Thanks to American Express for sponsoring my writing today about small businesses.  American Express is presenting Small Business Saturday, a way to honor the local merchants who are the backbone of the economy, this Saturday, November 27.  They’re offering statement credits to people who shop at small businesses, advertising for small-business owners, and donations to Girls Inc. for “Likes” of the Small Business Saturday page on Facebook.  Join the celebration by clicking the “Like” button and then visiting the Facebook page to learn more about the program and read the terms and conditions that apply.

You taking advantage of the days off after Thanksgiving to get some holiday shopping in?  I most certainly am.  Not one to take advantage of the 3a.m. sales, I will be visiting some of my favorite stores this weekend.

One of my favorites is Fibre Space in Old Town Alexandria, VA.  It goes along with my newest addiction–knitting.  I learned about Fibre Space from the fantastic site Try Handmade.  The yarns this place has??  Amazing.  Seriously, I spend hours there petting the yarn frequently (it’s a problem I know, but I don’t want help).

The other thing I love about the store is that all of the people who work there are not only knowledgeable, but also really nice.  I’ve asked what have felt like the dumbest questions and they not only take time to teach but offer to have me come sit and knit to practice.

Plus the other cool thing?  Danielle, the owner, is all about social media and has been working to have a real online presence as well as fostering a mutual support system with the other small businesses in Old Town.  You can always pop into the store or the website and find out what else is going on in town.

The store offers great sales, classes, get-togethers and even movie nights.  I was there on a recent Thursday night and they were having to bring out more chairs for all of the people who were pouring in to socialize and knit.

I am being compensated for this post–yes, but this is a store I truly love.  And I MUCH prefer to support my local small businesses whenever I can.

Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

…And tell me what you’re planning to shop for.

I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity , as do I.

My grandmother died in August.  The memorial service will be held for her this weekend, and my mom has asked me to speak.

I could put together something easy, talk about how I’ll miss her, share a few memories, but I feel as someone who conveys my thoughts on “paper” that I should be able to string together something a bit more substantial.

Gram suffered from Alzheimer’s for the last ten years.  In the last few years, she had few words and the only way I could tell she recognized me even remotely was by the way her face lit up a little when I entered the room.

My grandfather passed away when I was only four.  My grandmother was only in her early 50’s–far too young to be a widow.  She had to find work, had a life to continue living.

She wasn’t the traditional grandma.  We did go to her house for dinner every once in awhile.  All the major holidays were celebrated together and she was always with us to celebrate our birthdays, but it was the 70’s and 80’s.  She was going on cruises with her girlfriends.  She was dating.  She got remarried.

Mom and I have discussed it before.  My grandma wasn’t very “grandmotherly” in many ways.  She didn’t play with us, she didn’t demand to see us once a week though she only lived 20 minutes away.  I’ve been used to her being gone from us through Alzheimer’s that her death has been a bit easier, but also because I never thought of her as a central force in my life.

As I think through the words I want to share this weekend though, I realize she was there in so many ways.

There are traditions at Christmas that I’ve continued with my kids that she started for my sister and I (hiding a bag of chocolate coins in the tree for us to find on Christmas day).  I still make her meatballs and spaghetti sauce because that’s what sauce should taste like to me.  She always had extra mashed potatoes for me at Thanksgiving because she knew I could eat my weight in them even when age was in the single digits.  And though she never had very much money, she saved to take my sister and I on our first trip to Disney World and she took me on my first trip overseas–two weeks just the two of us in England and Wales.

My grandmother wasn’t a warm, plump, cookie-baking grandma with a bun.  She always had a cigarette in her hand, more shoes than Imelda Markos and never went without her lipstick, but she loved me in her own way.

And she certainly never really judged.

Don’t get me wrong.  She was very certain about some of her beliefs–no matter how much she contradicted herself, but well…

She went along with Aunt Bev and I when we got our tattoos and even joked with the artist–this behemoth of a man–that she had each one of her wrinkles tattooed on.

She bragged to everyone who’d listen that I had a job in Washington, DC with NARAL while in the same breath telling me how “pro-life” she was.

Or my favorite conversation sitting around my aunt and uncle’s dining room table with her and my mom.  She just blurted out over the table of broken lobster carcasses “Amie, have you ever smoked marijuana?”

I was 25 and felt like it was safe to be honest.  “Yeah grandma, I have.”

She looked me right in the eye and said “you know I used to grow it, right?”

I had no idea what to say.  I looked around the table at her two daughters.  My mom scoffed thinking maybe she was losing her crackers, but my aunt just laughed with a knowing smile.

“Oh yeah!  Remember that great bay window I had in the old house?  It got the best light.  I used to grow it on that windowsill in with all my other plants.”

I saw my grandmother in a completely different way that night.

She was young once.  She had loves (she was growing it for her boyfriend at the time–and I’m not making this up–his name was John Paradise.  He was 5′ 3″ with his platforms on.  He had a big mustache, wore polyester shirts open to his navel with big gold chains).  She didn’t stop living just because my grandfather died.

In reflecting on my grandma, I’m now aware of the tenacity required for her to keep going.  She could have retreated, lived through her grandchildren and no one would have questioned it, but she didn’t.  She didn’t give up.  The woman wore skin-tight satin pants into her 60’s.  And she looked good!

My grandmother gave me the two women who have had the biggest impact on my life–her daughters Bev and my amazing mom Jean–but she gave me so much more too.

I’m grateful I had this opportunity to understand that.

Turning 40 this year has me taking stock of this life I’ve led so far.  I’ll admit that sixty and even thirty days ago I was on the verge of near panic about my failures as a human being, my lack of productivity and success to date–then I started writing about it and well realized I’ve been acting like an ass.

I see you nodding.  No need to agree with me so wholeheartedly.

It wasn’t writing alone that smacked me upside the head.  Call it providence, call it coincidence, call it divine intervention.  Over the past few months I’ve also been turned on to a number of blogs that focus on creativity.  I imagine I started poking around them initially to get more ideas for my photography, but I was quickly pulled in by the images and moments these people are capturing in their art.

Getting older and watching my babies bloom has me more aware of the swift wings of time (really?  swift wings of time?!–I need to get over myself).  I’ve been trying to figure out how to appreciate the everyday happenings of my life right now–to truly experience them–and how to capture them for later when I’m old and alone and gray(er) and on the verge of being eaten by my cats.   And these bloggers have inspired me.

Really this is a long-winded way of saying…

LOOK WHAT I MADE!!

Nice Amie.  Lovely.  What the hell are they?

Duh!  Background papers.  We’re gonna use ’em for stuff.  We?  Stuff?

I’ve joined The Artistic Mother’s Art Group.

I’ve never thought of myself as artistic (and gessoed, painted, stamped and pasteled papers aside I’m not sure I am), but I gotta tell you being surrounded by paint and paper and pastels and ink and glue and having dirty artsy hands…it kinda rocks.  The kicker too is that my kids are getting into with me.  We’re sitting around the table “doin’ art” as my small fry says.

If I stop getting pedicures and suddenly change my name to Raindrop though, you gotta promise to host an intervention.