Web Ads

Web ad I designed for Wood Pond Designs for CraftCult.

More and more people are logging on to the web to shop.  As an indie business owner, how do you spread the word about your shop or craft without breaking the bank?

The answer, Web Ad thumbnails.  These are the small-sized graphics or logos you see either on the side bars or banners of websites and blogs.  Sizes differ depending on the required dimensions from the website or blog owners where you'll be advertising.  Most common are 100 x 100 pixels for thumbnails and 150 x 700 for banners.

It can either be static (plain graphic without animation) or dynamic (animated graphic, you'll see flashing or rotating images and words).   Prices differ according to the complexity of your ad.  Simple, static ones are cheaper.

You can either make your own or hire a graphic designer to create one for you.   If you're at loss which website or blog you'll want to advertise in, I recommend doing a little research prior hand.

Search for sites that's related to your business or products you create and check their visitor statistics if it has good amount of traffic.  Lastly, see if the prices are affordable for you.  Keep in mind that the benefits of placing ads should outweigh the costs you put into it.

Good luck on your web ads!  Feel free to contact me if you need help making one.

Crafty Cooking

Chicken Pasta with Homemade Pesto

My craftiness has extended to the kitchen, and no one's complaining (thankfully).  In fact, everyone leaves the dining table smiling.  

Thanks to online recipes, I'm able to whip up meals that are healthy and tasty.  For lunch today, I made chicken pasta with homemade pesto.  Love the sound of 'home-made', reminds me of my own mom's home cooking.  

I got the basil pesto recipe from 'Simply Recipes'.  I used whole grain pasta and sauteed the chicken in olive oil with onions and bell peppers.  Then, I put about a cup and  a half of the pesto.  A little dash of salt and fresh ground black pepper and lunch is served.

Simple, fast, healthy and delicious. Oopps, gotta wipe that pesto from our little man's chin.

Bon appetit!

Dad

A Father's Day Poem  by Sherie Sloane

Dad and our little man, watching the sunset.

One of my favorite random shot.

Because of you

I am steadfast and strong

Carrying on through the storm

Because of you

I knew right from wrong

Learning when to drift along

Because of you

I found courage in fear

Daring trepidation in tiers

Because of you

I stood up after a fall

Recognizing I never lost it all

Because of you

I triumphed after each loss

Applauding wisdom amidst the cost

Because of you

I am cherished and spirit's free

Living and loving in higher degree

Advance Happy Father's Day to all dads out there.  

I wrote this poem last year, thinking about my own Dad and all the years he stood by us through good times and tough ones.  

Dad, this is for you.  May our love reach you in heaven.  I miss you, we all do.

Feel free to copy the poem (please include author's name) and give it to the special men in your lives.

 

Carpenters Sew Too

Oven Mitten with Today's Broccoli and Cheddar Quiche

My first attempt at sewing.

I grew up in a home where creativity was highly encouraged.  Dad was always building something with his tools and mom sewed and made things for us.  There were no boys in the house (except for Dad), so I gravitated more on the 'tough' crafts like carpentry and painting furnitures.  It was inevitable for one of the girls to be Dad's handy assistant.  Luckily, it was me.

Some of my favorite memories was helping Dad build my (then) baby sister's nursery closet and her matching doll's closet.  Digging our first pond and crafting our vegetable garden's fences were so fun too.  Everything was built from scratch using manual tools.  While I was spending time with Dad, my other sisters were either drawing paper dolls or watching mom sew.

Big sis learned sewing quick, she was a natural.  Soon, she was making us tote bags, skirts and tops to match our dolls.  Back then, I thought sewing was difficult to learn.  Watching mom and sis pedal our old Singer sewing machine with so much ease seems to be a skill reserved for the 'crafty queens'.  That's when I decided I'd rather build, draw and doodle with paints.

An Artist's Oven Mitten.  Detail.

Fast forward to twenty years (wow, it was that long?),  I bought Mom her first electrical sewing machine for mother's day.  It's high time she retire the twenty-three year old Singer.  And it's my time to teach her how to use it.  But I haven't used one before.  

This is when technology comes handy.  We played the instructional DVD that came with it.  She was still intimidated, that the machine sat untouched for a whole week.  So, one morning I dared the (formerly) impossible task - sew.  

I needed a new mitten for baking (or should I say 'warming' up frozen stuff), perhaps that will be easy.  In carpentry, Dad would say 'Measure thrice, cut once'.  I learned that in sewing the hard way.  But aren't mistakes the best teachers?  

After five hours of often interrupted (with a little tot tugging every now and then) of cutting, pinning and sewing, I finally finished my first project. 

Just in time to pull out our baked (warmed up) quiche from Costco.

Turtle Tale and Flu

A Foot Away Too

Fine Art Photograph

Here's the story behind yesterday's Wordless Wednesday photo.

It was the third day of our much-awaited vacation in paradise.  Couldn't be more exciting, right?  That day, I tried to keep up a cheerful attitude.  Moms are great with that.  However I tried though, it was just wasn't working.  

All of us we're still recovering from the nine hour flight.  Traveling with a fifteen month old isn't a walk in the park.  Lugging a car seat, stroller, bags, suitcases, and an active toddler who wants to conquer everything all at once, is next to mission impossible.  I can hear my mom's old adage, 'That's why God made moms young.'  Oh yeah.

The irrepressible 'jet lag' was another thing.  Ever felt so tired you wish to sleep the whole day through?  The only caveat, sleep won't come even way past the nine hundred ninenty-ninth sheep you counted.  And just when you're about to really doze off, you realized it's just lunchtime.  Your body clock is still ticking the central time zone.  Trust me, your toddler will remind you it's still day time, no matter what.  He is on his own PST timezone - play specific time.

Not much too sweat, since there's Dad.  He can cover the bases while I catch a cat nap.  I wonder if cats really do sleep that short.  But flu decided to spend time with Dad.  It was the worst flu he ever had.  We decided to isolate him in the bedroom to contain the virus as much as we can.  Thank goodness for hotel housekeeping!

Always the optimist, my husband urged me to get out and spend time on the beach with our little one.   He'll get as much rest to get better quick.  Good idea.  I scooped up our little man and drove to the nearest beach.  It was sad not being with Dad that day.  I was looking forward to seeing him build a sand castle with our boy, while I lay on the beach watching them.

Why, of all days, flu will come.  I could really use extra hands, so I could relax myself.  Looking out on the horizon and feeling the cool afternoon breeze perked me up.

And just when I thought things were going astray on our vacation, God sent a turtle to cheer me up.  

A foot away from my feet.  Where's that camera?  Click!

What's in the Photo?

Tulips along Michigan Avenue.

Last week, I promised to tell you about the photo I posted for Wordless Wednesday.  Here's the scoop about those beautiful tulips.

After my first mile run during the Mother's Day 5K, I was gasping for air.  Before our little man passed the official 'toddler' mark, I didn't have much time to run.  So, you can imagine the shock in my body when we woke up that day at 5am and announced we're going for a run, a 5K run.

Back to the first mile, I decided to take the very premature breather I was saving for the third mile.  I didn't want to seem too weak, too soon.  So I found my excuse - the lovely rows of tulips along Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago.

Mustering a huge smile, I waved to hubby who's strolling the little man in his uber-comfy jogger (we call it 'buggy').  Give me the camera!  These flowers are b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l (spoken lengthily and slowly to emphasize how mesmerized I was).  Come on, I know you do that sometimes too.

I can see the perplexed look in hubby's eyes.  Handing the camera won't be an easy feat, especially with the thickening crowd between us.  We are several feet away by now, so I squeezed myself through the anthill of walkers and runners. Camera on hand, I set to complete my little mission to sneak a 'break'.

Snap.  Wait, this angle is better.  Ooopps, focal point out of scale.  Click.  Hmmmm.  I think this bunch will look better.  

There. Perfect.  Mission accomplished!  Breathe.....

Sandbox

A Child's Play

It's the weekend.   Nice spring weather, play park getting full and I hear the high-pitch cheers of tiny people (a.k.a. children) outside.  It's only a matter of time until our little one realizes he's missing out on the fun.

I love where we live.  Forest preserves and parks are just steps away from our backyard.  But like any other perks, there are few downsides.  For example, keeping the lawn weed-free is almost impossible.  Nature has it's way of relentlessly sending the seeds of the unwanted sprouts blown through our way.

Then, there are the tennis and volleyball courts directly facing the windows of my studio.  I swear they wave at me each day saying, 'We're waiting for you.'  I used to play tennis back in college but didn't got into volleyball that much.  I'm not much of a 'contact sports' person.  First time I tried volleyball and felt the tingling pains in my wrist last for weeks, I vowed to stick with non-contact sports.  

I lost count how many times I told myself, I'll get back into tennis or learn volleyball.  The courts are just right in our backyard anyway.  Oh, the many plans we make, and break.  This is why I don't mind watching the little man play in the sandbox.

We're both able to 'start over' again.  Forgive ourselves on the plans we break.  There, he builds, creates, digs, piles, and explores, and do it all over again.  While he's busy experimenting on new ways to line up mounds of sand into miniature hills, I savor that little 'pause' time for myself.

I'm able to reflect on few things, just few because within ten minutes or so, he'll be wanting me to jump in there.  If I'm lucky, there'll be kids who'll join him and I can resume my 'reflection' time.  Watching the kids play on the sandbox  reassured me that's it's okay if some of my plans don't materialize.   Or if the dreams we built sometimes break, and expectations fall through.

That it's okay to live imperfectly.  Life is a big sandbox, waiting to be explored.  

Maybe this time, I'll dig into mine with childlike wonder to see what treasures await me. 

Run, Mommy Run.

Still smiling at the first mile.

Last Sunday was Mother's Day.  My Day.  I shouldn't have done anything, right.  Revel in peace in a quiet home while the boys were out.  In my dreams.

Every year for Mother's Day, we go to our cousin's house a little after lunch for a dinner party.  We actually skip lunch since you don't want to stuff yourself and feel too guilty trying out all the sumptuous treats on the dinner table.

Several years ago, I devised a plan to shed our guilt off a little bit.  Wake up at 5am with bloodshot eyes, drive half an hour downtown, have breakfast in our favorite tea shop, rest for a while, then run the 5K to support cancer survivors.

Sounds like an easy feat right?  Only if you don't have a little toddler in tow.  Here's what happens actually.  Wake up at 4am, after more than a dozen attempts from husband to wake me up).  It's interesting to know that when dad says he's going to bed at night, he actually falls asleep.  

When mom says 'I'll go to bed', it really means, cleaning the last bits of mess left, folding laundry, re-checking and adding lists of things to do, rearranging appointments for the hundredth time, and so on and so forth.  Did I say, I was going to sleep.

Okay, so I was finally awake.  I packed the little man's diapers, wipes, drinks (notice it's  in plural form).  Amazingly, little people weighing almost thirty pounds can down liquids twice his weight.  Oh, and don't forget the change of clothes.  Just in case, we get blessed with a big 'blow-out'.  You know what I mean.  Okay, I'll spell it for you.  Mean poopie.

All set.  Don't forget the jogger!  Carrying a squiggly active tot for just half a mile is not my idea of getting fit.  At least, not that morning.  It was Mother's Day, so I didn't have to drive.  I planned on squeezing a nap during the drive.  That was my plan, until I heard Bebo the baby sign bear singing away from the little tube in the van.  

I turn to look at the little man, his big bright eyes beaming with excitement watching the little bear.  All the sleepiness disappeared.  Watching him has been my favorite past times ever since we had him.

We didn't actually run the whole 5K.  We walked part of it and I sprinted the last two miles.  The boys decided to brisk walked it, or I should say hubby did.  Jogger plus tot, equals fifty pounds at least.  Try running with it for a good mile without stopping, and I bet you'll be begging just to sleep the whole day through.

After an hour or so of walking and running, we finished the lap.  We skipped the free McDonald breakfast after much debating.  What's the point, we just concluded a 'let's get fit' mission anyway.  Hooray!  Luckily, the little man dozed off half the time in his cozy stroller.  That's why I was able to run the last two miles.  Otherwise, he'll be wiggling crazy looking for his 'Maymee'.

Back to home.  Hubby carried the sleeping little man to his bed.  We both can't wait to go back to sleep too.  It felt good to start the day right.  Later, we won't feel too guilty piling up the calories from the delicious dinner.  

I said I was going to sleep, right.  But wait, I got to prepare the things we're going to bring later.  I checked on the boys.  They're already snuggled together, sleeping so peacefully.  I can't help but smile.  This is why I love this job.

I might be running a marathon in this race called 'parenthood', but I have my eyes on the prize.  Right here, before my eyes.

So, run mommy run.

Hooked

Gold Metallic Bracelet.  Crochet, $12.

I have a confession to make.  The second time I picked up crocheting again, I was hooked.  That was two years ago, when my ultra-stretched belly was growing a baby.  Sleep was rare in those last few weeks before the little one decided he's ready to come out.  To while away the time, I thought I'll give crocheting another try.  

So much have changed since I first learned the craft.  I was sixteen when mom first taught me.    From home decor to fashion, it found it's way to the hearts of many.  Crochet has evolved to be a prevalent craft for even the younger generation.

For me, it's an 'art' by itself.  Just like any medium, it can be articulated into many unexpected art forms.  Someday, I plan to build a six foot fiber installation using crochet.  The type that will make one stop and wonder, 'That was crocheted?'

But I'll save that for another day or year.   Today, it's jewelry-making.  

With my hook, of course.

What Keeps You Going?

While browsing the forums in Etsy today, I came across this post, "Do you have a favorite that quote keeps you going?  What appropriate timing this post is, and what a great opportunity to lift each other up.

"Live each day as if it were the last."

In these tough times, this thought keeps my family going. We make the most of each day, doing things together that doesn't necessarily require spending.  

~ early morning tea time

~ morning jogs with the baby on the 'jogger' 

~ leaf hunting for the wreath I'm making 

~ praying, and praying a lot 

~ laughing 

~ leaving SHMILY notes 'everywhere' 

What are SHMILYs = See How Much I Love You.

Do you need some boost today? Read the complete thread and I'm sure you'll find a wealth of inspiration from folks like me, and us.

Read the Original Forum Post in Etsy.

What's your Quote?

Celebrating Imperfection

Is there any part of your body you would want to change?  

I cringe whenever I hear that question.  Assuming you have the power to do just that, will you opt to differ that one spot or part you are least proud of?

I would.  My toes.  Mine are not the prettiest, they have callouses and little bumps on top, a result of one of my childhood explorations.  Poor little toes, I decided to vent my creativity on them one day when I was seven, playing 'I can fix it'.  I'll leave it at that.  

Two decades forward, I walked down the aisle with my imperfect toes to say 'I do' to my husband of three years.  Few years after, I was trotting with a huge bump on my belly for forty one weeks with our firstborn.   And last night, we heard the sweetest sound on earth - our little guy's first spontaneous belly laugh.

With raised feet up on the air, I wiggled my toes (yes, those plain toes that need pedicure).  He found that so hilarious, for reasons only a baby knows.  Once again, I thank God, not just for my toes but for our little bundle of joy.

My parents did a fantastic job raising us to always appreciate our God-given features, always noting that we are wonderfully made, no matter what.  Pretty toes or not.

So, cheer up for being imperfect.  

A Metaphor in Flight

Click here to buy this painting.
Watercolor on cold press 140lb. Arches aquarelle paper, 6x10 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $90.

It spread its wings and flew. Once a caterpillar, now a butterfly. No longer a creepy crawler but a maiden of the sky. Graceful, colorful and beautiful. It's time has come to fly.

Whatever challenges you're facing right now, I hope you'll be patient. Take your time in your cocoon of ordeals, knowing that it too shall pass. Your perseverance will soon be rewarded. Next thing you know, you'll be soaring. Up in your own sky, perched on your dreams.

There will be days the sky will not be bluer. Just remember, you're up there. Out of that dark cocoon you left behind. It's up to you to stay afloat. Look back once in a while and whenever you can, hover down in the fields.

Help the flowers flourish, just as you were sustained in the past.

Wordless Wednesday

View the Worldless Wednesday HQ.

A Dozen Pledge

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on archival & acid free heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Last painting in my twelve day pledge series.

When we set our minds to accomplish a task or mission, and actually finish it, we feel exhilarated. The sense of achievement is sweeter than the thought of completeness. To say 'we've done it', is a token far more precious than any trophy.

Today, I've done it. I made true to my pledge. Twelve tulips, twelve paintings in twelve days.

One journey, a dozen stories.

11th Hour

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on archival & acid-free heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

The eleventh hour describes the last moment when everything changes.

Today is Palm Sunday, I remember. Let me tell you my favorite Palm Sunday story.

"It's one of her most favorite celebration. Every year on this day, she would wake up at four o' clock in the morning. She'll rouse up her sisters from sleep and cheerfully remind them of what's ahead, church at five.

Holding hands, the three girls will tiptoe to the 'big room' to check if their Mama and Papa are awake. Whispering so as not to wake up the littlest of them all. They all fought the urge to reach out to the 'battleship' (a.k.a. bed in the big room) and squeeze the cheeks of the little baby sleeping next to their parents.

In between little giggles, she whispered to them 'Ma, Pa, it's time!.' Their Mama and Papa stirred to wake up and as expected they heard them say 'Shhhh, the baby is sleeping'. One by one, they stepped out and headed to their closets. All excited to pull out their Sunday dresses.

'Can you tie my hair first?' she asked the oldest. She wanted to look nice, it was her first Palm Sunday as a big sister. She couldn't wait to show her friends their new baby. And to taste the warm porridge right after church. Going to the little eatery across the church was part of their Palm Sunday tradition. The place made the best porridge (a soup made of rice, chicken and vegetables). Perfect for warming hungry little tummies on a cold morning after church.

The soup was made warmer by the love they share. Happy for the simple life they have. They have each other, their Mama and Papa would often say. That's what matters. She led saying grace on the table this time. With closed eyes and clasped hands, she said 'Thank you for our baby, my sisters, my Mama, Papa, our dogs and cats. Oh, and our little ducks and baby chicks too. Amen."

She was smiling when she opened her eyes. That was twenty four years ago. Her baby sister is all grown up. And she has a little one of her own now, her own battleship. The last Palm Sunday they were together was nine years ago. Their Papa passed away three days after, it was Wednesday of the holy week. There were only five of them that Easter. All wore white.

It was her family's eleventh hour. Grappling with grief and tears with their eyes, they made a pact to carry on the simple traditions they all cherish. In their hearts, they'll always be together, their Mama said. That's what matters, remember that."

I'll remember, I'll remember.

Illustration Friday

Click here to buy an archival print of this painting.
Watercolor on Arches aquarelle paper, 6x10 in.
Watermark not present on actual print, $19.

'The Heavy Sleeper'

Entry to Illustration Friday's weekly theme 'Heavy'.
A plein air painting done in Sausalito, CA.

Wordless Wednesday

View the Worldless Wednesday HQ.

Lucky Ninth

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Do not quit.
Aim higher.
Be hopeful.
Write more.
Give first.
Play music.
Read aloud.
Beautiful.
Lucky nine.

What’s with all these words? Take your time and read it again, paying attention to its structure.

You got it! These are nine positive phrases with exactly nine letters. Nine mantras to live by today.

Can you come up with yours? Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky too.

Four To Go

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Eighth day.  

I am getting there.  No rush, I'll take my time and savor every sensation in this journey.  The palette is wet, brushes are soaked, my hands are flowing.  I am creating, giving glory to the One who has given me this gift.

Even the flower is rejoicing, petals opened up, praising.  

Four to go.  Four more reasons to be joyful.

Her Easter Bunny

Hello. Welcome and come on in.  

Get comfy as you join me in celebrating The Ultimate Blog Party this week (hosted by 5minutesformom).  Grab your tea or coffee and feel free to tour around my daily morning posts and paintings.

Today's post is a tribute to all moms.

Click here to buy a print of this painting.
Watercolor on cold press 140lb. Montval watercolor paper, 6x10 in.
Watermark not present on actual print, $19.

While sitting on her old Victorian lounge chair, I couldn't help but keep looking at her easter bunny. It was prominently displayed in the corner of her well-kept living room.

There, at barely two feet, it stood tall with it's yellow, lime green and pink dress. Yes, a bunny with a dress. It wasn't 'just a dress', mind you. Faux pearls adorned the silk skirt, the collar and sleeves were finished with shimmering organza. Lovely.

Looking around, I noticed she has almost finished putting out her easter decorations. She is not an artist but I always find her choice of pieces quaint and unique. The overall design is pulled together. But I can tell what matters to her the most. On top of the center table, besides the bouquet of spring flowers, sat a mahogany covered photo album. It is carved with the word 'Grandkids'.

I meant to ask her the story behind the easter bunny. I hushed myself and decided to wait. I didn't want to spoil one of the most beautiful memories unfolding before my eyes. A moment in time I wish I can freeze.

There, besides her easter bunny, she sat. Holding my son in her arms and cuddling him so tenderly. The room was filled, not just with easter eggs and bunnies. But with overflowing love.

Mine to her. Hers to mine. Ours to him.