This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.


2011 saw my body starting to age, which took me by surprise, as it happened overnight, or so it seemed.

Fluffy haired jaws and cheeks, for instance. A moustache. The makings of a ridiculous goatee on my chin.

O, and there are definitely grey hairs in sight.

Now that I am starting to look a little lot less youthful and colorful, I probably need to pay more attention to my appearance.

The occasional bout of jogging, walking or cycling is not enough. Let's talk exercise routine (yuck).

Also, I'll have to find a beauty parlor or whatever these places are called where they zap the excess facial hair.

And I am undoubtedly hard-pressed for proper clothing - as in clothes that will make you go "Yeah, baby", instead of "Well, at least they're comfortable".

(If I start nagging you about spiffy hairstyles and nail polish, please have me committed. I am begging you.)

The upshot of getting older, though, is that my fears are subsiding. I've been examining most of them for so long now, that I can draw their mug shot in the dark, using my left hand (me being right-handed), whilst schmaltzy songs pour their lousy notes into my hurtling brain. And still you'd recognize them as Fears. My fears. The ones that I am getting rid of.

In wrapping up this year, I've chosen to present myself as a black-and-white diva with a wink.

The goal for 2012 is to end up with a full-color close-up, not of me smiling (there is NO cuteness in a woman nearing her forties showing off her braces in a broad smile), but perhaps with a little grin?

Yes, a loving little grin. That should offset the wisdom of my years nicely.

See you next year!

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.



Never did I imagine I would share my life with a warrior.

Back when we started dating, there were no signs that Top1 would once be faced with a body failing him, a world turning on him and his kind (gentle fellas with unusual humor and an undying love for craftsmanship) and a few other constraints.

He had no ambition to become a highbrow professional in the fast lane, and seemingly possessed none of the skills needed to live purposefully. Things just happened to him, as he straddled a horse and leisurely meandered through streams of consciousness.

Then he fell. He fell hard. He hit rock bottom.

And yet, a few years later, here he is, back in the saddle, fighting his way back into the game.

While I embark upon new adventures, which once again will lead me to be the main provider for this family, he is forced to re-invent himself as the supporting act.

More and more, he is riding the flow with a plan, some sort of strategy in mind.

There's no way of predicting the outcome. He won't fail us, though, as he is still present and accounted for, and more importantly, putting up a better fight than ever before.

And for that I love him dearly.

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.


He has this tendency to hate himself for every flaw he detects.

No matter how many times we tell him Nobody is perfect, he still thinks he has to be that Nobody.

His world is twofold.

Down below there is this deep brown substratum where ugly things like insecurity have taken root without his consent.

And high in the sky floats a humongous fantasy-filled bubble, which leaves him squinting against stark daylight.

In between he drifts, a turbulent mix of Mom and Dad, on his way to a soft-spoken yet sharp equilibrium.

There is no doubt in my mind he will get there - in the end. Because I know for a fact that, flaws notwithstanding, he is the world's finest and greatest.

I merely have to wait till he finds that out himself.

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.


When I grow up, I want to be just like her.

I want to wear brightly coloured girly dresses with toys playfully tied around my waist, not caring what people think.

I want to cuddle my Mommy and Daddy all the time, either out of sheer joy of living, or out of need to share comfort.

I want to light up any room I enter, with my bubbly laughter, my quick wit, my young and naive heart, open to all.

I want to feel loved just the way I am, so thoroughly and so deeply, that there is no room in my mind for even the tiniest bit of doubt.

When I grow up, I want to rock the world. Just like her.

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.

The only thing lacking in this whole series about our crafty Christmas decoration, is a photograph accurately portraying the lovely atmosphere these candle-lit sceneries provide from late afternoon till night. My camera, not the best for artificial light, clearly does not like candlelight as well.

But let me assure you, in the evening, come Christmas Day (pre-scheduled post, remember), I am sitting here in this room, with the candles lit and a blazing fire in the wood-burning stove, writing and perhaps drawing, perfectly happy to just BE.

And these sceneries the other Flows designed (I came up with the idea of window decorating, the three of them made it), undoubtedly help to give me that sense of contentment.

Merry Christmas all!

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.

Another thing that's quite handy when crafting for Christmas: a Daddy who can design the perfect crib for the floating babe AND knows a thing or two about pyramids and camels, must-haves for wise men back when said babe was born.

This is a pre-scheduled post. Will resume regular blogging next week.

Tin stars are easy to make. You need soldering-wire, a burner, a little boy (or girl) who loves to play around with fire but at the same time is very careful, and a plate (not plastic!) to drop the liquified metal on.

Nativity Scene, Flowtops Style (AKA Christmas Decoration Preview 3)

For more seasonal loveliness, please do visit Francesca at FuoriBorgo.

Now that Top3 is nine years old, he clearly thinks it would be alright for him to play computer games such as Call of Duty, or watch movies like Alien.

We've firmly steered away from the topic a couple of times, but the questions roared louder and louder in his mind.

Yesterday, he demanded to be allowed to either watch a scary movie or play a blood-and-gore game. He was ready for it, and he would most certainly not have nightmares about it.

Top1 and I looked at each other, and then I took Top3 aside.

"Listen," I said, "there's something you should know about that type of games and movies. They are designed to interact with a particular part of your brain. It's a tiny part, but it can be quite dominant in little children, especially when provoked."

"Mom, I don't care. I have already seen part of that movie Alien, and it wasn't scary at all. I didn't have nightmares. I can do this. I want to do this."

Making a mental note to ask Top1 which part our boy might have seen, I quietly gathered my thoughts and continued the story.

"Do you know what that part of your brain is called? The crocodile brain." (Most people call it the lizard brain or the ape brain. To me, it's a crocodile.)

"And though the crocodile brain is quite small and normally resides in some sort of cage, it can escape and get really nasty when you watch too many scary movies and play too many violent games. It will snap at you, it will try and dominate the rest of your brain. Young children have young brains. They are playful and do not pay attention to clear and present danger. They simply are not strong enough to fight the crocodile brain and put it back in its cage. You do understand that it must be in its cage, don't you, it being crocodily and all?"

Top3's eyes were now big pools rippling with thoughts of danger he could not quite grasp. He nodded.

"Also, when young children, such as yourself, play these games and watch these movies, or even when they watch too many television, with all the seductive commercials in between the programs, they get lost inside their head. The crocodile brain senses this, and takes advantage of the confusion. Once it is set free in a young child, it's quite hard to get a hold of it. Because again, children are not strong enough. Even some adults have trouble dominating it."

Top3 frowned. "Adults know everything. They must know how to deal with parts of their own brain."

I sighed. "Only the ones who were not confronted with the crocrodile brain rummaging around and having a feast when they were your age, son. And besides, it's a big world, with lots of people wanting to agitate the crocodile brain, to make a few bucks off of it. When the crocodile brain of an adult takes over, that person is easily persuaded to do stupid things. Such as spending all their money in the casino. Or shooting real people, just for fun. Even for adults it can be difficult to contain the crocodile brain. Very difficult."

It was his turn to sigh now.

"So, you see, that's why Daddy and I want to wait a little while. We want you to be strong, to learn how to fight and how to control this beast within. Then, when you're older, much older, you can play games and watch movies. Not too often, mind you, but once in a while. And you'll hopefully recognize the moment the crocodile brain is trying to take over, and resist. Of all the things we teach you, we hope this will be the one that sticks with you most. Crocodiles are fun to play with, but only when they can be put back into their cage. Like in a zoo. And you are the zoo keeper."

(Later, Top1 explained that he had shown Top3 a few stills of the creatures in Alien, because one of the Warhammer species seems to be inspired by them. It was all about resemblance, not about the story. Phew...)

I think we all agree that feeling alone is something altogether different than being alone.

Top1 and I are seldom alone. We work from home (not voluntarily, but that's the way it is), and when school is out, more often than not, Top3 and Top4 are bickering, doing gymnastics, making a mess, playing in the background.

This Christmas will be Flowtops style again - I get some "me" time whilst the other Tops visit relatives, and on Boxing Day we all meet up for a visit with other relatives. (I'll try and give Top1 some "me" time in the week following Christmas).

I think you can guess what I'll do those precious days. Sleep in, of course. Read a book. Paint & ponder. Write & wonder. (Be still my heart.)

Lonely? Surely not - as I'll be together with this little fellow (picked up at the thrift store the other day), pondering and wondering with me from his dining area ceiling corner.

Simple connections please me most these days.


Please hop on over to Francesca's at FuoriBorgo for more lonely stuff coming together.

We strongly believe in apologizing whenever you've made a rude comment, taken somebody's favorite toy / book / stuffed animal without asking, screamed your head off for no reason whatsoever or kicked a living being in the butt. (These are just examples. Feel free to think of many more.)

All of us Tops need to apologize regularly, though it must be said the frequency tends to be higher for the younger ones.

Top4 seems to think her sorry-saying frequency is a bit too high.
She came up with a time-saving method. A sticky note on her chair, saying:

"Dear Top3,
Sorry I was being such a pain in the ass,
Regards,
Top4"

I haven't seen her use it yet, but I guess whenever she feels an apology is needed, she'll grab the note and wave it in his face...

... you can now also hop on over to UltraBattles, where Top1 highlights his ingenious solutions to build terrain pieces and scenery for the Warhammer gaming platform. He has added a few YouTube vids as well, and is planning on doing more, showing how to make the most of simple materials.

Now, I know most of you do not play Warhammer, but the tinkering with "useless" stuff might just appeal to you.

In some ways, this is still "taking everything we've got, and turning it into art".

PS Pictured are a Necron and an Ork Trukk, as painted by Top3. (Mind you, after all these years of living in a household filled to the brim with Warhammer, I still have to ask what each particular creature or piece is called...)

A couple of weeks we didn't use this toilet in our master bedroom, because the water kept running. Top1 finally had a look, thinking he'd need to find some replacement parts.

Nothing was broken. He cleaned some items, then put the whole system back - and it worked.

God, I wish other issues could be resolved just as easily.

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."



Being "me" at this point in time entails foregoing some fixes, even if the solution is staring me right in the face. (Darn it woman, it's just a torn seam. Go get your sewing box!)

Or to put it another way:

Being "me" is using the tears in the fabric of our lives, analyzing them with a moderate amount of humor and some philosophical bladibla.

There's a whole world out there being "Youer than You" today. Go check them out via Francesca at FuoriBorgo.

I'm always on the lookout for things that move me, everywhere I go. Top3 and Top4 know by now not to complain when I park the car on the side of the road, shout: "Just a sec!" and spurt away, camera at hand.

The other day, I spotted a lovely golden brown pheasant, scurrying about on the thick layers of ploughed clay. I had a difficult time hunting it down for a snapshot (from a distance, mind you). Only when I turned and walked back to the car, I saw it again, trying to hide amidst the fragmented soil.

The pheasant hiding in plain sight, probably out of fear, mixed with something I put on Twitter (I tend to randomly tweet thoughts whilst working in my office): "The meek shall inherit the world, or what's left of it."

Fear is an understandable and even necessary trait in defenceless animals. It should, however, not apply to people. We should not be forced to play silly games of Hide and Seek.

For the longest time, I've lived in fear. Not fear to be crushed, but fear that my inner world is too big and too complex to share in a meaningful way. (I tend to get lost in it myself, so what will happen if I allow visitors?)

But I am not a pheasant, and I refuse to side with the meek. The world desperately needs our inner worlds.

So, I've been working very hard at developing an installation for a special venue. (As I am a self-taught artist without any claim to fame, there's a slim chance my work will be selected, but I've submitted my proposal anyway.) In between translations I've been busy reading, writing (some poetry, bits and fragments for the novel) and sorting through the images in my head.

Slowly, I am discerning central themes in my life, and figuring out how to use these for the Greater Good. (Which is a posh way of saying I want my work to make a difference on a bigger scale.)

Top1 is also moving towards new territory, trying to find out how to "market" his unique skills. It's a big world - there must be room for a couple of creative independent spirits. And we're in it to share, not to boost our ego or to make big bucks. There must be a way. There simply must.

PS - As I am typing this, the other Tops are rolling on the floor and peeing their pants over "The Party", starring Peter Sellers. Our sense of humour is very much intact, thankyouverymuch!

PPS - I love each and every one of you for caring. Please do not worry about our income. We're careful with money, we always have been. Top1 still has some health issues, but is far from disabled. We're just searching for ways to make the most of our combined skills and knowledge and depth. (Tips are always welcome, of course.)