Trudy Fey

"When did this all get to be so very, terribly serious?" asks Trudy, wielding a rusted Bottle cap flower wand.
She eyes me with concern, her mouth dancing sideways.
"You have misplaced your SILLY," she gasps, recognizing my apparent deficit.
I do not have an opportunity to respond, cognitive slowing, evidently.
I do not have a chance to get a word in.
Trudy has already waved her wand at me,
casting her best silly spell, and in response I...
I emit a bubble of a giggle.
A burp of a chuckle.
A lightness, like feathers around my heart.
"Thanks Trudy," I say with some relief, my cognition coming up to speed.
"I needed that."
Trudy is a Fey from the Land of the Baggaraggs.
She is made of coffee dyed muslin, and pink gingham. Her trims are vintage, except her wings which are cut from a child's pinafore. She has painted, cloth covered wire arms and legs.
She is 14 inches tall and has a loop for hanging.
She also sports a rusted and painted bottle cap wand. Perfect for banishing heavy thoughts and cognitive slowing. (DEPRESSION, in other words.)
Be silly!

Summer Letter

Dear Friends of the Baggaraggs.
The summer rains have come, and the cycle of thunderstorms have arrived. I'd like to say that's about it, dust my hands together in a gesture of "DONE!"
but really that would  not be true.
I am not sure how to write about what is happening here in the Land of the Baggaraggs. Maybe I will just borrow a line from one of my Favorite movies "Star Wars" and say "There is a disturbance in the Force."
I will spare you the gory details, but in truth I am worried about my family. 
 I have made mistakes in parenting, I'd like to add the caveat that most parents do, but somehow I think that makes mine look insignificant.
They are NOT.
I am reaching for greater honesty.
Reaching for the courage and strength to try to free myself of old patterns in my family of origins.
I would like to suffer less, and I would like my children to be free of any suffering I have created for them.
I am working hard to try to pave a way, an emotionally safe avenue for my children to work out past STUFF with me.
I am holding out my hand and my heart...trusting that I will have the strength to endure the pain of what needs to be said, and face my own shortcomings as a Mother.
Gulp.
So the summer thunderstorms have come,
Bringing some potentially healing thunder and emotive lightening with it.
And so on the Fourth of July,
I would like to invite you to your Own Independence day.
A day Independent of Fear.
One Independent of Old Grief, and sadness.
A Celebration of greater Honesty with your family, courage and tenacity to untie old knots,
and patience to listen to each other. Hear each other.
And greater Love.
May all beings be free from suffering.
In love, Robin
PS How is your summer going?