As a designer, I know that working on an image gives me time to be reflective as I study and refine what’s in front of my eye. This night before Father’s Day, working on this photo of my dad,  my twin brother and me, I just let myself feel. It’s poignant to work on a photo of someone you loved so immensely and who’s been gone from your life for so long. Even though the memories fade in time, the love remains, accompanied by a small ache that you know will always be there.

I was so blessed to have this father of mine for 17 years. God bless the men who father the children of the world. We so need them.

I was just looking at cupcake jewelry, when I ran across this gorgeous Tiffany cupcake charm in white and yellow gold, encrusted in semi-precious gemstones. Price tag: $1500.
Do I love it? Oh yes. I think it’s beautiful. Will I ever buy it? Oh no. I don’t see me ever in a position to buy a little piece of jewelry for fun at that price.

Which brings me back to the title of this blog post

Years ago when I was newly married with barely two nickels to rub together, I used to look at beautiful things and wish so much I could have them. It was more than a “shopping bug” – I think my soul just craved beauty.  Of course I couldn’t spend money frivolously on things that had no practical function. That’s how I learning wood carving. I loved some of the wood-carved signs I saw at craft shows, and couldn’t justify buying one. I could, however, splurge on a class to learn how to do it myself.

Sometimes I want pretty things – like a Tiffany cupcake charm – and I can’t have them. So I design something, because I can do that. And then I hope that giving them away will bring a few extra sprinkles of  joy to someone else, which in turn adds an extra sprinkle of sparkle to my day.

So that’s why I do what I do.

Hundreds of hours of work is gone. No one’s fault except mine. I wasn’t careful enough when changing over to a new computer and forgot my ExtraSprinklesPlease files. And then thought I had them still. And then lost them.

Every time I think, Oh, maybe I’ll revise this graphic, and then remember, I cringe a little bit. But then I try to lecture myself like an old English nursemaid. Chin up. Come on now. Carry on. Then suddenly I’m designing those words into a new sign or card or something.

So that’s a good thing. The old art here is still available and I shall take a deep breath, grab my virtual crayons  and soldier on . . .

UPDATE: After writing the above, I had a call later that day from my daughter who’d just found out some disappointing news and was in need of a shoulder to lean on and a mother’s prayers. Perhaps I didn’t design this for myself after all.

If you’re in need of this poster too, you can grab it right here.

On my lunch hour recently I drove over to my Dad’s for a cup of tea and a sandwich. It was a glorious fall afternoon, the kind that comes with a brilliant blue sky and crisp temperatures.  I saw a little girl playing on the sidewalk – hopping on one foot, planting two feet, hopping again. Hopscotch is timeless, and it struck a poignant chord in me to see the familiar number-filled chalk boxes drawn on the pavement.  May there forever be sidewalks and little girls playing hopscotch.

That same warm fall day I passed a mailman walking through a neighborhood, up and down the small sidewalks to front doors, letters in hand, dressed in a blue uniform with shorts and knee high socks. Down the sidewalk a short ways I saw a mother pushing her baby in a stroller, out for an early afternoon walk. In an instant my mind tries to drink in all the details – the soft blanket tucked lovingly around the baby, the little pink bonnet on her head, the brilliant sunlight dappling the leaves overhead as the mother and baby make their way down a quiet, peaceful street.

The days have been mostly unseasonably cold since than. So I’ll just keep holding on to that memory that evokes such feelings of peace and tranquility, and I’ll keep trying to design things that produce similar positive responses as well.

I mentioned in my last post that there was one handwritten note that I always remembered. It was from a 17-year-old boy I had dated a short time, but who remained my pen pal while he was out east at boarding school.  My heart would always smile when I saw the distinctive envelope from his academy in the mail.

One day after one of his missives arrived, I eagerly slit open the envelope.  Inside was a small card, and just these few words:

“For you, as for the crocus, the springtime.”

And after all these years, I treasure them still.

Beside me as I write this is a lovely note I received in the mail last week from a dear friend. Not only are the words precious, but seeing my friend’s handwriting is too. If I had to run from a burning house,   photographs and handwritten letters would be tops on my list of things to rescue. (Okay, maybe the cat too…)

Yes, there’s something so joyful about receiving a handwritten note or letter, and yet I’m sure that most of us realize the practice is in danger of disappearing. Perhaps that’s one reason why I like designing cards so much. I can easily print and fold a card and write a few heartfelt and encouraging words to someone.

I must confess, though. I practiced this more often a year ago, but have been quite remiss of late. So I think I shall vow to start again and at least send two or three notes a month. If you’d like to join me and would like inspirational cards you can print yourself, why don’t you consider signing up for the Sprinkles update newsletter and receive a set as a free gift? (The sign-up box is on the top right-hand side of this page.) You could always cancel your subscription later on – though of course I’ll hope you won’t want to!

I’ll report back on how it goes with my own mission of sending handwritten notes once again. Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts, or share a memory of a favorite note. I remember one in particular that I’ll share with you later.

In the future I hope to use this blog space to write about joyful things. Like how my 19-year-old son went with a friend to the hospital on Saturday and set up Skype so an elderly couple could virtually attend their grandchild’s wedding via web cam. (Isn’t that lovely?) Yes, things like that.

Right now, though, I thank you for your patience as I gradually work on building this site. It’s been a joyful project, and I’m looking forward to adding more dollops of design!