what i've been up to

normally i'm allergic to anything that smacks of "whimsy." artwise. whimsical, cute, sweet....any of these words will send me to the Testosterone Temple looking for a blowtorch to set things right. (in my OWN art). but this little creature came out of my hands a few weeks ago. She's part of a series, apparently, of Patron Saints. They are creating themselves (with the help of my hands) effortlessly and without regard to my No Whimsy Policy...clearly posted somewhere in the mess i call my studio. She is St. Ani Log - Patron Saint Of Too Much To Do. she has a very artworthy home to go to already, having established that fact with the 1st moment of her conception. if you've seen my studio, you know that conception was nowhere near immaculate. That's what happens when you let a Jewish girl loose in a studio filled with glue and doodads, and Patron Saints are afoot. i guess. well, half-Jewish. and here it's the High Holy Days...oy vey. so this must come from my mother's side, although there wasn't much religion in the bush country of Canada where she grew up. Joining her is The Patron Saint Of Speeed...St. O'Dometer. and soon to be finished - St. Aloe Purel...Cleanser Of The Soul. but vhat do i know, eh? so i just thought i'd catch you up quick....i'm still tryingto get diva dog to eat, and this will entail much bribery and eventually scrambled eggs. she's sulking & pouting in the closet now. sooo glad i do not have children. (of my own). i swear i'd be doing time somewhere. i should be doing Something artsy right now, but having struggled with my computer for THREE HOURS last night just made for a long day today. i would have launched it from the second floor, but husband rescued it in time. my ranting could be heard across the cul-de-sac. husband is out of town for 3 days and the urge to call in sick is overwhelming. seeing as how i'm on their last reserve nerve in that regard now, i'm not going to shake that hornet's nest. this week. although a relapse may not be out of the question. oh! oh! please read the post about the Birthday Cake Rodeo, and then answer this simple question: how wrong was it of my boss to inform me that Sunday is Julie's birthday, and should we get a cake for her fri or mon? note that she said "we." "WE" know that means "ME" and that particular request is so out of line that i felt completely justified in hanging up on her, stalking across the building to her office (where MY art hangs on her wall) and giving her the loudest glare i could muster. this was definately a 4-star Mom-glare. the laser glare of death. Be very afraid. i lifted an eyebrow for effect and stalked back to my desk in my cubby. Safe place Safe Place. somewhere in the back of my mind, i already know that i will be struggling with a 90-lb yellow cake with strawberry filling and 18-lbs of icing. along side a cake-lette. (big Charlie Brown sigh). the worst part is that the damn thing costs as much as it weighs, and last time everyone kicked in for it - not. no. this will not be my turn. every year at 911, i ended up SOMEHOW being the Secret Santa coordinator. the Jew, with her Jehovah Witness helper. how is that right?? and every year SOMEONE forgot it was Secret Santa day and forgot their gift to exchange. except the one year when someone was so outraged by their gift that they wanted to make a formal complaint - union rep & all. i was called in and was supposed to give up the names of who had who, so the proper person could be punished. all this over a can of freaking Spam. i told them that only Santa has the list and he's back at the North Pole, and that the gift-ee actually hadn't gotten their REAL Secret Santa gift....that the one they'd opened was from an anonymous elf and not part of the exchange. not only could i not believe i had to have that conversation with adults, i can't believe i'm boring you with it again right now. this birthday cake thing has gotten my mind going in treacherous directions. so i'm going to try to find diva and just give up the eggs at the beginning and save us both from the nightly hokey pokey of the whole dinner game. how about a patron saint of Please Doggie Eat Something So I won't Feel Guilty About Ignoring You While I glue Things Together For Hours On End? too long a name? i'll work on it. my mind is clearly in a jumble tonight, so i'll go now before i say something really crazy. hopefully i can come up with some Deep Thoughts for my next post to restore your faith in me. (geez, there's a whole religion theme going around here). okay bye. Linda

august mom

my 2 favorite ladies...my mom & my Lake...from Our summer

yippee skipee!

i'll cut to the chase...i had 6 pieces accepted into Delavan Gallery for a February show, and they want more! I'm very excited about this...more so than i thought i'd be, mostly because it's my wet felting work. i haven't shown it before and wondered if it was just a Mother's Love that made them beautiful. my angel-friend is coordinating a show scheduled for March that will include my new assemblage work, and THAT has me humming with anticipation. that show promises to be very good. and very very special to me....being included in the company of some incredible artists & writers that i admire ....well, shoot! it's like the 1st time the older kids let you play kickball with them. i feel pretty...oh so pretty...i feel witty and ...you know the rest - hopefully, cause my menopausal brain doesn't. that's another good thing about perimenopause...people can confide in you with abandon, knowing you'll forget what they said a few minutes later. in fact my fear is that i'll sit down at my desk tomorrow morning and totally forget my computer login. i've forgotten my timeclock code before. my boss met me at The Clock the next morning "you forgot to clock out." i replied that CLEARLY i had indeed left the previous night, or i wouldn't be, once again, walked frontwards through the door, i would instead be exiting at that moment. adding that although the work was compelling & facinating (i lied) staying the night to complete it just was more pleasure than i deserved, so i had indeed gone home, and The Clock must be broken. i left there soon after. my current Big Girl job installed A Clock a few months ago...this one a little creepier...you punch in your Secret Code, then have to put your index finger on a little scanner thing. you have no ides how many times that darn Clock "breaks." i mean, one little mistake - wrong code, wrong finger...oy vey...such a bother. luckily THIS boss realizes that her bad kharma has brought me to be her employee, so she just martyrs it down with some Tums and fixes it. when SHE first said "you forgot to Clock out," i replied that I didn't Clock Out because i had, indeed, spent the night there because the work was so compelling. And when the endless volume of screaming, swearing callers dropped off around 8pm, i had randomly dialed phone numbers that i made up ASKING people if they felt there was anything in their life that was pissing them off, and invited them to verbally hurl it at me - use me as an emotional pinata of sorts. just so i wouldn't feel like i'd cheated the company out of all those hours of pay. and since i'd worked my 8 hours OVERNIGHT (despite there not BEING an overnight shift) i was, at that time, going home. she just said "i'll fix it," and walked away shaking her head muttering about managing the unmanageable. she called my desk 10 mins later to ask if i really was going home. i love her. one of us won't last. i'm hoping i don't make her too crazy. she "gets" me. and she's artworthy - i loaned her one of my best hand-dyed dupioni wallhangings for her office. anyway, i go back tomorrow after having had the week off. my boss says it's been boring there without me. i have my own swerve to the whole corporate thing...i play it like i see it. having spent more time than was necessary working at 911 and trying to talk Bad people out of doing Bad things (put down the gun, AGAIN,Morris...) and trying to talk Good people out of doing Bad things, i've learned that there is no script for dealing with people. especially angry or desperate people. you have to be real, be compassionate, and give them dignity & respect. that's where the Company & i are...a bit different. i've actaully made friends with people who started out mistaking my name for an act of incest. even though the 2 words are in no way similar phonetically or on paper. that's the best part of my job. for the most part, the company just let's me go at it. and i'm now The Voice. my broadcast experience has raised it's sleeping head again, and i am now the voice you hear on the phone when you call trying to get a LIVE PERSON to yell at. *** new thought** have you ever noticed how different days of the week have a different feel to them? there's a distinct "saturday" feeling day. and a definate "sunday" feeling day. and a sunday night feel. that's the feeling you get when you know time is slipping away from your "real" life and soon it will be time for your "other" life. this has been a constant source of irritation and consternation between me, myself and my husband. To his defense, when we met, i was in an artistic slump and had all but locked my studio and thrown away the key. he had no idea what it was like to be involved with an artist. i welcomed the diversion of our relationship, because it beat the usual frustration & depression i'd feel when i was in an artistic slump. to my defense, your honor, i DID tell him that i was done trying to split my time between art & "real" job and had planned to quit my lucrative but toxic dayjob. i'm not sure he heard that or understood that i would, indeed, be working ONLY as an artist as of January of that year. my cute townhouse was paid for, my car was paid for, i sold my motorcycle to pay off some nagging back taxes and i was livin lean. perfect! not to mention that i already had a steady stream of commissions waiting on my sewing table. after "i do" came the endless stream of expenses....his kids needed braces, his kids needed blah blah blah. and having the martyr gene, i continued past my january deadline. fast forward 7 years....same argument, different "need." yes i know - i can heeaar you. and i've made the same argument myself. they are YOUR kids. with a perfectly good mother making buckets of money and well able to split the expenses with. so where is the line? to even try to explain the whole art=life equation to a man with little art appreciation is just too tiring. work=money ... more work=more money. that's the math he gets. and it isn't just him, to be fair. it's difficult to understand why someone would trade "things" for life as an artist. some people think we're lazy...so all you do is sit home and glue rusty things to wood? snort. or this is my favorite : why can't you just work on your hobby on the weekends like everyone else? not to bash hobbies, but this isn't a HOBBY. this is who i am. if i had said i am a doctor, people would say Oh that's great. or a secretary. or whatever. but "artist" has replaced "stay-at-home-mom" in the so-called slacker annals of wifery. to NOT be an artist (whatever that is) is to not be myself...to not allow myself life. (as a sidenote...why are people so casual about the term "starving artist?" would you ever say "starving salesman" or "starving podiatrist??") so it comes down to this every time: do i let my life be a performance piece entitled "the good wife" or do i just, once & for all, say enough. i gotta be what i gotta be, and not feel selfish about it. not feel guilty when the boat catalogs come in the mail and my husband reads them as avidly as a 16-year old with a Playboy. so here's a point to ponder....why do i feel like i wouldn't be able to match my meager Real Job salary if i worked as an artist? what if i supplemented sales with giving workshops? i LOVE giving workshops! why not do that? so did i marry a man who's expectations of how Things Should Be would allow me to be afraid to leap, but have someone else to blame on that fear? maybe. maybe not. my girlfriend Gail (who hasn't called in a while, so if you're reading this Gail.....)has a lab-created husband. i've mentioned this before. when he NOTICED (on his own) that her sewing room was bulging at the, well, seams, did he say "you need to get rid of some of that crap." nope...Lab Created Husband said "i will take my hammer and these nails and I will make you a place, a haven, for you to create and be happy. I will call this place Your New Studio and i will love you even more." or something like that. so now here's the part that will make everyone gnash their teeth with envy and awe at this Man Who Shall Be Honored....Your New Studio used to be called **gasp**drum roll** the GARAGE. yes folks - the Man Place, the Testosterone Temple of Tools. he actually, willingly, unselfishly made his garage into her studio. ahhh oohhh...women worship you Mr Gail's Husband! we will take turns brushing off your car in the winter in thanks for returning our faith in all men. or at least the possibility of men. yes, Gail works. She works harder than I could imagine working. and she's self employed, so if she calls in sick, she doesn't get to use a sick day to cover the fact that she's in the zone on a project and can't fathom the idea of breaking the spell. or actually sick. but the point here is that HE GETS IT, and by giving her the freedom to Be Gail, he gets the best Gail there is in exchange. And even a mediocre Gail is pretty damn good. so i guess that presents another set of questions: 1) what is my husband willing to give up in his personal life to achieve his goal of owning a boat? 2) is either of us satisfied with a mediocre ME, because without art, that's the best it gets. 3) why do i feel like i have to sacrifice in order for these dreams to happen? for the record, my Lake gives me life. to stand by the shore and commune with her is beyond what i can express. however, i don't swim in anything but a pool, where the creepiest thing you might find is a bug (a small bug) and sitting on a boat all weekend every weekend is beyond what i could tolerate. not to mention that we live in Central New York State where winter is 13 months long. so if we even got this boat, the use would be limited, and i would find myself alone in my studio on weekends feeling guilty, or sitting green-faced on this boat feeling put out, wishing i was home alone in my studio on terra firma. we went to St. Thomas on our honeymoon. i gamely tried to snorkel, much to the delight of the locals watching me freak out as i tried to back peddle my way OUT of the water after seeing a huge school of fish headed toward me. i was in 3-feet of water and only needed to stand up, but panic changes things. we then went on a snorkel/scuba excursion, where my husband saw a shark and after alerting the dive captain to it's presence, exclaimed "cool!" and began to chase it. i was on the boat with a very heavy asthmatic man, both of us deep in prayers & promises to God asking for relief. who knew you could get seasick by being IN the water? (the shopping was great though later on). i am a different person now, and when we go back in February, i'll probably try to snorkel again, but this time with no locals around chumming the waters with Milkbones to watch me freak. different goals. different dreams. easily compromised with the right people. which brings up yet another question: are we the right people for each other? that one's too scary to ponder (again) right now, so i'll just sit here envious of Gail-who-never-calls instead. Got that Sunday feeling...time for a bagel and the paper, then some rusty metal. life can be very good. L.

about those new years resolutions...

i know you'll skip thru this looking for medical mystery answers, so i'll get it out of the way right away so you may actually read the rest: follow-up TV Sono showed nothing. no mass left. no lump or bump or boll weevil or thing to grab my ankle from under the bed at night. so we will visit other possibilities. for now, i will take some time away from all the disinfectant thoughts. but please know that my truest heartfullest thanks are sent out to you who listened to me rant, whine, rail, deny, and otherwise be less than my best self these past few days (or so). thank you. really & truly thank you. now...on to other things. sort of. on the way to the sono, i hit a little Judy Collins, hoping for that earthiness to rub off and send this scared child away with it's figurative woobie. hmm. no - that didn't seem right....to calmly accept what may be the unacceptable with a shrug and a martyr's tired smile. not today. sorry judy babe...what i needed was some soul wrenching, gut curdling, primal screaming Evanessence. oh yeah. no peacenik, tie-dyed, folksy gauze skirt-wearing for Amy. nuh uhn honey. so i can imagine what i looked like as i drove my plain Amish-black Saturn down the road...windows down, goth-rage/christian music turned up to 11 on the dial...side view mirrors vibrating...air guitar alternating with air drums....looking for all the world like a PTA mom who drank the orange KoolAid. the Lone Wolf howls. and growls. and is singing loudly and very off-key. i pick up the song where i left off as i leave the radiology place - where Jack is STILL trying to chug-a-lug the same obnoxious mixture i drank for lunch last week. difference is, his is a surprise treat - no one warned him. i worried this morning that i would flunk this sono test...Diva dog has been extra clingy - surely she knows something. in fact this morning when i crawled back in bed for 5 mins to wake up husband, she wedged her little body down between us and hugged me. attempts to move her were unsuccessful...even the feet-moving-under-the-covers trick didn't do it. diva still has a few "issues" from her before-she-lived-with-me-days. she's afraid of feet under the covers, umbrellas, and laundry. and most men. i can understand the aversion to the laundry and understand about some men, but she will sooner take on the neighbor's Rottie than stay in the same room while i fold laundry. luckily this fear is rarely realized. so anyway, when i got home, i realized we both deserved a Big Walk. no point in spelling it anymore - she knows what i'm spelling. as we walked the Short Path over the dock, thru the Echo Echo Tunnel (where she likes to bark) and thru the Beechwoods past the Monkey Tree, i realized once again how incredible my life has been. not just the amazingly good things, but how the beyond-comprehension bad things have shaped my life and my Spirit. having spent 3 of my most prime years paralyzed with no warning, i learned to be patient with those who may walk slower than me, talk slower, have trouble in some fashion "keeping up." it taught me that the woman wearing the sweats with unwashed hair at the grocery store may be on her first outing alone after facing who-knows-what. in general, it taught me tolerance with many, and also to have no respect for those who belittle or bully or tease. i'm apt to get medieval all over those folks. having to work 3 jobs at a certain time in my life taught me, well, how to work hard. and to appreciate so much - time, "things" and opportunities. and also when "enough" is plenty, and "more than enough" is more than you need. my friend's grandma used to say "what good are 2 punkins anyways if all ye needs one? it'll just rot." so sometimes "enough" IS "enough." from my beloved Kita, i learned yet more patience as he trained me to be a good mom to him, and later patient caretaker, stair-helper, hand-feeder, rug cleaner, and on. such pride, he had, that scolding served no purpose. such love that it would hurt me more than do any good. now Diva...oy! my special needs puppy girl. all she wants is her pretty pink collar, some cheese, and a squirrel to play with. yeah - right. she wants it all! she wants to be held 24/7...to lick lick lick my face, hands, eyes...but not the feet! she'll sit for hours while you spa-girl her with her special brush. (Target...$1). so all these things and so much more lolled lazily through my head as i wandered the familiar path with her. thoughts of my dear dear friends of the heart. my angel friends. how incredibly lucky i am. or blessed. or both. as fall approaches, i usually do a check of how i'm doing on my new years resolutions. usually not so good. this year...not so bad. 2 things left on the list: learn to Latin dance, and learn to play steel drums. actually, those were the only things on the list this year. being unable to provide peace on earth, lottery momey to the homeless, and unwilling to lose weight/quit smoking/finally learn to use makeup properly, i decided this was the year to have fun. so lo and behold....i get home and there's a flyer in the mailbox from a dance instructor! so look out Gloria Estefan....here comes Salsa Momma! oh - and the third thing was another tattoo. still trying to find an awesome picture of a Phoenix....most looked like a chicken being tortured. so enough rambling for now...to much coffee, and missed my nap. i hate when that happens. maybe a mind-CLEARING walk alone this time, to re-focus on some unfinished business in my studio. did i say thank you to y'all who have stood by on alert this past week with me? maybe, but definately not enough. once more? Thank you. to the moon and back....L

crispy mornings

somewhere amidst my dreamfilled travels in the night, just after i was gazing at Red Rock, but before i could build the Dream House, tickling whiskers brushed by cheek. then, just in case, a tentative paw tapped my eye. diva dog. any movement would trigger a bounty of tail-wagging and effusive joy, so i tried to lay still. no luck...i'm convinced she can read my mind and sensed my dreamthoughts turning to daythoughts. a rough tongue tries to pry open my eyelids. okay - i'm up. 5:30 am. diva! i know - if she had thumbs she could open the door herself and go out. >sigh< i hit the "on" button and the smell of coffee follows us out to the deck. we're the only ones in the world....scraps and bits of ideas catwalk in front of my thoughts...this? how about this? part of a Bruce Cockburn song weaves it's way into the show...."I've been scraping little shavings off my ration of light/ and i formed it into a ball/ and each time i pack a bit more on to it/ i make a bowl of my hands and i scoop it from its secret cache under a loose board in the floor/ and i blow across it and i send it to you/ against those moments when the darkness blows under your door." there it is. the quiet nudge. the gentle voice. the perfumed blossom so sweet that you'd walk a thousand paths searching for it- nose testing the air for direction. my Idea. well, i say "my" idea, but to be honest with you i don't know who's idea it is. i can't imagine an ordinary person like me who lives in an ordinary house on an ordinary street could claim ownership of Ideas such as the ones that guide my hands and speak to my spirit. not Linda Jenn, who insisted upon wearing her pleated skirt backwards in kindergarten. not Linda Jenn who tried to do magic and cracked open her best friend's head when the "magic" carpet didn't slide from beneath her 4-year old feet. not Linda Jenn who has had so many different jobs from shoe shine girl to police dispatcher. no...these Ideas come from Somewhere Else.....Someone Else. and i accept the Gift of them gladly and willingly....eagerly. it's not that i'm insecure about myself (no "suffering from low-self-esteem" like it was constipation or a bad headache)....it's just that at the moment of inspiration - that flash of an instant in time - i feel as though a Gift is being handed to me....a special spark being placed in my spirit. and that spark will guide me through boxes and containers and drawers of "stuff" until the right "stuffs" gel together to make Art. it is a Divine feeling (in the true sense of the word...not the "dahling, you look divine" sense). during those moments when i try to grab a wisp of it by the hand, to hold it in front of me to get a better look...during those moments, be they a minute or 10 or 20, the world stands still. diva dog seems to be on her very best invisibility behavior....breezes hush...just my Idea and i standing face to face holding hands and learning one another....testing the mettle...cautiously asking myself if i'm up to this challenge....not moving, lest it vanish. when i've gained all i can from the Moment, it's studio time. now, at 5:30 am, i can tell you 2 things are true: the light from 10 Daylight flourescent light fixtures can scare away an eclipse , and 2) when your studio door is across from your bedroom door - music is not appreciated by the still-slumbering husband. (although the snoring will drown out some genres). last night, after 7 years, my neighbor finally got up the nerve to ask what the deal was with the BRIGHT light that bursts from my upper window that faces her bedroom window and blinds them awake at the oddest hours. i told her i was making adult films, and the light was necessary for the camera work. (well, okay - i wanted to. but instead i said "i'm an artist" and let that ride. the film thing probably would've been more acceptable - at least it was an income, right? ). a cup of coffee, a busy bone for diva, and up to the studio. mmmm - my Idea is following like silk tendrils. when i'm working, i sometimes picture myself with long flowing hair that needs to be pinned back, wearing Stevie Nicks-ish clothing....my inner gypsy. it's always a surprise when i catch a look in the mirror and see short hair and a pink bathrobe, or splotchy t-shirt. my hand goes immediately to my new plastic container marked "small metal." (a result of my recent purge/organize binge). i pull a small cheese grater thing from the bin. i remember buying this at a flea market and wondering why i was doing so...it was metal, but not rusty, not really interesting - just a very small cheese grater thing. sort of like a metal file with a concave side. what would i use it for?? and it was the dreaded silver. hmmm...it all becomes clear ....scraping little shavings....cheese grater cum file....the synchronicity of it all is just so humbling.....6 months ago the Idea knew it's time was coming, and the materials for it urged themselves into my hand. not just the cheese file...but the box it's going in, and several other items that will be a part of this piece - i remember finding/buying each one, and can tell you that each and every time i brought the items home, it was with a shake of my head thinking, "what's up with this?" there's magic to be had at 5:30 am. if you don't believe me, ask my cardinal outside. L.

blessings and backaches

despite all the medical missteps and blunders this week, it has been such a blessing to be home with diva dog in my studio. last friday when the doc told me to get ready for a long week, i went out and bought a book or 3. i finished Water For Elephants in about a day (wonderful, rich, takes-you-there writing, but some disturbing parts). Then i read another Paulo Coelho book. then i started "Living The Creative Life." i say "started" because it is so wonderful & inspiring and "hey! That's ME!" on every page, that i can't rush through it. so i'm NOT the only one with real-job vs art-as-a-job issues. I'm NOT the only one who's found most weekends in the same ripped T-shirt and jeans slaving over some piece of art! the interviews are fantastic - the book answers questions that i'd ask other artists if i had the chance. hunh....i guess i'm not as odd as i thought! gotta try harder. this is just a quickie - gotta lay down. to those of you who have been following - still no answer. both arms look like a swiped at them with a purple sharpie (bruises). still pain but not as bad. hemmorhaging stopped. so tomorrow is another day and hopefully will bring answers. in any case, at least it's been good to spend time with diva. L

healing nature

yesterday, i finally had to stop the focus and choas surrounding my physical state, and get re-centered and renewed. i tookdiva dog to the woods, and figured i'd walk as far as i was able. we have a few different familiar, yet everchanging, paths we take. today we'd make an attempt at the short one. she's been at my side for days and needed to get out as well. i vowed not to waste a second of my outing, not knowing how long or short it would be. the smells and sounds greeted me instantly, welcoming me back like an old friend that been sorely missed....enveloping me in the tenderness of the seasonal change...summer yielding to fall, both in evidence, a gentle turning of the cycle. as summer's blazing sun and lush greens nod to silouetted tree limbs and the first falling leaves on my path, i inhaled the piney scent of my woods. crow-messengers seemed to have an extra volume of news to impart, and the squirrels dizzy with the task before them raced about - abandoning fear as they run across the path right in front of us, full-cheeked with winter larder. diva dog loves squirrels and refuses to chase them, much to my husband's dismay. the last perfumed whiffs from a garden near the edge of my path are heady, making me regret not planting a garden this year. next year for certain. as i pass the Monkey Tree, a shower of nutshells hits the ground...i never did see what was tossing them down, but it seemed intentional and precise...as squirrels approached the tree, the shells would drop down on them as well. the owl heard throughout the night previous was hidden somewhere - not to be found in the light of day. breathe in, breathe out. peacefullnes, like honey, oozes around every cell in my being...filling in the gaps, wrapping me in a sweetness in my spirit. calm. able to re-focus and do battle - not in chaos, but in certainty of mind and spirit. once again the communication is open. the art follows. L

another medical mystery

well, another day, another update. >sigh< the nurse called this morning, and the long & short of it is ....the dr never read the notes, never connected me with the patient that the nurse had briefed him on last friday....never listened to me. the nurse that was in the room for the exam yesterday was so upset she went to the NP and told her she didn't feel right about the diagnosis before i had even called. the problem started because i had taken my sono films with me when i went to another location for the CAT scan. the radiologist was not able to prepare his "official" notes without the films, but the NP had written them in the file. the NP called me 1st thing this morning blazing mad and will be calling back shortly. back to square 1, but this time i'm angry and not in the mood to be trifled with. i've lost confidence in him and will not allow him to treat me. i learned a good lesson: get LOUD. make sure someone goes with you who is on the same page as you and gets loud if you can't. now, i'm going to shower, take a walk and enjoy the blessings of the first peeks of fall with my lovely diva dog. breathe. ahhh. L

fears & frustrations

most of you know by now the health scare i'm facing. i'd hoped to be able to use the past tense "faced" by now, but it just keeps rolling on. my GP said she saw a mass in my lower back area but wasn't curious enough to actually take action. ibuprofen and call me if it gets worse. (worse than it was would be unimaginable). my nurse practitioner at my gyn office flipped out and sent me for an astounding round of tests and practically threw me under a surgeon's knife that day. cat scans that showed nothing, sono's that showed the mass loud & clear, internal exams that couldn't locate my ovary but did show my uterus way up under my ribcage and fluid all around my midsection. i won't get into the bodily fluids portion. she sent me home for the weekend with a stern warning to call if anything changed, and a script for percocet. she advised me to build up my stamina because we had a long week ahead of us. i had a monday appt with the doc. and maybe the surgeon. she was already weighing the pros & cons of 2 good surgeons. i went home scared - no terrified - but strangely at peace knowing this pitbull of a woman was my advocate. today, i saw the doc. not just any doc - the alleged God Of Gyno...the premier A #1 man you want in your corner if your fight is against an oncological gynocological problem. at least that was what the newspaper articles all said. after a few brief moments and a scant glance at the cat scan only, he pronounces my problem to be muscular/skeletal.....a common backache. what about the mass? the hemorrhaging? the OTHER tests? the other 2 health care professionals that deemed my body worthy of an audience with you? no answers forthcoming. a basic, "that's my story and i'm sticking to it." i left the office so enraged i could spit. i remembered a time when, in the middle of a blizzard, my pediatrician cross-country skied to our house because there was word of the mumps. (remember mumps?) i remember another dr doing blazing battle with his HMO bosses to fight for me to get treatment for my paralysis. i remember the nurse practitioner, just last friday, leaving her lunch meeting to find me out front and talk to me about the tests....and actually hug me. just exactly where has the "care" gone in health care? why is it that new doctors have to take classes in compassion, and only now because "studies show that dr's that are more compassionate get sued less." i see the backlash of "no compassion" in my job every day. it hurts me, but i do my best to make it right - to lessen the rage. i treat each person with the respect and dignity that they deserve as a human being...even if they've just (in utter frustration with their situation) called me a vile name. so i wish i had good news to report. for the record, i know this is in no way a backache, and i intend to try to find someone who cares enough to stop for a moment and listen and study the tests and maybe prove me right ...or maybe prove me wrong. but at least be willing to sit and prove it to me. earn my respect and trust. sorry for the rant. i just felt like it. L

the big house

the house feels big now. yes...i'm still transitioning. i come home to dinner being cooked. for 2. eat in? or on the deck? the deck it is. diva dog is back, but on her best behavior...still getting used to the smells of home vs grandma's. her friend smokey joins us as we eat dinner, along with his humans - including baby Julianna who belongs to the entire neighborhood. we welcome the non-interruption, and insist they stay while we finish dinner. our cul-de-sac is really a large family. we all watch out for each other, the kids belong to everyone. unless there's a bad diaper involved. as each house sends a child off to college, or marriage, these new children have become even more precious. little matt (dad is big matt) is just a sprout - all rugged and ready to get wet/dirty with whatever boy activity is going on. never mind that he's not even pre-school age....he's like a little man. his sister Juliana - just born. we stood outside her house the day of the c-section wondering "what we got." she's tiny and wonderful and has the sweet lovely smell only a baby can have. this one family has changed the street. we've mostly been close knit. but this one family has filled a gap. a bud for my husband and son, babies for the women to ooo and ahh over. mom is sweet and wonderful. still learning to be be a mom in all the chaos her household offers. and of course, smokey the wonder dog - diva's best friend. all this friendship and family-ness helps fill up our house. i have been so blessed in my life - truly all of it....even the really bad times. without the truly horrible moments, i would now be less of a person, i believe. without the struggles and hopeless days, i would never have learned grace and acceptance and appreciation for the Moments. times when every star aligns and every bit of magic dust falls right in my eyes and upon my head. the dragonfly that perched on my hand. the butterfly that walked with me. the man that held the door for me last winter when i was at my wits end and it was only 7:30am. little moments....and big moments. all accepted and folded into the batter as equal parts of the recipe. hoping they will make the not-so-good moments sweeter. i seek out and store up those Moments to have in reserve for the times when a little sweetener is needed. for now, i'll listen as Juliana cries for mom 2 doors away, and neighbors visit in the driveways and smile at my good fortune...that although my inside family is shrinking, my outside family is growing. L.

aimless wandering

left on my own for a wakeup call, i slept in - 7am. i slid out of bed quietly so as not to disturb my husband, paused at the top of the stairs to listen for the deep snores that would tell me the creak in the top step wouldn't wake him. soon, the delicious smell of coffee brewing brought the day's first smile. a steaming mug in hand, i retraced and repeated the stop-and-listen process till i was once again in the womb of my studio. today i must create. i stood before my now-organized boxes and plastic containers of "stuff." waiting. listening with my spirit. looking for an object to stand out...to catch a vibration of excitement of it's possibilities. nothing. i caressed the variegated silk and netting i bought just last night with high hopes of beginning my Orange Koi. nothing. no urgings. n o calls to "pick me! pick me!" back down the stairs and outside. surely nature will inspire me. i watch the birds fly to the feeder, cock their heads at me - friend or foe, they seem to wonder- then fly off to other business, only to be replaced by another. envious of their purposefullness, i once again head upstairs. still nothing. i miss my diva dog...she's still at Camp Grandma's. she would be buggin' and tuggin' to go for a w-a-l-k. perhaps i'll head out for a good long walk. i'm frustrated that i've had 3 full days to work on a project and have made little use of the time. angry at my body for allowing this current torment in. the walk may do my soul good, but it's sure to come with a hefty price on my flesh. as i try to go about my normal activities and push through the pain, it tires me even more. at first i was grateful for it....it helped me realize the pain my kita had been in, and i now am able to have peace about the decision i had to make. the timing of this is not lost on me - a year to the day is when this began. i still miss him - calling my diva dog by his name by accident from time to time. remembering his sweet soul. at my old house, there was little in the way of heat that reached my bedroom in the winter. often, he'd lay on my belly to keep me warm, falling asleep as he licked my chin,, his soft little muzzle tickling me. he kept that sweetness for all of his 18 years. to an "outsider" (anyone but me) he was annoying and a constant barker. was quick to let you know he didn't like you. stubborn...oh was he stubborn. but a good friend, and a wise twin to my spirit. yes, the decision was right and kind. i have no doubt. i sometimes wish i'd done better by him, but i was a different person then, so i guess i did my best. but meanwhile, i'm sure happy to have known him. i was thinking about Narcissus last night...at the beginning of the book, The Alchemist, the story takes a different turn with the tale. you know the story - the boy Narcissus gazes at himself in the lake everyday till one day he falls in and drowns. well, in the book, the woods and the lake have a conversation about how beautiful Narcissus was and the lake replies that it will miss him because in his eyes, the lake was able to see it's own reflection back. i posted about this story earlier, so won't go off rambling about it now, but that was how it was with kita. if i was nervous or stressed or flinging out bad energy, he'd reflect that. if i was calm and peaceful, he'd give that back. it was easy to gauge what i was sending out into the world by paying attention to my fluffy little radar. so i guess, along with aimless wanderings through my studio, i've also been aimlessly wandering through this post...picking up little fragments of ideas here and there and putting them down...no real connection, just random thoughts. maybe this was meant to be one of those random weekends. september promises to be a busy one, and november as well. maybe this weekend was about clearing, cleaning, relaxing. whether i wanted it to be or not! i'm thinking of that walk now, and listening for the pattern of snores to see if i can once again creep down the stairs and have the world to myself on the big walk through the woods and across the dock and around the lake. who knows - maybe a butterfly will hitch a ride with me again. happy labor day y'all! L.

empty nests and feathered friends

the mornings are cooler now as i sip my first cup of steaming coffee on the deck and spend some time with my thoughts and my winged muses in the backyard. the steam fogs my glasses momentarily as i take a sip. my cardinal wakes me up promptly at 5:30...his 1-note call insistent from the tree branch outside my bedroom window. he continues till he sees me reappear on the deck...sometimes alone, sometimes with diva dog. she seems to annoy him as much as he annoys her... she stands at the edge of the deck scolding him till he flies to the nearest tree calling back to her. luckily she tires of the battle quickly, and i'm left to my thoughts and the wranglings of the squirrels. today, i am alone on the deck, and the blue jays try to taunt away anyone else who would dare approach the feeder. bold brash birds, are those. my beautiful finches have begun to shed their blazing golden feathers for a more modest suit of browns and greys...fall - and soon winter - is approaching. the air is crisp in the mornings. a cozy sweater needed to wrap up in. the moon peeks out much earlier. the change of seasons. the earth's continuum. life repeating the endless cycle. my studio purge has left clean flat surfaces - it's been a while since my worktable has been this organized! old friends now put in labeled bins where they wait to be considered for the next project. it's been weeks since that's happened. at first i worried that i was beginning a cycle of the dreaded Artist Block. now i realize that rather than having a lack of ideas, it was quite the opposite - too many all fighting to come to the forefront for consideration, resolution, transformation and completion. i tend to move to fiber in the fall and winter. not sure why. it just is. i no longer try to force it back or figure it out. it just is. so i listen and move forward. currently i'm being nagged at by Orange Koi. everywhere i go - and in the most obscure reference points - Orange Koi. i've had an idea percolating for about a year now. Orange Koi. but with spring and summer came rusty metal and wood. but now (Jaws music please) we're back to Orange Koi. swimming languidly and patiently in my mental muse file. she is now growing and taking over. so Orange Koi it will be. i still have a few unresolved rusty metal issues to deal with, but perhaps some work with my Koi will help. passages and changes. yesterday marked a significant passage. my husband and i took his son to college. his first year. this has not been a wonderful year with Youngblood (as i call him). he was dealing with his own passages and changes, and was absolutely miserable to be around. not completely grown, but thinking so. as his struggles went raging, so too were my husband's. they are close. locked in constant battle as only a father and son could be, yet cut from the same cloth. a fight against oneself. i watched from the sidelines as they tried to find common ground, only to re-engage. i smiled to myself as i replaced their images with those of my mother and i. each yearning for that hug and reassurance, yet too prideful to step forward...too afraid to show weakness...too scared to look at the other to think how alike we really were. these two resolve issues much quicker, being men. no residual deep thoughts and contemplations about this or that. just the battle for supremacy, then an hour of tossing a lacrosse ball back & forth out front. at some point during the summer, Youngblood and is mom had a falling away. i knew some details, but let it stay in the "family"....preferring to be Sweden in this issue. i asked, from time to time, if he was nervous about going away to school. i told him saturday morning as he played his guitar rather than packing, that we had another tenant coming in and he must vacate within the hour. a little humor to light the fire. his dad paced in the garage, fuming about his son being such a procrastinator. i held a mirror to him and asked him where he thought the child had learned that? i reminded Big Daddy that within the space of 1 day, he'd be missing those very same traits, and threatened violence if he didn't redirect his melancholy away from the path of least resistance - anger. works every time. he's more afraid of a long drawn-out philosophical discussion than any threatened whooping. (which, for the record, has never been delivered). the kids became accustomed to me threatening their dad with obscure and impossible punishments. "i will strap wings of wax to you and throw you from the roof" .... "i will call my uncle Frankie The Snail and we'll see how important it is for you to go golf/hunt/whatever today." you get the point. so back to saturday morning. the last chance they have to argue on common turf, with roles unchanged....still father and son living under one roof. still dependant and protector. the safety net still firmly tied in place, allowing for practiced flights with no consequence. finally....we are able to leave. mom and sister will meet us there. oh the joys of steps and halfs and ex's. 2 cars everywhere. so silly. somewhere just past Junius Ponds but before the first Rochester exit, during a pause in Dave Matthews Greatest Hits, Youngblood says, "i t just hit me that you guys will be going home tonight, but I won't." uh oh. a chill panic started to set in - like a cat who's realizing that the warm bubbly wet stuff in the sink is for THEM. was that a pin i heard dropping? after a year of listening to bold assertations about how he was going to turn the college on it's ear, he was suddenly realizing what a big planet it actually was. i'll skip the details of the day's activities, which were masterfully orchestrated by the college. the Final Moment came, and Big Daddy's chin began to quiver, eyes flooded, as he hugged his son for the last time as dependant and provider. i'd already secretly bawled my eyes out - surprising myself greatly. i'd watched Youngblood grow from age 11. from a chubby little kid to lean athletic man-child. i know he'll do good. he's a born leader, and once you get past all the blarney, has a gentle heart. or at least a good one. just one look at him with his little half-sister tells it all. he bought her a little pink Dora The Explorer hat to remember him by while he's away. she'll grow into it. now who'da thunk he'da thought of that? so this morning, i sit on my deck alone. no diva dog chasing the birds away, no loud music stepping on my last reserve nerve, no tense words about cleaning a bedroom getting caught in the screen door....just me and my mug of coffee, now cold and needing refilling. a strange feeling. and who knows what tenant will move in to fill the vacuum? L.

ah ha and surprise!

this is a quick test of the emergency blogger system...my computer is doing it's tantrum-in-the-grocery store routine, and i haven't been able to post. so i did what any mom would do - i ignored it for a while, and here we all are! WArning - my cap locks still have a mind of their own, so i apologize in advance if it seems like i'm shouting - i'm just not going to be bedeviled by backspacing and re-writing. honestly, technology. so recent developments in my surprise 50th birthday party have gotten me thinking about being selfish. that is - selfish vs. Self-ish. selfcentered vs. Self-centered. selfishness being the preening, mirror-gazing, not-sharing-your toys...or your Self. Self-ish being somewhat the opposite. to me, being Self-ish means to know your Self. your inner Self - your spirit, your soul, your mind. and in that comfortable, wonderful, confidence, there is freedom. freedom to express your Self. without fear of what others may think of you...freedom to just be you...your certainness about your journey, your path, your motives and decisions. and isn't that expression a way of sharing your Self? to be afraid to let ones art see the light of day, or beautifully crafted words such as my angel-friend's - now there would be the shame. fortunately the confidence born of knowing their Selves has brought beautiful works out to shine. confidence is not a brash clanging bell of a thing. it's a quiet assurance of who you are. it's knowing that you have a place in the world, and have a right to claim that place. it's knowing that you may be different from the one standing next to you, but that difference is just fine. you are you. and for a reason. arrogance is often mistaken for confidence, but i think arrogance is a smoke-and-mirror show for a great lack of confidence - a lack of knowing your Self....to curl your lip at others and look down your nose really reflects on your own lacking. why must some find joy in the weakness of others? to feel stronger? how sad. but once again i'm off track. so as i approach 50, i realize that i am Self-ish! but also a bit selfish. and maybe a morsel of childish. i'm not happy about it, but i may have struck a nerve with myself on this one. see, i have mentally planned this surprise birthday party for myself. word leaked out that something was already in the works, and i should "back off and enjoy the ride." this only set my wild imaginings to wilder imaginings. i have a list of guests posted on the 'fridge that i update constantly. people who are special to me. people i want to be with to celebrate this milestone. some may not realize how special they are to me - maybe we know each other through a mutual friend and met only once or twice, but their spirit spoke to mine and they remain an inspiration to me. other guests are sure not to be available, but, like the Dalai Lama & Ty Pennington, each is special for different reasons. i don't imagine a great schedule clearing for either of them, but hey, it's my party, ok! so back to my point - and there really is one! in my imaginings, i picture a wonderful room - warm, inviting, artful, spirit-ful. some jazz music, some of my brother's cool stuff that even I don't always get, good food - finger food & munchies, a great cake, flowers & candles, think evening wedding reception without all the pomp and garter-throwing...it's all about the ambience. my list only has about 40 people on it. not 1 person on it is invited because "i have to." all are dear to me in some way. well, here's where the struggle comes in. it came to my attention that the party being planned is from someone who does not know my Self. i know few details - actually just one detail - the setting. the rest can be imagined based on this 1 fact. i was filled with all kinds of silent, selfish drama when i discovered this. do i "sit back" and be grateful that the day would be remembered and marked at all? or do i intercede - gently (somehow) - and try to steer things in the direction i want it to go? as i talked to a friend about it, i sounded like a spoiled little child, and that made me sad for myself. on one hand, this year in particular has been such an amazing year for me. unexplainable, despite thousands of typed words. i want to honor the year, pay homage to the people and things that have brought such growth and enlightenment to me, in me. on the other hand....did i grow so much? is my selfishness on this point an indicator? now, i don't feel like it was all a sham. not at all. but i feel like i should have come a bit further. or have i? is accepting "less" a hallmark of Self-ishness? i expect the very best from myself in all situations every time and every where. not perfection - just my best. that "best" may vary on given days and given circumstances....but i expect myself to give the best that i am able to give at that moment. would the potential of hurting someone's feelings be worse than being able to mark this day, this year, in the way i'd like to see it done? would that be my best? i am reminded of Verushka Salt..."I want an oompa loompa too daddy!" stomp stomp. but how often do you turn 50? and how often is it that you can point to an entire year and say, "wow!" not the best year as far as smooth sailing - too many days to mark on a calendar with solemn remembrance. but the best year i have ever had in becoming Self-centered. ever. so the teeter-totter goes back and forth. and really, over quite a silly thing, given all the truly big troubles out there. i mean, floods and devastation have destroyed lives, changed entire cities and families.....and i'm having a throw-down about A BIRTHDAY PARTY. and a surprise one, at that! but...but....so what to do? last night i had a dream about a party at the Glenloch restaurant....dark, candlelit, wonderful, my friend Jen dancing on a table - as she is wont to do, and everyone brought me a kitten as a gift. where that part came from, who knows? i'm allergic and surely don't need another pet, but there you have it. and i woke up thinking that with all i could be dreaming about, THIS was the best i could do?? (well, the part with Jen was pretty funny. i've never know anyone with that much courage. scary courage). so maybe the year has already marked itself upon my heart. upon my spirit. and has taken up residence in my bones. and is a part of me. and is me. and maybe that was the important part. not the cake. not the room. maybe i've already been given the best gift of all by the Planner of All Birthdays...my Self. and that is good enough for me. hope all your days are Birth days. L. NOTE: it's not my birthday yet....i'll let you know....i got a few well-wishes after the Birthday Cake Rodeo post. no presents though!

tricksters and weavers

sunday morning...diva dog is at grandma's...it's early and crispy. i put on a tshirt, sweatshirt and windjacket - mostly for the large velcro pocket in front to hold keys, phone and cigarettes. time for diva's favorite walk, but just me. it's about 40 minutes - across the street and onto the path, then head around the pond/lake and into the woods. birds call, squirrels chirp and fuss. nuts hit me in the head as i walk under the tree canopy. my mind is restless. i feel slightly grouchy and out of sorts. who knows why? i want to know the source of my dis-ease. i start to ruminate, then realize that is the wrong path entirely. focusing on the the dis-ease will only perpetuate it. so i smile, and begin to look carefully at the abundance around me, and give gratefullness that i am able to share in it. i ask, "who will walk with me?" and wait to sense a presence or a gentle nudge in my heart from a beloved. a minute later, i spy a butterfly on the path...obviously hurt and trying to make it to the grass. i put my finger down for it to crawl on, with the intention of being a taxi for it. instead, it crawls up my hand and onto my sleeve. it's just magnificent! when it's wings are oulled tight together, it has the markings of a monarch, but the colors are slightly off....a two-fer - my "nikita sign" is a monarch, and this is the same "trickester" butterfly i was just reading about somewhere. when it opens it's wings flat, oh, the majesty! a black heart forms - half on 1 side of the body, half on the other. around this are small white squares that form a link around the heart. beneath that, the most amazing green/blue opalescent color i've ever seen. the butterfly is nicknamed "trickster" because it mimicks the monarch colors, and predators leave it alone. the monarch being a nasty, bitter meal for butterfly eaters. so, my walk buddy will be nikita, and my thoughts go back to ideas i started about doing an art piece about the coyote/trickster. the coyote is known as the trickster in Native American culture. haven't researched enough why, but it is. i wait a few minutes for the butterfly to gather it's wits and fly, but nothing doing. it crawls further up my sleeve. since it's wing has a chunk out of it near the bottom, i know it won't be flying anytime soon, and won't make the migration, which should be going on now. so i start walking again, figuring any minute we'll say goodbye. as i walk, the butterfly crawls down and perches on my finger, it's legs wrapped tight. it faces the front to see where we're headed, then turns and faces me. it's antennae wave a bit, every so often, and stroke my finger. then it turns back. when we get to a patch of sun, it spreads it's wings flat to pull in some warmth to it's body. i pause while he tans a bit. then on. 45 minutes later, i am almost home,and can't wait to show aunt debbie my new amazing friend. she'll "get it." she's amazing all on her own - very spiritual, Native American heritage, Feng Shui Master, artist, and very together. about 5 mins from the house, my butterfly starts walking up and down my finger, so i stop. he turns and faces me, opens and closes his wings a few times, and with a final wave, flies up into the tree. he could fly the whole time! he just wanted to walk with me. so now i knew that sunday was to be magical. i went home and called debbie...in the middle of the conversation she yells, "oh my God! Stevie Nicks is on tv and i think she was wearing your cape!" SHUT UP! so we sit breathing on the phone waiting for another glimpse, but no. we said goodbyes, and i picked up the paper to check...yes, i admit, the bride section. i also check the obits, since i have a better chance (at this age) of finding a familiar name there. nothing and nothing. ok. so i feel like i need to go somewhere - but where. The Pottery Fair leaps out at me from the STARS magazine. oh yeah! art AND nature all in one. i am so there. i guilt the husband into going, so i won't feel like i deserted him and we head out on the most perfect day. one of the first things i see is a bowl that i must own in my lifetime. my throat tightens, as tears fill my eyes - the colors sing to me....peach, blue, pink...which is strange, since i tend to be drawn to more earthy greens and rust. i look closer, and it's part of a series called Trickster! ah HA! again trickster! someone has put a tag in it that belongs to another bowl, and it says $22 instead of $220. i must find the artist...this can't be so. i look - Oh My God! this magnificent piece is made by an artist that my angel-friend Georgia JUST told me she wanted me to meet! hmm. twilight zone music, please. so i hunt her down, and the second i introduce myself, there is an instant connection. unexplainable. but palpable. she starts making all these words about loving the box i made for Georgia and blah blah blah. i'm blown a-way. tears form again in my eyes. hair stands up on my arms. i feel so validated and flattered and any good thing you could imagine. the creator of my bowl loves my work! yikes! we talk of a project upcoming and other things, but the energy is unreal. this is an Important Moment. my gut says this is the start of Something. but more like the continuation of something started ages ago and once again here. she has to go work at a booth, and we regretfully go our own ways for the time being. as i turn to go find my husband, i see an old friend from radio. we get chatting a bit, and i meet his wife. after all these years, i finally meet her! she is wonderful! grounded, warm, personable. she is earth. i like her a lot. he and i talk briefly about how we enjoyed working together, and he mentions how he feels like it was a missed opportunity for the station that they let me slip through their fingers. the 4 of us walk down the big hill to our cars, and i have a sense that the Weaver of All Things has been making a cloth that day, to be continued. threads of this and that being warped and wefted in....past and future being blended...things about to be, and things that were, that may be yet again. who knows? but the peace that had eluded me hours before had settled into my bones again - a sure sign of Magic. and if all of that wasn't enough, a free Harry Potter book was bestowed upon me...Potter at the Pottery Fair! Magic and more magic. so hit me over the head with it, just in case i'm not clear on the point! i am truly, immensely humbled every single minute in every single fiber of my being. i feel like i'm radiating good things. as the seasons have begun to change, so i sense a change in things to come. was it just last week that humidity and heat were pushing at my bones, challenging me to walk across the parking lot? and now, a snip to the air. fast fast are the changes. and so the feeling in my spirit - that changes will be coming fast. good things. like, tugging- on- a- parent's- hand -'cause -you- promised- we'd- go- to- the- circus fast. the urging to move to the next level, tempered by patience to wait for the path to become clear. what an exciting time. what an absolutely wonderful moment in my time. no, it hasn't been all cherries and peas....i've had some moments lately where i'd just as soon sleep the day away, or just felt so incredibly ordinary that i wonder who made the art that sits on my bookshelf. but i remember the Promise and smile. and feel truly blessed all over again. hey - thanks for reading. thanks for (hopefully) not thinking i'm incredibly self-absorbed. it's just all so new. so fresh. so very very chocolate. L

unspeakable

i've been trying to figure out a way to write the un-writeable. i thought if i sat down and started plinking away at the keyboard, the words would come. but i was mistaken. the things that have stirred in my spirit, in my soul, the past year continue to transform my life, my path, my self. imagine your best day...you feel great, people respond to you overwhelmingly wonderfully, you get that parking space up close, AND you find/win a chunk of money. now multiply that by 10...by 100...or by infinity. that is how things have been going. and it isn't that the circumstances have changed in my life, (and no, my 6 million dollars has not yet been placed in my hands!) and yes - i have had some very stressful days. but my reaction to them has shifted. they no longer control me - they are not a part of my path. i am able to push them back away from me. and funny thing - negative things seemed repelled by my joyous new nature. and to say "joyous" is not the right word...see, i knew this would be difficult to write. it's a deep, centered feeling of peacefulness and faith. these two powerful elements overcome any doubt, fear, uncertainty, powerlessness, inadequate feelings, feelings of failure, feelings of being a fraud, feelings of whatever. that list has the word "feelings" in it a lot. what i discovered as diva dog and i took a beautiful morning walk, is that they are just that - feelings. close your eyes and touch a shiny piece of polyester. "feels like" silk. but it isn't. it's a trick of the mind. (easier to wash though). the mind - often bolstered by naysayers around us - tells us we "feel" unhappy, or we "feel" ugly or whatever. kind of like the "tastes like chicken" theory. ever feel downright angry or depressed or just plain blah? make yourself smile. that was something else i learned. if "feel-ings" can trick me one way, why not beat them on their own turf? just a big smile. doesn't have to be genuine. hold it for a few seconds. kind of gets things moving in the right direction. you feel pretty silly and start to kind of laugh at yourself a little. getting closer. the transformation part is unexplainable, though. this is the after-burner part. the lessons i've learned in the past year - especially the past 5 months - have been fast & well, not furious, but you get the point. as i take a baby step in faith and centeredness and trusting myself to know myself, good & great things have opened up to me...relationships healed...others put to the curb where they belonged...still others continuing, but this time with boundaries. what a glorious life i am having at this moment in my journey. i hate using cliches and buzz words, but again, it's unexplainable. i feel like there is a destination i'm heading to and am getting ready along the way....sort of like changing clothes in the taxi, i guess. there was another time in my life when these challenges and changes presented themselves to me, but i was closed to them. i was still looking in other directions for what i've been given. this time, i didn't resist. i had the courage, and the life-knowledge to accept in what was true to me, and push back what didn't ring clear. i was ready to become myself without fear of who that may be. seems like a fair deal - give up all the illusions and crud in your life in exchange for peacefulness, self-love, one-ness of spirit with whatever/whomever you call God. a great cost? you betcha. worth it? you double betcha. a lot of conscious hard work, but the reward is sweet and tasty. i worked with a girl named Patty. Whenever you asked "how are you?" she'd say "perfect!" and the way she said it just makes me smile to think it. sorry to say, patty, but i stole that from you. it made me feel so good to hear it that i figured i could pass that on. and it's worked. people smile when i say it...they may be thinking "the audacity!" or they may just take the same simple pleasure in the word that i did. either way, it makes me think of Patty, so I smile. i'm off track, as usual, but am realizing it was pointless to try to speak the unspeakable. here's my advice: take a nice long walk along a shaded path with the sun's rays peeking through the tall treetops...sense everything...the smells of the cedars, the flowers sweetly warming in the sun...the moss...watch the butterflies tangle and play...the dragonflies as they hover nearby and check you out...listen to the calls of the different birds - and the answering song from another treetop....reach out and touch the spiky pine needles..., the soft snapdragons with their velvety orange and pink ....the rough shaggy bark. do this. take in each and every whisper from nature. be thankful and respectful of all that you have in that one tiny moment. that's where the starting gate is. L.

love & intimacy

so is it love or intimacy that we seek? most men say love (read: sex), most women seek intimacy...a deep spiritual connection of the soul. a broad, sweeping generalization? maybe, but it is MY blog, after all. and after spending 2 wednesdays by the broad, sweeping vastness of my Lake, i'm given to fits of largeness. have i always been capable of love? yes. yes. now, intimacy - that's a whole different box of crayons. no. i have guarded my most private self. shielded it from everyone and everything. like a fine porcelain doll given by a grandmother to a child to save....not to share. kept it safety-sealed for protection from even those with every right to expect it. a simple hug broke that seal. a genuine heartfelt hug. one of those "i want to melt into you and become a part of you" hugs. and isn't that what intimacy is? becoming a part of the other person. joining, or re-joining, the heart, the spirit, the bond. re-tying loose threads. finding where the nooks meet the crannies in your psyche. i can say i've loved my mother. but have never allowed her the intimacy of myself. and never allowed her to share the intimacy of herself with me. i can say i've loved my brother. and i have - with a fierceness that only an older sister can have. but untill the three of us shared hugs on the shore of my Lake, i can't say that i've shared more than my thoughts, dreams, disappointments of whatever moment, joy of whichever success. a great start, but not intimacy. you can share all those things with a stranger on a call-in radio show. intimacy cannot be quantified. you can spend every day of your life with a person and not allow them intimacy. conversely, that friend who lives across the continent can share the imtimacy of your soul. the word "intimacy" is often swapped out for "sex" in polite company. and they can be the same - when the only way you are able to express the gratitude you have for the other person sharing their inner self is to do so in a physical expression. (now let me stop here a second with a disclaimer: there was no sexual activity between we 3 family members. none. that is just creepy if you thought that. ). now back to the rant. i had thoughts tinkling around my brain about love vs. intimacy for a while. how is it that i can say "i love you" to someone and it may as well be "don't forget your sweater?" yet have friends - male and female - that i feel intimate with? is it because they allow me to be me, and celebrate the "me" that i am without trying to smooth down the edges or touch-up a little faded paint here and there? is it because we are kindred in some way? share deep emotions about a particular subject, or way of thinking? maybe both. and more. in my younger days, i have had sex with men who had passion about things that i had passion about, but there was something sustaining that was lacking. i have also felt moments of deep compassion and understanding with a person and felt very intimate with them. but for that moment. what sustains intimacy? does it need to be fed? can it come and go? once discovered, is it always there, but sometimes buried under obligations and appointments and laundry? can it be cultivated, or must it grow wild? rooting at whim and where. what sparks it? why are there moments when i look into my dog's eyes and see her very thoughts (as i imagine them)? see her pure love. is pure love part of intimacy? the love that accepts without judgement, that opens itself without reservation, that expects no payment or return on investment. i think you need one to have the other, with the 2 neck-and-neck in the chicken/egg question. what is intimacy with a love that takes? what is pure love with no intimacy of the soul? is one the resting place for the other? the result of? the condition of? so as the waves lapped and answered one another farther down the shore, we 3 became intimate, unashamedly, with one another. and i have the pictures to prove it. L

just breathe

this is sunset on my Lake...completely unretouched or photoshopped....just Nature showing off! you can't help but just stare and breathe deep of it's majesty. wednesday, mom & i are heading back there. she loved it! The calm of the water sounds is better medicine than i can almost bear. this week heralds a few landmarks: my brother has been invited. and it is also the last official vacation day i have for the year. so a decision must be made....to continue taking wednesdays off could put my job status in jeopardy. to stop taking mom-time would be so very wrong. not just the new-found friendmother i've come to know, but the feeling of "i can get through this" i now have at my job....i mean, every day is either a thursday or a friday when you have wednesday off, right? the time is too sacred to me to waste. and such a backward step it would be to give this time up. okay, i guess that's solved! my brother had hinted that he wanted to join us. since it was, technically mother/daughter time, i thought he should get his own day of the week with her. but i posed the thought to her, and she felt it would be okay this week. so wednesday, the 3 of us will head to the double-secret spot by the Lake. mom with her sporty new Croc shoes. the sheer vastness of the Lake brings intimacy. my wish is for a healing of hearts and an opening of communications - in that quiet, subtle way that is oh so very sweet and balming. a nice quiet restful time for souls and minds and thoughts. to lay it at the waters edge and let the waves pull it out and bury it for all time. mmmm. it feels like another tasty day. eat it up. L.

my Lake!

my wednesday date with mom was absolutely perfect! after 2 weeks of threatened rain, we decided to throw caution to the wind and go anyway. 8am, we drove to the double-secret-secluded spot and set up our chairs on the Lake's edge. just 1 small patch of sand to share. it was perfect. as the waves teased in to the shore, our chairs sunk lower and lower, but we didn't notice, or care. pantlegs rolled up, shoes and socks thrown behind us, gulls screeching above, we closed our eyes and just breathed the moment into our souls. i had bought a disposable camera weeks ago with the intention of capturing our wednesdays together, but have found that it would do them a disservice. how do you record such memories? how would it be possible to capture such spirit on mere film? to look back at the pictures would surely diminish the memories woven into our hearts with golden thread. it's been 50 years since the umbilical cord was cut, but the same tie remains - each giving and taking life from one another...understandings and shared stories strengthening and aligning...ah ha - that's where my gypsy spirit comes from...maybe some art from this one or sensitivity from that one or a quick temper with those who impede. but all that aside, to be able to freely love the one who gave me life is unexplainable gift. it's funny - no earth-shattering conversations take place...no confronting the past or judging the present. it's as if we were both finally ready to simply accept the other as they were...the parts we liked, the parts that annoyed us, the parts we wished would changed. all one. part of the same gift. we talk of nothing, or talk of family history - the way back history. not our history together, so much. that had periods of such pain and confusion and bad behavior. there was a choice: confront and have a tearful, emotional coming to terms, or simply silently forgive and move on - enjoy the time that's left. i chose to move on. to re-visit the past would serve no purpose now. 30 years too late for that. and really, who cares anymore? has nothing significant happened in either of lives since then? we talk of positive things and feelings about ourselves and our lives and goals and wishes and dreams. we talk of nothing. and everything. as the waves lap at our feet, calming, pulling at us to be more than we are...leave the sand on the beach, the crumbs to the gulls, adventure out of ourselves and be more. reach higher. expect more. give more. yes - take more. the sun rose high and strong above us, and we shook the sand from rolled pantlegs and rinsed between our toes. packing up was much slower than unpacking. we walked in silence, heavily laden with heart-shaped rocks and smooth stones from the shore. the drive home, too quick. more hugs at the driveway than i remember in the past 30 years. making up time. our silent promises to each other. gifts of cards hidden in purses to be found by the other later in the day. a plan to return next week. to let the waves cleanse our minds and souls and baptise us in the spirit of one another...mother and child...mother and daughter...a daughter's daughter grown with a daughter of her own - wishing she had had these times with her own mother. friends. at last, friends.

coming soon....

yep it's true...i'll be teaching a workshop in beautiful downtown Bridgeport! Altered Book Shrines. sept 15th from 11-2ish. i made 2 samples up - my usual down n dirty distressed looking book, and then tried really really hard to do a "nice" one with pinks and buttons and glittery foofy stuff. it came out .....okay. maybe a little better than okay, but it's hard for me to judge, being the junk-meister that i am. anyway, space is very limited, so if you have an interest, call the store ...Stampin N Scrappin Time. This should be a lot of fun! I tried to use my neighbors jigsaw to cut through a hard-cover book and about 200 pages of inside stuff, and BLAMMO! it caught fire. very cool indeed, but a little theatrical for an indoor class, so we'll stick to soft cover books. anyway, i am totally wiped out right now...am on antibiotics (which i hate taking) and the side effects from those are less than appetizing. i managed to get away with just 2 days at work this week! a very good week, if i must say. wednesday with mom was short & sweet...we had breakfast at a diner, then sat by the river watching geese (which demanded food, then bit us when we had none) and a heron, and some baby ducks...all going about their busy morning. so peaceful. it made me homesick for my Lake. it's funny, here we are - 2 grown women acting like birds that have been caged so long....the door is finally left open, and we don't know where to fly first, so we stand on the perch looking out. not leaving. but it's been good...we needed time to adjust to, and enjoy our new views of each other before adding the distraction of an adventure. the clouds have been threatening the past 2 wednesdays, so we stayed close to home. next wednesday - the Lake! no matter what. it was mom's choice. it's been time well spent after we part ways for the day, also. i've been purging through my studio like a woman on a mission...many bags of stuff went to the curb. it's kind of like an archaeology trip -sifting through years of papers and stickers and art supplies that have been on hand for 10 years or so....i look at some things and wonder who bought this? my style has changed so much. as have the materials i use. funny, how part of the day i purge the demons of the past with mom, and the rest of the day i've been purging my art stuff. traveling light? not really....because in each instance, something new replaces something tossed. all good in both cases. i'm afraid i won't have enough time to finish all the work i want to do. the ideas come rushing and demanding to be brought to life. i need more time. more space. in my life, i've been making room...clearing away the stuff that no longer has usefulness to me...out to the curb with decorative papers and glittery glues along with aught feelings and old resentments. in both sets of piles, i'm glad to give it a kick and a shove. room to breathe and grow and experience. new skin healing over old wounds. sort of a life-exfoliation, for the spa minded among us. diva dog is at camp Grandma's for the night. i'll miss her entirely. she's felt slighted the past few weeks as i've been so focused on clearing and creating. every so often i feel a paw tapping at my knee, and she looks at me with hope for a hug. so we snuggle for a few minutes - never enough for her, of course. our nighttime routine always includes a belly rub for her, in exchange for a thorough hand washing for me (doggie style of course). she has taught me such patience....she has so many issues and needs, coming from her rescued background. yet she's learned to trust me, and love me. she senses a person's inner intentions, i think. there are some people that she does not like. period. and fears, even though they've never done anything to warrant her fear. they just send out angry vibes to her. that has taught me a lot too. people sense the same things, just more muted. dogs don't have the distractions of life that we do. but right now, i'm distracted by the thought of my pillow. an early morning will call. sleep well, y'all. L

monday monday

so it's monday...but really thursday for me, since i have wednesday off. what a great thought! hubby is out of town, and all weekend i kept dreaming of having the house to myself. au contraire. stepson decided to stay with the visitation schedule (even tho the vist-ee was gone) and thinks he'll be staying here this week. hmm. puts me in an interesting position. tell him to go to his mom's, and look like The Evil One, or suck it up since he'll be gone most of the time (theoretically). something about a no-parents-home house and 18 year olds who just graduated...don't mix. we'll see. maybe i'll invite my mom over with her church ladies to hold a revival in the livingroom at high noon! sounding better. my neighbors just had a baby. actually, the wife did all the work, but the baby lives with them both. they also have a 2-year old that the entire neighborhood claims as their own...it takes a cul-de-sac to raise a child. the neighbors are tired and cranky with each other. the baby fusses. isn't it amazing how 1 life can effect everyone around it? hmm. i wonder what effect i've had, if any, on the places i've worked or the people i've met? there are people i've only met once, but have had such a profound effect on me, or made such a difference in my outlook, that i'd invite them to my surprise birthday party. (the event of my life). there is one girl that i met at an art event last year that just "took." no, no...she wasn't an emotional "taker".... something about her just clicked with my spirit. i consider her "friend" even tho i've never seen her since. it makes me careful to think about the effect i leave behind. my stepson's current favorite cliche is "i'm just leavin' my footprints...nothing else." (well, except dirty dishes in the sink and load upon load of laundry). don't we all "just leave our footprints" for others to follow or veer away from? think about a person you considered a role model. what was it about them that made you want to reach a little higher to be like them? what was it about them that made you want to be your best self? there are people i have met, and really tried to like. and just couldn't. i wish them no ill, but i just become a cranky crabby nasty person when i think of them. they are not terrible people...in fact a lot of people think they're wonderful. but something about them just rubs me the wrong way. it happens. so, do we go thru life trying to be all things to all people? no. that would be incredibly hard and fake...just be your best self...that's all we're charged with doing. that best self was put here for a reason. just like gears that fit together to make a machine run...this one fits with that one. if 1 gear gets a burr or a crack, suddenly it doesn't fit, and the machine doesn't run. so trying to be something you aren't "doesn't fit." i spent years thinking my art wasn't good enough because it wasn't like this one or that one. figured i'd never have talent. it was when i realized that i have my own art, my own voice, my own spirit to express...well, that's when the magic happened. do i copy other artists? never. but i do continue to grow and experiment with new techniques and materials. i may pick up a tip from someone else, but the result HAS to have my voice, or it just doesn't work. same with people. you learn from one or another, good or bad, but you incorporate that lesson into what is already perfect - yourself. i tried to explain to hubby that i was glad i didn't marry "a husband." a person trying to fulfill a role they thought they needed to be in. i'm not sure if he got it. in a family, there's always "the good kid" the "bad kid" the "artist" the "smart one" the ...whatever. athlete. shy one. you get the point. and once you're typecast, it's hard to break out of that role. it's funny when i see friends from years past...how they relate to me...how they seem uncomfortable when i react differently than they expect. my friend in new york is probably still amazed that i ever came to vist her when she lived in texas since i could barely make it across town without having a panic attack when she lived here. (follow all that?) i missed out on a lot then, but learned about boundaries too. physical and emotional. drink it all in, but only go back for seconds on the good stuff. you could say there is no "bad" since it only becomes a lesson. these past few months have been like a crash course in "me." i finally got to know myself, not the person i "should" be, and now have a chance to get to know those around me in a much deeper way. all those years as a reporter - asking probing questions to the unwilling - taught me how to listen. i just got tired of it and stopped. now i can listen with true intentions, and it's energizing. speaking of tired, diva dog is barking me to the bedroom. that dog knows how to tell time, and 9pm is her bedtime. that's when she gets on the bed and starts trying to lure me in with an exposed fuzzy belly. if that doesn't work, the barking begins. so off to comfort 4paws o' love. sorry to ramble and redirect so much tonight....just wanted to touch base with no particular place to go. sleep well.....L

BEHOLD

my favorite word for today...BEHOLD! makes you stop and look around, eh? not a word that fits easily into most conversations, but one of those cool words you roll around on your mental tongue like a root beer barrel. you can't just go around yelling "BEHOLD!" unless you work at the Renaissance Fair. i have been a word-o-phile since i can remember. when i was young - even before my brother came to torment my life - (kidding bro) - we didn't have 2 nickels to rub together to make a dime, so my mom and i would walk to the nearby library and get a stack of books. we'd sit outside in the summer, or in this floppy barcalounger with the stack beside us and she'd read read read. a high energy misbehaving child such as myself could be easily tamed with a few words..."one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish." dr.suess has been elevated to sainthood by many a mother in the 50's and early 60's. horton hears a who....hop on pop....green eggs and ham....all good friends of mine thanks to those suessian summers. so i began reading early. and books became friends, and travel machines - taking me to places in my mind - alongside Nancy Drew (but not the real scary ones), albert einstein, mrs. who & mrs. which & mrs. where (wrinkle in time). words were, and are, so important and tasty...a new word could be savored and tried on for size. descriptive words like "popcorn" - now who doesn't hear it popping and smell the butter when you hear that word? later, in my teens, words could be used to show just how cool i was, or how angry - those 4-letters could really make a statement. it's funny how language changes...some words fall out of fashion, or become obsolete. new technology replaces old technology, so the words needed to convey ideas about the old are tossed along with them....when was the last time you "churned" butter? that word is still useful in other applications, but i bet the user has no clue about the butter thing. remember when we'd "dial up" a friend? dial phones....now try to describe THAT to a teenager. the first push button princess phones...i remember them well. it seems that "old fashioned" speech was much more formal...much more polite, for the most part. now, with words hitting you from every angle, words - and talk - is literally cheap. (my current cell bill aside). need to get ahold of someone? fax, phone, cell phone, text message, page, sky page, instant cell connection, IM, email...remember sitting down to write a letter? weighing your thoughts and words and practicing your handwriting? having to actually lick an envelope, buy a stamp, and get the letter to the mailman? in a few days, or a week, the letter would reach it's destination. what you wrote had better have staying power....so you were careful with your words. you may not get the opportunity to take them back for another few weeks. so BEHOLD! look around! what do you see?

follow your peas

okay...ahhhhhh. nice deep breath. whenever i hear the phrase "follow your peace," i think "peas" instead, for a funny visual of a girl walking behind a row of animated green peas. which brings me to my point....or at least headed in that general direction. have you ever misplaced something important? like car keys? or a shoe? you're frantically searching high and low, and inevitably SOMEone says "where did you last see it?" and you want to commit a high felony upon their selves. my friend had a grampa who was constantly misplacing his glasses. and they were always on his head, hooked behind his ears. she'd see him patting his pockets and looking around and she'd say, "grampa...head." and he'd reach for his forehead area and there they were. (her kids grew up calling him "Grampa Head" because they heard that phrase so often they thought it was his name. i had an uncle "sam the garbage," but that's another story). well, my friend Brenda has been the repository of many a frantic late night and early morning, and mid morning and afternoon call. usually they start out with "i don't know what to do....this is huge." after listening to me babble and freak for a while, she will inevitably come up with some incredibly wonderful, logical 1-liner that makes the whole situation shrink down to a manageable size. about 10 years ago, her advise on a particular topic was "follow your peace, Linny." so basically, this whole wednesday off/quit my job, art vs "real" job dilemma came back to following my peace. so...where was the last time i felt the peace? when i decided to take wednesdays off ...period. so that's my decision. till the middle of august anyway. then my vacation time runs out and hopefully by then i'll have a clearer idea of my path. with that relief in my heart and head, i can now enjoy my time. the 1st wednesday was wonderful. i had planned a picnic breakfast in my secret spot by my Lake. unfortunately, Mother Nature planned a major thunderstorm in that very same spot. we compromised and went to Denny's and then i showed mom my dream house (which is now for sale!). i gave her a notebook for her thoughts, and she gave me her heart...as we pulled into the driveway back home, she said she wanted to share her deepest darkest secret wish ...the thing she would do if she could do it all over again. scared that i might laugh or tell her all the reasons it would never have been possible or logical or valid, she rambled through a lengthy preface before getting to the heart of the matter. (sound familiar?). i was so shocked by her wish, that i couldn't think of a thing to say. i would have never guessed. ever ever. never. but it involved work in another country. so i promptly went to Barnes & Noble and bought her a laminated full-color map of the country. tied a bow around it and left it by diva dog's leash. when she saw it the next day, she was thrilled that she had been heard. i mean, who's to say? maybe she is/was needed in that country doing the work she dreamt of? there are plenty of people that "know" me that would be shocked that i worked in radio. or am an artist. or ever found anyone with the patience to be married to me for more than a minute. so far my mother has taught me: don't ever discount other people's dreams, and don't ever ever stop loving them. never. school's out. be blessed. L.

sideways and flyin'

sorry about the sideways pic in my last post...i was trying to hurry before the HUGE storm blew through, and selected the wrong picture. the right one is the same one, but you don't have to turn your computer on the side to see it correctly. so where were we? oh - flyin' ....through life that is. lately. as Paulo Coelho says in his book The Alchemist..."beginner's luck." it's when everything in the entire universe seems to line up perfectly and logically for you....the weeds and tall grasses part like the Red Sea, and your path is cleared.....then you hit the weeds again. not as high, though. but you have to stay very focused on the path to see where you need to be. a misstep could lead to another path, not necessarily ruin and desctruction, but a different path. after seeing the castle at the end of this path, i can tell you it's where i want to be. true to myself. my self. inner me. the heart, the soul, the spirit in me that makes me ...me. in church i was taught that the Holy Spirit lives in me. dwells in me. has taken up residence with no forwarding address or plans to move...in me. where have i been taking that spirit? what has it heard me say and feel? as much as it grieves a parent to see their child suffer needlessly, i believe my spirit has suffered. i have been given such wonderful gifts for use in my life. and i haven't respected them or used them. that is the shame here. have you ever given someone something for Christmas or a birthday that you spent days looking for? you were sure this was to be the gift of gifts....it would show the person how much you cared about them - that you bought them something they would put to good use, or get such joy from having. and they clearly didn't have the reaction you had hoped for. that's the same feelings i'm talking about here. my art...and not so much even the physical representation of the object i make, but the spirit that it touches as it's being made...that is the thing being squashed down here. i quandry back and forth within myself...feeling so strongly that i "gotta be me," then equally as unsure if i'm not just being selfish. people have to work in order to have houses and cars and things. but what if they could do with less? or what if they actually "succeeded" even more? what if the work they needed to do in order to be the person they were put here to be has nothing to do with timeclocks and cubicles and computers and such? what if their office were, instead, the world? the culmination of emotions and scents and tactile experiences from any given day rolled into a piece of artwork? would that be so bad? so selfish? so undeserving of a notion? do only the spouces of the wealthy get the luxury of being artists or actors or writers or fill-in-the-non traditional-blank. am i lazy? not a chance. but i do know that my spirit is energized to the point of mania when i am in the zone - making art. have you ever watched a guitar string after it's been plucked? the vibration is what makes the beautiful tone...theoretically. i say this with full knowledge that an 18-year old with a new guitar and Tom Petty on the brain can dissolve that metaphor in 2 notes. but let's see past that. so once again, i re-argue the same points with myself....that i AM an artist. that my art is worthy of being made. that i am worthy of making my life as an artist, and not a customer service rep for a very scary dental operation. so where's the problem? oh....same old fear. not of failure. fear of reaction and retribution. and roadblocks being thrown up. do i feel like i need permission? yes. why? training? hmmm...maybe worth a look. today - the 1st wednesday with mom - my mother told me her biggest dissapointment was that she never got a chance to realize her most secret deep down dream. it's her secret, so i can't tell you, but in order for her to attain that dream now would take some doing. i will never be the one to say "it's too late" but if you knew the secret, you'd almost think the same thing. sometimes it is too late for our dreams. i don't want that to happen to me. you can get to a point when your body says it's too much - it just is asking too much of flesh and bone. it made me sad, not just for her, but also for myself, that i almost let the same thing happen to me for the same reasons. a person who doesn't believe in you. an important person in your life - either emotionally or legally. or both, i guess. i am my mother's daughter in so many ways. but this is not a way i want to follow. compromise is an option, but on my terms. so many opportunities have crossed onto my path lately...in the past few weeks, actually. i have to stay focused on the path, and follow them. i mean, a castle at the end.....what's not to love about that? L.