Additional Jollity

Wednesday, December 28, 2022
I'm sure you're tired of me beating this dead horse (of saying how much I'm working on my bunny book), but I've been knee-deep and ran against the clock of publishing my said bunny book, and if I were on a schedule with a vast publication, I would have failed in the olympic degree. The answer in short, no I did not finish the illustrations. I know when I am efforting therefore I felt procrastination bubble up allowing for the emotion in consequence I listened to my Mermaid Inner Being. Let us crack on, shall we? Thank goodness I am a sovereign lady. The ability to dictate my career has its advantages, as I focus on my vibrational output, wherein everything I undertake, I settle upon all determinations. At this juncture, I will feel accomplished if I reach book production by 2023. At this phase, I'm living on strong tea and vile victorian sarcasm. It's a real skettle of fish round' these parts, my dear hearts.

In these, my "Carters Chronicles" or "Not So Penny Dreadful Tales" (utilising whichever of the two you so choose. Actually would you mind telling me what you like better) are mere prattle at best. I set you right to acquire the taste for my silly larks. Understandably one day, I'm quite the profound bright spark, whilst the next, I am a thorough church lady of blitherings—a true testament to a Pisces way of life. 
There is a beautiful (one of the many) Victorian museums in the UK where I saw the sign for staff which I loved, and inspiration knocked, so I made my version of the poster. Do you like it? If you enjoy the bit o' wit, you are welcome to print it off for your enjoyment. 

Jeffrey Shawn skived off work yesterday, and having him around brought out my anticipatory thoughts of when I shall retire him. Solely knowing his presence is somewhere in the vicinity is all the tonic I require to feel immersed in comfort. He's here at the cottage, albeit he may be in the adjoining chamber playing the guitar or scrutinising a repeat broadcast of Yellowstone; I comprehend the art of appreciation, do you? I fully understand Jack or Jill, who may feel a bit of plight in reminding themselves to appreciate the granted beauty in those general moods and daily pursuits. Daily quests and amusements can be mundane, and having lost a child; I dare ne'r take bestowed moments for granted. 
As of late, I have run about like a chicken with my head cut off. But, oblivious to the carnage of the world and its wreaked havoc, I consciously choose to live in a spirit of friendly surroundings. It best suits me, and I have quite the fun in "Taking Joy" daily. During the days leading up to Christmas, I slipped on my wellies and went about the woods, collecting a bit of spruce and holly branches. Then I dug through some old receptacles in my dad's smithy (welding shoppe), which guided me to an old confederate jasmine vine, which I turned into an advent wreath. It was in the exhilaration of representing dear old-fashioned lifestyle icon Tasha Tudor of which I possess an affliction. Subsequently, I spent a little time wrapping Christmas gifts for my mum to give to her nieces and a few for family members. I used natural paper jute twine, fresh holly branches and evergreen sealed in red wax. The labels are from the office supply store. I tea-dyed them (sink of hot water and boiled tea bags of about ten large Lipton. They must be the Lipton brand; otherwise, you will have an unfortunate case of orange paper unsuitable for anything other than the rubbage bin.) Set them in the oven to dry. I placed them on a cookie sheet and fixed the temperature to 200 degrees for approximately ten minutes.

I've been working regularly on my next episode for Patreon. I found an old bedraggled Victorian lampshade at the charity shoppe in which I'm positioning my particular style with a twist of mermaid enticement. Stay tuned for an excellent outcome. This picture appeals to beguiling you into signing up for my Patreon series. You'll appreciate the others if you enjoy videos like those I've shared openly on YouTube. 
Here is the first and second layer of the stitching on the victorian lamp shade.

I placed on hold of the olive green wrap prairie dress (1850) for a few days running as I collected some green silk to line my velvet cape. Today I commenced, and I am back at stitching. I find such pleasure in hand sewing, not so much in machine sewing. My cape adorned and enveloped me when the days of nippy temperatures arrived. I am now plotting to collect a black or navy velvet to make a cape that would better suffice me for average days. A lightweight, it will look nice for spring. I also received wool for the Victorian swimsuit I will make for summer at the seaside. I have a few other irons in the fire, and for now, I will close. May today bring about all the happiness you deserve. My fondness for you abounds. 

Oh, and before I skedaddle offline, I wanted to share my new design for my pop-up email list. Isn't it charming? 
Take Joy! 

"Books and desk are essentials, "meat and drink," and wherever most convenient for use, would be best."—Anonymous, 1883. "Queries," Table Talk, November 1883, p. 390. 

Most affably yours til my next swim Lady Raquelxxx

Painting Whilst There's Nothing Between Me And The World But An Old Creaking Screen Door

Monday, December 26, 2022

I'm writing this blog post stolen from the wee hours of half past three in the morning. 

Once upon a time, in my little one-horse town of Brooksville, you'd be capable of walking anywhere a house dwelt; walk right up to a porch, and there would be nothing but an unlocked old screen door keeping you from your neighbours. There were no detained doors or ceiled shut windows with heavily draped window treatments. So you knew ole' Ms Sady was frying chicken, or you'd smell freshly baked apple pie scents from the window sill following the dirt road. 

It also reminds me that I began pondering on Tasha Tudor and her artistry workspace as early as two weeks ago. She vowed by a large wooden table in front of a window in her kitchen which she said tale it reminded her of a tiny chipmunk's nest. As I was grappling with a 'feel' I was desperate to gain whilst painting illustrations for my little storybooks (most especially The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies), I felt such a lack of reasonable provocation. So I had to think of a solution. I began moving about tables and furnishings from one corner to the next in my folk's cottage, where I once had my artistry materials. I then moved things back and forth from Scarlette Rose to the main house, and in the midst of this, my temperamental frustration began to build. For an artist, environmental surroundings are of utmost significance. Then one day, I had the idea from my girlhood to pack a basket of my particulars and go outside and sit on the garden lawn to paint. That notion inspired me to place my painting desk right in front of the open double doors of Scarlette Rose cottage. I've never been more inspired to paint since that day, so I plod onward. Each morning the first thing in my diary is to see my beloved husband off to work. I perform my daily tidings and domesticated achievements and then stroll out to Scarlette Rose cottage for the day. I have been saving up for a big beautiful wooden cook stove (rather than the one currently in the house), and I also have my eyes peeled for a Victorian toilet. Initially, I was plotting to turn to a modern commode and build around it to feature an outhouse; however, upon hefty thinking, I would rather keep on with the cottage's appeal of the Victorian era.

My blog has plenty going on, it's true I am opinionated, and my views pop out here, there and everywhere; I remain devoted to sharing on my blog, although most believe that blogs are a thing of the past. I suppose that is very on-brand for me, then. I, heretofore, solemnly make an oath I plan to stay sat and write for as long as you'll have me and enjoy my musings. 

Did you listen to my last video on ye olde youtube of my big announcement? 

Most affably yours til my next swim, Lady Raquelxxx

How A Landlocked Mermaid Cultivates The Virtues Of A Simpler Life, Properly Insulated From Trends And Fads

Thursday, December 15, 2022

I have stayed away as my illustrations for The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies have driven me to distraction. I have been on quite a voyage of the procession in releasing the bunny book. Yet, despite the preoccupations engendered by my reluctance to self-admit book procrastination, you can boldly see I am wholly conscious of the achievement sufficiently rare to many who've come before me. My inner desires of the title authoress fill me with such pleasurable satisfaction, continuously lulling me into an illusion of confidence that I plod on regardless. Better acquainted with the vastness of such expansive desires I possess and the burden of economic weight, I am currently planning an execution to churn out a book a month. In your presence on ye olde blog, my writing is of a clear slanted hand; I use a steady drip feed of carefully selected phrases that intrigue my young and old readers. 

Now onto the matters at hand as I have a score on several much-needed conversations regarding a simple, virtuous life, but firstly, a bit about success and how to achieve it according to me. The forest of fools (the world) is relatively comfortable with using 'force and pushing' through an archaic narrative, which constitutes success and the trail to its arrival. Even though new assumptions and the acts of other successful lads and lasses have proven hard work and years of toiling away is old information, there remain degenerates who refuse more unique avenues of thinking. Although it has been until recent years, the over-ambitious could cut me down to size with a mere phrase, and I would have believed them, now I carry the thought of their unintelligence. Currently a believer in the law of assumption, a woman armoured with decades of experience and an infantry of intellectual self-confidence, I've become indifferent to those reprobates. Truth well fixed what has taken these dwellers decades to accomplish; I then come along and perform the same and achieve more success in half the time they spent; to them, I echo they are merely bitter. I'm quicker, more clever, and that is an old proverb for covetousness that has been the resulting scheme since the dawn of humanity. Quite forwardly, I have proven it and proved to be false their dusty novelty of beliefs on success. The world at large remains age-old; to become successful, one must become enslaved to long years of strenuous effort, most notably with a constant reminding us of focus on the more elite distinctive intellects and how they've accomplished such feats. We, as valiant ladies, must break their treacherous circle as many of them are disproportionately carrying forth precarious teachings attempting to plague our young. This mindset that one must work hard from the cradle to the grave is an old and outdated fallacy. I have spent nearly a decade speaking confidentially with women. I have the utmost compassion for their obvious distress and conflicting heart, advising them those olden ways are no longer current. I am at the deepest part of myself, an old-fashioned woman in clothing and lifestyle but highly modern in values and intelligence. I'm painting a new definition of procrastination. I am perfectly aware that not all of us can afford to be romantic. Yet, I am an optimistic noblewoman, such as I, implementing broad variants to encourage women to become romantic. The instruction is here on ye olde diary, not hidden yet; the wise will only be the deciphers. 

Atop the painting, in addition to my hand sewing and gardening, my time has me smothered. However, I have no complaints, as homemaking and artistry are my two weaknesses.

I have often minded my tongue as I've sought to shift in hopes some folk's spirits would turn without me feeling compelled to rebuke them. I aim to be friendly and obliging and a bit colourful. I am daily toiling away at attempting to teach without being hurtful and flagrant with disgraceful measures of an acid tongue. A genuinely excellent and proficient writer can compose with intelligent language and bravely write to bring forth a straightforward message of reprove and maintain a sense of modest provocation whilst also improving schooling. I have found many writers have no long-standing thoughts about what they pen, and half is pure drivel. Yet I have suffered the loss of a child, and I am quite aware of the unsatisfactory repose. As of late, I have stood by and listened whilst folks have flagrantly prattled on not understanding when it is no longer proper to "never complain, never explain." Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if we gather hold preemptive, we can achieve much without the threat of violence. I often recite that I teach from my scars and not my wounds; this type of teaching prohibits many examples of using emotional branding rather than beautiful messages shared whilst in the state of mind to proactively teach prolific and philosophical knowledge. Yet we have speakers, professors, authors, political figures and athletes attempting to change humanity when they themselves are full of fury, influenced by their threat of financial loss, provoking them to act in deep waters of desperation. Yet, until the mass of the population begins turning their cheeks to unfavourable behaviour, it will forthwith proceed. We, as societal inhabitants, must start training our particular minds not to accept the multitudes of trends and crazes. How long will we secretly feel enraged yet remain the hearers, not the doers? How many experiences must we repeatedly witness and yet consistently and slovenly discard as that's their problems, not mine? Where is the desire for legacy, to uphold character, honour and self-sufficiency in what currently exists as a beautiful world? We as women must create a bit of delusion in our nature to spread goodness and nobility to our children. Having been born of women, we are responsible for creating a safe haven of home and womanly favour, and it must begin at the grassroots level. First, in our homes, mothers and women start today by "Taking Joy" in their life and not in the fad-oriented surfaced inclinations of inconsequential matters. Too long have modern women begun to use their brains and abilities for lackadaisical methods. Our young women and men have been dismissively shoved aside and are no longer being taught worthwhile attributes, such as respect for self, speech, and, frankly, all matters of the heart. Mothers, women and ladies have slowly lost their way from lackful love and respect for themselves. The folks in the arena of self-help or leadership are banging on as if they have all the answers and are practically new babes in swaddling blankets. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so it's no surprise to see a fully financial person attempting their fate in an entirely new industry. I will tell you why this occurs because the one thing a wealthy person often doesn't possess is fame. All of these things are perfectly fine, yet obtaining them should be done upon the golden rule. Folks believe that beyond all measures to achieve something, it must be genetic, which is precisely why we see folks becoming unglued. It's bare bones in the world of Caesar. From the cradle to the grave, one cannot go forth and never experience one's resurrection, or else this is what demonstrates itself in absolute tyranny. Tyranny doesn't signify autocracy on the outside. Tyranny can and is resulting within man's soul first and foremost. 

I speak on this with experience. I knew it was vital to take a step back and process my hurt and pain rather than keep on. I believe the deemed folks of importance in the public eye struggle with this as they do not listen to their guidance system yet keep ploughing through at the risk of madness, depression, rage, loss of monetary gain, and most of all, the notoriety of the world. The number one reason celebrities struggle is they become noteworthy and ignore endowing themselves with self-love and worth. This lack of self-love is the culprit for all self-imposed pain. This similar experience also occurs with commoners; This big blue beautiful world is in much need of teaching self-love. Believing fame will subside their inner self-loathing and insecurities, and if that doesn't work, they will buy more monetary things to attempt to quench the thirst for self-love. Yet, they keep on thinking that fame will quill their souls. The world looks upon the outside. I speak on this often, yet it bears repeating until it catches hold. 
A most beautiful gift is that of The Neville Collection. I exist to be a woman of the belief that reading is paramount to being wiser; nonetheless, many the world over (in our culture of spiritual teachers) have read much and yet remain small-minded. Most of our spiritual teachers in the industry today are merely parroting information, having not experienced particulars yet run off as experts, mainly leading beautiful souls to remain tethered to them as elected individuals. This message is of misconception and what I AM changing in the realm of spirituality. The integration of politics and religion is in no relation to spirituality, yet mainstream self-help gurus are either or; no one I've come across seems to remain on point with the balance between the many states a human being experiences. So to get people on board with their ideals and notions, they throw religion in one face like a glass of cold water. In my niche of mindset work, we as teachers should teach folks to trust themselves and be leaders in demonstrating how to return to self, for every human born of woman has the power to direct their lives most successfully. Rather than leaning on other folks to bolster them, teach them to trust themselves and the liberty they hold within—the correct principle is to exhibit how folks must return to themselves in trust. 

It's not the number of books one reads; it is the application in combination with the correct books. So be ye a doer and not a hearer only. 

If you'd like more in-depth conversations and my mindset instructions, swimming over to ye olde YouTube channel is where I discuss and examine such notions. If you're more comfortable with the solitariness of my teachings and the many personal stories I share exclusively on Patreon, sign up here. In the latest broadcast, I share an exciting and extraordinary announcement that I've been keeping quiet. 

A fun fact, I purchased a plot of land in Scotland and England, which entitled me to be an official Lady, so I shall name-sign my posts as Lady Raquel. (Smile) 
I also went to additional lengths to have my passport and driver's licence changed. (This is an excellent novelty and simple fun yet also encourages preserving Scotland and England's countryside.)
Most affably yours til my next swim, Lady Raquelxxx