“You don’t have to do this,” my heard reminds me. Really? I ask, feeling a little lighter. “Remember who’s in charge of your life? You can do whatever you want.” Oh, yeah… I thought. So I closed out of the six windows I had opened on my computer in my attempt to figure out where…
Author: renaissancerebecca
A Day in the Life: Tuesday
“So what exactly is a host?” my dining companions often ask when they see my position listed on my nametag. Where to start? I often wonder. My short answer is this: I live and work here in exchange for room and board and a class every week. The “class every week” part stops most people…
A Host Not Like Most?
“So have you made a lot of things so far?” my new co-host asked me. Having taken eight weeks of classes here at the Folk School, one would assume I have a cabinet filled with the fruits of my labors. “Actually, no,” I said. “I’ve purposely chosen classes where I don’t make a lot of…
Therapy
This morning at the Folk School the blacksmiths pounded steel and the woodcarvers gouged bowls. The cooking class fried stuffed peppers and the rug hookers dyed wool. Where was I? Lying on my back staring at the clouds – doing “cloud therapy” as my writing instructor called it. It was while watching wispy clouds flow…
Inspiration
I enjoy reading Nina Yau’s blog. She’s a writer, a traveler and lives very simply. Everything she owns fits in a backpack. A few months ago, I sent a post of hers to a friend. Last night, that friend was reading it again and reminded me of it. I thought you all might enjoy it. …
Dressing the Part
“Oh – look at your pretty toes!” she said. I smiled as I looked down at my Merlot-colored toenails. They hadn’t been out in public in quite some time. No, it wasn’t the beginning of summer. This was last week. Weather-wise, we are still in open-toed shoe season, but here at the Folk School I’ve…
On Gifts
I believe that there are certain gifts we’ve all been given. Call them talents, strengths, whatever. We’ve all got some. (If you don’t think you have any, please contact me! I’ll help you figure out what they are. No one should go through life thinking they don’t have gifts.) One of the things that makes…
A Trip to Lowes…again
On my first evening in the woodturning studio two weeks ago, I put on the safety glasses the Folk School had on hand. I could feel the plastic digging into my cheeks. Wearing these things for six hours a day for the next five days was not going to be comfortable – and the indented-skin-around-the-eyes…
Thank you, Liz
“I’d rather you give me memories than gifts,” I told my sister Liz. I explained that experiences meant more to me than “stuff” – unless the “stuff” was homemade, of course. Liz had taken a few pottery classes in high school and made some beautiful pieces. I envisioned owning a whole set of plates, bowls,…
A Tribute
It was a full page ad. The woman wore funky glasses and an angled, blunt haircut. Her posture, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes emanated a happiness, a confidence, and a freedom I wanted. But none of that is what drew me in. As I flipped through the catalog for the Boston Center for…
RenaissanceRebecca 