Joy Hall

Something Beautiful

Today my mailbox offered me a lovely surprise. Inside was my dear friend Diane Knott’s gorgeous book she co-authored along with her most talented daughter, Holly.  I am not a quilter (however, I am very skilled at purchasing them!) and I would adore being able to purchase any of the quilts presented in this book. 

Holly has done an amazing  job translating Diane’s heartfelt paintings into beautiful heartfelt quilts.  To start each art quilt project, a picture of the quilt shares a page with Diane’s original painting and a lovely message in which she shares her inspiration. Again, the way Holly has translated the images into the quilts (and then shared instructions on how to do this) is remarkable.

I also have to praise the publisher.  The quality of the paper is stunning and the layout was executed beautifully in an easy-to-follow and yet pleasing to the eye fashion.

                        Thanks Diane and Holly for sharing your talents!

Renewing Your Springs

Several years ago I purchased a candle with the name “Guest House” on the box.  It was a beautiful little box (I’m such a sucker for good package design) that I was drawn to it immediately, before even smelling of the candle.  Actually, I probably already had an image in my mind due to the name and the packaging.  The candle had an unusual scent.  With each sniff I was transported to someone’s lavish guesthouse in which I was “the guest”.  Ah, how nice that would be…no school car lines, no hockey practices, no doctor’s, dentist or hair appointments, no trips to the grocery story and on and on and on….

Of course the candle (and packaging) went home with me, along with all the accompanying products in the “guesthouse” line…bath salts, soaps and such.  Knowing that the odds were against me actually getting away to anyone’s guesthouse, I decided to create a little getaway of my own.

I headed for our hardly-ever-used guest room, stripped it down and did a total redecorate.  I purchased bedding that made me feel calm and relaxed and yet invigorated at the same time.  I filled shelves with books that I had not read, but wanted to, magazines that I normally wouldn’t buy (Travel, Gourmet, Italian Vogue), and jazz and classical CD’s.  I finished the room off with a big, comfy chair, a great reading lamp, and plenty of paper and pens for journaling.  I now had my own “guest house” to recharge my batteries and renew my springs.

It is so important for us to take a little time each day to catch up with our selves.  Life moves at a pretty fast pace.  A “guest house” like I did is not necessary…that is just what spoke to me.  Any place in which you feel peaceful and meditative will do the job.  The important thing, is just to DO IT!

Lost in a Half-Drop Repeat

Trying to remember ME

I have always been a fan of the artist and author Susan Branch.  I admire the freedom with which she designs her books and the stories she shares.  I was amused by one story in particular...the night she met the Beatles and to what extent she and her friends went to in order to make it happen.  I won't ruin the story for you. 

Reading about her escapades took me back to my "Beatles" experience.  I really wasn't a fan...I was just a little on the young side when they hit the scene.  However, my best friend from across the street had an older sister, Kathleen, that was just "wild" about George.  Of course, Jean and I wanted to identify with the older and cooler crowd so we picked out our favorite Beatle and began collecting the cards that came in large gum packs.  Wow, I hadn't thought of that in years!

A few weeks ago, while rummaging though a box I retrieved from the house I grew up in after my Mom passed away, I found a yellowed piece of notebook paper with my early handwriting on it.  It was a letter I had written to John Lennon letting him know just how I felt about him....hmmm....I guess I was more infatuated than I remembered.

Here's the letter:

Dear John Lennon,

I am very sorry my handwriting isn't very pretty, but I am only 9 years old.  My birthday is August 26th.

When you were on the Ed Sullivan show, when it was a film, I saw it.  That was the only time I knew you were on TV.

I am listening to the radio.  When I hear you sing, it makes me like you more.  When I see your pictures, I kiss them.  I got your (pictures) and the other Beatles.  I especially wanted yours.

Would you please write back or just send your name that you have written.

P.S. I love you.  I just heard you sing.  I put my ear to the radio to hear you.

Love,
Joy

It's funny that I don't remember caring that much about the Beatles, but evidently at the time I thought I had fallen in love.

Snowday

This morning we awoke to find the ground covered with snow.  The plow trucks had not been by yet so there was absolutely no sign of where the road was as my husband left for work.  With coffee in hand I headed to my studio which is at the front of our house.  We have a fabulous view as we sit on a hill overlooking the town.  As the snowplow arrived and began clearing the cul-de-sac, my thoughts went to our first "snowday". 

When my oldest son had just started high school and my younger son was in middle school, we moved across the country.  All of their lives had been spent in a hot, tropical climate.  Our move took us into an area that experienced all four seasons.  As winter approached we got to have many new experiences.  As the first warnings of snow came, my sons had their fingers crossed as we watched  school names scroll across our tv screen for cancellations which would result in a “snowday”.  We had heard of this thing called “snowday” but had never experienced it.

It was on this first snowday I discovered how wonderful a hot soup can be.  Our very first snow was a treat!  Our new yard had a wonderful hill that was perfect for sledding.  Since we had never experienced this activity, we were  excited and ready.  We lined up our newly bought saucer-style sleds and headed down our hill.  Being new to this activity, we had no idea of exactly how far we would travel  after blasting off from the top of the hill.  To our surprise, it took us down our hill, under a row of low-branched trees and all the way down to a neighboring house which thankfully, stopped us.  After we had figured out how to “steer” our sleds, we spent many hours that first snow enjoying our winter wonderland.

By the end of our day, we were cold and famished.  Sledding proved to be a lot of work!  We had not realized how long we had been sledding and how very cold we were.  I had come into the houser earlier that day and started a pot of meatball soup.  Needless to say, everyone was cold and had worked up quite and appetite.  The soup was ready and waiting.  This was the perfect end to our first, of many, snowdays.

Here is the recipe:

Meatball Soup

1tbsp butter
1 cup chopped onion
1 (10 3/4 oz.) can condensed tomato soup
1 (10 1/2 oz.) can condensed chicken noodle soup
1/2 cup water
1 lb. ground beef or veal
1 egg
1/3 cup milk
2 slices bread

Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Saute’ onion until tender.
Stir in the tomato soup, chicken noodle soup and the water; bring to a boil.
Reduce heat to medium low and let simmer.

Meanwhile, combine the ground beef, egg and milk in a bowl.  Break the bread into very small pieces and add to the bowl.  Mix together well.

Shape the meat mixture into small meatballs and drop them into the soup mixture.

Continue to simmer, uncovered for 20 to 30 minutes.  Stir occasionally.

Serves 6

Coffee, Tea and Thee

There’s a coffee shop in the town I live in that serves the most aromatic and richest flavored coffee.  The shop is located on the main street that runs through town and is nestled between other quaint shops such as an antique shop, an old book and map store, a few art galleries and even a unique flower shop that carries orchids, art and finches.

When you order hot tea, you are not handed a cup of hot water with a tea bag.  You do get the hot cup of water, but the tea bag is especially prepared at that moment.  This takes extra time, but in my opinion, well worth it.  The server will take a small bag made out of filter paper, spoon an exact amount of fresh tea leaves into it, fold the bag, press a “stir stick” through the end and hang it across a mug of hot water.  This is so good on one of our many snowy mornings…like today.

The coffee from this delightful place is worth going out of your way for.  As often as possible, I drive into town, park behind the old post office and walk the short distance to the shop.  (I haven’t mastered parallel parking which is what I would have to do if I parked close to the coffee shop.)  I purchase a pound of the fresh coffee beans to take home and sit and enjoy the free cup that comes with it.

There’s just something wonderful about coffee and tea.  Maybe it’s the charming places you find good teas and coffees…maybe it’s the company you keep while enjoying it, or maybe it’s the rich flavor and aromas you savor when having a cup by yourself while reading a nice book.  All good!

Sick Day

This morning I awoke to find I had a very runny nose and sore throat.  Since I am such a trooper (ha!) I drug myself out of bed and down the stairs to my studio.  After firing up the old Mac, I crawled down the hall to the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee, stopping along the way 3 times to blow my nose.

I seldom get sick, but when I do, I become the biggest baby.  Feeling sorry for myself, I plopped down in front of my monitor to face my day.  After about 10 minutes I decided my Mac just wasn’t going to do anything without my help.  I opened files of unfinished artwork (I’m a digital painter) and worked a little on this and a little on that.  Meanwhile the mound of tissues on my desk is growing.

After about 2 hours of not accomplishing anything, I decided to set my work aside and explore the websites and blogs of some of my friends.  I visited my dear friend and “artist extraordinaire” Diane Knott’s blog and read about her repurposed vintage belt buckle find (beautiful) and the escapades of her cat (looks like I’m not the only one with a 4-legged boss).  Next I visited an amazingly talented artist friend of mine, Sue Zipkins’ blog.  There is no way one can look at her colorful creations and not begin to feel better. Both of these women are as nice as their artwork is beautiful!

It is truly amazing how the art that springs forth from one’s soul can minister to someone else.  I know that often I feel a little guilty that my “work” is doing something that I love so much.  I tend to feel a bit selfish.  I can only hope and pray that the body of work I produce touches others as much as my friends work, touches me.

Procrastination

On Thanksgiving Day, after the family dinner has been eaten and the kitchen cleaned, I begin my Christmas decorating.  This is something I enjoy.  I start a little at a time and continually decorate until Christmas day.  The house looks warm and inviting and I love it.  I stroll around the house and compliment myself on the outstanding decorating I have done.  “Why Joy…. You have outdone yourself this year!” But, somewhere midway into Christmas day, I realize I now have to UNDO all that I lovingly have DONE for the past 30 days.

Today I must tackle this job.  It has taken me this long to gather this much stuff (much more to go) around the door that leads to the basement where all of this holiday cheer will spend the next 11 months (or 10 months in my case).  There has to be a better way!  Am I the only one who faces this each year?  Where does it all go and where did it come from? 

As usual I promise myself,  “This will never happen again”.  But it does and it will.  Now, off I go to make things right.

Having the time of my life.

What a blessing it is to be able to spend each day doing the things you love.  Sometimes I feel a bit guilty when my husband has to bundle up and head for his office in 19 degree weather while I mosey down to the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee and begin my work (ha) day still in my pj's.  Don't get me wrong, there are hectic days with deadlines to meet and artist blocks to deal with but all in all, a dream come true.

When I was around 4, my father gave me a set of 12 markers and I began my artistic journey. After graduating from high school, I proceeded to college where I received a degree in Business. I thought this was the practical thing to do. However, a little voice inside kept whispering to me to pursue art. I was able to hush the little voice for many years, until it became too loud to ignore. I eventually heeded my inner voice and enrolled in art school.

Afterward, I began freelancing and raising a family. That combo worked well (a lot of late hours after the kids were in bed), and I gained much experience in working with people to meet their artistic needs My evenings and weekends were spent painting images for greeting cards to send to friends and family.  Little by little, I built up my portfolio (and nerve) and sent it off (the portfolio... I kept the nerves), into the vast unknown of art licensing.

Several  years have passed now since I first began licensing my art but I still get excited when a manufacturer selects my art to be on their products.  I truly am "having the time of my life".