My Studio - Newly Of Late A-fresh

This is a post about inspiration!  Do come along with me as I live out the dreams that inspired me from right here at this Artist's Writer's Retreat in Ireland.  I wrote about it in this recent post, 

There is nowhere like the Beara Peninsula to get your creative juices flowing.  Being surrounded by artists and writers, muses and glorious Irish countryside doesn't hurt either.  So here it is, photos and all, the process and the finished product.

 Before I show you the finished studio, here is how it all started.  This was the view from my desk at Anam Cara in Ireland, where I hung my hat for the month of May.  

This was where I sat and day dreamed.  Now how about it?  Could you help but have your mind go wild with inspiration, plans and desires?  I'll answer that for you.  NO!


The room which became my studio at home came out very nice the first go round if you saw the post on the remodel.  If I wasn't so lazy had the time, I'd show you the before and after pics side by side, but alas, I've got painting and day dreaming to do and a room which inspires me now, so you'll have to go with the flow here.  I promise to make it easy.


The previous studio was organised, I could find things, It looked good, but I had no desire to be in that room.  I think I painted two paintings in the year it sat there.  I walked past the room, which is off the entry hall, and sighed every day thinking what could I do that would draw me in and give me the inspiration to get back to my painting and writing? The furniture was dark which didn't accentuate the the walnut flooring.  The built in nook was functional for storage but not inviting in any way.  There was plenty of practicality but it just didn't draw me in.  I never even went in there to blog - I just sat on the sofa and ended up with a back ache!  So each time I peeked in, I carried on past the room and got busy with my ironing board or some other such task.

Welcome to my studio remodel! Isn't she a beauty! I can say with gusto that I'm satisfied and in love with my new space.  In case you don't remember the first go-round, again, you might like to check out this post I wrote a couple of years ago, showing you what I'd accomplished with an empty room in my then newly remodeled cottage.  Welcome To The Cottage Studio , practical but dark and boring.  It was great having all my things organised again, after everything having been in storage for over a year.  My brilliant daughter Kate was more than generous with her time and helped me get over being a complete, thumb sucking, crying, basket case a wee bit overwhelmed. We'd just moved back in to the cottage after a year of chaotic remodeling and if you can, imagine the job ahead, trying to get your entire life and family settled in again.  It was daunting.   


After a long trip to Ikea where my darlin' Katie Girl held my hand while I quivered with uncertainty,  we measured and shopped and tried to figure out what shelving and desks, etc., would work to hold my many mounds of crap  important arts and crafts supplies.  I am beyond lucky to have my own room to store it in, after all, anybody  my husband could have claimed stake on it for a tool room an office.  Spoiled rotten.  I'm just spoiled rotten and I know it.  Judge if you must but you'll see how lucky I am!

Upon arrival home from Ireland, I excitedly showed my hubs my journal, doodles and all, with all the enthusiasm I always have for starting a new project.  He just rolled his bright blue eyes knowing that this would mean days if not weeks of hard work to finish what I figured we could run home and accomplish by the next day.  Yes, I am that optimistic and enthusiastic, and he is that practical and pragmatic, and he is also, always right about these things.


I like to think we balance each other beautifully :)
  
Thanks to my brilliant ideas we all lived in complete chaos and this mess for three full weeks.

My entry hall was almost impassable.  I take that back, it was impassable even for the poor dogs.

IMy desk previously, was a looming, dark, cherry stained wood with nooks, crannies and a large return desk for a computer and printer as well.  I had a full sized filing cabinet besides, which was also stained in a dark cherry.

 I had to wear a hot, suffocating mask so as not to breath in all the sanded stain and debris for the two weeks of constant sanding which I accomplished.  This photo shows a piece of the wood only half way to paintable!

I replaced the bottom part of the old desk with this table I stole from my sons room.  Sorry son, I know I know you're not supposed to steal — something in the 8th Commandment or the like, but you weren't using it anyway.  Seriously, you don't even live here any more.  This old table has seen at least seven previous coats and colors of paint and I sanded each and every red, blue, yellow and the last color used, black.  This photo shows the heavy duty primer I applied so I could get down to applying my creamy, dream color

Benjamin Moore's "Kennebunkport".  Light, calming and yes, inspired!  You could just eat it!  But don't.

I stripped the top down to the original wood which I love.  I then used a flat varnish spray and applied at least eight coats.  Now I can set my cuppa tea down without a coaster and I don't have to tell you, this table is pretty indestructible which is how I need it to be around here.  Notice my big ol pleather chair on coasters is gonzo.  I replaced it with a more feminine version of a beachy straw grass chair, in a light grey tone.  I put a soft Pottery Barn pillow my daughter left behind from her college bedroom in the seat and a layered white on white pillow to rest my weary back on.

 Ah, and here is my new cozy nook.  I still have work to do here as I just used an old twin bed we had in storage and didn't build anything in the exact size of the nook.  I hope to figure out a clever way to hang sheers, either from the ceiling or the walls.  The bed comes just barely outside of the nook so I can't do anything with a full sheer that you can close.  Just a hint of encasement which will hopefully blow in the sea breeze and add that soft, special touch.  Any ideas?  Please throw them my way!

 As you can see, I left the large mirror up because it hangs opposite the garden and brings in all the light, reflecting the view and nature beyond.  The bedding I used is Shabby Chic Lavender from Target.  I added a few soft, downy throw pillows too.  The lavender relaxes me and, and the pattern reminds me of when I was a little girl daydreaming about having a house of my own one day.  I have a lavender scented candle and a large lavender plant in the studio now too.


Things are looking pretty inspirational and cozy around here now, don't ya think?

My son the Art Major gave it the thumbs up, so I'll soldier on.  Thanks son!

This view is from the garden looking in. 

This is what I see when I'm sitting at my beautiful new desk looking out at the garden.  I can watch the birds in their bath which delights me!

That hammock out there is just itching for some soft pillows and a few fairy lights in the tree, to make it the perfect evening hangout. 

 The birds felt so comfy due to the good vibes ruminating from my studio, they built a nest in my wreath on the French doors and laid two little eggs in it.  I'll keep you posted on those.

They'll be beachy bird babies surrounded by starfish, sea shells and sea glass.  Lucky babies!

One last surprise and brilliant idea if you ask me.  I screwed in this little hook on the side of my desk so I'd have a place to hang my purse!  I spend so much time in here now, I needed a place to hang my bag for good.  Matter of fact, I'm writing this post from my newly refurbished and redecorated studio right now and boy does it feel good.  I no longer write from the couch and my back thanks me every day.  I am so excited to be back to painting that I literally get up and paint in the night from about midnight to four AM most nights.  You may remember I have a wee insomnia problem which means I only need  get about 4 - 5 hours of sleep a night, but boy does this old lady accomplish a lot!  Just because I can now do all these wonderful things in my gorgeous new space hasn't helped me with my super computer skills however.  As I write this last bit, you can see that it is underlining itself.  Whaaa?  Maybe I need to perform an exorcism now, or maybe just call it a post and push the button.  Thanks for tuning in, it was fun showing you my new digs.As I always do, here is a shared sunset for you.  It's from last night, but hey, it's a bonus because I'm actually getting this post out to you this morning!  Love you more than I love my new space.  No really, I do.  Love is what it's all about!

Blessings from a blogger who is finding this computer with a mind of its own, auto underlining thingy, annoying and ridiculous!Tia

Making Old Cottage Gates Pretty

I like my champagne over marbles.  How about you?  Just kidding.  I  just kept my marbles in this glass until I could get around to my newest project here at the cottage.  Although now that I think about it, some champagne over marbles might be a nice touch.  If not, here's a good idea for marbles anyway.

 

This is how our gate looked pre-luminescent marble phase.


















































When we remodeled our cottage we kept the fences and the old gate just as they were because we were to cheap to change them out like that old weathered feeling.

There was no getting out of having a fence because, like everyone, we have to guard our goods.  We go to great lengths to do so as you can see.  We even have to post this sign so that folks are forewarned as to what fate may befall them lest they try to enter our yard or mess with our goods!

Seriously.  Beware of the dog because she might bring her kitty and her duck toys and take up your side of the bed.  How scary is that!  Just you beware.

Anyhow, now you know how scary our back yard is and the fence was real ugly too.  So I'm going to show you just how we took our preference for champagne over ice marbles and made our old cottage gate real purty.  First you need this drill.  Or one pretty much like this one.  

For those of you who are new to power tools or just new, as in, haven't made this mistake before, take it from me and use a practice board first if you should decide you like the idea of shooting your fence full of bright, luminescent glass marbles.  Use bits to match the size of your marbles so that they have a good tight fit.  We used three different sizes.

  

 This project was so much fun that I would recommend it even if you have a brand new, pretty gate. It will only make it prettier! Each and every marble we put in, we oooohd and aaaahd over. 


But then, we are pretty easily amused.

Don't you think hubby looks like he's having a grand time?  Okay, maybe this was more fun for me but, hey!  Fun for me is a good thing, right? 

 

OOOHHHHH, AHHHHHHHH.

If you should have any loose marbles (don't even say it). Just take the tip of a nail and use it to spread a tiny bit of E-6000 transparent glue in the hole before you add your marbles.  Most of them will stay tight without it but you can slam that darn gate as much or as hard as you want and those suckers won't fall out if you use this industrial glue.  I never leave home without it.  And I'm not just saying that.

How awesome is the finished product?  I think my old cottage gate is so glorious I just might do the entire fence!

 Send me a photo if you redo your gate.  I'd love to see it.  And now, because you've been so patient and attended to my entire DIY post - I think we should watch the sunset and have some champagne over marbles.  So here's to you and my newly refurbished gate.  Slainte!  Cheers to you.

I

This was our sunset at Cottage By The Sea today.  Our days and nights have been pretty cloudy lately but the clouds give off their own kind of beauty.  Old cottage gates, glorious cloud inspired sunsets over the Pacific.  We live in a beautiful world, don't we?  I'm going to sip my champagne over marbles now.  Wish you were here.  G'night.


Blessings,


Tia

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

My children have flown 

the nest to find their

way in the world.

I have flown the nest

to find my way in the world without them.

I hardly know where to start.  I was away to Ireland for a retreat last month and have not written a post on this blog for even longer.  I've missed all of you so much, and especially reading your blogs.  My Google Reader and my entire Google including email and my Blog, were tragically kidnapped during my recent travels and I've just gotten them back.  I promise that this week, I'm going to tear up the airwaves, cable, gateways and streams of data, reading and re-connecting with all of you.  Meanwhile, I want to share some of the Shenanigans I've been up to so you'll know I'm not just making excuses!


Most of you know that if there's one place in all the world besides home my heart belongs, it's Ireland.  It is the home of my ancestors. I've travelled there, far and wide and it is there that I have made some of my best memories.  A few years ago when I was in Cork at a party where everyone took turns singing old Irish ballads of history and love, filled with forlorn memories and longing, someone in a drunken stupor yelled out, "Give us a song yank!)"   I looked around sheepishly, pointed shyly to myself as if to confirm it was me, and commenced to sing, Kiss Me Through The Phone by Solja Boi.  Is that wrong?


Several years ago my hubby and I renewed our wedding vows there at a little monastery down by the sea.  I go there whenever I'm able. Whenever I do I leave a big piece of my heart.  So of course sometimes, I have to go back just to pick it up!  Recently, when I desperately needed a break from a long bout of physical and emotional trauma drama, my husband said, "Get up the yard! (Get lost!") my hubby was all for it, and made it possible for me to fly off all by myself to Ireland. I picked up my heart right where I left it last time I was there, and I indeed think I came home with it just a little bigger!


This blog is my happy place and I don't write about the dark side here so I won't start now.  Suffice to say, I have had an interesting, almost fictional-like life.  It has been exceptional, vastly uncommon on many levels, bloody but good and I've been tremendously blessed.  As do many people who live lives that may be a bit on the extraordinary side, I have stories and memories to fill missives 10x over. I've incurred many sacred wounds along the way and the story of one of them resides in the midst of  a very interesting book I'm writing.  Its part self help and part memoir, but full of hope! You'll be able to read all the gritty stuff there, if you're so inclined when I finish it.  Meanwhile, unless I revamp this blog, you're stuck with the sunny, positive side only.  I gather that's why you're here anyway, so I aim to please!  Regardless, back to my most recent shenanigans.  I desperately needed a break, or a break down and I chose the former.  

Sometimes God calms the storm...

Sometimes He lets the storm rage

And calms His child.

Flying over Scotland from the window of my Virgin Atlantic Flight.  (It looks a wee bit cold out there, I said, to myself.)


The first leg of my flight was on Virgin Atlantic which I highly recommend.  They treat you like a child who needs a good nap.  We were given a goody bag with darling red socks, a teeny tiny tooth brush and tooth paste, a soothing eye mask, and of course a pen.  We had a nice dinner and then they came around with warm chocolate pudding and tea or coffee just before bedtime.  Lights out except for those who left theirs on to read, and on the back of each seat was a wonderful screen which showed all the latest chick flicks, had a GPS map of where we were flying, or one could watch the latest reruns of sitcoms. We were gently woken in the morning with a smile, a cuppa and a hearty breakfast.


The hairy part was landing at Heathrow in London and getting to the gate of my Air Lingus flight into Cork, Ireland.  Apparently the English were still ticked at the Irish when they decided where to put the gate.  It couldn't be further away from the British side.  I took a train, then a bus, then walked/ran as fast as I could. I saw a sign at one point that said, you only have half a mile to go.  You'd think I would have been relieved, right?  The good part is I made it!  And for a woman traveling alone, who barely leaves home unless she can walk there, getting from good ole San Diego, USA to Cork, Ireland was a coo.  After a two hour drive from San Diego, CA to Los Angeles where I caught my flight, all the waits in between, the flights, and then a bus which took three and a half hours from the city of Cork out to the wilds of the Beara Peninsula, I was traveling for almost twenty-four hours.  I never slept the whole time and that's not bragging, it's whining.

You know your in Ireland when...You see a kid Irish dancing that looks like a ringer for your grandson; and then all your troubles begin to fall away.

This is what my Google looked like when I arrived in Ireland.  There I was in the computer age, no cell phone, no watch, (because I usually use my cell phone for the time), and my Google was now in the hands of the Irish whom seemed to have it out for me where my blog, my Reader and English was concerned.  I must admit, the Irish ads were lovely and I now know where to go for Irish dance lessons or where to get a good Irish plumber!

ANAM CARA.  After all my travels, this was my final destination.  Every hassle, every moment of being alone, confounded, confused and petrified that I was carrying luggage that said in 8" letters OVERWEIGHT, was more than worth the journey at the end of the road.  ANAM CARA.  I would invite you to read all about it more formally right here on their website, Anam Cara Retreat.  Anam Cara means Soul Friend and it is an Artist's, Writer's Retreat in The Beara Peninsula, West Cork, Ireland.  

Meet Sue Booth-Forbes.  She is the founder, and the heart and soul of Anam Cara.  Anam Cara is not just a retreat, it is Sue.  They both will become one with your heart if you should ever be lucky enough to retreat there.  Through the wisdom of her own battles in life, her experience as an entrepreneur, a writer and editor and extraordinary human being  Sue created a retreat and a place for Artist's and Writer's to begin, restart, reshape and sometimes finish up their art and writing projects.  She is an American who has lived in Ireland for fourteen years now and she just obtained her Irish Citizenship.  I'm  sorry that I won't be there for the Ceili, (Irish festive celebration with music and dancing) which everyone from all around the Beara will come to celebrate with her on her special day. I've a feeling it will be a serious hooley and I hate to be missing all the craic! 


There is so much to tell you about Sue.  She is the bravest most amazing woman of strength and character I have ever met.  She is a fantastic listener, an amazing story teller, a mentor, a trail blazer, an accomplished writer and editor, and I aspire to one day make her as proud of me as she made me feel worthy of. She taught me to be able to recognise the choices that diminish my dignity and to count myself a success whenever I make choices that nourish my soul. This woman consoled me when I cried, she constantly made me laugh, she gave me the ability to see things more clearly, throw away guilt and my iron, and learn some new phrases which I can't get out of my head, such as, "allriiighty then!"  If I could give you all one gift, it would be for you to be able to go to Anam Cara and spend time with Sue.  It will change your life.  Seriously. We all need an angel in our life.

What I did friends, was this.  I made a month long retreat, tacking a little over a week onto each side of a space of time where an artist was in residence teaching plein air watercolor classes.  The Artist, Evenlyn Dunphy, was phenomenal. Please see for yourselves her gorgeous website and paintings here at this link: it will be a treat! For any of you out there who have an interest in painting and want a teacher who is accomplished, patient, and has the energy of ten people, Evelyn should be your first choice.  She travels the world working with artists in watercolors and pastels.  Painting with her is only the first of the privileges you will be afforded.  She is also one of the sweetest and most dear women you will ever meet. My medium is usually acrylics or oils on canvas so I was a newby and she not only encouraged me daily, she never yelled at me once! 

Besides reading, writing, painting, eating, and napping, and because I missed my own pups so much, I became the official dog walker for Sue's Jack Russell, aptly named, what else?  Jack.  We developed a beautiful friendship on our journeys over Irelands high roads and I learned much from him.  Such as, unless someone gives you a reason not to, you can trust him.  Also he taught me the amusing and effective pee pee dance.  I'd show you a photo but I don't want to embarrass him.  Lets suffice it to say I had to re-name him, Jack Russell Spunky Sparky Sassy Booth-Forbes and we'll leave it at that.

These cascades are on Sue's property, easily assessable and a work of art themselves.  Here where the falls rage and the sweet, fresh water pools, one can paint, contemplate, stare the indignity's of life right in the face if necessary and mostly, gently give thanks for blessings given.

A retreat is not your typical trip to visit a foreign country.  There is very little sightseeing, traveling, touristy shopping or the like.  When I got home everyone wanted to see all the art I produced.  Although I did produce some, I left some there and brought some promising studies home.  However, I was there to paint and retreat, not just produce.  I'm 57 years old and have been basically a grown up since I was 11 years old, so I was taking my first real break and retreating in the land I love. Without guilt, which of course I would have had before I learned (better late than never) how important it is to take care of my own needs. I mostly wrote, contemplated my life, ate ravenously, napped, hiked the hillsides with Jack and did farm chores.  Oh, and I may have mentioned an awesome woman named Sue mentored me regarding my future in writing, art and just being. Anyway, I wish that everyone could experience what I did in the Beara. I lived my life there, one day at a time, one moment at a time. 

Have you heard the saying that it only gets worse with time?  I had, which confused me.   Thanks to these men and women I've just spent the past month with, I have hope that the best is yet to come!  Creating art and getting serious about my writing and painting, long walks, napping, indulging in my friendships, traveling, and taking more time to enjoy every second of every opportunity in every day is what I've been up to and plan to do more of.  More being and less doing! I'm beginning to think that life really only just begins after 50!

From our own perspectives and perches in front of cottages on the windy roads of Eyeries, we all painted our own versions of the colorful, whimsical town which boasts the title, Tidiest town in Ireland.  I'd like to add friendliest too!  At the end of our week with the artist Evelyn Dunphy in residence, we through an art exhibition and invited all our new friends.  It was a great success and my first exhibition!

Have I mentioned how much I love radiators?  The fact that they keep a half frozen all the time, person such as I, warm and comfy is only half the love affair.  When you wash your clothes in the shower (thanks for the tip Bob and Suzanne) you can dry your cacks on the radiator (in the privacy of your own room). And now because I apparently have no shame, in the public arena of the internet.  Fabulous!

A feast for the eyes as well as the pallet. Every meal was a decadent repast of comfort food.
I ate things I haven't eaten in years and I ate them like I would never eat again!  My tummy is still full.

When you sign up for a retreat at Anam Cara you may sign up for one of the chores that need doing if you so choose.  You say you have ducks and chickens that need to be fed and let in and out each day? Well, farm chores are a specialty of mine.  Added to my resume now, chicken feeder, egg gatherer and duck-herder.  Allriiiighty then!


My home has been filled on and off with kids for the past 36 years.  My five kids, all my  foster kids, all their friends and cousins and neighbors!  My last two, the ones we all still refer to, much to their disgust dismay, as "the babies" have just graduated high school. They are barely a year apart in age thus referred to as, Irish twins, they have been the last two to keep me hopping!  It's been a grand run, but now my nest is lonely empty.  I went to Ireland to do a little redefining of my life.  I think I'm off to a grand new beginning, don't you?


Le gra go deo to all the good people who have blessed me with hope and inspiration.
Sue Booth-Forbes my mentor and my friend at Anam Cara; Suzanne and her husband Bob, my So. Cal partners in crime; Ginny and her side kick Gayl who made me laugh 24 hours a day for a week; Solvegia with whom I got to celebrate a birthday in Ireland;  Mary who through her devotion to her late husband produces some of the most amazing paintings of ferns I have ever had the pleasure of gazing upon; Artist extraordinare, Evelyn Dunphy and all my new friends such as, John Eagle  Maureen, Joan, Cormac, Kieran, Maureen O'Driscoll who became my most serendipitous friend and whom I will include in another blog post soon; John and Therese (who makes the best rashers around and allowed me to eat cocoa crispies on a regular basis); and Mrs. O'Geraghty whose students make the best music in all of Ireland.  If I've forgotten anybody it's only for this moment.  Mo chro, my cairde ndeor (forever).  


And to you all my blog friends, it's grand to be home and writing for you again.  I'll be in touch all this week so keep the blog door open:)

From my cozy retreat room at Anam Cara, overlooking fields of patchwork and The Coulagh Bay...

Back to the glorious sunsets at my Cottage By The Sea...


Blessings,


Tia


From 23 May 2010
A Farewell Poem


Sacred wounds healing
the beginning in sight
back to the rugged Beara
of my soul and the land
Ireland forever
truly my heart
friends I will miss there
nare really we do part
lessons about tolerance
faith and deep pain
from others I've learned
life is truly a game
important to linger
and drink up the good
but always remember
the wounds of the soul,
In order to heal them
you own them through pain
you've nothing to lose
yet everything to gain.
Fingers of islands
reaching out through the bog
the rain drops of Heaven
bursting through the sun
rainbows appear after the light
the stars in the Heavens whisper
angels in sight
blessed country of my heart
sleep sweetly tonight


LJM (tia)

What's In A (Random) Name? With Apologies to William Shakespeare

It's a random day here at my cottage by the sea.  The weather is a bit gloomy, rain on and off but, my garden is loving it and it's a perfect day for blogging.  I usually give you a photo of the sunset  at the end of my posts but, because today I'm concentrating on random, here it is at the beginning.


The end.

God's artwork never ceases to amaze me.

I was inspired to write today, by a prompt posed over at Mama Kat's Pretty Much Famous Writers Workshop.  She posed the question, "What did you want your name to be?"  Funny you should ask I pondered, because although my husband loves my name, and I think it looks good on others,  I have never been satisfied with it for myself.  When I was a little girl I was constantly changing it up.  While it's a tad embarrassing, we're all friends here, so I feel free to let ya in on a little bit of my crazy!  Besides, there is a moral to this story.

First off, my given name isn't actually Tia. When you reply to my email it may be a bit confusing because you can then see both of my names, and you may think, what's up with that?  So for all the two of you who want to know; here's what's up with that! 

My youngest grandchild is named Abigail Rose.  I love her name.  Abigail comes from the Hebrew and means, "The Father's Joy".  It doesn't get much better than that, and she's definitely her daddy's girl, so it sure does fit. Now you may be thinking, well that's certainly random.  But really, it's not.  I just wanted to show off a picture of my cute little granddaughter and it seemed the perfect way to squeeze it in.

Just two years before Abigail was born, and after having four rambunctious little boys, my daughter and son-in-law yearned to adopt a little girl. Pink started to dominate over at their house of blue.  It looked like someone shook up a bottle of Pepto Bismol and let-r-loose all over their house, car, and backyard.  A princess was born, and began her reign at their household.  There Are Those Who Think Families Happen By Chance, is a post I wrote about my daughter's heart for adoption and the gift we got when this little one was born.  They named her Emma, from the Hebrew meaning, "God is with us".  Emma and Abigail, beautiful sisters with beautiful names. And what do ya know?  I snuck in another picture of my darling granddaughters.


Now randomly,  back to my original story, and the name given to me at my birth.  Lori, which I believe originates from the English and means... "Truck".  Yeah, so here's how that happened.


When I was about eleven my mom sprung it on me, that she had never really liked my given Christian name.  She told me that she didn't even choose it for heavens sake!  Her first choice had been Mary, but I had a cousin born just before me and they called her Mary so... My mom told me that in the hospital after my birth, when she was using the rest room, the nurse came in to find out and record my name for the birth certificate.  My Grandma was there and she told the nurse, since my mom was indisposed at the time, that my name would be Lori.  She just happened to like the name Lori and she said it was a derivative of Mary, which may or may not be true but, there you have it.  The women in my family are doers.  The baby needed naming and she needed naming right now!  So my grandma took care of it, bam!  You're welcome.


In other words, Mary became Lori in the time it takes to turn off the bathroom light.  From the original Hebrew, Mary means, "Gods Gift," "Wished For Child," "Sea of Bitterness" - What? Screeeeech!
"Sea of Bitterness"? I believe that last definition was from the Greeks.  The name my grandmother gave me, was the name that everybody called me for the first 20 or so years of my life but, it wasn't Mary, and it wasn't Tia which, is what I'm called today.


It wasn't Mitzi either, which is a name I randomly chose for myself once, back in Junior High School.  I had recently graduated grammar school and being that I was starting anew, I  decided I might as well use the opportunity to forge a new identity with a fresh, new, name.  Henceforth I was to be called, Mitzi.  I forged signed  all my own paperwork at school anyway, being an extremely independent child, an understatement for those of you who know me.  I also had a very Irish surname so, Mitzi for a first name was an unusual choice, to say the least.  Imagine if you will, something like, Mitzi O'Shenanigan.  (Obviously not my real name) but, you get the picture.  I don't even remember how I pulled that name out of the hat at the time, but in the Hebrew Mitzi means, "Small and Bitter". Just like Mary which supposedly has the distinction of having Lori as a derivative.  Seriously, I don't make this stuff up.  You can Google it.  Ironic or random? You decide.   


I'd just transferred from a small, religious school which had about ten kids to a class, all of whom had become best friends, to a huge, over-crowded public school where I was completely lost in the crowd.  Bitter?  Much you think?  I guess not so random after all.  The name Mitzi lasted for the entire semester of 7th grade until, when I came back to school after a break someone called out, "Mitziiiiii", and I didn't even look back.  I can be like that; don't judge.  Every girl reserves the right to change her mind now and then.  So, then I went back to my original given name, "Lori".  "Truck?" 

When my eldest sister started having babies, (my 8 beautiful, awesome nieces and nephews) they all started calling me Tia, which is, the Spanish word for Auntie.  The fact that we aren't Mexican, or even hail from any Spanish speaking country has nothing to do with it.  She and the kids called me Tia out of love.  They nicknamed me the name that they, and all their friends and family would call me to this day.  It makes me feel warm and happy and loved and special, and that's what your name should do, right? I have since Googled the name Tia and found to my delight that it is also of the Celtic origin meaning, "Princess".  It can also be traced back to the Greek, in ancient times, and was an abbreviation for names like Dorothea and Althea.  The Mythological Thea was the Greek Goddess of Light, Mother of the Sun, Moon and Dawn.  And in Japanese, it means "Angel".  

So the moral of this story is, (remember, I told you there would be a moral to this story). Do NOT go to the bathroom after you have a baby if your mother is there, or she might randomly name your baby something you hate!


Hello, you can just call me Tia because, after all, what's in a name?

When I was little all I ever wanted to do was grow up and raise babies, which I've been doing (in my humble opinion) successfully, since 1976.  I always knew I wanted to be a mom and grow a big family full of kids and pets.  I started off with pets and used up a few of my favorite names on them.  Then I had my first daughter and I called her Tara. The name Tara originates from the Gaelic and one of the meanings is "God Fearing And Pious".  Another is, "Smiling".  As you may be starting to get the gist of, names can have many different meanings and if you Google hard enough you can find just the one you like!  Tara is the mother of those sweet baby girls you met earlier in my post and her sweet hubby Jason stands right beside her here.  His name means, "Healer," and kudos to his mom because that's a great name.  I unfortunately can't take any credit for that one.  Tara however, was my idea, and another meaning for her name is,"Star on a Hill". Which it turns out is ironic because, when I decided years later to be a foster mom, my first foster baby was named Michael and, he had a biological sister named "Star Hill".  Wow!  My life is not only random, it may be ironic, and I think I just might be psychic.  All right, I concur, perhaps just a wee bit psychotic.  Whatever, it's all random.  


I went on to birth, foster and adopt, a whole pack-a-kids over the years.  Ten of them to be exact. I also had many dogs and cats and various other creatures great and small. You might be starting to see a trend towards my love of names and naming; I know I am.  Let's just say that it's a good thing my family stopped growing  when it did because, after naming my last dog Maggie, I thought I'd used up all the best names I could think of.  So when my last kid came along, I named her Maggie as well.  Yep, I really did.  It was the name I had chosen for my beloved Irish Wolfhound, so I didn't want it to be lost.  I wanted that name to live on, therefore my youngest daughter, was named for my favorite dog.  It's true and I'm darn proud of it and so is she!  She's just glad that I didn't name her after any of my childhood dogs, because then her name might be Flash or Putzie.


The origin of the name Maggie is Ireland, and there is also a saint by that name.  It means "Pearl" which all the books say is similar to the name Elizabeth which was my grandmother's name.  I gave one of my other daughter's the middle name Elizabeth too, only I spelled it Elisabeth with an s, because that is how her great grandmother spelled it.  Just to solidify all of this for you, during my extensive research whilst Googling the name Mitzi and its meaning, I found that it meant small or bitter and in so doing I looked up the name Mary which is what my mother originally wanted to call me.  Holy shmokes, it also meant bitter!  Then again, it was also the name of the mother of Jesus.  So I guess it all worked out in the end. Random?  I think not.

By the way, I didn't do all this naming on my own.  Oh, no siree.  That guy to your left there. He helped!  Yeah, go ahead buddy have a drink, you deserve it, and after this post I think anybody would agree.  

I hope you have been amused and, at the very least will forgive me now. Just keep in mind that I write this blog because I don't golf. 


So in answer to the question from Mama Kat's workshop: What did you want your name to be?


Grace.  I wanted my name to be, Grace.

God loves you and I do too!

Blessings,

Tia  :)


Oh, and by the way, for all you Lori's out there - Here's the real low down.


Lori


Latin: honor, fame, spirit
French: crowned with laurel
Hebrew: lovely and beautiful,
             wise person, smart one.  Oh, snap!