Yesterday, however when we were privileged to have our grandson spend the night, I realized that the things we did together were actually my family traditions.

It was just a simple thing that I thought we would enjoy doing together; yet, after my grandson started to question me about why we did this and that, I realized it was tradition. You see, we were making Wilson Biscuits from my Dad’s recipe.

I can’t actually say that the mess we made was traditional, but then I think I was a lot older than four when I made these biscuits for the first time. At one point my grandson wanted to know why we didn’t roll out the biscuits the “proper way”. He meant we should use a rolling pin. Thinking quickly, I told him we were doing it the Wilson way and just using our hands. Hopefully he will remember a little about our traditional way of making Wilson Biscuits. By the way, he used his great great great grandmother’s biscuit cutters. The oldest  one is not shown in the photos.

On the second day of my grandson’s visit, we made Easter cupcakes. I hadn’t made these in years, but remembered doing them most Easters with my own children. I guess it was one of our traditions. My husband showed the little guy how to share the batter bowl with someone. They drew a line down the center of the bowl and each person ate on his own side. I think Sir (what my grandson calls my husband) was sad when the batter on his side was gone. It is traditional to lick the bowl at our house.

I’ll bet some of you decorate cupcakes in the same manner with green coconut grass and jelly bean Easter eggs. It’s really hard to keep from licking the spreader while you are doing the icing.

The cupcakes turned out well and tasted great. Do you think he’ll remember and ask to make them again next Easter?

Now that I’ve realized that traditions don’t have to be grandiose, I’m going to pay better attention to activities we’ve enjoyed together first as children, then parents and finally grandparents. Perhaps we have more family traditions than I realized.

Happy Easter to All!

Then we flew to Kona for the remainder of our trip. Notice who got good and wet while we were whale watching on a boat.

While I was gone, several readers emailed that they were not able to open the link for the ring tutorial in the previous entry. I didn’t realize that what shows up as I write and goes directly on the website URL is not necessarily what transfers to you all in your mailboxes. If you were not able to open the tutorial, here is another link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQ-Az7jIeFA&feature=player_embedded I hope you will try the ring. Wearing it on our trip, I received many compliments and have made several more rings for an upcoming show. I’m trying to figure out how to turn the ring design into a bracelet. Don’t hold your breath on that one!

I was anxious to view the jewelry in Hawaii, and found that the places I looked carried mainly the same style. They were small, lightweight and mostly silver. I didn’t see anything in copper. The exception was some lovely work by different artists featured at Elements, a gallery in Kapaau on Kona. I especially liked the lightweight and colorful anodized niobium earrings. Do any of you work with this metal?  The owner of this gallery was very friendly and gave me lots of information. This is unlike many of the places where I felt they gave me as little information as possible thinking I might steal some grand idea or secret.

I saw very few beaded strands in Hawaii and didn’t find any handmade chains. It made me wonder if my work was truly unique or just out of step. I’m still pondering that one.

Let’s hope I have new pieces to show you in just a few days after I catch up with things around here. For now, I’m just enjoying sleeping in my own bed as I listen to my own dogs barking. You just never know what you might miss on vacation.

Lately, I’ve seemed to be in need of some of the Division’s spontaneity. At this point in December, I’m feeling a bit spent and my productivity has waned. It’s obvious to me that creativity and productivity are inextricably linked for me. If I’m not producing, I’m not problem solving and therefore am not being creative.

Yesterday, I got a little help with this problem from a friend . . . my mother. When I arrived at the nursing home to visit her, she informed me that it was about time I got there. She had on one earring and was trying to get the other stud on. I couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been at it. We laughed when she was finally “fixed”.

Then I asked her what she wanted for Christmas. Without missing a beat she said, “my TWO FRONT TEETH” and flashed me a big toothless grin. Indeed, her two front teeth are missing and she does need a couple! Again, we laughed and laughed. I think it was her spontaneity as well as her answer that got me. We went shopping together and then grabbed some lunch, but I just kept thinking about her Christmas wish.

This little episode reminded me of last year when we asked her where she was when she and my father got married. Again, without missing a beat, she said, “Out of My MIND!” The woman, who will be 91 in January, is quite clever.

When I got home yesterday, I continued to chuckle and decided to try a bit or jewelry work. That’s when things began to flow nicely and the ideas became present again. Was it just time to design or did the laughter really help. I vote that it was the latter.

I mainly worked with cabochons yesterday, but was pleased with a couple of the new wrappings and the bezel I created.  The first stone is a boulder opal and all the rest are turquoise (yes, even the brown one). See what you think.

I’m hoping to hang on to this productive thinking and continue to get some good work completed. I’m a believer that for me, at least, laughter leads to productivity and creative thinking.

I guess that the moral of this entry is . . . find something to laugh about and if you can’t find anything, go visit my mother!

About bedtime last evening I sat peacefully in the den with my bead tray on my lap. It was full of various beads and wires as I worked on a new ring design. I always enjoy this peaceful time of the day when things are at a basic standstill here at the ranch. My spouse was putting his dog, Bruno, back into the outside pen after his evening visit. (every dog needs its special time!) I heard the pen gate open and then the yelling commenced. “Karen, I need you now. I need you Right now – hurry!” I could tell by the tone of voice that there was an emergency.

I flung the bead tray to the floor and raced, barefooted out the back door. “Get the dogs!” I didn’t even stop to ask “why”, but immediately called the dogs. Luckily, all three came racing into the house where I trapped them and then went back outside. There stood my husband beside a large rattle snake that was coiled, ready to strike and in full rattle. The noise was frightening.

I ran to the garage to get the hoe, but the light was burned out and I couldn’t see anything. I grabbed the first tool I could feel off the wall of garden weapons. When I got to my husband, he was sure the short-handled hoe I had procured was not going to work. Back I went – three times – three different tools that wouldn’t work and the entire time the rattler was making plenty of noise.

Finally, I managed to secure the long-handled hoe and give it to my husband in the dog pen. Then I got my first clear thought since flinging my beads. Chopping that big snake even the long-handled hoe was not a good idea.

I ran back inside and got the gun, praying that it was full of bullets – praying my spouse wouldn’t miss. One shot and it was over – two more shots and we were sure. Snake dead – people relieved – dogs confused.

As snakes go, this was a big rattler. We measured it at four feet in length and about three inches in diameter.

Need I tell you that we didn’t sleep much that night? I’m still “rattled” by the thought of that snake in with my dogs and know that we were all very fortunate. I didn’t know a snake would rattle for such a long time before striking, but I’m certainly glad this one did. It was definitely trying to get us to go away.

So, I definitely recommend flinging beads when needed.  Beads can be replaced, but husbands and pets cannot. Now, if I could just find my glasses that were also on that beading tray pre-fling, I’d be back in business. So, go ahead. Fling those beads and keep your eyes and ears open at Dreamcatcher Ranch.

As I started down the hill, I was accosted by the loud sound of one of the hawks that is homing here at the ranch this summer. We’re not talking about a sweet little bird chirp here. We’re talking about a loud “caw, caw, caw” in a screeching tone as the hawk circled my head. I wasn’t sure whether I should run back to the house or hide under a tree. Eventually the hawk went on and I proceeded down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill and on down the road between pastures the wind brought a cool mist from the irrigation machine that was watering the land. It had that marvelous clean smell to it and reminded me of fresh rain. It was cooling for a while, but soon thereafter, my own mist was dripping off my brow as I trudged on in the heat.

The sights and sounds of the ranch engulfed me as I continued walking, encountering little birds, startled calves and lizards swishing through the grass. Just as I was thinking how pleasant it all was, I got to the top of the hill and there stood four of the bulls. They really are beauties in this own right, but the final sound I heard on my walk was the splat, splat as the business of those guys hit the ground. What a bummer!

Long ago, Dr. Sidney Parnes, taught me that one of the best ways to get creative ideas is to engage the senses. From him, I learned to bring fragrant tea or other natural aromas into the creative thinking process. I remember a tactile experience I provided for graduate students who, with eyes tightly shut, gently held a large strawberry in the very middle of one palm while touching it with one finger of the other hand. It sounds crazy, but they did some great descriptive writing following this experience.

With this in mind, I sat at the workbench and let the results of the morning walk wash over me. I thought I might produce something organic and natural looking, but I did not! I ended up with heavy metal jewelry. The pieces below started as foldformed metal and ended with chain. Even though I tried to put pretty beads on the pieces, they just didn’t work. How could the sights and sounds of nature drive me to this?

The piece on the left is a pendant hanging from leather. It started as a rectangular piece of metal and just kept changing. I used a ceramic bead on the leather.

The earrings below were planned as leaves, but that chain just kept getting on them and I finally gave in. They have a nice little swish to them and I’m pleased that they aren’t noisy little fellows.

So here’s the question. How can a morning walk end up as heavy metal jewelry? The answer lies in the nature of creative thought which often erupts from experiences. In this case the experiences were sensory. Those sensory experiences can open the artist to possibilities that were previously blocked. The idea/art produced may have no seeming relation to the experience; yet they are connected. I think it’s important to remember that when ideas cease to flow or your muse has gone home, there are many things you can do to find your way back home. The trick is to be open when creativity knocks on your noggin. A closed mind bears no art! 

You see . . . creativity really is a funny thing!

I never thought these jokes were particularly funny, but yesterday a few of them flashed back through my mind during a ranch episode. Here’s the question: How many ranchers does it take to feed a new born calf?

We were out bottle feeding a new born calf. He was a big strong fellow, but his mother hadn’t yet come into her milk. We thawed some colostrum previously saved from a mom with a still born, put it in a calf-sized bottle and set off for the pasture. Luckily, we picked our foreman up at the barn prior to heading to the pastures. Yes, we wondered how many ranchers it would take to feed that newborn. When we started the feeding, the answer became obvious. The foreman straddled the calf to keep him in one place, no simple job since the bull weighed a good 70 + pounds. I poked the bottle in and the bull drank his fluid while the third party, my husband, carrying a big stick kept the momma cow from killing us. The latter was the most difficult. You just haven’t felt fear until you’ve heard a great big momma cow who just delivered a calf bellow at you and start in your direction with her head down. They don’t just stand in one spot to do this; they circle you creating a smaller and smaller distance from you with each round. As if this wasn’t dangerous enough, another new momma cow thought we were too close to her calf and decided to help out. Now there were two people feeding the newborn, one person keeping the cows away and two cows wanting to flatten the people. Meanwhile, the little calf was taking his sweet time downing the bottle. Once he finally finished, we all backed away, keeping a close eye on both angry mothers. Of course, the silly newborn followed me because I had been his only source of nourishment. This didn’t help his mother like me any better.

So, back to the original question; How many ranchers does it take to feed a newborn? From the reading, you would most likely answer “three”;  From my experience, I think FOUR would have been safer!

Aside from this experience, when the three of us went back to the pasture for the second feeding, the buzzards were swarming near the fence and a different cow was going crazy. That’s when we saw her just born calf on the opposite side of the fence from her. When a cow is calving, she may back up to something, thinking this will help with the delivery (if a cow really thinks). We’ve found many calves that were delivered outside the fence from their mothers. We picked up the calf and tagged his ears for identification. This, of course, caused him to holler as though we’d shot him and I thought him mom would come right through the fence. Eventually, we pushed him through to her side and all was well. She quickly herded him away from the terrible people.  We were certainly glad that we made that second trip to the pasture and saved this little heifer.

I’m hoping that no Aggie jokes are needed today and that all will be well out in the pasture. Yet, with another seven calves due at the same time, you just never know.

While at the nursing home yesterday, I asked the art teacher (working with three slightly comatose inmates) whether or not she has worked with polymer clay. The activities director overheard us and said she had been wanting to do some sculpture with a few of the residents. That’s when I told her about playing with dough . . . play dough.

I have an activity for and a recipe for making homemade play dough in one of my books, It’s in the Bag. (Pieces of Learning Press, Available at the publisher’s site) I’ve used it for years; given it away; and even selected it for use in a motivational speech at a meeting. In my workshops on the brain, we used to make the triune brain out of three different colors of play dough. As you can tell, I’ve made a good deal of the stuff.

I was so pleased when my daughter, who was probably the very first recipient of my homemade play dough made it for her son. It’s really neat when your progeny can pass it on. You can see from the expression on my grandson’s face that his mom made it a fun experience.      

Of course working with clay isn’t solely for fun. It is great for developing motor skills and will also give the child a safe experience with mixing colors. (Adults – it can also work for soothing the nerves through a sufficient amount of play dough squishing or relieving frustrations by pounding it!)

Just in case you need to do either of the above mentioned adult activities or have a young person coming for a fun day, why not give this recipe a try?

Playdough

Combine in medium-sized saucepan

1 tablespoon oil 1 cup salt 2 cups flour

2 teaspoons cream of tarter 2 cups water

Heat and stir until mixture forms a ball. Place mixture on waxed paper to cool until you can work it with your hands. Knead the dough until it is smooth and then store it in a zip-lock bag. *Food coloring may be added when kneading the dough. Paste cake decorating colors are move vivid than liquid colors. HINT: if you get the paste coloring on your hands, it can be removed with toothpaste.

*I wear plastic bags on my hands when working in the food coloring.

Upon reading the above information, I basically dismissed what I had read, in the article, since I previously learned that we don’t “grow” new cells, but rather form additional connections. Past learning caused me to question the credibility of the article. Since credibility has to do with the believability of the source, I was quite sure that now I didn’t trust Oprah.  Of course Oprah didn’t actually write the article, but isn’t she responsible for “her people”? Why would THEY print something that was incorrect? That’s when it hit me . . . maybe I was the one who was incorrect.

It didn’t require much of an online search to learn I was the problem! The past few years of research have led researchers to believe that some neurogenesis IS possible. Halleluiah. I thought that I could only branch new dendrites, but now I know that I can actually generate new brain cells in my hippocampus. Here’s the only problem. Dr. Kramer says that one must sweat at least three times a week for this to occur. He’s talking about good aerobic exercise as opposed to simply walking into the grocery store in the Texas heat.

Now, as I sit in my comfortable chair and think about regular aerobic exercise, I’m wondering if I really need those extra neurons in my hippocampus. Those I have seem to have worked pretty well; but what about the cells that are being sloughed off? Hmm . . . maybe I do need to work out . . . let’s see, treadmill? stationary bike? jogging? . . . I’m going to have to sit right here in this comfortable chair and figure that one out.

We instructed students in three basic creative thinking strategies, Synectics, Lateral Thinking, and Creative Problem Solving. Students also took electives that included inventioning, book writing, song composing and many others. The students always challenged us as only high creatives can do, but we loved it. I conducted my masters degree research with the first group of students and used a good deal of my learning there to set up my doctoral experiment. Therefore, it’s hard not to think of Creative Scholars in June each year.

While throwing out items from my files, I came across a list by the man who first dreamed of developing the Creative Scholars program, Dr. E. Paul Torrance. Although Dr. Torrance is now deceased, his words still ring true to individuals all around the world who value creative thinking.

How To Grow Up Creatively Gifted

1. Don’t be afraid to “fall in love with” something and pursue it with intensity. (You will do best what you like to do most.)
2. Know, understand, take pride in, practice, develop, use, exploit and enjoy your greatest strengths.
3. Learn to free yourself from the expectations of others and to walk away from the games they try to impose upon you.
4. Free yourself to “play your own game” in such a way as to make good use of your gifts.
5. Find a great teacher or mentor who will help you.
6. Don’t waste a lot of expensive, unproductive energy trying to be well-rounded (Don’t try to do everything; do what you can do well and what you love.)
7. Learn the skills of interdependence. (Learn to depend upon one another, giving freely of your greatest strengths and most intense loves.)

The above manifest by Dr. Torrance makes more sense to me with each passing year. He certainly made it OK to be creative.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that other side of summer camp – BUGS. If you didn’t get bitten by something or have a rash or get sunburned, it just wasn’t summer camp. There were always lots of varmints around ranging from snakes that the guys used to scare the girls, to turtles. Those varmints are much tamer in today’s jewelry studio as shown by the one I made this morning.

Ah, the good old days of summer camp. Alas, I think I’d rather stay in by the air conditioner for now. I’m not sure I could still handle the exuberance of those sixth graders.

The first occurred when I scheduled a visit in another town to a new customer. I try to “clean up” when I call on boutiques and had done so this particular morning, yet, my attire didn’t seem to fit with “the rest of the story”. Since the puppy needed his shots and the vet was in the same town as my client, my husband and I loaded into the dirty pickup to make the trip. The puppy doesn’t yet enjoy riding, so we also brought one of the older dogs to keep him company. Picture two adult people sitting in the front of the cab, one dressed up and laden with jewelry, the other in typical “been out in the pasture” clothes. Add to that two dogs in the back seat beside a large nitrogen tank (I won’t tell you what that holds.). Hear one of the dogs in the back seat howling because he doesn’t want to go with us. But let’s don’t stop there, the pickup is pulling a large cube cart because one of the lease pastures filled with hungry cows is near where we are going. By the time we get close to our destination, the transmission on the pickup has begun to slip and as I climb out at my customer’s with all my jewelry, the pickup drives on to the vet. That’s when I see that the wheel is falling off the cube cart. Thanks goodness for cell phones as a quick call to my husband helps avoid disaster as the wheel does fall off. My thought was that we looked just like “The Clampets” who came to town. Thinking a good deep breath can cure almost anything, I took one and went into the boutique trying not to appear rattled. After a pleasant time with my customer, I checked on our status to see if I needed to hitch hike back to the ranch. Eventually, our foreman arrived, loaded the ailing cart onto a trailer behind a better pickup and we were left with the still crying puppy, the big dog, the malfunctioning transmission and the required trip to the lease pasture without the needed cubes. I think I now know why Jed Clampet didn’t have a wife.

In the evenings, we reenact another TV series, The Waltons. While we don’t have a large group of children, we DO have to say goodnight to the little animals. Four dogs, goodnight Dixie, goodnight Cheyenne, goodnight Frosty, goodnight Bruno. Then to the cats . . . Well, you get the picture. I guess Bruno, who is pictured would be our version of John Boy.

I don’t recall the name of the other TV show that seemed appropriate yesterday. As I was out climbing up and down the ladder to wash the windows I couldn’t help but think about Mrs. Jefferson before she made the big time. As I finished the windows I wished that I, too, could “Move On Up” to the east side.

Who knows what TV series will show up next. In past years we’ve had all the CSI drama with necropsies of cows and determination of causative factors. Perhaps we should turn off the TV and just hope for the best.