Soapboxxing

No wordless Wednesday here:

I'm feeling stepped on...so out comes my soapbox

 

I went to get a salad for lunch and in the15 minutes it took in my car I heard enough discussion on the current debate of women's health issues that I stormed into my work with lunch in hand and declared:

 

"I am really concerned about the quality of life women will be facing"

 

I work with ALL MEN and the first thing that was said in response to me stepping onto my soap box was " I don't understand why these politicians are even involved in women's health issues"

ahh I am glad I work with some progressive men

 

OK so I am starting to get concerned...more then normal, maybe I am feeding into the chaos...but from what I am hearing and witnessing...things are going apeshit crazy!

This is the spark that has started my fire and desire to speak up:

 

The recent comments from Todd Akin, and the AMAZING open letter from the multifaceted and talented Eve Ensler (Vagina Monologues creator)

 

 

I spent over an hour listening to the RNC last night via NPR news.

I was driving home and it was quiet and I had undistracted time and although the evening events lasted longer then an hour...that is what I had.

NPR had no commentary, just the ability to listen, and I wanted to hear what was being said.

I try and be as educated as possible when I go to vote, I have only missed voting once since registering and that was 20 years ago.

I want to hear both sides, and understand the points of views...

Not a lot of specifics were talked about last night in the hour I listened

...but what was said left me unsettled and scared.

I will continue to listen and watch, but I can say so far, no good.

 

I am a BARREN WOMAN and I feel like my vagina and uterus is up for discussion, casual conversation and that options about how I choose to live with it are not secure.

 

I came home to see this wonderful post by Pamela, and felt the same way, I am not being addressed.

 

When I spoke with The Barren last night when, I said to him, I am feeling like I am on shaky ground.

"I am warning you now; I might start hauling around a bullhorn and soapbox to declare how I am not happy. I am not going to tell others what to do, but I am going to tell political persons what they are doing to me is not OK".

 

He said: " good deal" and smiled

 

 

Uterine power activate, form of strong and vocal woman

 

Upended

I am going to bitch today...if you have no desire to read me bitching about The Barreness and her wicked mean ways...check back later this week. xo

******************************************************************************

I have completely torn apart my studio space....

I mean I have every inch of floorspace covered right now...

like a visual temper tantrum.

I have barely hatched out a space for me to sit and type this...but I have. I really wanted to make a better space to work in, weed out things and supplies I was not using to free up space for ones I am using or wanting easier access to tools.

All I have now is a HUGE mess and all week I just keep closing the door and ignoring the door, while deadline are ticking and coming around the corner.

UGH so I am in here now sorting and shifting.

I really am prepared to create anything at anytime...I am a well stocked closet, but it has also shed light on an addiction.

I have an addiction to art supplies. I have a bad one....

 

image via pinterest

 

The Barreness has reared her head, she was laying in wait for a while, so I really shouldn't be surprised.

She shot me in the gut Friday...and left me blinded with pain and curled around a heating pad like some crazy 1970's filmstrip movie of how to relieve menstrual pains.

I got panicked again, the pain that I use to experience returned...the constant wave after wave of ever increasing pain in the face of a pain pill scared me...I fear returning to the ER, in fact I will do anything ANYTHING else to avoid that trip and terror.

Friday night was date night, we had gone out and half way to the restaurant I had The Barren return home so I could take my pain pill in time and not over shoot the timing and have a break in the dosing.

We sat at dinner, me blinded and mentally ticking away the minutes till I could hear what he was saying as the pain subsided...smiling grimacing through the pain and discomfort...waiting for the distraction to help sail me past the cramping and pinching and pulling.

Waiting for the food, that took FOREVER to arrive (really it was over an hour) and then pretending that the pain lifted so The Barren could relax a little. As we drove home, I was getting concerned as the pain was still building...The Barren asked ever so softly..." is there something I can do? When do I need to be really concerned? Would you like a bath or should we go somewhere else..." We returned home, me chanting the mantra  "I can take this other pain pill if I need it, we still have options"...then I remembered that horrible filmstrip from 5th grade about heat...and seeing as I could not even keep my eyes open any longer, I opted to have the heating pad..it took a little for the Barren to find an extension cord so it would reach me curled into a ball on the couch. I am not sure when it happened but the combination of the heat and pain... but I passed out...I awoke three hours later to The Barren asking how I was...I stumbled into the bedroom and caught sight of myself...I was dead pale...I mean PALE...I fell into bed and The Barren brought the heat pad to me and I curled myself around it and fell into a sleep filled with terror and fears.

The Barreness laughed at me all day yesterday...pushing me down, and hobbling me with constant trips to the bathroom, making sure I bled through at least two pair of pants...she kept me home all day and when night came, only allowed me an hour and a half before opening the faucet for more runs to the toilet. I felt belittled and silly...I am a woman for gods sake, you'd think I'd have this whole -don't bleed on your clothes -thing figured out my now...but it always seems to strike me by surprise.

Stupid! Stupid Stupid....

 

Today I am facing the studio, well trying to...at least get a good portion of it workable again...less chaos of paper and untwisted...removing things.

I got orders for items from a children's line I use to make, I spent time remembering why I am not making more for that endeavor and then I got an email from a new artist friend telling me she is pregnant and wants to see what items are still available....

the whole world feels upended this weekend...I am aiming for some firmly planted footing this coming week. After all I need to revisit the children items again...just as I was packing them up and moving them out of the studio.

People keep having babies....everyone keeps having babies.

Yes...yes I did

Every once in a while I get curious what it is like to be a girlie girl.

So this year it has manifested as a $14 salad (still trying to calculate those costs)

 and the September issue of VOGUE

Yes I bought the magazine, as well as a handful of new make-up and have sat down for a good put your feet up and enjoy fantasy read.

all the fancy stuff in this salad fell to the bottom of the container

When my 10 year old goddaughter saw the copy of the magazine on the  coffee table, I looked at her and said, "The pictures are all fun to look at but nothing in this magazine is real; none of the women have pores...if you don't have pores you can't be real"

Hopefully, when she is ready to crack open her first "fashion" magazine she remembers that.

The Kindergartener

I think they are holding their heads like this to balance the hairstyle

I had tea with another creative, someone I adore and have made friends with recently...we were friendly before but something shifted about a two or so years ago and we just started hanging out more...it was natural and easy and we are both kind of dorky and geeky and giggly. We both have suffered from depression and have come out on the brighter side and can tell when the other is skirting the edge. It is quite refreshing.

So we were having tea on Thursday and talking shop, she is a graphic designer and painter and we talk out creative roadblocks in an effort to figure out how to keep moving. She went first and we talked about her creative and personal road blocks and sipped tea and ate macaroons and figured some shit out...then she looked and me and said "your turn".

I was feeling sort of blue, since my piece didn't sell at the event.

BACKTRACK....

I called the gallery on Tuesday, the event decided to host a "Morning after exhibit" in order to give people an extra chance to purchase art that hadn't sold at the big hootenanny and didn't want to buy entry tickets on top of the art purchase price...I called it the "sloppy seconds" gallery.  So I called there on Tuesday to find out (incognito) if my piece had sold. I did this at work (my other job, I work in an industrial business that my brother owns) and while my mother was visiting me there. So I called and said " Hello I was calling to see if number 55 was still available for sale?" trying to be all sly and disguise-y "Oh, Hi we didn't keep the numbers on the work, can you describe it to me?"  SHIT..."Um...yeah, it was a print, of two women with trophies..." I was kind of freaking out..."OH that one I LOVE that piece, yep it is here." ..gulp" uh, thank you I will tell the person that is interesting in it" "OK, bye..."

My brother, hearing this conversation, started to laugh..." you are going to tell yourself" I hung up the phone and said out loud " Barreness, your work is in the sloppy second gallery, you have shamed your family name" My mother, kind of didn't get this and said, well, your father and I  are going to see it tomorrow...I am glad it is still there. My brother, at my comment realized I was upset.

I took a little walk and came back to finish my work.

Back to Thursday:

I had woken up that morning, dragging, looking forward to meeting my friend and talk about something other then the pity party I had been throwing myself for the last couple days. When she said my turn...I just sighed..she said "unload"...I told her that I was disappointed that my work hadn't sold and that I had really gone out on a limb with new techniques and processes and I had blown all my whistles and rung all my bells. It was silly to be upset about it, as I know how subjective art is and that I am trying to get into a new community of artists and that it is super clique-y and that art is all about who you know and as an art buyer you have to be following artists in order to really gauge what they are making and how they are growing artistically and it SUPER SUCKED that my work was in the sloppy seconds gallery.

She looked at me and said "of course it hurts, the kindergartner in you worked really really hard on that piece and was really proud of it and no one told her they liked it"

I started crying....it was validating.

 I kept thinking how I was ushered in, in the 23rd hour to be part of this exhibit, and two people put their names on the line for me and my participation. I didn't want to let them down. I didn't want to make a fool of myself. Like finally being invited to a party and then bringing  food that makes everyone sick. Remembered for all the wrong reasons.

I felt ridiculous, but it made more sense. She reaffirmed that I knew that going that extra mile was the best thing artistically even if the work didn't go home with someone.

We left topic after that....and talked about other shop talk things and giggled.

I was able to breathe again.

I met the Barren at home and told him I finally mourned the lost opportunity and that my continued work hard was just what I needed to keep doing. The phone rang....my parents had gone to the gallery, but my piece wasn't there. My father chatted up the gallery gal and she showed him the sales log and there was my name, and there was the name of the buyer....it sold out of the sloppy seconds gallery.

I asked if they were messing with my head, and my father got all super serious and said:

 "I would not joke about your work."

I think that if I had gotten this information hours earlier it would not have felt as good as it did. I had mourned my little broken hearted kid in me and walked ahead. The Barreness, had slammed that kid really hard but had not won. It was liberating and fulfilling.

The gallery sent an email out the following day with images of the work that was still available for sale and my image was not amongst them. My father had not lied.

* I looked up the name of the buyer, SHE is a super amazing humanitarian who is building schools for girls in Africa. How super cool is that!

Here is the piece she bought:

Sweat and Fears

I have mostly backed away from the cough syrup...and I am blowing my nose far less often now, so I  guess some would say I have made it past my annual Summer cold.

I was trying to remember all the places I might have caught this one and I have it narrowed down to three options:

1. I shook a lot of hands in San Francisco

2. I walked outside where people were

3. I accepted a piece of cheese from my 4yr old nephews hand

(it was a new piece of cheese, but it was transported by his paws)

Regardless, I have made it past the cold AND I seemed to have done a good job keeping The Barren free of my cooties...he even kissed me on the lips this morning!

(I guess the air we exchange while sleeping next to each other didn't count )

I pushed through the worst of the cold Friday and then when Saturday came around I was ready to overextend myself and test the waters to see just how well I was.

I went to a Beer-Fest, I didn't drink but one glass of the good stuff and spent the rest of the day trying not to melt in our uncommon heat. I made cupcakes for the event, my specialty:

"Lemon make you happy nipple twister" cupcakes
a trademark of The Barreness

I left my intoxicated hubby there with friends and ran back home mid day to apply fourteen layers of deodorant and makeup to attend an Art benefit I was part of in a nearby city. It required me wearing something dressier then a Kleenex filled pair of jeans and sweaty top that smelled of sunscreen.

My bestest (my oldest and dearest) was in town so we met for a girl date night and to scope out the scene. I am so glad she came with me, I was able to hide in the shade with her and talk shop and check out what people were doing. The event is a big deal, it raises money for an environmental education program that teaches kids about art and up-cycling materials. I am trying to "break into the art community" in this nearby town and attending these things and being in them is really important for my job. Even if it was 4000 degrees outside there was schmoozing that needed to be done.

The event was sponsored by many big companies one of which was a tequila company and so in the heat they were passing out crazy amounts of tequila cocktails and food.

They had an order to how they let people in: the people that paid extra to get into the venue first; to buy the "first picks", then they would let the artists in, and then the general entry tickets...but in the meantime....we lined up like cattle, drunk well snack food fed cattle, but sweaty creatives none the less...

please stand in the sun with a cocktail

We made it inside, and the art looked great, and I love those art collectors that spent extra to get in first and buy up a bunch of art...then the general public came in after us and the work started flying off the wall....well, most of it

My work was still unsold at the time of this image...along with others...but only slightly defeated I left an hour before the close of the event, I figured a nice dinner with my girlie was far more important then the watched pot/art piece...hopefully it sold by nights end....I'll get an email soonish telling me if and who bought the piece. Mind you, I get none of the funds from this event, so the fact that I want it sold so badly is merely that I have an ego that is fragile and wants to not be the fool that they took a chance on including in this event and didn't sell her work.

Vanity oh sweet vanity I know you...

We stayed out late, ate a great deal of food, and even packed dessert on top of it and shared

"my momma is so crazy" stories to help each other deal with the level of mortality we are being flung into. I got many text messages and missed a few calls from The Barren, who was giving me updates to his level of intoxication and indigestion.

I made it home, and fell into bed, waking up to find a good portion of my mascara on my upper cheeks and the remaining hairspray creating a whole new hairstyle....but happy, and not snotty.

Strange and Snotty days

I am currently home with a head full of snot so I have time to think....

and ramble.

I changed all my passwords and in the effort to make really good new ones, yet for some reason I can not memorize them, so that is why I have been MIA from here.

I have been thinking almost non-stop about blog ideas and have been writing them down on little pieces of paper so I can blog once I get home, then in the process of getting home, I misplace those pieces of paper. I am sure I will find the lair in which I placed them all one of these days and then go YEAH that is where I put them.

Regardless, I have been in a moving meditation for the last couple of weeks.

 I think out of pure protection from being emotionally overwhelmed and have found it to be good, and enlightening. I have revisited many remembered concepts and beliefs within myself and what I have hoped for my life. Some are practiced daily, others I am still working on.

I had a whirlwind adventure with The Barren, and spent 7hours in San Francisco while he was at a client  meeting.

Snack under a ginkgo tree at the museum

Cy Twombly

I saw an art exhibit I wanted to see and it reconnected with why I love being an artist and why it is so sosososososo isolating at times. I also conquered a fear and by doing so was able to visit my oldest friend. A sweet reward and reminder that I can do whatever I put my mind to...except grow babies and pee standing up in order to hit a fence. (I have tried both)

Last week while working (staring at a wall in an effort to push out a fantastic idea for the next piece of art), I had the background sounds of ambulances, and helicopters non stop for about an hour...even after a few tests with neighbors the answer was never revealed, but the strangeness continued.

I went to get some eats at a local market for dinner and kept hearing along with normal market noises a clomp clomp clomp sound followed by children's voice...then the loop again and a mom giving directions to the soups...then the clomp sounds again.

As I was checking out I saw what it was....

yep, little girls in 4.5inch heels, these heels I had tried them on myself.

What I found most strange is the level of OK people were with 8yr olds in stilettos. The girls often had to stop walking because they were so uncomfortable in the shoes and when they stopped they struck runway model poses...hands on hips, flipping hair. People passing smiled and giggled.

I fumed, I am not one to rain on a parade...I love a good crazy parade. This just seemed so wrong, the dress up can happen in a less public space, in a safer place. Mind you, mom was there and talking about how she was a model when she was younger (much to their surprise) but it was so public and so obvious that these little girls were skirting the edge of girl and woman....ugh I just wept inside knowing that they, much like other little girls, are growing up too too fast.

The weekend had me finally working on some new work and as I settled in I heard some squeals from outside the window...I looked and saw this. A neighbor had been ocean fishing and caught a really big fish. He plopped it down and was talking to his daughter and the neighbor girls about it.

The fish was embarrassed, I am sure

parent returning to nest with dinner

**In another personal triumph**

I have successfully hidden the swallow nest this year from the property management people!! In years past they have knocked the nests down just as they were about to lay eggs.I would spend days weeping from pure empathy...this year I washed all evidence away below the nest and only took photos at night, the reward was being able to watch and hear baby birds outside my studio window.

Success!

I know this has been rambly, and really nothing earth shattering...but I mostly wanted to let you all know I am here, I am OK and I am set to thrive!

Quiet on my mind

I recently spent some time in the woods with friends.

After I got past the "I better be on my best behavior, and not act like a dork" phase I realized I was among "safe people"

I traveled into the woods to stay at a friends home for a night, walk in the trees, look at amazing vistas and take photos like a crazy tourist.

In fact every time I looked over at my companions they also had the camera smashed up against their faces. Our respective loved ones, were gathered in a semi circle, unfazed by our photographic assault of the scenery and all just understood that is how we process life around us. Record it...

Our single overnight and full day felt like it lasted for two or three...there were long moments of quiet and the acceptance of that quiet was unique and fulfilling beyond words.

I ate pie, I awoke to watch animals feed in the early morning in the trees and I spent time thinking and laughing.

I need more of those days...many many more

I was holding my breathe to take this, 18 seconds was my max at 7000 ft

Dedicated to someone I love

image via flickr

 

A friend from my childhood, heck one of my only friends in that point in my life is having her breasts removed tomorrow. The doctors found multiple lumps in both breasts that were not there last year.

I am not sure I am really processing it all, or maybe I am processing too much of it...manifesting it as my own body.

Regardless it is something I seem to be having tick away in my mind these last couple of weeks.

I purchased a bracelet with her name on it, and have been wearing it everyday since it's arrival, to remind me to meditate on her and her goals from this surgery.

She is a woman who has up to now, been just like her mother; in flaunting her breasts, talking about them and laughing at them. She takes great pride in them and rightly so, they are beautiful.

Is it strange for a friend to admire another friends pride in her breasts? 

It in many ways, has made me reflect on my blessings in this time.

I think that is a really sucky part of finding out that someone is so horribly sick, about to die, or hurting; human nature makes you think about yourself and how you are not that person.

It is a twisted way to see things and reflect. 

Like when you pass a fender bender on the road, my first thoughts are " phew, glad that is not me...note to self, pay closer attention around that curve"

I am sitting here thinking I am glad I am not losing my breasts, I am thankful I have asked for mammograms since I was 34. I am thankful that of the amount of stuff I grow in this crazy body of mine; none seems set on killing me.

I am also thankful that I have her to still call, and send cards to. I am thankful that she gave me my first diary and told me to write in it everyday.

I am in awe of the courage and grace she is facing this terrifying monster who has suddenly taken a spot in her body so close to her huge and wonderful heart.

I wrote her a letter today:

Dear wonderful friend,
I know that tomorrow is a big day and I wanted to let you know that I am with you,
I have been meditating on you and your goals...I adore you and know that you have strength beyond your knowledge.
Which you demonstrate daily.
Also know that people around you want to express their love and support for you and the boys in many ways...allow them.
This is how we all learn to accept love and deeper levels of respect.
Your boys will be stronger men when taught that giving love and compassion makes them real men.
Allow them to help and be whatever you need. Allow your body to heal and let others help you with that.
I love you beyond words and carry you in my heart daily.
xoxox
Please accept my words as ones of love and care, in a time when I feel useless.
xo

Meanwhile...it is a grab-bag

I am feeling better.

My friend and I had a super intense moment at the reception following the funeral.

I simply sat next to her, silent but calm and interacting with her daughters.

She looked at me and out of no where said "  am sorry I pushed you away"

I was floored...I said "it is fine, we all need friends in different ways"

She looked at me like I was crazy.

I told her "I sometimes can only deal with things when I have an arms length of space between myself and others and other times I need someone very close to me"

She said that she:

" freaked out when the friendship wasn't doing what she thought friendships should do",

I just hugged her and said " I am sorry for everything and nothing, none of it and all of it."

It seemed to vaporize the cloud that was smashing between us for so long.

I am sure this will be a work in progress for many years...

The Barren suggested I tell her how I really feel, I told him that a reception post funeral didn't seem like the right time.

He agreed, but urged me to not wait too long.

***

I had a rough week at work, and with my mind and the evil things it is capable of.

Thank you Barreness

 but now I am sitting in the studio ready to get some real work started, done and brainstormed.

I spent last night with two girl friends, they are both artists and the nights focus was gallery shows.

It was so refreshing and invigorating to spend the night out with no drama, no preconceived notions, just art, dinner and chatting.

It was fantastic and when it was over I topped it off with a solo walk in the summer night's air back to my car. The air was warm and smooth, the sun had set but it wasn't dark yet...

I felt alive and free and awake!

***

Here is the grab bag part...

Oh and after some serious peer pressure I opened the 50shades book...

stop reading now if you liked the book or don't want to hear my soapbox moment about sexual freedom and liberty.

****

OK in all truth, I opened it much like a book at a bookstore, flipped to a random page towards the front and and started reading. I figured there wasn't a lot of character development...after reading for about an hour in bed alone The Barren came in to check on me.

He started laughing, saying I didn't look too happy.

"what do you think of it so far?"

I looked up and said, well my first impression was that he was a REALLY bad lover.

He told me to give it some more time.

At that, I handed him the book and he started to read and then roll his eyes and then laugh.

We both laughed a lot reading the book.

He agreed, the writing was bad, the story was silly but, we were both thankful for the nighttime laughs. Sadly, this was not meant to be a comedic book.

The amount of "oh crap" and "see how wet you are" made me cringe and I was bored out of my head from the email exchanges.

Now I know both my SIL and other women LOVE this series, and I think that is great for them but really wonder why?

I know we are still struggling as a gender to find ourselves, to act on our sexual impulses and be OK with wanting and needing sex.

I guess the fervor this book has caused with women maybe just highlighted for me that a majority of women are still not asking for what they really want or need sexually.

I guess I am a lucky girl, for my lover just wants me to be sexually over the moon, and he is willing to do anything to make that happen.

Demand that from your lovers ladies!

Then you can write a really hot novel and we can all be smiling from our one handed reads.

***

(stepping off the soapbox)

Some other women I know have said they refused to read it because of all the hype.

I told them I would report back.

Here I am reporting:

It is silly, the guy is creepy and self centered. The female lead is self deprecating to a level of annoying at the beginning and then just boring after that.

The sex is mild, and if you haven't had some saucy/kinky sex by now, get cracking, because this is not saucy/kinky sex....you can think of far more interesting sex...trust me, I know you are creative women!

In the end, I thought it was beyond boring and disappointing.

by hey, we all beat off to a different drummer.

Ugh

image via: world-humor.blogspot.com

I mostly feel like this

except my beverage would be a cuppa tea

or a hard drink depending on the mood swing.

I don't like to think that I have fallen into the group of gals that has PMS,
but as time has marched on it appears that I do have a hormonal swing or two

*ugh*

I find it so dismmissive that you can blame actions on hormones; I still refuse to accept that
So the other morning, I said I was sorry to The Barren.
It feels horrible, I don't want to be the crazed lady I feel like.
I try and keep things in check and run it through the seive in my brain before letting it out of my mouth and into the ether, never to be recovered.

I think I need to write some more love letters...
I feel pretty blue and lonely and I need to remind myself of who I love and why.

Skirting the Edge

This is a sound-off/bitch/whine ...I am trying to figure shit out I guess...
(my spell check isn't working, so excuse any errors please)

I am dizzy, dizzy from fear, and sadness and confusion and pain.

It is like my whole body has been bombarded for months with function, function function.

I am working hard on being stable and even.

I think I am feeling the snap of a relationship shifting to different paths, a bond change and my mind settle into knowledge.

I have been a friend to a woman who has become more and more difficult to talk to, she has become more and more caustic. She doesn't understand the way I communicate or my sense of humor...I am extremely aware of how and what I say around her. It is almost like I now need to prepare for a simple dinner or short conversation. She requires so much now that I am exhausted from trying. She snaps at me and often times I feel attacked for having opinions different then hers. Many years ago she told me the one thing she admired about me was that I seemed to not judge her. I was quite proud of that...now I feel ONLY judged by her. Her body language changes around me, visibly. I am not sure what can be repaired or if it should be. I have spent a lot of time changing how I say things, how I repsond to things, and what I share with her. If anything now...

When I was finding out about my infertility she was there to listen as I shook and tried to describe what was being discovered about my body. She seemed overwhelmed and after a period of time, frustrated that she could not offer fixes for problems. I began to fall into my depression and after a while stopped accepting invitations to things with her, and her babies and friends that were pregnant. I became reclusive and started therapy for greif....she found other friends and was active with her life...I admired that and wanted to be that too. When I was finally working on my show, she was excited as I was moving and doing things again...she would invite me out and I wanted to go...oh I wanted to so badly, but I wasn't socially ready. So I would express interest but not go out. Then on the night after the show opened we had dinner, and in my glow I said thank you for coming to the opening and dinner to celebrate it and it was then that it started...she said why did you not ask for help? I looked at her trying to not cry and said " I didn't know how to"

She was by this time a mother of two healthy daughters, I had had a miscarriage by then and was about to have another two in the coming year. As time rolled on, she became much more uptight with me...she was far down on the list when I finally told her that I had another miscarriage, in fact I remember telling her and as I was expressing what had happened I was also telling myself: don't end this conversation on a sad note...she doesn't like that I am pessimistic. If I remember correctly I think she said, "well if you can think of it, at least I know you can get pregnant and I was a mom if even for a short time" I just smiled my mask smile and said

 " I don't think I can emotionally do this anymore"

she fell kind of silent.

More time has past and in this last weekend, we sat next to each other at a wedding reception and we barely spoke a word. I tried to talk to her, asking about benign topics,  I got a sidelook and a word or two repsonse. I told her I had been given a book that she was crazy about (but I had expressed not much interest in) and that I was thinking of taking a look at and she looked at me and reared back and started this crazy laugh and said  "see I tell you you'll like and you say no and then someone else tells you read this and you say ok, whatever! " I was shocked...I told her "well in my defence, it has been sitting on the table for a week, I still haven't opened it, so maybe I am still rebelling against it" she rolled her eyes and turned towards the music... and then
 I asked about another friend of hers, she snapped again.

" How's Janice? Do they have plans to go to South America this summer?"

She looked at me like I was trying to sell her rotten fish and said, "they go in the fall, why?"

and within that same breathe and with venom she asked about two other women friends of mine
"How's Molly and Sally? See them lately"  I was confused and overwhelmed. I was simply trying to make friendly talk about nothing in general and I struck some sort of cord....

*sigh* I drank a Mai Tai in silence with a smile on my face and then trying not to make it obvious, I looked at The Barren and he said we were going back to the hotel.
The following day her brother in law died.
I have seen her once since then and when I did I hugged her and and said nothing. I have been frightened to call and hear her voice so I have sent a couple text messages asking if they needed anything or if I could pick up something at the market for them.
***

At the same time I am trying to make new friends...any friends at this point and it is an uphill struggle now. As we age and sit in certain circles we don't meet a lot of new people...so as easy as it might have been as a kid to meet and friend new people it is not the same as an adult.
I have been trying though...doing things and asking to meet people when the moment arises.
I was invited to join a couple gals the other night for yoga in one of their homes, a non-gym thing and I said I would love to.
They told me the day they normally do it on.
I got no further conversations or updates...I felt left out...I had been thinking about it all day and when the day came I wasn't invited, or so I thought...it appears that it didn't happen at all.
I am actually feeling jealous of witnessing friendships.
Maybe I have forgotten how to make friends?!

SO last night I sat down and wrote a love note to two of the people I have known a long time.
I felt that the world was spinning in the wrong direction and I needed to put some additional energy out that would hopefully swing that pendulum the other way.
Back to rainbows and glitter.
or at least me not wanting to cry or puke from heartbreak all the time

Penis Problem

OK so as I was driving home from my annual mammogram today, and I thought, boy I need some serious levity.

(everyone get a mammogram)

I am super bumming out everyone, including myself.

I had a good cry this morning, and fell asleep WAY too early last night..poor Barren.

He is a little worried about me.

So I thought, what made me laugh recently, and I remembered the call from Mom asking me to

"come fix her penises"

Yep.

My parents home borders a public walking path. It has chain link fencing and is maintained mostly by the homeowners that butt up to this path. The city forgot about many many years ago.

So my mother felt that it should be a public art gallery.

They also live across the street from an elementary school and so kids walk to and from school

via this path everyday.

My mom writes notes in chalk on the ground wishing them a happy first day of school

and summer vacation and stuff like that.

Adorable, I know.

She has also COVERED her side of the chain fencing with painted boards that she has asked others to decorate. My grandmother, myself, my father, my niece and nephew...you get the idea.

Well recently, she thought it a great idea to leave extra white painted boards beside the fence to offer up the opportunity for other kids in the neighborhood to paint and she would hang them for all to see.

She goes out and checks the fence every few days, and finds a new piece from someone hung via zip ties and is simply over the moon about it.

Well.....

a few little monsters have found this same oasis of adorable and started drawing penises on some of the artwork:

He doesn't look to bothered

this fish may never blow number bubbles again

poor purple dino/giraffe

So every once in a while I get a call from mom that asks me to come over with a box of paint and

"fix her penis problem"

Penises are funny, and little boy/girl versions of what penises can do

is always good for a laugh with me!

The condition of being mortal

Moonrise

So I have had a really strange week or two, it doesn't come as a total surprise that my dreams would reflect this reality.

I am thinly veiled that way.

To start with a childhood friend was just diagnosed with breast cancer.

It appeared between yearly mammograms in one breast.

 She was considering a prophylactic double mastectomy to avoid cancer showing up in the second breast; but, while waiting for labs, a period of two weeks, additional lumps in the first and new ones in second breast appeared.

She is a mother of two boys, one of which had a long battle with cancer himself, and is currently in remission.
It is events like this that make me question life and a higher being.

As I was bra shopping the other day, all I could think about was her. She and her mom took me bra shopping for my first bra, I think we had "mosquito bites" (that is what my Nana use to say)

She is not going to have breasts any more. All I could think about is how selfish of me to be so concerned about finding a bra that wouldn't show through my tee shirt.

This shopping trip was followed by a road trip to a friends wedding, The Barren was playing guitar for the wedding march with one of the brides uncles, it was the first public performance for the Barren so I went to witness this big event.

The bride is a professional dancer, who married a navy seal.

The church was near base, and so there were a lot of military families around. In fact, the whole town was pouring over with babies, pregnant women and toddlers.

There were hours of talk about babies and starting families and it all made sense.

The base felt like a haunted waiting room.

Loved ones leaving and others waiting for months, year after year.

It broke my heart and gave me a new and deeper appreciation for military families.

New brides and new parents.

It broke my heart and made me cling to The Barren even more.

Literally

The following day, Father's day, some of the brides family was gathered at an aunts home.

An uncle, went upstairs and never came down.

It was quite a shock, and totally unexpected.

This Uncle was the brother to the other musician that played in the wedding.

A friend to The Barren

Death seems to be all around me right now

And then today, I awoke from a dream that has me scratching my head.

I had a dream I had IVF done, on a whim. My eggs were projected onto an overhead projector for us to see prior to insemination. They were flat oblong shapes, three of them. Like, grains of rice, broken and poorly shaped.

I had them inseminated and then was told to have an orgasm to "set them deeply into my uterus"

We went to a movie theatre afterwards that was filled with people I recognised from high school. Unaged and staring at me.

I began to have a panic attach and grabbed The Barren and was crying

" I can't do this, these babies will never grow, they are all broken.

I can't go through all this pain again"

Then I woke up

 I am not sure I know what this means...I am feeling loss

In newer and deeper ways maybe?

I know I do feel lost

The Why Am I's

photo via My Vintage Dollhouses

So every once in a while I want to organize my life.

I end up doing a half-assed job; doing enough to make the frantic beeping in my head stop and then move on to other tasks.

I am easily distracted by my own "to-do" list.

About two weeks ago, the community fire alarm went off and I was home working so I went to see what it was. It ended up being a sprinkler that blew in a neighbors garage, flooding it and drenching the contents. No fire, thank goodness...but it took over 4 hours to turn off the water!

The renter had all his work tools in the garage and what wasn't in a plastic box, was soaked.

The fire dept, couldn't turn off the water, because it was managed by the fire sprinkler company who couldn't come out until later that day to reset the sprinklers and the alarm people needed to stop the alarm but couldn't do it until the water was turned off. You see how this turned out...the "best part" was that the alarm for the sprinkler is not connected to a central call center/dispatch place. So it is really up to fellow neighbors to call police or fire department people.

If I wasn't home who knows how much longer that water would have poured into the garage and street!

 Ugh

I felt horrible for the neighbor, but more so frightened for our homes well being in our absence, because we don't really have outgoing neighbors.

If something happened to our home, I fear no one would call the people needed.

 Everyone would say " huh, why is that alarm going off? it is really bothering me" close their window and go about their business.

Sad but true. We live in a community of disconnected people.

(being the crazy lady I am, I am making a sheet of phone numbers of neighbors I say hello to on a regular basis and giving them our cell numbers too)

This of course set me into a personal tailspin of what ifs....

I started looking around our home and thinking of everything that would be destroyed by water, the cats would be traumatized but alive and wet. Then I went into our garage...ugh

We have collected many many many things. In fact when grandma's have passed we were delivered many boxes of "precious items" and "heirlooms" that we must have.

Plus my art exhibitions and framed work etc....

I went out and got a storage unit.

I spent this whole last weekend working through the boxes, and boxes of things...I have a hoarder living inside me apparently. We have boxes and boxes of things for the garage sale at the end of the month, and a pile of things that is going to the local thrift store.

But we also have several things in that new locker....mostly my things.

The biggest being my dollhouse.

My parents made me a doll house for my 7th birthday, it took several months to make. It was worked on every night in secret in their bedroom. They made it from discarded orange crates and found wood at the local market. My father created a wooden floor in the kitchen with a wood burning tool. The cupboards are made from butter dishes turned on their sides and scrap lace made the curtains. Each room has different carpet, as they are all scraps from the local carpet store. The roof is hinged as once the doll house was complete my parents realized it wouldn't fit through the bedroom door!

There is a picture of me next to the house on the day I got it, I am standing on a chair and doll house is next to me but still taller then I am.

Later, they made my brother a mechanics garage with fuel pumps and an attached home (kind of Sanford and Son-ish) using the same techniques.  

 

Needless to say, I am deeply, emotionally attached to this doll house

and I imagined I would pass it on to my child.

I have kept all the items that had, for years, decorated the home

and it seems more of a time capsule then anything else now.

It is substantial and takes up a lot of floorspace.

When hubby causally mentioned getting rid of it I broke down and started sobbing.

 How can I?!

(that question was never broached again)

We moved the doll house into the storage unit on Sunday, it has been entombed in many ways.

My brother is not sentimental with things, so I asked him how he can throw away/give away things that are so deeply linked to his childhood. Does he not have second guesses or regrets?

He simple said: they don't mean anything to anyone else but me. So why keep them?

 I am left dumbfounded...

I can't think of a person who it would mean something to besides myself.

In fact, that is the impression I am getting about much of what I can't seem to let go of.

old love letters, stories I wrote in elementary school that sheds light on my mind and emotions then.

Who am I holding on to this for? Why do I still need to know that it is there?

I feel at times that I am making strides in coming to terms with not being able to be a mother, and then stuff like this sneak attacks me.

It was like, The Barreness turned on the fire sprinkler and drenched me in the memories and the what should have beens. 

Until I can figure it out, I place them into plastic tubs and store them away.

At least I can keep them dry.

Sunday

I am actually at home all weekend, and working on some new work; while fielding calls from Mom and Dad asking medicine questions.

This is good, because not only are things getting a little better there, I also got pancakes yesterday!

Hubby makes a mean pancake and I am only to happy to be part of the taste testing as he explores new recipes. He loves my belly...so I am happy to fill it with pancakes!

Sunday for some reason is one of most favorite days...I don't really know why, as the looming following day of work is one that makes the day seem shorter...as its casualness is often interrupted with chores and crap like that....but I really love the sleepiness of Sunday.

One of my many favorite things to do is make tents for the cats.
Yes, I am that woman

Mental health time

So my mind is pretty cooked, I am sure that comes as no surprise to most of you.

(the fact that I can say that is still amazing to me,

I have people that actually read this blog

and write lovely little notes to me )

Anyhoo, it might be another week before I can really put words together in a way that makes sense*.

I am currently re-charging my laughter cells, and heart with a book a dear wonderful friend sent me:

book info

I literally can only read for moments before I am laughing so hard tears are rolling down my cheeks

I am so thankful for that

This weekend, I spent my first two days away from mom

(well, except for calling at medicine taking times to make sure dad was on top of things)

I read, napped

and hung out with hubby.

I totally had nothing in me when Sunday came around....I came to peace with this

as I was soaking in the tub Saturday night.

I looked up at hubby; who was keeping me company

 so I don't fall asleep and drown

and I said

" I don't think I have anything left to give to mom right now...I gonna have to call her instead"

He said: "well you did just mostly kind of spend the last month keeping her alive, I think she'll understand"

She seemed to; she called me last night to tell me that she went to the Farmers Market and met with some friends and then came home and fell asleep for four hours.

Today she meets with the doctor who last did his exam on her while she was out cold...she snored thru the whole exam. I think he'll be happy with her progress.

A toast to antibiotics!

*see I am a little loopy still, I'll me more normalish soon

***p.s. I just got a call from my mother, telling me she has decided to stop taking some of her medications.

She is fine.

It might be a little longer then a week....

So many days have past....

blood transfusion

I am sad to report that I have been spending this last month in the hospital.

I am not the patient but instead my mother still is.

The infection spread to her knee, or started there, or her mouth post dental work or in her bladder or in her kidney or....the theories are stacked but none hold a clear answer.

Not all of us are cut out to be caregivers, it requires a kind of patience that after serval days wears thin...and then thinner and thinner and thinner. My parents dealt with it over and over again, with grandparents living with us because no one else stepped up.

I was the person who stepped up first and stayed the latest.
I am not tooting my horn, in fact I have a really hard time accepting compliments or accolades for anything I do. Which makes acknowledgements of what I have done this past month make me want to run for the hills.

pages of observation

So, I have essentially been living by my mothers side this last month; so my father could get some sleep and do some work that was piling up and visit his clients.
I worked when I could at my other job, for an hour here and there; waking at 4:30am to call the nurses station and then send 10 people text message early am updates, then get myself dressed and drive the 45minutes into town to sit at the hospital all day.

Write down every pill she took, every temperture recorded, every minute of how long she slept and what she was hallucinating about. Ask the correct questions of doctors and chase down nurses or get cups of ice. Send my father home to make sure he ate and took his evening pills and got some time with his eyes closed. Send text messages all day long to additional people as they requested new information and came up with questions of their own. Then around 7pm, put myself into a car, drive the 45minutes home, arrive home and remember that I had not eaten all day, find something in the fridge or on the counter to push into my mouth before taking a shower, kissing my already sleeping hubby and crying myself to sleep to start it all again.

I haven't seen hubby but for the evenings, as I crawl into bed. I haven't had any studio time in the last month. I have missed submission deadlines, avoided answering emails, gave up my garden plot, and put everything else on the back burner.

Although I speak to my brother throughout the day, my brother took the time to send me a text thanking my for everything I have done, as he is not able to be as patient as is needed or as compassionate as the situation requires. It made me cry.

My hubby told me on the phone that a co-worker asked how he was, he said:

" my wife leaves really early in the morning, and I don't see her all day.

Then she comes home really late at night,;she sits for half an hour and cries and then

falls asleep. Night after night"

I got a call from my father last night while driving home telling me that my mother chose me to be her physical therapst for her home care. I started to cry, weep...I am spent.

After a sleepless night, I found the inner advocate this morning and told my father during our early am call that I can not be everything, mother needs an outside PT person. I can help do the homework but someone else needs to be added to the mix.

It was amazing to hear those words come from my mouth, I felt horrible telling my father that I couldn't do something for my mother or him. I struggle with that but know that I need some mental health time too.

As I was sitting next to my narcotic doozing mother today, wondering if I would ever see the fighter that she once was again, she sat strait up and said " I want to walk outside"

We got up and out the door....it was her longest walk in the last month.

She went out the door, to the neighbors, turned and up a walking path...and back inside.

It was like winning the lottery, like maybe it will be ok afterall.

Maybe I will get my life back again and have breakfast with my hubby again soon.

Breaking out of her box