*DIGNITY?* I laugh in the face of *dignity!*

'Which on of these things doesn't belong here, which one of these things just isn't the same...?'

{whoa, i (sort of) quoted lion king and then sesame street...}

Correct answer: the crazy kid in a tutu!

Yup, that is me, and if you are wonderin' why I am wearing such a thing, let me just tell you!

My youth group, Merge Ahead, is pretty big. Something like 150 kids. So we break everyone up into small groups, called CREWS (gender/age specific), that meet on other nights of the week, so everyone is part of something smaller than the Sunday night whole.

That is my CREW. We meet on Thursdays and normally do Bible/book studies, eat food and pray but..sometimes we branch out. Last week when we learned one of the girls (Lindsay. Far left.) was having a 22nd bday, we decided to celebrate last night. Obviously having cake and the usual. Then the leader, (Jeri, far right) said something along the lines of "Haha, you're going to be turning Two Two! That is fun to say..." and I blurt out "GUYS! WE SHOULD ALL WEAR TUTUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (first thing that came to my mind. I will take any chance to wear any kind of costume. But it took them just a minute to make the mental connection.)

Longer story short, I am the only one with access to tutus. My dear friend Emily is a beast of a point ballerina; she has a closet stuffed with past costumes. That tutu is hers (and though I am a very unlikely candidate for wearing something as girly as a tutu, I adore that one because it is red and black and awesome. Not the first time I've borrowed it...).
Basically they concluded *I* would show up in a tutu for Lindsays 2_2 party.

And oh yes, I did!

First, we made a list of 22 places to venture in a tutu...a park, a baseball game, New York city, old folks home, insane asylum with Ace Ventura, mosh pit, etc...

Original plan was to hang out at Jeri's apartment but when "a park" appeared first on our list, it was all too convenient that Jeri lives next to one. So off we went!

One of my life motto's: "Dignity? I don't believe in dignity..." so yes, I went to a park in a tutu. (Where there was a little league baseball game going on...meaning PEOPLE were there...)

We played on the "sway fun" (this giant, rocking benchy thing) which we, because we are so punny, decided was just "tutu much fun for us."

Tutu on a corkscrew thingy...

I am the scariest "ballerina"...ever...and I can play on playgrounds a lot better than I can dance ballet. (Emily talked me into a couple years of that...it was interesting...)

I can even side saddle green rhino's in a tutu, my skills are so ...unique.

Me, Jeri, Katie W, Katie S and the birthday girl Lindsay.

It was a once in a life time experience. Never before has anyone gifted a 22 year old the gift of dressing in a tutu. Never again, either (although my the 19 year old Katie W might request that gift when her 22nd comes around.)

I'm not gunna lie, I was having a blast. Not everyone can rock a tutu, especially outside of a dance recital, but I sure as anything can. So I do, as often as possible.

Anyone having any parties the want me at!?

'Chicken Little' Goes Literary.

I while ago I had posted a first draft of a short story I had written. After posting, that story just hung out in my documents file, just waiting for a reawakening.

It got one.

I wasn't all that pleased with the first draft (Typical. No one likes poor, little first drafts...or seconds, or thirds...and I usually don't like fourths either.), so I just left it chillin' in the memory space of my computer until I felt inspired enough to take it on again.

 Last week draft five was born. The word count leapt up by almost 400 more words, the metaphors/symbolism became much more defined, and the overall piece became more polished. I like it a lot better now, so I will let you take a look at it again.

 THE DAY THE SKY FELL DOWN

You know the story, the one about the chicken who thinks that the sky fell on his head? I’ve heard that story; it’s nothing like the real thing. I was there the day that the sky fell down and I’m telling you, it’s nothing like that story.



The day before was a typical day in the summer of 19--. A light breeze blew and the sun tickled your cheeks. It was one of those days that called you out of doors and held you there for hours in the magnificent seasonal sunlight. A perfect day for a boy of my size to start making his fortune, so I, along with my neighbor Frankie, started up a  lemonade stand. By noon we had made one dollar off of our product- which sold at twenty cents a cup. By supper time we had a whole dollar and twenty cents. The two of us went home that night, Frankie with 40 cents in his pocket and the rest jingling in mine, being as they were my lemons that we squeezed the juice out of. The next day we were going to do it again; we figured if we kept it up, by the end of the summer we have enough money to buy a boat for sailing out on the lake. We had it all planned out; our futures were upon us and we were ready.


But I didn’t account for what would happen next. There was no way I could have. Stuff just isn’t supposed to happen like it did then.


The day after, I walked out onto my front lawn to set up our stand once more, but the lawn wasn’t there. Well… I suppose it was, only it was covered in this flakey, blue mess that looked like someone has thrown sheets paper all over the ground. The road looked the same. I looked up at the clouds to check and see what the weather was looking like…only there were no clouds. There was no weather. There was nothing.


The sky was...gone.


Now, it’s hard to explain what nothing looks like, but I tell you for sure, I saw what wasn’t there. The blue expanse that was dotted with clouds and warm rays of light the day before was now emptiness. Above my head was an eerie vacancy that shouldn’t have been. Instead of sky there was…well, it is hard to say what it was. Sort of a hum, more sound than a sight, something you felt but couldn’t touch. It was like there was a wild wind, but with no movement. It was like the sun’s glow on a blistering day, only without the light and warmth coming down to touch you. I looked up again. Horror began to set in.


The sky was scattered on my front lawn.


I leapt backwards onto the safety of my doorstep when I realized the truth of the situation. The sky was on my front lawn and in its place was nothing.


I screamed for my mother like I usually did when I was having a nightmare, so she would come and tell me everything was alright. But the sound hissed out of my mouth, fell off my lips, and filled the bareness around me, my voice blending with the hum. Nightmares are always worse when you have to face them alone.


I looked for my neighbors. The houses were all there. The trees, the cars, the whole deal, just like it should have been! Only, everyone had pieces of the heavens strewn across their grass.


No one saw me, no one heard me, and probably no one cared. I was alone and desperate, so I did what any boy of my size would have thought to do if given a situation such as mine. Carefully, I snapped a branch off of the little piney shrub next to our doorstep. I poked the ground, or the sky rather, with the branch. Nothing happened. No sound. No feeling. No sudden explosions. I edged one toe off the step and gingerly stood on what was once the sky. Again, nothing. Emboldened, I bent and picked up a piece of it; it was flimsy like a sheet of the Sunday newspaper, but soft like the flannel pajamas with big, red, clown-like buttons that my grandma had given me on Christmas one year. Though thin like paper, when I shook it, it didn’t crinkle, it didn’t rip. So I threw it- HIGH. It didn’t suspend itself back where it belonged, instead it floated noiselessly back onto the lawn, covering up the patch of green that I had exposed.


I ran inside, slammed the door, and leaned my back against it. After counting to ten with my eyes squeezed tight, I opened it back up again, popped my head out, and sure as anything the sky was still there, right where it didn’t belong, scattered on the ground like confetti left over from a surprise party we hadn’t had.


I bounded up the stairs screaming my dad’s name. He was a smart guy, maybe he could fix it. Dads generally know a lot about problems and sometime they even know enough to be able to fix them.


“DAD! The sky! It fell. The sky is on the front lawn, Dad. I tried to put it back but….”


“What?” my father asked, as he rolled over to face me. The space next to him on the bed was empty; the sheets were neat and tucked in. Mom was sleeping on the couch again.


“The sky. It’s on the lawn. It’s all blue and everywhere and it feels like my P.J.’s from grandma and it won’t go back up where it needs to!”


He rolled the other way to look out the window, but the faded, floral curtains were drawn shut. “Prob’ly just fog, son. It’ll pass. Go on downstairs and turn on the coffee pot. I’ll be down in a bit.”


I kicked the side of his bed with my slippered foot. “THE SKY FELL DOWN, DAD AND COFFEE ISN’T GUNNA FIX IT!”


“Yes, yes, I understand.” said my father as he tied his robe on and then rubbed his temples with heel’s of his hands.


I stomped down the stairs, scared and infuriated, and peeked out the window. Sure enough, just as I had said, there was no sky in the sky. I opened up the front door and jumped on the mess that had found its way onto my lawn. I jumped and stomped around in a fit. I jumped on what was supposed to be the sky.


I heard my dad’s footsteps on the stairs; I flung open the door and cried, “LOOK!”


He did. He blinked a couple times and ran his left hand through his hair, like he did after having a fight with my mother. Then he chewed on his lip a bit and said nothing.


“That’s the sky, Dad! All over our grass, just like I told you. That’s a whole bunch of sky!” My voice sounded hollowed, like I was in a cave, only with no echo.


My dad said nothing. He just stood there blinking his eyes, chewing his lip, and rubbing his gray-streaked hair.


A couple minutes later my mother, in an adjacent room, lifted herself off the couch and shuffled in, robe on, hair in a disheveled braid, looking down at her slippers.


“Boys, would you shut that door! The …” She stopped short and made a little sucking noise as she drew air quickly into her lungs. Her mouth quivering, she walked out onto the step and stood next to my father. Her eyes just kept getting wider or maybe her face was just getting smaller.


“It’s…the sky…” I tried to explain, hoping they would somehow, in their parental understanding, be able to make it right again.


But neither said anything.


“WHY IS IT ON THE GRASS? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?” I yelled at my mute parents, aggravated that I was the only one feeling the need to take some sort of action on this problem. I was the kid! How was I supposed to fix it? Stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen. The sky is supposed to always be the sky, but that day, on the front lawn of our home, it wasn’t! Someone had to fix it, but my parents just stood gaping, waiting for it to right itself.


My dad just shook his head and stared at the lawn, as my mother stood beside him and pulled her robe tighter. “Sometimes things are just out of our control, son…”

#######################################

Writing this was a bit out of my comfort zone. Not only was it a SHORT story (see orginal story post), but it was a literary piece, aimed at adult readers, with unresolved conflict and an almost depressing ending. Not really my cup of tea. I generally like young adult/youth fiction, and most specifically the fantasy genre. I like imagination and whimsy mixed with the clash of swords. Well defined, good verses evil and the evil always loses type plots.  I also like sharp wit and unusual humor, and would love to someday write a really goofy, bizarre children's book. My comfort zone is basically anything BUT adult...they just aren't very fun.  So this story was a stretch. While it was written from a child's point of view, and seems to contain elements of the fantastical, it is very much so geared toward adult readers, in that it is REAL LIFE in meaning.


This story is now waiting grading from my online school. Then the plan is to actually freelance it out into the big, wide world. I have a couple ideas as far as short story publishing consumer magazines, so I will whip up a query for this little baby and send her out. And then wait. Then I either get denied or I become famous...oh the glories of being an author!

Confessions, Creativity and Calling all Customs!

I, Isabella Kiss, creative beast, have something to confess. I had not created anything in at least 2 months up until 2 weeks ago. I had gotten so busy I hadn't made ANYTHING. Nada. No notebooks, no amigurumi, not even a pair of earrings! And that for me is huge, because one of my passions is creating...stuff. I was made by a creative God, I am his daughter, and one of His traits that He passed onto me was his love of CREATING. I have tried (and will continue to try) just about any artist medium. I love it. I thrive on it. But I had been slacking...

But in the last 2 weeks, I made not one, but two new purses.

I also have to confess, I don't actually *LIKE* sewing. I really like the concept of taking some flat, square fabric and other materials to make something. And I really, really like the end result of having something that is one- of -a- kind, made by me. But the middle process (cutting, ironing, sitting at a machine) isn't my favorite. At all. But I am always so happy at the end, that I go and put myself through that process again and again. I have made (am making, will make...) some pretty sweet stuff, guys.

The latest and greatest in the line of Bella Bags.

The blue-ish one was for my mom for Mother's Day. She had requested another bag, because the first one I made her was stolen when some mugs smashed in our car window on last year's Pennsylvania vacation.

Shot up close. Machine appliqued flower. 

Most the stuff I do involves applique and buttons. Tedious details, but I so love the end product that I work through the extra amount of time it takes to make them look that great! The bags would be pretty boring otherwise. And I am 100% against BORING.

The other bag is mine.

It was due time I made another one for myself. I was actually carrying around a bag I had purchased. Whole. Not made by me. From a store! And I found that rather mortifying. When I found an obnoxious orange/blue shower curtain for $3.99 I looked deeper, saw its inner potential (okay...lies... I just liked the orange and bold stripes) and brought it home to be turned into a bag. Why I am wearing it like a cloak is another story entirely... I think I was trying to show you how much fabric there is in a shower curtain. I have a bunch left.

Instead of applique (it would have been reallyyyyy not boring if I added to the crazy print. People's eyes would have bleed from too much awesomeness.) I did a hand-stitched swirly. (The white stuff is the chalk I used to draw it on, not part of the bag) Lime green, to match the lining (made of a curtain. Yeah for up-cycling!)

For some weird reason I enjoy hand-sewing a lot more than sewing on a machine (Sometimes I am really old-fashioned with stuff like that. I try and avoid machines and "the easy way" as much as is modernly possible). I actually hadn't sewn in so long that I rubbed like 4 layers of skin off my right thumb, while holding the needle. It was all red when I was done and didn't feel so great when I went to play keyboard the next morning. That is just sad...proof I need to make more stuff, more often.

I feel much better now having released some creative juices. And hey, I'm looking to release more! I've offered custom Amigurumi's before to raise money for the upcoming (July 9-17!) mission trip to Costa Rica. But I do custom bags too! Last year I made a bunch of money off of custom orders, and I am now throwing that offer out there again! The bags are all one of a kind! And I love doing customs because then I get to make the bag to fit you and your unique tastes!

 If anyone wants their very own, custom BELLA BAG, comment/etsy convo me!

Depending on what size, and amount of details (like applique), you want for the bags, they run from somewhere around $30-$45 dollars. The are generally between 12 and 18 inches tall, and are a similar number in width. The bags are very sacky, with big handles. Inside pockets optional. All of them are lined, and also interfaced for lasting durability.

Past work, just to give you a visual idea of the awesomeness I am capable of...

                                             

As you can see, a lot of the stuff I have previously done involves flowers, but I've also done musical notes, (simple) Celtic knots, butterflies, letters, skull and cross-bones and...stuff.

If it can be cut out of fabric and stitched down, I can pretty much do it.

Anyone interested!? Let me know!

Quote-ables.

Today's quote-able. A Bible Verse. A song. Some rantings which will no doubt bring forth some opinionated comments. Lets get down to business.

First the verse:
"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me."- Psalm 51:10

There are a lot of Bible verses I love, but this one comes pretty high on the list of my personal favorites. It is one that I memorized as a kid and I bring it up in my mind quite frequently. And by frequently, I mean more or less every time I take my eyes off God and put them somewhere else. And by that I mean more or less everyday.

Now the rantings:
The band Switchfoot and front man Jon Foreman.

I don't think I can actually say I am a Switchfoot fan. I am not against them in any way, I just don't love their music. Good band. Good message. Good lyrics. And they've been around forever. They have just never been on my list of favorites.

And yet, I know almost all their songs...!?

Why? My life contains several Switchfoot fanatics. They are the favorite band of my sister, as well as the favorite (and by favorite I mean...almost to the point of idolatry...) of 2 of my close friends. The 3 of them lecture me constantly on why Switchfoot/Jon Foreman should be MY favorite. (No. NEVER!) Thankfully I have other friends who appreciate...other...music and those 3 are out numbered by a bunch of anti-Switchfooters. Praise God for diversity in friendships!

Anyway, now to segway into the song portion of this quote-able.

Last summer, I heard my friend (the nameless, but #1 ranking person on the fanatic list) play/sing a nice, little song called White as Snow on a acoustic as a bunch of us sat a fire at a graduation party. I liked the song a lot and it was stuck in my head for quite some time. The lyrics were all taken almost directly out of passages of the Bible, and the chorus echoed the Psalm 51 verse I mentioned above. At first I thought my friend had written it, as he is a talented musician and song writer, but no! Of course, it was by none other than JON FOREMAN (I really, really should have known) off of his solo Winter EP.

The lyrics:

(Verse1:) Have mercy on me, oh God

According to Your unfailing love,
According to Your great compassion
Blot out my transgressions


(Chorus:)Create in me a clean heart, oh God
Restore in me the joy of Your salvation


(Verse2:)The sacrifices of our God are a broken and a contrite heart
Against You and You alone have I sinned


(Chorus:) Would You create in me a clean heart, oh God
Restore in me the joy of my salvation

(Bridge:) Wash me white as snow and I will be made whole"

Regardless of who wrote the song, I really, really love it. It is very simple, quite repetitive, and musically not something I would normally be drawn to. And it is by Foreman. And still, despite all that, I find myself listening to it often. Give it a listen, you might like it. You might actually be surprised, as I was, and find yourself wondering if you could possibly be turning into a Switchfooter...

Refridgerator Goobleygook

**Sharing this link because I know it will amuse some (I have around 5 certain people in mind. You know who you are!) of you as much as it amuses me.**

This morning I opened my Gmail to find an email from my mother reading thusly;

"http://www.magneticpoetry.com/kidspoetry/createpoem.cfm?kit=4
You're welcome...but finish your book too!-Mama"

Oh yes, that is correct. Online REFRIGERATOR POETRY!!!!!!

You know, like those little magnet sticky word that you form into dramaticatic, eloquent, or plain ridiculous sentences/poems/stories.

I love those.

In the first two minutes I came up with this.

"Understand the summer butterflies and their magic whisper,

For the story they tell is an old song of peace."

Utterly absurd, but fun!

Someday, when I finally have a file cabinet in my room (New they are like $80 and up! WHAT? Why? They are so ugly!!! I wanted a used one, 2 draws would be best, cool looking, preferably vintage, that I can spray paint shiny red and then SPLATTER PAINT. Quest is proving difficult. If anyone has a awesome cabinet that you want to...send me...for free...that would be great. K? Thanks.), I will purchase a whole bunch of those cute little magnets and write all sorts of wonderful nonsense.

One of my youth leaders has some fantastic ones on her apartment's fridge, including some great Old English words like "methinks" and lot of food product related words, that I greatly enjoy playing with. Endless possibilities. I may or may not have attempted to write phrases in Shakespearean iambic pentameter once. Hours of fun, I tell you (I like to fixate on things and little word magnets are great for long-duration fixation).

So the site above *MIGHT* just be for children, and the words might be obnoxiously stacked on one another and not layed out in nice neat lines like I would want them to be, but it is fun to mess around with until I complete my file cabinet quest.

Have fun, my friends, have fun!

*image*

Anthro gone Brit.

We all know I am infatuated with all things British. I might geographically be placed in CT, New England, but my heart thinks I am in straight up LONDON, England.

*New British Find: Jack Wills.*

It is like Anthropologie back in the day as a British University student (metaphorically. No such reality). Younger style, with British flair. It makes me pretty happy. Unfortunately it is (over)PRICED like Anthropologie so I would never actually buy anything (stores like these serve as inspiration for my hunts in Savers and similar locations). Also, most of the locations are in the UK. The closest USA locations (to me) are in Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, and I haven't be there in years so...

Fun stuff from their online store;

Yes. Though I do not wear anything with a clear and obvious brand/label on it, I WOULD wear a shirt that says "Jack." Mostly because Jack is a favorite name of mine (and for those of you who know me and are about to mock me, NO, it is not just because of Capt. Jack Sparrow. Always loved that name.). And anyone who reads my mom's blog knows I sometimes go by Jacky.

A water bottle that says "Fabulously British"...uh...YEAH!

Nothing else says "British uni. student" quite like a cardigan!

Splatter. Painted. Bag. 'Nuff said.

And of course, I like the guy version of the 'Jack' shirt better. Eh, none of the guys stuff is ...manly ...anyway, so a girl might as well wear it. Better off for everyone that way.

While we are at it, I would add this tie (yup, men's) to my tie collection (yup, I have one.) Ties are fun.

And some Wellies, or galoshes, if you will. Either way, ugly to wear, but fun to say.

Hope you enjoyed my overpriced adventure through British style. Cheerio!

Red leather, yellow leather...

 Hello happiness.

New 100% leather jacket. $19.99. Savers.

It is RED (where in the world DO they get those red cows...?).

It is the right length so I don't look any shorter than I already am.

 It looks good with my fedora.

 Love. Enough said.

Pretty happy with my find. I am still waiting for the day I find a really cool, really rough BLACK leather jacket in some second hand place. I've been looking for a while and cannot find anything that suits me. And I absolutely refuse to buy some vinyl, yukky fake from the mall. The day will come. But until then I will wear this one and keep looking.

*title from a random tongue twister/tongue warm-up thing I learned back in my acting days.

"Red leather, yellow leather, good blood, bad blood,

Red leather, yellow leather, LAVENDER leather."

Go ahead, say it. Lots of l's and vowel sounds. Good for your annunciation and...stuff.