The Call: A Nickel Up Close — Jessica

I know that there are lots of sayings about stretching dollars and rubbing dimes and pinching pennies but it all comes around to being cheap. And cheap isn’t always a bad thing…there is a kind of freedom in not wasting a lot of money on stuff.

Response: Inexpensive Glassware — Cheryl

I’m often torn between spending money for high quality goods and trying to to find the cheapest item available. It really depends on what I’m shopping for. When it comes to drinking glasses, cheap wins the day. With six kids, granite countertops and tile floors, one tumble is all most tumblers can take and few glasses last longer than six months. Fortunately, my local TJ Maxx always has a great selection of inexpensive, but nice, glassware.

The Call: At My Desk — Cheryl

Most days teatime is about 3 p.m. Today it was 5:15. When it doesn’t happen at all, I’m probably out of town.

My parents were tea lovers who would drive more than an hour, north into Canada, four or five times a year to buy King Cole Orange Pekoe tea. They drank it after lunch and after dinner. I now have to order my King Cole online (cringing when I see the Canadian shipping charge), and I generally limit myself to one large cup.

I have many gorgeous, gold-edged, flower-decorated, delicately shaped bone china teacups and saucers that I inherited from my mom. They look beautiful in my cherry hutch, but I seldom use them. They are just too small.

I’ve started taking tea at my desk in my studio. Sometimes I work on the computer, sometimes I read a book, write or draw. Often, I entertain Stella, who likes to join me for tea and an afternoon chat.

Each day, I brew a full pot (with two King Cole bags). Bridget always has a cup, and now, most days Henry does, too. Jack, Sam and Stella like their tea with milk and sugar. Just milk for me, thanks.

The Response: Tea with Snack — Jessica

Most days my teatime is around 1:30. It use to be later but once my children started school I had to leave home to pick them up at 2:30. So, after all the morning’s work is done and the younger kids have had lunch and the kitchen has been tidied up, I brew a cup of Twinnings English Breakfast (with a little bit of milk) and grab a little something sweet. It helps me stay awake for the afternoon commute. And the daily battle with traffic.

The Cross — Jessica

Every week I get some Catholic “item” in the mail. Whether it’s a rosary, a prayer card or in this case, a little crucifix, they all come with appeals to donate money to some religious community or worthy charity. That’s a lot of appeals and that’s a lot of guilt when I toss the appeal in the trash. We can’t give to them all…but the rosaries, cards and crosses all get saved. How could I throw those out?

Sometimes though, their arrival is a bit fortuitous — almost like a message. As though Jesus himself says to us, “I know you are about to go through some unpleasantness that will cause you sorrow, but remember I was full of sorrow before you and I will be there with you to carry you over it.”

Or so it sometimes seem.

Response: Prayer to Our Mother of Sorrows — Cheryl

Our mother of sorrows,
with strength from above you stood by the cross,
sharing in the sufferings of Jesus,
and with tender care
you bore Him in your arms, mourning and weeping.

We praise you for your faith,
which accepted the life God planned for you.
We praise you for your hope,
which trusted that God would do great things in you.
We praise you for your love
in bearing with Jesus the sorrows of His passion.

Holy Mary,
may we follow your example,
and stand by all your children
who need comfort and love.

Mother of God,
stand by us in our trials
and care for us in our many needs.
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

Amen!

The Call: Stella Gazes— Cheryl

Stella is persnickety. There’s just no getting around it. She tells me that I can pick out her clothing for the day, but then puts the kibosh on everything I choose. She likes to drink chocolate coconut milk, but only if it’s in the correct glass (a small wine glass). She eats peanut-butter-and-chocolate-chip sandwiches, but only when the crusts are cut from the gluten-free bread. I could claim that I don’t know how she acquired this trait, but my husband would surely leave a comment letting everyone know which parent passed on the persnickety gene.

The Response: Pixie is Persnickety — Jessica

Pixie loves people food. When it comes to dog food, however, she is very persnickety and will often sit next to her full bowl waiting. Waiting for someone to come by and offer her more people food, I guess. Silly dog!

The Call: Jump — Jessica

Faint hearts never won fair maidens.

The two-year-old hesitated for exactly two seconds and then followed his five-year-old brother, jumping down the entire flight of stairs two at a time. One time through was not enough. At the bottom, they turned and ran back up in order to hop down again and again.

Boys!

Response: Golf Team — Cheryl

My son Luke has been involved in sports for most of his life. He’s played organized basketball, soccer, baseball and golf. As a parent, it doesn’t take long to see through the games played off the field: parents coaching Little League so their kids are assured of good positions on the team, complaints about lack of playing time, that sort of thing. The golf team is refreshingly different. Positions are earned in practice play. The player with the lowest average plays in the number-one slot, and it goes on down the line. That seems fair.

The Call: And There are More Dishes to Wash — Cheryl

About a month before Stella was born (a little more than three years ago), the dishwasher broke. The fridge got taken out by lightning a week or two before that. We bought a new refrigerator, but the dishwasher sits unused and unusable. Dennis, who is great at repairing just about anything, tried to fix it but was unsuccessful. I’ve toyed with the idea of getting that mediocre Frigidaire dish scrubber fixed or replaced, but we still have to renovate the majority of the first floor (including the kitchen), and I just can’t bring myself to spend money on an appliance we’ve lived without for years now — even though it means that the counter near the sink almost always holds at least one dirty glass, dish or peanut-butter-coated knife.

The Response: Obscured — Jessica

It’s hard to see the beautiful things around you when your window is dirty. Maybe I should clean them more often?

The Call: The Lego Lesson — Jessica

What better mentor is there than an older brother?

Response: Drawing Baby Animals — Cheryl

Being guided by a mentor is a very effective way of becoming educated. Thomas Jefferson’s mentor was George Wythe, Michael Phelps is mentored by Coach Bob Bowman, and my son Luke has learned more in two months of working one-on-one with a golf instructor than he has in years of just playing golf. A mentor, however, doesn’t have to be a person in the room. An author can mentor through his books; the same goes for a luthier presenting videotaped lessons on YouTube; and a mom learning on her own can be a mentor to her kids, simply by setting the example.

The Call: My Clothes are not Me — Cheryl

How do I appear to the rest of world? I get the feeling that it’s quite different from the way I appear to myself, and that’s probably why I seldom look in the mirror or voluntarily have my picture taken. That may also be why I so enjoy my online life. I can put forth the person I think I am, through my photos and writing, without worrying about my physical appearance adding another layer to the conversation.

My Inside-Self and my Outside-Self
Are different as can be.
My Outside-Self wears gingham smocks,
And very round is she,
With freckles sprinkled on her nose,
And smoothly parted hair,
And clumsy feet that cannot dance
In heavy shoes and square.

But, oh, my little Inside-Self—
In gown of misty rose
She dances lighter than a leaf
On blithe and twinkling toes;
Her hair is blowing gold, and if
You chanced her face to see,
You would not think she could belong
To staid and sober me!

    —Rachel Field, “My Inside-Self”

The Response: Parakeets in the Shade — Jessica

It may appear that this picture has nothing to do with the word prompt. It may also appear that I ran out of time. In fact, both of those things are true. I guess when we have company in town we should cut ourselves some slack. Right? But in an effort to keep up appearances and make sure everyone knows that we can do all and be all, well, I mean sometimes those balls we juggle just come crashing down, don’t they?

But as my favorite movie heroine would say…”tomorrow is another day.”

Amen.

The Call: Guess What’s for Dinner? — Jessica

Narrative. Story. In certain photography circles it’s a big deal and a constant topic of conversation. The ultimate goal is to tell stories with your photographs.

But a story has a beginning, a middle and an end. How do you translate that into a single frame? I tried to do that today, but it was not a good day to experiment with this format. Too many demands on my time left me with precious little time to attempt to fully translate a story into one good shot.

I suppose what is truly lacking from the shopping cart photo is context. Now, if I had changed the angle so that you could see the long lines all around me, and maybe if I had included a crying child then you would have known instantly the back story — “uh oh, someone didn’t plan well and now has to be at the grocery store at the witching hour to figure out what to feed her family for dinner.”

This narrative stuff is hard and I think it will take a lot more practice.

Response: A Grey (Great?) Day for Golf — Cheryl

Yes, storytelling with one shot. Indeed. I’ve seen some great examples of it, and I think I’ve captured a story here and there, but thus far, I haven’t found the secret. Most of the time I can’t even find the story in a photo created by someone else, even when they tell me it’s there. I see a picture that looks a lot like the old vacation photos (taken with 110 film) that fill boxes on top of my bookcases. Very often, it just looks like mediocre photography to me.

When I do stumble upon a great storytelling photo, though, I know it immediately — but I can’t explain why (ok, I’ve never really tried to explain why, but I’ve done plenty of it with literature that is meaningful to me). Is that part of the formula, for lack of a better word? If you have to explain yourself, you haven’t been successful — at least not for that particular viewer. It always comes back to the words of Professor Bernard Schopen: “Literature leaves you with questions; fiction gives you all the answers.”

The Call: Remembering Souls — Cheryl

The study of history fascinates me, but it’s not the big events, the legendary battles or significant court cases that capture my attention. The individuals who, while simply living their lives, dared to stand up for justice or freedom or someone who just needed help; found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time; helped build something much bigger than themselves; or used their talents to leave behind masterpieces of art or music — they are the aspect of history that captivates me.

When my kids and I study history, we seldom turn to a textbook. None of us wants facts and dates. We want stories about real people, stories about real events and the people who might have influenced those events. Biographies, historical fiction, field trips to museums or historically significant places help us remember that real people — not schoolbook editors and publishers — created history, and are still doing it, each and every day.

The Response: Cockpit of the Enola Gay — Jessica

The best part about living in Washington D.C. is how close we are to so many important historical places and items. It does eventually become old-hat. After all civil war battle cannons do all look alike. But every now and then something will break through and really catch your attention.

Today we took the younger kids and my mother-in-law to the Smithsonian Udvar-Hazy Museum near Dulles Airport. It’s loaded with lots of famous planes: the stealth bomber, Discovery space shuttle, one of the last concords to fly across the Atlantic. But the most famous, or infamous, is the Enola Gay.

As you walk up to the plane, all you really see is the polished shiny silver exterior. You can see the name “Enola Gay” in big black block letters. But you have to go up to the second floor and across a bridge/walkway to be able to see inside the cockpit. And it’s there that you can imagine the events that occurred on August 6, 1945. And that is when the reality of what you are seeing causes chills.

It’s the details that bring history home.

The Call: To Become More Eloquent — Jessica

Oh to be more eloquent! It’s a never ending quest — to write more beautifully, to photograph more elegantly; to say things that are not only easily understood but in a manner that is both pleasing and memorable. That is my goal. And I am far, far way from my goal. But I found something that may help.

I just picked up Microstyle: The Art of Writing Little at the library where I stumbled upon it quite by accident. I think that is what I miss most about libraries and bookstores in the age of Amazon: the serendipitous finding of a little gem hidden in the stacks and shelves. I just started it so I can’t really say much about it except that it is interesting and promises to be very useful.

The Response: Translucence, Elegance, Eloquence — Cheryl

Can a glass pitcher be eloquent? Can a photograph? Or a table? I think so. Eloquence is generally limited to the realm of words, but it has do with effectively using language with ease. Good design is about effectively using materials — one could say in an persuasive way. I might serve water from a pickle jar, but it won’t persuade me or anyone else that it’s a good vessel for the job. The big, bulbous jar may be stellar for storing pickles, but as a water pitcher, it’s just not eloquent. And that brings up an interesting question: does good design — and even good writing — depend merely upon the form of the finished product?

‘Tis the gift to be simple,
‘Tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.
— “Simple Gifts,” a Shaker Song by Elder Joseph of Alfred, Maine, 19th cent.

The Call: Henry and a Good Book — Cheryl

O dear Jesus, I humbly implore you
to grant your special graces to our family.
May our home be a shrine of peace,
purity, love, labor, and faith.
I beg you, dear Jesus, to protect and bless
all of us, absent and present,
living and dead.
Amen.

    — Catholic Family Prayer Book

The Response: Home is Where the Shoes Are — Jessica

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
— Song For a Fifth Child Ruth Hamilton

The Call: Begin with the End in Mind — Jessica

I’ve never read Stephen Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. But somehow I’ve come to know what a few of the habits are. Not that I’m good at putting them into practice. I should probably read the book — it might make my life better or easier, at least.

But Covey’s second habit is one that has stuck in my mind since I first heard about it. “Begin with the end in mind.” Of course…what plain common sense!

Habit 2 is based on imagination–the ability to envision in your mind what you cannot at present see with your eyes. It is based on the principle that all things are created twice. There is a mental (first) creation, and a physical (second) creation. — Stephen Covey

The Response: Recipes for Writing — Cheryl

When I was staff writer for The Denver Catholic Register, most of my articles got written two to three days before we went to press; many were created on Monday morning, before we headed out to the printers at about 2 pm. My husband often remarked that my opening sentences were perfect. The problem was that I couldn’t begin writing the article until I had crafted that perfect first sentence, and that sometimes took hours. Once it was down, though, I could crank out a 750-word story in about 15 minutes.

Thank goodness I don’t work that way anymore. Now, I just begin with a thought and see where it takes me. I guess I could claim that I follow Stephen Covey’s advice of beginning with the end in mind, because I generally know that I want to write something to publish on one of my blogs. From there, I begin searching for a topic. Nothing gets the juices flowing like the thoughts of others. Tell me what Leo Tolstoy said about art, or what Madeleine L’Engle thinks about angels, and my fingers are ready to meet those keys.

The Call: Red Hot — Cheryl

My tastes are rather basic and pretty simple: chocolate, vanilla, caramel, cinnamon, garlic and cayenne pepper. My, how I love cayenne. If I’m making chicken for dinner, cayenne’s in there somewhere. Black pepper on steak? No, thank you, but shake some cayenne on top. Pizza sauce, marinara sauce? Yes and yes. One of these days, I’ll even add some of the deep red deliciousness to my chocolate cake batter — but I won’t tell the kids.

The Response: Variety is the Spice of Life — Jessica

I like being on the response end of this project. I like the way the prompt forces me to think through things. In this instance, my first thought was of a cinnamon-like substance in a big pile. That reminded me of Dune but only momentarily (I didn’t like that movie). Next came “sugar and spice and everything nice,” but my daughter is not the sugary sort…so there went that idea. After a few hours of turning things over I thought of “variety is the spice of life.” A ha!

But how to show variety? After several false starts, I found my way to my daughter’s yarn stash. We both love yarn. Whenever we wander into a craft store we always leave with a skein or two. I love the colors and textures. She actually makes things with it! One day, when my hands are free, I will too.