Monday, December 19, 2011

Visiting Christmas - 2011

One of my favorite Christmas Stories, and one that I heard at a AA meeting while living in New Hampshire, while my Ex was attending a recovery program. Many of the men's stories were so heart breaking that I cried throughout the entire session. Certainly meant to bring awareness to their own self-healing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Recovery and A Life Long Commitment:

In the 80’s when my ex was attending recovery programs and AA, I attended and supported his process by learning about my own self-worth. There were many weekend family retreats, long distance drives, schedules and meetings that seemed daunting and even time consuming. Young and optimistic about mending my marriage I went to every scheduled site, every late night meeting and every religious setting to accomplish that which I thought would make his life better…………….there was love there at one time.

The relentless desire to “make good”……heal, help, assist,….uh, co-dependent the addiction, the addict. Guilty myself of dipping my toes into the methamphetamine scene to comply, join, and belong to his life in some way or another and reaching for a love that wasn’t in actuality even reachable.

I recall a meeting that changed my life forever, a pivotal moment, a gut reaction that assisted my growth process and pushed me into focusing on myself. A seasoned recovering addicted with ten years sobriety under his belt shared a story (maybe his story or maybe a passed down story, who knows really if it were his personal story) I only know that after I heard the story my heart and mind were changed forever…...and the story goes.

***************************************************************************************

A man comes home from work, as he strides through the living room headed for the refrigerator he stumbles over his eight year old sons fire truck and all his collected play things on the floor. His son greets his dad with, “Hey, Dad will you play with me?” Grumbling passively his father replies, “NOT Now!” And opens the refrigerator and grabs a tall boy from the shelf. He turns and walks to his Lazy Boy. Again his son tried to greet him with a suggestion of play time.

“Damn It …..I don’t want to play…..leave me alone.”
As his father sits and sucks down his brew, the son continues to play at his feet. “Please dad, will you play with me?” Angry by his sons persistence the father yells at the boy, grabs a magazine from the among the boys toys on the floor, opens it up to the center and rips out a single page with an image of the nautical world. He then tears that page into many tiny pieces, and throws those pieces at his son. He exclaims, “when you’ve put the picture of the world together I will play with you!”

Minutes later, the son approaches his father who now has polished off a six pack of tall boys, his son hands his father a taped up picture page of the world. “Here dad I did it! Can we play now?” In a slightly ‘buzzed’ state his father said, “How did you do that?” The son said, “Oh, on the other side of the page is a picture of a MAN, when you put the picture of the man together the WORLD takes care of itself.”

*****************************************************************************************

I can’t say for certain that this recovering addict’s story was factual, personal or for a listening co-dependent audience, but for me it changed everything, my future with my husband, my own addictive behavior, my co-dependency and my own self-worth.

It also brought back childhood memories and my father’s own alcoholic behaviors and how he belittle, berated and beat my mother after his drunken stupors of partying with railroad buddies and other women and The Green Mill Bar in Rawlins Wyoming.

This simple story stays with always.






Friday, September 9, 2011

Mason Rule Tanner - Twin Falls, Idaho - Pencil Tanner


Pencil Tanner

    My pencil was a good pencil… he served me well. One reason I loved my pencil was he was always at my side. He was always there for me when I needed him; whether it was for History, English, Math, or just to doodle. Pencil was even there for me after his tragic accident on September 27th, 2006. When he was viciously assaulted and snapped in half by Andre, not the giant… the short Mexican with glasses. After being injured Pencil was on Mr. Orloski’s desk for at least twenty second before being administered his cast. He was  always top priority and everyone loved Pencil. Albeit only one hour and twenty three minutes later Pencil Tanner passed away. He died from an immense splinter.
    Pencil was one of my sharpest friends. He even had his soft moments, but he was always firm when I needed him. Maybe it was the fact that I only had one pencil, or maybe it was the fact I had a see-through pencil pouch. But I knew Pencil was an individual; I was always able to find him in my pencil pouch. On rare occasions I would chew on Pencil, when I was thinking, or it was nearly lunch time. Other times I would roll my beloved Pencil up and down, across, or even off my desk. These were just bonding moments.
    The very distinctive looks of Pencil, honestly weren’t that distinct at all. In fact the only sundry physical features on Pencil were the jarring teeth marks he was so pristinely marred with, and his eccentric yet ravishing cast. Since he had only had Reilly McClain sign his cast he felt it was very cumbersome and below par, but no one even acquiesced with him on the matter. Pencil had his symmetrically painted yellowish orange skin and a wee pink butt. Connecting these two key parts of Pencil was his silvery belt thingy; it made him look very professional. In fact, he looked busy even when he was simply laying still. The most crucial part of Pencil was his handsome face, his apex, his tiptop, point of the lead if you will. Yes, he was a special one.
    Pencil always tasted exceptional compared to other pencils; he had his rustic woody taste. Upon chewing Pencil, I would always admire how I would taste a plethora of things. One of the most queer tastes was the metallic taste of his belt, or the rubbery taste of his eraser. Alas, now that pencil is dead all I am able to taste is the bland corpse of my beloved Pencil.
    Now Pencil is gone and all I can say is that I did and always will love and

remember him. This true story was in memory of Pencil Tanner™.

*********************************************************************************

Thinking about my son this morning, remembering and reminiscing about small achievements from his school years. Thinking that I haven't lost hope in his future, wondering how to assist without interfering and proving to myself that I didn't miss a parental step in his life.

Did I give too much as a single Mom?
Did I jump in to save him from those bullies in elementary school?
Did being raised by a single Mom crush his abilities to function and discern on his own?
There is guilt....does he see that when he reaches out now for help? Is it too late for tough love?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Beginning Of My Mommyhood


She was my first child and one that kept me on my toes from day one. We gave birth to her in a small New England, New Hampshire apartment on Lake Winniepishaki. Mid-wife Molly Connelly, health nurse, Pappa and my Mother all anxious and in attendance waiting the pushing arrival of soon to be Dana Micklin
(pronounced mike-all-lyn). I had already been in labor three days and falling asleep between each contraction. My Mother said, “you feel asleep crying informing me that you would need the pink dress”.

By evening, and with New Hampshire flair fall rain, Dana Micklin was born. Stood to push her into Molly arms with Pappa supporting my feeble body from behind. As I fell to the bed I saw the glimpse of her fire red hair and heard the soft cry of my first child. She was magical!

The in-home child birthing processes was an attractive notion for us then, money was tight and their wasn’t an insurance program for either one of us. Molly was a perfect solution, she took payments and she offered parenting classes prior to the delivery and follow up through 8 weeks. She had delivered several of her own children at home, she had the spirit of great wild animal, plus the character of a shaman twice her age. I knew it would be fine and that I was in good hands.

******************************************************************************************

My second child was born in the traditional method, forced horizontal labor with the doctor at my feet. The option of a mid-wife in the West hadn’t progressed to the level of my eastern homeland. Nearly five years later and separated from Pappa, delivery was accompanied by my Mother, my Mother-in-law and a numerous nurses, and a Lama doctor. Seemed cold and un feeling, actually uncomfortable, in that room. My water broke at home and I was two weeks late, his projected time to arrive was December 25th.

Pushing from a flat position was difficult, un natural and painfully worse than I remembered, seemed strangely odd to feel the force of my doctor fist inside me. The doc broke my sons shoulder bone as he eased him out, leaving a permanently viewed x-ray break for the rest of his life. (The evidence of that break would later be blamed on me when I rushed him to the E.R at 14 months.)

He wasn’t breathing, my Mother -in-law screamed “Oh, God he’s dead!” The doctor asked her to leave the room. I remember hearing whispers about his numbers, his mucus, and that he’d had a bowel movement in me….weird words to hear as I lay clutching my Mother’s hand.

After what seemed like hours I heard the soft cry of my second born child, Mason Rule, also with red hair like Sister’s.

My life, my path and subsequent career has been focused on their lives and the lives of other cherubs I care for. I have an innate sense for children's feelings, emotions and pain. Perhaps my own childhood lend me to care for children, or a force greater than I stirred the body in this direction. With no money, no savings and newly divorced the thought of leaving my children in the daycare system that was affordable to me just wasn't an option.

Lucky for me, I was fired from a reputable restaurant chain, fought for my un employment benefits and took all of 1995 off. Started both businesses that year and I haven't looked back since. Am I rich? No. Are all the bills paid monthly? Generally, plus I've paid off a new heating system, a Montana Van, carpet, ceramic kitchen floors, and numerous bills to the county juvenile system.

Its a bit of a roller coaster ride, daily, but its a ride that I'm in control of, I'm driving. With all this confusion in Washington and others deciding how the rest of us should live I still feel in control. Am I rich? NO!

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Mexican Agate Ear Rings - The Only One - T.O.O.


The Only One

In this listing one handsome "T.O.O. the only one" set of Mexican Agate ear rings. Slabbed and tumble polished in the traditional Crude Company style. These special little agates feature a brilliant orbicular egg in the center of each agate. There's just something very special about owning a pair of ear rings that no one will ever have a pair of.

These little beauties come from a vintage collection from the forties. Consecutively cut and slabbed, then tumbled to a mirror polish.

Sweet, elderly lady I met last fall collected rock with her father during the thirties and forties in Mexico, New Mexico and Arizona. Its not often I am able to discover vintage and antique collections that haven't been depleted or dismantled.

Every nodule that I've cut into has been spectacular, many completely take my breathe away. Sure, I'm a rock geek.....I own that.

These beauties have been wire-wrapped in 12 carat 22 gauge gold filled wire. Completed simply with golden French ear wires. The pair measure 1 1/4" long, and hang down from the ear lobe at 1 1/2". Made asymmetrically, not intended to be
matchy-matchy but they can be switched off to wear in alternating ears.

The last image is the reverse side of the agates.

These ear rings will arrive in a handmade gift box from my ecovintagevegan shop.
Sent Priority mail.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Graduation 2011

Received my second high school graduation announcement today. Each linen enveloped stuffed to the brim with the information about their proud day and the time to celebrate their accomplishments. Each time I received another I’m faced with a deep sadness and regret for my own two….my own to two drop-outs.

Should I have pushed more? Harder? To make them stay in an institution that made them miserable? After they both reached 16 years old there wasn’t much I could do. By law they could decide themselves. With my daughter they tried to use the ruler test example to encourage her to stay in school. Here’s where you are….and here’s how much longer you have….you are almost done. With my son, there was no begging him to stay, no ruler example, just a calm direction from the principle “School isn’t for every student”.

Last year I went to the graduation of a young man who had been in my daycare since he was three years old. Anyone seated next to me would have thought I was his mother, the tears poured down my chubby cheeks like water works. My son sat next to me with his arm around my shoulders, exclaiming, “Mom, some day I will graduate from college”.  I am proud of his accomplishing a scholarship level GED at our local college last spring. But it doesn’t smooth the grief I have that I’ll never sit for either him or his sister to graduate from high school.

In my day, was there an option of dropping out? If there was I didn’t know about it. The ultimate goal for me was to graduate and get out of Dodge (Rawlins, Wyoming). Get me out of here, away, explore and discover the world. I was an average student and a flourishing art geek, attending college was a dream come true. It did take two institution and moving away from home to get my degree, but those were the best four years of learning.

I push now, too late maybe, but anguish over my daughter’s choice to not complete her GED……she needs a tutor and math tutor, one more test and she’ll have her GED from the college. She bounces from job to job, each one offering her a challenge at first, then soon she grows weary of the attitudes, laziness, and apathetic behaviors of those she works with or for. Every evening its another opportunity for discussion and direction from me to encourage her to return to school. “What is the solution to your situation?” I ask her. “What can you do to make your own life better?” I beg her. “I know Mom, I need to get back to school. But I need to work too.” And I tell her, You can do both.

There’s a depression of sorts when I receive another graduation announcement, and there’s a reservation about attending the celebration this month. My son should be in that parade of red gowns and caps walking in unison to receive a scroll of achievement. Can I attend another graduation without blubbering like a baby about my own kids never being in their own procession of accomplishments?

At nearly 23, my daughter is a woman, at 18 my son is a man, I can not tell them what to do. I must accept that I have given them the skills they need to make their own decisions and to succeed in their life. Do I miss the hoopla, the photo opportunities, the stuffing envelopes for mailing and the chance to have congrat’s from family for both of them…..sure. But for now I need to get past the notion that I am not in charge of their destiny. I have given them roots and wings, they are good people, and I am proud of them.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

My Favorite Fossilized Mud - Blue Biggs Jasper


 I often wish that people could be as honest, clear and solid as the rock I work. Our past, our childhood and the path we've led interrupts our abilities to be genuine with our friends, family and co-workers. Only as I get older have I realized how many folks I've hurt, cheated and discarded because I wasn't mature enough to be honest. Thank goodness for age.

Three shadow box framed Blue Biggs Jasper slabs. Biggs a coveted porcelain type jasper originating near the Owhyee Mountain range between Idaho and Oregon. This jasper is wildly collected and loved by lapidary folks for their true "picture-like" qualities. Biggs is one of my favorite fossilized mud's.

All three slabs have been mounted to a back ground of muslin with foam core cubes. The largest slab in the middle viewing has been wire-wrapped at the corners with copper wire. All three slabs are 5/8" thickness and in perfect rock-like condition.

The center and largest slab measures 8 x 6" and the black wood frame measures 15.5 x 15.5 x 3".

The second slab and on the viewing left measures 7 x 4" and the black wood frame measures 15.5 x 12 x 3".

The last slabettes, mirror images of the other, measure 6.5 x 3.5" and the black wood frame measures 15.5 x 12 x 3".

These three Blue Biggs Jasper displayed together often provoke curious questions from visitors. Disbelief that they are not hand painted by me or someone else. Pure natural beauty at its finest.

The three framed slabs will be sent Parcel Post with insurance, wrapped, bundled and protected from the woes and force of shipping.

Additional flickr images:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/crudeco/?saved=1

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Easter Sunday

Faith in Easter

Tomorrow children will be wrestling with other children and their baskets to grab up the colorful dyed eggs laying in the fresh spring grass. Maybe at a neighbor’s house or a family reunion, more likely at church, where the safety of free hunting is secure.

I remember fondly a few times that Easter was a celebration of family, dressing in our Sunday best and meeting our friends at the First Baptist Church in Rawlins, Wyoming. Though at fifteen years old, I lost my faith in Easter, in community and in church ….including God. There was doubt in my mind and my heart about the faith that had been instilled in me since grade school.

Being present at church every Sunday for bible study and congregation seemed an important part of our family unit, for me, my brother’s and my Mother. Honestly, it was for her, she seemed happiest at church. The whole spiritual God thing was the core of her belief and the philosophy of all that church offered her in part held her together.

It was tough, no difficult to understand how this God could be so perfect and yet allow such pain to be alive at my home. Very few people, then? Maybe no one knew the hell we suffered in our private home on 804 West Pine. Making it tough to praise the Lord and yet wonder how this great entity could allow my family to be broken. Praying every day for help, for companionship and for safety all through the week, and giving another dose of prayer on Sunday’s, why wasn’t God hearing me? Why did this great being allow my Mother to suffer? Where was God’s compassion for my family?

Although I eventually got dipped in the great baptismal bath later that year, at fifteen that Easter marked the day that God left my mind. There would be no Williams children or Mom at church that Easter Sunday, no baptism for Micklin and as planned, no Father to join us.

As with many nights before, and plenty to follow, my Father in a drunken state the night before and all through the early morning bashed my Mother’s face in with his fist. Her jaw was broke, her teeth were gone and her face resembled oatmeal. There were no apology’s from my Father, just the explanation that we wouldn’t be attending Easter service, nor my baptism this Sunday. I remember a strange looming stillness at the house that morning and he crying with his face down at the dining room table.

Is there a God?
Why are other families happy?
Why doesn’t anyone help my Mother?
Why does my Mother stay here?
Why does my Father always hurt my Mother?

I have no spiritual feelings for Easter, the concept and learned biblical teachings, that God sent his only son, who was he, to be born and die for our earthly sins, but to rise and join his heavenly Father in ever lasting life ……divine lasting life.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Twitter

Finally, after months of refusing to be sucked in, I've done it. I now have a twitter account, profile and a few followers. UGH the torture of it all.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Orange Teeth Smiles




Of my favorite things in this vast world are the honest sweet smiles of the children in my care.

Does someone they love greet them of the mornings with a smile and squeeze?

Did they have a a good breakfast before heading out?

Did their parent person dress them well for the days climate?

Does the teacher appreciate their little chubby face in class?

Is there crayon picture taped to the refrigerator at home?

So many moments are missed throughout the day, opportunities to reach out to a child, teen or young person and greet them with acceptance, reassurance and encouragement.


Thursday, March 24, 2011

Crocheted WINDOWS - White On White - Christening Blanket






 In 2009, I added crocheted "Window" blanket to my Crude Company etsy shop. A pattern I learned form my Mother during a visit to her house in Kansas. My Mother doesn't quite remember where she learned this pattern, only that she's been making and crocheting with this pattern for 50 years. At 72 years old she not only whips out this crochet technique but she also tats "sir names" in white and cream colors then frames them in shadow box frames for close friends and family.

The enjoyment of creating crochet items comes easy for her, and crocheting also helps her rebuild strength in her arms from her first radical mastectomy and the subsequent second surgery three years later. To date my Mother has had seven operations to remove cancer form her body. She has been a pillar of life force for me and a woman who inspires me daily.

I share this pattern with my etsy customers, please do not resale the pattern or items created with this pattern online.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

News Paper Route & Family Time

The last week of January, my daughter and I took on a news paper route in our community. Realizing that no one would hire a 51 year old woman who has been self-employed for more than 18 years, and that the public business prospects were zip-o-la for me. My daughter I decided to supplement our cash flow by having her be a paper delivery person, she would be my boss and I would help her with the route.

Without hesitation we made a commitment to the city new paper for 42 houses, one route. Knowing that when we achieved the first route additional houses and a second route would be added to ledger. I clearly underestimated the number of people who still read the local paper many people still start their day with a cup of tea or coffee and the smell of printers ink under their noses.

The first morning out we spent most of time trying to read the house numbers, or understand how the ledger balanced up with the city infrastructure. Why houses that should follow in chronological numeric order did not and why others houses had no numbers at all marked. How the heck were we suppose to deliver all these papers? By weeks end we discovered, "Hey, if we had lights on our heads we could see the house numbers from the sidewalks." Wow, there was a light bulb moment.

By the first week of February we had increased our route house number to 92 week day regulars and 114 weekend customers. We had accomplished knowing which homes needed to have their papers placed in special area of the porch or screen door. My daughter had her even numbered homes memorized, my odd numbered route was nearly committed to memory and we had completed both routes within 2.5 hours. From waking at 4 A.M., dressing, driving to the pick-up site, retrieving the bundles, folding and rubber banding, then bagging and walking each paper to the door step of every customer, to sharing a morning banana and bottle of water......DONE!

Today we topped out at 5:38 A.M., sitting in the van and sharing our morning fruit and H20.....we had shaved minutes off our normal and we're home by 5:50 A.M. record time. Now we're thinking getting up at 3:45 A.M. so we can be home by 5:30 A.M. Its a round trip drive of 17.5 miles, 7.45 miles there to the paper pick-up spot.

Suppose not everyone would be comfortable with this schedule or early morning, often it feels like night time, but my daughter and I have found that its a pleasant way to spend time together. Dressed warm, bundled with wool hats, recycled crocheted wraps and gloves packing jumbo canvas totes filled with folded papers we speed walk the entire 114 house route. Chatting with each other from across the street and breathing in that fresh morning air, occasionally being greeted by a lonely jogger or cyclist and their pooch.

Our early morning route has become a pleasure, commitment, needed exercise and shared friendship with each other. When we get paid......new sweat pants are on the list to purchase, my daughter has lost 13 pounds and I have lost 17 pounds....who would have thought that the need for income would produce thinner thighs and a tight butt. We hope to be running the route by spring.....

Maybe your community needs you?


Sunday, February 20, 2011

Recovery and A Life Long Commitment: Mickey's Story

In the 80’s when my ex was attending recovery programs and AA, I attended and supported his process by learning about my own self-worth. There were many weekend family retreats, long distance drives, schedules and meetings that seemed daunting and even time consuming. Young and optimistic about mending my marriage I went to every scheduled site, every late night meeting and every religious setting to accomplish that which I thought would make his life better…………….there was love there at one time.

The relentless desire to “make good”……heal, help, assist,….uh, co-dependent the addiction, the addict and guilty myself of dipping my toes into the methamphetamine scene to comply, join, and belong to his life in some way or another and reaching for a love that wasn’t in actuality even reachable.

I recall a meeting that changed my life forever, a pivotal moment, a gut reaction that assisted my growth process and pushed me into focusing on myself. A seasoned recovering addicted with ten years sobriety under his belt shared a story (maybe his story or maybe a passed down story, who knows really if it were his personal story) I only know that after I heard the story my heart and mind were changed forever…...and the story goes.

***************************************************************************************

A man comes home from work, as he strides through the living room headed for the refrigerator he stumbles over his eight year old sons fire truck and all his collected play things on the floor. His son greets his dad with, “Hey, Dad will you play with me?” Grumbling passively his father replies, “NOT Now!” And opens the refrigerator and grabs a tall boy from the shelf. He turns and walks to his Lazy Boy. Again his son tried to greet him with a suggestion of play time.

“Damn It …..I don’t want to play…..leave me alone.”
As his father sits and sucks down his brew, the son continues to play at his feet. “Please dad, will you play with me?” Angry by his sons persistence the father yells at the boy, grabs a magazine from the among the boys toys on the floor, opens it up to the center and rips out a single page with an image of the nautical world. He then tears that page into many tiny pieces, and throws those pieces at his son. He exclaims, “when you’ve put the picture of the world together I will play with you!”

Minutes later, the son approaches his father who now has polished off a six pack of tall boys, his son hands his father a taped up picture page of the world. “Here dad I did it! Can we play now?” In a slightly ‘buzzed’ state his father said, “How did you do that?” The son said, “Oh, on the other side of the page is a picture of a MAN, when you put the picture of the man together the WORLD takes care of itself.”

*****************************************************************************************

I can’t say for certain that this recovering addict’s story was factual, personal or for a listening co-dependent audience, but for me it changed everything, my future with my husband, my own addictive behavior, my co-dependency and my own self-worth.

It also brought back childhood memories and my father’s own alcoholic behaviors and how he belittle, berated and beat my mother after his drunken stupors of partying with railroad buddies and other women and The Green Mill Bar in Rawlins Wyoming.

This simple story stays with always.




Thursday, February 10, 2011

My Pugs - Chinese Pugs - NOT MINI's - Stout Full Size Pure Breed




 Mo-Tow

He's the man of the house. Mo-Tow now nine years old and showing clear gray haired beard on his chin and warm wrinkles.
He is so loved.
And he requires a great deal of love. Pugs grow and learn best with a partner, either family related or opposite sex. They can get lonely. They are not, certainly and most importantly NOT happy being alone. Another animal companion is crucial.
They do not make good pets where they are left alone all day.
From a direct lineage of the hardier thicker Chinese Pug line, he's stout and broad from shoulder to chest. Never claimed or purchased papers, because we didn't want to breed either pug. Their family members, uncles, mother and father both live within miles of our home.
These dogs are great with young children. Never allow the children to treat, entice or share food with the family pug. They can easily confuse the child's normal walking, holding and eating a cookie with sharing that cookie with them.
They need tons of love and attention, small amounts of dry bite size crunchy food.....healthy food, no human food scraps, very few treats, they can easily believe they'll starve. That's why lots of love is so important.
They love stuffed toys of varied sizes, often stuffed toys much larger than their own body. And "Kong's" the very best toy for Chinese Pugs, throw the Kong and they'll find it, get it and leep for it any where you throw and no matter where it lands.

Pugs have touchy ear drum and ears, its so important to clean and wipe their ears and inside ear canal weekly.

Bulla.... 

Its a pug world at my home. Bulla now seven years old and getting her first signs of gray hair on the chin.
She's the baby and Mo-Tow takes good care of her.
My pugs have the cutest tails, Bulla's tail curves to the left in a cinnamon bud fashion. And Mo-Tow tail curves to the right in the same way.
Kennel potty trained and rewarded with jumping, clapping and lavishing them with plenty of affection and "good girl" goes a long way in their positive potty training skills. Plenty of outside clean mountain air and hardy quick walks makes for a healthy happy pug.
Chinese Pugs have a natural innate skill of rooting, digging and foraging for small plants and bulbs. When planting or starting your garden set fencing to keep your pugs from digging and rooting up the onion bulbs and eating the tops off new buds, flowers and herbs. Its not that those things are bad for them, but you'll never see your garden come to harvest.
Also, composting....make certain the compost isn't accessible to the pugs. The natural breakdown of the compost, the natural aroma is an attraction the pugs can not resist. First yield of spring 2004, Bulla helps herself to the compost pile and the decomposing leaves....she was not a well pug for many days, she spent the nights outside with a bad case of diarrhea.
Black haired pugs (Bulla is black with burgundy ribbed sides) can not remain outside for long periods of time in the summer months. If you walk them during the summer, an early morning walk is best.
Smart loving animals perfect for families.



Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Native American Indian Honeysuckle Flower - Pink Box - Jumbo

In this listing one jumbo ecovinatgevegan handmade gift box, packaging box, or wedding box.

Made form heavy duty 22" squared stock. Measures
7 3/4" x 7 3/4" x 4" and 11" corner to corner. Large full sized insert panel.

Pantone recommended Honeysuckle, reddish pink, dusty rose.....pink in color.

Hope to offer this size box in multiple colors before spring.

Listed price includes shipping, Priority Mail in the states.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Raw Amber Nugget Drop Pendant

 
One multiple drop raw amber pendant. Natural Colombian amber in its natural rough raw state. Specimen amber are older, from my collection of hygrade.

Each amber chunk has a gold filled bell cap attached at the top suspended with a gold jump ring and linked together with 4mm gold beads and 8mm carnelian stone beads. Doubled 1mm tan goat skin leather and a vintage Bakelite button clasp. Neck length 16". Matching amber ear drops complete the set.

Eight raw amber chunks total in this set, seven for the necklace and two for the ear drops. The amber is softly tumbled to just clean off the natural matrix. Each amber chunk measure right at 1".

The raw amber necklace will arrive in a handmade gift box sent Priority Mail.

Mexican Lace Pendant

One large stone drop pendant of Mexican Lace Agate. Each stone has been slabbed and tumble polished to a mirror finish, then wire wrapped in sterling silver round.

These are natural Mexican Agate stones, cut from one nodule, they have excellent lacing and flowering pictures.

The stones are linked together with doubled 1mm tan leather cord, vintage Mother of Pearl cylinder beads, 5mm sterling silver beads and vintage Mother of Pearl button clasp. Neck length 18". (Option for a shorter neck length easy to adjust.)

The largest and center focal stone measure 3 x 1 1/2", the stone on the left measures 2 1/8" x 1 1/2" and the stone on the right 2 1/2" x 1 1/2". The stones lay nicely against the upper chest. Thickness for each stone 1/8".

The pendant will arrive in a handmade gift box sent Priority Mail in the states.

3" Gift Box - Pantone - Reddish Pink - Native American Honeysuckle Flower






Made from hand cut 8 inch scrap booking card stock and hand cut full size center insert. Matching bottoms, durable and sturdy for all your creative uses, events, parties, wedding functions or bridal gifts. This fresh rustic pink color is all the rage this season.

Purchase one box or order 150, 200 or 300 boxes.

This American style of folding paper, yields from the turn of the century, where lady folk congregated to make and reproduce these little boxes from post cards and birthday cards.

This is a eco-friendly design and the construction is so simple. Each box measures 3 x 3 x 1 1/2" and 4 1/4" corner to corner each has been meticulously folded, scored and center point glued with a shape to complete a ready made hand built box. The boxes are empty inside. But ready for your fine creative treasure's. Conveniently each box is left "un-marked" by ecovintagevegan, allowing you take claim for these small gifted wonders.

Convo for orders over ONE.
All special orders of fifty or more must be paid up front in full plus, shipping.

Orders of fifty or more completion two weeks out.