Ten To Tote.

Ten things to tote, huh?

Yeah, tote.

You know, carry around, keep track of, remember, hold close in a safe place?

Tote this, Meg:

1. Sometimes you think too much. Perhaps take a moment every now and then to shut your brain up and just be. Overthinking tends to make you a little loopy from time to time.

2. Not every day ends with a cherry on top. Remember how you used to think every sentence should end with an {!}. Then in 10th grade English, Mrs. Myers told you that just wasn't so. She meant it. Periods {.} are okay. They actually mean to pause and rest. Question marks {?} are too. They keep us growing and learning. Just don't go into loopty-lou mode with the ole crooked mark. {reminder: see #1}

3. Boys are different than girls. Women are different than men. What you think and what they feel sometimes isn't even remotely the same. Same goes for what you feel and what they say.

4. Get out more. With the boys, without the boys, with Kenny, without Kenny. Just get out more, dang-it. You feel better when you do.

5. Keep finding inspiration in your everyday. Believe in the ideas and dreams you have. Others may find them lofty, but others don't dream them, now do they? You can do it, you can do it, Cinderellie, Cinderellie. {Phil. 4:13}

6. Sorry gets old when you say it all time. Matter of fact, you can actually wear that word out. Say when you need to ONLY, then say it once with the heartfelt remorse you have and move on.

7. Be more compassionate. Remember what it feels like to have a cold, be scared, try something new, or feel alone.

8. Keep up the great work on running. You really like getting to do that for yourself. Don't let that slip away.9. Your boys watch you. They watch everything about you. Whether you realize it or not, they do. Make it count.

10. Shave your legs more often. I think that could be a nice treat for yourself. Cause prickly legs all the time just ain't no count. {As your rubbing them together right now typing this to judge just how prickly they are.}

There they are. Ten to tote. Not to mention, some of our more recent k.Mac totes for visual post enhancement. Each one a custom design and personalized order much like the list of the 10 I just made.

So, what about you?

What would be your 10 to tote right now?

Perhaps a k.Mac tote could help you lug them around in style!
{the above was the 1st {!} technincally used in this entire post.}
{Take that, self.}

.mac :)

She's Here.

She's here.

Bouncing belly.
Squishme legs.
Scoot crawling.
"B" hauling [that's short for "blankie" in our family}

Resting.
In my home.

I can remember my first time to let either of my boys go somewhere overnight without me. Should my mother-in-law be reading this, she can attest to the 12 page typed journal complete with visual aids that I left for her and my sister-in-law when they came to watch Eli overnight for the 1st time.

There's just something about their little breathes not being rightinthenextroom that gets you.

That's why I truly understand and gratefully appreciate the trust that Kim and Adam have in Kenny and me with sweet Mollye.

I've always loved the phrase, "It takes a village." when it comes to raising your little ones. I love that my boys have so many grandparents and aunts and uncles who each provide them with their own gifts and outlooks on life. Activities, outings, expectations and dinner menus are different at every home in our village. At Ma and Pa's, they go feed the ducks. At Mom-mom and Larro's there's the highly coveted blue and white semi and fruit bars with icing on top. At Nana and Papaws, there's Papaw's "iiee-pace" and backyard racing. But one thing that is present at every home in our village is an undying love for our boys.

Thus is true for the sweet cheeks resting her head in just the other room at Aunt Meghan's and Uncle Kenny's.

And what will this home in her village give her? Perhaps she will remember the whirl of fun and overdose of energy she gets from her 2 cousins as the pounce her this way and that on the floor at play. Or maybe she will lock in on the times splashing in the pool in our yard and playing at our beach.

As for me, I will remember it all. I soak each time up as I am the biggest, fluffiest pink sponge when it comes to her. I am enamored at her daintiness and her sweet little giggles and grins. I am taken aback at how immensely my boys love this little girl. I watch her discover and learn. And it makes me happy. Playing with my pink Tonka Bronco {my version of the Barbie Jeep when I was a little girl}, never made me smile more.

My fits of sewing whimsies just knowing she's coming soar to all-time high. And I think that's my little way of remembering a home once in my own village.

Because, to me, when she's here, in a way, so is she.

She's here.

.mac :)

The Green Thumb

A thumb of green,

You know what I mean.

To produce.

To perfect.

Gardens.

Lush Blooms.

An architect of the soil.

A master of the craft.

Hands.

Hoes.

Dirt Under My Fingernails.

Impatiens...

of coral and white,

I rock.
Daylillies...they bloom right on time. Tick-tock.

Geraniums fuchsia.

Marigolds lemon yellow.

Petunias, I struggle.

Dead heading gets old especially accapella.

A rookie to rose bushes.

I give it a whirl.

In honor of Kenny's Mamaw.

She was the rose girl.

A garden for salads.

cucumbers and tomatoes.

zucchini

squash

I see fruits; I harvest.

Alas, it's all not a wash.

sunflowers

and zinnias.

My favorite for bouquets.


The dog days of summer.
Ahh, these are the days.



A perfectly green thumb?
Well, perhaps not.

But chipped green toenails...
Now, that's what I've got!

.mac :)

Stacked.

No. I am not talking about my chest.
I wish.

Ever just feel stacked?
Piled on.
Buried in the to-dos and the dang-I-don't-wannas


Or perhaps, you are so totally inspired to create something new, paint a wall, re-arrange furniture, clean out a closet, re-organize, BUT there's just a ton of JUNK {important junk} that has to be done first?

Yeah, stacked.

And why is it that the brightest and best ideas come to me whilst I'm hidden under the rubble?
Like new bag designs, art projects to do with the boys, inventive gifts to make for others, a new art cabinet design complete with detailed protocol for bins and baskets. I mean seriously.

Eventually the pile either tumbles down with a whole lotta effort on your part or you tumble down from the pile.

Kinda that fight or flight thing, ya know?

Organization is always something I have craved. I intend to be organized with my home. I enjoy having its presence all perky and neat. I like to have a place for everything. Or at least I intend to.

With my business, same goes. And my boys, my chores, my to-dos.

Yaddayadda...intend.

I have always been this way. I can remember back in high school I had this secret girl-crush on the captain of the cheerleading squad. Now me, being the captain of the basketball team leaves you all wickedly wondering.

Read on for clarification.

Skim on and get that I might be unsure of my sexuality.

I was totally mesmerized by Courtney Cunningham. She was the eldest of 4 girls and lived right off our little hometown square in a Victorian pink house. I kid you not. It was pink. I loved the idea of 4 sisters living in a pink house.

ANYWAY, she was uber and I do mean uber organized. She had the coolest planner/organizer thingy.

I sat across from her in AP English class and would totally check out of the lesson at hand only to eavesdrop with my little eyes in hopes of catching a glimpse of what was in that planner.

Not nosy-nosing to find out WHAT she was doing, but more importantly, to see her method of HOW SHE WAS DOING IT. I mean there was color coding with multi-colored highighters, tiny tabs that were different colored, blue ink, red ink, and LOTSA things crossed off.

She had the coolest hand writing all messy-neat in its own way and everything was written on the lines and with order.

Dang, I loved her.

Courtney, if you should be reading this:

"You were a guru long before your time. I STILL long to get my hands on that 1993 planner of yours."

I actually bought one myself as close to the looks of hers as I could. Mine was red. It said "planner" on it. Clever name; I should have sensed demise from the start.

Somehow I tried to emulate her methods...the ones I could make out. I never dared to ask her "how" as that would mean defeat. And well, that just couldn't happen you see.

But the problem was, I just stared at the damn thing wondering what to write down. It just didn't click for me. I ended up with beau coups of multi-colored highlighters, pens, post-its, and tabs all stuffed and crammed in my backpack just hanging out waiting on me to use them.

Uggh.

I continued to to force this method of organization upon myself through my college years. I would end up writing down things I just did, JUST so that I could highlight them as "DONE."

Pitiful. Courtney would be mortified.

The one day, out of no where, the steno pad became my friend. I morphed into the way my mind REALLY works. Jumbled scribblescratches of lists, circled importances, dreams jotted, numbers to remember, all with the use of 1 pencil and 1 highlighter.

And it works for me.

I am not ON TOP of the piles all the time rest assured, BUT my mind is happy. Things get accomplished.

And eventually they always do, huh?

The piles that is. Whether you are the queen of checklists and color coding or the diva of chaos and clutter...one way or another your junk gets done.

Some just get it done more efficiently than others.

And that's just it. I think I that's what my mind longs for:

{excellence in order}

{efficiency with ease}

...the way MY BRAIN can best operate.

Cause everybody can't be a Courtney Cunningham. Goodness knows, I've tried.

And how's that for showcasing my last batch of Pretty Ditty wallets? {this post}

See, I even write like the way my sweet steno looks.

I can check off:

"blog about bags" and "vent about my organizational skills" with one strike of the highlighter!

These Pretty Dittys turned out superfine. I loved seeing all the different fabric collections clients chose to create their own. These pictures, again, seem to resemble the looks of pages in my steno pad: cluttered with the goodness and get-tos of my mind!

How do YOU get the jobs of life done? Feel free to answer my poll or leave me a detailed comment on how you tick-tock!



.mac :)

Summer's in the Bag.

Happiness in My Hand.

k.Mac's Regency.

{our most popular bag style ordered}

Crisp. Bright. Happy.

One of our more recent custom designs.

This client made this a special order for vacation fun!

Ahhh, a new custom hangbag, getting away, and warm sunshine...nothing says summer more!

.mac :)

{My Ruby}

I love to design.

Simple as that. I absolutely thrive on knowing that not any 2 things HAVE to be the same. I imagine this post should be sufficient enough for you to capture how much I truly love the art of creating, but just in case, I'll say it again.

I love to design.

Allow me to introduce one of k.Mac's newest bag designs...


{Meet Ruby}

This sweet girl came to me about 6 months ago.

So here's how I roll:

1. my mind searches for new bag tricks all subconscious-like under the mommy radar.
2. a design hits my conscious mental faculties.
3. I rush to scratchscribble it down with these trusty guys.
4. I grab fabric first free opportunity I get {i.e. 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning when all sewings, mommying, and wifeing is done}
5. Ahhhh, I create.

I can usually get the finished product I want on the first try. I guess my brain is smart enough to calculate and play doctor on it long enough before it sends it on down to my conscious grubby paws.

Then I carry the bag for about 4-6 months to test it for durability, functionality, and overall cute curb appeal.

This Ruby is rockin' out, ladies. Enjoy a little eye candy of this girl, won't you?

Here she is as a diaper bag. A-DOR-ABLE.

And as an airplane carry-on/travel bag:
Dupioni silk bows. I love the change in texture here.

And her name? Well this story is the best.

Kenny named her. I brought her into the kitchen and twirled her around in fashion show form to show Kenny. I asked, "What do you think? I still haven't named her."

He gave me the once over. Came over and held the bag to get a closer look. Then he said, "This is Ruby."

I asked why.

And he simply replied, "This bag has personality. It's got pizazz and looks ready to go some place fun for a heck of a good time. That was my mamaw."

Ruby was his mamaw's name.

And a perfect name for this bag too.

I tease in the name of this post {My Ruby}.

I am in baby fever mode. I got the fever for a third, girlies.
Kenny does not.

I joke with him all the time saying if we did have a 3rd child, I think it would be a girl. To which he shakes his head and does the whole creepy crawly shiver dance all without saying a word as he turns his back to me.

I tell him I think we should name her Ruby.

Mollye was my first choice, but has been wonderfully used by this stinkin' sweet girl that I can't get enough of.

Then I also liked Carlye as Kenny's mom's name is Carlene after her father, Carl. But my cousin Katie has a sweet little one named Carlie who will be 3 in October.

So I gotta have a Ruby, don't I?

At this point in my life, I think so.
Again, Kenny does not.

Thus {My Ruby} will have to be this bag design.

Perhaps you might want {My Ruby} to be {Your Ruby}?

Cool. I think I know where they make them. :)

This bag design comes in small, medium, or large. Just email me at meghan@kmaccreations.com if you are interested in {My Ruby}.

The best part about this Ruby as opposed to the one my uterus so desperately wants is that this one comes potty trained!

Stay tuned as I have deemed this week bag week. I have been far behind on posting some of our latest custom designs. I plan to do a little bag love on this ole blog.

Happy Monday!

.mac :)