Reese worked the Earn-a-Bike program as a gift to me.

This is what I saw when I walked down the stairs on Christmas morning.

I came downstairs because I had heard Erin and Hilary opening their stockings, and didn’t want to miss the Christmas fun. Reese’s bathrobe just happened to the nearby, so I grabbed it and on it went. The bike was such an unexpected and delightful surprise that I rode it through the house…from living to dining room and back….several times.

Then I hurried to get dressed and took it outside for a spin. It’s the best bike ever.

Oh, and by the way, in case the reader has forgotten, yellow is my favorite color.

If I ever owned an antique-shabby-chic-art-coffee-book-wine-bar-live-music-café type store, the name of it would be Zuzu’s Petals.

“Remember no man is a failure who has friends.”

Thanks, reader friends. It’s a wonderful life, thanks, largely in part, to all of you.

Happy Christmas!

A gorilla sitting on the throne. A laughing daughter. And the pet in the bathtub. So many unanswered questions.

Here is the Amazing Reese and the fellas enjoying some tasty cigars from “nowhere.” Reese’s younger brother sent the cigars to Reese for safekeeping. Then, quite unexpectedly, his brother passed away, so in honor of his brother’s generous gift, Reese wanted to share, too. It was a very cold night, and as smooth and good as the cigars were, the guys were all glad to finish them and retire to the warmth of the living room.

Aw, look at the poor fallen angel. Don’t worry, Reese fixed her. This angel was a gift (years ago) from my mother-in-law who bought it from Aunt Cathy’s gift and antique shop in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It’s probably the best gift my mother-in-law ever gave me.

However, the most incredible part of the photo is the fact that the Christmas tree is already up. It is usually much later in the season before that task gets tackled, much less completed.

Turns out that I made an abundance of limoncello. There wasn’t a large enough container in this house to mix it all. (And yes, I remembered to double the simple syrup.) This photo shows the work in process.

The first pour…

The first toast — yum! It’s absolutely delicious.

Perhaps it would have been a good idea to find matching containers for the limoncello. Does it really matter? We used what was on hand and then some. The last bit went into Mason jars…fitting, considering that limoncello is one giant leap (small step?) above making ones own moonshine.

Can’t wait to see what’s in store for next week….

My love affair with limoncello began on my 40th birthday, when a dear friend shared some of the traditional Italian lemon liqueur as a gift. In the spirit of home-made Christmas gifts, this photo depicts the beginning of my first attempt at making the delectable digestif.

After extensive Google research, the recipe I’ve decided to use is this:

1 bottle 750 ml Everclear (190 proof)

12 lemons

4 1/4 cups of water

3 1/2 cups of sugar

Carefully zest lemons. Place the peels in a container and add Everclear. Let sit for seven days shaking container occasionally.

On the eighth day, make a simple syrup with the water and sugar. Let cool to room temperature. Strain out zest, and then filter the lemon infused alcohol through coffee filters to remove impurities.

Mix in the cooled simple syrup and transfer to a bottle.

When I poured the Everclear into the Mason jar with the lemon peel, some of the alcohol accidentally spilled. And yes, due to the extremely high alcohol content, it took the some of the finish off the table — strong stuff. Within a few minutes of steeping, the grain alcohol was already becoming infused with the lemon taste! (Attention, Sarah: This is a personal reminder that the recipe is doubled. Please, remember to double the simple syrup when completing the project.)

The lemons in this batch of limoncello were generously donated by two neighbors with abundant lemon crops in their respective yards. Many thanks to our good friends, the Wagners and Cooners. Some of the finished product will be coming your way. 🙂

When life gives you lemons, make limoncello!

People almost anywhere north of Houston must think we are ridiculous for going gaga over a little snow. I can count on one hand the number of times it has snowed in Houston in the 25 years that I’ve lived here….OK, maybe 6 times…but I think it’s just five times total.

It snowed the week Hilary was born, 20 years ago this month.

There was an ice storm once, the weekend of the marathon in January one year…but no snow. Joy was five or six at the time, and she’s 18 now.

There were slight snow flurries one afternoon when our daughters were in elementary school.

It snowed on or around Christmas day a few years ago when we went to see Mimi and Papa for Christmas….so we missed that one.

It snowed one year ago for an hour or two on December 10th.

And today….that’s it. It’s been snowing since we woke up this morning. So, we’re pretty excited, to say the least.

The snowman is courtesy of Hilary. Thanks, sweetie.

The broken cherub fountain legs
in need of true repair,
and as the JB Weld is used,
replacement starts with care.

But broken legs and broken dreams
of broken people see
that band-aids, rods, and JB Weld
can only ever be…

A fix for body visible…
what happens to the heart?
For heart and soul get broken, too,
how does that healing start?

When arrows pierce a wounded heart
and worded barbs cut deep —
who holds a man accountable,
who is his brother’s keep?

And when more slander spreads around,
the lies disguised as truth,
who will defend the downtrod man,
or widow in her youth?

For sometimes life and death collide
and disappointment churns,
beside still waters souls restore
at least, that’s what I learned

In youth. My shepherd is the Lord
who guides in righteousness
and though I walk through shadows deep
I dwell in His goodness.

In close, the statue legs are fixed;
they won’t fall off again,
though outwardly there is a scar —
the cherub feels no pain.

Achy knees — check
Sore thighs — check
Hurting hiney — check
Lower back pain — check
Tender shoulder muscles — check
Painful fingertips — check
Complete satisfaction of a job well done — check

For the fourth year in a row, yesterday, I participated as an artist in a street painting festival, Via Colori, to raise money for the Center for Hearing and Speech. It was an exhausting day of art WORK, and will include, as an added bonus, a few days of sore muscle recovery….all for a good cause.

Some new friends dropped by the festival, little suspecting that they would be recruited to help fill in some background color. (Thanks Julie and Mike!) Notice the reflective stripe of the street running through the painting under the ukulele, and a small portion of the grid pattern is still visible.

The Amazing Reese helps before the event by editing a photo of a painting and super-imposing a 10″ x 10″ grid pattern over it, which we then take to Kinko’s and laminate. When we get to the street, we mark off a 10 foot by 10 foot square (also known as 100 square feet) and use the gridded painting as a guide for the day’s work. That’s how it’s possible to get proportions mostly correct on such a large scale.

A couple of young neighborhood friends came to help. These young girls were very good at following directions and helped fill in the background for the table top, and some of the draped blue sheet. A passing comment was made, and randomly enough, these two 7 year olds (and I) were discussing, of all things, fame. One of the girls said, “What do you want? Do you want to be famous?” How would YOU, gentle reader, answer that question? My reply is marked by an asterisk at the end of this entry.

By mid-afternoon, the nagging thought occurred that I was literally starving from hunger. What better way to enjoy the festival atmosphere and replenish sapping strength than to devour a turkey leg? Mmmmm.

My blog buddy Joyce and her sweet family came to visit, too. Young David was quietly studying every aspect of the technique of the process of applying a pastel chalk drawing to the canvas of an asphalt street. Maybe his future includes street painting. Notice also, that I’m getting filthier as the day progresses.

And here is the finished product. By this time, Reese and I were among the last participants to leave the festival. Technically, it should be called Still Life With Ukulele — 4.

Here’s a link to an article that has already been written and very graciously mentions me alongside other Houston artists.

It was great to see the article’s slide show, too — working so hard all day I missed the opportunity to fully enjoy my fellow artists’ work. And by the way, that’s me in image #8 of the slide show!

If new readers would like to see past Via Colori participation, click on Nov 2006, Nov 2007, and Nov 2008 in the right hand column of this blog.

On a more personal note, the Friday before Via Colori was my 46th birthday. Imagine my surprise when I opened a gift at the restaurant only to find an enormously huge goldfish inside a plastic bag filled with water. Want to help think of a name besides Gigantor for the fish?

*Thoughtfully and carefully, the reply seemed to come from deep within, ” I want to do good and be kind.” Young Mary (name changed to protect the innocent) seemed satisfied with the response.

45 miles north of Comstock, Texas is this spot on the Devil’s River. Some dear friends invited us out to their ranch one summer shortly after Reese’s little brother had died. He died after jumping off a rope swing into the Guadalupe River.

When my mother in law saw the original photo I used for this painting, she had a very strong (negative) reaction. She was extremely upset that we allowed Anna to play on a rope swing when her son had just died jumping off a similar swing on a similar river.

But that rope swing and being surrounded by loving friends turned out to be a very positive healing experience for us. The rope swing wasn’t evil. What happened to Reese’s little brother was nothing more than a horrible tragic accident. Besides, what better way to honor “Uncle Brian’s” memory than enjoying the same activity he did with his final breath?

Consequently, one of the things I love so much about this painting is the look of sheer delight on Anna’s face; sheer delight and fun returning after an unexpected time of grief.

Some of our friends came over last night. Joyce and I originally met via the Internet, which, I guess, is becoming more common this day and age. To my delight, because we live rather close to one another, we actually get to visit in person sometimes. The whole family arrived just in time to see the mural on the back of the house before the sun went down. We fed the fish in the pond for a few minutes, then the mosquitoes got hungry so in we went.

Parents and children alike enjoyed playing with the little people. A few pieces have broken or gone missing over the years, but the little people toys are always a hit, and an easy way to show hospitality to the little people who play with them….it’s a win win.

Maybe next time we can go to the playground, too. 🙂

This is a story of a life —
a simple one at that,
and yet sometimes I complicate
by wearing lots of hats.

One hat for when I clean the house
another when I cook,
a hat to wear in outside fair,
and one for reading books,

A hat to wear when paying bills,
a hat to be a friend,
a hat when I was Sarah Mills
a hat for who I’ve been,

The hat as wife of big man Reese,
the hat of daughter, too,
the hat of nurture — motherhood,
a hat for playing blues,

A hat for mind, a hat for soul,
a hat for healthy eats,
a hat to wear when digging holes
to plant a garden neat.

It’s hard to keep on all these hats
for ev’ry little thing,
to write, to paint and live a life
in glory to the King.

Because I want to be my best
in everything I do,
but more than not my life’s a mess…
I haven’t got a clue.

So, here’s the deal, I like to paint,
I’m thinking this is good,
if I could wear an artist’s hat
forever, then I would.

But that’s not all that life’s about…
we all wear many hats,
but just today I want to paint
God, grant me time for that.