I've been trying for days weeks to come by here, but blogger has kept me out.  Then tonight, just as I was about to abandon hope, the door flung open. So here we are.  A cup of chai tea at my elbow, a handsome Chug chomping on his bone...and us.
So the last we spoke, I was becoming appalled with the amount of time I was spending, neck bent, with electronics.  And I realize that Henry is a dog, but his amazing brown eyes spoke of hurt and loneliness...he needed more attention.  And that made me realize that there needs to be a moderate middle...too much out-and-about swung to an arc where I stayed in and tapped on the computer.  Back and forth the pendulum swung.  Too much. Too little.  So I made a decision that I would plan just 1 outing a weekend.  And the other day would be spent keeping the house tidy and the laundry done and shopping for food, and then generally slacking about.  But starting...next weekend.  I'd already booked my calendar full.  And I saw the folly in it all...the half enjoyment, knowing the clock was ticking to have to run to the next thing.  When my separation and divorce was grinding through me, it was absolutely necessary to keep busy.  Very busy.  Just to keep my mind from taking a turn down a dark street.  Busy, busier, busiest.  And I highly recommend that.  I do.  Some will say Be Gentle With Yourself, as though you should soften your eyes and live in a drowsy, slow fashion.  But if you are able, get very busy right away.  I was admonished to slow down and process everything...deal with the emotions.  Yes, it is like a death. But it isn't a death.  You'll still run into the bastard when you least expect it, and usually when you look like death sucking on a biscuit.  He will have some version of Barbie hanging all over him.  It will happen.  And while you're deciding if you should punch him in the trunks or just act all cool and thank him for the STD, he'll pay for his gigantic sirloin steak and wish you well.  So no, it is not a death.  As far as processing anything, I have all the facts my brain needs to understand: one year ago, two weeks before Christmas, the man I married 15 years prior came home and advised me he was planning to proceed with a divorce action. This was while we were eating a superb meal that I had spent quite some time concocting.  In fact, I was still wearing my orange apron, if I recall.  The fact that I didn't destroy the apron afterwards is a testament to my love of orange.  So, the short version is - no, there is nothing to process.  It became clear very quickly that he was kicking his life to the curb, and my foot was stuck in the webbing of it.
But this is all old news.  Lately? I'm still struggling with my studio.  Or rather, my brain's refusal to cooperate at the table. It has been a source of extreme frustration.  When you identify as an artist, and you cannot produce art...what then??  Are you no one? Or are you becoming someone else? In my mind, I have created the most amazing work of my life.  But I have no energy to bring it to life.  I sleep. I sleep. I stare at Netflix movies slack jawed and constantly in the evenings.  It seems that I have spent the past year running...first from a bad marriage, then from the loneliness of my heart, then from my inability to bring forth what if feel would be the best work of my life. There used to always be one more thing to wait for and THEN I could make art.  But that attitude changed.  And I don't feel that's the case now.  Just not feelin it.
I'm starting a new business venture called YourGreatSpace.  I'll be doing organization in people's businesses, warehouses, homes and garages. Which I love. I put my OCD hat on and everything gets put in a proper and pleasing place.  I'll also be corralling paperwork, and have a kick-butt system. The website is in-process www.yourgreatspace.com
And that is the long version of my life in a nutshell.