Closer

Wooww!! I am lucky! I am lucky to have such amazing friends who mailed me two more gifts from London which immediately made me think I am closer to what I have been dreaming about for years - visiting London and having my high tea with H.M. Queen Elizabeth II. The sender of this card later wrote me that he picked it among all others just because Her Majesty the Queen has a queenly smile only on this one. There is no doubt she maintained her queenliness on many hundreds of other postcards as well but she smiled like a queen on this card only to my friend at that very moment. It's a witty explanation to buy a postcard, isn't it?

H.M. Queen Elizabeth II

 He was kind enough to e-mail me a photograph of the postcard store with all those cards with Her Majesty the Queen on them.

Here is another gift I started using right away -a  cute coin purse embroidered with glass beads. Lovely, isn't it? Don't blame me for puffing them this much but I do not know what else to do after realizing that I have friends who make me feel closer to what's been my dream since I was a child.

Worry Beads

Have you got worries? I have. I know some friends also have. Mine sometimes seem as large as a mammoth. That's for sure but I have no approved prescription to give them a sweep away. So I've always tried to replace them with opportunities to discuss my concerns or feelings in my own way like making cards. I do it for my friends as well. It sometimes sounds witless to do so for them but I cannot help showing friends that I have always a place where they may feel valued, safe and secure, away from their worries, if they wish. I heard a friend of mine overseas has been having difficulty falling asleep and wondered what things she thinks about when she cannot sleep. So I decided to send her some worry beads with my favourite poem by Emily Dickinson and Princess Milou added a few lines with her puffy stickers. Today we received a short message from Brooklyn which says for a couple of moments there were no worries on Earth when she received the card - I humbly imagined it happened so at least.

Worry beads (Kombolói)

Milou's puffy stickers

Milou's letter

I'm nobody by Emily Dickinson

source

Reyyan's Dream

Dreaming of Bosnia by Emir Isovic

I feel blessed to have good friends all over the world who have dreams. Reyyan is one of those precious friends in Istanbul. She has just started lecturing on Cultural Studies at Istanbul Sehir University after working here for a couple of years at International University of Sarajevo. One of Emir's  fabulous illustrations happened to be one of her dreams - Bosnia. When we realised this happy coincidence, Princess Milou inspired me to paint the original drawing with fibre-tip pens and after a long painting session we mailed it to Reyyan. I told you before that I'm no good at drawing or painting but knowing that I was colouring one of my friend's dream was of great worth - although the result was not satisfactory as it was with Emir's. We waited until Reyyan received her dream to post the photographs. Enjoy them.

Dreaming of Bosnia

Dreaming of Drawing

Have I told you about Princess Milou's super dad? Well, he draws and paints for children. Milou hasn't started calling him an illustrator but many other people do so. She's definitely a lucky child to have such a talented daddy at home, honestly. I would name dozens of friends  who used to ask their dads to draw a simple cat for their art project but had to be contented with the dispiriting answer "Sorry, honey.  You know daddy can't draw a single straight line." or "Forgive me pumpkin. Daddy is terrible at drawing, you know." Whenever I witness him drawing, the lines and colours on the paper look incredibly admiring to me and I cannot hide my mounting envy.

Dreaming of Tibet by Emir Isovic

Dreaming of Istanbul by Emir Isovic

He mailed yesterday a few pictures to an  international cartoon competition held in Portugal. The theme is world heritage - world famous tourist spots in each country. Here are some of my favourites that he sent.  They are amazing, aren't they? You can have a look at many more of  his illustrations at superemir.blogspot.com

Dreaming of China by Emir Isovic

Dreaming of France by Emir Isovic

Autumn SA

Whatever you call it, fall or autumn, it's out there and winds have been whirling falling leaves all around the streets here in Sarajevo. The Sun has been playing hide and seek for weeks, skies will definitely turn grey soon but flowers have been showing off with a last vigorous effort before winter arrives in contrast to all melancholy associations of the season. 

Personification of Autumn
(Currier&Ives lithograph,1871)

Yesterday Princess Milou and I went out to pay another daily visit to birds, ants and bees in the neighborhood. I was telling her how distressing it is to see Sarajevo people turn inward both physically and mentally just because days of summer have ended as if they had to. The flowers in their gardens, though, with their showy and attractive colours keep telling them the opposite the livelong day. If they look around a bit more carefully they won't miss all those inspirational colours.

I was thinking out loud and Milou was  blowing "raspberries" while she was reaching out to a purple flower and so we decided to make a small autumn bouquet for the coffee table in our living room.  The bouquet in the photograph above worked indeed, the colours made me remember that  "Autumn" story I loved by Sterling North. I told you, autumn flowers are another source of free daily inspiration. 

An Autumn Princess by Sophie Anderson

Good Afternoon Her Majesty!

Cavallini Glitter Postcards, Vintage London

I was eleven years old when I started learning English. I remember like it was yesterday that every page in my first course book was full of colourful pictures of various towns and cities in the UK and photographs of the members of the Royal Family. Since then, it's been my most precious childhood dream to go to Britain sooner or later and have a cup of tea with her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in any of those 775 rooms at Buckingham Palace – the White Drawing Room is my humble priority, let me say. Since then, I've been wondering whether to write Her Highness a letter with quill closing with the words 'I have the honour to be, Madam, Your Majesty's humble and obedient servant'. 

Cavallini Notebook, Keep Calm and Carry On

The day before yesterday I received this cute postcard from one of my students: DJ Arda. He's been in Britain for a couple of weeks to advance his English. Before he flew to London, he'd promised to post me a card as soon as he got the opportunity. When I saw the stamp on the back of the card, no happiness ever was comparable to mine. As if a royal butterfly had flown all that way from London and landed elegantly on my threshold.  My eyes have been shining with happiness since then. 

Well, it's the third gift I've received from London. The first one is this glittering poster and it was very kind of Amela – one of my friends here in Sarajevo– to bring me these two pencils. I couldn't get the chance to have that dreamy cup of tea with Her Majesty yet but these souvenirs from somewhere around her residence make me smile whenever I feel pessimistic about it. They do me good. 

Now I am 29 years old and I've been constantly asking myself why I am such a British monarchy addict. I searched for every piece of detail in my life and found out what? My mother used to call me "My Princess of Wales" while I was a baby, she says. I looked like Princess Diana as a blonde baby with blue eyes born to an all dark-haired family. Perhaps mom just wanted to create a fairy tale around me to unintentionally boost my already high-pitched ego. I don't remember it at all but there must be some hidden bond between my British Royalty admiration and these childhood memories. My ridiculous effort to believe in such a psychoanalytical approach makes me feel even happier. So, dream on. 

                                    

Ever been arrested for blowing bubbles?

At our last Zara shopping session Milou grabbed a realistic looking bubble ice cream cone off the counter. I unscrewed the ice cream off the cone and started blowing great bubbles through attached wand. We loved and naturally bought it. 

We later found out blowing bubbles at Milou's every meal time is a perfect solution for her lack of appetite. We have already got used to her persistent refusals to swallow but the moment the bubbles started coming out of the wand, she was just captivated. Her superdad Emir kept on blowing and it worked. The bubles were floating away in little happy circles. It was just something peaceful. When they popped,  it turned into something exciting! 

Have you ever been arrested for blowing bubbles?

Princess Milou hasn't, yet. Yesterday I watched this video about a protestor blowing bubbles at the G20 protests in Toronto and so threatened by a police officer to be arrested on June 27, 2010 . The officer says "If one of those bubbles touches me, it's assault" and then the protestor is taken away into a police van.

After gazing in openmouthed bewilderement for a couple of moments, I pulled myself together to google for pictures about blowing bubbles to understand what the "offense"or "assault" could be. Here are some of them. Can you spot any "offense"? You can enjoy many more at an art admirer and history lover Lili's blog.

by Russian artist Alexei Harlamoff

Summer Day by Tatiana Deriy

by Dutch painter Bernard Pothast

Last but not  least, "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" is a popular waltz which was first published in 1919. 

Here is the recording by Albert C. Campell and Henry Burr. Check it out!

Back-to-school Time

Back-to-school time is upon the students in my hometown Istanbul. From tomorrow on students will be pulling their heavily loaded backpacks home all the way from school and finding ridiculously imaginative lies why their homework is not done. 

http://www.grandmasgraphics.com/friends.php

The season is on: Parents have already gone crazy about shopping for the cutest and most expensive school supplies for them. There is a keen competition among moms to send their kids off to class in the latest style. What concerns me is their blindness not to see how easy, fun and above all inexpensive it is to create charming projects to get back-to-school. 

Although Princess Milou is only 6 months and 3 weeks old and I do not know even how to start a sewing machine, some basic hand stitches got me through this cute pencil case for her. 

It was once upper part of my favourite summer blouse. Since I had worn it on thousands of occasions and it had almost torn apart, I realized it was time to turn it into something(s) different. 

Whether it is Princess Milou or someone else who will use it, it is definitely a pretty and girly way to keep writing utensils in one place - perhaps with some make up basics.

French Vanilla

I have some friends who are addicted to french vanilla cappuccino. It is always the first and only drink witnessing our every coffee shop talk. Whenever we meet, one of them – after sipping her cappuccino - argues that the flavour in her mug is so genuine that she can swear the staff behind the counter warmed the milk with real vanilla caviar and vanilla pods in the same pot. 

vanilla caviar and vanilla pods combined with milk and sugar

When they notice the sarcastic smile on my lips, I tell them once again 95 % of ''vanilla" products actually contain artificial vanilin. 

This piece of estimated information naturally does not put any distance between the artificially flavoured drinks and their addiction. They just murmur something like "Hhmmm, interesting..." and take another sip.

The last time we had a similar conversation, Moses whispered into my ears "Why not make artificial flowers that look like genuine using french vanilla crepe paper?" I did not know a lot about flowers and making paper flowers, and so I just followed my inspiration. 

                            

                             

The natural look of the flowers in this table bouquet eventually made me smile once again but this time with a blossoming heart. They are beautiful alone, there is no need to mix them with a variety of other colours or different flowers. 

Woman is by nature a shaman?

                     "Seven Moons Passing" by Susan Seddon Boulet

I did really not know much about the skills attributed to female shamans until one early morning in Istanbul when Princess Milou opened her eyes and started to chat with the black mullberry tree that she saw through the window. The leaves were flirting elegantly with the wind and Milou was babbling sounds eagerly along with her sequeals and operatic octave changes. She was stretching both arms forward as though she could touch it. Eyes fixed on the leaves and hearing no one around, she seemed to have entered a deep state of happiness. What was it that Milou was talking to? Was it the tree itself with strong branches and berries riping among the large leaves or something else beyond it over great distances?

I do not have the faintest idea even now. Milou is only a six-month-old baby girl and it is still the trees in our garden that makes her respond with that shamanic state of joy. The question mark about what she sees through those babblings will always remain unless one day she decides to share with us on her own blog.

Luckily my husband managed to shoot Princess Milou in her shamanic trance while she was lying on my lap in the shade of  the pear tree. I am glad to have this copy just for future reference.

The Archivist Next Door

An archivist lives next door: My mother-in-law. She doesn't work in archives but she has been gathering letters, photographs, papers, receipts, even the first saucer she cooked baby rice in for my husband. Her apartment is a repository for stored memories. She has never cared a fig about their evidentiary value. Her documents are precious, though. She has neither taken extra care to keep them safe nor had a disaster prevention planning. Besides exposure to light or moisture, mice, fire, and flooding, her apartment with all those documents went through a devastating war between 1992 and 1995. Nevertheless, she could preserve all that she had collected. When I first came to Sarajevo, she rummaged a dusty drawer and gave me some pieces of white lace that Bosnian ladies used to pin on their dresses in wedding parties – an earlier version of corsages.

                           

Well, here is the latest item from my personal web archives – my blog. I found this dry (dead) branch during a joyful bike ride. I cut the ends and trimmed nodes. After painting it all white, I glued artificial flowers which I have been keeping since my engagement ceremony. The pieces of white lace are my mother-in-law's contribution. I preferred hand-made paper for the lantern with metal construction I made myself. 

Check it out! They have established great success in many European countries but remained little-known in their native Britain.