Linwood Cemetery April 20, 2011

I grew up going there–to the old confederate cemetery in Columbus, Georgia where I was raised. It was the very first cemetery there, and it came to be just one year after the city was founded. My grandfather, Henry Ritch Callaway was buried there (among other ancestors). I never knew him, but on Sunday’s after church (not all of course) during my childhood, we went there to pay our respects (my beloved grandmother, his wife, was still living, and a huge part of my life). Often it seemed the visit was more to pull weeds or replace gravel…but it also became a time when my brother and I explored. We wandered the old cemetery and read the grave stones. Amazed by the dates on the stones, by the discovery of little ones who’d been laid to rest, the surnames of families we knew, the beautiful headstones and monuments, the mausoleums that provided endless fascination, the canons and rows upon rows of confederate dead…and the quiet serenity of this place, I came to love it here. Sometimes, admittedly, I dreaded the stifling heat in summertime, wearing my sticky patent leather shoes and itchy slip…sometimes I didn’t want to go at all. But this place always had a piece of my heart.

When I was a senior in high school, the unthinkable happened. One of my close friends from childhood was killed in an auto accident. Her families plot wasn’t in the newer cemetery in town, but in the one I knew so well. So there I stood, with my grandmother, in the rain, under an umbrella and watched as my sweet friend Ashley was lowered into the ground.

That summer, my friend Kathy and I hatched a plan to drive over to Auburn so I could show her the school I’d be attending in Fall, Auburn University. Trouble is, I doubted my mother would okay the plan, especially since I needed her car to get there, so I told a little fib. Okay. More of a whopper really. We said we were spending the day at the mall, and off we went. It wasn’t a crazy trip…it was literally a quick drive over, an even quicker tour, and the return trip home. But as we passed the old cemetery, we decided we needed to go in and visit our old friend. Trouble was, we couldn’t find the plot and as the sun began to set we were still searching. Finally we found her, and there we sat and reminisced. We talked to her, we laughed, we cried. And then we went to leave.

Just one problem. There was a sign we failed to read on the way in. And apparently the caretaker didn’t realize we’d come in at all. It read “Cemetery will close at sundown”. And close it had. Huge iron gates had been closed and locked, and the fences surrounding the place were topped with coils of barbed wire. And there we were…..in my mothers car. Her brand spankin’ new burgundy Buick Skylark.

There was only one thing to do….scale the fence like the criminals we were. Of course I was wearing my favorite red Pappagallo flats, which admittedly, I may, at that moment, have been more worried about than my mothers wrath…but I risked their supple leather surface and went for it. (It must have been quite a sight…two prissy little girls scrambling over the  barbed wire fence of a cemetery after dark). Somehow we did it, but now what? We were in a sketchy old part of town and it was dark. Cell phones hadn’t been invented (’cause remember, I’m old?!). There was a paint store across the street…I can still see the sign in my memory–a big rainbow. Ahhh. It was called Rainbow Paints! And there happened to be a single car parked in back of the lot. We walked over and knocked on a door.

After waiting a few minutes with no answer we turned to leave…and suddenly the door opened. And when I tell you that nothing could have prepared us for what was next, just trust me. The man that opened the door, was standing there before us…in nothing but a towel. Now I’m pretty sure that Kathy and I were plum crazy because instead of running, like we surely should have…we asked if we could come in and use his phone. Well thank God for miracles…the naked man was very kind and kept his distance while we called Kathy’s dad.

Yes, Kathy and I had quite the history of getting into trouble together and we had mastered the art of calling the most appropriate parent to the rescue when we got into scrapes that we couldn’t finagle our way out of. Kathy’s parents had already weathered three older children who rivaled Kathy in their, well, sometimes, less than angelic ways…so they were perhaps a little more worn down than my mom, and had become the usual go-to rescue crew. Of course in this case, my mom was also called…because hello. Her car was locked in Linwood Cemetary.

The rest is a bit of a blur. I recall quaking in the back of Mr. Driver’s Chevy Blazer as the police were summoned. The caretaker, it seemed, lived an hour outside of town and he couldn’t be reached. The police said they would surveil the property overnight but my mother was having none of it. None. Of. It. And she was TICKED. I’m not sure if she rode there with the Driver’s, or how she got there but I sure do remember her voice that night.

The end of the story is that somehow the car made it of of there with all of it’s wheels intact. I’m sure I was on restriction for some time after that (at this point, it was a way of life), and Kathy and I were forced to say “good one Ashley. You got us!” She DID see us scrambling over that fence and she’s probably still chuckling about it.

For years after that, when I traveled home from school, and later, other cities I’d landed in, I always made a visit. I wrote letters to Ashley and left them at her grave (anonymously, but at least her mother and father would know she was still loved and remembered). I pulled the occasional weed, and shuffled gravel at my Grandfathers grave.

And yes, my dear grandmother now rests there beside H.R. –her graveside service was a beautiful celebration of her life. Ashley’s mother was there too, and she saw in me, what her daughter might have been.

I basked in the quiet of the place. And I always made sure to leave well before sundown.

Note: Because everything I write is from my memory alone, it is a little dangerous for me to venture into anything remotely historical (let’s face it people, I wasn’t always paying attention in class) so to ensure the accuracy of my portrayal of Linwood, feel free to check out their link. You will surely see what I mean about the beauty here.

http://www.linwoodcemetery.org

Racing Rollie Pollies… March 4, 2011

“GO OUTSIDE!” it’s the command heard ’round the Gage house EVERY day–upon finding Henry glued to his ipod, or Clara playing games (albiet educational) on the computer. It’s hard not to yearn for a simpler time. Those days when kids came home from school and couldn’t get outside fast enough. Where they waited for the sun to set before making their way back inside to eat a square meal of roast beef and potatoes, while sitting round the table with the whole family (nary a TV in site) and to leave a big brown, honestly earned, dirt ring around the perimeter of the bathtub.

Yep. That’s how I remember it. Hoofing it home from school (we didn’t worry about predators, even if we should have), shedding the school duds and busting tail to get outside. I had a few choices. Play with Ashley, my “behind the house, corner neighbor”, play with Robert (my big bro) and his cronies, try my best to talk Mr. Shirley’s ears off (our sweet old neighbor and his dog “Sema” who I later figured must have really been “Seymour” but that’s how Mr. Shirley said it), or entertain myself.

Aside from a rusty scooter, a tire swing and a few pedal cars, the entertaining was left to nature. Like racing rollie pollies in the driveway. Or covering my foot in dirt and pounding it nice and firm for the frog that was destined to take up residence there. Catching frogs for safe-keeping in my little gerbil cage was a good one too–but they had to be released by dinner–that was the rule. (Ever wondered where all the frogs have gone? when’s the last time you saw one?) Ooh, a really good one was frying ants. I’d borrow my grandmothers magnifying glass, let the sun catch the shimmer in just the right way, aim for my prey and BAM. Burn baby burn. (And amazingly, I didn’t turn out to be an animal abuser in later life.) I spent hours upon hours hanging with my beloved Maggie. Maggie was the magnificant magnolia tree that took up most of the front yard. Oh how we adored that tree. But the best part was the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang branch. It was low enough that you could get to it with nary a hernia, and it had two perfect indentations in it (the front and back seats of course). Then two “wings” that stuck out on either side…and off I’d go. To far off places, high above the land below. That’s where I saw IT. And where the longest-running feud (still going, to this day!) between my brother and I began. Because we spent so much time in the tree, my parents would occasionally have to have sand and dirt delivered to cover it’s protruding roots. That must be how an arrowhead landed there. Only I didn’t know that’s what I was looking it. I made my way down from the Chitty and scooped it up– my little legs running fast as they could go to find my older, wiser (evil) brother. “Ah, it’s nothin,” he said. “Just a rock”, he said. I pondered this a moment (sure was a cool rock), but I had plenty of rocks. So I tossed it to the ground. And that mean old boy scooped it up fast as he could and took off running. “Mama, mama! I found an ARROWHEAD! A REAL ARROWHEAD!” And she was most impressed. And I was most hysterical. Yep, I may have even pulled a head-spin. And thus the WAR ensued. So the arrowhead became the property of my mother, and I’m guessing it can still be found in her jewelry box. Unless HE stole it, which I’ll BET he did.

On an especially long afternoon, it was fun to decorate Princesses gravestone with berries. Princess was my grandfather’s dearly departed bulldog, and yes, he had a real, engraved, grave stone for her. It looked so pretty after I completed my handiwork.

Seemed like in summer there was always a sprinkler going and the way the water hit that big bush was oh so enticing. And if you started at the bottom of a branch and pulled upwards the leaves came loose and did the most lovely sprinkle of their own, through the water and to the ground. About half-way stripped bare, mom came flying out, slamming that screen door, fury on her face, and ripped one of those branches right off that bush. She called the amputated branch a “switch”, and I never played that particular game again.

Oh, joy if the big truck came to deliver a new washing machine or something like it. Those boxes made for DAYS of fun times. A club house right there in my very own back yard, or an army tank used for war right there on Lynda Lane. Gosh, those were the good old days, huh? And gosh, I guess there’s no going back.

Sadly, hard as we try to help our children see the beauty of these things, somehow the reaction is more an eye roll than the mad dash out the door. Will our kids tell their own bored children how great the wii was? And get an eye roll in response?

Who knows…maybe there will be a re-emergence of Rollie Pollie Racing.

And maybe not.

Poser March 3, 2011

Why I’ve decided to say this out loud? Who knows, except for perhaps a desperation for blog subjects to write about. Who, afterall, in any state of right-mindedness,  admits the sad fact that they, yes they, have been a poser.

What is a poser exactly? The webster dictionary says this:

poseur: a person who habitually pretends to be something he is not

Yay! So I only did it once (it just lasted a few years) but that’s not habitual! That would mean I was still posing. But honey, I have long since, come clean. You see, I was a sucker for “outdoor boys”.  I came of age in the 80’s. Big hair, too much makeup and the need for TAN. My involvement with nature consisted pretty solely of lying on a silver blanket, slicked down with baby oil and iodine, working HARD on my future skin cancer.

When I got to college I discovered “outdoor boys”. They had what we termed, the “need-a-haircut look”. That shaggy unkempt, ADORABLE eye-skimming look, that curls up just slightly in the back. They showed off really cute legs in their hiking boots and shorts. The mode of transport was the mountain bike…and fleece (had to be Patagonia) was key. Now that I’m thinking about this, I’m realizing that THEY were probably the posers! I bet 98% of them never went for a hike or slept in a tent under the stars…but they had me fooled.

Anyway. What better way to win over a boy like this? Why of course…buy a mountain bike. A fleece. Wash my face clean of any trace of makeup. Cute cut-offs: check. Hiking boots: check. Tie-Dye: check.

And pray no one saw me during Christmas break at home when my mother forced me into my Pappagallo flats and Laura Ashley dresses.

Yes, I dated a few outdoor boys in college. And I forced myself to act nonchalant when I slammed my mountain bike into a tree. But it wasn’t all that fun. Because deep inside, I’m a bit of  girly-girl. I don’t do manicures and facials. I don’t care one iota about a spa vacation. But I only want to wear fleece when I’m running on a cold day. Fleece is no fashion statement. It’s a necessity. Designer jeans? Ahh yeah baby. Bring it.

I continued to date them after college too. But I waffled between the “outdoor, badboy” and the “nice”, clean cut boy. Sure, outdoor boys can be plenty nice. But most of them were more concerned with being cool. And taking off on their next backpacking trip. But nice boys weren’t cool enough. A little nerdy, sorry. A little too clean cut. A little too concerned with the crease in their khakis. So here’s my ultimate pose. (Gosh, can someone stop me NOW before I cop to this?) I signed up for a backpacking class. HA. I thought my dream man would be taking it. But wait, my dream man didn’t need a CLASS. Oh how embarrassing. And oh, the torture. I spent the next 8 weekends straight hauling a 50 pound pack up every trail in Alabama. I cooked my dinner in a dutch oven (aka, a hole in the ground), I slept in a humid, stale-smelling tent. And met a bunch of the worst kind of geeks this side of Texas.

Around that time I ran into one of the cool boys from college. STUPIDLY I let slip that I was taking this class. The pose ended right then and there for him. Oh, the grief I got. Oh, the humiliation.

Poor man that I married. Because guess what? He was crazy nice…but guess what else? He was an OUTDOOR BOY. A REAL ONE too. He grew up snow shoeing and skiiing all winter, tending his mother’s horses, mountain biking and hiking for the pure enjoyment of it, traveling to the coolest locales to rough it. The perfect blend. My nice boy who loves his mama (and a pair of pressed khakis in the closet), with the need-a-haircut look and a pair of Patagonia stand-up shorts (can you say CUTE?) all in one package. And WHAT??? He thought I was his perfect mate. Because girl can pitch a tent. Girl had an AWESOME backpack. A mountain bike. A zero-degree bag. She MUST be cool.

And you know what? For a while there I don’t even think I was posing. I actually came to love hiking. And mountain biking is an excellent way to stay in shape. I was sort of proud of my cuts and scrapes–I rode hard for them. We took some amazing trips and camped under the stars, cooking our dinner over the fire. We went to Belize for our honeymoon and stayed in a shack on stilts with a tin roof and a rain water receptacle for showers. We skipped shoes for most of the week, and ate fish tacos and drank beers in sandy-floored dives. It was bliss.

And before the kids came we traveled out west and bathed in rivers for 10 days. We hiked and we hiked and we hiked some more. We slept in the dessert. My fashion-statement was a “do-rag” wrapped around my tangled hair. We spat cherry pits out the window from Colorado to Montana. And that trip is without a doubt the very best I’ve ever taken. We came home to the garden in our back yard. We grew corn. I spent weekends painting outside while Matt tinkered on his 1978 Landcruiser. A truly happy time.

But the kids did come. And the “traditional” in me re-emerged. That Pappagallo girl regained her control. If it wasn’t smocked, the child didn’t wear it. The cool Saab got traded for the Volvo wagon. The country garden got traded for “landscaping”. And poor Matt figured out the ruse.

I don’t pretend anymore. Sure, I’ll go for a hike (if I have to) but I’d rather take a Zumba class. I tuned up my mountain bike, but now I ride it on Cherokee Boulevard, not a mountain bike trail. You’ll never see a “do-rag” on my keratin-treated hair. And last Christmas I worked up the nerve to tell Matt that if he buys me ONE more fleece I’m using it for kindling (in the fire place, not a camp fire).

I do love the outdoors. I love the sunshine on my face, a breeze in my hair. I truly love to work hard in my yard…to use my muscles, work up a sweat and get dirty. I love to ride with the windows down, and with a group of really fun folks, think a camping trip would be a blast. I’d do that exact same Belize trip and be happy as a lark. I love nothing more than to lay under the sun (covered in 30-plus) and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. But that’s the real me. That’s the outdoors on MY terms.

I think he still loves me. Yes, he does from time to time tell me that I duped him. But his need-a-haircut look is long gone. And I can’t remember the last time he rode his mountain bike. Could it be?

Nah, the poser was always me. And I’ve changed. So has he.

We are who we are. No one is pretending. No one is posing.

And that’s a good thing. A good thing indeed.

Happy New Year! January 12, 2011

We are off with a bang this new year. Tons of new designs and new products to share with you. For starters we have added a few new pieces to our gingham line (including a dress that is TO DIE FOR). We have cozy beach cover ups, polka dotted totes and coozies, camo and tie-dyed tees, melamine plates…and there may be more but my head is overloaded and I can’t remember! (Why? It may be that my kids have been out of school since the middle of December and the day they were supposed to go back the blizzard of the decade happened and we are STILL stuck at home. I am laid up in the bed with a nasty cold while the girls at the office are frantically packing trunks for our home show season to begin. Before I zonk out I thought I’d post the new designs. (I hope to get back to blogging this year–this past year I focused mostly on Facebook.) I am working to get these on the website but it’s a long process so email me for now if you wish to order one of these designs. kathryn@clarabelleandthehen.com

Oh…and I need to keep reminding! Hannah Kate show at my house next Thursday, Friday (9-5) and Saturday by appointment. (January 20-22(. We’ll have Clarabelle & the Hen stuff too…don’t miss it!!

Our Christmas Cruiser was such a hit we decided that a Beach Cruiser was in order…

We have soccer balls, footballs, baseballs and NOW, beach balls!!

Baby Dragons (by request–we really will try to create whatever artwork you desire!)

Below: sweet baby ducklings

The perfect design for trips to Disney, or your favorite amusement park!

As we always say–there can’t be too many horse designs 🙂I have a thing for sweet blue birds..hope you do too!

Nothing says summer like BUBBLES!

This one is too much fun to figure out with your little girly! Virtual paper dolls 🙂

Splish Slpash!

Sweet new Easter design for boys and girls alike!

My son and his Grandpa LOVE to fish together so this design is in their honor 🙂

For the Tech-ys out there

This one is awesome for grandmas too!

This one needs no explanation 🙂

Noah’s Ark has been on my design to-do list for AGES. YAY! Finally got to it…

 

Our customers are Peace Sign OBSESSED so why not dress it up for every occasion?

Something a little different for Valentine’s Day (or any day!)

I love vintage soda bottles and the kids love any sugary drink they can get their hands on 🙂

Beach=fun in the sun and riding the waves!

Mr. Peace all dressed for Valentine’s Day!

For your little builder boy

Water melon–another one of those things that says HOORAY FOR SUMMER!

Happy Fall! October 24, 2010

My sweet girl in her Clarabelle & the Hen Headband. (She is so proud of that gap in her mouth she can’t see straight!)

We are wrapping up a busy back-to-school season at Clarabelle and the Hen, and getting ready to kick off the holiday season.
(I guess technically, it’s been kicked off for some time now, as we’ve been making Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas tees for the past 6 weeks or so–
but Garnet Hill’s Holiday catalog goes out this week so It’s about to get reallly KER-AZY.)

We FINALLY had our photo shoot–the one I’ve been planning since LAST fall but could never get organized enough to actually do it.
I had to go ahead and book it to put the fire under me…and it worked. We decided to focus our energies on our new ginghams, and our PJ’s. Leah is also shooting a f
ew brand new products on her own. (Our photographer was Leah Bullard–leahbullardphoto.blogspot.com. I knew Leah when I worked for CityView Magazine–
she was with a wedding photographer in the building where out offices were, and has gone out on her own.
She is an incredible talent. Special thanks to our models, Callie, Will, Charlie, Ella, Clara and Mac. They were the bomb-diggity.

 

I took a few photos before Leah arrived…

 

We used Matt’s beloved 1978 Toyota Landcruiser for our family photos

So, we are always trying to stay in keeping with Clarabelle & the Hen’s sort of farm-fresh feeling and searched high and low for the right place to shoot. We looked at barns and farms…
but amazingly, we settled on an empty field near our house and it was just right. The willow bed couldn’t have been more perfect for shooting PJs.
Funny, I bought this bed years ago when I was single and living on my own in an apartment. I used it in the guest room.
I remember my mom saying, “what in the world are you going to do with that?” I said, “well one day I’ll use it in my little boys room.”
My moms reply… “Kathryn you don’t even have a boyfriend!” Well, I did in fact use in my little boys room, albiet a few years later…
and now it makes the perfect photo prop for my little business. Who’d have thunk it? Ha.

We did our family shoot before our models arrived. Something we’ve never actually done! (I know, shocking, right?) Matt and I both HATE having our photos made so it’s always been just kiddos.
The rest of the shoot was chaotic and I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to be sure I got all the shots I wanted.
I know I forgot a few, but for the most part, I think it was a success. And now the dreadful wait…for Leah to hand the photos over!

 

Today I actually spent an hour dressing all of Clara’s dollies. Yep, that does make me OCD. Why do little girls strip all their dolls down and put them in each others clothes that don’t fit or match?
It was an act of procrastination…from working out, and working (as is this boring blog post).

Halloween in next weekend…Clara wanted to be a skelaton–and this time with NO TUTU, so her costume just looks like a pair of black PJs. Yuck.
Henry has yet to decide what he wants to be (just like his daddy, the REAL procrasinator in the family).

Okay, so I really need to go do a little bit of work…here is the teaser from Leah’s actual shoot…I think we’ll be in good shape 🙂

AND another… April 25, 2010

The Hoolah Hoop Girl!

What a wonderful weekend. Clara had a playdate with a sweet friend from school on Friday…then she had her swimming lesson with Mr. Ed. (Everyone calls him the swim nazi, but I think he rocks). We went to our grown up friends to hang, and clara spent the night there (their daughter is another precious friend from school). Henry had a great soccer game on Saturday morning–they are undefeated! We all napped (BLISS), and then Clara spent the night with another cutie-pie friend from school! Today Henry had a friend over so it was all about the kids social calendars this weekend and and they are  WHIPPED. Clara napped again today, and you know what I did! I designed stuff…plus I got my ironing done and even went for a run…and admittedly, I watched the Hills all day. Pretty close to heaven.

Well, okay, maybe not THAT close at all…because yes, we skipped church AGAIN ): We have to get our rears back in gear. But Matt is building amazing built-ins
and he is totally into it–one track mind. No complaints here! We really just enjoyed hanging out at home…

And now Monday is looming ): But here’s to a great week ahead!

He’s a poet and now he knows it… March 2, 2010

He has such a way with words! So much so that he won honorable mention in the annual Osolie Circle poetry contest. Over 800 kids entered from schools all over Knoxville and 4 prizes were awarded to each age group. Henry’s was for grades 1-3, and he won Honorable Mention. He recited his poem in front of a whole auditorium of people and didn’t seem one bit nervous. When he got back to his chair, I said, “good job! you were cool as a cucumber.” He looked at me like I had two heads and asked “is that some old people saying?”

This is his wonderful teacher, Mrs. Reinholtz

This is the latest issue of Celebrate with Phyllis Hoffman (Celebrate Spring)

This is the latest contribution to the magazine…a Mother’s Day Card design. Check out this magazine if you haven’t already! Really pretty.

Patchwork Holiday Tees November 11, 2009

I always forget about all of these designs that I did AFTER Christmas last year! I didn’t put samples of most  of these in trunks or anything.
DUH! So if you don’t have your holiday tees yet…order up! (Remember, they’re patchwork so you can change the pattern!) My personal fave is the candy cane design…which is yours?

 

 

Little Miss… June 19, 2009

I had a customer ask for a tiara tee for her daughter who is Miss Freeport (I think it is a town in Florida) and she needs a cute tee to wear to various events.  I made her this design…and thought, well, that’s kind of cute…maybe I could make tees for all towns…little miss Knoxville etc. But then, what if there are REAL little miss Knoxville’s, or Tampa’s or whatever? We sho nuff don’t wanna go trampling the hems of bunch of hard won beauty titles!! So, I did the 12 months of the year instead…afterall, what little princess doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday all YEAR long? Which crown will you wear?

Welcome to Clarabelle & the Hen! May 27, 2009

You may be wondering what this big change is all about. We have had the name Kat in the Hat Designs for nearly 20 years, so why change now? We are growing, and changing and wanted a more unique name (that could never be confused with another). And why Clarabelle & the Hen? We wanted our new name to reflect our inspiration…and much of it comes from Clara & Henry, Kat’s sweet children. You can probably guess what their nicknames are….you got it! Clarabelle and Hen. We have attempted to move all of the archives from the old blog, and the appearance seems a little screwy on some things. Certainly the first of MANY kinks we will encounter during the big changeover from Kat in the Hat to Clarabelle & the Hen! Please bear with us…and be on the lookout for our products in the Growing Up With Garnet Hill Catalog under our brand new name.

Finally…we would be most grateful to you if you would take a moment to follow us on Twitter and become a fan on our Facebook Business Page…we had to start fresh and lost many of our fans ):

Facebook:
http://tinyurl.com/clarabelleandhen

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/clarabandthehen

(The hot links are available in the blogroll found in the green column to the right)

Thank you!!